0 comments/ 78920 views/ 14 favorites Ascent By: bonitatheassslut AS I BENT over the bed and grabbed the sheets, I felt the wet head of his cock rubbing across the crack of my ass. With my ass high in the air like that he had full access to my parted cheeks, which he proceeded to take full advantage of. His dick was oozing pre-cum so thick that soon he had the valley between my buttocks awash. Glancing back, I looked over the size of his massive dick. It was at least ten inches long with a full fat head; pre-cum glistened as it drooled expectedly out of the head's slit and down to the great vein. Large, blood filled veins stretched the sleek skin as they ribbed the entire girth of that cock which seemed to have a life all it's own, swaying confidently back and forth. Oh, God, that thing was going to fuck my ass. It was going to pound my cheeks with abandon and ravage my ass tunnel untold. It was ripe with lust, greedy with desire. It was as if it were possessed of an entirely separate existence, detached and uncaring as to the owner. I turned away and a moment later shuddered as it touched the puckered lips of my rectum, luxuriating in the slippery veil of it's own pre-cum. It seemed to pause for a moment, gathering strength and resolve. Then it began it's relentless push past the opening and into the dark channel ahead. The lips of my asshole gave way to it's demand and parted, sliding across the helmet of his penis, tightening as it narrowed on the groove behind the great head. It was like a thing alive in my butt, holding my sphincter muscles at bay, making me feel open and whorish and wanton. But it was in. My asshole sucked at it, spasmed at it's dark intrusion. "Uhh-hn-ng," he groaned. A voice I vaguely recognized as my own drifted up and out of my throat, thick with lust. "Oh, God! Oh, God, you've got a fat cock." He smacked my left ass cheek, the meat of my upturned buttock tingling as it recoiled. "Oh-!" I squealed. Galvanized, he slapped the other cheek. "Oh." My hips rotated wiggled obscenely from the slap, and his dick slid halfway up my tunnel. God, it was so big. I heard myself cry out. "Slap it-! Oh, slap my ass-!" I bucked my hips as he granted my wish, slapping my ass cheeks with unabashed fervor. His dick slid all the way into my asshole until his hairy thighs nestled up against my ass-cheeks, his huge nutsack pressed firmly against my tiny cunt. I felt stuffed to the gills as that mammoth cock stretched my asshole to impossible dimensions. It was too much. I writhed and bucked like a wild horse, my asshole gripping and tugging on his imprisoned cock. He had to grip my waist with both hands to hold on. My asshole began to spasm as I had a mind blowing orgasm. "Ooooh God, Oh fuck, Fuck my ass!" I yelled. My ass still clamping and spasming as i slowly came down. He slowly slid his dick out of my stretched asshole with my sphincter sucking at it's retreat. As the great head neared the entrance to my ass, my butt inadvertently reared high into the air, resisting the loss, determined to keep it 's prize. I threw my head back bending my body into a U-shape, head and ass thrown high in the sky. Sucking a great gust of wind he speared his blood-filled penis back into my asshole full length. I hooted and threw back my hips to meet his thrust, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing across the room. My asshole was so slick with his pre-cum that his dick skewered in all the way, with no resistance, his nut-sack smacking my clit with it's pendulous swing. It drove me wild. "Fuck my ass!" I croaked wildly. "I love your dick in my asshole! make me cum again and again!" He adjusted his position to meet the challenge, holding onto my waist with a firm grip, drawing great gulps of air. I was out of my mind with lust, crazed by the great dick that impaled my bottom, my firm little ass wriggling with twists and jerks that betrayed my ascent into an insane lust. I just wanted him to fuck me; fuck me with all his might, ram his dick so far up my ass that it came out of my mouth. "Fuck me! Fuck me, you long-dicked bastard, fuck my ass-!!" He withdrew it until only the dickhead remained, and leaned back. I bent over until my head was lying on the bed, my legs braced for the deliciously expected pounding. I tensed, wriggling impatiently, still so horny that I would have fucked a lamppost had it been pointed at my ass. I was not disappointed. What came next was the wildest ride of my life. In he shoved, not too swiftly at first, but with enough force to slap his groin against my backside as his dick stroked the walls of my wanton asshole. My entire mind and body focused on his dick riding in, then pulling out of my asshole, as my body gathered the strength to ride him to the most explosive ejaculation of his life. I wanted his cock to shoot it's load so deep it would take weeks to shit it all out. He rode back in with more strength, thrilling my ass with a more vigorous thrust, his cock fucking my asshole with it's full length. Out, then back in, deep into my flaming rectum, his groin slapping the taut meat of my asscheeks as my hips danced to the tune of his fuck-rhythm. "Fuck my ass!" I cried out, "oh, fuck my ass with your big horse cock!" He complied, picking up power with each ass-slapping thrust, the wet smacking sounds of pounding flesh mingling with the hiss of labored, passion-filled breathing. In and out his dick pounded, as I bucked and snorted and pitched back to fuck that rock-hard dick, twisting and grunting and howling with each stroke. "Uh-h! Uh-h! Uh-h!" Each thrust drove in with a force that rocked my ass-cheeks; his dick slammed deep into my asshole, driving past walls slickened with cum that massaged his organ and stoked the fire in his swinging nut-sack. Plop! Plop! Plop! -his nuts drummed their beat against my throbbing clitoris. My rectum clamped down harder on his stroking flesh-piston as my own exhilaration grew. I slammed just as hard against his groin as he against my taut ass-cheeks as our passions mounted with each fuck; with him twisting and rotating without recourse, lost in the sea of