"It says here that a supermoon
is a full moon that coincides with the perigee -- the closest that the
moon comes to earth in its orbit. It says the moon appears to be about
14% larger and 30% brighter than when it's at the opposite end of its
orbit. Which is called apogee, just in case you were wondering."
"How often does that happen?" he asked.
"Let's see, it says there are usually 3-4 a year -- we have 2 this year. I guess we missed the one in March."
"That was probably during one of our spring monsoons when the clouds were socked in," he replied.
"It says that the April full moon is called a Pink Moon, from the pink flowers that bloom in spring."
His thoughts flashed back to when he was a kid of 6 or 7; an Easter Sunday after church, playing in the yard behind his grandparents' house in spring -- the hillside was covered in creeping phlox. He chased after the yellow butterflies that flitted from flower to flower across the pink landscape. "Phlox" -- that was a word he didn't know at the time -- the local mountain term for these flowers was "thrift", probably because they could grow on poor soil and even cover up bare rocks.
"Wow," she added, "there are a bunch of names for the full moon in April: Sprouting Grass Moon, Fish Moon, Hare Moon, Egg Moon."
She put the phone down and they just stared at the moon for awhile.
They were sitting in the swing on the deck, barefooted and relaxed with drinks in hand, pleasantly tired. They had gone for a long hike in the mountains during the day -- over 12 miles, and had that tired but relaxed endorphin glow that comes after hard exercise, a hot shower, and a couple of beers. It was an early spring and was unseasonably warm; he was in shorts and a T-shirt and she had on a little sleeveless sundress for the first time since last September.
The moonlight was so bright it was almost eerie; like daylight in an alternate universe. He could probably read a book just from the light from the sky.
The day had been a brief vacation from the COVID-19 Apocalypse -- they did not listen to the radio on the drive up, and turned their phones off during the hike (which was redundant, since they had no cell signal in the mountains anyway), and did not have to stop for gas. The restaurants were all either closed or doing take-out only. They had chosen a remote trail away from major roads, and had not interacted with any other humans all day, other than as co-travelers on the highway. A pleasant day in an otherwise bizarre world.
She stood up and turned toward the east to get a better look at the moon, stretching her arms over her head as she worked out the kinks from the backpack straps. Her strawberry-blond hair looked almost white in this light, and he could tell she was braless from the generous side-boob visible in her loose-fitting dress. Beautiful woman, his wife.
Suddenly, he felt an overpowering urge to hold on to her, a psychological need to cling to her for dear life. And a physical need to be inside her, wrapped around her, to taste her, feel her body heat.
He stood up and embraced her from behind, cupping her soft breasts in both hands and burying his face in her hair.
"You're not doing a very good job of social distancing. You're liable to catch some of my germs," she said playfully.
"I've been fantasizing about getting some of your germs all day."
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed as he felt her ass cheeks through the thin fabric. And kissed, and kissed some more...
"I've got another name for the April full moon," he said. "Boner Moon."
She giggled and cupped his crotch, finding his partial erection and stroking it to full arousal while he continued massaging her ass.
"Hey! You're getting awfully frisky," she said as he grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled it up over her head and tossed it onto the swing. He bent down and took one of her rosy pink nipples in his mouth and sucked it to attention, then licked a trail across her chest to the other one. He sucked and swirled his tongue around her nipple as she moaned and gripped his cock tighter through his shorts.
Both nipples jutted out as hard as marbles as he stepped back slightly to admire the view in the moonglow.
"I hate to interrupt the mood, but I need to go pee before we go any further," she said. "The beer is going through me."
His pause and mischievous grin clued her in on what was coming next: "Let me watch you pee."
"Oh, you pervert! I saw you peeking at me when I went behind the tree on the trail today."
"Just wanted to make sure you were safe from bears and snakes."
"Yeah, right."
"You knew I was a pervert before you married me. That's one of the things you love about me, remember?"
"So how are we going to do this? Do you want to follow me to the bathroom?"
"No, I want to watch you pee right here in the moonlight. I want to see you pee through your panties. Leave your panties on and pee right here on the deck."
"Boy, you're getting more perverted every day. You've been watching those PornHub videos behind my back, haven't you?"
