Rich

 I woke up hearing heavy rain on the tent above my head. A dull ache in my head, the remnants of half a bottle of gin, and a dull heavy ache between my legs, the remnant of a long, beautiful snog, a hand up my top, and then… nothing. Intense, all-consuming sexual arousal, but no release.

 ‘Let’s not do this while we’re drunk,’ he'd said. ‘I want us both to be sure.’

 And so we talked. Through the small hours, my head resting against his shoulder, his arm around my back, we shared our stories. Our pasts and future hopes, fears and fantasies. It was intimate, and beautiful. And all the while my pussy was quietly pulsing away, the warmth of his body not letting me forget what my own body was desperate to do.

 But eventually, somehow, we did sleep. Warm in the sleeping bag, my fingers laced through his, I slept deep and dreamless until my full bladder finally woke me. Looking at my watch, it’s nearly 10am. We’ve slept for almost 6 hours.

Wrapped in my sleeping bag, I stare at the weak, pale daylight filtering through the fabric of the tent. R is on his side, facing me, still asleep. My mouth tastes foul, my breath is undoubtably worse, and my bladder needs urgent attention. It’s time to move.

Quietly, I unzip my sleeping bag. I know now, nearly two years later, that needn't have bothered being quiet. I could have made all the noise I wanted. R is a deep sleeper. But I didn’t know, and didn’t want to wake him, so I moved quietly, wriggling out of the bag, manoeuvring carefully in the small, low confines of the tent. The door is at our feet, and I wriggle round to face it, undoing the zip as quietly as I can. Rich doesn’t stir.

Our backpacks are in the tent porch area, with our waterproofs on the other side, hanging doubled over on a makeshift line. I pull my waterproof coat half on over my tshirt, draping it over my head and shoulders, then unzip the flysheet and crawl quickly out onto the wet grass.

The morning is misty and very wet, rain falling steadily out of a dark, heavy sky. The air is cool but not cold, the grass IS cold, and wet between my bare toes. I pull the waterproof on properly, pushing my arms through the sleeves and pulling up the zip, before kneeling again on the wet grass to reach my backpack in the front of the tent.

Still trying to be quiet, I pull my wash-bag from the top of my backpack, then zip the tent back up and walk away across the grass. We are camped in a shallow valley, with hills bordering one side, and trees on the other. At the bottom is a fast-running stream, bigger and deeper now than when we arrived the night before. The tops of the hills disappear into the mist, with a few sheep dotted around. There is no sign of human habitation anywhere, barely even a fence. I glance at my phone… no signal. The silence is beautiful, eerie almost, like we are alone in the world.

I walk barefoot across the grass to the edge of the stream. It’s crystal clear, fast-moving and deep, racing and gurgling along its rocky bed. I pull my shorts down, hitching them around my knees to avoid getting them on the wet ground, and squat to piss directly into the water. My urine disappears into the racing stream, away down the valley, and I wonder briefly if there are any other campers out of sight down the path, and hope they don’t choose the wrong moment to fill their water bottles.

My bladder empty, I pull up my shorts and take my toothbrush from the washbag. Scooping water from the stream using my hands, I brush my teeth, then gulp down a few mouthfuls of stream water, cool and refreshing after all the gin the night before.

Feeling fresher, I sit down on a rock. I pull the hood of my waterproof coat down off my head, turn my face up into the rain, and close my eyes to think... What I am going to do? Should I crawl back into the tent and do what my body so desperately wanted to do last night? I can still feel the dull ache between my legs, mixing with fresh arousal now as I start to think about it again. Or do I pretend it didn’t happen. Pretend that beautiful, perfect kiss is lost in a drunken haze… laugh it off, pull out the stove, make some breakfast in the rain?

What if I go into the tent and he rejects me again? I think about our conversation, all our shared intimacies and confessions. I can’t remember the last time I felt such a close emotional connection to another person, I’m not even sure I ever have. Do I want to risk spoiling that with sex?

