Trenoweth House Ch. 02

2. Anyone for tennis?

Amber bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, her honey-blonde ponytail swishing to-and-fro across her shoulders, her perky breasts bobbing beneath her t-shirt as she waited for Ben to serve. There was a welcome sea breeze today, forcing Ben to abandon the first attempt as the ball drifted in the air. She waited patiently, feeling the wind cool her moist forehead, and ruffle her pleated skirt as it swirled around her bare legs.

She was pleased with her outfit, which was both practical and a little flirty. She'd tried on a variety of combinations before settling on the short, white pleated skirt and mint green t-shirt coupled with an old pair of white trainers and some cute, pink ankle socks.

She'd only intended to take a short break from her work, but he'd persuaded her to play a set with the proviso that she could use the doubles court, as she hadn't played in a while. At three games to one up though, she was beginning to wonder if she really needed her advantage.

He was a decent player, although his technique was lacking a little in some areas. His backhand definitely needed some work Amber thought as he tried a difficult shot down the line, the ball brushing the high part of the sagging net. What he lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm though, scurrying back and forth along the baseline as Amber directed her shots left then right then left again. He groaned loudly as he stretched, before mis-hitting another shot into the net.

"That's four-one to me!" she shouted.

"Let's change ends, the sun's in my eyes," he shouted back. "I thought you said you hadn't played in a while."

"Maybe I've just been lucky," she replied, unable to resist flashing him a mischievous grin as they passed each other by the net.

"Yeah well I haven't warmed up properly yet. Do you want a little wager to make it more interesting?" he said

"What kind of wager?" Amber replied, noting the way he ran his eyes over her body, taking in her tanned legs and lingering on her damp t-shirt where it clung to her modest but perky breasts.

"How about if I win, I get to kiss you?" he said.

"And what about if I win? I mean, *when* I win."

"Well, then you get to kiss me!" he said, grinning broadly.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Come on Casanova, enough talk. If you want that kiss, you'd better bring your A game."

Fired up by their bet, Ben tried harder, winning the next game to make it four-two.

Despite her performance, Amber had felt a little rusty. She hadn't been lying when she told Ben that she hadn't played for a couple of years. But now she started to hit her groove, moving more confidently, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, seeing the trajectory of the ball, anticipating his shots. It was only another ten minutes before she found herself serving for the set.

"Yes!" she shouted triumphantly as she hit her serve straight down the middle, as Ben lunged to his right, his racket flailing at thin air as the ball skidded past.

"Hey, thanks for the game," she said as they headed towards the gate.

"No, thank-you, I need the practice. You're a lot better than you lead me to believe," he said, wagging his racket as if she'd conned him.

"Well, you did give me the doubles court," Amber pointed out as they headed towards the wire fence.

"So, um, aren't you going to collect your winnings," he said a little breathlessly, as they paused at the gate.

Amber turned to face him as he waited expectantly. She wasn't usually keen on kissing in public but he looked so cute and boyish standing there that she was sorely tempted. After seeing him in the shower, she had spent several long, hot, sleepless nights replaying the images of the water streaming over his naked body and wondering what it would feel like. Impulsively, she took a step towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body through his white t-shirt. He bent his head to kiss her, but she gently but firmly pushed at his broad shoulders. She wasn't normally the dominant, assertive type but something about the way he allowed her to press him back against the chain-link fence, his arms dangling limply encouraged her to take the lead.

"No, I won so I get to kiss you, right?" she said, grinning as she stood on tiptoe and pressed her body against his. His lips were quite soft, almost feminine and she closed her eyes as she kissed him, tentatively at first then more firmly, feeling their moist lips slide over each other. She ran a hand over his shoulder, feeling the tight knots of muscle and the firmness of his body through his damp t-shirt, then down over the broad expanse of his chest, feeling the solid flatness of his pectorals beneath his damp, clinging t-shirt. He moaned longingly as she drew one of his plump lips between hers, gently biting it.

As their kiss continued, she felt his large hands encircle her narrow waist, drawing her body closer, feeling her boobs squashed against his chest. She felt herself melt against him as he slid his hands over her short skirt, cupping her buttocks, drawing her thighs tight against his, so tight that she could feel the hardness forming in his shorts.

