I’ve always been intrigued by the idea of fucking outdoors and, to be sure, I’ve had the opportunity. But as I’m a rather shy guy, the fear of getting caught and thus horribly embarrassed kept me from performing outdoors no matter how secluded my surroundings were. Wouldn’t you know that this shy and not all that courageous guy would enjoy his first outdoor sex experience in a balloon?

I was greatly amused when, on our first date, Jennifer informed me she was a balloonist. I had dated quite a few interesting, adventurous women, but never one whose idea of heaven was floating miles above the earth in a contraption totally at the mercy of the wind. It was easy, though, to imagine her in a balloon, this blonde, brown eyed beauty who radiated good health and whose zest for life was, to a point, infectious. As for me, forget it. No way, Jos .

How she managed it is still something of a mystery, although I do vaguely recall promising to think about going on a balloon ride with he if she’d consent to anal sex. Whatever the fact is that five weeks into our relationship, I found myself sitting in one corner of a gondola, afraid to open my eyes and wondering if it was too late to get religion.

Jennifer, bubbling with enthusiasm as always, had driven me to a large open field in which sat about a dozen gaily colored hot air balloons, and I’d had to admit that it made for a very festive sight. Still, the idea of actually climbing into the gondola and casting my fate to the winds was unnerving.

“How dangerous is this?” I asked Jennifer, having second thoughts.

“It’s not dangerous at all, silly.”

“How much experience have you had? How many times and don’t joke around.”

“Lots. Now stop being a wimp and get in the gondola,” she said.

The words “Up, up and away” kept going through my head as I felt the balloon lifting skyward. How high up in the wild blue we were going to go and how, or if, Jennifer could steer the thing were questions better left unasked. I tried not to dwell on the fact that the nearest body of water was only twenty miles away.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jennifer informed me that all was well and that I could get up. I opened my eyes and then slowly got to my feet, holding onto the side of the gondola for support. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jennifer said, gazing out across a picture perfect expanse of blue sky above and lush green fields below. I had to admit it was. It was also blissfully quiet, and as a gentle breeze wafted over me, I felt the tension of only moments before begin to dissipate. Summoning up all my nerve, I looked down at the ground and saw that everything houses, cars, people was miniature size.

“I just love it up here,” I heard Jennifer say. “It’s so relaxing. It makes me feel so free, you know?”

Again I had to agree with her. I was growing more comfortable with each passing second. Having anticipated a bumpy ride with the wind buffeting the balloon hither and yon, I was delighted with the way we were sort of floating in the air. As I was about to convey that thought to Jennifer, she smiled broadly and said, “Well, I think it’s time for your reward. You deserve it.”

“Reward?” I said quizzically.

“You’ve been a real sport about all this, and I want to show you my appreciation. Just relax and enjoy, okay?”

With that, Jennifer dropped to her knees in the gondola and quickly unzipped my jeans. “You can’t be serious,” I said. “Up here?”

“Who’s going to see us, babe?”

“But…” The velvety smooth feel of Jennifer’s lips closing on my cock and then the quick suctioning action of her lips cut me off. I took a quick look around. There were no mountains to crash into, no water to sink in, and we were still drifting along more or less, I presumed, on course. And as for the curious, only passengers in an airplane high overhead could see what was going on in the balloon. As everything seemed in order, I placed both hands on the railing of the gondola and completely surrendered to the heavenly feel of Jennifer’s lips on my rapidly swelling cock.

“So far, so good?” she asked, pausing briefly to give me a wink.

“So far, so great,” I answered with a smile.

Jennifer resumed licking and sucking my cock with obvious relish. Gone was my concern about how we were going to get down, and what would happen should the wind suddenly pick up all that mattered at that moment was the pleasure of Jennifer’s blowjob. Her head bobbed up and down rhythmically as her talented tongue danced over the sensitive underside of my cock. I wanted to reach down and run my fingers through her shiny blonde hair, or maybe hold her head in place while my member sawed in and out of her mouth, but, as secure as I now felt in the gondola, I still wanted to hang onto the railing. Overconfident I wasn’t.

It wasn’t much of a sacrifice, really, for Jennifer’s sucking lips were all I needed to be happy. Soon I felt the pressure building in my balls, and my fingers tightened on the railing as I told Jennifer I was close to coming. I wanted her to be ready to start swallowing when my semen started streaming into her mouth. But suddenly she plucked my cock from her mouth and stood up. I watched open mouthed as she quickly took off her jeans and panties. I couldn’t believe she expected me to fuck her in the gondola. But she did.

“It’s perfectly safe,” she said, when she saw the look on my face.

“Shouldn’t one of us be looking where we’re going?”

Jennifer took a quick look around. “We’re fine. Besides, I doubt you’ll be able to hold out for longer than a minute.” With that, she got down on all fours. “C’mon, babe,” she said, wiggling her saucy ass, “do me.”

It was an invitation no man could refuse, regardless of the place or time. In a moment I was on my knees behind Jennifer and guiding my throbbing cock into the clasping wetness of her pussy. I slid in easily, and she moaned in gratitude. With my hands gripping her hips, I started thrusting my cock in and out of her. “Yeah, that’s right,” Jennifer breathed hotly. “Do it to me. Fuck me, babe.”

I did, but not for long. Too soon I was coming, my semen spurting into Jennifer’s pussy as I groaned. Happily, Jennifer came too, thrusting her ass back against me and letting out a cry of pleasure as my cock continued spurting inside her. As soon as I stopped coming, I pulled out of Jennifer and stood up. I smiled inwardly as I looked around and realized that screwing Jennifer in a balloon was probably as safe as doing her in my bed and certainly more thrilling.

“So,” Jennifer said as she was slipping into her panties, “what do you think? Told you it’d be fun.”

I inhaled deeply, breathing in the pure fresh air, then exhaled slowly. I put my hands on my hips and looked around. “Next time,” I said triumphantly, “I’ll let you be on top.”

Mr. V.P., Illinois

I’ve always been attracted to the seamier side of life. So when I met Mercedes, it wasn’t her looks that turned me on so much as her occupation. Mercedes is a dancer at a sleazy strip joint on the wrong side of town. I met her at a club one night and, to be perfectly honest, I wasn’t all that attracted to her until she told me what she did for a living. Then my curiosity was piqued.

Mercedes is petite, with a fair complexion and pitch black Cleopatra style hair. We didn’t seem to have all that much in common. She liked heavy metal music and horror films I liked classical music and literature. But the thought of this diminutive vixen scampering about on a stage with nothing but a G string covering her crotch while a pack of boisterous blue collar workers hooted and hollered for her to take it all off well, my heart was aflutter with lust. We made a date for the weekend and I agreed to stop by and catch her act, and then we would have dinner and go to see a movie.

When I arrived at the bar that Friday night, things were just beginning to sizzle. The room was large, with a long bar on one side and a high stage on the other where the girls performed. The place was filled to capacity, rock music was blaring and dusty clouds of cigarette smoke rising to the ceiling.

There were three dancers on the stage in different phases of undress, one of whom had captivated the crowd with her sensational body, her rich tan and her ample tits with their large pink nipples. The dancers worked in cycles. When a girl had completed her performance, she would leave the stage. Another girl would come on and the others would move down the stage.

Luckily for me, I was at the end of the stage where the girls finished their routines. By the time a girl was within my sight, she was in nothing but a G string, and, with adrenalin pumping through her veins, she was more likely to flash her pussy.

It was nearly an hour before Mercedes appeared. She was wearing a pair of black spiked heels, black panties, dark sunglasses and a sheer white tank top that allowed her nipples to poke through and blared the message “Eat This” across her chest.

She looked hot, nothing like I remembered her from our first meeting, and the crowd was going absolutely bonkers as she gyrated suggestively to the rhythm of the music. As she moved down to where I stood, she tore her t shirt from her body and then, teasing her captive audience with her so sensual charm, lay on her back, raised her hips high in the air, and slipped her panties over her thighs before tossing them into the lecherous crowd of men.

