One Summer Day

One day last summer we went out into the countryside. We weren’t, at the time, allowed into one another’s houses. Weren’t allowed to travel far away. And so we walked through the woods near the city until we came to a field of long grass – nobody else in sight. In that field of long grass we lay down beneath a wizened little crab apple tree and fucked in the sunshine.

Though alone, we were nervous about being caught. She had taken off her panties already, handing them to me as we left the car. Now she lay back and hitched up her dress. I freed myself from my shorts. Lying on top of one another, we were deep in amongst the grass. Sun on my back. The air grassy and humid. Insect life buzzing about us, oblivious.

I spat into my hand for lube, but she was incredibly wet already. We didn’t even risk whispering. I buried my face in the side of her neck and her scent was somehow stronger for the scents of grass and gorse and honeysuckle which formed a background to it. We moved together very quietly. I cupped the back of her head, pulled her tight into me. I came quickly.

Afterwards, we sat up and listened to the silence. We were blushed and quiet. We had done something furtive and slightly forbidden, and nobody knew except us. The sun warmed our skin. Eventually we stood and walked hand in hand back through the woods.

It wasn’t until we were back at the car that she noticed she had lost a button from her dress. We both agreed that it must have happened as we fucked under the crab apple tree – that it was probably lying there still, shiny amongst the leaves and thistles and blossom. Unintentionally, we had left some evidence of what we had done, but we didn’t go back for it.