An almost-summer May picnic

Last week, a cunning idea suddenly came to me—my beloved had been begging me for a long time to go out into nature, especially since the weather was already excellent and it was too late to feed ticks. I kept refusing and making excuses, as I frankly didn't want to go to places with large crowds of people. As usual, someone would get drunk "to the gills," then start a fight with the neighbors, and so on.

But then the stars suddenly aligned so that I had a free moment to look online for places in our city K. where we could relax. And imagine my surprise when I found out there was a forest park area within the city limits that I hadn't even heard about in the

three years I've lived here.

Thanks to a certain unknown search engine for having the ability to view photos from the location and read reviews. The reviews were quite restrained—people complained that vacationers didn't clean up their trash. For me, this wasn't a big problem because I wasn't lazy about clearing a spot for relaxation, and the proximity to home was very inspiring.

Well, actually, the proximity was relative—by car, it was about fifteen minutes away, with traffic—all thirty. But again, "the urge is stronger than the restraint," so I plotted the route along the roads most familiar to me because there I at least already knew the volume of potholes and bumps that could be encountered. During another lunch break, I walked to a nearby supermarket, where I bought what, in my humble opinion, is essential for a proper rest, and hid it at home.

Today, after waiting for the end of the workday, I called a taxi straight from work and went to my wife. She usually finished work a bit later, just as I was picking her up by taxi. This time, I suggested we "shake off the old days" and walk home.

— What's the occasion? — my wife asked, watching the departing taxi.

— Just decided to walk with you. Lately, with all these things, we haven't really spent much time together. Either you have a night shift, or I'm swamped.

— I agree with you on that, — my wife sighed heavily, looking wistfully at a billboard advertising vacations abroad. — If only we could go to Sri Lanka or Europe right now…

— Well, as soon as we get our vacation, we can repeat Sri Lanka, — I smiled. My wife took my arm, and we slowly walked towards home, pushing through the crowd of people also rushing home from work or somewhere else. These were the most unpleasant hundred meters, constantly crowded, but further on, the sidewalk widened, and the evening walk turned into a pleasure.

We crossed the road at a pedestrian crossing to a parking lot, flanked on both sides by a supermarket and a cinema. There haven't been any worthwhile movies lately, so we just walked past. The only plus of this cinema was that if you suddenly really needed to use the restroom, the cinema was just right. Ha-ha.

After passing the parking lot, we came out onto a wide street, walking along which made up the main part of our journey. Finally, the density of people decreased enough that I could calmly start a conversation without catching sideways glances from those walking nearby.

— I have an idea, — I said. My beloved, without slowing her pace, turned her face to me and expressed a silent question.

— I found a forest park in our city not far from us, and I'd like to suggest going there this Saturday.

— Reaally… — said my wife, stopping in amazement. — Wait, wait. Don't say anything yet…

She pinched herself twice on the arm and squealed in pain:

— Am I not dreaming? Since when did you suddenly decide to take your little wife somewhere? Usually, you drive everyone around, but not me.

— Oh, come on, — I playfully wagged my finger at her. My wife just laughed in response.

— So, what's the plan? — she pressed.

— I secretly bought a small folding grill. You can't call it a barbecue, but a little grill—just right.

— Seriously?! — my wife was surprised for the second time in the last ten minutes. — You amaze me! And what are we going to cook?

— Well, I suggest we take some sausages to fry, plus… Plus, I saw a salad recipe from a video blogger. That's what I want to make.

— I'd like to make chicken breast marinated in soy sauce and honey.

— No problem—I'll make my salad, and you make the breast.

— Deal, — smiled my beloved.

The rest of the way, which was about another fifty minutes, I had to answer hundreds of questions from my little wife, but this was probably the first time in many years I saw her so happy. To be honest, I really spent too much time on everyone else, and very often just turned a blind eye to my wife's requests. This time, something twinged inside me, probably my conscience. Ha-ha.

We entered the apartment and sighed with relief—the apartment building hadn't yet warmed up from the May sun, so it was cool inside.

— Well, show off, — said my wife, hinting at my purchases.

