After our naked and sticky breakfast in bed, T and I tidied up and shared a shower. There was no rush to things – time in a way has less meaning when you’re detached from schedules – and we diligently soaped and explored each other in the shower, cleaning each other’s spaces and crevices thoroughly while squeezing and enjoying the permission of full access.

We’d jokingly agreed over coffee that today would be an edge day: we could do whatever we liked but before 4pm no orgasms were allowed, on pain of forfeit. The nature of the forfeits hadn’t been discussed and perhaps they’d have offered an incentive to transgress, but it was the commitment to the game that was important. This added frisson to our languid touching in the shower, pushing each other close until we had to disengage to cool off – just a little – before going again.

To fill the day, and perhaps to distract ourselves from what was a constant bubble of horn and need, we planned a picnic a decent hike away from the cabin. The cabin's owner had described – still secluded and on their land – a large, clear pond a few miles from the cabin. It sounded perfect, so after we’d dried ourselves off and dressed loosely (still commando, as per the rules), I packed a bag with supplies and we set off.

It was a glorious day, mostly clear with occasional fluffy clouds, the sky almost sharp in its blueness and the air already warm and building. The woods were a riot of greenery and insect and avian noises, and the path ran along the stream that evidently fed water to the cabin. The outside world in many ways had receded into the psychological distance, it was as though some commonly carried weights had been left behind.

T reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter and a very tidily rolled joint. She lit it, puffing quickly on the end to get it going, and then took a few deeper drags as we walked. “Appetiser before lunch, darling,” she said as she passed it over, “which might also keep our overactive hormones under control, at least a little.”

“Wow, it’s been a while since I smoked, T”, I replied. “What is it, skunk? If it’s too heavy you’ll have to leave me curled up in the woods or carry me home!”

“No, no, just weed. I can’t be doing with the strong stuff, there’s no fun getting immediately blitzed. I much prefer working out where I’m at and then topping up or easing off as I need to.”

I took a small drag, inhaled deeply, and exhaled, relishing the taste and feel of the smoke over my tongue before more confidently taking a few longer ones and passing it back. As it took hold and the world began to seem different, a little softer but brighter, it felt like I was putting a familiar and much-loved coat back on after many years. I'd missed this, the sense of being there and yet not, simultaneously looser and yet more focused.

The joint was soon gone, and we walked on in silence, occasionally touching hands or brushing against each other, enjoying the escape, companionship, the camaraderie, the connection, the freedom. As she stepped ahead of me over a small rise, I squeezed T’s arse, relishing the feeling of it flexing with as she climbed, and she laughed a little before slapping me playfully on the hand.

After about an hour of stoned walking, the path exited the trees and we reached our goal and the source of the stream – a long, wide, pond with trees hugging all four sides. There was a patch of shaded grass and moss over to one side and we threw ourselves down onto it, took off our shoes and socks, and drank in the view for a few minutes. It was indeed secluded, almost primordial, like humans had never been here. I unpacked the food while T stepped into the shallows up to her ankles.

“It’s cold, but good cold,” she called out. “Try it, it feels amazing.”

I wandered over and waded in until it was half way up my shins, slightly muddying the water. The contrast of the coolness with being hot, and high, and underlyingly turned on, and simply…away, was a wild sensation.

“I dare you to go in,” I teased.

“I will if you do, sunshine”, she retorted, “although that delicious cock of yours might go into hiding, it’s not warm!”

“Good point. Let’s eat before I get the munchies or pull a whitey as my sugar levels crash.”

Bread and cheese, hummus and tomatoes, apples, and half a bottle of white. Simple but in that moment incomparable. We fed ourselves and occasionally each other, savouring the tastes and textures. After we'd tidied up, T lay on the grass with her hands over her head, languorously stretching in the dappled sunshine that filtered through the leaves above.

“You look very pleased with yourself down there, like the cat that got the cream,” I observed.

