She and I worked together at the mall. It was a terrible job but working with her made each shift bearable. She and I couldn’t have been more different. She was very country, I was very city. She went to a cheap public school, I went to an expensive private one. She was very promiscuous, I was very monogamous.

But she was a weed dealer, so we had at least one common interest.

We tended to close the store together. We’d smoke up in the bathroom and get so high that we could barely count out the register. We’d go back to her dorm room. She had a crazy roommate who was very averse to wearing clothes indoors. She usually paraded around naked drinking rum by the time we got off work. It was a great floor show and gives you an idea of the kind of dorm it was.

Sometimes I’d pick up an eighth, sometimes not. She sold the shittiest ditch weed I’ve ever smoked, but her prices were great. Really, it was just an excuse to spend time together. Her philosophy was to sleep with every man she was attracted to and I was on the list. Unfortunately, I had a girlfriend, one that I lived with and I didn’t cheat on.

There is cheating and then there is cheating. She had a move that she used when smoking me up. She’d inhale from a joint and then lean in and blow the smoke into my mouth. It was an ineffective way of getting high, but intensely erotic. Technically our lips never touched, so it wasn’t cheating. But staring into her blue eyes, with her lips hovering millimeters away as she blew intoxicating smoke into my mouth… it was very intimate.

After I left that job, she and I lost touch. We wouldn’t reconnect for more than a decade, when I found her online. She had changed a lot, she had grown up, got her master’s degree, a large house in the country, and of course had gotten married.

In secret, we began to talk at night. Talking lead to flirting. Flirting lead to openly fantasizing about one another. She told me about her husband, how all he did was work in the City. She told me how she liked to be fucked, how she loved to be dominated, and how that had barely ever happened since her wedding day.

I used to have a brother who was a very interesting guy. He wasn’t a biological brother, but my family took him in when he needed help, and we unofficially adopted him. He was a big guy, somewhat rough looking. Despite looking like a guy that could kick your ass in a bar fight, the moment he opened his mouth you realized that he was nothing like that.

He was charming, creative, and sensitive. He was essentially a beat poet but born 50 years too late. His hobbies included writing in a leather-bound journal, roaming the country on his motorcycle, and seducing married women.

He was very philosophical about seducing married woman. He used to say,

“If you walk into a bar, find a beautiful woman, walk up to her and try to get laid, you are competing with every other guy there. If you try to sleep with a married woman, you’re only competing with one man, her husband. And she’s probably bored of him.”

I’d add that there is also a certain thrill to the forbidden. Sneaking around, trying not to get caught. The adrenaline it produces can’t be discounted.

So, when things began to get serious with this woman, I decided that if I was going to go through with this, I was going to do it right. I was going to play into the fear, and I was going to go out of my way to fulfill the desires which she had been describing to me.

During one of our secret midnight sessions, I sent her a short cryptic message over text. It simply said to meet me at hours-minutes-seconds-N, hours-minutes-seconds-W (GPS coordinates), a date, a time, and the instruction to not say a word when she arrived. To remain silent.

The coordinates were of a campground I had stayed at several years ago. It was tucked away deep in the mountains and was bordered by a tributary that fed a large river. When I had visited it before I had spent the days and nights skinny dipping with a former lover and some friends. The site was so remote that there was no one within miles of us.

When the time to meet her came, I nervously drove to the location. I had planned everything out in my head, but suddenly I was filled with doubt. Could I convincingly do the things she wanted? What if she hadn’t understood the message? What if she didn’t even come? What if she chickened out and told her husband?

When I arrived, I found her standing in a shady glen. She was not dressed for camping, she was dressed for a fancy date, in a very short skirt and jacket. That was ok. We weren’t here to camp.

She walked over to greet me, but when she opened her mouth I put my finger up to it to shush her. I reminded her not to speak. Instead, I pulled her close and kissed her while simultaneously running my hand up her skirt. If I was going to be rejected, I wanted to get it over with right now. She only pulled me closer.

I took her hand and lead her down a path to the river. On the bank, I turned to her. Our eyes met, and she gazed at me with an almost blank expression. I brushed her hair out of her face. I began meticulously undressing her, carefully folding her clothes and placing them on the bank.

