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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

I always celebrate my August birthday with a morning run. I run most days anyway, but when it’s my birthday I’m more intentional about thinking of it as a celebratory moment. This is especially true when I reach the milestone of another decade. Today I’m turning 40. Wow! I think back to my 20th birthday — I was a college student. I think back to my 30th — I was a new professor. Now I live in the southern part of the country, my university career fully established, married with two children. It is fun to think of the earlier years, but I wouldn’t go back.

I have enjoyed establishing my running route everywhere I’ve lived. Sometimes I’ve run around lakes, sometimes on ridges where the view is spectacular. This route is rural, past cornfields, a few houses, and scattered clumps of trees. Mostly flat. After the one-mile point, there is a Big Hill. It is a challenge every day. At the top on the right side is a nice stand of spruce trees. Someone planted them in rows close together about 20 years ago, so now they make a dense, tall wall along the road. After the trees, there’s nothing but more cornfields and farmhouses until my turn-around spot at the 2 ½ mile point.

I’m still pretty fit. I don’t run as fast as I did when I was in my 20’s, but I still enjoy it. My waist is a little thicker, breasts fuller, hips wider. What do you expect after a couple of kids? Nobody would mistake me for 20, but 40 feels fine. I don’t mind at all.

One slight problem with age 40 versus age 20, though, is that sometimes I can’t get through my entire 5 miles without needing to pee. Turns out, the little spruce woods I mentioned earlier is mighty convenient. Going or coming, I have a nice spot to duck into if I can’t make it home. Today is one of those days. I am on the way back when I feel nature calling. I know exactly where to zip under the trees to the clear space underneath. I’m only about 6 feet from the road — can actually peek through the branches and see an occasional car climbing the hill, but nobody looks through the trees toward me because their eyes are on the road. I pull down my shorts and squat, peeing behind some brush. I’ve done this tons of time; it only takes a minute.

But today is different. Just as I’m about to stand back up, I see someone else in the woods, coming my way from the opposite direction. I freeze. Nobody wants to be caught with their pants down! It’s a man. Of course it would have to be a man. I can see his profile clearly now as he’s only 20 feet away, facing the road. Then he pulls down his zipper and pulls out his cock! Great. He’s got to pee, too. Well, shouldn’t take him long and then he’ll leave.

But no, he’s not peeing. He starts stroking his cock, slowly at first, then faster. The skin slips up, covering the head, then down, exposing it. And right before my eyes, his cock grows until it’s standing straight up, ruddy and proud. Oh my gosh! He’s jerking himself off right in front of me! I know he hasn’t seen me, but I can only hold this squat position for so long before I’m going to have to move. I can’t take my eyes off this glorious sight, though. Pumping faster and faster, hips rocking, he starts grunting. I don’t think it’s going to take him long. Then, throwing escort kocaeli bayan back his head, he cums with a groan, and his jism spurts out in ropey strings onto the ground. My god, that was hot!

My heart is beating fast. He pulls out a bandana and begins cleaning himself up. Then, as he tucks himself away he turns and — oh no — he sees me! He looks straight at me and stares. I quickly stand and pull up my shorts. I see he is younger than I thought — only about 20. Dark hair and eyes, fit and trim. He actually grins at me.

“Beg your pardon, Ma’am,” he says, all politeness. “I didn’t know you were in here. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

Oh, those southern boys and their sweet manners! He doesn’t even seem a bit embarrassed.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I… I was just… I only had to…”

“Yes, I see,” he says, looking me over. “I understand completely.”

Then he says, “Well. Have a good day, then.” He gives me the farmer nod and begins to stride off in the direction he came from. Looking over his shoulder he adds, “Maybe I’ll see you again.” With that, he is gone.

Breathing hard, I duck back to the road and jog down the hill toward home. With every step I’m thinking “Maybe I’ll see you again. Maybe I’ll see you again. Maybe I’ll see you again.” Is that an invitation? What a birthday surprise! I loved it! If only I hadn’t been in such an embarrassing position myself.

I don’t run for a couple of days after that. I haven’t decided for sure if I want to encounter my young farmer in the woods again or not. Actually, I am pretty sure I do want to, but I have to get up my nerve.

Three mornings later, I run up the hill. This time I don’t even pretend I’m going my full route. I just duck into the woods and wait. Sure enough, here he comes. This time he sees me standing there waiting. Again, the grin.

“Morning, Ma’am,” he says with the nod. “Did you come to watch me jerk off again?”

Wow. Talk about direct! No beating about the bush with this guy. So self-assured.

“Yes, I did.” What else could I say? “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he replies with the grin, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Watch close, now.”

This time he is only about 10 feet away and facing me. My heart skips a beat when he undoes his button and pulls down his zipper. Something about the sound of a man’s zipper being pulled down in a situation like this is a turn-on all by itself. He lets his pants fall to his knees and proudly shows me his cock. Oh my. A 20-year-old cock is truly a thing of beauty. So enthusiastic as it bobs right before my eyes. He firmly grasps it and begins to stroke. Then he says, “If you like, Ma’am, you can take your shirt off. I mean, you kind of look as if you’d like to.”

Actually, I’m not thinking anything of the kind. But the moment he says it, that’s exactly what I want to do. I want to do that more than anything. His boldness is catching, I guess. I yank my t-shirt over my head and undo my sports bra, letting my breasts spill out.

He gasps. “Oh, those are beautiful! They are the most beautiful tits I’ve ever seen! I could write a poem about those gorgeous tits!”

I kocaeli otele gelen escort laugh, thoroughly delighted with this guy. “Do you write poetry, then?” I ask.

