Searching for Perfection

"I don't want to go home either."

"I think the kids might miss us."

"And your mum wouldn't be too pleased if we abandoned her with the kids."

"I still don't want to go home," she says with a smile.

"Maybe we'll take the scenic route. Will take a few more hours..."

"Yes please," she replies.

Taking the next exit from the highway, we drive past hills and mountains covered in forests, eucalypts and rainforest giants, rocky cliffs, red-brown volcanic soils on the flats where waters as clear as crystal flow in the rivers and creeks.

Bridget's in the passenger seat, content to let me drive, not something we plan or decide because I'm the bloke and she's the chick, but it probably goes back to when we first dated where I'd take her for long drives on weekends while she'd relax and enjoy the ride. Which she's doing now, sunnies on, wearing her casual floral skirt and white top, a tee-shirt and not her crop-top today. Sometimes her hand rests on mine, other times she's resting on the car's window sill, always watching the world go by with little care, other than the fact she doesn't want the weekend to end.

Neither do I, but we all have to go back to reality. But not right now.

The mountain range here is rugged, an ancient volcanic plug known as Wollumbin sits in the centre of ring of green mountains, some of which straddle the New South Wales / Queensland border, where there's limited routes to drive from one state to the other. However, there's back roads, one specifically winding through forested gullies and up ridges, crossing the state border, and we've taken this road many years ago and we do again.

This region is beautiful country everywhere one looks, where we stop at a lookout high over the railway connecting Brisbane and Sydney, which loops around in a great spiral to gain altitude in this rugged terrain before crossing itself and entering a tunnel in the side of the mountain. Bridget steps from the Prado to stretch her legs, and I join her, long shrill notes and sharp whip-crack call of whipbirds chiming in the forest around us.

"I remember this place," she says. "We stopped here once before, many, many years ago."

"I do recall," I say, remembering the occasion well.

"We fucked on the picnic bench over there."

I was already looking at the old timber table, remembering how we'd arrived, viewed the lookout, before twenty-one year-old Bridget Bland, my girlfriend of approximately six months at that time, sat on the table and we'd kissed, and she told me she wasn't wearing panties, and I was so hard for her, and I lifted her dress and fingered her, where she was so wet for me, and she whispered, "Fuck me, Ricky, I want you so badly..."

"We did," I agree, "I do remember fucking with you on this here picnic bench. Um, are you wearing undies?"

She's chuckling. "I am and you've pounded my pussy so hard this weekend so I'm going to take a pass on your implied offer for a fuck on the bench."

"Ahh, well, I'm sorry I've pounded your pussy so hard."

"I'm not," she says, her smile cheeky coy. "You'll get to pound my pussy a lot more in the future, whenever we like, if you get the snip."

"So you want me to do it?"

She nods, her expression serious now. "I've thought long and hard, and I really don't think we'll try for another kid. Not if we're planning to do The Lap, and even if we did want another, we'd have to get a house with a fourth bedroom, and I'd probably want a fourth kid too, to make things even. And you know I don't really think..."

She stops mid-sentence, and after a bit I ask, "Think what?"

Looking me in the eyes, she says, "As much as I always loved the idea of having another child with you, I don't really think I want to go through pregnancy again and risk post-natal depression. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," I say, taking her hands. "You know I totally understand and I've always been happy to let you make the decision on how many children we should have."

"I know," she says, looking down then meeting my eyes again. "I'm sorry for me too. But I need to be realistic and be the best possible mum to the kids we already have."

"You are the best mum for Ebony and Jordan," I whisper, eyes locked with hers. "And anyway, they aren't getting another mum, so you're it. They're lucky, they get you to themselves."

The slightest smile forms on her lips, and she whispers, "They have to share me with you."

Having said this, she's turning, pulling me by the hand, fingers entwining, walking towards the lookout, an old timber platform overlooking the forested valley and railway below. I hope a train will come, but it doesn't and we return to the car, where Bridget leads me to the rear, opening up the back door, then manoeuvres me to lean against the rear bumper, fingers my belt and says, "We'll see anyone coming before they see us."

