They finished their drinks as they sat in the sun, the wooden table hot to the touch, despite the shade given by the parasol. They’d got there late morning, it was only an hour so to drive there, and he remembered the way even though he’d not been there in years. They spent some time just sightseeing, the village was small as he remembered it, a green with two statues on it, surrounded by a few shops, a pub, and the church. And then they’d gone for a drink and something to eat.
She looked stunning in the sun, her hair catching the shimmers, and she was dressed as he’d asked her, a simple top, a skirt, long, to her knees. And he knew what she was wearing underneath too, he watched her dress in the hotel that morning, his eyes gazing intently as the body that he’d got to discover over the last few days was concealed. First the black thong, then the bra, then the skirt then the blouse. Both could sense the anticipation as she dressed, both knew that there would be time and time and time again for him to enjoy her body more, and often, the giving of pleasure to her so essential to him. And he was dressed simply too, boxer shorts, jeans, a loose T-shirt, untucked.
They talked of anything and everything, conversation coming easily to them as it always did, both touching as and when they could, hands on hands, on arms, on shoulders. Every once in a while her hand would reach for his hair, and just stroke through it gently, or she’d rub the back of her hand gently on his cheek.
The garden of the bar where they sat was secluded, quiet, it was a mid-week mid-afternoon after all. The table where they sat was a typical picnic table, wooden, with benches down both sides, and they sat side by side. He suddenly became aware just how quiet it was, how alone they were and he looked at her, conversation stopping briefly. He moved, his legs straddling the bench, leading her to do the same so they could sit facing each other, and his hands reached up to cup her face, pulling her gently to him, kissing her, lips touching. Both felt their breathing quicken, both wanted more. He looked again, glances over his shoulder, the garden still empty, and he looked at her, eyes on fire. His hands slid lower, just cupping her breasts through her top, thumbs flicking over the nipples, his eyes gazing at hers, staring deep into them. Her breathing growing more stilted, the danger of where they were, what he was doing adding to the pleasure for both. He slid a hand lower again, eyes still holding hers, working at the hem of her skirt, lifting it, underneath, finding the warmth of her leg, gentle, soft caresses, sliding higher, higher, till he could rub his hand over the cotton of her panties. And all the time his eyes held the gaze of hers, as his touch got more daring, one thumb still flicking at her nipple, making it stand proud, the other pushing against her panties, against her pussy.
He leant forward, whispering to her, telling her he wanted her, to make love to her, wanted to please her. That they should go, walk out into the country, he knew the place well was sure he could find somewhere quiet, secluded, somewhere they could please each other in the warmth of the sun. He leant forward and kissed her one last time, and as he did he quickly dipped a finger under the cotton of her panties, sliding it into her, then taking it from her, offering it to her lips so she could catch her own scent, before raising it to his own mouth, licking it quickly. Then took her hands and pulled her to her feet, holding her hand as he led the way back to the car, opening the door for her, guiding her in, then climbing in himself. Driving away, down the hill, past the pub where he was brought up, then right at the bottom, up the steep hill, past houses, getting fewer as they drove further into the country, roads narrowing as the woods got deeper, till finally he parked in a small lay-by.
He told her to stay there, while he moved to her side of the car, opening the door, and crouching down next to her while she sat. His hands reached for her, caressing her, touching her, again touching her nipples, pinching them through her top, pulling her legs wide, his hand immediately sliding under her skirt, reaching quickly for her pussy again, his body trembling as the need to make contact with her body again takes control of him. His hand finds its goal, fingers working at her through the cotton, the heat and the warmth so apparent on his fingers. Wanting more, his lips find hers, kissing her, tongue searching for hers, his busy fingers ducking under the material of her thong, and burying themselves deep in her wetness, taking her breath with the suddenness of his movement. His hand quickens, fingers plunging back and forth, faster and faster, and then, slowing, pace dropping, breaking the kiss, staring at her with his fingers still inside her, then reaching for her arm, he moves her, his hand reluctantly sliding from her cunt as she stands. He pulls her close to him, holds her, her head tight to his shoulder, then takes her hand, grabs a blanket from the back of the car, and then leads the way.
