Camping in the Rain

I always enjoyed camping. I loved the sense of being in an unpressurized environment, where everything takes time and patience, and where just sitting still is part of the deal.

Waking up in the morning, navigating your way out of the tent and gathering your things before making your way to the shower block. It all takes effort and concentration in a way that stumbling into the bathroom at home simply doesn't.

And when you're done in the shower block and are back at your tent, simply making a cup of coffee requires a series of complex actions involving stoves and lighters and balancing cups on uneven ground.

All this concentration makes even the most mundane of tasks more mindful and satisfying than most things at home. They take all your attention, leaving no space for worry or anxiety.

And when you're done with it all - when the shower is had and the coffee is made and the stove is safely switched off - then, at that moment, you feel a peace and sense of achievement. You sit there, doing nothing. Just enjoying the fruits of your labours. And at no point do you feel 'oh dear, I really should be doing something else. I can't possibly just sit here drinking coffee and doing nothing else! '

Of course getting married and having children add new layers to all this. It brings noise and an insatiable capacity for boredom. This means you tend to be more on edge, waiting for the next breach of peace and the demand for entertainment / feeding / changing, etc..

And it's not just the children.

My wife claims to enjoy camping but she has practically no patience and a boredom threshold as low as a toddler. So she is often stomping around looking for something to be angry about or demanding that I organise something to do or somewhere to go.

It can all take something of the joy out of the whole camping experience. I've tried to convince my wife that she might find slightly fewer things to complain about in a hotel or a bed and breakfast. Somewhere with things to entertain the kids, and her. But she bridled at the implication that she was in some way less suited to camping than me.

"I was camping all the time when I was small. So if you want to take the kids on your own and go to a hotel, you can. But I'm going camping and that's that!"

For days after I was subjected to her famously thunderous silent treatment. And that was that. And here we are.

But still, although the peace might be diminished I'd still rather be in a field surrounded by birds and trees than at home.

Because here are still moments when you can find space. Moments where, you hear a rare bird call or spot a wild rabbit. Or see a honey bee buzzing merrily about it's business. Moments that bring a fleeting spasm of happiness that you can store up inside you and keep there, as nourishment for all the drear regular life that fills the rest of the year.

I was enjoying one such moment early one morning. I was showered and dressed and was sat in the most comfortable chair outside the tent with a book and a coffee. The children were still asleep and my wife was off to the shower block with all the necessary tools for a hairwash (meaning I could count on at least an hour before she returned and demanded breakfast ).

It was... bliss. Right then, I was in nobody's way. I was not an irritation or a nuisance to anyone.

And it was so quiet! I could barely hear anyone else moving around the campsite. I had seen just one person as I was coming out of the shower block - a woman from a pitch near us - who had smiled politely but thankfully not felt the need to engage in small talk.

And here I was, knee-deep in chapter 5 and sucking as much as I could from this brief calm.

At one point the woman I had seen at the shower block returned. She smiled and nodded at me, then rolled her eyes upward as if sharing a joke. Or perhaps not. I don't know. I smiled back and went back to my book.

After she had disappeared I looked up again, faint anxious. Was I meant to have rolled my eyes back? Laughed as though I understood the joke? Or nodded back to confirm that I did understand what she meant (even though I didn't )?

Anyway, back to chapter 5....

I heard the unmistakable sounds of children waking and starting to whine.

Fortunately it wasn't my children, but children in the tent of the cryptic woman opposite. I heard her pacifying voice vainly attempting to hush them: "you'll wake the whole campsite!"

It didn't matter though, because as if a starting gun had fired my children rustled furiously in their sleeping compartment and joined in the whining contest with vigour.

And I could see my wife returning from the shower with her habitually thunderous expression - I could only assume she wasn't able to wash her hair for some reason, perhaps because of no hot water, or her preferred shower cubicle was occupied. Either way she was bound to be in a bad mood. So, it was time to get on with the cooking, the pacifying and the entertaining.

Cest la vie.

We spent the day arguing about where to go, and complaining about where we went. I navigated as best I could the competing desires of the kids to go to parks, and the wife to go to shops. I managed to locate a park that included some shops, which successfully managed to disappoint everyone equally.

That night, after I had settled the kids into their sleeping bags and made us both a cup of cocoa, my wife gesticulated furiously at me with her phone.

"It's going to throw it down tomorrow!" She fumed, indicating the weather app on her phone.

I looked up from my cocoa, trying to calculate where this was going. But I was too slow.

"Well...?" She barked with a pointed ellipses and a question mark, to indicate the place in the sentence where I was expected to provide a solution to the next day's rain.

"Erm..." I managed, before she continued.

"Because I'm not sitting in a tent while it pours with rain, and we're stuck here all day! And the kids won't want to be here either, and I'm not going to be sorting out things for them to do- you'll have to do that!"

"Um... " I managed again, mistakenly thinking she was expecting me to respond. Understanding conversational turn taking was never my strong suit

"I can't do everything!" She ended. Which was one of her favourite catchphrases.

There was a pause. I left it a little, just to be sure. She huffed in exasperated impatience and raised her eyebrows angrily.

"How about a trip to the cinema?"I ventured. "There's that new Disney film on?""

" I'm not watching a cartoon! "

"Ok, how about that museum you told me about? That's indoors. "

"Yeah, well I'd be bored. If you want to take the kids there on your own you're welcome to. But I'm not going. "

And so it went on, with each of my suggestions being summarily dismissed along similar lines. Castle? Boring. Adventure park? Expensive. Library? No cafe.

I wasn't too bothered. It often went like this. I knew there was a 'right' answer - something she had already decided she wanted to do. She was just waiting to see how long until I landed on it. The more attempts it took, the more annoyed she was allowed to be and the more remorse I would be expected to demonstrate.

"You know what? We could just go to that shopping centre. It's all indoors, and they have cafes?"

Finally. Found it.

" Well", she said, as though pondering." They do a branch of Skillets that I need to go to. And they have that play centre where we can leave the children. They have spaces if you book and it's actually quite reasonable."

" Ok, that's good! ", I said. My heart sinking slightly at the prospect. I hate shopping centres. They make me dizzy.

But at least we had a plan. She would drop the kids in the play centre at the shopping centre (turned out she had already made the reservation ) and go to as many of her favourite shops as she could.

I tentatively, and without real hope, suggested I might stay at the campsite. I would just end up dumbly following after her.

Surprisingly, this worked. She gave a lengthy diatribe about my lack of interest in her, and leaving her to look after the kids on her own, and having to drive herself, and so on. But then it turned out she had arranged to meet a friend at the shopping center and didn't want me there anyway.

Finally, she puffed and exclaimed "But you're doing the dinner. I mean, I can't do everything! "

Since I always did the dinner anyway, this was hardly a concession.

The next morning I rose early again and headed to the shower block. On my way out, again I met the woman from the pitch opposite, carrying a towel and wearing some endearingly childish pink pajamas.

She smiled again.

"Sorry about yesterday morning", she said in a whispered undertone.

I stared at her dumbly. Partly because I was simply not expecting, or prepared for any kind of conversation. And partly because I again had no idea what she was on about.

