Folding the map up (Explorer 117), Karl had said, “How many of these maps are there anyway? We should have sex on every one.”
The Ordnance Survey website revealed that there were 403. And it revealed the sheer extent of the undertaking. Starting at number 101, it ranged from Scilly to Shetland, encompassing the Outer Hebrides too
It had taken ten hours to drive to John O’Groats, a night of camping beside a half-derelict hotel in which only the lager pump in the sticky-floored bar seemed still to function, and an hour’s ferry ride to reach Orkney. After all that, they decided to stay for a week, pitching their tent on a public site near Stromness harbour. They could have travelled on to Shetland, but that would have meant bagging ten maps in a week. They’d learnt from Cornwall not to do too much. It wasn’t that Hannah didn’t want to shag Karl morning, noon and night. The thought was heaven. But they’d found the pressure to complete their itinerary actually dampened their libidos for the first time ever. And Orkney had its own challenges, spread as it was across numerous small islands. This trip was six maps. Including the late-night fumble they’d had behind a wall at John O’Groats, sheet number 451.
The sky was lightening to the east. Hannah hoped there would be no other dawn visitors to the Stones of Stenness, their chosen spot. Mostly, they had looked for discreet, sheltered nooks in the landscape away from tourists and housing and small children. But there were some places where you just had to go for the full visitor experience. On the scree of the cloud-blanketed summit of Snowdon. In the shingle on the bonny banks of Loch Lomond. Lying in prickly grass atop the white cliffs of Flamborough Head. Dawn was usually quietest. The great thing about Britain was that you could always find a peaceful, secluded spot even near to the biggest, busiest city. An acre patch of ancient woodland or a hidden, mossy stream glade. Even London had quiet glades in its historic royal parks. But they’d learned in Wolverhampton (No 219) to look up the local dogging spots before they decided on a visit between dusk and 2am again.
“It’s coming up on the right. Should be a lay-by,” she said. “You get a standing stone on its own first.”
“They liked their phallic symbols up here didn’t they?” Karl said. “Great big cocks pointing to the heavens. As well as all those dark passageways into the womb of mother Earth.”
“I guess fertility was a big issue when you’d starve if your crops didn’t grow or your animals didn’t breed.”
They’d already visited Maes Howe, taking the official tour of the chambered cairn. The dour-faced guide didn’t seem to appreciate the sexual connotations of the speech she had off by heart. “The low passageway opens into the belly of the earth,” she said in the sing-song voice of someone on their fifth recitation of the day, “pierced by a shaft of light at midwinter that penetrates all the way to the far wall of the chamber.”
Karl had created his own mash-up of her words later in their tent. He made them sound a heck of a lot more rude. “I’m stooping to pierce the low passageway,” he breathed as he bent his head to her pussy and rolled his tongue to push the tip inside her. Rasping it up to her clit, he slid two fingers inside her cunt. “Penetrating into the womb of the earth goddess, opening her up to the midwinter shaft.” She rocked on the airbed as he shuffled his knees up to place the tip of his cock at her entrance. “The shaft forces its way in, flooding her with divine light.”
Okay, it did get a bit silly after a while. “Would you stop wittering, poetic as it is, and fuck me,” she said.
“Right you are, honey.”
It didn’t count. Sex under cover, whether in a building or a tent, was not eligible for the Explorer Challenge. It had to be in the open air. A cavern was acceptable as it was a natural feature, they’d decided in Reynard’s Cave in Derbyshire’s Dovedale. It wasn’t so much the risk of being caught that turned Hannah on. It was the sheer energy and beauty of nature. She’d always been an outdoorsy sort of girl, but it was only after meeting Karl three years ago that she’d taken it to a new level. Showing him round her native patch of west Lancashire, he’d surprised her while they picnicked on cold pizza in Formby’s dunes. She’d vowed never to have sex on a beach without a blanket again. But she certainly intended sex on a beach to be part of her future with this gorgeous hunk of a man. And on mountains. And riverbanks. Forests. Fields. Big open landscapes with wide skies or folded valleys damp with moss. The earth pulsing with life beneath you and the sheer joy of winter sunshine or a cool summer breeze.
