Country Pleasures (28 page)

‘Good girl.'

Jonathan's hands slid round to the front of Sally's belly and inched under the thin fabric of her thong, and Sally winked at Janie. She was once more in control. Janie winked back and walked to the other end of the lawn.

Sally might be finding her old self, but Janie was all at sea. That Mimi had
breezed
, literally, into her life, turning part of it upside down, and now she was gone again. God knew what she'd done to Maddock and the other locals while she was here. They would never have encountered anyone like her. She had shocked Janie with the electric attraction she had ignited – the only time she'd felt that for a woman. Those breasts, big and round like her own, bulging with sensuality and invitation, just like her own. No wonder she hadn't been able to resist touching. Her own tits were tingling again, and she felt hollow with longing. She needed filling. She looked up and down the empty road, the heat-haze still wavering over the silent hedges. She feared Jack had been put off coming near her after seeing her straddling Jonathan that first morning in the cottage. He'd probably heard who else she'd been straddling, too. Having come so close to rekindling their childhood friendship, she would probably never see him again.

She got up and went back to the sun-lounger, lay
down and closed her eyes. The sun was hot on her body. Her arms and legs felt heavy. Her breasts seemed to swell, though, rising like dough to greet the sun, and the more she thought about them and compared them with Mimi's, recalled them floating like buoys in the swimming pool, the harder her nipples grew and the more empty she felt.

This is the end of my adventure, she thought mournfully, and felt the dozy approach of sleep washing through her.

But there was to be no peace, because over by the umbrella Sally was starting to squeal, and not trying to contain the noise. Janie opened one eye, and saw that Sally was lying on her front across the table, the strip of her pink thong hooked over to one side. Jonathan was standing behind her, stroking her buttocks, slowly unzipping his flies, then stroking her some more. He tipped cold liquid from the jug over her bare back so that she shrieked and wriggled, and then he leaned over her and licked it off her spine, keeping his pelvis well away from her buttocks. Sally twisted round and tried to grab at him, but he took her wrists and spread her arms back down on the table so that she was spread-eagled in front of him, face down in the shade of the umbrella. Janie could see the affection in his eyes as they lingered on Sally, and she wished her friend could see it, but Sally was in her element anyway. She rose on tiptoes again, her strong dancer's calves and legs lifting her bum towards him, and he took her arse-cheeks and spread them open, then slid both his thumbs up and down her dark crack. He sat back down on his chair and buried his face between her buttocks, lifting her higher so that he could lick down towards her pussy, while his thumbs circled the tiny hole of her arse. Janie's cunt contracted violently
as she watched, and she wanted to shut her eyes, but she was aching to be touched, and she wanted to watch. Watching made it worse and made it better at the same time. She licked her dry lips, which had the faint trace of Mimi's lipstick on them. She remembered Mimi's warm tongue slicking round hers, then she pressed her hand over her pussy like she had started to do when she was on her own on the beach. But then she remembered further back as if it was months rather than weeks ago; remembered that first stormy night, the first time for years that her pussy had been probed and entered, lying back as she was now, but on the scratchy hay bale. Lying in the warm sun, it seemed bizarre to think that only a couple of weeks ago she had been wearing a heavy jumper, coat and trousers and that it had been cold and raining. She started to touch herself, tangling her fingers in the tight auburn curls of her bush, and tried to recall Jack's shadowy face in the gloomy barn. Her head turned to watch Sally and Jonathan, wanting in her desperation to run up to them and take his cock out from his trousers and stuff it in to
her
, but wanting them to have their moment.

‘They're at it like rabbits, aren't they?'

Janie had been so busy watching them she'd not seen him coming across the lawn, and for a daft second she thought she had, after all, fallen asleep. But the noises Sally was making were real enough, and so was the figure of Jack, appearing from behind her lounger.

‘They're talking business,' she explained, and he laughed loudly.

‘Is that what they call it. Actually, I came here to talk business, too.'

‘It must be the country air,' she said, in shock that
her fantasy man was now standing in front of her. ‘Look at them.'