Was she mistaking me for someone else? Was I supposed to know her from somewhere? What was I supposed to say?!

She saved me further agitation.

"The kids. I could see you were enjoying a precious moment of peace, and then I went and woke up my two monsters."

"Oh!" The penny dropped. "Oh, no it's fine! I mean, I understand. It's fine!" I burbled.

"They're not with me today," she continued. " Staying with Grandparents. So you can try and get as much peace as you can before your ones wake up!"

"Right, yes. Thanks!" I laughed awkwardly and backed away a little. "I will." And then, because I didn't really know what else to say, "hope you enjoy your day of freedom without the kids!"

"I'll do my best!" She replied, with a slightly quizzical look, and we both laughed again politely.

Slightly awkward social interactions are never my favourite start to a day. But I felt some sense of achievement that I hadn't appeared like a complete imbecile. Well, I hoped not.

This woman still made me feel a little uncomfortable though. As though I was missing something. She kept looking straight at me with those big eyes, and it was frankly rather disconcerting. My automatic assumption was that I had obviously missed something important, or failed to respond in the expected manner.

I hurried back to my tent. Boiled up some water, and went through the delicate and exact ritual of grinding, measuring and timing the coffee. The routine was calming, and I was already feeling better before I sat down outside the tent and opened up chapter 5, ready to recommence.

But I had missed the telltale sounds coming from the sleeping compartment. My wife was awake, and now she bellowed out, loud enough to wake the whole site:

"Well, it's nice that you can sit there all relaxed while some of us have to sort everything out, get the kids ready, make sure they have everything, before 8am. The play centre is booked for 9 and I want to make sure I have time to park...."

I put down my book and started to rise.

"... I have to wash my hair before I go, so it would be kind of nice if you could actually get the kids ready instead of just sitting there. And they need to have breakfast as well, and snacks in their bags...."

And so on.

After she had headed off to the shower, I roused the children and put on the stove to make some eggs. The kids ran around like crazed loonies. I laughed at their whoops and hollers and attempted to join in with their games - even though the rules seemed to change from moment to moment.

I noticed the woman on the pitch opposite, clambering out of her tent. She had changed into a stringy vest and a short skirt, both of which were doing little to conceal an undeniably attractive body. I felt a little ashamed of noticing this and made to look hastily away, but before I could she saw me and waved cheerfully. I gave an awkward wave back.

Sandwiches were made and packed, my wife's breakfast was ready for her on her return from a successful hair wash, and all was ready for the day. She still ran around the tent like a whirlwind for another 15 minutes, collecting random things she wouldn't need but thought I had forgotten to pack.

"You didn't pack their sunhats? Seriously, do I have to do everything?"

But finally they were off. I walked with them to the car and waved them off - I could hear the arguments already kicking off as they drove out.

I took the long way back to the tent, because why not? The clouds overhead were already heavy with the promised rain, but for now it was still dry and I revelled in the sound of the wind in the trees, and the bees in the wild flowers lining the footpath.

And, to be honest, I was a little unsure of returning to the tent and having to endure another awkward wave with the woman opposite. I certainly didn't want to risk engaging in conversation with her, especially when she was wearing so little. I wouldn't know where to look, and would be bound to end up looking either insultingly uninterested or insultingly leery. And I would be so terrified of saying something inadvertently 'flirtatious' I would end up sounding stupid or weird or creepy and probably all three.

To be honest, I have never really understood the rules for talking to people. There are some I can talk to quite comfortably, but more often conversations feel like a game of battleships where you blindly throw out things to say and hope they hit the board properly. Attractive women in skimpy clothing represent Grandmaster level social interactions. They are playing a different game altogether.

Ok, it's fine. Let me just get back to my tent. The coffee will be cold but I can make a nice fresh one, and settle back for an uninterrupted chapter 5. If it rains, I'll just move inside the tent and the pattering sound may even soothe me into a blissful sleep.

When I arrived back at the tent, everything looked perfect. The tent was quiet. The stove was ready and my chair was set. The woman opposite was away by the water taps talking to someone else. She was waving her arms around and seemed clearly very excited about something.

That was good. Keep her busy, and I can read my book without bother. I pottered happily around, putting the kettle on and getting more beans from inside the tent.

The kettle was just starting to boil on the stove when the woman turned and saw me. She gesticulated a wild 'see you later' signal to the man she was talking to, and began bounding towards me practically at a run. I was so alarmed I stumbled backwards and tripped over a guy rope.

"Oooh!" She exclaimed, with half concern and half hilarity at my catestrophically slapstick tumble.

"Here!" She reached me before I could get up, and leaned over with both hands reaching out to help me up.

You see now, this is exactly what I was talking about.

I mean it may seem like a perfectly innocent and normal gesture. But as she leaned over it was utterly impossible not to notice her thin vest drop down and reveal a totally unhindered view of her bra.

It was black. With frilly bits around the cups. And it seemed too big for the petite breasts beneath them, the shape of which was clearly visible.

I must have blushed like a forest fire.

"Nooo, it's ok! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to startle you! " She laughed, mistaking my blush for embarrassment over my fall.

I looked determinedly at the grass as she hauled me up - with surprising strength. Patting myself down to clear all the grass from my clothes, I stammered something utterly incomprehensible.

"I, erm.. I was.. just... Erm... " I managed, pointing haplessly at the kettle and the guy rope.

"You were just making your coffee? " She interpreted from my gibberish. "I know, and there I've gone and ruined your peace again! I. Am. Soo sorry! "

And she did seem like she meant it.

I mustered a smile and rummaged in my internal conversational rulebook for something I could say in response.

"Erm, yes. I, er, would you, er, like a coffee? It's, erm... Brazilian."

Not sure why she would have wanted to know that the coffee was Brazilian, but the rhythm of the sentence felt like it needed something extra.

"You know what? That sounds fantastic." She said. Her eyes kind of crinkled when she smiled in a way that was quite lovely. Dammit.

But I went ahead and made the coffee. I carefully measured out the beams. Adjusted the grind size for a double dose. Brushed out and remaining grinds from before and turned the manual crank for the anticipated 60 seconds. I set up the dripper and paper over the carafe, delicately distributing the grinds. I then checked the kettle thermometer. It would do.

Throughout this process she watched with fascination.

To be honest, I almost forgot she was there until the carafe was full and ready to pour. I handed her a steaming mug and watched to see her reaction.

She smelled the coffee, and looked up in surprise.

"Oh my god that smells amazing.!" She said, simply. And her face was transformed into an expression of such exaggerated wonderment that I couldn't help but laugh.

"No, I mean it! " She held the cup up and breathed it in, closing her eyes in pleasure. "Oh! That just smells sooo nice! "

Maybe she was just being polite. I don't know. But the pleasure on her face sent a warm feeling of contentment through me. It was a happy look, and that made me happy.

I realised I hadn't actually looked at her properly before, and was seeing her now as if for the first time. She was short, but decidedly beautiful. Smooth skin, and slender limbs. Her eyes were wide and bright. Her hair was fairly short and would probably have looked silky if there weren't random sprays poking out everywhere - the inevitable consequence of camping and parenthood, I assumed. She didn't look glamorous, like a celebrity or someone you see on posters. She just looked artlessly attractive.

