The Great Outdoors

A Reader's All Time Favorite Sexual Experience

This all happened years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.

You'll find California's Yosemite National Park in an enclosed valley in the Sierra Mountains, surrounded by large trees and massive granite rock formations. It's a slice of absolute paradise.

My wife Sarah and I were staying at the rustic yet luxurious Ahwahnee Hotel in the park, an architectural marvel of stone and wood that reminded me of both a cabin and a castle. We secured a box lunch with a bottle of California wine from the hotel and headed out to the rental car for a day motoring and hiking through the forest.

As we drove through the beautiful trees, my wife began to laugh.

"What?"

"Do you remember those pictures you took last year…?"

I did. In fact, that's how Sarah and I had met originally. I was dabbling in (very) amateur photography outside of my day job and she did occasional modeling for catalogs and local commercials outside of hers. Sarah has a slim waist, long legs, ample hips, and gorgeous curvy breasts that still make me weak at the knees. She quickly became my favorite model, and still is. I still love seeing her inner wildcat come out. In our daily lives, she's a businesswoman, church-goer, community activist, and my best friend. But in the bedroom and on vacation… "The ones at the beach?"

"Uh-huh." Sarah had a wicked glint in her eye.

She just laughed. We ended up pulling over near a scenic overlook. One hopped fence later and we scrambled down into a patch of clover. In the center, a big boulder made the perfect picnic spot.

We sat in the sun with the entire beautiful valley stretched out before us, the big waterfalls across the valley just visible. We were only about a year into our marriage, but we'd both discovered that the saying "life begins at 40" was true. Sex not only had not slowed down, but was at a peak for both of us, particularly since we were lucky enough to be madly in love. Sex was the most exciting it had ever been. Each of us was intensely engaged in learning new ways to enhance the sexual responses of the other.

We sipped our wine and luxuriated in the warm sun, finding we were much hungrier for each other's bodies than we were for the sandwiches in our lunch boxes. My lady with the lovely legs wore a sporty hiking skirt that hit just above her knees. Her blouse displayed a nice portion of the swell of her breasts when buttoned up, but she'd left two buttons undone. I would've looked twice at her; that morning a few hikers in the hotel lobby definitely had.

By the time we had finished our second glass of wine, the hemline of her skirt had edged closer to her hip than her knees. Anyone who strayed into the meadow nearby might've looked up and noticed she'd omitted panties that day. Sarah often "forgot" her panties on trips like this.

We left the sandwiches in the lunch cooler and spread out atop the boulder. We locked our bodies in an embrace and our mouths met in hot, wet open-mouth kisses that stoked our fires for more. But we weren't that far from the overlook or trails, so I tried to keep things low-key… at first. I slipped my hand between her thighs and discovered how slick her pussy lips already were. Knowing Sarah, she'd been planning this all morning. I felt her rock her hips against my fingers. She moaned into my mouth.

Soon, I'd forgotten all about my reservations and popped open the buttons on her blouse one by one. Exposed to the sun, her beautiful breasts looked and felt as fantastic as they ever had. I thumbed her hard nipples as she arched into me.

Her breath came faster. Sarah dropped a hand to the front of my trousers and massaged the swelling that she found there.

Without hesitating, my often demure, church-going, buttoned-up, businesswoman wife unzipped my fly and put her hand into my pants, grasping my nearly erect cock and going deeper to fondle my taut balls.

"Yes, baby," I said.

But just as she started to lower her lips, we heard the sound of footsteps in the nearby woods. Only yards away, two hikers with cameras emerged onto the meadow.

Sarah and I froze. Luck smiled on us and the hikers didn't so much as glance in our direction. One snapped a photo of the meadow and the distant falls, and they tromped back off into the woods.

"There must be a hiking path nearby," I said, already on the lookout for a more secluded spot. Behind the boulder? We were pretty exposed out here.

Sarah was definitely exposed. Her arousal made her breasts heave. "We better be quick, then."

"Are you sure?" But I was already unzipping my fly. We had brought a picnic blanket with the lunch; if any more hikers showed up, we would have to cover up fast.

The sandwiches and wine were totally forgotten, as was the pure, natural beauty of the area. Towing trees, majestic waterfalls, bright green clover and blue sky -- it meant nothing if I couldn't have her right then.

Somewhere above us, car tires crunched on the gravel of the scenic overlook.

My wife glanced up and back. "I don't think they'll see us."

"Probably not," I agreed. And though my non-sex-addled brain suggested we should adjourn to at least the backseat of the car, my straining cock overruled it.

In less than fifteen seconds, Sarah's blouse was off, she helped me strip out of my trousers and boxers, and we both sprawled on the sun-warmed rock, naked except for her rucked-up skirt. With an hour or two of foreplay already behind us, neither of us could wait.

"In, in, in," she chanted, her head thrown back, her expression delirious with lust.

My cock was at its full seven inches and as hard as it had ever been. There was no time to consider other positions, and anyway, I knew she loved feeling me on top. I positioned myself at her entrance and slid inside her soaking wet pussy in one long, smooth stroke. She lay back on the blanket, her legs spread wide, her body quivering around me with pleasure.

From the top of the overlook in the near distance, we heard voices. If the leaned over and looked for us, they would be able to see us—but that was only if they looked.

Being a loving husband, I did as I was asked and thrust my rod deep inside her pink, over and over, and when I had the nerve to slide back out too far, she locked her ankles behind my back and urged me to go deeper, harder, more.

For a moment I hoped the people on the overlook spotted us, saw the way Sarah writhed in passion. I grasped her hips and pistoned my cock deep. Within a few minutes, I felt my balls tighten. At the same moment, she gasped, "Oh, now, fuck, now, come with me…"

And in a few more frenzied thrust I exploded inside her. Her thighs squeezed around me as I felt her internal muscles milking my dick. It was as if she wanted every drop as she came, one of her fists pressed over her mouth to muffle her moans of ecstasy.

When I finally slid out, we noticed that the two of us had made the blanket a sticky, sopping puddle. I was convinced it must've been the largest load I'd ever spurted -- but as we had three days left in the trip, hoped I might break the record.

We laughed as we cleaned up with picnic napkins and a pair of moist towelettes intended for wiping our fingers after lunch. We recovered our clothes, dressed, and let the blanket air-dry on the side of the boulder as we ate a late picnic lunch.

By late afternoon we arrived back at the hotel, our noses pink from too much sunshine. We never did take any dirty pictures that day. But boy did we make up for it on the next hike.