lust that swept our bodies and souls, ass and cock. From this point on in, it would be a ride to the end. His mind had been devoted to one thing alone; his body too was wholly slave to the dick that whipped in and out of my ass. He could not help but finish the task of riding my ass to fruition, by fucking his massive tool deep into the bowels of my asshole. He hung on with all of his might and slapped his body against my upturned buttocks. Hooting and grinding and driving his captured dick into the tunnel that sucked and pulled and caressed his flesh with increasing intensity, sensing the ascent of semen to his love muscle. We rocked in unison, fucking with obscene abandonment that neither knew nor felt any shame. I whipped my hips against his body with pig-like grunts that were torn from my throat by my crazed lust. Each time his dick drove deep into my rectum I fucked it with all the power my ass muscles could muster, clamping down on it as it drilled in and pulled out, massaging and pulling and tugging at it as if to never let it go. I felt his sweat drip onto my lower back and down between my ass cheeks, as he sucked great gusts of air to ride the magnificent beast before him. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched his face heave and contort with the effort it took to fuck my ass; his stomach muscles knotted and glistening with sweat, his hips steeled and tense with the intense power of pure sex. I reached back a trembling hand, mumbling, "fuck my ass", and stroked his knotted stomach muscles, feeling them arch and ride and surge with power as he drove his dick up my ass. "Uhn-n, uhn-h, uhn-h", he sang as he pounded my tight little asshole, sweat dripping down his heaving chest. The sounds of our ass-fucking blasted across the room; the bed creaked the age-old song of desire. We grunted and slapped together and recoiled, and his nuts slapped my clit with their own rocking crescendo. It was an ass bang to end all ass-banging. I did not want it to end; but to go on and on, forever and ever, dick fucking asshole, nuts slapping cunt bodies parting and thrusting together again as desire extracted it's own reward. "Oh, bury it, bury it deep up my asshole," I gasped. Now he began to pick up speed as his semen boiled and started it's irrevocable journey up into the great vein of his pounding dick. His nut sack tightened and drew up into his groin as he neared ejaculation; I could feel his dick growing harder, with his thrusts becoming sharper, quicker. Mad with the thought of that massive dick shooting gallons of cum into my asshole I increased my bucking to match his own. My hips writhed with anticipation, and my asshole gripped his thrusting rod with even greater force. Soon it would erupt, and blast it's incredible load deep into my asshole. I thrust back at him, fucking his dick with all the strength in my loins. We both grunted and heaved and snorted as the magic moment drew nearer. I bent over until my head lay on the mattress, concentrating on the dick that peaked with each thrust up my tiny asshole. He gripped my hips harder, his body steeled against the monumental forces that simmered within his loins, and rode on into eternity. I came again with an earth rocking force. My cunt and asshole expanding and contracting. Squeezing his dick like a vise. Harder and faster he fucked me, driving me deeper into extasy as i came and came. Milking his massive cock with all the muscles of my bowel. "I'm gonna cum," he rasped, barely able to breathe. "Shoot your cum," I begged, "shoot your cum up my ass." "You want it-?" he whispered with a hiss. "Yes-s," I snorted, "oh, yes I want you to shoot your gun up my asshole. I want it so deep that it spits out my mouth." "Here it comes..oh, God..." "Shoot it-!!" I screamed, "shoot it up my ass!! Drain it, fill it all the way up to my throat..!" Suddenly he stopped, breathing hoarsely, and pulled my hips up into his crotch, shoving his dick as far as it would go up my ass. I screamed, bracing my legs, and throwing my head high in the air. For the merest fraction of a second we both paused, frozen in eternity, as his semen flooded into the great vein of his dick. Then, "Oh, shi-i-i-t-t!!" he howled. Oh, God, I'm cummin-n-ng!" "Oh, God!" I screamed. The first blast of his burning cum erupted out of his churning dick with a force that shot it straight up into my bowels. "Oh, shi-i-it-t!!" he yelled to the roof, throwing his head back. I threw my ass back up into his groin as hard as I could, as if I could suck his tight nut sack into my ass hole, as his semen flooded into the ravished tunnel of my ass. I felt it again in my loins that familiar and uncontrolable building as I knew i was going to come again. As the next shot of hot cum hit the walls of my bowels I erupted yet again. Writhing and squirming beneath him my ass clamped on his dick squeezing and sucking it with a vise like grip. My whole body began to shudder, as my asshole milked his tool while i came down from that mind blowing cum. "Uhn-n-gg-g!" he grunted as his cum shot out of his dick in stomach-churning spurts. He pulled out slightly making room for all his seed. Then again shoving his dick deep into my spasming hole. He came and came, filling my channel. "Oh, cum, you ass-fucker, cum in my ass-!" I hooted. "Shoot your cum up my ass!" I pushed back up into his groin, feeling the power of his mighty dick expand and contract as it shot it's incredible load. Spurt after spurt shot into my asshole as his dick jerked with each eruption, the head firing geysers of thick, explosive semen. "Oh, God," he muttered as his dick emptied it's load, "oh, shit-t-t!" My rectum muscles tugged and sucked as his dick as it calmed down, helping it to drain it's final drops. He finally relaxed, exhausted, but I kept his dick in my asshole, caressing it, keeping it firm and warm. I didn't want to let it go. Ascent Into Bi Sex Another of my continuing adventures with stockings. My wife had decided that she preferred black men to me. I am the one to blame for it but it has all worked out for the best. I have always had the most intense