"I assert my Fifth Amendment right not to answer that." He sat down on the seat of the picnic table and admired his wife standing a few feet away. Soft full breasts with erect pink nipples, blond hair cascading onto her shoulders, pale white skin with a few freckles on her arms and upper chest that he was surprised he could see even though it was nighttime. And panties so white they looked luminescent in the moonlight.
"I've really got to pee right now," she said. "Are you really going to make me wet my panties?"
"Please..."
She closed her eyes and spread her legs slightly apart.
He watched as a small dark spot appeared in the crotch of her panties and a few drops came through, then stopped.
She opened her eyes with an embarrassed look on her face. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."
"Take your time. You look beautiful, by the way."
Holding his gaze, she looked at him for a few seconds and then he heard the pee hitting the deck boards with a loud splash. With a serene smile she closed her eyes and leaned back slightly, with hands on her hips. He focused on the beautiful, almost surreal sight before him: the white panties with the dark wet spot growing to cover the whole crotch, rivulets of pee escaping out the sides and running down the inside of her thighs, and the stream of piss coming straight out of the crotch of her panties and splashing loudly on the deck below. After a few seconds her panties were completely soaked through and pee had stopped seeping around the sides and down her legs; just one golden firehose stream of pee coming through the panties and pounding on the deck.
Finally, after what must have been 20 seconds of full blast peeing, the flow slowed to a trickle, then a few little squirts, then stopped. She half opened her eyes and looked at him in what seemed almost like a post-orgasmic blissful state.
"Was that what you wanted?" She asked.
In seconds, without a word, he shed his shorts and shirt and embraced her, his hard cock sliding into the wetness between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he clutched her ass cheeks and picked her up and moved them over to the edge of the picnic table and away from the puddle. He sat her feet down and kissed her passionately, holding her ass as his cock slid back and forth between her thighs, rubbing against the wet panties covering her pussy lips.
"I love you," he said spontaneously, and then kissed her again with no time for a reply.
Gently he turned her around to face the picnic table and knelt behind her as she leaned over the table, supporting herself with forearms and elbows as he admired the view from behind. Inches away from the beautiful wet panties, he could smell her pee faintly.
Grabbing the top of her panties, he slowly slid them down just a little, just enough to uncover her round ass cheeks and the treasures between them. She was a strawberry blond up top, but down here she was all strawberry -- her fiery pubes was one of the things that turned him on the most about his wife. Pink labia, pink asshole, red pubic hair; he had almost cum in his pants the first time these were revealed when they had first started dating.
A few droplets of pee still clung to her pubes, and they sparkled like tiny stars in the moonlight. His tongue went to her asshole first, because... well, because it was right there. And because it was so pretty and sexy and pink and tightly puckered -- licking her asshole had always been one of his favorite things. It was a good thing she enjoyed it too because he was going to do it anyway.
She moaned as his wet tongue probed and teased and tasted her tight little hole. She was clean but had that musky, earthy flavor and aroma that grabbed ahold of something ancient and primal in his sexual brain. He worked his way down below into her hair and her slit, leading with his nose and tasting the cool, salty, bitter taste of the leftover wetness from her pee, finally getting to the hot, tangy, slippery wetness of her pussy juices. His nose pushed into her cunt while his tongue did circles on her clit, and the moans got louder as she stretched out face down across the picnic table.
He was lost in a trance; for a long while nothing existed but the soft round buttocks in his hands, the wet, slick pussy lips, sweet little asshole, the sighs and moans of the love of his life, all bathed in a romantic moonglow...
"Please fuck me now," she whispered, (not unpleasantly) interrupting his trance.
He could tell she was building toward an orgasm, and although sometimes he ate her to a climax, she usually preferred being brought to the brink with oral stimulation, then fucked hard over the edge.
As he stood up it dawned on him that his cock had been rock hard ever since the first wet spot had appeared in her panties. With his hands on her hips and no need for assistance, his cock found her wet slit on its own and he slowly pushed into her tight, wet pussy, savoring the slow disappearance of his cock as her tight tunnel gripped it firmly. Finally, his full length was inside and they were joined in that intimate connection that humans had craved for thousands of years; in moonlight or daylight or darkness, in caves and open fields, in beds and backseats and on the dirt in front of campfires.
