The Hills are Alive

Sometimes, things happen, and you have a simple choice. You can feel betrayed, become bitter, and end things for ever because of just one incident, or you can embrace it, and make it part of the story of your love. I chose the latter.

Maria and I were no longer newlyweds, but were still only fifteen months married, and on holiday in Austria, having saved up to rent two rooms in a chalet, because we both love mountain walking in preference to lazing on the beach.

At the time, my wife was twenty four, and I was twenty seven. We had met at university in London. She had been a first year student when I was a foreign student taking a master's degree, and perfecting my English, and I had fallen for her immediately. Her long, auburn hair, elfin face, and slender body had taken my breath away.

Finding that Maria had similar tastes to mine, in music, films, books, and outdoor activities, had sealed the deal. I wanted to spend my life with her. Making love to her, and experiencing her warmth around my cock, and the ease with which she became aroused, and reached her gentle, awe inspiring climaxes, ensured that I felt no need for any other woman.

To my delight, Maria was not only beautiful, but was always willing, never had a headache, but was always deliciously wet and ready to be penetrated, and had breasts whose nipples loved to be touched, and licked, and mouthed, and a clitoris that responded exquisitely to my fingers, tongue, and cock shaft.

Not only was Maria so responsive to my love making, but she gave as willingly and as exquisitely as she received. Her hands knew how to arouse. A single touch of her fingers on my cock shaft would bring me to erection. Her mouth was divine. I did not care where or with whom she had learned to suck cock as perfectly as she did or to take it all the way, relaxing her throat to welcome it until her lips were at its base. I cared only that it was my cock to which she committed herself, throughout our long engagement, and in the formal words spoken on our wedding day.

That was now ten years back, and everything I have described remains true to this very day. Two beautiful children on, Maria remains as sylph like in her figure, and as whore like in our bedroom, as she was the day she first parted her slender legs to let me lie between them and slide my cock into the warm wetness of her cunt.

That perhaps describes the woman with whom I walked in the Austrian mountains, through dense pine forests, above lush green valleys, beside tumbling streams, and over grassy hills and dales. In the warmth of the Austrian summer my wife wore short shorts, khaki coloured cotton, with one inch turn-ups that made them even shorter, almost in danger of baring the under curves of her buttock cheeks.

With her shorts Maria wore a variety of teeshirts, but this one day I remember that her teeshirt was dazzling white. Beneath her teeshirt she wore a bra, her breasts, although not full, still requiring enough control to make any climbing or running that we might do, that bit easier than if they had been unsupported.

I remember that the teeshirt was white, because it was on top of the pile of walking shoes, socks, shorts, panties, and bra that she left on the grass beside the lake when she went swimming, and was still there when she waded out of the cool water, back to the grassy bank, water droplets running down her body, auburn hair flat against her back, arms, breasts and thighs covered in tiny goose bumps, areoles puckered, nipples like rubber, her copse of auburn pubic hair matted against her mound, her slit visible.

The sun was hot enough to warm her body from the cool mountain water where she had just swum, while I stood watching and admiring, envious of the ease with which a girl may be naked, but a man risks accusations of indecency if he dares to follow suit.

My caution was not shared by the two Austrian guys who joined us while we were sitting eating the sandwiches we had brought with us, and drinking two of the cans of Coke stowed in my back-pack. They grinned appreciatively at Maria's nakedness, and asked in accented English if she had swum, and if the lake was cold.

Maria was not for a moment phased by their arrival. She told them that it was not too cold, and they removed their things, scattering them in one untidy pile beside Maria's neatly folded clothing.

I guess that mountain walking keeps you fit, because both of the guys were slim, with decent but not overly muscular torsos, hairless chests with defined, but not bulging pecs. Their blonde copses of pubic hair matched their fuller, denser thatches of unruly head hair. Both of them were well hung. In a three way competition, myself included, it would have been a draw, with tapes needed to decide the final millimetre.

They swam for about ten minutes, ducking, diving and playing as much as they actually swam, and then came out, dripping water, walking back to where we were, confirming Maria's description of the water as being cool, but not too cold, their bodies as goose bumped as Maria's had been, their cocks shrivelled, droplets of water falling from their foreskins.