fetish for stockings, garterbelt and spiked heels. A couple from suburban Philadelphia started to correspond with me after my divorce with my wife. They wrote the most incredible letters about stockings and garter belt and I became obsessed with corresponding with them. Walt and Nancy were both BI-sexual and Walt was also a transvestite. They would write stories about their swinging experiences with other men and couples. Some of their letters were 12 pages long and I could not wait to get a letter from them. They loved to be with others who had a passion for stockings. Walt asked if we could get together for a drink. I was all for it. We met at small cocktail lounge that was central to both of us. I was a bit nervous when I saw them sitting at a small table in the corner but right off the bat they made me feel comfortable. Walt was very slender, 5' 9" and 150 lb. Nancy was not very attractive but she had a body that you dream about. She had 36C breasts and a 22-inch waist but what really turned me on was her legs that was encased in black reinforced heel and toe nylons with five inch spiked sandals. She saw me looking right at her legs as I walked up to them. I started to get a hard on before I sat down. After a few drinks we shared our experiences about stockings and swinging, I told them about my ex and her adventures. I also told them my fondness for cum. It was easy to see that we all had the same passions and they asked if I would like to join them at a local motel, which I agreed immediately. Walt wanted to dress before Nancy and I arrived. He had told me at the table that under his suit he was wearing the same stockings that Nancy had on and the appropriate lingerie but he wanted to put on makeup and his dress. He suggested that Nancy and I give him about an hour while we got to know each other better. As he left, he suggested that I move next to Nancy and enjoy the scenery. While we talked Nancy took my hand and placed on her silky thighs and allowed me to stroke her nylons as we talked. I thought I would come in my pants as we talked. She asked me if I had ever had sex with a man before and I told her no but that I had fantasized many times that I loved watching She-male videos. She told me how much she loved to see Walt with another man while he was dressed and how much he looked like a woman. After about 45 minutes, she called the motel and said that we can go. As we got into my car, she hiked her dress up just to make sure I was in the mood for fun when we arrived. There was really no need as I was heightened sexually more than I had ever been before but it did not prevent me form continuing to stoke those gorgeous legs encased in those sheer black stockings. As we pulled up to the motel, Nancy grabbed by cock and said I hope it's full because it will be empty when we are done. Seeing Walt as we entered the room I was stunned. I could not believe this was the same man I was talking to less than an hour ago in a bar. He was wearing a red spandex dress with red 5" mules and short blonde wig. What lovely and sexy creature. Nancy went over and sat next to him on the bed and they kissed each other passionately as they stroked each other’s nylons. I just stood there and watched. This was one of the most erotic sights I had even seen. It was just like two sexy women dressed as I always fantasize putting on a show for me. Walt asked me to come to them and they unbuckled by pants to release my cock and they both started to lick and suck it. They took turns taking me into their mouths and Walt took me deeper into his mouth than I have ever been taken before. It was true that men suck better. I was so turned on that I was unable to hold off and came within minutes. Nancy was the one who took my massive load into her mouth but did not swallow it, her and Walt kissed and sucked my come together and told me how good it tasted. I had to rest on the other bed, Walt told me it was good to get that out of the way so the real sex could begin. He leaned over and we started to kiss. I ran my hands all over his nylons as we did. He pulled his dress over his head exposing his red bra, with see through panties and a matching garter belt. His cock was hard but relatively small about 5 inches. I reached down and started to rub his cock through his panties. Nancy who had now joined on the bed told to me told me kiss Walt's cock. I could not wait to get at her request. I have been fantasizing about this all day. I kneeled between those silky nyloned legs and slowly kissed him through his panties. I pulled down the panties and took his cock into my mouth. It was so hot to be sucking a cock framed in a garterbelt. Walt like me before was so aroused at my sucking that he asked me “If I was ready for my first mouthful of sweet cum” There was no response from me other than to increase my sucking. I could feel him tense up and before I knew it there were salty streams of cum filling my mouth. Nancy moved down into position next to me and put her face to mine to share his treat with me. Walt sat back on the other bed to rest as Nancy and I continued to kiss and fondle each other. I was in stocking heaven with my hands focused to those nylons of hers and as they knew I would be rock hard again. It was our turn to please her. She raised up on the bed and straddled my face with her very wet pussy. My tongue probed deeply into her pussy. While I lick her, Walt took his position behind her and began to lick her asshole as I did her pussy. She had two orgasms orally before she positioned herself on my cock. A slow rhythmic fuck began and Walt continued to lick her ass and my shaft simultaneously. Having cum earlier I was able to fuck her for an hour but enjoying every second of it. I loved those large breasts hanging in my face and licked and sucked her nipples rock hard. My hand, of course never leaving her stockings. Nancy leaned down to kiss me and in doing that she put herself open to take Walt’s cock up her ass for a double fuck. She began moaning so loud that I thought the police would be called. I could see Walt pounding her ass in the mirror