I know the answer, even as I sit there thinking, I know what I’m going to do. I want his touch, I want more of that kiss, because it wasn’t imaginary. He did kiss me last night, he did put his hand up my top and stroke my breasts, and now that line is crossed we can’t uncross it. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen, and I don’t want to. I want to see if we have a physical connection which matches the emotional one we built up. I don’t want to let the opportunity go to waste.

I look in my washbag. There are wet wipes in there and, buried at the bottom, one single condom. I check the date… it hasn’t expired. Surely that’s a sign!

Standing, I push my shorts down again and use a wet wipe to clean my vagina. After two days of walking, without a shower, I’m not risking him getting close to my bits without at least trying to make myself smell nice! I undo my coat and, with a fresh wipe, reach up under my t-shirt, inside the coat, and clean my armpits.

From the other side of the stream, a sheep watches my ablutions with moderate interest. ‘What?’ I mutter at it. ‘You telling me you’ve never given your fanny a wipe when you think your on for a shag? Make it nice for the ram… no?’

The sheep stares at me like I’m deranged. I stuff the used wipes into my coat pocket, and stare back at the tent, overcome with nerves. Maybe it would be easier to just… not. I could sit out here in the rain, have a quick, quiet wank… give the sheep a bit of a show. I know after an orgasm, I’ll be able to think much more rationally.

I also know after an orgasm, I won’t have the courage to do anything at all. ‘Come on,’ I say out loud. ‘Get a grip, woman.’ The sheep walks off, bored, or disgusted. Who knows.

Combing my hair pointlessly with my fingers, I walk back to the tent. My heart is pounding, any arousal I felt completely overcome with nerves. How will I wake him? What will he say? How awkward will it be if he rejects me again??

I kneel at the entrance to the tent, wet grass on my wet knees, and undo the zip. My waterproof coat is dripping wet, there’s no point bringing it in. Quickly, I take it off, feeling the rain prickle wet on the t-shirt against my back. I hang the coat from one of the poles, and crawl into the tent, zipping the fly sheet closed behind me.

The inner door is still unzipped, just as I left it. My heart pounding, I push my head through into the inner tent.

Rich has migrated sideways, and is now more or less in the middle, lying on his back between the foam mattresses, his sleeping bag partly unzipped. The tent smells nice, like male pheromones, sharp and sexy, almost musty, as if we had actually spent the night shagging, not just talking. The way he’s positioned, I have no choice but to crawl in over the top of his legs, and as I do, he lifts his head from the pillow, and looks at me, straight in the eye.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘You’re wet.’

‘It’s raining,’ I say redundantly, pointlessly.

He reaches forward and brushes my wet hair away from my face. And suddenly, everything is easy, everything is so right. I crawl forward up his body, and he lifts his face as I lower mine to his, my wet hair tumbling forward over his cheeks as we kiss.

My body responds instantly, and powerfully, my night of pent up frustration, and months of celibacy, released into a wave of overwhelming lust. I can’t wait, I can’t take this slow, I can suddenly barely breathe with arousal and craving and need. Still kissing, I take his hand and push it down between my legs, hooking my shorts down as I go. He helps me push them down, then slides his fingers between my wet lips, dipping one finger into my cunt then out and up onto my clit.

I kiss him hard, gasping as his fingers take away the ache and the tension and the waiting, and replace them with a surge of explosive pleasure, and in seconds I know I’m not going to be able to hold out. With every nerve in my groin overwhelmed with pleasure, I powerless to stop the orgasm exploding through me, my cunt pulsing and pumping wave after wave of pleasure down my legs and up my spine. My whole body shaking, I half collapse onto him, my face buried in his neck.

‘Fuck,’ I say, my body still shaking. ‘Fuck.’ Aftershocks ripple out from under his fingers, still pressed against my clit. Too sensitive, I grab his hand again, pulling it away. ‘Fuck,’ I say again.

‘Are you ok?’ he says, real concern in his voice. I lift my head to look at him. His handsome face is creased with worry, as his eyes meet mine.

‘God, yes.’ I lean forward and kiss him. ‘Yes. I just came… sorry. That was a bit sudden.’ I kiss him some more. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve been touched.’

