The Sarah & Mark Series

Sarah & Mark (Book 5)

The meeting of Sarah & Mark

Chapter 1

Following my first posting near Hanover in Germany, the eleven years blurred into a relentless cycle of duty, discipline, and discovery. My career in the British Army, which had begun with nearly a year of training, evolved into something I was fiercely proud of. I thrived in the structured chaos of military life. My aptitude for Electronic Warfare saw me fast-tracked through the ranks. Promotion to Captain came five years after commissioning, a milestone marked by a posting to Afghanistan. The dust and heat of Camp Bastion became a defining period; the constant threat was a sharp, terrifying contrast to the illicit thrill of my posting in Germany. I was good at my job, leading my troop with a confidence that surprised even myself. My record was near-perfect, marked by commendations for my cool-headed analysis during high-stakes operations. I enjoyed it; it was a perfect job for me, and I evolved into a strong, defined, and professional woman.

My personal life became a series of intense but fleeting chapters. I ran five marathons, each one a testament to the iron will the army had forged in me. Six years into my service, I met Klaus, a handsome and earnest German police officer. We fell hard and fast, and he proposed on the beach whilst on holiday in Barcelona. But our love story hit a fundamental roadblock. Klaus, a civilian at heart, could not reconcile his life with the demands of mine. "Sarah, I love you," he said, his voice tight with emotion, "but I cannot love the Army. I need you to choose us. Choose me." My commission was not just a job; it was my identity. I chose the Army. We broke up, but I remained fond of him, a ghost of what might have been. I have no regrets; this journey was everything to me and I wasn't ready to settle down at 25 years old.

Our relationship wasn't just about romance; it was about shared rebellion, and our naked walks were a perfect example of this. Klaus's house backed onto vast woodlands, and our walks quickly became our favourite summer time ritual. We'd trek into the trees, and then, in a clearing two hundred meters from his house, we'd shed our clothes, just keeping our shoes on. The feeling of the forest air on my naked skin was intoxicating and Klaus loved to walk about with an erection pointing forward, usually as we moved hand-in-hand. We'd stroll for what felt like hours, the thrill of being discovered a constant, thrill. But sometimes, the sexual need would become too much. Klaus would press me against the rough bark of an ancient oak, my hands braced against the tree as he took me from behind. Other times, I'd simply walk beside him, my hand wrapped around his stiff cock, stroking him slowly as we navigated the paths and open ground.

One humid afternoon, we made our way to our favourite spot, a small, secluded clearing where we'd fucked countless times. But today, something was different. A small, two-man tent was pitched in the very centre of our space. Before we could retreat, another couple, looking to be in their late thirties, emerged from the trees. They saw us, both completely nude, and stopped dead. The woman, a curvy blonde with large, heavy breasts and wearing a bikini, was the first to react. A slow smile spread across her face. "Entschuldigung," she said, her eyes twinkling. "We did not know this spot was taken. But if you are Freikörperkultur (naturists) perhaps we can join?"

Klaus, ever the diplomat, shrugged. "The forest is for everyone."

The man, who introduced himself as Peter, was skinny and hairy and was only wearing a tatty pair of shorts which he discarded quickly. He gestured to his partner and introduced her as Maggie. Peter had an average body and a flaccid penis that looked remarkably similar to Klaus's. She too quickly shed her swimsuit, and without even discussing a plan of action, the four of us began to walk together, an easy, naked convoy. The atmosphere was charged with a strange, electric curiosity. As we walked, I saw Klaus begin to grow hard like he usually did on our walks, his penis pointing out and up. Peter noticed what was happening to Klaus and was constantly glancing over, and soon saw that Peter was getting into a similar state, his cock standing erect, now a fair bit longer than Klaus, but his penis quite thin by comparison. Maggie saw what was happening too, pretending to playfully poke her husband's erection, but when she saw Klaus and I watching, completely unfazed, she pushed the boundary a bit, at first giving a little stroke along the top, then using two fingers to masturbate him. Klaus squeezed my hand and winked at Maggie, whose fingers quickly wrapped around Peters erection, causing him to stop walking, and she began to rub him gently, a slow deliberate rhythm.

