Wild women and lingerie

Stockingirl model in blue stockings


Figure skater Jamie Sale


Sarah Palin, Alaskan political celebrity

Norwegian skier Kar Traa


Appropriate attire for the huntng lodge


Skier Julia Mancuso on the beach


Snowboarder Gretchen Bleiler


Julia Mancuso and Chemmy Alcott


Speed skater Allison Baver

Lingerie for the hunting shack

Women are different in the wild and rugged parts of the world. We're thinking of mountain women, babes of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, Alaskan hotties, plus the sexy beauties of Lapland, Siberia, and Patagonia. These are women who ski the double diamonds, hunt moose, drive a snow machine, and can build a log cabin. Ben Foster tells a personal story.
The best sex is often daring, tantalizing, teetering on a knife edge of taboo. It's not the sort of stuff you put on your Facebook page or Twitter about. You keep it to yourself and your partner, the two of you sharing a secret world of extreme sexual expression. This is my enocunter with a wild woman who couldn't say no.

Rough love

I have always loved sex, not just appreciated or enjoyed it but really loved it. Sex has been a focus of my life for as long as I can remember. Don't get me wrong, I still work hard and take care of business. I'm not an addict, I don't have a problem. I just love to go deep in my sexual enjoyment.
At times it can be hard finding a woman whose sexual thirst and appetite match my own. I don't need a load of romantic chit-chat, candlelit dinners, long strolls in leafy glades. I love a woman who wants to get down to business wherever we are; in the car, in the house, in the woods, or on the beach.

A woman should never be afraid of expressing herself around me. And she should be clear about her needs and demands. I don't want her to pussyfoot around her needs.

Center stage

When sex is center stage of your life, when it's as important as food or the air you breathe, when you're getting your deepest needs met, you feel truly alive. Sexual fulfillment takes you away from the daily grind, gets rid of that feeling of life being one long haul with just a few highpoints tossed in from time to time.
In the past year, I have had a number of encounters that are just the sort to thrill and satisy me to the core.
The best was when I had a wonderfully peaceful gig doing an inventory of migratory birds by an Arctic lake. I was given a trailer by the water, ample food and non-alcoholic drink, and a reasonable salary.
I was on my own most of the time, but once a week a woman named Lisa arrived in her truck with my groceries and other supplies.
Lisa was healthy, with a beautiful wilderness look to her, a bit like Sarah Palin with those same clearly defined features, a strong jaw, high cheek bones, beautiful eyes and nose.

Tight t-shirt

On warm, breezy, bug-free days, Lisa would wear a tight t-shirt that showed off her gorgeous big boobs, the nipples standing out against the fabric. She usually wore baggy pants, but they never hid her beautiful a-s, which I loved to watch when she walked back to her truck from my trailer.
Lisa didn't ask for, or expect, my help hauling the sack of supplies. She just threw the sack onto her shoulder and toted it to my door. Then she'd bang a couple of times and tell me to put the coffee pot on.
On her third visit, she sat on a wooden chair by the window, leaned back, put her booted-feet against the wall and said: Don't you ever get lonely out here?
No, I told her. I have so much to do. All these thousands of birds to count, entering all the data. There's so much to keep me busy.
I'm not talking about work, she says, I mean, don't you ever miss being with a woman?
There were a couple of ways I could go with that. I was feeling out the atmosphere, hoping Lisa was headed where I wanted her to head.
Sure I miss a woman, I said. I miss a woman a lot.
You're with a woman right now, she said. What do you want to do with me?
Can't you guess?
I think you want me, all of me, she said.
I do. Am I going to get you?
If you want me, you can have me, she said. But there's a couple of things you need to know.
My head was spinning, my heart racing. My groin was on fire. What? I asked.
I'm married, ok. I live in a small village where people talk. I want s-x, that's all. This can never be a relationship. You can't just come looking for me when you need me. There are rules.
OK, there are rules. I accept the rules. I won't come looking for you. I'll wait for you right here.
Good. This is a safe place. But never leave messages on my cell phone. Don't email me. We'll make all our arrangements face to face. If I can't make it, I won't turn up, and you'll just have to accept it, ok?
OK, sounds good.
Then she said, I'd really love to do it now but I can't. I have to get back. My husband is waiting for me. I can be here at 8.30 tomorrow morning. Be ready for me.

So ready

I was more than ready the next morning. I was bursting. Lisa arrived with a bottle of lube. She had on her usual work clothes, jeans and t-shirt, but underneath she told me she was wearing a thong and black bra.
She parked her truck out of sight among some pine trees. We pulled down the blinds in my trailer, locked the door, and got to work.
Lisa undressed almost immediately and lay on my narrow bed thrusting her hips. Come on, baby she said, You know what I need.
We spent two hours in bed, on the table, on the floor, up against the wall. I used every part of my body that could give her what she wanted.
Lisa said, You're like a starving man. You need me so bad.
Which was true. More than anything else in the world I needed to let go and just enjoy myself, let the months of need and desire express itself with a beautiful and willing woman.
I came heavily standing over Lisa as she lay on the trailer's small table.
Now that was good, she said, pulling on her clothes and arranging her hair. We have to do that again soon. How about the day after tomorrow, same time?
That was fine by me, and we spent an equally satisfying two hours shaking the unstable foundations of the trailer as we humped and grinded in every corner.
She then missed our next appointment, which drove me mildly crazy, and I had to use my right hand to take the edge off.

Scary moment

One morning, a week later, as I was headed to the lake to begin the day's bird count, Lisa pulled up in her truck with a guy I didn't recongize. It was an Oh f--k moment for a while until I knew what was going on.
With one sack of supplies over her shoulder, Lisa shouted: Morning. Hey, this is my husband Jeff. He's helping me out today. He wanted to see how you lived out here by the lake.
I shook hands with Jeff, who was a 6ft guy, long curly hair, bit of a gut, and huge thick arms that could have broken my neck in one easy twist.
You must get pretty shacky wacky out here all alone, he said. Thought you needed some company today. So here we are buddy.
He split open a six-pack, tossed me a can, and although it was only 8 a.m. and I had a whole day of bird counting ahead of me, we sat and demolished the six pack, then another.
When Jeff went off for a leak by the trees, Lisa placed her foot in my groin, and said, I bet you need some now but you'll have to wait till tomorrow at 8.

Loud guy

We spent until 11 a.m. drinking beer, with my head getting tireder and tireder, and Jeff becoming more and more loud. Lisa sat and hugged the same can the whole time, occasionally throwing me a glance, but mostly staying silent in the background, doing what Jeff asked her to do: Get me some coffee, baby, Bring me my smokes from the truck, Scramble me some eggs, babe.
She did all of that without comment. Jeff said to me, Isn't she the sweetest woman you ever met? Well, I had to agree with that.
My good times with Lisa ended as quickly as they'd started. One morning, she said very matter of factly, This is going to be our last time together. Jeff is acting suspicious and we don't want to be on his wrong side if he finds out. He'll chop you to pieces.
Not wanting to be hacked to bits by a backwoodsman, I told Lisa I was fine with her not coming round anymore.
I spent the rest of that season completing my inventory, Lisa dropped off my supplies once a week, but I barely even greeted her.
I sometimes thought she stopped hanging out with me because she needed the spice and excitement of a new guy. And anyhow, I was getting a little bored.
Carefree sex is only good in a carefree relationship. It's time to get out when you have to look over your shoulder for a husband with a hunting knife or gun.
By Ben Foster

Delicious

Digg

StumbleUpon

Reddit

Subscribe to RSS Feed