As she paraded about in an exotic silver G string, our eyes met, and suddenly she began to direct all of her attention toward me. Just before leaving the stage, she coyly slipped a finger into her crotch and then made her way over to me. Without hesitating, she shoved her finger into my mouth and waited for me to suck it. She then kissed me and disappeared into her dressing room.

Around midnight, Mercedes finally came out in her street clothes and took hold of my arm. “Okay,” she said. “I’m all yours.”

Mercedes looked radiant, and leaving the bar with the object of everyone’s desire made my masculine ego soar. She was dressed all in leather biker garb, with black boots, a tight black miniskirt, a red mesh shirt that revealed her luscious tits, a crusty black leather jacket and an ominous looking black leather biker cap. I had purposely dressed down for the occasion, but even in my oversize green infantry coat, I looked less treacherous than Mercedes. She was quite a woman.

She said she didn’t feel like a big dinner, so we wolfed down some burgers and headed to a nearby drive in theater. But we didn’t watch the movie.

After I parked and put the top down, Mercedes’ hand began stroking my thighs and crotch. My cock began to swell, and I watched in amazement as this mysterious female freed my throbbing erection from the confines of my jeans and took me in the warmth of her hungry mouth. I wanted so very badly to fuck her, ravage her, the way I knew we both wanted it. But my sports car was far too small, and it was apparent that we’d have to settle for oral sex.

Trying my best to be inconspicuous, I lifted my ass off the seat and slid my pants down to my ankles, giving her complete access to my cock. Trying to hold back all guttural groans and any expression of ecstasy, I leaned back and stared vacantly at the silver screen or peered up to the dark sky with its twinkling stars. Ironically, the couples in the surrounding cars munched busily on their popcorn, oblivious to the lascivious goings on just feet away. Only the moon gazed down pensively at our fervent tryst, but I still worried about being caught in the act.

But it was apparent that Mercedes didn’t care, as she slithered out of her jacket and hoisted her mesh shirt over her head. Shifting closer to me, she straddled me, offering her milky tits to my lips. Nibbling gently on her nipples, tenderly caressing the soft undersides of her sweet breasts, I could hear her heart pound with passion and her breathing become heavy.

“Eat me,” she whispered. “Eat my pussy.” She turned sideways on her bucket seat and raised her legs high in the air, revealing to me for the first time that she was not wearing panties.

Kissing her prickly vulva, I fingered her wet orifice before sliding my tongue over her drooling pink flesh, and soothed her twitching clit as I basked in her delicious feminine aroma.

After she came, it was my turn once more.

“Lean back,” she said and smothered my quaking shaft with her hot, thick saliva. Her fingers kneaded my hairy balls, her nails dug into my thighs, and I could see her mouth take me entirely to the base, as her lips wrapped around my cock and descended to my musky pubes.

As she continued to suck me, her tongue swirling inside her mouth, tantalizing my manhood, I was well on my way to paradise. I gazed soulfully up to the dark heavens, and the sweet spring air intoxicated me fully. Her mouth was soft, wet and hot, like a boiled tomato, and she supplemented the thrill with her occasional groans of pleasure and her slurping sounds.

Pearly streams of semen spewed from my cock and filled her mouth. I’m sure she swallowed a fair amount, but there was no sensation quite like the one I felt when Mercedes scooped a generous portion of my come from her chin and began rubbing it into her pussy, masturbating herself to a quick, intense climax.

I saw Mercedes a few times after that, and we continued to have some of the best sex I’ve ever experienced. We eventually parted ways, and today I’m left with only memories of that fabulous woman with whom I shared my first outdoor encounter.

Mr. K.L., Pennsylvania

Hot. The dog days. It was the middle of August, and ninety five in the shade. And humid. The three H’s: hazy, hot and humid. And I could add a fourth H horny.

My name is Justine, and I live in southern Indiana. I go to school part time and work as a waitress in a small greasy spoon diner. Here it was, hot as Hades outside, and the grill is going all day. My boyfriend, Dennis, works for the state highway department, laying asphalt. So by the end of the day we were both so hot and tired that all we wanted to do was go to the movies and sit in air conditioning for two hours.

I don’t remember the movie, I just remember feeling cool. I felt so refreshed that my motor was revved up, and by the end of the closing credits I was ready to get fucked good. Dennis took me to his house and I dragged him into the bedroom. I kicked off my shoes, peeled off my drenched sundress and lay back on the bed, my legs spread, ready for his cock to pave the way to ecstasy.

He looked at me and kind of sighed. “Shit, Justine. It’s too darn hot. I want to sit in front of the fan, stick my feet in some cold water and listen to the Reds’ game.”

I was spread out on the bed naked, my body glistening with sweat, aching for his love, and he’s talking baseball! He’s standing there, his muscles rippling, his t shirt with the scooped out underarms sticking to his skin like paint and his jeans are so tight, and his legs so long and lean, there’s just no way I’m going to give in. I’ve got to feel his long, skinny dick hammering inside me. I don’t care how hot it is.

“Darlin’, I’m hotter than a stovepipe, and I’m not talkin’ temperature. So why don’t you just crawl in here and get to work.”

Dennis has never been one to refuse me sex, but after ten seconds of making out, the sheets were soaking wet. I thought maybe we should fuck in front of the refrigerator with the door open but wait! The quarry!

“Let’s go down to the quarry!” I suggested. An abandoned limestone quarry had become, over the years, a small lake. All during my years of growing up, it was the neighborhood swimming hole, and had cliffs to dive off, and a little waterfall where the creek fed into it.

“You want to go swimming?” Dennis asked looking tired and irritated.

“Swimming and other stuff,” I said back, coyly. “It’ll cool us off right quick.”

“Is it open now?”

“Folks aren’t allowed in after dark. We’ll be quiet like and have the place to ourselves. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.”

We hopped into Dennis’ pickup truck and sped the few miles to the quarry. We parked off the main road behind some trees and crept down the wooded path to the water. After satisfying ourselves that we were alone, we stripped down and jumped into the water.

We both felt the instant exhilaration. The water was an ideal temperature, and we could almost feel the steam rising off our bodies. We spent a few minutes submerging ourselves in the cool water, and then started splashing and playing.

Before long, I found myself with my arms around Dennis’ neck, my legs wrapped around his waist and his fully grown cock snugly buried in my pussy. We were standing in about four feet of water, and his hips and mine were slamming against each other, creating waves that rippled through the entire lake. I had never fucked in the water before, and it was quite a sensation. There was no resistance whatsoever, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt Dennis so far inside me.

I threw my head back, my long black hair spread out on he water, and looked up at the sky. Since it was a clear night, the stars twinkled beautifully, and I got dizzy from their brilliance and the pounding in my cunt. With a grunt and a final, Herculean push, Dennis shot his come inside me. His semen felt like hot wax.

We played a little bit more, making like seals, and then Dennis led me out of the water to a mossy bank. He sat me down and kissed and licked me all over. He spent what seemed like hours sucking at my nipples, then slid his tongue down my belly and into my steaming pussy, where it foraged inside me as if it were looking for a lost pearl. My hands grabbed hold of the grassy moss, luxuriating in its lush coolness, my fingers digging into the dirt. I came and hollered so loud that I’m amazed I didn’t summon the town’s whole police force.

When I came to my senses, I walked about knee deep into the water. I put my hands on my hips and smelled the fresh air. Boy, I loved the feeling of being naked outdoors so much it made me giddy. I looked back at Dennis, and he was leaning on one elbow, smiling that boyish, irresistible grin. Then I looked down and saw that his cock was once again as hard as an oak, pointing up in the moonlight.

I was out of the water pronto and onto his cock. My mouth went into overtime, licking and sucking for all I was worth. He was moaning and groaning with pleasure, his hands had a firm hold of my head. He came, his come tasting like maple syrup as it went down my throat.

After that memorable evening, Dennis and I have an entirely different outlook on the weather. Whenever we’re watching the forecast and they call for hazy, hot and humid weather, we look at each other and grin like Cheshire Cats.

