In Our Little Yellow Tent

Our Little Yellow Tent

It is early morning and the silence around us was deafening though the sudden downpouring of large, unexpected raindrops clanking against the coffeepot has roused me from my sleep.  The air is brisk and easy to breathe but so cold I shudder and the cold, damp, hardness of the ground beneath us has made my body stiff with regret.  “So this is camping,” I tell myself. But then I notice the feel of your warm body up against mine, cradling me, your arm over my waist and cupping my breast as you sleep steadily on.  Though my body aches I don’t want to move, I don’t want to disturb you.  I love hearing you breathing there beside me, and you are my only source of comfort, of warmth, and I suddenly feel happy through and through. A smile spreads across my face.

The drumming of the rain beats on, striking harder, as though a band were playing just outside of view.  You snuggle deeper into me, your mouth and nose snuggling into the nape of my neck, I can feel the warm pulse of your breath against my skin.  I reach back and run my palm over the back of your head, enjoying the feel of your soft hair against my hand. I am very sleepy but smile again as I detect the soft brush of your lips against my neck. A gentle sleepy kiss signalling that you too have awakened and are happy to be beside me in our little yellow tent on this cold and wet night.

I take the chance, and turn my head in your direction, hoping my mouth will find yours in the blackness that surrounds us. The chilly air drifts into our sleeping bag as we shuffle our bodies into a new position.  My body cannot help it, I shudder again. You gently reach up, placing your hand behind my head, guiding me toward you and we kiss, slowly, softly, quietly.  We are side by side, facing each other now and your warm, loving kisses continue. My smile widens, both the one on my face and the one in my heart, my soul.  I remind myself, “Oh, how I love this man!”  My heart is beating faster, and the chill of the night air is quickly forgotten.

We are both becoming more alert as the gentle kissing breaks way into passionate, deep desire and a need to become one.  The ever-constant beating of the rain begins to sound like music as we touch, caress, and explore each other, preparing our bodies for joining. In the midst of our excitement it has become so hot within the tent that you reach down and unzip our sleeping bag, laying it open like a blanket at a picnic.  Sitting there in the center of this tiny tent the bulk of your body takes up most of the space within.  You look so fit, so masculine.  I climb up onto your lap. At first your hands holding the sides of my face as you kiss me and tell me that you love me, but then, slowly, they slide down the sides of me, and find there way beneath me; my buttocks cupped perfectly in the palms of your hands as you help me to glide smoothly up and down your magnificent shaft.  As we make love the birds begin to chirp and the sun begins to rise to the east; your face slowly appears out of the shadows of darkness as the yellow of the tent canvas begins to make itself seen. And then, without warning, the rain stops suddenly and all that can be heard is the birds and the sound of two lovers reaching orgasm in unison.

Your hands come up to my back and I lean into them, gaze deeply into your eyes, a satisfied and happy grin on my face and as I look at you, your sparkling eyes, and cheery dimples are grinning proudly back at me.

“So,” I say, “this is camping.”

And we break into laughter.

The End.

 

 

3 thoughts on “In Our Little Yellow Tent

So, any thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s