2 comments/ 8722 views/ 1 favorites Sweet, Sweet Music By: QuietSurprise Ahhh, summer! The blue skies, the warming sun, two months off college and girls in skimpy clothes! What's not to love? My final lecture had been dragging its arse as I gazed out of the window; I know I was doing a poor job of hiding my boredom, but I knew my friends would already be celebrating in the union bar as I was trying to will the slothful hands to quicken their circuits of the clock face. It didn't help that I kept receiving text messages from them saying that my pint was getting warm. Then that it was being drunk, and finally that it had been finished. After several eons the lecturer wound up and wished us all a good summer -- before reminding us that he'd see us in September and we'd better have our essays on the Psychology of Child and Egocentric Behaviour in the Classroom. I wanted to teach the little buggers, not analyse them! I smiled as I passed him and returned the well wishes before rounding the corner and hurtling towards the Student Union Bar and what would be the first pint of many this summer. As I jogged across the car park -- I'd slowed my pace so I wouldn't seem desperate -- I saw the girl. I had no idea who she was, but every few days I'd see her around campus looking amazing. She didn't even look as if she was trying too hard about it; her brunette hair was in a loose ponytail swinging lazily between her shoulder blades, she wore little if any make up, and clothes just clung to her. Lucky clothes. I turned my head, tracking her passage, mesmerised by the slight bounces and jiggles of her breasts and buttocks as she walked. When I stood up again, I glowered at the lamppost I had just walked into and then at my 'friends' who were all but rolling on the floor laughing at me. Smooth, I thought to myself as I dusted myself off and muttered, "Watch where you're going!" to the lamppost, trying to make light of the situation, as if I'd meant to beat my head into it, rather than being distracted and ogling the scantily-clad, but somehow still modestly dressed woman of my desires. I brushed the dust and grit from my backside and sauntered casually towards my mates. Well, as casually as you can when you're just made an utter tit of yourself. "Still not asked her out then?" said Jas, stating the obvious. They all knew that I fancied this girl, but they also knew I was far too shy to do anything about it. "No," I sighed, "not yet..." "Pint of Carling please," as I got to the bar, I realised that the girl was probably never going to be anything more than a plaything for my imagination. I'd spent many nights thinking about her. I'd also exhausted my entire range of experience with past girlfriends and one-night stands, substituting her into the scenario and then masturbating furiously until I'd climax. Then would come the crushing realisation that what had just happened was most likely the closest I'd ever get to making love to her. I quaffed half of my pint in one swallow and turned to my friends. Jas, Rich and Guy were all lads from the same town as me, and we'd known each other since primary school. We'd gone through a lot of the 'rites' of the modern day teenager as a group; we'd all smoked cigarettes nicked from parents or older siblings, we'd dared each other to do stupid things like stealing sweets or climbing on people's roofs, we'd 'borrowed' alcohol from our parents, got pissed, thrown up and been hungover together. And we'd always talked about girls. Who we'd had, who we wanted and what we'd done with anyone that would let us do anything worth bragging about. There'd been some competition along the way; Jas had been the first one to get his girlfriend to give him a hand job, he'd been the first to get head, but Rich had been the first to get laid, and by doing so prevented his hat trick. Jas had not been happy. Now the competition had ended as we'd all broken through those barriers, numerous times with a few partners each. There seemed no point any more. I raised my glass in a toast: "To summer and good times!" Glasses were clinked and the toast repeated. As I took another swig, I noticed that Guy was grinning rather smugly to himself. I nudged rich and nodded subtly in Guy's direction. A brief aside here; Rich is not a subtle person. He's your typical blunt Yorkshireman and asks everything in as straightforward a manner as you could, if he were a mechanic his only tool would be a hammer. You get the idea. "What you grinning about, you Cheshire Twat?" Guy took a leisurely swig from his Guinness and said, "I got the final first." The rest of us looked at each other, trying to work out what the hell he was talking about. Jas got there first; realisation flooding across his face as he simultaneously shouted "Bullshit! Who?" Guy took another swig. "Lucy." More smugness. Rich and I continued to look confused. "Lucy? Blonde Lucy? Her with the huge boobs?" Jas, only slightly more subtle than Rich. "Aye." Swig. "Last night. Got her a bit drunk, watched some porn, got her horny -- hell she was so horny she asked, Christ, begged me to fuck her arse. Got to love these girls who won't have sex without a condom, but still want to have sex!" I was truly amazed by this revelation! I thought anal sex only ever happened in porn -- certainly none of the girls I'd been with had ever shown any interest