Ms. J.B., Indiana

I was not feeling all that good when I returned that September for my last year of college. I began to recall all my reasons for getting out of the small Midwestern town in which I was raised and setting off for the great Northeast, where I was confident I would be molded into a Renaissance woman by men in tweed jackets who sported beards and smoked pipes. I was confident that I would fulfill all my greatest expectations and that I would find the man of my dreams a tall, dark, handsome athlete who would whisk me off to a glimmering white castle where we’d live happily ever after. But none of it happened.

For the most part, the professors and courses I had were as ordinary as anything I would have experienced in Illinois. The social life was practically nonexistent, as I found I had very little in common with most of the well to do students who attend Northeastern universities. But I made the best of it, meandering through three years of studies plagued by a horny cunt and a growing apathy, knowing I would more than likely be graduating without ever knowing the thrill of love.

I was eager to get going with my last year and rationalized what I perceived to be a great failure by convincing myself that, upon graduating, I would become gainfully employed and would discover the man of my dreams at work. But, as I soon discovered, I would have to wait that long, for the man of my dreams was already there. I simply didn’t recognize him, because he didn’t fit the description of my ideal. He was not tall, he was not dark and by most standards, he was not handsome though today I can honestly say that Peter is the most beautiful man in the world.

Peter was something of a bookworm, working part time as a clerk at the library to work his way through school. I had decided to get an early jump on my senior thesis and began to spend some pretty long hours in the library. I would meet Peter at the periodical section nearly every day. Often I would inquire about a somewhat obscure topic or article, and it was his job to find it for me.

“I’m sorry to put you through so much trouble,” I said to him.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “I enjoy doing this for you. Besides, it’s my job.”

I wasn’t sure, but I sensed at that time a special glow in his eye we seemed to connect, and for the first time in my three years of college, I felt admired, and a warm blush came to my face.

Before long, my hunches proved right. I suppose it was he who initiated it, but I soon found myself in long discussions with Peter, who, it turned out, knew a good deal about the topic I was pursuing. One night, after several hours of reading, I was startled when Peter came up beside me.

“The library is closing soon,” he said. “Are you almost done?” I wasn’t, but said differently. “If you’re done here and not busy, why don’t we go for a bite to eat?” I was extremely tired and really wanted nothing more than to hit the sack, but I also wanted to get to know Peter better, so I obliged.

Sitting at a table at a local caf , I gazed into Peter’s deep brown eyes and listened to his ideas. He was actually quite bright and very witty. He made me feel completely comfortable, and somewhere in the middle of our conversation, I had the overwhelming urge to just reach across the table and plant a big kiss on his mouth.

In the next few weeks our relationship grew, from lunches and dinners to movies and late night strolls around the campus. It was September and a subtle chill had filled the air, leaves had parted from their branches, evening came quicker and seemingly lasted longer, and Peter and I sat at midnight by a brook and listened to the enchanting stream of water.

I was happy, and to express my joy, I leaned over to Peter, put my arms around his neck and pressed my mouth to his lips. Our tongues slithered together, and we harmonized in an oral sensation unlike anything I’d ever experienced. As he took me in his arms, I was surprised by his strength, his manly assurance. His hands cupped my breasts and between my legs I could feel the steamy secretions of my vagina seeping through my panties.

I wanted desperately to tear off my dress and offer him my body, but I was certain that Peter was intent on seducing me. His touch was strong, yet gentle, and his tender soul seemingly enveloped my being as his hands slid up my dress and caressed the smooth flesh of my thighs and ass before sweeping into my crotch and skillfully teasing my sopping mound. “I want you so badly,” I told him.

Wordlessly he pulled my damp panties from my hips and over my ankles. He raised my underwear to his face and savored the arousing fragrance. “You smell heavenly,” he told me, and then he removed his clothes. For a moment I was worried that we were in a public place and would be found out. But it was late, after midnight, and we were protected by the dark of the night and the surrounding shrubbery. Besides, I was so horny for this wonderful man I wouldn’t have stopped for anything.

Peter’s cock was fully erect, long and thick, with a fleshy sac of balls that dangled from his torso. Naked, he was more beautiful than I’d ever imagined. Moving closer to him, I took him in my mouth and inhaled his masculine odor. My mouth filled with his stiff flesh and the salty taste of his sweat as I bathed his sex organ with saliva and fondled his big balls. As he uttered soft moans of pleasure, I knew he was nearing the peak of his arousal.

“Oh, Peter,” I cried. “Fuck me.”

I lay back on the grassy hill and, spreading my legs apart, basked in the smell of autumn, from the earthy spice of the soil beneath my bottom to the crisp scent of the crackling leaves. Peter knelt between my thighs and gently eased inside me. His cock was thick and its bulbous head parted my mound with knowing authority that jolted the depths of my sex hungry soul.

Once inside, he settled his body down upon mine and robbed me of my breath by smothering my mouth with his wet lips. As he began to thrust, happy shudders of sex rendered me helpless. My legs wrapped around his back as he plunged into my core, and I yelled out madly as he brought me to orgasm. Shortly thereafter, Peter, too, came, spewing his fervent seed into my pussy as I clenched him as tightly as I possibly could, loving every second.

After graduating, Peter and I married and moved to California. We have a dynamic and very exciting sex life, but we still treasure the memory of our midnight interlude at that bubbling brook.

Ms. T.R., California

Hadn’t we done everything you could do sexually? We thought so. We’d been dating for nearly a year. We figured our thrilling new “first times” were all behind us. But the magical weekend we spent discovering the glories of sex in the snow broke new ground for us. Perhaps it was the majesty of the winter mountains, but after our ski weekend, our sex reached a new and almost mystical level.

Jim and I both live and work downtown, so all our time together is spent at restaurants, cocktail parties, the theater, the occasional black tie function. We spend a lot of time in bed too, either in his condominium in the financial district, or at my apartment.

One night over dinner, Jim mentioned that he used to ski when he was in college. I told him how I loved skiing too, although I hadn’t been in the mountains in years. We made plans to spend New Year’s together skiing, exploring nature and ourselves.

After a particularly chaotic Christmas week, it was really refreshing to pack up and drive north. We made it in three hours and arrived after dark. We checked into a charming Swiss style lodge complete with hot tub nestled right at the foot of the mountain. After unpacking our bags, we decided we should accustom ourselves to the altitude by taking a walk in the cold, clear night. We pulled on our parkas and gloves and went out onto the wide porch surrounding the lodge, down the steps and out into the snow.

Drifts were piled high everywhere and walking was difficult. With each step we sank nearly a foot into the soft powder. The night was silent, and as we made our way slowly to the base of the mountain, the shape of the main lift emerged from the darkness and shadows. Behind us were the glittering lights and carved balconies of the lodge. The moon was bright and cast blue shadows across the snow. We looked up and saw Orion, the Pleiades and the entire Milky Way splashed across the inky blackness.

The pure beauty of the night made me so happy that I started to run and leap through the deep piles of snow, finally throwing myself back first into a soft, deep drift.

Jim shouted, “You nut! What are you doing?”

I yelled back, “Come on in it feels great!”

He ran over and jumped into the drift with me. We rolled around in the snow, shoving and wrestling with each other like five year olds. Jim pulled himself on top of me and kissed me hard, his tongue pushing insistently into my mouth.

I got up, grabbed his hand and pulled him up out of the snow. “Remember snow angels?” I asked carefully.

This time I carefully lay down on my back on the snow, and with sweeping motions opened and closed my arms and legs. Then I jumped up out of the snow, and left a perfectly shaped angel with white wings and a long white gown carved in the snow.

Jim laughed and kissed me again, this time not stopping when I tried to resist him as he leaned us back into the snowdrift.

“Hon,” he whispered in my ear, “we could have as much fun out here tonight as we could skiing tomorrow. No one’s around…what do you say?”

He yanked off one of his gloves and pulled down the zipper of my parka. Reaching for my breasts through the opening of my shirt, he ran his warm fingers lightly over my erect nipples.