A silent challenge passed between us. I looked at Klaus, who grinned, and began to stroke him in return, using my hand to twist and stroke him in his favourite way. Maggie and I brought them toward the edge together, Peter moaning loudly, like he was in a porn movie. It was surreal and incredibly sexy, Maggie squatted in front of her man, using one hand to massage his balls and the other to stroke him vigorously. With a loud groan, Peter came first, his sticky cum spraying over Maggie; she got the full brunt of her husband's orgasm across her magnificent tits. Peter helped by squeezing the last of his cum over her, then, without a moment's hesitation, knelt and began to lick his own cum from her chest. He slurped his mess from her chest, taking moments to suck her nipples, then he stood up again and they shared a deep, passionate kiss. Peters own cum was dripping down his chin and all around his lips. I found it breathtakingly erotic as a moment later, Klaus, who also looked fascinated by the sexy cum kissing couple in front of us, followed, his own hot release spraying against my thigh, making a mess on my skin, the hot sticky fluid running down my leg.

I was hornier than I had ever been in a long while. "Again," I breathed, turning to him. "Can you go again?" He just smirked, and within a minute of watching the other couple continue to kiss, Peter's hand between them clearly delving into his woman's pussy, Klaus was back up again. He was ready. I leaned over against a sturdy pine tree, my hands flat on the bark, my legs spread wide. Klaus entered me from behind, his thrusts deep and powerful. Peter and Maggie moved closer and stood right next to us, watching intently as Klaus fucked me for over twenty minutes, Peter's fingers squelching in Maggie's pussy, that, some birds and the rhythmic slap of our bodies the only sounds in the woods. Finally, I felt my orgasm crest, a powerful wave that ripped through me just as Klaus groaned and emptied himself inside me. Maggie stroked my buttock once and then patted it twice, more in solidarity of a shared moment than a sexual advance.

They invited us back to their tent, but I was reticent, telling her we did not share each other, that showing off was fun, but sex with others was more than I wanted. Klaus however seemed intrigued by the invite and pulled me along, as we walked Maggie offered us something new. "Perhaps you would just like to watch us?" So we followed them back. Inside the small tent, the front flap pinned open, the air was thick with the scent of sex. Maggie got on her hands and knees, and Peter took her from behind, their movements just a few feet from where we sat. As I watched, Klaus slipped his hand between my legs, his fingers finding my clit and working it expertly. I came again, my body shuddering as I stared at the fucking couple in front of me. Klaus, two orgasms down, was hard again, but when I went to stroke him, he said it was too tender to touch still, so we left without another word, Peter and Maggie still fucking away, their loud moans likely carrying for hundreds of meters in every direction.

Klaus and I had many naked walks after this experience, but we never met the couple again. Klaus was always enjoying these walks, but never wanted to go to more FKK venues, other than local spas where nudity was just the norm and non-sexual, the tourist hotel like spas were so very different in their vibe to the local spa we went to sometimes, the local people taking it very seriously. I think Klaus's role as a Police officer meant he wanted to maintain a level respect that might be reduced if he were known in the FKK community. But ultimately our relationship fizzled out.

Chapter 2

Candice and I stayed in touch, our bond forged in the unique crucible of Sandhurst. She married Dave, but the union didn't last. They divorced after just two years together, the fly-away wedding in Vegas was not the big white event she'd dreamt of and it never really had a chance in my eyes, the 'Python' apparently not enough to sustain a life together, his long hours as a chef and heavy drinking became too much for her. Her own career ended more abruptly. Three years before my departure, a brutal tour in Afghanistan left her with a deep, unshakeable case of PTSD, three of her colleagues, friends really, killed by a roadside bomb. She received a medical discharge, and the vibrant, fearless woman I knew was replaced by someone quieter, more haunted.

By late 2018, I was a Major. The rank felt good, a tangible symbol of my success. It was then that the head-hunters came. A defence contractor, a major supplier of cutting-edge computers and communications equipment to the military, made me an offer. The salary was triple my army pay, the promise of a new life in the private sector too tempting to ignore. I weighed the regimented honour of my commission against the financial freedom and civilian normalcy they were offering. On December 10th, 2019, I signed my papers and left the Army for the last time.

