Outdoor sex xxx
I was driving home the other day, through Gloucestershires beautiful countryside, on a wonderful warm summers day, past cornfields waving in the breeze and it got me thinking about ‘outdoor’ sex and how much I enjoyed, times in the past, having sex outdoors.
My earliest memory of lying out on a hot summers day and being wanked off, is a close run thing, between a girl called Janet Simpson, who’s pussy, I remember smelt so sweet or Mr Vaughn doing it too me, on the way home from school, when he lured me into a field, pulled my shorts down and played with my cock, till it seeped a little cum but I ’d go on to cum a ‘lot’ more, in the next few years, at the hands of Mr Vaughn. I think, when Janet did it to me, it was her first time wanking a boys cock and I definitely cum within, probably seconds, but I can remember the look of shock, excitement and pleasure as my, quite small but hard cock, shot spunk high into the air.
In my early years, my ‘friends’ and I used to go cycling into the countryside, not that far, but far enough to think we were miles from anywhere. I used to go with different boys singularly, in pairs or a group of us, but we all sort of knew, where we were going to stop and what for!!! My favourite friend, for that sort of thing , was a boy called Barry, bit older than me, but I loved how he laid me out, would strip me naked if it was hot, and take, what seemed ages, wanking and playing with my cock and bum before I’d always cum loads. Another boy I liked going with was called Trevor, who I’ve mentioned before, who had a really big cock, at least three or four times the size of mine. He’d always bring me off first and then he’d lay out and get me to strip him, like Barry did to me. It would take both hands to wank him and make him spunk. He liked to get me to aim his cock at my face when he cum. I always wished I could cum after him, not before. I think I had a bit of a reputation for ‘wanking’, either doing it or being done too, as I never had a shortage of ‘friends’ wanting to come cycling with me and they always wanted to stop in that ‘particular’ field!!!
When I was a teenager I used to ’date’ a girl called Carol, who I’ve mentioned before and had a sister who was on the ‘game’ and she was very much one for ‘outdoor’ fun. The local park sloped down to the main railway line, where there where bushes and this was our favourite spot for sex, well I say sex, as back then sex consisted of wanking, fingering and, if you were lucky, perhaps a blow job or simulated anal sex, definitely not ‘proper’ sex as getting a girl pregnant was a big no no! We’d both lay, sometimes naked, if it was really hot, between the bushes facing the railway line and wank, finger or do whatever, hidden from the path at the top, but on full view to the passing trains, which, mostly sped passed us, however I can remember one train slowly chugging past us and plenty of shocked passengers taking a good look at our antics.
About that time too, I used to meet in the park, with a gang of about a dozen boys and girls, to listen to Radio Luxembourg which, if you can remember didn’t start till eight or nine o’clock at night. We’d all lay around, on the grass, waiting for it to come over the airways and, especially on hot summer nights, the boys cocks would come out, the girls cotton knickers come off and there’d be an orgy of wanking and fingering, all desperately trying not to be the first to spunk or, in the girls case, squeal with an orgasm.
I got married in my mid twenties to a lovely woman, gorgeous in fact, but not in the least bit interested in sex, well not enough to satisfy my, quite high, sex drive and outdoor sex definitely wasn’t on her radar. Having said that, in the nineties we did go, several years in a row, to the beautiful island of Ibiza and usually hired either a scooter or car, to take us around the island and, in particular, to the nudist beach south of Ibiza town. The beach, if you’ve ever been there, seems to be divided, unofficially, into three sections, the first bit for families, the middle bit for nudists and the far end, nudists again, but more catering to a gay clientele. For a woman who was quite staid, my wife seemed to be liberated when she stripped of on that beach and although most people and couples were happy to frolic in the warm water and sunbathe nude, the further towards the dunes you got, there seemed to be some unwritten rule that things were, let’s say more sexually open. My wife would suggest we move nearer the dunes and, like most of the couples, male and female or just male or female, couples openly having sex, was the norm. When we’d first gone there, the pair of us had often watched other couples having sex, standing near to them as they fucked, heterosexual and homosexual sex and, after a while, allowed other beach goers to watch us too have sex. My wife had a stunning curvaceous body, back then and drew a lot, and I mean a lot of attention when we rolled up and stripped off, which, for a woman who, back home, was to say the least, a bit of a prude, was a revaluation. By the time we’d gone there for the last time, I think we were spending ninety percent of our fortnight there, on that beach, up near the dunes. Without going into great detail, sex outdoors, in the sun took on a whole new meaning.