in it! This realisation that 'normal girls' sometimes enjoyed it up the arse sent my mind in a dozen directions. I knew Guy was getting into the details of his adventures by the gestures and mimes, but I was hearing none of it as I imagined her on her knees, her face buried in the pillow as she spread her beautiful, round cheeks open and urged me to impale her. I felt myself rock, and then realised that Rich had punched my arm to get my attention. Straight away they all knew what had happened, and all three started laughing and teasing about my obsession with the girl I was too afraid to talk to, but who I was simultaneously in love with. I endured a few more minutes of their jokes and sarcastic comments before the conversation turned to the biggest event we had planned this summer -- the festival! For years we'd talked about going to a festival, but never got it together enough to buy tickets in time. For the last three years they'd sold out by the time we organised ourselves enough to coordinate the funds and the time off our summer jobs, so each year we'd had to compromise by camping in my garden with a lot of music and a lot of beer. This year though, we'd exceeded ourselves; we'd booked our holiday as soon as we could, saved part of our student loans and started squirreling away supplies. The day the tickets went on sale we all sat in Guy's room and bombed the phone lines until one of us got through. Tickets were bought, celebratory drinks were had, hangovers followed a few hours behind them. We finished our compulsory, celebratory pints and wended our way back to the house we shared a few streets away from the campus. Typically none of us had thought to pack anything prior to the arrival of the parental taxis, so the next hour or so would be a frantic flurry of activity as clothing, laptops and other university essentials were crammed into suitcases, boxes, bags and bin liners! By the time Jas's parents arrived for him and Rich they were throwing the last couple of bags into the hall and trying to look as if the whole situation was under control. They fooled no one! Ten minutes later my dad arrived to take me, Guy and all of our accumulated crap home for the summer. Discussions in the car were about going back to our summer jobs, going out to spend the money we earned at our summer jobs, and of course The Festival. There were only two weeks before we would be setting off in Rich's wreck of a Ford Fiesta with a tent, four sleeping bags, and as much booze as we could carry. The journey to Guy's house took a little over an hour, and as I waved him off and my dad pulled away there was a serious expression on his face. Great. We were about to have 'a talk'. I wondered which one for all of three seconds before he began with "There's going to be a lot of people taking drugs..." At this point, rather theatrically, I rolled my eyes and let out a world-weary sigh. "Dad, I know drugs are bad, I know drugs are illegal -- possibly and most likely as a result of them being bad, and I know that I shouldn't, nay won't be taking them, so long as there's a breath in your body." We'd had this talk before, and several others than ran a similar theme, and hinted towards a lack of trust in me and belief in my possessing any common sense. He didn't even have the courtesy to look a little sheepish. He glanced across at me and simply said "Good." I shook my head and we travelled the remaining couple of miles in a stony silence. The next two weeks passed in a blur and before we knew it, we were all assembled in Rich's fiesta, mockingly referred to as The Shed. However, she was all we had, and she would get us to the festival, even if we had to push her there, such was our determination. On the way we had tunes blasting as loud as we could -- before the bass made the cheap, old speakers hum and fuzz unbearably. We were all in good spirits singing to the tunes, re-enacting the head banging scene from Wayne 's World and ripping the piss out of each other. The journey took us just short of two hours, and they seemed like very long hours, as all we wanted to do was get our camp set up and open the beers! We queued for about forty-five minutes to get into the campsite, and then another hour to get our wristbands that would allow us into the arena. We trudged towards the Yellow Zone, which was near enough the entrance that it was within drunken staggering distance, but not so near that the ravers in the dance tent would keep you awake with their bloody whistles. We all carried a back pack containing fresh clothes and trainers and a few meagre food supplies -- the onsite caterers were going to love us -- Rich had the tent, Guy had two crates of Carling stacked in his arms whilst Jas and I dragged a sack barrow ladened with yet more beer and our sleeping bags and battered ghetto blaster that Rich had rigged a USB feed for an MP3 player into. We found a decent plot of land without too much slope and no thistles and dumped everything down. Guy ripped open the top crate and passed the beers; "Make the most boys, after tonight the beers will either be warm, or fucking expensive!" We raised our cans and set to work drinking. After my fourth can I started to realise that if we didn't get a move on with the tent we would either be kicked off our patch, or sleeping under the stars. Reluctantly, we set to work. Forty