festivalia

Was it a yurt or was it a tepee? I couldn’t be sure. I opened my bleary eyes having just had one the most perfect sleep since getting here to the festival four days ago and now here was the final day, another whole day of music, dancing, eating impressive food, learning new things and meeting weird and wonderful people.

I’d already met quite a few of the weird and wonderful, some too weird but most fascinating and creative in their own ways. I’d found myself early on spending more and more time in the World Turned Upside-Down Field somewhere amidst the entire cacophony and sounds, smells, tastes and experiences that is Glastonbury and I’d been lucky enough to come early with friends who were working here and as a result also got a free entry ticket with little obligation but to help them carry their stall stuff onto site the first day and carry what’s left off at the end.

The end was still a whole day away and here I lay in this yurt? Teepee? A yurt, now I can focus better. It feels early and my watch tells me it had just gone 6am. I yawned, stretched and looking under the thin cotton sheet that draped over me to find myself totally naked, which wasn’t all bad as it has been a shockingly hot weekend and sleep as such actually worked best. But the previous night’s I’d slept not only in my own tent but also usually with at least knickers and a sleeveless tank tee.

Totally naked was unusual.

I felt surprisingly good considering I was sure I didn’t get to sleep until late and here I am awake so early. My body felt also remarkably fresh and alive like I’d had some kind of major detox experience, In fact, I was now wondering what did exactly happen last night, and now found my brain trying to piece together missing pieces. Slowly, slowly all the missing parts started to coagulate into a whole though it was taking its time.

I kicked off the sheet as the air was already feeling warm though not uncomfortably so, ran my hands over my bared skin, feeling every inch of me, I suppose to make sure I was still all there, all here. I was. But when my hand went between my legs I felt a soft moistness, a warmth, to which I thought I must’ve had an erotic dream at some point that I didn’t remember. I brought my hand to my face and looked and noticed a white smear across my thumb and index finger.

Sitting up I looked down and ran my finger over my sex again and there it was, unquestionably, semen: a man’s sperm. This prompted more and more of the pieces to rush together in an effort to make a whole memory from last night.

I felt a huge grin opening across my face before I realised I was now remembering what happened and more to the point how I willingly surrendered too and enjoyed every minute of it.

I was dancing at one of the smaller stages in the next field to some far-out blues and was with some friends I’d only met here but found we got on like we’d known each other for years, other women who had over the past few days taught me back-strap weaving, how to use a pole-lathe of all things and face painting. Oh yes, and some juggling, which was this couple Richard and Helen, most incredible circussy people.

I’d still seen much music but found myself increasingly in this field learning and doing stuff, being sociable, and enjoying the much smaller fringe stages with some of the weirdest and sometimes hypnotic music, bands and sounds.

They were all as I soon found out quite a touchy-feely group of people, not in a creepy way, but in no expectations platonic way. Holding hands was normal with whoever as was hugging without any innuendo or suggestiveness. It felt so freeing to feel, I suppose, so freed up from the usual social constraints back home. There was more a sensual rather than sexual element to it, though I know the lines between the two can so easily blur: as they had done eventually here, particularly last night.

I know I was giddy with the atmosphere here as we made our way between hedgerows back to the yurt with the full intention of later retreating to my own tent two small fields away. I was wearing a loose boho floral summer dress with button half way down the front and long sleeves, very comfortable and non-clingy for this weather and had a gathered-look beneath the waist which moved in an out of control way when I walked or danced and hung a few inches just above the knee: perfect for a festival. Underneath I wore a simple black lace bra and purple lace Brazilian briefs knickers. Because it was so hot I also carried a spare pair. I wore a pair of sturdy canvas and organic leather light brown sandals, very strappy with a thick sole, again ideal for festivals.  I felt myself a very practical girl despite not having ben to that many.

I seem to be taking a long time getting around to last night but it’s all part of how my mind managed to snare all the bits and pieces of a rather wild night back into a single coherent memory.

There was about half a dozen or maybe a couple or few more who sat, chatted, and drank mostly something called kombucha, fermented and of many different flavours, my favourite being a ginger one, and eating granola tray bakes. All very healthy and after that evening in the fresh air a snack-attack was inevitable.

Some people floated away, not literally, though being a festival I suppose anything can happen if you let it. As time went on I found myself letting anything happen. There were three of us as far as I remember in the yurt when Saffron, who’d I’d spent most time with and whose name I loved and wanted even though she weirdly preferred mine, with whom I was half-laying against run her hands over my shoulders lulling me to a half-sleep almost, or that’s how it felt. Before long and before I really registered her hand found its way down the top of my dress along my cleavage and then over my bra as I lay there letting her as though it was the most normal thing to happen unsolicited.

