dogging
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Dogging free porn video
By Lynn
There was no such thing as dogging in my youth, at least I had never heard of it. I lived out in the wilds of Yorkshire and I learned there were two types of boyfriend: Those who expected you to open your legs in some field to be attacked by creepie crawlies, bees and nettles; and on one utterly humiliating occasion: to be gawped at by the local riding club who just happened to wander across that field.
Then there was the other type: Boyfriends with cars. Warm, snug cars with comfortable seats. I had never really considered the car as a sex aid, no one my age had one, only parents and bosses had cars. They were modes of transport and usually crowded ones, and that was all.
So my first Christmas out of school was when I learned what cars are really for. I was at the work Christmas party, and looking back someone probably spiked my drink, since Shirley Temples do not usually make the world spin around you. I did not drink then, my upbringing was – shall we just say strict for now – and I had no idea what was happening to me.
My boss, a softly spoken Scot called James who was even shyer than I, if possible, realised I was in some distress and helped untangle me from the human octopus that had cornered me in the cloakroom as I blindly searched for my coat, desperate to leave before I made a fool of myself.
Next thing I knew I was in the front seat of the car, in the dark, driving away from potential humiliation. Believe it or not it was first time in the front seat of a car and I revelled in it. I was dimly aware I was sprawled in the seat, my skirt very high and my legs pale in the shadows of the well, but I was just too comfortable to care, it started to rain out and I compared my current situation to shivering in a bus stop with a mile to walk at the other end and felt positively regal.
James was unusually chatty, normally all he did was stammer when I collected his filing or delivered his mail. He asked me if I could drive and I laughed and said of course not, the idea of my Dad allowing me behind the wheel of his car was just too funny. I watched his slim hand work the gear stick as we weaved through the dark back roads and he noticed.
“Handling the gear stick is what most beginners find the hardest,” he told me. “I could teach you to drive if you like?”
“I would like that very much,” I murmured, recovering somewhat and recognising a rather clumsy pass developing. I slipped my hand over his and we very nearly ended it there, the car swerved violently and brushed the rough curb. But he did not move his hand and I felt it trembling beneath mine. I was intrigued, James was married, over five years, and twice my age, yet here he was shaking like a virgin boy trying to get up the courage to lunge for first base! I felt incredibly empowered and instead of passively waiting to see what he would do I decided I would nudge things along.
“Why don’t you pull over?” I suggest softly. “You can show me how to change gears.” I drew patterns on the back of his hand and heard him swallow hard.
“I don’t know where we are,” he admitted.
I glanced out at the road, he had been heading for my village but I had not noticed him miss the turn. “We are coming up to the Res,” I said, “there is a car park.”
I knew that because there were also a half dozen stone shelters with rough benches in them, I knew them well, “Going to feed the ducks at the Res” was a common expression at school. I had always noticed a few cars parked up too but until this moment it had never dawned on me that they were there for the same reason as the huddled occupants of the shelters.
Obediently James guided his big purring car into the gravel car park, it was big and the half dozen cars already there were lost in it, the headlights shone on the shelters and they seemed empty, not surprising as the rain was turning to a deluge. The soft light came from a few lamp posts s**ttered on the walk around the Res itself. Little spilled into the warm car, the soft engine ticking over, the headlights clicking off to leave us marooned in shadows.
I waited about a minute, ready for the expected lunge, my hand had already explored and found the lever to tilt back the seat when it came, but it did not. James was breathing heavy, and I could see his eyes darting from me then back out to look over the lake, I was confused and also hurt, had I read the signs all wrong? Was he about to re-start the car and drive me home?
Angry I sat up and opened the door, the courtesy light seemed like a lighthouse when if lit up and James cried out in surprise. “Just need a stroll a minute,” I told him, but I was shaking with reaction. I slammed the door and the rain reminded me I had left my coat, the light blouse I had on was sodden in seconds. I half ran to one of the shelters and stood there, seething and dripping. I had virtually thrown myself at him and he had cut me dead, it was too much to bear.
Another car crunched onto the car park, I ducked back as the headlights lit up my shelter, it fetched up close and the lights went out, but the instrument lights stayed on inside, lighting the interior like Christmas. Music played softly, the Eagles. A man and woman were the only occupants and they began necking at once, there was a ratchet sound as the seats went back and down and they half lay, facing each other, kissing deep and touching.
I felt a sharp twinge of jealousy, then a deep stirring in my thighs as the woman crooned loudly over Eagles, she opened up her own dress and pale breasts sprang out to be eagerly suckled by her man. Entranced by the scene I only slowly became aware that the other cars in the park were quietly opening and men were getting out. There was only one an in each and they gathered in a loose little circle about the car with the couple.
I kept in the dark of the shelter, scared by the silent group, it was like something out of late night horror film with alien controlled people moving in on the last humans.
