The story of N: Part One, The Picnic
written by:
Em Del Aal

We met online, as it goes I suppose nowadays. But it wasn't even an adult dating site, and it all seemed so safe: a gap of six thousand miles of ocean and several time zones, and two people with two very different lives, playing an exhilarating fantasy game. It was never supposed to lead to anything in so called Real Life.

And yet, he was coming over, supposedly to meet a client in London, and then there was an email (we had moved to emails from using the on-site messaging system by then) announcing - without a question, completely on spec - his flight number, date and time of arrival in this northern airport. ''I am taking a gamble on your location, also your willingness to meet. If you are there, you are there. If you are not, I will have a week touring the area. Don't let me know.''

This was unusually brusque and concise from a man normally given to well-paced, well-spaced, occasionally rather florid prose.

I couldn't sleep for days.

And now, I am standing in the domestic arrivals hall, tense and trembling. The flight has landed and he is going to emerge any time. The first people are out already, the ones with cabin luggage only. Will he have cabin luggage only? What the fuck do I care?

And then he walks out, long, smooth strides for a medium height guy; dressed in black - I always imagined him in black and he's conforming to my imagination - denim, swede, leather. The clothes, the stride, the whole demeanour signifies comfortable status, and yet there is a nervousness there, not just for the obvious circumstantial reasons but an underlying tension, a highly-strung core under an ostensibly cool exterior, a seething energy with a desperate edge. Can I really read so much from seeing somebody walk seven steps across an airport hall?

I still can't quite believe it, the man whose fantasies and words interwove with mine for months, the man who knew some of my most intimate details and whose imagery fed my desire and release almost daily when I rubbed my hot, throbbing pussy to shivering orgasms, when I rammed a dildo deep inside picturing him, me, us, and others in various debauched scenarios.

He is now standing still, looking around. Then it hits me. I have seen his face picture, but he hasn't seen mine. He doesn't know what I look like. I have seen his real name. He doesn't know mine. I can stand here and as long as I don't disclose my identity I may remain completely UN-revealed, invisible in plain sight. I might be anybody here - or nobody. I avert my eyes, I don't want to give clues by staring or even glancing so I look above his head, through him, as if I was still waiting for somebody that has not yet appeared.

And then he's in front of me, a skew-whiff smile, then a demure lowering of eyes to the concrete floor of the arrivals' hall. He barely whispers, his voice breaking in his throat, when I look at his hands, clenched together, they are trembling.

''I thought I would go for the redhead in Doc Martens,'' he says, and I can't help but admire the correctness of his guess and the sheer chutzpah of his flying over here.

Of course, I can still turn back, say he mistook me for somebody else, I can shrug my shoulders and walk away and if he refuses to let go, claim harassment. But then, I wouldn't be here in the first place.

'N.' I say. He nods, as if unable to say anything.

'Right, let's go. It's a long drive,' I say, adopting a firm and business-like demeanour, and he follows me rather meekly and without a word. He's walking a step behind me, and I can feel his eyes boring into my back, his sight washing over my swaying hips, his mind seething with the expectation and the fear.

I am parked in the short-stay and it doesn't take long to find the car, I don't know what he's expecting but what he's getting is a battered Land Rover, the back full of tools of my trade, the front seats and the foot-well spattered with mud and generous sprinkling of dog hair mixed with heather.

He baulks a little at the sight of a chainsaw when he stands behind me as I shove his case (he was hand luggage only, but it's a fairly big one so maybe he flew business here) in the back seat. I shrug. I am not responsible for American ideas about manic serial killers.

'Mel,' he says eventually, when I open the passenger door for him.

'Rina,' I correct him. He stops in his tracks, half way to sitting down, then accepts it and slides into the passenger seat.

'Rina,' he repeats after a few seconds.

'Yes?'

'Thank you,' he says. I shrug again and glance quickly at him. In flesh he's good looking, in that pretty-boy slightly going to seed way that I used to find so irresistible; my mind is reeling with possibilities. I am not quite sure how to play it, whether to enact what I think his desires might be or whether to just play it by instinct and do what comes naturally. Or hope that the former and the latter happen to coincide.

We are out of town and off the dual carriageway soon and traffic thins out quickly. We have been together for at least half an hour and we barely exchanged five words. This, somehow, feels right: there was so many words before it feels like they don't make much sense now. Instead of a torrent of words, an idea.

'Unzip your trousers,' I say. He looks baffled, even shocked.

'I want to see your cock, now.'

There is a gap, a wait of at least ten, maybe twenty seconds, and I think I have blown it, but amazingly, he does exactly as told. Even more amazingly, his cock is almost completely erect, hard and stiff in the fading light. This - not the sight of his dick, but his unquestioning obedience - excites me more than I expected, waves of heat coursing through my lower body, tension developing deep inside my pussy.

