As the demon's blade causes my character to drop dead for the tenth time this evening, I bang the corner of my desk with my fist. "God-fucking-damn it. I'm done."

"It's just a game, dear," says Hannah from the sofa in our bedroom. She's got my mum's accent and intonation down to a tee.

I put down my controller with exaggerated calmness and swivel the office chair around. "What you reading?" I ask.

"Why Your Boyfriend Sucks at Video Games by Ornstein and Smough," she says, showing me the cover. It's actually a book on anime fantasy art.

"Let's do something. It's Friday night," I say. Gaming has suddenly lost its attraction.

She looks at the clock doubtfully. It's already past eleven.

"Sex?" she asks.

"Obviously," I reply. "I mean something before sex."

She flicks her phone on. "I'll check the local cinema. Their midnight movie is...The Sound of Music sing-a-long. Not exactly foreplay, is it?"

"Clubbing?" I ask.

"God, no!" she says. "Now that I've got you, I'm never putting myself back on that meat market."

"I thought you liked dancing," I say.

"Yeah, but these days I can dance naked in our living room to my own choice of music with only one pervert letching over me."

"Are we getting old?" I ask.

Her eyes glance towards our mutually owned statuette of Princess Peach in a go-kart which stands proudly on our bedroom window. "I don't think so," she says cautiously.

She plays with her phone a little bit more, scanning for local events. Eventually, she throws it down in frustration. "I tell you what, why don't we go for a drive?"

"A-ha," I cry. "We are getting old."

"No, no," she replies. "Quite the opposite. Let's do a teenage evening. We'll grab some beers from the co-op. We drive out into the countryside and find some isolated spot and, you know...relive our youth. We've still got some of that weed from last week."

"Alright then," I reply. "We can even share some kebab meat and chips from Angelo's."

"Angelo's is crap," she replies, but she's already off the sofa.

"Of course it is. That's why it's still open when all the decent places have shut." I reach for my jacket and in under three minutes, we're driving off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Half an hour later and we pull into a secluded area surrounded by trees. It's an area we know because Hannah's taken us out here for her fantasy artwork. It has appeared as a 'glade' in some of her pictures, but that took a fair bit of imagination on her part. There was some kind of wholesalers here years ago, but now the car park is almost completely overgrown with weeds. The three sides which are not the derelict warehouse are quite picturesque though.

Taking the Citroen is a good idea. Not so much because the old banger is evocative of an earlier period in our relationship and more because it needs a run out and using it now will keep the smell of greasy fast food out of the Toyota for the rest of the week. We're officially a two-car couple, but we both work at the same place, so we rarely have the need for the backup. Usually, when I work late, Hannah goes to the company gym and when she's working late, I pretend to go to the gym and play my Switch instead. We mostly muddle by with one car.

I turn the inside light on and unwrap the chips. Hannah scoops up a fork, grabs a lump of meat, and dips it in the sauce.

"This is regular mayonnaise, not garlic mayo," she complains after the first mouthful.

I shrug. "Angelo's going to Angelo. What beer did you get?"

She'd done the supermarket while I'd run into the chippy. She reaches down beneath the seat and hands over a can from a six-pack of value cider.

"In honour of our rebellious teenage years," she says, cracking hers open. I make a face, but clink my can together with hers.

We sit in silence eating and drinking. We make short work of the food, but about three sips in, I wind down the window and dump the rest of the cider out onto the broken tarmac.

Now I've finished eating, I can put my arm around her.

Once she's done as well, she reaches into the glovebox and pulls out the weed. She rolls us each a spliff and we sit there smoking.

"What you thinking about?" I ask.

"The Final Battle of the White Dragons," she says. The nice thing about being in a relationship with a comic book artist, even a hobbyist one, is they can occupy themselves for hours in their own imagination without needing much effort from their romantic partner.

There's another pause. "This is nice," she finally says.

Itis nice. Just her and me and no worries. It's nice that we have the whole weekend ahead of us.

She takes my hand from round my neck and places it inside her blouse. I slip it inside her bra and give her tit a little squeeze.

I've done my share of fondling and squeezing, licking and worshipping of her breasts over the years, for sure, but it's been a while since I gave her a good old-fashioned grope. It feels more transgressive than erotic.

She reaches a hand round her back and releases the clasp. The bra stays on under her tight clothing, but I now get a little more give to play with. I tweak a nipple.

