Jessica moved around the back of Tim’s head and held up the mirror, “Well?” she asked, “is that alright for you, sir?”
“Sure, that’s great!” said Tim, tucking his cock back in his shorts, “the wife will be well pleased.”
Running Free
by Beverly Langland
It is difficult to describe how it happened, how I, Alex, outwardly meek-looking, quiet and unassuming, so blatantly broke the law. Of course, it wasn’t a conscious decision on my part and I still don’t fully understand why the Park Ranger deemed it necessary to detain me for so long. After all, I had harmed no one. Although, I suppose darting from car to car naked gave him some justification, or maybe I should say incentive. Still, he was kind enough to loan me a blanket, kind enough to offer compassion when I failed utterly to justify my exhibitionism, kind enough to pretend not to notice the aura of sex enveloping me.
To be honest, I never intended to go into the park. Despite what the Ranger might have suspected I hadn’t gone looking for anonymous sex. He grinned as he made notes of my lame excuses. Or was it a smirk? I was too embarrassed to look closely. If I had I might have noted that the glint in his eye was a little more than amusement. He had every right to be cautious for I discovered later that I had chosen a notorious spot for certain ‘nocturnal activities’ for my private rebellion.
On impulse, I had pulled the car into the picnic area. I felt too stressed, too uptight to go home, felt perhaps a walk would help, would ease the tension. At least I could stretch my legs. After the long overnight drive from my parents’ ranch I needed to ease my cramped muscles, to clear my mind. Though, as soon as I cut the engine, a peculiar shiver ran down my spine. A deathly silence hung heavy in the morning air and at first I found the quiet a little unnerving. That early in the morning the picnic area was deserted. For a time I just sat at one of the wooden picnic benches, staring into the cold grey light of morning. Then I decided to hang around for the sun to rise. Why not? I had no reason to hurry. Without the children, there was no one waiting to welcome me. Truth was, I felt reluctant to face the emptiness.
I slipped off my shoes, letting the cool morning air soothe my aching flesh. I’ve always preferred walking in bare feet. Wearing shoes for hours on end didn’t seem natural to me. I knew that not too far back in my ancestry lay a trace of native blood, though my uptight in-laws refused to acknowledge any such heritage. Although one only had to look at me to recognize the truth. I have dark skin, high cheekbones, straight black hair. My parents affectionately consider me a throwback. Though our family origins are almost forgotten. Conveniently so. Only Great Grandmother still mumbled the old stories – tales, which had captivated me as a child. Tales of White Feather and the six giants. Tales of other heroes and heroines. My favourite, the story of the enchanted moccasins.
Closing my eyes, I tried to recall the details of Little Doe’s fables, tried to recapture the sense of belonging I once discovered there, in the wilderness. I recalled camping trips to the great forest, skinny-dipping in the lakes with the other children, running naked, running free. How long ago those days seemed, how far away happiness. Oh, to be young and carefree again!
Of course, the great forest was wilderness no longer. It had been encroached on so often the woodland was barely a fraction of its original size, though its range remained sufficiently great for unwary travellers to become lost. Few came to the forest, now. Fewer still ventured past the picnic areas and nature reserves.
I yawned, stretched. Slowly the sun crept above the tree line, bathing me in glorious sunshine. The warmth was wonderful, therapeutic. As the heat penetrated deeper, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. Then, for no apparent reason other than a sudden feeling of childlike adventure I removed my blouse, exposed my skin to the sun’s healing rays. I felt as if some invisible shackle had been unlocked. I glimpsed a sudden image of freedom. Looking around cautiously at the deserted picnic tables I removed my bra, let my breasts swing free. Another impulsive action. I decided I liked that, liked the notion that I still could be impulsive. After the drudgery of the long drive it felt sensuous also to feel the morning breeze wash over me, to feel the tender kiss of cool air tease my nipples. Already they were hard stubs, increasing my sense of playfulness.
Emboldened, I stepped from the seating terrace onto the lawn-like clearing, now awash with sunlight, feeling the dew beneath my skin, the clinging grass between my toes. The cool dampness felt soothing under my feet, the warmth of the sun wonderful on my shoulders, my back, and my breasts. I looked skywards towards the glorious orb, spotted the Moon still lingering in the sky.
