Seeing Him

Last day of the golf tournament and we'd agreed to meet afterwards at the hotel. I was wearing the panties he'd remarked on, the note telling me how wet he wanted to see the silk and what he wanted to do, only the thin gold fabric between his mouth and me.

I'd driven out that morning to hike the mountains nearby while he played the last round. Instead, I found myself wearing a sundress that let the wind blow over my thighs, the flowers and leaves tickling my calves as I walked on the sightseeing trail recommended by the hotel staff. I ran my fingers over the blossoming lilac branches and they felt as soft as the panties sliding between my thighs, creeping between my ass cheeks as I meandered. The warmth of the sun, the smell of the woods. They mingled with the anticipation I already felt at seeing him soon. I felt alive in my body, parts of me light and others growing heavy.

The gentle friction of the panties caused my clit and inner labia to awaken, pushing outward and swelling. My breasts hummed as I opened sensually to this moment, blooming for him. I plucked a handful of the lilacs and massaged them into my neck, my cleavage. Cupping and massaging my breasts in circles toward each other, I ran my thumbs lightly over my nipples. I stood in the wind and let it blow my dress up. I spread my legs to feel my panties with my palms, fingers caressing slowly, lilac mingling with my scent.

I considered meditating, plopping down in the dirt and reflecting on how Georgia O'Keeffe wrote that most people don't ever learn how to see flowers. You can only truly see a flower, she said, by taking time to understand it the same way you would a person. To see takes patience and love. And I want to see him.

I decided on tantra, my body and soul buzzing with sexual tension for him, so I walked off the trail to a more secluded spot and set up my phone on a pile of rocks to record a masturbation-in-the-wildflowers scene for him. I considered running back to the car to get a golf club. Maybe I would lick it or bend over, placing it vertically standing between my ass cheeks. Make dirty jokes about gripping his shaft. My hands slid my dress up, caressing my outer thighs and hips, showing off the cheeky panties by moving my body in slow, round shapes. I plucked an orange poppy and ran it over the inside of my leg, upward. Let it kiss the lace trim of the panties. The flower petals were as velvety as the skin of his cock. I sank to the ground, my shins and knees pressing into the soil, angled in a v shape. I slid the flower in between my breasts and left it there, my cleavage holding it in place. I pulled the hem of my dress up and tucked it into my belt. I'd exposed all of my stomach so he could see how I circled my pelvis to stimulate my clit against my bare heel.

As I squeezed and crushed my breasts into the poppy, I felt heat and wetness begin to build up inside me, my vaginal walls contracting and expanding ever so slightly. I imagined enclosing his growing cock between my breasts as I brought them together, apart, together, apart, in rhythm with my undulating torso. My pleasure unfurled as I began to alternate between deep breaths and short, faster ones. I imagined myself becoming the flower over my heart, my sex organs opening like petals. I pictured him standing over me, his strong legs at my shoulders, and my mouth went dry. I rubbed my palm over the front of my panties, grinding into myself, face to the sun, him shining patiently on me, as I bloomed.

I dragged this out, meditating on every sensation. I kept caressing myself and mindfully exploring the sensual contours of my desire while facing the camera. As I reached my fingers to massage my damp panties further into the heat of my opening, a golf ball arced over the hill, landed by my phone, and rolled to a stop right in front of me. I hadn't realized this trail was near the golf course. I wondered if there was any chance that he had serendipitously hit this ball right to my location. My meditation quickly shifted and my excitement jumped up a few levels. I was breathless, my inside spot was already quite swollen and it quivered now. It actually did look like one of his green, matte balls. Thinking about how he'd sent me a photo of them in his lap in the car with a message about "his balls," I laughed out loud in surprise. Could it really be his? Taking a chance and breaking the rules, I think, I picked it up and slid it ever so lightly forward and backward over my panties.

For the camera, I thrusted my pelvis upward as I slid the ball between my flat palm and vulva, leaning back onto my elbow. My clit pulsed. It was visibly erect through the large, moist patch on my panties and I flicked it. Forcefully. It sent burning icicles through my whole body. I closed my eyes and imagined the ball was his hardness probing, wanting to slip into the edge of my opening, teasing on the other side of the fabric without penetrating. I visualized his wide cock head, the way it thrills me when entering me slowly, parting me, and how I nearly shatter just at that. I shook as electric currents ran down my legs. The muscles of my abdomen and thighs tensed and then relaxed. I was surrendered to exploring this moment. He was the one who awakened my courage to explore sensually in ways I'd always wanted to. I would enjoy telling him about this later.

