Cathy stood on the deserted beach. It had taken her half an hour to gather the pile of rocks and stones at her feet. She looked up and down the strand to see if anyone was nearby and, seeing no one, she bent over and picked up a stone. She drew back her arm and flung the rock with all her might onto the incoming waves. "FUCK!" she screamed.
Again and again she repeated the process, the heap of rocks disappearing much faster than it had been accumulated, and each time Cathy let fly she wailed the obscenity once again, wailed it despairingly, as though it were the last pitiful utterance of a broken heart.
Perhaps it was. Perhaps at this very moment Cathy was experiencing the most downcast and disconsolate emotions of her life. Eighteen-year-old girls tend to be extreme in their feelings and reactions at the best of times and, if anyone had been there to ask her, Cathy would undoubtedly have replied that she felt just like dying.
She stooped to seize the last rock, a big gray chunk of stone, which she had saved for last precisely because it was bigger than any of the others she'd found. Her fingers wrapped around it and she brought her arm back for the toss. Cathy closed her eyes and she saw her mother's face, and
it made her smile to imagine Gwen standing in the stone's imminent pathway, for wasn't it all Gwen's fault?
"FUCK!" she shrieked and the rock flew out of her hand to slap and splash upon the frothing wave rolling towards the shore. Her arm dropped and she stood a moment, panting heavily with the force of her emotions, her young tits heaving as frantically.
"Are you throwing rocks at the devil?" someone asked, and Cathy whirled around, her sandaled feet whipping on the warm sand. A young man, sun-browned and wearing only a pair of skimpy black swim trunks, stood at the crest of the bluff overlooking the beach, his longish hair blowing in the sea breeze.
"Huh?" Cathy called in reply. He was coming to join her, a smile growing bigger on his face as he got nearer. Jesus, she thought, he's cute! And he must think I'm crazy or something.
"I said, are you throwing rocks at the devil?" He cocked his head to one side and stared at her engagingly. "It's kind of a joke, but I guess it isn't funny if you don't know the language. I have this friend, see, who went to a church-run boarding school when he was younger, and the supervisor used to tell the boys that getting horny was a symptom of the devil trying to take over their bodies. So, until they found out it was caused by something else altogether, whenever one of them started feeling any urges, he'd run outside and start pitching rocks until the devil gave up and went back to Hell where he belonged."
"Oh," Cathy said, lips curling into a little smile.
"I guess you had to be there to appreciate it," the boy added, and Cathy couldn't keep a straight face any longer. She began to laugh softly and his face brightened.
"My name's Cathy," she said. "What's yours?"
"I'm Chris," he said. "Chris Robinson. I don't remember seeing you anywhere. Have you been on the island all summer?"
"It seems like it," Cathy sighed. "But we've only been here a couple of days. My mom and I," she explained quickly. He really was cute, and she didn't want him to think he had no chance with her.
"My dad and I have been here a week," Chris said. "Don't you care for it?"
She shook her head. "It was all my mom's idea. Take a good old-fashioned mother-daughter vacation, get to know each other-all that shit. So, every time I try to get to know her, she says, "Cathy, honey, I have to get some work done on this article-why don't you go out and soak up some sun, and we'll talk later." The only person on this island I've said more than three words to is a really dipshit girl named Jennifer whose family is renting the place down the road from us. Until you came along, though. God, my throat is sore already from all this talking."
"Hey, don't tire yourself out. I'm not worth it."
Bet you are, Cathy told herself. Bet you are.
"Where do you go to school? You are still in school, aren't you?"
Cathy nodded. "I'll be a junior this fall. I was going to Miss Proctor's, in Darien. Do you know it?"
"No," he mused, "I don't think so. Darien, Connecticut? We don't get out here much, though. We live in Illinois. But Dad had some business on the East Coast this summer and he decided to bring me along."
"What's your sign?"
"Cancer. Born June twenty-ninth."
"Jesus," Cathy whistled. "So was I! We ought to be friends."
"Yeah," he smiled. "We'd only have to buy one horoscope." Chris stretched out his hand. "How would you like a guided tour of the south coast? I think I rank as an expert."
"You're on," Cathy giggled, and, hand in hand, away they went down the strip of deserted beachfront.
They talked as they walked, and in the space of only a few minutes it was as though they had been friends for years. There seemed to be a special bond between them. As Cathy noted, how often indeed do you find someone who was born exactly the same day you were? And the same year, it turned out, too.
Chris liked what he saw walking beside him, and he wondered if their matching astrology did indeed have any significance. Like, did it mean he was going to be able to get into her pants? Cathy's pants were well worth getting into, he was certain. She was a beautiful, willowy girl, nearly as tall as he was, with long, lissome legs whose rippling muscles moved so gracefully as to justify the whole, long process of human evolution. Her hair was a windswept mane of golden brown, a few shades blonder than his own light-colored locks, her face was clean and oval-shaped and finely chiseled, and the demure skimpiness of her bikini showed off a body put of a wet dream. Cathy's tits were high and round, not too big and certainly not too small, with freckles showing daintily on her breastbone and in her cleavage. She had a smooth, flat tummy with a navel that would just accommodate the tip of his middle finger, and her ass was young, high-set, and springy-just made to be bounced on a bed. Sometimes when she moved her legs just so, a tiny tendril of pussy hair would slip through the leg opening of her bikini bottom. The curl was dark, much darker than the hair on her head, and Chris was willing to bet a month's allowance that her cunt fur was silky to the touch. The beach narrowed, the bluffs behind creeping down almost to the surf's edge, and Chris guided the girl to a path that led up the sandy rise. They stood on the top, looking down into a wooded vale on the inland side, a little forest whose green leaves spread like a natural umbrella.
"This is virgin timber," Chris informed her, "about the last on the island of any size. Most of the woods were cleared away to make this place a vacation paradise." He tugged on her hand. "Want to go exploring?"
The only thing I'd like to explore, Cathy thought smirkily, is the bulge in the crotch of your trunks. His shorts fit him tightly, fashionably, molding the fabric around his cock and balls with a frankness the girl found totally praiseworthy. But on the other hand, she found everything about him praiseworthy. He was good-looking, had a nice, free and easy manner, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts which dominated her mind at that moment.
Throwing rocks at the devil, Cathy thought. Weird, but he'd hit it almost on the nose. She had been frustrated, she had been angry, but above all else, she had been horny-the kind of horniness peculiar to young girls who have just discovered their cunts are useful for other things besides urination and masturbation. Indeed, that was why Cathy had been so pissed off when her mother had sprung the big news upon her.
Seeing Gwen at all was a big surprise. They had been closer when Cathy was much younger, but for the past nine years most of Gwen's work had kept her out of the country altogether. Gwen was a reporter for a national magazine, and she spent a lot of time abroad running down stories and interviewing celebrities. During those nine years Cathy had lived almost exclusively at one boarding school or another, and she had almost gotten used to not having a mother at all.
And then, just over a week ago, Gwen had turned up at Miss Proctor's School to inform her daughter that the long separation was finally over, that the magazine had given her a transfer, to the Washington, D.C., offices. In July, the two of them would move into a house Gwen had already found in Georgetown, and come fall Cathy could start in at one of the many good private schools about the nation's capitol.
It couldn't have come at a worse time. After eighteen years Cathy had finally fallen irrevocably, permanently in love, with a young college student who helped out as a languages tutor at Miss Proctor's. While conjugating French verbs, Cathy had made her declaration of undying love, italicizing it by removing her blouse and placing his hands upon her conveniently braless tits. He had turned red at the first contact, and then his hands had seized upon her boobs with an eagerness Cathy wasn't quite ready for, and before she could get around to telling him how much she wanted to be the mother of his children and the love of his life, he had her lying on the carpeted floor of the study room with her skirt raised, her panties lowered, and his cock poised on the threshold of her quivering pussy.
Involuntarily she winced at the sudden remembrance of the first stabbing thrust he had made with his cock inside her virgin cunt, and, wincing, she likewise involuntarily squeezed tight upon Chris' hand holding hers. He returned the tender pressure and she was glad she'd remembered.
That had been about six months ago. About? It was at 7:35 p.m. on the evening of January twenty-ninth. A girl doesn't forget when she sacrifices her cherry upon the altar of love. And it had been a nice experience, all in all. Cathy hadn't climaxed that first time, but she soon got over that. And the third time she and her lover got together, he had made her a gift of a medical prescription which, when filled, allowed Cathy to look forward to many weeks of worry-free screwing.
Of course, being able to fuck without fear of getting knocked up had its effect on Cathy, too. She realized within a matter of days that she didn't really love her tutor, that she was merely trying to rationalize her sex impulse, but what the fuck? When he put his cock inside her and she began to tighten her snug pussy upon it, she felt good, and he felt good, and so what if they weren't intending to make it a permanent, lifetime arrangement? What hurt most was to realize that she had been missing out on this for so long. Her tits had begun to sprout in brown-capped buds when she was eleven, and by the time she'd started eighth grade, the other girls, were calling her "Beaver" every time she undressed for an after-gym shower. She'd been ready for fucking long before she had managed to screw her courage to seduce her tutor.
What was strangest, Cathy thought, was how she'd lived eighteen years, almost, without ever being fucked and now, only six months after her first screw, it seemed to be a completely wasted week that didn't allow her to have something long, hard, and hot stuffed inside her pussy. Jesus, she said to herself as they walked into the woods, it's been nine days! And she knew as surely as she knew her own name that if this absolutely gorgeous guy didn't ball her, she'd have no choice but to rape him on the spot.
"See," he was telling her. "The island may be a tourist haven, but here in the woods you can feel just like Robinson Crusoe before he met Friday-all alone, with nature your only companion." Chris stopped in the shade of a big and ancient oak whose branches overhung them like a canopy. The leaves above their heads filtered the sunlight shining down, and the soft lighting gently accented the golden highlights of Cathy's hair and the rosy, lightly tanned pink of her young flesh. She reminded him of an impressionist painting or a David Hamilton photograph, and he wanted very much to touch her.
"It's really beautiful and quiet here," she said with a delicate huskiness in her voice. She looked at him. He was staring at her with the hunger so plain in his eyes, and she wondered if he might not be frightened. Why should he be? Chris was a good-looking guy-he had to know he was good-looking-and he should be able to read the message her own eyes were doing their damnedest to broadcast to him.
She sucked in her breath, making her tits rise smoothly for his inspection. A little flush spread across her face and she laughed reassuringly. Cathy's eyes dropped imperceptibly, peeking once more at the bulge in the front of his trunks. It seemed a little bigger than before, as if horny blood were beginning to engorge his cock in anticipation.
Her foot hesitated a moment. She was going to approach him, to take his hands in hers, to let her body brush against his, to touch him with her lips. Surely that would give him the message. Her eyes glanced past his figure and she said, "Oh. What's that?"
He turned. "That?" he said, and there was a little choke in his voice she hadn't expected. He was getting hot for damn sure, she knew in that moment. "It's just a pond."
I can see that, she thought. "Is it deep? I mean, I'd love to swim in some fresh water. The salt in the ocean makes my hair brittle, and I think it's ruining my complexion." She waited for his answer, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
"Oh, sure," he said. "It's plenty deep enough for swimming."
"Well, come on, then!" she squeaked, and she bounced away from him, making for the wooded pond. He came up beside her while she stood on the bank looking at the surface of the water, where the overhead sun cast silver blades of light across the clear green. "It even looks dean," she said. "At least compared to the Hudson or the Connecticut."
"It's clean," he said, his voice still a bit shaky. He stepped forward and put his toes into the water, shivering at the cool tingle that raced through him. Goddamn it, he cursed inwardly. He'd been just about to give her a try, too! Maybe he'd read her wrong. Maybe all she wanted to do was talk and walk.
Cathy reached up behind herself, then presented her back to Chris. "Untie me," she said. "I can't quite reach it." Of course that wasn't true-after all, she'd put her bikini on with no help at all-but she knew instinctively that helping a girl undress was a real turn-on for guys.
He'd undone the bow holding up her bra before he realized it, and all he could do was stare at her suddenly bare back as she let the bra fall and flutter to the ground. Her hands skidded down her smooth sides to pull open the bows securing her panties and these, too, dropped. In the twinkling of an eye she'd become completely naked, and he was staring at her back, almost entranced, unable to take his eyes off the sinuous line of her spinal column, from where it showed beneath the fall of her hair to where it joined the perky, plump swell of her bitable-looking butt.
She smoothed hands across her golden hair and turned around to face him. He pursed his lips as he drank in the sight of her nudity. The bikini had been flattering and a turn-on when it was covering her body so provocatively, but naked? God! His eyes bulged until he was sure they must be fully as large and round as the pink, plump tits that perched high and proud on her chest, topped off by slightly oval-shaped nipples, brown and beautiful, the paps already beginning to stiffen under the frankness of his gaze.
Chris eyed the fine lines of her young body, and he wondered why his face was growing so red-indeed, why his face could be growing red, for it seemed that every drop of blood in his body was at that very moment pumping like crazy into the barrel of his prick. He looked down at his front, saw the crotch of his trunks tenting out as his pole went up. Her eyes dropped with his, and she smiled to see what effect her nakedness was having upon him.
"Does that always happen when you see a naked girl?" she asked innocently, her fingertips brushing across his budding hard-on. He jumped as if she were wired for electrocution, and his cock bulged all the more, beginning to ache with the need he suddenly felt.
"A girl like you," he said softly, staring at the stunningly dark hair of her crotch. Her pussy fur was almost black, in vivid contrast to the golden glow of her head hair, and it was impressively thick, so much so that he couldn't even see the lips of her cunt through the under bush. He couldn't help himself-and obviously she wanted it, too, or she'd never have stripped off in front of him-and his hand closed upon her furry muff.
"Ooohhhh," she whispered as she felt him grip her twat in his firm paw. Her hand dropped to stroke his.
He filled his hand with her snatch, reveling in the plump thrust of her cunt mound, in the satiny smoothness of her fuzz, in the moistness he could already feel beneath his palm. He clutched her tight, fondling her cunt, and while her fingers teased and trailed across his wrist, her thighs began to clamp together, pressuring him softly in return as he pressured her.
Cathy moved against him, so that her tits brushed against his bare chest. He felt her nipples stiffen on impact, and then her boobs crushed against him and she began to rise on tiptoes, her hands clutching his shoulders to support her body, and he dropped his face slightly to meet her lips with his own.
She parted her lips immediately, and he did likewise, his tongue stabbing out, scraping across her white teeth to penetrate the cavern of her mouth. She caught his tongue hard then, sucking it voraciously as it slid wetly across her own, and Chris could feel his Lower lip brushing again and again upon her teeth. Her mouth opened slightly then, and she began to probe and explore with her tongue inside his mouth. She was aggressive, as aggressive as any girl he'd ever known, and he loved it.
He could tell she'd be a tiger when they got around to the actual fuck.
He let go of her pussy, pulling his hands out of the space between their bodies, and she was rubbing him now from tits to knees, trying to wrap her legs around him where he stood. Chris reached behind to cup the cheeks of her rosy ass, to give her additional support as she raised herself against him, and in the process he let his fingers drift
roguishly into the crack between her asscheeks. Cathy squirmed when she felt his fingertips brush round her puckered bung, when she felt them begin to twine and pull the soft, sparse hairs that grew further back in her crack, and she rubbed him all the harder with her bare body, thrilling delightfully as she felt the lump of his prick grow and grow and grow inside his shorts.
She pulled her tongue back, let his slip free, and she spoke to him, so close that her milky breath tickled his upper lip. "Let's go swimming," her voice invited.
"You've gotta be kidding," he whispered in amazement.
She giggled and slipped back onto the soles of her feet, drawing back from him a step or so. "My God," she said, looking at his stiffened cock. "If you go in with that, you'll displace all the water."
Cathy dropped to her knees before he could stop her, as if he had any intention of doing so. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband of his trunks and tugged them down.
Freed suddenly of its imprisoning garment, Chris' cock bounced and bobbled and bumped Cathy hard upon the chin. She laughed a tinkling laugh at that, and she looked up at him with an indescribably mysterious expression in her pale blue eyes. He realized at that moment that she had eyes of the purest, sweetest blue he'd ever seen-a delicate watercolor shade whose beauty he'd never appreciated, particularly since his own eyes were only a hair darker and he'd been ribbed for years about having eyes like a milk-faced country maiden. Seeing Cathy's eyes now, seeing the look that was in them, made him forget all the dorm-room teasing.
She took his cock in a small, dainty hand, stroked up and down its rigid length, appreciating its size, its thickness, its hard masculine beauty. And it was so warm, so full of life. Cathy loved cocks. She loved to touch them, to stroke them. Sometimes she was content to begin a sex session by deftly jacking off her partner to a spurting, splashing climax, confident that she could easily arouse him to a fresh hard-on that would last an hour or more.
"Do you play with this very much?" she asked suddenly, her voice honestly curious.
"Huh?" he asked, his prick throbbing in her grip.
"Do you play with it?" she repeated. "You know, just lie around, touching yourself, stroking it, whatever?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "Not as much as I used to, before I found out about girls."
"I know what you mean," she sighed thoughtfully. Again she moved her hand up and down his shaft, fingers teasingly loose upon his hard cock flesh. "I wish I had one of these," she added. "I'd play with it all the time. I think I'm in love with the idea of a penis." Her face moved, cheek rubbing along the stiff, reddened dong. He felt the warmth of her face vibrating through every pore of his body and he let his hands come down to touch and stroke her soft hair.
She put her fingers upon the tip of his rod, pulling back, the foreskin until his cockhead was completely bare, and she stared for a moment at the purple knob, already bearing within the slotted cum-slit a tiny drop of clear liquid. She moved her head again, her lips brushing his wine-dark cocktip, taking away with the initial drop of lubricating juice.
Cathy lay back on the grass while Chris stood above her, his breath leaving him in excited gasps. His trunks were hanging at knee height on his slightly spread legs and, as soon as he could collect himself, he rejoined his legs so that the garments fell completely off. He kicked them away impatiently, then slumped down beside her..
She was waiting for him, lying on one side and licking her lips. One of her hands was brushing back and forth across an already stiffened nipple, making the little brown bump jiggle provocatively. Nothing, he thought, that he had ever seen was half so sexy, so immediately desirable. Let alone so immediately obtainable.
He threw himself upon her, forcing Cathy onto her back once more, his mouth covering hers, his hands roaming and straying across every inch of her body. He filled his hands with her ripe tits, feeling the nipples punch hard and hot against his palms in reply. He drew fingertips across her snatch, feeling the tightly clutched lips part for him, feeling the dewy wetness of her cunt. He slipped his hands beneath her body, once more grabbing at the luscious cheeks of her butt, and she lifted herself to make it easier for him. And at the same time her hands were upon him, touching his back, stroking his hair, his shoulders, slipping low to tease his own ass, to slip into his crack and fickle the back of his balls. She tangled her fingers in his crotch hair and gave a teasing pull, and he moaned aloud into her sucking, kissing mouth, feeling her soft giggle in reply.
He kissed his way off her mouth, onto her chin, catching the bold point in a sucking wet grip that made her thrust it against and into him. He slid farther down, sucking and biting at her neck, at her shoulderblades, making his way onto the rising curve of her tit. She touched his ear with her fingertips, tracing the whorls and folds of his flesh, digging gently at it, and he felt her fingers stiffen when he descended to her nipple.
"Yes," she whispered as she felt his teeth graze the rubbery hardness of her nipple, and "Yes!" she whined again when his tongue lashed that same stiff point, and "YES!" she wailed loud when he began to suck and nurse upon her sweet boob. "Suck me like a baby," she pleaded, her fingers curling in his hair, her head thrown back, eyes closed deliriously. She loved to have her nipples kissed and licked and sucked, especially now when the guy was also beginning to use his fingers on her cunt!
His mouth full of tit, Chris let his hand slip southward, discovering en route that her navel was one of Cathy's most delightfully erogenous zones. She had a great many of these, he was learning, but the depression of her belly button and the flesh immediately surrounding it was a real champion, a standout in any crowd.