Her thin top lip smushed against a fuller lower lip as she smiled, and I found myself staring at the glistening wetness of those lips.

I quickly looked away.

Oh dear. That was bad. She must have noticed. She'll think I'm creepy. How do I get out of this?

But before I could think of any plan, there was a low rumble of thunder. I looked as saw that that sky was significantly darker than it had been. The promised rain was clearly imminent.

She put down her coffee, stood up briskly, and held out her hand to help me up again.

"Right". She said. "My place or yours? Mine I think. The kids took most of their rubbish with them, so there's plenty of room."

Without waiting for an answer she pulled my hand and just had time to grab her mug along with mine, before I found myself stumbling after her to her tent.

Room enough for what? I wondered. And had to fight down the vision of romantic fantasies. What an idiot.

I made sure to be looking the other way as she bent down to undo the tent zip. She never let go of my hand though, as she slipped nimbly through into the tent, she drew me in after her.

It was a nice tent. One of those ones with air pump beams. It has a large central living area and three sleeping compartments radiating from it.

It was ludicrously tidy. There was practically nothing in the living area beside a small stove on a stand. I was immediately envious.

"Sorry no chairs." She said. "I sent everything I could away with the kids. The rest of the junk is just thrown in there." She waved a hand at the middle of the three compartments.

" No, this is great!" I said. " I just wish mine was this tidy!"

She squatted down onto the floor, patting the carpet in front of her for me to sit too. I handed over her mug of coffee as I sat and she gave another appreciative 'ooo' as she held out both hands to grasp it.

I sat down, and again was again conscious of just how much skin was on show. The straps on her vest were thin and on one side flopped over onto her upper arm. Her bra strap was plainly visible, accentuating the graceful curve of neck into a bony shoulder. Faint goosebumps were visible on her bare arms, making me wonder why she wasn't wearing something warmer. Of most concern though, were her legs. She had crossed them as she sat, with her short skirt riding up to the top of her thighs and then dropping down directly in front of her... Well, between her legs. But the skirt was too short to drop down sufficiently, and as I was directly across from her it was all too easy for the eye to follow the smooth inner thighs all the way up to her black underwear.

For the first time, she exhibited her own sense of awkwardness as she self consiously pulled down on her skirt. There was even, perhaps, a slight blush on those smooth cheeks.

"I don't usually dress like this". She admitted, shrugging slightly and looking down at the tent carpet. "It does feel a bit naughty."

She slipped at her coffee, her eyes darting left and right nervously.

I was a little taken back at this point. Up to now this strange cryptic woman had demonstrated nothing but a happy, even exuberant confidence. She had practically dragged me into sharing coffee and conversation in spite of all my natural inclinations. But here, now, all that confidence seemed to have drained. She appeared uncomfortable. Vulnerable.

Which of course made sense. Here she was, in a tent alone with a man who she had probably already caught looking down her top. And now here he was looking up her skirt. Evidently a creep and a pervert, of course she was uncomfortable. I needed to leave as quickly as possible and never show my face again.

"Um, look. I'm really sorry. " I said, deciding to face up to things. "I shouldn't have... " I couldn't bring myself to say 'looked up your skirt'. It was too mortifying. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I am sorry." I waved rather helplessly in no particular direction, while staring determinedly away from her. "I should probably.... " And I started to stand up.

"Wait! No, please don't!" She cried. She held out a hand and grabbed my arm as I tried to lever myself up.

Unbalanced, I flopped back down. Red-faced, confused, eyes squeezed shut and wanting nothing more than to sink into the ground entirely.

"I'm the one who should be sorry." She said. "I..." She let go of my arm. I dared to open my eyes a fraction. She was sat with one hand pulling down her skirt and the other pressed across her chest.

She looked up at me with those big, earnest eyes. Then she closed them, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

"Ok." She said. "Here goes. I wore these clothes for you." She gave a half laugh " I heard you and your wife talking last night. I've been hearing a lot of your conversations over the last few days. I knew you would be on your own today and... Well... "

She looked down at the floor then, and then began talking in a rush.

"You're not happy are you? You can't be happy. I've seen how she treats you and how she talks to you. It's made me so sad."

She glanced up with a wince, as though expecting me to respond with violence or anger. But I didn't. I didn't know how to respond. I didn't really understand what was happening, so I stayed silent. She looked back down again and continued talking in that rushing way, as though wanting to get all the painful words out as quickly as possible.

" My husband left me, I don't think her ever really loved me. And ever since I have done nothing but run around getting school uniforms, and organising clubs and driving them from one place to the next. And I love them, I love them to bits. But I'm so tired. So tired I don't know what... I can't... I'm just tired! And I just want to be with someone, you know? Be close to someone, just for a moment. Just something that tells me that I am still alive, and helps me keep going. And I've seen you. I've seen the way you get treated. I've seen you trying to steal moments where you can feel like yourself. And I thought, well he's the same, isn't he? He's the same as me. And, why not? Why not just grab this moment, this opportunity, and be... Alive?"

She stopped now, and pressed her hands into the soft tent carpet with all the awkwardness of a teenager waiting to be told off. She kept her eyes lowered, a mix of shame and defiance and desperation.

She waited nervously. Waiting for me to respond. Waiting for a sentence.

And for once I felt as though I did understand. I did understand the struggles of dealing with everyday chaos. I did understand the desperation and exhaustion of it all.

And from nowhere I felt a wave of it all wash over me. A crash of isolation and despair. The coldness and the loneliness. The overwhelming weight of effort involved in just keeping things going.

The wave felt so strong that a swell of emotion rose in my chest and squeezed tears into my eyes so that I had to blink furiously and look away.

"Have I got it all wrong?" She said, looking up at last.

I couldn't speak. Something jagged seemed to be in my throat. I simply shook my head. No, she hadn't got it wrong. I just been pushing it all down. Just carrying on as if it was normal to have all these emotions under the surface.

A gentle patter sounded as the first drops of rain splashed on the canvas roof. And I felt her hand on my face, a gentle touch. And I looked up to see those wide eyes so close. So close. And her lips brushed mine, cool and wet and brief. She leaned back again with her hand still on my cheek.

"It's ok." She said. " You know it's all ok."

It it all seemed so kind. So soft. Like real warmth and real closeness.

And I reached out to her, tentatively touching her bare arms and we pulled each other up onto our knees and embraced. I held her close and tight, my head pressed into her shoulder and hers pressed into mine. And for a while we stayed there, kneeling and holding each other as the noise of the rain grey into a calming white noise. Her hair felt warm and soft on my cheek, and her whole body seemed to melt into mine. I could feel her contours - her breasts and hips - pressing against me.

This was insane. She was a stranger. And I was married. And what the hell was happening? How was it possible that at this precise moment I felt a closeness to her than I had ever felt with anyone?

Eventually we parted and settled back, both cross legged, our knees touching. She was inviting me in. I wasn't wierd. I was desired.

And she was desirable. Like a schoolboy crush, a desire born of impossibility and guilt and repression and it felt now like all I wanted. All I had ever wanted.