— One minute, — I replied and went to the balcony, where I had hidden the grill. My beloved rarely went out to the balcony, and she never looked into the cabinets there.

A minute later, I was shaking out the contents of two bags. I was not at all skilled in "grill matters," so I had to pick the brain of a consultant boy in a well-known store for about twenty minutes. The thing is, we didn't have our own private house or even a dacha. Therefore, the main criterion I set for the grill was compactness. That is, it should easily fit in the trunk, not take up much space, and be convenient to use. And, of course, price played a not insignificant role. Why? Because I didn't know if grilling would become a habit or not. And spending a lot of money on a one-time pleasure would be a bit silly.

So, the consultant boy advised me practically the most budget-friendly grill, which was quite compact: small legs made of thick wire either came off or turned into handles for carrying this grill. Plus, it came with a lid to cover the grill.

Thanks again to that boy, who also helped me choose charcoal and fire starters. Given my "ignorance" in grills, I didn't know what was best for such a "little one"; the only thing I knew, thanks again to a video blogger (though a different one this time), was that lighter fluid could give an unpleasant smell to the food cooked on the grill. Thus, after half an hour of torment, I had a grill, charcoal briquettes, and wooden fire starters (or whatever they're called).

This is all the "equipment" I pulled out of the bags.

— Well, I like it, — my wife said admiringly, clanging the grill parts. — Compact and cute. Tomorrow, then, we'll stop by the supermarket after work and shop for the outing. Do you want to invite anyone?

— No, I want to go with just you. At least, we'll assess what it's like there. If everything is great, then next time we'll invite someone.

— What, not even the neighbor who lives one floor up? — my wife asked slyly, squinting.

— I don't know what you're talking about, — I replied in an indifferent voice, putting all my purchases back.

— Okay, — said my wife. — Then I suggest we leave early Saturday morning—we can manage to get a spot if there are a lot of people there. And I have a dentist appointment scheduled for Sunday.

— Tell me, my dear child, who's stopping you from going to the dentist on weekdays? — I asked irritably. — Who spends their legitimate days off on treatment?

— Honey, you understand that in that case, I'd have to practically sleep at work every day? — my beloved answered with a slightly guilty look, responding with a question.

I just shrugged.

— Well, that's wonderful, — my wife laughed. — I'm going to take a shower. Who's with me?

We rarely bathed together, although when our relationship was just beginning, we never took a bath without each other.

— I'm with you, — I said, carrying the grill and accessories back to the balcony.

We took off our clothes, damp from the long walk, and got into the bathtub. My beloved shuddered when the first drops of still-cool water hit her.

— Br-r-r-r! Better pour cold water on yourself! — my wife grumbled playfully, moving away from me.

After a couple of minutes, the water became comfortably hot, and my beloved happily exposed her body to the powerful streams. I pressed against her and hugged her, letting the hot water wash away the sweat from both of us. I don't know how long we stood like that—five minutes or ten—but for some reason, we didn't even want to move. For the first time in many years, it was as if we had opened an old album that gave us pleasant memories. Just some 18 years ago, we stood in the shower in each other's arms, forgetting about everything in the world except our feelings.

— I feel good with you… — my wife whispered in my ear, sniffling quietly. — God, what have we become… Working for the sake of work… Earning money that you simply don't have time to spend on yourself…

I smiled and kissed my beloved wife. She was right—we had become so immersed in our personal problems that we even forgot that the person who truly values you is right beside you.

My beloved slightly tilted her head back, hinting for me to wet her hair. I took the shower hose and directed the stream of water onto my beloved's hair. While she stood with her eyes closed, I quietly kissed her neck. Her body involuntarily shuddered from surprise, but on my beloved's lips, I saw a slight, mysterious smile. I continued kissing my little wife's neck, then, handing her the shower hose, began covering her breasts with kisses.

Taking her left nipple into my mouth and gently sucking on it, I caressed her butt and smooth-shaven pussy. When my lips descended to her pubic area, my wife began breathing heavily and stroked my hair, pressing me to her.