For awhile he just stayed still, groin to groin, pulling back on her hips, in awe that his whole cock was deep inside this beautiful woman and relishing the hot, tight, wet embrace of her body. Then she moved, pushing back against him, wanting more. He slowly withdrew, the juices coating his shaft glistening in the moonlight, until just the head was still inside, with her opening stretched tightly around it. Then a hard thrust all the way into her depths again, and now he couldn't stop, couldn't pause -- he was fucking her like his life depended on it, fucking her with pure animal instinct and lust, without thought or planning or awareness of anything else, just fucking.
She gripped the edges of the picnic table and whispered, "Yes, fuck me, fuck me! God that feels so good."
Her panties were pulled down just far enough for access to her entrance, and with every stroke his balls dragged across the top of the satiny panties, giving him an extra caress as his cock pounded in and out of her wet pussy. Hard and fast they fucked, and both were rushing toward an inevitable, unstoppable climax.
She got there first, suddenly, with a gasp as she bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts. "Oh yes, yessss, fuck!"
That sent him over the edge; his cum exploded deep inside her, even as he kept thrusting, kept pounding as spurt after spurt filled her and made a wet sloppy mess in her already wet pussy. He kept on fucking as she trembled and shook from her intense orgasm and finally relaxed and went limp across the top of the picnic table. Still, he kept pumping, his cock still rock hard and the final contractions of his prostate dribbling more semen into her depths.
Finally, he stopped thrusting and just stood there, his still-hard cock ensconced inside her. He looked at the moon, and felt a little woozy and unsteady. He was aware of the chorus frogs calling from the creek, and heard a lonesome train whistle from the tracks over a mile away. He softened a little, and his cock slipped from her pussy. She pushed herself off the picnic table and turned to embrace him. She kissed him, then they just held each other, arms wrapped around, softening cock against belly, panties still pulled down around her thighs.
"Oooh, you're dripping out of me," she said.
He looked down and saw a glob of semen in the crotch of her panties, as another long string dribbled down from her open pussy lips.
"That's what your porn sites call a creampie, I believe," she said.
"From where I'm standing, it looks more like a moonpie." He said.
She laughed, "Okay, pervert, we made a moonpie. And by the way, I love you too."
"How often does that happen?" he asked.
"Let's see, it says there are usually 3-4 a year -- we have 2 this year. I guess we missed the one in March."
"That was probably during one of our spring monsoons when the clouds were socked in," he replied.
"It says that the April full moon is called a Pink Moon, from the pink flowers that bloom in spring."
His thoughts flashed back to when he was a kid of 6 or 7; an Easter Sunday after church, playing in the yard behind his grandparents' house in spring -- the hillside was covered in creeping phlox. He chased after the yellow butterflies that flitted from flower to flower across the pink landscape. "Phlox" -- that was a word he didn't know at the time -- the local mountain term for these flowers was "thrift", probably because they could grow on poor soil and even cover up bare rocks.
"Wow," she added, "there are a bunch of names for the full moon in April: Sprouting Grass Moon, Fish Moon, Hare Moon, Egg Moon."
She put the phone down and they just stared at the moon for awhile.
They were sitting in the swing on the deck, barefooted and relaxed with drinks in hand, pleasantly tired. They had gone for a long hike in the mountains during the day -- over 12 miles, and had that tired but relaxed endorphin glow that comes after hard exercise, a hot shower, and a couple of beers. It was an early spring and was unseasonably warm; he was in shorts and a T-shirt and she had on a little sleeveless sundress for the first time since last September.
The moonlight was so bright it was almost eerie; like daylight in an alternate universe. He could probably read a book just from the light from the sky.
The day had been a brief vacation from the COVID-19 Apocalypse -- they did not listen to the radio on the drive up, and turned their phones off during the hike (which was redundant, since they had no cell signal in the mountains anyway), and did not have to stop for gas. The restaurants were all either closed or doing take-out only. They had chosen a remote trail away from major roads, and had not interacted with any other humans all day, other than as co-travelers on the highway. A pleasant day in an otherwise bizarre world.
She stood up and turned toward the east to get a better look at the moon, stretching her arms over her head as she worked out the kinks from the backpack straps. Her strawberry-blond hair looked almost white in this light, and he could tell she was braless from the generous side-boob visible in her loose-fitting dress. Beautiful woman, his wife.
