They finished eating, and before she could put the lids on any containers, he kissed her. It was a lovely, leaping kiss, him springing towards her, catching her by surprise so she squealed and laughed against his mouth, tumbling backwards so her head landed in the grass just off the blanket. He raised up, grinning like a child, and rained kisses down her neck, making her giggle and wriggle. B cupped her hand behind his head, holding him to her, a sudden desperation for him clenching her body. Lucas didn’t seem to notice. He kept kissing her neck, playful, gleeful, until B had enough and dragged him up so she could capture his mouth.
“Mmm…” he moaned against her, and his hand slid up from her hip, over her tank top until he found a breast. His fingers splayed over it, index and middle curving just below her nipple. B sighed, and grabbed his arse with one hand, bucking her hips upwards to meet his body. Around them, the shade of the tree filled with summer heat, and the openness of the space made her bolder. She wanted to display for everyone just how gorgeous she thought he was, how sexy.
Swiftly, she forced their bodies up, making him go back on his knees. Their mouths were locked together, shifting only to accommodate their movement. He was straddling her, face above hers, and through the material of his jeans, she felt his cock pressing. His lovely cock that fit neatly in the palm of her hand and snug inside her.
She slipped her fingers through his, and worked them onto his T-shirt, in the centre of his chest. She let them slide downwards, just above his stomach. There was a twitch in his jeans, and she leered up at him, knowing exactly where she wanted to go next.
Lucas froze, and suddenly his face went hard and still.
“Wait. That’s enough.”
B’s insides wrenched. She squeezed his hand harder, urging it closer to his stomach, but Lucas shrugged away, and settled back, away from her, giving her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Not embarrassed, or shy, but wanting to send her a message. Keep back.
Heat stung behind B’s eyes, and she sucked in her cheeks to stop her reaction from forming on her face. The look cut, the proper boy glaring at her like she was some kind of tart making him do things he didn’t want to do, or shouldn’t do.
Resentment filled her. For someone who laughed and wise-cracked as much as Lucas, he could fall back onto propriety so easily. Become the posh kid with his perfect middle class ‘proper’ accent that only reminded her however much she might soften her West Country tones, they’d never really be alike.
By God, she wasn’t going to let this kid make her feel dirty and stupid.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she said between her teeth.
“Like what?”
“Like you… like you think I’m ‘wrong.’ “
He shot her a wounded look. “No. No, please. I don’t think that. Not at all.”
“But you pulled back, and it’s like I’m…”
Cheap. Sluttish. Bad. Oh, sometimes she liked being told that. In the dark of a bedroom, under a duvet, fingers on her clit, in her cunt, circling her arsehole, she loved hearing what a bad girl she was, how much she wanted to be touched, sucked, fucked. Not in the open air, not next to a boy - young man, one of the two - whose regard she so keenly craved. Whose approval meant so much.
“B. It isn’t you,” he breathed, and she saw his cheeks redden.
And she realised it was as much her own fears as his concerns for propriety.
B gave herself an internal, rueful slap. Don’t let your problems become his, she thought.
She tried for a different approach. She said, cheekily, “You didn’t mind giving my boob a good squeeze.”
“That’s different,” he said quickly.
B scoffed. “Yeah?”
“Everyone can see them.”
She laughed, almost guffawed. “Not all of them!”
“The shape of them. What they look like. But not…” His arm fell over his crotch, and B wondered how much of that was a conscious action. “It doesn’t need to be out in public.”
B persisted. “No one is going to see us, not in the grass, not under the willow.”
“They will. It isn’t…” he couldn’t find the word, and looked about himself as if it might be waiting for him on the picnic blanket.
She knew which one he was after. B sniggered when she said, “Proper?”
He fixed his eyes on the packet of crackers. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re mocking it. It’s important.”
To you, she thought, worrying about your posh private school friends and what their oh-so-lovely parents might think. B looked around them. A little way down was another similar picnic, a party of about six, people their own ages. Students most likely. Up the other way were four teenagers, two boys, two girls, in swimming costumes, splashing in the water, legs dangling in the river from the raised bank. Kids from the town. On the river itself, two young guys canoed past.
