A Walk in the Park

The rain poured down all around us, but we were completely protected under the tree, its thick layers of leaves a natural umbrella. I looked around. The limited amount of light from the opening in the branches where we first ran in showed a layer of moss covering the ground around the trunk. Branches hung down all around us, creating a closed-in space big enough for us to walk around in. After another quick glance outside, I realized the rain was not going to let up anytime soon. “We’re going to be here for a while,” I said, and spread the blanket over the moss. I was glad I had run into him earlier, and now had company while we waited out the shower. He put the rest of our stuff on his side of the blanket, and we both sat down. Hugging my knees against me, I gazed out the opening, watching the rain drip from the branches surrounding it. I didn’t notice that he had picked up the book I had been reading before he came by. We were both quiet. After a couple of minutes, I felt the need to break the silence. “So, how long are you here for?” I asked him, turning to look at him. And that’s when I noticed that he was perusing my book. Red heat immediately swept up my neck and face. Without thinking, I lunged for the book, trying to grab it away.

Holding it an arm’s length away, well out of my reach, he looked at me. “So, you read erotica,” he stated, smiling.

“Can I please have my book back?” I asked, without answering his question, and held out my hand for it, trying to ignore the extreme embarrassment that made me want to go hide somewhere. He grinned, “Nope,” and went back to reading. I considered making another dive for it, but he was obviously not going to let me have it. I considered my other options. I could just leave; walk out into the rain, get drenched and chilled and leave all my stuff behind. Yup. That would be pretty stupid. Actually, I realized, there were no other options. If he wanted to read the book, he was going to read it.

Suddenly he stopped reading and turned back toward me. “Seriously, do you like erotica?” he asked.

I tried to come up with a response that would avoid my having to directly answer his question. It had been years since I had last seen him, and I had no idea what he thought of this kind of writing. What if he thought I was some kind of trashy woman now?

But before I could think of a suitably evasive response, he continued, “Because I like it, myself…a lot.” I was surprised by his candor, and it must have shown on my face. “I’ve read some of this writer’s work before, in short stories. I didn’t know she had a book out, though,” he added.

This wasn’t so bad after all, I thought, and my embarrassment left as quickly as it had come. I smiled back. “I do like erotica,” I told him, “particularly this author’s stories.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, they’re so real.”

“Ah, yes. That makes a big difference.” He stopped and looked down for a moment, then back at me. “I have an idea. It looks like it’s going to keep raining for a while, and we don’t really have anything to do. Since we both enjoy this writing, why don’t we share it?”

“I really can’t picture how we are both going to read the book at the same time.”

“I mean,” he said, “that we can take turns reading it aloud to each other.”

I was a little shocked at first, but also intrigued. I’d never had someone offer to read a sex story aloud to me. After a few seconds of consideration, I decided, “Why not?”

He started to read, beginning where I had folded the page back to mark where I had left off earlier. It was not a particularly erotic scene, but I knew that it was quickly going to become one within the next two pages. I knew this story already, having gone through it several times before. It never failed to make me hot, and I thought maybe it would be better if he started somewhere else, instead. So, I suggested he go back to the beginning. “That way you won’t have missed anything,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. I think I sounded too reasonable, because he shot me a questioning look before going back to the book. “Oh, that’s okay,” he said, “I don’t mind starting here. That way, you won’t have to hear it all over again since you’ve obviously already read up to this part.” And he settled in again, reading the words that I knew were taking us closer to my favorite part. His voice was deep, and his tone became almost sultry as the story unfolded. Sure enough, as the scene became hotter, so did I. I tried to ignore the heat beginning to pool between my legs, and hugged my knees closer to me. My breasts were getting heavy, and I knew my nipples were already hard under the stretchy tank top I wore, but that, I knew, I could blame on the coolness of the rain if I needed to. Without realizing it, I shivered. He looked up. “You’re cold,” he said, and looked around. Neither of us had extra clothing. He put the book down and without saying anything, pulled his shirt off and handed it to me, revealing a toned and lean body. “Here, put this on.”

It was a very nice gesture, but I wasn’t cold and I didn’t feel right taking his shirt under false pretenses. But how else could I explain that shiver? “You’ll get cold, then,” I said, not taking the shirt.