The men were bending, and despite how obvious why it still took me a little while and a startled gasp as I realised they were bending to see into the car better. In the car the woman was struggling out of her dress in the confined space, creamy flesh in the lights demarked by black stockings that merged with the shadows, high heeled shoes that kicked against the wind screen as she and her companion tore off her panties.
I kept waiting for her to notice the men and scream, but she was oblivious to all except what was happening to her, her man ducking down between her nude legs, her eyes wild as she grabbed his hair and urged him to deeper efforts.
The men watching were no longer silent, I heard deep sighs and rhythmic slaps, I saw hands moving over flesh rods, heedless of the rain they toyed with themselves as they watched. Tremors rippled over my breasts and up my thighs. I was trapped, if I bolted I would have to rush through them, the thought was horrifying, but if I stayed hidden and they found me they would know I had spied on them. So I stood on shaking legs, hearing the mix of female cries and male moans. My view of the inside of the car was now mostly blocked as they gathered so close they must be touching the car, I could see it rocking on its wheels and the woman crying out, screaming, in time with the lunges.
Then a slight movement in the audience cleared my view, the woman was kneeling on the passenger seat, hanging onto the back of the seat for dear life as her man knelt and rocked his body against hers, thrusting hard, his head back, and unmistakably looking out, watching the men watching him with the woman.
I slipped off my shoes, now was the time to go, they would not notice me as they couple built up to a climax, almost reluctantly I slipped out of the shelter and the gravel pricked my soles painfully, I passed the closest men within touching distance, but there was a final shock, the man nearest me who had been blocking my view was kneeling and working himself furiously, but in his mouth was thrust the rigid prick of another of the men, both of them still staring avidly into the car.
The car door yielded and I jumped in, slamming it quickly shut to kill the courtesy light, for one alarmed moment I wondered if it would be empty, if James had gone to join the audience.
But he was there, looking bewildered and he stared openly as I hugged myself on the seat, shivering violently, utterly soaked, my blouse had gone transparent and my skirt clung like a second skin. He licked his lips and reached for me but I just grabbed his coat off the back seat and huddled into it. “You have no chance!” I told him rudely, shaking as much from reaction as cold. ”Take me home!”
It amused me that he obeyed in an obvious sulk, pouting and glancing at my legs bare beneath his coat. I had him drop me at the end of the street, I wanted no tale from a nosey neighbour getting to my father I had ridden home with a man.
As I got out and tossed back his coat he looked forlorn and frustrated, well good, now he knew how it felt, but I relented a bit. “You still owe me a driving lesson,” I told him just before I swung the car door shut.
There was no such thing as dogging in my youth, at least I had never heard of it. I lived out in the wilds of Yorkshire and I learned there were two types of boyfriend: Those who expected you to open your legs in some field to be attacked by creepie crawlies, bees and nettles; and on one utterly humiliating occasion: to be gawped at by the local riding club who just happened to wander across that field.
Then there was the other type: Boyfriends with cars. Warm, snug cars with comfortable seats. I had never really considered the car as a sex aid, no one my age had one, only parents and bosses had cars. They were modes of transport and usually crowded ones, and that was all.
So my first Christmas out of school was when I learned what cars are really for. I was at the work Christmas party, and looking back someone probably spiked my drink, since Shirley Temples do not usually make the world spin around you. I did not drink then, my upbringing was – shall we just say strict for now – and I had no idea what was happening to me.
My boss, a softly spoken Scot called James who was even shyer than I, if possible, realised I was in some distress and helped untangle me from the human octopus that had cornered me in the cloakroom as I blindly searched for my coat, desperate to leave before I made a fool of myself.
Next thing I knew I was in the front seat of the car, in the dark, driving away from potential humiliation. Believe it or not it was first time in the front seat of a car and I revelled in it. I was dimly aware I was sprawled in the seat, my skirt very high and my legs pale in the shadows of the well, but I was just too comfortable to care, it started to rain out and I compared my current situation to shivering in a bus stop with a mile to walk at the other end and felt positively regal.
James was unusually chatty, normally all he did was stammer when I collected his filing or delivered his mail. He asked me if I could drive and I laughed and said of course not, the idea of my Dad allowing me behind the wheel of his car was just too funny. I watched his slim hand work the gear stick as we weaved through the dark back roads and he noticed.
“Handling the gear stick is what most beginners find the hardest,” he told me. “I could teach you to drive if you like?”
“I would like that very much,” I murmured, recovering somewhat and recognising a rather clumsy pass developing. I slipped my hand over his and we very nearly ended it there, the car swerved violently and brushed the rough curb. But he did not move his hand and I felt it trembling beneath mine. I was intrigued, James was married, over five years, and twice my age, yet here he was shaking like a virgin boy trying to get up the courage to lunge for first base! I felt incredibly empowered and instead of passively waiting to see what he would do I decided I would nudge things along.
“Why don’t you pull over?” I suggest softly. “You can show me how to change gears.” I drew patterns on the back of his hand and heard him swallow hard.
“I don’t know where we are,” he admitted.