I held out my hands.
What a day! Even the trees were rejoicing. They shimmered in the breeze, reflecting the muted greens of morning. I felt suddenly alive and ageless. Like an impetuous child I twirled and danced, arms outstretched, whooping and giggling, embracing the day.
Then – again on a whim, or perhaps by then I was conniving – I removed my panties. I no longer wanted them. They were old, stuffy, not right for a child of nature. I threw them into a litterbin. Feeling wicked I twirled again, spinning faster and faster, my light summer skirt rising high above my waist, cool air rushing between my thighs. I heard a car approach but did not care. I kept spinning. Spun until the trees blurred, until I fell to the ground – giddy and intoxicated.
For a time I lay still, waiting while my vision returned, watching the leaves as they grew gradually lighter. I lay passively with wide eyes as the last vestiges of night turned into day. As one realm bowed out to the next, an owl hooted its presence – an age-old ritual of the passing. For some reason I felt drawn to the sound. Moving nearer to the edge of the forest, I peered longingly into its mysterious depths. The trail looked old, forgotten, dark and a little threatening. However, the long rays of the sun shone bright, forced their way between the branches, like a beacon showing me the way, urging me forward.
Intrigued, I edged past the tree line, edged deeper into the woods. Soon, the soft grass beneath my feet gave way to tree bark, to moss, to imagined insects wriggling between my toes. I felt connected to the soft earth, more connected there than to the bricks and mortar I foolishly still called home. As I delved deeper, my sense of belonging grew strong, the lure of the wood overpowering my underlying sense of trepidation. I felt empowered, felt a strong compulsion to venture further, to lose myself within the multitude of trees. I looked skyward through the canopy of leaves, spotted the moon again. She kept watch over me so I pressed on.
When I eventually looked over my shoulder, I could no longer see the edge of the wood nor the picnic area. Surrounded by trees the way ahead seemed much darker, but I was not afraid. High above in the treetops the owl hooted again; marking the end of his watch, calling to me from deep inside the forest, reminding me that I was not alone. I followed his call at a brisk walk, skipping as a child set free after school.
Then, with no conscious decision to do so, I broke into a trot, then a canter. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I had run for the sake of running, for the pleasure alone and not from fear. Such pleasure, such freedom! Suddenly even my delicate skirt became too restrictive. I wanted to be free. Totally free. I tore at the flimsy material, cast the ruins aside without breaking stride, without a second thought of the consequence of my action. Once in nature’s garb, the chill forest air enveloped me completely. Goose-pimples invaded my skin despite the heat of my exertion. Invigorated, I ran …
Ran like only a child can when first she discovers the power in her legs, the exhilarating thrill pushing her to the limit of control. I felt amazed how surefooted my control after all these years. Exalted with my strength, my power, I ran …
Ran as if the wind itself hounded me, my long lithe legs eating the distance with easy, confident strides. Somehow I kept running. Even when the brush grew thick, even when thorny bushes barred my way, when vines and ivy stuck long tendrils into my path. I ran. Occasionally, the point of a branch would nick my skin; lash me as
I barged forward. Still, I ran on, offering only an occasional wince from the whiplash of a twig or the jar of a loose stone under the sole of my feet.
As I ran I felt a change within me, felt an inner self break free, drawing me ever closer to Mother Nature. The call of the wild grew overwhelming. I rushed onward, now with a keen sense of anticipation. I felt at peace with myself, with the forest, with the world at large. As my sense of peace grew so did my strength. Soon I found myself bounding over fallen branches with ease. I absorbed the sights, sounds, smells of the woodland I passed. I became aware of other woodland animals hiding, cowering in the thick undergrowth, scampering for cover as I invaded their space. In my mind, I became mistress of the forest, felt invigorated by the control surging through me. High on adrenaline and now aroused I ran …
Ran until I felt my pounding heart would burst. Ran until my lungs grew rasping raw from the effort. Ran until my oxygen-starved muscles cried out in pain. Ran until the heartbroken woman, the browbeaten housewife existed no more, until I became whole again. A woman once more. Only then did I slow, when the pain grew too great, when its pureness washed clear all other feeling other than the primitive arousal surging through my loins. Still I tried, soaking up the pain, letting out the hurt until I could no longer remember why I cried each night. Only then did I stop, pausing for breath in a shady glade. I sank to the ground, back resting against an ancient tree. I felt so alive!