She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees to hide herself, but he hadn't once looked at her tits. He was standing rather formally a few feet away.

‘I don't want to look at them,' he said. ‘I want to look at you. Who'd have thought it? I've been trying to reconcile that wild woman in the barn with little cousin Janie. But every time I've seen you you've been wearing fewer and fewer clothes, and that sweet Janie has vanished little by little.'

‘You've only seen me twice since that night in the barn,' Janie pointed out, feeling stupid as she said it. ‘You've been gone virtually the whole time.'

‘Miss me?'

He sat down on the grass, and she felt hope unfurling in her heart.

‘Yes. No. Stupid question. I wanted to see you, that's all,' she said. ‘To explain –'

‘About what? Stealing my logs? Stealing my honour in the barn?'

‘Yes. No. Bloody hell, Jack, you always used to do this!'

‘What?'

‘Confuse me, interrupt me – tease me.'

‘Not enough, I now realise. I should have teased you to breaking point. What fun that would have been. I'm sorry, Janie, you were saying. Explain what?'

She sighed crossly. He was wearing another old T-shirt, long khaki shorts and had bare feet, and though he was dressed like a scruff he was no longer the dogeared schoolboy who'd tormented her back then. He was chewing a piece of grass and looking over at Sally and Jonathan. His hair was longer and curlier than a month ago, and she wanted to wrench his glasses off.

‘About what I was doing with Jonathan that day you came over,' she said awkwardly. ‘I wish you hadn't seen that. It wasn't how it looked.'

‘It looked pretty sensational from where I was standing. You're going to tell me you were simply borrowing him, I suppose,' Jack muttered, half turning back to Janie, but with his eyes still glued to Jonathan and Sally. ‘Although, maybe it wasn't just the once. Is this what goes on all the time when Ben's back is turned?'

Sally was still flat on her front, gripping the edges of the table. Jonathan had stopped tonguing her and Janie looked up in time to see him slowly feeding the incredible length of his penis into her from behind; he pushed her a little way across the table with every inch that went in and made the jug and glasses rattle. Janie pressed her legs together as she watched, remembering the feel of that extraordinary length of gristle when she had pole-danced up and down on it.

‘No. Yes. We've been a little crazy this summer,' she stammered, trying to get his attention. ‘But you weren't around, Jack.'

‘More's the pity.'

He grinned up at her from his place on the grass, and she spread her hands helplessly.

‘What do you mean?' she demanded. ‘I thought I was getting a telling off! I thought you were going to run off and tell cousin Ben.'

Jack unfolded his legs and stood up. ‘Do you think it's safe to grab a drink?'

She slapped him on the leg and he tiptoed up to the table, reached round the rutting pair to swipe the jug and glasses, and ran back to her.

They chinked glasses, and knocked back the strong cocktail as if it was lemonade. Janie felt woozy, and she lay back with another sigh on the lounger, hesitated
for a moment, then lowered her knees and stretched herself out. Jack wasn't quick enough to hide the lust gleaming in his eyes as she wriggled into a comfortable position with her long legs slightly parted and her breasts bouncing softly with each judder of her heart. There was a silence between them, while at the far side of the lawn the table creaked desperately.

‘You're wrong, and you're right,' he said.

Janie frowned, and closed her eyes.

‘Riddles, as usual. What are you talking about?'

She felt the end of her lounger give as he sat down on it, but she kept her eyes closed. A warm sense of contentment was coming to life in her toes and starting to work up her body.

‘I mean, you're wrong about me telling you off,' he explained. ‘I'm not. You can do what you like. I'm jealous as hell, that's all. I should have been here. I should have been the one to have you. Not all these others – and especially not Maddock.'

Janie let out a snuffle of laughter, but he didn't laugh back. She held her breath, still stretched out, still heavy with anticipated pleasure.

‘There's a lot more to Maddock than muddy boots and Land Rovers, you know,' she started to tell him. ‘A real son of the soil. I mean, he uses it like a battering ram –'

‘Shut it, Janie. Doesn't suit you being so crude. I thought you were more civilised that that, even if you are a thief.'