No one was looking at the two of them, but B had to concede it wasn’t exactly private.
Softening, she put her hand over his. He flexed, but didn’t pull it back. “I’m not going to suck you off in public,” she said, quietly, so he knew he was the only one who could definitely hear.
Lucas exhaled through his nose, and he turned his hand so their palms were together. “I know, I know. I just sometimes don’t know what you’re capable of.”
“Me?” B tried not to squeak, and not to grow red with anger again. Capable of bloody what?
“You’re… bold.”
She didn’t feel bold. Some people mistook her piercing for toughness, her tattoos for life experience. They weren’t armour, the way they were for some. They were her art, marks of vulnerability as much as creative expression.
Lucas continued speaking. “I like that about you. I do. But… I can’t be like that myself.”
But you are, she wanted to say. I’ve seen you talk with men twice your age and with years more experience on their job like you had as much and knew as much. I’ve seen you question academics of known authority in public lectures like you were chatting to your mates in the pub. I know you are bold.
His eyes were still on the blanket. He looked younger than he was, and for a second, she felt perverse.
She forced herself not to dwell on those thoughts. Instead, B shuffled back, and leaned against the willow tree. She opened her arm out, wanting to feel him fit into the crook of it, wanting his narrow shoulders between her chest and her palm.
“Come here.”
Lucas peered at her from under cautious, hooded eyes. B beckoned with her fingers, chest tense, waiting suspended.
At last, he shuffled to her. She swallowed her relief rather than breathing it out. He laid back, her arm taking the weight of his shoulders. He didn’t sit quite close enough, and his hands were in his lap, his legs out in front of him. His focus was on the river. B followed his eye line, and saw a punt with three young students, two men, one woman, stopping by the river, helping each other out. She was all sparkly smiles, and they began to lay out a similar looking picnic.
B, watching them too, bent to his ear, not trying to draw him closer, waiting for him to move.
“Yes. Sometimes I want the world to know. Sometimes I want everyone to see how hot you look when you’re turned on. Sometimes I just…” Looking at the trio pouring each other glasses of apple juice, she slipped her hand under his T-shirt, letting the material fall back over her knuckles. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself.”
She scrunched her fingers against his skin. It was soft, and, with the little layer of fat over his stomach, it was pliable. One of the vulnerable parts of him. Lucas trembled, and he moved closer. B’s fingers curled more around his shoulder, as if to embrace it entirely.
Lucas ducked his head, so it nestled in the space between her head and shoulder. His hand rested on her thigh, and he nodded.
“I…want you to. But I don’t want them to see me. Not… my dick.”
The breez
e blew across B’s arms, like the delighted relief that washed over her. She turned from the group, and quickly kissed his forehead. “I won’t let them.”
Lucas craned up to kiss her lips, no tongue, but slow, and tender. As he did, B’s fingers sought the barrier of his boxers and his jeans. He sighed, and leaned back from her, urging her forward, her body falling in front of his, casting a shadow on his face. Her arm slipped from behind his shoulders. Now both were free to touch him as she wished. However she snaked a hand behind his neck, holding him so he sat propped up, so his back didn’t slide down the tree. She wanted him just like that, to protect him, her body in front of his, his body hunched over so no one could see him, but in such a way that she still could access his most vulnerable parts.
Her fingers pressed against the top of his pubic bone. Lucas squirmed, and she smiled, knowing it was a little teasing. He blushed, and swallowed, and as she started to undo his buckle, he said,
“Please be careful.”
“They can’t see,” she breathed in his ear. “My body is in the way. I won’t let them.” She hoped her voice was as full of promise and sincerity as she felt.
He released a juddering sigh. “I can see them.” Over her shoulder, probably.
“Don’t look then. Close your eyes.”
He bit his lip, but obeyed, eyelashes fluttering down. “Don’t let them see me.”
She kissed the space of his cheek nearest to his ear. “I won’t.”