I always adored the way Jim made love to me, but lying in the soft snow with the stars as our canopy made it even more exciting. His hands were cool against my skin as he caressed my breasts under my shirt and parka, but his breath was hot as he brushed his lips across my mouth and down my neck. As he unfastened my shirt, I arched back into the snow, exposing my breasts to the cold night. With his tongue he drew lazy circles on my throat, slowly making his way down past my nipples to my stomach. I shivered and pulled his head close to my chest for warmth, running my fingers through his thick, curly hair.

As Jim sucked and licked my breasts, I closed my eyes. I started to fantasize, as I often do when Jim and I make love, and I visualized a blizzard, a swirling white blindness before my eyes. I began to imagine what it would be like to be skiing on the mountain in wind so forceful it would nearly push me back up the hill, gusts of snow swirling and leaping off the ridges, the trail visible for only a few feet. I saw myself standing on the top of the mountain, ready to push off into the whiteness, when Jim’s hand slid down inside the pants of my snowsuit and his fingers began to explore my very wet and waiting cunt.

“Babe, you’re really hot!” he said. “Maybe you need to be cooled down a little.”

Pushing my legs apart, Jim began gently fingering my cunt. His skillful fingers were warm, and the contrast between the cold winter air and his hot hands created an outrageous sensation as he brushed his hand across my furry vulva.

His hand caressed the insides of my thighs as he pressed his fingers into my vagina, and I let my fantasy continue. I pushed off the ridge of the mountain and cut a wide traverse across the steep bowl. As I edged into my turn, my legs pressed down into the mountain, and I picked up speed. I imagined the wind furiously blowing around me as Jim pushed two fingers into me and aroused my clitoris with his adroit thumb. Now I was flying straight down the mountain, with the white powder spraying out behind me and only the vaguest outline of the slope ahead of me. My movements were fluid and rhythmic, but I was nearly out of control, I was going so fast. Just when I was as fast as I could in my fantasy, I felt a burst of icy fire inside, and shook and quivered as the most intense orgasm exploded inside me.

“Hon, how’d that happen?” came Jim’s voice from below.

As I told him about my fantasy, he laughed, saying we wouldn’t need to ski at all the next day we could just fantasize about it and fuck.

“But,” he said, “before you indulge in any more dream time, I wouldn’t mind some attention!”

I pushed Jim back into the snow and straddled his thighs, my knees cushioned in the soft snow. The metal zipper was cold and the fabric of his jeans was stiff as I slowly unzipped his pants. I pulled his long, hard cock out, bent over and took him in my mouth. Slowly teasing him with my tongue, I licked around the swollen tip, up and down the sides, down under his balls. Jim seemed more turned on than ever, pushing his cock deeper and deeper into my mouth and throat. I grabbed his balls with both hands, alternately squeezing them gently and running my fingers through the soft, wiry hair at the base of his cock. He arched his back, finally shooting a stream of come in my mouth.

We were out of breath from the exertion in the altitude, so we lay quietly under the stars for a while. Then we pulled each other up, shaking off the snow and wetness. Laughing, we clambered arm in arm back to our room.

The next day dawned clear and bright. Because it was our first day skiing, we were on the slopes for only a few hours. We had a leisurely lunch outdoors on the lodge balcony, warming ourselves in the sun, and then took a private lesson in the afternoon. But when we came back to the lodge at dusk, we still felt tired and sore. We changed out of our wet, snow caked ski jackets and pants, grabbed some towels and headed directly for the private jacuzzi.

The turquoise gleam of the jacuzzi’s underwater lights reflected off the surrounding black tile as billows of steam rose from the bubbling water and filled the room. We undressed quickly, laying our clothes and towels on a dry bench a few feet from the tub.

We lowered ourselves into the steaming water, feeling the heat slowly make its way up our bodies, until we were submerged up to our necks.

I turned and looked at Jim. His face was flushed and glowing from the sun and the wind on the mountain that afternoon. His hair curled in damp ringlets about his face and his brown eyes sparkled. He grinned at me with that irresistible smile of his, and I could read his mind. I floated over to him and, pulling him close to me, wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his hips. He grabbed me from behind and underneath to support me and pulled me partially up out of the water. I felt very safe and protected in Jim’s strong arms in the bubbling heat of the jacuzzi.

Jim began to stroke me, moving his broad hand from the nape of my neck, down my back, around my bottom and into the soft folds of my cunt. I could feel a throbbing ache throughout my thighs, crotch and stomach, and pressed myself against him tightly as he continued exploring my deepest parts in the churning water. He kept his thumb on my clitoris as he inserted one finger, then two, inside me. Then he slowly pushed, pulled and rotated his fingers, all the while keeping the pressure on my clitoris. Our eyes were glued to each other, and as the steam enveloped us in its soft cocoon, waves of desire welled up inside me.

I reached down and grabbed his erect cock, which was pressed firmly against my stomach. He moaned softly as I took hold and slid my hand up and down his thick, firm penis. Closing his eyes, Jim seemed lost in passion as I ran my fingers under his balls, up and down the shaft and around the tip of his cock. As the water bubbled and hissed and my hand stroked his cock, I could sense Jim’s urgency, his need for release.

Without further ado, I moved to the edge of the jacuzzi and bent over the side, offering my lover the smooth, inviting curves of my rump, raising my ass so slightly out of the water, enticing him just so.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said as he sidle up behind me and pressed his throbbing erection against my soft bottom.

I was so turned on I began to drift off into heaven, what with the warmth of the bubbling water against my pussy and Jim’s hot cock kneading my ass.

“Oh, Jim,” I sighed as his masculine hands cupped the undersides of my full breasts and gently teased my already swollen nipples. “Fuck me,” I pleaded.

Without missing a beat, he parted my thighs from behind and slowly, smoothly slid his thick meat into my slippery pink crevice, then began thrusting and bucking as if he owned me.

His strokes were graceful, fast and deep and shudders of pleasure shot through me like bolts of lightning. Grabbing tightly onto the sides of the large bath, our bodies slick with sweat, we were impassioned lovers who could stop for nothing.

I thought briefly of the night before, of the snow and the sensation of the frigid winter wind against my naked flesh. That contrasted with having sex in the warmth of a bubbling jacuzzi somehow made our sexual union all the more adventurous.

Soon Jim was uttering primitive moans of lust and he sprayed my loins with his hot juice, filling me with all his passion and love.

I pulled myself away from Jim and we quickly got out of the hot water, then dressed and went back to our room. Later that night, snuggled in our warm bed, we agreed that that was one of the best sexual experiences we’d ever had, and wondered how we could ever top it. We slept soundly.

The next morning we got up at six thirty, determined to have a full day’s skiing. We were at the base of the mountain by nine o’clock sharp, and we were first in the lift line. We settled snugly into the chair, legs and skis dangling out over the white carpeted mountain. The chair vibrated and the cables hummed as we rose higher and higher. A distant lake slowly appeared in between far off white peaks. The sun emerged from behind a soft haze and glinted off the ridges.

Once at the top, Jim and I set out along a trail that ran along the uppermost ridge of the mountain and that connected to the expert slopes on the back. I squinted behind my sunglasses. Here, 10,000 feet up, the sun was hot and brilliant and reflected off the glistening whiteness. The sky was aquamarine and big puffy white clouds crowned the mountains on the horizon. Towering pine trees lined the edges of the trail, looking like they had been coated with marshmallow cream. The stillness was interrupted only by the muffled sound of our skis gliding through the soft powder. We took in big breaths of the thin, crisp air as we worked our way along the top of the ridge.

Soon we were at the top of a large bowl that poured down the entire back of the mountain. No one had skied this slope that morning, so the snow covering it was unbroken by tracks. Halfway down the run and off to the side was a small glade of pine trees. We agreed to ski down to that point.

Jim let out a loud whoop as we pushed off from the top. We sliced our way through the fluffy snow, sprays of powdered sugar jetting out from behind us. The mountain felt firm yet soft beneath our skis, as if it were protecting us. All around us the snow sparkled, reflecting the burning yellow sun. It was so warm that we took off our jackets and tied them about our waists as we made our way down the run.