minutes, several arguments and a minor injury later, and the tent was up. Rich had stumbled back, tripped over a guy rope and lodged a tent peg into his butt-crevice. Jas had doubled up laughing and shouted loudly enough for half of the Yellow Zone to hear "Another first -- Rich's first time up the arse!" Needless to say, this was the cause of one of the arguments... Eventually he calmed down and walked, rather stiffly into the tent dragging his rucksack and sleeping bag before we all did the same. The tent itself was more like a canvas castle; it had a central area, which were would no doubt spend our time drinking and playing cards in, and three sleeping chambers. Jas was the last one in, and realised that he was now sleeping in the bar as Guy, Rich and I had already claimed our rooms. Rich grinned smugly as he laid out his sleeping bag and stretched across it, filling as much of his room as he could. Jas was left muttering to himself as he unfurled his bag against one of the walls and cracked into another can. The first night wasn't really the festival proper, but it was a good chance to feel the crackle in the air as we explored the site and the arena. We walked, mildly awestruck, around the arena taking in the sites, sounds and smells. There were a few DJs dotted about the site all playing different types of music; there were dozens of stalls selling t-shirts, supplies, essentials and random weirdness. We headed for a burger van and savoured the grease as it dribbled out of the meat and congealed in our arteries. After a couple of hours of wandering the site we drifted towards a reggae sound system, which was playing some of the more commercially recognised artists, but was still good enough to have a drunken skank to. As we twisted and moved to the tunes, I was suddenly snapped out of my reverie, and nearly into sobriety. I could have sworn that I'd seen her out of the corner of my eye. I stood up straight and scanned the area. Nothing. But that didn't mean she wasn't there, she could be in the crowd, behind a tall person, or just beyond the dancing masses. I took off through the gyrating drunks and heading in the direction I'd last seen her. Still nothing. I sighed and chalked it down to wishful thinking before heading back to find the lads. They were so drunk they hadn't even noticed I'd been gone. We spent the rest of the night there until the last DJ wrapped up around 2am and wished us all an 'irie' festival. We headed back to the tent and opened some more beer. We'd decided the beer was for tonight and the rest of the festival we'd have the Finlandia and the JD, both of which were still tolerable when mixed with tepid cola. Warm lager was a last resort -- provided we didn't finish it all tonight! About 3am, the first round of 'Bollocks' started up; a very juvenile game, wherein one person shouts 'BOLLOCKS' as loud as they can, and then listens as it spreads around the campsite. Being a juvenile game, and us being immature guys, we, of course, joined in. Around 4am when the beer was pretty much demolished we made our way to the nearest fence, urinated, and put ourselves to sleep. My mind wandered back to the reggae sound system; had my eyes or mind been playing tricks on me, or was she here? I hoped she was, but knew I probably wouldn't have the guts to do anything even if she was. I gave myself a mental lecture before reaching for one of my discarded socks. I went to sleep with thoughts of finding her, and the courage to ask her out. Or just to make a move on her... As I masturbated, I imagined what it would be like if I was to find her again, in a big crowd of people. No one would be able to see much, and it was doubtful that they'd care if they did. I imagined that she felt the same way about me, but as she was a bit drunk she was a bit more daring. She'd flip her skirt up as she was dancing, staring over her shoulder into my eyes as I saw the tanned globes of her arse, completely uncovered and irresistible. I'd move towards her and put my arms around her. Her fingers would lock into mine, and we'd dance together, hips moving together in time and both of us would forget about the thousands of people around us, it would only be the two of us, the centre of our own little universe. Then she'd turn and face me, our lips would hesitate a moment before meeting, our tongues gently testing each other's mouths. She'd gently bite my bottom lip as my hands reached down to grab her arse, pulling her tight against me. We'd become more frantic in our kissing and she'd run her hands down my chest and stomach, and rub the bulge at the front of my shorts. My zip would be opened and as I imagined her hand wrapping around my cock, I came, shattering the illusion I had built up. I used the sock to clean up the excess jism and threw it into the furthest corner of the tent before rolling over and going to sleep. The following morning, I woke around ten to find that Jas had moved out of the communal area and was buried in his sleeping bag. I shoved him, he grunted and tried to bat my hand away, he missed and hit himself in the face and grunted again. I decided there was no point in trying to shift him and rolled over to grab the water from my bag. I was really dehydrated; it felt like my tongue had been replaced with dusty carpet and my teeth had been painted with algae. I needed