I kept waiting to hear a golfer come looking for the ball, but as the minute passed, and I approached so close to the edge of release, I began to doubt anyone wanted to search this far off the fairway. I heard voices down the trail, but I thought I could finish before anyone reached a view of me. With my palm, I rolled the golf ball between my full labia, pushing aside the outer lips to press against the inner ones. Every time it touched my clit, my body was jolted. I was considering moving it to the inside my panties, but I suddenly heard a rustling under the trees. From the opposition direction of the voices.

Looking into the shade, I saw a man about thirty yards away. I assumed it was the golfer who wanted his ball and, sorry-not-sorry, I'd got my scent all over it. He had walked up the hill diagonal to me and was about to turn in my direction. I hoped he'd just give up his search and leave so I could attend to my aching body. But he didn't. It seemed like he'd given up looking for his ball and was going to enjoy a sensual moment of his own. I was shocked. And I was trapped. And I was surprised at how much it aroused me. It kind of looked like my man. I dared to hope it was, but I couldn't tell. If he turned just forty-five degrees, he couldn't miss seeing me in this compromising condition. It made me feel a little safe knowing that there were other people coming up the trail, but I didn't want them to see me like this either. I froze in hesitation, but the danger of the moment, of possibly being caught like this with a strange man's ball was exhilarating. My heartbeat picked up. I couldn't help it. My body responded to the flight-fight-freeze instinct and my inner spot spasmed, pushing slick down my thighs.

He turned to lean against the low arm of a large walnut tree and when the light fell upon his profile, the outline of his body, I was stunned. It was him. The man I loved. Fear of being discovered, fear of a stranger, instantly dissipated as I recognized my partner. Only the adrenaline and pleasure of the moment remained, further peaking my nipples and raising goosebumps on my arms. I rubbed my legs together, grinding with the ball sunk into my labia. I admired his posture, the way he leans back confidently, observing, calm. Everything about him draws me in. God. Fuck yes. I had to see this. I couldn't believe we ended up in the same spot both "meditating."

He was touching himself over his grey pants. What prompted him to indulge, I wondered. Was he also tingling with anticipation at seeing me later? Was he going to release or bring himself to the edge and wait until we were together in the hotel room? The thought made my clit beat the extra beats my heart skipped. Was he thinking about me or just enjoying his body autoerotically? Did he hope to be seen?

He brought his right hand to undo his belt, unzip, and pushed them down a little. Just like on our video chats, he made slow, gentle movements while his cock grew long and filled out. Distending. Tugged and adjusted his balls, pulling them out of his boxer briefs. I love the way he touches himself. Gentle and intense. Fucking delicious. My only thought was that my mouth was supposed to be there. His cock is supposed to reach out onto my lips so I can lick it with my flat tongue, sliding along the ridge of his cock head. I wanted his hands in my hair, tangling, his hips gently thrusting into my mouth. I tried zooming in with my camera to get a better look, but it was too blurry. So with my dress still tucked up to reveal my lower half, on all fours, I quietly crawled toward the shaded tree line, closer. Any thought of others approaching had flown from my mind. I was zeroed in on him. I couldn't believe he hadn't seen me.

I was desperate to grip his shaft, stroke with all my lust and hunger. Slap his firm cock on my flat tongue, mouth wide open to him. Grab his sexy, muscled ass and pull him into me. Flick my tongue on the tip of his cock and taste him. Caress the lips of my mouth so gently with his hardness before taking as much of him into my mouth as I could. Stroke with two hands moving in tandem. Lick. Suck. In rhythm. Bring him to bliss. Feel him erupt at the back of my tongue.

Leaves and flowers brushed and scratched against my face, ass, the panties, my breasts, creating tingling sensations that spread all over my skin. I paused by a clump of sage as I watched his hand moving faster. I kept prowling toward him from the side. I could faintly hear his breath. My clit pounded along with my heart in an echoing reply. He curved his broad shoulders forward, hunched over, as he thrust his hips into his hand. Strands of his hair vibrated over his ear as he looked down at himself. The colors of his skin in the shadowy light were mesmerizing. His cock almost seemed to glow the way that the light fell on it through the leaves. I watched as he became more focused and excited. His face was unreadable and I wondered what he was thinking about. I observed as he angled his cock to point upward and then released it to reach out from him. He seemed fascinated with himself, knowing, admiring, and exploring his body, and it made me fucking hot for him. His sexuality was natural and gorgeous.

Me looking at him looking at himself. I was held in a hyper-aroused state seeing him like this, my labia and clit full and throbbing. My vaginal walls tense and pulsing heavily. I touched my index finger to make small circles around my clit while watching. He wasn't in too much of a hurry and I understood he was taking a little time to please himself. Long strokes along his shaft changed to quick pressing, shimmying touches under the ridge, then squeezing the tip and feeling beads of pre-cum sticky between his fingers. He adjusted his legs, taking a wider stance. I could tell he was approaching plateau. I craved him and almost jumped up to run to him, lift a leg against the tree, pull my panties aside, and slide onto his perfect cock. But I also wanted to cum with him, secretly. On camera. And I was so close. Then we could watch together later.

