The Lookout

I was travelling north out of Sydney, driving up the Pacific motorway. It's a fantastic road. Ten minutes after leaving Sydney and you're in the mountains. The road doesn't climb laboriously up and down each mountain. As soon as you hit the heights the road goes airborne, skipping from peak to peak, and it's like driving in the sky.

You drive along and to either side of you there are panoramic views, hills and mountains and trees rolling away into the distance. It's hard to believe you were in a busy city just minutes past.

I've often driven this way and the views have always lifted my heart, especially on a fine day. A day of thick fog is something else. You can't see far and you're terribly aware of the drop if you are careless enough to crash off the road. Or I am, anyway.

Today, the weather was fine. There'd been some showers in the morning but they'd cleared away, leaving a blue sky and a hot sun shining down on a freshly washed forest.

At about the fifteen minute mark heading out there is a lookout area. I've never actually been up to it but you can see it as you travel along, perched higher up the mountain. Today, on a whim, I took the turn that went up to the lookout.

It wasn't far. I came off the road into a cleared area that finished at what was a sheer drop-off. The drop-off had a fine sturdy metal fence running along it which was fortunate, as I wouldn't have approached the edge without that fence there.

The look-out area was neat and clean. There was a picnic table and benches plus a rubbish bin, but apart from that, no facilities. It was just an area where someone could pull over, enjoy the view and sit down for a snack if they were so inclined.

I was the only person there and I parked and strolled over to the fence. The view was absolutely amazing. I mean, the views from the motorway were pretty spectacular but you're driving and can't really appreciate them. Here, high above it all, I could see for miles, and it was all hills and trees with an occasional glimpse of the motor way winding its way across the mountains.

If it was all flat land I'd have been looking out across a hundred square miles of wilderness. Seeing that the land was anything but flat I was probably looking at triple that area, all curves and slopes and green, sparkling in the sun reflecting off the wetness left by the earlier showers. I had my smart phone out and took a few panoramic shots which I hope will turn out well.

I'd put the phone away and was just standing there, enjoying the view, knowing I should be getting back on the road but in no hurry to do so. At that point another car pulled into the look-out and parked near mine.

I flicked a glance over at the car, seeing a couple of men getting out. I ignored them and turned back to the view. They came strolling over, chatting together as they came.

"Magnificent," one was saying. "Well worth stopping for. I could look at that scenery all day."

"True," came the reply. "All smooth rolling curves. Makes you want to reach out and touch them."

Touch them is just what the two gregarious bastards did. Can you imagine my shock when hands groped my bottom as the two men moved up to the fence, one on either side of me?

I froze for a second in total shock, eyes popped wide open. Geez, I'd have been shocked if one of them had brushed my bottom, but to have both of them grab it? It turned out that one second of freezing shock was one second too many.

I made some sort of sound. I won't call it a surprised scream, but it was close to it. At the same time I went to hit out at the hands touching my bottom. That's when I found out that the one second freeze was too long. The two men had both fastened a hand over one of mine, holding my hands to the bar of the fence where they'd been resting.

Holding my hands didn't shut me up.

"Get your hands off me, you assholes," I yelled, trying to pull away and getting nowhere.

They just laughed.

"Oh, don't be such a wuss," said the guy on my right. "We're just admiring the curves. Get used to it. We're not going to hurt you."

"Right," said the left side guy. "A bit of harmless fun. And very nice curves, by the way."

All I could do was stand there, hands pinned to the bar, while they groped and stroked, giving my bum a good going over. One of them actually had the audacity to lift the back of my dress and tuck it into itself, up around the waist, leaving my bottom exposed to their lecherous gaze.

It truly was exposed, too. The panties I wore were a type of thong, consisting of a lacy waist band and another lacy stretch of material that went from front to back as a modesty panel. This meant that the cheeks of my bottom were totally bare, except for two hands crawling over them.

I fumed and abused them, threatening them with imminent violence, and they stroked my bottom.

I screamed at them and threatened to report them to the police, and they stroked my bottom some more.

Then it got worse.

"Down?" asked the guy on the right.

"Why not?" replied the guy on the left.

I was wondering what the hell, but they didn't leave me wondering long. It turned out that down referred to my panties. A hand on either side of me hooked around the waist band and my panties just went straight down, pushed below my knees. From there they slithered down to ankle height of their own accord.

Now the touching went even further. You can guess where their hands went. I'd sort of been standing with my legs slightly apart. As soon as those hands started trespassing between my legs I clamped them tightly together. The men disapproved of that.

"Ah, it might be advisable to move your legs apart again, sweetie," said the guy on the right. "If you don't my mate will probably start smacking your bottom until you do. He doesn't like to be disappointed."

The man on the left started patting my bottom, sort of indicating where he'd start spanking. Rebellious, I refused to budge. After a few moments in dawned on me that those pats to my bottom were getting harder. From an irritating pat they were moving to a spank that was almost, but not quite, smarting.

Still feeling mutinous I let my legs drift apart again. I was going to be groped, like it or not. There was no use adding any pain to the humiliation.

A couple of real gentlemen they were. One would stroke my bottom while the other would stroke my pussy, massaging and poking fingers where they had no right to go. Then they'd switch places. At no time were both of them mucking around with my mound at the same time. So thoughtful of them.

