Beneath the shade of a weeping willow, there is space enough to allow the
imagination to flow faster than the lazy clouds trailing their way across the
blue summer sky. There Teresa laid out a chequered table cloth just beyond the
trailing fronds of the tree where the grass was less damp. It was far enough
from the bank of the stream to allow the water insects to be distracted more by
the lowing cattle across the water than the feast she had in prospect.

She looked so proud, after delving repeatedly into the large hamper basket,
surveying the results of your endeavours, covering the cloth with assorted
victuals. He watched Teresa display one delightful dish after another,
unwrapping each parcel of food and setting a brace of champagne bottles at the
centre of all that tasty artistry. The bottles stood proud and yet she knelt
there prouder still, blushing lightly as he complimented her on the variety of
dishes, as well as the forethought and planning that had gone into producing
this wonderful feast.

Finally, Teresa sat back on her haunches and breathed a sigh of contentment.
She closed her eyes and looked up into the sun, letting its warm rays play
across her face. At that moment she was the epitome of happiness, radiating
the warmth she attained from sharing her morning’s work, all provocatively
unpacked and ready to be devoured.

How could he ever forget her giggle as Teresa held one of the bottles between
her thighs to steady it as she tugged impatiently at the wire cage? The bottle
was well shaken by their journey and it took little effort to release the cork
with that gratifying pop. She cried out as the fizzy liquid bubbled up from
the neck of the bottle and overflowed onto her skirt and over the arm that she
then used to brush away the intoxicating liquid.

He leant forward to pull her skirt out of harms’ way and smelt the sweet liquor
that dampened her clothing and her flesh. It camouflaged her excitement well
for a while, until, that is, he bent down to lick the sweetness from her wrist
and from each of her carefully manicured fingers, one after another. He was,
however, relentless in his quest and soon uncovered another flavoursome liquor
that moistened Teresa’s soon ill-concealed sex.

“No underwear?” He taunted gently.

“No, not today,” she confessed, lowering her eyelids to observe how her
brightly coloured skirt was rucked up around her waist. Teresa felt his fingers
playing around her midriff and held still, waiting for them to drift lower
towards the apex of her now naked sex. He toyed with her, owning her pleasure,
listening to the soft sighs she uttered as his fingers traced the contours of
her pubic mound, alternating between her soft belly and her closed thighs.

Despite her nearly closed eyes,Teresa felt him kneel in front of her and pull
her lower legs from under her, spreading her imperiously. Had his arms not
been supporting her, Tessa would have fallen back among the foodstuffs, another
victual to be sampled. He reached under her knees and bent low to lift her up
off the ground, carrying you over to the trunk of the willow. She looked up at
the green leaves forming a curtain that veiled them from the world as he
pressed her back against the living wood.

“Spread yourself,” he instructed Teresa, as he fumbled with her clothing,
rolling the skirt up round her belly and unbuttoning her blouse to reveal her
soft bosom to the world. Obligingly, she wrapped her legs around him and drew
him in, reaching forward to unzip him. Teresa cupped his desire in her hands
and pulled him into her, practically yelling with delight as he made contact,
embracing his sex with her spread thighs. He looked down and watched his sex
disappearing within her, penetrating her moist, needy femininity.

“What can a young lady do, but obey her lover?” Teresa asked, shrugging her
shoulders and waving morality au-revoir, as she wrapped her arms around his
neck and reached up for a kiss.

“She can surrender to his wiles and enjoy our connection,” he replied,
thrusting into her suddenly, knowing that she was wet enough only to feel
pleasure as this forceful intervention. The food lay discarded on the
chequered table cloth, as he pressed into her, pushing her legs apart, his
groin pressed to hers, his hands reaching under her bottom to help the willow
support her reclining body.

“Yes,” Teresa moaned as she felt him pushing deep into her body, feeling as
enmeshed in this contact as a fly in a spider’s web. All those hours of
preparation were made worthwhile by the way Teresa could surrender
responsibility completely. She had unpacked her cares with that basket. Now,
as he prepared to fill her with his passion, she had found renewed hope,
beneath the shade of a weeping willow, where there was space enough to allow
the imagination to flow faster than the lazy clouds trailing their way across
the blue summer sky…