In Heat

Explicit content warning

06/27/24 • -1 min

Steamy-Stories

A scorching outdoor encounter in the dog days of summer.

by TheSleepingKing. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

You know the worst thing about the Midwest? August.

Sure, there are other things. But after three straight weeks of 98 degrees and 90% humidity you don’t really care that Kansas is a thing. You just want out – to escape the stifling grassland; preferably to a place where you don’t need to swim through the steam to reach the next air-conditioned oasis.

Where I work we need to maintain a minimum staffing level to fulfill our obligations. So vacation requests are handled on a first come first serve basis. First person to request time off gets first pick of available dates. Usually I get in early, guaranteeing myself at least one week that I want. But by the time I remembered to request this year, my only option for a summer break was the final week in August.

Monday and Tuesday were a bust. Too hot to leave the house. I tried Monday morning, heading out to my favorite brunch spot for an omelet. But after burning my hand on the gear shift lever at 10:00 am I decided to pack it in. The weather app promised cooler temperatures mid-to-late-week, so I set about crafting a plan to salvage what was left of my vacation.

There’s a state park a few hours north, on the edge of a popular college town. I’d hiked there several times before. It was quiet, with a decent elevation and full tree canopy, and a 15-foot waterfall at the crux of the two longest trails. Temps in the mid-eighties were still warmer than I preferred. But after months of being stuck in a warehouse 10 hours a day, a little time outside seemed...necessary.

I texted my friend Natalie, curious if she’d want to tag along. She was fun, outdoorsy, and never seemed too busy for an adventure. And sometimes, if we’d both had a few drinks, you might find her with her head in my lap, cock in her mouth and my fingers slowly circling her clit; agreeing this was a great way to spend an evening. But this time I struck out. I was on my own. I’d have to make the best of it.

Every hotel in town was booked for Friday night (damn college football weekend), so I reserved a room for Wednesday and Thursday and headed out after lunch. Two hours and three Interstates later I pulled into a parking lot already half-filled with cars. I intended to drop my bag in the room and lap the short trail before dinner. That plan screeched to halt the moment I shut off the car.

Cooler temperatures midweek my ass. It was 90 degrees at 4:15. The air saturated my clothes as I trudged across the pavement, and by the time I arrived at the check-in desk I knew I was done for the day. Cranking up the air in the room I decided to catch up on some streaming shows before heading across the parking lot to a local burger joint for a lite supper.

But soon the sun disappeared behind a fortress of darkened clouds. The wind whipped up and the rain poured down in sheets, lashing the windows and transforming the parking lot into a rippling black pond. I watched for a while, checking the weather report to find nothing about precipitation. If Thursday was anything like this....

Eventually the rain stopped, and I headed out for dinner. It was cooler now – high 70s or so, and the squall had dried the air enough for the wind to wick away the water instead of steaming me in a sauna. I picked a seat in the corner of the restaurant patio and settled in for a meal.

The dining room filled up quickly. Mostly locals – you could tell by the comfortable clothes and their rapport with the bartenders. But midway through my second beer, three young women rounded the corner from the waiting area, following the hostess to a four-top across the aisle from me beneath the center awning. And they were obviously based somewhere else.

Two of them looked similar, (sisters maybe? cousins?) with straight blonde hair and big broad smiles. They dressed like they’d come straight from the yacht club: white shorts, striped navy tees and deck shoes; one with a denim jacket, the other in a hat. The third was taller with rectangular glasses, buoyant, gently curled auburn hair, and a short powder blue A-line summer dress accentuating the tone and length of her legs.

She caught me looking as they stopped at their table. I turned away quickly, smiling to myself, disappointed, yet amused that I wasn’t as discrete as I used to be. I took a full swig of beer and set the mug gently on the coaster before glancing back toward their table. The brunette had switched places with her friends, taking the seat on the far side of the circle, just about facing me.

For a while I kept my eyes to myself. They ordered drinks and struck up a lively conversation. My burger...

A scorching outdoor encounter in the dog days of summer.

by TheSleepingKing. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

You know the worst thing about the Midwest? August.

For a while I kept my eyes to myself. They ordered drinks and struck up a lively conversation. My burger...

Previous Episode

Desiree: Senior Year

Finally connecting with a high-school friend.

by outdoorhorny. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

Desiree should have been born in the 60’s. Everything about her reflected a kinder, gentler, and groovier vibe than the 90’s were comfortable with–in short, she was a hippie. She wore patterned peasant skirts, thin cotton T-shirts with mandalas and such, beads all over the place, Birkenstocks, and course, a peace-sign medallion. All of these things drew my eyes to her right away, but they in no way hid the luscious body beneath and behind them. She had long brown hair that fell in soft curls below her shoulders.

Her eyes were dark brown, her lips deep red and shaped like Cupid’s bow. Full breasts and wide hips stretched her garments tight in all the right places. Best of all, her skin was translucent and flawless, even in the dead of winter.

We were both new students in school during our senior year. She had been kicked out of boarding school, and my parents had retired to a small town in the eastern part of the state. That made us the only 2 students in our grade who hadn’t been there all 4 years. Actually, the rest of the student body pretty much grew up together, but since the high school served 3 towns, only a third of them had been in school together all 12 years previously. Still, it was enough to make us feel like total outsiders.

That alone was enough to bond us, but we also had a lot of classes together. There were only small sections of upper-level classes in English, history, math, French, and science, and we were in all those together. She was always somewhat spacey, but a good student, a good lab partner and homework buddy, and a pleasure to talk to, even if the conversations took odd turns.

She was dating a guy named David who had already graduated. I spent the fall pursuing the only other single girl in our upper-level group, but she was still kind of seeing her old boyfriend from a few towns away, so that wasn’t a regular thing. We all went to the same parties, hung out after soccer and basketball games, and went to the nearest big town once in a while for some wild nights of pizza or McDonalds and a movie.

