A Walk on the Wild(ish) Side

Author's note: This is a tamer tale than many I tell, and that's very deliberate and for a very specific segment of my audience (you know who you are). As well as that, there's maybe a little more of the autobiographical about this one, but I'm not telling you which bit in particular...

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I knew I was finally going to do it the moment I left the house that day. I'd spent almost five years fantasising about playing outdoors, maybe being caught, maybe being seen partially naked, and I'd fantasised about it more times than I'd wished for a lottery win. And now I was finally going to stop being such a shy and retiring little girl and become a grown up woman with needs and desires. I'm almost thirty, so I guess its about time, even if I can pass for twenty.

I'd dressed carefully and planned everything. I'd even waited for a bright, warm, sunny day so my halter-neck sun-dress didn't look unusual. It was unusual for me to be wearing only a very brief pair of knicks underneath my outerwear, but no one could see that. Yet.

And there it was -- yet. Finally I could make it happen, and I even had every conceivable excuse ready in case things went badly. I wasn't even going to be going anywhere that I was known, having discovered the woodland walk thirsty miles away just a few weeks before.

I got it my car and drove there quickly but safely, arriving for the first time ever with no sudden change of heart (I'd been that far twice before and chickened out). I got out of the car and plucked a dog leash from the passenger seat. I didn't have a dog, but I did have need of an excuse, and the supposedly missing 'Jumbo' was that very thing.

I walked for almost an hour, keeping off the main tracks, hopping between trees whenever anyone approached to keep from being seen. No witnesses meant no chance of being seen before I wanted to be. Not that being seen was totally necessary for the fulfilment of my fantasy -- I doubted very much that I would get that brave given that this was my first venture into my fantasyland.

I finally found what I was looking for. A natural clearing just off of one of the peripheral pathways through the woods proved to be full of comfortable grass and devoid of passersby for an average of more than fifteen minutes a time. I'd checked and double-checked that last part (as much as one can) from behind a particularly large oak tree. I waited until a young couple had passed walking both a toddler and a dumb-looking retriever, and then I stepped over to the side of the clearing.

I'd fantasised so many times about this moment, but when I tugged at the halter ties and let the dress fall to the ground, baring my small breasts and my quivering belly (and those little knicks, of course) I could scarcely believe how both the excitement and the cool air against skin that was so seldom exposed combined to bring instant arousal.

I stared down at my hard, erect nipples, gasping at my audacity for exposing them. Admittedly just to fresh air, but still...

Stifling a giggle (really) I finally plucked up the courage to step out of the dress and into the clearing. Oh, I knew I could disappear into they trees at a moment's notice, and that the pathway was covered in enough old, dried leaves that I could hear an ant approaching at a hundred metres, but still.... I was almost naked and very much outdoors.

I looked back at my dress and down past my exposed breasts. I'd only brought one other item of clothing and now one of the two looked lonely. And it wasn't the one I was wearing.

I was already surprising myself that I'd come this far after so many dreams and so many 'chicken runs', so you can imagine how hard to was not to giggle when my shaky fingers finally found purchase on the elastic either side of my panties. The shock of cold air against my most private place was even greater than it had been against my little breasts, but that didn't stop me pulling the cotton all the way down.

I think my mind closed down some of its circuits as I hooked a toe in the flimsy garment, flicked it up to my hands and then cast it in the general direction of my dress.

I looked down at myself. I was naked. Completely exposed to the elements. Every inch of my flesh bared. My belly twitched and I knew -- just knew -- that I'd never make it back into my clothes an d back to my car before I would have to find some relief from the waterfall of excitement that was crashing over me. I also knew that I was wetter than I could ever remember.

I looked down at my nakedness. I looked down at the soft, long grass. I looked at the empty pathway stretching away into the distance on both sides of me. I stepped further back.

I had know, somehow and some way, that if I really started, then I might not be able to stop myself, but I had no idea that one light brush of my hand across my exposed left breast would constitute 'starting'.

My hand travelled from the bare breast to the heat and wetness between my legs before I knew what was happening. I sank to my knees as my thumb connected with the hard nub of my clitoris. I was fingering rapidly before I knew what I was doing.

It all sounds as if I lost control to my body, right? That no mental processes were involved anymore, right? Well yes, it is right. I'd never experienced a depth of sensation like that before, and never felt so wild, natural, unfettered. I let go.

I'm not one of femininities fast climaxers, never have been. But that afternoon I started my orgasm in just a minute or so. It was already shuddering towards its peak before I had any real clue what was about to happen. Or a chance to prepare for it.

Like checking that I would remain undiscovered for the minute or three it would take to enjoy the impending climax.

