Well, that’s what happens here. Mid-late October it starts to rain, and rarely stops until suddenly, like flicking a switch, we will get 48 hours of low temperatures and then…snow. The immediate world is blanketed in a wonderful, white silence, and it’s all rather picture-postcard perfect.
But not right now. Not when Yours Truly has to go out into her woodland armed with one of those picky-up sticks and an industrial roll of bin liners, and pick up the condoms, panties, drinks cans, crisp packets and other detritus the local school kids have seen fit to deposit throughout my woodland.
And that’s before we even come near my woodland shelters that line the mile and a bit path through the wood. Yes, I know I placed them there for ramblers, but knowing full well couples would use them for sex, but I hadn’t counted on the badly spelled graffiti that now adorns some of them. It’s nice to know ‘Shaz luvs Kev” and who can fumble knowing“I fucked er ‘ere” but really….enough is enough!
I was on my fourth bin liner of assorted garbage and Miss Brain was wondering whether I should sort it into condoms, panties and general rubbish. Honestly, the amount of discarded schoolgirl underwear is alarming. Surely mums must notice their daughter’s ever-diminishing stock of underwear? I know mine would!
And while I was pondering this, God turned the tap on. And He turned it on fully. One minute it was just cold and a bit blowy, the next, it felt like someone emptied the biggest water tank in the world over my wood…and me! Squeaking slightly, I ran for a shelter, and once safe from further soaking continued my ruminations. There has obviously been a lot of sex in my woods. I suspect many cherries may have been lost there too.
All of which put me in mind of my adolescent fumblings, and the sheer joy they brought with them. Anticipation, a little dash of fear, marveling at the first erect cock I held and being convinced such a thing could never fit inside me. Not to mention that first, oh, so hesitant journey up another girl’s inner thigh and finding her panties wet. I remember precisely the inner ‘should I? Shouldn’t I?” battle I fought with myself (for about two seconds) over whether or not I should finger her. (I did).
Looking around the shelter, there were numerous dead leaves piled in the corners, but also a used condom, neatly knotted, and still containing what looked like a voluminous amount of semen.
I closed my eyes, and tried to engage with the residual sexual and energy in the shelter. How had they done it? My guess would be from behind. Her looking up and down the path and listening intently for anyone’s approach. Her skirt up over her back, her panties pulled down, just enough to allow him entry. And their school bags? Yes, surely these were two of the secondary school kids. How do I know? I don’t, other than that I’ve seen enough of them on my wildlife cams.
Him fucking her fast and furious, really slamming her until he damn near filled this condom. No, not really, but there was a large amount of semen in there. I hope she came as well.
Now, how did that happen? I find myself leaning against the wall, my hand shoved down my jeans and panties. Fuck, I’m wet! I took the condom in my left hand and immediately smelled my fingers. What was I thinking? Maybe I was hoping my laser-like sense of smell would give me her vagina, but there was only a faint scent of latex. Even so, this had been up a girl. Just touching it was erotic.
I closed my eyes, and as I know I must, I let my mind wander. Miss Brain needs to be allowed to roam when I masturbate. Forcing her into any particular fantasy results in a pathetically weak orgasm that, frankly, isn’t worth the effort. A few deep,cleansing and cantering breaths and I waited while Miss Brain led me onwards.
They’d fucked, these two, but she wasn’t convinced that condoms are 100% reliable. (Wise girl…no contraception is 100% with the exception of hysterectomies). They had walked on, hand in hand. She had watched while he removed the condom from his cock and knotted it. She had stared at the semen and wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have him cum inside her. Her mind turns to the pill. How could she get that past her mum? They had fooled around before fucking which had included him slipping his cock between her labia. Maybe some live sperms still lurked there? She’d heard peeing immediately after sex works. On the spur of the moment she says, “I need to pee.” Then her brain grabs the mouth controls, and she finds herself adding, “You can watch me…if you like.”
They both step off the path and she pulls her panties down to her knees where she can hold them safely out of the stream. We all learn this very early on. Have your panties round your ankles and chances are you’ll pee on them. He watches her relax and a golden stream falls to the woodland floor. He finds himself growing erect. What the fuck? She notices too. She grabs a tissue from her bag, dries herself and discards it. They both stand, but he is rock hard. She tells him he can’t go home like this, unzips him and gets his cock out. She begins to masturbate him while her brain puts two and two together. She leans to his ear. “You liked watching me piss…I can tell. Maybe next time, I could pee…on you. Or maybe I’ll do it in my panties like a naughty girl.” His ejaculation flies from him and the girl smiles.
Meanwhile, I have cum heavily in my panties. My squirt ensuring that if I was cold before, I now have soaked panties which won’t help!. I feel the aftershocks of the cum. They really are delicious. I tend to lose control when I cum and at the precise moment of orgasm, anyone could walk up to me and do anything, and I’d love it. I realise, not for the first time, just how submissive I am with sex, and at the point of orgasm, I am anybody’s.
I let the cum roll over me and when it departs, I suck my fingers. I adore my own scent and taste. The rain has stopped now, and I have four more shelters to check and I’m sure, more crap to pick up.
Walking in my soaked and slippery panties feels delectable and reminds me of those days I’d walk home from school squishing in my panties, and looking forward to a nice wank when I got home. Sometimes, I wouldn’t make it home, and I might do it in the middle of a field, or in an old disused barn. The memories start my clit tingling again, but I have work to do.
Maybe later….
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