“Fucking aphids!”
Arms folded and still wearing her pruning gauntlets, my wife Alice stepped into our conservatory from the garden. She was in frayed denim shorts, a Pink Floyd T-shirt and flip-flops. Glancing down at the magazine I was reading she snorted: “And since when have you been interested in women’s magazines?”
I carried on reading. I didn’t feel it was worth responding to this jibe. “Just seeing how the other half lives, that’s all.”
She dropped her secateurs on the side table and slumped down on the sofa. “Well you’re hardly likely to find out in that trashy tranzine! Don’t tell me you paid good money for it?”
I looked up and gave her a smile. “As a matter of fact, I pinched it from the dentists’ waiting room this morning, when I went for my check-up.”
But she wasn’t going to drop the subject. “So what’s so engrossing, I wonder? Kim Kardashian’s new hair colour? Prince Harry’s latest squeeze? How much Princess Diana’s collection of panties will sell for at auction?”
“None of the above.” I continued reading. “It’s an article about home-made wine, if you must know.”
It wasn’t of course. But I was darned if I was going to give her the satisfaction of looking over my shoulder at the article’s headline: Six Tips For How To Spice Up Your Marriage. “I’ll let you read it when I’ve finished if you like.”
My wife got up from the sofa. “No thanks. I’m quite happy with our supermarket plonk. In fact, I think I’ll have a glass now. I’m bushed. Shall I bring you one?”
“No thanks.”
“Please yourself,” she replied tartly, heading for the kitchen. I returned to the article. Tips 1-3 were all pretty tame. And Alice had already rejected Tip No 4: Watch Porn Together, Naked. No 5: Consider Joining A Local Swingers Group was slightly more promising. But then my eye was caught by Tip No 6, the sub-heading for which was intriguing: Ever Tried Dogging?
There was a short preamble about the two possible origins of this essentially English outdoor practice. One school of thought claims that the first people to discover the vicarious thrills of watching others have sex had actually been out walking their dogs. The other more mundane suggestion was that doggers were simply perverts who dogged the tracks of unsuspecting lovers.
Alice returned with a large glass of white wine and sat down on the sofa again. “So how’s the home-made wine article going? You seem remarkably engrossed, I must say.” This last remark was made with a mischievous smirk, as she was staring at the large mound which had appeared in my shorts. “I never imagined a man could get turned on reading about wine.”
I turned the page, to be confronted by a large colour picture of a couple in an expensive foreign convertible. Its hood was down and the front seats had been reclined. The male driver had thrown his head back in apparent ecstasy as his lady companion, kneeling on the floor in front of him, was enthusiastically fellating him. The picture’s caption helpfully advised: When signalled to by the car’s occupants, doggers are often encouraged to join in the fun, while others watch.
Suddenly the magazine was snatched from my grasp. “Oh my! Are those two really sampling home-made wine? I’d say she’s tasting something far fruitier!” Alice flung the magazine down contemptuously. “You’re a bloody perv, Keith! Did you get a hard-on at the dentist’s reading this?”
“Of course not! Don’t be daft, Alice!” Another fib.
She emptied her wine glass and refilled it from the bottle she had brought in, then stared at the opened magazine lying on the conservatory floor. “So what the hell is ‘dogging’? Since you’ve read the article (probably at least twice), how about putting me in the picture?”
I cleared my throat and attempted a dispassionate explanation of the erotic pleasures of observing other couples copulating outdoors. Alice was now on glass number three. Judging by the fact that her nipples had hardened under her T-shirt, I decided that she was becoming mildly interested.
“So who gets the bigger buzz, I wonder? The couple who are fucking, or the wanking watchers?” She gave a lascivious grin.
“I’ve really no idea. Why don’t we give it a try?”
The directness of my suggestion threw her, although I saw that she now had one hand planted firmly in her lap.
“Either. If we’re going to be watched, then we’ll need to take the car. But if you’re just curious to watch others at it, so to speak, we could take a stroll up to the woods on the edge of town. It’s said to be a popular dogging spot in summer.”
She had begun to gently massage her crotch. “Oh, so you know all about it then, do you?”
I shrugged. “I just picked up some gossip from one of the lads in the pub the other night.” As she leaned forward to re-fill her glass, I saw that a nice damp patch had formed between Alice’s thighs. “It’s a lovely evening, so why don’t we go for a stroll and see if we can find some action?”
After a moment’s reflection and another fortifying slurp: “I’m not joining in, Keith. Gang bangs and all that. But I don’t mind wanking you off in front of a few strangers, if you’d like that?”
“Would you, Alice?”
“Sure. I’m horny as hell right now. I might even be persuaded to give you a nice blow-job. It’s ages since we did it.”
“Mmmm. That would be even better.”
“Then you could finish over my tits, if you like. I’ll leave my bra off. Remember when we were first married, how you loved creaming my titties?
“Sounds like a great plan. What are we waiting for!”
“I’ll just get out of these panties – they’re sopping wet!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Willow Wood was a good half-hour’s walk away, but it was a balmy evening and dusk was falling. I grasped Alice firmly by the arm as she was beginning to totter on the unmade track. The overhanging branches of the trees lining the path were like a green tunnel. Up ahead we saw the clearing I’d been told about, with a small parking area in the furthest corner. There were only two cars parked; one was unoccupied but the other had two figures in the front seats, with the interior lights on. A crowd of seven or eight of both sexes was clustered around the car.
“Look! That’s the signal.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If they show the interior lights it means they don’t mind being watched.”
We sidled across as nonchalantly as possible – though, with her hand down the front of her denim shorts, nobody could have been in much doubt that my wife was already frigging herself. As we joined the curious onlookers, I saw that the car’s passenger window had been lowered and from it, a slim female arm was being extended. The youngest of the male doggers eagerly stepped forward and the woman’s hand deftly slid his zip down and removed his cock. The passenger’s other hand was busily wanking the driver off. “Blimey,” said Alice. “That’s what you call ambidextrous!”
“Getting horny?” I whispered.
“Rather!” I slid my hand under her top and ran it over her pert breasts. She pressed her hand against mine in appreciation. “Mmm.”
We joined the back of the group just as the youth ejaculated over the car door. As his semen trickled down the paintwork, the anonymous faceless passenger scooped some up with a manicured finger and withdrew her hand in order to taste it. The extended digit was almost regal.
Aroused by this scene, Alice had slipped my cock out from my shorts. I thought she was just going to quietly wank me off but, with one deft movement, she peeled off her top, dropped onto her knees and began openly sucking me off, to the delight of the onlookers, who now formed a ring around us.
Two of the males were busily – and noisly – masturbating each other. The sound of their gutteral moans quickly brought me to the edge and I clung on tightly to Alice’s hair, signalling that I was ready to deliver my load. She gave a lovely gargling groan of anticipation to signal that she wanted me to fill her mouth. I let go three big spurts, then pulled out and finished over her face.
She looked up and smiled at me as a thin strand of spunk seeped from the corner of her mouth. I helped her up and kissed her cum-smeared lips. We were now dogging converts.