Hannah leans over and kisses me. The taste of chips and cheap cider on her lips, mixed with dope smoke is indeed very nostalgic. It's a proper young person snog, all tongue and lips -- an unrefined attack attempting to devour me.

Now it's her turn to grope. Her hand is on my jeans. She tries to slip it in, fails, and then unzips me. If she calls me out on it, I'm going to blame the fact I already have an erection and not the fact that I'm starting a late-twenties gut. Bless her though, she ignores this and starts to wank my cock without us breaking lips. Her hands are gentle as if it's just a sideshow, the focus for both of us is still very much on the battle of our tongues.

She withdraws for a moment, reaches further down, and, just as I'm wondering what she's searching for, she finds the metal bar and slides my seat all the way back. I reach for the other mechanism and move the back into the reclining position. Hannah doesn't come back up. Instead, she starts to blow me.

I've known Hannah long enough to know when a blowjob is a starter and when it's a main course. I half-heartedly say things like "We could...", and "If you want to...", but we both know she's there for the duration. That said, I'm not sure if she's doing the naive, young girl version of head, if the alcohol and weed have really gotten to her, or if the seating position really is that uncomfortable. She's lacking her usual finesse and concentrating on getting as much of my cock into and then out of her mouth in one go as possible.

I mean, I'm not saying it's bad. It's pretty fucking amazing. It's just very ten out of ten for enthusiasm, but only about a three for technical prowess. Not like Hannah at all.

I find myself struggling for something to do with my hands. I try stroking her hair, moving a hand down her back and finally slipping it into her trousers. From our positions, I can't really get any further in than the top of her buttocks. Wherever my hands wander, Hannah just keeps going like a dynamo regardless.

So instead I focus on making little noises to let her know I'm enjoying: a moan, a 'yeah', and an occasional 'Oh God, yes'.

I lie back, take a few hits of the joint, and let her do her stuff.

When I cum, we both know it's going down her throat. She's always been a swallower, and there's not a lot of other places for it to go in this confined space anyway. She feels my orgasm mount and at the critical moment pushes her mouth all the way down on my cock. I blow my load way past her tonsils. I spasm three times and then am done. Hannah waits until she needs to breathe and then comes up.

She takes another sip of the cider, gargles it, then spits it out of the window. "That stuff is disgusting," she says. I know she means the cider, but she also wants me to ask her to clarify so she can mess with me.

"Thanks, babe," I say instead. I reach over, wipe a dollop of thick white liquid off her cheek, and suck it off the end of my finger. She looks up at me surprised.

"Mayonnaise," I say.

"Oh, right," she laughs. She's moved back into her seat now and is rehooking her bra. Then she suddenly stops.

"Hey," she says, nudging me. "See that guy over there."

I'm wiping my dick with some tissue, and it takes me a second to see who she's talking about. There's a figure over at the very edge of the deserted car park. He's looking in our direction but suddenly stops as Hannah points at him. He very noticeably adjusts his trousers, and then shuffles back off into the darkness.

"Was he...?" Hannah leaves the question hanging.

I pull the driver's seat back into position and turn on the headlights full beam. Although the whole place is illuminated, there's no one anywhere to be seen now. I turn the engine on and slowly edge the car forward to around where the guy was standing. I open the car door. Hannah pulls out her mobile phone and activates the torch. Shining it on the ground there's a large puddle of white liquid.

"I'm guessing that's not mayonnaise," I say.

"Gross," says Hannah. "What was he doing out here? Oh my God, you don't think this is one of those dogging areas, do you? He's, like, waiting around all evening to watch some couple get off."

"I doubt it," I say.

Hannah is already on her phone though. "Let's see," she says. "Dogging sites in the East Midlands. No...no...no. Where are actually are we? Fallowfield Lane. Nope, nothing."

"Probably just a passing stranger," I say. "Look, do you want to go for round two in our own bed?"

"Yeah, I think that would probably be best," says Hannah.

So that's what we do.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's two weeks later. Last weekend was taken up with a friend's wedding and we spent the whole of it in Oxfordshire. Now we're back in our normal Friday night routine. We both get off early and head home. It's Hannah's turn to cook.

"What you making?" I ask her as I come into the kitchen. I've changed out of my work clothes into something more comfortable.

"Popcorn," she says.