“No I won’t. I have an idea. Go ahead and put the shirt on.”

As I took the shirt, he scooted down the blanket and lay down. “Now, you can rest your head on me, keeping me warm, and my shirt will keep you warm.”

I was dubious. He looked at me, noticing my hesitation. “Go ahead. It’ll work just fine. Don’t worry about me,” and patted his chest in invitation. His expression was clear, no leering, and I felt foolish for being suspicious. Instead of putting his shirt on, I lay down next to him with my head on the right side of his chest and spread the shirt lengthwise across my shoulders and the still exposed left side of his chest. I still felt somewhat guilty about lying to him, but how else was I going to explain my reaction? Sure, I thought, I could just sit up, tell him I was not cold, but that I was really just getting horny, and hand his shirt back to him. It was such a ridiculous thought that I smiled to myself.

“What’s so funny,” he said, looking down at me.

Oops, I had better watch myself! “Oh, just thinking how odd this would look to anyone who might see it,” I responded.

“Well, don’t worry. No one can see into this area, and even if they could, everyone’s left the park because of the rain.”

His words instantly created a sense of intimacy that hadn’t been there a few seconds before. He was right. No one could see in here, and we were, basically, completely alone.

He picked up the book with his left hand, and his right arm curved around my shoulders while he continued to read. Within minutes, my body was again responding to the sensuous scene. I looked down, checking for obvious signs that he might happen to notice. Fortunately, the shirt was covering my breasts, and my skirt was covering the rest of me. He read on.

The couple in the story were becoming highly aroused, and I wasn’t very far behind them. My body was starting to feel heavy, and I could hear my breathing become slower and…wait, that wasn’t my breathing I was hearing. I concentrated on this notion for a moment, clearing my head for a second, and realized that it was his breathing that was deepening. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, trying to check him out without him seeing, and noticed a very distinct pulling in the crotch of his pants. I smiled. So, he was just as affected as I was. I continued to listen to him read. Very soon after, I was once again getting hot, and I could feel myself getting wetter. I squirmed a bit, rubbing my thighs together, trying to ease some of the need without alerting him that something was going on. He kept reading, but his other hand had started to lightly brush my arm in time with the cadence of his voice. I focused on that slight touch, thinking that maybe it would help me ignore the rest of my body so that I could get it under control once again. Instead, I started to fantasize that it wasn’t my arm he was touching, but that he had reached down between my legs and was lightly rubbing there. Just the thought of it created a sudden need. I was so wet and getting so hot! I moaned softly. He stopped reading a moment to look at me. I kept my eyes closed. Maybe he’ll think I was asleep. He watched me a moment longer, then went back to reading. In the meantime, I immediately went right back into my fantasy. My need for sex was so strong by then that I would have sworn I could feel him touching me. It was so good! In the throes of my fantasy, I turned my head toward his chest and opened my eyes. There was all this delicious male body right next to my mouth, and I couldn’t resist. So, I kissed his nipple.

I might have gotten away with it by blaming it on a dream, if it hadn’t been directly on the nipple. It was much too good of an aim for someone who was supposedly asleep, and I knew I had given myself away. The reading stopped, and I peeked up at him, my mouth still on his nipple. The next second the book went flying, I was suddenly lying back on the ground, and he was partially on top of me. “I was hoping you would do something soon!” he said. “You’ve been squirming there for the last 5 minutes, and I don’t know how much longer I could have waited!”

He caught my face between his hands and kissed me, rolling his body farther on top of me. I could clearly feel his need, and it sent a shiver of excitement through me. I opened my legs and he settled between them. It felt so good to have him hard against me, finally touching me where I had been wanting it so much. I groaned and my breathing quickened to small gasps, “Oh, please, please touch me.”

He rolled off me for a moment, pulled me into a sitting position just long enough to yank off my top, freeing my now swollen breasts, the nipples tight and begging to be touched. We both lay back, and he took one breast in his mouth while massaging the other one. My body arched up as if I could help him touch me more, to take more of me into his mouth. I groaned, and urged him on. “Suck harder, touch me harder,” I pleaded, “I need it so much!”

“Where? Tell me where!” he demanded.