We were both out of breath and sweating when we reached the glade. There we stopped, took off our skis and leaned side by side against a giant pine to rest. The sun was hot, and we turned our faces to it.

I was feeling so relaxed and sensual in the quiet beauty of the snowy glade that I reached down inside my powder pants to my crotch. I started massaging my clitoris, gently rubbing my fingers across its sensitive tip. With Jim watching me intently, I closed my eyes, and soon I felt a warm ache deep inside my vagina and rubbed the slippery fluid around my clit and through the soft folds. I pressed myself back into the solid pine tree.

I stopped for a moment and then felt Jim’s cool hands on my sun warmed skin. I started to laugh as he began to lower my powder pants and long underwear, exposing my thick bush and curvaceous bottom to nature’s view.

His cock was bulging beneath his powder pans, and I helped him lower them to his knees. Jim braced himself against the tree with one hand and bent over to kiss me, his tongue tracing a line along the top of my teeth and around the inside of my mouth. He gently kneaded my nipples between his fingers.

Taking hold of Jim’s thick, erect penis, I kneeled down in the snow and, with Jim back against the tree, took him in the warmth of my mouth, sucking his shaft back into my throat. With each thrust forward, a burst of breath would hit the frigid air, and puffs of smoke blew from my mouth. Making sure that Jim didn’t get too cold, I pulled him closer to me and began massaging his asscheeks with my wool mittens, rubbing his hairy bottom and pulling him closer to me.

His hot cock felt so wonderful, ethereal, in the confines of my mouth, and I smothered his sex flesh with the wet heat of my saliva as I flicked my tongue across the tip of his dick and swallowed a dollop of his pre come ooze.

The sun beat down upon us, two lovers in harmony with nature. It was so thrilling knowing that any skier could come by and witness our lascivious display.

The delicious danger of it all added to my pleasure and I began sucking in earnest, my lips sliding rapidly up and down his rigid cock. I couldn’t wait to taste his creamy ejaculate.

Soon Jim was on the verge of coming and, as I cupped his heavy balls with my mitten and tenderly grazed his cock with my teeth, he shot a hefty load of semen into my throat and I gulped it down zestfully.

After his orgasm subsided, I turned my back to Jim, and, while I looked away and grabbed onto the tree, Jim lowered my ski pants just enough to expose my bottom, parted my asscheeks and inserted his hot tongue tightly in my eager cunt.

As he licked and fingered my sex, my body quivered, not so much from the cold air as from the sensational sexual skills of my lover. His tongue danced across my labia with ease and skill, sending pangs of lust through my belly, heating my loins and warming my heart. I came quickly, yelling out with joy, my voice carried off into the valley by the whipping winter winds.

When our hearts finally stopped pounding, we brushed the snow off our ski clothes, pulled them on and put our skis back on. We still felt high as we poled our way out of the glade back onto the slope and skied down the base.

Jim and I returned home that Sunday night to the city, our jobs and our downtown way of life. But our relationship had been transformed by our discovery of the pleasures and power of sex in the snowy mountains. And although we could never duplicate that environment at home, all we needed was the memory of that magical weekend to turn us on!

In keeping with the spirit of your tenth anniversary, I would like to tell you how my husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversary. It was wild, wonderful and, well, watery.

Lee always loved the water he swims in it, fishes in it, skis on it, does all but walk on it. I, on the other hand, thought of water as something to drink and bathe in, and so I wasn’t too thrilled when Lee bought a small sailboat. I was even less thrilled to learn that its maiden voyage was scheduled for the day of our tenth wedding anniversary.

We left for our lakeside summer cabin one week later with my husband chatting nonstop about the boat and me fantasizing about life with a landlubber. The first thing he did when we arrived was to take me to the dock to show me “Madge.” I had to admit it was pretty. The setting sun cast an orange glow on the gleaming white hull and the single sail was an eye catching red. It seemed harmless enough, bobbing gently in the clear blue water.

The very next day was our anniversary and right after breakfast I found myself sitting in “Madge.” With my happy husband working the rudder we glided over the water, the wind billowing the sail as we made our way to a small island. It was wonderful. So serene, so…sensual. I was reclining in the boat with my arms hanging over the sides, and feeling sexier with each passing minute, when I suddenly swung both hands up out of the water and splashed Lee. He laughed and made as if to come at me, but I dove into the water. I relished the cleansing feeling and exhilarating “wetness” of it. By the time I swam back to “Madge” I was soaked with lust.

No sooner were we on the small island than Lee and I shed our swimsuits and made love with the eagerness of newlyweds. I poured some of the Champagne we had brought along over my husband’s already hard cock and then sucked it hungrily, taking it deeper down my throat than ever before. Then he poured Champagne on my cunt and slurped it up, licking lustily as I squirmed and moaned with delight.

And then we were fucking, Lee doing me from behind as I quivered on all fours, taking me with all the ardor of a sailor on shore leave. I was still wet and the water shook off me as Lee pounded hard and deep into my cunt. We came within seconds of each other, crying out our joy.

Later, as we sat side by side looking out at the calm lake, we clinked our glasses as we toasted our anniversary. “And to Madge,” Lee said. “To Madge,” I smiled.

Ms. M.T., New York

In keeping with the spirit of your tenth anniversary, I would like to tell you how my husband and I celebrated our tenth anniversary. It was wild, wonderful and, well, watery.

Lee always loved the water he swims in it, fishes in it, skis on it, does all but walk on it. I, on the other hand, thought of water as something to drink and bathe in, and so I wasn’t too thrilled when Lee bought a small sailboat. I was even less thrilled to learn that its maiden voyage was scheduled for the day of our tenth wedding anniversary.

We left for our lakeside summer cabin one week later with my husband chatting nonstop about the boat and me fantasizing about life with a landlubber. The first thing he did when we arrived was to take me to the dock to show me “Madge.” I had to admit it was pretty. The setting sun cast an orange glow on the gleaming white hull and the single sail was an eye catching red. It seemed harmless enough, bobbing gently in the clear blue water.

The very next day was our anniversary and right after breakfast I found myself sitting in “Madge.” With my happy husband working the rudder we glided over the water, the wind billowing the sail as we made our way to a small island. It was wonderful. So serene, so…sensual. I was reclining in the boat with my arms hanging over the sides, and feeling sexier with each passing minute, when I suddenly swung both hands up out of the water and splashed Lee. He laughed and made as if to come at me, but I dove into the water. I relished the cleansing feeling and exhilarating “wetness” of it. By the time I swam back to “Madge” I was soaked with lust.

No sooner were we on the small island than Lee and I shed our swimsuits and made love with the eagerness of newlyweds. I poured some of the Champagne we had brought along over my husband’s already hard cock and then sucked it hungrily, taking it deeper down my throat than ever before. Then he poured Champagne on my cunt and slurped it up, licking lustily as I squirmed and moaned with delight.

And then we were fucking, Lee doing me from behind as I quivered on all fours, taking me with all the ardor of a sailor on shore leave. I was still wet and the water shook off me as Lee pounded hard and deep into my cunt. We came within seconds of each other, crying out our joy.

Later, as we sat side by side looking out at the calm lake, we clinked our glasses as we toasted our anniversary. “And to Madge,” Lee said. “To Madge,” I smiled.

Ms. M.T., New York

I still recall the night I was turned on to sex outdoors. It was graduation night and a group of my college chums had gathered at someone’s home for a pretty outrageous pool party. There was lots of drinking and outlandish behavior, with the women parading about to loud rock and roll music, most of them clad in nothing more than skimpy bikinis. Summer was approaching, the weather was warm, we were all on our way to new careers and the excitement was reaching fever pitch.

And then, all of a sudden, Gwen, a voluptuous blonde, decided to slip out of her bikini top and dive into the pool. The sight of her massive breasts swaying about turned heads, to say the least.