Regretfully he left it behind, about the same time he shifted his mouth to her neglected right nipple. The little pap reacted gratefully, throbbing and humming with sensuality as soon as he began to kiss it, but perhaps some of the reaction was due to the fact that his hand had simultaneously made contact with Cathy's sopping pussy.
He corkscrewed his finger into her hole, stiff digit probing and diving up her wet tunnel, and she opened her cunt for him. Her snatch was everything a girl's ought to be-hot and wet and TIGHT! She came on like Tina Russell, and he could jab his finger into her cunt deep enough to be positive she'd been fucked before, but she hadn't been worn out. Not by a long sight. Inside, where it counted, her twat was tight and snug as a young virgin, and no matter what happened in the next few minutes, he was going to get his prick into her cunt and fuck for all he was worth. If Gabriel blew his horn right now, Chris Robinson would pass up the Last Judgement until he'd blown his nuts off inside Cathy's honey-dripping snatch.
She was writhing and thrashing as he nursed and stabbed at her pussy, and she wished nothing more at that moment than for him to hurry up and get on with the balling. Oh, she enjoyed what he was doing. She enjoyed the hell out of it! But after all, it had been nine goddamn days since she had been screwed, and her cunt was screaming a silent message to her brain- I wanna be fucked. I wanna be fucked. I wanna be fucked!
Cathy's crotch swiveled invitingly, and she tried to get her legs around him in an effort to catch his attention. Come on, she thought. I'm as hot as you're gonna get me. Crawl aboard and feed me your cock, your beautiful fat cock.
It wasn't the biggest or the thickest cock she'd had. Of the six different guys she had screwed up till now, one had a dong on him that was noticeably bigger than Chris', but at the same time, the guy's prick had been so big that it was slightly uncomfortable to have it inside her. And to make matters worse, he was like so many other guys with super cocks-he'd never learned, anything about technique, relying instead on his mammoth dick to get the job done. Which, as a lover, made him slightly less desirable than Cathy's language tutor, whose prick was only of average size, as she understood average size, but who could fuck up a storm once he had it inside her pussy.
Well, Chris had nothing to be ashamed of. His cock was about seven inches long, maybe a fraction less, and thick enough to give a girl a nice handful. Cathy knew from her fairly limited experience that he could fill her twat up nicely, without any undue strain upon her elastic young cunt, and she wished to hell he'd get on with it and fuck her.
"C'mon," she sighed, head rolling from side to side, "c'mon and do it to me." He continued to suckle her tits and rub and dig inside her pussy, and she realized that his arm must be dripping with her juices to the elbow at the very least. Her snatch had never been this hot and wet in her life, but then she'd never gone nine days without a lay since she'd first started fucking, either.
He made slurping noises as he ate her tit, smacks and pecks that rang a sympathetic chord somewhere round the base of her neck, and she throbbed in unison with his nuzzling. "C'mon, c'mon," her voice pleaded, breaking into a falsetto squeak as the need to be fucked became more and more pressing.
His teeth worried her nipple the way a dog worries a blanket tossed to him for play, and she screamed at the agonizing needs he seemed unwilling to satisfy. She bounced her plump ass on the ground again and again, cunt muscles throbbing around his inserted fingers, her mind not appreciating at all the obvious truth that his finger play was making her hotter, wetter, more ready to accept fully the forthcoming insertion of his prick.
"Fuck meee now!" she shrilled, pulling at his hair with both hands, causing little tears of sudden pain to fill his eyes. He raised his mouth from her titties, looking up at her face to see the look of unbridled passion and fuck-fury that possessed and twisted her features.
He noticed for the first time that her snatch was as wet as though she'd been swimming in the pond after all, that her twat muscles were beginning to twist and suck like a vise upon his teasing fingers. She was ready to fuck. It hadn't hurt her to wait. And after all, hadn't she played it cool and coy with him from the beginning, keeping him in suspense about her intentions right to the last minute, almost? Chris smiled and climbed to his knees, sliding out of the grip of one of her legs.
She paid no attention, for her eyes were closed tight and one of her hands had already ventured to assault the same tits and nipples which he had just relinquished. He saw her fingers tugging and jerking at the rock-hard brown nipples, saw her hands cupping and squeezing the firm round titties, and he could see the abundant droplets of juice that had seeped from her open snatch to collect in the dark, satiny ringlets of her fuzzy beaver. He crawled around, spreading her thighs wide.
Her snatch was open for him now, the pink and coral interior showing like a freshly revealed treasure hoard, and he loved it at first sight. Nothing turned him off like a pussy so worn-out that the inner cuntlips protruded like a pink-brown tongue. He liked his cunts nice and fresh and tight-the kind you have to open up in order to inspect, and he stroked his fingers through her gash once more for luck, now that he was ready to fuck her.
She whined as his fingers slid in her slippery slit, and she whined again when he caught the bud of her clitoris between two fingertips and squeezed it. More wetness seeped from her pussy when he touched her love button, and he knew from the way her twat smelled, from the slightly, hollow quality in her cry, that she was on the verge of coming already. So much the better. Her cunt had been tight and active upon his fingers when they were inside her hole, and he was pretty sure she'd have his nuts cracked in no time flat, so all the more reason to get her good and hot before he stuck his meat into her.
Cathy jolted at his first touch, the way she
always did when a guy was about to put the prick to her, and she opened her eyes, half sitting up. He was between her spread thighs, tickling his knob on her cunt hairs, drawing the tip of his rod again and again along the dripping lips of her snatch. She wiggled her ass for him, scooting towards him so that he'd have no choice but to ram his tool home, all the while concentrating in an effort to make her cunt gape open so far his dick would be sucked in just like dirt into a vacuum cleaner.
He smiled at her, placed his prick squarely against the opening of her cunt, and he thrust suddenly, so quickly, so deftly, so unexpectedly, that she wasn't quite ready. She felt his cock drive home, all the way into her wet depths on that very first stroke.
His prick filled her cunt sensationally, just as she'd known it would, and the walls of her elastic-lined pussy snapped back into place around his imbedded cock, giving them both a sudden feeling of snug, warm wetness. Cathy closed her eyes again, sinking her head and shoulders back upon the cool green grass, her hips and ass lifting to meet his thrusts, retaliating in good kind for the deft and rhythmic pistoning of his crotch against hers.
Her twat was a wet glove of sticky, slick flesh upon his prick, and within seconds his hands had once again found her boobs, fighting with her own fingers for the right to play with her tits during their fuck, winning that fight and immediately putting the victory to good use. He caught her nipples in pinching, squeezing holds that made her scream in unparalleled delight, and the incessant activity of his fingers upon her paps signaled a telegram of increased arousal to her brain, serving only to underscore what Cathy already knew and knew well-that she was about to come!
Again and again his thick shaft slicked into her hole, pulled nearly all the way out, then rammed home once more. The constant stretching and releasing of her rubbery snatch mouth was making her clit stretch and relax in equal measure, and this, coupled with the steady in-out, in-out, of his prick in her twat and the effective work of his fingers upon her hot, melting nipples, was too much for Cathy, making her scream out her joy long before she really wanted to.
"YESSSSS! I" she shrieked then, her body dissolving into a mass of molten lust. "OH, GOD! !" were the last coherent words to burst from her lips before the rippling of muscles and fibers within her body became uncontrollable and it seemed as if her very nerve endings lay raw and exposed.
Chris smiled indulgently to see her reaching an orgasm, proud of her for being so sensitive, proud of himself for having had the patience to arouse her so fully before seeking his own pleasure. She convulsed in the grip of her climax and he held up a moment, watching her and loving her, then he began to hump away, now in dead earnest, sawing his cock in and out, of her cunt in an attempt to reach his own release in time to share it with Cathy.
Fucking her during her orgasm was like nothing he could ever have imagined. Her cunt seemed to have become electrified, to be massaging his prick with millions of rolling, gliding fingers, and he knew from the way she clutched at his rod with the lips of her snatch, with the inner muscles of her pussy, that he could not hold back long.
He jabbed her again, again, again, three, four, five, six times more, fucking frantically, and suddenly he knew that his time was at hand. He looked at her, and he realized there was something he needed to know, to know fast! "Can I come inside you?" he asked in a sharp voice, trying to cut through the fog of release that hung over Cathy. "Is it all right if I come inside you?"
She squealed sharply, her eyes still shut, her hands sifting through the grass on either side of where she lay, and he knew that she hadn't heard him, that she was in a world all her own at that moment.
"Can I come inside?" he asked once again, louder, clearer, but making no more impression. He knew it wouldn't. His question had been asked for the sake of convention that last time, for even as he spoke, he felt a sudden wrenching in his balls and his sperm began to let fly.
He was inside her cunt when the first squirt left his cock, and he knew there was no real safety in pulling out now, so he began to lunge and jab inside Cathy's pussy, jerking hard as he shot his creamy load.
She jerked in reply when she felt his first squishing spurt deep within, and her cunt throbbed and hammered with a new fire that even his copious jism could not extinguish. Her snatch wrung and twisted around his cock as he shuddered and came, and she used her cunt to suck his prick dry of everything his balls could produce.
Later, when they lay together, sweaty and naked, on the grass beside the pool in the woods, he whispered softly, "I tried to ask if it was all right for me to come inside you, but you didn't answer and I couldn't stop myself by then."
"It's all right, silly," she purred, "I'm on the Pill."
"Good," he sighed. "That's a very responsible attitude."
"It sure is," she agreed, "so remember that you don't have to ask the next time."
"Is there going to be a next time?"
"Bet your ass there is," she giggled, kissing him on the tip of his nose.
CHAPTER TWO
She rolled away from him, letting her fingers brush across the cum-wet fur of her snatch. She burst a bubble of white clinging in her beaver hair, then brought the fingers to her nose to sniff delicately. Her lips curled in a pixie-like smile and her tongue peeked forth, flicking across the wet fingertips, tasting the juice, and she smiled to show him that the taste was indeed delicious.
Chris reached for her, his cock sore from the strenuous fuck but irresistibly erecting for yet another round. He was too slow, though, and she had already danced away when his hand slapped the open air where she had been lying. He jumped to his feet and ran after her, following the scuttering of her sandals-she'd never taken them off-and leaping with her into the water of the wooded pond.
She swam away from him, laughing as she splashed, her arms and legs flailing and kicking in the water, but Chris was as good a swimmer and he caught her near the middle of the pool, holding her by the arms, bouncing and buoying on the water to keep afloat.
Cathy took his kiss agreeably, and beneath the surface of the clear pond she let her legs bump again and again upon the hardening lance of his prick, trying to trap it between her thighs. "My
God," she said lightly, "you must be a real sex maniac. Didn't you get enough the other time?"
"I couldn't get enough," he grunted hornily. "Not of you and that thing you've got."
"It's called a pussy, silly!" she giggled in delight, pulling away from him. She paddled away fast, making for the shore where they had lain and fucked together, and he swam after her like a crocodile hunting unwary bathers, following Cathy to the bank.
She was clambering ashore when he caught her by the ankle and upended her on the grass. The hairs on Cathy's cunt gleamed and shone with the water that clung to their silky tendrils, and the furry mat had parted slightly to allow him a glorious close-up of her pink gash.
Once again he told himself that she had a gorgeous pussy, a snatch that could be dangerously addictive once you'd gotten a taste of it-and he frowned then, for he'd not had a taste of it, not at all. He flopped onto his belly beside her and immediately applied his mouth to the sweet-tasting hole that lurked among her pussy fuzz.
"Oooh," Cathy purred as she felt him spread her pussylips wide. The cool breeze fluttered across her wet curt, chilling her with a fantastic shuddery tingle that was absolutely nothing in comparison to what she experienced when he nibbled on her petite inner pussylips.
He massaged her cunt mouth with his tongue until she sighed aloud with the delicious expectation of yet another orgasm, and then his fingers had slipped in once more to pry open the tightness of her young box so that he could thrust his tongue directly up her slick curt hole.
Chris stabbed hard, once, twice, three times, ramming his tongue up her cunt as though it were a frisky, limber cock, and she drenched his face with the juices of her inner depths. Her flavor drifted to his nostrils, across his taste buds, and it was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. It was sweet and it was juicy and it was all Cathy. He'd know her again by pussy-flavor alone if he didn't meet her once more for another twenty years.
He licked upward through her gash, then down, each time making sure to linger attentively upon her already soaked clit. She whined each time her love button felt the brushes and caresses of his tongue, and she cried aloud once, long and deliriously, when her wonderful new lover began to suck voraciously upon the lumpy little point of her clit. His smooth chin was pressed tightly against her cunt hole, and she knew that she was bathing him, lips and cheeks and chin, in the fluid of her arousal.
"C'mon," she called, "let's eat each other at the same time." He didn't seem to be listening. He had a habit of getting distracted while he was sexing a girl up, and Cathy knew that she loved that habit, even if it did tend to leave her squealing and beating frantic fists on the ground while she awaited the chance to do some good for him in return.
She stretched until she felt the muscles in her side begin to strain and ache, but she was able to get her fist tightly wrapped around his stiff and rampant cock. Cathy began to jerk and squeeze his meat as hard as she could, shucking up and down his shaft, holding it tight-anything to get his attention for just a moment. Sweat beads had begun to bubble once more through the pores of her pink skin. She'd gotten awfully hot in a short time. The way he was spearing his tongue into her hole and rubbing her cunt with his deft fingers, she'd be creaming again before she knew it.
"Hey!" she squealed, her ass jerking involuntarily as he gave her a very special bite in a very special place. Oh, Jesus! she taught, and she wrenched on his stiff pole for all she was worth, until Chris felt a sudden discomfort in his dick and raised his head to see what the fuck was going on.
"Let's eat each other," she suggested. "A sixty-nine. While I'm still able to suck without screaming."
He smiled and nodded, and he flipped over onto his back, waiting for her to climb aboard. His cock bounced and jiggled with his motion, making Cathy all the more eager to hop into position herself.
She settled down atop his reclining body, easing her crotch onto his face, brushing it back and forth across his lips, and at the same time she bent forward and took his prick in both her hands.
Having her cunt on his face was just like being trapped underneath a big feather mattress, Chris thought as the plush cushion slipped into place. He brought his hands up, prying into her puffy gash, splitting it wide to allow his lips and tongue the access they desired. He began where he'd left off, adoring her clitty with his mouth, probing her cunt hole with his digging thumbs, and he tasted her sweet juices flowing in ever-greater profusion.
Cathy wiggled her butt to show him how appreciative she really was, and she moved her face until his dong was within licking distance. Her tongue came out and she bathed his rod like a mother cat might wash a tiny kitten. She moved her wet tongue up and down his tool, licking and cleaning from balls to tip, and when she had his prick wet with spit, her fingers tugged softly upon his foreskin, pulling it back to let the glistening purple bump of his glans show in all its splendor.
She kissed his knob, squarely upon its tip, and once again she knew the delight of tasting the seminal droplet which her efforts had teased forth. Of all the guys she'd known, she suddenly realized in a flash, no two had the same taste. Cathy pressed her lips against his exposed prick knob in a thoughtful fashion, her mb-id far, far away; then, with a self-conscious little chuckle, she opened her mouth and sucked his cock in. His prick was comfortably big and thick, nestled there in the wet hold of her lips, and she suckled his rod gently, caressingly, getting used to its welcome presence.
Cathy wasn't the best cocksucker Chris had ever known-he still had fond memories of a college girl from last summer, one who hadn't been ashamed to have her twenty-year-old furrow plowed, and plowed magnificently, by a well-endowed youngster of fifteen-but she was well on her way. Even flow, with her mouth simply holding his cock, she was starting to do clever and thoughtful things. The soft, almost playful way she was scraping her teeth against the super tender flesh of his dick, for example, or the seemingly absentminded swipes of her tongue that flicked occasionally across the point of his meat-stick. It was good, damned good, but he couldn't wait forever for Cathy to begin sucking him off in earnest, So he began to lash her twat with his tongue, snapping his teeth at her love button, using his fingers to pry lasciviously at the puckered ring of her asshole, and she vibrated suddenly as though she'd been struck by lightning, beginning to hump his face eagerly.
Mmmmm, that's a lot better, Chris thought smugly as her head began to piston up and down and his cock glided again and again over the velvet carpet of her tongue, making straight for Cathy's tonsils. She had his balls in the cuddling palm of one hand while the other teased and tickled at every available inch of arousable flesh on his body-the insides of his legs, the wrinkled skin behind his nuts, the tight barrier of his own bung-and he shot upward, pounding his peter into her greedy mouth as she aroused him feverishly.
She was getting as good as she gave, too; Sweat soaked the rounded cheeks of her butt, and his gripping hands slipped and fumbled as he attempted to control her gyrating pelvis. Her cunt grew heavier and heavier, pressing down upon him and she smothered him in her moist, fragrant snatch, but he didn't give a goddamn. The scents of her body were fresher and sweeter and tastier than the purest mountain air, and he filled his lungs with Cathy.
She was trying her best to deep-throat him, and he appreciated it, too, but the angle at which she sucked in his cock wasn't the best, and his cockhead battered fruitlessly at the roof of her mouth, denied access to the hole it longed for. No matter. She was doing just fine as it was, and he could feel the pressure upon his rod each time she pulled in her cheeks and released them. Her hands grew tighter on his balls-not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to make him wince and moan his joy into the furry plumpness of her snatch.
Again and again he whipped her twat with his tongue, scraped it with his teeth, assaulted her cunt until he was sure it would be black and blue instead of prettily pink by the time morning rolled around, but if he was bothering Cathy at all with the fury of his cunt-lapping, she gave no sign. Instead she continued to gobble away at his prick until he bid reluctant farewell to his self-control and jerked his crotch upward from the ground with the feverish release that shook his body mercilessly.
She made choking, gasping sounds as his cum boiled out and filled her puffed-out cheeks. Trying to swallow, trying to keep her mouth active at the same time so as to drain him fulfillingly, Cathy was fighting a losing battle. His cock jerked and squirted so fast that swallow and suck as she might, bubbles of hot, sticky jizz puddled out of her mouth and dripped down her chin. For every drop she guzzled down, her lips surrendered two, and still there was a warm, satiated feeling all the way from her throat to the pit of her belly. God, she thought, sucking and swallowing, racing against the shuddering chills that were a dead giveaway of her own emotions, where does he get so much cream?
He'd filled her hungry pussy to overflowing not half an hour ago, and now he was feeding her mouth just as generously.
And suddenly it didn't matter at all, for she was coming, too, her wet pussy glued against his nuzzling face, and she let his cock slide from her lips as she buried her own face against the muscular hardness of his thigh. It had been good, supremely good, for both of them and they were happy together.
Another swim to clean the sweats and fluids of sex from their tired bodies, and when it was over, they dressed themselves by mutual unspoken agreement. In the aftermath of sex, Cathy was even more beautiful than she had been before. Her face glowed with a joyous fresh sheen, and the body flush of her arousal still showed on the curve of bosom above her bikini bra. She giggled at the softest touch of his fingers upon her, and the sparkle of her giggle was so magical that he kept touching her that way, again and again, until they were both even weaker from laughing.
"Stop it!" she finally squealed, slapping ineffectually at him with her open palms, and he surrendered with a panting laugh of his own. "I've gotta get home," she pouted. "Gwen's gonna be wondering where the fuck I am, if she stops typing long enough to notice I'm not there."
"Do you really have to go home now?"
Her eyes went round in a parody of suddenly enlightened innocence. "I know what you're thinking," Cathy announced. "You think you're gonna get to take advantage of me!"
He thought of his fucking-sore, creamed-out cock and balls, and he wondered who was taking advantage of whom. "I got a better idea. Let's stop by my place and get something cold to drink."
"That's a good idea," Cathy agreed. She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand. "I've got this awful taste in my mouth.
Chris struck out with his palm, intending to give her a good slap on the ass for that one, but she was too fast for him once again, and she stood prancing a few feet away. "Which way's your place?" she called. "I'll race you there."
