You’re on your back now, hips raised supporting your weight with your shoulders, your feet digging in to enable you to arch your pelvis, to create greater contact, grinding and working, grasping the silicon with both hands and guiding the intensity to mirror your own.

Your breasts are swollen, nipples extended, hardened, gorged, urging, wanting. The lightning flashes as the thunder rumbles and the rain beats against the metalwork.

The trees swish and “shushhhh” their leaf laden boughs, bending and yielding as your limbs push and pull for more.

There’s a flash inside you, you know it, this energy will be unstoppable, and with an almost atomic power you moan loud gripped by your total release as the lightening inside your cortex flashes and explodes with euphoria and victory.

Emotions visually taking flight like fireflies, dancing vapor trails in a silver-blue kaleidoscope of spectral color that holds you in awe.

You begin to relax the muscles in your pelvis, celebrating the armistice of your orgasm, and as you lower your hips to relieve the muscles in your thighs and calves, the wildly shaking thumb makes clean contact with your aching clitoris and the pleasure sends your body thrusting upward, as if shocked back from the other side of your living world by a lifesaving defibrillator.

You buck with frantic, epileptic spasms, thrusting out your arm to steady yourself, your hot spreading palm slapping the cold wet condensation that’s formed inside the window.

You moan, with tears welling, as you wrestle with accepting you could be worthy of such beauty and magnificence, this second shock wave possessing you and consuming your every synapse with a mantra of messages repeating total love and acceptance.

The gods of creation are thankful for your trust and giving, and they return their feelings to you with endlessly loving affirmations.

You ease down to the bed and gently turn to the side; you see the shape of your open hand print and the condensated water droplets that dance their broken light show on the outside of the glass, reminding you of the champagne bubbles that once danced for you in a luxury hotel.

Unabated, the swollen black thumb continues to hammer at the air, but you’ve loosened your grip and the shaft has slid slightly away, allowing your still trembling clitoris and vulva to dissipate their fervor.

Thankfully, the tender inside of your thighs return to embrace one another and you rub gently at the outside of your firm thigh, much as an equestrian might rub the neck of her thoroughbred, reassuring and thanking the muscles that work so hard for their participation in the race now run.

Comforted and secure, you pull the faux Siberian fox fur further around you, before gently finding the secret button that powers down the silicone stow away, and you lay with the shaft still resting against your perfect pussy, allowing them time to love and let go of one another.

Consciousness comes calling, and you become aware of what you have just achieved, the unfettered freedom and the depth of connection.

Your eyes take a moment to look around the inside of your cabin, and you thank this vintage camper for its haven.

The rain continues to dance on the metalwork, but inside the air is warm and dry, and you descend into a drowsy dream-ready state.

You slip the soft silicon stow-away, away from you sticky thighs and pull the base of your long pullover down over your hips, to cover your modesty, and with the weight of the faux fur holding you, cocooned, you close your eyes and fall easily to sleep.