I could hear her wadding up the paper, and wiping, but there was no flush. I sat silent holding my cock, and listened. I could hear her breathing, and...a strange sound. Almost as if she was running her hands through her pubic hair. I continued to listen, and soon I could hear her pussy getting wet. “There is no way, that this beautiful woman is masturbating in the stall next to me,” I thought to myself. It has to be something else… Slowly her breathing increased and I could definitely hear her. The warm, damp air inside the tent was heavy and ripe. A subtle but powerful mélange built slowly as the minutes passed. Smoke from our clothes, day old Samsung, the sweet smell of SPF40, and the wonderful tang of a healthy woman played in the air between us. At times each scent drifted through my mind like a waking dream. Moments later they would merge into such an overwhelming bouquet of fragrant mnemonics from the day that the sum threatened my sanity before they dissolved into their. More

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