A Midsummer Night's Snog

  Today's the beginning of Victoria Blisse's Spring Fling Snog festival. I couldn't seem to find a kiss from the spring time, but here's one from Midsummer's Eve, from my M/M/F historical romp Shortest Night. 

The year is 1595 in the reign of Good Queen Bess. Stage-struck, young Ben Hastings leaves his father's farm for London, to join Will Shakepeare's band of players. Hugh Templeton, the handsome leading man, takes the the innocent lad under his wing, but Ben soon discovers that Hugh wants more than just friendship. Meanwhile a savvy tavern maid named Jenny engineers a comedy of errors to save Ben from Hugh's lewd embrace and win him for her own. 

I'm giving away a copy of Brits in Time, the anthology where this was first published, to one lucky person who leaves a comment. Don't forget to include your email address so I can find you if I win.

And after you've had your fun here - hop on over to Victoria's for more seasonal snogging!

His sharp ears picked up a sound on the ascending path. Hugh! Sudden panic gripped him. He wanted to run, to hide himself away from the arch, knowing gaze of his would-be ravisher. He couldn’t bear to see himself the way Hugh saw him, as a tender morsel of flesh waiting to be consumed. But why should he think so ill of Hugh? Hugh loved him, he had sworn it, and vowed to prove his love with the worship of his body. This was just nervousness…

Ben had promised. He wouldn’t fail so stalwart a friend, though it cost him dearly. He stood his ground, waiting for the older man to emerge from the brush.

When a masculine figure finally appeared, Ben’s confusion reached a crisis. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. It must be a trick of the moonlight, for the man facing him across the grassy space seemed to be much shorter than Hugh, and fair rather than dark.

“Hugh?”

“Nay, Master Templeton has had second thoughts.” The voice was young, high and clear, and somehow familiar. “He has seen the error in his ways—preying on innocent, susceptible virgins, enjoying their unsullied flesh, robbing them of their dignity and then leaving them, corrupted and broken.”

“But Hugh wouldn’t…”

“Are you so sure? You should perhaps talk to some of the other lads who have played the ladies in Master Will’s tales. But then, they do not tend to stay long with the Company, after Hugh Templeton is finished with them.”

Ben recalled the twist in Hugh’s smile, the urgency of the older man’s desire, the way that Ben had pleaded for respite when the man tried to force his dick into Ben’s bum. Could it be true?

“Who are you, then? Did Hugh send you in his stead?”

The youth gave a low, throaty laugh. “You mean to bugger you? Well, that’s a thought. But no, I’m your true friend, someone who’ll love you and support you and stand beside you while you reach for your heart’s desire.”

“My friend? But I don’t know you.”

“Do you not? Let me help refresh your memory.” The young man began unlacing his points. His hose slipped over his hips and down to the ground. Ben peered into the night, trying despite himself to see the lad’s privates, to see if he was as hard as Ben was, with all this talk of corruption and buggering. However, the boy’s groin was shadowed by his overhanging shirt.

Meanwhile, the figure across from him pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it away. Finally, the intruder reached behind his neck and untied his hair. Long golden ringlets spilled over the figure’s pale, bare shoulders and tumbled between gently swelling breasts.

Ben felt dizzy as his senses realigned. An instant before, he had been talking to a confident young fellow with a sharp tongue. Now, all at once, he was facing a girl in her late teens—a naked girl with a self-satisfied smile on her pretty face.

He remembered his dreams. “Jenny!”

Before he knew what was happening, she stood before him, looking up into his eyes. “I told you we’d meet again, Ben. It’s fate.” She brushed her body against his. Her rigid nipples tickled his chest through his linen shirt. His already-swollen cock jumped, grazing her belly. She slipped her small, cool hand inside his garment and grasped him firmly. He groaned. “Let me show you what this is meant for, and then you can decide whether you’d rather have Templeton, or me.”

“But how came you here? Hugh wrote that he’d meet me…” All at once Ben understood. “You were the messenger boy!”

Jenny nodded. “Though if you’d rather believe it a spell, I’ll not gainsay you. For truly, I think that you and I can make some magic together.”

She pulled his mouth down to hers. Her lips were velvety petals pressed against his, wonderfully soft but cloaking a firmness Ben craved. Her tongue played around his mouth, teasing. He relaxed and let the kiss develop into a hot, wet union that left him breathless.

She tasted of ale and almonds. Her complex scent rose into his nostrils, musk and rosewater, lye, sweat and the slightest hint of manure. As they kissed, she continued to stroke and squeeze his poor swollen penis, building the pleasure and the pressure until he worried that he’d spend all over her hand.

“Wait!” he gasped, breaking the kiss. “Let me undress.”

“A fine idea, Master Ben. Shall I help you?”

“No, no, I can manage.” He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, then started unlacing his points. His rigid cock made it difficult to get off his hose. This cheeky young woman left him embarrassed and flustered but, at least, as randy as Hugh had made him.

The maid lay down in the lush grass, her head propped up on one elbow, and watched him disrobe. The pose gave her an elegance and a grace that Ben hadn’t previously noticed. His eyes followed the luscious curve of her hip, gleaming in the moonlight. Her breasts seemed fuller in this position, creamy hemispheres of succulent flesh crowned by ruddy tips. Her blonde locks trailed over her shoulders. He could just make out a matching tangle of gold at the juncture of her thighs. His cock swelled further, though he would not have believed it possible, pointing straight up at the drifting moon.

Jenny patted the ground beside her. “Come here, sweet boy.” Ben did not wait for a second invitation.