It wasn’t until winter came that I realized how badly I wanted to be with Desiree. There was a lot of snow that winter, and she called one afternoon to tell me that her 18th birthday party was moved from the Science Museum to her own house–that way, no one had to drive 45 minutes in bad weather.

When I got there, Des was dressed up for a change. There was still a hippie vibe to her outfit, but her parents had friends over as well, and everyone was dressed for a holiday party. It turned out that her family had scheduled both things, but combined them to save everyone a drive. Anyway, she looked amazing–her hair was silky and somewhat straighter, she had on a little makeup, and her outfit made her look older and more beautiful. I was glad I had taken some pains to dress up as well–some of our friends didn’t get the memo and showed up in our usual teenage gear. She told me how nice I looked, and I made sure to compliment her as well.

Because of my mother’s job, I was accustomed to spending time with adults at parties like this one. I chatted with her parents, and with some other adults who were parents of kids at school, or people I had met around town. Even the damn principal of the high school was there, which was a little weird for all of us! I saw Desiree working her way around the room as well, and my eyes kept straying her way as I admired her outfit, her flashing eyes, and the soft ripples of laughter that I knew so well. She caught me looking every once in a while and smiled at me.

When I finally broke away to hang out with my friends, her mom stopped me to say how glad she was that I had come. She complimented my poise, told me I was very grown up, and gave me a peck on the cheek. I grimaced, blushed, and thanked her before disengaging as gracefully as I could. When I got out of the kitchen and headed for the den where the kids were hanging out, Desiree was headed out as well.

“Wow–you’re quite the hit with the mom-and-dad crowd, dude” she teased me.

“Just working the room, ya know?” I said in my most pompous voice.

“I’m sorry if my mom embarrassed you,” she said apologetically. “She can be kinda over the top. I keep trying to get her to mellow out, but she always comes out with something trippy!”

“No problem–I can handle moms pretty well. My mom used to drag me to parties all the time for her old job, and you just kind of get used to the chit-chat.”

“Well,” she began, taking my arm, “I w...

Next Episode

Big Mike Goes Backpacking: Part 1

Backpacking couples turns wild on nude day.

Based on a post by m storyman x. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.

At fifty years old I consider myself to be in pretty good shape. With my wife, Nancy, being in the military she has to continually work out to stay in shape, and that tends to have a certain amount of carryover. I mean, I can't exactly build a workout room in the house with all that equipment and not feel guilty if I don't use it. So, use it I do, keeping my 6 foot frame down to a hundred eighty-five pounds and in pretty good trim.

A few years ago I suggested a simple overnight backpack trip to my wife. Having done a lot of backpacking with the Scouts for years, finally taking one with my wife was actually a pretty thrilling prospect. It's a great way to get some really good exercise and also enjoy the outdoors; which for me is a really important thing. I love to camp, hike, fish, hunt; you name it.

When our kids were young, scouting and other activities led to meeting other couples of our own age and interests. We have met a few couples doing the same kind of thing, enjoying the great outdoors and time together at the same time, and a few have become very good friends.

This particular morning was the third morning of a trip that Mary and John had planned and directed. It was a bit of a surprise to get the invite since it was supposed to be our turn to plan the next outing, a duty usually passed around on a rotating basis.

But as expected, Mary had done her homework and picked an incredible out of the way location. Mary isn’t pushy or rude. We went to bed last night on the side of a mountain overlooking a western range, the sun turning the sky to burnt orange as it slowly sunk behind the peaks. The night insects and tree frogs provided a gentle chorus and helped to mute the sounds of lovemaking from the other two tents, as my wife and I crawled into ours naked.

Backpacking is an art of carrying every necessity on your back, and hiking into the wilderness. So the creature comforts are very limited, thus the challenge. There is just nothing quite like making love in a tiny, two man tent, with little room to move. Your positions are limited, as are your motions, which leads to an interesting arrangement of actions and positions you might not consider for your large comfortable bed. As I lay panting, snuggling my wife's sexy and sweaty body, I wondered if we were as noisy to the others, as they seemed to us.

Morning dawned as early as it always does on any mountain elevation, with the sound of birds chirping in the pines and the sun filtering through the branches. I yawned and gave my wife's still naked, sexy tits a kiss before crawling out of the tent as naked as she was. I used our tent to shield myself from the others while I pulled on a pair of workout shorts and then stepped into the pair of flip-flops I liked to use around camp. I looked around, and to my surprise, saw Mary squatting by the fire, staring right at me. I had absolutely no doubt that she has seen me standing there naked with my normal morning woody. She had on a long t-shirt, but with her facing me and her knees spread wide it was an easy view up the bottom of her shirt to her pussy, which looked to be freshly shaved.

With Mary and her husband, John, there is no doubt who wears the pants in that relationship; although Mary's soft manner tends to hide her dominating spirit. She will look at you with her smiling green eyes, framed with her always curly brown hair, and you simply know you will be doing whatever she says. In her forties, Mary is quiet and subdued, until you cross her. Only then does her sharp intellect and tongue come out to greet you. She is not quite as slender as I'm sure she was in her youth, and her husband is a bit heavier, although from what I have seen it's all muscle.

I did have the chance to see Mary mostly naked once, accidently walking up on her while she was peeing in the bushes, on the previous campout. She made sure to give me a good look before walking over to me, her pants still around her thighs, and undoing my belt. She had my cock out and stroked hard in no time before giving me a wet kiss on the lips and then walking away, leaving both of us hanging. Since that time she has teased me mercilessly with periodic, extremely brief, flashes of her tits or pussy. But never have I seen her whole body...