How Not to Have Sex
Anna Austen Leigh
Published by Anna Austen Leigh at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Anna Austen Leigh
Discover other titles by Anna Austen Leigh at Smashwords.com:
Emma
The Duel
A Grand Tour
The Netsuke
Natural Sympathies
The Swing
and with other publishers:
The Diligence de Lyon
Pilgrim for Love
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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You know the kind of spring day when the sun is unexpectedly warm, the sky intensely blue, the birds are so happy they just won't shut up about it, and the sap is rising - you wake up with a hard-on and can't get back to sleep?
It was one of those days.
Fortunately, Anna had been woken by the dawn chorus too, and the second after I realised I'd woken up with a prime case of morning glory, I realised she'd wrapped her hand round it... breakfast was a bit late.
You don't want to waste a day like that stuck indoors. My keyboard could manage without my fingers today; Anna took one look at her drawing board and shrugged.
"Sometimes clients have to learn..."
I laughed. I knew exactly which client her current project was for. They needed to learn a lesson - they'd been bugging her stupid with calls for the last week, even though the deadline wasn't till next month.
That's the nice thing about both being freelances. When it's not good, it can be difficult paying the bills, and when it is good, it can be difficult getting any time away from our projects to spend together; but if we want to take a day off, we can. And we do.
We drove out to the forest, took to a track that meanders though silver birch glades, to tiny deep pools shaded by twisted Scots pines. There was almost no breeze; among the trees it was still cool, but when we got to the pools, the sun was beating down, and we were sweating.
Anna stripped, remembered half way through taking her trousers off that she still had one walking boot laced on, and hopped precariously with one foot high in the air, trying to reach it and get it off. I was almost helpless with laughter, but that didn't stop me pulling my clothes off and jumping into the water. The splash nearly soaked my clothes - and Anna's - and somehow, once she'd managed to wrestle off that recalcitrant boot, we got into a huge waterfight that only stopped when I swam into the deepest part of the pool and trod water for a bit, and she gave up and just sat in the shallows for a bit, soaking up the sun.
There's something wonderful about the way water plays on your body, sliding across you like silk, or soft fingers. Once you start thinking that way, of course, you're lost; I realised I was hanging there in the water with my cock as hard as it had been when I woke, almost painfully hard.
"Is that just the effect of refraction," Anna was asking, "or is it really that big?"
I grabbed her hand. "See for yourself."
"Or touch, you mean."
She grasped my cock and moved her hand a few times up and down, before pulling me towards her, and pushing my prick down in the water so she could straddle it. But every time she got it nearly in the right place, either it bobbed up in the water, or she would sink too far, or we'd both start sinking and have to paddle our feet to keep our heads above water, at which point (of course) we'd have drifted apart and have to start all over again.
"I don't think this is working," she said; "let's get out."
"And give up?"
"And try something easier."
The sand had been nicely heated by the sun; we had been nicely heated by our exercise. In no time at all I was inside her and thrusting away, and she was pushing her hips up into me - no time for foreplay, we were both determined to reach the goal that the water had denied us. I was getting close, her fingers working at my nipple just about to bring me over the edge, when she suddenly yelped and pulled away.
"What's up?"
"Sand! Damn it, sand!"
I wondered what was wrong with getting a bit of sand on your arse - then I realised just what she meant. It must have been like fucking a piece of sandpaper. Ouch.
After that, the fun had gone out of the day. Anna took another dip to wash the sand out of her crevices, and I got dressed, though my clothes were a bit damp and my trousers clung unpleasantly to my legs. We decided, though, we'd not go straight back to the car, but take a more roundabout route - there was another trail that led through pine forest, down to the river, and back through heathland scattered with small woods. It was a good walk for a day like this - a couple of hours of fast striding along a crunchy gravelled path, or on firm sandy trails, and with enough shade to keep the sun off.
We were nearly back to the car when Anna stopped me.
"See those trees?"
I looked. A little thicket of closely gathered trees; birch, I think, and a couple of young oaks. We both know our countryside, but truth told, she's a better naturalist than me, and I wondered for a moment if she'd spotted a rare migrant bird, or perhaps a nest up in the branches.
"They're quite close together. More so than most of the copses round here."
"Yes," I said warily; "so..."
"So if we pushed into the middle of it, and found a good sturdy tree to lean against, we might finish that interrupted business."
"Good thought!" I said; and it was, a very good thought indeed, so that by the time we had pushed our way between the outlying saplings and selected a smooth-barked little birch for our tryst, I was ready for action again, and Anna had her jeans pulled down, and her back turned - I suspect she wasn't looking forward to trying to tug that boot off again.
I'm always surprised how violent sex can be. You start off gently but then before you know it you're going like a powerhammer and your body seems to have a will of its own, driving you towards orgasm with the determination of a bulldozer going at a brick wall. You know those stories about little old ladies who have pulled girders out of the way to save an earthquake victim, or asthmatic kids who've managed to run five miles to get help for a parent who's having a heart attack? They're always surprised, afterwards, at how they managed to find the strength. Well, I'm the same about sex. Aren't we all? You wonder afterwards just how you managed to do it, where the reserves of physical power came from.
Anna was leaning forwards, the palms of her hands on the tree trunk, and I was holding her hips and ploughing into her. Not my favourite position, or hers either, but it would have to do. And we were desperate. She'd started to moan, and I could feel her body shaking as she gasped for breath. Not just her body; the whole tree was shaking. I looked up to the leaves, and it seemed the whole world was shaking, the leaves trembling against the sky, vibrant green against electric blue.
Then suddenly the world was buzzing, too. Not in a good way. There was menace in the air. To be blunt, there were wasps. We'd not only picked a tree that shook for our tryst; we'd picked a tree with a wasp's nest in it.
I think Anna was quite glad she hadn't taken her boots off.
It wasn't the worst disaster it could have been. We made it back to the car without being stung. We didn't meet anyone on the path, either. I was quite grateful for that when Anna leant over, just before she put her seat belt on, and looked at my crotch, and said, "You can put it away now." I hadn't had time to do up my zip.
We passed an inviting little lay-by on the way home. Myth says it's home to an invigorating dogging scene on summer evenings; we've never tried. But I did look at it longingly, and even said to Anna, "Hey, there's always this place," but she shook her head, and laughed, and said; "There'd only be some guy walking his dog." The worst thing is, I think she'd probably have been right.
When we got home, I was headed for the kitchen to pour a beer - I needed it - but Anna grabbed my arse, and pushed me upstairs.
"I need a fuck," she growled.
And that, finally, was what she got.
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