Down by the River

What You (Don’t) Wear Matters

Comfortably Country

Sarah is neither uptight nor a free spirit. The best description I can offer is that she is comfortable with herself. She has simple tastes, with no pretensions at all. Sarah grew up in the country, an only child, and I’m sure calling her a tomboy wouldn’t offend her. In fact, she’s pretty proud of the fact she can keep up with the boys outdoors. Indoors, she’s no slouch, either. She owns an interior design and renovation company.

Though I’m not a morning person, I do sometimes actually make it to the gym. In the Great Metropolis and its suburbs, gyms are as plentiful as coffee shops. I met Sarah at a spinning class. Spinning is an absurd exercise routine in which a room full of women on stationary bikes are told to pedal as quickly as humanly possible for most of an hour, with a changing pace guided by loud music. Only a few of the participants manage to follow the instructor’s lead for the entire hour, and Sarah is one of those people. She ramps up to the beats of house music, and slows a bit to the latest pop tunes. The rest of us are at half-speed compared to Sarah and the overly enthusiastic instructor.

As we slowly made our way to the locker room following one of these morning workouts, Sarah asked if I’d like to stop by the club juice bar after showering. She said she had a story to share and knew I’d be interested. Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at a small round aluminum table drinking more calories in pineapple-mango smoothie than we had burned. Okay, more calories than I had burned.

“I know I can seem a bit unpolished,” Sarah began.

“Not everyone goes for makeup and painted nails,” I replied.

“Fair enough, but I also know that men still like a lady who can trade in jeans and boots for skirts and heels. Even Luke has to get tired of seeing me covered in sawdust and sweat.”

I nodded. It’s true some men love a tomboy, but what makes her sexy is knowing there’s woman underneath the baseball cap or cowboy hat.

“I’m in the city three or four days a week. My office has a small apartment, good enough for me. While I’m stuck here I come go to the gym so I don’t go insane. I also run errands for things I can’t get easily near the horse ranch,” Sarah continued, “so I went skirt and dress shopping last week.”

“I didn’t know you owned a horse ranch,” I commented.

“Luke and I met at the stable. Turns out, his family owned the ranch and boarding stables. We met while I was prepping Rosie for a ride. He walked up in his uniform looking like Ranger Smith with a gun.” Sarah smiled at the memory. “Anyway, he sees me in jeans and boots and I was starting to worry that outside my wedding dress I don’t have a skirt or dress or anything feminine.”

This was going to be a nice, unsurprising story of a wife seducing her husband, I concluded, but those are still good stories to share.

“Well, it turns out you really should get fancy panties to go with those skirts and dresses.”

Now, she had my attention. I stopped sucking on the smoothie straw at the mention of panties.

“I thought you might like to hear about how I learned panties, or the lack of them, really makes the skirt work.”

“I love sharing a good lesson with my readers,” I assured her.

Sarah was more than happy to share….

Sarah’s Story

Luke and I live two hours from the city, in rolling hills. We have a few acres with the horse stables, a small walking arena, an even smaller apple orchard, and lots of privacy. The horse stable isn’t much of a business, so Luke still works as a forest ranger in the nearby state park. Most people don’t realize it, but a forest ranger is an armed police officer in our state. He’s normally a stickler for rules and is one of the most cautious people I know.

I have a woodshop where I restore and reclaim pieces for my clients. I come into the city on Tuesday and stay until Thursday or Friday. Maybe it’s not the best thing for a relationship, but I’m home every weekend and my clients understand that. We’re not fancy people, but we’re content enough. An urban cowgirl and her chiseled chin forest ranger.

The state park has a peaceful river and the standard picnic areas with outhouses and aging wooden tables anchored with concrete blocks. In the summer you need to hike a couple of miles to get away from people. During the early spring and late fall, the park is only busy on weekends except for a handful of people. It is during those pleasant off-season weeks when college students and families aren’t crowding the lower river that we take walks together and listen to the sounds of the water.

I had come home Thursday night because we had guests. Erin and Dan were staying with us while he conducted business in the city. It was a given Dan would spend almost every waking moment working, something I’ve never understood.

It was an unusually warm early spring evening, one of those early spring days when it is warm enough to be comfortable without dozens of layers. Erin asked if we could take the hike to see the river. She suggested Luke come along, and I eagerly agreed since I had been away from him for three days. He was in jeans and an olive-green forestry t-shirt, his standard off-duty uniform.

Before we left, Erin led me back to the house, where she changed into a sundress and sandals and I slipped into a no-frills knee-length denim skirt I had purchased in the city. I wore the skirt with a tie-dyed t-shirt of purples and pinks. I still went with a pair of boots, which I bought to go with the skirt. The outfit probably looks like it belongs back in the 1980s, but I liked the idea that even my skirt was denim and slightly practical.

