Festival Exhibition

The late afternoon sun shines strongly, casting long shadows on the ground. I search through the crowd, looking for my friends amid the mass of people standing, staring towards the stage. Where I am is still some way from the band currently playing, with only the tallest able to get a decent view. So everyone is mostly stood like near-inanimate zombies, their only movements are the odd step to the side, or a tilting of their heads as they seek that perfect view of a few guys playing guitars and drums.

I roll my eyes and keep pushing and shoving my way through the unwashed masses of the stoned, drunk and just plain ignorant. After a few moments my manners desert me as no-one can hear my little pleases and thank yous anyway - I simply turn into an atom bouncing around in the brownian movement of the crowd. My patience is wearing thin, my friends have clearly been moved by the sea of people or have sought a better view of their own accord, with little thought for my finding them again. It's hot and it's smelly and I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. The odd hand on my ass and even one one my breast really aren't improving the situation or my temper.

I turn and glare at the first guy who gropes me, eventually though I just shrug to myself and try and get to space and freedom as soon as possible. I give up on finding my friends, change my direction and head away from the stage. I pick up my pace as much as possible, now as ignorant as those about me, as I shove and, at one point, even kick a guy's shin to get to open air. I figure I'll meet up with people at the car later if I don't happen to see them before.

A few ass grabs and a lil spilled beer later I'm finally free. I can actually move more than half an inch without being near suffocated by a guy's beer gut or having smoke blown in my face. It feels so great to be in the open that I don't even care that I'm going to have to spend most of the evening alone.

There's a slight mound to the rear of the field we're in. I head for it as it's filled only by people sat on blankets and laying back on the grass - a more chilled out area. Much more *my* kind of place. It's well-populated, but in a much more reasonable way than the bloodclot of humanity I've just escaped from.

As I walk I pull my hair free of its band and check out the beer stains on my top. They're pretty bad and the smell and dampness isn't that great next to my skin. 'What the hell', I think, and stop to pull it off, tying it around my waist, over the knee-length skirt I have on. I mean, my bra's a fairly respectable covering, considering some of the things I've seen people wearing so far today. It's hardly skimpy and thankfully it's still pretty new and respectable. I check everything's securely in place, as it were, and smile to myself, thinking how daring this is for me.

But, feeling a lil conspicuous despite my new found bravado, and noticing the looks I'm getting from a few of the guys hanging around where I'm stood, I move on again until I get to the mound and sit my ass down. Finally I can now relax and spread out a little and maybe even try and enjoy this band that's playing. That's kinda the point of the whole endeavor after all, right?

But the band suck. Well they don't suck exactly, but how many dirgey guitar bands can the world contain before the people rise up? I mean really. I toy with the idea that perhaps my friends ditched me on purpose to avoid my ranting, which would have surely accompanied this soundtrack if I'd still been with them. What the hell, it's nice and sunny still and I'm laid on almost, nearly fresh grass. Ish. I close my eyes and become a little oasis of me as people pass my prone form, now and then casting their shadows over me as I drift to the flickering underneath my eyelids.

The band finish and another takes their place. The sun drops that extra little bit, leaving the sky a few shades darker than before. Leaning up and looking around I notice that the mound has become a little more filled, as people's energies start to peter out and they follow my example - just chilling out at the back. Not too far away a fire's been lit and is growing strongly as a group of guys use whatever they can find to fuel it. I watch the flames and it makes me realize that the dipping of the sun has taken some of the heat from the air.

I get up and wander over to the fire, though not close enough to attract any unwelcome attention from the clearly over-imbibed guys who are apparently in control of it. Right now the last thing I want is some drunken guy staring at my tits and trying to paw me. But the fire's nice, warming my skin just a little and the flames are so much better to stare at than four guys standing on a stage. All in all this is a pretty good situation I decide, as I cast my gaze around idly.

Then I see her. She's stood closer to the fire than I, on the opposite side. Her pale skin is lit by the flickering red and yellow flames as she dances alone. Tawny hair tumbles past her cheeks and to her shoulders, thick and full, slowly drifting as she moves to the beat. A lithe body under a loose flowing dress sways, casting thin shadows in the oncoming night. She speaks softly of sensuality, of carefree affection and endless freedoms. I stare.

