Virgin Doggers

"Oh, my actual God, that's sexy as hell!" said Geoff. "Unbelievable!" I was too engrossed to care whether we were going to get the Oscar nomination and carried on doing what Bridget liked me to do. We broke off the kiss.

"We better show him my tits. He seemed to quite like them earlier."

I set about undoing the forbidden buttons.

"We'll leave the bra on, so you've got something to hang on to," she added. Then, after letting him have a good ogle, she stood and turned to lean on the picnic table.

"Slip my knickers down so you can put it in from behind, darling. But let Geoff have a little play first, if that's all right."

I waved Geoff closer and he needed no encouragement.

"Play with my wet cunt, Geoff. Find my clit and give it a good rub. Squat down and use your tongue, if you like."

Geoff liked. So did Bridget, pushing back against his hand first and then really working herself against him when he started using his tongue. And so did I. With her dress flicked right up over her back, her breasts hanging down and bulging out of her tight white bra, her lycra girdle glistening in the sun and her knickers at half-mast while her naughty bits were being devoured by another man, she looked erotic beyond anything I'd ever imagined.

"That's it, Geoff! Flick my clit with your tongue just like that!" she urged. "Yes, yes!"

She was getting very close to the top and I doubted my ability to hold back either, yet again.

"OK Bill, your turn, stick your cock in me now and fill me up! Now!" she yelled.

Geoff backed off and stood, grabbed his cock and began rubbing furiously. She reached between her legs with one hand to rub her clit and I was in her in a flash, up to the hilt, reaching down to her breasts to hold us steady. It was like a stallion mounting a willing mare. Just the warm wet glory of the enveloped cock was enough, and a couple of strokes had me completely rigid as I did, indeed, fill her up. Geoff did the Onan thing and spilt his seed on the ground. Then he clapped heartily as Bridget and I disentangled and started straightening ourselves out for the second time in barely an hour. I bowed and Bridget did a graceful curtsy. "The B and B Open Air Theatre Company at your service," she announced.

"Bravo!" replied Geoff. And that was that. We climbed the stairway, said our goodbyes, and set off on our separate ways.

Back on the motorway heading north after a slightly longer lunch break than we'd expected, we sat comfortably gathering our thoughts. The atlas was stowed and the GPS had faithfully got us back on track. It was Bridget's spell at the wheel and we were cruising at the 80mph standard for the fast lane and ducking left if faster traffic came through. Officially the UK speed limit's 70mph but the world has to keep moving, so it does. Were we in Germany we'd be a snail. We'd made the usual small talk on the way to the motorway and then relaxed as we meshed with the northbound streams.

I broke the silence.

"That was incredible. Right out of the blue. And I'm still quite elated about the whole thing. But there's one thing above others that I feel I have to raise. It simply couldn't have been planned. It had to be spontaneous. But despite that I felt as if I was a player in a well-choreographed performance. Partly you could explain that by saying we've been married for years and anticipating each other's needs becomes second nature. But there was something else going on, and I can't put my finger on it. You seemed so 'in control' right from that first smile at Geoff when he disappeared through the gap in the bushes. What am I missing?"

"You didn't miss a trick, darling. And no, it wasn't a set up. Geoff wasn't some friend from our past or a beau I'd met online. I'd never seen him before. You'll have gone through the odds of all that and discarded it as almost impossible so that's why you're stumped. The answer is quite simple really. We ladies fantasise just like you men do when we play with ourselves. I recall the US comedian on Stephen Fry's QI saying men seldom thought about their wives when wanking. More likely (viewed from a US perspective) they were fantasising about a half-naked 300lb European barmaid bent over a barrel and being beaten with a paddle. Ever since we heard about dogging before we emigrated, there was a TV programme which featured it I think, it's been one of my fantasies. And it stuck. So suddenly we were parked up and we had a watcher. We didn't know he was really a watcher at first, but I immediately assumed he might be. The rest is history. I just knew how to handle it from years of practice while rubbing my wee button while you were elsewhere."

"Every day you learn something new, as the cliché goes," I replied. "Changing the subject to matters more prosaic, we're closing on the border and we promised to have supper on the way so they didn't have to feed us on the first night. We'll be on the A74 soon, so I suggest we plan to eat at Abington Services rather than buy something en route to eat in a layby."

"Wimp!"