‘Oh, good.’ He strokes my arm. ‘You sounded really pissed off for a second.’

‘Well I didn’t mean to cum so fast!’

I roll off him, to the side, pushing my shorts off which were still tangled around my knees.

‘It’s been a while for me too,’ he says, shyly. ‘I don’t think I’ll last much longer. I mean, not that I’m expecting you to… you know…’ he blushes. ‘You don’t have to do anything, to me, I mean.’

I unzip his sleeping bag. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say. ‘I need to see what’s in here now.’

His bag has a long zip, right to the bottom, and I unzip it all the way down, opening it until his legs are completely exposed. He’s wearing tracksuit bottoms, soft and blue, with a huge bulge in the front. I run my hands over it; it’s hard as steel, and hot through the material. He gives a little moan as I wrap my fingers around it.

‘Well that’s a good sign,’ I say, smiling up at him.

‘I guess I must fancy you,’ he says. He’s blushing slightly, it’s very cute.

‘Let’s see then, shall we...’ I say.

I slide my hand down inside his waistband, pushing the trousers down, and he reaches down to help me, lifting his bum so I can push them right off.

His cock is beautiful, the best looking I have ever seen, and so hard, standing rigid like a maypole as I slide my hand up from the bottom, and my lips down from the top. He hasn’t had the benefit of wet wipes, but he still somehow tastes clean and delicious. His skin is slightly salty under my tongue, the laundered smell of his trousers mingling in my nose with the unmistakable scent of arousal.

It’s been months since I gave a blowjob, and I want this one to be good. To be the best he’s ever had, in fact. And so with my body still tingling from my own orgasm, I kneel on the cold ground and use everything I’ve ever learnt about pleasuring a cock. I use my tongue flat against the tip, my lips warm and wet on his shaft.

I wrap my fingers around the base, encircling him, sliding my hand up and down the wetness so that his whole cock is in my mouth or in my warm hand. I move in a steady rhythm, listening to his breathing quicken, listening to his quiet deep moans. After barely a minute I taste salty pre-cum on my tongue and feel him tense, his breathing ragged as he gasps ‘I’m gonna cum, Sam, I’m gonna…’

He doesn’t get the word out before his cock explodes, pulsing hard, he pumps cum into my throat almost faster than I can swallow it. I hold him in my mouth, my fingers still encircling him, feeling the beautiful, sexy contractions of his orgasm which goes on and on, still spurting and I finally can swallow no more and have to lift my mouth away, stroking him and leaning forward so the last few spurts hit my t-shirt, over my tits.

‘Sorry,’ he says, still panting. ‘I didn’t give enough warning.’

‘Ha, that’s ok! I wouldn’t have stopped. I just couldn’t keep up!’ I trace the cum on my t-shirt where his last few spurts went on me. There’s more there than some guys whole cumshot. ‘Nice work,’ I say. ‘I’m guessing it really has been a while.’

‘Years,’ he says simply.

‘Wow.’ I snuggle up alongside him. ‘Really, years?’

‘Yeah. But also…’ he hesitates.

‘Also…?’

‘I’ve never actually had like, a full… I mean, I’ve never finished in someone’s mouth before.’

I gape in literal disbelief. Surely he’s bullshitting me? ‘Seriously? Never? You’ve never had a blowjob?’

‘Not really. My ex didn’t like giving them, she had a really strong gag reflex.’

‘Wow. And she never even sucked you off once, on your birthday or something?’

‘Sometimes for a few seconds.’ He looks uncomfortable. ‘But not until… you know….’

‘Not until you came…?’

‘No.’

I want to tell him that’s mean, but I don’t want to slag off his ex. So I kiss him instead. He holds me and kisses me back, long and deep. The kissing goes on for a while.

‘I guess I’ll just have to help you make up for lost time,’ I say, when we reach a natural break.

He smiles, big and broad. His face is gorgeous when he smiles.

‘What are you grinning at?’ I ask.

‘Just the suggestion that you might maybe do that again sometime.’

I lift my head and look down his body. His cock is rock hard again, I’ve been stroking it as we kiss, and my fingers are still wrapped around it. I look back up at his face.

