Through the Woods

Copyright © PennameWombat January 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is a simple story of a man, a woman, her neighbor with a specific lack of experience and a window on their world. I hope you enjoy it.

Tags: Anal Sex, ATM, Bareback, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, FFM, First Time, Outdoor Sex, Exhibitionism, Straight Sex

*****

Through the Woods

"Nice view," she said. She sidled left very carefully.

He didn't move for an instant, then he sidled as well. Toward her.

"It's been a tense week," she said, "glad it's over."

"Hmm," was his only reply before he slid back a quarter step and his hand found her shoulder. She turned her head away so he couldn't see her broadened smile but it also allowed her to push that shoulder into the touch. She'd hoped for this, a fellow workshop attendee had suffered back spasms after a stumble over a kerb, apparently a chronic ailment and the hands now on her back had cured him.

Both hands kneaded her shoulders and upper back and neck. They were tight. She'd been tense all week, but the work side had been only part of it.

He was... good. No. The only thing that would make it better would be her blouse and bra being elsewhere. Like... on her bedroom floor. No. If they were further from the front door than a step into her flat they'd have been on too long. Maybe...

Her right hand moved of its own volition toward her blouse. Her exit from the bus that morning had seen her as it always had with her short-sleeved blouse's top two buttons open, her thin sweater stored in her shoulder bag. Her choice of bra meant her nipples were covered if not by much and the cleavage on show only hinted at what she'd wanted to show. But the day's group leader, a friendly and slim black woman a bit older than her for whom she'd bought a drink the night before, had properly deciphered her veiled hint for her desired partner for the morning's pairings, Friday the only day where they were paired instead of groups or individual assignments. After a morning of slowly escalating hormones she'd returned from a pre-lunch bathroom visit and the third button down on her blouse hadn't simply come undone. It had disappeared.

"Cheap thread," she'd said in offering an explanation no one who'd seen her over the morning could deny, "I coughed and turned too quickly and it stretched too much."

Unlike the disapproving glances from a couple of women she didn't know and gave not a single fuck about their opinions he'd accepted her inability to explain the accident further with a smile and a willingness to watch as she fussed with it before they both shrugged and laughed it off. They'd eaten lunch seated on concrete stools that faced each other and she'd spent much of that time with elbows on thighs as they'd continued stories of their lives that had unfolded previously in snatched private moments. She'd scrunched her shoulders to tighten her cleavage each time she'd caught his glance and she'd checked out a nicely broad chest and solid shoulders in his well-fitted shirt in hopes he'd get the hint she didn't mind. He had.

As they'd been promised, they'd been dismissed an hour after lunch which meant a request for him to walk with her to her tower block across the river was a neutral and natural enough continuation for the day. As most strode to the buses or nearest train stop only her closest friend amongst her coworkers shared with her knowledgeable glances and parting and broad smiles. But with the crystal clear end of summer sky and that season's humidity a memory many from the districts each side of the water had the same idea for strolls. The imminent loss of that sun soon after the end of a normal workday meant speed walking if not desperate sprinting was called for.

Her long and slow purr was the only sound either of them made as his hands worked. She didn't mind his silence. He was smart, could be funny, his voice was soft, he didn't need to yell or force himself to be in the front of a conversation. After a Monday of little more than glances and simple greetings, each day had progressed further and with the merest physical contact had moved past the need for small talk.

He'd apparently taken her avoidance of joint evening events as she'd meant. Save up for a single all-in roll of the Friday dice.

She rested her hands on the smooth metal of the railing at the river's edge and leaned forward to encourage his hands to more expansively explore her back.

Damned bra. She felt his hands work around it. Decision made. Her blouse was square-hemmed and reached just below the top of her slacks. Unlike her ass her abs were flat but current conditions meant flat abs weren't unusual. That hers offered a bit of definition, if not a six-pack, was extra credit. The occasional glances the blouse offered had been appreciated but some had chosen the Friday to offer more expansive views. She'd been happy with her choices.