The house Chris and his father were renting was on the south shore of the island and its back porch overlooked the ocean. Cathy and her mother were staying in a place on the north coast, so their summer cottage had a view of the sound which separated the island and the mainland. Otherwise the two houses were much the same-slightly rustic in appearance, to give moneyed city dwellers the illusion of roughing it, but really as comfortable and accommodating as any other living quarters.
The car shelter beside the house was empty. "I guess Dad's out," Chris commented as he led her onto the front veranda and into the residence's living room. "Here, sit down. I'll get us something to drink. What would you like? Coke, beer, or something hard?" She gave him her most definitely Mona Lisa smile at his double entendre. "Seriously."
"A beer, I guess." He went out and she leaned back on the couch, stretching her long legs across the top of the coffee table. The room looked as if it were occupied by a couple of guys, she thought. It had a general aura of dismay and confusion.
"Michelob all right?" Chris asked, interrupting her train of thought. He handed her a brimming glass of foam-crested beer, then sat down close beside her, their thighs brushing suggestively. "Here's to us," he said, clinking his glass upon hers, and they drank a toast which left beer-foam mustaches around theft mouths which could only be wiped away by putting their lips together very tightly.
Cathy broke off the kiss and slid back on the couch. He put his hand on the inside of her thigh, just below the leg slot of her bikini bottom, and he held her in a firm, possessive grip. "You know," she began, "except in the Biblical sense we hardly know each other at all."
He twisted his head. "What would you like to find out?"
"Oh, just the important things-your favorite color, your favorite singer, do you like President Ford. I mean, I have to find, out whether we're compatible, for Christ's sake."
He looked pensive a moment, then said, "In that order-aquamarine, Carole King, and absolutely not. Are we compatible?"
"I don't know," Cathy confessed, "but we do fuck together very nicely."
"Does anything else matter?"
"Not really. But tell me about you, all the same. About your folks, where you live, where you go to school."
"I live in Illinois, not far from St. Louis, and I go to Dawson Academy-they're prepping me for Harvard, which is where Dad enrolled me as soon as he was sure Pd be able to learn to read and write. As to folks, I have him. And two stepmothers collecting alimony somewhere. One's in the West Indies, I think."
"No mother?"
He shook his head. "She died when I was just a baby.. Long before I was old enough even to remember her."
"We do have a lot in common. Not just our birthdays. I'm a half-orphan, too. My parents were divorced when I was a little kid and he-my father-died not very long after. So Gwen is all the folks I have."
"We're not all that alone," Chris suggested as his hand came to rest over the crotchband of her bikini pants.
"No, we're not," she agreed, wiggling out of his clutch reluctantly. "But I'm afraid you're gonna be alone for a while now. I really have to go home. Gwen will have the cops looking for me if I'm not there for supper-if she stops typing long enough to notice I haven't gotten back."
His hand trailed down the ticklish inside of her thigh as she got to her feet, and for just a moment she seriously contemplated sitting down again and letting him have his way with her. But they'd already done it twice, and she wanted him to be at least partly conscious tomorrow so they could do it all over again. "Feeling me up won't help," she warned him. "If I've gotta go, I've gotta go."
She looked around the room a moment, and bet eyes fell upon a picture in an expensive frame. "Oh, is that you and your dad?" she asked, going to take a closer look.
It was a fairly recent photo, and it showed two really sharp-looking guys, Cathy decided. She had a soft spot for Chris, of course, because they seemed to have been made for one another, but his father was okay, too. A tall, well-made man, he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans in the photograph, which appeared to have been taken at a marina somewhere. He looked like a matured and mellowed version of his son, with the same fair hair, along with a superb tan and nicely developed chest and shoulders. "Your dad's cute, too," she told her friend.
He colored strongly for a moment, as though he were getting angry, and she wondered if she'd made him jealous. Hope so, Cathy thought. Can't let him think I'm too easy.
"What did your mother look like?" she added. "I mean, you seem to have taken after him. I'll bet she provided those dreamy blue eyes, didn't she?"
"Dad's eyes are almost blue, too," he informed her. "And I really don't know what she looked like. I saw a picture of her once, years ago, but it was just a snapshot-not very distinct-and when Dad caught me looking at it, he took it and tore it up."
Cathy blinked in surprise. That wasn't very romantic. Chris' father must have been rather young when he lost his wife, and it seemed to her that he'd have devoted himself from that day forward to cherishing her memory. On the other hand, his picture revealed a man of lusty appetites and pragmatically frank features. Maybe he wasn't the poetic type.
"Will I see you again?" she asked in the quietness. "Or is this just one of those summer romances?"
"I don't know," he said, trying to sound uncharacteristically impartial. "Think it'd be worth it?"
"We could always find out," she suggested. "How about tomorrow? Say about ten or, even better, eleven? I like to sleep late. But not after twelve, because I want to shake that slut Jennifer-I told you about her, didn't I? She lives in the place down the beach from us, and she's one big pain right in the you-know-where. I got rid of her today by pretending to have an appendicitis attack, but I don't think it'll work again tomorrow. I'm afraid she might be queer for me."
"I wouldn't blame her if she was," he whispered, bending in to kiss Cathy and take a parting feel of her superb left tit. She pried his hand away and fluttered out the door. "Tomorrow, then!" he shouted after her. "Same place as today? Down on the beach?" She looked back to nod and wave her acquiescence and in the process nearly collided with the gunmetal Mercedes which was just turning into the drive from the highway.
"Oops, goddamn it," Cathy muttered, looking fiercely at the driver. Her angry glare changed to a warm smile, though, when she realized that Chris' father was the man at the wheel. And besides, if she'd been looking where she was going, there'd have been no danger to either of them-so she rationalized.
Don Robinson eased the car into the shelter and got out, turning to follow Cathy's retreating ass with his appreciative eyes. She had a cute figure, he decided, with everything in the right place, and she knew how to carry it around, too. Her butt wiggled as smoothly as a ticking clock.
Chris was in the living room finishing his beer when Don walked in. "Feels nice," Don said. "If I could just engineer a way to air condition the distance from the carport to the front door, I wouldn't have to suffer a moment's discomfort."
"Can't have everything, I guess," Chris noted.
"Looks like you're on the way, though. The girl. Who is she? I don't remember seeing her around before.
"Oh, that's Cathy. I just met her today. She's okay."
"Sure is," Don agreed. "You get into her yet?" Chris grinned. "That's telling. But, since we're old buddies, and not just any father and son, the answer is "Bet your ass!"
They had a good relationship, with no secrets and no need to have any. Chris knew the score, and if Don brought home a lady to enliven his weekend, there was no need to hide the fact from his son. Chris knew what would be going on in his father's bedroom and after the lady had gone her way, the father and the son might sit down for a friendly beer and discuss her appearance and performance. They hadn't progressed as far as sharing girls yet, although a few of Chris' teenaged female friends certainly did affect Don right in the old gonads.
And this girl was right up at the top of the list as far as gonad-affecting wept, Don had to admit. She was easily a doll, and her body seemed to have been assembled for no other purpose than to turn guys on. "How was she?" Don asked.
"Good enough I'm going back for thirds tomorrow," Chris beamed.
"You mean seconds."
"I mean thirds. I had seconds today."
Don shook his head, whistling appreciatively. "That's my boy." Your mother would be proud of you, too, he thought with a sardonic chuckle. Chris' mother had been a women's libber well before the title had been invented. If only she were there now to see her husband and their son shooting the shit about said son's nooky-hunting. She'd crap her drawers.
CHAPTER THREE
"I have a surprise for you, darling," Gwen told her daughter as they dawdled over a late-morning breakfast.
Cathy stirred her coffee uncuriously. "They want you to turn your article into a full-length book?" she suggested in a flat voice.
"Wish they would," Gwen mused. "We could always use some extra money. Actually, though, I finished it last night after you went off to bed so early, just like the little girl who had a busy day. Maybe tonight I'll rewrite the conclusion. Parts of it still don't satisfy me. But for now, the script goes into an envelope for a well-deserved rest. So, what would you like to do today? It all belongs to us.
She wasn't prepared for the stunned look she saw on Cathy's face. My God, Gwen thought. It's almost as if she doesn't want to spend any time with ma Surely I can't be such a poor second to that girl from down the beach. "Is something wrong, dear?" she asked in concern.
Cathy shook her head. "No," she said tonelessly. If I live to be as old as Methusaleh, I will not understand children, Gwen fumed. My daughter, eighteen and beautiful, and we're like strangers. She knew that part of it was her own fault. She had left Cathy to the care of strangers during the most difficult years a young girl could face, but what else could she have done? If she hadn't gone off on the assignments handed out by the magazine, there wouldn't have been enough money to give a young girl a proper upbringing. And she certainly couldn't have taken Cathy along. No, she had done the only suitable thing-she had found good schools for her daughter, and she had gone out to earn them both a living.
It was all going to be different now, of course. The D.C. job would insure them a home together, their first in nine years, and they had all the time in the world to become a combo once again. They were already making, a good start. They were on a firm and friendly first-name basis, and it would get much, much better.
Yes, Gwen Corby had come a long, long way, and she wasn't a bit modest about it. Had she really once been a frightened, bulge-bellied bride, reciting nervously a set of vows in front of a country justice of the peace, trying desperately to rectify the only big mistake she'd, ever made?
Maybe it hadn't been a mistake after all. That pregnancy, that marriage were both far in the past, but she had Cathy as a living, souvenir of an otherwise miserable experience. She had created that lovely life, and she had worked her ass off to make sure that Cathy's existence could indeed be lovely and untroubled.
And now Cathy was eighteen. Gwen could remember being eighteen. Twenty years ago, and sometimes it seemed like no more than last month. They'd have to talk soon, talk about many things. Especially sex. Of course Cathy knew the rudiments of the subject. But there were things Cathy would need to know. All about the Pill, for one thing. Gwen had no intention of seeing her daughter trapped the way she had been, and she had decided only recently that soon a Cathy turned eighteen, she would do the proper motherly thing and present the girl with her own supply of birth-control pills, just in case. And with them a frank and open discussion of the facts of love. The fairness and candor of her decision made Gwen smile approvingly as she looked across the table at her daughter.
"Better hurry, darling," she smiled. "The sun will be gone before you know it."
Cathy rolled her eyes in reply, rising from the table with unbelievable slowness. She already had on her bikini-she seemed to wear little else here on the Wand-and it transformed her willowy, graceful figure into a creation of inutterable beauty.
Gwen stood up, too, slipping off her house robe. She had intended to surprise Cathy with the revelation that she, too, was already suited up for the beach, but the girl scarcely noticed. This was unfortunate, for Gwen Corby's figure, displayed in her own bikini, was much more attractive than her daughter had ever bothered to appreciate. Gwen, like her child, was built on a lithe, tall frame and now in her late thirties, she was truly at the prime of her life. Her chest was lusciously developed, creamy, full tits almost spilling out of the skimpy bra top, while her waist was trim, flaring out into a pair of svelte, shapely hips and long, athletic legs. Her hair was only slightly retouched in its blondeness, while her eyes were limpid blue of a shade that put to shame the azure of the heavens. Gwen's mature good looks were perhaps the best possible proof that Cathy's eighteen-year-old blooming was no flash in the pan but instead an indication of even better things to come.
Gwen shrugged and slipped out her short beach coat. She opened her purse and began to search for her sunglasses while Cathy slouched with her back leaning upon the front door. There was a sharp "rat-tat-tat" on the outside of the door, and Cathy jumped, whirling round frantically at the sound.
Her eyes went round in surprise, then blinked shut as she offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. "Hi, Jen!" she gushed so enthusiastically her caller was taken aback. Gwen moved towards the door, smiling her own greeting.
"Gods," Cathy moaned, turning to her mother. "I absolutely forgot all about Jennifer, Gwen! I promised her I'd help her look for seashells today."
Gwen looked at the girl on the other side of the screen door. Jennifer nodded agreeably.
"Oh, I see," was all she said, and that in a disappointed voice. She let her hand drop, and the sunglasses bumped her smooth thigh.
"Yeah," Jennifer was saying. "We were gonna hunt seashells for my collection. I have a whole lot of them," she added in a flash of inspiration. She wondered what the fuck Cathy was up to.
The girls walked down the driveway, Cathy skipping into the lead as if her sandals were aflame. She led the way across the two-lane asphalt highway and up the dune which rose between sea and sound there at the narrowest portion of the island.
Jennifer caught up as they moved up the sandy hill, and she reached to grab Cathy's swinging hand, linking their fingers together. "Hey," she called. "What the hell was that all about?"
Cathy wriggled her hand free of Jennifer's. The girl was always doing that-holding hands, touching her-and she wondered if Jennifer might not have some latent lesbian tendencies. They were far enough from the beach bungalow to allow free speech, but Cathy's voice was still low and soft. "It's Gwen," she said. "We were supposed to have the mother and child reunion today, but I'd already made some other plans. You really saved my ass, Jen. Thanks a lot." And she turned to go, down the sea side of the dune, but Jennifer ran along behind.
"What kind of plans?" she was asking.
Cathy spoke as she walked. "Well, I met this guy yesterday, and-"
"I thought you got sick," Jen protested, remembering how Cathy had excused herself and gone away on her own.
"Oh," Cathy said, remembering, too. "Well, I only thought I was sick," she lied. "I sat down for a while and I felt better. Anyway, I met this guy, and we agreed to get together today, but Gwen finished her article last night and she decided we ought to spend the day becoming good old chums."
Jennifer nodded, beginning to understand. She was not an overly intellectual girl but she had a sharp, cunning quality to her mind that sometimes left Cathy slightly uneasy. In the few days they had known one another, Cathy had not come to a final decision as to precisely how much she disliked Jennifer, but for now the girl was a godsend and Cathy could afford to be charitable.
Jennifer was almost lovely, though Cathy had some reservations about that. For one thing, her hair was an unfortunately carroty shade of red, and even now, cut short in a shag trim, it was clearly on the coarse and stringy side. She had a pretty enough face, with green eyes, and the freckles which dotted her body in profusion gave her a deceptively wholesome appearance. Jennifer was built generously, with full hips and a busty profile, while her bikini emphasized this development by being extremely skimpy. A tiny, soft-looking roll of girl-fat flirted with the waistband of her bikini bottom, which rode dangerously low on her body. Sometimes little curls of red muff hair slipped out of the leg opening, and when the girl had been in the water, the panties tended to slip a little lower in front, so that the uppermost beginnings of her beaver were put on innocent display.
She wore her bra just a bit looser than it should have been, so that every step she took made her lush tits bounce and jiggle in a way that made theft plea for attention and inspection all the more obvious. Taken in all, Jennifer was a luscious piece, 100 percent girl, but Cathy could not warm up to her reciprocally. There was something in the shadows of Jennifer's green eyes that left Cathy feeling nervous and uncertain, anxious to be alone.
Just as now. She wanted Jennifer to go away, now that she had served her purpose. Chris was waiting for her up the beach, and he was all that mattered. She had no interest in spending any more time with Jennifer and wondered how she could make the girl understand that simple fact.
They hurried up the beach, Cathy walking steadfastly with her single purpose in mind, Jennifer tagging along, her mouth spraying the seaborn breeze with a stream of incessant chatter and questions, most of them about this guy, the one Cathy seemed so disinclined to talk about.
"Did he fuck you?" she asked suddenly.
"Of course not," Cathy snapped. "We just played David Bowie records and dressed up in each other's clothes."
"I'll bet he really is out of sight," Jennifer said insouciantly. "I mean, if you let him screw you. You're not the kind of girl who'd let just anything that came along have a crack at your goody-box. Jeez, I really want to meet him."
Cathy was on the verge of telling Jennifer to fuck off when she looked up, and there, standing ankle deep in the waves that rippled onto the beach, was Chris. She squealed a greeting, waved her hand above her head, and ran to meet him.
He swept her up in his arms, swinging her round with her heels in the air, then eased her back onto the ground as she rubbed against him for a hello kiss.
"Oh," Jennifer said, breaking their concentration. "He really is cute!" She stepped closer, holding out her hand. "I'm Jennifer," she smiled. "Jennifer Pendexter."
Chris took her hand and squeezed it in his. "I thought you might be."
"Oh, has Cathy mentioned me?" she asked ingenuously. He let go her hand. She cocked her head to one side and regarded them through half-shut eyes. "You two make a cute couple," she announced. "You even look alike." They scoffed at her with their eyes. "No, really! I mean, you're almost the same size, same facial structure, blonde hair, sexy blue eyes. Gee, I don't know which of you is the cutest."
"You're full of shit," Cathy said. She hugged against Chris once more, brushing her hair against his cheek. "Look, Jen," she added, "thanks again for helping me out. If you ever need a favor-"
"Uh, Cath," Jennifer whispered, tugging at the girl's arm and pulling her off to one side. Chris released his hold on Cathy's waist and she went with Jennifer. "Listen," the red-haired girl breathed into Cathy's ear, "I've got a really freaky idea. Since all three of us are in on it-you know, deceiving your mom and all?-why don't we-I mean, you know? Did you ever make it in a threesome?"
"No!" Cathy snapped, trying to move away. Jennifer's hand pew tight on her elbow, and she felt herself being pulled once more into earshot.
"Listen," Jennifer urged. "It's far fucking out, if you know what I mean. First you and I get it on while he watches. You know? Just some kissing and feeling and maybe a little mouth work to juice things up? And then, once he's turned on-and guys always get turned on watching two girls going at it-then we take turns with him, one at a time. And finally, when he's ready to bust from being so horny, both of us pile onto him for a gang-bang that's like nothing you can ever imagine in your screwiest dreams." She put her hands on Cathy's shoulders and moved her lips so close to the girl's ear she might as well have been kissing it, and her tits bumped insistently, again and again, upon Cathy's bare ann. "How about it?"
"Absolutely not!" Cathy growled, shaking herself out of Jennifer's grip. "I've never heard of anything so disgusting in all my life!" She bounced across the interval between them and snaked her arms around Chris' waist, rubbing him imploringly.
Jennifer shrugged. "I thought you might go for it," she said offhandedly. "It's a lot of fun. If you do it right."
"What is?" Chris wondered.
Cathy spoke up in a piping, offended voice. "She wanted to make it a threesome! You and me and-her!"
Chris smiled wryly and gave his head a little shake. "I guess not," he said. "Not if you don't want to."
"You mean you don't care?" Cathy demanded.
"It has its merits, sometimes."
"Well, not now! After all," she added, giving voice to her suppressed feelings, "she doesn't really want you. I think she wants me! I think Jennifer's a dyke."
Now it was Jennifer's turn to smile wryly. "Not really," she said. "I mean, not exclusively. When I see something cute, I just naturally want to fuck it. Who wants to get into a rut, for Christ's sake?"
"Why don't you go away?" Cathy demanded. "Just go somewhere and leave us alone! I'm tired of you always trying to feel me up, anyway."
"Okay. Maybe I'll go back by your place and have a talk with your mom. I suppose she doesn't know that mommy's little girl is getting it on with some daddy's little boy, does she?"
Cathy's lips twitched uncomfortably. "Look, Jennifer," she said, "I don't want to make it with you, or with any other girls for that matter. I like guys and that's it. Now, why don't you just be nice and leave us by ourselves?"
"Why don't we all go off by ourselves?" Jennifer countered. "I mean, you might change your mind." She smiled Madonna-like. "One never knows, does one?"
"All right," Cathy agreed. "You can come along if you want to. If Chris doesn't have any objections to a threesome, he certainly shouldn't care if you watch. But I hope watching turns you on, because that's all you're gonna get to do. If you put your hands on me one more time, I'll break your goddamned fingers!"
In the woods, standing on the moist green grass banking the sheltered pool, Cathy glared a reply to Jennifer's toothy smirking smile, then reached up defiantly and unhooked her bikini bra. She turned td Chris, who still wore his tank top and cut-off jeans, and she melted into his arms, presenting her face to be kissed. Her eyes closed and her head dropped back slightly as she accepted the pressure of his lips, and she reached for his hand, placing it atop her tit. His palm cupped her soft warmth and her brown nipple rose to attention in his firm grip. Cathy's lips parted and his tongue stole into her and she no longer cared that Jennifer was sitting on the grass only a few feet away, watching all that went on, smiling a smug, bitchy smile.
