Second Honeymoon – Part 1


We had been married for ten years, and my parents agreed to look after our two boys aged nine and six for a week so we could have a second honeymoon. Our first had been okay but a bit disappointing, as we were not well off, so a cheap hotel in London had to suffice. Right now, we were not much better off but decided to take our caravan to a remote site in mid-Wales. The weather was glorious as we set out, and with our caravan being towed behind my (company) 4×4, we headed for the hills. We knew that the boys were being spoilt rotten in our absence, so had no qualms about leaving them behind. We turned up the muddy forest track that led to the field surrounded on three sides by a forestry plantation on the side of the hill. We had been here before as a family. The state of the track discouraged casual visitors, so we were pretty sure that we wouldn’t be disturbed. Apart, that is except for a daily visit from one of the farm dogs, who had taken a fancy to us. When we paid a visit to the farm, about half a mile across the side of the hill, the dog remembered us and started to come over to visit on a regular basis. The field was on two levels and quite steep with a sort of plateau alongside the hedge. The track, not so muddy at the top, curved round the sides of the field to give access to the top bit where we always set our camp. As it emerged from the heavily wooded section it ran alongside a pond that had been dug many years ago by the farmer. The pond, whilst not particularly deep, only about four feet at the middle, was about a hundred feet long and about twenty feet wide at its widest. It was fed by the spring that provided all the water for the farm. It was sandy at one end but otherwise surrounded by reeds and bulrushes. When we had previously brought the boys here they had spent many hours paddling and digging in and around the pond. We were in good spirits and looking forward to a relaxed (and sexy) week. Perhaps a little information about our relationship, would not go amiss. During our courtship, we had indulged in a little mild naughtiness in public, but like many marriages, we had settled down into a routine of life that had become a little mundane. We (I) were hoping to break that usual cycle in the coming week. On the journey over, following a bit of joshing on my part I certainly got the impression that Rebecca, my wife was up for it. The first evening we spent over at the farmhouse, renewing friendships with both the family and the animals. This was when the junior sheepdog, Bob, (all working sheepdogs have single syllable names, it save time when working more than one) clocked fact that we were back. Bruce the farmer, regretted that we would have to entertain ourselves for the week as his son was away and he wouldn’t have time to conduct us around the farm as he usually did. As he said this, I felt Rebecca squeeze my hand as we sat on the sofa in the kitchen, surrounded by cats. As we walked back across the fields to the caravan under a starry sky, we happened upon Eric the bull. In fact, we almost bumped into the back of him in the dark. Perhaps I wasn’t concentrating as I had my hand inside the unbuttoned front of Rebecca’s dress, caressing her breasts and teasing her alert nipples. We knew Eric of old and he knew us; we were not bothered by him and he not by us. But nonetheless, we didn’t want to surprise him, so we deviated from the well worn path that the cows trod across the side of the hill. As we stepped off the path, I slipped on the damp grass and fell down onto my backside. My hand was still inside my wife’s dress, and I heard the sound of cotton being torn as my hand pulled apart the front of the garment. “Terry!” she scolded me. “Look what you have done to my dress”! “It’s a good job it didn’t happen on the way over the farm.” I suggested. “Although,” I mused, “it might have given Bruce a thrill!” I laughed. “I’d have told them exactly what happened!” Rebecca laughed. “Would you have carried on and not turned back?” I asked her. “Would you have wanted me to walk into the farmhouse in a torn dress?” she responded. I thought for a moment. “Yes I think I would have,” I told her. “Then, this week, I would have done!” she said, kissing me as we lay on the grass, “With no kids about.” She rolled over on top of me, and whispered, “Now make a job of it. I Acıbadem escort can’t wear it down the pub after that!” I looked at her, a smirk on her face, her breasts hanging loose. She was supporting herself on straight arms, placed either side of my head, her dress open to her waist. “I dare you!” I challenged her. She shook her head. “Not this one. It is too badly ripped, I need you to ruin it completely. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed, tonight or down at the pub!” Needless to say, her dress was rent from top to bottom in a flash, and we made love with Eric standing watching us. As we rolled apart, giggling, Eric farted and walked away. The next morning after breakfast, I carried out the ritual that would be done by one of us every day whilst we were there. I walked over to the farm to get fresh milk. The family (and us) drank raw unpasteurised milk drawn directly from the tank in the dairy. I have to say that it is absolutely delicious, although I can almost hear some people shouting “RAW MILK?” Anyway, the upshot was that I would be gone for about half an hour even without meeting anyone from the farm. It was a lovely hot summer’s day, and I enjoyed the walk, wearing walking boots, shorts and a tee shirt. I ambled slowly back and forth, stopping to look at the cows, now back in their field after morning milking, so I suppose I was gone longer than I was expected to be. When I got back to the caravan, my wife was not there, but I found a note. “Gone to the pond”. I put the milk away and