"That sounds..."

"Popcorn for movie night, and then I thought we'd go and get food afterwards. It's better than eating now and then you deciding you want it later and us doing a double dinner again."

"So, what you're saying is your laziness is for my own benefit," I say.

"Bingo. We can even get Angelo's if you insist."

Boy, she really doesn't want to cook.

"Fine," I say. "Get Netflix on and see what's good."

We settle on a Pixar movie and it's not up to their usual standards, but whatever. It's only once I'm back in the car with the take-away and she takes a wrong turn that I realize her plans run deeper.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"We'll eat it at Fallowfield Lane again," she says as if it's no big deal.

"We're not eating at home?" I say.

"Meh, it'll get cold," she says. "Besides, I kind of liked it last time."

"Even with the creepy dude?" I ask.

"It was like a real-life horror movie," she says. "But no, that I could have done without. Still, it was nice just hanging out outside, you know."

"Okay," I say. We don't have any weed this time, but still, I don't see the harm.

Except when we do pull into the car park, we're not the only ones there. There's a white Vauxhall parked over the other side from our previous spot. The inside light is on and there's a couple sitting there, but they're too far away to see properly.

"It's like make-out peak," Hannah says, turning the inside light on. "Pass mine would you."

We've got a full meal each tonight and she's gone for the cod. It's no great improvement and she sets it aside pointedly after only three bites.

"Wonder what the other couple are doing," Hannah says. "They're not eating."

"Not much of anything, looks like," I reply.

"She's got the window half-down," she says. "You know what that means?"

"Yes, if you're still saying this is a dogging site, it means oral sex is on offer."

"You've been doing the research?" Hannah laughs.

"If by research, you mean reading the article you left open on the office computer, yes. Whenever you do that, I generally assume there's an advert for a birthday present you want somewhere on it. Let's see, it's door open for 'come join us', it's window half-down for 'oral sex' and..."

"No, no," says Hannah, "It's window half down for 'touching allowed' and window fully down for oral sex."

"I don't think so," I say.

Hannah reaches for her phone. "Oh, wow," she says after a second. She shows me her screen.

'Carpark at Radcliff and Meadows Wholesalers (Out of Business)' is now a registered dogging site on the app. Turn off the A6204 onto Fallowfield Lane. There's even a direct link to Google Maps.

"Good site. Lots of potential. I was down there last night," she reads, "and watched a young couple perform oral sex in their red Citroen. She was young, hot and very enthusiastic. Him less so."

"You're having me on."

She hands me the phone. She's quoting verbatim. The post-dates match.

"Son of a bitch," I say.

I scroll through the rest of the messages. Sunday 5th 'dogged4life' went down there and nothing happened. Tuesday 7th 'covguy' was sucked off by a blonde woman in her forties. Friday 10th 'slutwife73' reported having a very good time. It continued over two weeks, with about a fifty percent success rate reported from the various netizens.

I click off the location report and onto the 'general tips for first-time doggers' section.

"You're right," I say. "Half-down for groping, fully down for oral sex, and the interior light on for 'please watch.'"

Wordlessly Hannah reaches up and turns our inside light off. We sit there eating chips in the darkness.

Just as I'm finishing off, I see a man wander into the car park. It's not really cold, but he's huddled up and walking slowly. He passes about halfway between the two cars, sneakily looking from one to the other.

The other car flashes its lights, once, twice, and then three times. The man scurries over. He leans in to talk to the woman in the passenger seat.

A second later, he opens his belt, drops his trousers just a fraction and she's sucking his cock through the car window.

I look over at Hannah and she's in hysterics. "Oh, Jesus," she says. She's trying to shield her eyes to suggest she's not watching what's going on but she totally is.

"Okay, look, we're out of here," I say.

"Oh, hell, no," she says. "This is the craziest thing ever. Don't you want to watch and see what happens?"

"Not really, I'm a big boy. I think I already know how this ends."

"Maybe not," says Hannah. "Look here comes another one."

This guy is coming from the same direction as the original guy. Makes sense I suppose as it's townward. If the other guy was furtive, this guy is pretending to have a stroll. I say pretending because as soon as he sees what's going on by the other car, he takes up a position, leaning against a tree, and lights a cigarette. He's mainly looking that way, but every now and then he looks over at us, trying to work out what our deal is.