I glanced out at the road, he had been heading for my village but I had not noticed him miss the turn. “We are coming up to the Res,” I said, “there is a car park.”
I knew that because there were also a half dozen stone shelters with rough benches in them, I knew them well, “Going to feed the ducks at the Res” was a common expression at school. I had always noticed a few cars parked up too but until this moment it had never dawned on me that they were there for the same reason as the huddled occupants of the shelters.
Obediently James guided his big purring car into the gravel car park, it was big and the half dozen cars already there were lost in it, the headlights shone on the shelters and they seemed empty, not surprising as the rain was turning to a deluge. The soft light came from a few lamp posts s**ttered on the walk around the Res itself. Little spilled into the warm car, the soft engine ticking over, the headlights clicking off to leave us marooned in shadows.
I waited about a minute, ready for the expected lunge, my hand had already explored and found the lever to tilt back the seat when it came, but it did not. James was breathing heavy, and I could see his eyes darting from me then back out to look over the lake, I was confused and also hurt, had I read the signs all wrong? Was he about to re-start the car and drive me home?
Angry I sat up and opened the door, the courtesy light seemed like a lighthouse when if lit up and James cried out in surprise. “Just need a stroll a minute,” I told him, but I was shaking with reaction. I slammed the door and the rain reminded me I had left my coat, the light blouse I had on was sodden in seconds. I half ran to one of the shelters and stood there, seething and dripping. I had virtually thrown myself at him and he had cut me dead, it was too much to bear.
Another car crunched onto the car park, I ducked back as the headlights lit up my shelter, it fetched up close and the lights went out, but the instrument lights stayed on inside, lighting the interior like Christmas. Music played softly, the Eagles. A man and woman were the only occupants and they began necking at once, there was a ratchet sound as the seats went back and down and they half lay, facing each other, kissing deep and touching.
I felt a sharp twinge of jealousy, then a deep stirring in my thighs as the woman crooned loudly over Eagles, she opened up her own dress and pale breasts sprang out to be eagerly suckled by her man. Entranced by the scene I only slowly became aware that the other cars in the park were quietly opening and men were getting out. There was only one an in each and they gathered in a loose little circle about the car with the couple.
I kept in the dark of the shelter, scared by the silent group, it was like something out of late night horror film with alien controlled people moving in on the last humans.
The men were bending, and despite how obvious why it still took me a little while and a startled gasp as I realised they were bending to see into the car better. In the car the woman was struggling out of her dress in the confined space, creamy flesh in the lights demarked by black stockings that merged with the shadows, high heeled shoes that kicked against the wind screen as she and her companion tore off her panties.
I kept waiting for her to notice the men and scream, but she was oblivious to all except what was happening to her, her man ducking down between her nude legs, her eyes wild as she grabbed his hair and urged him to deeper efforts.
The men watching were no longer silent, I heard deep sighs and rhythmic slaps, I saw hands moving over flesh rods, heedless of the rain they toyed with themselves as they watched. Tremors rippled over my breasts and up my thighs. I was trapped, if I bolted I would have to rush through them, the thought was horrifying, but if I stayed hidden and they found me they would know I had spied on them. So I stood on shaking legs, hearing the mix of female cries and male moans. My view of the inside of the car was now mostly blocked as they gathered so close they must be touching the car, I could see it rocking on its wheels and the woman crying out, screaming, in time with the lunges.
Then a slight movement in the audience cleared my view, the woman was kneeling on the passenger seat, hanging onto the back of the seat for dear life as her man knelt and rocked his body against hers, thrusting hard, his head back, and unmistakably looking out, watching the men watching him with the woman.
I slipped off my shoes, now was the time to go, they would not notice me as they couple built up to a climax, almost reluctantly I slipped out of the shelter and the gravel pricked my soles painfully, I passed the closest men within touching distance, but there was a final shock, the man nearest me who had been blocking my view was kneeling and working himself furiously, but in his mouth was thrust the rigid prick of another of the men, both of them still staring avidly into the car.
The car door yielded and I jumped in, slamming it quickly shut to kill the courtesy light, for one alarmed moment I wondered if it would be empty, if James had gone to join the audience.
But he was there, looking bewildered and he stared openly as I hugged myself on the seat, shivering violently, utterly soaked, my blouse had gone transparent and my skirt clung like a second skin. He licked his lips and reached for me but I just grabbed his coat off the back seat and huddled into it. “You have no chance!” I told him rudely, shaking as much from reaction as cold. ”Take me home!”
It amused me that he obeyed in an obvious sulk, pouting and glancing at my legs bare beneath his coat. I had him drop me at the end of the street, I wanted no tale from a nosey neighbour getting to my father I had ridden home with a man.
As I got out and tossed back his coat he looked forlorn and frustrated, well good, now he knew how it felt, but I relented a bit. “You still owe me a driving lesson,” I told him just before I swung the car door shut.
Vera
- 14.11.2021
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