A laugh came from behind them. Lucas’s body went rigid, and B checked over shoulder. The three aren’t looking; one of the men is teasing the girl with a long piece of grass.
“Don’t let them…”
“They’re not looking. Promise.”
She finished unbuckling, and then had a small battle with the tight button. It was always the hardest part of releasing a man, that button, always stubborn, unwilling to let go, especially with one hand. B almost exhaled when it was done, but instead she grinned, looking at Lucas. His eyes were still shut, but he breathed through his nose, his hand circling her wrist.
He didn’t let go of her as she unzipped his fly. He did nothing to stop her, but his grip was tight, like she was guiding him blind through a maze. Normally she’d get him to shrug down the jeans, give her a look at his hips, but now all that existed was the small gap where his T-shirt had been raised and the promise beneath his cotton boxers. The hard, aching promise of his cock that made her aware of the wetness forming inside her and starting to spread over her labia.
That spot, the space between his stomach and his cock, partly covered by the elastic of his underwear… she ran her nail over the cotton-covered elastic, the rippled and bunched material, hard-ridged. He wouldn’t be able to feel her - pressure perhaps, not sensation - but she loved how the ripples of it caught under her nail.
Lucas whispered, “B…” He was begging, beseeching, but still shy, and her whole body flushed.
She whispered back, “Out it comes…”
Her hand dipped under the elastic and pulled out his hard cock. A breeze fluttered across them, and his shaft rose to its caresses.
B had expected it to be a little soft, unsure of itself. But it was like a rock in her hand. Thick and short, proud and wanting attention. The colour of it may have matched the burning on Lucas’ cheeks, but unlike Lucas, it knew it exactly what it wanted: her hand, and her grip.
B arched up over him, his whole face now in the shadow of her. She didn’t let go of his dick, and it moved up with her hand, pressing it back to his stomach. Lucas mewled and grabbed blindly at her, one hand clutching her tank top below her breast, tugging it down a little, and the other at her hip. B sighed, and rolled her shoulders back in hope of her breast tumbling out of her top, so she could lean forward and he could suckle it, but it didn’t.
She pressed the centre of her palm to the head of his shaft, and rolled her hand. His cock began to leak, pre-cum starting to paint lines on her hand. Lucas clamped his lips together, gripped tighter to her. B bent her head to look down, to see the skin of his lower stomach contracting, his shaft moving obediently with her hand motions, a beautiful, precise, circling pattern.
“Oh B…”
“You’re so sexy,” she said. “So very, very sexy. You have any idea how wet I am right now? How much I want to pull my knickers down and put this into me?”
She kept rolling, and Lucas arched his neck back against the willow tree. His eyes flickered open, his lips parting only a little, his breathing even, trying to steady himself. The sunlight and shadow made dotted patterns on his face.
B switched her hand to slide down his cock, squeezing tight all the way.
Lucas juddered beneath her, his neck wrenching to one side. “Oh fuck!” He gasped. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“You’re thinking of it being inside me, aren’t you?” B teased, and made the same gripping motion up to the head of his dick, allowing the foreskin to gather at the tip.
Lucas bit his lip and shook his head. “No. No. I’m…”
She held her hand still, surprised, waiting for the response.
“I’m thinking of it just like this. Just now. This moment.”
His eyes met hers, wet, deep, and serious, and B could have sobbed a little. Her chin trembled, but she held herself together, leant further forward so their foreheads met, and she dragged his foreskin down, the pace agonisingly slow. Lucas pressed his lips together again, but she heard his moan emanating from his chest.
She dropped her hand down his cock, and began to pump.
B wanted him to think of everything. To think of the sun and shade on their bodies, to think of the river running behind them, the people passing by behind the tree, the picnickers, the kids swimming, the warm breeze across their skin. She wanted him to inhale not just their scents - the tang of her own arousal now wafting from her cunt, his own increasing sweet and musky pre-cum - but the river air, the meadow around them, the tart softness of the grass. She wanted him to feel safe, secure with her, protected by her, that while anyone looking might know how she felt about him, they would not see his flushed cheeks and red cock.