"I thought you said..."

"Shhhhh," she says, her finger on my lips. "Enjoy this."

I do, because she's kissing my lips, my neck, her fingers unbuttoning my jeans, fly unzipped, her hand in my jocks, around my cock, lowering my undies now, lowering herself, crouching, kissing my hardness, tonguing it, licking me there, along my length, taking me in her mouth as far as she can, to the back of her throat. I know this isn't her favourite sexual activity, but when she takes the initiative I'm all for it, knowing she does it because she wants to pleasure me.

Nothing to see here, people, just a woman sucking her husband's dick at the back of their car at a secluded scenic lookout. But if you do look, you'll see her lips wrapped around my thick hardness, where I talk to her, communicating the things I particularly likes about the way she fellates me, saying things like, "I love the way your tongue tucks under my cock," and telling her, "Bridget, you make me weak at the knees."

I love stroking her hair rather than forcing her head onto me, where she keeps gobbling my hard, fat knob, the feelings rising, the feelings of love and sex, and here it comes, the husband, who is me, Rick Magee, says, "I'm going to cum, Bridge."

Bridget doesn't stop, she goes harder, my cock swells in her mouth, throbbing orgasmic pleasure taking control, shooting my seed into her throat, and she sucks me, drains me, swallows me, my load of warm sticky semen, and she polishes my cock, coming up for air, a smile on her lips, my cum there too, and she kisses me hard on the mouth, our tongues wrestling, I'm pulling her against me, but moments later she pulls away. "I think I hear a car coming. Time to leave."

"You are amazing," I say, pulling my undies and jeans up, feeling the residue of my recent orgasm against the cotton.

"You got jizz on my skirt when you hugged me," Bridget says with an exaggerated frown. "So I'm going to have to change before we get out of the car again. And I'm going to have to wash my mouth out. Where's your water bottle?"

"In the front."

She grabs her leggings from our suitcase and we're back in our car, closing the door, and another car does drive towards us, a red Nissan SUV displaying P-plates, indicating the driver is provisional and only recently acquired their licence. They park a respectful distance from us, a young couple climbing out, their hands joining as they walk to the lookout.

"Young love is so sweet," Bridget says, squirming out of the skirt I dribbled my semen on a few minutes ago.

"What about fifteen years together love? It's pretty sweet, right?"

"I'm not sure if I'd describe the taste in my mouth as sweet," she tells me, her face straight, pulling her leggings up, "But I hope to taste fifty years together love."

"What about eighty years with no teeth love?"

Her smile breaks and we're both laughing.

~0~

SIX MONTHS LATER...

It's a while since I've done this, but Bridget guides me in nicely, using her hands and verbal instructions, I can see her in the mirror, and we're there, perfectly aligned, pushing all the way till she holds her hand up and says, "Stop, perfect."

Switching the engine off, I hop out of the Prado to inspect our efforts. "Not bad for someone who hasn't reversed a trailer in maybe ten years."

"Ha!" Bridget says, grinning, "You couldn't've backed it in so perfectly without me."

"Yeah, nah, I probably could've," and before she can reply, I add, "But there's things I don't want to do solo, and you know I love it when you guide me in."

"Cheeky," she replies, bumping her hip against mine.

We're both standing there, looking at our brand new, locally built off-road camper trailer, and I ask, "Shall we set this thing up or wait till the kids are home from school?"

"I reckon set it up, then they can play in it tonight. They might want to sleep out here."

"In our driveway over night? You'd let them?"

She thinks for a moment. "I think so. It'd be okay, I reckon. What do you think, Honey?"

"Probably, I don't see why not." With a grin, I ask, "But what if we want to play and sleep out here on the driveway?"

Bridget's grinning back. "We can play in it now if we set it up."

"In our driveway, in the daytime?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she says, "It's middle of the day, most of our neighbours are all at work and the ones who aren't are probably busy with their own stuff, like Fumiko looking after her new baby."