And so it was doubly shocking when the first shudder of true orgasm was accompanied by both my own whimpering moan and a deep, distant voice calling 'Buster!'

Reality returned in a flash and I realised what I was doing, where I was doing it, and what would happen in a few seconds if I didn't move fast. Buster held no fears -- I love dogs -- but his owner was obviously on his way, and he was a whole other issue.

Sure, I knew there was a tiny chance I'd be caught -- but there's a world of difference between an hypothesis and stark reality. Or in this case, stark naked reality.

With a gasp I tried to stand. With a louder gasp another wave of climax shuddered through me and I nearly fell to my knees again. Realisation that the climax wasn't going to stop sent a wave of panic through me. I'd never tried moving at the same time as climaxing -- other than bucking and gasping -- and now I needed to move fast if I wasn't about to be discovered. Never had reality imposed so thoroughly on my fantasy world, and never had I discovered that reality can be both fear-inducing and drop-dead thrilling at the same time.

It could, it seems, even take a tried and tested fantasy and add a totally new twist -- a discovery I made when my body paused, mid stumble, to tell me that it really didn't mind being seen like that. It brought my conscious brain a renewed determination to grab my clothes and leash and get under cover before Buster's owner appeared. And it brought it a new 'don't care, maybe even want it' undercurrent.

Either way, another shudder coursed through me and with a shock I realised that far from halting my orgasm it was intensifying the sensations. It was all I could do not to collapse back onto my knees as I bent and grabbed my things. Every step seemed to take an age and even though the clearing was tiny, really, I was beginning to think that I would never make the shelter of the trees before Buster's owner cam into view...

The word 'view' had me looking down at my bare breasts and pausing for a fraction of a second before my shy brain took control and launched me staggering towards the nearest tree.

I collapsed behind an ancient oak, just inside the tree-line as an older guy -- fifties, maybe -- cam into view along the path. He hadn't seen me so didn't look across as the quivering young woman who continued to play regardless -- who continued to climax.

Every time I looked down at my bare breasts, my exposed pussy, my shivering flesh, and then across to the dog-walker and then the dog-walker's side as he continued on his way I climaxed harder and harder. Apparently safe, I let go, luxuriating in the sheer joy of exposure. So wrapped up in the moment was I, that I closed my eyes.

I finished, undisturbed (this is not that sort of memory, but my new fantasies are another matter) and then opened my eyes. The path was empty now, but my heart was full. That had been the most intense orgasm of my life to date, witnessed, it seemed by just me and a half a million woodland creatures. And none of us were going to be talking. Except me, now.

Even as my breathing gradually slowed and I started to regain control, I knew that I had changed. There's a law -- the law of diminishing returns -- that tells us that the more you get of something the less you want, or the greater the strength you need in future. But even as a knelt there, my bare boobs rising and falling rapidly as my breathing came back under control, I just knew that this was exactly what I needed and wanted and that it would always be that way. Sure I was suddenly more relaxed than a simple (okay, complex) orgasm would account for -- just because I now knew what it felt like to be naked outdoors. And how much I loved it.

Checking that the pathway was still clear, I rose to my feet and walked from the trees into the clearing, my naked flesh luxuriating in the feel of the sun beaming down on it. Every pore could sense the fresh air, and my breasts, nipples in particular, and my womanhood reacted to these sensations, sending tingles along every nerve. I knew that for sure I would have to experience this again. I also knew that people tend never to look around them when they walk around, particularly if they don't expect to see anyone -- as I found out that afternoon on more than one occasion.

Each time that I hid behind a tree, naked, as someone walked past with their dog, or partner, or bicycle, I experienced such a surge of excitement -- enough to satisfy me without the need to be even more daring. On three more occasions I was actively -- and very enjoyably -- playing as someone passed by.

I didn't leave the woods until nearly nightfall, exhausted and oh, so happy.

That was all three months ago, and I've been back a few times. Maybe sixty. And every single time, I've climaxed often, I've never been seen or caught, and I was right about that being enough. Anything else would be too complex I think, and if this is all too mild for you, well I'm sorry -- but it's more than enough for me... that sensation of nakedness, of fresh air on bare flesh as a means -- deliberate means -- of instilling excitement, is unparalleled for me. In my fantasies I sometimes get caught. In my daydreams Buster's owner knows how my breasts feel as I climax.

Who knows? Maybe I'm getting a little careless in real life. Maybe there's a stream of sub-consciousness that's leading me into new experiences. If that's true, I'll let you know. Thinking about it right now -- playing as I type, in fact -- maybe I should get a little slow next time I go to hide when I'm playing... If I get up now and go out to the car, go to the woods feeling like this... yeah, maybe I should, huh? Excuse my language but fuck it, I'm only talking about getting seen, right? See ya.