Leaning forwards we kissed. Like a couple of nervous teenagers we kissed, heads barely titled, and lips pressed together simply. It felt so incongruously innocent that we laughed, and I felt her lips slide wide into a smile.

I brought my hand up and held her cheek. And I kissed her bottom lip gently. I could feel the slipperiness of some kind of lip balm, and could smell the warm coffee on our breath. I kissed her lower lip repeatedly, with the barest of touches, while my hand moved over her cheek, ranged over her ear, pressed the lobe between my fingers.

My hand moved through her hair, fingers massaging her scalp, and I ran my tongue over her lips lightly, tasting the fruity balm.

She shivered slightly and I pulled back slightly.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

She opened her eyes slowly, lips still parted. Wordlessly she shook her head. Then she shuffled forwards and sat on my lap, legs wrapped around me, until her face was just a little above mine. I brought my hands up to her back to support her. All the while she was looking directly into my eyes and I could not stop looking at hers, so intense was their expression.

With our bodies wrapped and pressed together she held my head like it was a giant cup she was about to drink from. Lowering her mouth she again pressed her lips to mine.

Again I drew her lower lip into my mouth and ran my tongue along it. Again I kissed, drew in and licked that lip. I kissed her top lip. I kissed the side of her mouth. I kissed her nose and even reached up to kiss her closed eyes before returning again to those lips. This time I allowed my tongue to slip ever so slightly into her mouth, sliding inside the lips before withdrawing again. Then I stopped - our lips apart and barely touching. I waited. Waited for her.

She gave a small sigh, and seemed to sag in my arms. Then I felt her tongue moving between my lips. I met it with mine. The tips of our tongues gently stroked each other, moving in exploratory circles.

I felt her hands around my neck, holding my head still as she brought her mouth into full contact and our tongues moved fully into each other.

I could feel taste a mixture of coffee and mint in her mouth. My hands drifted slowly from the small of her back to the top of her buttocks, and I could feel her hips wriggling gently under my hands and on my lap. The sensation was so overwhelming that I could feel myself becoming erect between my crossed legs.

Even with all this closeness I was worried that she would feel my erection as she sat there. Her groin was pressed into the v of my hips, and is she sat any lower she would be bound to feel it.

So I lifted her slightly and pushed forwards. With one hand on the carpet behind her, I gently lowered her onto her back. It wasn't the most elegant of moves and we stumbled a fair bit on the way down, but out lips remained pressed together, determined not to break contact.

Her legs unwrapped me and I manoeuvred myself on top of her, with one of my legs between hers. From there I began to kiss her chin, her cheek, her ears and then her neck.

I felt her tense as I kissed the hollow of her neck, head thrown backwards, eyes squeezed tight. Although it looked like she was in pain, I knew she wasn't. I knew to keep going.

I kissed around her neck, under her ears. I gently licked the curve there, and with each lick I felt her twitch under me. When I moved to her ears and nibbled gently on her lobes she gasped again and seemed to be trying to push herself into the ground. At the same time, her pelvis thrust forward against my thigh and pushed, rubbing herself against me. The skin on her neck was growing slick with a faint sheen of sweat under my chin and I tasted the saltiness.

The effect I was having in her was intense, and her arousal filled me with a euphoric joy. I held my leg firm as she rubbed against it with increasing abandon, while I kissed and nibbled in a steady rhythm.

And then she was still. Rigid and unmoving. I continued to nibble on her ear lobes, feeling her hips pulsing ever so slightly on my thigh, and knowing instinctively to keep doing the same thing. After a few moments, her hips sank back down as if her body was suddenly melting into the floor. I looked up at her.

Her eyes were again squeezed tight shut and she was biting her lower lip in a way that seemed to me utterly lovely.

Then she looked up and smiled at me, breathing hard. I lifted a hand to move some hair from her face and forehead, which I could see glistening with sweat. I kissed her forehead, and ran a hand through her hair while her breaths became slower and calmer.

She had come quickly. And the way she came, through just fondling and rubbing and kissing, felt again full of the innocence of a teenage fumble.

I kissed again her nose (she wrinked it happily against the ticking), her cheeks, stopping each time to look back into her eyes. They seemed to bright. And so, so beautiful.

I kissed her lips and lowered myself down until we lay side by side facing each other. I had one arm under her neck, reaching around to stroke the back of her head. The other hand touched her bare shoulder, and slowly ran down the length of her slender arm until it reached her hand. Our fingers entwined with each other and gripped. Like passengers on a rollercoaster.

And for a moment we just stared into each others eyes. No need for words. A moment of peace and perfection.

Her nose was mall and buttons-like and so kissable that I had to kiss it (again, a wrinkle and a happy little noise from her). Her lips seemed fuller and redder and - so I kissed those too - tasting of coffee and mint and, could it be strawberry or something?

I looked at her neck, with it's gentle curve into a bony shoulder. And I had to stroke it. Had to run my fingers with the barest touch from beneath her ear to the top of her shoulder. And continue to her arm, running slowly up and down it.

She closed her eyes and murmured something I couldn't hear above the static noise of the rain on the canvas.

I ran my fingers up and down her arm as light as a feather. The sheen of sweat was gone from her skin as quickly as it came, and again I could feel goosebumps under my fingers. I loved the feel of those bumps. I loved the rise and fall of that arm. The dip of her elbow where I could run my fingers like a skier on a slope. Whenever my finger skied this slope, she breathed out a satisfied breath.

On one downward travel, I allowed my hand to continue onto her hip. Slowly I moved it towards her leg, and as I did so she lifted her leg and rested it on my side.

My hand went past her short skirt, and touched the skin of her thigh. So smooth. So warm. Down went my hand until it reached her knee, and there is stroked the inside of the knee. And then back up the length of her thigh. Her skirt offered no resistance as my hand moved under and onto her backside. I felt the rim of her underwear - a lacy edging - and my fingers slid just under the edge and moved along. I could her twitching with each new movement. A small intake of breath, like she was holding something hot.

I was exploring her body, and she was letting me. Was welcoming it. As we kissed she rolled over onto her back again, presenting herself to me like a choice delicacy. So I began tasting. Starting at the crook of her neck I kissed along her shoulder. Every now and then I would quickly lick her and tatse the saltiness of her. And each time she again gave that little shudder, or twitch, as though. But I knew not to stop.

I moved onto her arm, and when I reached the hollow of her elbow she gave a groan. So I stayed there, kissing and licking while she suddered again and again, legs kicking out straight and tense.

And then down to her forearm. Her wrist, which I touched and kissed alternately. Her fingers, which I sucked gently, each in turn.

Pulling her hand away with sudden violence, she grabbed my shirt and pulled herself up. In the same movement she began kissing me furiously. Our tongues sliding over each as though wrestling. Her hands moved up under my shirt and began roaming over my back as though hunting for something. Sometimes her fingers probed bone or muscle and sometimes they grasped handfuls of flesh painfully. Sometimes I could feel her nails scraping sharply over my skin.

I moved my hands to her back as well, searching for the end of her vest so I could push up under it. Her skin was smooth as butter as I slid my hands over her. Moving them up her vest became stuck on her bra and breasts. Again made a groan which I felt vibrate through my mouth. Her teeth closed on my tongue with dangerous pressure.

