Musical Beds (Food Of Love 2)

“I still don’t know,” said Vanessa, wrinkling her nose. “Is it clean? I’m worried about getting wood bark everywhere.”

“Forget your obsession with cleanliness, just this once,” said Ben, wrapping his arms around her from behind and putting his lips to her neck. “Clothes can be washed. So can skin.”

“It smells a bit damp.”

“It doesn’t. Feel this tree trunk. Dry. It hasn’t rained in over a week.”

“What about, you know, sap, or whatever it’s called? It could stain.”

“There’s one thing I know about sap, and that’s that it rises. Like mine is doing right now.” He nipped the back of her neck, ostensibly playful, but with serious intent behind the gesture.

“Ben!”

“Come on,” he growled in her ear. “I want to rumple you. You’re always so immaculate. I want to see leaves in your hair and grass stains on your skirt.”

He sat down on a tree stump, pulling Vanessa onto his lap, and started devouring her lips, silencing her complaints about possible mess in the most effective way imaginable.

She relaxed into the kiss, enjoying the mingling of Ben’s scent with the ferny, loamy aroma around her. They were in a secret place, an enchanted wood of their own, remote from the world. There was no need to think about anything but each other.

Vanessa enjoyed the silken floppiness of his hair when she ran her fingers through it and the youthful smoothness of his cheek against hers. Although he was young, he didn’t lack confidence and there was nothing limp or hesitant about his caresses.

He slipped one finger under her shoulder strap, stroking the skin underneath before letting the loop of fabric fall down her arm.

Vanessa leaned into his palm as he held her shoulder, then she allowed him to lower his hand towards her neckline. He pushed a hand inside the material, stroking her breasts inside their cotton bra cups.

She shifted in his lap until her upper thigh pressed into his erection. She rocked gently to and fro, rubbing the crotch of his denim jeans against his imprisoned cock, wanting to get him hotter than hot.

He moaned into her mouth and she wrapped her tongue around his, holding it, tasting him. Better than a strawberry.

The sweet grinding and stroking, squeezing and tonguing soon forced more urgent responses from them. Vanessa found herself being picked up and placed with her back to a sturdy tree trunk while Ben lifted her dress and ground his erection into her exposed knickers.

She craned her neck, looking behind her at the trunk, assessing it for crumbliness and possible falling grubs, but it looked safe enough—willow bark, soft and porous and surprisingly comfortable.

She flung her arms around Ben’s neck and sought the triangle of chest inside the open section of shirt, burying her nose in the hollow of his collarbone. Above it, his long neck provided support to her forehead and she nuzzled with relish.

Meanwhile, Ben crept his fingers up her thighs until he reached the lower curve of her bottom and hooked his thumbs beneath her knicker elastic.

“We don’t need these, do we?” he whispered.

She shook her head, nose still pressed into his chest, giggling like a girl.

“What if we’re seen?” she said, helping him to remove the knickers, lifting her legs and twisting her ankles to get them off the quicker.

“I don’t suppose anyone’d stick around if they caught a glimpse,” said Ben. “Unless they were a voyeur. In which case, we’d probably know nothing about it, because they wouldn’t want us to spot them.”

“What if they took photos? Put them on the Internet?”

They won’t be able to see you anyway, because I’m in the way,” Ben pointed out. “If they want to put full-colour jpegs of my bum online, they’re welcome. But I doubt they’ll bother.”

His palms skidded slowly up her thighs again, this time finding no barrier at the top. He linked his fingers underneath her bottom.

“Hold tight,” he said, then he lifted her up, positioning her legs around his hips.

Vanessa revelled in her precarious situation, wedged between Ben and the tree, having to hold her abdominal muscles tightly in control. The ritualistic boredom of the gym had its uses, after all. She clung to his neck for dear life while he fumbled around underneath her, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans.

She heard the trousers loosen and head groundw

ards with a clink of metal, then she could feel his cock, smooth and straight, nestling between the cheeks of her arse.