“No,” he admits. “But I’m thinking of starting right about now.”

All this time he is stroking and pumping his lovely cock. I decide to help him out by lifting my breasts toward him, holding them in my hands and stroking my nipples with my thumbs. He groans at this sight, and I groan at the feel of my nipples growing hard and the sight of him jerking himself off. It’s a glorious sight. My panties are sopping wet. I could practically cum myself. He is jerking himself faster and faster. And then he scrunches up his face and cum shoots all over his hand and the ground. He’s grunting and pumping until he’s done. I can see he’s a bit wobbly in the knees, but he recovers. He cleans himself up with his bandana and tucks everything away. Then he steps forward and picks up my shirt, handing it to me.

“Well then,” he says. “Thanks for watching. And thanks for showing me your beautiful breasts. I’ll never forget that sight. You have a good day.” He gives me the farmer nod and strides away, leaving me half undressed, breathing hard. Then I hear him call back, “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

Yes, I think. You will.

This is a busy week, the week before classes start. It’s full of faculty meetings and such. I don’t run the rest of the week. Who am I kidding? I’m not even thinking about running. I’m thinking about a cute, hot farmer in the woods and wishing I had a chance to get back there.

Monday is the first day of class. But my schedule is light on Mondays, only two classes, at 10 and at 11. I have plenty of time to “run” in the morning. Ha. I know I’m not running any farther than the trees on top of the hill.

He’s there first this time, waiting for me.

He gives me the nod with the grin. “Good morning again, Ma’am. Nice to see you. I hope you’re going to let me see your beautiful tits again.”

God, this guy! Totally disarming.

“I might,” I say. “If you let me see your beautiful cock again.”

He nodded. “I figured that’s why you’re here. So let’s just get started.”

He unzips and drops his pants and I admire the long, thick, boisterous cock that happily springs out, ready for any and all kinds of action. I take off my shirt and sports bra without any prompting and enjoy his hot gaze on me, his dark eyes intense and bold.

Then he says, “Would you want to take off all your clothes this time? You don’t have to, but you might like it.”

Oh yes, I would like it. I’ve never been shy about taking off my clothes. Right now they fall right off without any fuss. He strips completely, too. And there we stand, stark naked, staring hungrily at each other. Six feet from where cars are passing by on the road and about four feet from each other. Almost touching distance.

He shakes his head. “Oh, Ma’am, you are gorgeous! Unbelievably gorgeous, head to toe.” He looks me over completely while fisting his cock, stroking slowly from root to glorious head. The tip of it is glistening with a little pre-cum. He izmit suriyeli escort is gorgeous, too. A young man just growing into his prime, strong and straight, muscles hard, farmer tan, a little curly brown chest hair.

I spread my legs a little so he can see my neatly trimmed pussy better. He gives a moan and strokes faster, up and down, up and down. His other hand plays with his balls. Then I am touching myself, too. I stroke my pussy softly, then harder. I dip a finger inside my vagina and bring it out, showing him how glistening wet it is. He groans. Then I start twirling and swirling my clit around while stroking my breasts. I pinch my nipples and push my breasts toward him — it’s just instinct to do that and I can’t help it. My eyes are on him the whole time, and his are on me as he pumps his throbbing cock.

I widen my stance and bend my knees outward, squatting slightly like I’m going to slide down on his cock and ride him. He groans and pumps furiously. I pulse up and down, grinding my pussy against my hand with each downward pulse, feeling my orgasm build.

“Are you going to cum for me?” he asks hoarsely. “We could cum together. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” I say, breathless, then, “Now!”

My orgasm rockets through me and I jerk and spasm and buck my hips, crying out, “Oh, oh, oh, oh, Ooooooh!” I’ve never been the silent type, and when I cum, I let it all out. My voice wails like a siren.

He is right behind me, hollering, “Fuuuuccck!” as his cum spurts out in long strings, some landing on me. “Beg your pardon, Ma’am, I’m sorry about that. But fuuuuccck! That was spectacular! You are spectacular! I’ve never seen a woman so beautiful in all my life!”

My knees are giving out, and I sit down hard on my pile of clothes, my orgasm still pulsing. He is bent over, hands on his knees, trying to recover. Then he collapses, too. We gaze at each other, still breathing hard, amazed at the intensity and beauty and intimacy of what we’re sharing.

Later, I can barely get down the hill to my house on account of my wobbly legs. I get in the shower and just stand there, letting the water run over me. What am I doing? I’m a happily married wife, mother, and professional. How did I get so caught up with a farm boy in the woods? I don’t even know who he is. But I’m not sorry. Not a bit. I’m just not sure where I should go with this.

I dress for the first day of class, butterflies in my stomach. It’s always like this on the first day, no matter how many years I’ve taught. It seems worse today, though. Butterflies for first day of school combined with butterflies for an amazing illicit orgasm in the woods.

I pull it together in time for my 10 a.m. class. Attendance, syllabus, announcements, all the first day stuff. I even give a short lecture so my students know I mean business. Feeling more confident, I greet the 11 a.m. class and prepare to run through it all again.

“I’m going to call the roll,” I say. “If your name isn’t on this list, come see me after class so we can get you enrolled. Just indicate that you are present.”

“Norma Jean Atwater.”

“Present.”

“Susan Blackburn.”

“Here.”

“Henry Durham.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

My head snaps up at the sound of the familiar voice coming from the back row. A pair of laughing dark eyes look back at me, the same eyes I looked into this morning in the woods. I am stunned.

I manage to get through class, though flushed and heart pounding. After class, Henry saunters past my desk on his way out the door.

“See you later, Professor.”

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