Camping Sex At A Wedding, How I Went From The Singer Of The Band To Getting Laid

camping sex from band singer to getting laid

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This is another present-day story for you, about something lovely that happened to me last weekend. It takes a while to get to the sex, and it’s not kinky or even that much out of the ordinary. But it was extremely memorable, and I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed what I’m about to tell.

Last Saturday night my band were playing at a wedding in Yorkshire. Standard stuff, but this wedding was a little unusual in being held miles from anywhere, in a field high up on the Dales. They had a huge marquee for dinner and dancing, with a generator for power. All around were big fields for guests to camp. Everyone was camping, even the bride and groom had their own teepee tent; all the other guests had brought their own.

When the band company that I work for took the booking they were told the nearest accommodation was in a village 40 minutes away by car; the nearest town was over an hour’s drive. Accommodation costs for the band are a standard part of the package, and usually just means a nearby hotel; this one was a little unusual. With the band booked to play until midnight, plus time for packing up, we were clearly going to have to camp with the guests.

The couple wanted a five piece band. Our booking office manager emailed round all the musicians on the books and asked if anyone would be prepared to camp. Even though it was a little further than I usually travel for a booking, I replied right away and said yes; I love camping, love the dales, and it sounded way more fun than another Holiday Inn. After a bit of cajoling, we had enough volunteers for the five-piece they wanted, and we took the booking.

We were booked to play light background music during dinner, then two sets for dancing. Knowing we had to pitch our own accommodation, we arrived early, about 4pm. I drove myself; the drummer was a local girl so she brought a van with most of the kit and picked up our two guitarists from the station. Our sax player came in his own car. We all met up in the nearest village and drove in convoy up miles of winding country lanes, then rough country track, to the wedding field high up at the top of a valley.

We were met at the gate by the best man, who showed us where to park and where we could camp. We were in an enormous field with all the other guests, who had clustered their tents around a corner and along one side. Not wanting to intrude on the guests, we pitched our tents in an unused corner, far from any others. My small tent was in the corner, with the drummer next to me, all alone in a big family tent (took her ages to put up!). The rest of the guys pitched in a line the other side of hers.

Tents all pitched, we drove up to the marquee where guests were drinking and milling around before dinner. The setting was unbelievably pretty, with the marquee at the highest point of the field looking out over the most stunning view of the Yorkshire Dales. They had tonnes of inside space, clearly planned in case of rain, but in fact the whether was glorious, with perfect blue skies and bright sunshine. In 5 years of doing this job, I honestly can’t remember a wedding in a more beautiful location.

We unpacked our kit and set up on the small stage in the corner of the marquee. There was plenty of power and space, and we finished setup and did a discrete sound check with lots of time to spare before dinner.

We were sitting around, chatting and enjoying the sunshine, when the bride came over. Early 20s, blonde and pretty in her dress, slightly tipsy and glowing with happiness, her groom following behind and grinning from ear to ear.

‘Helloooo,’ she gushed, throwing her arms around my drummer. ‘We are soooo pleased you guys could make it, we thought we’d never find a band to come all the way up here! Did you get your tents all put up?’ We nodded and assured her we were all set up. ‘Great,’ she said ‘but you don’t have drinks! You must have drinks!’ She waves to a waiter who comes over with a big tray of champagne. ‘Please, help yourself, as much as you want! I’m just sooo happy you’re here!’

We took some drinks and mingled a little with the guests. As always at a wedding, we were smartly dressed, and with drinks in our hands could easily pass for guests ourselves. After a few minutes I found myself chatting to what I initially took to be a couple; the guy was mid 40s, handsome and fit looking in his suit, with salt and pepper hair. The woman was roughly the same age and similar looking, strikingly pretty with big boobs in a plunging low cut dress. He mentioned children, how he hadn’t brought his along although others had; she waved across the field and said hers were around somewhere, and I realised they were not a couple but brother and sister, their similar features suddenly glaringly obvious. The arrival of a small boy, calling her ‘mummy’ and him ‘uncle Paul’ confirmed my suspicions.

‘How do you know the couple?’ I asked, making conversation.

‘She’s our niece,’ says the brother. ‘The bride’s mum is our big sister.’

