The 'Other' Bucket List

"Yeah, I think so, too." I resumed kissing her breasts gently, still keeping a wary eye on the spot where the trail exits the woods. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Mmm," she cooed, "and an even better wake up call. I could get used to this."

I leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her lips before informing her that we ought to be leaving soon or we really would be finishing the hike in the dark.

"Don't we have our headlamps?" she asked.

"Well, yeah, but we still should be heading down soon."

"Soon," she agreed, "but not yet, right? Isn't this why you packed the headlamps in the first place?"

"Jules, you packed the headlamps," I reminded her. "Was this your plan all along?"

"Maybe."

She reached her arms up and wrapped them around my neck, pulling me back into a kiss of her own—one much more sensuous than the one I'd just given her.

My instincts took over, or perhaps just lust, and I immediately lost my ability to think straight or reason anything out. Here we were at one of the most frequented trail destinations in the Smokies—a national park, I might add—my wife's breasts were exposed to the world, and we were making out.

Was this a federal crime? What if a ranger caught us? Could we end up in jail? Who would we call to bail us out? How would we even explain it? What would her mom think? Hell, what would MY mom think?

I suppose I should have entertained those thoughts more but, in truth, they barely registered at all. Only one thing was on my mind now, and it wasn't anything so respectable as covering Julie's nakedness and hurrying back down the mountain—quite the opposite, in fact.

I looked around again, listening intently for any signs that we might be interrupted. I confirmed we were definitely alone. The hippie girls were at least five minutes down the trail by then and I heard no other voices, not even in the distance—only the wind breezing through the trees and an occasional bird song.

I turned my gaze back to her, ready to finally give her my undivided attention.

"My god, you're beautiful," I gushed.

"Please, don't talk," she quickly interrupted. "We're going to run out of time, remember?"

I reached down again and slid the stretchy Lycra sports bra over her head, setting it on the ground next to the two shirts. My lips remembered their previous travels and resumed them, gently planting small wetted footprints on a path from her chin to a breast—circling an areola and spiraling in to the fully hardened nipple.

I flicked it and heard her draw in a sudden breath. I couldn't help but grin. I flicked again and heard a moan.

I replaced my lips and tongue with my fingertips and continued tickling her breasts, as I slid further down her body. I kissed and licked my way further—from just beneath her tits, down to her navel, only stopping when her hiking shorts rudely blocked any further progress.

As I maneuvered my fingers down to the snap in her shorts, I dipped my tongue into her navel, teasing in and around and back into it again, and repeating the motion like a holding pattern until I finally heard the snap unfasten.

I had to look down for a brief moment so I could pinch the zipper pull and glide it toward her feet. I caught her eyes as she lifted her butt, giving me the nod of encouragement I needed to keep going. I tugged on her shorts while she wiggled, making sure I had a good hold of her panties while I did. I slid them down and clumsily maneuvered them over her hiking shoes.

"Oh my god, now this is a vision of..." I started gushing again.

"Seriously, Ben. Shut up."

I wish I'd taken more pictures—not just the ones I was committing to memory in my mind—but some actual photographs on my digital camera. I knew this was a special moment, the kind that happens, quite likely, only once in a lifetime.

She eased her legs up, bending them at the knees, and opening them wide. Her desire was made clear. Words were not needed.

I descended again, this time not following any leisurely route, but diving directly toward her sex, the salty taste of her skin quickly replaced with the special taste of her passion. I traced her labia with my tongue—first the outer lips, then the inner. I pressed her pubic mound with my palm, massaging and licking, but intentionally avoiding her button.

Her hips wiggled, slowly at first, then more urgently, as she tried to help me zero in on her clitoris, to initiate contact, to take her to the climax she now craved.

In turn, I teasingly avoided the target, hoping to exert some sense of control over my normally in-charge wife. That notion was short-lived, though, as I soon felt both of her hands grabbing tightly on the back of my head and pulling my hair. Suddenly, my head was thrust, through no power of my own, forcibly into her mound. I barely had the chance to take a deep breath before my mouth and nose were sealed tightly against her.

I licked furiously, taking no mercy on her clit, wanting not only to drive her to the brink, but to do so quickly so I could surface for a full breath of air. I flicked and licked in swirling circles around her button, while my fingers explored her folds, quickly finding their way into her velvety wetness.