Their lips smacked in parting, and Chris began to kiss his way down Cathy's neck, onto her boobs, his warm mouth lingering nicely upon each nipple in its turn. Cathy stroked his blond hair as he nursed her tit, and she spoke to him in a soft low voice, calling him private and tender names as his lips first rolled upon, then seized and tugged at her stiff little papa. She could feel her nipples growing stiffer, firmer, tighter, in the cuddling grip of his mouth and his spit flowed upon the hard young blossoms of her jugs.
His hands smoothed down her sides, catching for a moment at her waist, then sliding southward, down her flanks. He worked his thumbs into the waistband of her bikini, playing with it, giving it teasing little jerks as if he were unsure whether or not to strip her of her panties.
"Go ahead," Jennifer encouraged. "Take it all off."
"Go to hell," Cathy groaned, throbbing with delight as he continued to suck her titties. She brought one of her hands down to join his and she started to pull at her panties in real earnest. Chris got the message, and he slid the tiny garment down over the ripe curves of her ass, halfway down her legs. She brought her knees together and the panties fell to her ankles, allowing her to step out of them.
"Nice," Jennifer commented. "How about you, Chris? What kind of body do you have?"
"Show the bitch," Cathy ordered, and Chris raised his head. He laughed gently, then slipped his tank top over his bead. Cathy reached out to touch the soft, downy hairs upon his chest, nearly invisible in their blondness against his golden glowing skin. She rubbed her hand across his flat chest and her fingers pinched at his male nipples until she felt them growing hard and stiff, just like her own had already done.
"Is this what you really want?" he asked her. "I mean, I don't care, but do you?"
"I don't have any choice," Cathy grimaced. "She won't leave and I'm horny." And besides, she confessed to herself, there was something perversely exciting about getting naked and fucking in front of a third party. Cathy had never done anything like that before. All her past encounters had been straight one-on-one-one guy on one Cathy-but this was something new, something freaky in its own way. She knew that her half-formed impressions had been right, that
Jennifer had been interested in her body, that the frisky, off-again, on-again touches of the last few days had in reality been explorations of Cathy's potential for lesbian lovemaking. Well, so what? She hadn't fallen for it. She'd kept her cool and ignored Jennifer's covert approaches, and now it was paying off. Jennifer was going to watch Cathy balling with a gorgeous guy, and she wasn't going to have any part of it for herself. All she could do was watch.
Chris stood there looking at her, his cut-offs still fastened in place. "Well, get with it!" Cathy giggled, but before he could do as she commanded, her hands were upon him, unbuttoning him at the waist and dragging down his short jeans. He wasn't wearing a damned thing underneath, and his cock flopped into sight as the cut-offs went down. It hung down from his groin like a weary snake, resting upon his heavy balls. Yesterday his prick had gotten stiff as a poker from rubbing and kissing her. Today he'd already sucked and felt her, and his cock was still soft.
She took his dick between thumb and forefinger and shook it playfully. Life seemed to burst aflame inside his meat, and she knew that he wasn't quite jaded with her yet, that there was still plenty of action left in Chris Robinson. She wrapped her warm hand around his rod and felt it begin to engorge within her cuddling grip. His cock became stiff, bullish, and she dropped to her ass on the ground to help the process along.
Jennifer got up from where she was sitting on the grass and strolled over, for a closer look. She leaned forward and watched with interest as Cathy peeled back the foreskin of her man's cock and began to use her tongue upon the purple grape of its head.
Cathy licked around and around the tender, pulsing knob of his prick, rubbing the glans ridge with her kittenish tongue until Chris stood erect and proud, his lance jutting upward at an arrogant angle. Still she continued to bathe his dick with her tongue, until he felt a weakening at the back of his knees and found himself compelled to reach out and touch her golden hair for steadying.
"Don't get too carried away," Jennifer suggested. "Hell blow his cookies too soon and we'll-you'll be left holding the bag. So to speak."
Cathy looked up, lightning shooting from her angered brow. "I'm taking care of this," she informed the other girl, "and I don't need any goddamned backseat cocksucking. And there's no 'we' about this, as far as you're concerned, Jennifer Pendexter. It's me and Chris. Period."
Jennifer shrugged and stepped back. Chris looked over at her and saw that she was slipping her arms free of her bra straps. She reached behind and unhooked herself, dropping her bikini top to the ground. Her big tits bounced as she unholstered them, and they had a most impressive bounce, he was forced to admit. She had a nice set of boobs on her, if you liked the busty type-big but not too saggy yet, with nipples so peachy pink they seemed to blend right into the flesh of her tits so that, from a distance, it was hard to tell just where the areolas began and ended. She cupped-them in her hands, looking down at their round plumpness as though she were very pleased with them, and then she looked up, her eyes catching Chris' almost hypnotic contact. She smiled like a cobra and for one weak moment he felt as if he must indeed ask Cathy if she would please reconsider her decision to leave Jennifer out of this little game of screw.
Innocently, chastely, Cathy was busy sucking and licking his male equipment, from balls to cocktip, and she could not guess what treachery her man was contemplating. She opened her mouth wide and sucked his left ball inside, rolling it in her mouth, making him cry out in a wailing voice, making him blink in admiration of her superb technique. That blink was his salvation, for when his eyes snapped shut, the contact with Jennifer's was broken.
When his lids opened once more, the spell had been sundered and now Jennifer was simply a half-naked girl playing with her tits a few feet from him.
He reached down, took his cock in hand, and removed it forcibly from Cathy's mouth. She wrestled with him in an effort to retain her control, but he was much stronger than she was and so she had to concede the point. Bubbles of her spit gleamed all along the shaft of his rod and he meant to replace that saliva with the even wetter secretions of her honeycomb of a pussy.
Cathy dropped onto her back, legs parted, hands up stretched, and he crawled to her, lying partly atop her but careful not to crush her with his weight. She wrapped her arms around his back and neck and traced sensuous patterns across his skin as he lay pressing upon her, his mouth brushing and grazing hers, his teeth chewing now and then at her thin, passionate lips, his hard, hot prick trapped delightfully in the tight space between their bellies.
She was in a playful mood, and she began to writhe and toll beneath him, turning and twisting until he was on his back and she lay in the commanding position. Their legs were so entwined they resembled a pretzel, and he reached down to grab the cheeks of her pert and perky ass, squeezing at the velvety cushions, pulling her all the tighter against him.
Jennifer shook her head. She had been right the first time she'd laid eyes upon Cathy. The girl was definitely hot as a pistol. Too bad she was such a flaming heterosexual. They could have some fun together, too. And too bad Chris was in such a monogamous mood.
Jennifer let her panties drop, doing it in a nonchalant manner since no one was watching. Cathy and Chris were rolling and romping in the grass and they only had eyes for each other. Funny they hadn't realized how much they looked alike, she thought. Chris and Cathy. Even sounded like the cutesy-pie, same-initial or same-sound names parents seemed to feel compelled to smack onto twins.
Jennifer slipped her butt onto the ground once more, legs bent back with the heels near her rump and the knees wide and pointing up. Chris was behind Cathy now, both of them lying on their sides, and she had one leg tossed back across his thigh as he scooted the tip of his pecker through the abundant fluffy fur of Cathy's bush. Jennifer's hand dropped automatically into her crotch, and she began to rub her palm across the fat bulge of her pussy. She panted silently as her hand made contact with the already damp lip of her cunt. Her fingers straightened out and she pinched at the exposed folds of her box, splayed open by the parting of her legs. She tightened the grip of her fingers and squeezed until her eyes watered, little stings of moisture tiny in comparison to the fluids beginning to seep within her cunt.
Cathy squealed as Chris suddenly guided his prick right into the tight, damp mouth of her snatch and gave a pressing thrust that wedged his cock inside her hole knob-deep. She threw her arms back to clutch at him and he rammed her again, this time making a full, satisfactory penetration. "Yes! Ooohhh, yesss!" she wailed, not quite lucid enough to wonder how much of her fervor was due to the pleasurable sensations and how much to the watching presence of Jennifer.
Jennifer pronged her hole with a finger at almost the same moment, digging far inside her snatch.
Cathy's eyes had been tightly closed, but now she opened them and their gaze fell upon Jennifer at work finger-fucking herself only a few feet away. She whistled in surprise at her first sight of Jennifer's cunt, for that organ was plump and protruding, its crack split open by the girl's posture and thinly veiled by the sparse crop of carrot-colored hair adorning Jennifer's cunt. Most of all she was surprised at the size of Jennifer's gash. The red-haired girl seemed to have a veritable Grand Canyon of a cunt, and Cathy wondered in an idle moment how the girl achieved satisfaction diddling herself with anything smaller than a Cadillac.
But on the other hand, Jennifer seemed to be suffering no discomfort at the moment. Her head was hanging to one side and her eyes were covered with a watery glaze and she was using one hand to pinch her nipples, the other to ram and poke her pussy. Cathy could see the fingers disappearing into Jen's wide-open slit, could see them withdrawn again to appear for a moment hovering on the brink, wet and slippery, before they slammed home once more. And all the while Jen's thumb played with her clitoral nub, thrumming it, sliding upon it, circling around it where the button rose stiffly from its hood of wet flesh. The sight was interesting. Cathy had never watched a girl-at least a grown-up girl like Jen-masturbating before, and she was surprised to see that the girl's technique closely resembled the one she herself resorted to on occasion.
This observation period was confined to a fraction of a second, the breathing space Cathy was allowed between a pair of matched stabs from Chris' cock. She rammed her ass back against Chris hard when he pronged her.
Her hands were sliding uncontrollably upon his sweat-greasy body as she tried to clutch him during their rear-entry fuck, and he was having the, same difficulty holding onto either of her high, petite boobs, which were shaking with the exertion she put into her body movements. He took her hands in his and they wrapped fingers together as they fucked.
They were both panting by now, their chests heaving with the expenditure of their energy, and she tried to lift her leg higher, to wrap it completely around him, to lay her pussy all the more open to his stabbing dick. He had almost forgotten the precise sweetness of her tight-fitting pussy, but no memory could hope to capture the reality of it, and he surrendered himself to the joys of the moment as he felt her clutching and sucking at his prick with the rippling young muscles of her cunt. She held him in her cuntal grip with the control and snugness of a skilled fist, but this was head and shoulders above any hand job he had ever received. Cathy was head and shoulders above any other girl he'd ever laid, and he knew, knew it in his heart, that he would choose an hour inside her pussy over an eternity in paradise. Was there really any difference? he wondered, stiffening his body suddenly in an effort to prevent himself from squirting too soon.
Groans and sighs were seeping from Cathy's lips as easily, as profusely, as the cunt juices dripped from her honeyed snatch, and she was puffing a nice twist into her hips that wrenched his cock delightfully each time he'd buried it inside her hole. His nuts screamed with the agony of holding back their creamy load but he forced them, whipped them to their steadfast duty, and the fear of popping his wad too soon left him abruptly, allowing Chris to breathe easier and concentrate once more upon fucking.
Cathy shook her head madly as she screwed herself into the homestretch, and her long blonde hair flipped madly, lashing into Chris' face again and again, filling his nostrils with its fragrant, fresh aroma. He bent his face in closer and nipped at her neck with his teeth, making her whimper joyously, and she tightened her fingers on his till he felt as if they were trapped in a grip as solid as his cock had found inside her snug twat.
He chewed along the soft flesh of her shoulder, tasting the sweetness of her skin, and she wiggled against him, shaking her ass, tickling its round curves upon the hair of his crotch. They were both into it now, both of them riding toward a sensational come, and they seemed to soar high above the ground on which they lay, cresting and swooping on wings of sex.
Jennifer was getting there, too, aided by the skilled and expert fucking that she watched as much as by the equally adept work of her fingers upon her box, She went onto her hands and knees and crawled towards the writhing figures of Cathy and Chris, lying down upon her belly within touching distance, one hand caught beneath her as it wiggled and twiddled inside her cunt. She scooted closer, twisting like a snake, fingering her twat all the way, and she brought her face into contact with Cathy's sweat-damp features, licking out with her tongue to taste the other girl's perspiration.
Cathy squirmed uncomfortably at Jennifer's tongue-touch, but she couldn't free her hands from Chris' in order to push the girl away from her, and besides, she was so, close to coming right now that she couldn't dream of stopping to swat a fly-even a carrot-headed, big-titted fly like Jennifer.
Instead she shut her eyes and concentrated upon Chris and what he was doing to her, for her, seeking to ignore Jennifer completely. It didn't quite work. Jennifer's pecking lips brushed Cathy's forehead, her eyelids; her cheeks, even the tip of her snub nose, then fastened hard upon Cathy's mouth.
Jennifer's tongue battered forth and penetrated Cathy's tight-clenched lips, stabbing inside to hammer upon Cathy's closed teeth, which betrayed their trust and slipped open, making entry for Jennifer's tongue which suddenly thrust deeply, sensuously.
Cathy wanted to die at the uncleanness of this lesbian assault upon her virtue, even though her semiconscious mind was forced to admit that, eyes closed, she couldn't really tell so much difference between the sex kisses of a boy and of a girl. Only the slightly perfumed fragrance of Jennifer's skin almost be a guy kissing Cathy at that moment and hair interfered with the illusion that it might
Cathy's lips began to open more fully, beset as they were by Jennifer's enthusiastically kissing mouth, and she found herself allowing, almost inviting the hot wetness of the other girl to press upon her all the tighter, all the more insistently. Her tongue began to creep out, helped along by the suction Jennifer was applying, and Cathy felt it being dragged forcibly into the other girl's mouth for a sucking caress. She wailed in a muffled voice then, for it seemed as if Jennifer meant to jerk the tongue out by its roots, but the sudden force of the attack diminished and now Cathy realized that her tongue was merely being loved, albeit in a rough fashion which left Jennifer completely the dominator.
"Ooohhh," she gurgled, for one of Jennifer's hands had come up to seize Cathy's tit in a bold grasp. It was cupped in the palm, her nipple, brown, pointy, and tender, caught in the pinching grip of two fingers which squeezed it mercilessly but with an assured ease that made Cathy's entire boob throb in sympathetic harmony. Her nose brushed Jennifer's as the kiss went on, and their chins bumped, but neither of them seemed to notice or to mind. Cathy was torn between the desire of her mind to be freed of Jennifer's unwelcome attentions and the desires of her lips to receive more of those very welcome caresses and the crescendoing fever that was building deep inside her cunt.
Caught as she was, with Chris' cock entering her twat from behind and Jennifer's mouth assaulting her from the front, Cathy screamed suddenly into the girl's throat and an earthquake seemed to erupt inside her body. She came in shuddering, gasping tremors that only multiplied when Jennifer started to chew upon her tongue. She shook and quivered with her release, legs trembling like aspens, and then Chris shot it into her cunt with all his might, filling her sucking snatch with his creamy juices, banging his meat into her hole frantically as he unloaded himself. At almost the same moment Jennifer began to flop where she lay on the grass, humping up and down upon the hand that stabbed her pussy and thumbed her clit. For a long, long moment all three of them were in a magical interspace between consciousness and nirvana, between life and death, between earth and heaven, a realm of the body and the spirit inextricably mixed and mingled, from which none of them really wanted to escape, then or ever.
"You slut," Cathy whispered, long afterwards, as all of them lay naked on the grass. "You sneaked up on me when I wasn't looking, you and your filthy crap!"
"Oh, come off it," Jennifer laughed. She was lying on her back with her knees up, just as if she were hoping against hope that Chris might find the power to climb aboard and fill her snatch with his rod and his seed. "You loved it."
"It was the most disgusting thing I ever-"
"Cool it, Cathy," Chris advised, placing his hand upon the upper slope of her boob, the edge of his palm so tantalizingly close to her nipple she wished he'd move just a little closer. "It's all over anyway, and it wasn't so bad, was it?"
"You're nearly as bad as she is," Cathy sniffed. "I think you wanted to get all three of us into it. Didn't you?"
"It's not so bad, if you groove on that kind of thing."
"Well, I don't! I don't like to have a queer girl feeling me and kissing me and toying with my body. How would you like to have some guy kissing you and feeling you up and sucking your prick, Mr. Know-it-all?"
"Ouch," he said.
"See? Well, it's the same way with me. But I hope you enjoyed yourself, Jennifer," she said, turning to the other girl, "because if you ever put a finger on me again, I'll pull every hair out of your muff. One at a time."
Chris put his finger upon her lips. "Sssh," he said. "Don't get into a sweat about nothing. It's all over and if you don't want to do it any more, you don't have to. Jennifer isn't going to rape you with a dildo or anything. Are you, Jen?"
"Fifth Amendment," the red-haired girl laughed, sitting up. "Seriously. If it turns you off as much as you claim it does, you're safe from me. I like to have sex with people who like to have sex." The way you enjoyed it, no matter how much you deny it, you sexy slut, she added silently.
"Peace, then, is declared," Chris announced. "So, are you doing anything tonight, Cath?"
"Unh-unh," Cathy said.
"Well," he said, "there's a party tonight. On the beach, down in Pirates' Cove. If you want to go, I'll pick you up. Dad said I could use the Mercedes tonight. So what do you say?"
"Sounds okay," Cathy smiled. "Is it formal or anything?"
"Very casual," he told her. "I was talking to a couple of guys on my way to meet you, and they said there'll be a lot of booze-more than enough to go around. There aren't that many kids on the island right now, you know."
"Don't I know that," Cathy groaned. "But with you, who needs anybody else?"
"Uh, is this a closed party, or can anybody come?" Jen wondered. She was yawning broadly as she dropped her tits back into the skimpy top of her suit.
"I guess it's all right," Chris said, tapping Cathy's nose tip to stifle her imminent protestations, "if you can find your way there. Nobody will throw you out."
"Ooh, good," she said, standing up and beginning to put her bikini bottom back on. She made a point of giving them both a fresh look at her spread-open cunt, with its glistening-pink inner surfaces and folds and the deeper reds which showed at the cunt mouth itself. "I could really groove on a party," she added, pulling her bikini panties into place, giving them a last tug to bring their low-slung front up to cover the curls of her beaver. "See you there, maybe," she called over her shoulder as she started back through the woods towards the beachfront dune.
"Do we have to go? With her planning to be there?"
"It'll be all right," he promised. "You'll be with me, and she'll probably find somebody else to play with. Anyway, if she gives us any trouble, we can just throw her into the Atlantic and cool off her hot box. Okay, babe?"
"Okay," Cathy smiled, fending away his hands when they became too insistent upon her tits. "Save that for tonight," she giggled. "If this turns out to be a good party, I wouldn't want you going to sleep in the middle of it because you'd spent the afternoon screwing yourself silly."
CHAPTER FOUR
When they got to Pirates' Cove that night, the moon was up, a bonfire was burning on the sands, and the party was already in gear.
Pirate's Cove was a narrow, curved inlet on the side of the island which stared back at the Massachusetts shore. Legend made it a refuge for buccaneers and corsairs in the days of canvas sail, and there was even a story of treasure buried among the scrub-grass bluffs and dunes encircling the cove. Today the cove was merely a piece of property, belonging to a New Hampshire family whose son was spending his summer vacation on the island and, thanks to him, it was also the site for the party.
The cove was secluded, some distance from the main, road, and the property was posted to discourage casual trespassers. All in all, Cathy decided, as she and Chris disembarked from his father's car, it was a knockout place for a party. The soft lapping water in the cove gleamed silver in the moonlight, and the yellow glare of the bonfire threw weird shadows across the pale sand as some dancing couples moved to the sound of a portable radio.