I lifted my knees, parted my legs. I could smell my excitement. I touched my engorged pussy, feeling the fierce heat there, the sopping wetness. I deliberately, wantonly spread my legs wider. I didn’t want to feel ashamed for what I intended to do. I had hidden under the duvet for too long. Now I wanted to expose my longing. I no longer had a husband, any man for that matter. So what! Abstinence wasn’t a crime whatever Mother implied. I was tired of playing by other people’s rules, of unsuitable dates, of unsuitable men with unsuitable appetites. I wasn’t ready to let another man into my life. My mind was suddenly clear. It was OK to be alone, to be independent.
My sex ached for release, moist with the slickness of my juices; my animal scent filled the clearing, the musky aroma turning me on more. I had another courtship to play, a much simpler more earthy ritual. I tentatively touched my clitoris, gasped with delight as it sprang instantly to life. With one finger I traced little circles around the sensitive nub, my other hand roaming urgently over my body while the diligent finger worked its magic. Rolling onto one buttock, I caressed my hips and buttocks, explored the crease between the cheeks, fingering, rubbing the skin between anus and sex. This is a sensitive spot for me, and there I wasn’t embarrassed to rejoice in the delightful feeling, occasionally spreading my wetness so I could slip a fingertip past my sphincter.
Once more supine, I spread my legs, ran my palms along the quivering inside of my thighs, then over my pouting sex, caressing my belly, my navel, my breasts, happy that I could fondle my body so freely, so openly. As I curled fingertips into my unfolding sex, I closed my eyes, tried desperately not to think of Jeremy. Tried not to remember how he used to touch me, how his hard, living flesh penetrated me so readily. Oh, how I loved the feel of him, so big, so hard, claiming me for his own. I forced the image of a naked Jeremy from my mind, tried to drag someone else, anyone, into my fantasy without success.
Frustrated, I opened my eyes and gasped in surprise. Watching cautiously from the far side of the clearing stood a great elk, his dark eyes questioning, challenging. He was a bull of a beast. I could make out his powerful muscles rippling beneath his beautiful coat, magnificent antlers crowning his broad head. I had never seen an elk up close before. I thought the animal an omen of some kind. Perhaps this majestic king of the forest had come to claim me, to take me away from all I hated. Despite the creature’s size, I didn’t feel frightened. Apprehensive maybe, though strangely my apprehension only fuelled my excitement. I probed deeper into my wetness, pushing two fingers as far as I could manage, all the while staring into the elk’s demanding brown orbs through half-lidded eyes. For some reason I wanted to do this most natural of deeds, wanted to pleasure myself in the elk’s domain, to challenge his authority. As I slowly fingered myself, the elk took a tentative step closer. I willed the beast forward and when the elk took another step, I imagined him magically transformed into a primitive native warrior.
I closed my eyes. The elk-man came to me then, took me in his tree-like arms, and gently lowered me onto his impossibly large erection. I took him easily, my unbelievable wetness easing my descent until he had me fully impaled. I exalted in the way he filled me. Not just my cunt but my whole being. The elk-man too cried out with delight. He backed me against the rough bark of the ancient tree, slowly, yet forcibly drove himself deeper still. I felt crushed between the two forces of nature. Knew then the strength I had felt was nothing compared with his. So I gave myself to him. I clung to the elk-man, digging my nails deep, fearing he would let me fall and the forest would claim me as one of its own.