'Now stroke it,' I say. He hesitates for a second, looking around as if to check if other cars were about. There are some, but I doubt anybody will see anything, and if they do, frankly all for the better: from what I know so far he's such a slut that he'll thrive on the humiliation of an exposure.

'C'mon, jerk off now,' I say and he does, starting slowly, and then increasing the speed of his hand. I glance at him every so often, finding it difficult to keep my eyes on the road. I like watching men wanking, there is something crude and yet fantastically sexy about such an act of totally selfish gratification.

I press on the accelerator to overtake a lorry and glance up to see an open-mouthed face of a driver in the cab above us: he must have caught a glimpse of a spectacle in the front seat. I giggle inwardly and yet still feel my arousal deepening; the thrilling feel of creating this spectacle as we drive has a curiously powerful effect on me and I can feel my pussy getting wet and needy.

Neil is now in full swing, his eyes closed, the right hand moving up and down his engorged member, his left cupping and squeezing his balls. I want to show him off again to somebody before he shoots his load and I speed up to catch up with a van in front of me, I overtake it and then keep level with the driver's cab until he looks - a young guy in funky glasses and a pork-pie hat, somewhat incongruous with a battered blue Transit he's driving - and then he does a double take, looking again, the van swerving on the road as the driver regains control of the wheel. I shoot him a glance, smile and drive on.

Neil's shaking, looks like he's nearing blowing his load and I can imagine it splattering over his hand, and above the gear stick, onto my hand, hot and sticky. It's not time yet, though.

'Stop. Now, stop,' I say and he does. I can see it took a lot of effort but his hand has stopped and now it's only holding the base of his twitching cock, thin dribble of precum seeping from the top.

'Stay like that,' I say when he makes a move towards pulling his zip up.

We are nearing a picnic area I know and I doubt that many people would be here at this time of year and day. It seems a perfect place to stop. Before that, sweet N. needs to get ready though.

'Take your trousers off, and pants,' I say. He now knows what to do, and follows the instruction without objections. It takes him a bit of effort to wriggle out of his clothes in the seat, but he manages eventually and by the time I turn off, he's sitting there completely dressed on top and completely naked on the bottom part of his body, his cock still, astonishingly, quite hard.

I park furthest away from the road and jump down my side, then open his door and indicate for him to get out. He looks around, possibly suspecting wild characters wielding medieval weapons to appear, but there is nobody, so he comes out too, his legs white in the dusk, his shapely arse nicely muscled, his cock bobbing up and down as he moves towards me.

I approach him and we embrace, I can feel his erection pushing against my belly and I can feel my body reacting. He reaches under my jacket and slides his hands into my top, my nipples hardening, my tits swelling with desire. I let him unbutton my checked shirt and tease out the breasts so they hang out above the bra, bare and heavy. He buries his face in them, holds them up to his mouth, and starts licking the nipples, moaning and panting as he does. I really do need a shag now, and there is no reason why this self professed fuck-toy-boy who walked out of my fantasy into life this afternoon couldn't give me one there and then. And yet, I sense that there is a bigger reward in waiting.

I step back and a moan escapes his mouth 'Oh, Rina,' he groans, his hips bucking desperately as I move away. I push him towards the car, face down on the bonnet, and leave him like that spread out for a few seconds, his butt quivering, his cock squashed somehow against the cold and dirty metal. Then I raise my hand and slap his bare arse, the sound echoes in the air and he flinches, the red mark appearing slowly on the pale flesh.

I am really enjoying it now, and my pussy is soaked, getting hotter and wetter with his every whimper. I am so focused on what I am doing that at first I don't notice that another vehicle appeared in the parking area and only when I hear the door bang shut I realise that the van I was overtaking earlier followed us here. I am not sure what to expect or do, especially as two people emerge from it, a couple in their late twenties.

I stop what I am doing but hold Neil down on the bonnet, so he can't see what's happening. The couple are approaching us tentatively, and then stop, standing maybe five meters away, with a clear view of my exposed tits and Neil's bare arse, glowing from spanking I gave him. He looks vulnerable, ridiculous even, fully dressed on top and completely naked from the waist down.

'Stay there,' I say to ensure he doesn't turn round to check what's going on.

I let my gaze linger on the couple and then raise my hands to my breasts and start stroking and kneading, pulling nipples and tweaking them. This exhibitionist display really lights a fire between my legs, my pussy is pulsating with desire and when I see the woman turn to the bloke and thrust a hand in his bulging jeans, I can't help but let out a loud moan.