Another child runs over, and drags the woman away to deal with some disaster, leaving me chatting just to the nice looking guy. Hmmm I think to myself, he really is extremely attractive.

We chat about kids, I tell him about my two girls and he tells me about his sons, and how he’s separated from his wife. We bond over the struggles of being a single parent, typical school-gates chatter. I like him a lot, but our conversation is cut short by the guests being called in for dinner, and the start of our first set.

We play quietly during the meal, light jazz without any vocals, as ordered by the bride. There is a break for the speeches, during which me and the band sneak some more wine from the bar and sit outside watching the sun go down. It’s starting to get cold now, and I decide to collect the extra blankets and a duvet from my car and stash them inside my tent for later, in case the night is colder still.

Speeches over, we go inside to play the first dance, then straight into our first dance set. 55 minutes of bouncy pop tunes, mostly from a list we were sent but with some extras in there too. It’s my first time playing with all these guys except for the drummer, but we gel quickly and I’m pretty happy with the sound. I share vocals with the lead guitarist and we do a couple of duets. His guitar playing is a bit rough but he has a great voice and I enjoy myself as I always do, belting out the standard wedding power ballads as the guests swing each other round on the dance floor.

We take a 40 minute mid-set break, and I head to the bar to get some water, sweating from the exertion of performing. I sit on a chair to cool off and Paul, the handsome brother from earlier, come over and sits beside me.

‘Wow,’ he says ‘you guys sound great. You’ve got an amazing voice.’

It’s a pretty standard mid-set comment from wedding guests, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the compliments, especially from such a nice looking man, and I smile and say thanks.

We sit there and continue our chat from earlier. He’s obviously had a couple of glasses of wine with dinner and he’s tipsy but not drunk. There is a bucket full of ice and bottles of Becks on the bar; aware I am showing off, I grab a couple of the bottles, open one with my teeth and hand it to him, before doing the same to mine. ‘God,’ he says ‘you are definitely my kind of girl!’

We talk about my girls, how they came to have different dads, and he tells me about his marriage and why it fell apart. Already our conversation feels intimate and conspiratorial, the booze and the low lights contributing to the sharing of secrets.

When it’s time for our second set he stands and holds out his hand, helping me to my feet, and although I don’t need it I take his hand as I stand up, feeling his warm skin against mine, and we both linger for a second before letting go. ‘I’m in there,’ I think to myself as I walk back to the stage.

The second set is more high energy than the first, more rock, more big anthems and foot stamping tunes. We play nearly 90 minutes including encores, and when we finish I’m drenched in sweat and boiling hot; it might be cold outside but it’s very warm in the marquee.

While one of the guests plugs in his iPod for a post-band playlist, I grab another cold beer and head outside to cool down. The rest of the band hang around on the stage, starting to unplug the kit.

The outside air is cool and clear. I stand with my back to the tent, enjoying the cold and comparative quiet. Paul must have seen me come out because he appears beside me just a minute later. ‘God that was amazing,’ he says, ‘I haven’t danced like that since I was 17, I’m exhausted.’

I’m still getting my breath back from the last couple of songs, my fingers still tingling from hitting the keyboard. The endorphins of performance still rushing around my system. I don’t say anything, just take his hand and turn towards him, bringing my mouth to his. The kiss is gentle and lingering, my tongue lightly brushing his lips. ‘Thank you,’ I say quietly, my face millimetres from his. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’

There is a shout from the door of the tent: ‘Jen, are you out here?’ It’s my drummer.

‘Yup,’ I call back. She’s in the light of the doorway, and we’re in the dark – she can’t see us. I’m still holding Paul’s hand.

‘We need to move the kit, they’ve got a DJ who wants to set up.’

‘Coming,’ I call back. Then quietly, to Paul, ‘I’ve got to go and pack up. Takes about 45 minutes. Stick around, yeah?’

‘Oh yes,’ he says. I can hear his smile. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ I kiss him once more than head inside.

We pack up and carry the kit back to the van, two people needed for the bigger stuff. ‘He’s fit,’ says my drummer, out of earshot of the other guys, as we carry a keyboard to the van. ‘Are you going to shag him?’ She has a cheeky grin. Perhaps she could see us after all.

‘Maybe,’ I say.

