There is something both very innocent and very sensuous about making love outdoors in broad daylight. Maybe because, on the one hand, it's sort of like little kids discovering each other's bodies on the playground – "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" – and maybe, on the other hand, because it's so liberating to be naked in the sunshine.
Today we've decided to play hokey from work since it is your birthday. It's a warm, clear, bright late morning in mid-July as we pack a light picnic lunch and a bottle of chilled Chardonnay in the cooler, stuff a tartan blanket in a bag and head for the great outdoors.
We are not going far, at least in terms of distance. But a discovery I made while shooting a little movie along the river a few years ago revealed some picturesque locations that feel hundreds of miles from civilization.
Of course there's always the chance we could get caught since if I discovered this place so could others. But my experience has been the spot we're heading to now is secluded and very private despite being almost in the centre of a city. And that's what we want – seclusion and privacy and outdoors and semi-public, if that's not all a ridiculous contradiction. It's really not.
We park the four-by-four on a residential side street and walk about 10 minutes along a pathway near the river. Where the path climbs a hill, however, we take the low road, a narrow weedy trail that leads to a broad grassy field and then down a bank to a small patch of grass surrounded mostly by trees. In front of us is a backwater of the river. And although I filmed in this located for several days the only person I ever saw was a fly fisherman. He's not with us today.
Because it's a warm day we're dressed in summer gear – Bermuda shorts, T-shirts and sandals. You're not wearing a bra (you racy little devil) and I rather doubt you've got underpants on either. Well, neither have I.
We spread the blanket on the grass and I open the wine as you check out our surroundings, just to make sure we haven't wandered into a police trap. But there's no one around but the birds and the bees; in fact we can hardly even hear the sounds of the city around us.
"I would like to take your clothes off," I say as we kiss standing beside the water. "I want to see you absolutely naked and then I want to kiss every inch of your lovely skin."
"Well, I want you naked, too."
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."
I pull your T-shirt over your head and bend to suckle on one of your magnificent breasts. As they say, you've got great tits, baby – even if you don't like to use that word – but for some reason they look even more spectacular when they are exposed outdoors.
You pull my T-shirt over my head and then we crush together, your bare breasts against my bare chest in a French-kissing writhing dance of rising passion.
I fiddle with your shorts, finally unhinge the button and release the zipper and push them over your hips. They slip to your feet and you step out, kicking them onto the blanket. I kneel in front of you tracing my lips across your belly and hips and thighs and then take a long swipe with my tongue along the slash of your pussy. Your hand runs through my hair.
When I stand up you undo my shorts and push them down and now I'm as naked as you are. Once more we embrace with erotic longing and then you kiss your way down my body until your warm mouth finds my cock hard and straight.
But we're not quite totally undressed yet. I pull you to your feet and remove your gold chain necklace and watch. You remove mine. Now we are as much in our birthday suits as we can possibly be – which is only appropriate given the occasion we are celebrating.
