Jackie’s house was in what I suppose you would call (in the UK, anyway) an estate. Not a council estate, but a group of privately owned houses, all in a similar style and each with a little garden at the front and at the back.

Hers had two bedrooms, a decent-sized lounge and one small bathroom. I’m telling you this because she seemed quite proud of it and showed me around. She had had a little garage built on the side, and that’s where she kept not only her motorbike but her drum kit, carefully packed up in special cases. On each one was stencilled “Jackie Cameltoe.” As you will remember if you read the first instalment of this story, All Is Fair In Love And Sex, her name was Jackie Camelot but her all-girl rock band had been called Camel Toe.

“I wonder who thought of that in the first place,” I mused, as she brushed dust and debris off the bass drum case.

“it’s quite clever, isn’t it?” she agreed. “Cos it’s true. That’s what a woman’s crotch looks like from the front if she’s wearing very tight, very thin trousers. Or shorts. Or a bikini. Some women more than others, I suppose. Do you think mine is very pronounced?”

“I didn’t really notice,” I lied. On our first date the night before I had, of course, glanced at her clothed crotch once or twice, but she had been wearing thick jeans, good quality and not too tight, just snug. Today she was wearing a short khaki denim skirt. “Let me have another look.”

She looked me squarely in the eyes in a way that could have meant, “Who do think I am?” or perhaps “Who do you think you are?” but I interpreted it as, “You can’t embarrass me, pal.” It made me wonder about the complex emotions that run between two people who have had sex together. Just because you have both seen pretty much all there is to see, that doesn’t make it your property, and perhaps the asking and giving of permission helps to retain the excitement.

I had sucked this woman’s nipples, licked and penetrated her vagina and even licked her arse before wanking into it and – an additional thrill for both of us – wiping my spunk out of it with a tissue, but that didn’t mean her body was now mine for the taking.

She continued to look at me steadily as she lifted the skirt with one hand and gripped her lacy black knickers at the back with the other, pulling the front into her slit.

“Mmm, very nice,” I said.

“Is it?” she asked. “Seriously, isn’t it a bit tasteless? Some women might do it on purpose, but I think in most cases it’s just unfortunate.” I knelt on the dusty floor and kissed her camel toe gently, then licked it. She put both hands on my head and the skirt fell and covered me like a lampshade. I inhaled deeply and deliberately, feeling that it was doing me a power of good.

“So, picnic in the garden?” she said brightly. “Come and have a look.”

The lawn throbbed in the early afternoon sun. The fences at the sides and back were tall and wooden. The back bedrooms of the houses overlooked the gardens, but the light was such that you couldn’t see into them. But I knew they were bedrooms and I had looked out of Jackie’s during the grand tour, so I could imagine the nameless wives and daughters who must have stood there and looked out, watching what the neighbours were doing.

Jackie opened the shed and took out a tall blue and red striped windbreak and a wooden mallet. At the bottom of the garden was an apple tree. Six feet in front of it we hammered the poles into the lawn.

We ate a potato salad and picked at some olives and sweet, slightly spicy pickled peppers called Peppadews. We drank a fruity white wine made from a grape called Albariño. And we talked about music and books.

Jackie and I had been brought together by our mutual friend Mandy, with whom I had enjoyed one wonderful long afternoon in bed and would have liked to do it all again. But Mandy had decided, quite sensibly, that she and I were not really destined to be together, and while circumstances had conspired to keep us apart she had met someone else but had fixed me up with Jackie.

During that memorable afternoon, Mandy had spoken of wanting to give me a golden shower, and she had apparently mentioned this to Jackie, who had brought up the subject the night before.

After we had cleared the debris of the lunch, Jackie appeared from upstairs with a very big beach towel, which she spread on the grass between the tree and the windbreak. Suitably secluded, Jackie pulled off her t-shirt and, with no bra to fuss with, her small, pristine breasts looked at me proudly. She lay on the towel on her back and removed her skirt and knickers to reveal her beautiful smooth women’s bits.

With no trace of self-consciousness, Jackie spread her legs and showed me her cunt. Then, as I frantically pulled off my own clothes, she pulled her legs up and exposed her arsehole. Again, it crossed my mind that just because I had had access to these fabulous places, these incredible bits of female anatomy, it didn’t mean I had any rights over them or her. But I did have the right, at that moment, to keep looking rather than averting my eyes, because this woman was showing them to me. She was the proud, unashamed proprietor of these precious body parts.

I feasted my eyes on that curious creation, the vagina, deliberately – if unnaturally – exposed without its protective hair. Again, I felt the presence of Mandy, with whom I had discussed the layout of the female genitalia and who, I was sure, must have told Jackie about my tendency to worship women.

For the first time I also found myself gazing intently and openly at the little brown eye of an anus, the poor relation of the female epicentre – poor to most people but not to me. Jackie had allowed me to play in that top-secret area, which I knew Mandy had told her I loved so much. “Would Sir like a fudge slice? I hear it’s your favourite,” she had joked as she presented it to me the night before.

“I want you to lick my arse,” she said gently now, assuming the kneeling position that she knew I favoured. What the unseen voyeurs in the bedroom windows wouldn’t give, I thought, to witness this incredibly intimate transaction. I descended on this bounty with as much decorum as I could muster, given the incredible situation and Jackie’s brazen invitation.

She smelled great, just a light trace of that unique aroma that everyone gets a slight kick out of when it is their own. To have it given to me as a gift almost made me faint with desire. I licked Jackie’s arse and the love I felt at that moment transmitted itself to her. Within seconds she was writhing in ecstasy, whispering, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Ahhh!”

We lay together and kissed and cuddled in a passionate euphoria before she said quietly, “Now I’m going to urinate on you. You can do it to me afterwards.”

I lay dutifully on my back and she stood up, her head above the windbreak as she looked down at me. She placed one foot on either side of my hips and a look of intense concentration came over her as she set about that curiously difficult act: pissing on demand. A trickle appeared and ran down her leg and then she strained a little before relaxing as a torrent of hot liquid squirted from her crotch, this way and that but all splashing down on my body.

It was incredibly erotic to be pissed on by this woman. Gaining control and confidence, she strafed me from my navel down to my balls and I felt the bizarrely exciting sensation as it trickled into my crack. Then, somehow shutting the flow down, she knelt over my face.

“I’m going to piss in your mouth,” she whispered. “Okay?”

“Please,” I said. She shuffled down so her voluptuous slit was against my lips before releasing what she had left into my grateful cavity. When she was finished, she wiped herself on my nose and cheeks before sliding down beside me.

“I’m not sure what it means,” she confided.

“I don’t think it means anything,” I replied. “I don’t think you have to psychoanalyse a sexual act, because that’s what it is. Just a sexual act. Kinky and not widely practised, but it’s nothing to do with power, domination and submission. It’s just… rude.”

“Are you going to do it to me now?” she asked happily. I took her right hand and placed it on my rock-hard erection.

“Can’t piss through a hardon,” I said. “Well, I can’t anyway. But I can wank into your mouth.”

“Oh my god, yes,” she said, smiling bashfully at me.

I knelt above her face and she played with my balls and stroked my crack as I powered up the equipment. She clearly loved watching me masturbating and when my climax was coming, she knew instinctively and opened her mouth as I leaned down and inserted my cock. She seemed to take down my semen without swallowing.

Then, spent and blissful, we lay together, naked and defenceless in our idyllic, safe corner of the world.