mouthwash. I downed about half a litre of water and screwed the cap back on before rummaging in my bag for the Listerine. I poured a capful, tilted it into my mouth swilled, gargled and then realised that I was in a tent with a sealed floor. I found a Karhu can, one of the big ones, and spat the tainted mint into it. I felt better, but still a long way from human. A greasy fry up would solve that. As I climbed over Jas, I had a cruel idea. I knew he was a heavy sleeper, despite his reactions when I tried to rouse him. I grabbed the top of his bag and pulled. He wasn't the biggest bloke I knew, so I was able to move him fairly easily. I opened the main door of the tent, and still with Jas in tow, headed out into the campsite. There were a few people up and about at this time, a couple of small campfires had been lit and the drinking had already started for a lot of people. The acrid tang of weed caught in my nostrils, and I was taken back to my dad's clumsy parenting. I'd smoked spliffs before, and while I'd enjoyed the experience, it wasn't something I did often. If I was offered a toke this weekend, I'd probably take it. I walked a little further, Jas shifted in his bag and I moved to bumpier terrain, and I caught the smell of bacon. Jackpot! I shifted Jas's bag to my left hand only while I dug into my pocket for my wallet. I took out a fiver and left it loose in my pocket as I grabbed the bag with both hands and continued to drag Jas to a suitable point at which I could abandon him. I reached the mobile greasy spoon and lent Jas against a tree it was parked under. I ordered two bacon, egg and sausage sandwiches and told the cook to give one to my buddy when he woke up. Hopefully it would aid in his forgiving me for leaving him out here -- I just hoped that Jas was still wearing his shorts, or at least boxers, as his naked shoulders indicated he clearly wasn't fully dressed. It would be a long way to walk naked, and nearly impossible to do without getting out of his sleeping bag. I headed back to the tent and was just licking the yolk and ketchup from my fingers as I saw Guy and Rich emerging from the door and swaying in the sunlight. Guy was holding his head as if that might stop it from spinning and Rich had a beanie hat pulled almost completely over his eyes, sunglasses shielding the rest of them from the solar horrors. "Where's Jas?" Guy mumbled as he stretched. I shrugged. "Probably gone for brekkie. Or looking for something to shag," Rich chimed in. "Bad heads?" I asked, and suddenly was caught between two sets of daggers that were now being stared in my direction. I knew they both got bad hangovers, whereas I was one of the lucky ones; when I got hung over, it was only dehydration and tiredness, not the pounding head and queasy stomach I knew my friends got. I was often cursed the morning after a heavy session, so was expecting some ill feeling towards me before I'd even asked the question. "Bad head? It feels like there's a Frenchman living in mine!" Rich exclaimed dramatically. Guy was much simpler in his response. He just called me a wanker. I tried not to grin as I recommended the buttie van I'd just been to. There was a sudden pick up in their moods as food was realised to be the answer, like a sudden epiphany had struck them, they looked at each other then scrambled back into the tent for their wallets. Cash in hand, they followed my guidance and were away to find sustenance, and possibly salvation too. I put some tunes on the stereo and lay out on the floor outside the tent, catching the sun. About half an hour later I heard Guy and Rich but not Jas. I was a little concerned that something might have happened to him until I heard a shout of "Fuckin' genius, mate!" I propped myself up on my elbows and grinned. "Jas is leant against a tree next to a fry up wagon -- I assume that was your doing." "Shouldn't've tried to move in with me last night -- he was practically drooling on me shoulder!" Guy and Rich cracked up again and I felt a little proud. As pranks went, this was one of my best. Sweet, Sweet Music I headed in to the tent, grabbed a bottle of Jack, a bottle of cola and three plastic cups. I handed the cups out and started pouring the Jack before adding a slight colour with the cola. "Place your bets; what time do you reckon he'll get back here? I say 11.30." Guy bet 12 and Rich answered 'tomorrow,' which had us all laughing again. There had been times in our non-festival celebrations where he'd wake up in the evening and ask for his breakfast, so it was a possibility. The time passed, the tunes played and the sun shone. It was a great way to start the day. At around 12.15 a bit of a fuss started kicking up with a lot of wolf whistles, shouts and laughter. We stood up to see Jas walking our way, his sleeping bag wrapped around him, and a greasy paper bag in one hand. He did not look happy. "Which one of you cunts left me in the arse-end of anywhere with only a sleeping bag to wear??" I raised my hand, "But I did buy you breakfast, which is more than you'd do for me." He walked up to me, practically nose to nose and threw his arms around me in a friendly hug "You bastard -- that was brilliant, but cannot go unpunished..." Then his sleeping bag dropped to the ground and I was suddenly being hugged by a naked man. Rich took a three-step run up and slapped Jas's