Pulling back I kissed her neck again, with more pressure. Her head went backwards, exposing her neck fully. I kissed and licked and sucked gently from one side to the other while her finger clutched my shoulders.

At her back my hands slid under the strap on her shoulder, and ran down to the clasp of her bra. I hesitated there, unsure. But with a brusque motion she reached back and undid the clasp with a practiced motion. Then her hands went back under my shirt and she pulled herself to me, and we were kissing again while my hands now roamed her back without it impedance.

Feeling the shoulder blades writhing. Moving down to the small valley that led to her backside and letting my fingers dance gently under the hem of her skirt, around the edges of her underwear. And then back up to the shoulders where I slowly moved the bra straps along each shoulder to the edges of her arms.

The straps of her bra fell limply down her arms.

Pulling back a little from our embrace, she wrigglee round under her vest and pulled the bra away, discarding it carelessly behind her. Then she grabbed my left arm and guided my hand to her front and pressed it hard over her vest against her right breast.

I could feel her nipple through the thin fabric of the vest as she directed my hand to press hard inwards and upwards. And she moaned again, louder this time.

Our foreheads pressed together and I could feel her breathing hard and quick.

I began to move my hand in small circles, massaging her breast in time with her breathing. At the start of each circuit I pushed up, and she breathed in sharply. Then I worked my hand into a gradual rhythm while she let out shuddering breaths.

As the rhythm and the pressure became established she left my hand unguided, moving it down to press hard on her crotch.

Her breathing quickened slightly, so I adjusted the pace of the massage to match. Her forehead felt warm and the rhythm of the breathing and the hand moving around her breast went quicker while her hand mashed hard into her goin.

The rhythm filled me, but it was not enough and with a mad rush I jammed my hand under her shirt. As I connected with her breast it was like an electric shock running through both of us. I gasped. She gave a kind of squeaking sound. But already I was back to the rhythm.

Push. Circle. Push. Circle.

Her head went low, pushing on my chest. One hand came up and grabbed my shoulders rigidly as if trying to push me away while the other hand mashed in a sporadic, chaotic fashion against her groin. And she seemed suddenly to not be breathing at all. Totally still except for the still chaotic pushing of her hand in her groin.

I continued the rhythmic circling of her breast, allowing her to control things. Until, like before, she seemed to collapse from the inside, her arms becoming limp and her breathing suddenly hard and gasping.

We stayed still for a while. Her head against my chest. My against her breast, slowly easing the pressure. Her whole body rising and falling asleep her gasping breaths slowed and the rain shhhhhd soothingly against the tent.

Finally, her head lifted. Her hair was plastered over her face, damp with sweat, and I gently smoothed it away, stroking her face as I did so. It was an incredible feeling. Our breaths mingled with each other. Like we were a single entity.

"Shit" she breathed. "Twice!"

Then she kissed me, and as she did she pushed me backwards until I was on my back, and she sat on top of me, straddling me while unbuttoning my shirt.

And when all the buttons were undone she spread the sides out and leaned, kissing my bare chest from the top and gradually moving down. Down. Down. Until her lips were just above my belt.

Then she lifted her head and began to undo my belt. And my trouser buttons. Until my boxers were revealed, and the tip of my erect cock was clearly visible on pushing out through the top.

I felt then a sudden wash of anxiety.

Up to this point, we had been kissing and touching, but mostly clothed. To be completely exposed to her felt like crossing into something new.

But this wasn't my main concern.

Of course I had known from the start where things would inevitably lead, and had willingly come with her to this point. But my main concern was that this felt like the endgame. I knew at that moment that it would not take much to make me ejaculate. I had been so intensely aroused for so long. And my experience told me that when this happened, things ended. That was the point where my wife would get up and go to the bathroom and shower and leave me lying there.

And it felt too soon to end. Too soon to be alone again.

I sat up and she stopped, looking up at me. I didn't know what to say, or how to express what was going through my mind.

"Wait." I said, stupidly. "I'm... Well. I'm, erm... close. And it's..."

I shook my head, frustrated at how hard it was to say what I was feeling.

She reached out and held my face in both hands, bringing her face close and staring into my eyes.

"Don't worry." She said simply. "Just come."

She kissed me and pushed me down again onto my back, then returning her attention to wrenching off my trousers.

I had to wriggle and lever as she yanked roughly on them until both trousers and boxers were off. It was in inelegant to say the least. And we began to laugh at the ridicilousnesstof of it all. But this was only for a moment, because then she looked down at my body and I became suddenly acutely aware of my nakedness. My cock was completely erect, bobbing gently up and down with painful throbs.

She climbed between my legs, and placed a hand on each of my knees. Then she slowly slid them up my thighs to my hips. This brought her face close to my cock, and I could feel her warm breath on it. The sensation was excruciatingly erotic and I felt my whole body tense and stiffen. Like I would explode. The light in the tent seemed to became suffused with an almost psychedelic luminosity. My head fell back on the carpet and I stared up at the canvas roof, and tried to focus on the pearlescent drops of rain as they appeared, and rolled, and coalesced and ran together in rivulets down the tent.

This focus eased things, and slowed the fuse that had been burning for so long. The luminosity faded in my eyes. The tension eased and by body relaxed. As it did so, I was able again to feel her between my legs. The warmth of her thighs touching mine. Her hands moving across from my hips until they both gently cupped my balls, holding them like a fragile creature. The skin was pulled tight around them and I could feel her fingers softly running through the hairs, which tingled in response.

The head of my cock bobbed excitedly on my stomach leaving a string of sticky wetness. I wanted to clean it and felt around for a shirt or anything I could find. I caught the edge of my trousers to my side and pulled my boxers from the pile.

I went to clear the stickiness - but she stopped me. My hand dropped limply, and she held it down, fingers interlacing with mine. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my cock, and her tongue running up the shaft. The tip of her tongue slowly circled the head. Then she was kissing it. She needed to use her other hand to hold it steady.

And then it was in her mouth. Her lips slid over the smooth head and a million sensations blazed over the sensitive skin as it was enveloped in her mouth. She gripped the shaft hard while from inside her mouth I could feel her tongue running around the smooth head, exploring it.

Gradually and gently she sucked it into her, and equally gently pushed it out again.

This was all an entirely new experience for me and I had a vague thought that there was something lurid about it. Almost impersonally pornographic. My wife seemed to share my own view that male genitalia were fairly gross, and should be treated as a necessary evil. The idea that anyone would voluntarily get this close to it seemed... I don't know. Dirty?

But then I could feel her legs pressed against mine as she knelt between them. I could feel her feet on my calves. I could hear the smacking, sucking sound of her mouth round my cock. And in that moment I seemed to understand that all these scruples were entirely the point. Everything that felt unwholesome about myself, she was choosing to be intimate with.

It wasn't about how much it how little she desired a cock in her mouth. It was about intimacy with every part of us. Her pleasure was in giving me pleasure.

With this realisation I felt a tension leave me. I began to acknowledge it. Surrender to it.

My hands dropped to my sides. I lifted my head to look at her: The top of her head moving smoothly. Her hand grasping my cock and holding it straight up into her mouth.

