Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is an attempt at doing something different ...  in that the bulk of
this is told in flashback and alternates between His and Hers points of
view.  Hope it works ...  but do let me know!

   There are a few explanatory notes at the end ...

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   It wasn't quite brandy and cigars time, but I found myself pontificating
to the Young People.

   "Course, festivals weren't festivals the way you know them, those days.
No fence, no security - hell, no tickets - and no camping fields ..."

   "No toilets, either, though," the wife interjected, "but, yeah, it was
'free', put your tent where you wanted - not near the stage generator, by
preference - buy and sell drugs from whoever you wanted and, well, shit
where you wanted.  Bit of a public health nightmare, really, but it worked
for us".

   Number one daughter looked severely unimpressed.  "I'd miss my hair
dryer, I think.  But just how did you two meet?"

   My wife got a bit of a dreamy look, suggesting a serious burst of
nostalgia approaching.  "It must have been about 4am, I guess.  The sun was
coming up, anyway, and the obsessive Hawkwind fans camped next to our tents
had finally shut up for a while.  I was awake, anyway, lying in my mate
Bella's geodesic dome, a couple of bodies in sleeping bags in there with me
- well, a couple of sleeping bags, anyway, might have been more bodies -
remains of the fire still just about smouldering outside, our cassette
player still beside it.  And beside that, a pile of roaches, some still
viable.  I crawled outside, found a lighter, lit one.  Maybe two or three.
Day two of Chanctonbury 81 was looking up - or maybe just a bit hazy -
already ..."

   Daughter's boyfriend cut in, "OK, so you were lying in shit, getting
stoned, I think we get the picture.  How about you?  Also in the dome?"

   "Nah ...  this is the story of how we met, remember?" I paused. 
"Actually, I hadn't been to sleep.  Hadn't bought a tent, or a sleeping bag
come to think of it - I'd hitched down so I was travelling light.  Brought
my guitar, of course - didn't go anywhere without it, those days - but, hey
it was summer, so no real problem dossing in the open ..."

   As the conversation continued, I knew both my wife and I were
remembering ...

   ************ Finally, the sun was coming up, the sky just streaked with
pink and lemon, a few early stragglers beginning to wander towards the
Ring. I gave the fire I was sitting by a final prod, wrapped my chillum in
its scarf and stood up, nodding to the guys I'd been sitting with.  I doubt
any of them noticed; they were all pretty far gone.

   I'd always liked the dawn and the festival site looked almost bucolic at
this hour; the tents and benders somehow more solid, and the buses and
trucks seeming almost magical.  Later on, in full daylight, it would all be
revealed as a chaotic mess, the Convoy vehicles as the vaguely legal rust
buckets most of them were.  For now, though, the place was almost silent,
just a few straggles of wood smoke rising across the fields, even the kids
thankfully asleep.  Not for the first time, I wondered why I bothered to
come to these things.  The music was usually shite - even the good bands
too out of it to play and the PA often a bodged together pile of crap - and
I'd never really been a sociable soul, so meeting lots of interesting new
people was hardly the incentive, either.  Even if you could find someone
capable of having a conversation about something other than some tantric
bollocks or what the best acid around was.  Actually, finding anyone
capable of even that level of communication could be difficult.  Unlike the
acid, which wasn't hard to find at all.  Ah, well, I grinned to myself as I
walked on, maybe that was the motivation ...

   ************ Outside Bella's dome, it was a lot chillier than I'd
expected.  I scrabbled around for some firewood for a bit, vaguely thinking
that I'd have a go at getting the fire back alight and then remembered that
we'd crashed when we'd burnt the last wood we had - and it was too dark ...
or too far ...  or everyone was too stoned - to go and gather some more.  I
thought that maybe adding some clothes to the thin rayon dress I had on
would be a good idea and eventually got it together to crawl back into the
shelter to grab something warmer.

