A Summer nights podding had me a blast!

I think I’ve told you (perhaps a few times?) that I’m a creature of spontaneity, and I’ve noticed that the more comfortable I feel with the company I’m in, the more surprising my spontaneity can be to all concerned :)

So, I was spending the afternoon and night with a lovely friend, ‘T’, at one of my favorite country house hotels this summer. We spent the afternoon by the pool, had tea, and went for a walk around the grounds, with their ornamental lake, before dinner on the terrace on a warm but cloudy evening.

Unusually, for this was a man who finds me frankly irresistible, the sexual temperature was only moderately warm despite my subtle provocations (leaving the bathroom door open while I showered, and naughtily lifting the hem of my short dress on the way down to dinner to demonstrate what I wasn’t wearing underneath). Perhaps the poor man was tired or fretting about the cricket score – who knows?

“leaving the bathroom door open while I showered”

“Lifting the hem of my short dress to show what I wasn’t wearing underneath”

Quite bare!

Dinner was delicious and the view from our terrace magnificent, across the gardens to a line of trees and the lake beyond. Dotted around the lawn and the lakeside pathway was a series of cabanas – wicker enclosures over a round king-sized day bed – ideal for sunbathing, or discretely canoodling. We decided to call them ‘pods’. (you’ll see one in picture, below).

“the view from our terrace magnificent, across the gardens to a line of trees and the lake beyond”

As dinner ended, we took our half-full glasses of wine and descended the stairs from the terrace down to the lawn, and followed the path to the lake. Along the lakeside, two elderly ladies sat in a pod, chatting over a drink. They waved hello and remarked on the beauty of the setting; we joined them for a few minutes before continuing our stroll along the lake. Returning a little later along the path as dusk fell, we found that the ladies had moved on and the empty pod beckoned us. We settled back on the cushions and listened for a while to the sound of the waterfowl settling in for the night, huddling closer as the air began to chill.

As the sky darkened, I felt some drops of rain penetrate the wicker roof of our pod and splash onto my hair and skin. Somehow this seemed to unleash the lustful beast that always lurks within me. I reached my arm around T’s neck and pulled him into a very long and very deep kiss. He soon got the message, and began to work his lips against mine and nibble my neck, which he knows I love, before breaking away to glance up to see if there were other evening prowlers still on the path, or overlooking us from the terrace above. 

Either way, the momentum of the moment seemed to overcome any inhibition he may have reserved but, in the interests of ensuring further progress, I decided to test it further by unbuttoning his jacket (we were dressed nicely for dinner) and letting my fingers explore the developing symptoms under his fly. The rain continued to patter down. I’ll swear it turned into steam wherever it touched my skin, but one part of me already was soaking, and not with rain.

“overlooking us from the terrace above”

T still seemed unsure of the propriety of our situation so I felt it best to help him commit by unzipping his trousers and helping myself to the dessert that sprang forth. Now both our motors were running at full throttle, and there was no reverse gear: I paused from my dessert, fixed T with my most intense come-hither gaze, and commanded him: ‘I want you, now, come on!’ ‘Here?’ he exclaimed, before finally realizing that this was an experience not to be missed. He took charge, flipping me over so that I knelt in the pod, facing the lights and people on the terrace; he lifted my dress and held me by the hips as I pushed back onto him. I know that we should have been stealthy, silent, and gentle, but that ship had sailed and my awareness of the world had shrunk to the confines of our pod.

Our lust spent, but still entwined, I could now hear laughter from the terrace, smell the scent of the evening flowers freshened by the rain. I felt the cool of the air, the heat of our connected parts, and T’s chest rise and fall against my back – neither of us in a hurry to move.

We slept the sleep of the righteous, inappropriately, that night. The following morning after breakfast we again strolled out to the lake, recalling and marveling at our impetuousness of the night before. I climbed into the pod so that T could take a picture of the crime scene. Here I am, post-podding 

“I climbed into the pod so that T could take a picture of the crime scene”

A new word has entered our lexicon: it’s “podding”, the active present participle of the passive verb “to be podded”.