As the three of us hiked along, Erin asked Luke about the plants, animals, and geography of the region. She was born and raised in Manhattan, and Central Park was her playground as a child. While there’s nothing like Central Park, it can’t compare to being out in the country.

When we reached the river area, Erin walked to the edge of the water, slipped off her sandal, and touched a toe into the water. “Damn, that’s cold.”

“It’s from the snowmelt,” Luke explained. “It’ll be like that in May and sometimes into early June.”

“It’s all snow?”

“No, but enough that you can’t be swimming in it until summer.”

“Have you ever skinny dipped in the river?” Erin asked, suddenly.

“No,” I replied. “When it is warm, there are people everywhere.”

“Really? Never?” Erin laughed. “Wouldn’t it be thrilling knowing it’s not some secret little private spot? The risk is part of the fun!”

“That would violate several state — “

“She’s kidding, Luke,” I interrupted.

“Oh. Good. We have enough problems during the summer.”

Always the forest ranger, I suppose that’s why I love him. Luke’s the great protector, like the hero in a John Ford movie.

“Oh, come on, guys. You have to at least think about it. Or fucking out here? Tell me you’ve at least made love under the stars out here.”

“Nope,” Luke answered. “Wouldn’t be right.”

“Geesh. You two are disgustingly law-abiding, then,” Erin said with a mock Western accent. “You all need to get frisky. Ride ‘em cowgirl and all that.”

“That’s really not our style,” Luke said, turning away to study the trees. I have no idea what he’s looking at sometimes, but he is always checking on everything in the forest.

Erin walked over to me and gave my arm a squeeze. “Tell me the truth,” she whispered.

“He was only speaking for himself. I’ve thought about it. What woman wouldn’t want to make love to a sexy lawman under the stars? It’s a great idea.”

“Thought so. We need to make that happen.” She analyzed the situation. I could see the gears turning. “Lose your panties.”

“What?” I barely maintained the whisper. Thankfully, Luke was mesmerized by something on the ground. I don’t even want to know what he was studying.

Erin pointed. There was a mesh trashcan chained to a post where the sand and grass met. I walked up to the can and hiked up the skirt a bit. I was wearing plain, brief cut, not very sexy, pink cotton panties. I slid them down my legs, and then stepped out of them one foot at a time. Holding the panties, I looked to Erin initially to avoid seeing Luke’s reaction.

“I always wondered what this would feel like.” I held the panties into the trashcan, and then looked at Luke. “You can buy me some sexier panties.”

“Those are what you wear?” asked a genuinely horrified Erin.

“They’re comfortable,” I responded, dropping them into the trashcan, “but nothing like this feeling.”

Erin reached under her sundress and stepped out of a tiny black thong. “These are what you need.” She walked over to Luke and made the smallest of lace bracelets from the panties. Slipping them onto his left wrist she said, “You need to get these for Sarah. Don’t forget that.”

“You can’t… do… that,” Luke sputtered.

“Why not?” Erin asked. “Is there a law that we have to wear underwear?”

“I suppose not.” Luke shook his head.

I walked over to Luke and took his right hand. “I don’t think he’ll forget.” I kissed Luke on the cheek. “If you buy them, I’ll have to shave a bit closer.”

Poor Luke looked like a deer staring into headlights. So I put my arms around him and kissed him again. And again. And again. As we kissed, I released Luke and reached under my tie-dyed t-shirt. I unhooked my bra and slipped the strap down my right arm. My tongue teased Luke’s, distracting him long enough to let me get completely free of the bra, which I let fall to the ground.

I put my arms around Luke again and pulled my waist tight against him.

I moved my head slowly back, looked into Luke’s eyes, and then turned to Erin. “Don’t you think kissing is better when he’s grabbing your tits?” I asked.

I knew Luke and Erin were both stunned by my use of “tits” instead of “breasts.” I also knew it would really get to Luke.

“Oh, yes,” Erin responded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

I placed my lips against Luke’s and guided his left hand over my clothed breast. Once his hand was over my breast, my nipples hard, I put my arms back around his waist to keep him close. Luke fondled my breast and then pinched the nipple gently. The more he teased, the more passionate and deeper our kissing.

“I need you inside of me.” I couldn’t believe I said it right there, but I sure meant it.

“What about — ”

“Erin? She’ll just have to watch.”

If Erin reacted at all, I didn’t notice. I was too intent on Luke’s body. I reached down and unzipped Luke’s jeans. Slipping my hand into his boxers, I pulled out his eager dick and looked over to Erin. “Nice isn’t it?” It throbbed as Luke nervously tensed, somewhere between shocked and thrilled.