Like us, they had brought provisions, and they took ryebread, ham and cheese from one of their two backpacks and started eating, having sat with us, three guys and one woman together, three naked and one dressed.

"It's good, yes?" one of the guys said.

It was not exactly clear whether he meant the ryebread sandwiches, or the swim they had just had, or the view of the hills that surrounded us.

He possibly read the confusion in our eyes.

"How do you say, this nakedness, I mean," he explained, taking a huge bite and chewing ravenously.

"I love it," laughed Maria. "My husband was worried that someone might come and be offended."

"If they come, they see," the guy said. "They decide to come closer or go away. It's their problem. It is not ours."

"I guess not," said Maria.

Both of the guys were sitting cross-legged, facing the sun. They had tanned arms and legs, but their torsos were close to being white. Their cocks were beginning to recover from the cold, lengthening, thickening, and even rising.

"Okay, so, I am Pieter, and this is Klaus," the one who was doing the talking said.

I needed to assert myself, to get into the conversation.

"David," I said, "and Maria."

Pieter reached out his hand, and this started a round of handshakes, our arms crossing as we did so.

"I hope you do not mind that we are here," Pieter said. "I know some couples come here because it is so quiet, to be alone, maybe to make love in the open air and beneath the sun."

"No," I said. "It's fine."

"I think," Pieter continued, "if I had a wife like yours, I would want to fuck her here."

There was something about his Austrian accent that made his use of the word 'fuck' somehow natural and inoffensive.

Klaus joined the conversation for the first time.

"You have to forgive my friend," he said. "He sees a beautiful woman, and all he thinks about is fucking her. Next he will ask you if you would like him to fuck your wife while you watch."

"Do you blame me?" Pieter protested.

Klaus laughed out loud.

"Of course I don't blame you," he said. "But perhaps you do not always have to say everything that is in your head."

"And it was not in your head also?" Pieter said.

"Maybe," Klaus admitted, "but it might have been better to get to know our friends a little first, before exploring whether they would be open to some al fresco sex with us."

What happened next was so unexpected that I was left stunned and speechless. It was Maria who spoke, saying something I would never had thought that she might say.

"Would you like to watch?" she asked me.

In any other circumstances I might have thought that the question was a test, to make sure that I was not the kind of person who would want his wife playing around with other men. If it had been a theoretical question, in the privacy of our bedroom, I would have known that that was what it was.

This was different. With these guys having just suggested it, and with Maria and both of the guys already naked, it seemed pretty clear that this was not that kind of test.

She meant it.

My beautiful young wife was actually suggesting that she would let both of these guys make love to her, if I agreed to it.

Someone once said that words can never be unspoken. That question, from my wife, could never be unasked. She had told all three of us that she was willing to have these guys both make love to her, and even if I were to say that I was not happy, and tell the two Austrians where to go, I would always know that my wife would have gone along with it. As if to confirm this she added two more persuasive sentences.

"You could always take photographs for our album. They would be beautiful."

Pieter and Klaus were still chewing on their ryebread sandwiches. They knew better than to look at me. Instead they were both looking at my naked wife. She was sprawled on the grass, and she alone was looking deep into my eyes, penetrating all the way to my soul, daring me to agree.

She was right. A tableau of the three of them engaged in sexual intercourse, beside the mountain lake, would be incredibly beautiful. People take holiday photographs of all kinds. This was an opportunity to capture for ever my wife's youthful beauty, the two guys no more than props to give the photos depth and meaning.

Instead of answering, I unzipped the main pocket of my backpack and took out my camera, the five hundred grams of Nikon digital technology that I would use to record the moments that were about to follow.

Pieter and Klaus said nothing more. They finished chewing. They each drink from plastic water bottles to swill down any crumbs still in their mouths. Then they packed away their food and drink.

Pieter moved first. He eased Maria onto her back, and moved between her legs, bringing his mouth to her cunt. He did not seem to mind that unlike so many women, she did not shave, or even trim, or that her copse of auburn hair was still wet from swimming. He opened his mouth and placed it over her slit, and his tongue began its work.