"Is it hot in here?" says Hannah. "Should I roll down a window?" Her hand hovers theatrically above the controls.

"Ha, ha," I say. "Seriously, let's go. This doesn't feel safe."

She hits the button for the locks. "Happy now? Look, he's finishing."

I missed guy number one's big finale. Wherever he came, he's now shoving his cock back into his trousers. He gives a little nod to the other guy and they change positions, he leans on the same tree as the other guy goes off to get his.

"Okay," says Hannah. "You'll have to keep me abreast of what is going on."

"You can see...oh..." Her head is suddenly in my crotch and she's fighting with my zip.

"I'm not sure..." I start to say.

"Your dick is," she says. It's not fair. Of course, I'm hard. I mean, her lips are mere millimeters away. But, yes, honestly, I'm turned on in a dangerous, filthy kind of way.

It doesn't take me long to realize that, unlike last time, tonight she's in it for the long game. She's going to be teasing and tantalizing and taking her time.

Oh God. She's putting on a show.

I've been with Hannah long enough to know something about how her mind works. She's playful, imaginative, and creative. In bed as much as on the canvas. And she, for whatever weird reason, really loves me. That love is pretty much unconditional, but I do have my own neurosis. And golden rule number one has always been 'Don't be boring.'

Against, my better judgment, I turn on the light.

I see her smiling, her head still straight down with my dick in her mouth.

"Did that get his attention?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," I say. She's bobbing up and down on my cock now in a most unnatural way. It's not a great movement for giving head, but it does the trick if you want someone to see the back of your head going up and down over the dashboard.

"He's got his cock out," I tell her. "He's pleasuring himself."

"Again? So quickly?" she asks.

"I don't think he's hard," I say. "I think it's all about letting us know that he's appreciative."

"The other couple?"

It's incredibly rude for a man to ever suggest that his lady stops talking and starts sucking, but I'm suffering from a bad case of fellatio interruptus here. I decide I'd better keep talking to stop the constant stream of questions.

"She's blowing him still. He's there, gripping the roof of the car and, while I can't exactly see her face, she's clearly going to town on him. He...well, he's got the face of a man who's being given a blowjob."

"Cooking duties for a week if I can make you come before he does," she says. She redoubles her speed.

"No, no," I cry. "You cooking for a whole week is not the treat you make it out to be and besides, you'll be stroppy...oooohhhh."

I reach out and grasp the gearstick. That calms me down just enough not to cum.

"Sorry," I say. "He's done and walking off."

She raises her head up and sees I'm lying.

"That's a dirty trick," she says.

I shrug. "Every second counts."

When she starts to go back down on my dick, I grasp her head firmly and bring her in for a kiss. She struggles, I force her lips onto mine and she play-slaps me.

"Stop it will you," she says.

Then I see the guy walking over to us. She's suddenly bolt upright in her seat. I'm struggling to get my dick back into my trousers. He knocks on her window. Hannah opens it just the most minute fraction.

"Everything okay here, miss?"

"Yes, fine. Absolutely," she says. There's a pause. "Thank you."

"Right you are," he says, gives me a dirty scowl, and wanders back to his tree.

I look at Hannah and she looks at me.

"We're done here," I say.

She nods. I fire up the ignition and drive off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It's Wednesday night and I'm not expecting much from the evening. We've both been working late and now that I've dropped Hannah off, gone round Lidl, and am just heading back into the apartment, there's going to be precious little time left to do much of anything before bed. That's until I meet Hannah coming down the stairs.

"Right," she says. "Change of plans. Surprise birthday party."

"Er, okay," I say. "Traditionally birthday parties are only supposed to be a surprise for the birthdayee."

"Impromptu then," she retorts. "I'll brief you in the car."

I drop the shopping bags off, and quickly throw on something smart-casual and meet her back in the car. She's driving. On my way out, I'm trying to work out which friend has a birthday in August. Not having my mother's photographic birthday memory, I'm drawing a blank.

As Hannah starts up the car, she unlocks her phone and hands it to me.

I read from the screen. "In celebration of her fiftieth birthday, slutwife73 will be taking on all cummers at Fallowfield Lane from eleven o'clock tonight for a bukkake bonanza blowout. Hope to see all the acquaintances we've made over fifteen years of dogging in the area and also some new faces."