When I was in my early forties I started an affair with a woman called Sandra (not her real name and if you read any other stories relating to my reminiscences you’ll be very aware of her insatiable lust for sex) which continued for a good ten years and involved lots of fun ‘adventures’, quite a few outdoors. I’ve probably related more than a few ‘escapades’ I enjoyed with Sandra, so I’m not going to go over them again, but I might just mention one particular outdoor sex session.
It happened when we were travelling from Gloucestershire, up to Yorkshire, as the company we both worked for had been taken over and relocated up north. We travelled up on a Monday morning and home again on the Friday afternoon. As I’ve mentioned before, we invariably stopped for sex, pretty well always, somewhere off a motorway junction, during our three or four hour journey up to the factory and after a while we even stopped going in to work, on the Monday afternoon, pleading heavy traffic. Sandra and I, on an evening used to go to the Chapeltown red light area, in Leeds, whore hunting but on this particular day we made excellent time getting to Leeds and, on a spur of the moment decision, decided to see what the area was like, in the the daylight hours.
That day there were nowhere near as many as the thirty, or more, on an evening ‘hunt’, probably only a dozen, at most and, in the main, older prostitutes, a bit disappointing really. It was Sandra who spotted her, she usually did, and not our, or her usual ‘type’ although she was young, probably in her late teens with a lovely figure, but she wasn’t dressed, how I, certainly and, to a lesser degree, Sandra liked them, not tarty at all, in fact, she could have come straight from the gym although the obscenely short, skintight Lycra shorts might have precluded her entry into any gym that I know. A tight white tee, showing off her pert, bra less tits and a pair of white trainers completed the picture. When we pulled over to her and propositioned her, we had all the usual questions about why there was a woman in the car, what were we after, we’d heard it all before but when we explained what we were after and she could see that Sandra was dressed, skirt up around her ass, cunt showing, no knickers, like probably most of the prostitutes, on the street that day, we agreed a price and she popped in the back seat. We hadn’t given much thought to where we were going to have sex as, on our night hunts, I fucked the whores, either in the car or up a lane somewhere, but when we asked where her flat was, she told us she didn’t have one, which is how we came to do it outdoors.
She was actually a very pleasant, intelligent and attractive young woman, who was of Pakistani heritage, studying at a local college and did it, two or three times a week to help out with her rent. Sandra took to her immediately and soon had hoped in the back with her, getting very acquainted, from what I could see in the rear view mirror, with her, lots of white and brown skin, pert tits and cunts being flashed in my direction. I have got a clue where we ended up, only that it was, I think, on the way to Pudsey, sort of a country park and its name included the word beck, lots of trees too. The girls name was Zehra, or something similar and she’d obviously been to this site before as, no sooner had we arrived, that she was leading us though the trees to a grassy glade, which she told us was ‘safe’ but I definitely wasn’t so sure, as I’d seen two or three couples on our way up to the car park. Anyway Zehra and Sandra didn’t seem to be too worried, as Sandra helped Zehra out of her skimpy shorts, revealing a beautiful pert shaved pussy, my cock, more than springing to life, not that it wasn’t already!! Sandra told me to lie on the grass and, with Zehra watching, lowered herself onto my rock hard cock, cowgirl style and commenced fucking my cock, all the while getting Zehra ready, by fingering her cunt as she stood alongside, watching. I must say that, and I can remember it like it was yesterday, it was amazing lying in that glade, half naked, in the sunshine with Sandra bouncing up and down on my cock, who’s familiar cunt was soon replaced by Zehras, which, for a prostitute, was surprisingly tight but very wet, her juices dripping from her cunt and plastering my belly and loins.