She splashed about, egging everyone else on to join her. The response was immediate. In seconds the other girls were slipping out of their swimsuits and diving into the water, which had been warming in the sunlight all day. Everywhere you looked you could see the svelte bottoms and tempting tits of delectable coeds. The men, too, joined in the fun, and pretty soon I decided to take part as well.

I remember the thrill of getting naked in front of all those people outdoors. Of course, since they were naked too, it made little difference, but running around the side of the pool, the cool night air tickling my genitals, was as liberating a feeling as I’d ever experienced.

Once in the water I felt myself getting excited as the clear wetness enveloped my cock. It was as if a thousand fingers were massaging my scrotum. Eager and anxious, I looked around the pool. My mind was reeling as I drank in the sight of all that succulent nudity. Karen, a girl I knew from my dormitory, swam up beside me, put her arms around my neck and planted a deep, sensual kiss on my mouth.

Truthfully, I had always been turned on by Karen. She was an athletic, intelligent brunette with curvy hips, a busty chest and a pair of eyes as blue as the sky itself. Still, I was shocked at her advances, but I was loving it all the same. I put my hands on her hips, and as our tongues swirled inside each other’s mouth, her hand casually wandered down between my legs and began stroking my pulsating cock.

“Ooh,” she cooed, “you’re nice and hard.”

“Well,” I shot back, “beautiful nude women have that effect on me.”

Laughing, she kissed me again and then pulled away. “Fuck me,” she said.

In unison we moved over to the side of the pool, where she could hang onto the edge. There I began smothering her body with tender, thoughtful kisses and gentle caresses that made her moan with passion. She tilted her head back, her eyes peering up to the heavens. As I sucked sweetly on her tasty nipples, the moon showered us with a loving glow.

Karen told me to sit on the edge of the pool, and then, as several others looked on wide eyed, she took my erection in her toasty mouth, licking the shaft with lustful abandon, all the while massaging my balls with tender loving strokes.

I was well on my way to coming, and Karen sensed it. Without a word she motioned for me to get back in the water. Resting her arms on the edge of the pool, she told me to take her from behind. Her cunt was tight and moist and seemed to suck my cock into her depths. I moved slowly at first as the water began to slap about, but soon we adapted to our new half floating environment and were able to maintain a steady, adroit rhythm. The water seemed to serve as a natural lubricant, and I could hear a faint, squishing sound as my cock moved in and out of this lovely girl’s cunt.

“Oh yes,” she bellowed. “Fuck me. Fuck me. I’m gonna come.”

As I slammed into her, I suddenly became dazzlingly aware of my surroundings: the loud music, the drinking, a nude volleyball game just a few feet away. Amidst several interested spectators, I plowed feverishly into Karen’s succulent loins and spewed my semen deep inside her.

I never did see Karen after that night, for I moved to the West Coast to pursue a career. And although I put my fun filled college days behind me, never did I forget that special night with Karen in the pool. I realized that the thrill I had derived that night had a good deal to do with the danger of being seen as well as the sensual aspect of having the night air caressing my naked body. I felt so free, so rejuvenated that night, and I realized that this single experience had changed my sexual proclivities forever. From then on, I knew, there could be no greater sensation than a sexual encounter outdoors.

With that in mind, I soon found myself becoming something of an avid sportsman. On weekends, if I wasn’t scooting off to the beach, I’d be hiking in the mountains or renting a rowboat at a nearby lake.

It was at the lake that I met Christy, a tall, leggy, vivacious blonde. A real natural, all American beauty. Over a period of a few weeks, she and I became closer, and while our sex life was magnificent, I knew that to achieve the ultimate connection, I would have to make love to her someplace other than my bedroom.

I planned a weekend of hiking, and Christy, I could tell, was excited at the prospect of spending a weekend alone with me in the woods. We hiked up one of our regular trails, but then Christy suggested we go our own way. I believe her exact words were “Let’s explore.”

Explore we did. It was dusk and we found a remote spot by a babbling brook where we pitched a tent, started a fire and prepared dinner. Over a couple of steaks and some fine white wine, Christy and I basked in the splendor that is nature.

Alone, we sat back together against a large rock as night enveloped us like a blanket, and with our arms around each other, we were suddenly swept away by the moment. In a warm embrace, our lips met and our hands explored the secret regions of each other’s body. The scent of the burning wood intoxicated us, and the sounds of the running stream, the crackling flame and the occasional cricket made the moment all the more special.

Soon we moved over to a blanket that Christy had lain by the fire. There, beneath the sparkling stars, I helped her out of her red flannel shirt and her tight, tattered jeans. When she was completely naked, I stared soulfully at her beauty as the red flicker of the flame illuminated our world. Then I slipped out of my clothes, and there, in the middle of nature, she and I took part in a moment of sheer beauty.

Although we had spent most of the day working and sweating, there were still traces of the sweet floral perfume on Christy’s velvety neck. As I planted kisses over her face, my hands caressing the smooth flesh of her thighs and hips, Christy ran her fingers over my cock, stroking me gently.

Before long, I was mounting my beautiful lover, sliding my cock into the wet confines of her delectable cunt. As the night filled with passionate moans and Christy lifted her legs up over my shoulders, I ravaged her femininity, finally spewing my essence into her.

Christy and I have since become engaged. We still do all the outdoor activities we love so dearly, and we’re even planning to have an outdoor wedding. You can also bet that our honeymoon will take place somewhere beneath a blanket of stars, someplace where our expression of love can be honest and passionate and natural. Always natural.

Mr. K.J., California

When I first met Charlie, I didn’t know the first thing about baseball. A “strike” was something disgruntled union members engaged in, a “walk” was something I enjoyed in the rain, a “steal” was when I got a pretty dress at a great price, and a “curve” was something guys were always trying to throw you. So you can see I was really dumb about America’s national pastime.

Today, thanks to Charlie, I know enough about baseball to hold my own in a conversation with any guy. Of course, my particular area of expertise is pitching that’s because Charlie is a pitcher in the minor leagues. He’s a darn good one too, and pretty soon I just know he’ll move up to Triple A, and after that, it’s the big time!

While I didn’t know anything about baseball when I met my boyfriend, I did know a lot about his second favorite sport fucking. My love for Charlie has made me a one man woman, but there was a time when I went after anything in pants. And whenever possible, I’d have the guy do me outdoors. Now, fucking anywhere is great, but doing it outdoors has always been special to me. It’s so romantic to be fucked under the stars, so dirty nice to get nailed by a big cock in a downpour. On the beach is good, too. And deep in the woods late at night is scary and exciting.

Unfortunately, I discovered early on that Charlie, conservative by nature, didn’t share my passion for the great outdoors. He never came right out and said why, but I think he was afraid of finding himself on the front page of the local paper. Something like: “Star Pitcher Throws a Hard Fast One into Girlfriend in Broad Daylight.”

It was during a home night game, as I watched Charlie mow down the opposition with his tantalizing curve and blazing fastball, that I had my great idea. It came to me out of nowhere, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it sooner. What I wanted to do was get Charlie to fuck me on the field. Right on the pitcher’s mound, maybe. Or at home plate. Or in the outfield. It didn’t really matter as long as he did me somewhere on the playing field.

I knew it would be easy enough to accomplish. Security late at night consisted of one grizzled old soul nicknamed Mr. Wino by the ballplayers. Word was that he spent seven hours of his shift fast asleep and the other one wondering where he was. Sneaking into the park would be child’s play.

Convincing Charlie, of course, was something else again. Disapproving as he was of doing it outdoors, his reaction when I told him I wanted to have my box stuffed in the batter’s box was short and sweet. “You have got to be fuckin’ crazy,” he said.

But I’m nothing if not determined, and with patience and perseverance (maybe it was simply nonstop nagging), I got my boyfriend to agree. What helped, I suppose, was withholding sex from him until he agreed to fuck me at least once on the playing field. “It’ll be the scene of your greatest performance,” I told him as I hugged him. “All that’ll be missing is a cheering crowd.”