I felt the wet breeze on my cock as she let it slip out of her mouth and she looked back at me. I tried to wirelessly communicate something of all the feelings I had. And I don't know if she understood any of it. But she bent back down, holding my gaze intensely as she again wrapped her lips around the top of my cock. Then she looked back down and focused on her licking, and kissing and sucking.

I gave myself up entirely to it. I stopped my head back down, closed my eyes, and allowed the heat in me to rise and rise and rise. Until with a convulsive spasm my back arched and my legs shot out straight - muscles contacted into a furious clench. And I came in a rush, pumping over and over again into her mouth until I felt dizzy with it. The head of my cock burned as it bounced against the roof of her mouth and she struggled to hold it, like a raging animal in a soft warm cage.

And then gradually the heat subsided. The tightness in my muscles eased. I could feel sweat on my back and buttocks.

She continued to hold me gently in her mouth through the jerky aftershocks, and as I began to droop. She must have swallowed it all down, which seemed to me extraordinary.

Eventually, she clambered up to lie beside me, looking uncertain. I still felt slightly dizzy, so it took a moment for me to understand that she was wordlessly seeking some kind of feedback. Needing affirmation. Needing to know that everything was ok.

I didn't know what I could say. I lifted my hands and placed them gently on her cheeks. Then pulled her down into an embrace. She lay fully on top of me, and I was conscious of my diminishing erection against her thigh.

She buried her head into my shoulder, and for a while we lay there. I stroked her hair and we listened to the rain now thundering on the roof of the tent. Her warmth and the weight of her against me was comforting.

But I did start to feel a chill around my sides. I became concerned that she was feeling the chill too, but didn't want to get up. I was tempted to wrap my legs around her and wrestle her warm. But before I could move she pushed herself up and stretched over to reach something. I could feel her taut frame, lithe and supple under my hands and desire pricked at me anew.

But then I realised she was stretching to pick up her coffee cup. She took a sip, with her head turned away and I realised with a pang that she must be trying to wash the taste of my cum out of her mouth. And with cold coffee.

I was mortified with embarrassment and guilt. I sat up, pulling my legs up unconsciously to hide the shame, scrunching into a defensive ball. She rolled off me to the side, and looked back to me anxiously.

"Sorry". I said, simply. Not sure what else to say. "I'm... I'm sorry". I couldn't look at her.

But suddenly and fiercely she grabbed my face and kissed me. Kissed me as though wanting to devour me. To draw blood. Then her tongue was in my mouth lashing and writhing.

"You", she started to say, in muffled words each punctuated by more furious kissing. "Don't. Ever. Need. To apologise."

Her hands were all over me. Goosebumps rose on my skin now as hands ran down the length of my arms, tingling against the raised hairs.

Again suddenly though, she leapt up and darted off into one of the sleeping compartments of the tent. After some chaotic russling she pulled out a sleeping bag, which she quickly unzipped fully and wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket. Then she waddled back over to me and threw her legs round me, pushing me down on the carpet. From on top of me, with the sleeping bag covering us both, she returned to kissing me with that same intensity as if nothing had happened.

We kissed like lovelorn teenagers. We smushed our mouths together and rubbed our bodies as if trying to start a fire.

And certainly I was soon feeling sparks. My cock, which I assumed would be out for the count, twitched and pulsed and was soon pressing against her.

The feel of her body was intoxicating. Her curves. Her bones. Her muscles. A need arose in me. I wanted to get at that body. I needed to see it all. To taste it.

Grabbing her around the waist I turned her, so that I was now on top.

We were both out of breath, chests heaving. I looked at her body. At the rumpled vest. At the skirt riding up high underneath me. I could see her stomach under the vest and when I touched it, her muscles contracted in response, rippling through her abdominals.

Sliding right back beneath the sleeping bag I kissed that stomach. Again, a quiver from her muscles. In the darkness under the cover, pushed her vest up to the top of her breasts, until it pinged over her nipples. From there, she grabbed it and pulled it all the way over her head. I heard it land somewhere in the tent. I ran my hands up her sides just to feel the skin unobstructed. I felt the gentle swell at the sides of her breasts. Felt up under her arms to her bare armpits, prickly with stubble. Without feeling any need to conceal my raw desire, I stared at her breasts rising up and down with her breathing. The dark nipples pointing hard up at me. Her stomach still sporadically quivering.

She lifted her head to look at me hungrily, her mouth open. Accepting this as permission, I placed my hand on her breast, with the nipple between thumb and forefinger. Gently, I stroked one breast. Then two.

I slid fingers into the valley between those breasts, where the softness gave way to the harder bone of her sternum. Then back up, tracing around the summit. A slow circle around the areola, relishing the anticipation. And then to the areola itself, feeling the change in texture. Round my fingers went, circling, until finally and with careful delicacy, I touched the nipple itself. Barely any pressures. Just resting my finger there.

She twitched violently, and let out an unsteady moan audible over the rain. Placing her hands over mine she pressed them hard down, harder than I would have expected. Her head fell backwards with a loud sigh.

I could feel the warmth of her body radiating up. I licked the indentation above her collar bone, allowing my tongue to follow it to the hollow of her jugular, and then down her sternum. Then up smooth mound of her breasts. Then a rose up the soft mound of her left breast. Reaching the textured areola I ran my tongue around it, while her body began to heave under me. Her chest rose, forcing her nipple up into my mouth, where I held it for a moment gently between my teeth before letting my tongue run across it. Up with a flick, then slowly down. Up with a. flick and then slowly down.

She let out a series of noises. Half moans and half whimpers in between gasping breaths. I pressed her other breast in the same slow rotation as before while I continued to lick and flick of her nipple with my tongue. I could sense her mounting excitement through the shivers of her body, and the prickling rise of sweat on her skin. And her excitement made my heart swell with a kind of joy. My cock swelled as well, achieving full erection now with the tip stabbing hard into my stomach as I bent over her.

Every now and then I interrupted the rhythm by pressing my tongue more firmly down on the nipple, bending it or nibbling it. And when I did she convulsed under me, her hips rearing up to bang hard into me.

It was a slightly uncomfortable position for me bent over like that, so I pushed myself back between her legs. With my abdomen in her crotch she could now grind against me, while I maintained the rhythm of pressing and licking her breasts.

In response, her legs came up and wrapped around me pulling me hard into her groin. I could feel the wetness of her underwear on my stomach. She moaned again, time a sustaining warble that grew in pitch and volume. She bucked, wild and uncontrolled, driving her stomach hard into the ground, her groin pneumatically pulsing against my stomach.

And then suddenly she grabbed my head and pushed it away from her breast with one hand, the other pressed on the carpet. She seemed to be trying to push herself into the floor while her pelvis juddered sporadically against my stomach. Her face was screwed up as if in pain: eyes shut tight, teeth bared and her fingers gripping my hair.

Then her eyes opened and she looked at me. She panted, breasts heaving up and down. He hands moved now protectively over her breasts, as though they were tender. From the furiosity musicians bone grinding, she seemed now something fragile. Her legs relaxed their grip.

Cool air moved across our damp bodies which were now drenched in sweat.