She giggled, and wriggled again. The sun was losing its ferocity, but was still just warm enough to make Janie want to fall asleep.

‘But you were right about my running off to tell Ben,' he added.

She was befuddled, now. She'd forgotten how his
mind worked, always darting about. She raised her glass and took another long drink.

‘I mean. I did tell him. He knows everything.'

Janie sat up sharply, spilling her drink over herself just as the wooden table scraped across the terrace. Jonathan was crouched over Sally, thrusting himself violently into her, and she was shouting out, and then they were yelling out together before he slumped down onto her back. But Jack wasn't looking at them now. He had sat down closer to Janie than he realised, and he was watching as the cold drink dripped off her nipples.

Janie looked down. The cold had hardened them again. The effect was more startling than simply exposing them to the open air. They were singing and burning like little beacons, hot with desire, and their sharpness was accentuated by the swell of her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat as the constant flutter in her stomach sped up. She sat still for a moment, attempting to make sense of what Jack had just said, but all she could think about was his eyes on her tits and the shifting, fidgeting arousal deep between her legs. She shuffled on the lounger towards him until she was right in front of him, then lifted one of his legs across the seat so that he was astride the lounger, and therefore facing her.

‘Lick it off,' she said, and her heart gave a leap of surprise at herself. He carried on looking at her nipples. Only the jumping of his pulse in his muscular neck showed any sign of life. She whipped his glasses off and put them on the grass behind her.

‘I said, lick it off. You'll do as I say, Jack. We're not children any more, and it's not me who's taking the orders.'

She reached out and grabbed his curls, tangled her
fingers through them and dragged his head towards her. He pulled away for a moment, and she wondered if she was making an idiot of herself, but then he groaned, a cracked, genuine groan as if to give up any more resistance, and she kneeled up so that his dark head was on a level with her breasts. She cradled him, pushing him into the dark, inviting cleavage.

‘They were covered before in all those layers,' he murmured. ‘In the barn. I felt them, but I had no idea how luscious they've grown.'

Jack's voice was muffled up against her skin, and she shifted closer still on her knees until she was straddling his legs. She locked her knees behind his back so that he was trapped in front of her. Her mind wouldn't keep still. Now she was thinking of the blond boy on the beach, taking her breasts in hesitant, clumsy fingers and wondering what to do with them until she showed him. But as the warm tip of Jack's tongue started to trail across one breast, into the sweaty valley between, and up the other hillock, she knew this was different. This was a man at work. She stopped moving and let his tongue do the talking. It came back over the bulge of one breast, stopped short of the bursting nipple, and started to circle it. It took all her willpower to avoid thrusting the nipple into his mouth as she had done with the blond boy. To stop herself she looked over at the garden table, but Sally and Jonathan had disappeared, leaving the pink thong discarded on the terrace.

Jack's tongue was flickering like a lizard's over Janie's nipple now. She could feel the nipple sticking out almost an inch away from its base, so that every touch of his tongue was close yet distant, not touching the flesh of her breast at all. She shifted very slightly on her buttocks so that she was able to press her aching
crotch against his. Her bikini-bottoms were soaking, and they stuck to her pussy-lips as they shifted. The electric shocks of sensation were seared all over her, from her nipples down to her navel, from the outer layers of her fanny to the cavern of her anus, and she started, very slightly so that her thighs ached, to rise up and down to find a way to answer the clamouring of her body.

One of Jack's hands was pressing a breast, but the other came round and rested on the small of her back, pushing her harder against him, and she laughed softly as her wet bikini made contact with the buttons of his shorts. They would be leaving a damp patch there, she thought, sliding her hands away from his head and down his warm torso to his waist. She started to undo his shorts, and suddenly he took the tortured nipple into his mouth and started sucking hard, biting it, then leaving it, cold with his saliva, and turning to the other one while his fingers took over the teasing and pinching of whichever nipple was free.