Soon she was fully nude, standing only a foot away from me her shoulders squared. She watched me as I ran my eyes up and down her body. Her face was now expectant, her lips slightly parted. I reached over and pressed down on her lower lip with a single finger. She opened her mouth and carefully dropped to her knees.

I had to just stop and observer her, mouth open, staring up at me submissively.

I pulled off my clothes. She waited patiently, motionless. I entered her mouth, gently, shallowly at first but deeper with each repetition. Soon her nose was pressing against me with each stroke. She kept looking up at me her blue eyes unblinking, locked with mine. Eventually, they began to water, a tear rolled down her cheek and caught a bit of her mascara on its way.

I didn’t want her to gag and ruin the silent spell she was casting, so I withdrew. I slowly moved around to her rear running my hands through her hair, around her breasts, and traced a line down her spine with a finger. I got down on my knees and positioned myself at her vagina. I was only just barely touching her, but I could feel her radiating intense heat.

I asked her to reach back and open herself for me. I reached forward and grabbed her by the throat and breast and pushed myself into her hard. I had intended it to hurt just a little, but she was so wet and ready I encountered no resistance and entered her fully. She whimpered loudly with surprise and pleasure, the first sound she had made since her arrival.

We quickly established a rhythm. I pushed her down into a crawling position, her hands on the ground supporting her. I gathered her hair and used it as you would use reins. I began to notice that the bank was much muddier than I originally thought. Our hands and feet were getting filthy as well as everything they touched. Her chest looked like a someone had been finger-painting on it. It gave me an idea.

I dipped my hand in mud and began drawing stripes on her back and ass. She tried to turn around, probably wondering what I was doing. Instead, I shifted my weight forward and pushed her down onto her stomach, my entire weight on her ass. One of my favorite positions.

We rolled around, playing. We soon were both covered in mud. I had another idea. I got up and went to test the river water. It was cool but not at all cold. The late summer sun had kept it warm. I laid her down on her back in the shallows, and wrapped my arms around her head to serve as a pillow and to not allow her head to go underwater.

I spread her legs and entered her again. The river was wide but not at all deep. The water was flowing down a mountain, so the current was very strong. We could feel it rushing between our bodies, she looked like she was in pure bliss, at least what I could see of her as she wouldn't allow my lips to leave hers.

The sensation of the cool rushing water contrasted to her warm mouth and vagina. The sensation was driving me crazy. I could feel myself racing uncontrollably toward climax. As I’m right on the edge, something came over me. I removed my arms from under her head. I reached up to pinch her nose closed, covered her mouth with mine, and forced her head under the rushing water.

Her body went rigid with surprise. Inside she involuntarily clamped down on me. It pushed me over the edge and I began to spasm inside her, filling her. I let her up after a few seconds. We both emerged from the water gasping for air. For an instant, I worried that I’d pushed her too far.

She grabbed my head and kissed me hard. For what seemed like forever I was still pulsing inside her, experiencing the sort of long, intense orgasm that only happens when you just have met a new lover and can’t keep your hands off them.

When we eventually get back to the shore, I told her I’m going to the car to get some towels. I grabbed my keys, didn’t bother with my clothes, and walked back up the path. When I returned, she wasn’t on the river bank. She had waded out to the middle of the river to wash off the remaining mud.

While the bank was shaded by the canopy of trees, the river was bathed in afternoon sunlight. It was at just the right angle to reflect on every ripple and eddy in the water. It shined off her wet contours making her wet skin appear to glow. The is a reason there are so many paintings of women bathing in lakes and rivers. It’s beautiful.

When she returned to the shore, her blank expression had been replaced with a broad smile. She pressed her wet naked body against mine. She raised her head and kissed me tenderly. I used a towel and dried her. Then I took her clothes that I’d carefully folded and slowly and meticulously dressed her.

Soon we were in the opposite position of how we began. She was dressed, I was nude, and I was watching her run her eyes over my naked body. When we were ready to leave, we walked back to the cars, hand in hand, my arm around her waist. She stole one last deep kiss as the sun set, then left.

She had done exactly as I asked. She never spoke a single word during the entire affair.

It was like making love to a memory.