strolled over to the pond to see Rebecca sunbathing topless on the sandy bit we called the beach. Even after two children, she had regained her figure, and I stood for a moment or two, admiring her lovely body. A body that I had drooled (and more) over for the twelve years we had known each other. She was lying on her back, with only the tie-sided bikini bottoms offering any cover at all. “You’ve been a long time,” she called when she eventually saw me standing on the bank about twenty feet or so away from her. “It’s too nice a day to rush,” I told her as I climbed down the bank to join her. “Why are you topless? – Not that I’m complaining, I hasten to add,” I asked. “As you say, it’s such a nice day, would you have preferred it if I was covered – or even naked?” she enquired, squinting at me in the strong sunlight. I knelt above her my knees just above her head, bent over and kissed her, our faces upside down to each other. “Naked, every time.” I whispered. She licked the end of my nose. “Then get naked yourself.” I wasted no time stripping off my shorts and shirt, I knew we were safe from interruptions because if anyone was coming up the track in a vehicle, we would hear them well before they arrived. I sat down beside her and removed my boots. “Now it’s your turn,” I announced. “Mmmm, you do it for me,” she murmured. I slid my hand into her bikini briefs and found a surprisingly damp labia. “What have you been doing, while I was away?” I asked her, with a grin on my face. “Thinking about last night,” she began. “I can’t tell you how much of a turn on it was to have you ripping my dress open.” In the past, I had despatched to odd pair of panties in that way, but never anything else. She continued, “I know I told you to do it, but it was just the moment that you tore the cotton that keeps coming back to me, and you can feel the result.” Indeed I could, she was getting wetter and wetter and my fingers were getting soaked in her juices. “Would you like me to do it again? Some time when you’re not expecting it?” I was fingering her with some vigour. She reached down, undid the ties at the sides of her bikini pants and said, “Yes I would! Now fuck me!” I climbed aboard and did as I had been told. She writhed about beneath me, her shoulder length hair becoming covered in damp sand, turning it a golden brown from her natural brunette. “Come over me!” she gasped between kisses. As I felt my sperm rising, I pulled out of her and sprayed her belly and breasts with my white creamy seed. “You dirty bugger!” she exclaimed. “I wish you had more!” So did I, so did I! I wanted to smear my cum all over her, belly, tits, face, hair, everywhere. “I will completely cover you next time,” I told her and explained in some detail exactly how I intended to do it. Kaynarca escort bayan She groaned and murmured, “I’d love that! I wish you would!” Afterwards, we bathed each other in the tepid waters of the pond, then lay in the shallows holding hands. “Shall we go out tonight?” she asked. “We can, there are the two pubs in the village, or we can perhaps find a restaurant a bit further out,” I suggested. “There’s no point in going too far,” she said, then with a glint in her eye, “no-one knows us here anyway.” I immediately picked up on her mood and asked her, “What have you got in mind?” “That rather depends on what you want me to wear.” In the past, before and just after we were married, I could sometimes persuade her to go out in the evening without wearing a bra. On one occasion, she wore no underwear at all under a calf length sun dress. More in hope than expectation, I asked, “Why not wear the dress you wore last night?” She laughed and said “In your dreams buster… Oh, I don’t know, why not? I could wear a matching bra and panty set with a belt to hold it closed!” “I would prefer it without the bra,” I told her. “People are going to see my underwear, so I want them to match. I don’t want to display my bare tits in the pub!” she explained. “Why not?” I asked, “because, as you say, no-one knows us here.” “Well, you’ll just have to see what I put on and like it or lump it!” she retorted. We lay in the cooling water for some time, before hunger pangs announced it was getting near lunchtime. We walked, still naked up the field towards our caravan, carrying our clothes and bits and pieces. We remained naked whilst I prepared lunch. Rebecca took the opportunity to pose sexily for me, putting me off. I was really beginning to enjoy this holiday, and I got the distinct impression that she was enjoying it too. Isn’t it amazing what a few days away from the humdrum and pressures associated with raising a family will do? Suddenly she sat up. “We must ring the boys.” We both held fairly lengthy conversations with our sons, during which, as I was speaking to them, my dear wife was sucking at my penis. I considered this to be very unfair, because when she was speaking to them I did not touch her. You just wait until she’s speaking to her mother! We lazed on the grass alongside the caravan for most of the afternoon, listening to the natural sounds of the countryside. Later, Rebecca prepared a meal for us before we planned to head into the village to see what was happening at either of the two pubs. When the time came for us to get ready, Rebecca asked, “Casual or dressy tonight?” “It’s only a village pub on a Monday night, perhaps dressy might be a little over the top,” I suggested. “Okay, then its denim,” she declared. “Shorts or skirt?” “You choose,” I told her and began sorting out my own clothes for the evening. When she finally announced that she was ready, she was wearing a white blouse and denim skirt. The skirt was one she had had for a long time and was showing it’s age. Some in the past she had shortened it by simply cutting it off with scissors. Naturally over the years it had