Amber tugged at the neck of his t-shirt, her lips kissing the exposed skin, tasting the salt on his skin, her teeth gently biting his shoulder. He was so young, she thought to herself as she tilted and wiggled her hips wickedly, wantonly grinding herself against the hard ridge that pressed urgently against his shorts, drawing a hot, urgent moan from him. So young and athletic. And so firm, in all the right places.

"Lunch is ready! Ben! Amber!" came a distant shout.

The sound of Carmen's voice brought Amber crashing back to reality, and with a final peck on the lips, she stepped back, giggling at the sight of the large bulge in Ben's white shorts. He looked even hotter now than when they'd finished playing!

"Next time, maybe we should play for more than just a kiss," she said, before skipping away back towards the house.

--

Inside, Carmen had made a generous amount of Greek salad and Amber helped herself from the large bowl.

"Thanks, this is delicious," Amber said, popping a salty black olive into her mouth as she took a seat across from Ben's mother.

"Is Ben joining us?" the mother asked.

"Oh, I think he's upstairs taking a shower."

"Yes, it's hot today, huh?"

"Yes, it's very hot out there," Amber replied, trying not to think of Ben in the shower above their heads, his soapy hands sliding over his naked torso, those thick thighs...

She crossed her legs, squeezing her bare thighs together beneath her short skirt and stared at her plate as she tucked into her salad. Since, that night she'd spied her in bed with the strange man, she'd found it hard to look Carmen in the eye. Although when she thought about it, she wasn't sure what made her feel more uncomfortable: Carmen's infidelity or the fact that she was nearly caught spying.

She'd thought about it a lot over the last few days. Although she'd now solved the mystery of the strange noises in the middle of the night, the solution had only left her with more questions. Just who was 'Carl' , the man Carmen was apparently having a passionate affair with? From the way they spoke and acted, it seemed like they'd known one another for years, but how long had it been going on?

Amber finished her salad quickly and escaped upstairs. The tennis, and all that had followed, had left her feeling somewhat hot and bothered. Back in her room, she stripped off her sweaty clothes and took a cool shower. Despite a light breeze, they day had gotten steadily warmer and with only a few smudges of white spoiling the blue sky it promised to be another hot afternoon. Amber tossed her tennis outfit into the laundry basket and slipped into a light, powder blue summer dress scattered with pink polka dots.

Next door, the photos were still spread out over the floor as she'd left them. She'd spent the morning using the museum's digital camera to take dozens of high-resolution pictures of the photo's which she'd left uploading onto her laptop. Now that they'd finished she added a description: "Black-and white photographs, circa 1900 (?), taken by Charles Pollard (?), nude and semi-nude females, names unknown." Dr Rogers had emailed her the evening before; he was pleased with what she'd sent so far, but wanted more detail in the descriptions. It did all seem a bit thin, but what else could she say?

She'd begun organising them into sets: series of photos of the same woman, often forming a kind of strip tease, the woman going from fully-clothed to semi-clothed to naked. One of the sets caught her eye now: unlike most of the other models, a pretty young woman with dark curly hair and twinkling eyes stared back confidently, almost defiantly, as she undressed.

As she examined the pictures, she wondered about the relationship between the girl and Charles, the photographer. Perhaps she was a maid working at the house, someone that Pollard had persuaded to pose for him, in return for some extra money. But the way the woman confidently stared back out of the picture, made Amber think that she was more likely to be a lover or mistress. Someone willing to model for some candid pictures so that Pollard could practice his hobby.

Did the young woman get undressed willingly, or did he have to persuade her? To seduce her, telling how beautiful she looked. "Just a little more please, just ease your skirt a little higher so I can see more of those gorgeous legs. These pictures are only for me, nobody else will ever see them, I promise."

Amber slid a hand between her thighs, caressing herself through the thin cotton of her dress as she imagined what it would feel like to be the girl in the photo, languidly allowing herself to be seduced, slowly stripping naked, shedding layer after layer of stiff, formal Edwardian clothing. First her little leather ankle boots and then unfastening the little round buttons of her dress, letting it slide down over her legs as Charles encouraged her, his eyes feasting on each newly uncovered inch of creamy skin.