She arched her back, and the change in position broke the seal of my face against her pussy. A rush of fresh oxygen reinvigorated my efforts. The sounds of my efforts burst forth—the unmistakable sounds of a woman being eaten out by her lover—slurping, licking, moaning, gasping.

I desperately wanted to please her, to bring her to climax, but more importantly to worship her with my mouth, to celebrate and indulge in her perfection.

I tongued her frantically, while her body writhed on the still warm slate stone ground beneath us. In the background, I heard a hawk screech. In the foreground, only her swelling moans of passion.

A cool breeze slid down the hillside, colliding with the heat from her body and the radiant warmth from the stone bed beneath us and sending chills to her skin. Heat...chill...goosebumps...and a sudden grazing over her g-spot with my fingers.

Her thighs pressed hard against my head and her hands retightened their grasp, as the swell of sensations overwhelmed her. She squeaked like she sometimes does when things are 'just right,' then squeaked again as my fingers honed in on their ultimate target.

I recognized all of her sounds, like a favorite song on the radio. I knew each percussive drumbeat of her heart, every slide along a guitar string in her whimpers, every nuanced trill in her voice. Within seconds, she was moaning loudly, as familiar crashing cymbals portended the orgasm that was rushing its way from her core and toward my awaiting mouth.

Then it came—she came—and I took her in. I swallowed as much of her as I could, tasting her passion, lapping it, devouring it, while she did all she could to will my tongue into her essence as the joyous crescendo overtook her.

We cuddled a couple of minutes before reality set in and I started feeling self-conscious again. I looked around, worried someone might have shown up in the middle of her very nude, very loud, very public orgasm. Though, to be perfectly honest, I was probably the only one worried about it. In fact, she probably wouldn't have been flustered at all if a voyeur had watched from the woods. I would have been mortified—turned on, sure, but also mortified.

But no one had caught us. We were still alone. My sexy woman was still lying completely naked (save for her hiking shoes) on the still warm rocks of Chimney Tops. And I was lying next to her, an obscene bulge tenting my shorts, begging for attention.

"Well, that just happened," she finally whispered as she reached down to my crotch, finding my rock-hard shaft straining against its confinement. "Sorry, Benji. I owe you one—a really special one. That was incredible."

As much as I wanted to protest, to insist on cashing in my rain check right away, I knew she was right. We really did need to get her dressed and make our way back down the mountain, not only because it was getting dark but because we had probably already pressed our luck.

"Well, this is a first," I groaned resignedly.

"First for me, too, Ben, but hopefully, not the last," she cooed.

"Huh?" At first, I was a little confused by her statement, until I realized we weren't talking about the same thing. "Oh, that... No, I didn't mean that."

"You don't have to keep calling it 'that' you know. You can call it what it was."

I hadn't even realized I was doing it, but true to my old nature, I was suddenly back to acting a bit reserved, at least compared to my more adventurous Julie.

"You licked my pussy, Benji...while outside...on top of a mountain, even! Oh my god, I'm starting to get wet all over again just hearing myself say it."

"What? No! I wasn't even talking about that" I referred to what we'd done as 'that' yet again. "I just meant having to hike back to the car with a hard-on!"

"Oh, yeah. I suppose that'll be a first, too," she teased. "Either way, I guess we'll both have something to check off our Bucket Lists when we get back."

"Sure...wait...our what?"

"Don't tell me you've never heard of a Bucket List."

I wasn't sure if it was a question, but I answered her, just in case. "No, Jules. I've never heard of a Bucket List."

"Well, I'll tell you about it on our way back down."

That was indeed the first time I'd heard of a Bucket List. Julie explained that it was basically just a list—a checklist, I suppose—of things you want to do before you lose the chance to do them.

"My theory is it's mainly for introverts," she nudged me with her elbow, "so you should definitely do it."

"Ha ha ha. You're so funny...not."

I hated being called an introvert and she knew it. And least she didn't say I was shy—that was even worse.

But there was no denying Julie's personality was care-free and outgoing and mine was not. I had indeed married the yin to my yang—the complimentary extrovert to counter-balance the inwardness I'd cultivated my entire life and, only since meeting Julie, was making more of an effort to let go of.