So, on the appointed night, we sneaked past Mr. Wino, who was fast asleep, and then scooted down the runway past the locker rooms and up into the dugout. With me leading the way, we raced out onto the field. Starting at home plate, I jogged around the bases, with Charlie close behind. Then, daring him to catch me, I darted toward the pitcher’s mound, where I came to an abrupt stop. Charlie smacked into me, and we both tumbled to the ground and started wrestling playfully. Things turned serious quickly when Charlie grabbed me between the legs and squeezed, not once but several times. All the “fight” went out of me and I went limp.

Flat on my back and still breathing hard, I gazed up at the black sky. It was a little past midnight and I suddenly became aware of a cool breeze wafting over me. It was a good night for hard fucking, I thought. As Charlie got to his feet and started removing his clothes, I let my eyes roam over the empty stands. It was eerie and, at the same time, exciting to be in the dark, silent ballpark where just the other night I had cheered with a thousand other fans as Charlie pitched his one hitter. Tonight he’d be pitching me his big, beautiful cock.

With my lubrication soaking into my underpants, I sat up and quickly began shedding my clothes. Charlie, naked by this time, stood with his hands on his hips, waiting impatiently. It was strange seeing him on the mound without clothes, and I giggled thinking how funny he’d look with his baseball glove on now.

When I was naked I got up on my knees, facing Charlie. “Oh my,” I said, taking hold of and admiring his meaty cock. “Have you ever considered swinging this at the plate? I bet you’d hit a home run every time you ”

“Just start sucking, babe,” my boyfriend interrupted, trying hard to hold back a smile.

“Anything you say, Ace,” I said, saluting.

Moments later I was licking Charlie’s “bat,” my smiling eyes looking up at him as my tantalizing tongue flicked at the knobby crown of his manhood. I licked down the sensitive underside of the shaft and feigned surprise when I came to his scrotum. “Hey, you’re only allowed one ball on the pitcher’s mound,” I said. This time Charlie not only smiled, he also chuckled. And then he took his cock and stuffed it into my mouth.

I couldn’t believe I was sucking my boyfriend right out there on the pitcher’s mound. It was even more exciting than I’d imagined it would be. While I held Charlie’s cock with one hand, my fingers curled around the base of the shaft, I stroked my pussy with my other hand. A big, hard cock, I thought, always tastes better outdoors, and Charlie’s was super delicious. For a fleeting moment I considered having him come in my mouth, but my pussy’s need to be filled with all that throbbing meat would not be denied. And anyway, what I really wanted was to be fucked.

I continued feasting on my boyfriend’s cock for another minute or so and then got to my feet. Charlie, stating the obvious, said he was ready to fuck me like never before. “Not here,” I said. “At home plate. I want it there.” I scampered off the mound and down to the batter’s box, then dropped onto my hands and knees directly over home plate with my ass facing the mound. My boyfriend was behind me in a flash, quickly directing the head of his swollen cock to my dripping pussy.

“Do it, baby,” I breathed hotly. “Get it inside me.”

Charlie slid home in one easy, fluid stroke, his meaty tool filling me up completely and making me moan with pleasure. Wasting no time, he started pumping away. “You’ll remember this the next time you’re on the mound,” I said. Charlie mumbled and kept on pitching his cock to me, his large hands clamping onto my hips, fingers digging into the flesh.

I was thinking about the next home game, about how much fun it was going to be to sit in the stands knowing that I’d been fucked at home plate, when I felt a drop. Then another and another. It was starting to rain!

“Fuck!” I heard my boyfriend growl. He stopped thrusting, and when I looked back at him, he was staring up at the sky. No doubt he was cursing the weatherman, for no rain had been forecast. Which was why, of course, I had chosen that night for us to sneak into the ballpark and fuck.

“It’s all right,” I said. “It’s only a sprinkle.” Of course it started raining harder, and before long it was pouring. Having fucked in weather like this before, it didn’t faze me one bit. In fact, it gave the whole thing an extra dimension, making it even more thrilling, more primeval. How Charlie felt about it I wasn’t sure, but it was clear he wasn’t about to call the game on account of rain.

He continued banging into me as raindrops pelted our naked bodies and turned the ground around us into mud. My hands and knees were sinking into the mud and my hair was matted to my head, but there was no place else I wanted to be at that moment. My orgasm welled within me, like the cheer of a crowd as it watches the flight of a ball toward the bleachers, and when it hit I screamed with joy. Charlie came a moment later, driving his cock deep inside me one last time. Then he collapsed on my back, knocking me flat into the mud. “Safe at home,” he breathed into my ear.

It would be nice to say that that was the first of several fucks Charlie gave me on the playing field, but, as I had feared, the sudden, unexpected rainstorm convinced him that outdoor sex was for animals only. But I’m still trying to convert him, and I’m encouraged by the fact that often after a game, when we’re in bed and enjoying foreplay, he’ll start his love talk with “You know what I was thinking about on the mound today?”

Ms. (Name and address withheld)

What happens when you take a couple of city slickers out of their high rise condo and drop them into the environment of a hundred year old farmhouse set on two hundred rolling acres of woods, pasture and fields?

Dan and I had always dreamed of buying a farm and living the simple country life, but now that we’d actually signed the papers and moved in, we were a little apprehensive. We didn’t know much about running a farm, and we soon learned that it involves more than rocking on the front porch, sucking on a blade of grass and drinking lemonade.

Take, for example, the roan chickens, who hide their eggs with a secretiveness that rivals my mother’s mania for not disclosing the ingredients of her famous pecan pie. Chickens we had eggs, I couldn’t find a single one. And then there was the house itself. Mice, bats and spiders considered themselves our hosts. After all, they’d been living there a lot longer than we had.

With a healthy dose of good humor and determination, not to mention the invaluable helpful hints of our neighboring farmers, we managed to survive a few early disasters and come out with the upper hand, even if that hand had a few too many blisters than we would have liked. After we hired some help to string proper fencing, called the exterminators and cooped up the chickens, we started to discover the real joys of country living. It was late winter when we moved in, and by early spring we were overworked country homeowners but happy exploring our land together and discovering the uninhibited wonder of making love outdoors.

The first place we did it, actually, was in the barn, which some might consider indoors if they’ve never experienced the inside of a century old wooden bam, with its great beams swaying as the wind whips through the warped siding, and birds skittering along the hay and rafters. Dan and I climbed up the hay bales, lured by the warm, pungent odor and the slanted rays of sunlight that seemed to make a fairytale bed at the top.

We lay on our backs, catching our breath, and clasped hands. Our climb and the bed of sun we’d landed in made our flannel shirts and dirt boots hot and cumbersome, so we shed them and, once we began, just tore everything off. Dan shoved all our flannel and denim underneath him to cushion himself against the prickly hay and pulled me down on top of him, catching me under the arms and holding me in midair as I straddled his hips. Gently he lowered his mouth to my breasts and sucked my nipples until they were pulled out lush and taut, tingling from the wetness of his tongue and the cool breeze that came in through the sides of the barn. His penis, hard and hot, rubbed against my belly.

Settling down on his thighs, I began to stroke him, alternating hands. Dan let his head roll back in the hay, a sweet expression on his face as my maneuvers evolved into a pumping rhythm that began to move him.

I lowered my mouth to his crotch and ran my tongue wetly over his pulsing shaft before I shifted my weight off my knees and crouched on the pads of my feet. His cock was now beneath my vagina. All I had to do was ease myself down and guide him in, so slick was my cunt and so rigid was his cock. I felt him full and thick inside me and barely had a chance to brace myself before he started to rock me back and forth over his hips.

The owls in the rafters cooed, and the pigeons swooped over us as we made love in the hay, with dust flying about and sunlight bathing our nudity in a golden glow. Suddenly we heard voices and froze in position, Dan’s cock buried deep inside me and my hands gripping his balls. We didn’t dare move a muscle lest we give ourselves away.

