The Perfect Picnic

by Allie Barnes

“I hope you like your Panini room temperature,” John whispered as he brushed his erect penis against the bag of barbeque chips in my left hand.

I’d prefer a hot Panini fresh off the press, but my body is so weak from hunger that I don’t disapprove of any sandwich temperature. It took us twenty minutes of roaming the woods to find the perfect picnic spot, now all I want to do is sit my rear end on top of John’s massive hard dick and sink my teeth into this questionable sandwich.

I lay out my period-stained bed-fitted sheet. John sits down with the picnic basket while I stand barefoot on the sheet, bag of chips now open. There’s something about the scent of barbeque chips mixed with the wood’s animalistic odor of dog feces that is making my pussy wet.

John is watching me as I alternate between using my fingers to scoop chips into my mouth, and using those fingers to rub my hairy crotch underneath my skirt. The barbeque seasoning is giving my vagina a grainy texture I’ve never felt before.

John is a few bites deep in his Panini. The amount of mayonnaise on his face and inside his mouth is overwhelming. I take my hand out of the barbeque chip bag and gesture for him to scoot closer to me.

John pushes up my skirt and places his lips onto my chapped pussy lips. John’s mouth is sliding everywhere. The mixture of my natural pussy juice and the copious amount of mayo now mixed into my cunt proves to be a challenge for his tongue. It feels sensational. He comes up for air, his mayo-covered-face now sparkling with golden brown barbeque dust. I look down at my pubes and smile; the mayo will most likely act as a fantastic conditioner for my hair down there.

John grabs my arms to pull me down onto the sheet beside him. It feels nice to rest my legs and unwrap my Panini. I’m feeling ravenous.

My sandwich tastes rather dry, so I use my pointer finger to scrape some mayo off of my pubic zone and onto my ciabatta. As I eat, I’m finding numerous pubes lodged in my sandwich. Fortunately I love sprouts, so this texture doesn’t really bother me. I finish my sandwich, happy to have something more in my stomach than just handfuls of chips and John’s cum from this morning.

John is laying belly down on the sheet resting his eyes. It’s been an exhausting afternoon. I straddle his ass and slowly work his mesh athletic shorts off his body. Normally he’d protest such public nudity, but we haven’t seen a soul since the parking lot.

I begin to grind my raw pussy back and forth on his pimpled butt. I let out deep moans as he lets out thick farts that float up my fuzzy taco hole.

“You are mine and I am yours” I say.

I reach over to the picnic basket to pull out the pretzel rods. I grip one with no hesitation and jam it directly into John’s anus. John lets out a pleasurable cry as he clenches his back cheeks. I want to ride the pretzel coming out of John’s ass like a dick, but that wish comes to a halt when we hear the pretzel rod break. Half the pretzel is inside John, swallowed by his eager tight butthole.

I unwrap my legs off of John and begin to tidy up our picnic spot. The sun is setting and the mayo coating my labia is starting to give off a sour smell. It’s time to pack up and head home. John limps his way to the car. The pretzel rod is lodged far up inside him and he’s beginning to sweat. The room temperate meat & mayo from my Panini seems to be upsetting my stomach. I pop a squat next to the car and release liquid bowels for what feels like fifteen minutes. As I’m wiping my butt with my picnic sheet, I glance up and lock eyes with John.

“You are my sun, my moon, my rain, my poon. Marry me?” John asks.

I have no words, I need no words. I begin to nod, and John wraps his arms around me.

“Let’s shit that pretzel stick out together, Baby” I whispered.

I held John’s hands in mine, and together we crouched on the gravel, squeezing and grunting until the pretzel fell from John’s glorious back hole.

May God bless us with more perfect picnics.

tagged in issue225