"So..." I pick my words carefully. "We're going dogging now. Not have a tender moment spied on. Not accidentally coming across illicit activity. You just flat-out decided we're going dogging. Do we need to have a conversation about this?"

Hannah pouts. She hates conversation. I've taken note of how she got me in the car before even telling me where we were going.

"I'm just curious. I thought we could go have a look. Just, you know, for funsies."

"Okay," I sigh. "Let's have set the rules. Rule one. We're a monogamous couple."

"Well, duh," says Hannah.

"Rule two. Neither of us sets foot outside the car. Rule three. Windows stay closed and lights stay off."

"You're so boring," she says. She's not objecting. She's clearly happy that I'm agreeing at all.

"Rule four. A 'look' means fifteen minutes. That should be enough to sate anyone's curiosity."

"Fifteen minutes from when things hot up," says Hannah.

"Define hot up," I reply.

"You know, once there are multiple people there...doing stuff. If one guy shows up early, she blows him and then we drive off just as a convoy is heading the other way, well, that's going to be really anti-climatic."

"Rule five. We are not a side show. You keep your hands off me for the duration. And your lips."

I think she's going to argue with this one but she doesn't. Probably thinks I'll cave later if she starts with a hand on my knee.

It's only nine-thirty when we park up. I think we're the first ones there. It's only after Hannah has pulled out a scotch egg, two different types of pasta salad, and a French stick and we've started to tuck into them, that I notice various blokes hanging around the edges of the car-park. A few of them crept closer when we arrived and then crept back once it was clear that we weren't the slutwife they were looking for.

Fifteen minutes later and we've polished off the food. We've still got more than an hour before the stated start time.

"What now?" I ask.

Hannah pulls out both her Nintendo Switch and mine. As I start to check the card slot, she tells me, "I called dibs on Persona."

I grumble and then go back to hovering up the last few moons on Mario Odyssey. As I hit a loading screen, I glance over at her game.

"Hey," I say. "How are you at that boss already? We've only had that a month and I've only just started that palace." Then it hits me. "Wait, you haven't been going to the gym, have you?"

"Well, neither have you," she replies.

"Well, that's different," I say sulkily. "You know I never go and were giving me face by not calling me on it. I thought you actually did."

"So what you're saying is I'm in great shape even without exercise," she says.

I grunt and watch over her shoulder as she fights the boss, noting that I'll need to develop a fire and lightning-based team with poison resistances.

The boss's doom is interrupted by the arrival of a Honda. It parks up facing us, only a couple of spaces to the right. A middle-aged guy gets out, goes to the boot, starts to bring something out, and lays it down on the neighbouring parking space.

It takes me a moment to realize. "Oh, my god! They brought a tent."

It's a nice one as well. The sort that'd be way too overkill for Glastonbury, which is the only time Hannah and I have ever needed one. This one has near-standing room height, would probably sleep four easily, and has a grand flap entrance leading onto a little matted forecourt. As the piece de resistance, the guy brings out a quartet of connectable gym mats and arranges them half in and half out of the tent.

"What's the dogging equivalent of glamping," Hannah asks then answers her own question. "Glogging?"

"Eww," I say.

Meanwhile, the woman has gotten out from the other side. She's gone to the boot as well, but we can't see what she's doing. A moment later, she's heading towards us with something in her hand.

Hannah rolls down her window.

"Rule three," I growl at her.

"They haven't started yet, none of the rules are in effect...Hiya, nice evening for it."

"Evening," says the woman. "Can I offer you lovely people a piece of cake."

"Super," says Hannah taking a paper plate from her hands and passing it over to me. I'm not really in a position to object. I inspect the coloured icing on the top in case it's shaped into something filthy, but odd are it's just a fraction of the number 50.

"Happy Birthday," Hannah says. "Slutwife seventy-three I presume."

"Yes, but I'm thinking of changing it to Slutwife eighty-one. Lady's prerogative dontcha know. I blame Ted. When we were registering he says to me, 'Slutwife has already been taken' -- I said 'What else is new?' So what does he do? He only goes and sticks my birthyear on it, the dozy nob-end."

Hannah extends a hand. "Nymphwatcher."

I glare at her.

Slutwife's face changes in a flash of recognition. "Oh, hi. Thanks for the recommendation. Good tip that." She looks over at me. "I'll be seeing you later, luv."