As you can guess, I was getting aroused. Reluctantly, but aroused. If they'd been rough I could have taken refuge in anger, but they weren't. Their touches were actually quite gently. Firm and determined, having a bit of naughty fun, but not actually harming me.

For all that, I just wanted them to stop.

It was another case of be wary about what you wish for. The two men finally took their hands off my bottom. For one glorious moment I thought that was it. They had stopped. I could go. I'd be breaking speed records getting out of there. So what happened?

The guy on the left let go of my wrist and his hands were on my hips. From that position, the way they had me slightly hunched over, it was easy for him to line his erection up with my pussy. The first I knew of his intentions was when I felt him sliding into me.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked, while knowing exactly what he was doing. "You said you weren't going to hurt me!"

"Hey, I keep my word," I was told. "Trust me, this won't hurt a bit."

It didn't, with his erection slipping smoothly into place as though it had been there a thousand times before. That didn't satisfy me, though.

"You didn't know it wouldn't hurt," I protested. "I could have been a virgin for all you knew."

That earned me some cynical laughter from both men, which further incensed me. True, I was a little old to be a virgin, but they couldn't know that. Then I thought of certain fingers probing and teasing. Oh. Maybe they had known, at that.

Mr Left was now having his fun, driving happily into me. Disgruntled though I was, I was responding. Sometimes it is easier and a lot more sensible to go along with what is happening. Sort of, if you can't beat them, join them. As he was very firmly joined to me and was beating me with impunity all I could do was push back, getting into the rhythm of things.

I will say that he knew what he was doing. He drilled me good and proper, feeding my arousal and exciting me, skilfully taking me where he wanted to go.

Now don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I was enjoying what was happening. I'm just saying that I was able to bear up under it with great fortitude. Any pleading I may have been doing was in the hope that he'd hurry up and finish. I was not asking him to go in harder because I needed him to, no matter what it sounded like.

I was gasping and making funny little noises and he was coming faster and faster, my hips really bouncing to keep up with him. I was hot, so hot, probably caused by friction burns, and he showed no signs of slowing. He was pushing me, and I was shuddering and pushing back and steadily climbing a mountain of desire, which all of a sudden came crashing down around me.

I was aware of myself screaming and shuddering and I could tell that he was finishing off inside me and then I was leaning against the rail, panting while he disengaged and stepped away from me.

As soon as I got my breath back I turned my head and glared at him.

"Why don't you just go and jump of the fucking mountain?" I snarled at him.

You can imagine my horror when he looked at me, smiled, and said, "OK." With that he took a run at the fence, jumped up, and launched himself

off.

I screamed, staring at the space where he wasn't, absolutely appalled. I'd told him to jump and he had. I was a murderer. I was even more appalled when I found his mate was standing behind me, his cock already pushing into me.

"Are you mad?" I screamed. "How can you think of sex at a time like this? Your friend just killed himself."

"Don't worry," the swine said. "The fall won't kill you. You do have to watch out for those landings, though."

The callous swine didn't even slow down, pushing his cock firmly into me. I was too shocked to even think of resisting.

"You don't understand," I wailed. "He jumped. We have to call the police."

"I wouldn't bother. They're far too busy to come to see where a base jumper leapt. They're used to us using this place as a launching site."

A what?

"I assume you didn't notice the flight suit he had on. He'll land quite safely, miles from here. I have to go and pick him up. But first. . ."

I was an idiot and furious. A base jumper and I thought he'd killed himself. What's more the oaf behind me with his "but first" had started driving into me hot and heavy and hard and energetic. Oh my god, I was still being ravished, and I was already rocking in time to his thrusts.

I don't know why but suddenly I was totally aroused. Not just aroused because some men had touched me and felt me up, but fully, in your face, glad to be alive, aroused. Maybe it was the shock of seeing that man jump and thinking he was dead, followed by the relief that he wasn't. (And I hope he broke both legs landing, despite that relief.) Whatever it was I suddenly needed the man in me, taking me.

I was pushing back to meet him in a most energetic manner, exhorting him to move it, get with action, harder, damn you, are you ravishing me or just petting a doll. I think the man was quite shocked, although he did do his best. And a very fine best it was.

We came together like a couple of wild things, bucking and gasping, me ravishing him just as much as he was ravishing me. (I don't like to admit it, but maybe I was a wee bit too aggressive.)

I'd just recently had a sexual experience that had left me with a climax, so it wasn't too surprising that I was all heated and ready for another. Our frantic mating didn't last all that long with me climaxing eagerly, my internal muscles involuntarily clamping down on my assailant (because strictly speaking, that's what he was) and milking him, forcing him to climax whether he wanted too or not.

I was gasping, breathing hard as I felt him disengage. I turned to look at him and he looked nervous. If he'd had a flight suit he'd probably have jumped straight away, just to be gone. As it was he turned and hurried to his car, leaving the scene in a great hurry.

I turned and looked out at the view again. A flash of movement caught my eye and I turned slightly, focusing. It was a man, skimming over the forest, moving real fast. It looked like an interesting sport. I watched for a few moments, seeing him covering a great deal of ground in very little time. Not the sport for me, I decided.

I returned to my car and drove sedately away.