As an American who likes beer, I thought I’d landed in heaven after moving to Sheffield, England.

The real ale culture there is intense, and it seemed like there was a pub on every street corner.

English beer is different from American beer in a few ways. The temperature is higher — cellar-cool, rather than artificially chilled — and the pints are larger: 20 fluid ounces, rather than 16. The ABV — alcohol by volume — is smaller to compensate, but that also means you get a wider range of flavor and style. Basically, the moment I sipped my first proper British pint, I was obsessed.

England also has a lot of beer festivals, and CAMRA — the Campaign for Real Ale — is an organization that sponsors many ale-related events. I bought a membership, attended a few dull meetings, then focused on drinking my way to enlightenment. I became a regular at my local pub and started branching out into regional events.

I’d always assumed that drinking excessive amounts of beer wasn’t great for meeting women, but there were plenty of hot beer enthusiasts at all the pubs.

My favorite was Claire, the bartender at my local pub. She was young, hot, and witty, with brown hair, a gorgeous smile, and a fascinatingly distinct Blackpool accent. We spent a lot of nights shooting the shit, and as the months passed, I developed a serious crush on her.

The vibe between us had always been flirty, but I knew better than to assume bartenders are actually flirting, rather than just being friendly. I kept talking to her anyway, hoping that someday she might be into me.

One night, after we’d been talking about the merits of British beer, she leaned in with a conspiratorial grin. “Want to go to a real ale festival with me?” she asked.

There was only one answer I could give to that question. “Hell yes.”

A week later, we ended up meeting outside the pub so we could walk to the train station together. The festival was in Manchester, and the entire way there, I kept thinking about her eyes, her mouth, and, frankly, her phenomenal body. Claire was this American’s British fantasy come to life.

Once we actually got to the festival and started tasting, I was even more enraptured. There’s nothing hotter than a confident woman, and Claire was able to identify the subtlest flavors in various samples. She chatted with the vendors and offered intelligent commentary, and every time she put a glass to her lips, I wished it was my dick, instead.

After a few hours, I was tipsy, and so was she. We giggled as we tried a chocolate-chili stout that was pretty awful, but we finished the high-ABV drink anyway. Then she leaned into me, pressing her mouth against my ear even though it wasn’t that loud in our vicinity.

“This is the perfect afternoon,” she said. “There’s only one thing that could make it better.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, my dick already twitching with interest. “What would that be?”

She looked at me with a dead serious expression. “After drinking, I like to enjoy a good cock.”

I almost choked on my own spit. “What?”

“A good cock,” she repeated slowly and loudly. “I would like one.”

At this point, a few people nearby had overheard and were looking at us with amused interest, so I grabbed Claire’s elbow and led her away from the crowd. “To clarify,” I said, “you want my cock?”

“Unless you’re suddenly a pimp, yes.”

I looked around wildly in search of a private area, but there wasn’t one under this big white tent. “Let’s try outside,” I said, hardly able to believe my luck.

I took Claire to the smoking area, but it was predictably crammed with people. That left either returning to the tent and not getting laid — unacceptable — or finding a secluded place to fuck her.

I hopped the fence around the beer garden, then helped her over. The tent abutted a building, and we slipped into the grassy space in between, giggling as we stumbled over stray ropes. Finally, we were around the corner and away from prying eyes.

I immediately dropped to my knees and started working on the button to her jeans. I stripped them down to her ankles, then spread her legs as wide as they could go, no need to bother with her boots. I put my mouth on her cunt, licking everywhere I could get.

Claire gripped my hair in her hands and ground against me. I ate her out enthusiastically, mixing swipes of my tongue with gentle prods of my finger. Her pussy was wonderfully wet, and as I slipped a finger inside her, she moaned.

I took some of her wetness on my finger and reached back to circle her asshole. She shivered but kept rocking against my face, so I gathered more of her wetness and then gently slid a finger inside her ass.

She was so tight and hot, and her muscles squeezed my finger as I pushed in. I kept licking her clit, easing her into the sensation of being anally penetrated. Then I used my other hand to slip two fingers inside her pussy.