   Yep ...  definitely more bodies than sleeping bags, and bodies now
seriously getting to know each other ...  I think it was Bella's arse I saw
gyrating in front of me, no idea who the guy being serviced underneath her
was.  Ah, well - still needed those clothes so I groped around a bit more
in the darkness and found ...  I was ..  well ..  groping.  Which is to
say, I found I had a very erect penis under my hand ...  with another hand
busily stroking it, as well.  Oh ...  yeah ...  another guy - I didn't know
his name - busily beating off watching B & friend.  Takes all sorts, I
thought, grabbed an old wool jumper as my eyes became more accustomed to
the gloom, beat a slightly hasty retreat.  The unknown wanker looked really
disappointed when I didn't stick around to help out, but ...  well, I
didn't know where he'd been.  And didn't want to speculate all that much,
either.  Back outside, I was sort of happy to see that the jumper was an
old Arran one I'd actually bought with me - so nice to be wearing my own
clothes for a change - and plenty warm enough for the weather.  Which was
just as well as I knew some of the guys hereabouts had a fairly basic view
of sexual relations, meaning that I'd prefer to move away from the dome
before Unknown W got slightly straighter and decided I owed him something.

   So I wandered off.  It really was a beautiful morning.  The Ring was the
obvious place to go, or maybe head to Eat Street and have a go at blagging
a cup of tea off one of the vendors there?  Nah - both were liable to get
busy quite rapidly as people emerged for the day.  So I went the other way,
instead, towards the trees on the far edge of the site.

   ************ I knew there was a water bowser over by the edge of the
field and I needed to at least splash myself down, so I headed that way.  A
few people said hello as I passed, more simply ignoring me and the rest of
the world ...  probably still stoned, trying to cope with the intricacies
of making tea without an electric kettle or maybe just wondering what the
hell they were doing in the middle of this field.  I did notice a couple of
magpies doing a good job of clearing up odd items lying around - mostly
shiny ones, such as discarded foil wraps.  I wondered vaguely if they could
be trained into teams, help with the shit shifting when everyone finally
moved on.  Then I began wondering whether all the foil wraps in question
had actually been thrown away or had just been mislaid.  Ah, well -
anything lost that way would be easy enough to replace ...  and a stoned
magpie might even be entertaining.  Though maybe not for the magpie.

   Which thoughts kept me at least amused until I found the water and did
the necessaries - or, rather, the bare minimum, which in this case involved
my washing my face and arms to remove at least some of the grime.  Someone
had rigged up a sort of shower attachment but the day was still too cold -
and the site generally too filthy - for that to be particularly tempting.
Instead, I spent a minute or two sitting on the tow bar of the truck,
tugging some of the knots out of my hair, and then picked up the guitar,
thought better of it and pulled my pipe out of my jeans pocket.

   Then I thought better of that, too.  I could hear a thrush singing in
the distance and realised that it could be the musical highlight of the
week.  I set off towards the small copse just at the far side of the field.

   ************ Once I'd started walking and the sun came up fully above
the horizon it began to get quite a lot warmer quite a quickly.  I shrugged
the jumper off, again, and with it the slightly creepy memory of my hand on
a really greasy penis.  Not that I had a problem with giving the odd
handjob, I just kind of liked some sort of notice ...  or at least to
exchange a few words with the recipient before hand.  Yuck, I thought,
tying the jumper round my waist with a slightly savage jerk.  Actually, it
ended up being quite tight, but I noticed that it pulled the dress close
against my breasts ...  which felt ...  quite good.  OK, I admitted to
myself, Mr Wanker was a bit off-putting, but my brief view of Bella
impaling herself had been ...  a bit ...  exciting.

   Strange what you can learn about yourself crashing in a field with
virtual strangers.

   ************ The copse turned out to be a mix of alder and ash, with dew
still speckling the many cobwebs spun throughout the undergrowth.  A couple
of great tits were flitting amongst the trees but there was no sign of a
thrush.  Well, they can be shy birds, so I sat down on a tree root and
began to pack the pipe.  I thought yet again that it was a beautiful
morning, pleasantly surprised to have such a beautiful place to myself.

