Pissing in the Woods

by

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, True Story, Safe Sex, .

Desc: Sex Story: I met my future wife pissing in the woods. Despite the title, this is not a ‘water sports’ story.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental.

The Meeting

"Hmmm, nice one Steve."

Startled, I looked to my right and saw Karen Fulger bopped down behind a bush and from what I could see between the leaves, she, like me, had stepped away from the main track to pee. "Heh, don't turn away, I want a good look at it, you're pretty well equipped for an old man," she giggled as she stood up and, pulling up her trousers, shuffled towards me. "Hmmm, maybe I'll have to see how it performs later." By then my stream had died to a dribble and still laughing, she gripped my prick and gave it a shake to free the last few drops. "Don't look so shocked, I'm not going to tell mother so you won't get your botty smacked."

Karen's infectious laugh had me grinning too. "I wouldn't want to be accused of baby-snatching."

The quipping about our ages began when we boarded the mini-bus at the start of our journey to Wales for a walking/camping holiday and the driver jokingly remarked, "I guess you two youngsters will want the back seats." Ruth, Karen's mother, quickly ruled that out and with a few incisive orders to her daughter, made sure we were well separated. The term 'youngsters', a relative one when compared with the other ten in the group, none of whom were under forty-five, at twenty-nine and twenty-three, we were young.

At 5ft 7", only a little shorter than me, with shoulder length, mousy hair surrounding a roundish face and with tits that pushed her blouse out without them being prominent, she certainly wasn't a baby or even a teenager. Walking along the bridleway to catch up with the others I wondered if she had a boyfriend at home and if there was any likelihood of us having a relationship or even a one-night stand. Her comment, 'I'll have to see how it performs later, ' gave me to think there might be if we could find time to be alone and away from Ruth. However, I realised I wasn't much of a catch and thought she looked at me only because our ages were fairly close. I always considered myself as a 'Mr. Average' in the looks department, a man who wouldn't stand out in a crowd and over the years had very few girlfriends and none that stood the test of time. I had a decent job as a project engineer in a design toolroom that didn't earn vast amounts of money but I found the work interesting and enjoyable and in fact continued my love of engineering by making accurate models of steam engines in my spare time, a hobby that kept me at home and partially accounted for my lack of girlfriends. Yet in the short time since meeting Karen in the woods, I felt an attraction to her I hadn't felt for any other girl.

Our local walking club organised the eight-day trip with Shirley and Bob Hardinge acting as leaders and I knew the others by sight if not by name. Ruth I'd met on a number of our Sunday walks and several times had been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, which led to our mutual dislike. I'd met Karen on a few occasions before and away from her mother's control, showed her fun side but in her mother's presence appeared meek and submissive but underneath the veneer of conformity, I sensed a rebellious streak being held in check. The fun side came to the fore when she stuffed my prick inside my trousers and still grinning gave my arm a pull and said, "Come on, we'd better catch the others up before mother calls in the mountain rescue team."

The detour

I'd walked the day's route several times before and by prior arrangement with Shirley and Bob, decided to take a detour track that went over the top of Bryn Ysgol and volunteered to lead any others that wished to accompany me. The route would add six very strenuous miles to the trek and seeing the way they struggled over small inclines, I doubted many, if any, would take up the offer. "Do you fancy going over the top of that lump?" I asked Karen, pointing to the mountain to one side of us and hurriedly explained the difficulties and the sights we should see given the fine, breezy weather we enjoyed that day.

Ruth scowled when we joined the party at the junction of the detour track but didn't get chance to say anything because Bob spoke to the group, "Steve plans to go over Bryn Ysgol and while I cannot stop him going alone, I would prefer at least one other accompany him." He went on to explain the steep path and scrambling needed on parts of the route and the extra miles involved before asking for volunteers. As I half expected, Karen volunteered, more I'm sure to get away from her mother than for the enjoyment of the walk.

