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    Into the Woods

    We unload the car by the side of the road and set off across the fields. I’m carrying the Esky and you have your rucksack over your shoulder. I walk a few paces behind you along the uneven path. On either side, grass stretches away as far as the eye can see. The main reason I’m behind you is so I can watch your hips sway as you walk. There is something about the way your body moves. I think of it as a cat-like grace. Some of my happiest moments have been spent watching you this way.

    Once I even followed you like a secret agent, watching the woman I love so much walking down the street, going into shops, talking to a friend.

    Having crossed the fields our path leads past some oak trees, their branches heavy with leaves, practically touching the ground. Beyond the trees is the hill ‘OUR’ hill. It has become a very special place for us. If those oak trees could speak they would tell of wild laughter and shrieks and tears and the sharp sound of slaps on resilient and willing flesh.

    The view from the top of our hill is breathtaking. The distant snow covered mountains, the farms and rolling grassy hillsides. We both collapse on to the warm soft grass. I think the sheep have grazed it short just for us.

    The Esky remains unopened as we lie side by side looking up into an infinity of blue. Bees buzz contentedly among the clover flowers and high above us, the glorious sound of skylarks.

    Our favourite game is to try and spot the fluttering creatures high above us.
    And so it is now, the two of us lying side by side on the gently sloping ground holding hands – at peace.

    A few minutes pass and then, supporting yourself on your elbow, you reach over and flip open the buttons of my jeans. Settling back, you slide your hand inside the waistband of my panties and let your fingers stray down to dark tufts of my pelt. I catch a glimpse of a skylark and point to it. You laugh and tell me it’s one point to me.

    I am so happy. In fact that word does not do justice to how I feel. Lying in the warm summer grass with the woman I love SO much beside me, feeling her twist and twirl the curly hair around her fingertips – this feeling needs no words.
    We have the whole day to ourselves so I’m secretly pleased when your fingers move further south and separate my lips. Already moist from watching your beautiful bottom earlier, there is no resistance as a fingertip dips inside.

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