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‘I would,’ she says. ‘Theoretically I mean.’ I smile. Short, curvy and extremely pretty, she is the only band member I’ve worked with who has never, to my knowledge, broken the ‘no sex with guests’ rule. Married to her school sweetheart on the day of her 18th birthday, she has never looked at another man, and fends off drunk and lecherous wedding guests with photos of her boxer husband. Wish we could all be so lucky.

‘Yeah, maybe,’ I say again, half to myself, as we walk back to the tent. ‘He’s certainly handsome.’

We finish packing up and lock up the van. The party is still going strong, the DJ now cranking out the tunes to a still mostly full dance floor, while other guests sit and drink. I see a couple coming back up from the tents, big grins, arms around each other and her dress tucked into her knickers at the back. I trot down to meet them and tell her, before she embarrasses herself. ‘Oops, thanks!’ she says, giggling. Her guy helps her yank it out, and they kiss before walking back up to the marquee. ‘You were amazing, by the way,’ she calls over her shoulder as they walk off. I wonder whether she means me or the guy she just shagged!

I walk into the marquee and stand by the bar. Paul is standing over the other side of the dance floor, talking to his sister, along with the bride and an older woman who I guess is his older sister, the bride’s mum. He sees me and waves; the bride notices and waves too, blowing me kisses as her new husband leads her off onto the dance floor. I smile and wave back as Paul comes over.

‘She says to say thank you for an amazing set,’ he says. ‘They’re both really happy.’

I smile. ‘That’s good,’ I say, looking into his eyes. They’re dark brown, with friendly laugh lines which crinkle up when he smiles. He gazes back, not smiling now, looking if anything a little worried.

‘Look,’ he says ‘I want to, umm, look, can we go outside.’ He sounds worried, hesitant. I nod, and follow as he walks out. We walk around the end of the big tent and sit on a bench, the light from inside spilling out and casting our shadows over the dark field. There is nobody nearby.

‘Look,’ he says again. ‘I have to be honest, umm, this is awkward…’ He stares at his shoes, hesitating, shaking his head. I take his hand gently. The words spill out of him in a rush. ‘The thing is I’m still in love with my wife. I know we’re separated but I haven’t given up hope, I honestly still love her and I’m not ready to let that go, and maybe there’s no hope and I need to move on but, fuck..’ he breaths ‘I mean, I don’t want to do anything tonight, with you I mean, and make you think it could be the start of something because it can’t be. I’m not ready to move on. God, I’m so sorry. What a mess.’

I’m still holding his hand. I put my other hand over his, covering his two hands in mine.

‘Thank you for being honest,’ I say. ‘And there’s no need to apologise. We don’t have to do anything. I really like you, I know we’ve just met, but I do. But I can’t get involved with anyone either, especially not someone who lives so far from me. It’s not fair on the girls and they have to come first. I’m committed to being single at the moment and I’m fine with that.’ I hesitate for a moment. ‘It doesn’t always mean I have to be celibate though.’

He turns and looks at me again. He really does have lovely eyes. ‘I really like you too,’ he says. ‘You’re beautiful and funny and an amazing musician…’ he pushes my hair away from my face. ‘God, you’re so pretty.’ He leans towards me and I respond, knitting my fingers through his as his lips meet mine.

We kiss slowly at first, his lips warm against mine, the tips of our tongues meeting gently, my arm sliding around his waist as we pull closer together. For five minutes or more we kiss, our bodies pressed together, hot breath making clouds in the cold night air.

At last I break away, breathless with sexual desire, I lean towards him again, my lips close to his ear. ‘I don’t care what happens tomorrow. I want to sleep with you tonight.’

His breath is hot on my cheek as he replied. ‘Oh god yes.’

We move our heads to face each other, our lips still close. I kiss him again, I can’t help myself. Some more minutes pass in blissful kissing. Finally I speak again, our lips still close.

‘My tent is tiny,’ I say, ‘just a two-man.’

‘I’m sharing mine with my sister and the kids.’

‘Ah ok,’ I laugh. ‘My tent it is then. Come on.’ I stand up and offer him my hand, as he did to me earlier. He takes it as he stands.

‘Don’t you need to tell your sister something?’ I ask. ‘She’ll wonder where you are.’