begun to fray and whenever the threads hanging down became too long, they were snipped off. I had not seen her wear it for a while so was pleased to see that it was now about mid-thigh length when she was sitting down, although a little longer than that when standing. Her blouse was open to below her breasts allowing her white wonder-bra and lots of cleavage to be seen. On the drive down the forest track, she curled up on the front seat of the car, causing her skirt to ride up her thighs. “Although I love them dearly, it’s nice to be away from the kids for a while and be teenagers ourselves again,” she told me. “Are we going to do some of the things we did as teenagers?” I asked. “I certainly hope so!” she exclaimed, “I feel like being naughty.” “Then take off your bra and panties,” I told her. “Certainly not!” she retorted, “At least not yet,” she added with a cheeky grin. We arrived in the village centre and parked the car in the high street. We could walk to everything that was likely to be open from here. The first pub was just across the road, it had the advantage of having a beer garden behind it which looked over the nearby hills. We walked through the Escort Aydınlı bar where I ordered the drinks, Rebecca flashed a brilliant smile and her cleavage at the barman, a slightly scruffy individual in his fifties. It cheered him up quite a bit and he engaged us in conversation. He could not drag his eyes away from Rebecca’s breasts, something that amused both Rebecca and I. Sadly for him, another customer arrived, and we took the opportunity to slide away into the beer garden. “Did you see him ogling your tits?” I asked her. “Of course!” she said with a giggle, “I was contemplating getting them out for him.” “Were you?” She laughed and said “No! Not really, but I would have loved to have dared do it.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “What would you have done if I had?” “Well, I wouldn’t have been able to do much about it if you stripped off in the pub, could I?” I explained, “Other than physically restrain you, and I wouldn’t have done that, it would have looked too much like a fight.” “What would you have thought?” she pressed me. “I think I would have thought that I’d never seen you do that as a teenager,” I told her. She laughed. “Well, not that exactly; there were times, however, when I was tempted to do something like that for a bit of fun, but I never had the confidence.” “You, my darling, or should I call you my dareling, have a body worth displaying,” I told her, holding both her hands in mine. “And I would be proud to see you doing so.” “I remember the night you half stripped me in that alley behind the nightclub.” She mused, “I thought you were going to have me naked there and then. I remember thinking that I wouldn’t have minded if you had.” “Despite those drunks who spotted us?” I asked, grinning. “Especially because of them,” she said quietly. We finished our drinks with me sliding her skirt up her thigh with my hand as we sat at the picnic table in the garden. “Do you want another?” I asked, indicating her empty glass. “Let’s try the other place,” she suggested. As we walked to the other pub about a couple of hundred yards away, it became clear that this one catered for a younger, livelier market, it looked much more fun. When we got inside, there were a few teenagers and customers in their twenties and thirties about. “I’ll have a white wine spritzer,” Rebecca announced as we entered the pub. “I’ll be over there.” Over there turned out to be near the juke box terminal, on a bench along the wall. There were a crowd of lads standing by the terminal, ostensibly trying to make up their minds what music to play, but in reality, they were looking down my wife’s cleavage, something of which Rebecca was fully aware. It didn’t seem to bother her in any way, indeed, she appeared to be lapping up the attention, without being too obvious about it. The boys had not clocked that she was with anyone, so when I arrived with drinks, they assumed a more discrete observation but still had all eyes on Rebecca’s opened blouse. I had also noticed that, miraculously, the next button on her blouse had somehow undone itself. With her blouse now virtually open to her waist, Rebecca twisted round on her seat, to greet me hiking her skirt just a little further up her thighs. When one of the boys plucked up enough courage to ask her what sort of music she liked, her action of turning towards them to answer the question, added a bit more thigh to the display. “You’re enjoying this attention, aren’t you?” I asked her. She turned to me, smiled and winked. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” After we (together) had discussed a music choice with the boys and they had selected it, I leaned over and murmured in her ear, “Do you think you can arrange your skirt so you are not sitting on it?” She nodded and began to quietly and slowly move back and forth, trying not to attract too much attention, with the intention of sliding the hem of her skirt from under her buttocks. The attracting too much attention bit didn’t work, as the boys pretty quickly realised what she was at. To be fair to them, they tried to not make it too obvious that they were watching, but watching they were. Frankly, I do not blame them. I was getting turned on by the sight of more leg than I thought Rebecca had, coming into view. In addition to that was the fact that this was all happening with a very attentive audience. I was immensely proud of my wife – I still am – as she is a sexy, good looking woman and, best of all, she loves me! “Do you think that will do?” she asked. The back hem of her skirt was still just trapped between her bum and the seat, but the front was now pulled tightly across the top of her thighs.

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