"They might come over for a chat."

"Unlikely, but let's set it up and find out."

We uncouple the hitch, I move the Prado forward, and we unfold the trailer, its canvas tent-top popping up. While we're setting up the awning, we're chatting about our test run we've planned to a caravan park up the coast next weekend, discussing whether or not to bring Peggy.

Arrow is no longer with us, which was expected, but still monumentally sad. The kids took his death hard, sharing special bonds with the dogs, however Ebony showed great resilience and compassion, comforting her brother without us even asking her to. More recently Jordan helped Ebony with breathing exercises when The Thing made itself known out of the blue, Jordan helping her find calm, and they're getting on so much better now.

Peggy is lonely and is particularly cuddly with Bridget, who is her favourite among us. But she's also formed bonds with Cara and Luca, who currently live with Cara and Bridget's mother since Cara and Manny decided to take a break from one another. Cara and Luca visit our house regularly to hang out with Bridget and Peggy. We joke Peggy is everyone's emotional support dog, which she really is.

We're sad about Cara and Manny's relationship breakdown, but Cara's sorting herself, confessing to Bridget she was majorly depressed for a whole bunch of reasons, and a few other things, but she's doing better now. We've asked if she'd house and dog-sit for us when we leave for our trip sometime in the next six months, because there's many places we want to go where dogs are prohibited, such as National Parks. Just quietly, if Cara takes us up on the offer, her and Bridget's mother will be eternally grateful to us.

Manny wasn't fine either, and he was also struggling with his and Cara's issues, and also the pain of being separated from his family through the Covid years when his family needed him most. They'd argued much, which I already knew, but I think he suffered greatly but kept it more to himself.

After he and Cara split, he took a few months off to go home to Spain and visit his family, which did him a world of good, despite being away from his estranged partner and son and his other Aussie family and friends like us. And maybe this gave Cara some perspective, too, because Manny returned here to Brisbane to be with Luca, and for which Bridget and I are glad. He and Cara are at least talking, and maybe seeing if they can make a go of things again. Slowly, but relationships require work and can be hard at times, where I do hope Cara and Manny can work through their issues.

On this note, the bro-in-law-mance is still strong, where Manny and I are hanging out regularly, running and mountain biking and surfing as often as we can, kicking the soccer ball about with the kids, all of us letting him know we're still his family, no matter what transpires between him and Cara. And the four of us have even entered into a half marathon in the next three months, where I can maybe run a quarter of a marathon distance right now, but the goal is keeping us focused, and the exercise is a bonus.

Actually, many friends have offered house and dog sitting, which gives us options if Cara moves back to her and Manny's house. Rob and Judith, who are engaged, want to test the waters of buying a dog together and would love to take the house and Peggy for a year. Same with Fiona, who's left Richard and doing it tough with her three children, living back home with her mother. Bridget's suggested to Fiona she could potentially live at our house for low rent while we're away if Cara ends up not doing it. Also, Fiona and David, the boy's soccer coach, are just friends, but Bridget and I totally hope they'll end up dating. Because we want good things to happen to good people.

Bridget's work received the grant money and her contract will be up for renewal soon, after which she knows she'll only work a few months before handing in her resignation before we leave on our trip. But she's come to terms with this, because her work environment has a few toxic personalities and she plans to move on to something different once we return. In regards to my work, I've already told Amanda my plans and applied for long service leave. She's asked if I can do remote work from time-to-time, and I want to say no, but haven't decided yet. Part of me says to keep my foot in the door, the rest of me screams I'm going to be on holiday and should relax.