‘I’ll text her,’ he says, pulling out his phone. He taps away for a minute, and his phone makes a ‘whoosh’ of a text being sent.

‘What did you say!’ I ask. He shows me. It says ‘I pulled the singer! See you in the morning!’ I laugh and punch him on the arm as her reply pings back. ‘Told you! Nice one! Have fun!’

‘Told you?’ I ask, as we walk through the dark field towards my tent.

‘She told me you fancied me back before dinner,’ he says, sliding his hand back into mine. ‘I didn’t believe her.’

‘Perceptive woman.’ I squeeze his hand.

I use the torch on my phone to find my tent in the dark. It’s low with a small porch, which I kneel down to unzip. It’s really quite cold now, and he blows on his hands. ‘Don’t worry,’ I say, ‘I’ve got plenty of blankets.’

Inside the porch is an LED battery lantern. I turn it on and reach in to hang it from the loop inside the tent. I’m wearing flat court-style shoes, which I push off with my toes and push to one side of the porch, then crawl into the tent. ‘Come on in,’ I say ‘loads of room’.

He kneels in the doorway and crawls part way in then turns to untie the laces on his own shows. I reach forward and squeeze his shoulders and he cranes his neck back and smiles. I lean forward and kiss him, sliding my hand down his front, but he can’t support himself in that position and falls laughing onto his back. He struggles back to a half sitting position and carries on untying his shoes. ‘Patience!’ he says.

‘Sod patience,’ I say, ‘just get in here and undress me. Zip up the door first though!’

‘Yes ma’am,’ he says, giving a cute little salute. He kicks his shoes next to mine then crawls forward to zip up the outer door. I admire his bum through his suit trousers as she shuffles backwards and zips up the inner door, then turns round, keeling, his back towards the entrance.

I kneel facing him. The tent is high enough for us both to kneel up but the lantern is between our faces. I unhook it and hang it on another loop on the side wall of the tent.

Kneeling, we shuffle closer together, my hands reaching around his neck as our lips come together again. He still has his suit jacket on, and as we kiss I push it off his shoulders and hold it up as he pulls out his arms, before pushing it to the side of the tent.

His hands are resting on my hips, warm through the material of my dress. I’m wearing a red M&S dress, which looks much posher than it is, high necked and figure hugging, with a zip up the back. His hands still on my hips, he bunches the material of the skirt, lifting it up over my legs.

‘You’ll need to undo the zip,’ I say. ‘Here, like this.’ I guide his hand to the top of the zip and he pulls it down in one smooth movement, his body leaning towards mine as he pulls it right down past the back of my pants. I lean into his neck, breathing in his smell, suddenly aware that having been covered in sweat earlier I probably don’t smell great myself. Fuck it I think. Nothing I can do about it now.

The zip undone, the dress falls forward off my shoulders. He holds it around my hips again and lifts up, and I raise my arms, my hands brushing against the top of the tent as he pulls it over my head.

My arms raised, I realise my suspicions were right, I smell like a teenage boy. ‘Sorry,’ I say ‘I stink. I’d normally shower before getting this close to anyone after a gig.’ He kisses me his hands sliding around my bare sides and up my back, and unhooking my bra. ‘You smell amazing to me,’ he says, lifting my bra away from my body and sitting back slightly to look at me. I smile, I love being looked at during sex, I find something incredibly sexy about I guy wanting to look at my body.

‘Fuck,’ he says ‘seriously, you’re a liar. You must be. There is no way on earth you have had two kids.’

‘Shut up,’ I say, smiling despite his cheesy lines. ‘There’s no need to be smooth now. you’ve got me almost naked already.’

He slides his hands over my hips and up to my breasts, gently brushing my nipples. I shiver with pleasure.

‘Seriously,’ he says, ‘you have the body of a 19 year old. It’s so perfect.’ It’s not, he’s flattering me rotten, but his hands are stroking my nipples and I am not about to complain.

‘Oh really,’ I say, ‘and how many naked 19 year old girls have you seen recently?’

‘Oh well uhm,’ he blushes, so cutely. ‘I mean, in magazines and stuff.’

‘Magazines? You know you can get actual video porn on the internet? Can you even still buy magazines?’

