After the storm

I am sorry for the unexpected disappearance from here, but I’ve been so tired that I can’t think, let alone form sentences. There’s six drafts in various forms of disarray in my e-mail account (I sometimes log into my web mail and jot a few sentences if things are quiet around the office) and I need to post something before I’m toppled with a mountain of incomplete trains of thought. Here goes.

The earth tilted towards the sun when the Country Boy and I met last week (more than two weeks ago , now) at the park. After days of wild weather we were given some brief moments of watered-down sun and a barely-there breeze.

He was propped against the side of his car when I pulled up, and I said, “Hey, it’s almost a good day to explore the bushland.”

He replied and said, “Great minds think alike; that’s why I’m stand here waiting to see if you’d like to take a walk.”

He has a devilish smile. And an alluring bulge between his legs.

My new mobile phone for work has a data package and a map application that I haven’t yet needed for work purposes, but it proved a blessing in checking out the park’s topography. We scanned the satellite images and located a path behind a football ground that was ripe for discovery. How did people find private places in the good old days?

We strolled arm-in-arm along the dirt path (trying not to look suspicious as we were the only visitors without dogs) and saw some narrow tracks deviating to each side. One in particular was blocked by a fallen tree — which increased the risk of me falling on my backside navigating the damp ground and branches — but increased the likelihood of no one else being in the area. It was perfect. We struggled through the foliage and continued along the path until we encountered a small clearing with a fallen tree trunk resting at knee height.

I grabbed the Country Boy by the hand and told him to follow me. I chose not to respond when he asked what I was thinking, but he got the hint quickly when I sat on the branch and undid the button and zip of his trousers. Everything was at the right height for my hands to clasp his buttocks and draw his cock to my mouth. He used his legs to push mine apart and plunged a handful of fingers into my wet space.

I became tangled mentally between enjoying the mutual closeness and daring of our location, but keeping one eye open towards the path in case we missed the warnings of someone approaching. After a couple of minutes of his fervent attentions though, I started to not care if half the municipality walked past in shock, but thankfully the impact of the storm allowed us uninterrupted privacy.

We hadn’t thought to take protection on our walk because we weren’t expecting to find a quiet location, so he gripped the back of my head and fucked my mouth until he filled it with come. It’s easy and enjoyable with him because he maintains a clean diet and also ejaculates in one neat spurt. When he recovered he stood me up and I held his shoulders as he worked a finger around my clit. I almost bit his chest when I came, more out of surprise than pleasure as I didn’t expect to relax into him so readily.

We stumbled back to civilisation with wobbly legs and broad smiles on our faces. Nighttime hadn’t fallen by the time we returned and we plotted some possibilities for our next meeting.

2 thoughts on “After the storm

  1. Buy you a plane ticket? I can barely afford a train ticket at the moment after my medical bills! I’ll start paddling; shall be there in your spring.

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