"They started without us," Cathy observed as she and Chris went hand in hand down the slope. She had come in casual dress-cut-offs, halter top, and a plaid flannel shirt as a precaution against the night coolness blowing in off the water-but she had already been outdone. There were twenty or twenty-five people in sight; Cathy supposed, about equally divided in terms of sex, and none of them was wearing much of anything.
One girl, rather fat, with enormous saggy tits, was boogalooing topless, her boobs flopping in time with the mimic, and most of the other girls had long since discarded their tops, it appeared. Cathy hadn't seen so many bare tits since her last communal shower after gym class at school.
"Drink?" Chris invited, leading her towards a big tub. He bent over and took two paper cups from a sack lying on the sand and dipped them into the tub, handing one dripping cup to Cathy. She took a sip and her head swam momentarily. Purple Jesus punch, she thought gleefully; Grape juice and grain alcohol, with slices of lemon floating and dissolving in the tub. She took another sip.
It was nice, she decided, but so strong it could really knock you on your ass. A couple of years ago it would have been different-everyone sitting around with joints or caps of acid, smoking or dropping-but thank God, all that was out of style nowadays, and kids were more interested in getting bombed and boogleing than in trying out this dynamite new powder.
Cathy took another swallow of her Purple Jesus and turned to say something to Chris, but she closed her mouth as fast as she'd opened it.
A girl, really pretty and completely naked, had just come up and wrapped her arms around Chris' neck, and she was giving him a big wet kiss. Cathy flushed angrily, and she crushed the cup in her suddenly steely grip, dribbling punch all over her fingers.
Chris wiggled out of the girl's grasp and turned towards Cathy. "Cath," he said, "this is Penny. Her dad handles a lot of East Coast business for my father. Penny, this is my friend Cathy."
"Oh, hi," Penny drawled lazily, propping her bare body against Chris. She had a nice body, too, with firm, high-set tits, long, long legs, and a beaver neatly trimmed and parted, as if it had just been to the beautician. Cathy hated her on sight and wondered how many times Chris had fucked this new girl.
"Penny!" someone was calling, almost in key with the Lynard Skynard song on the radio, and the threesome by the punch tub became a foursome. A guy, tall and on the skinny side, came up to stand beside Penny and Chris. Like the girl, he was naked, and his cock half-hard, the stalk bouncing a little as he moved. He put his hands on Penny's waist. "Naughty girl," he said. "You're not supposed to run away without finishing your chores."
Penny grinned at Chris. "Gotta go," she said, "for duty calls. You planning on hanging around for a while?"
"I guess we'll be here awhile," Chris nodded.
Penny tiptoed and kissed him again. "See you later," she said. "We can talk over old times or something." She gave her hand to the naked guy, and they walked away.
Cathy stomped across the foot or so of space that parted her from Chris. "Who was that?" she demanded.
"Just Penny," he smiled. "I introduced you to her. Remember?"
"She's a slut," Cathy declared. "She was trying to make you. Right in front of me. I could scratch her eyes out."
"She's an old, old friend," Chris said. "I've known her for years. A little wild at times, but she's all right."
"I suppose you've fucked her."
"Sure," Chris said, "but it didn't mean anything. We were only fooling around and it sort of happened." Twenty or thirty times, he added to himself.
Cathy frowned at him, but she said nothing. "Why don't you get me a fresh drink?" she suggested. "I seem to have spilled mine." While he knelt to get her a clean cup, she wiggled out of her flannel shirt and halter, so that the first thing Chris saw when he turned back was Cathy's bare tits. "These are the tits you came with," she reminded him, "and don't forget it."
He gave her the cup of punch then let his hand drop down to stroke the nipple of her left tit. "I don't see how I could," he smiled, feeling the nip come to proud attention between his fingers. "Say, the music is too loud.. Why don't we find someplace a little quieter? Like, on the other side of that low dune?" and she went with him, bright-eyed and slight-stepping at the prospect of once again tasting his love.
Jennifer Pendexter was an even later arrival at the party than Chris and Cathy, for she was ambling down the bluff unescorted at the very moment they left the tub of punch. Always an observant girl, Jennifer saw them going and made instant recognition. She smiled wryly to see the possessive manner in which Chris' hand cupped Cathy's delicious ass and wondered for the hundredth time at least how she was going to manage getting her nose into Cathy's all-American pussy.
"Oh, that feels good," Cathy purred. Her cut-offs were down to her knees, and Chris was sliding him hand back and forth through the silky hairs of her snatch, teasing and tickling the insides of her upper thighs and doing strange, wonderful thing to the mouth of her warm, wet cunt. She raised her face to his and began to give him nippy, puppy-dog kisses, each one loud smack in the relative quiet of the night air.
She slid closer against him, working her hands into the waist of his own cut-off jeans, slipping down to knead the muscular firmness of his ass. She twisted her entrapped arms in the tightness and the button at his front snapped open. Cathy laughed into his mouth, and she brought her hands. around his body, one set of fingers capturing his cock, the other unzipping him, tugging the cut-offs down his legs.
"Bet you can't screw me right now," she sighed, getting a good handful of his cock and balls.
"How much you want to bet?" he panted, reciprocating with the steady work of his fingers in her own crotch.
"Sixty-nine," she whispered back.
"Dollars or cents?"
"Neither one, dummy! A sixty-nine. That way, no matter who loses the bet, everybody wins."
"You're on," he replied, wiggling his hips to help her slide his pants down.
"Get me off," she challenged.
"You're a sex maniac." came a squealing voice that was, suddenly very, very near to where Chris and Cathy lay, and the teenagers rolled around jut in time to see Penny, still naked and still lovely, come rimming over the top of the low dune that separated them from the party by the cove.
Penny saw them, too, and she bounded high like a gazelle, leaping right over their prone figures with a defiant yell. In another moment a boy appeared in hot pursuit. It was the same boy who'd confiscated her a bit earlier, and he was still naked, too, but his cock was no longer half-hard. Cathy could see it thrusting up high and stiff from the hair patch of his groin, and, she could almost hear the bouncing of his nuts inside his huge scrotum.
He wasn't quite so athletic as Penny. He tried to jump over Chris and Cathy as well, no doubt wishing to impress Penny, for she stood waiting a few yards away, but luck wasn't with him. His foot slipped and he fell forward, landing on Cathy with a thump that knocked the breath out of her for a moment. And there he lay like a beached whale, pinning Cathy beneath him as he scrambled in the slippery sand for a toehold.
Cathy wasn't sure exactly how it happened. She certainly didn't try to feel him up. However, as he lay upon her, both of them struggling to get free, her hand came into contact with his stiff, throbbing prick and she must have reacted automatically, giving it a friendly squeeze.
He fumbled to his knees and started to get up, not even noticing that the young blonde girl was holding his most precious possession, for his eyes were fixed upon Penny's nude, taunting body so near, so delicious, but as he moved, the lust within him vibrated frantically and Cathy found herself suddenly clutching a cock that was squirting out its quota of hot fizz.
"Oh, shit!" she screamed, letting go immediately, her fingers brushing uselessly at the gobs of his cum that were wet and sticky on her tits and tummy, flailing at the fresh bursts that continued to rain upon- her body and upon the sand beside her. "Oh, get off me!" she moaned.
The guy flopped over, lying clear of Cathy, and his eyes fell upon the girl, upon the sperm he had drenched her with, and upon the wilting snake of his cock. "Shit," he groaned.
Penny hurried to join them. "What happened?" she asked, as if she needed to be told. "Good God, girl," she told Cathy. "I was only pretending to run away from him. You didn't have to make sure he couldn't rape me!"
"Fuck off!" Cathy blurted, grimacing as she tried to wipe away the cum that had bathed her torso. "I didn't tell the dumb son of a bitch to fall on me. Take him away and flick his brains out. If he has any."
Penny knelt beside her friend. She took his cock in her fingers and shook it back and forth. It flopped limply, responding not at all to her clever touches. She bent her head in close and licked at the sperm-wet tip, teasing his glans ridge with her tongue and lips. Still there was no response.
Cathy clambered to her feet, kicking off the cut-offs that had gathered at her knees. She was angry, and it showed in the set of her jaw, in the defiant tempo of her breathing. Looking down at Chris, she said, "I'm going down to the waterside to wash this goddamned stuff off me. Back in a few minutes." On the way she mentally rehearsed the tongue-lashing she was going to give that bitch
Penny as soon as she returned.
Penny looked at Chris with a triumphant glimmer in her sparkling eyes. "Your girl friend screwed me out of getting laid," she announced. "What are you gonna do about it?"
"I don't know," Chris said. "Spank her, maybe?"
"I know something better than that," and Penny threw herself onto him. His pants were down, too, and his cock was still up from Cathy's caresses, making it an easy mark for Penny's hands. She wrapped both of them around his tool, whispered, "Fair is fair", into his mouth, and went onto her back, legs spread, knees drawn up, her hands pulling him to her, into her, atop her. She jerked up to meet the first stabbing penetration of his pecker and swallowed it to the hilt in her sucking maw of a pussy.
"Oh, that's better," she sighed, putting her arms around his body, not caring that her friend Harold was sitting not two feet away, watching with a limp noodle as his girl got it on with another guy. "Yes. . . yes.. . give me some more. Mmmm, that's just right." She brought her legs up, twined them with his, smiling confidently as she felt his lips begin to attack her neck and shoulders. Chris was one of her favorites, as far as guys went, and she knew that he'd always liked her, too, ever since they'd practiced on-the-job sex education together that summer they both turned thirteen. And many times since then, so there was no real novelty to it any more, but still she liked the way his prick felt when it was jammed tight inside her pussy, and she was squeezing it with the muscles of her cunt.
He began to fuck her with passion now, really banging his meat into her snatch, and Penny loved it. Her eyes drifted and she saw Harold watching, open-mouthed. His cock was beginning to harden again, and she saw his fingers go down to give it encouragement. Too late, Harold, she thought. You couldn't get it up when you had to, so now you have to watch. Maybe you'll learn something.
"Hey," she moaned, suddenly recalling something very important. "Don't come in me, love, because my doctor said I had to lay off the Pill for a few months. Okay?" and she heard him grunt in reply as he continued to ball her furiously. Penny squirmed her ass around to give him even deeper penetration and she searched for his mouth with her own. "Love you," she sighed just before she kissed him.
Cathy splashed the water across her tits and belly, cleaning away the sticky goo that Penny's friend had used to douse her fires. She wasn't even horny now, damn it to hell! In fact, she was going to ask Chris to take her somewhere else as soon as she got back to him. Someplace they could be alone and sexy, just for each other. What a bitch of a party this was, anyway.
The Stones were blasting out of the portable radio now, and she thought wistfully of her younger days, when she'd have given her right tit for the chance to suck Mick Jagger's cock. Now, who needed him? She had Chris and he was better than any ass-wiggling rock star.
She looked up. No one was dancing. No one was sitting by the bonfire refilling at the punch tub. Jesus, she thought, was the party over already? Had everyone scored for sex and gone off to collect on the investment? Everyone except her, it seemed.
Cathy looked back the way she'd come. It looked as if everyone was standing on the dune overlooking the spot she and Chris had chosen as their secluded hideaway. What was happening up there, anyway? Was everyone watching Penny trying to suck her friend stiff again? She doubted it.
Good God! Had something happened? Had Penny, or the skinny dude with the big cock, said a nasty about her? Was Chris beating the guy's ass for it right then? She wiped the water drops from her stiff-nippled titties and ran to the scene of interest.
Cathy pushed her way through the kids standing in ranks, and her heart almost stopped. The moon was full and overhead, brightening the whole stretch of beach with its reflection on the white sands, and she could see, plain as anything, Chris lying between Penny's legs. Doing what? The angle of vision wasn't quite right to allow Cathy a view of plunging prick and sucking snatch, but she knew goddamned well what her boy friend was doing to that rotten slut Penny.
She looked at the kids around her, some of them standing, some squatting in the sand, all watching the flick in progress. Her eyes fell upon Jennifer Pendexter, one of the few fully clothed people at the scene, and she remembered this afternoon in the woods. Jen was sitting close by the fucking pair, her eyes fixed upon them, her arms folded around her drawn-up knees, and Cathy hated the red-haired girl for it. Jennifer didn't care who she watched, or so it seemed, and Cathy wondered if Jen might not invite Penny and Chris to share a threesome. The bitch! The bitches! she corrected herself, adding Penny to her condemnation. And the bastard! No use forgetting Chris. He was fucking Penny because he wanted to, or so it would appear. There wasn't a gun in sight.
Cathy moved around the edge of the voyeuristic assembly, and now she could see that Chris was kissing Penny. Somehow that made his betrayal of her all the more damnable. She watched the way their hands moved upon each other, the way Penny rolled her hips as she accepted Chris' poking thrusts, the way her thigh muscles grew tight, then lax, then tight again.
Jennifer crawled in closer, and she put her hands on Chris' back. Someone in the crowd gave a giggling laugh as Jen began to lick Chris' backbone, down into the crack of his ass, brushing Penny's hand aside as she did so. If Jennifer heard the laugh, she gave no intimation, and Cathy could see that the redhead was kissing and biting the cheeks of Chris' butt.
Chris pulled his mouth away from Penny's. He didn't know, as yet, that he was on display, and all his feeling was concentrated in his pounding prick, to such a degree that he wasn't really aware of Jennifer's entry into the sweepstakes.
"I'm almost there," he panted, still barreling in and out of Penny's cunt, and then he knew, to his sadness, that he was so close to coming he couldn't afford to leave his rod inside her snatch. He withdrew and flopped onto his back beside Penny, intending to use his hands on the both of them in order to make the homestretch. Penny was still squirming, hips rolling and jerking, as though his cock were deep inside her hole.
But before Chris could wrap a hand around his cock and thrust fingers into Penny's twat, Jennifer swarmed aboard.
She jabbed Penny's pussy so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that the other girl screamed in amazement and opened her eyes to see what in the hell was happening. Jennifer merely rammed home again, squishing her fingers inside Penny's wet cunt, reaming it, creaming it, and Penny gave still another squeal before surrendering herself to an orgasmic seizure of dramatic proportions. She trapped Jennifer's hand with her thighs and began to sob and jerk and write on the sand, her fingers sliding again and again over her upper body from tits to navel, and as far as Penny was concerned, all was well.
Chris was taken by surprise in much the same way. Before he knew what was going on, his cock had disappeared into Jennifer's eagerly sucking mouth and she had her hand upon his balls, shaking them until he had no earthly choice but to hump his ass upward, filling her wet mouth with his throbbing meat, and pouring the first jolts of his hot load into her throat.
Someone applauded then, but Jennifer didn't seem to mind. She sucked at his dick, used her hand on the portion of his stalk that would not cram into her mouth, and she drank him dry, sucking and gulping at the juices invading her mouth, unable to capture more than a fraction of his cum. Her lips spurted jism. as if they were a fountain, and some of it rolled down her chin to splash upon her blouse, some of it spilling back onto Chris, to collect among the strands of his crotch hair.
Jennifer sucked hungrily until he had stopped spurting and his cock had begun to soften, and then she cleaned him of the spilled cum, dragging her face through his crotch bush to wipe away the droplets that had fallen there.
It was disgusting, Cathy thought. Absolutely disgusting. And as far as she was concerned, Chris Robinson could go fuck himself. She wanted nothing more to do with him. Not after watching a display like this. It wasn't enough that he had actually flicked that bitch Penny. But to let Jennifer suck him off? To let the redheaded dyke put her lips where Cathy's had been? It was too much to bear.
She looked around. Everyone was going. They'd seen a threesome, as it turned out, and it didn't look as if anyone else was going to join in, so it was time for everyone to get back to his own pursuits. Her eyes fell upon Penny's friend. She hadn't even seen him before, for she was so intent upon the betrayal of her, love by Chris. But there he sat, a few feet away from the orgy that had been in progress, and Cathy could see that he had clearly been aroused by it. His cock was thrillingly stiff now, and he was using his hand upon it, unconcerned if anyone might be watching. For a brief moment she considered going over and helping him relieve himself. But- "Fuck him," she said in a very soft voice, and, as if it were a cue, Harold chose that very moment to shoot out a fresh load of his own cream, panting breathlessly as his cock shook and squirted in his grip. Cathy watched the sperm bubble out, flying forth in a rapidly descending are to splash upon the sand, and she watched with interest the way his head drew back and his eyes went shut as he shuddered with his orgasm. Cathy had never seen a guy jerk off before, and it was an educational sight, to say the least.
But even more educational, she decided, was her good fortune in learning just what bastards men could be, if you gave them half a chance. And now there was no one close but Harold and Penny and Jennifer and Chris. And Cathy. She preferred it that way. She didn't enjoy airing dirty linen in public, but the five of them were all directly involved in this, so it was all correct and proper. She walked over towards the cluster of fucked-out bodies.
"You're a real son of a bitch, Chris," she said in a delicate, ladylike voice. "A real motherfucker."
"Oh, Cat," he moaned, so strung-out from post-orgasmic letdown that his voice was only a groan.
"You're really a motherfucker," she continued, "and whenever you're able to walk, I'd like you to take me home. For the last time." She walked past them, picked up her clothes, and stomped away.
"Cathy," Chris called woefully. "Please. It's not as bad an all that."
Jennifer hopped to her feet. "I'll talk to her," she volunteered. "You'd only get yourself into more trouble." She scurried off in pursuit of fast-walking Cathy.
"Oh, Jesus," Chris muttered. "I think I've screwed up my whole life."
Penny scooted close against him, her fingers seeking his cock, still moist from Jennifer's tongue-bath. "You've always got me, lover," she assured him. "Wanna fuck again? And this time, Pill or no Pill, you can come inside me. What do you say?"
Harold looked down at the jizz he had wasted upon the pale sand, down at the once-more useless rod between his legs. He'd missed his chance again. Life was cruel, all right.
CHAPTER FIVE
Cathy stopped a moment at the tubful of punch to put on her clothes. She was no longer hot, and the air that blew in from the waters of the Cove had raised little goosebumps on her flesh. At that moment she could have chewed up a silver dollar as effortlessly as if it had been an Oreo.
She filled a paper cup from the tub of punch, guzzling down the cupful without removing it from her lips. Her head reeled and her throat burned. Either the alcohol had all clustered together in the tub or someone had decided to spike the already-potent concoction. What she was drinking was mostly grain alcohol, at any rate, with just a bit of grape juice for flavoring.
Cathy closed her eyes as the mixture oozed into her tummy, and then she bent over to fill her cup once more. Her lips and tongue felt just a bit numb already, and the second drink, just as strong, just as biting, didn't help matters any. She took a deep breath as the raw spirits entered her bloodstream and began their work.
"Oh, the hell with it," she muttered, tossing her paper cup into the bonfire. She walked away, looking at the other kids-some of them dancing, some necking and petting on the sand, some just standing and talking. She hadn't realized there were so many people in her age group in the island-so why did it have to be that rotten bastard Chris whom she'd met first and let herself get hung up on? What a bummer!
The radio music grew faint behind her as she walked down the coastline, walking with no goal in mind save being alone. She could feel the Purple Jesus taking hold of her head and she wondered if she were going to get drunk and sick. She'd just finished downing two successive cups of almost pure alcohol, and with every step she took, the raw liquor seemed to be gaining control of more and more of her consciousness.
Her first reaction was a slight dizziness, followed by the almost irresistible impulse to sit down on the sand and cry her heart out. She fought it bravely, but the tears welled in the corners of her eyes nonetheless, and she had to wipe them away lest they blur her already-faltering vision.
"Cathy! Cathy!"
Someone was calling her name. She turned unsteadily and saw that it was Jennifer.
"Go away!" Cathy yelled, and she tried to run. Her legs were rubber and she merely stumbled, staggering at first, then dropping to her knees upon the sand. Before she could pick herself up, Jennifer was kneeling at her side, offering a smile and a hand. "Leave me alone," Cathy mumbled. "I don't want you around."
"Come on," Jennifer wheedled, touching Cathy's shoulder. "There's no harm done."
"Screw you, too," Cathy told her. "I just want to be by myself for a while. Go away."