He’s still red in the face. ‘I’m not good on the computer, I’m scared my boys will find the history.’

I laugh. ‘Haha magazines. Retro porn.’

‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I’ve been separated from my wife for a year, it gets frustrating.’

‘Mmm I bet it does,’ I say, kissing him. He slides his hand round and feels my bottom through my pants as we kiss. I start to undo the buttons on his shirt, one handed, but it’s tricky so I sit back and use both hands.

‘A whole year, eh’ I say. ‘And no sex at all?’

‘Just once, a few months ago.’

‘Ooh, a filthy one night stand. And I thought I was corrupting you! Who was it with?’

‘My wife,’ he says. ‘We got drunk.’

‘Wow, ok. Maybe there is still hope then.’

‘Maybe.’ He helps me with the top button on his shirt, then undoes one cuff while I do the other. ‘Or maybe it means we were just both feeling horny.’

Both cuffs undone, he pulls off his shirt. His torso is smooth and muscly, the muscles of his stomach just visible under a modest covering of hair. I stroke his chest, feeling the definition of his pecs, then pull him close to me so I can feel them on my tits as we kiss.

I slide my hands down his bare arms, feeling a rush of desire as my fingers move over his biceps. ‘Nice,’ I murmur. ‘Not quite a dad bod.’

‘I was really flabby a year ago,’ he said ‘but when I was on my own I decided I’d better get in shape.’

‘Very nice.’ I squeeze his arms, and slide the fingers of my other hand over his stomach, feeling the muscles there and brushing down towards the button of his trousers. I smile cheekily at him as I undo the button, and unto his zip. He strokes my breasts gently ‘you have beautiful tits’ he murmurs.

I push his trousers and pants down together, pushing them both down as far as his knees which is as far as I can get them while he’s still kneeling. Like he did to me, I lean back a little to look at his cock. He is medium sized and fully erect, his foreskin pulled back over the purple head of his penis, which points up and out, hard and inviting. I take the shaft gently in my fingers and lean back towards him, kissing more passionately now as I wrap my fingers around his cock.

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He reaches round my body and cups my bum again, sliding his hand inside my pants this time. He pulls me close, restricting my movements on his cock, but giving himself enough arm space to slide his hand further down inside my pants, under the bottom part of my bum. I move my legs apart slightly, giving him room as his fingers reach the lips of my vagina from behind. Pressed hard against him, I rock my bum back, and he pushes the tip of his finger inside me making me gasp.

‘I think we should lie down,’ I say, still pressed close against him. He takes his hand out and we move apart slightly, his erection sticking out in front of him like a tent pole. He looks at his fingers.

‘You’re very wet,’ he says, cheesily.

‘Duh yeah,’ I say, smiling. ‘That’s what happens.’

We push some of the bedding out of the way and lie down. There is only one sleeping mat, but fortunately it’s quite a wide one. ‘Here,’ I say ‘lie over there a second.’ He moves off the mat and finishes taking his trousers, pants and socks off while I cover the mat with a blanket, and shove another blanket up against the top of the tent as a pillow. I take my pants off and lie down, as seductively as I can in the cramped surroundings.

Completely naked now, he lies on his side beside me, his erection resting on my hip. He leans forward and kisses me, his hand brushing over my breasts caressing my nipples then sliding down over my stomach and through my pubic hair.

I reach down and wrap my fingers around his cock as he starts to touch me, stroking gently up and down his shaft as his fingers reach my clit. He leans down and kisses my nipples as he fingers me, and I lie back, giving a silent prayer of thanks to whichever woman taught him how to use his fingers, because whoever she was, she certainly taught him well!

A few delicious minutes pass as he fingers my clit and flicks his tongue against my nipples. Moaning in pleasure with every breath, I stroke his cock, matching his rhythm as he thrusts slightly into my hand. I wonder briefly whether my drummer is in the tent next door as I get more vocal, then forget about everything else as my orgasm starts to build.

‘Kiss me,’ I say. He lifts his head from my breasts, and looks into my eyes.

‘I want to make you come,’ he says.

‘I’m going to,’ I gasp. ‘Kiss me, quickly.’ He bends and kisses me and I push my mouth tight against his, my tongue urgently pushing into his mouth as the pleasure reaches its blissful peak, then twist my head away and cry out as he pushes me over the edge, arching my head back and matching the contractions of orgasm with little staccato cries.