We have so many other logistical issues to work out before we leave. Ebony, who initially resisted the idea for several reasons including missing a season of hockey, came around when I asked her to help us plan the trip. She's thrown herself at the task with great zeal, where she's well past the rough time frames I've given her and a few bucket list-destinations, having researched like a pro, pouring over maps and websites, calculating distances and timings, creating spreadsheets and lists like her mother would do. The lose plan is to head south in late spring, spend summer in the south, autumn in the centre and west, and winter or The Dry in the tropical north. But we've talked with her how we may not get to see it all and may have to change plans from time-to-time, or make spontaneous changes too. She understands, at least I think she does, and I think she's turning a corner with flexibility. Bottom line, the kids are so looking forward to the trip.

But like I've said, it's months away yet, and for now I'm playing around with all the trailer's external nooks and crannies, storage bins, the sliding kitchenette which pulls out the side like a long drawer, the portable fridge, opening and closing all the hatches.

I can't help but grin, imagining preparing dinner at some remote campsite, perhaps by the ocean or in the desert or among mountains. Wherever we are, the kids will be playing or sitting by a fire, and Bridget will hand me a beer or wine, because why not, and we'll smile and clink our drinks together...

Honestly, this trip is going to be epic.

The trailer rocks ever-so slightly on its wheels and drop-down supports, and I hear the plastic cover on the brand new apparently king-sized mattress crinkling, so with my imagination now considering how nice it'll be to settle down for sleep each night of our journey, but also wondering how to manage alone time from the children in such a small living space, I head inside to investigate, the smell of fresh canvas invading my nostrils. Bridget's in the centre of the mattress, grinning up at me cheekily. "Right, this is my bed, where are you gonna sleep?"

I laugh and flop down between her and the canvas wall, the plastic mattress cover crinkling some more. "I belong right here, my love."

"Nah, I want to spread out in luxury, so you can sleep out there under the annex on the camp stretchers with the kids."

"Sure, why not," I say, sitting, ready to climb off the mattress. "Since I've lost fifteen kilos the stretcher's not going to break under my weight now."

She grabs my hand and pulls me back to her. "Wait."

"Change of mind, my love?"

She kisses me, looks me in the eye and whispers, "I'm not wearing any underpants."

"You naughty, naughty girl," I whisper back, "All morning when we were at the dealer and you were commando the entire time?"

"No," She giggles, her hand rubbing down my arm, "I took them off when you were playing with all the storage compartments outside. But I think it's time to play with me inside. And just so you know, it's a good thing you did get snipped a while back, because you wouldn't be playing inside me today if you weren't."

"You naughty magnificent amazing gorgeous woman," I reply, my hand caressing up her thigh under her skirt to discover she's already a little wet.

Her eyes and smirk are full of cheek, where we share smiles and I chuckle, before we're kissing passionately, my fingers helping her wetness increase, and she fumbles with my shorts, pulling them down, and I'm harder than hard, lying on my back, where she straddles me, lifting her skirt, taking hold of me, rubbing me against her, slipping around me, my cock playing inside her, her eyes on mine the entire time, her smile beaming, the most beautiful smile in all the universe, everything about her perfect in my eyes, my love for her strong and deep as ever, and I want her to be happy, and for us to be together until the end of time.

~0~

© 2022 Thefireflies, for Literotica

I'm assuming if you're still here reading this, you made it through! Congratulations and thanks for sticking with the story. I know it was long-winded and rambling at times. Tell me if you want, but I already know because it's a habit of mine, where I like stories to unfold naturally rather than feel forced or contrived. It needs to feel real to me when I'm writing.

Initially my idea was for a married couple to off-load the kids to the grandparents and escape for a dirty weekend. Simple right? But then Bridget, Rick, Ebony and Jordan turned up on the page with their traits and issues and foibles, and things were never going to be so straightforward.

Because life isn't always straightforward, where I dedicate this story to people who struggle but maybe don't quite know why, or maybe they do know why but struggle all the same, feeling helpless about it. And to those who love and support them unconditionally, trying to make their loved one's life easier, despite having struggles and busy lives of their own. So basically, this is for almost everyone. But like the Beetle's say, we get by with a little help from our friends. And hopefully many people can count their families, partners, spouses, lovers among their top most friends to lean on.

TFF