on the wall next to the bed and it was sure a sight to behold. For the second time he was exploding into her ass and that sight cause me to cum right after in her pussy. Nancy rolled off of me and lay next to me on the bed. Walt licked my cock of the excess cream then moved to Nancy and licked every drop of both our orgasms from her. Not wanting to be left out, I leaned over and began kissing him to share the creamy treat. Nancy began kissing and stroking Walt's nylons, as I kissed him and she and watched, I began to get hard again. I reached over and started to play with her nylon covered legs. She moved around and opened her thighs for me. I immediately buried my face between her legs, all the time watching her and Walt. Nancy began sucking his cock. Walt motioned me to slide around and we started a daisy chain of sucking. As I brought her to another orgasm, she lay back moaning and I quickly started to suck Walt's cock. The two of us just lay on our sides in the 69 position and sucked each other. I was really getting into it; I was taking him so deep into my mouth. . I knew he was going to cum, he was bucking so hard that we almost fell of the bed. The first stream hit the roof of my mouth and as he continued to cum I rubbed him all over my face. Nancy joined me and started to lick the cum off my face and his cock and when she was finished we were both completely dry. Nancy and I then made love together; she wanted me to cum on both their faces as they kissed. It was some evening. I came four times but the last was just a shiver in my cock. It was completely drained for all the actions. We all parted friends and agreed to get together soon which we have three times. This experience has opened up a whole new avenue for me and I liked it very much. Ascent of Woman The car drifted to an agonisingly near-silent halt, engine quiet, brakes noiseless, and even the gearbox making no more sound than a breathless hiss of slowing mechanical motion. The tyres created the only real noise, crunching through the light gravel as the vehicle came to rest. Alone in the normally reliable old Rover, Abigail Worthington closed her eyes and tired her hardest not to scream with rage. That she succeeded in repressing the building clamour deep inside her spoke more of her self-knowledge at her culpability in this disaster than of her self-control. Of course she had seen the petrol gauge reading -- shouting -- 'near empty' at her a few miles back as she passed the BP station and of course she knew that electronic needle was occasionally far from accurate... but surely, it had only been a few miles more? Surely she had enough fuel to last until the service station near her local supermarket -- which offered a saving of almost 2p for every litre? She opened her eyes and pointlessly looked down at the softly glowing lights along her dashboard, her focus coming to rest on the fuel gauge blinking redly in the mid-morning sunlight. "You are one stupid, stupid, stupid woman!" She shrugged, accepting her own blame and her own accusation. She could hardly deny it, after all. Abigail Worthington was a resourceful woman, though, this bout of stupidity notwithstanding, and she turned her mind away from the cause of the calamity towards the solution that she now needed. Turning awkwardly in her seat, she reached across to the empty passenger foot-well and retrieved the Gucci handbag that had caused such a pleasant furore when she had swung it through her office that very morning. It was a deliberate move to cause deliberate jealousy among her co-workers, and she would chalk up her success with a most un-Abigail-like smile of contempt. Now she delved into its luxurious depths to retrieve her mobile phone -- the latest Samsung model, of course -- and pulled it free with a smile of control and triumph. The mid-morning sunlight sparkled in multiple reflections from her polished lips, and from the artificially whitened teeth that flashed briefly behind the scarlet shimmer. But then Abigail Worthington snarled a curse. "No fucking signal?" She shook the small device in what she already knew to be a pointless, fruitless exercise designed to somehow appease the god of small electronic gadgets. This could not, she thought, be happening. All she needed to do, her solutionising brain had already decided, was call her local mechanic and tell him to bring more petrol for her. To tell him that the gauge must, of course, have developed a fault -- she would find the offending fuse later and ensure that by breaking it then, it would certainly appear that she was a victim in this disaster and not the stupid cause. But if there was no phone signal, there would be no simple call. Abigail's head snapped up and she peered through the windshield at the view before her. The car had come to its premature halt on the gravel at the edge of a rural road that was both remote and seldom-travelled. She, herself, had never ventured this way before and now that she came to think of it, she didn't recall its presence on any of the electronic maps she often consulted when searching for the shortest passes between her destinations. It had seemed so convenient, though. Clearly a track that must curve around the busy town she had been approaching, a route designed to simplify an often hectic journey through the small metropolis. It had seemed ideal. Now she was faced with terrain that was as alien to her as any vista she might have stared upon from the summit of a Martian peak. And she did appear to be on some peak or another, vast forest stretching out in all four directions at the foot of her current path. Surely being so high above the trees ensured that she was exposed to a microwave signal? Surely her fucking telephone shouldn't be showing no reception? Abigail Worthington released the door-locks and slid gracefully from driver's seat to standing in a motion so fluid that a supermodel would have cried with envy to have witnessed it. Out of pure habit, she patted the tight bun of her hair, smoothed the creases in her short business skirt and straightened her blouse, fingers skipping on auto-pilot