Candice was waiting for me. "You can stay with me," she insisted over the phone. "Just until you find your feet." She was living in a rented room in a lovely house in a quiet Sussex village, close to where I grew up, owned by a man named Mark. When I arrived with my bags, it was Candice who opened the door, but it was Mark who I noticed first. He was tall, easily six-foot, with kind eyes and an easy smile that I found immediately attractive. "You must be Sarah," he said, his voice warm. "Any friend of Candice's is welcome here."

The arrangement was temporary. Candice was moving in with her new boyfriend, Neil, and I was set to take over her room. It was a perfect, seamless transition and worked for all of us. I had plans to buy a place as soon as I could, but I wanted to get settled in my new job before I went down the mammoth task of buying a house. More than twelve years living where the Army put me had allowed me to save a decent deposit, but my knowledge of owning a home was a bit sketchy to say the least, not something top of the training list for soldiers.

My new job was exhilarating. I was still working within the world of defence, but from the other side of the fence, my knowledge of the work done by the soldiers the company was building equipment for made it an easy transition for me. The pressure was different, the stakes commercial rather than life-or-death. I threw myself into the role, enjoying the challenge and the immense satisfaction of my first civilian pay-check. I was building a new life, a life of my own making, in Mark's house. It felt like I was finally stepping into the real world. He was a great landlord and his job as a consultant meant he was often out on the road doing jobs around the country. His five bedroom house, on three floors, was amazing, almost a show home, and I had free rein of the bedroom, lounge, bathroom and kitchenette on the top floor. The house was also equipped with an amazing kitchen, a huge lounge with massive TV and a small room dedicated to gym equipment. But best of all there was a hot-tub Jacuzzi on the patio. Mark and Candice had shown me how it all worked, the alarm codes and I settled in quickly, Mark and I getting on well when he was there, a very chilled confident man whose only real rule was to tidy up after you eat, which as a former soldier was already second nature to me.

Then, in March 2020, the world stopped. News reports of a new virus in China gave way to panicked headlines about a global pandemic. Lockdowns were announced. The bustling office I had just joined was emptied, my new colleagues sent home to work remotely, spending their days working at home or joining a queue at the supermarket hoping there was going to be enough toilet roll and pasta. Suddenly, my new life, my carefully constructed post-Army existence, was confined to the four walls of the house. Mark, as well, often away two or three nights a week, was now at home 24/7 as well, his employer sending him on furlough. The future, which had seemed so clear just weeks before, was now terrifyingly uncertain, my departure from the secure Army life perhaps coming at the worst possible time. The only blessing was that I was staying in a nice house, the closest neighbour over 200m away and the place had all I would need to stay sane. I just hoped that this man Mark wouldn't end up driving me nuts.

Chapter 3

The first few weeks of lockdown settled into an unexpected rhythm. The world outside was gripped by fear and uncertainty, but inside Mark's house, a strange, domestic tranquillity took hold. We were two strangers forced into cohabitation, yet the awkwardness I'd braced for never materialised. Mark was easy company. His confidence wasn't arrogant; it was a calm, steady presence that put me at ease. We fell into a comfortable routine of sharing meals, watching films on his massive TV, and respecting each other's space during the workday. The house was large enough that we could easily avoid each other, but more often than not, we found ourselves gravitating to the same spaces, the need for human contact more important than we likely realised.

The novelty of lockdown, however, quickly began to curdle into a profound, soul-crushing boredom. My new job, which had seemed so exhilarating just weeks before, had been reduced to a series of tedious video calls and endless email chains. The world had shrunk to the size of a laptop screen, and my life felt like it was on pause. One afternoon, scrolling aimlessly through my inbox, a name jumped out at me: Jay. We'd kept in touch sporadically over the years, a Christmas message here, a birthday wish there. His email was short and to the point. He was locked down at the British Embassy in Washington D.C., acting as close protection for a General. The irony wasn't lost on me; he, a newly promoted Sergeant in the Royal Military Police, was now a glorified babysitter with nothing to do.

We exchanged a few more emails, the digital equivalent of passing notes in detention, and it was Jay who suggested a Skype call. "Proper catch-up," he'd written. "Face to face, sort of." That evening, I settled onto my bed with my laptop, propping it up against a pile of pillows. His face filled the screen, older now, with the faint lines of a man who'd seen things, but the same easy grin was still there, the sunshine behind him reminding me it was 5 hours behind in Washington. We talked for ages, reminiscing about our youth, about the awkwardness of the time he masturbated for me and the illicit thrill of that nude beach. I'd gone topless that day, feeling daring and alive under his gaze. Jay had been totally naked and I'd even paraded him along the beach which caused him to get an erection that I showed off to a bunch of ladies on a hen-doo who thought it was hilarious.

