“Forget that you’re a sophisticated, sexy, cosmopolitan, twenty-first-century woman,” whispered Ben, before kissing her on the mouth. “You’re a wood nymph. And I’m a satyr. And I’ve run you to earth.”
“Ben, you’re ridiculous—”
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head and put a finger on her lips. “I’m not Ben. I’m a rampant, lust-crazed satyr with an enormous erection. You tried to get away from me. You even swam the lake, but now I’ve got my hands—hooves?—on you. Actually, what do satyrs have? What are they, exactly?”
Vanessa laughed, seduced by his disarming enthusiasm and charm.
Would it hurt, just to indulge him in this?
“So, I’m a wood nymph. Fine. Do your satyriac worst.”
“Oh, baby. That’s an invitation.” He kissed her harder, deeper, pushing his hard cock between her thighs. “Oh,” he said, looking up with a grimace. “Condoms. They’re in my jeans pocket.”
After establishing, as quickly as possible, that no water damage had been done to them, he slipped on a condom and got back to work.
Vanessa wrapped her legs around him and gave in to the heady combination of warm sun, the smells of verdant nature all around her and the touch of her man. It was difficult not to be overwhelmed by the sensuality of the world in these circumstances. Ben’s hot lips and exploring hands brought her towards acceptance that this was what would happen to her. She would get fucked in the open air by her vigorous young lover. There was no way of fighting it.
So she opened her legs and welcomed him in. He was considerate of her spine on the unforgiving ground and he thrust quite gently at first. When she began to ache, she urged him onto his back and sat astride him, knees pressed into the grass. He held her hips and looked up at her with such unwavering adoration that she felt like a goddess rather than a wood nymph. She worked that cock inside her, milking it, rotating around it, on a mission to get every drop of juice out of him.
“You wanted this,” she said, teeth gritted. “Now I’m giving you what you wanted.”
“Yes,” he said, panting. “God, yes.”
She planted her palms on his shoulders, bending lower, seeking out the perfect angle for his cock to nudge against her G-spot. She shimmied her hips, pulling away from him until he bucked mindlessly, then plunging back down. Drunk on the power, she moved into a tormenting anti-rhythm until he gripped her tightly and pulled her into a more conventional pattern.
Then she felt her arousal move off that plateau and up to the higher level. Her orgasm was on its way, slowly at first but, as long as she could keep this up, it wouldn’t be long in coming.
“Ness, oh, Ness,” he said, pulling at her bum cheeks, spreading them.
It was the perfect move. She rutted on him as if she had lost her mind and her senses had control of her. The orgasm spilled out, pouring through her body.
Ben’s eyes flew wide open and he joined her. Their voices echoed through the weeping willow branches, drowning out the ducks and the breakers on the shore.
If anyone else was on the island, they would definitely have heard it.
Vanessa laid her cheek against his, cradled in his arms, waiting for the frantic beating of their hearts to slow.
“Those satyrs are quite something,” she said at last, pulling herself off him and lying down on the grass. Creepy-crawlies and bugs were very far from the forefront of her mind now.
“I was just thinking that about the wood nymphs,” he said, throwing his arm over his brow. “Whew.”
Vanessa looked up at the endlessness of the blue sky.
“It’s so lovely. Everything’s so lovely. You, me, the summer coming, being here, in this place. It’s like the perfect meeting of everything good.”
He gripped her hand and squeezed it.
“It is, isn’t it? I feel like I’m exactly where I want to be. And there’s so much to look forward to, as well.”
“Really?” Vanessa turned her head to him. “Is there? Like what?”
“Well, the rest of that summer you mentioned. The opening night of the Proms. Lots of sitting outside in the cool evenings and then going inside and…you know what.”
“How romantically you put it.”
“Ah, Ness. Honestly, I’m so full of optimistic feelings. If I could bottle them, I’d be rich.”
“You’re so sweet. Getting so excited about the future.”