"It's no good being alone," Jennifer countered. "Not when you have friends." Her fingers trailed down Cathy's arm, and the blonde girl could feel them, warm, almost electric, through the flannel of the oversized shirt she wore. And then her hand was cuddled gently inside Jennifer's and the red-haired teenager was moving closer.
"Knock it off," Cathy said, her tongue growing thicker so that her words were an almost indistinguishable mutter. "I know what you're after, and you can't have it."
"You're too suspicious, Cathy. I just want you to feel better. That's all."
"Sure-just like you made Chris feel better." Cathy tried to squirm away, but there was no strength in her body.
"Came off it," Jennifer said commandingly. "You're making too much out of nothing. So you saw your boy friend balling Penny. And so you saw me adding my two cents' worth. It didn't mean anything. Besides-it was your fault in the first place. If you hadn't jerked off Penny's guy, none of it would have happened."
"I didn't jerk him off! He flopped onto me and-"
"And you got your hand on his cock and made him shoot his wad. Penny was only getting what was due her. Besides, I heard her tell Chris not to shoot off inside her, so he'd have wasted his load anyway. I just popped in to give them both a little assistance. C'mon, Cathy. Be liberal. Be modem. It's what the sexual revolution is all about in the first place. Chris never gave you exclusive rights to his body, did he?"
Cathy wriggled on the sand, her head turned away from Jennifer's coaxing voice. She knew now that she was about three-quarters drunk, and the alcohol seemed to have a reserve of potency building inside her body that would put her over the line very soon.
Jennifer's head moved closer, and she took Cathy's chin in her hand, pulling the uneasy girl's face around. "Let's kiss and make up," she suggested in the faintest whisper of a voice, bringing her lips in to seal the bargain.
Cathy winced at the first touch of Jennifer's mouth upon her own, at the wet warmth of the open lips which sucked at hers, and she whined wordlessly as her taste buds picked up the unmistakable fragrance of male jizz in Jennifer's kiss. No wonder-Chris had fountained his load into Jennifer's sucking mouth and his surplus had coated her lips and chin-and now, in a sense, Cathy was receiving it for her own, through an intermediary. She hated the idea! She wanted to break away, to run, to hide, but she couldn't. There seemed to be no power at all in her young body now, and she was but a plastic toy in Jennifer's hands. "Please," she tried to say. "I don't want to." But Jennifer's white, capped teeth were chewing ever so gently on Cathy's lower lip, and now Jennifer had her arms around Cathy's body, hugging her tight, imprinting Cathy with the contours of her own frame, and the two girls lay in a tangle of twined arms and legs. Cathy moved her arms, intending to push Jennifer away, but she realized to her own shock that she was instead embracing the red-haired girl, hugging her in return, and that her teeth were parting to allow Jennifer's tongue entrance.
I'm drunk, Cathy told herself. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. That's it. I've let the booze overcome my morality. Of course! It was such an obvious explanation. She closed her eyes and began to suck Jennifer's tongue as though it were a cock plumbing the wetness of her mouth.
Jennifer's full boobs, nestling inside her blouse free and unsupported, brushed again and again upon Cathy's halter-covered tits, and their bare legs wrapped tantalizingly as they rolled upon the sand, kissing, embracing. Another moment drifted by, and now it was Cathy's tongue that was seeking its way into Jennifer's mouth, finding itself accepted happily.
Cathy closed her eyes, kissing and being kissed, touching and being touched, and it no longer mattered that she could blame her situation upon Demon Drink. Explanations and justifications were of no importance whatsoever now, with Cathy high from liquor and sex alike, finding a new intoxication in the heady combination.
She made a soft cooing sound as she felt Jennifer's fingers intruding through the cut-off legs, seeking the hairy bulge of Cathy's pussy. The fingers made contact, tugging and curling among the abundant locks of pussy fur, and they slid irresistibly onto the lips of Cathy's snatch, parting the pink gateway, slipping inside. Cathy tightened her thighs upon Jen's hand, wetting those fingers with her free-flowing juices, and she moaned as the fingers stole farther and farther into the honeyed treasure of her cunt. Her own hands went to the buttons of Jennifer's blouse, undoing them, flinging the shirt front open, taking hold of the full-sized tits inside.
And now Cathy was rolling on the ground, seeking the position of power, using her body to pin down a perfectly willing Jennifer, pausing for one fleeting second to wonder at the strangeness of it all.
Cathy had never, never ever, done anything like this before-not even at boarding schools where girl/girl love was almost as common as eating supper in the dining hall. In her days of nervous virginity, she had sometimes stopped outside a closed door in a dorm hallway to listen to the sounds of female passion seeping out of a darkened room, and her chaste, frightened body had reacted in a variety of ways. For one thing, her nipples had grown pebble-stiff as she eavesdropped, and there had often been the telltale weakness of the knees and dampening in the crotch that she now realized were the unmistakable signs of her sexual arousal. And once, when she was thirteen, there had been a roommate-a girl named Valerie-who seemed to take some delight in touching Cathy, in the demure brushing of fingers across skin or hair.
That had been a nerve-racking experience indeed, for Cathy, though virginal, was not quite innocent. She knew what Valerie's apparently neutral caresses had meant, and she had been scared silly. Afraid, yes, that Valerie might tire of subtle means and institute a forthright campaign of seduction, but afraid, too, that she might respond willingly.
Her own ambiguity on the matter filled her with the most dread. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed having Valerie brush her hair or tease it into stunning coiffures that never went outside the walls of their shared quarters. And the feather-light touch of Valerie's fingers and hands had been sensual and provocative, imparting much the same feeling that Cathy sometimes had when she stood naked in a shower room full of girls after gym class, surreptitiously watching them, comparing their bodies with her own, wondering if they had the same sensitivity in their budding boobs that she had, wondering if their pussies also grew moist and warm upon occasion-so moist and warm that only the application of fingers and hands could return them to normality.
And at those times she wondered, too, what it would be like to lay hands upon one of those other girls, to test with her own fingers the rubbery stiffness of nipples, the degree of heat transmitted by a thinly flossed cunt mound. She knew that it was wrong, that it was immoral, that it was a perversion of normal sex, but she also recalled the muffled moans and sighs she had heard coming from other girls' rooms, and she could not explain to herself how something so obviously satisfactory to its participants could also be sinful.
In the end, Cathy had transferred to another room in the dorm, finding some excuse she could no longer remember to get away from Valerie and her veiled hints of lesbian joys, and she had reused to allow herself even the consideration of making love to another girl. In time, she had managed her Own heterosexual initiation, of course, and the specter of lesbienism had unbidden dropped far back into the shadows of Cathy's mind. So far bank, indeed, that she was sensitive about the very idea of recalling it once mare, which had stirred up her anger this afternoon when Jennifer proposed a three-way party in the woods.
Now it didn't matter at all. She was doing it, doing what she had always both wanted and feared to do, and no lightning bolts were thundering forth from heaven to strike her dead for sinfulness.
She was also in the process of being undressed. Without realizing it, Cathy had been helped into a sitting position and Jennifer had already removed her flannel shirt and halter top, pausing a moment to kiss and suckle each of the blonde girl's stiff young nipples, and even now, Cathy was shocked to note, she was lilting her ass to aid Jennifer in pulling down the cut-offs which were her only other covering. Bare-assed, Cathy sat back down on the sand, and her own hands flew to Jennifer's body, throwing the unbuttoned blouse completely off, unbuttoning and unzipping Jen's own cut-offs, pulling them down. Cathy could even smell the warm fragrance of Jennifer's wet cunt, its gash boldly revealed by the thinness of her carroty beaver.
"Lie down," Jen commanded, and Cathy did so obediently. Jennifer lay down beside Cathy, her legs beside the other girl's head, and she began to kiss and lick catlike at Cathy's thighs, stirring nerve after nerve into blindingly erotic eruption.
Jennifer cupped her hand over the thick fur of Cathy's pubes and gave a firm squeeze, moistening her palm with the other girl's cunt juices. Cathy sighed and in her turn she put her hands on Jennifer's legs, feeling the supple rippling of thigh muscles. "Pretty, pretty," Jen whispered hoarsely, her cheek lying upon Cathy's inner thigh, her cheeks humming as she spoke and making a responsive tingle in Cathy's leg that seemed to vibrate at the very core of the blonde girl's inner being.
"Have you ever made love with another girl?"
Jennifer asked then, looking up at Cathy's face. Cathy shook her head anxiously. "You'll like it," Jennifer promised, and she began to use her mouth on Cathy's cunt.
Cathy wanted to scream at the first touch of Jen's lips, tugging playfully at her thick bush. Fingers joined the game, spreading open Cathy's tight pink gash, dipping inside to tickle the slick, wet inner folds and crevices of a splendid teenaged pussy. Cathy's clitoris perked out of its hooded sheath, and Jennifer kissed the shy bud with her puckered lips, as hungrily as though it had been a long-lost lover. A moan of delight greeted that particular bit of attention, but it was not half so delirious as the sound Cathy made when Jennifer's lips parted and the clitoral flower eased between them.
"Oh, yes, yes .. ." Cathy's voice oozed, the words seeping forth with the same liquid dripping as her cunt juice, flowing out of the slit of her twat to bathe Jen's fingers and wet her nose and upper lip.
Cathy turned her head this way and that, her eyes at last falling upon Jennifer's own cunt, so close, so close... She twisted herself and her fingers sought the sparse hairs of Jen's cunt mound, slipping with ease into the red-haired girl's spacious gash. It was as big as it had looked this afternoon, she realized. Two fingers of Cathy's hand were swallowed up without a trace and still there seemed to be plenty of room.
She brought her head nearer, wondering if she dared, in spite of all, to use her mouth on Jennifer's twat. The old desires, the old fears-both swarmed to the forefront in Cathy's mind. She dipped her lips in, brushed them across Jen's pussy gash, and her tongue flitted out to toy across the slightly protruding cuntlips, but more than that she feared to do. The sexual smell of Jennifer's pussy was overwhelming-it made her head swim even more than the raw liquor had done, and she felt herself reeling on the verge of a mighty chasm into which she might disappear without a trace.
Cathy's head moved away. She couldn't do it, couldn't serve Jennifer as Jennifer was serving her. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't help it. The raw aroma of arousal was too much for her-it clogged her nostrils, fogged her eyes.
She put both hands on Jennifer's pussy, spreading wide the big slit, and she added two more fingers to the pair already mining there. Jennifer's hips twisted as Cathy worked with four fingers, but still there was room inside, and so Cathy added her thumb. That seemed to plug the gap to some degree, and Cathy felt Jan's pussy begin to exert a viselike grip upon her stabbing fingers, clenching, unclenching. A snapping-turtle pussy, or so they called it in vulgar language, but there was nothing vulgar about the marvelous precision of Jennifer's cunt muscles.
Cathy was sobering rapidly. The alcohol had been only a passing intoxication, already dispelled for the mast part by the fantastic lip and hand action of Jennifer Pendexter in Cathy's cunt. Fingers were probing Cathy's snatch, lips were anointing her clitty with kisses and suckling, and Cathy knew that her entire pussy was ready to burst aflame if only someone would strike a match.
Jennifer struck that match. She held the clitoris in her lips, humming upon its pearly nub as she felt her own snatch eat up Cathy's entire hand, fingers and fist, stuffing her unbelievably, creating a fullness in her cunt that no man's cock could ever hope to match, and she went ecstatic, eating pussy as if she would never have another chance, digging her tongue into the satiny maw of Cathy's cunt, rubbing her chin back and forth over the straining lump of clitoral tissue, and she felt the contractions as Cathy surrendered herself to orgasm. Lush, sweet girl-jism streamed like a flood-swelled river and Jennifer knew that she had done her very best.
Now all that remained was Jen's own orgasm. She began to buck and ride Cathy's inserted fist, stretching and tightening the muscles of her cunt, panting and gasping as she fought her way to a climax to end all climaxes.
"Come on, Cath," she husked in a desperate voice. "Do it, do it, do it!"
And then the sands fell away beneath her and she dropped right into hell.
Cathy's fist jerked free of its cuntal trap and the blonde girl lay back breathless, still throbbing with her own come, staring strangely at the sopping ball of her fisted hand. She said nothing, looked at nothing.
"OH, JESUS!" Jennifer screeched, her cunt afire with a heat that moaned for dousing, and her potential deliverance lying on the ground like a pole-axed steer.
Cathy looked up, startled. She was drunker than she had thought. That last reserve of alcohol, congregating somewhere inside her body, had broken free and sped unimpeded to her head. For a moment she didn't even recall her own name. She stared in amazement at Jennifer, lying on the sand, working her hands in and out of her sopping snatch, trying to gain for herself the same release to which she hall sucked and fingered Cathy.
"Huh?" the blonde teenager said.
And then her body became hers once again. Now she knew what she was doing, where she was, who she was. With a slightly drunken giggle she got to her knees, one hand sweeping low across her wet bush, pausing there a moment to dwell upon her tight gash and its still throbbing lips. She looked at Jennifer, at the come-hungry desperation in the girl's eyes, and she knew what she must do.
Cathy lunged forward, knocking Jennifer flat on her back, and she seized by force the right to put her own hands into the other girl's pussy where it lay wet and waiting.
Cathy lay on her tummy, wedged between Jen's thighs, and though she had never before eaten cunt, though she had never touched one with her mouth until just a few minutes ago, she began to eat snatch now, licking and kissing, scraping Jennifer's clitty with her teeth, once more jamming her entire fist into the yawning maw of Jen's cunt.
Jennifer moaned in acceptance, her own hands now busy on her titties, and she felt as if she were climbing higher, higher, in a rocket faster than light. She knew that a tremendous explosion of sensual delight awaited her, but somehow she wished it might never come, that she might enjoy forever and always the wonderful feeling that accompanied the getting there.
"Yes!" she cried. "OH, YESSSS!" and she jerked her ass upward to feed Cathy all the pussy the blonde girl could eat, and the heat came upon her, and the vertigo-trauma of falling, falling, falling, and Jen shuddered upon the sands, sobbing and moaning her joy, weeping with her happiness.
CHAPTER SIX
It was about an hour later when Cathy and Jennifer returned at last to the party. Chris was surprised as hell to see them laughing and talking together in soft, low voices as they walked across the sands, but he knew better than to ask any questions. The look Cathy shot him was proof enough that he was still in the doghouse as far as she was concerned.
"I'm ready to go home now, if you don't mind," She said to him. He shrugged acceptantly, and she turned to Jennifer. "Like a ride home with us?" she asked in a surprisingly tender voice.
"Oh, no thanks," Jen replied. "I think I'll hang out awhile longer. There's just my parents to talk to back at the house, and I'd rather put that off as long as I can."
"Okay," Cathy said and she leaned forward to kiss Jennifer's mouth with a very audible smack. "See you tomorrow, maybe?"
"I'd like that. Bye."
Cathy said nothing at all to Chris as they walked up the hill to where he'd parked his father's car. He wanted to make amends, to tell her he was sorry, but the iciness of her silence froze the words in his very throat. Later, in the car and on the road, he tried to speak. "Look, Oath, I'm sorry about tonight . .
"Don't." she said. "I'm sure I don't want to hear it."
He shrugged complacently and returned his eyes to the road ahead. Well, damn it, he thought, it isn't my fault. He'd forgotten completely about Penny. Oh, he knew she was on the island with a couple of girl friends, but he hadn't seen her in a few days and he hadn't made it with her for a year or so and, besides, how did he know she'd be at the party? He didn't ask her to come on with him tonight-that was her own idea. And he sure didn't ask Cathy to play with what's his name- Harold's-pecker the way she did. It couldn't have been entirely accidental, he was sure.
What was really weird was the new friendliness between Cathy and Jennifer. This afternoon Cathy had been ready to rip the other girl's hair out by the roots, but tonight they were really honey and pie together. Like the way Cathy had smacked that slurpy kiss onto Jennifer, and in front of him. They'd been gone a long time, and he wondered what they had been up to out there in the dunes. He'd bet a thousand dollars they'd been screwing each other. Which meant that Miss Cathy wasn't so straight as she liked to pretend. He smiled at the thought. If the nirvana look on her face was any indication, she had certainly enjoyed whatever she and Jen had been doing.
Anyway-how long could she stay angry with him? She had hot blood and by tomorrow or the next day that blood would be boiling in her veins. She might be able to get some of her kicks fooling around with Jennifer, as she apparently had tonight, but she needed cock, too, and she would get mighty lonesome for his before too much time had passed. Let her squirm a little, he decided. Let her beg him for it.
All too soon the silent journey ended, and he had pulled up in front of the beach house Cathy shared with her mother. She popped out of the car and he slid out, too, wishing at least to walk her to the door, to give her one last chance to take him back while she could still be dignified about it.
"Wait up a sec," he said, walking fast to catch her, but she had already clomped onto the porch, not even giving him a glance back. He reached for her hand and tugged on it, Cathy resisting him, trying to free herself, and she had just turned to order him to get the flick out when the front door of the house opened and Gwen stepped onto the porch.
"Hi, dear," she said to Cathy. "And you must be-"
"Chris," he smiled, supplying her with the name she couldn't quite recall.
"Chris. Of course. Home so soon?" she asked her daughter.
"It was a draggy party," Cathy grumbled, still trying to pull her hand free of Chris'.
"Oh, that's too bad," Gwen commiserated. "Well. Why don't you invite your friend inside for something cool to drink?"
"Oh, I'd better get home," Chris apologized. Cathy's mother seemed to be totally unaware of the tension existing between the teenagers.
"It's early," Gwen insisted. "Come on in."
Cathy went through the door first, followed by Gwen and Chris. "You go into the kitchen, dear, and get some Cokes-or would you rather have some beer or some wine, Chris? If you're allowed, that is.
"A beer would be okay," he smiled, watching Cathy as she disappeared into the kitchen. He heard the refrigerator door open, then heard it slammed shut with vehemence. In a moment she returned with two bottles of beer and two glasses.
She divided them equally between Gwen and Chris then said, "Excuse me, I'm going to bed," and left the room once again. She slammed the bedroom door behind her and in another moment her stereo clicked on-Carly Simon, playing very loud.
Gwen looked at Chris with raised eyebrows. "Is something bothering Cathy?" she wondered. He thought it politic not to answer. "I'm afraid I don't understand her at all," Owen went on. "I've tried and tried, but there seems to be an enormous gulf between them.
Chris stood with a cool beer and a handled glass, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He wanted to leave. "I'd better be going," he said.
"Oh, no, Gwen assured him. "Sit down. The sofa's fine. And drink your beer. It'll only go to waste if you don't."
She sat down opposite him, on the chair beside her typing desk. Her portable electric was covered now, for she had just finished the final revisions on her article for the magazine, and for the first time in a long while she had no impending deadlines or other responsibilities. Time enough to begin making friends with Cathy once more, and to make friends with all Cathy's chums, too. This young man for example. She looked at him with a smile. He was a beautiful boy, she thought, as lovely in his own way as Cathy was in hers. There was such an aura of young virility, a pure and chaste virility like that of a Greek statue, about him. His body was lithe and nicely developed, and she liked his almost-blond hair, too, and especially the fantastic blue of his eyes. Indeed, he resembled Cathy just a bit. Like attracting like, she decided. A handsome boy and a sparkling young girl. That was what life and love were all about.
Chris stared back at her, trying not to be obvious about it. Cathy's mother-he knew that her name was Gwen and that she and her daughter were on a first-name basis-was a fine piece of woman. Cathy would look much the same when she was fully matured, and that was a good sign. But it was still difficult for him to believe that Gwen was old enough to have a daughter his own age. She must have been a real child bride, he decided.
Right now she was casually dressed in a short-sleeved knit top that clung to the lines of her very fine tits and left her bare from just below the boobs to the waistband of her very short shorts. And they were the kind of shorts nobody's mother was supposed to be wearing, what with the way they rode low on her hipbones and cut high on her sleek thighs and fit like a tight glove around her crotch. Made of some sort of nylon, they seemed to be a size too small, and Chris was positive that if he looked close enough, he could see the outline of her goddamned snatch in the fabric between her legs. He poured his beer, trying not to spill any, and he took a sip that he hoped would help to cool him down.