naked buttock at which point he let go of me, howling, and then stooped to pick up his sleeping bag and scurry into the tent. When he emerged (thankfully dressed now) there was a cup of Jack and Coke waiting for him, which he was keen to pour down his neck. He tucked into his breakfast, drooling yolk and ketchup down his chin before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it clean. He was not equipped with the best table manners... We looked at our festival guides, specifically the page with the line-ups and discussed who we wanted to see, what time they were on and what to do in the gaps when there was nobody decent on. It worked out that a lot of the day would be in the alternative tent because it was a ska/punk day, but we would be heading to the main stage when the Specials were on at 5.30pm. It looked like a good day, and it would hopefully be enough to motivate us in future years to get our shit together in time. We had a few more drinks, knowing that we would not be able to take our own into the arena and then set off. We joked as we headed to the queue into the arena, something that had not been there last night and was slowing things down was the check point. Anyone taking a bag in was searched, people were being patted down, and the sponsors were gouging people's eyes out at the bars. We made it through the pat-downs and assembled on the other side. We looked around the arena; people were crowded everywhere, there were stages in all directions and each had its own crowd gathered in front. From the unsigned stage with about forty people most likely waiting to see their friends play, to the main stage with the swarm of thousands, waiting to see some of the top bands in the world. There was also a comedy tent, a karaoke bar and the signings tent where adoring fans would queue for hours, hoping to meet their musical idols and maybe share a few significant thoughts. Or in the case of most of them, babble like crazy people about how they are meant to be together and their world is nothing without the overpaid pompous prick they fantasise about. We walked over to the alternative tent and got there just as the first band was picking up their instruments and greeting the crowd. The tent was about half full, as some fairly unknown band took to the stage and started to play. The music was good; a lively beat, a strong brass section and infectious rhythms. It wasn't long before the crowd started to bounce along and join in the choruses. I think it was safe to say this band would be welcome here again. For the next few hours we saw one great band after another, some of which we knew, some of which we would be searching for on Monday when we got home to find free tracks, CDs or gigs. I got to the stage where I wanted to stay and dance, but I needed to pee. Something had to take priority and knew that dancing with a wet patch on the front of my shorts might look rock and roll to some, but to most it just looked 'alky'. I told Guy I had to drain the lizard, and made my way to the toilets. As I came out relieved and a couple of pounds lighter, I scanned the crowds to get my bearings back to the alternative tent and my heart stopped. I had seen her! She was wearing a purple vest top, with horizontal cuts up the back and a short denim skirt with flip-flops. I pushed through the crowd and followed, well, stalked her. She was headed for the Indie stage, on her own. I kept track of her, and had to keep reminding myself that she would not be able to hear me breathe from this distance, so I could keep doing it. She got into the tent and looked at the stage while some band unknown to me, but clearly important to her, was playing a song I'd never heard before, but would now never forget as she started to twist her hips, and bounce up and down. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I watched her gyrate through the song, her hips never resting. I felt myself growing harder as I though about how well she might be able to move when horizontal. I snapped myself out of my trance and took a bit of a chance and stood next to her, hoping that she wouldn't move away, that she would acknowledge my existence, hell, that she might even talk to me. I remembered the bollocking I'd given myself the previous night and waited until the band finished. I took a deep breath and tapped her on the shoulder. What the hell was I doing? I now had no way out! I had to say something... I struggled as words jumbled in my head and I temporarily forgot the entire English language. She turned to me and smiled; I was lost in that smile until it looked like it might turn into a frown. I had to think of something fast before she thought of me as a just another creepy guy. Just as I was on the brink of panic, and about to turn, flee and kill myself somewhere, a look of recognition passed across her face; "Do you go to York St John?" I'm sure I've seen you on campus." My heart flipped. She's seen me! She's given me an in! I don't have to kill myself! Now all I had to do was construct and pronounce a sentence without stuttering or drooling and I could be home free... "Yes, I was going to ask you the same thing, but I was suddenly struck by how beautiful your smile is." Where the hell did that come from? In my head it sounded smooth for a fraction of a second before the cheesy reality hit me. I was sure