"Unsnap it," she said as his hands brushed the offending back strap and he 'hmm'ed, "just reach."

His hands quickly traversed down her lower back before they found the hem. She was surprised when only a single hand reversed the journey, this time against bare flesh. But. The blouse was snug. It needed to be for her 'mishap' to be believable. Even if minimally so. And it wasn't yet, at least not quite, time to undo the rest of the buttons.

Besides. The river wasn't that wide and it seemed the perfect afternoon had seen every school and office allowed to be vacated early. Likely those of her neighbors and from other tower blocks without work had probably emptied as well. The urban park that snaked along the river's opposite bank was well occupied.

"There," he said. Oh, hell. She felt the slack as the hooks were released. Men... a man, couldn't do that with one hand. Could one? This one could. She shivered but hoped he'd take it as response to fingers that traced down her spine as she straightened and not what else she hoped those fingers could do. She scrunched a sleeve and grasped a strap through the gap then contorted her arm to release it before she repeated the twist on the other side then worked the cups past her breasts.

With a flourish she flopped the bra over the handrail. She knew her blouse was just about transparent in bright enough light but she had no plans to put the bra back on.

"Ah," she said as his hands roamed freely across her back, the thin fabric of the blouse was now little impediment and her hands joined the bra on the handrail, "so much better."

The tension drained from her shoulders and neck and back as he worked. But it increased in other areas. She tried not to picture the result of the roll of her dice but if it was as she hoped those tensions would eventually be slaked as well.

His hands worked either side of her waistband, touches to flesh and to the cloth at the upper bounds of what she knew was a round and anything-but-slender ass. Some men liked it... others...

"My ass is so fat," she said quietly as his hands worked down her lower back and onto that part of her anatomy. She shimmied it to encourage more and harder pressure and harder pressure was applied.

"Hah," he said as he worked around the rounded shape and she shuffled her legs wider... just in case, "anyone who says it's fat has opinions that can and should be ignored."

He slid his right hand centrally and slid it down. She flexed her arms against the railing in front of her and bent a bit further and pushed back. A sharp intake of breath as he slid the edge of that hand between... all the way between her legs. The other kneaded her ass cheek. She shimmied again.

"Shit... shit... shit," was her silent lament, "a dress. Why the fuck didn't I wear a dress! Or a skirt... One or the other. Without goddam knickers!"

You could easily run in a skirt or dress, especially if they were short, the shorter the better, if you didn't care what people saw. And no one who mattered cared anymore if it came to that. It was all about the shoes.

But. Even with the slacks... he'd found the spot. How? First the bra, now... had he read her subtle jump as he'd found it? What could he do when... goddam better be when and not if... her slacks and increasingly sodden panties joined her other clothes in that pile in her mind... that pile maybe outside her flat. What could these hands... and...

She moved forward quickly and grunted at the loss of contact but her one-eighty meant she had her arms around his shoulders in less than a second. His mouth was ready for hers.

Both of his hands worked her ass as their mouths opened wide and she launched an aggressive attack with her tongue. He was good. His tongue blunted her attack and pushed it up and around and its counteroffensive was intense. Their tongues continued the battle as she felt the fabric of her blouse rub against her nipples as they grew. She moved her body subtly side to side to rub them against the pressure of his body. She was barely three inches shorter and with the slight heels in her boots all but his height.

Boots because she hated flats. She was fine with sneakers but for work? No. She still had a pair of beautiful heels like what she'd remembered women wore when she was a girl. But you only wore those... well, she wore them in her flat to pretend. But outside? These boots wouldn't slow her and she could walk for hours if need be. And she'd noticed his footwear. The men's equivalent. Woodlands. Showy but functional.

He pushed his crotch and she nudged her right thigh forward. She was... pleased. Like her blouse his light-weight jeans had been snug and stretchy. Like her blouses they'd not been so at the beginning of the week. Like her blouse they covered but didn't hide.

