Busy doing Nothing
So much for an abstemious weekend! I had nothing planned, the weather was hot, and it seemed an ideal time after the past few weeks to…
So much for an abstemious weekend! I had nothing planned, the weather was hot, and it seemed an ideal time after the past few weeks to ‘chill’.
Saturday: I almost honoured my pledge which was to sit in the garden in some shade, reading. Bliss. I think it would have happened had I not tweeted half jokingly, that, as I didn’t have a swimsuit, perhaps I should be out in bra and knickers.
That led to a long mind journey which I’ll save for the next blog as it won't terminate until next weekend.
The only thing you need to know at the moment is that I called Carol to discuss the matter and she invited me round on Sunday as she was again going to be a golf widow and we could have a relaxing time together. Huh. Right.
Sunday: The day dawned even hotter. It was forecast, so I was up early and at the stables before six. I hate riding when it’s too hot, it’s not good for me or the horse. We did a short leisurely ride, but even by then, he’d sweated up so I took him round to the back of the stables where there was a tap for hosing horses down.
I was already feeling the heat myself so the water that was ending up on me rather than the horse was a bonus. By the time I’d finished he was cool and I was wet. Very wet. Wet t-shirt competition wet. Mm. My thoughts until then hadn’t been sexy. Honestly! But that triggered them.
As my horse — I can’t keep calling him my horse, let’s call him Jack — as Jack was soaking wet I had planned to lead him back to his field rather than ride bareback as I usually do, but that changed and I decided to take it one stage further than my usual hip exercises to bring myself off. As far as I could see the only other people around were not likely to come in my direction. I hoped not. If Naomi saw what I planned to do I don’t think she’d worry, but others might not be so sanguine. To hell with it though.
I pulled my riding boots off, undid my jods, slipped them off and put my boots back on. No knickers as usual of course. Feeling naked from the waist down was delicious. I mounted Jack, threw my jods across him in front of me and started walking him back to his field. Oh my. I started my rhythmic rubbing. With direct contact between my pussy and his hairy back the feeling was electric. By the time we reached the gate, I was sodden and not from the water I’d sprayed him with.
It took no time before I orgasmed. I collapsed forward on him, arms around his neck, breathing hard.
After I’d recovered enough to dismount I lead him into his field and treated him to a banana, a favourite treat of his which had got rather mashed up in the pocket of my jods. He didn’t seem to mind and happily licked it off my hand. Somehow some had managed to get stuck on my blouse too and Jack, being a very frugal horse with a waste not, want not mentality decided he need to devour that too.
It was tempting to walk back to the stables as I was, bare from the waist down, but I didn’t want to be thrown out so de-booted, put the jods back on, re-booted and walked back. My shirt had dried out by then so I was feeling a little cheated, but I had my visit to Carol to look forward to.
And that’s when things got really horny.
I drove home, and had a quick shower to divest myself of horse odour and sticky banana residue. It was now really hot. (Temperature wise). I was now really hot. (Sex wise) The naked ride was still giving me tremors, so I decided to continue the theme.
I put in an old football shirt. (It’s not mine, it’s one of my Hex’s. It was a prized possession of his for some reason I never fully understood. How I came to retain it is a mystery, but in some perverse way wearing it in such a provocative manner was a fitting payback.
I didn’t bother with knickers. As long as I was standing upright the shirt covered my bottom and pussy. Just. It certainly felt good. I packed what Carol had asked me to take and walked to the car. I wondered how many of my neighbours were watching. I suspected most would be glued to Wimbledon on the TV which was a shame, but perhaps for the best.
Sitting in the car meant the shirt failed miserably to cover anything, finishing above my pussy. That made me feel much better! This drug of exhibitionism was now an integral part of me.
The drive was uneventful. Damn! It’s not far between our houses and the drive is on residential streets so the number of pedestrians was minimal. Never mind, I was sure Carol would spice things up.
Carol as always was organised; she had the parasol up, and the drinks ready. I’m not a fan of spirits but iced gin and tonic went down a treat. Far too easily actually, and we were both soon very relaxed.
I filled her in on my plans for the neighbour (see next week) and she was more than happy to lend a hand to give him a day to remember. We are such a public-spirited couple.