I laid the phone in video mode under me, but my movements must have caught his eye. As he took a moment to look up and scan the area, our eyes met. Energy passed between us like lightning and I was captivated. God, he's incredibly gorgeous. I tell him he's sexy or beautiful, but it's like using kindergarten words. He is divine, rare magic and I worship in his temple. He never stopped moving his hand.

He was as incredibly shocked to see me as I'd been to see him. Considering my position, he realized I'd been observing and approaching him and I could tell this scenario really excited him. With a huge grin, he played into it. He stayed where he was but angled his body to face me. Staring at me with eyes wide and happy, full of questions and abandon. He pushed his pants further down to show me his strong body. He did that little lip-licking thing he does and I wanted to press my mouth wildly, gently to his, and feel that hardness fit into the space between my legs and the panties. Hip bone to hip bone.

He moved his hand faster. I moved my body slower. Seductive. Letting my hips drag and sway. My waist slink. My eyes lustful, ravenous, devoted, and loving. I wanted to lick him till he moaned in surrender, coat his cock in my slick slowly slipping. I wanted to feel him in me and on me everywhere. Now.

But that would be in a few hours. This was foreplay, where there was and there was not patience. The fire in my body had none, but there was also all the time in the world right at that moment. The desire in my organs was one with the love in my soul. To see him.

He took his hand off his cock and watched me staring at it, let it twitch powerfully, reaching out long and erect from his body. The shape and texture of his cock is perfection. I could almost feel it moving in me. I stopped about ten yards from him and leaned back on my shins, raising a knee to show him the wetness flooding my panties. Tracing my index finger along the shape of my vulva, I shivered. The silk was glued to my body with my slick. I pinched my nipple hard and sucked on my lower lip, communicating the intensity I was feeling. He thrusted his pelvis toward me and took a step. Displaying himself.

I almost shattered. I was entering the mind-empty state of sex flow. My body was rolling out of my control. Instinctually, I plucked some petals from a white rosebush nearby and softly massaged them into my lips and then shoved them into my mouth. A signal of what I'd do later. They felt like the silky skin of his living rock. I could almost taste him. I depressed the back of my tongue with two fingers and the petals. My whole hand almost in my mouth. I held down my tongue severely enough so I couldn't swallow, and I could virtually feel his length surge into my throat. I pulsed my fingers while gazing at the form of his body moving, then meeting his eyes in surrender. I belong to him.

With my other hand, I rolled the golf ball into my panties and pressed it into the side and base of my clit, which was so hard, swollen, and painfully ready for release. The ball slipped in my wetness and the surprise movement triggered waves of heat and numb erupting and shooting through my body. My stomach tensed, torso elongated. I held my breath involuntarily. Gasped. Then shattered, contracting again and again. My legs were vibrating, and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips. My breasts shook, nearly popping out of my bra, and the poppy petals bounced violently. Slick wetness gushed all over my hand as I stared into his eyes, seeing stars.

As he watched me convulsing in waves, his hand moved in a few, short rapid-fire strokes and then he exhaled in a gasp. He relaxed into his knees and leaned into the tree. Slowly caressing. I heard him whisper, "Fuck." I dragged my fingers and the rose petals slowly out of my mouth, along my tongue, while I let the orgasm ripple and calm. It just kept going. I sat up, panting, dripping, my clit pulsing with after-effects. I watched his cock surge and spasm in his hand while my vaginal walls pulsed slower and slower but so powerfully my ribs hurt.

We sat in our releases. Soaking in each other. He packed himself back in and zipped up. Stood there like a god. Offered me one of my favorite expressions. His raised eyebrows and widest grin. I flipped my dress down and stood up, pulling off my ridiculously soaked and destroyed panties in the process. I wobbled, still shaky, as I stepped out of them. Just then, an elderly couple came around the bend in the trail. I was relieved we had finished in time. The woman looked at her partner and then to us and called out, "Good for you. There's magic in the time you take to see each other." We had put on more of a show than we knew. We laughed and waved to them, slightly embarrassed, but I was proud too. Because I agreed with her. As they passed us by, I wrapped my panties around the golf ball, sticky with me, and tossed them to him. He blew me a kiss. I waited for the hole-in-one joke, but he said, "Next round ends with more than just my ball in your wetness." Smiling, he jogged toward the tenth hole. I saw him bring the panties to his face and then stuff them into his hip pack.

Walking back to the hotel, a little while later, the poppy tucked behind my ear, I heard the whack of a golf ball and looked over to see him holding his finish. Beautiful. I do see him. I will keep looking for him. Like a flower for the sun. Like the seer of a flower.