she would slap me and walk away. However, what actually happened was that she giggled and blushed. The sound was divine; it was like a choir of angels singing next to a babbling brook, with some tiny bells thrown in for good measure. "Really?" she asked. I nodded, hoping that she wasn't toying with me. "That's about the nicest thing I've ever been told at a festival. Usually it's just drunken guys letching and groping." I took this as an opportunity to apologise for my gender and offered to buy her a drink as recompense. She took me up on it and we headed to one of the many over-priced bars. On the way we discussed our courses at university, what bands we wanted to see today and it was easy! Why had it taken me two years to talk to this girl? She was amazing and I had wasted so much time being intimidated by her. We eventually got to the front of the bar, but that was the easy part. I stood for ten minutes as the barmen ignored me. Then she pushed in next to me; "I have a little trick I'm sure will work." She stood on the foot rail and pushed her chest forward. We were served by the next passing barman. As we walked away, me with a £4 pint of Tuborg and her with a £3.50 bottle of Smirnoff Ice, I said, "That isn't really fair you know." "I know, but you can pee standing up." I conceded the point and checking my watch realised it was nearly time for the Specials -- luckily we both wanted to see them. I started steering us towards the main stage and into the middle of the crowd. The set kicked off with Nite Klub, and wound through an hour of 2tone classics. We both danced from the first notes. During Gangsters, our eyes met and there was a spark between us. She grabbed my hand and wrapped it around her waist, pulling herself in front of me. I was in shock! The Girl was grinding against me whilst I was watching one of my favourite bands! I had never been a religious man, but felt that this must be bordering on a miracle. As the song ended and the band left the stage she turned to me, electricity in her eyes and put her hand on the bulge in my shorts. I started to stammer in apology, but she just kissed me and stroked her hand across my shorts. "I think we need to get somewhere a little less public, don't you?" "Oh, hell yes!" I replied and allowed myself to be towed through the crowd by the object of my desires. We passed through the checkpoint and I continued to be towed along by her. I could swear that her pace had quickened, not that I was complaining. It took about twenty minutes to reach her camp, and she led me straight into her tent and pushed me down on her airbed. "Camping in st..." was all I managed to say before she was kissing me again. None of the gentle, tentative stuff I had imagined the night before; this was almost furious in its passion. Her lips pressed against me, her tongue entered my mouth and entwined with mine. I felt her hands in my short brown hair and let mine drift down her back slowly. Apparently too slowly, and she broke off the kiss and said, "If you're going to grab my arse, for fuck's sake, grab it!" I grabbed it and she groaned as I kneaded her buttocks. A few minutes later she sat up on top of me and pulled her vest over her head and unclasped her bra, letting it fall next to my head. I pushed myself up into a seated position and buried my face in her cleavage, no longer afraid of crossing lines of breaching boundaries -- it was clear that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She guided my head to her left nipple, still running her hands through my hair, still moaning softly to herself. I kissed the small pinkish-brown bud, before letting my tongue encircle it slowly. I applied more pressure as I licked across it now, passing from left to right, up and down and finally sucking it into my mouth. She held me tighter and groaned louder as I flickered the tip of my tongue across her nipple and then broke the contact to kiss me again. She practically tore off my t-shirt and tossed it aside. I was pushed onto my back again as she unfastened her skirt and slid it off her long legs, now lying on top of me wearing only a simple, black thong. She kissed down my neck and onto my chest as her hands worked to unfasten the button and the zip, which came between her and what I most wanted to give her. She worked fast and soon my shorts joined the rest of our clothes at the bottom of the airbed. She continued to kiss down my chest until she was kneeling between my legs and pulling my boxer shorts down. I looked down at her and saw the anticipation in her eyes. She slid my boxers off as well and took my cock in her hand. She looked at it as she slid her hand up and down it, almost like she was measuring the size and weight of it. I twisted my hands into her hair and guided her mouth towards it. I first felt her hot breath against me, arriving in ragged waves as her mouth moved closer. Then her tongue flickered out and made contact; my head snapped back and my toes curled. So long had I dreamt of this moment, so many times I had fantasised about it, and yet I was completely unprepared for the reality of it. She smiled up at me, her tongue still licking slowly around the head of my cock before she lifted her mouth and encircled me with it. The sensation was almost enough to push me over the edge, and I gripped the edges of her sleeping bag as I felt