Gwen looked around her typing table, searching vainly for her cigarettes. All she could find was an empty pack which she had crumpled earlier in the evening. "Are my cigarettes on the table, Chris?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence inside the living room.
He looked at the coffee table before him and shook his head. Gwen stood up, and he had to repress a whistle of appreciation at the smooth action of her legs. They were just as long, just as shapely as Cathy's, though her mother was built on a slightly more voluptuous frame, with bigger tits and an ass that was, if anything, just a bit nicer than Cathy's.
She walked across the room and he followed her with his eyes, drinking in her every movement. "I had a fresh pack somewhere," she said almost inaudibly. "Where did I put them?" And then- "Oh, there they are!" and she went to the end table right beside where Chris was sitting.
Gwen bent over to pick up her package of Winstons, and as she did, her ass poked high and round into the air in such a way and in such a position that Chris couldn't help but stare at it. He closed his eyes for an instant and opened them again to find that vision of shapeliness still there, and so he took this as a divine beneficence. He reached out with one hand and smoothed it over the curve of her nearest buttcheek, testing the texture of her nylon shorts, feeling the warmth of the ass which they covered.
Gwen's eyes opened in surprise at Chris' laying-on of hands, and they opened even wider when she felt him slide a finger through her crotch, rubbing her from asshole to perineum to cunt through the thin barrier of her nylon shorts. She stood up slowly, straightening her back, and she put a cigarette between her lips very carefully, lighting it before she turned to look at Chris.
"Uh. . ." she began, startled to note that his finger was still touching her warm crotch. His hand dropped when she made the sound, and he looked up at her innocently, with a smile that was almost sweet, ingenuous even. And Gwen didn't know what to say. He was young enough to be her own son, and if she flared out at him in anger for daring to feel her up, she might stunt his sexual development irremediably.
Besides, she thought, what should she have expected? He was young, obviously he had sexual desires, and she was an older woman, admittedly, but an older woman wit a body that was still first-rate. It was a classic situation.
Good God, she thought, look at the way I'm dressed, too! No bra, clingy knit top which, thank the Lord, isn't quite see-through, and shorts that look like I was born wearing them. And I guess I must have given him a pretty good shot when I bent over. Obviously he thinks I'm trying to seduce him. The poor guy was probably scared half to death right now.
I wonder what she's gonna do, Chris thought idly. She didn't scream or anything. And she hasn't told me to get the hell out.
He looked at Gwen and she looked at him, neither of them saying a word. Chris broke the impasse. He stood up, saying, "It really is getting late. I should be going home. My dad will think I've piled the car up somewhere."
Gwen nodded, chewing absentmindedly on her lower lip. She hoped she'd done the right thing. It was so important that a young boy, making his first sexual overtures, be treated carefully-neither encouraged nor turned off completely, and she couldn't know yet if she had reacted correctly to his exploratory touching. Sometimes she wished she'd had a son as well as a daughter-it would have given her much better insight on child psychology.
"Well," she said, "good night, Chris," and she followed him to the door.
"Good night, Mrs. Corby," he called as he went around the front of his car. "Tell Cathy I'll see her sometime soon."
"I'll be sure to do that" Gwen replied, her heart beating with a rap-tap-tap of justification. Possibly-no, probably-she had handled the little incident in a calm adult fashion that would not leave permanent scars on Chris' psyche.
"I don't give a shit," Cathy growled across the breakfast table.
Gwen regretted her daughter's tendency to use gutter language, but in modern America even twelve-year-old virgins with prim angelic faces habitually spoke like truck drivers, and there was nothing she could do about it. She could, however, remind Cathy of her manners. "I was just telling you what he said, not ordering you to give him a hearty welcome. And really, Cathy, he seems to be a very nice boy."
"He's a grade-A asshole," Cathy replied bluntly.
Gwen finished her morning coffee and got up from the table. Her cigarettes were once again in the living room, and she went to fetch them. Bending to get the pack of Winstons from the coffee table, she looked towards the sofa and saw something that should not have been there. "Oh, my," she called, "I'm afraid your young friend lost his wallet last night." Gwen picked it up, dislodging the wallet from its wedged-in position between the back of the sofa and the cushion. "Do you want to take it by his place?" she suggested, at the same time flipping it open to check the driver's license and other identifications inside, simply to make sure that it did indeed belong to Chris, though it could have been the property of no other person.
"No, I don't want to take his goddamned wallet to him!" Cathy yelled, accidentally spooning an extra portion of sugar into her tea. She put the cup to her lips and tasted it, grimacing at the unexpected super sweetness.
"Never mind," Gwen called back in a voice that was suddenly very hoarse and choked-off. "I have to go out. I'll take it myself."
Cathy heard the front door slam shut, and she dashed into the living room. Gwen was already getting into her VW outside. "You gonna be gone long?" Cathy asked, but her mother didn't hear or, if she did hear, did not answer. The engine started up and Gwen backed down to the highway, taking off in a speedy lunge of automotive power that would have drawn cheers at any drag strip in the country. Cathy shrugged and went back inside. She poured out the too-sweet tea and fixed herself a fresh cup which she made sure to close with the proper amount of sugar.
There was a knock at the front door, and she put down her cup.
Chris was standing on the porch, looking through the screen door. "Hi," he said, "I think I left my-"
"You did, but it isn't here now. Gwen left with it a few minutes ago. She said she was gonna stop by your place."
"Oh, was that her in the blue Volks? I thought it was. She mustn't have seen me when I waved."
"Probably not," Cathy agreed. "If you hurry, maybe you can catch her."
"It's not that important, if she's planning on leaving the wallet at our house."
Cathy made a half-turn. She was wearing only a thin robe, and she realized that it wasn't entirely pulled shut, so he must have had one last look at her goodies through the screen door. Tough shit. "Look," she told him, "why don't you run along now? I have to take a bath."
"Going somewhere?"
"Swimming with Jen, this afternoon."
"Why take a bath if you're going swimming?"
"Why do you need to know? You don't own me. What's the matter, anyway? Is that bitch Penny out of heat already? I supposed you'd be off humping her this morning."
"Cathy, listen!" He took hold of the door handle and pulled it open, standing framed in the doorway.
"If you come inside, you'll be trespassing," she warned him. "I have every right to shoot you. It's the unwritten law."
"The unwritten law is all about husbands being able to shoot guys who screw their wives."
"Too bad Penny isn't married," she snapped.
He came inside, shutting the door behind him. "So shoot me," he said.
"I don't have a gun. But if you're still here when I finish my bath, I'll call the cops."
"They'll have to come over from the mainland on the ferry like everyone else. And by then it'll be too late;"
She turned away from him; eluding the hand that reached for her, and she went into the bathroom. Before she could close the door, he was standing beside her, arms folded on his chest.
Cathy turned on the tap and stood watching as the tub filled with warm water. She sprinkled bubble bath in and giggled childishly as her hand stirred the powder into suds. When she looked around, he was still there. "Wanna watch me bathe?" she asked. "Is that as much fun as screwing Penny What's-her-name?"
"You can be a bitch when you want to be," he observed. "A real, first-class bitch. Last night I made up my mind to wait for you to come back to me. I wanted to see you beg and crawl. This morning I woke up wanting you so bad it hurt, and I came over to tell you that. I think I love you."
She looked at him with lower lip suddenly trembling. "Is that just a line, or do you mean it?"
Chris went to her and swept her into his arms for a hello kiss that answered her question completely and honestly. She broke her face away from his, and he could see the little tears welling in her striking blue eyes. "I think you do mean it," she said quietly.
His hands went down to pull open her robe, to find her nakedness beneath. He stroked her body, felt her jugs and her belly and her plump little cunt mound, and the robe fell to the floor unheeded. She purred at his touch, then flipped around and shut off the water which had by now half-filled the tub. "Bath time," she said, stepping into the tub. "You're welcome to join me."
"Invitation accepted," he said, throwing off his shirt, letting his pants drop. He wore no underwear and the falling of his jeans revealed his cock, already partially erect.
Cathy, sitting in the tub, made a sudden grab for his pecker, catching it in her hands, rubbing and rolling her palms under it till it stood up stiff and proud, the purplish knobby head beginning to peep from beneath its foreskin covering. He bent his knees slightly to bring his tool closer, and she responded by letting her tongue glide forth to dab wetly upon-his hard shaft. "Hi, there, big fellow," she cooed in a mock little-girl voice that made him laugh in spite of his seriousness of purpose, and then she opened her mouth, drawing his dick in for a suck of welcome.
Her tongue and lips moved skillfully upon his cock, and he thought wishfully of how nice it would be to let her suck him off right there-but she'd invited him to join her in the tub, and he wouldn't miss that for the sake of treasures untold.
"Bath time," he said, gently withdrawing his prick from the grip of her hands and lips, stepping into the water in which she sat awaiting him. It felt good to be lolling there in the sudsy tub with the girl he loved, Chris decided, and it felt especially good because the girl he loved was at that moment using her hands to fondle and stroke his rampant cock, toying and playing with his manhood in a totally irresistible manner. He reciprocated, reaching out to catch her hard brown nipples between his fingers, rubbing them into telescoping erectile points of tingling flesh.
"Do you really love me?" she asked him suddenly, her face growing serious and reflective. He nodded. "More than anyone else in the world?" He nodded again. "I'm glad," she announced, "because that's how I feel about you, too. That's why it hurt me so much last night when-"
"Don't even talk about it," he commanded, pulling her through the water and onto his lap. She snuggled atop his loins, her boobs rubbing his chin, her hands wrapped around his neck and head. His stiff cock was pressed against the abundant fur of her cunt, riding in the slit of her crotch.
"How long have you known her?" Cathy asked, ignoring his request.
"Years," he replied resignedly. "Ever since we were little kids. She's always been sort of like a favorite cousin."
"Some kind of cousin," Cathy commented. "What the hell do you do to your aunts?"
He laughed. "You've got a dirty mind. For your information, Penny was the first girl I ever laid."
"Oh, shill" Cathy squealed. "You're kidding!"
"Cross my heart and hope to die. We were-I don't know-twelve, maybe. And one summer my dad and stepmother and her parents all got together for a week or so in the mountains, and Penny and I spent a lot of time by ourselves. So one day we got to talking about sex and decided to try it out."
"Was she any good?"
"Okay, I guess. After all, I didn't have anything to compare with."
"Was she as good as I am? Was she ever as good as I am?"
"I don't remember. It's been so long since I've done it with you."
"Bastard!" Cathy lifted her hips from his legs. "C'mon, stud, refresh your memory.
He reached into the gap she had left and seized hold of his pecker, guiding it into Cathy's soapy snatch. There was a squishy, sloshing noise as he made his entrance, but once inside her cunt, he found his prick gripped and cuddled in what had to be the nicest pussy in all the world, and it was only fair, Chris decided, that he give her the best fucking of which he was capable. He proceeded to do that very thing.
Cathy made ga-ga eyes as she took his meat into her cunt, and she began to corkscrew her hips up and down upon his rod, taking it on the way home with sighs and moans that showed precisely how much she had missed him.
Chris put his hands on her tits, squeezing them around his face, kneading and massaging the firm young mounds, pinching nipples to make her squeal in glee, occasionally using his tongue upon the inner curves of her boobs and upon the brawn caps of sensuous flesh. She cuddled him against her bosom, wishing to drown him in the love she felt swelling inside her body, all the while continuing to fuck herself up and down in that close-clasped sifting position in the tub. It was delightful and delicious, and she felt sexy and slutty and every inch a pawn-up sensuous woman at that moment.
"Oh, Christ!" she said suddenly, slamming her twat down upon his cock, giving his balls a shaking jolt that was near to sending him prematurely into ejaculation.
"What's wrong?" he asked, positive she hadn't came already.
"This is crazy!" she informed him. "I don't know how long Gwen is going to be away, for Christ's sake. If she comes back and finds us in the tub screwing, she'll pitch a bitch. It'll make the Six Day War look like a poker game."
"Fuck faster," Chris suggested.
"Don't make jokes," Cathy shrilled. She tried to un-cunt him, but it was no use. He held her tightly, showing no sign of a wish to release her body. "C'mon," she pleaded. "My mother will shit herself."
"That's a physical impossibility," he said. "Besides-I don't care. For one thing, she's not my mother, so she can't do anything to me. And I won't let her do anything to you. She's just gonna have to get used to having me around, because I'm here to stay."
"You're crazy," she announced; "But I love you for it." Her hips began to swivel once more, and she started riding him again, forcefully, assuredly, secure in the protecting shield of his love.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Don Robinson looked at the figure in the doorway. He shook his head. "I don't believe it," he said at last. "You haven't changed a bit, Gwen."
"Of course I have," she snapped, "and I don't have time to listen to any of your bullshit. May I come in?"
He opened the door for her, giving a mockingly courtly bow.
She flung herself into a chair and tossed Chris' wallet in Don's direction. He caught it skillfully, recognizing the gold-embossed "CR" decorating the leather. "Thanks," he said. "Where did you find this?"
"On the sofa in our living room this morning," she said curtly. "After Chris brought my daughter home from their date."
Don whistled. "You're kidding."
"I am most certainly not kidding. They went to some party on the beach last night."
"I don't understand," Don puzzled. "He told me when he left that he was going out with a prime young piece he'd met the other day. A girl named Cathy-all legs and ass and-"
"And my daughter, goddamn it!" Gwen shouted.
"Her name's Susan," Don protested. "Little Susie. We named her after my mother."
"Her name is Susan Catherine, you blockhead, and you may have recalled her as little Susie all these years, but if you think I wanted anything to remind me of your mother-"
"We're not going to get anywhere by screaming," Don pointed out. "My God, I saw her a day or so ago, and it never entered my mind."
"I suppose you never bid Chris about me? Or about his sister?"
"There was no reason. I thought the divorce settlement was final enough."
Gwen nodded. "I thought so, too, but something has gone very badly wrong." She fumbled in her purse for cigarettes, knocked one from the pack, and sat smoking in short, heavy puffs, her eyes studying Don Robinson. It was like going to sleep and picking up a fresh installment of an old nightmare.
Gwen had been in her senior year at college-Reckardsville University, one of Ohio's mass-market institutions of higher learning-when she had first met Don Robinson. God, she thought, he had been so attractive then. President of his fraternity, tennis star, all-American rich boy, and she had been a poor orphan girl from Akron, attending school on a scholarship from her father's union local. They had met in photography class, and she had lost her heart at first sight. A few dates, a few evenings together, and Gwen's virgin resistance yielded unconditionally before his advances. A get-acquainted fuck in the back of his jalopy at Shawnee Lake, Reckardsville's unofficial official parking lot, a wild., and forbidden after-hours visit to his fraternity house for a romp on the presidential bed, a few trips to a Marietta motel-it had added up in the long run, as it must inexorably have done in those pre-Pill days. The first time Gwen skipped a period, she was certain it was due to the crush of midterm exams. Four weeks later it happened again, and she began to chew her nails. After the third stoppage in her menstrual cycle, she bolstered up enough courage to visit a doctor who gave her the happy news.
Don's parents suggested an abortion, but Gwen refused completely, and there was nothing to do but marry in haste. She'd left school, of course-by that time her belly was swelling enormously and 1958 universities cast a dubious eye upon visibly pregnant coeds, married or not.
In her sixth month the doctor thought it wise to tell Gwen that her joys of motherhood would be doubled before they had fairly begun. She was most. definitely carrying twins. A stranger would have been hard put to calculate the effect this had upon the former Miss Gwendolyn Corby, now Mrs. Donald Robinson.
On the twenty-ninth of June, 1958, Reckardsville University Hospital's obstetrics staff went to work, and within a short time the population of southeastern Ohio and, by extension, the world, was larger by two souls. Within some six months the American divorce statistics for that year had received a slight degree of augmentation as well.
The marriage had been doomed from the start. Gwen knew before the honeymoon was over that she could not under any circumstances endure living the rest of her life with Don Robinson. Everything which had attracted her to him now loomed larger than life as a debit on his account, and when his parents came to her with a reasonable solution, she was quick to seize upon it.
Briefly stated, Mr. and Mrs. Robinson offered Gwen an easy divorce and very substantial cash settlement, provided she would remove herself from their son's life forever. The only condition was that she surrender custody of the son and daughter conceived most probably in Don's car on that night of Gwen's adieu to her maidenhood.
Gwen had countered with a suggestion of her own. She would allow them to take away her son, but she intended to keep her daughter-little Susan Catherine, "Susie" to the Robinson family and a definite "Cathy" as far as Owen was concerned. There had been haggling back and forth, but in the end Gwen carried her point. She went her way with Cathy and a check for $10,000-and in 1958 that was a hell of a lot of money. It financed Gwen's return to college and acquisition of her B.A. and M.A. in journalism, and it enabled her to go to New York and begin knocking upon doors in her search for a job.
She had covered her path carefully. All the lies to Cathy about a long-ago divorce and the later death of the male parent; her own legal resumption of her maiden name to further, confuse the issue. Gwen had determined many years before that she wanted absolutely nothing more to. do with Don Robinson, and she had stuck to her guns. She had not seen him since he drove her to the airport and put her on the Reno-bound plane in the midst of a light snow one early November day in 1958. She had, indeed, never expected to see him again, and the possibility of his path ever crossing hers or Cathy's was so remote she had not even considered it.
Now her world had crumbled into chaos. All the steps she had taken to create a secure environment for Cathy were made a mockery.
When she finally spoke, furiously grinding out her second cigarette in a row, her voice was angry. "Why in the hell did you and Chris have to show up here? Now?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Don protested. "As far as he's concerned, you're dead, and have been since he was still in the cradle. Chris has never even seen a picture of you." He thought a moment. "Well, once. He found a little Kodak snapshot I took of you in college, but it wasn't a very good photo and, besides, as soon as I saw him with it, I took it away from him and tore it up. I doubt if he even remembers."
"When did they meet each other?" she wondered aloud. "You said something about the other day?"
He nodded. "Yes. I think it was Tuesday. I'm sure it was, because I'd been over on the mainland most of the day and she was leaving as I pulled into the carport. And that was the day before yesterday."
Gwen shivered. "She never mentioned him to me at all. Until last evening, when she said she'd met a boy on the beach and he'd invited her to a party. He came into the house after he brought her home last night, and I talked to him for a while but it never occurred to me-" She stopped, wincing in pain as she thought of the way he had stolen upon that opportunity to put his hands on her body-to feel her ass, to rub his fingers through her crotch. Her own son and she hadn't known it.
"Oh, dear God," she said quickly, trying to shake away the feeling of self-disgust that overwhelmed her, "they've got to be told. Now. Before it's too late. Before something happens.. ."
Don nodded, and then he felt a freezing chill that began on the back of his neck and raced along his spine. He could remember, as plainly as if it were happening at that moment, the way he and Chris had talked trash day before yesterday about his son's newest girl. What was it the boy had said? Something about going back for thirds because he'd already gotten seconds from Cathy. Good God! No, he thought frantically. Chris was lying about it. He was only feeding his old dad a line of bullshit. That was it. No, that wasn't it. Chris was his father's son. He'd never had any trouble getting girls, and he'd never had to lie about it. If he said he had screwed Cathy, then he had. It was that simple. Don felt sick about it, but not half as sick as he did when he recalled his own curious lustful glances directed towards Cathy's bikini-covered body, towards her high young tits and her ripe little ass.
"Of course, I can trust Cathy," Gwen was saying. "I'm certain that she's a virgin-I'd stake my life on it. And last night she seemed to be angry with Chris for some reason or another. She was still very upset this morning, too, now that I think of it." Her face grew a bit brighter. "Maybe we've got time to end this painlessly." She stood up, gathering up her bag. "I'm going back to our place. Cathy didn't say anything about going out today, so she should be there. I'll get our things packed up, and we can start back for New York first thing this afternoon. I think I'd rather tell her the whole story there, instead of here."