I lay myself down on her to keep her warm. Pausing only to check my instructively erect cock was not poking anywhere awkward.

Her eyes were bright and unfocused. She seemed in another world.

Never before had I felt so... Valued. I had helped make her feel something amazing. Sensations so powerful it had taken her completely out of herself. The real world had fallen away and she seemed as though her whole body had melted into something ethereal.

I had taken her there. Me.

Then she blinked a few times, and seemed to come back to reality. She looked into my eyes and seemed to pour herself into me.

And I wanted to drink her in. I wanted to drown in her. And in those depths we would swim together like a single being pure sensation.

I don't know how long we just lay there, looking at each other. But finally I knew it was time to take control.

Now I was acting with no uncertainty. With confidence as though my every instinct was the same as hers. I sat up and calmly began looking for how to undo her skirt, which was crumpled and squashed almost beyond recognition between us.

After working the skirt around a bit, I found a button which I undid. She arched her hips to allow me to wrestle it off. I tossed the skirt casually out from under the sleeping bag so that it landed with a flump somewhere in the tent.

I then did the same with her underwear. They were soaking wet, and I had to roll them over her thighs and down her calves before I could again fling them out across the tent where they landed wetly somewhere.

I stared at her full form now, glistening with sweat but shadowed beneath the sleeping bag and the canvas roof under a stormy sky.

The jutting pelvic bone. The graceful curve from there into her pubic mound. The dark hairs, disheveled and damp.

I ran a hand down the length of that body. Running from her shoulder, gently over her breasts, across her stomach, across the bony pelvis and the side of her buttock, up and across to her inner thigh. The freedom to travel this landscape without hindrance was a thing of wonder. I touched her intimate parts without fear that I was doing the wrong thing.

For what seemed like a long time, I simply let my fingers trace over her whole body. Running through her pubic hairs. Over the mounds of her breasts. And along the clear highway of smooth slick skin down her sides.

She raised a hand to my cheek and I leaned over to kiss her parted lips. Then her nose. She closed her eyes again, so I kissed those too. Then back to her lips again, where we kissed long and hard.

I kissed her chin. Her neck. Working my way down her body. A gentle lick of each nipple. A circle around her belly button.

I pushed her legs wide to make room for me. Then sank my face into her pubic hair. My own legs stuck absurdly out from the sleeping bag but I paid this no heed.

I was staring at her cliteris now, spread before me. A thing of soft pink petals. I ran a finger from her pubic mound down, feeling the tingling hairs give way to the soft labia. Gently I parted the folds at the top of her cliteris, exposing a shallow valley of soft tissue. And I kissed it.

The moment my lips made contact, her legs spasmed and her thighs pressed hard against me on either side as if to crush my head. At the same time I heard her let out a repressed squeak. It was a noise of pure, unselfconscious sensation. And I wanted desperately to hear it again.

I let my tongue slide into that tender valley sloping in her. I rubbed it with my tongue, and was rewarded by further squeaks.

At the end of that valley my tongue met a smooth round bulb, but I could feel her tense slightly here so I moved past and felt a pulsating spongy tissue.

More squeaks. Her hips rocked a little back and forth and rivulets of sweat ran down my face under the steamy sleeping bag.

When I flicked my tongue over her vaginal opening, she rotated her hips upward so that my whole face seemed to be engulfed in her.

I pressed my tongue as far into her as it would go, pushing up against the walls of her vagina.

Her whole frame convulsed, rocking and twisting. I held her firm with my hands so that I could keep my tongue deep inside. Her squeaks became a gasp and groan that merging with the rushing sound of the rain above. It was as though I was playing her like a musical instrument. Each part of her produced a different sound.

I could feel the sides of her opening pulse and swell. I withdrew and licked up over that smooth bulb above the opening. This too, was noticeably bigger now and when I licked it she groaned a long, sustained groan. Her whole body twisted into taut shapes and her thighs pressed hard around my head.

This made breathing difficult and deadened all sounds. It was like being under water. Her groaning because reverberation which I felt as much as heard, and beyond that I could feel her whole frame, her every muscle and fibre surrounding me. There was a wave rising in her body. A pulsing swell growing taller and more powerful with each moment.

But it as powerful as it was, I could sense it's fragility. I sucked gently that smooth bulb in her cliteris and seemed to have a microscopic awareness of exactly where to be and how much pressure to apply to sustain the wave.

There was a quivering in her legs that ran through me. Her feet banged against my back and there was a distant slap of her hands against the floor. But all of this was a background to the wave that was rising higher and higher, and cresting with a fury of foam.

I surfed that crest. Balancing pressure a s rhythm and movement against all those delicate instruments inside her. Until at last I felt the wave crash down upon me.

She suddenly became stiff and rigid, crushing my head with her legs and with her hips pressing me into her cliteris so hard that feared my teeth might crush her sensitive tissues. But still I ran my tongue over her, as the wave reached it's fullest height, crested and began tumbling down.

And now I literally could not breath. Time stood still for a moment. It was strange because although I could feel the wave crashing in a blizzard of white around me, her body was curiously still. Like the eye of a hurricane.

Then there I felt a complicated set of movements and contractions in the different parts of her cliteris. As if it was trying to squeeze me out. Her hips gently swayed as the waters calmed. And I felt the pressure of her legs eased against my head, as all the strength seemed to have gone from them. They fell limply on either side of me, and I was able to breathe in great heaving gasps.

I was drentin sweat. And so was she. From under the covers I saw her smooth stomach heaving and shining in the thin light coming down from above the bag.

Lifting myself, I slid up on top of her, lubricated by the sweat and other juices we were both bathed in. And I drew in the fresh air of the tent. I hadn't realised how starved of oxygen I had been.

With our bodies glued together we both gasped our breaths as though we had just completed a marathon. And even now I felt the pleasure of our lungs heaving in sync.

Her eyes were closed and she was biting her lower lip making it look white. Her hair was disheveled and damp. Her face was suffused with red blotches. And she seemed at that moment altogether the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. As though everything mortal had melted away and left behind a kind of radiant, raw and unearthly glory.

Eventually her eyes opened and looked back into mine. They glistened.

She raised her arms above her head, stretching under me and flattening her breasts so our bodies sealed themselves together.

I moved my arms up as well, intending to hold her hands so that we would be lying in a superman pose. But as my fingers brushed under her arms she jerked dramatically and giggled, screwing up her face.

"Tickles! " She managed to say between her teeth.

I frowned down at her.

"What does? " I asked. "This? "

And again I ran my fingers lightly under her arms. This time she actually screamed, writhing and wriggling desperately under me, bucking to throw me off. She was too small to throw me and for a few moments I tortured her with tickles while she writhed and screeched and howled with laughter. In the end though I relented and let her squirm out from beneath me and sit up with her arms folded protectively across her.

She pushed me playfully onto my back, before lying next to me. Together we watched the rain spotting the canvas above, still both breathing hard.

"Shit". She said eventually.

Then she turned onto her side, head in hand, to look at me, curiously.

"Shit!". She said again, almost accusingly.

I turned on my side, mirroring her.

"What?" I asked.

She just shook her head, still looking curious.

