I introduced my darling Jamie to Cambridge last year. He had never heard of it, and was dubious in the extreme about how it was possible to have fun holed up in a tent for four days and nights, listening to a lot of old folkies warbling about their "ain true love", or the dear, green land of home. Little did he know.

Cambridge is a weekend never to be forgotten, one which lasts for ever and flies past in an instant, where there are 15,000 people and 15,000 ways of having a good time. There is no "Cambridge experience", because everyone's is different. I have a friend who has been going for twenty years and in that time hasn't listened to a single act; others queue up with their portable seats to bag the best spot in the giant tents, trying, in that uniquely British way, to get the exact same spot every time. Most come to listen, many to play; some come for love, others to forget; children love it, families fall out over it, like they do everywhere else, pensioners who have been coming since it started still make the annual pilgrimage. It is a unique experience.

It didn't take long for Jamie to get into the Cambridge spirit. About as long as it takes to pitch the tent, in fact. We had arrived fairly early, but it was still teeming with people, some lugging bags and kit about, others, who had already pitched tents, lolling about on the grass drinking and relaxing. We found a spot near a tree, with good access to the toilets and close enough to the roadway to be able to find our way home late at night. I had learned from experience over the years that this is important: the lack of lights, surfeit of alcohol and preponderance of guy ropes combine to create a potentially hazardous journey.

We set about erecting the tent and gathered our belongings inside it. It was a blisteringly hot day, eighty in the shade, of which there was none, and we were dripping with sweat after our exertions. Those of you who know about camping will appreciate how hot it can get erecting a tent, particularly when you have to poke about inside, tieing it to the frame. I opened a couple of cans of lager and we sat in the entrance, taking in the melée around us.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Hmm, yeah, it's cool." From Jamie, quiet, unassuming Jamie, this was praise indeed.

He was wearing shorts, and as he sat cross-legged on the mat I rested my hand on his thigh, stroking idly, running my fingers through the fine, downy hairs of his leg. He developed goosebumps on his arm and I realised I had turned him on, so I playfully continued stroking him, gradually running my hand further up his thigh, towards his crotch. He said nothing, but swallowed nervously at his lager. His shorts were fairly baggy, and there was plenty of room for me to slip my hand up them towards his boxer shorts. I rested my hand against his cock, encased in the fabric of his shorts and, I noticed with quiet satisfaction, already quite hard.

All the while people were passing to and fro in front of us, some nodding at us, some making a comment, others simply getting on with their business. I quite liked holding my lover's prick in such a public place, revelling in the naughtiness of it.

I wormed my hand downwards and under his boxers and probed, finding his balls, hot and sweaty and lovingly fondled them.

"God, Harriet, careful, people will see," he said in alarm as my ministrations began to cause obvious signs of movement in his crotch. I grinned and kissed his cheek, adjusting my position and grabbing hold of his erect cock. I couldn't get a good enough grip, however, and released my hand from the leg of his shorts, attacking instead from above, slipping under his waistband and getting a firm grasp of his cock. I began to stroke my hand up and down his length, nibbling at his ear as I did so.

"Oh God, cut it out," he cried. He was such a shy boy, so anxious to avoid the limelight. It was what I loved about him, his lack of ego, his dislike of showiness, his determination to get through life without anyone having noticed him. What I also loved about him, though, was his body, and I intended to have it. There and then.

"Come back into the tent then," I breathed into his ear. "I want you now."

"It'll be too hot in there,"

"Well we'll keep the flap open then."

"Then people will see us."

"So make your choice Jamie: fried or exposed?" I dragged him back into the tent, ripping at his tee-shirt and yanking it over his head. We sat on our knees facing one another. He made a show of putting up a struggle, but not enough to deter me, and I clasped my mouth to his, my tongue rolling over his lips, his teeth, and probing deep inside him. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling his skin drag under my nails, tweaking his nipple, resting against his taut stomach. I angled my hand down and anchored my thumb under the waistband of his shorts, dragging them down to his knees. His cock was now completely exposed and as he rested on his knees his vicious erection would be clearly visible to anyone walking past. I grabbed it and began wanking him again, running the palm of my hand underneath and rubbing up and down its length, wrapping myself around his head and stroking it firmly. He always loved that, and he groaned with pleasure.

I stretched out in the tent and leaned my head towards him, tongue outstretched, and began to lick his thighs, higher and higher, until I started kissing and licking all around his balls. Cocking my head, I stretched out and started licking under his balls; moving his legs slightly, he afforded me more room and I stroked my tongue up and down his perineum. Gently, I popped a testicle into my mouth and began to suck it, then gathered up the other one and did the same to it. As I progressed upwards I reached the base of his upright cock and ran my tongue up and down its length. At its tip, my tongue played with the little folds of skin which attached the remains of his foreskin, flicking them to and fro, pulling them into my mouth, before reaching up and, arching my back, slipping the entire glans into my mouth.

I began to suck hard on his cock, sliding my mouth up and down its length, sucking in my cheeks to ensure there was plenty of friction. As I did so I positioned my hand beneath him and began to graze my fingers up and down, from his balls to his arse, dragging my nail against him. He gasped and widened his stance again, allowing me more room. I drew little circles with my nail on his perineum, gradually sliding further and further towards his arse, prising my fingers between his clenched buttock cheeks towards his hole. Sucking on his cock I began to press my finger against his puckered arsehole, probing at it, pushing against it.

He was very tight and I didn't think I was going to be able to penetrate. I removed my finger and licked it, getting it as wet as I could, then slid up once more to his hole. He moaned and I felt a spasm in his cock as my finger found its target and began to press against it again. He pushed himself down slightly on me and with a pop I felt my finger slip inside him. Wriggling it about, I managed to push an inch or so inside him and began to rotate my hand, finger rubbing against the walls of his backside.

Jamie was breathing in short spurts now, his hands resting lightly on my shoulders as I continued to suck heartily on his throbbing cock. I knew he would come soon and pressed my finger deeper inside him, as deep as I could manage, while increasing the force of my sucking on his prick. With my free hand I began to wank him gently, rubbing my hand up and down his length as I sucked his head into my mouth.

His hands tightened on my shoulder and he emitted a low groan.

"Oh God, I'm coming,"

I speeded my actions, thrusting my finger up and down in his arse, sucking as hard as I could and wanking his cock with force. I felt a jerk and a spasm, then a brief pause before a jet of spunk spattered the inside of my mouth, followed by another, and another. I pushed my finger to its deepest extent and sucked deeply as he continued to jerk into my mouth, the flow of liquid gradually drying up and finally stopping altogether. I stopped sucking, but kept my mouth wrapped around his cock, enjoying the sensation of its last few involuntary spasms.

I grinned.

"Well, I'm okay Jamie, I'm still fully dressed. But what about you? Half the campsite's probably seen your tadger now, lover boy..."