“Yes, it is,” she agreed.

Luke made a move to cover himself, but I prevented with my free hand. I tightened and loosened my grip, keeping him hard.

“Come on, Sarah, we shouldn’t — “

“Oh, yes we should,” I corrected him. “I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.”

I released his dick, leaving Luke exposed. I walked towards him, slowly, driving him backwards toward one of the old wooden picnic tables. As his legs hit the bench, his butt hit the top of the table and he sat on the edge. Luke placed his legs on the bench, and I sat between them.

As I took his dick again, Erin sat beside me. She watched as I stroked Luke and teased him. Erin was quiet. I looked at her and she smiled gently and nodded. She was sitting cross-legged facing me, her sandals on the ground.

I took Luke into my mouth and made circles around the head with my tongue. In your mouth, everything seems larger. You know what I mean. Think about when you suck on a mint: you can feel the letters on the hard surface. I was studying Luke’s dick with my tongue. I had never done that before. It was so personal, so intimate, that I quivered with excitement.

Luke leaned back. I lifted my head, teasing his dick with a final kiss. I stepped up onto the bench and looked down at Luke. I looked to Erin for approval. She had her hands clasped watching us intently. I wasn’t sure this would work well. I used my right boot to kick off the left, and then my bare left foot removed the right. The boots clunked to the ground. I stepped from the bench to the table and lifted my skirt to Luke could get a nice view. His dick pointed upwards, slightly.

I placed my bare feet on other side of Luke and lowered myself. I reached down and lifted his dick just enough to slide over it and sit down on his lap. I let my skirt cover us and rocked slowly back and forth. Luke sat up again, and we kissed.

This wasn’t quite right, so I lifted off Luke just enough. He knew what I wanted and pushed his jeans down a bit. Lowering myself again, this was much better. We resumed making love, with Erin watching.

Erin stood up and moved to the table, once again sitting cross-legged towards me. She lifted her dress and began masturbating while I made love to Luke. He looked to the side, watching Erin touch herself. I felt him inside me and knew he loved this illicit play. I wondered if Erin would tell Dan that she watched Luke and me on that table.

I rocked for a while, before changing positions so I could slide up and down on Luke’s lap. As I rose and lowered myself with increasing speed, Erin masturbated in synch with my movements.

When I knew that Luke was getting close, I moved off and sat across his legs. I stroked him only a few times before he came like a fountain. It got all over both of us, and we didn’t care. Erin was still touching herself. Luke had to lean back to catch his breath.

Erin moaned and shook, and I was sure some birds flew out of the trees. “That was great!” she finally exclaimed.

The three of us left the picnic table. We each splashed the ice-cold water on our faces and rinsed our hands. The cold was sharp, almost painful, but it also awaked me after making love. Luke seemed refreshed, too.

We hiked back to our house in near-darkness. We found Dan sitting at our kitchen table, his laptop open, his face inches from the screen. He didn’t look up from the spreadsheet on the screen.

“You guys have a nice hike?”

“Yes we did,” Erin replied. She walked to behind Dan and kissed his cheek. “Too bad you didn’t join us.”

“Sorry. I have to get this work done.”

Erin kissed her husband again. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

We left Dan behind and walked into the living room.

“I need a shower,” Luke said, looking at me.

“Yes. We both do,” I suggested.

As we walked towards our bedroom, I realized Erin was following. It seemed she really liked watching another couple.

Romance Watched

Sarah shifted a bit in the café chair. She had enjoyed sharing her story with me. While it was still a simple story of a wife seducing her husband, I obviously liked it enough to want to share it with my readers. It is a romantic, passionate love between two people who let themselves be watched.

“Did you talk to Luke about being watched?” I asked.

“No. I think it was special enough that I don’t need to mention it. What do you think?”

“That makes sense to me,” I agreed.

Being watched is a common fantasy, as many of the stories I’ve collected reveal. There are many reasons for this, from demonstrating that a man is yours to wanting the attention of another woman. It is interesting to ask yourself why you want to be seen. What is the thrill, for you? I’ve always been keenly aware that part of me wants a physical relationship with both the man in my life and the woman I invite to observe us. I mentioned this to Sarah to see if that might be true for her.

“I just loved the idea that we could get caught. The risk, however slight it really was, made the sex more intense. And something about Erin seeing Luke exposed, that was thrilling,” Sarah admitted. “I could never share Luke, not physically, but this was really close to doing that.”

Close to a threesome was good enough for Sarah and Luke. Maybe more couples should be as open with a friend or two present.