Maria lay with her legs parted, her arms out wide, looking straight up, to somewhere in the infinite blue sky. Her stomach was stretched concave, her ribcage defined, her breasts now little more than mounds, two inch areoles with thick nipple stubs at their pink brown centres.

Klaus moved to Maria's side. He used his mouth on her left nipple, kissing, sucking, nibbling, and even pulling on her pink brown nipple stub. My wife's lips parted, and she groaned.

Her hands grasped the uncut grass and tugged at it, to no avail. One of the photos that I still have captured that moment, the beginning of her ascent to seventh heaven.

When he was ready, or when he judged my young wife wet enough, Pieter kissed his way up her concave belly up the ridge of her breast bone, and sideways to her right breast and nipple, where he lingered a few minutes, his head close to his friend's as they each sucked and licked at their selected nipple stub. Then Pieter moved on up, diagonally to Maria's neck and ear, to her forehead, and then his lips could no longer touch her head, but his cock was deep inside her.

Pieter had not needed to guide his cock to my wife's slit. She had done that for him. That vision of my darling wife holding this stranger's thick cock shaft and touching his penis head to her wet and ready entrance is no memory, but is a photographic print, taken with a zoom, hand, cock, cunt, together in blissful unison.

It was a defining moment in our relationship.

Not once had we discussed the possibility of this happening.

Never had I imagined that another cock might slide into my wife's cunt instead of mine.

Yet I was a witness and an accessory to the fact that it was happening, a consenting adult, watching my wife as she was taken by another man.

Nothing about it changed my love for her.

Nothing about it altered my love of her beauty, of her gentleness, of her own love of nature, the depth of our relationship, our at-oneness, or my desire to spend my life with this angelic woman.

Nothing about it demeaned our love.

Klaus moved back, taking himself out of his friend's way, kneeling, watching from the far side of the two figures.

Pieter was above my wife, his pale upper body supported by his tanned forearms. Maria was still spread-eagled on the grass, legs, arms and auburn hair all splayed on lush green, her face turned upwards, her eyes level with his chin.

Keeping his cock deep inside her, Pieter took one of my wife's wrists, and then the other, still supporting himself with his arms, but now holding her splayed arms so that she could not move them, claiming her body as his. In response, Maria raised her legs, wrapping them around Pieter's waist, locking her ankles, claiming his torso, his buttocks, and his cock, as hers.

That was how he fucked her. He kept hold of my wife's wrists, balancing on his knuckles and his knees, his buttocks rising and falling as he slowly withdrew from her, and slid back into her, in a steady, rhythmic celebration of her beauty.

Maria kept her legs locked around him. My wife's buttocks rose and fell with his, rising from the grass only to be pushed down again each time he eased his cock back into the longing wetness of her cunt.

I waited to take the next photograph of them locked together, until I recognised the soft moans emanating from Maria's throat, the ones that signified how close she was to coming. I waited until he had pulled back, his cock visible, slick with my wife's wetness, and I captured that moment, as she gave the tiny cry of ecstasy that said that she had reached her orgasm.

There was, in that moment, something so touching and so beautiful that its memory remains crystal clear. It was the first time that I had watched my wife enjoy her climax without the simultaneous need to control or to enjoy my own. I was free to witness something incredibly intense, yet so softly expressed, exquisite pleasure carried on butterfly's wings.

Pieter just carried on, his cock sliding in and out of my wife's shimmering cunt. His own climax, when it came, was a shattering explosion of masculine grunts and roars, as he slammed into her, and kept his cock deep, releasing his semen as far into her body as his length would allow.

Then there was stillness.

He did not move, and neither did she.

Her ankles were still locked and his cock was still deep inside her.

The reality of what I had just witnessed slowly rose to the surface of my mind. This was no dream. It had really happened. I had really allowed this total stranger to make love to the woman that I loved so much, and they were still locked together, his sperm held inside her by the thickness of his cock shaft filling her cunt.

