I remember that day like it was etched into my very skin—the thrill of it, the forbidden rush that made my pulse throb in places I couldn’t ignore. My porcelain-pale flesh flushed with anticipation under the midday sun, my long brunette waves cascading down my back like a silken curtain. I’d chosen a quiet park on the edge of the city, one with winding paths and secluded benches hidden by overgrown bushes. The air was thick with the scent of blooming jasmine, mingling with the earthy promise of what I was about to do.

     I wore a delicate white sundress that day, the kind with thin spaghetti straps that barely contained my pert breasts, the fabric so light and flowy it skimmed my thighs like a lover’s whisper. Underneath, a pair of lacy black panties hugged my hips, the kind that rode up just enough to tease my sensitive folds. No bra—why bother when the breeze could harden my nipples against the cotton? My feet were in strappy sandals, toes painted a deep crimson, grounding me as I walked with purpose, feeling the first twinges in my belly.

     The urge had built all morning, a delicious pressure in my gut, like a coiled serpent awakening. I’d eaten heavily the night before—rich pasta, fibrous greens, all to ensure the load would be copious, satisfying. By the time I reached that hidden spot behind a cluster of oaks, my body was humming with need. I glanced around—no one in sight, but the risk of discovery sent a shiver straight to my core. My pussy clenched, already slick with arousal, as I hiked up my sundress, the hem bunching around my waist like an invitation.

     I slid my panties down slowly, savoring the cool air kissing my bare ass, the lace grazing my thighs before pooling at my ankles. Squatting there, legs spread wide enough to feel the vulnerability, I let go. The first push was ecstasy—a warm, insistent stretch as my sphincter yielded, the thick mass beginning its descent. Oh, the sensation! It was like velvet fire, the fullness parting me inch by inch, the heat radiating through my cheeks as it emerged, coiling heavily onto the grass below. I moaned softly, my fingers slipping between my legs to circle my swollen clit, the dual pleasure making my vision blur.

     It came in waves, luxurious and unrelenting. The texture was divine—smooth yet firm, sliding out with a wet, audible squelch that echoed in my ears like a secret symphony. I felt every ridge, every curve as it stretched me wider, the pressure building to a crescendo that had me gasping, my porcelain skin prickling with goosebumps. The scent hit me then, musky and primal, mingling with my own arousal, a heady perfume that made my hips buck involuntarily. Copious, yes—endless ropes of it, piling up in a steaming heap, the warmth seeping into the earth as I pushed harder, reveling in the burn, the release that bordered on orgasmic.

     My free hand gripped my thigh, nails digging into the soft flesh, as another thick log crowned, forcing my hole to gape deliciously. The sensory overload was intoxicating—the cool grass tickling my soles, the sundress’s fabric whispering against my back, my brunette locks swaying with each heave. I rubbed faster, my juices coating my fingers, the slick sounds matching the plop-plop of my waste hitting the ground. It felt like birthing pleasure itself, each expulsion sending jolts of bliss up my spine, my breasts heaving under the dress, nipples like diamonds scraping the material.

     When it finally tapered off, leaving me empty yet fulfilled, I lingered in the squat, admiring my creation—a generous, coiled mound, dark and glistening. The afterglow washed over me, my body trembling as I brought myself to climax, waves crashing through me in that public solitude. I wiped with a leaf, pulled up my panties—now damp with my essence—and smoothed my dress, stepping away with a secret smile. The world none the wiser, but I… I was alive with the filthiest joy.