Honeymoon Pt. 02

Cabin in the Country

He was there when I woke in the morning.

It might not seem like such a big deal to most women these days, to find a naked man in bed upon waking, but Charlie and I had never slept together before our wedding. Oh, we had made love. We had screwed. We had fucked each other's brains out, as the quaint saying goes. But because of his work as a local politician and mine as a church secretary, spending the night either at his place or mine was just too dangerous; actually moving in together was totally out of the question. And so we had enjoyed long evenings together, doing all the things that come naturally to people in love, and then we had always returned to our individual homes, already longing for the next time we would see each other.

And now, he was with me. In bed. We had made love. Ooh, had we made love! And we had slept. Really. Together. I had wondered if he might wake me up with sexual demands in the middle of the night the way my first husband had on that wedding night so many years ago. Had he done so, I would have gladly complied, but fifty-ish people recuperate more slowly than thirty-somethings. I had slept long and dreamlessly, and now I awoke in the expensive sheets of a five star hotel bed. And my man was beside me, still snoring peacefully.

He had thrown off his covers (or perhaps I had pulled them all over on to myself?), and I could enjoy looking at his body in the dim morning light. At fifty-one, he was no Adonis, his waist beginning to thicken, his hair beginning to thin. And his body was a bit too hairy for my taste (or so I had thought before I saw all that hair on his pale body). No bronzed Hercules, that was for sure, and I was glad, because all the muscular young gods I had dated (admittedly not many) had turned out be real jerks: self-centered, overconfident, demanding assholes.

This was a sweet middle aged man who for reasons beyond my understanding found me irresistible, and I was not about to complain. But I was about to take advantage of him. It was unusual for me to see his penis in its flaccid state; ordinarily, by the time I got it out of his pants it was hard and ready to go. But now I could examine it at my leisure: a harmless looking little tube of five inches or so, circumcised as most male babies were in the 1950s, surrounded by massive quantities of pubic hair which thinned only slightly as it moved up his stomach and down his open thighs. His hairy scrotum was also in repose, the balls it encased resting against the sheet.

My eyes moved up his body to his stomach, his puffy nipples, his slender shoulders, his neck with just a hint of double chin, his lips, open slightly, his eyes closed gently.

Do I really love this man? I thought.

Oh, yes, I really do.

I leaned over to give his lips a gentle kiss, much as I imagined Prince Charming might kiss his Sleeping Beauty or his Snow White. (Either name would be an appropriate one for my beloved.) As I did so, I ran a hand up his inner thigh until my fingers just brushed the juncture of scrotum and hamstring. I was rewarded by a small convulsion beneath my fingers, and by a sudden animal-like movement in his penis, which jumped and began to harden and grow. I also got to see his eyes open for the first time that day.

"Oh, what a vision," he said, smiling.

For the first time that day I thought about my own appearance and was dismayed. I knew that after sleep my red hair always looked like a fright wig, that my eyes without makeup looked dead, that I might even still have pillowcase wrinkles on my cheek. I glanced down at my body to find one strap of the nightie was off the shoulder, and the breast on that side was hanging bare, its nipple engorged and pink. The hemline was hiked above my hips, so that my hairy pussy was fully exposed to his lust-filled eyes.

He pulled my head down and returned the kiss gently, and as he rolled to his back, I climbed aboard, rubbing my moistening slit along his hardening cock until we were both ready, and then sliding that smooth shaft into me quickly and easily. On top like this, I could control how deeply he filled me, and I wanted him deep. He pulled my other shoulder strap down and watched my breasts swaying as we moved together. I loved his eyes on me, loved that he loved what he was seeing. Our speed increased, and the sounds of wet fucking once more filled the room, along with my moaning vocalizations and his animal grunts. We both came quickly and quietly, and then I lay on top of him, still penetrated by his manhood, his semen slowly oozing out as he shrank back to his normal size.

We slept for a bit more, and when I woke up I kissed him and said, "I'm going to take a shower, and I'm going to take it alone. Otherwise we'll never make the 11 a.m. checkout time."