Amber slid a hand beneath her skirt, gently caressing herself as she thought about the slow relief of unlacing her tight bodice, the feeling of wanton freedom. Perhaps pausing a little, teasing him, making him plead before slipping her chemise up over her head, holding her hands over her bare breasts as he begged her to let him see more. The tense excitement in the room climaxing as she'd slipped out of her drawers, exposing her creamy thighs. In the final picture, the young woman was facing away from the camera, looking back over her shoulder impishly, her buttocks pale and round above the tops of her black silk stockings.

The knock on the door startled her, and she leapt to her feet feeling the blood rush to her cheeks as she tugged her dress down over her knees.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting," Ben said as he entered the room. He was carrying a rectangle of green foam rubber, about an inch thick and the size of a tea tray.

"No, no! Not at all," Amber said, sweeping her hair from her forehead.

"It's just that mum said that you might like this. It's a kneepad," he explained. "She uses it for gardening; she said it might be easier on your knees."

"Oh, I see. Yes, thanks," she replied, watching Ben drop the pad on the floor and demonstrate, his knees sinking into the foam rubber. "That's very thoughtful."

"Crikey, these photo's are very, um, racy, aren't' they?" he said, casting his eye over the array of semi-naked Edwardian ladies.

"Yes, and they're getting racier," Amber said, nudging an untidy pile of unsorted photo's with the tip of her sandal. Up until now, the photo's had mainly been of single women but she'd found photo's of couples near the bottom of the first trunk.

"Gosh," Ben gasped as he picked up one of the photos.

He was still kneeling and Amber rested a hand on one of his broad shoulders as she watched him flicking through the explicit black-and-white photos. Up close, she was able to study his face, and noticed his long, fair eyelashes and a faint scar on his temple.

Ben dwelled on the photos where the woman was dominant, the man kneeling before her. He paused, studying one in particular: a woman casually reclined on a cast-iron chair, her eyes closed, her chemise tugged up over her stomach, her white silk stockings rolled down to her knees. She was evidently enjoying the attention of the naked man kneeling on the floor, his head between her thighs, his slick dark hair neatly parted, a look of concentration on his face as he pleasured her with his tongue.

"You like this photo, huh?" Amber said, remembering how compliant he'd been on the tennis court, letting her take the lead when they kissed.

As if in answer, she felt his hand reach out and start to casually stroke her calf sending warm tingles of anticipation racing up and down her legs. She held her breath as he carefully placed the pictures back in the same spot, then twisted around and started to kiss her ankle.

"Ben, perhaps this isn't the time..." she started to say, glancing up at the half-open door.

"My mother and Tilly have gone into town," he explained, half-twisting around to kiss her leg just below the knee.

Amber rested a hand on the top of his head to steady herself, as he slid a warm hand beneath the knee-length hem of her dress. He looked up, his large grey eyes meeting hers, silently asking her permission as he eased it over her knees, and his lips lightly brushed over the bare skin of her legs.

It could have been the weather or that passionate kiss on the tennis court or the fact that they were surrounded by hundreds of erotic pictures, but Amber was suddenly aware of how aroused she was.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she gasped, but didn't move to stop him as he slid his hand higher. She could feel Ben's hot breath on her skin as he inched higher, the touch of those soft, warm lips sending hot shivers up and down her spine, her legs turning to jelly. She could feel the heat gathering at the junction of her thighs, her body melting in the gathering heat and moistening her panties.

"Oh Ben," she moaned, her hand resting heavily on his shoulder as he left a trail of delicate kisses along the inside of her thighs. He eased her skirt higher, up over her thighs. His eyes lit up at the sight of her lacy knickers, a skimpy white triangle stretched tightly over her pubis.

"Fuck!" she gasped, swaying unsteadily as she felt the moist warmth of his lips exploring the swollen outline of her pussy through the floral pattern of the thin, damp lace. Her ex-boyfriend hadn't liked cunnilingus, so it had been a long time since anyone had kissed her down there, and despite the heat she felt herself shiver at the intensity of the sensations, nearly losing her balance again. He licked her eagerly, the taut white cotton clinging to her moist lips, clearly exposing the groove of her sex.