   This, of course, was the wrong thing to think.  I'd just decided that it
was now warm enough to lose my t-shirt and make myself comfortable on my
perch, when I heard feet crunching through the brushwood.  Bugger.  Then I
heard someone whistling softly - oh, joy, I thought, all this and sound
effects, too - and eventually a female voice softly singing.  Ah, well, I
thought ...  might as well introduce myself.  I picked up the guitar and
began to softly play along with her song.

   ************ Frankly, I was still thinking about Bella's bum ...  or
about how long it was since anyone could have seen me doing something
similar.  Not that I'm into women - much - and exhibitionism had never been
my thing, but I had to admit that it was a long time since I'd had a shag,
and a lot longer still since I'd had a worthwhile one.  Say what you like,
the hippy-anarcho-punk scene quite often failed to live up to its public
image.

   I was, though, I realised, quite horny and I found my hands brushing
against my nipples as I walked into the wood.  I may have started whistling
- I do that, when preoccupied - maybe even begun to sing.  I was definitely
preoccupied ...  actually wondering whether I could sneak a quick wank
myself ...  when some arsehole started strumming a bloody guitar a few
metres away.  Shit, I thought ...  so much for a moment of - umm - splendid
isolation.

   Turns out it was a guy lying on a tree root, wearing nothing but a pair
of tatty jeans and a pair of boots, looking at me over the soundbox of an
equally tatty guitar.  He smiled at me, teeth showing white amid a
strangely neat beard, waved a small hash pipe in my direction.  Ah well, I
thought ...  might as well say hello.

   ************ What came into view was a woman in a long blue dress, worn
over the obligatory Convoy Boots and with a grubby grey jumper tied high
round her waist.  Her hair was long and the way it flowed over her
shoulders suggested that it had actually been washed fairly recently.  She
was looking at me with intelligent eyes and there was an air of amusement
to her expression that I found intriguing.  As I did the fact that her
breasts were clearly outlined against the thin material of her dress ...

   I politely concentrated on looking her in the eye, however, and for some
reason waved the pipe at her, pretty much the universal gesture of welcome
in these circles.  She came over to me, sat on her haunches just in front
of my root.  I handed her the pipe and my zippo, watched her light the
thing with practised ease.  She took a drag, coughed slightly and handed it
back.  "First of the day", she apologised, and I agreed it was for me, too,
also taking a drag.

   "Well, probably ..." I went on.  "I don't think I actually got to sleep
last night, so its a bit difficult to say, really."

   "You've been here all night?" she asked, sounding highly amused ...  but
it was a hot pipe good dope, after all.  I explained about the thrush, said
I thought that it would resume singing if we were quiet.  At which she
nodded, and said nothing in reply.  Instead, we passed the pipe back and
forth in companionable silence.  I watched her as she sat back on the
ground, eventually stretching out on her back.  Her dress had ridden up
almost to her knees, and the jumper had become a pillow at some point.  Her
breasts rose and fell gently, but if she was asleep she was remarkably good
at smoking dope at the same time.  Whatever, I thought, and lay back
myself.

   On cue, the thrush began to sing.

   ************ I lost all sense of time.  The guy with the guitar turned
out to be some sort of bird freak, told me about lots of stuff he'd seen
over the previous days around the site, none of which I'd noticed. 
Something he said was a thrush started to sing and I was entranced - I live
in a squat in South London and bird life is not a big feature of the area.
This morning, though ...  I don't think I've ever heard anything more
beautiful.  I tried to work out the structure, imagine the chords but it
was too complex, too fluid ...  too perfect.  So I listened, instead,
intently, with an avid concentration that was not entirely to do with being
out of my box.  Time passed, the bird went on to other things.  We
continued lying there in silence.