across its many buttons to ensure that everything was secure and well-ordered. To ensure, in fact, that she was as composed and controlled as she could possibly be. No matter that she was starting to feel like the most pathetic and chaotic example of female humanity. She held the telephone in front of her and cursed when it still glowed a smug 'no reception' message in her direction. She held it above her head then, trying her hardest not to acknowledge the stupidity of the hope that an extra two feet of elevation when she was clearly already two hundred feet above the treeline would make any difference. It did not, of course, and the message now hung in the air like her personal halo of inanity. With a gesture that would have surprised those of her colleagues who had only ever witnessed Ms Worthington's cold control she threw the gadget into the Rover's interior, her swearing covering the noise of plastic fracturing in a copious and expensive shower of shards. She turned away from the stricken vehicle, taking deep, calming breaths, fighting to regain her centre and her image. She stood as still as a store-front mannequin, letting the summer sun bathe her and warm her, permitting it to highlight the smartness of her blouse and skirt, and granting it this one rare chance to toy with her blonde tresses. Abigail Worthington gradually reasserted herself, and slowly became, once again, the epitome of control and power. That woman, a director of her own legal company, no less, stood no more than five feet four inches tall in her bare -- more often, stockinged -- feet, but of course she was seldom seen without the precipitous heels that she wore right then. The extra four inches seemed to bring an extra megaton of power with them, and her slight, spare frame wore it well. A surgeon with a magical touch and an endless supply of plastic and botulinum toxin had ensured that the image was near-perfect, but no one would ever find out that her breasts remained untouched from her pre-surgery days -- the one and only one of her womanly wiles that had ever pleased her with their earlier perfection. But lips, nose, cheeks, chin, arms, thighs, buttocks, fingers and even toes had flourished at the surgeon's plastic touch. Abigail Worthington was truly a new woman for a new age. Nothing of which seemed to help her now, though. Control once more firmly in place, she scanned the forest below her from both sides of the narrow lane, walking precisely and neatly both backwards and forwards to gentle bends in the tarmac where she could see behind her and ahead as well. She could see nothing but trees. Not even a glimmer or hint of a pathway, let alone another road. She wasn't scared -- she never allowed that, of course -- but she became less comfortable with her plight. In the few minutes she had been stranded there, she had yet to hear even the most distant rumble of a passing engine, and now that she strained her ears for the mechanical comforts of civilisation, she realised that there was nothing but birdsong for company. It began to grate on her auditory nerves. Abigail Worthington looked down at her shadow, stretching starkly and blackly along the tarmac ahead of her -- she was no country girl, and she was stupid when it came to fuel, but she wasn't stupid enough to look up at the brilliant sun to determine which way she faced. In truth, her shadow wasn't long -- shapely, certainly, but not long. While no rustic maid, her education -- private, of course -- had taught her well enough to understand that this indicated that midday loomed, and that she was facing almost directly west, her destination surely no more than a handful of miles in front of her. Beyond the trees. Although it was only June, many of the leaves down below her were dappling towards the golds oranges and browns she might have expected a few months hence -- an early autumnal show. But the trees were thick with cover and the wretched wildlife seemed copious as well as ear-gratingly loud. Looking directly down the side of the old road, Abigail could make out a rough-hewn pathway meandering steeply into the arboreal cover. She looked then to the roadway and walked once more to the bend in front of her to see it stretch away into the far distance -- a direction that was surely far removed from the one she craved? Without much in the way of conscious thought, she had already agreed with herself that waiting there would be pointless -- the road was clearly seldom used, and who was to say that any passing motorist would offer assistance in any case? They might even view a woman -- a strikingly attractive woman, she amended -- as a lone target for their own nefarious use. She couldn't, she had decided, stay where she was. Abigail Worthington would never offer such an opportunity. That, though, left the biggest question scrum and one that her conscious mind was called upon to consider. If she needed to find her own way out of the mess caused by her car's mistaken fuel gauge -- the blame was already shifting in her mind -- then she needed to assess firstly whether it was physically possible, and if so, then secondly, just what route should she take? Abigail Worthington looked down at her lithe legs. She was not quite three decades old as yet -- if she calculated things according to her 'official' records -- but even at a real age of thirty-four, she retained the fitness of her youth. She hitched the skirt a little higher and nodded in satisfaction at the gentle muscle of her thigh that the move revealed. She took a deep, even, breath, her chest inflating to gently stretch the elastic of a bra that she still wore more for dignity than a need for support. Abigail Worthington nodded. She was as fit as she needed to be for any trek. That brought her to the second question and she looked first along the lane and then down onto the path that meandered into the forest. The lane option was clearly the most even, no matter that the road had not seen repair in many a year, but it, at least at first, headed off in entirely the wrong direction. Who was to say that it didn't meander along in such a