Finally, my tongue reached her pussy, but in that position, I could only caress her pussy lips and partially her clitoris. erotic stories Realizing the situation, my beloved put one foot on the edge of the bathtub, giving me full access to her already wet (and not just from water) pussy. I took her clitoris into my mouth and gently sucked, not stopping to caress my little wife's pussy and butt with my fingers. My tongue played with her engorged pussy, teasing her body with touches to her clitoris and lips.

At some point, my beloved moved away from me and turned her butt towards me. The shower hose was already just lying in the bathtub, flooding everything with water, but we didn't care. I carefully entered my little wife's pussy, which was already ready and flowing. My beloved braced one hand against the wall and pulled me even closer with the other, making my cock enter her all the way to my balls.

After that, she began moving back and forth herself, riding the cock and massaging her clitoris. My balls slapped loudly against her excited pussy, which was already aching with desire and was so abundantly wet that my cock slid in and out of the pink hole without any problems.

My wife braced both hands against the wall and rode the cock with fury, not stopping moaning with pleasure:

— Oh, Mishenka… Sweetie… Just a little more…

Screaming sweetly from orgasm, she slowly sank to the bottom of the bathtub and went quiet. I plugged the drain, letting water from the shower cover the cool bottom so my beloved would be more comfortable. About ten minutes passed before my beloved finally stirred. She wearily opened her eyes and smiled:

— It's been a hundred years since we had something like that…

While my little wife, relaxed from the hot water and sex, just sat in the bathtub, I quickly soaped up my body and washed off everything accumulated during the day with a stream of hot water. My wife struggled to sit up and stroked my cock, which immediately, as if by magic, stood at "attention."

She took it all the way to my balls and froze. Then, with quick and confident movements, jerking the cock and taking it deep into her throat, my beloved brought me to orgasm in an instant. I came violently into her mouth, pouring out everything that had accumulated in me over the last three days. My wife coughed a little and shook her head:

— What, haven't you masturbated for three days?

— Yep, — I replied in a tired voice and, like my wife, sank to the bottom of the bathtub.

— You should warn me, — my beloved grumbled, still coughing.

Twenty minutes later, we were already in bed.

— Do you want me to sleep naked tonight? — my wife asked playfully, fiddling with her nightgown.

— Of course I do! — I exclaimed. My wife nodded and crawled naked under my blanket. Pressing against me, she whispered:

— Sweet dreams, my love…

The next day, namely Friday, we stopped by the supermarket after work for groceries. The list of necessities included:

— mineral water;

— orange and tomato juice;

— chicken breast;

— frozen squid (for my salad);

— arugula and lettuce leaves;

— sausages, both raw and ready-to-eat;

— cherry tomatoes;

— a few flatbreads;

— various sauces like "for shashlik" and "chili";

— and other things like napkins, disposable tableware, and so on.

At the checkout, we ended up with three large bags, which didn't quite fit the concept of a small picnic, but we bought some things "in reserve," so the final list of products was much smaller.

An hour later, tired but satisfied, we were unpacking the groceries at home. While I was rummaging through the bags, my beloved took out the chicken breast (thoughtfully cut into pieces of the right size by the supermarket packers) and, along with soy sauce, spices, and a teaspoon of honey, packed it into a vacuum bag.

Again, thanks to certain video blogger cooks who suggested such a trick—vacuum bags were convenient to store in the refrigerator, they didn't take up much space, and the meat marinated, it seemed to me, faster and better.

— My chicken is ready! — my wife said triumphantly, hiding the meat in the marinade in the refrigerator.

— That's not fair, — I joked, pretending to be offended, — you took advantage of me being busy.

— Okay, let me handle unpacking the bags for now, and you marinate your squid.

I won't say that the process of marinating squid was any different from marinating chicken, but my set of ingredients was a bit different. Into the vacuum bag went a spoonful of Georgian adjika (for spiciness and flavor) and soy sauce. I cleaned the squid of all the nasty stuff like the membrane and "tentacles" and, after cutting it into pieces, sent it to the spices. With that, the first part of the preparations was ready.

I hadn't even finished assembling the first batch of things for the next day—two bags with the grill and accessories—when my beloved pulled out our old badminton rackets and a gymnastics mat from the stash. We did have portable versions of such mats, just for "soft seating," but