"Oh no you don't young lady, you'll stay here with me, I'm not letting you go off alone with that man, there's no telling what he might do. It's not as though there will be other members of the group nearby to keep and eye on you."

Ruth carried on in this vein until Pete Mowles spoke, "Carol and I will be going on the path too so there's no problem Ruth." I saw Carol give her husband a horrified look but said nothing. I'd met them on many previous walks and considered them friends and knowing both were in their late fifties and slightly overweight, they would struggle on the steeper parts so their willingness to tackle the trek surprised me but, after our earlier meeting, I wanted to get to know Karen a little better and kept quiet too.

The first part of the path meandered gently upwards through shady woodland alongside a gurgling stream. "This is very pleasant Pete, but I don't know how we'll get on when we get to the steep bit, whatever made you agree to go this way?" Carol asked her husband.

"Not to worry dear, when we see how steep it really is, we'll just have to turn back and leave these two to go on their own. I'm sure the walk back along this path will be equally pleasant as going this way."

"I wouldn't want to be in your trousers when Ruth gets hold of your balls when we return," Carol joked and then turned to me, "You won't be harming her will you Steve? No, I know you better than that."

Karen seemed far happier than I'd ever known her and we laughed and teased each other as we walked to the start of the climb and to the point where Carol decided she wasn't going any further. "We can go on up that zigzag track," I pointed the route to Karen as far as we could see it, "Or we can return with the others. It's up to you," I gave her the choice.

"Onwards and upwards, Everest here we come," full of life, Karen made the decision and we wished our partners a safe return and thanked them for escorting us to 'the foothills'.

Having the mini-bus and trailer to transport our heavy gear from one site to the next, allowed us to carry relatively light rucksacks with food, rain gear and emergency supplies for the day, but even so, climbing in sunshine against a fresh breeze, they began to feel heavy. Karen didn't complain and I had the pleasure of holding her hand several times when she supposedly needed help to get over a boulder and again, for pleasure this time, when on open moorland. I even snatched a kiss when she almost slipped and I caught her in my arms.

<where are u? u shud have come back with p n c> Karen giggled as she read the text message. "We've been missed," she grinned when she showed me the phone.

Still in good humour and in a daredevil, rebellious spirit, she replied, <in motel in Pontypridd making mad passionate love> Even if Ruth didn't get the lie straightaway, the others would soon explain that Pontypridd, a small town in the Rhonda Valley, lay over 100 miles to the south of us. She turned her phone off. A few minutes later, mine rang with a message from Bob Hardinge. <Where are you in reality Steve?>

<bout half mile from summit. Having short rest before the final steep bit. Wind strong, slow progress. Good views> Influenced by Karen's mood, I attached a photo from a ground level viewpoint of her looking up at the crag that provided a little shelter from the wind, posed with her arms outstretched and clutching at small handholds as though we were about the climb the rock face, and with her bottom thrust prominently in the foreground.

"Mother'll hang you by the balls when we get back if Bob shows her and he probably will, and all the others too," Karen didn't stop me sending it though.

"At least they'll know exactly where we are because these rocks are a distinctive feature of the landscape."

We reached the top a little after one o'clock and sat close together to eat our food, sheltered from the wind in the lee of a cairn and chatted about ourselves until another group of walkers arrived but, after taking photographs, they carried on and not too long after, we cleared our stuff away and made our way downhill.

A mile later we'd descended into the tree line. "I need to piss, don't you?" Suspecting Karen wished to see more of my prick, I agreed. When out of sight of the main path, Karen felt my crotch until I started to harden and then opened my flies and fished out my prick. "That feels nice," she remarked rubbing my foreskin back and forth, "Are you going to pee or not?" Using my prick as a hose, she gleefully sprayed the bushes and by the time she'd finish playing, it stood very firm and erect and elicited oohs and aahs from her but with the closeness of brambles and undergrowth, we couldn't do much more.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / True Story / Safe Sex /