It wasn't that she was displeased with his mouth. Nor with his tongue. But his hands weren't being optimally employed. They'd made no secret of their admiration for what she knew was her plentiful ass but she felt they could be put to better use. But she was too worked up to retrace their steps out of this little tame forest right now. She needed something...

She forced her mouth off his. Force being the right verb. She convinced it better offerings were imminent. She shook to loosen his grip and without separating spun again to press her back against him. His hands were momentarily unemployed but even before she could corral them his left found her breast and his right slid down the front of her slacks and as she widened her stance it pressed home.

Right where she wanted it.

They'd said their goodbyes to colleagues from the multiple government ministries who'd come together for the week's training. Those with families had hurried to transport options for their homes. The others who lived close by this side of the river and the other as she did and ranged from acquaintances to friends read her expression and left her to make her own way across that watery divide.

The vast and once-proud expanse of the city had grown in better times along both banks of the river which had been walled and tamed in decades past. Wide bridges had once carried the all-but-extinct autos of her youth and now carried buses and trains and bicycles. Bridges dedicated to pedestrians had always existed but in practice every crossing now welcomed those on foot.

Even those not of long residence knew that this core of the once great city was but a shadow of what it had been. But it was clean. Its bridges stood. Buses ran and people lolled in the still-tended parks on the weekends even if beyond this core was a collection of shuttered and fortified metro stops until the rails reached the outlying settlements.

"Hey," he'd said as they'd approached the nearest bridge, "we're not in a hurry, are we?"

"Oh?" She'd said as she'd hid her smile, she wasn't in the mood to waste time but she'd wondered at his thoughts.

"There's some nice paths in the Forest here," he'd indicated the tended thirty acres of maples and oaks and various fruit trees and even some of the catalpa trees she'd always found so weird with their giant leaves and mini-sword seed pods, "and some spots that offer nice views."

The city's leaders took advantage of available labor to maintain the green spaces. They offered respite and hope. In return, beyond just sustenance the tenders were offered useful endeavors, gratitude and extra rations, the latter two from both the officials and from those like her lucky to have other purposes.

"You know the ways?"

He'd flipped his shoulder bag to his left side and offered his right hand and she'd made a mirrored move with her bag then gladly taken his hand and followed. They'd said their greetings to other couples and trios and foursomes who'd had similar thoughts. But he'd led them to a fork where one path led to no obviously attractive location and rare weeds showed it was regularly avoided. He'd led her that way.

The reward had been a hidden spot which offered a view of the busy park on the far shore and towers that glinted in the sun. Even if their lustre wasn't so bright as it had been.

"Nice view," she'd said. She'd sidled left very carefully.

Her left hand found his and coaxed it to the remaining buttons of her blouse. Two sets of fingers worked the next button open before she nudged it downward. He read her intent and released the last two from their duties. She pressed her ass into his crotch as his fingers traced up her abs until they found the swell of her left breast.

He paused just as those fingers moved the no longer restricted cloth of her blouse. Her purr gave assent and he slid the cloth past her eager nipple. She found his hand again and pressed it against that growing flesh.

She bent her head back as lips and tongue and even teeth found the flesh where her neck met her shoulder. She felt his warm breath as he kissed his way slowly.

Then she huffed as his right hand pressed between her legs. She was wet. After a moment she knew that she'd get wetter. His hands... like he'd handled her bra he knew exactly where his fingers needed to press. And how hard. He hadn't, and wasn't, mashing at it. But she knew it would want increasingly aggressive attention. Could he know?

Until it didn't. Would it get that far? Her fingers were regularly employed for this purpose and men had used their mouths, yes, but...

Her eyes became slits as his left hand worked an erect nipple on her large left breast, its availability easy with her blouse unbuttoned and her bra over the railing. It seemed he'd read her mind as his right hand increased its pressure in the Exact Spot between her legs where she wanted it. As she wanted it.

Did he read her breathing? Choppy and huffy it had become. Her body offered little jerks. So subtle even she barely noticed them. She had to act. She forced her right hand between their bodies and along his thigh. Let's see what he thinks of this!