I am on heat now, and slowly, tentatively walk towards them. She pulls the bloke's trousers down and I can see his cock, long and straight. His hands slides down and he starts wanking, but the girl ignores him, her eyes darting from my chest to Neil's exposed, raw-pink arse. By now he must realise that we are not alone any more but he neither says or does nothing, standing there still and meek, face towards the bonnet, legs wide, arse exposed.

I approach the girl, and she smiles somewhat indulgently and turns to me. I am so horny that I can't wait any more and am contracting my pussy desperately for even as little relief as it provides.

The girl is thin and small, with lithe and young body, high tits with long nipples that show erect through her top, and wearing a short checked skirt. Her hair is black and cut into short spikes, and her triangular face and thin lips give her a fey, pixie look. A naughty pixie indeed, she pulls her top off exposing her upper body completely, and then she reaches out for me and tweaks my nipples with both hands. I moan in delight and push her face down to make her suck them hard. In an instant I can feel the guy behind me, pulling my trousers down and soon, not quite sure how it happened, but I am on all fours, on the wet grass of the verge of the parking area, my trousers, pants and even shoes off, my face in the girl's pussy, my arse in the air, and the stranger's cock sliding into my overheating cunt.

I lap at her pussy, licking up from the bottom of the slit all the way to the clit, circling my tongue around her button, tongue-fucking her dripping, tight hole. She tastes sweet and fresh and she's very aroused, grinding her pussy into my face and moaning.

I come up for air and see that Neil has still not turned round, so I shout to him: 'You can look now, fuckboy,' and as he does, he takes the view in with a disbelieving gasp and his hand wanders to his tumescent cock. 'No. Don't touch it,' I say firmly before going back to licking the girl out. Her partner is fucking me from behind, a steady rhythm and delicious sensations in my tightly contracting pussy.

His movements speed up and I can feel he's just about to shoot his load, his cock twitching and expanding, and then he's cumming, filling my cunt with his spunk which makes me tongue fuck the girl with even more energy and soon she's crying out in delight as I thrum her clit with my stiff tongue and then bite it gently before sucking quick and hard. She's that rare creature outside porn, a woman who ejaculates and her cum covers my face as she bucks her hips and rubs her cunt on my face.

The guy slips out of me and I get up, my legs stiff and hands and knees muddied, my face covered with the girl's ejaculate, my pussy filled and oozing the man's cum but not satisfied yet.

Neil is still standing there, leaning back against the car, the palms of his hands flat on the bonnet, as if he had to hold on to something to prevent himself touching his burning cock. He's panting and when I get close to him he moans something inarticulate. I can see he's so aroused that he could almost explode without any touch whatsoever, but I am not going to go this way this time.

We both look equally disheveled now, and both are lacking somewhat in the bottom garment department, but for some reason it doesn't matter. I step towards him and kiss him on the mouth, he gasps when he tastes the girl's cum on my lips and starts grinding his cock into my belly. I move towards the door of the car and lie back on the back seat, my legs spread as much as the space allows, pushing his face down towards my cunt from which the guy's spunk is leaking, mixed with the juices of my own intense arousal.

He starts licking without a word, starting on the sticky fluids covering my hair and labia, he laps it up, long, soft licks with the flat of his tongue, all the way round, and the down towards the area between my pussy and my arse, I am shaking with desire and raise my bum slightly off the seat to give him better access, his tongue now circling my other hole, I shiver at the sensation as he slides his tongue in, then up again to my pussy, it seems like he particularly delights in lapping up the spunk.

I am truly on fire now and so close to orgasm that I know I would come immediately if he fucked me, and I know that his need is so powerful now that it's astounding that he's not cum yet. I pull him up towards me, it's awkward in the tight space but we manage, we kiss and I can taste the mixture of female juices and a stranger's spunk on his tongue, we kiss more passionately and as his tongue probes deep into my mouth, his cock slides into my drenched pussy, effortlessly, wetly, squelching.

He thrusts deeply and I don't need much more, I start climaxing there and then, moaning my pleasure as he hammers my hot cunt. 'Now cum, fuck-boy. You can cum now, slut, ' I pant into his ear and I am not even finished saying it when he does, his whole body shaking, his moaning and panting turning into a low cry - I didn't realise men ever screamed at orgasm - his twitching, throbbing, rock-hard cock ejecting hot, thick, spunk for what seems like ages, it mixes with the other guy's cum in my pussy which is floating on the waves of pleasure I can hardly remember ever experiencing.

When we come to, the van is gone, and the nigh has fallen. We clean up perfunctorily, I use my pants for that purpose, soaking them almost completely in the mixture of Neil's cum, the other guy's spunk and my own saliva and pussy juices. I pull my jeans on without underwear and thrust the damp garment towards Neil.

'Wear them, now,' I say, catching him just before he pulls on his own boxers back.