way that added many miles to her intended journey? Since she was clearly fit in more than one sense of the word, then surely it would be much quicker to head through the trees? She would almost certainly be able to check her direction from time-to-time, and in any case, she was a level-headed and determined young woman. Abigail Worthington was not a woman who wandered from a path once her mind was set upon it. Decided now, she once again straightened her business skirt and blouse, neat fingers skipping on auto-pilot across her many buttons to ensure modesty and elegance. Before setting out down the slope Abigail Worthington returned to her Gucci bag and liberated items that would, of course, be essential for her journey. The lip-gloss barely made a dent in the outline of her skirt pocket and the eye-liner was similarly inconspicuous in the tiny flap of material the purported to function for the same purpose in her neat, white blouse. The small bottle of Evian water was more problematic despite it being fashioned "specifically for the professional person 'on-the-go'", and rather than spoil her elegant lines, Abigail drained it in four ladylike swallows before discarding the empty plastic container in a neatly available swathe of grass. Prepared for her ordeal after that, she crossed to the side of the road and took her first tentative steps on the steep downward path. The first problem -- issue, always issue -- the first issue occurred when she was no more than ten steps into her descent. The pathway was overgrown with grasses and low weeds in many places, but was essentially fit for purpose -- easily followed and clearly defined. But her precipitous heels were another matter entirely. Abigail had never been an athlete as such, but gymnastics were a compulsory lesson back in her schooldays -- and she had excelled with those just as she excelled within the confines of a classroom. She possessed an uncannily proficient sense of balance -- enough for one of her classmates to suggest that perchance there was a little of the feline somewhere in Abigail's distant bloodline. She had accepted this is a compliment at first -- the prerequisite beating of the unfortunately inconsiderate and loquacious girl had been administered later -- but in any case, merely accepted it as another sharp talent to add to an already overflowing quiver. Now, though, a combination of the steepness of the path and the even steeper incline of her expensive heels were combining to rob her of that innate, gyroscopic, talent. Abigail Worthington stared hard at the grassy, leafy, path and then at her patent leather shoes. The former, she was sure, although clearly of poor design was an insurmountable issue insofar as she was, for once, powerless to alter things now. The gorgeous heels, though... well, perhaps they were not entirely ideal for terrain such as this. There was a softness to the soil beneath the foliage that somehow belied the now strongly-beating sun's ability to harden it and were she being honest with herself, he couldn't imagine that the situation would even improve much once she reached the presumably more level floor of the forest itself. Her stockings were clearly not going to provide much, if any, protection against a hard surface beneath her feet, but on the other hand, the going was currently soft and leafy -- and there was no one around to see her reduced stature. With an uncharacteristic sigh, Abigail Worthington bent and unbuckled the straps of the heels, slipping them from her feet before fashion sense got the better of her. She stood then, testing the ground around her, satisfying herself that the drastic move was both necessary and not about to induce a painful response. She cast her gaze back up to the roadway, the slightest bit surprised then that her short passage had already brought her below the level of the road. Returning back to the vehicle to deposit the shoes safely was far too onerous a task given the plight that she no doubt still had to face, so a second sigh saw her launch first one then the other shoe in throws that would have embarrassed her greatly were anyone there to witness the efforts. One shoe had made it just a few feet back along the pathway but was buried in a clump of some leafy weed or another, while the other shoe had completely disappeared from sight somewhere to Abigail's right. She pointlessly, but automatically, checked to ensure there was no audience before turning back to her destination with a mental curse, and the mollifying thought that at least the heels had cost no more than a couple of hundred pounds. They were, in her mind, already mere casualties of war; cheap cannon-fodder. Abigail's first few shoeless steps were cautious affairs but ultimately rewarding. The terrain remained soft for her stockinged soles and her sense of equilibrium returned with a rapidity that would have raised a Jamaican eyebrow at a sprint-meet. Abigail Worthington's pace increased as her confidence grew ever more clearly defined. She had established a target tree at the edge of the forest proper to ensure that she did not deviate from her path in any way, and was pleasantly surprised that despite its kinks and curves, the path took her ever closer and with a rapidity that brought her a sense of accomplishment far beyond that which she knew she deserved. No country girl, for sure, but a woman of the City who was adapting with her normal rapid brilliance to the demands of this new and treacherous terrain. Within half an hour of perilous descent, the sun had moved relentlessly and was now pretty much directly over her head -- and beating down on her with a molten fury that brought rivulets of perspiration to her un-furrowed brow, and to the cleft between her shoulder blades. Air conditioning in her home, office and even the ancient Rover, left her unprepared for the savagery of exposure to such brilliant sunlight, but Abigail Worthington was nothing if not determined and fastidious. She picked her way onwards, feet darting from tussock to mound as her shortened form descended towards welcome shade. Her figure was level