THE SEX DIARIES: He unzipped my jeans. It was strange and exciting to have the Brecon Beacon winds on areas that never normally see the light of day...
I have always loved the idea of having sex in the open air. It’s wholesome, as well as a bit naughty. However, as a mother of three, alfresco sex was out of the question for a long time; if I had any time outdoors, it was spent at a playground.
But now I am divorced and it’s summer, my mind has turned to it again. So far I have only managed to seduce my young beau Eliot in a tent.
I am hopeful of more, but I must admit my most successful attempt to date was with my ex-husband Simon.
It was 2008 and we’d nipped away for a solo holiday to Croatia, leaving our eldest –and then only – child Hector, two, behind with my mother.
My libido was soaring, and when Simon and I were swimming one morning in the balmy waters of the Adriatic, I pulled him out beyond the other bathers and wrapped my arms around him.
It was hard to shake the worry that someone might appear from behind a boulder, writes Annabel Bond of her outdoor adventure
Sex in the sea would be delicious, I thought. The water was body temperature and provided an element of floatation. And even though we were outside, nobody could see what we were up to.
Simon had amazing lips, which were lovely to kiss in the salty sunshine. It felt romantic to clasp him around the waist with my legs and look into his eyes as we held each other in a marital embrace.
But there was the problem of his swimming trunks, which were voluminous, and as we started to have sex it was hard to get any traction, with water getting inside and out. We were out of our depth, so the motion in the ocean wasn’t going so great either.
Still, it counted! A notch on my bedpost was now labelled ‘alfresco’. And it was certainly more successful than the first time we’d attempted it five years earlier, in Wales.
In retrospect the Brecon Beacons may not have been the most sensible choice, but spring there is so fecund, life bursting from every crevice, that inevitably our sap rose too.
We were making our way up the mountain, with the hills shaken out below like a green picnic blanket, when we looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.
There was no one around for miles, except for sheep; hopefully their sense of decency would not be outraged by outdoor sex.
When we reached a viewpoint backing on to a cliff it seemed perfect.
But the sunny weather had gone – now a stiff breeze whipped my hair into my eyes, the clouds threatened rain and it was soggy underfoot.
It was also hard to shake the worry that someone might appear from behind a boulder. We’d give some hikers a shock they’d never be able to forget.
It’s good to remember that my ex-husband and I were once so hot for each other that we’d try to have sex in the Brecon Beacons and were foiled only by the British weather
But in the spirit of being British, we soldiered on, albeit not lying down.
I positioned myself with my back to the view, while Simon faced the path in case of any unsuspecting walkers.
He unzipped my jeans. It was strange, and exciting, to have wind on areas that never usually saw the light of day.
But my jeans were skinny, as was the fashion back then, and his leverage was limited. I didn’t want to drop my trousers completely. That would certainly frighten the horses – and the sheep.
I closed my eyes. Think of sexy things! Nature was in bloom. I was a child of nature. Birds do it, bees do it. Maybe a hot farmer would come and watch us... wait, was there a farmer watching us?
I opened my eyes. No, thank God. But I just couldn’t concentrate now.
The increasingly inclement weather seemed to be a little too cold for Simon’s, ahem, comfort, too.
And I was starting to worry about having to head back down the hill in soggy jeans. Soon, Simon gently admitted: ‘It’s OK, darling, I don’t think I can either.’
Still, it’s good to remember all these years later that Simon and I were once so hot for each other that we’d try to have sex in the Brecon Beacons, and were foiled only by the British weather.
But even in gorgeous Croatia I have to admit it was better when Simon and I reconvened in our bedroom.
It was right on the harbour front on the island of Hvar – almost like being outside, but with pillows and privacy.
Sunlight fell heavily on our bodies, a cool breeze inflated the curtains. I was deliciously relaxed, and my orgasm was one of the most intense I’ve ever had. I was happy, in love with my husband.
I didn’t know then that our happiness wouldn’t last, but the memory of that moment has, and that is something.
Annabel Bond is a pseudonym. Names have been changed.