Suddenly, he felt an overpowering urge to hold on to her, a psychological need to cling to her for dear life. And a physical need to be inside her, wrapped around her, to taste her, feel her body heat.
He stood up and embraced her from behind, cupping her soft breasts in both hands and burying his face in her hair.
"You're not doing a very good job of social distancing. You're liable to catch some of my germs," she said playfully.
"I've been fantasizing about getting some of your germs all day."
She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and they kissed as he felt her ass cheeks through the thin fabric. And kissed, and kissed some more...
"I've got another name for the April full moon," he said. "Boner Moon."
She giggled and cupped his crotch, finding his partial erection and stroking it to full arousal while he continued massaging her ass.
"Hey! You're getting awfully frisky," she said as he grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled it up over her head and tossed it onto the swing. He bent down and took one of her rosy pink nipples in his mouth and sucked it to attention, then licked a trail across her chest to the other one. He sucked and swirled his tongue around her nipple as she moaned and gripped his cock tighter through his shorts.
Both nipples jutted out as hard as marbles as he stepped back slightly to admire the view in the moonglow.
"I hate to interrupt the mood, but I need to go pee before we go any further," she said. "The beer is going through me."
His pause and mischievous grin clued her in on what was coming next: "Let me watch you pee."
"Oh, you pervert! I saw you peeking at me when I went behind the tree on the trail today."
"Just wanted to make sure you were safe from bears and snakes."
"Yeah, right."
"You knew I was a pervert before you married me. That's one of the things you love about me, remember?"
"So how are we going to do this? Do you want to follow me to the bathroom?"
"No, I want to watch you pee right here in the moonlight. I want to see you pee through your panties. Leave your panties on and pee right here on the deck."
"Boy, you're getting more perverted every day. You've been watching those PornHub videos behind my back, haven't you?"
"I assert my Fifth Amendment right not to answer that." He sat down on the seat of the picnic table and admired his wife standing a few feet away. Soft full breasts with erect pink nipples, blond hair cascading onto her shoulders, pale white skin with a few freckles on her arms and upper chest that he was surprised he could see even though it was nighttime. And panties so white they looked luminescent in the moonlight.
"I've really got to pee right now," she said. "Are you really going to make me wet my panties?"
"Please..."
She closed her eyes and spread her legs slightly apart.
He watched as a small dark spot appeared in the crotch of her panties and a few drops came through, then stopped.
She opened her eyes with an embarrassed look on her face. "Sorry, I'm a little nervous."
"Take your time. You look beautiful, by the way."
Holding his gaze, she looked at him for a few seconds and then he heard the pee hitting the deck boards with a loud splash. With a serene smile she closed her eyes and leaned back slightly, with hands on her hips. He focused on the beautiful, almost surreal sight before him: the white panties with the dark wet spot growing to cover the whole crotch, rivulets of pee escaping out the sides and running down the inside of her thighs, and the stream of piss coming straight out of the crotch of her panties and splashing loudly on the deck below. After a few seconds her panties were completely soaked through and pee had stopped seeping around the sides and down her legs; just one golden firehose stream of pee coming through the panties and pounding on the deck.
Finally, after what must have been 20 seconds of full blast peeing, the flow slowed to a trickle, then a few little squirts, then stopped. She half opened her eyes and looked at him in what seemed almost like a post-orgasmic blissful state.
"Was that what you wanted?" She asked.
In seconds, without a word, he shed his shorts and shirt and embraced her, his hard cock sliding into the wetness between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he clutched her ass cheeks and picked her up and moved them over to the edge of the picnic table and away from the puddle. He sat her feet down and kissed her passionately, holding her ass as his cock slid back and forth between her thighs, rubbing against the wet panties covering her pussy lips.
"I love you," he said spontaneously, and then kissed her again with no time for a reply.
Gently he turned her around to face the picnic table and knelt behind her as she leaned over the table, supporting herself with forearms and elbows as he admired the view from behind. Inches away from the beautiful wet panties, he could smell her pee faintly.