I couldn’t think coherently about exactly what I wanted from him, and so I demanded more of everything. “Everywhere! Touch me everywhere!” And in response, he started to move his right hand down my stomach, rubbing my skin as he went so that I knew exactly where his hand was heading. But he was doing it so slowly! I was dying for him to get there, and all of a sudden he decides to take his time! I grabbed his hand and tried to push it downward, but he wouldn’t let me move it. Instead, he started rubbing tiny circles where my hip and leg meet, hard enough for me to feel it through my skirt. And now he was kissing my other breast. It was agonizing. After another excruciating few seconds, he started to move his hand over, and I gasped in relief. I pushed my hips up, inviting him, showing him exactly where I wanted him to touch me. And finally, he did, sliding his hands under my skirt and panties, cupping me before parting my lips and running his fingers through the hot wetness. “More. Please. I want you inside me, now!” He shoved his finger in, and because of the intense build up I could already feel my body getting ready to let go.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling his finger out and sitting up. I looked at him, desperate for him to finish, caught by surprise at his sudden withdrawal. He was getting undressed. He quickly tossed his clothes aside before sliding back down next to me. “Now, let’s get you undressed.”

Feeling almost drunk with need, I sat up, trying to get my fingers to work so that I could pull my skirt down. He reached over and pulled with me, and in seconds I was completely naked. As soon as I lay back, he had his finger inside me, startling me at his speed. A surge of pure pleasure washed over my body, and I writhed under him, still demanding more. My squirming must have been the last straw for him. He rolled completely on top of me, his weight spreading my legs and in one motion pushed inside of me. That was where I had needed to be touched the most! I met him halfway, thrusting my hips forward, until he was planted as far in as my body could let him go. Both of us stopped for a moment. I was relishing the sensual pleasure of being filled completely. Then he started to move, and I was ready for him, meeting his thrusts with my own, our bodies becoming slick with sweat and the wetness from my own sexual excitement. It was almost a struggle to see who could be more aggressive, more passionate; who would end up on top.

I did. He was still buried inside me as I sat on him, legs spread so that my knees were on either side of his waist. I began to move, raising up until he was almost out of me, then sliding myself back down to cover him completely. Again and again. The wet sound of him sliding in and out of me reminded me of a sensuous oil, and added to my already building pleasure. I slowed for a moment, then just moved around in little circles. He groaned, grasping my thighs. “This is so good. You’re so good. Ummmm, that’s it. That’s it. Keep doing that. Oh god. You’re fantastic. Yes. Soooo good!”

His pleasure, mixed with the feeling of him touching me everywhere deep inside and the sounds of our sex were taking me to the edge, and I was going to come very soon. He must have seen that, because he held me and rolled over, so that I was once again lying on the blanket. He grabbed one of my legs and pulled it over his shoulder, opening me up to his thrusts, planted his arms on either side of me, and drove into me. My whole body moved with each lunge. “Oh, oh, oh, yes, oh my god, yes. So deep. So good. Oh please!” The sexual energy, already so intense, was too much for me to keep going. I grabbed his arms, arched up, opening up for every bit of him I could get. That spring that had wound so tightly inside of me suddenly let go and I was coming, almost crying with the pleasure. In a frenzy of thrusts, he stiffened and I could feel him coming inside me.

He collapsed on top of me, and we lay there for a few minutes, just getting our breath back. Then he slid to the side, leaving an arm draped across me. I looked over to see him watching me. “That was fantastic. You were fantastic.”

I smiled back. “So were you. That was wonderful.”

We heard voices nearby. I looked through the branches. The sun was coming out. Slowly we sat up, looked around for our clothes, and leisurely got dressed. With everything in hand, we casually stepped out from under the tree, squinting a little in the sunlight. We were a few steps away, and I looked back for a second. It was almost surreal, but my muscles were telling me it had all really happened. It was something I would not forget.

I turned to him. “So, how long are you here for?

“Oh, I’ll be here for quite a while. I moved here last week.”

I looked at him for a moment. “Here,” I said, handing him the book.

“Don’t you want to read it?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got plenty more of these at home.”

He raised his eyebrows, questioning. “Why would you have more of these at home?”

“I wrote it.” I smiled, winked at him and heard him start to laugh as I walked away.