with the tops of the tallest trees when she encountered a second issue -- still issue -- and it was as unexpected as it was unwelcome. Three times within the space of seven hops and steps, the ever-thickening shrubbery snagged at her ultra-sheer denier stockings, until a fourth snag parted the material at her heel. She stopped and stared down at her feet, choking back a gasp of something approaching horror when she realised that the leafy descent had brought a terribly dark green hue to her lower appendages. The stockings were ruined, no matter the tear, and the heart-wrenchingly awful staining would surely only get worse once she entered the undoubtedly damper territory beneath the tree canopy. Abigail's skirt and blouse were still every inch the professional woman, but she had already lost her precious heels and now her stockings were little more than tattered, stained disasters. She turned her eyes upwards and cursed whatever gods might be listening. But she did not cry. The stockings were offering nothing by way of protection for her delicate skin, and in the past few steps had become little more than trip hazards. The last thing Abigail Worthington needed was the humiliation of a fall, no matter that no audience beyond some noisy, feathered fiends would ever witness her shame. But this was still Abigail Worthington, the epitome of control and style, and a woman facing a most desperate challenge. There was every chance that she would meet someone among the trees, another desperate traveller, maybe, but in any case she would soon enough reach the civilisation of her destination. There was not a single chance on this planet that she would be seen as in any way unkempt. Abigail Worthington checked the surrounding landscape for non-existent witnesses before hitching up her skirt and proceeding to unclip her stockings from the lacy suspender belt that held them to her legs. An unwanted and completely uncalled for vision of eyes greedily taking in the glimpse of stocking top and bared thigh flashed through her mind before she shook her loosening tresses and re-focused on the task in hand. Unclipped at last, she drew the stockings rapidly down her legs and, utilising her immaculate sense of balance, plucked them from her feet. Quickly, so as not to let her mind dwell on the stickiness of the green stains, she bundled the garments into a lightweight ball and hurled it deep into the foliage behind her. Bare-legged now, she quickly descended the last fifty feet, surprised at how her feet seemed to relax somehow, rather than be horrified by the touch of the plants on the rough path. It was, as she knew it always must be, a successful descent, no matter that she was less well-covered, less elegant, than when she had set out. The only issue that remained was the suspender belt itself. It, of course, served no purpose now, and the straps chafed against the delicate flesh of her upper thighs. She looked firstly up at the tall, leafy trees and then ahead at the gloomy path that led into the depths of the forest proper. The descent had been an unqualified success, but she realised that it only represented a small portion of the overall trek -- and that if she were to succeed with her task... no, when she succeeded... then she would need as much comfort as her predicament allowed. Ascent of Woman Abigail Worthington gave a cursory glance back up the steep path and ahead into the gloom beneath the trees before pulling her skirt high on her thighs and swiftly unclipping the now purpose-less, lacy suspender belt. She pulled the straps free of her silky panties then quickly smoothed back her skirt, the belt now bundled and thrown into the darkness to her left. Abigail Worthing, she thought, was now ready for the next stage of her journey. Deep inside her, she felt the first stirrings of an excitement of sorts -- a knowledge that she was doing the right thing, the most natural thing in the world. Her mission was taking on the mantle of 'right and proper'. She didn't notice anything else at all. Before her first steps into the forest proper, Abigail checked and re-checked her direction, picking a far distant, barely visible, trunk deep among the trees. Content that she would be heading in exactly the right direction, she strode forward into the shadows. Abigail had thought that the cover of the trees would help quell the sweat... perspiration... that had plagued her during the final stages of her descent, but that didn't seem to be the case. The air beneath the trees was deeply hued by the leaf overhead, somehow the darkest shade of green, but despite the canopy of foliage, it seemed thick -- almost cloying. Rivulets of saltiness coursed slowly down her back and now down between her small breasts, dampening the waistband of her smart skirt. A little discomfort, though, was, she decided, an acceptable price to pay for her heroism. She marched forward, ever more determined to succeed. The ground underfoot was surprisingly dry and equally surprisingly soft. To Abigail's admittedly untrained eyes it appeared to comprise the detritus of many leaf falls, compacted by forces unknown into a brown-green carpet that was both solid and yet springy. Her feet never sank into the drifts of partially decayed leaves, but nor did they present her with any sharp edges or branch matter. In fact, the more she looked, the less she could see of twigs or other more mature material. The trees, she decided, must be of a genus that was somehow impervious to the forces that would normally result on the loss of branch or twig. The going was easy, in other words, and her target tree was reached in what seemed like no time at all. Upon reaching her destination, she rested her head against the gnarled trunk and allowed herself a few moments of peace. The heat beneath the canopy was oppressive, and she had to admit that for all her chic elegance, perhaps she was not best dressed for this adventure... venture. There was no one around, of course, and precious little chance of encountering anyone. She patted the ancient wooden bark in front of her. "You and yours will never tell, will