Country Rodes

Country Rhodes

My husband and I recently came into a piece of property upstate that it turns out has been in my family for years.  It’s a large, secluded parcel of land nestled in the woods that borders a state forest.  It turned out to be, as my husband and I would soon find out, the very same place that previous generations in my family had gone to spend their summers, but had fallen into neglect and disrepair with the passing of time and interest.

One weekend early in the summer season, my husband and I headed upstate to check out our new inheritance.  We had been told that the property was not easy to find, since it was set way back from the main road.  Whoever told us that hadn’t been kidding.  We literally had to find a small gravel road nestled amidst a thick cluster of trees off one of the winding, single-lane secondary roads that runs through the mountains.

What we found upon our arrival was a big, beautiful expanse of clear, rolling field, and on one corner, an old, ramshackle looking house much in need of a lot of tender loving care.  Anyone else encountering what we encountered might have decided to keep the property and scrap the house, but sentiment won the day and I was able to convince my husband that we should work on restoring the old house, besides, with the in-ground pool in the back that the last occupants had put in the place the house had all the potential of being a nice summer retreat.  With the decision made, we set to work restoring what we started out hoping would be our secret hideaway in the forest.

Initially, my husband and I went up on the weekends and would spend time clearing out the cobwebs, spending entire days working to restore the house, sometimes sleeping in a tent outside.  But as progress was made, and after we were able to secure the premises, I decided to stay up at the house and do what I could on weekdays with my husband joining me on weekends.

As summer progressed, and along with it the heat, I thought it appropriate to focus some of my effort working on the pool in the backyard.  It was filled with leaves and all sorts of natural debris, but it looked pretty sound, at least from what I could tell.  Clearing it up was a month-long chore, but with hard work, perspiration, and help from a local contractor, the showcase collection of artifacts from the forest-primeval became a cool oasis from the hot summer sun.

One Friday evening, after having spent a day upstairs painting what was to become the master bedroom, I stepped out of the house to escape the unbearable heat.  The sun was already setting, and my husband was late in arriving.  A big, inviting pool of water beckoned, but I hadn’t brought a bathing suit with me.  So, I waited, impatiently, but waited and started thinking about all of that cool water and how refreshing it would feel just now to jump in and cool off.

But I hadn’t brought a bathing suit.

And then I thought, “But there’s nobody around and I could go skinny dipping and no one would see me,” hesitated and followed with, “besides I’ve never done that sort of thing before”.

The more I thought about it, the more excited I got about the prospect of swimming nude, and the less hesitant about trying I became.  So, I ran into the house to get a towel and went back out to the pool.

Undressing was something of a challenge for me; first struggling with the idea of being naked someplace other than my bedroom, and then with the idea of being in my all-together outside.  But once I took off my top, and once I undid my bra and saw my breasts falling free from their halter, losing the shorts and the panties was a bit easier.

So there I stood on the edge of the pool naked.  The gentle brush of the night air on my body felt good, but not as delicious as the cooling waters of the pool after I dove in.  I actually felt kind of liberated, more alive, swimming nude, enjoying the wet embrace of the refreshing water encasing my body, after all, I was alone, no one could see me, and I wasn’t trying to show off or somehow be rude or lascivious.  There was just me…and my husband, standing by the side of pool, watching my bare-skinned water ballet.  I don’t know how long he was there, but I sensed by the look on his face that he had been enjoying himself.

Change is a funny thing, because it happens when you least expect it.  I wasn’t angry or perturbed that my husband had been silently observing me, or embarrassed that he saw me this way, I was, in fact, more the playful, splashing at him, enticing him to step out of his own clothes and come and join me.  Days ago this would have been unthinkable, but tonight it just seemed so appropriate.

I watched him strip, watched him take off his clothes, relishing seeing more of him exposed as each garment fell away.  When at last his shorts fell away, I was delighted to see that he was aroused, that his penis was full and firm, and that this good-looking package belonged to me and was all mine.

He dove in, coming up next to me, slowly, underwater, soaking in my nude torso, his hands exploring my buttocks, my belly, lips following hands, kissing.  He emerged and immediately we embraced.  We had been apart so long, the house taking so much time; love left waiting, patiently, but determined no longer to be ignored.

We swan underwater together, into each others arms, holding close, pressing lips to lips, lips to skin, stopping only to come up for air, and submerging back into bliss.

He kissed between my legs, coming close, so close, glancing past my womanhood, sending shudders up my spine.

To the shallow end of the pool he invited me, desire his guide.  He sat me down on the edge, parting my legs, pressing his face into my piquant paradise.  I leaned back, watching him lick me open, sample me like fine wine, delve deep.  His tongue was hot inside me, penetrating and probing, moving in and out in a delirious rhythm.  My clitoris was nuzzled, sucked between his lips, wrapped and rubbed.   And then he was hot on me again, loving me deep inside, and took me again through this euphoric cycle of passion.

I had to lie down, surrender to the intensity, come.  I squeezed his head between my legs and held him tight while I came.  I can’t remember what I said, or what I did, but I know it aroused him further, and my husband kept at me until the waves of excitement ebbed and some form of consciousness returned.

The night was now dark upon us, but it was early in our evening.

My husband knelt next to me, stroking his manhood in front of me.  He asked me if I would like to watch him masturbate.  I said “yes”.  And then he asked if he could come on me.  Without even thinking I replied, “yes” again.

So he began stroking himself in front of me.  I had felt his semen splashing hot inside me, came close once to tasting it, but I had never seen his liquid love.  So I watched, watched him pleasure himself in front of me, watched his manhood grow and throb beneath his fingers.  The way he touched himself was nothing like I had imagined.  He moved his tool between his fingers, gliding his finger tips up and down its length, increased the tempo with his excitement, and then backed off when he must have felt himself close to coming.

I watched with lustful anticipation for his eruption, waiting for the burst, his release, the orgasmic pumping of his liquid seed.  He did not disappoint.  With a few short strokes, his semen was gushing in milky-white rivulets from the tip of his engorged manhood and splashing hot on my breasts and belly.  The heat of his creamy ooze felt intense on my skin.  He drained his manhood on me, and then came and lay down on top of me, spreading his cream between both of our bodies.

We later retired to our just completed bedroom, but that’s another story.

As for the home and the field, well, we finished as much restoration as we could before the season changed.  There is still more to go, but we’ll take our time getting there.  In the meanwhile, rather than commuting up to the country, my husband took a freelancing position with a firm in a nearby city, which allows him to work from home, and rather than retreat to our summer hideaway, we’ve moved in permanently and we’ll make and raise our babies here for the rest of our lives.

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1 reply
  1. MarriedWithToys says:

    To know that your body is being gazed at with such intensity as to cause an orgasm…that's just an unbelievable feeling. My wife loves watching me, maybe even more than I like watching her. Still, i'm always shocked when she tells me she likes to watch.

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