I must have had a restless night, because when I woke up the next morning the top sheet was on the floor and I was sprawled naked on top of the bed with my legs apart, showing off everything I’d got. I smiled as I thought of Matt waking up and seeing me like that, and examined myself briefly for evidence of fresh semen, in case he hadn’t been able to resist jerking off over my naked body. But as far as I could tell he hadn’t indulged himself in that particular perversion. Maybe he was starting to run out of spunk at last. I had a shower, and got dressed. For some reason, I was feeling especially horny already, so I decided to have a “no underwear” day. I slipped on an oversized t-shirt over my bare top half (I didn’t want it to be too obvious that I had no bra on) and a summery skirt that was long enough to protect my modesty when I was sitting down (as long as I kept my knees together). By the time I’d wandered downstairs, my parents and Matt had almost finished breakfast. Mum and Dad announced that they were going to drive to the local cider farm to stock up with a few litre bottles before we went home. I perked up at this. Although I’d planned to go on the beach again, I’d recently developed a bit of a taste for proper cider, as opposed to the watered-down muck that’s served in most English pubs outside the West Country. And I wouldn’t be driving so there would be nothing to stop me sampling a few of the different brews that would hopefully be available to taste. “I’ll come too, if that’s okay,” I said. My dad laughed. “Okay, just as long as you don’t drink too much. How about you, Matt?” Matt smiled.“I’ll stay here, if that’s okay,” he said. “I’ll go on the beach instead. The surf doesn’t look too bad this morning.” I suspected he was looking forward to getting Sally etimesgut escort by herself, although it would be just his luck if she went off with her mum instead. But that was his problem. “Well, don’t stay in too long,” said my mum, who just couldn’t stop being motherly, even with other peoples’ children. “And don’t drown,” I added, and Matt stuck his tongue out at me. “Do you need to get anything?” said my mum. She’d probably noticed I hadn’t got a bra on, but I didn’t think it was that obvious in my loose t-shirt, and besides, we weren’t going anywhere posh. Anyway, she didn’t always wear one herself: I’d definitely taken after her in the boob department. Small but perfectly formed, and well able to pass the pencil test. “No, I think I’m fine,” I said, and she didn’t say anything else, so that was ok. So off we went, my dad driving, probably hoping that my mum would drive back if he had a drink. It was only about twenty minutes drive to the cider farm. I say cider farm, but it was really just an ordinary farm that made a bit of cider on the side. There wasn’t a proper shop, but one corner of a big hay-barn by the farmhouse had been fitted out with a basic serving area, behind which a row of barrels of cider were racked up. There were a few tables, benches and bales of hay lined up for those people who wanted to sit and have a few drinks right there, but most of their business came from take-outs sold to passing trade. They sold the cider in plain plastic containers (like milk), in one, two and four litre sizes, which were filled straight from the barrel. It was very low-tech, but the cider was lovely, even if some of it was rather strong. When we rolled up, the farmer himself was busy tasting the latest batch with a lad who looked eryaman escort about twenty, and who I guessed must be his son. As soon as it was obvious that we were actually going to buy something, he was very happy to let us taste the different brews on offer. I sampled a couple that were a bit dry for me, but there was a sweetish one that was absolutely delicious, and my dad bought me a pint of it. There obviously wasn’t much proper farming that needed doing that morning, because the farmer soon got chatting with my parents about the cider business, and how his family had been making it for years and years, using apples from their own orchard. It was obviously his pride and joy. “Do you fancy a quick look at the orchard?” he said. “It’s only a few minutes walk away, just round the back of the barn. Bring your drinks. John here can mind the shop for half an hour or so.” My parents made the right sort of enthusiastic noises (well, my dad did). “It’s a bit muddy, mind,” the farmer went on, looking at my flimsy footwear, which wasn’t really designed for tramping around fields. “Oh, I’ll wait here,” I said. “I’ve got my drink and a book in my bag, so I’ll be fine.” I sat myself down on one of the benches, got out my book, and had another swig of cider. But I’m afraid my mind kept getting distracted, mainly watching John, the farmer’s son, as he idled about behind the serving counter, sorting out the take-out containers. Not beating about the bush, he was a real hunk. He was wearing a tight t-shirt that showed off his abs, and when he turned his back I couldn’t help admiring his trim bum in his jeans. Not only that, but I noticed that he kept glancing up at me as I sat at the table sipping my cider. Maybe it was the effect of the cider, or maybe sincan escort I was just feeling horny, but I wondered just how closely he was looking at me. It might give him a little treat if I let him see that I was going commando. I casually pulled my skirt a little further up my legs, then parted my thighs just enough, so I knew that my plump mound and the line of my labia would be visible. Next time he looked my way, he’d get an eyeful. I pretended to be looking at my book, but I saw him almost do a comedy double-take when he noticed my knicker-less state. He very quickly began finding “work” to do that meant he could keep looking over at me. Then I noticed his hand seemed to be getting a bit active at crotch level, out of sight behind the counter. It looked very much as if he was having a wank down there. Well, two could play at that game. I casually slipped my hand down between my legs and pulled my skirt right up so that my hand could get at my pussy. Gently, I began to rub at my labia, then slipped a finger between them, up into the sticky wet depths of my tight vagina. I looked at him as I was doing it, deliberately challenging him to catch my eye. As soon as he saw me looking, I smiled, to let him know that I was enjoying the fun. Judging by his arm movements, he was enjoying himself too. I slipped a second finger up inside me, then withdrew them both, glistening with my juices. I raised them to my nose and sniffed the sweet, fresh scent of my arousal. Licking my lips sensuously, I put my fingers in my mouth and sucked off the juices. I felt like such a slut, but I do love having a dirty flirt. I put a hand on the bulge of my left breast and squeezed it through my loose t-shirt, feeling my nipple get hard. I’d had enough teasing; it was time for some action, so I beckoned to him to join me. He looked guiltily over at the door to the barn, and then came over, carrying a container of cider. He’d tucked his cock back inside his jeans, but I could see the massive bulge down his leg. “Did you fancy a top-up?” he asked, with a dirty grin on his face.