I lifted my body off of his slowly and carefully, loving the feeling of his soft penis slipping free and falling back wetly on his belly. Our juices were rolling down my thighs as I pulled the nightgown over my head. He smiled with approval, and I walked somewhat self-consciously into the bathroom, lusciously aware of the hot moisture squishing within my most secret places.

The shower was a sensual experience, the hot water soothing my muscles, the shampoo nurturing my hair and scalp, the scented soap sweetening the surface of my skin—and a few places below the surface. I stepped out of the shower to find my new husband standing nude at the sink, shaving himself. I could not resist fondling his rear as I passed, causing him to nick himself and shout, "Hey, careful, woman!"

"You be careful how you dress, Mister. You can't blame me for touching such a delectable derriere." As I toweled myself off, I had the satisfaction of seeing his penis swell yet again as he finished shaving.

We had a long drive to make, and I wanted to be comfortable in the car. I also wanted to be sexy. But I didn't want to distract the poor man enough to make his driving unsafe. What to wear?

I settled on a knee-length dress, belted at the waist. (The belt pulled it a bit higher than the knees.) In keeping my promise, of course, I wore no panties, but in this case I also went without a bra. I was well covered, but I knew I was bouncing and swaying in ways he liked. I saw him watching me as I packed our bags, and I made it a point to lean over occasionally and give him an opportunity to see up—and down—my dress. He loaded the luggage into the car, and we were off.

For his part, he was dressed almost normally except for his shorts, which he almost never wore. They hugged his backside nicely, and his bare thighs were a temptation for me as we headed down the highway. I would reach over from time to time and casually caress his interior kneecap or run my hand up his inner thigh touching only the leg hair and not the skin. I could not see his erection, but I knew by the way he shifted in his seat that interesting things were happening down there. Interesting things were happening in my own crotch, too, but I kept my legs spread and counted on the car's air conditioning to keep my moisture and my libido under control.

We stopped at the first MacDonald's we came to and got breakfast in the drive-through. I wondered what the sleepy-looking teenager in the serving window would think if he knew how little I was wearing or how horny I was. I guessed he wouldn't be particularly interested in a granny-type like me. But no matter. I had Charlie's interest, particularly when I put one foot up on the dashboard and completely revealed one white leg. "No fair," he said, and I knew he was right. He needed his eyes on the road, not on me.

But when, after a couple of hours, I took over the driving duties, I was free to indulge my fantasies, and his. I unbuttoned my dress enough to put my breasts on display for him, and I slid one hand up between my legs to feel my hot, moist self. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, I could tell, with his growing erection. Occasionally I would take my fingers out of my pussy and tweak a nipple, or maybe reach over to Charlie's lap and trace the outline of his cock through his shorts. At one point I slid my hand up his bare thigh and was treated to the feeling of his cock tip, oozing precum and sticking out the leg of his shorts. "Keep your attention on the road, Dee," he rasped.

"Whatever you say," I said, as I squeezed his cockhead and then returned my hand to my crotch. But much to my surprise and pleasure, he pulled down his zipper and pulled out his cock, using its oozing as a lubricant and gazing at my body as he stroked himself. In retaliation, I unbuttoned my dress entirely, only the belt at my waist keeping it closed. I could glance over from time to time and see his clear, viscous precum coating his cock and fingers, and I my own fingers could also become slick and shiny by their activity between my own legs. We rode in silence for a time, a silence interrupted only occasionally by a gasp or a moan or a sweet whispered obscenity.

"I still think this marriage thing was a good idea, don't you?" Charlie teased himself, bringing forth yet another shining globule from his penis, and another guttural moan from his throat.

"One of the best I've ever had." I transferred some moisture from my pussy to one of my nipples, cooling it down and causing it to stiffen further.

"As I recall, it was my idea. You would have been content to keep on loving in secret—as if that were even possible. Anyone who saw us together could tell there was something going on."

"Wouldn't they be pleased to see us together now!"

"They'd say, 'See, I told you so.'"

The sound of his voice, carrying on a normal conversation but heavy with desire, made my juices flow even more. I was glad his car had leather seats; my cloth ones would have been hopelessly stained.