I must have been particularly strong, that day, in the staying power stakes, as the pair of them alternated, fucking my cock, for a good twenty minutes before I shot my load deep up Zehra’s cunt, realising, rather late in the day, that not one of the three of us had thought about me wearing a rubber!!! Sandra, as always, was down on my cock, as soon as Zehra had hoisted herself off my cock, spunk dripping from her cunt, Sandra licking and sucking on my cock. We did, sort of make arrangements to use her again one night, but, unfortunately it didn’t happen.
My last relationship, sex wise at least, started about eight or nine years ago when I met another cross dresser on tvchix and after a couple of meets, found that, besides sex, we had quite a few other things in common, not least of which was our love of outdoors sex and sex in dangerous and exciting places. Her name was Debbie (definitely NOT her real name) and she was gorgeous, very very feminine and quite passable as a woman. Apart from a couple of hotel room and club meets, all our sex was either in the car or, especially in the summer months outdoors and, more often than not in situations where getting caught was a definite possibility, in fact Debbie preferred it that way and I’m not complaining either. I only usually saw Debbie on a Friday, as she was married and we’d spend all day together visiting nearby towns, villages and NT properties, wanking or having sex at least once or twice during the day. You’d probably already read my trip to the NT property at Westbury water gardens with her (I think I called her Annabelle in that story but the same CD) and our tryst, in the field with the farmer, so I won’t bore you with them.
She did have a bit of a thing about wanking off or fucking in toilets and I can remember doing it in a pub toilet in Chepstow, one in Tewkesbury and another pub in Tetbury to name but a few. One particular bit of outdoor sexual activity that springs to mind is when we were in the long grass on one of the commons, overlooking Stroud, both of us pretty well naked, well definitely our ‘bottom’ halves, only our stockings and heels, wanking and playing in the sunshine, without a care in the world. We didn’t really notice the drone hovering over us, but when we did, we both decided to turn our wanking and fucking, into a performance for whoever was spying on us. We gave, whoever was watching us the full repertoire, lots of sucking, a anal fucking, more wanking before, after a good thirty or forty minutes, the drone coming ever closer and closer, we both took it in turns to spunk over each others bodies, making sure they got a good view!!! We really did hope that the person or persons watching us would appear but, alas, no show, so we’ll never know, but it was such fun and Debbie especially loved it so much xxx
I was just about to ‘post’ this story, when I remembered Thelma and ‘outdoor’ sex with her. How could I have forgot Thelma? (Definitely her real name!) She was the thirty something daughter of the millionaire owner of the company I worked for, a fairly plain looking young woman, flat chested, but not a bad figure, always wore colourful, quite short shift dresses, never saw her in anything else, who ‘patrolled’ the head office looking for victims. You didn’t say no to Thelma, certainly not if you valued your job and career, and one day she sidled up to my desk and said something like “lunchtime, lock gates? Walk along the river?” You didn’t say no and I dutifully turned up at the lock gates, about a quarter of a mile along the river Avon, where Thelma was waiting for me. Thelma had had an excellent education and spoke very ‘posh’ but a great conversationalist, she was not and just led me along the riverside to a copse of trees where we, stopped, she undid my trousers, got my cock out, and, knelling in front of me got me hard, whereupon she then pulled up her dress, no knickers and offered her cunt for fucking, which I did, up against one of the trees. She wasn’t a great fuck, but she did like cock and only lasted about five minutes, at the most, but screamed like a banshee when she did cum. I fucked her, pretty well every working day, most lunchtimes, for about a fortnight, mostly along the river, on the riverbank, in the trees, once or twice in the staff toilets and a couple of times in the car park after work, before I was back on the road and away from her clutches, Thelma latching on to some new cock. She was never around again, when I had to go to the offices and I heard that her father had married her off to some rich American, poor sole.