We talked more about his work, the sterile politics of embassy life, and then circled back to the past, to that beach, to the sun on our skin. He shifted in his seat, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Look, Sarah," he said, his voice a little thick. "You've got me all hot and bothered. I'm going to have to go take care of some business!" He was clearly implying he needed to get himself off. A wicked impulse, born of weeks of enforced celibacy and sheer boredom, shot through me. "Don't go," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Let me watch."

His eyes widened, but after a moment, that slow grin returned. "You know," Jay said, his voice dropping a little, "now that you're a civilian, I'm pretty sure the rules on fraternisation don't apply anymore." He winked, and I felt a familiar flutter. He propped his laptop up, then stood up and moved back, giving me a full view of his room, a bland single room without soul, just bare walls, a bed, a sink and wardrobe in view. He peeled off his t-shirt, revealing a torso that was leaner and more defined than I remembered, three large tattoos showing the true look of a soldier. Then he shucked his shorts and lastly his boxers, and his cock sprang free. It was already semi-hard, a thick, impressive length resting pointing forward. "Happy with your handiwork?" he chuckled.

"Very," I purred, shifting on the bed. I let my own hand drift down between my legs, my fingers tracing the seam of my joggers, out of his sight. "Now, wrap your hand around it. Let's see how big it gets." He did as he was told, his fingers circling his shaft. I watched, mesmerised, as it began to swell even more, growing with every slow pull of his hand until it was fully erect, a rigid, formidable staff pointing towards the ceiling. "That's it," I murmured. "Now, turn side on so I can see better and stroke it. Slowly at first."

Jay followed my instructions perfectly, his hand gliding up and down his length. I could see the bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip. "Faster now," I commanded, my own fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my joggers to find my slick, wet folds. The dual sensations of watching him and touching my pussy were intoxicating. I pulled my t-shirt up, flashing him a quick glimpse of my boobs, my nipple hard and peaked. He groaned, his hand speeding up. "Slow down," I teased. "Don't rush it." He asked to sit down again, taking a moment to re-aim the webcam on his laptop, and slouched back in his chair so that he was almost laying down, his head propped up to watch me as he continued to jerk himself.

I played with him like that for several minutes, alternating my commands, pushing him to the edge and then pulling him back demanding he avoid cumming before I allowed him to. His breathing was ragged, his muscles tensing. Finally, I decided it was time. "Okay, Jay," I said, my voice firm and clear. "I want you to cum for me. I'm going to count down from ten. When I get to one, you let go. Are you ready?"

He could only nod, his hand barely moving on his cock as he restrained himself, so very close to popping. "Ten... nine... eight..." I counted, my own fingers circling my clit, matching his rhythm. "Seven... six... five..." His hips began to buck, his whole body straining. "Four... three... two... one... cum." With a guttural roar, he exploded; the first jet of cum was so powerful it shot up and splattered across his chin. The second and third followed, painting his neck and chest in thick, white ropes. He kept stroking, milking every last drop from his cock as my own orgasm crashed through me, a silent, shuddering wave of pleasure. He collapsed back onto his chair, panting, a messy, sated work of art. "Christ, Sarah," he gasped, looking at the camera with a dazed, blissful smile. "I've missed you."

I waved and blew him a kiss before closing skype. A big relief washing over me as I realised it had been a month since my last orgasm, and I was keen to go again. But I was already late for my dinner so that would have to wait until later, but I rummaged through one of the packing boxes stacked against the back wall until I found my secret bag of sex toys, the purple vibrator now a memory, its rechargeable battery having given up the ghost some years before. But I had since created a small collection of sex toys that were always good to help out as and when needed. Also in the box was a Wicked Weasel bikini Klaus had bought, but that I'd never worn in public. It was very revealing, just a small patch of fabric to cover my pussy, barely enough to hide the usual tuft of pubic hair I liked to maintain and a bikini top with small fabric triangles about 7cm on each side that left most of my boobs exposed; it never got further use than the bedroom.