I ran a hand lightly down her side. Up onto her hip. The sleeping bag had ended up in a heap somewhere and this allowed me to see her full nakedness. Slender and still glistening with sweat. Her knee dipped coquettishly to make a smooth round hump of her hips and rear.

With a gentle but determined force she placed a hand on my chest and pushed me onto my back. then she climbed on top of me, straddling me, and leaned down and we kissed. Not with fury, but with passion. Tongues wrapping around each other, lips being nibbled.

My cock was poking up and pressing against her buttocks and I couldn't help involuntarily pushing it up against her and feeling her soft flesh against its tip.

As she felt this she sat up, reached behind and cupped my testicles gently. They roiled in her hand and my cock began jumping up and down like an overexcited puppy.

Gently she lifted herself up and sat back on the shaft of my cock. Hands pressed on my chest for support she began to rub herself up and down the shaft slowly. I could feel her prickly hair and the slick wetness of her opening sliding back and forth.

She was looking directly at me with intense concentration, watching my every reaction.

Finally, she lifted herself up onto her knees and with one hand lifted my cock up to rub it's head against her pussy. I could feel her warm and sticky labia as she moved it back and forth. Then, oh so gently she lowered herself, just enough so that the head slid through the firm lips of her vaginal opening.

Delicately, she bobbed up and down, and with each downward movement sank a little lower, and my cock sank a little deeper into her. Then in one movement she sank right down to sit flush against me, and my cock plunged fully into her.

I could feel her vagina gripping the whole length of my cock. It was warm and slick and it pulsed in strange and complex ways around it.

I throbbed inside her so forcefully that my legs jumped, the air forcing it's way out of my lungs in an uncontrolled 'oof'. The walls of her vagina seemed to contract in response, squeezing me tight.

She was still watching me, but it was as though her strings had been cut and her whole face had dropped slightly. Her mouth hanging open. Her whole expression was now one of adorable anguish.

For a moment we stayed motionless except for our involuntary throbs, and a tiny slow blink from her with each one. Then she gently began to move herself backwards then forwards, pushing my cock almost painfully up to a point just inside her.

The relative discomfort of this position was timely. I had felt close to explosion for a long time now, and didn't think I could hold off much longer. For some reason though, this angle was cooling down the fervor without in any way diminishing the pleasure. I felt less on the verge, and was able to focus more on the sensations of being inside her.

She rocked ever so slightly back and forth. A hard rubbing motion. Then the rhythm changed, and she lifted herself up, sliding her lips up the shaft before dropping down with a wet slapping sound, ramming my cock deep inside.

Each time she rose I felt cool air on my wet shaft, and each slamming penetration smothered it with slick warmth. Sometimes she hovered on the tip, bobbing there a few times before dropping back down with a long hissing breath.

At some point we rolled over so that she was beneath me. Following her example, I hovered and allowed the tip of my penis to slot in and out of the entrance to her vagina. When I did this, she held her breath. Then, when she was ready, she pulled me back down with her legs.

I kept and a slow rhythm, pumping in and out of her, and I could feel the heat rising again within me. She must have sensed it too, because she grasped my shoulders and whispered in-between thrusts.

"Come... Come..."

And finally I crossed over some border. Like at the top of a rollercoaster and tipping slowly over the edge into a dive that cannot be stopped. A rushing sensation and a desperation that made me pound at a wild and uncontrolled speed. I watched her body bouncing and shaking beneath me and this just added more fuel to the fire.

With a roaring in my ears and a sharp feeling on the end of my penis, I exploded into her. I heard myself give an unsteady, wobbling groan as I pulsed over and over again. With each pulse, she gave a slight 'ah' sound and the soft tissues of her vagina contracted, as if milking the last drops from my cock.

For a long time all I could do was lie on top of her, utterly spent, until I could feel my erection softening. Eventually I began to feel liquid dripping uncomfortably between our legs, and I pulled my now sadly limp penis from her.

Leaning over I grabbed the discarded sleeping bag. As I did so, she turned herself on her side and spooned up against me, curling round in a feotal position which I encompassed.

Her body seemed suddenly fragile. Like a small mouse curled in its nest.

In this position we lay, listening to the rain. Entwined so that it was hard to determine where one of us ended and the other started. Her breathing and her heartbeat sounded deep in me and inevitably I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

I don't know how long I slept, but I awoke with a start and a sudden jolt of fear. I had a sudden vision of my wife tearing into the tent and discovering the two of us naked and together.

My jolt might have woken her up, or perhaps she was already awake, but she turned to face me and pressed my hand into hers while she 'shhhd' gently, comfortingly.

"It's ok", she soothed. "It's all ok".

She continued to whisper reassurances, pressing and kissing my hand, and gradually I began to relax again.

The rain had subsided, replaced by the sporadic splashes of droplets falling. I could hear voices on the campsite as people emerged after hiding from the storm.

We pottered around the tent recovering clothing from all manner of improbable locations. I dressed, but she threw her skimpy outfit into a corner and clambered into a pair of absurd pajamas with elephants on them.

She tossed her hair and strutted along and imaginary catwalk before giving me a sultry stare.

"Sexy, eh?" She said in a mock husky voice.

We laughed.

"Birthday present " she explained.

She gathered a bag of stuff, and we headed out into the fresh air.

I went back to my tent to gather some things before following her down to the shower block. Wordlessly we entered one of the shower rooms together, where we undressed and stood together under the warm water.

Soaping my hands, I washed her body. And she washed mine. We each ran our hands over each other with slow smooth motions. It was like a kind of worship. An expression of a profound adoration of our bodies, but also a final intimacy before parting. Am attempt to carve each curve and sinew into our memories while we still could.

Later she turned her back to me and I washed her hair, running shampoo through the strands while she stood with her head arched back.

And after we dried each other with the same slow tenderness. I dressed in my usual jeans and jumper. She pulled on a well-worn t shirt and shapeless pair of denim dungarees, over which she threw a baggy fleece.

You would never have known that underneath it all lay such a lithe and sensual frame.

We stared at each other for a moment, and touched our hands together briefly. Then we left the shower block and walked back to our respective tents.

My wife returned not long after, and stormed into the sleeping compartment zipping the door furiously.

"You deal with them", she fumed. "I've had enough. "

I went out to the car and brought in the kids. We played a game quietly, and read a story. I cooked up some pasta and I passed a bowl into the sleeping compartment like a gamekeeper feeding a tiger.

Eventually we went to bed, where I slept long and deep. So deep that I missed my habitual early rise. When I finally rose and stepped out of the tent, there was already the sound of people chatting and cooking breakfast around the campsite.

Her tent was gone. Just the patch of luminous grass where the footprint had been.

I wandered casually over to it. On the ground just where the entrance to her tent would have been I saw two coffee cups. I bent to pick them up, and inside one saw a note scribbled on a piece of cardboard torn from some packaging.

"Thanks for the coffee. It was beautiful. X"

She arrived out of nowhere. And she had left leaving barely a trace. I didn't even know her name.

There was guilt, of course there was guilt. But not as much as I expected. I think that maybe, whatever happened on that campsite gave me a strength I didn't have before.

And it gave me memories that have sustained me through the hard times.