Grabbing the top of her panties, he slowly slid them down just a little, just enough to uncover her round ass cheeks and the treasures between them. She was a strawberry blond up top, but down here she was all strawberry -- her fiery pubes was one of the things that turned him on the most about his wife. Pink labia, pink asshole, red pubic hair; he had almost cum in his pants the first time these were revealed when they had first started dating.
A few droplets of pee still clung to her pubes, and they sparkled like tiny stars in the moonlight. His tongue went to her asshole first, because... well, because it was right there. And because it was so pretty and sexy and pink and tightly puckered -- licking her asshole had always been one of his favorite things. It was a good thing she enjoyed it too because he was going to do it anyway.
She moaned as his wet tongue probed and teased and tasted her tight little hole. She was clean but had that musky, earthy flavor and aroma that grabbed ahold of something ancient and primal in his sexual brain. He worked his way down below into her hair and her slit, leading with his nose and tasting the cool, salty, bitter taste of the leftover wetness from her pee, finally getting to the hot, tangy, slippery wetness of her pussy juices. His nose pushed into her cunt while his tongue did circles on her clit, and the moans got louder as she stretched out face down across the picnic table.
He was lost in a trance; for a long while nothing existed but the soft round buttocks in his hands, the wet, slick pussy lips, sweet little asshole, the sighs and moans of the love of his life, all bathed in a romantic moonglow...
"Please fuck me now," she whispered, (not unpleasantly) interrupting his trance.
He could tell she was building toward an orgasm, and although sometimes he ate her to a climax, she usually preferred being brought to the brink with oral stimulation, then fucked hard over the edge.
As he stood up it dawned on him that his cock had been rock hard ever since the first wet spot had appeared in her panties. With his hands on her hips and no need for assistance, his cock found her wet slit on its own and he slowly pushed into her tight, wet pussy, savoring the slow disappearance of his cock as her tight tunnel gripped it firmly. Finally, his full length was inside and they were joined in that intimate connection that humans had craved for thousands of years; in moonlight or daylight or darkness, in caves and open fields, in beds and backseats and on the dirt in front of campfires.
For awhile he just stayed still, groin to groin, pulling back on her hips, in awe that his whole cock was deep inside this beautiful woman and relishing the hot, tight, wet embrace of her body. Then she moved, pushing back against him, wanting more. He slowly withdrew, the juices coating his shaft glistening in the moonlight, until just the head was still inside, with her opening stretched tightly around it. Then a hard thrust all the way into her depths again, and now he couldn't stop, couldn't pause -- he was fucking her like his life depended on it, fucking her with pure animal instinct and lust, without thought or planning or awareness of anything else, just fucking.
She gripped the edges of the picnic table and whispered, "Yes, fuck me, fuck me! God that feels so good."
Her panties were pulled down just far enough for access to her entrance, and with every stroke his balls dragged across the top of the satiny panties, giving him an extra caress as his cock pounded in and out of her wet pussy. Hard and fast they fucked, and both were rushing toward an inevitable, unstoppable climax.
She got there first, suddenly, with a gasp as she bucked her hips up to meet his thrusts. "Oh yes, yessss, fuck!"
That sent him over the edge; his cum exploded deep inside her, even as he kept thrusting, kept pounding as spurt after spurt filled her and made a wet sloppy mess in her already wet pussy. He kept on fucking as she trembled and shook from her intense orgasm and finally relaxed and went limp across the top of the picnic table. Still, he kept pumping, his cock still rock hard and the final contractions of his prostate dribbling more semen into her depths.
Finally, he stopped thrusting and just stood there, his still-hard cock ensconced inside her. He looked at the moon, and felt a little woozy and unsteady. He was aware of the chorus frogs calling from the creek, and heard a lonesome train whistle from the tracks over a mile away. He softened a little, and his cock slipped from her pussy. She pushed herself off the picnic table and turned to embrace him. She kissed him, then they just held each other, arms wrapped around, softening cock against belly, panties still pulled down around her thighs.
"Oooh, you're dripping out of me," she said.
He looked down and saw a glob of semen in the crotch of her panties, as another long string dribbled down from her open pussy lips.
"That's what your porn sites call a creampie, I believe," she said.
"From where I'm standing, it looks more like a moonpie." He said.
She laughed, "Okay, pervert, we made a moonpie. And by the way, I love you too."
