"Here, what about that bridge eh?" asked a stranger who was doing the same girl as him up the arse while Vince was pumping away at the front. He had traveled up to Bristol to visit the country's largest dogging site. Sex tourism was well cool and he had already shagged most of Camden.
"Beautiful," continued the stranger nodding in what he fondly believed to be an intellectual way. It was spoiled be the rocking of the rest of his body though and he just looked like a bobble headed doll.
"I here they call it Howard these days," said the girl as casually as is it possible to be while being double teamed by people you met twenty minutes ago.
"Howard?" said Vince, "Bridges have names just like people? Wicked!"
Saying Howard's name while his cock was squeezed by this slapper's glorious cunt, was fucking fantastic.
"Howard, uh, is the best bridge I've ever, oh fuck." Vince shuddered.
He stopped moving for a second to hold off cumming. He looked at the Clifton Suspension Bridge. It was Howard in bridge form, all strong and and supportive. Alright that was a feature of most bridges, but this was special somehow. Maybe all Howards were special. To Vince anyway.
"I love Howard," he said quietly, bucking his hips again.
"Craftmanship," agreed the strange man and the girl made an appreciative noise. Whether it was of the architecture or the tandem cocks in her was uncertain.
"Beautiful," said Vince and pulled out of the girl to come, spraying his spunk in a airborne arc. He closed his eyes and saw the lights of the bridge tattooed against his eyelids.