June 1969...

They erected two tents, maintaining the pretense. When Tom crept into Hank's tent, the moon hid, leaving their forbidden act to the shadows. 

Both unfastened pants with hurried fingers, bodies expressing the inexpressible. Both eager for the fuck denied them.

Repressed urges erupted into crazed fucking. Nature's an ally as cicadas concealed their grunts. 

They dreaded the return to their appropriate wives. 

June 2021...

Polly caresses Amber's hand at an outdoor cafe, then leans in for a passionate kiss. 

Onlookers smile at their legs tangled underneath the table, envious of their love. 

After all... love is love!