THE SEX DIARIES: Sex outside with my young lover connected me to my primal side. It was extremely satisfying…

During our 16-year marriage, my soon-to-be ex-husband and I visited many different middle-class campgrounds, but we never had sex there.

We didn’t want to increase the future therapy bills of our three children, and the other tents were too close. If we could hear little Oliver’s request for snacks from our air mattresses, they could hear what we were doing.

I was hoping things would be different when my future boyfriend Eliot suggested we go camping in Wiltshire for a weekend, just the two of us.

I still felt like I didn’t know him that well. We had only been seeing each other for half a year and not that often because of his work and my family life.

But the forecast was right. I imagined myself sitting back with a glass of rosé and watching Eliot pitch the tent, hopefully without his shirt, instead of the usual situation of me having to lug everything, including the sink, between the tent and the car, followed by children.

The campsite was promising, beautiful and remote, the pitches miles apart. The week before, my WhatsApp exchanges with Eliot had been filled with references to large tent poles.

I wanted this trip to be different to my family camping trips, so I refused to take on the role of ‘mother’ administrator. But Eliot wouldn’t do it, which meant that when we arrived at the campsite late on Friday, we had to rush to the pub for fish and chips.

By the time we got back it was getting dark and Eliot was panicking about which rod to stick where. I was tempted to shout ‘ooh matron!’ but Eliot, aged 27, wouldn’t have understood the reference.

Instead, we worked together in anxious silence until the tent was up, and unfortunately it was the only thing that was put up that night. We drank a glass of wine from tin mugs in the gloomy interior before falling chastely asleep.

Annabel Bond (not her real name) couldn’t get wild, but still found it extremely satisfying… even relaxing

The next morning my face was swollen, sweaty and red, I was more concerned with perfecting my make-up than my seduction techniques.

The problem with dating a younger man is the pressure I put on myself to look my best — even in the middle of a field. The tent was stuffy and buzzing with flies, and as beautiful as Eliot looked, lying in his boxers, his forearm draped over his forehead like a fallen god, it was more appealing to roll out into the fresh air.

We spent the day relaxing at the campsite and visited the local village fete – all very grown up.

I had time to think about how much better Eliot’s legs looked in his shorts than any other man’s, and that evening we huddled around the campfire.

But since neither of us had planned this trip properly, we had nothing to eat, not even marshmallows. And the pubs had stopped serving food by the time we realized what time it was.

The outdoor romance meant that for the first time Annabel didn’t miss her children

Anyway, it was time to get under the canvas, Eliot on his back, me on my side, my hand over his muscular stomach. As my hand went lower, he turned to me. “What, here?” he said.

“Oh,” I said, my heart sinking. “Why not here?”

“Isn’t it a little… gross?” Eliot looked up anxiously at the collection of insects under the tent’s roof. He had spent the evening zipping our bags tightly shut against insects.

‘Isn’t that exactly the point?’

“I think so,” Eliot said. He closed his eyes and kissed me, not very passionately. His mattress was higher than mine; I felt as if I were pleading with a prince.

After a while he rolled on top of me. I felt the earth pressing against my back.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m in,” he said rather dutifully.

But even in the missionary position, even with the mattress squeaking a sex signal to other passersby, it was warm. I had admired Eliot all day, and now he was mine. And there was something about having sex outdoors that connected me (if not for him) to my primitive side.

I didn’t – couldn’t – go wild, but it was still extremely satisfying. Relaxing even. No grimacing or tensing, just being one with nature.

Then Eliot decided to take the risk of standing in the campsite shower. On the other side of the field I heard a group of children being called by their parents to go to sleep.

For once I wasn’t. I had managed to have real sex in a real tent. Only tonight I didn’t miss my kids at all.

*Annabel Bond is a pseudonym. Names have been changed.