The clearing is small but the carpet of grass is thick and lush. The stream is narrow and only a trickle in the late summer moonlight. The pool is barely long enough to lie in and the water only covers our bodies. A large white owl calls across the meadow to his mate. The only other sound is the gurgle of the stream and the sighs of the east wind in the tops of the cedar trees.

The water flows around our bodies and soaks away the trail dust. It drains away the aches and fatigue of the day. The horses are quietly cropping grass at the end of the meadow while the hounds keep watch. As we dry off before the tent door the firelight casts a golden glow on your beautiful lean back.

In my arms your nipples grow firm and hard your breath comes in sharp gasps. The furs on the bed always excite you.

Tonight's moonless sky with it's myriad if bright stars has kindled more heat in your loins than our small fire and flagon of wine ever could.

As I cup your full breast in one hand my other begins to stroke the moist folds of our favorite flower. My tongue explores the hidden places of your neck and ears the soft hollows of your throat.

As my fingers stroke the moist folds of the slippery lily your body shivers with delight at the first climax. In the distance a wolf pack has begun the hunt. The symphony begins across the mountain ridges, floating on the breeze's wing.

The music of the night.

The things you have taught me come to the surface like a trout in a still pool. The ripples of delight spread through our heated bodies as droplets of sweat drip run down your side to make rain drop patterns on the bed's leather covers. We kneel, face to face, in the tent's door flap to let the cool night air wash over our heated bodies. Is it the cool air that makes you tremble so? Your lips are soft yet firm as they glide over my neck and shoulders.

So gentle and tender that I do not feel your finger as they open the clasp on my belt or your hand until the long fingers wrap around my shaft. The rythmic stroking brings my root to life. Your breath catches as my staff swells in your hand. Your other hand slides under my buttocks to grip the twin globes with tender strength . As I press you gently back into the bed of furs, your legs wrap around my neck, your heels rubbing my shoulder blades as my tongue flicks the head of your slippery lily.

Your hips thrust and quiver. Your back arches and bucks the way your mare did the day she first felt the saddle on her back.

There is no pain as your fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head into that warm moist place. The musky scent goes to my head like new wine. My hands lift your buttocks and raise your cup to my lips where that sweet spicy nectar is an eagerly awaited treat. Your flower releases a sweet potion that drips from your lips onto mine adding to my intoxication. On my back now I gaze out the open tent door, catching my breath. Your breasts on my full manhood take my breath away again.

How soft and wet your mouth is. It makes me swell even more until my fingers in your hair lift your head and invite your wet lily onto my root. My thumb slips into the wet folds and caresses the sweet spot that is the key to your release.

Your rocking motion is like riding your bay stallion on sweeping fields of tall grass. My thumb caresses that hard, wet spot until in a shudder of ecstasy you sprawl spent across my chest. The moon has crossed the sky and is overhead as I wake to find you with your mouth around my shaft. Both of your hands, wet with saliva, stroke it rapidly up and down. Faster and harder you pump your hands the same way your hips move when we couple.

I can hear your squeals of pleasure and feel them as I touch the back of your throat. As my body explodes in waves of lust I can feel your hands milking the last drops as you suck me dry. As sleep overcomes me I tell you that I love you. The last thing I remember is that we said it together.