Karl parked up in the lay-by and Hannah was glad to see they were alone. The light was still muted. It was past the official time of sunrise, 6.07am, but the rounded flank of Keelylang Hill to the south-east blocked it from view and gave them just a pink glow in the high clouds to go on. She’d been surprised by the landscape of Orkney, expecting more Highland mountain and peat bog and instead finding gently rolling green hills.
“Showtime,” she said, leaning over for a kiss.
“Only for the sheep,” Karl said.
“That is not a sexy thought. I didn’t come here to be watched by sheep.”
“What did you come here for, my sweet?”
“To fuck my gorgeous boyfriend in the middle of a prehistoric stone circle on one of Britain’s major ley lines.”
“Lay lines, eh? Those ancients knew what they were talking about.”
“Oh, behave,” she said, then thought better of it. “I don’t mean that. I want you to misbehave. I feel like being really naughty.”
“You mean you’re going to take your boots off this time? Makes me horny just thinking about those warm, thick hiking socks enveloping your dainty toes in cosy, woollen snuggledom.”
“Snuggledom? You are losing your way with words, mon cher.” Hannah didn’t speak French. But she liked to taunt her multilingual lover with terrible pronunciation of pigeon phrases.
“Oh, ma cherie, you are butchering a beautiful language. I will have to stop you talking further.” He placed a hand behind her head and pulled her in, pressing his lips hard to her mouth until she squealed in mock complaint. “Shh, ma petite pois, less talking, more va va voom.” He was Moroccan, via Paris, but had somehow ended up in Blackburn, working in the office block next to Hannah’s on a soulless business park near the motorway. She’d thought it pretty dull until they’d found a pond hidden in a dip between trees during their lunchtime strolls and braved its pebbly banks. It made for one hell of a screen break.
Seventy-two maps into the challenge and they still had no trouble getting in the mood at any hour of the day and in any weather. At least this morning was dry, although the bite in the air whispered that summer was coming to an end. Their breath misted as Karl let her go and they climbed out of the car. Hannah picked up a fleece blanket from the back seat and they went through a wooden gate towards the stone circle. She had picked this one, rather than the more famous Ring of Brodgar just a mile away, because of its central, flat stone, lying low in the grass. Like a pagan altar. Perfect for a fertility ritual. Two short, upright stones stood at its head. Her research revealed it had been used as a hearth. Hannah laid the plastic-covered map on its damp surface first, with the blanket on top.
“Looks a bit hard on the old backside,” Karl said. “Do you want to lie on my jacket too?”
“It’s okay, thank you. I was thinking of going on top anyway.”
“Oh. Well it looks a bit hard on my backside then.”
“You’ll survive. You said you wanted to explore your submissive side. Time for a bit of mild masochism.”
“Mmm, you’re turning me on with your kinky talk,” he said, kneeling on the blanket and pulling Hannah towards him by the hips. He lifted her skirt. It was one of those rugged khaki cotton types that were in fact useless for walking in but perfect for alfresco liaisons. The slightest breeze and you were flashing your knickers to the world. Or your ass, in this case. Hannah wore no knickers this morning. Karl held the skirt up with his fingers and parted her labia with his thumbs before pressing his face into her an
d finding her clit with his tongue. She felt the tingle through her whole pelvis as blood rushed into her sensitive tissues. She was facing north across the Loch of Harray, its rocky islands capped with purple heather. It was an expansive landscape that reminded her of Lincolnshire’s wolds. It made you feel like a giant, able to cross miles in one stride. Her throat tightened as Karl flicked over her tip. She became hyper-aware of her t-shirt brushing against her bra-less nipples. A sheep bleated loudly, making them both jump.
“Boots and trousers off and lie down,” she said.
“You are being masterful today. Or should that be mistress-ful?”
“I don’t care what you call it as long as you do as you’re told. I want your cock inside me.”
“Yes ma’am.” Karl undid his button and zip while he was still kneeling, climbed to his feet and only then realised he should have undone his boots first.