"So, what do people put on their Bucket Lists?" I asked while reluctantly handing her the sports bra.

"The usual ones are things like sky-diving, whitewater rafting, seeing the Northern Lights, things like that."

"And you have one of these? A Bucket List?" trying to keep her preoccupied while I committed the few last seconds of her nudity to my memory.

"I have two, actually."

"Two?" That jarred me just enough from my reverie that I looked up to her face. "Why would you need two?"

"Well, there's the regular one. I actually keep it online and literally check things off of it when I do them."

"Seriously? How'd I not know that?"

"Because you're a man." She was now fully dressed and starting to hike away from me. In my mind, I knew she'd stuck her tongue out at me, though I didn't actually see her do it. "If you'd ever get on Facebook, you'd see me mentioning things when I check them off."

"Oh!" I blurted as the realization hit, "So that's what you were talking about when you said you 'checked off' seeing a shooting star?"

"Exactly! Good job, hon. I'm proud of you for figuring that out," she razzed me again. "And so quickly, too. It's only taken you—oh, let me do the math—three months?"

Again, I imagined the face she was probably making. This time, she was probably grinning ear to ear.

"Har har. Whatever. So why do you have two Bucket Lists, though?"

"Oh, well, that's obvious, isn't it?"

"Sorry. I'm a guy, remember?"

"Right. Well, let's just say some things shouldn't be on the same list as seeing a shooting star. Things I wouldn't announce on Facebook, if you get what I'm saying."

"Ah, you mean things like getting your pussy eaten out on top of a tourist trap mountain top in the middle of the Smoky Mountains? Is that what you're saying?"

"Oh my god, did my Benji just say pussy out loud?!"

I couldn't help blushing.

"And yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. There's the Bucket List like everyone else has, but then there's the Other Bucket List for things like 'that.'" She even made air-quotes, for emphasis.

We hiked a little farther, coming to a stop when the late twilight sky caused the tree-covered trail to grow even deeper than the darkening sky above it. We took the opportunity to fetch our headlamps from my daypack and to sip some water.

"I thought you were going to hike down the mountain with a hard-on?" she asked while focusing her headlamp on the crotch of my shorts. By the tone of her voice, she sounded disappointed.

Had she only known; I'd been waiting for it to go down before suggesting the water break. It had only been soft a couple of minutes.

She closed the distance and groped me through my shorts. "I wanted you to be hard so you could tell me what it feels like to have a hard-on in public—one that anyone walking by couldn't help but notice."

"Well," I confessed, as her raspy tone lit a pilot light near the base of my balls. "I've actually been hard most of the time. It's not all that comfortable, to be perfectly honest. I was constantly trying to adjust it so it wouldn't get, like, trapped and stuff."

"Hmm," she continued with her seductive voice, "we definitely wouldn't want that, would we?" She continued stroking my hardening shaft. "Maybe I can help you get more comfortable. Should I lean it to the left..." she yanked my dick quickly to one side. "...or should I lean it to the right?" she quickly yanked it to the other side.

"Ung," I grunted, as the feel of the thin fabric of my athletic shorts scraped across the now sensitized head.

"Hmm. How much further do you think we have?" she asked, as if we were suddenly having a perfectly normal conversation, though she hadn't let go of my manhood.

"N...not much further...Maybe half a mile—three-fourths at the most." Oh god, what is she doing to me? "W...we should probably walk a little slower now. It's not worth t...turning an ankle." I was barely sputtering my sentences.

"Yeah, that make sense." She released her firm grip on my cock and patted it. "Well, I'm ready to keep going if you are."

"Um..." I wasn't sure what else to say. "Okay."

I threw the daypack over my shoulders again and let her lead the way again. As soon as she turned, I started fumbling with my dick, trying to find comfortable positions for my reinvigorated hard-on. I was glad she was leading, or I'd be hearing relentless ribbing about it. On the other hand, following behind her allowed me to watch her ass as it swayed with each step, which only fueled the erection I was trying to calm back down.

