(She told me that she'd taken one look at the photos on the Caving Club stall at the Athletics Union fair, and briskly walked the other way. I totally...agreed with her on caving; I couldn't see the point of scaring yourself shitless by getting wedged in a cold wet tunnel three miles below the surface, even if the stalactites were incredibly beautiful – after all, remember what had happened to Winnie-The-Pooh when he visited Rabbit in his burrow... )In the morning gloom, Malcolm and I walked. Pat giggled, and Reg laughed tears of joy. “Oh, I miss this so much, you know!” he said.“We must do it more often, then, mustn’t we?” said Pat, before suddenly breaking off again – “oh, oh, oh,” she panted. Reg knew what this meant, and he let it happen, softly running his fingers up and down her back and buttocks and gently kissing the slopes of her breasts. This time he was inevitably going soft, which meant that he felt his wife’s spasms even more acutely than before, felt his semen swashing. More

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