There's a phrase which states that you should dance like no-one's watching. Or something like that - 'sing like everyone's deaf' maybe? I don't know, but this girl embodies the ideal of that mantra. I watch her, rapt in my attention. The blaring music reduced to second or third place in my sensory input. I feel slightly awkward and a little confused as I watch this free spirited girl. I've never really felt attraction to any girl previously and I'm blushing even as I stand alone and unobserved. But I can't tear my eyes away from her. I've never felt such sensual energy emanate from one person. Keep all your sexy outfits and perversions, this girl has more pure, raw sexuality than anything I've ever encountered.

Eventually the motion of her movement and a random toss of her head bring her eyes to mine over the fire. We lock gazes. I feel she can read my desire through the flames. I blush stronger and look away as she smiles - a warm and welcoming, honest and open gesture. My eyes seek refuge on the ground amid the discarded rubbish and unwanted litter.

I look back up a few moments later and she's back to dancing again. I feel as though a chance for something wonderful has been lost through self consciousness as my eyes trace over her face, imprinting her form on my brain for later consideration. Pale flesh in and out of the shadows cast by her hair as she dances before the fire, a siren calling out and I still yearn to answer that call. But I resign myself to... to what? I'm not sure. A relinquishing of foolish dreams perhaps. Even though I'm straight, even though she's probably straighter, I feel freshly skinned and gutted at how that moment just went.

Chastising myself silently, I tear my eyes from her and back to the stage. I should really keep an eye out for my friends, they might even be worried. Probably not, as the bands are starting to get more famous and the swamp of bodies is getting closer to imploding at the very front. Starting to feel a little lonely and a little cold, I have both problems cured in a most surprising manner...

There are hands around my waist. I'm encircled. Certainly none of my friends would surprise me in this manner. What the hell? My heart starts to race with the shock of it, someone's got me. I immediately dissolve into a flood of irrational panic until a soft voice, an innately seductive and, most importantly, female voice whispers in my ear instantly quelling my fears and dispelling that instant agitation.

"'ey". Just that. 'ey. She had me before "'ey" though and she knows it. Her accent delightfully foreign, a slight stumble past the H, turning such a simple word into one filled with such unknown promise. Yes, In just that one, most common word she tells me that she knows me and she accepts me. There's a accent to her voice, some kinda of European maybe? I've never been much good with accents, she's French maybe. Exotic. Her hands turn me like I'm a statue on a revolving floor. The perfect tawny hair makes my stomach lurch with unquantifable feelings, the lips are smiling that same inviting, gregarious smile. Our eyes meet and a drifting ember from the fire floats between us causing both of us to smile with an ironic appreciation of a cliched coincidence.

"Hi". I return the monosyllabic greeting as she pulls on my hand, half turning and leading me closer to the fire. The flames stand out more and more as the minutes pass and the darkness starts to invade the day. And we dance.

And how we dance. Our bodies never touch after that initial contact, but our eyes lock to an almost continual mutual gaze. In her eyes I see a life I've never known, one of freedoms and halycon days of laughter and fun. A life containing nights of unending pleasure, guiltless caresses and kisses given freely.

People are starting to crowd round a little more as our bodies almost tease each other with the closeness of our movements. Always she leads and I follow, happy copying her movements, her sway and motion. Her hands raise as if to touch me, to stroke my face, then drop back playfully as I advance myself towards her. We move around the fire, people stepping back, enjoying the sight of us. The few idiots calling out can't even get close to ruining this for me. And so we dance on. Forward and backwards, smiles coating both our faces, reflecting back to us in each others eyes. And her eyes, my god, her eyes sparkle like the sun on raindrops after a storm. So full, so intense, so *much*. My breath is taken away anew each time our gazes touch over and over again. The band plays on and I never want it to stop. Our faces inches from each other, her breath sweet and warm on my cheek before she pulls back and I move towards her, limbs almost intertwining, never any contact. I am lost in this creature called desire.