More than once, I tripped on a root or a rock because I was paying less attention to the trail than I should have been. My preoccupations quickly alternated between gawking at her behind, to wishing my hard-on would relax, to pondering some other questions I found swirling in my mind.

"Having troubles back there?" she'd joke whenever she heard the tell-tale sound of my boot thumping hard against a rock yet again, usually followed by a curse word.

"Yeah...I'm just wondering," I paused, not sure how to word what I wanted to ask. The whole Bucket List topic had lodged itself in my brain and I couldn't shake it. "Do you really have that second list?"

"The Other Bucket List? I sure do."

"Seriously?"

"Yes! Are you that surprised? Getting my pussy eaten outdoors was number twelve on my list, by the way."

It took a few seconds to digest what she'd said—not only because it was new information, but also because she was so brazen about it. "Number twelve? How many things are on your list? And you have it memorized?!"

"Hey, I started my list in high school. So, sue me! I've had a lot of time to think of stuff. And yeah, there's a few things I've wanted to do for so long that I actually remember the number."

"Wow. You're really amazing. You're just so outgoing and stuff. I know I shouldn't be surprised you'd have a list like that. It's...it's just...not something I would do."

"Well, we should fix that."

"Um, yeah, no. How 'bout we just let you keep the list? I'm not sure I could ever do that."

"Ooh, be careful, Benji. You might not want to leave me in charge if we're going to share a Bucket List."

"I'm just saying I'd be too embarrassed to...you know...have a list like that."

"You're adorable, Ben, but you know," She seemed to be contemplating something. "I'm betting you already have one. You're just too afraid to let anyone know what's on it."

"Ha! You think I have a bucket list? I didn't even know what they were 'til today. Now you think I have one of those 'other' Bucket Lists, too? HA!"

Despite trying to sound flippant, I couldn't help pondering the question as the trail continued further and further downward.

Did I have a list of things I wanted to do before the opportunity was lost? If I didn't, should I maybe start one? And what about that 'other' list...are there things I've maybe secretly wanted to do, but just never had the nerve to admit to? Maybe not even to myself?

THUMP. "Dammit!" I'd stubbed my toe again on an exposed root.

This time, Julie didn't even bother trying to muffle her laughter.

The temperature around us felt warmer as we descended, easily back into the upper seventies, if not the low eighties again. That, coupled with the heat from the exertion of hiking, left my shirt soaked with sweat and clinging tightly to my chest and back.

"You still okay back there?" Julie chirped after a good couple of minutes of silence.

"Huh? Yeah, I'm still here..." I hesitated just enough that she keyed in on the fact that I was deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?"

"N...nothing."

"Liar."

She knew me way too well.

"I bet you're thinking about some of the things you want to put on your Bucket List."

"Huh?...Oh...yeah..." I figured I had an opportunity to steer away from my actual thoughts...my uncomfortably embarrassing thoughts. "I don't think I'd want to go skydiving though."

"Not that Bucket List, you dork. The other one."

Damn, I'm not sure I'd ever pulled a fast one on Julie, or if I did, I could probably count the times on one hand.

"So, are you going to make me guess?"

"Guess what?"

"What's on your list, doofus."

"Oh," I grew silent again.

"Fine, I'll start guessing. I imagine you'd like the equivalent of what I had just a few minutes ago—an outdoor blowjob, maybe?" she boomed in full voice.

"Hey! Can you keep it down?"

"Um, hello, there's no one around, remember."

"You don't know that! We're probably getting close to the trailhead."

"My husband wants a blowjob outdoors!" she yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Oh my god!" I rushed up behind her, covering her mouth with my hand, trying to muffle her yelling. Of course, it was true that there probably wasn't another soul around to hear us. And it was also true that I secretly dreamed of having an outdoor blowjob. Hell, not an hour previously, I was near to begging her for one.

She quickly gave up her attempts to yell through my hand, only to start licking it instead.

I quickly pulled my hand away. "Gross!"

She turned to face me, her headlamp temporarily blinding me as she looked up at my face.

I covered the lens on my own headlamp so I could see her better.

"So, for real, Ben, I want you to make a Bucket List. Two Bucket Lists, of course. And if you don't tell me everything that's on them, it's going to hurt my feelings."

"Huh? Hurt your feelings? Why would...?"