myself touching the back of her throat, and her lips pressing against my balls. She held the position for a few seconds before slowly raising her head and meeting my eyes again. "Wow!" was all I could manage before she repeated the motion and started to swallow my penis again, fucking me now with her mouth. After a few minutes I knew I couldn't last much longer like this, and reluctantly asked her to stop. I think she knew why and rolled onto her back, taking the position I had previously assumed. I was now kneeling between her legs and, with a moment's pause, peeled her thong down her legs. Her neatly trimmed pussy was glistening with her excitement and I wanted to heighten that. I kissed the inside of her right thigh, gentle pecks, as I moved down towards her knee. I then switched to her left inner thigh and moved upwards, slowly, gently, teasing her. Then without warning, I thrust my tongue into her, as deep as I could, imitating her actions earlier as she had deep throated me. I looked up and smiled as I saw her hands squeezing her breasts, gently twisting her nipples. I licked up her opening until I found her clitoris, which I claimed between my teeth; gently nibbling it and swirling my tongue over it. I felt her leg spasm slightly, and again as I sucked it into my mouth. The earlier sense of urgency returned as I felt her hands on the back of my head, holding me to her, encouraging my actions. I sucked again, and flicked my tongue over the tip of her clit as she came. A guttural roar, almost, and she squeezed her thighs together, trapping my head until she started to control her breathing again. It was her turn to say "Wow!" as she pulled me up to kiss her, tasting her climax on my lips and tongue. She reached between us and guided my cock into her wet warmth and I sank as deep as I could into her. She wrapped her legs around me as I pinned her hands next to her head and continued to kiss her. She was moving in perfect time with me and seemed as caught in the moment as I was. We had established a slow, deep rhythm and were both letting out little groans and mutterings, encouraging each other, complimenting each other, needing each other, using each other. This was pure animalistic lust, and it was unbelievable! She lifted her shoulder, which I took as an indication she wanted to be on top, and I rolled onto my back as she sat astride me. She put her hands on my chest and started to ride, chasing the orgasm I could tell was building in her. She started to grind her pussy on my cock, her breasts heaving and bouncing with the motion; I was becoming mesmerised by their movement as they swayed in front of my eyes. It wasn't long before her orgasm hit her; her back arched and once again she was groaning skyward, her body quivering from the sensory overload. She collapsed on her side and I spooned in behind her, one arm beneath her neck, cupping her breast, the other around her waist, holding her against me. The pace was no longer as frantic now, the urgency gone and now replaced with a closeness that was undeniable. As I slowly moved in and out of her, she turned her head and we kissed again. "I want you on top of me again," she almost whispered, "I want to look in your eyes as you come." I withdrew and she rolled onto her back again, I repositioned myself between her legs and we resumed our lovemaking, for that is what it now was. We enjoyed the feel of each other, the closeness and the movement for a few minutes longer, until I reached my peak and could hold back no longer. I pulled out and she reached for my cock and frantically tugged until I came, thick strands of creamy spunk splashed onto her stomach, breasts and even as far as her chin. She milked the last of my sperm and watched it drip onto her belly, before licking her chin and then hand clean. She reached into her bag and produced some tissues and baby wipes in order to clean ourselves up. Once clean, we felt no need to dress in that awkward state that often follows impulsive sex, nor was there any embarrassment. Things just felt right. As we lay there holding each other I said "My name's John, by the way." She giggled and introduced herself as Georgia . I'm not sure what went on for the rest of that day, but when I finally pulled myself from her tent it was dark, and there were seven girls sat around the campfire, which was flickering away outside the tent door. Georgia ignored the whistles and questions from her friends and walked with me out of range of prying eyes. "Will I see you again?" I smiled "Why wouldn't you? It's taken me two years of being in love with you to get the courage up to tap you on the shoulder. Now I know I can talk to you without becoming a gibbering moron, I'm not sure you'll get rid of me!" She smiled and we arranged to meet the following day for breakfast at the buttie van I had left Jas at that morning. I wandered through the Yellow Zone for a few minutes before reaching my tent and was greeted by "Where the fuck have you been?" from Rich. "With Georgia ," was my simple response before I cracked open the Finlandia and poured myself a cup, knowing that this would be a tough interrogation. However, with Georgia there was no desire to brag, to sully the special thing we had shared, and that I hoped we would continue to share. I gave them nothing apart from that The Girl was called Georgia.