‘Seems to me you’re pretty much ready now…’

He smiles. ‘Seems that way…’

‘Here,’ I say, reaching for the washbag which I’ve bought into the tent with me. I open it and pull the condom out. ‘I think we might need this.’

He takes it and tears open the wrapper, then rolls it expertly down his beautiful cock. Habitual condom user, obviously. I speculate about his past relationships as I watch him put it on. My ex… he said. Could he really have only slept with one woman, at the age of 27?

I wonder how long it’s been since he was inside a woman, as I climb astride him and position myself over his cock. Holding it in my hand, I moan with the deep, enduring pleasure of first penetration as I slide him inside me.

‘Ohh god,’ he says as I rock forward against him, taking him deep inside, ‘ohh fuck.’ I think it’s the first time I’ve heard him swear.

The roof of the tent is low, and my head brushes against it as I ride him, savoring the pleasure of his cock deep inside me, his hands sliding around my waist.

I lean forward, bend my head down to kiss him.

‘Can I…’ he says, as I lift away from the kiss. ‘I mean… may I take your top off?’

‘Fuck sake, yes,’ I said, pulling my tshirt off over my head. I lean forward again, speaking directly into his face. ‘When your cock is inside me… you don’t need to ask permission to see my tits…’

I kiss him again as we fuck in a steady, regular, blissful rhythm. Our breathing matching, our bodies beautifully in sync. He might be shy with his words, but his hands are confident and talented on my body, holding my hips and rocking my pelvis forward as he thrusts up into me, so his cock rubs deliciously against my clit.

He holds my arse, then moves his hands up to my tits, squeezing my nipples gently. ‘I love your tits,’ he says, pinching them more firmly, as pleasure starts to build deep inside me.

I don’t want it to end, but I can feel my orgasm starting to build, and when he slides his hand down my body and slips his thumb expertly onto my clit, I know I’m seconds away.

I lean forward, speaking softly again. ‘You like my tits?’

He nods.

‘I’m going to cum on your cock,’ I said, breathing hard in his face. ‘Then I want you to cum on my tits.’

He nods again as I rock against him, my lips against his, his thumb pressed against my clit. Right on the edge, I push myself against him hard, forcing his cock deep inside me as my cunt contracts and pulses again, and I gasp and cry out in pleasure between snatched kisses. It’s another huge orgasm, all the more satisfying with his cock deep inside me, and I’m shaking with pleasure as it peaks and passes, kissing and kissing him as the endorphins flood my body.

He pulls away suddenly from the kiss. ‘I’m close,’ he says.

Quickly, I lift myself off his cock and roll sideways onto my back. Holding his hand, I pull him over with my, onto all fours, and reach for his cock as he straddles my body.

I pull the condom off his cock and start stroking it just as he starts to cum, covering my stomach, my tits and my neck in another seemingly endless series of spurts.

I carry on stroking until the last drops are out, then hold him gently in my hand as he looks down at me. I’m absolutely covered, it’s dripping down my tits, down my sides, onto the camping mat.

‘Fuck, that’s nice,’ I say. He sits upright, his bum resting on my thighs. I play with the cum on my tits. ‘I love having cum on me.’

He grins. ‘I quite enjoyed putting it there!’

I laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never done that before either?’

‘Oh yeah I've done that,’ he says casually. ‘My ex liked it too.’

Well, I think, at least she wasn’t a total prude.

He hands me some tissues. Outside, it’s still raining hard. Barely 20 minutes have passed since I came back into the tent, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

‘Do you want some breakfast?’ he asks. ‘We’ve got bacon.’

‘Wow, fuck yes.’

‘I’ll get the stove going.’ He climbs off me, and turns to crawl out the door. I admire his naked bum on the way out.

‘Then afterwards,’ I say as he crawls out, ‘I think I need you to fuck me again.’

He looks back at me, beaming. I sit up, lean forward, and we kiss, his hand wandering between my legs. I push him away…

‘No. Breakfast first…’

‘Yes, maam.’ He gives a little salute.

‘Now THAT is the kind of attitude I’m looking for.’