“I don’t think you’d make a very good sub,” Hannah said. “It’s not very graceful. Unless this is your way of asking for a spanking.”
Karl fumbled with the laces under his bunched-up trousers. “Spanking isn’t going to help me go any faster right now,” he smiled. Finally kicking off his boots, he slid his trousers and pants off, leaving his socks on.
“I don’t think I’ll ever manage to find men’s socks sexy,” Hannah said. “I have half a mind to get you completely naked for once. What do you think?” Cool temperatures and the need to be quickly decent if disturbed usually stopped them shedding all their clothes.
“Why not? I expect the locals are used to crazy hippies doing nude sex rituals anyway.” He shrugged off his jacket and pulled his t-shirt over his head. “Not exactly warm though is it? You’ll have to get me sweating.” He thumbed his grey marl socks off last, dropping them on the pile in the dewy grass, and lay back on the checked blanket.
Hannah took a moment to admire his toned chest and abs. His brown skin seemed to blend naturally with the landscape of tawny shrubs and rich earth. Not like her own milk white legs. She was a freckled, factor 50 sort of woman. Stepping over him, she stood astride his torso. She enjoyed the fact she still had her clothes on while he lay there stripped naked, even with the breeze caressing her butt. Karl waited for her with his hard cock upright like another standing stone. He lifted a hand to his shaft and pumped it slowly.
“Did I say you could touch yourself?”
“No mistress. But if you don’t get down here and slide onto my cock soon I’m going to throw you on your back and show you who’s really boss.”
“You’re not getting the hang of this submissive thing, are you? Perhaps I should tease your cock with my mouth, then tie you to one of these standing stones and leave you there, unsatisfied. Until the first coach load arrives. Imagine all those tourists piling off their bus and being confronted by this obscenity. And you, unable to move, with the cold, unforgiving rock pressing into your back. Exposed.”
Karl was less bothered about the prospect of being caught than she was. For him, it was part of the thrill. Of course, a man could make himself decent again with just one item of clothing. But he would strip off anywhere. He’d once got her to suck his cock while he leaned against a tree just yards from a forest track. It was a smooth beech trunk. She remembered that kind of thing. “Tell me if you see anyone coming,” she’d said. He hadn’t bothered. By the time she’d heard them, it was less obtrusive to stay where she was than to stand up, flashing her bright pink top and rustling the dry leaves underfoot. She was just thankful they couldn’t see her face. “It’s okay,” he’d told her. “I’ve got my camouflage skin on. They looked this way and didn’t see a thing.”
“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he said, bringing her mind out of the forest and back to the stone circle. “I think you should tie me up sometime. Maybe somewhere a little more secluded though. I’ll lie still now if you promise to tie me up outdoors somewhere later this week.”
“It’s a deal,” she said. “I’m thinking a tree would be perfect. Although I’m not sure where we’re going to get a rope from.”
Karl moaned. “Please fuck me now, though. I can see a tiny glimpse of pube under your skirt and it’s making my balls painfully tight. Plus, if I have to lie here for long I think I’ll need an osteopath.”
Hannah dropped to her knees over him, too high for his cock to touch her. The air cooled the moisture between her legs and brought goose bumps to her thighs. She bent and kissed his jaw, moving down over his neck to nip at his shoulder. The blanket did little to cushion the granite’s bone-chilling hardness against her knees. Strange to think that it was once molten magma seething in the planet’s super-heated depths. The only sounds were the sheep cropping the grass and the occasional oystercatcher’s cry. Karl reached up and grasped Hannah’s hips, urging her downwards, but she resisted the pull. Instead, she grabbed his arms and pushed them to the ground beside his head. She knew even if she put all her weight on him, he could push her off in an instant. But for the moment he let her hold him down while her warm breath played over his neck and earlobe. He shivered.
“I want to eat you all up,” she whispered.
“Oh, please do.”