Two stories down were Roy and Jake, the hired hands rummaging for rakes and shovels which it seemed to take them an eternity to find. Dan and I breathed quietly, but the urge to move was awfully strong. We couldn’t resist any longer, and hired hands or no, we went back to fucking, rolling back and forth and trying to keep our sighs and moans of pleasure subdued. I don’t think they heard us, but we were overtaken by a new spirit, and we really didn’t care if we were found out.

Finally the guys wandered back outside, and Dan and I wasted no time letting loose all the passion that was pent up inside us. Afterward we lay side by side, gently picking straw out of each other’s hair and playfully stroking each other’s body with it. Yawning and stretching, we finally got dressed and slid, laughing, down the hay bales that had been both our aphrodisiac and the hiding place for our first country farm sex scene.

As spring turned to summer, we had plenty more opportunities to make love outdoors. There is a small lake on one end of our land, ringed with cattails and marsh grass. Since Dan and I both love to swim, it was one of the features that sold us on the farm. We decided to clear away one part of it and make a beach, leaving a wide marshy area for ducks to nest in undisturbed. We had two truckloads of fine white sand dumped, and for a while, raking weeds and spreading sand was our sole task. Dan became quite a handyman for having been a city dweller all his life, and he became very involved in making a wooden diving raft, which we secured out in the middle of the lake.

“Our own pleasure island” Dan called it when he’d finally finished. While he’d been making the raft, I’d planted flower boxes full of different bright varieties along the border of our beach. It looked almost Mediterranean when I was done.

“Let’s swim out and test the raft,” I said, starting to pull off my blouse and jeans.

“Hey,” called Dan from the shore, “like that? What if the neighbors see you?”

“Gus and Ed, you mean?” I asked, referring to our closest neighbors, two bachelor brothers in their seventies. “I’ll give them a treat that is if they can see that far.” But I was already plunging naked into the chilly water, heading for the raft. Before I reached it, I heard Dan behind me, then felt him grab me around my waist and pull me close to him.

“You left your shorts on,” I teased. I pushed him away laughingly and backstroked to the raft, letting him get a view of my naked breasts and my bush bobbing in the clear water. In no time Dan was upon me, minus his shorts, which he tossed up on the dock. Then, with one hand braced on the raft, he swept me close to him with the other. I could feel his stiff penis push its way between my legs, welding us together. All games forgotten, we were now fucking and trying to keep our heads above water while hanging onto the raft. We thrashed and bobbed in the chilly water, floating together, securely joined at the middle where, underwater, sparks churned in the current of our sex. Each time Dan pulled out a little, I felt a rush of cool water bathe my cunt, followed by the heat of his prick.

I couldn’t stand it for long before I let out a squeal of pleasure. Dan knew I was at my peak, and he let go with me, pinning me against the ladder with both arms and using the bottom rung to stand and push deeper into me. Suddenly I felt the hot flood of his come, then another cool rush as he withdrew. Satiated and drained, we crawled up the ladder and collapsed on the dock.

We lay in a panting heap, and the only sound was a wood thrush trilling out her late afternoon song. Feeling utterly uninhibited, and without a thought to old Gus and Ed, we dove and cannon balled and swam around until our lips were blue. Finally, we swam back to shore and ran through the soybeans to the house, giggling madly, very much in love with each other and our life in the country.

Spring and summer might seem to be the only hospitable seasons for these kinds of outdoor romps with Mother Nature, but we had become so fond of our newfound sport that we even managed it in late fall and in the deepest winter. Actually, as any nature lover knows, each season has its own special appeal and ambience. For Dan and me, that appeal always had a sensual ring to it.

Autumn is the time when everything ripens, ready for harvest. That first fall we had the fun of gathering the harvest of our first garden. I had planted pumpkins in among the cornstalks, and one day we were out together, pulling some real beauties off the vine. The corn grew high over our heads, and it was easy to wander further into the field to lose ourselves among the silky stalks. We never knew what we’d see maybe a lovely white tailed rabbit, even deer that came from the nearby woods.

On this particular day in late October, Dan and I were meandering through the rows of corn when we came upon a cluster of quail, which rose in a flurry of wing beats. We crouched down over a downy nest half hidden in the ground, glad that the cultivators hadn’t been through that part of the field yet and quite overcome by the vastness of the animal life that thrived on our land.

We joined hands as we sat on the warm ground and gazed up at the gracefully swaying corn, which was framed by a crystal blue sky. Feeling like a couple of wild animals ourselves, we spontaneously lay down, quietly unzipped our jeans and coupled right there in a wordless homage to nature. It was a slow paced, almost reverent harmony. We barely moved, lying with Dan’s body cupped around mine.

His penis had never felt so full and rich as he stroked in and out of my wet cunt. I had never felt so ready to receive him as I did that afternoon, softly sighing into the earth with each penetration. I eased my buttocks up further against his belly so he could go deep inside me, and our trance like pace held until the moment of ejaculation, when we shared our climax with the earth.

By winter we had purchased two quarter horses, named them Sugar and Spice, and had taken to making riding trails through the snow out in the woods. We rode almost every day, letting the horses beat down the trail while we snapped off low hanging branches. I mentioned to Dan how lovely it would be to have a sleigh with a big fur blanket and pretend we were Laura and Dr. Zhivago.

Christmas eve that first year was a startling clear evening with moonlight dazzling the fields, and we bundled up for a nighttime ride. I had made up a thermos of Irish coffee, and as we set off, I noticed our big fur throw rug was rolled up on the back of Dan’s saddle.

Fresh snow had fallen, and there was a magic, pervasive feeling of being the only two people on earth. We came to our woodshed, which is on a high knoll with nothing but open, snow covered fields on two sides, and Dan finally pulled the horses to a stop and dismounted. Above us lay a deep black sky bejeweled with millions of tiny stars as we tucked ourselves into the fur rug on the little front porch of the woodshed. We each sipped from the thermos, letting the hot coffee warm us as we held hands beneath the fur throw.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely to stay out here all night?” I said, leaning closer to my husband’s warm side.

“It is as comfy as any bed could get,” Dan agreed, “except that it will probably get down to zero before the night is over. ”

“No, I wouldn’t like that, but maybe for just a while we can pretend while we give the horses a rest, that is.”

Dan looked over at me and we smiled, wrapped, the two of us, in a veritable blanket of romance. His eyes crinkled and he hugged me tight. My hand slipped down to his crotch and rubbed his stiffening cock at the same time that he slipped off his gloves and began to fondle my breasts through my heavy wool sweater. No doubt about it, nature’s beauty had once again begun to work its spell on us.

The horses stamped in the snow and blew out their hot breath, eager to hack out, but Dan whispered to them and they settled for licking mouthfuls of crunchy snow. Meanwhile, I had worked Dan’s penis out of his pants and, pulling the fur up over my head, I sank down, curled up before him, softly sucking him in that slow, rhythmic way I knew he loved.

Dan’s hands played with my long hair as I lost myself in my sweet sucking tempo. His penis glided along my tongue, pulling my lips back and forth with the friction. I let my jaw go slack, making more room for him to go deeper, until I could feel the head of his cock butt gently against the back of my throat.

I felt as if I could go on like this forever, even in a blizzard, but Dan had reached the point of no return and was urging me over him, undoing my jeans and positioning me on his lap. For a second the fur cover fell aside, and I came to my senses rather abruptly. It was damned cold out there on the icy wooden step, but a second later Dan had retrieved it and wrapped it around us as I settled down over his thick, warm knob.

I bounced up and down over Dan. He was always careful to keep one hand firmly holding the protective shawl around us while his other hand squeezed my buttocks tight. The thrill of what we were doing and the heat of our two bodies finally overwhelmed us in a liberating climax and, beneath the winter moon, we cried out to the night. A few gasping moments later, we were sane enough to pull on our clothes and start the trot off toward home.

Since then we’ve made the winter night ride one of our Christmas rituals. We make the moonlit ride to the woodshed and our favorite snowy knoll every year. I don’t know which season or which place I hold dearest out on the farm. We have marked so many spots with our sensual memories that it’s impossible to decide. We’re still not the best farmers but, as lovers, you couldn’t find a better couple. Ours is a love for all seasons.