I pulled my skirt down, pressing myself back against him so that my action didn't leave him with his exposed prick waving in the air for all to see. I could sense a feeling of anticlimax in him, his body going loose with disappointment, and realised that he thought his brief, unexpected interlude was over. Boy, was he wrong. I fiddled behind me and tucked him back into his trousers, then felt for his hand, He gripped it indolently, presumably still unsure about the peculiar events which had overtaken him. Tugging him, I eased towards the exit.

Once we had finally extricated ourselves we walked in the direction of the campsite. His cum was dripping down my thighs, tickling like a team of spiders as it seeped gently towards my knees. I turned to him.

"I'm Harriet," I said.

"Louis."

"Hi Louis." It was my first chance to see him properly. He was in his mid-thirties, and a bit heavy, in need of exercise to shed a stone or so, but nonetheless he was reasonably attractive. He had a light beard and glasses, a combination which, at Cambridge Folk Festival, was as uncommon as a drunken lard-ass in a soccer crowd, but he still managed to stand out. His smile was warm and open, despite his natural uncertainty over the turn of events, and his body language, slightly tentative but still assured, suggested someone with a good degree of self confidence. Not that I cared too much about any of this: I just wanted to do my Master's bidding.

"I want to fuck you," I said to Louis.

"Why?"

Well, that was a direct question.

"'Cause you got me all excited, lover boy, with that thing," I felt across and stroked my palm against his crotch," pressing against me and squirting all over me."

"But why me?"

"Hey, leave the analysis to the shrinks. Let's just fuck."

He indicated his tent and I swept in, peeling my tee-shirt off in the same motion. Turning to face him, I smiled as his eyes alighted on my bared breasts. "Like 'em?" He nodded. "Well get in here, lover boy, and show me what you can do."

I quite like it when I can take control of a situation. As my Master's slave I am conditioned to obey, to react without thinking, to subjugate my feelings or desires to those of my Master. It is, paradoxically, a wonderfully liberating experience, one which only those who have done it can appreciate. What emerges is a partnership, one based on total inequality but at the same time creating an emotional charge which affects each in identical fashion. It is that which is so stimulating, the shared exploration of unknown territory. And yet, occasionally, it is enjoyable to break the bounds and allow myself to react in a different way. It is as though I can unleash another part of me and experience events from an alternative point of view. I grabbed Louis's tee-shirt and dragged him into the tent, pulling at it and hauling it roughly over his head. His copious stomach and well-padded breasts appeared, white and pasty, and I couldn't help pressing my hand to his belly and rubbing it, causing his blubber to shudder and shake. I concealed a laugh at his nonplussed expression and kissed him quickly, eager not to offend him and turn him towards pitying introspection.

What I like about picking up guys like Louis - single, out of condition and approaching middle age - is that often they are not getting much sex, and so when they do they throw themselves into it with gusto. Louis was no sexual artisan, that was for sure, but he was enjoying himself. His hands were roaming over my body like someone in search of a contact lens, never lingering long enough in one place to impart any sensitivity. Meanwhile he was frenziedly trying to shuck off his trousers, only succeeding in getting them twisted and trapped around his ankles. Thank God I didn't have a bra on, I thought: his attempts to divest me of that would probably result in a dislocated shoulder for one of us, at the very least.

I got to my knees and pushed him firmly back onto the floor mat. I gripped his knees and spread his legs, then adjusted his trousers and quickly peeled them off. Reaching for his underpants I whipped them off and left him lying naked before me, his cock already semi-erect, despite its activity earlier on. He was nice, a good five inches or so and satisfyingly thick, a good combination. I bent forward and pressed my hand against his balls, sliding up and gripping his shaft. I squeezed and pushed it backwards a touch, causing Louis to moan slightly, then began to wank him slowly. He started to grow in my hand, pulsing erratically as excitement overtook him.

My pussy was soaked and my stomach was fluttering with anticipation. I decided, since I had taken control, to assert myself, and the instant that thought came to me a jolt of sexual energy thudded through my womb and tingled down my thighs. In control, I thought, Harriet the slave girl is in control.

I slid up his body and perched above him. He was stretched beneath me, arms above his head in a gesture of surrender, and I wanted so much to use him, to make him mine. I lowered myself onto him, raising my skirt so I could watch as my pussy landed on his mouth. As I approached he stretched his tongue towards me, imploringly, and I smiled in delight. Finally, I sat on him, grinding myself onto his mouth and nose and chin, feeling his tongue slide against my soaked lips, coarsing up and down their length and slipping between them into my hot cunt.

Once he was firmly settled in place and his tongue was trained on its duty, I lowered my skirt and gathered it over his head, entirely concealing him from view. I adjusted myself, sitting more heavily on him and allowing my weight to rest on his jaw as I hoovered up the sensations created by his attentive tongue. He was assiduously stroking my lips up and down, sucking on them and nibbling gently, but he hadn't ventured as far as my clit yet. Pressing my palms to the ground I adjusted my angle, pulling back my arse and thrusting my belly forward then, when my clit was directly above him, pressing hard down on him, forcing myself into his waiting mouth. I felt the first touch of his tongue, a delicate, probing exploration, followed by a tentative sweep around my clit: he may have been out of practice, but he knew what he was doing. He flicked gently against me, again and again, up and down and side to side, occasionally sucking me into him, his actions, slow and deliberate, gradually accumulating a swell of excitement within me. I reached down and opened myself against his soaked face, pincering my clit between my index fingers and pressing it forward.

"Suck!" I shouted. "Suck hard!"

He took my clit into his mouth and began to suck as hard as he could as I ground myself against his chin, the short, wispy strands of his beard tickling and adding extra, curious sensations. I tensed as I felt myself come, falling forward and resting my hands on the mat beneath us. Involuntarily, I began to buck, my hips thrusting forward, grinding myself ever harder against his compliant mouth, and still he sucked, and sucked, and sucked. A flush of nervous heat swept over me, bristling my skin with beads of sweat, and deep inside me I could feel a thunderstorm brewing, my womb churning and turning with the tumult of sensations.

"Yes, yes!" I panted. "Suck."

Louis threw everything into one last assault on my clitoris and I screamed as it unleashed my climax, sending a thousand - a million - darts of electricity from my womb to every corner of my body, transfixing me with the all-embracing flood of emotion which engulfed every cell and every nerve ending simultaneously. I rode on top of Louis, ragged and rigid, my juices covering his face and smearing against my thighs, pressing myself to him and forcing him to attend to me. I thought of my Master and smiled, happy in the knowledge that he was controlling me as I controlled Louis.