I step off the path and follow my nose, tracing a route through the trees, trying to avoid stepping on dog violets, wood sorrel and primroses. There is a faint waft of garlic coming from a patch of ransoms a way away to my right. Bluebells provide an incoming tide of blue among the greys and browns of trees and earth, battling the green of dog's mercury for supremacy of the woodland floor.

Bees are buzzing busily; on a whim, I follow one through the centuries-old coppice wood, stems thick with moss and ivy, the smell of green a constant.

The bee zigs, zags and zigs again until it reaches a small well of sunshine among the pillars of the oak and ash, walled not with stone but hazel and hawthorn, floored with moss and yet more primroses.

I stop and sit, needing to drink from this well of peacefulness. Lying back on the spring moss looking up at the canopies of new leaves, recently exploding from their buds, I feel at one with the world, at peace.

Warmed by the early year sun, entertained by the chiffchaffs, blackbirds, thrushes, wrens, blue tits and great tits. (Oh, I'm immature!) But nonetheless, I get "that" feeling.

I can't help myself - I need to be closer to this ages old place, to nature. Unconsciously, hands and fingers move, undoing laces, buckle, buttons; sliding material. Instead of just accessing myself, here I am, all of me, naked, prostrate in the sun, bright against my green blanket.

My hands are still roaming, brushing, touching, never staying still, recreating someone else's touch. My eyes closed, I remember her face, framed by ember red hair. Her green eyes looking up at me as she tells me she has to clean me before we fuck again. She looks back down, takes me in her mouth, rolling her tongue along and around my straining cock. I touch her head, stroking her hair, entwining it through my fingers as she raises and lowers her head on my shaft. I see the hand not gripping me is busy between her legs, its fingers slipping in and out of her lips, over her trimmed red bush surrounded clit.

She looks up again, "I think you're ready now." I can only nod and moan agreement, the words not coming, unable to speak.

She turns around, bends at the waist, hands against the tree. "Fuck me then, I need you in me again. Fuck me like there's no tomorrow," she whispers.

As she commands, I push up to her, hands on her slim, pale waist. My cock leading the way, no guidance or extra glide required. Natural scented wetness easing the way. Entering her, feeling her warmth, her wetness. Breathing in her arousal. To make the most of it, I push in deep, as far as I can go. I stop moving and let her move: feeling her constricting and relaxing around me as I move within her.

I can't help myself; I withdraw and push in again and again. I see her hair bright against the freckles on her alternately dipped and stretched back. It seems to go on forever; I'm lost in the depths of her warmth, the sun's warmth, the assault of scents, woodland and woman.

I move faster. I see one of her hands on the tree supporting herself on the tree, the other frantically rubbing, pinching, pulling breasts, nipples and clit. I look down again and watch as I plough her. Her puckered arsehole is there unattended; I wet my left thumb with her juice and gently touch it. She bucks at my touch, surprised at this new feeling, but doesn't complain. I don't push in, just touch with gentle pressure, mirroring my thrusting.

She looks back to me, heavy lidded eyes partly glazed, her sweat sheened face trying to match that beautiful hair. "Cum with me, cum in me."

"But..."

"Just cum now. You must cum now."

And so, again as she commands, with one last push I go as deep as I can and unload myself into her, shuddering in time with her. Words fail me again as they have most of this glorious afternoon.

Collapsing together, we fall through ourselves, relaxing, breathing as one. Her body pushes me and mine out. She rolls over to face me, throws a leg over mine and rubs herself on me. She does this every time, stealing one last cum from me, staring into my eyes but right through me at the same time, drunk on orgasm. I shut my eyes after she comes, burning the image of her face on my mind.

I open my eyes, looking up at the newly exploded leaves. The cum has dried so I reluctantly pull on clothes, do up buckle, buttons and boots. I look around my clearing before I take my leave, remembering, desiring. Fingers to forelock, I thank the bee for bringing me back, salute nature and the imagined nymphs, satyrs and sylphs and return to the world of tomorrow.