“But I think you should eat me.” She let go of his arms, shimmied her knees up to his shoulders and lowered her pussy onto his mouth. Her skirt tented over his face. Karl sucked at her clit, laving it firmly with the flat of his tongue. Hannah grasped the upright stones above his head. Even the gap between them was like a vagina, pierced by one of the tall stones of the circle if you looked from the right angle. Karl switched to flicking her with the hardened end of his tongue and Hannah felt her innards contract. He reached under her top and took a breast in each hand, thumbs finding her nipples, circling. She rocked her hips as tension built in her thighs. Her fingers were tight around the stone and she rested her forehead on her arm, open mouthed and panting.
“Oh fuck, I’m going to come soon,” she said. Karl answered only with an enthusiastic grunt, working his tongue against her harder and faster. Hannah longed for his cock to fill her pussy, but she was too close to move now. The toes of her boots tugged at the blanket as she bent and flexed her ankles. She glanced up at the loch and her brain went wild, imagining what it would feel like to be plunged naked under the icy water or to have the cold, heavy pebbles of the shoreline pushed inside her. To be crushed against the heather, nipples bare against rough twigs. To press her hands and knees into gritty mud as she was fucked. Pressure built in her muscles and her pussy gaped on the edge of coming. Karl pinched her nipples. Hard. She screamed out an orgasm and imagined shockwaves rippling the loch.
“Christ, that was so good.” Her pussy clenched as Karl’s breath washed over her sensitised clit. She prised her fingers off the rock and squirmed along his body until the tip of his cock hit her. Reaching down, she guided it to her entrance and slipped over the head. She was still on a hormone high and groaned as she pushed down, stretching around his shaft until she was grinding her mound into his body. She braced her hands against his chest and began to fuck him.
“Can you feel it?” she asked.
He looked confused. “Of course I can feel it,” he moaned.
“No, not me. The energy. You’re lying directly along a major ley line. Primordial earth energy humming through the landscape.”
“I can feel something, but it’s your pussy still throbbing from your orgasm.” He thrust up into her in time to her rhythm, his hands on her waist.
“Stop taking the piss.” She curled her fingers to dig her nails into his chest. “I’m trying to absorb the ancient power of rock and sea and the west wind here.” She could almost believe there was something in it all, some preternatural force of regeneration.
“I’ll give you something to absorb in just a moment,” he said, grimacing as she bit her nails in deeper for mocking her Mystic Meg moment.
She lowered herself onto her forearms and fucked him fast, his cock hard as rock within her. She reached one hand across his mouth, stopp
ing his flippant comments. He moaned in response and pushed into her harder. She sensed his urgency. Felt it in his swelling shaft inside her and his hot breath on her hand. Heard it in his muffled groans. Sweat glistening on his skin in the light of the new day. She pressed her hand hard across his lips, forcing his breath through flaring nostrils. Ignoring the unrelenting ache of the granite grinding into her knees, she slid down on him hard, pumping the entire length of his shaft. His groans rose in pitch and his hips shuddered as he emptied his balls into her.
She released his mouth and drooped against his chest, his panting lifting her body as he fought to catch his breath. His cock softened inside her and she felt a trickle of come cool at her entrance. He wrapped his arms around her.
“I think you’re right,” he whispered. “That was one intense orgasm. So maybe there is some special energy here. Or maybe it’s the fact that I was fantasising about you tying me to a tree.”
“Well, we’ll have to compare the effects once I’ve done that for real,” she said. “I just can’t believe that our ancestors were building these things three thousand years ago. They’re all over the place here; everywhere you look there’s a standing stone or burial mound. And no-one really knows why.”
“I thought your ancestors were Irish,” Karl pointed out. “And mine certainly didn’t get this far north. But I had a lecturer in Paris who said the whole of culture is about sex or death. Or both. The sexual connotations are obvious, it’s just that all the fusty historians don’t want to admit it. Everything’s about sex.”
“You would say that. You’re permanently horny.”
“Only when you’re around.”
Hannah got to her feet, rubbing her sore knees and letting her skirt drop. Her inner thighs were slick. “Back in a mo,” she said. She went to the car and grabbed a flask and two plastic mugs. Another lesson they’d learned early on. Even in summer you could get pretty chilled when the heat of arousal faded.
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