It was so absolutely wrong, and yet so divinely right.

When finally, Maria unlocked her legs, and lowered them to the grass, Pieter withdrew, rolled himself off and lay on his back beside her, in the space that Klaus had left for him.

Maria immediately rose, turning her body towards him, her back to me, leaning across, and using her tongue to clean his cock of it coating of semen and her own fluids, blended together.

The backs of her legs, her buttocks, and her spine, all facing me, she shifted the leg that was uppermost, and a thick, off-white glob was extruded from her cunt. It trickled down her lower leg, closely followed by another glob, and then another. Pieter had not held back when he had come in her.

Maria took the initiative now, sliding herself over Pieter's leg without taking her mouth from his flaccid, spent cock, until she was kneeling between his legs, her butt in the air, her back sloping downwards to where she was still licking at him, her hands on his thighs for support.

Pieter responded, or at least his cock responded. As she tongued him, it lengthened, and thickened, and began to rise. Maria had done this to me, bringing my cock back to life after I had come, using just her mouth and tongue. Now it was his turn.

She reached with one hand and drew her long, auburn hair out of the way, over to the other side of her head, in the process giving me an even better view of her mouth opening over the head of Pieter's cock.

My wife then did to him as she had done to me so often, taking his cock to the back of her mouth, angling it with one hand, and then pushing forward to take his cock into her throat.

That was when Klaus moved.

Maria did not stop fucking Pieter's cock with her mouth and throat when she felt, as she must have felt, Klaus's hands on her buttocks, steadying her, so that he could touch his cock head to her entrance.

Kneeling behind her, he pushed into her, his cock sliding so easily into a cunt lubricated by her own female secretions and by his friend's male ejaculation.

This was the most incredible tableau, something I had never imaged that I might see, my beautiful wife, taken from behind, while she sucked on another, cock in her cunt and in her mouth, consumed by cock, no longer my wife but an object of lust, an exquisite receptacle for male flesh made solid by masculine desire.

Klaus fucked her.

Pieter lay still, luxuriating in her mouth.

Klaus came in her cunt, slamming as Pieter had done before him, his thighs against hers, his cock ramming deep, his semen released into her with all the force that he could muster.

Pieter's back arched as he came a second time.

My wife whimpered, but I knew that she too had climaxed for a second time, focused as I was on capturing the tableau, and their moment of release, to create a photographic record that would remain with us for years to come.

Pieter and Klaus knew better than to stay with us once they had disengaged. They dressed without any sense of urgency, but with deliberate efficiency. They expressed genuine appreciation for having been able to make love to Maria. They said their farewells with true Austrian politeness. Then they left, walking along the valley to wherever they had come from.

Maria came to me, and we held each other, lying on the grass, her naked body warm.

She asked me if I minded about what had just happened, and I answered with the simple truth.

I had found it incredibly beautiful, and somehow very moving. If anything, it had made me love her more, for letting me see her even more fully as the sexual woman that she is, and for her willingness to break all the taboos, and cross the boundaries, to dare to be that woman.

Her promise to me, in gratitude for having allowed her to do as she had done, was that she would never do the same again.

We kissed, a long and lingering kiss, and I tasted the bitter residue that was on her lips and tongue, with no bitterness in my thoughts.

I undressed, and we made love, my wife's cunt wetter than ever it had been before, but still delectable to fuck, and when I came, my semen joined that of the two men who had been there just before me, just as Maria gave yet another whimper that announced her third orgasm of that sunny Austrian day.

Afterwards, we both swam. We lazed in the sun. We made love one more time. We swam again. We let the sun's remaining heat dry our bodies and we dressed. We walked back to our mountain chalet, a day behind us that would stay with us for ever.

That was now ten years ago. I know that, with one exception, my wife has kept her promise. That exception was with my permission, three years later, again in Austria. That second time we were staying with my parents, who cared for our two year old son while enjoying another summer of walks and woods, of hills and valleys, of lush green grass, of lakes and streams, and of lovemaking beneath the sun. Emil and Jacob became our Pieter and Klaus, beside a mountain pathway.