   After a bit, I decided that a spliff would be in order and rolled over
to put one together.  I thought the guy was probably asleep but he was
watching me, instead, in a friendly sort of manner.  Actually, he seemed a
friendly sort of bloke - some sort of academic, I guessed, or maybe a
mature student.  Despite his clothes and generally bedraggled appearance he
didn't seem to be a full time crusty.  Nor was he making any sort of
attempt to chat me up, which was nice, though he'd certainly checked out my
tits earlier on.  Instead, as I stuck the papers together, cooked the hash,
he started asking me about me ...  with apparently genuine interest.

   ************ I found that my associate's name was Heather, that she
lived in the infamous Cold Lane squats in London and was down here with a
bunch of friends from thereabouts.  Didn't seem to be in any great hurry to
get back to them, which was fine by me.  By now, I was happy she was here,
happy to be sharing the spliff she handed me, happy to be able to talk to
someone sensible for the first time in days.  Well, for a while, anyway ...
I was definitely getting really rather stoned, I thought, as I managed to
lose my balance on a perfectly level tree root and went tumbling down to
land pretty much on top of her.

   ************ In fact, I was so relaxed in this guys company - his name
was Dave, I'd found, and he was an academic - well, post doc - at one of
the London Unis - that it came as a considerable surprise when he suddenly
lurched on top of me.  Which, of course, some people consider to be an
acceptable approach to getting to know the opposite sex, but which doesn't
work for me.  Actually, I managed to get quite pissed off, quite suddenly
and tried to get out from under him at the same time as trying to get him
off me.  We were both so out of it that it took some time to realise that
he was actually trying to do pretty much exactly the same thing and that
the lurch had just been an accident ...

   At which point we both started giggling hysterically, then laughing
aloud ...  still quite entangled with each other ...  and I hugged him,
close, to apologise for my over reaction, to say it was OK, to ...  I don't
know.  But it felt right at the time.

   ************ So one minute I'm sitting on a tree, the next I'm on the
ground wrestling with a woman I hardly know and the next I'm in a deep
embrace with her.  The data processing and analytical bits of my fore brain
gave up the ghost at this point and I simply hugged her back ...  she smelt
good, the lower brain considered, and the feel of her breasts pressed
against my bare chest, and my hand against her thinly clothed back ... 
well that was pretty good, too.  Things happened in a biological way,
really, and with creeking inevitability I was very soon pressing a distinct
erection into her thigh.

   Being male can be a serious piss off at times, I thought, even as I
realised that she wasn't attempting to move away, appeared, indeed to be
pressing herself against me.  Ho, hum, I thought ...  as well to be hung
for a sheep than a lamb ...  and kissed her.

   ************ Things started going really quickly and I found that I
wasn't laughing any more ...  and I certainly wasn't trying to break the
embrace.  Actually, as he stroked my back and I pulled him against me, I
felt his erection grow and press against my thigh ...  as he must have felt
my nipples harden against his chest.  He started to kiss me and I responded
enthusiastically.  My hand slid down to his bum, sliding inside the back of
his jeans as I ground my groin against his thigh.  His hand came round to
squeeze my right breast, squeezing my nipple gently.  I pushed him away
from me, briefly, sat up just long enough to pull the dress off and then
sort of rolled onto the ground, pulling him down on top of me.

   ************ I found myself playing with a small but nicely formed
breast, a nipple hard through between my finger and thumb ...  when she
pulled away ...  Before I could even get disappointed, she sort of
amazingly lithely, half sat up, quickly whipped off the dress and pulled me
down so that I was lying between her legs - I was impressed by the
athleticism even as I realised that I now had my dick pressed directly into
her bush.  She still seemed happy, though, so I began to dry hump her,
arching my back so I could nuzzle her tits as I did so.  Her hands moved to
the back of my head and pulled me into her, then moved down to my arse and
pulled me harder against her down there, too.