Whenever a car or especially a big truck was in our vicinity, we would half-heartedly cover ourselves up: he would put his shirttail over his cock, and I would pull my dress most of the way closed. I expect a trucker or two saw my cleavage and thighs, but by that point I was happy to be providing entertainment. After a while, Charlie said, "You don't really want me to come all over the dashboard, do you?"

"I suppose not. Maybe we should save these thoughts for later."

"Maybe." He ran his fingers up his cock another few times, got some Kleenex out of the glove compartment, wiped himself off and put himself away, not without some difficulty. I fastened all but the top and bottom buttons of my dress, maintaining his interest without causing him to lose control. I felt thoroughly feminine and thoroughly nasty, riding a wave of desire as we rode together down the highway.

It was about 4 in the afternoon when we arrived at our cabin, which was part of a little hideaway along a scenic river. Most of the occupants were there for the white water rafting and canoeing, but we were planning to spend most of our time indoors with other, even more athletic activities.

We checked in at the front office. It was connected to a tiny store filled with overpriced groceries and camping supplies. We gladly paid for enough food to feed two hungry lovers for a week, as the older lady at the desk glanced at my slightly open dress through which large erect nipples could be detected. I also noticed her glancing at Charlie's bulging crotch, and I enjoyed her smile and twinkling eyes as she told us to enjoy our stay.

As soon as we got into our cabin, shut the door, and put the grocery sacks on the table, we were in each other's arms hungrily kissing and groping. I had his pants down, his insistent erection pressing against my stomach, and he had my dress totally open. His hands caressed my back and buttocks; I pulled him to me as tightly as I could and felt him throbbing against me. His moisture smeared across my belly as we teased our mouths and tongues together in hot, wet kisses.

"Happy Honeymoon, Dee."

"Happy Honeymoon, Charlie."

We turned on the air conditioning and explored our little cabin together. I enjoyed watching him look around wearing only his shirt and sandals; I kept my dress open partly to cool myself off and partly to keep him heated up.

It was actually a fairly nice setup for such a rustic setting. There were no interior walls except those enclosing the tiny bathroom. On the side of the cabin facing the river, there were two large picture windows with fabulous views. One was in the sleeping area, with the foot of the bed close to the window; the other was in the hot tub area, with the hot tub on a little platform right at the window. There were no curtains or blinds in either window, a fact which both frightened and excited me.

"So, are we going to be putting on a show for the whole resort?" I asked.

"No," said Charlie. "No one can see in during the daytime, and at this time of year, the insects and the heat are so horrible at night that absolutely no one will be out there to spy on us. And if they are," he added with a smile and a pinch on my bottom, "they will deserve whatever show we can give them."

I fondled his erect penis, almost wishing someone COULD see. I would be so proud to show off this man of mine. And to show off all the fun things we had learned to do together. He cupped my breasts in his hands and ran his thumbs over my distended nipples. I felt my crotch moistening yet again. I moved my fingers to his balls and caressed them, loving their soft, warm weight. My hands almost involuntarily slid along the length of his cock, but at that moment our stomachs both growled. We knew we needed nourishment before we engaged in too much more sexual activity.

I pulled together a meal out of our impromptu purchases. "I may as well get in practice," I said. "I assume I'll be doing the cooking in this marriage?"

"You'd better," said Charlie. "Otherwise neither of us is going to live much longer. But I'll do the dishes. Sound fair?"

It did, although since we were using paper plates and a microwave oven the dishwashing chores here would not be too arduous. But I intended to hold him to his promise after we got home.

I opened my suitcase and took off my dress. I got out one of the gifts given to me at a bridal shower by one of my friends who could not believe I was marrying a politician. It was a frilly apron, right out of the fifties. I put it on—it and nothing else but a single strand of fake pearls. My breasts were only partially covered by the upper part of the garment, and of course the lower part did nothing to hide my derriere. I was more aware than usual of the various bounces and jiggles my body made, and I was enjoying knowing that Charlie was watching me from the comfort of a sofa. He lay there, hands behind his head, wearing nothing but a t shirt, his cock full and hard and standing at attention.

"I think I'm in heaven," he said.

"Just because a woman is cooking for you? Don't get used to it."

"Dress like that all the time and I'LL do the cooking."

"Dress like that all the time and we'll both starve."