It felt nice, soothing, natural and friendly and after the past few days and learning how these women touched and just hung out with each other I felt like I was almost being invited into their world for a short time. Her hand moved gently, exploratory and yet familiar, brushing my nipple through my bra and then unfastening the four button along the front top of the dress, which again I didn’t feel compelled to stop. I closed my eyes and fell into her attentions as she opened the dress down to my waist while Eloise the other women who had stayed, sat opposite and watched and drank kombucha.

Meanwhile they chatted as though nothing was happening and yet there was, her hands, her touch, touching me, handling me, my breasts becoming increasingly sensual I was finding as still I lay there feeling the weight of my body fall away and become light and yet with no intention of moving but for my breath which I listened too intently along with their voices and mine occasionally, usually agreeing on something. I inhaled the smells and scents of the yurt, of them, of the wood-smoke permeating from outside which hung above the site like a festival of ghosts. Her touches were beginning to make me less relaxed and more aroused, my nipples now erect but still hiding under the bra.

Then her fingers made their way under the cups and felt my nipples, my skin, each one responding to her touch as I inhaled deeper now. I was under no illusions that this way becoming increasingly sexual and erotic for me for sure. I moved against her almost burrowing in closer as her hand now played with my breasts enticing my whole body to follow the flow of her motions.

Saffron helped me take my arms from my dress freeing her up to unhook my bra which she did without asking as though again, it was the most natural thing for us to be doing. Maybe it was. The bra loosened as she pulled it away exposing my chest along with my tummy and shoulders already bared form having the top half of my dress removed. I felt freed as the air swooned around me, distant sounds of a beat, reggae-like drifted through the canvas of the yurt, her hands now unhindered played with me, caressed, massaged, teased my body, naked skin to life even more as I felt increasingly light as feathers.

By now Eloise had moved closer and was massaging my feet, ankles and calves, then my knees and along my thighs edging up the hem of my dress with each stroke. I breathed in yet more of the deep night festival air which proved a heady cocktail and some other aromas from inside the yurt I didn’t know.

These two amazing women where showing me such love and attention I felt all theirs, in their hands, under their spell. Perhaps they were witches, and if they were, who cared. My body felt now so alive and yet no completely in my control. Eloise continued her explorations of my legs finding know the dress was up all the way to the top of my inner thighs. I felt such warmth, comfort, alert and yet passive too.

Eventually Eloise took hold of my loose dress now half off me anyway, and pulled it down over my hips and my legs until it was off leaving me in just my knickers which I knew were already moist inside. Saffron leaned down and kissed me softly, so softly it was like melting in the most beautiful way like when chocolate dissolves slowly on your lips. She tasted me as I did her, sharing her tongue as I did mine, while Eloise was caressing not just my legs but my hips and inner thighs through my knickers until she also wrapped her fingers over them and pulled them gently away, almost apologetically.

Down my legs they went easily leaving my totally naked, as I am this morning in fact here on my own in this yurt. They both leaning across me now, kissed each other briefly then returned to my body exploring and tasting and luring every one of my senses, including some I probably never knew I had, to the surface. I trembled with delight at what was happening and it was happening to me. So unexpectedly and yet here I was being clearly seduced by these two women in a field in Glastonbury.

It felt spiritual as well as sexual in the extreme.

I felt an orgasm soon arrive on a crest of emotion as I let it go as they seemed to encourage with every single contact they made with me. Thy whispered sometimes but I have no idea what was said but nodded and agreed: to what? To anything? I didn’t know and didn’t care. My hips rose to Eloise fingers bringing me to the brink and letting my juices burst inside me while Saffron pinched my nipples making the whole moment even more intense.

They continued even while I was still coming down from it to use me for their own pleasure and for mine while they remained clothed. I wondered if I should try to undress them, was that what I was supposed to do. I didn’t feel any inclination to move though beyond breathing and squirming under their hands. Again, I felt my body tense and breathing become rapid and again they teased yet another orgasm from my body, my sex so moist and flushed and pink not and my clit so tender as to feel hot to the touch. They both smiled at me cumming for them again and again. They clearly revelled in it, wanted it, encouraged it.

On that second one I almost fainted but not quite but became very docile, even more so, for long enough to notice we were no longer along and two other people had joined us in the yurt. I recognised them, the ones who showed me juggling, Richard and Helen.