Eventually the band finish with a roar from their audience, and our audience around the fire take a breath as we stop our dancing. We've finished a few feet apart, eyes only for each other as someone calls out "kiss". She smiles mischievously to that and my stomach tightens. If there was even the slightest doubt in me it flees in that instant and I know I want this. She takes a step, just a step of her bare foot on the grass. It's going to happen. Please let it happen. I can't ever remember needing to be kissed *this* much.

Every inch of my body is alert, tensed in anticipation of those lips on mine. And suddenly, after what seems like a year of waiting, we're embracing and I'm held inside her warmth. She smells of flowers and sweet exertion from our dance. She tastes of fruit and temptation as our tongues meet and I'm drowning in her kiss. From another world I hear a few cheers and claps fill the silence as people close by show what they think of this so very public display we're putting on.

We continue to kiss, locked in our own space. My eyes closed tight. My entire being centered on my mouth, and then my hips as she takes them and brings me as close to her as I can possibly be without literally being inside. How I want to be inside her. Our breasts push together and even through my closed eyes I can detect the flashes from photos being taken of our embrace. My arms rise of their own accord and find each other behind her. My hands seeking her neck, pulling her into my eager mouth as though I would swallow her whole and keep her safe within me. Her hands reply in kind, cupping my behind in their soft, firm grasp - keeping me so close. Even through the material of my skirt, the touch of her flesh makes me shiver. My skin tingles with raw power on every connection we make, crackling with heat.

The strength of our kiss waxes and wanes, from passion to tenderness - our lips, tongues and even teeth used to pleasure the other. Her hands sliding over my behind then over my lower back. Flesh on flesh at last. Fingers tracing up and down my spine, my knees are literally going weak. I hold myself upright by clinging to her, and as I feel her hands undo my bra I can't help but moan, so excited at the passion and carefree desire she shows.

Our wild abandon continues as finally our lips part and my mouth sucks in the air my lungs are so desperately demanding. But her lips are at my neck, kissing slowly down it, taking a nip now and then. Her hands at my shoulders pushing my bra straps from them, letting it fall as her mouth lowers itself to the tops of my breasts, planting little kisses as she lowers her head. Her tongue snaking along my flesh, lower and lower. The urge to bring her mouth to my nipples is almost undeniable as my hands shift into her hair, letting those silken tresses tumble through my fingers, winding it around them as she slips from one breast to the other, decidedly teasing me as she avoids even the slightest contact with my nipples.

The lowering of her head allows me to look around and quite expectedly our audience is still there, as big, if not larger, than when we danced. My head screams that my breasts are on display for all these people with their cameras and their video cameras and their phones with cameras and... *cameras*. I start to blush, I start to want to flee, my attention torn away from her for the first time with terror of the situation.

Then her mouth covers my nipple and she nips playfully, her tongue closes around it and she's sucking and kissing on me with increasing passion. I look down and everything else in the entire world melts away once more under her wildness. My hands in her tawny hair as she sucks, almost suckling on me, her eyes rising to mine as she pleasures me, that mischievous glint still there, telling me she's enjoying putting on this wanton display.

A few moments more of this attention and I can't cope with any more without orgasming where I stand. So I gently pull her mouth back to mine and kiss her deeply, my bare chest to her clothed one, my arms wrapped around her neck once more. Desperate to feel her flesh on mine more completely I push the straps of her dress aside, our bodies both retreating slightly to allow it to fall to cover her bare feet. Our nakedness joins and we once more fold into each other. I can feel her hardened nipples, her soft breasts on my own. My hands dance down her back delightedly until I plant them finally on her hips, discovering, to little surprise, that the dress was all she wore. Her hands meanwhile have slid to my skirt and unfasten it easily, it joining her dress at our feet, followed moments later by my underwear. Still kissing, we step away from our cast-off clothes and she steps back away from me once more, her hands cupping my face firmly before drawing it to her chest. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, I lean down and use my tongue to caress her, releasing small high pitched sighs of pleasure from her as I flick and suck at the hard nipple in my mouth. Her hands reach under to my own breasts, cupping and squeezing them firmly, molding them to the shape of her hands.