“I am pleased with myself,” she responded, “but there’s to be no cream until later, those are the rules. How about a spliff and kisses, though?” pulling another joint out of her pocket.

“Genius,” I demurred, leaning down and pressing my mouth to hers, teasing her lips open with my tongue. She reciprocated, warm and wet and welcoming. I was sucked in, literally and metaphorically, into the shared and intimate space. After a while T disengaged and lit the second joint, blowing streams of smoke contentedly into the air. I lay next to her, on my side with my head propped up on my hand so I could observe her.

I could see the tempting outline of T’s nipples through the fabric, and I teased one with the tip of my finger. She smiled and paused in her movements as the nipple rose and became more pronounced, so I leaned forward and teased it with my mouth while bringing the other one up to speed with my hand.

T moaned a little and writhed on the ground, almost snakelike in her movements. “I don’t want you to stop, but if I smoke all of this by myself, I’ll be a wreck. Let me share some,” she said. 

She sat up, took a drag, leaned forward and put her lips almost imperceptibly against mine, and then blew the smoke slowly into my mouth. I drew it in, feeling its textures in my throat as I filled my lungs. Maybe it was my brain remembering, but I felt the hit almost immediately, the half-step into that parallel dimension. I took the joint and returned the favour, and we repeated this until we’d finished it.

“Where was I?” I mused from what felt like beneath the surface, “Ah yes, your delicious nipples.” I pushed T back and resumed my attentions there, flicking, sucking, nibbling, and biting her nubs while she gasped gently. I unbuttoned her shirt to access them directly, undoing and pulling down her shorts as I teased her with my mouth, running kisses down her stomach and around her thighs before nuzzling her pussy.

“Oh my god, yes” T rasped as I kissed her labia slowly, sucking them into my mouth one at a time, tasting her wetness, her swollen sex. In my heightened (or high-tened?!) state, I was zoned in on her body and texture and taste as she undulated on the ground, making groans that seem to come from somewhere deep inside. Mindful of our agreement for the day – but wanting to push her as close as she could bear – I teased her clitoris slowly with my tongue, dipping below from time to time to taste inside her now leaking opening, and also to pay attention to her pussy lips.

“Stop-stop-stop,” she suddenly called out. “Too much, I’m so close, and if you go any further I’m over the edge. Fuck…I want more, but I can’t,” she added. “You’ll have to give me a minute…ohhh. Damn, you’re good at this.”

I kissed her once more on the labia before kneeling up. “You taste wonderful, you know. I could stay down there for hours, and I love teasing and pleasing you,” I said.

“I love you doing it, too, but now it’s your turn,” she replied. “Lie down, sunshine.”

I complied, exhaling as I prepared for the return treatment. T crouched over me, lifted off my t-shirt up to expose my chest and pulled my shorts past my ankles and off. The sunshine and air on my body felt magical – no doubt enhanced by the weed – and T observed me for a moment before tracing her fingertips across my chest, around my nipples, and down.

She changed the angle of her fingers so she was scratching with her fingernails as they crossed my waist and scratched my inner thighs before moving up to my hardening cock. She cupped my balls with one hand, pulling them gently, while firmly taking hold of my meat, drawing the foreskin back all the way and holding it there.

I held my breath, lost in the exquisiteness of the sensation; it was almost painful but simply divine. If I’d really focused on it and stayed there, I could probably have come. Thankfully T loosened her grip slightly and slowly manipulated my balls and cock, rolling the skin back and forth but without going too far. I focused on my breathing and leant into the experience: the sun and air on my skin, the psychedelic colours on the insides of my eyelids, and a somewhat detached – but very attached – cock massage.

I managed to stay in that zone for a few minutes before I realised I was right before the point of no return. “No more! No, stop. Shit. Agh!” I cried out, rolling to the side and jumping up, almost overbalancing in the process. I was on the edge of coming, and all I could think of was to head for cold water in the hope that it would push me back down. I ran into the pond until I was knee-deep and then threw myself under the surface.