My earliest memory of lying out on a hot summers day and being wanked off, is a close run thing, between a girl called Janet Simpson, who’s pussy, I remember smelt so sweet or Mr Vaughn doing it too me, on the way home from school, when he lured me into a field, pulled my shorts down and played with my cock, till it seeped a little cum but I ’d go on to cum a ‘lot’ more, in the next few years, at the hands of Mr Vaughn. I think, when Janet did it to me, it was her first time wanking a boys cock and I definitely cum within, probably seconds, but I can remember the look of shock, excitement and pleasure as my, quite small but hard cock, shot spunk high into the air.
In my early years, my ‘friends’ and I used to go cycling into the countryside, not that far, but far enough to think we were miles from anywhere. I used to go with different boys singularly, in pairs or a group of us, but we all sort of knew, where we were going to stop and what for!!! My favourite friend, for that sort of thing , was a boy called Barry, bit older than me, but I loved how he laid me out, would strip me naked if it was hot, and take, what seemed ages, wanking and playing with my cock and bum before I’d always cum loads. Another boy I liked going with was called Trevor, who I’ve mentioned before, who had a really big cock, at least three or four times the size of mine. He’d always bring me off first and then he’d lay out and get me to strip him, like Barry did to me. It would take both hands to wank him and make him spunk. He liked to get me to aim his cock at my face when he cum. I always wished I could cum after him, not before. I think I had a bit of a reputation for ‘wanking’, either doing it or being done too, as I never had a shortage of ‘friends’ wanting to come cycling with me and they always wanted to stop in that ‘particular’ field!!!
When I was a teenager I used to ’date’ a girl called Carol, who I’ve mentioned before and had a sister who was on the ‘game’ and she was very much one for ‘outdoor’ fun. The local park sloped down to the main railway line, where there where bushes and this was our favourite spot for sex, well I say sex, as back then sex consisted of wanking, fingering and, if you were lucky, perhaps a blow job or simulated anal sex, definitely not ‘proper’ sex as getting a girl pregnant was a big no no! We’d both lay, sometimes naked, if it was really hot, between the bushes facing the railway line and wank, finger or do whatever, hidden from the path at the top, but on full view to the passing trains, which, mostly sped passed us, however I can remember one train slowly chugging past us and plenty of shocked passengers taking a good look at our antics.
About that time too, I used to meet in the park, with a gang of about a dozen boys and girls, to listen to Radio Luxembourg which, if you can remember didn’t start till eight or nine o’clock at night. We’d all lay around, on the grass, waiting for it to come over the airways and, especially on hot summer nights, the boys cocks would come out, the girls cotton knickers come off and there’d be an orgy of wanking and fingering, all desperately trying not to be the first to spunk or, in the girls case, squeal with an orgasm.
I got married in my mid twenties to a lovely woman, gorgeous in fact, but not in the least bit interested in sex, well not enough to satisfy my, quite high, sex drive and outdoor sex definitely wasn’t on her radar. Having said that, in the nineties we did go, several years in a row, to the beautiful island of Ibiza and usually hired either a scooter or car, to take us around the island and, in particular, to the nudist beach south of Ibiza town. The beach, if you’ve ever been there, seems to be divided, unofficially, into three sections, the first bit for families, the middle bit for nudists and the far end, nudists again, but more catering to a gay clientele. For a woman who was quite staid, my wife seemed to be liberated when she stripped of on that beach and although most people and couples were happy to frolic in the warm water and sunbathe nude, the further towards the dunes you got, there seemed to be some unwritten rule that things were, let’s say more sexually open. My wife would suggest we move nearer the dunes and, like most of the couples, male and female or just male or female, couples openly having sex, was the norm. When we’d first gone there, the pair of us had often watched other couples having sex, standing near to them as they fucked, heterosexual and homosexual sex and, after a while, allowed other beach goers to watch us too have sex. My wife had a stunning curvaceous body, back then and drew a lot, and I mean a lot of attention when we rolled up and stripped off, which, for a woman who, back home, was to say the least, a bit of a prude, was a revaluation. By the time we’d gone there for the last time, I think we were spending ninety percent of our fortnight there, on that beach, up near the dunes. Without going into great detail, sex outdoors, in the sun took on a whole new meaning.