She gasped and squeezed my hair tight enough to sting. I kept working her, pumping my fingers in tandem. I could feel the movement through the thin walls separating her ass and her pussy, and by the way she moaned and gasped, the feeling was intense for her, too.

She whispered my name as all her muscles in both areas clenched around me, and then she was coming with the breathiest, sexiest moan I’d ever heard. Her body rippled around me as she kept grinding into my face.

When her orgasm was done, she staggered, so I pulled my fingers out of her and supported her ass with both hands. I held her tight against my mouth, licking up the residue of her orgasm. She tasted sweet and salty all at once, a slippery banquet I would never get enough of.

She pushed against my forehead. “My turn,” she gasped. Fuck yeah!

I stood up and unfastened my jeans, and then Claire knelt before me and tugged them down. She opened her mouth around my cock and took me deep, without hesitation, rolling her tongue against my skin. She fisted the base of my dick and jerked while she sucked, which was pretty fucking amazing.

I clenched a fist in her hair, guiding her back and forth as she slobbered all over me. She released me just long enough to lick my balls before returning and sucking me deep.

As much as I wanted to come in her mouth and force her to swallow all of it, I much preferred to come in that pretty, wet cunt. I pushed her off me and joined her on my knees in the grass. We kissed deeply, our tongues tangling around our mingled taste. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me closer.

“How do you like to be fucked?” I asked against her lips.

She shivered. “Do me from behind.”

This was insane in so many ways — we both still had our jeans tangled around our ankles, we were in public, and there was hardly any room to maneuver between the tent and the building — but nothing could have stopped me from getting inside that tight little cunt.

Claire positioned herself on her hands and knees for me, and I grabbed the spare condom in my wallet and rolled it on. I moved my cock to her pussy and sank in.

She arched her back and moaned, then bumped her hips back against me, already greedy for more. I gripped those hips and started thrusting, slowly at first. Then I pulled mostly out, hovering with the tip of my dick just inside her pussy, and only when she began begging huskily for my cock did I push back in. With the spread of her legs limited by her jeans around her ankles, the fit was tight.

I gripped her hair in one fist and started thrusting into her in a faster rhythm. Claire responded like a dream, her back bending as she accommodated both my dick and the hand in her hair.

“Yes,” she gasped as I plunged deep. “More.”

I released her hair, then grabbed her arms and brought them behind her back. Using them as leverage, I bucked up into her, giving her the full length of my dick.

Claire was pinned, unable to do anything but accept my thrusts. Apparently she loved it, because she cried out and began chanting my name.

“You like taking this cock?” I asked. I’d never been much of a dirty talker, but I was overwhelmed by the moment.

“Yes,” she moaned. “Give me more.”

I pulled out and flipped her onto her back, then tore off her jeans and lifted her legs so they draped over my shoulders. Face to face like this, I could see the wild ecstasy in her eyes as I thrust into her. The angle let me go deep, and she groaned as I bottomed out. When I tried to make my thrusts a little shallower, she dug her nails into my back.

“More,” she demanded.

If she wanted more, she would get it. I fucked her furiously, until she was moaning and pleading. We were both being way too loud, since the entire beer festival was only one layer of canvas away, but I didn’t give a fuck. Claire was flushed red and begging for my cock, and there was no way I was going to stop.

“My clit,” she moaned, and shit, I wasn’t dexterous enough for this.

I pulled out and rearranged us so she only had one leg slung over my shoulder. Bracing myself against the ground with one elbow, I reached between our bodies with my free hand and circled her clit. I was sweating with the effort of so much intense fucking, but the groans and babbled pleas coming from her mouth made it all worth it.

Finally, she stiffened beneath me and came with a scream. Her body clenched around my dick in waves, and she clawed my back in desperation. The sting was as good as everything else, and soon I was coming too, emptying myself into her in mind-numbing spurts.

I took Claire’s leg off my shoulder before collapsing on top of her. We lay on the ground together, breathing heavily. Distantly, I was aware of cheers and clapping coming from the other side of the tent wall.

“Good on you,” someone shouted.

“Well done, mate.”

When I lifted my head, security was standing between the tent and the building, glowering at us.