I switch breasts and look to her, smiling as I tease a mazy trail around the perfect breast at my mouth, nibbling and licking all around. A small revenge perhaps. This lasts all of a few seconds though, as the need I have to please her overrides all other thoughts and I return to sucking. Her hands still pulling and kneeding me so divinely, her sighs growing louder, her accent showing through even in these small noises.

The silence of the moment is shattered abruptly as a new band take to the stage, loud chords ring out over the nearly dark fields, calling the night to us. The fire at our side pops and crackles, its warmth and passion reflecting off her skin as we stand face to face with each other once more, our hands idly touching and stroking as our audience watch on. My eyes are still all for her. The fire flickering in her eyes, its glinted passion obvious in her engorged, dilated pupils, her pale skin bronzed in the glow that fills us both.

Her hand moves to between my legs and I shake uncontrollably as she strokes my thighs, a knowing playful grin on her face. I suck in breath after breath, anticipating her touch to my core. I moan to each caress, every one too gentle, making my flesh quake.

Finally her fingers find their target and one slices through my middle, testing my wetness, rubbing over my hole, curling up just a touch to stroke over the the slickness between my clit and opening. My knees rock with this gloriousness, her finger dipping into me ever so slightly, coating itself in me. Teasing and testing. My eyes close then reopen to her grin once more and I groan with disappointment as the finger trails away, over my stomach, up my breasts and neck until it finds its destination in my mouth.

I suck on her finger more eagerly than I've ever sucked on any man, tasting my wetness on it. Sucking every last drop of me from her, my tongue rolling over the length of her finger, flicking the nail as though it were the head of a tiny penis. Then the finger curls and locks behind my teeth and is used to lower me. My body obeys instinctively, dropping to my knees when I am brought low enough, the finger slipping from me as I get to see between her legs.

A tuft of that gorgeous tawny hair sits perfectly over plump inviting lips which glisten deliciously. I slip gladly between her opening legs and bring my mouth to her, desperate to savor her. I decline all subtleness, my tongue driving straight into her wetness, my nose to her pelvis as I slide in and out lapping at the walls of her pussy, moaning in delight at how it feels on my tongue.

I feel her thighs tighten around my head as I delve in over and over again, almost lapping, almost fucking her with just my tongue as her high pitched sighs increase in tempo and volume. Her hands come to my head and hold it in place as her wetness fills my mouth and I swallow so so eagerly, drinking from her enjoyment of my motions. Fingers curling in my hair, as though they wish to drag me inside of her fully, stiffening, desperate fingers keeping me locked into place. I wonder how the crowd of people watching is reacting to all of this and that notion makes me lick harder. I move up to her clit, feeling its hardness on the tip of my tongue as I clamp my lips over her , suctioned to her as I trace small circles over and around her, flicking my tongue hard and the softly across the throbbing nub in my mouth.

She starts to cum, urging me onwards with her moans as my licking becomes more frantic, matching their pace, feeling her wetness smeer over my face, bathing me in her pleasure. Trembling skin surrounds me as she pulls on my hair for support, keeping her upright as that final wave floods her from head to toe and she cums magnificently on my face. I lower my tongue and slip it back inside her as she holds me still as the aftershocks pass through her, I feel her spasming from within, just small jolts as she rocks on her toes and heels.

We sit in that tableaux for a moment, her breathing slowly returning to normal, her muscles relaxing, her fingers releasing my hair, letting me look up from my position at her feet. She smiles so warmly, so contentedly, all around our immediacy the crowd are silent, even the music in the background has died away as far as my ears are concerned leaving only this bubble. Then a few people call out and some clap us and we blush to each other and share a wicked smile.

"My turn now". Just those three words and I'm almost climaxing.

I am pushed onto my back, the grass cooling against my body now that night is finally here and she stands over me her hands idly playing with her breasts as she watches me. I stare up at her, my thighs dropping open, legs parting in invitation. She kneels. I'm already so wet, so in need of her on me, over me, inside of me.