As I opened the door of the little oven and bent over to put a pizza in it, I was suddenly aware of his prick pressing against my pussy. "Put the pizza down, Dee." He sounded like a cop making an arrest.

I carefully put the pot on the oven rack and slid the rack into place.

"Now step away from the oven." I was only to glad to do so, for stepping backward meant sliding my oozing twat over his hard meat. I backed into him all the way and closed the oven door. I felt his hands resting on my hips, his cock pulsating inside me.

"How long till supper is ready, Dee?" He withdrew slowly, then thrust himself back in again.

"About fifteen...mmmm...minutes..."

"Good. This won't take that long."

I steadied myself against the warm range top as he moved his hard pole in and out of my willing cunt at a leisurely pace. His hands roved over my backside as he pumped, sometimes sliding down to my thighs, sometimes lightly fingering the sensitive area around my anus, sometimes reaching out to cup my breasts, breasts which felt like udders as the swung back and forth, and as he squeezed their hard nipples.

It didn't take long. We had both been so overstimulated that day that the delicious sensations of our joined genitalia soon built to powerful, all-consuming joint orgasm. I was going into spasms around his cock as he pumped me full to overflowing with his warm, white jism. I remained leaning against the stove tingling all over and breathing heavily as he withdrew, and I felt his semen oozing from my well-fucked slit and flowing down my thighs. I heard him collapse on the sofa just as the oven's timer dinged.

With some effort I opened the oven door and pulled out a perfect pizza. I set it on the table and said, "Dinner is served." Charlie, breathing hard, his wet penis red and semi-erect, opened one eye and said, "Oh, good." He went to the cabinet as I served our plates. He opened a bottle of red wine and poured it rather liberally into two large tumblers. Without further ceremony we took our places at the table. I was aware of the mess I was making on the vinyl seat of the kitchen chair, but it was a pleasant sensation to be sitting in a warm pool of sexjuice. We ate ravenously and drank lasciviously. And when we were finished, he cleaned up the table and washed the dishes which needed washing, this time giving me the chance to watch him work bare-assed in the kitchen, as I reclined on the sofa casually fingering my warm, wet pussy. As the last dish was put away, he turned to me, his cock hardening again and swinging invitingly, and said, "Hot tub?"

I knew we were supposed to shower before getting into that tub, but I didn't care. We both stripped the rest of our clothes off. He climbed in—it was fun to watch his balls dangle and his cock sway as he clambered over the edge—and then he helped me in, like a true gentleman. Well, he was ogling my body in a most ungentlemanly way, but I welcomed his leers. The water was quite hot—just this side of scalding—and we both sank into it very slowly, but soon we were sitting opposite each other in the round tub, both of us covered with water from the chest down. My breasts floated on the water, their nipples softening in the heat, and Charlie's eyes focused on them. My feet briefly found his cock, which was also getting softer. Our legs met and intertwined until I was supporting my body on his knees, and my belly and pussy were floating up in his full view.

"You are so beautiful," he said, sliding his hands along my thighs and up to my crotch. "But the water is so hot, I don't think I can get it up for you here."

"That's all right, sweetness. Let's just relax. Let the tension soak out of our muscles."

"It feels good," he said. "I've never been in a hot tub before."

"Really? Oh, Charlie, you are such an innocent."

"My thoughts aren't innocent."

"Yes, they are. You are naked with your wife. It's like the Garden of Eden. What could be more innocent than that?"

"I'm naked with my wife and I can't get it up. That may be like Eden, but it's not Paradise."

"I always pictured Adam and Eve running around doing it out in the open. 'Naked and unashamed,' the Bible says. Like us."

"I thought the Serpent taught them about sex—the Tree of Knowledge and all that."

"The Serpent taught them about shame, not sex. And they were not ashamed of sex; they were ashamed of disobedience."

"So—you're a Sunday School teacher? I never realized."

"I used to be. But I got fired."

"You're kidding."

"No, no, you are looking at—ogling, I should say—the only woman fired from the Calvary Baptist Church Sunday School for teaching immorality."

"Now, that's the girl I married. What did you teach?"

"What I just told you. That Adam and Eve knew about lust before they knew about evil."