I realise I am gripping his shoulder hard, my fingers digging deep into his muscle. I smile and relax as the last few contractions pass, lifting my head to his for a kiss. He moves his hand away from between my legs, and I take it in mine, bringing it to my lips to kiss his fingers as my breathing slowly returns to normal. My other hand is still holding his cock. ‘I think we need a condom,’ I say. I look to one side, where my wash bag is on the floor of the tent. I point to it. ‘Pass me my bag.’

He reaches over me and passes the little bag. It has toothbrush, soap, deodorant and a packet of condoms. Always be prepared. I take out a condom and hand it to him. ‘Here,’ I say, ‘put this on.’

He sits up slightly, quickly removes the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolls it down his cock. I reach for him and slide my hand around his back as he climbs on top of me, positioning his cock at the entrance to my vagina then sliding it easily inside, no hands needed for guidance, his angle perfect for deep penetration. I gasp and grip him to me, holding his bum. ‘Slowly,’ I say. He looks worried.

‘Are you ok?’

‘Yes, it’s good, I’m just sensitive after orgasm. It’ll pass, just start slow.’

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs, and bends to kiss me. We hold each other like that, kissing gently, his cock inside me but not moving, he holds himself up with one arm while the other gently strokes my breasts.

I slide my hands down his back, feeling more muscles, and gradually start to move my hips. I hold his bum as he slowly starts to move with me, his cock sliding gently in and out. I bring my hands back up his back and down his arms, enjoying his muscles as he slowly fucks me, his eyes locked on mine.

After a few minutes the pleasure of his cock moving inside me makes my breath start to quicken, and I move my hands back to his hips, speeding up his movements as I pull him towards me with each thrust. I look up as his face, watching the pleasure in it as he thrusts into me more quickly, his own breathing speeding up in time with mine.

I pull him down towards my mouth and he kisses me quickly, giving a long moan as he thrusts deep into me and holds there, and I feel the throbbing of his cock inside me as he comes.

We hold each other tightly for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before breaking apart with a sigh and a giggle. He sits up, holding the condom as he pulls out of me then carefully taking it off. ‘There’s a tissue in my wash bag,’ I tell him, and he wraps the condom up.

He looks at my, still kneeling between my legs. ‘Did you, you know, finish?’ He asks. I shake my head. ‘Do you want me to…’ he moves his hands up my thighs.

‘No,’ I say, ‘I’m good. I’m a one-orgasm girl. Come and lie with me.’

He lies alongside me and I pull a blanket over us. We snuggle close, our heads on the makeshift pillow, and chat sleepily, his hand gently stroking my body as we gradually doze off.

My bladder wakes me as the first light creeps into the sky. I try to ignore it but it just gets worse, so I wrap a spare blanket around myself and unzip the tent, creeping out into the cold Yorkshire morning.

It’s freezing, the valley below is filled with mist. The marquee at the top of the field is deserted, and there’s not a soul in sight. I pad quickly to the side of the field, bare feet on the wet grass, and squat down to pee, making a telltale cloud of steam in the cold air.

Shivering, I make my way back to the tent and crawl in through the door. Paul is asleep on his side, half covered by the blanket. I zip up the tent and take off my makeshift robe, pulling it over us both as I lie down beside him. I slide my body, cold from the outside, alongside him and he turns towards me, blissfully warm. I lie facing the same direction as him and he holds me, his muscly chest against my back, his arm around my waist. As I fall back asleep I feel warm and safe in the arms of this stranger, and far closer than our few hours of acquaintance would suggest. Smiling, I go back to sleep.

I’m woken some hours later by his fingers sliding over my breasts. His body hot against my back, I can feel his cock hard against my bum, his breath hot on the back on my neck. Within seconds I am fully awake and instantly wet, my natural morning sexiness sent into overdrive by the prospect of immediate sex. I turn and bring my mouth to his, hoping my morning breath doesn’t stink too much as I kiss him passionately.

Overwhelmed with lust, I pull him on top of me as I turn onto my back. Still kissing, he brings his legs over mine, his cock pushing hard into my thigh.