We watch the woman saunter back to her car, restock, and deliver more cake to the lurkers. I can't help but notice that her husband stops assembly to watch her and make sure she's okay.

"Recommendation?" I say.

"Don't get over-excited. It was just for a good cake shop."

"So, you're now a registered and active participant on the UK's biggest dogging website."

"We're registered," says Hannah. "We're registered. I'm the nymph, you're the watcher."

"Impromptu birthday party, my arse." I pull out my phone and scroll through a list of nymphwatcher comments, checking the time stamps. "You've been posting at work."

"In the car through a mobile phone hotspot and a VPN, I'm not a total idiot," Hannah says.

I sigh. Most of her posts are innocuous enough. Asking for information as one not quite in the lifestyle yet. Noting that we'd been up here and watched some of the action. I was less keen on the number of male responses chumming up to her and trying to persuade her to 'take the plunge.'

"Let's enjoy tonight," I start to say. Hannah rises to interrupt but I continue, "Within the rules we've laid down. But then we really do need to have 'that conversation.'"

There's an uncomfortable pause in our car for a few minutes, but outside finally the birthday girl is ready. She beckons the first guy over. He comes right to the front of the tent but all the other hangers-on also move closer. There is no attempt made at hiding the fact they are an audience.

The wife gives the guy a great big hug. She's rubbing her hands up and down his back and around his arse, then she moves to the front. She puts both hands flat on his chest, then as they work their way down, she kneels and a moment later she has brought his trousers down. She takes his half-erect cock in her mouth.

I pull out my phone, set a timer for fifteen minutes, and then set it on the dashboard.

As she gets into a rhythm, she undoes her blouse and lets her tits fall free. She reaches up and places his hand on her breasts.

She reaches round, grabs his arse for purchase, and then goes to town. The guy is in heaven, but he's also looking around at the people watching. None of them meet his gaze, they're all focused on her.

Just as he's about to come, she pulls his dick out of her mouth, grabs it firmly, and points it at her face. He's then shooting thick globs all over her forehead. The second blast hits her in the eye and a third one down her neck.

The bloke is embarrassed and he's quickly offering her a tissue from his pocket. She wipes her eye and blinks a few times till she's able to open it fully again, but makes no attempt to clean the rest of her face. The two exchange some variation of 'thank you' and she beckons the next guy over.

"If we're going to change our mind about joining in, we'd better do it soon," says Hannah. "That's a queue you really want to be at the front of." 

I ignore her.

Halfway through blowing guy number two, the wife moves from her knees into the doggy position. One guy moves forward carefully, gets a reassuring glance of approval, and then moves behind her. He spends a while fondling her arse. Once fellatio number two has finished and another hot load is sprayed on her face, the backdoor man takes his cue to lift up her skirt. It's not a massive shock to anyone that she's not wearing any underwear.

The wife takes this opportunity to re-angle herself. She's now positioned with her arse directly facing us. We get a front-row seat to her pussy being directly violated by two of this guy's fingers.

After a few exploratory prods, he quickly starts hand fucking her as she gets on with her third blowjob of the evening.

The husband gets out of the car and passes something into the unused hand of the fingerer. A moment later and the guy is suited up and fucking the wife. The husband goes back to sit in the car, watching everything through the side window.

Once guy three finishes, mostly in her hair, she beckons the guy fucking her round to the front and wanks off his cock into her face. Another guy moves up in the hope of being the next guy to fuck her.

There's suddenly a commotion. Her husband is straight out of the car and talking to this dirty-looking older guy at his wife's rear. There's gesturing and a lot of the other assembled folks are also remonstrating with the seedy guy. The husband steps up as if he's about to thump him. The guy visibly backs down, but when he moves back into position, the husband is still not happy. He's waving the guy away entirely. There's another repeat of the argument and now everyone has turned on the would-be fucker. He leaves the area, occasionally turning to shout an obscenity.

"What was all that about?" I ask Hannah.

"He didn't want to wear a condom," she says. That makes sense. I'd been trying not to look at the penises through all of this.

Now the troublemaker is gone, things are slowly starting up again as people start to find their groove again. The wife has gone back to her knees, full sex is momentarily off the menu and she's now taking on two guys at a time, switching her attention from cock to cock every few seconds.