When I was in my early forties I started an affair with a woman called Sandra (not her real name and if you read any other stories relating to my reminiscences you’ll be very aware of her insatiable lust for sex) which continued for a good ten years and involved lots of fun ‘adventures’, quite a few outdoors. I’ve probably related more than a few ‘escapades’ I enjoyed with Sandra, so I’m not going to go over them again, but I might just mention one particular outdoor sex session.
It happened when we were travelling from Gloucestershire, up to Yorkshire, as the company we both worked for had been taken over and relocated up north. We travelled up on a Monday morning and home again on the Friday afternoon. As I’ve mentioned before, we invariably stopped for sex, pretty well always, somewhere off a motorway junction, during our three or four hour journey up to the factory and after a while we even stopped going in to work, on the Monday afternoon, pleading heavy traffic. Sandra and I, on an evening used to go to the Chapeltown red light area, in Leeds, whore hunting but on this particular day we made excellent time getting to Leeds and, on a spur of the moment decision, decided to see what the area was like, in the the daylight hours.
That day there were nowhere near as many as the thirty, or more, on an evening ‘hunt’, probably only a dozen, at most and, in the main, older prostitutes, a bit disappointing really. It was Sandra who spotted her, she usually did, and not our, or her usual ‘type’ although she was young, probably in her late teens with a lovely figure, but she wasn’t dressed, how I, certainly and, to a lesser degree, Sandra liked them, not tarty at all, in fact, she could have come straight from the gym although the obscenely short, skintight Lycra shorts might have precluded her entry into any gym that I know. A tight white tee, showing off her pert, bra less tits and a pair of white trainers completed the picture. When we pulled over to her and propositioned her, we had all the usual questions about why there was a woman in the car, what were we after, we’d heard it all before but when we explained what we were after and she could see that Sandra was dressed, skirt up around her ass, cunt showing, no knickers, like probably most of the prostitutes, on the street that day, we agreed a price and she popped in the back seat. We hadn’t given much thought to where we were going to have sex as, on our night hunts, I fucked the whores, either in the car or up a lane somewhere, but when we asked where her flat was, she told us she didn’t have one, which is how we came to do it outdoors.
She was actually a very pleasant, intelligent and attractive young woman, who was of Pakistani heritage, studying at a local college and did it, two or three times a week to help out with her rent. Sandra took to her immediately and soon had hoped in the back with her, getting very acquainted, from what I could see in the rear view mirror, with her, lots of white and brown skin, pert tits and cunts being flashed in my direction. I have got a clue where we ended up, only that it was, I think, on the way to Pudsey, sort of a country park and its name included the word beck, lots of trees too. The girls name was Zehra, or something similar and she’d obviously been to this site before as, no sooner had we arrived, that she was leading us though the trees to a grassy glade, which she told us was ‘safe’ but I definitely wasn’t so sure, as I’d seen two or three couples on our way up to the car park. Anyway Zehra and Sandra didn’t seem to be too worried, as Sandra helped Zehra out of her skimpy shorts, revealing a beautiful pert shaved pussy, my cock, more than springing to life, not that it wasn’t already!! Sandra told me to lie on the grass and, with Zehra watching, lowered herself onto my rock hard cock, cowgirl style and commenced fucking my cock, all the while getting Zehra ready, by fingering her cunt as she stood alongside, watching. I must say that, and I can remember it like it was yesterday, it was amazing lying in that glade, half naked, in the sunshine with Sandra bouncing up and down on my cock, who’s familiar cunt was soon replaced by Zehras, which, for a prostitute, was surprisingly tight but very wet, her juices dripping from her cunt and plastering my belly and loins.