The cold shocked me, and while it was intense and somewhat sexual, it had the positive effect of dulling my ardour, at least just enough. I held my breath underwater for as long as I could and listened to my body, feeling the coolness penetrating my skin, my head, my consciousness. As my lungs started to hurt, I resurfaced and stood up in the bright sunlight.

I looked to the shore and could see T standing, her head back, laughing uproariously.

“Fucking hell, that was brilliant! I can see it sort of worked, but not entirely,” she cackled, pointing at my cock.

I looked down to see that I was still hard, pointing proudly to the heavens. “What have you done to me, you witch?!” I joked. “I’m not complaining, of course. Anyway, you said you’d come in if I did. Well, I did.”

T stood, dropped her clothes, and padded towards me, naked, graceful and sensuous. As she reached me she pressed against me, grabbed my erection, and kissed one of my nipples. The warmth of her body felt wonderful, and I traced a finger down her stomach over her clitoris and just inside her wetness, making her shudder slightly.

“You should go in, too, you did sort of dare me,” I observed, “although I have to say that I’m quite keen to make you come here and now and then dish out a tasty forfeit.”

“True,” T replied, “fair’s fair, and I’m not bloody losing.” She disengaged from me, waded a little deeper, and submerged herself to the neck. “Aaah. That feels better than I expected.”

She stood again, the water running over her chest and tits, down her fabulous body, and I could see her nipples were hard from a combination of her arousal and the cold water. As she came back towards me, I reached out and pinched one gently, making her gasp.

“We need a bit more of a cooling off period, sunshine, or I’m going hang all of the rules and fuck you here and now,” she growled.

We headed towards the shore, dressed, packed our things, and headed back. We walked slowly, almost by implicit agreement, stringing out the time but relishing the tension there now, knowing that the passion and want were just under the surface.

As we entered the cabin, I checked the clock: it was just after 4. T was in the kitchen area, unloading the bag and she had her back to me. I crept up behind her, reaching around under her arms to firmly cup her breasts and pressing myself against her so she was pinned against the counter. I nibbled her ear. “It’s 4pm,” I whispered.

T groaned, tipping her head to the side so I could kiss her neck, and pressed her arse against my rapidly hardening cock. I ground into her and bit her neck, reaching up inside her shirt so I could access and knead her tits, which filled my hands.

“Oh my god, don’t wait, take me,” T urged, undoing her drawstring and dropping her shorts before reaching behind and tugging mine roughly down. She pushed me backwards with her legs slightly apart, head hanging down and hands wide on the counter, presenting herself.

I wasn’t going to wait for a second invitation, so I bent my knees slightly and positioned my cock head at her opening, pressing gently so I was right there. T pushed back but I moved back with her, teasing her.

“In, now…please,” she moaned.

I obliged, entering her slowly to the hilt, and we both exhaled as I slid all the way in and bottomed out. It had been worth the wait: she was so sticky, warm, wet, inviting, wanting, and I wanted her back, needed to be inside her, attached, fucking.

I held T’s hips and we screwed slowly, me loving the view of her stretched out towards me, wantonly, the feeling of her pussy holding as I steadily rocked in and out. I began to pick up the pace but realised it would be over too quickly so slowed down again, and we continued like that for a few more minutes, although I could tell that I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. T seemed to sense it, or was closing in on it herself, and she reached underneath herself with one hand to press and then rub her clit firmly with three fingers.

Almost without warning I was back at the edge and unable to hold off. I cried out as I came, and came hard. T had timed it perfectly and we erupted in tandem as I filled her with my cream and she gushed onto me with hers, which dripped off me and onto the kitchen floor. We must have sounded like animals, T was exhaling and releasing a desperate “Oh! Oh!” with every breath, and I almost wailed with the intensity of mine.

I felt truly spent, both in body and head. As I gingerly withdrew, a sticky string joined us temporarily before it split, some of it dripping down to join the small puddle on the floor.

“Mmm, that was worth the wait,” T grinned.