Carol started the fun after a couple of drinks when she announced she needed to pee.
“Since your visit a couple of weeks ago Charles and I have been so horny. Peeing’s never been such fun! Care to come and watch?”
I was mellow and horny so didn’t even think about what she had said.
“Of course.”
Carol didn’t go up to the loo though. She stopped in the kitchen,
“My phones behind you Hun, want to take a photo?”
“Yummy! Yes!” I responded.
I took a couple of snaps of her then she turned, leaned against a worktop pushed her hands up her skirt, and pulled her knickers to her knees, “Ready?”
She let go. The pee pooling on the kitchen floor.
“God that's good. I can see why you love doing it. It’s even more exciting having you watch than Charlie. Going to clear it up for me?”
That came as a surprise request, but with Charles absent, I guessed I was on household duty.
“Okay, where’s your mop.”
“Oh, Hun, you are so naive at times.” She raised her eyebrows. The penny dropped. Jeez and I thought I was supposed to be the deviant! My libido told me ‘do it!’ I had to, didn’t I?.
Carol’s house is always spotless anyway. I didn’t answer, just got down on my knees and started lapping like a cat. Another depraved moment in my life. God, I was almost putting as much juice on the floor from my pussy as I was lapping up so felt duty bound to clear that up too.
Carol stood there, her knickers now round her ankles, her skirt up to her waist and two fingers inside her. I was on my knees a foot away from her pussy. I couldn’t resist. Nor could she. My tongue replaced her fingers. My taste buds were being treated to a gourmet feast. I’d licked her before, but she seemed so much wetter this time. It was dripping out of her so I stopped sucking, and just left my mouth open. Her juice flowed in. Gorgeously depraved. Her fingers were moving rapidly. Her breathing had taken on a new tone. Short, staccato breaths. Then she came. I buried my head back in her groin. Delicious; taste, smell, vibration. Heaven.
Recovery took a little time, but when we were both back to earth Carol asked,
“Do you need to go?”
“Not really. Not at the moment.”
“Okay, I’ve got orders for where you are to empty when you do. Let’s have another gin.” I didn’t ask what she meant.
We went back outside as if what had just happened was commonplace. Bizarre. Our conversation was trite. In fact, I can’t remember what we talked about. One minute doing the most depraved thing, the next talking about the price of bread or some such nonsense. I seem to have woken up a close relative to the demon in my body in hers and I was beginning to wonder which of us was the more depraved. It would be interesting finding out.
Two gins later and I needed to pee. Now I’d find out what Carol had in mind.
“Did you bring the boots?” In our telephone call, Carol had asked me to bring a special pair of boots. I wondered now if she was going to ask me to pee in them. That would be so horny. “Yes,” I replied.
“Good, they get Charlie even hotter. Your legs are the best aphrodisiac in the world.” We went inside and I put the boots on. So hot, in both ways. I was still wearing just the football shirt.
“Are you very full?”
“Bursting.”
“Good.” By now I’d followed Carol into their lounge. “Lets take a few photos first, then lift your shirt and pee there.” She pointed to where I’d been when I’d first pissed in front of Charles. “But don’t let it all out. He wants some in the doorway too.”
I had to ask. “Why?“
“God knows Hun, but he’s a man so who knows what perverted ideas he has. He’s clearing up anyway so I’m not fussed.”
We did a few photos then I moved to Charles’s chosen spot, hoisted my shirt, and let go. Oh, that feeling. So debauched. Doing it there. It was difficult to stop, the feeling of it streaming out was so divine, but I managed and walked to the doorway. “Here?”
“Looks as good as anywhere.” I released what was left, which was quite a lot as it turned out. “Am I licking that up too?”
“No Hun, Let it soak into the carpet. Seems to turn his lordship on.”
It turned me on too, but I wasn’t sure what Charles would get out of it.
We returned to the garden. I was in a strange frame of mind. As horny as hell but somehow dis-satisfied.
I put it down to the heat. Debilitating.
After another gin, neither of us were in no fit state to do anything. I called a cab, got home, posted a quick tweet and collapsed into bed.
Next weekend should be fun. Anyone know the long-range forecast?
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