Day three dawned muggy, with thunderous looking clouds dominating the horizon. As time went on, the weather only became more depressing, with a light but permanent drizzle adding a damp sheen to everything. As I peered out of the flap of our tent, it started raining harder, and a chilling wind whipped around my face and neck, causing me to retreat into the stuffy, but warm cocoon we were calling home. A few diehards were tramping through the rapidly forming mud in their wellies and mackintoshes, hair plastered to their brows, rivulets of water pouring from creases in their waterproofs.
I prod your form in the dim light, hissing for you to wake up. You do so, and blink at me sleepily, confused. I point out of the narrow opening, at the grey skies and encroaching mud. You respond with 'so? Come back to bed, it's early. The weather will improve later'.
Sighing, I crawl back into the sleeping bag with you, draping myself over your chest. I had hoped to actually watch some of the show today, as we had missed the previous two day's worth, and it seemed a shame to attend a music festival and not see any music.
'Well, if I have to come back to bed, we're not sleeping', I purr in your ear. Touching my tongue to the tip, I trace around the delicate contours and nip at the lobe, whilst snaking my hands down your body to your already hard cock. You wriggle playfully and nibble at my lower lip, before deepening the kiss, bringing your hands up to cup my face. Rolling me over, you grab my hands and hold them above my head, exclaiming a triumphant 'gotcha!' before lowering your head and blowing a raspberry on my stomach. I giggle and arch my back, bringing my breasts up close to your face. You take your cue and take one of my nipples in your mouth, sucking it gently. I let out a soft sigh and lay back, letting you minister to my needs.
You bring your hand up to my other breast, circling the bud with your thumb, squeezing the flesh between thumb and forefinger. Pushing my breasts together, you lick up the valley between them, and down to my navel, where you pause to grin up at me. I part my legs slightly, inviting you in, and the scent of my arousal pervades the air. You push my legs further apart and move down, letting your breath blow warm onto my skin, until I feel your tongue, probing between my inner lips. I twitch slightly, and moisture seeps out from inside me. You delve deeper, tasting my darkest recesses, swirling your tongue in and around me. Drawing back, you replace your tongue with your forefinger, and place your lips around my clit, pulling gently at the nub. I draw my breath sharply, and arch my back a little.
You start to move your finger in and out, slowly at first, but quickening your pace slightly as you flick your tongue across my most sensitive of organs. My hips start to move of their own accord, begging you to move faster and harder, as my breath comes in ragged gasps. You oblige, pushing into me with more force, until my inner thighs are slick with my own juices, and my eyes start to roll back in my head. Suddenly you change tack, pinching my clit with your finger and thumb, and ram two fingers of your other hand deep inside me. My back arches as I scream, heedless of the thin material that is the only barrier between us and everyone else.
You carry on fingering me, your hand soaked in my juices, as my body trembles and my nails dig into the groundsheet, fists clenched. For what seems like forever, I'm paralysed with pleasure, unable to move even the slightest bit by myself. As my shaking begins to subside, you withdraw your fingers and move up to kiss my brow, smoothing my ruffled hair back.
At that moment, the flap of our tent is pushed aside, and Matt and Laura, the couple we met briefly yesterday, entered. In a somewhat compromising position, I struggled to sit up and cover myself a little, so as not to embarrass our guests. They seem unshakable, as Laura giggles and says 'well, it seems we missed lunch then. How about dessert?'
