It was one of those glorious summer days, so rare in England that not one minute of it could be wasted.
The sort where women seem intent on driving men crazy by wearing clothes that seem to accentuate, rather than hide, their nudity. Pert breasts straining at light cotton, the gentle stride of their legs wrapping the fabric around their thighs.
Their false fragrances slightly overlaid by their natural, slight tang of sweat, just the faintest hint of musk.
Their skin glazed by perspiration and their languid sultry movements speaking of the bedroom and the pleasures that might be obtained there.
The air was heavy with the drone of bees going about their business stockpiling food for when the blossoms would be no more than a distant memory and broken occasionally by the sounds of muted passion from an open bedroom window or a tightly enclosed garden.
Dogs lay in the shade of hedges, panting breathlessly and cats basked in the sun, stretched out like collars.
Through this air of expectant fecundity I wandered aimlessly, watching and dreaming until no longer able to stand the temptations on every hand, but unwilling to return indoors, I struck off the main street and took to the back roads where temptations would be fewer.
I strode slowly over pavements that were almost too hot to walk on, dodging from the shade of one tree to another and pausing in the shade.
Ahead I spotted a slightly familiar figure, a woman I knew to say hello to but not much more than that.
She was kneeling on the pavement rebuilding a section of garden wall that had been demolished by a careless motorist.
Not doing a brilliant job of brick laying, but laying bricks wasn't on my mind at that moment so instead I sat on the wall to chat to her.
We talked of this and that, nothing in particular and sometimes we said nothing as she worked and I watched, watched her body dressed in short shorts and a thin top with nothing on under it.
I could see that she had nothing under it because every time she leant forward I could see right down the front of it, could see her firm breasts, naked and unrestrained.
Eventually she rocked back on her heels and after staring at me for what seemed like minutes, suggested that we go inside for something cool to drink and as she led the way into the house she said, I thought almost regretfully, that her husband was in. I hadn't been expecting more than a drink so this didn't perturb me at all.
In the kitchen she prepared long cool drinks for us both and then came and stood beside me as we drank. We continued our aimless chat with the difference that because she was standing close by me I kept smelling her scent and I could feel the warmth of her body on my bare arm.
She would glance at my bulge as if by accident and running her tongue over her lips, look away again, while I would cast surreptitious glances at her breasts.
She took my glass, unasked, and refilled it, but after returning it to me rather than stand next to me again she moved to the other side of the kitchen.
Slightly disappointed at first I realised that rather than having to cast furtive glances side ways at her, I could now look directly.
Indeed she must have had the same thought for I realised she was no longer pretending not to stare at my bulge and instead staring at it so openly that I couldn't imagine that she was looking at anything else.
Ennobled by her frank gaze I returned the frankness, first gazing at her face, her eyes, her mouth and imagined kissing that mouth and running my tongue over, round and in it, tasting the salt on her skin and feeling her eyelashes caressing my face.
Letting my eyes slip down to her breasts I imagine taking her top in my hands and lifting it over her head to reveal her full breasts and casting it aside to feel those heavy globes and rub my face on them - running her nipples between my fingers and feeling them get even larger and harder than they appeared in reality.
I could see from her face and her body movements that she was doing much the same to me as I was to her. As I watched her she put down her glass and reached behind to brace herself on the work top and slowly she pushed her hips forward at the same time parting her legs a little. Her mouth hung partly open and her eyes hung partly closed. Little mewing sounds kept escaping from her which prompted my loins to start an involuntary slow pumping action. At the same time she thrust her lower body at me in time with my pushes.
Inadvertently my hand fell to my penis, just a quick stroke, but then I noticed she mirrored my movement and dropped her hand to her mound. Wondering whether this was accidental or not I raised my hand and touched my nipple.
She raised her hand and touched her nipple!