   Which carried on for a while until I felt her trying to get her hands
into my jeans, again, so I pulled away slightly, opened the belt and
shrugged them down to my ankles, still attending to her tits the while. 
She moaned slightly, reached down and I felt her hand on my dick, squeezing
gently and pulling me down towards her.

   I rolled onto my side - the ground was soft and mossy, a bit if my brain
registered - and I reached down to help ...  her legs and thighs were
glistening wet, her labia hugely dilated and her clitoris standing clear at
the cleft of her lips ...  I gave it a gentle rub, getting another moan ...
asked if she was OK, protection wise...

   ************ We were now lying beside each other, my hand slowly
stroking his penis, his hand gently moving across my clit.  He asked me
whether it was OK and I told him I was on the pill - impressed that he'd
cared, actually - then just pulled him towards me.  It was almost the
zipless fuck of legend - he just went straight in, filling me in an instant
and I clamped myself around him.  He began to move slowly, kissing my
nipples again, gradually moving faster as I moved faster against him. 
Soon, he was thumping into me with rapid, intense strokes and I felt myself
beginning to lose control, as waves of sensation swept over me, his dick
buried inside me, his pubes grinding against my clitoris.  I knew it
wouldn't be long, felt myself tighten and with a tiny scream I came
violently around him.

   ************ Her orgasm was rapid but seemed to be quite - umm - vivid.
I felt her go limp beneath me, slowed down my motion till I was barely
moving, just gently gyrating against her, and hugged her to me, kissing her
on the forehead and then on the eyelids.  She smiled at me, shyly, murmured
something grateful and I kissed her again to shush her.  After a little
while, she squeezed me with her vagina and moved away slightly, so that my
dick was pulled out of her as she turned round and sat knelt on her hands
and knees, shoving her arse towards me.

   I thought the invitation was clear enough, so I moved up behind her,
guided myself back into her from behind, my hands gripping her buttocks and
with my thumb just gently moving against her arsehole.  She began to grind
back against me so I began to thrust into her, slowly at first again, then
faster.  She pushed her hips back against my hand and my thumb slipped
slightly into her ring, causing another moan, so I pushed a bit harder and
it slipped in to the first knuckle.  With my other hand, I reached below
her and started to play with her clitoris while she reached down and cupped
my hand as I did so.  Again, she started to move more rapidly, began to
gasp and sob.  I simply kept up the motion and tried to hang on - it wasn't
easy to maintain balance, frankly - while she did the work.  It didn't take
long, even for the second time and she shuddered again as her vagina
spasmed around me and she collapsed forward with a long, satisfied moan.

   ************ Actually, I fell asleep after the second orgasm, woke to
find Dave watching me tenderly.  He'd taken his boots and jeans off so was
sitting naked, eyes mostly on me as he rolled another spliff.  His dick was
hard and stood almost vertical ...  I realised that he hadn't come and was
quite impressed ...  this was definitely the best fuck I'd had in years. 
He noticed that I'd come round, at least slightly, gave the spliff a final
shake and handed it to me with a smile.

   I took it, aware of the sun warm against my bare skin, dappled with the
shade of the trees above us and noticed that I was still, absurdly, wearing
my boots.  I lay on my back and smoked, while he watched, then gently began
to stroke his erect member.  He stroked my breasts, murmuring something
about how he could never come when he was stoned and fucking - or just
fucking stoned, he added, painfully, but ...

   He didn't last long, his penis twitching in my hand suddenly as great
globs of semen arced into the grass between us.  It was also, I thought as
I passed the spliff over to him, the nicest dick I'd felt that day ...

   ************ I dragged myself out of my reverie as Heather finished her
account of her meeting.  The eldest daughter was looking distinctly
unimpressed.

   "So that's how you two got together?  You got completely stoned and fell
out of a tree on her?"

   "Well," I said, "Sparing the odd gory detail ...  yes.  That's how we
got together..."

   ooo+++ooo+++ooo+++ooo

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