One of the two finishes and he's immediately replaced. She's still giving equal attention to both guys, but somehow this new guy comes first and is replaced by yet another who also is shooting before too long. I'm vaguely amused by how much the dynamics recall playing 'winner stays on' on Street Fighter 2 in the arcades. I've lost count by this point of how many different guys' semen is now on her face. Most of the guys who have finished are hanging around, presumably hoping for a second slice of cake.

Just as it looks like the undefeated champion is finally about to finish, my alarm goes off.

"Right, that's your lot," I say to Hannah with what I hope is finality.

She does a quick headcount. "Wait, there's only three guys left," she says.

"And you're dying to watch them because...?" I ask.

"Closure?" Hannah says weakly.

I lean forward in my seat and drum my fingers against the dashboard. I'm not agreeing, but I'm wondering what my next move is.

"You still have that can of Mace?" I ask.

"Sure," she says. She reaches into her handbag and hands over the bottle. It's not exactly Mace, it's a legal alternative with a much more unwieldy name. It'll do, though. I slip it into my pocket.

I hit the inner unlock on the car doors and get out. I walk round the other side, open Hannah's door, and offer her my hand. She hesitates.

"Usual safeword," I say. She takes my hand but is still unsure.

As she gets out, I see we've attracted the attention of practically everyone who isn't actually engaged in intercourse at that moment. A few head towards us.

"Eye-balls only, gents," I say. They stop. They don't exactly form a circle around us, but there does seem to be an invisible line set at about three meters away.

I guide Hannah to the front of the car, lean her over the bonnet, and pull down her knickers. I'm behind her, so her privates are mostly obscured from the crowd. Mostly. I part her legs, unzip myself, and a moment later am inside her.

She's wet. I knew she would be. It's the only reason I'm doing this.

I fuck her.

It's that simple. In less than a minute, I'm pumping my seed deep inside her pussy. For once, she's quiet during sex. There are gasps and heavy breathing, but she doesn't vocalize. Perhaps she can't quite believe I'm actually doing this, but her usual performance instinct seems to be muted.

I'm not looking at the group behind us and neither is she. I'm very much aware of them though.

When we finish, she reaches down and pulls her knickers off. I stuff them in my pocket.

"I'll drive," I say getting back into our car.

She sits in the passenger seat, my semen no doubt leaking out onto the inside of her dress.

As we pull up at the stop sign at the end of the lane, I put my headlights into full beam and angle the turn so the name of the street is fully illuminated. I pass her some tissue.

"So," I say. "That conversation..."

Hannah sighs. "Go on then, say it."

"First...what does that street sign say?"

"Furrowfield Lane," she says. Even with it lit up in front of her, I'm not sure she's got it.

"Which is funny because you've been calling it Fallowfield Lane this past month."

Now the penny is starting to drop. "Ohhh, yeah, I guess. Easy mistake to make."

"I'll say. The real coincidence is that whoever created that entry for our new favourite dogging spot also called it Fallowfield."

Hannah is squirming in her seat a bit. "Yeah, about that...confession time?" she says mock-meekly. "How long have you known?"

"Pretty much since the beginning. I drove back here the day after our second encounter to check Google Maps wasn't going crazy. But, no, it's just you. You've been acting weird about this place for a whole month. I was trying to work out if you wanted rough sex with some dodgy middle-aged geezers, or you wanted me to get sucked off by some out-of-shape slapper old enough to be your mum...neither option particularly fit your profile."

Hannah is uncharacteristically quiet.

I continue, "But then I noticed the sign and it hit me. Creating a whole new dogging site and making it take off just to see if you could. That's you down to a tee."

"Yeah, I mean, it's just...you know it was there. And, like you said, I was worried about us getting boring, so, this seemed...new and exciting. It was just a bit of fun."

"How many fake usernames did you have to create to get this place kickstarted?"

"About eight. Plus nymphwatcher."

"Well, fun or not, you realize that I'm going to have to punish you for this," I say neutrally.

"You mean having me in front of a whole group of strangers wasn't enough?"

"It was a start, but I'm pretty sure the exhibitionist inside you enjoyed that, so, no. What I've got in mind for you is much more disgusting, far more ashaming, and definitely more dangerous to your health than simple dogging."

"You don't mean..."

"Oh, yes. Greasier too," I say.

"Not Angelo's," she cries in horror. "Please! Anything but that."

And with that, we drive back into town for chips.