He didn’t. Nor did he heed my whimpers as he savagely pumped into me, wildly rutting his way to release. He was all animal. All instinct. All beast. He showed no discernable emotion towards me as a woman. He made no attempt to kiss, no attempt to seduce. He used me as wild beasts use the female. Only a few harsh grunts passed his lips as he callously pinned me against the tree. That suited me fine. I felt in no mood for romance, in no mood for love or unnecessary complication. All I needed was for elk-man to fill the void deep in the pit of my being – to fuck life back into me. I wrapped my aching legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, encouraging him to break through the barrier of hurt.
Inspired by my goading, the elk-man broke into a final frenzy of action. I didn’t mind the discomfort. I felt wonderfully alive. Felt wanted. Felt needed. Soon I felt no distress at all, only an all-consuming fire signalling nature’s ultimate victory. For a moment we were one, shared the same urgency, the same quest for life. Then having shown me my weakness, I showed the elk-man my strength. As he came gushing inside me – the instant of his vulnerability – I took control, rode him to my own wonderful climax, milking every last drop of life-force from his body. I kept riding and riding until I felt too sore to continue, until I lay spent and exhausted in his arms. Then, close to collapse, he gently set my trembling body onto the soft moss.
I eventually opened my eyes, smiled at the elk who watched still from the edge of the clearing. The great beast lowered his head, a bow perhaps in silent gratitude to his mate. Sated, he turned, and then disappeared into the dark thicket of trees. I marvelled at how real my fantasy had felt. Never before had masturbation satisfied me so thoroughly, never before had my fingers so completely filled me. Drained, I felt myself lulled into a blissfully sleep.
When I awoke the sun sat high in the sky, the moon finally put to bed. I knew I should move, yet I felt reluctant to leave the clearing. Somehow, I had to retrieve my clothes from the picnic terrace, get back to my car unseen. Surprisingly, I held no apprehension of someone finding me strolling naked through the forest. Only when I approached the road and the threat of civilisation did I become a little nervous. Slipping past the picnic spot turned out to be easier than I imagined. The few people visiting the nature reserve that day were too self-involved to notice me, though I had to abandon any idea of salvaging my clothes. It was only in the car park that I had the altercation with the Park Ranger. After much pleading, he let me off with a warning, with a promise not to repeat my misdemeanour.
Though I had to smile when sitting in his pick-up with only a blanket for modesty, he offered me his card. He looked nice, sincere, so I took it. Who knows, perhaps I was ready to move on after all?
During the drive home, I vowed to visit the forest again. Maybe the following weekend once Jeremy had collected the children. I knew seeing him would make me uptight, make me tense. Jeremy had an uncanny knack of riling me, of bringing on a migraine by his presence alone. Despite my promise to the Ranger a run through the wilderness would do
me good, would boost my self-esteem. There, I could unshackle the chains of conventionality, relieve the demands of single parenthood – truly become a free spirit if only for a short time. Yes, I would lose Alex in the woods, don a new persona.
From that moment on, in that place, I would be known only as Running Free.
The Peachy Talbot Fan Club
by Carmel Lockyer
When Peachy first asked me for a date, I didn’t laugh. I could have done; if it had been any other nerdy little guy with pebble glasses and albino eyebrows, I would have done. But I liked Peachy. Most people did. Correction. Most men like him. Women, as I was about to find out, just loved Peachy to death.
But as I say, that first time, I just smiled and said thank you, but … no thank you.
I mean, everybody knew I was getting over Rafe and the terrible way he’d dumped me. It was a bad, bad time for Peachy to even think about a date: if half the 49ers had appeared at the front desk with nothing on but their helmets, and serenaded me, I’d still have probably turned them down. Probably.
Peachy just smiled and carried on down the hall while I dragged out another file and started trying to work out if the consultant whose expense claim I was working through was stupid, insane or unable to stay on the right side of the law.
Within ten seconds Mariella Saunders had popped her head up over the cubicle wall and wagged her finger at me.
“You turned down a date with Peachy? You crazy?”
I stared up at her, still mainly preoccupied with what kind of engineer thought he could claim eight visits to Peppermint Elephant Strip Club as a legitimate business expense.
“So?” I said.
“So, you crazy girl, you just chase that sweet man down the corridor and make that date firm!” With that her head disappeared again.
Well I didn’t, of course. I mean … Peachy? How desperate did she think I was?
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