‘Condom, condom,’ I say, urgently. We both fumble for the washbag. He gets it first and pulls out a condom, scattering the rest of the contents. I hardly notice. I am in a state of extreme arousal, my nipples like bullets, my whole vagina throbbing with an overwhelming urge to be touched. I’m panting, desperate, hardly able to wait as he rolls the condom on. This is pure all-consuming sexual desire like I have only known a handful of times before. The second the condom is on I grab his cock and pull him inside me, lifting my hips and grabbing his bum, the sensation making me shout out with pleasure.

He responds to my almost primeval desire and fucks me hard, more passionate and urgent than the night before. My knees raised, his body high up mine, the shaft of his cock slides hard against my clit with every thrust. I grab the nearest soft thing to hand, which happens to be my pants, and stuff them into my mouth to stifle the screams, then grab his bum and pull myself hard up against his thrusts.

The pleasure is overwhelming, huge waves of deep intense ecstasy with every thrust, and in less than a minute I’m on the brink of orgasm. Needing more air, I rip the pants from my mouth and give a high, clear cry as his thrusting pushes me over the edge. I grab his back, digging my nails into his shoulders, convulsing helplessly in pure, incredible pleasure. It’s less than two minutes since he woke me up, and I’m having one of the most intense orgasms of my life. And I’ve had a lot of orgasms over the years!

Finally the waves of pleasure give way to lovely, irregular aftershocks and I collapse from under him, giggling now in sheer happiness, the endorphins bringing a rush of contentment and relaxation. I lift my arms and wrap them around his neck. He is still inside me but not moving now. I kiss him, long and loving.

‘Fucking hell Paul. You can do that to a girls body and your wife still left you? What’s wrong with the woman?’

He smiles. ‘Sex was never the problem, we always had a great sex life.’

‘No fucking kidding,’ I say. ‘Seriously, I’m not just saying this, that was one of my all time top 10 orgasms. Incredible.’

He looks smug. It occurs to me that he is still hard inside me and I kinda need to return the favour. I’m too sensitive to fuck any more, but I know a few other tricks.

‘Come here,’ I say, sliding my body down underneath his. His cock slides out of me, and he moves his legs outside mine, lying over me on all fours as I bring his cock level with my mouth.

I pull the condom off and slide him into my mouth. He tastes of the spermicide, and of cum, the two tastes mingling and strangely erotic. Lying underneath him, I give him the best blowjob I possibly can, wanting to repay some fraction of the pleasure he’d just given me.

It doesn’t take long before he swells and cums in my mouth, moaning gently as I swallow his cum, my hand massaging the base of his cock. He breaths hard as I lick off the last of the cum, then rolls sideways off me and onto his back. I move back up alongside him, resting my head on his shoulder. He holds me in silence for a minute, then we turn and meet each other’s eyes. ‘Morning,’ he says, with a smile.

That’s really the end of the story. We talk for a while longer then it’s time to get up. There is breakfast for the guests but as the band we feel suddenly like imposters, and we quickly take down our tents and pack them into the cars.

Before I leave I find Paul, talking to his two sisters. The younger one winks at me as I go over.

‘Paul was just telling me all the gory details,’ she says cheerfully. Paul gives her a shove.

‘I was not!’ he says. She laughs happily. I lead Paul away.

‘I wasn’t, honestly,’ he says. ‘She kept asking if we did it but I won’t tell.’

‘I don’t mind,’ I said. ‘I think I woke most of the campsite anyway.’ We held hands for a moment. ‘I have to go,’ I say.

‘I know,’ he says simply. He leans forward and kisses me again, and I melt – wishing there was somewhere we could go and do it all again. But I know this is a goodbye kiss, and I know it’s the last one.

‘I’ll never forget this, Jenny,’ he says.

‘No,’ I say with complete honestly. ‘This is one wedding I am never going to forget.’ Our hands still clasped together, I finally let go and with one last hug, we part.

Tears prickling behind my eyes, I walk to my car and drive away.


Author Annha

Sexy woman in her prime looking for a playmate. I Like a man who can help me explore my sexuality to new glorious heights. Sex (like many other pleasures in life) is just like a high commodity product, and i'm a great consumer, are you?? Meet Annha

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