I must have been particularly strong, that day, in the staying power stakes, as the pair of them alternated, fucking my cock, for a good twenty minutes before I shot my load deep up Zehra’s cunt, realising, rather late in the day, that not one of the three of us had thought about me wearing a rubber!!! Sandra, as always, was down on my cock, as soon as Zehra had hoisted herself off my cock, spunk dripping from her cunt, Sandra licking and sucking on my cock. We did, sort of make arrangements to use her again one night, but, unfortunately it didn’t happen.
My last relationship, sex wise at least, started about eight or nine years ago when I met another cross dresser on tvchix and after a couple of meets, found that, besides sex, we had quite a few other things in common, not least of which was our love of outdoors sex and sex in dangerous and exciting places. Her name was Debbie (definitely NOT her real name) and she was gorgeous, very very feminine and quite passable as a woman. Apart from a couple of hotel room and club meets, all our sex was either in the car or, especially in the summer months outdoors and, more often than not in situations where getting caught was a definite possibility, in fact Debbie preferred it that way and I’m not complaining either. I only usually saw Debbie on a Friday, as she was married and we’d spend all day together visiting nearby towns, villages and NT properties, wanking or having sex at least once or twice during the day. You’d probably already read my trip to the NT property at Westbury water gardens with her (I think I called her Annabelle in that story but the same CD) and our tryst, in the field with the farmer, so I won’t bore you with them.
She did have a bit of a thing about wanking off or fucking in toilets and I can remember doing it in a pub toilet in Chepstow, one in Tewkesbury and another pub in Tetbury to name but a few. One particular bit of outdoor sexual activity that springs to mind is when we were in the long grass on one of the commons, overlooking Stroud, both of us pretty well naked, well definitely our ‘bottom’ halves, only our stockings and heels, wanking and playing in the sunshine, without a care in the world. We didn’t really notice the drone hovering over us, but when we did, we both decided to turn our wanking and fucking, into a performance for whoever was spying on us. We gave, whoever was watching us the full repertoire, lots of sucking, a anal fucking, more wanking before, after a good thirty or forty minutes, the drone coming ever closer and closer, we both took it in turns to spunk over each others bodies, making sure they got a good view!!! We really did hope that the person or persons watching us would appear but, alas, no show, so we’ll never know, but it was such fun and Debbie especially loved it so much xxx
I was just about to ‘post’ this story, when I remembered Thelma and ‘outdoor’ sex with her. How could I have forgot Thelma? (Definitely her real name!) She was the thirty something daughter of the millionaire owner of the company I worked for, a fairly plain looking young woman, flat chested, but not a bad figure, always wore colourful, quite short shift dresses, never saw her in anything else, who ‘patrolled’ the head office looking for victims. You didn’t say no to Thelma, certainly not if you valued your job and career, and one day she sidled up to my desk and said something like “lunchtime, lock gates? Walk along the river?” You didn’t say no and I dutifully turned up at the lock gates, about a quarter of a mile along the river Avon, where Thelma was waiting for me. Thelma had had an excellent education and spoke very ‘posh’ but a great conversationalist, she was not and just led me along the riverside to a copse of trees where we, stopped, she undid my trousers, got my cock out, and, knelling in front of me got me hard, whereupon she then pulled up her dress, no knickers and offered her cunt for fucking, which I did, up against one of the trees. She wasn’t a great fuck, but she did like cock and only lasted about five minutes, at the most, but screamed like a banshee when she did cum. I fucked her, pretty well every working day, most lunchtimes, for about a fortnight, mostly along the river, on the riverbank, in the trees, once or twice in the staff toilets and a couple of times in the car park after work, before I was back on the road and away from her clutches, Thelma latching on to some new cock. She was never around again, when I had to go to the offices and I heard that her father had married her off to some rich American, poor sole.
1 month ago