Her immediate reward was a sharp exhale. This was her most accurate exploration so far. As his slacks had offered less slack each day she'd studied. She wasn't like one girlfriend who only wanted them... well, like those videos they'd watch. She wasn't like that. But. She was pleased as her hand followed hard and constrained flesh down his thigh. Even her girlfriend might... but that slut wasn't getting anywhere close enough to do what was happening right now.

After his huff, his hands kept at their tasks. Shit. He really was going to cause her to make a major mess. Maybe slacks and especially knickers had been the right idea. After all, she still did need to get home. And people might notice bare thighs covered with... She tilted her head back and opened her mouth to pant and she shook so both breasts were exposed as her blouse flew and settled. She knew her tits were large, round and high, genetics and luck had been hers, bras an acquiescence to social mores and practicality but not strictly required although even she admitted it WAS easier to run with one on.

One brain cell pointed out that someone on the far shore might have binoculars. Or just very good eyes. Another brain cell directly connected to her screaming clit murdered the complainer. She wasn't sure she had all that many to spare but this was justifiable homicide and a warning to the rest. She surrendered to the inevitable. Her right hand lost the ability to stroke and did its best to simply grab the hidden erection.

"Ah... ah... oh, fu... goddammit...," her left hand crushed his left against her right breast as she jerked her hips as his right hand stroked against her own hidden erection rapidly and with considerable force.

"Motherfu... er...," she jumped and arched her back and neck. Oh, fuck. Her entire crotch was suddenly a... mess. She felt it running down her thighs as he forced another spasmed climax from her wildly excited pussy.

"Ahh, FUCK!" She jumped and her legs scissored together to squeeze his hand and bring the torture to a halt as he'd forced one of the most intense orgasms she'd ever had. Juice flowed down the insides of both thighs. The only hope was that her slacks were black. Any other color and...

"Stop...," her voice was ragged, "oh, my god, just... hold me."

He kissed her neck and worked his way to her ear. Her legs relaxed slightly and his hand moved to a soft and tender touch. But didn't leave. Good. But she wondered if he felt...

"I'm glad you enjoyed that," he whispered.

"Can... can you feel... wet..."

"Yeah, impressive," he switched sides and nibbled her other ear, "I got lucky."

"I don't think luck had anything to do with it..."

She let him brace her for another minute before she took her weight back. Her hand ran a full stroke along his cock.

"If I dropped my slacks and knickers RIGHT NOW and bent over in front of you," her voice was hoarse and slow, he grunted and squeezed her nipple and touched tenderly at her still-overwhelmed clit and she squeezed his erection, "where would you shove this? Really, where? No bull, your real desire."

"I'd gather up as much of that juice as I could," he said and she 'uhhed,' "because I'd want lube so I could slide my cock between these awesome cheeks..."

She snorted but pressed his hand hard to squeeze tightly again against her breast and pushed her ass back. Hard.

"You wanna fuck my ass," it wasn't a question. She hoped the renewed strokes on his cock and renewed pressure of the very ass he wanted to fuck told him it would be welcome there.

"It's the best ass I've seen... in a long, long time. Or... ever. I've... had thoughts about it since my first glance of that photo."

Each ministry sending a team to the past week's workshop had been required to send a group photo to be distributed amongst all of the other teams ahead of time. Fate had her standing at one edge of the group in a slight arc which put her just past a quarter turn. Just enough of a turn for a viewer in the right kind of mood to see... something.

His team's photo had him standing behind seated colleagues. But while others had arms crossed or other indications of sour mood he stood with his arms loose, his body lanky and relaxed. Confident, she'd read it at first glance... And so handsome.

"If only I'd worn a skirt today," she said slowly and felt his exhaled breath on her neck.

"Good things come to those who wait," he whispered as his lips and breath caressed her ear and neck.

Her body still vibrated from what he'd done to her. She flexed her pelvic muscles and pushed more moisture out. What a mess.

"What makes you think I like it that way?"