Her breathing began to match his. She found herself not meaning to but echoing his own soft moans, following them with a split second delay, and as her hand sped up, Lucas was exhaling sharply, gritting his teeth, his eyes closing, his hand on her hip like a vice and almost tearing her vest.
There was a tender ache in his voice as he said, “Yes. Yes. B, yes, yes, please…”
“Yes, yes, that’s it, that’s it… sweetie, lovely…come. Let it all out, just come.”
He did. There was no pause, no halting of his breath or body. His cum just flowed from his cock and over her hand, his stomach flutter and his legs curled towards her bum. He reached up and grabbed her cheeks so their foreheads pushed together. Like he could contain himself in her hold, under her body, within the space between them.
B exhaled, and the merest shift of her knickers agitated her wet clit. She shivered as another breeze floated across them, and pressing her sticky hand on the tree behind them, she pulled Lucas closer to her, holding him while he breathed deeply against her chest.
“Okay?” she asked, allowing some time to pass.
He nodded. “Oh yeah. Very okay.” He leaned back, gazed up at her face. His eyes looked sleepy and happy. “Thank you.”
She traced a finger down his cheek. “No, thank you. For letting me.”
“You talked me into it.”
B eased herself off him, and found a serviette to clean her hand off while Lucas quickly tucked himself back in and re-buckled his trousers. She held it up to him, indicating she wasn’t sure where to put it. Lucas chuckled, and found the plastic bag they’d used for rubbish.
He leaned on her shoulder, arm around her waist, and they looked towards the trio of picnickers once more.
“Think they saw?” he asked, but the concern that had made him so still before wasn’t present.
B shrugged. “Dun
no. If they did, they wouldn’t have seen much of you.” She kissed his cheek. “I did though,” she whispered. “And I loved every moment of it.”
And I love every inch of you, she wanted to say, but didn’t.
Lucas kissed the hand she had touched him with, and nodded, smiling.
B was more than content with that.
A Walk in the Country
By Bel Anderson
I was jangling with anticipation by the time Sky came sauntering up the lane towards me with a bulging backpack slung casually over one shoulder, as stylish and laid-back as usual. I managed to resist the urge to look pointedly at my watch.
“Hey,” he greeted me, dropping the bag unceremoniously in the dust and sliding his hands around my waist to pull me against him. At his touch, my insides turned to lava and I stifled a growl. He grinned as he read the blatant desire in my eyes and bent to touch his lips softly to the base of my throat.
“You smell amazing. I bet you taste great, too.” He kissed me long and hard, making me wish I could drag him behind the hedge of the nearest field and fuck him right away. Sky was calling the shots today, though.
“Let’s go for a walk in the country,” he’d said last night, smiling rather wolfishly as he slid a long finger up the leg of my shorts. “Wear a skirt, and no knickers. Don’t be late.”
Sky was the bad boy everybody loved. With his posh accent, long limbs and floppy blond hair, he was the quintessential public school boy. He didn’t look down his nose at us, though. In fact, he was more than interested in getting in with the crowd, especially with the girls. Everyone had fallen under his spell and now it was my turn. We’d ended up in bed together after a hotly flirtatious evening in the Student Union bar three weeks ago and he’d been touchingly disappointed to find he couldn’t make me come. I’d blamed it on the alcohol, but the truth was that I had never actually come during any of the few sexual encounters I’d had. Not one to be defeated, he’d come back to my room the next night and the next, finally whooping in joy when my stubborn body at last shattered into a paroxysm of mind-emptying spasms thanks to some skilful tongue and finger-work. It was a start. The next time, he persuaded me to straddle him and guided my hips gently back and forth, telling me how beautiful and dirty I was, until I couldn’t hold on any longer and had to ride him like a Grand National jockey. I tell you, if I’d had a whip, I’d have used it. And, yes, I came. Screamingly. Maybe after that, some guys would have thought ‘Job done,’ but not Sky. Oh, no.
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