Visiting distant family in rural Rivière-du-Loup, we were given the room with the squeaky bed.

In search of some satisfaction, we trekked out to a field of tall grasses and were well on our way to thoroughly exploring each other with hands and mouths and fingers and tongues in a deliciously deliberate manner.

But bugs enjoy salty skin...

We lived in a state of anticipation until we escaped to our room that night.

Squeaky bed be damned! we thought.

Yet discretion motivated us to keep movement smooth and slow, to swallow moans and gasps, sharpening pleasure to a wet, explosive finish.