you?" With an uncharacteristic smile that failed to trouble her artificially stiffened cheeks, Abigail reached up and undid the top two buttons of her high-necked blouse. She knew a mere couple of buttons should make little difference to her overall plight -- and was not sufficient to draw stares even if someone else could see her -- and yet the immediate benefit seemed to far outweigh such little effort. There was no breeze beneath the trees as such, and yet she could almost feel a cooling effect on the flesh of her upper chest. She shrugged, flicking a stray strand of hair from her eyes -- she would need to make a remedial hair appointment with Felipe as soon as she got back to the real world -- and peered around the ancient tree trunk toward where her next target should lie. Satisfied that she had identified a goal she wasted no more time, but set out towards the distant growth. There was no denying the cooling effect of her blasé unbuttoning and by the midway point between the trees, she reached up and almost unthinkingly loosened a third button. "Abigail Worth," she chided herself with a more relaxed smile, "It really is just as well there are no witnesses in here!" By the time the second destination tree was reached, she was feeling even fitter than when she had first set foot on the path down to the forest. She looked down at herself, mildly surprised to see that a fourth button had been freed at some point, nodding appreciatively at the comfort it had brought and shrugging dismissively at the sight of the top of her bra that only she could see anyway. A third tree target was soon selected and reached before she could even register effort. The fourth was chosen, a far distant goal, and she went on determined now not to stop until she returned to civilisation. As she left its cover for a fifth target she looked down at herself and let loose a very un-Abigail-like chuckle. "You'd better remember to do this up again when you get in sight of... buildings, huh, Abigail?" Her blouse was now undone completely and untucked from her smart skirt. It was awfully bad manners, she knew, but the situation demanded it somehow, and damn it all, it felt good like that. Sure there was still a cloying nature to the atmosphere, and the sweat she had already produced was causing her very bra to rub a little but that wasn't an issue really, was it? She stopped and, eyes wider than she could remember them being for many a long year, she actually let loose a giggle as she unclipped the silky garment and slipped it awkwardly down her arms under the loose blouse to finally stand free of restraint and its associated chafing touch. Abigail looked down at her now-bared breasts and marvelled at how nice it felt -- somehow right and proper there in the woods. That unenhanced part of her body felt entirely natural in other ways as well. Her nipples were small and hard, no doubt as a result of the rubbing of the restrictive bra, and she threw it aside. No one could see, but what did it matter anyway? She shivered with an unfamiliar inner thrill. Bare breasts leading her proudly onward, she was almost trotting by the time she reached the sixth target -- where she shucked the blouse away from her shoulders -- and she was positively running by the time the seventh ancient tree greeted her -- and witnessed her hands snaking up her thighs under her skirt to pull the equally cloying panties down her legs. Halfway to her eighth goal, she stopped in the middle of the gloomy pathway. She looked own at herself and giggled again. "Oh, Abi, you naughty thing! Look at your bare tits!" She reached up to cup them. "God, Abi! Your nips are rigid still! You must really be enjoying this..." Abi paused and giggled, her eyes darting left for a fraction of a second before she reached up beneath the front of her smart skirt. Her eyes rolled then and another giggle escaped her, "Oh, Abs, you really, really are enjoying this aren't you? Your... your pussy is soaking wet!" She took her hands away and focused on tree number eight. She stumbled forward now, her hands tugging at her one remaining garment's zipper as she went. She was just ten feet away from the ancient oak when she freed the skirt enough to let it fall, and, kicking it away, completely naked by the time her arms spread around its trunk, its bark feeling almost hungry for her naked flesh. Turning slowly, awkwardly, she sank to her knees, her left hand cupping a naked breast, the right sliding down her belly, one extended finger finding her hard little clit as another penetrated her moist folds. "Oh, Abs," she sighed, "This is so right, so natural, so needed..." Her right hand was almost vibrating as it started to move faster, rubbing, probing. Her left pinched first one nipple then the other, hard. Her back fell against the ancient tree, her hips starting to buck and twitch. Faster still, she rubbed, harder still she pinched and pulled. She felt the fires flaring deep inside her belly and whimpered in the knowledge that release was so close. Her right hand couldn't move any faster but now she was penetrating herself with two fingers, thrusting them deep within her, the thumb now massaging and pressing against her aching clit. And deep inside it unfurled and rose, unstoppable. The climax was freed of its Abigail Worthington constraints and climbed inexorably as Abs brought it forth. The first wave crashed through her, sparking every nerve in her pleasure centres and she cried out in joy. Abs felt herself for maybe the first time in her life, and now every movement was rewarded with climax upon climax. She gave her mind and body up to the trees, hearing her pleasure echoed back to her from every bare trunk and branch as they watched her in the throes of orgasm. Branches bowed down then, leaves caressing her naked breasts, her bared belly, the shadowy but exposed cleft of her very womanhood. Abs crushed the leaves to her, felt their chlorophyllic juices mingle with own womanly liquids as she climaxed and climaxed. Finally, she was spent, utterly and completely, collapsing onto her side, her eyes rolling closed.