"Too much," she whimpered after only a few seconds, her head spinning as she grasped a handful of tousled hair and eased his head back, trying to regain some measure of control.

He sat back on his heels and watched as Amber kicked off her leather sandals then hooked her thumbs beneath the waistband of her panties. She couldn't resist teasing him a little, swaying her hips as she inched them over her hips before letting them slide down over her slender legs. He waited patiently, a naked hunger in his eyes as she slipped the little damp tangle of white from her ankles then let it drop to the floor. Amber took a few unsteady steps back and perched her bottom on the end of the bare mattress, curling a finger to beckon him closer as she drew her skirt up over her naked thighs.

Amber grinned and spread her legs wantonly, exposing the pink, puckered lips of her pussy as he crawled forward on all fours. She felt another rush of wetness as he drew closer, feeling his warm breath on her bare skin, his big hands easing her knees further apart. Over his back, she could see the door still standing half-open, the danger of being caught somehow making it more exciting.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured as he stared at the little triangle of sparse golden hair and the neat pink folds between her smooth creamy thighs. Amber slid a hand around the back of his neck urging him forward, eager to feel his lips on her nakedness.

She lay back, crossing her arms beneath her head and draping a leg over his shoulder and stroking her foot along his back as he gently and patiently explored her, closing his eyes and using his other senses to guide him towards the very centre of her wetness. She closed her eyes, savouring the intense sensations as his soft, almost feminine lips explored the swollen folds.

He was so young that she thought he'd be too keen, eager to make her cum quickly so he could concentrate on his own lust but he was the opposite, his eager tongue guided by her mews of pleasure as he explored all the throbbing peaks and sweet, moist valleys of her pussy.

She writhed happily, her hands caressing her modest but perky boobs through her thin summer dress as he licked the full length of her silky slit, along her perineum, her pulsing labia, her sensitive clit. She ran a hand through the soft, golden curls of his hair, occasionally directing him to a different spot, her fingers delicately spreading the pink petals, urging him to probe deeper. He happily licked and kissed and nibbled as if making a map of the spots that made her catch her breath.

"That's it, not too hard," she gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue dancing over her clit.

"Like this?" he said, flicking it back and forth in a way that caused hot electric tingles to race over her body.

"Mmm, yes! Just like that, just keep doing that," she insisted breathlessly.

What really turned her on were the muffled sounds he made as he licked her, as if he were savouring the taste of her, his tongue delving between her puffy folds, seeking the source of her nectar.

She had been content to lie back and savour the sensual waves of pleasure lapping over her body as Ben patiently explored her intimate folds, his tongue delicately lapping at her slit, teasing her clit, sucking at her labia as she ran her hands through the loose tangles of his sun-bleached hair. But as the waves became stronger and harder, crashing over her, her body demanded more and more, at first craving then demanding a satisfying conclusion to the extended foreplay and her soft yearning sighs became louder, her strained voice urging him on. She found herself arching her back, her hands tugging his head tight against her, as she ground her hot thighs against his face, her desperate cries imploring him to finish what he'd started.

"Yes, oh God, yes!" she panted, her hips rocking, as he slid a slick, stubby finger inside her, caressing the walls of her throbbing vagina. She writhed and moaned hotly as he eased his finger in and out between her clasping lips as his tongue lapped hungrily at her moist folds, her pussy caressed from inside and out.

"Yes, oh God, keep doing that, don't stop!" she cried desperately, her breathing reduced to a series of hoarse, dry gasps, as his tongue traced intricate patterns over her throbbing clit and two slippery fingers pistoned in and out of her pussy, frigging her harder and harder as her body twisted and shook, her hands grasping blindly at the mattress, her head thrown back, her heart thumping against her ribcage.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she squealed joyously as her orgasm hit her hard, all the frustrations of the last few days released in one sublime moment, her body surfing a hot tsunami of ecstacy that sent her tumbling head over heels, gasping for breath.

When she eventually opened her eyes, Ben was looking down at her, a wry smile on his face.