She was wearing a long hippie-like dress, white, very loose and flowing and he was to my surprise stark naked.

I surprised myself at not being shocked or worried or even hesitant as Helen slipped off her dress over her head under which she too was naked. She took Eloise’s place facing me and opened my legs wide enough to lie between and kissed my inner thigh which I knew was hot and sweating. She didn’t seem to mind but licked and kissed and traced her fingers all up to my sex where she kissed and licked and wrapped her mouth around greedily drinking me in, sucking my folds between her teeth. I arched slightly and my legs fell wider as I pushed back against Saffron who held me carefully.

I almost felt like I was trying to pull away so amazingly stimulating her tongue and technique but instead I stayed, held, letting her feed on me, until she brought me to yet another ridiculously seismic orgasm. It was almost unbearable; my body shook and felt wracked with a pleasure pain as she drank me in.

Helen was very lithe, muscular, pronounced sinews, long fingers, even though she was only an inch taller than me at 5’4”. I noticed she had beautiful small breasts, smaller than mine which aren’t big by any measure. She seemed expert at this; they all did as I was lovingly drowning in all of their presences.

Helen moved back after my body had calmed down, kissing my knees and smiling and whispering, “do you mind if Richard has a turn?” to which without thinking about what I’d been asked just mutely nodded. ON all fours he approached me like a prowling animal looming out of the shadows but with a gentle smile, almost a male version of Helens, as was his physique, also lean and toned. He crawled between my legs stroked and kissed both knees and then down onto my sex again as Helen had and lapped me up. My hips moved in time without thinking as though offering. Is this what I’m supposed to do?

As my eyes were closed I didn’t notice for a second him change position, move in closer between my thighs until I felt the tip of his erection touch my intimacy. It was wet, dripping as it smeared aginst my inner thighs, my labia, as he pushed it against my now swollen with orgasm after orgasm folds and started moving inside me with such a deliberate harmony of motion that I gave way to it, let him, in front of Saffron, Eloise and his partner, Helen, enter my body completely and begin to fuck me in the yurt.

I felt dizzy, excited, bemused, aroused, overflowing with some kind of insatiable desire to let this happen as I did. We fucked him wrapping his hands under my buttocks and pushing in as deep as he could stretching my thighs and being watched by the three women. I also realised he was bareback, we were bareback, but I didn’t mind as this is how I prefer it anyway. Did they know this?

My body moved with his now without hesitation as he hung above me and inside me over and over again. I could feel like me he was now consumed with a lust, uncontrollable, as admittedly I was too whilst Saffron continued exciting my nipples with her fingers. I heard his breath quickening, I heard Saffron’s too, maybe Helen’s Eloise’s, I wasn’t sure, and I heard mine also as an orgasm clawed its way to the surface and made my thighs grip his tightly which he pushed through regardless his erection now thick and slippery until I recognised that gasp, as he cum inside me, flooding my hips with his sperm as we all seemed to offer ourselves to this night in some strange unison, or ritual.

At this I felt soon an overwhelming exhaustion, utterly drained of energy and almost life as Saffron leaned over, kissed me intently and beautifully and Richard pulled his waning penis from my sodden thighs. I soon fell into a deep sleep still in Saffrons lap who now brushed my light brown hair with her hands like a lullaby.

…… Then I woke and found myself here, still, except on my own, somewhat disoriented but smiling for some reason until I remembered as I do and have done now what happened, or most of it anyway. And why I have the remains of some sperm between my thighs, Richard’s.

Just as I was about to get dressed in came Saffron with a huge wide-awake sunny smile, greeted me with a “good morning Flower”, which she’d got into calling me by the end of day one of meeting her for reasons only she knows. Then in came Helen and instinctively I felt a wave of guilt and defensiveness on remembering having sex last night with her partner, except she too was light and airy, even leaning over to kiss me on the cheek.

“‘Morning Emma, hope you enjoyed your initiation, you’ll always be one of our special friends now”. This is how I got used to how they spoke sometimes, a bit obscure but lovely too. “You’re welcome to stay an extra night with us before going home if you like as we are staying here until tomorrow. But only if you want”.  I didn’t take long to consider, of course I want to stay another night, and she smiled the kind of smile which hinted at that something special will very likely happen again.

This was a festival, a Glastonbury, I will never forget, nor will I ever forget them and will no doubt be seeing them again in the not-too distant future.

festivalia

© Emmaleela

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