“What are you doing?” I ask, my arms crossed over my soap soaked nipples.“There’s nothing good on TV, so I thought I would come and watch some...hing else I like.” He quickly replies, his feet firmly on the ground and patience in his eyes.“You’re just going to sit there watching me wash myself?”“Do you have a problem with that?” he asks rhetorically. My eyebrows rise as the hesitation pours out of me and my hands fall revealing my wet breasts. I turn to show him the arse I know he adores. I. Her. The girl. For what would it be without one. As soaked as me. Ahead. Bolder, one must admit with a sense of chagrin. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second.. More

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