Don stood up, too. "That sounds like a good idea," he agreed. "I'll try to round up Chris, and he and I can have a long-delayed father/son talk." He wondered what Chris would say when he found out that his newest score was his own twin sister.
"Before you go," Don interjected, "I want you to know that you can count on me for anything. Maybe, after the kids know the truth, we can all get together and laugh about this. It's funny, Gwen. For years I've wondered what would happen if the two of us should meet by accident and just look-scarcely one harsh word between us. I guess time heals all wounds, doesn't it?"
"Of course not," Gwen said sweetly. "I still despise the ground you walk on and in normal circumstances I wouldn't speak to you to save either of our lives. But this concerns my daughter. I've worked hard to give her everything she could ever want, and I will not see her hurt-even if it means I have to be civil to you for a few minutes. And." she added, going out the door, "I sincerely hope that this is the last time I ever have to look at your face." She did not look back as she walked to her Volkswagen.
One thing about his ex-wife, Don thought approvingly-she was a woman of principle and candor. He liked that in a woman.
"Oh, that felt good," Cathy whispered, still sitting on Chris' lap in the tub. The water was lukewarm by now, and his sperm was slowly trickling out of her wet snatch. She hadn't had much of an orgasm-just a nice, tingly feeling deep inside her belly-but it didn't matter. They'd kissed and made up and sealed their reconciliation in the best of all possible ways, with his cock jabbing hard into her cunt and spitting out a creamy load of hot jism. So what if she hadn't really seen stars exploding and rockets blasting off into the heavens? She felt good and he felt good and it was nice to be sitting on his lap while his prick began to melt within her creamy cunt.
"Water's getting cold," he said, moving his head where it nestled against her gently heaving tilt
"Oh, hell," she muttered, realizing that the water was indeed getting cold, that the bubbles had begun to dissipate and, worst of all, that her skin was starting to get pruny-wrinkled from such lengthy immersion. "C'mon, you can dry me off while I dry you."
She stepped out onto the mat beside the tub and reached for the towels hanging on the rack nearby. Cathy began to wipe the water from Chris' body while he did the same for her, but, as might be expected, drying soon took a second place to fooling around. He seemed to spend a long time, much longer than necessary, smoothing the towel across Cathy's boobs and she felt her nipples getting stiffer and more excited each time he scraped the coarse towel aver them.
And to make matters worse, he slipped the middle of the towel between her legs and began to saw it back and forth upon her crotch, very deliberately, until Cathy's hips had no choice but to start moving in a sexy, dance-like fashion. The friction of the towel as it dragged again and again upon the tender mouth of her snatch was too much for her, and she drew back, making Chris drop one end of the towel, giving her a chance to step away from him.
She took her towel in an archer's posture, one end in the hand thrust forward, the other, like the arrow-levering string, drawn way back, and she flipped it at him, the tip of the towel stinging him wickedly upon the cock.
"Ouch!" he yelped, grabbing his dick and hopping once or twice. "That wasn't fair!"
"It wasn't fair for you to try to get me hot again, either, Mr. Superstud," Cathy pointed out saucily. "But if it really hurt you that much, why, Nurse Cathy knows what to do."
She dropped to her knees, pushed his hand away from his prick, and, taking the wounded tool in her fingers, she raised it to her lips and kissed where the towel had stung him. "Does it feel better now?" she asked, looking up.
He touched her hair, stroking the curls still tousled and uncombed after her night's sleep. "Bet it did," he sighed. "You want to give it one to grow on, while you're at it?"
"Okay," she said, "and I hope to God it works. You can use it!" The lie fresh from her lips, she gave his cock not one but a dozen smacking, wet-mouthed kisses, up and down its length from nuts to foreskin, her hand hefting appreciatively his heavy sac of balls.
His dong grew tense under Cathy's attentions, and she discovered that if she put her lips in a certain place, she could feel each and every spurt of hot blood as it began to flow with renewed vigor into Chris Robinson's recuperating cock. Curious, she parted her lips and gripped his boner from the side.
Her fingers toyed with his foreskin, sliding it back and forth. She really liked the fact that Chris was uncircumcised, because it was a turn-on to diddle his prepuce.
He liked it, too, if his steadily improving physical condition was any indication. In spite of the fact that he'd just filled her cunt with a nice creamy cargo of jism, Chris' dick was getting harder by-the second, and he realized that he was simply always horny for Cathy. Screwing her once wasn't enough-it could never be enough. His cock shot out to its full, rigid length, and he was ready to put it inside her again, in any hole she chose.
Cathy released his prick from her mouth and drew her head back, studying her work. She turned her head this way, then that, eyeing his hard-on from a variety of angles, satisfying herself that she had done a first-rate job of getting Chris up for seconds. "It looks like all systems go," she declared.
"Bet your sweet ass all systems are go," he growled, taking her hands and jerking her to her feet. She melted into his embrace, eagerly accepting his tongue inside her mouth, her hands busily nurturing, cultivating the stiffness to which she had once more brought his cock. His hands were on the sides of her head, forcing her to the kiss she would not have resisted in any case, but at last she began to shake herself loose.
"Do you know," she began in a panting voice, "that we have made it in the grass and on the sand and in the bathtub but never-I mean never-in a bed?"
"I didn't know that," he mused.
"Well, aren't you gonna do-anything about it?"
He scooped her up in his arms and held her like a bridegroom about to carry his virginal prize across their honeymoon threshold. "Which way is the bedroom?"
Chris eased Cathy onto her unmade bed and she turned hastily on her knees, throwing the rumpled sheet and bedspread out of the way. She fell onto her back then, legs open, ass thrusting up at him, and said, "Come and get it."
He flopped down beside her.. "Jesus," he said, "what if your mother comes back?"
"I bet she was gonna take her article to mail," Cathy smiled. "She finished it last night. And that means she has to go over to the mainland. It'll be a while before she gets home. And even if she does catch us-I don't care any more. She'll have to find out sometime, and she might as well know the score now. Well? Cat got your pecker or something? Or do you need some instructions?" She put a hand between her legs, spreading her pussy open for him, displaying for his eyes alone the scarlet mystery of her tight young snatch.
"You're the one who needs the instructions," he said firmly. "On your knees, girl!"
Cathy did as he requested, and then he arranged her to suit his desires, making her kneel like a snippy young cat with her weight thrown upon hands and knees, her bead hanging low, her perky ass thrust high. He crouched behind her, his fingers slipping freely into the mouth of her cunt, and she moaned excitedly as she felt him spread her twat so roughly, so eagerly, so lustfully. "Doggie?" she asked. "Arf! Arf!"
And then her playful barking became transformed into wild, heated sighs, for his cock, stiff and ready, replaced his fingers and he slipped without a hitch into the channel of her pussy. She bucked her hips as he made his entrance, swiveling her ass to swallow his rigid tool, coating its stabbing bulk in the wet juices of her cunt. "That-hits-the- fucking-spot," she groaned as she took it all the way home, the tip of his prick bumping unexpectedly against the tiny-mouthed vase of her uterus.
He closed his eyes and took her by the waist, bending forward to brush his chest against her back, and he began to fuck her for lust and love and because she was Cathy and he was Chris and they were made for one another. His cock plunged in forcefully, drew back, once more jabbed home, squishing along the lubricated walls of her cunt. She moaned, she chewed her lips, she clawed at the sheet upon which she knelt, and above all else she fucked him in return, her hips gyrating to apply the most sensual stimulation of which she was capable upon the barrel of his pecker. It was heaven, she thought, and she wondered how she had ever lived without Chris, how she had ever been able to face the days of her life without the prospect of reaching nirvana with the aid of his wonderful cock. "Oh, yes," she croaked, her throat as dry as her snatch was wet, "oh, yes, yes, yes, YES!!"
Gwen left her car with a heavy heart, dreading the necessity that faced her now. She had lied to her daughter all these years, she had concealed the facts of her own life, had kept from Cathy the now inescapable truth that the girl had a father living instead of dead, as well as a twin brother whom she had never known. And now the lies had caught up with Gwen Corby. She opened the door, hoping that Cathy might be sitting on the sofa or perhaps still dawdling over breakfast, and hoping at the same time that she might put off the ordeal just a bit longer.
The living room was empty. Her heart thumped so loudly that there was a rushing in her ears and she felt just a bit dizzy. Cold chills and hot flashes alternated upon her body and she drew a hand across her forehead, surprised when she looked down at the little beads of sweat on her fingers.
She stood in the kitchen, and her hand went down to brace itself upon the refrigerator handle. Contact with the solid object restored Gwen's sense of balance and her head cleared. She smiled, confident again. And then she heard the sounds that came from Cathy's bedroom. The sound of a mattress squeaking energetically, the sighs and moans of a young girl, the sighs and moans of a young man. Her vision went black for a moment and her entire body froze and then she went to see what she knew she must see.
It was them. Her son, her daughter. They were on the bed, both of them naked as the day they were born, and Chris was putting the prick to Cathy. Dog-fashion at that, she noted, with Cathy on hands and knees on her bed and Chris hunching her from behind, bent over her back, his hands full of his sister's tits. Cathy's head was shaking back and forth, her long blonde hair flying in disarray, and Gwen was shocked to realize that her teenaged daughter was hovering on the verge of what gave indications of being a throbbing, twitching super orgasm. Chris' eyes were closed and there was sweat bubbling from every pore of his body. His hips muscles were tight and knotted and it was clear that he was on the brink of his own climax. Both of the kids were moaning and sobbing so earnestly Gwen felt for one passing instant as though she were an intruder upon something that was none of her goddamned business.
She clutched the doorframe, closed her eyes, and then screamed, "CATHY!!"
The kids jerked at the unexpected sound, and they rolled on the bed, their dog-style pileup collapsing. Chris twisted his body to face Gwen and his cock flipped out of Cathy's snatch just as his balls released their scorching load. Cathy screamed wordlessly as she felt his prick leave her cunt, and she reached to clasp his cock as it squirted, the cum flying everywhere-onto the sheet, onto her legs, and some of it into the wet tangled fur of her bushy crotch. Her hand shucked rapidly on his hard shaft, emptying his dick of its creamy jizz, and she rolled from side to side upon the bed, her legs kicking, her snatch lips throbbing and burning for want of that last little measure of love and affection that would have sent her directly into seventh heaven.
Gwen's legs were rubber as she walked towards the bed. The kids opened their eyes and she saw them blush. "Oh, God," she said sorrowfully.
Cathy looked up at her mother with anger burning in her heart. "Why did you have to spoil it?" she demanded. "Why couldn't you have left us alone? Goddamnit, I nearly came! And you kicked it up for me!"
"Cathy!" Gwen snapped. "Don't talk to me in that tone of voice!" There was a catch in her throat, and she knew that she . would be crying within moments. "You can't realize what seeing you-seeing Chris-"
"If you're worried," Cathy announced bitchily, "don't be. I'm on the Pill. You won't be a grandma till I'm ready to make you one."
Pills-orgasms-they weren't talking the same language. Mother and daughter, they were still strangers. Gwen wanted to die with the shame she felt.
"Chris," she said, turning to the boy, speaking as evenly as she could manage, "I think you'd better go home. Your father wanted to speak to you about something important."
He shrugged, making no effort to cover his crotch. Gwen had already seen him squirting his cum, so it was no big deal if she saw his cock getting soft now. His hand touched Cathy's shoulder.
"Okay," he said, and he left the room. In a few minutes Gwen saw him leave the bathroom, wearing only his pants, his shirt lying across his forearm.
"If you loved me, you wouldn't let her chase you away!" Cathy yelled as Chris went out the front door.
Gwen sat down on the bed with her daughter, taking care not to touch the patches of fresh sperm that still globbed on the sheet. "Cathy, Cathy honey," she said, "I don't know what to say "
"Because you caught me screwing? If you'd ever taken the time to be my mother, to spend any time with me, you'd know that I like to get screwed. I'm not a virgin, Gwen, for God's sake!"
"It's not that at all!" Gwen screamed. "I don't care if you've balled everything that wears pants in Connecticut! Now get your things packed up. We're leaving as soon as we can get the car loaded."
"Leaving?"
"Yes. We're going back to New York. Cathy, there's so much to talk about, so many things-"
"I don't want to leave."
"You have to. You don't have any choice. We have to go home."
"Jesus, Gwen-you know now that Chris and I are making it. Why can't you just accept it? We don't have to run away because you caught me in the act. I told you, I'm on the Pill, so I can't get knocked up. Can't we just spend the rest of our vacation here?"
"No, we can't," Gwen said evenly, trying to control the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. "Now, young lady, you listen to me for a change. Pack up everything you want to take because we're leaving in half an hour. And, please, put some clothes on." She went out the door without looking back, not wanting Cathy to see the tears that flowed from her eyes in rivulets.
She heard Cathy slam shut the bedroom door; she heard Cathy turn on the stereo-Black Oak Arkansas-and raise the volume to full; she thought she heard Cathy scrambling around inside the room. Gwen finally wiped away the last of her tears and began to box up her typewriter. The hard rock coming from Cathy's room was almost deafening and she had no choice but to request the girl to turn it down and get on with her packing.
Gwen tapped at the bedroom door, again and again, receiving no response from inside. She turned the handle and the door opened. Cathy wasn't there. A window was open and the curtains rustled in the breeze. Gwen looked around, saw the piece of stationery taped to the mirror on Cathy's dresser. She tore it loose and read the message twice, then ran into the living room.
The switchboard that handled all calls on the island was reluctant to release Mr. Robinson's phone number, but Gwen persuaded them that it was truly an emergency. She waited with chattering teeth as the phone rang once, twice, and then Don answered it.
"Oh," he said, "it's you. Chris is just coming in the front door now."
"I don't care about that," Gwen moaned, her words running together with no space in between for breathing. "It's Cathy-she's run away from home and you've got to help me find her!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gwen was on the porch when Don's Mercedes pulled up in front. She threw her half-smoked cigarette into the sandy yard, lighting another as she went to him.
He met her at the nose of the car, shocked at the whiteness of her skin, the drawn and worried cast to her features. "Did she take it that hard?" he asked.
"I didn't get the chance to tell her anything," Gwen said. "When I got back, she and Chris were on her bed-he must have come over while I was with you-and they were naked and-"
"He was fucking her?" Don asked, round-eyed. It wasn't exactly news to him, but to get it first-hand, definite-that was a shock.
"No, they were playing checkers!" Gwen shouted. "What do you think they were doing? Can't you see how upset I am? I sent Chris home and told Cathy to get packed, but she must have decided to hell with it and crawled out her bedroom window. She was gone when I went in, and there was a note for me-she said she was leaving and never wanted to see me again."
"Could she have gone to visit a friend, maybe, until the tantrum wore off?"
"I thought of that. The only people she knows here, as far as I'm aware, are Chris and Jennifer, the girl in the next cottage down the beach. I called Jennifer and she said no, Cathy hadn't been there, that she'd seen Cathy standing on the main road with her thumb out. Before she could go up to see what it was all about, a turquoise Pontiac had stopped and Cathy jumped inside. She didn't know the car, and all she could say was that it was pointed away from here-and that it had Rhode Island plates."
"She's trying to leave the island," Don said. "That's what it looks like to me. Where could she go?"
"We have an apartment in New York-we don't use it much and the furnishings are in the process of being moved to our new place in Georgetown. She might go there."
"Does she have any money?"
"A few dollars that I know of. Of course, there's two or three thousand in her checking account and there's a trust fund-but she can't touch that till she's twenty-one; That's it, Don! She's on her way to New York to liquidate her checking account! We have to find her!"
"I'll get going. Unless they're lucky, they might have missed the ferry. They could be waiting on the pier right now." He started back around the front of his car. "You wait here, in case she does come back. Chris is at home. . I told him not to leave. If she shows up there, he'll call you."
"Did you tell him?" Gwen asked as Don slipped behind the steering wheel.
"No time," he said. "You called just as he was coming in. Look, Gwen," he went on, turning the ignition. "I know we don't have any relationship at all, you and I, but Cathy is my daughter and I'm just as worried as you are. I'll find her or die trying." He turned the engine over, slipped into reverse, and backed onto the road. She watched him disappear down the highway.
Cathy stood on the gravel beside the road, her hand shielding her eyes from the nearly setting sun, her thumb thrust out jauntily in ride-begging position. Jesus, she thought, I've fucked around half the day and look how far I've gotten. She was still on the outskirts of New Gloster, the sleepy little town which served as terminus for the ferry line from the island. Indeed, if she were to take a stroll down the beach from the pier she could, if the light was right, see the island cottage she'd fled so angrily.
She heard a car coming her way, and she turned to face it, smiling jauntily, her thumb jabbing in the direction of New York. Her blouse was unbuttoned into the creamy, freckled vale between her tits, far enough to show that she was braless under the shirt, and she contemplated, then dismissed the idea of flipping the shirt aside to give the driver a peek at a brown-pointed boob as further inducement to stop and pick her up. It might be a woman, she told herself, or maybe a guy with his kids, and she'd only hurt her chances.
The car came over a low rise, and she saw that it was a Mercedes. Cathy sighed. It had to be either Chris or his father. The car stopped, pulling off the road a few feet past her, and the driver's door opened. It was Don Robinson, she knew although she'd never really met him, and he came to her.
"Cathy," he said, "your mother is very upset about this."
"Screw her," Cathy blurted. "I'm finished with Gwen. You aren't headed for New York by any chance, are you?"
He took her hand in his and spoke firmly. "No, and neither are you. Get in the car."
As he turned around a little farther down the road, he began to speak once more. "You're a hard girl to find. I've been cruising the highways and by-ways for hours. And still you're not five miles from where you started."
"It's a long story," Cathy grimaced.
A long story indeed, she thought. That bastard who'd picked her up on the island. "Sure," he'd said, "I'm going your way. Hop in."
He was a pleasant enough guy to look at-in his early thirties, she supposed, neat, clean, with a groovy car. And they'd made the ferry with plenty of time. But as the boat pulled out of the island dock to begin the twenty-minute trip to the mainland, he'd changed from a nice, quiet-spoken dude into a sex fiend who couldn't keep his hands away from Cathy's tits and legs.
"Stop it!" she'd squealed, not wanting to get into any heavy foreplay in the car, where everyone on the ferry could get their jollies watching, but her protestation had only made him that much more energetic and finally, when he had her blouse half-off and one tit shining in the sunlight, she'd offered him an alternative, the promise of a really co-operative session as soon as they could find some seclusion on the Massachusetts shore.
"I've got a better idea," he told her then, and she followed his eyes as they looked towards the door of the ship's men's room.
"Oh, no," Cathy cut in. "That's crazy."
But even as she tried to dissuade him, he was getting out of the car and coming around to open her door, pulling her forth by the wrist and leading her to the toilet entrance. She was red as a beet, convinced that the ferry's crew and the other passengers were all staring at her, branding her a cheap slut, but she went inside with him and watched as he locked the door.
"How do I know," he began, sitting down on the John which, with a sink, made up the room's total furnishings, "that you're worth taking to New York if you don't give me any convincing evidence?" He motioned for her to kneel and as she did he unzipped his pants and removed his cock. "Do me good," he invited.
Cathy took his prick in her hands, the limp tool flopping as she tried to hold it upright. She opened her mouth and sucked his rod in, aided by the relative smallness of his soft pecker. Her hands began to squeeze his balls expertly and soon enough she felt his cock growing stiff and tight in her mouth, ready to be sucked.
"That's nice," he commented, patting her hair. "There's no headjob like a teeny-bopper headjob. Come on, teeny-bopper, suck it just far me."
All right, stud, Cathy thought, and she began to suck his dick frantically, her head bobbing up and down on the stiff prick which impaled her mouth. His cock was long once it'd gotten hard-the tip of his rod thrust low down her tongue, trying to invade her throat every time she sucked it home, and Cathy was afraid she'd either gag or strangle if he got carried away and started to hump her mouth.
Her tongue rolled around his glans, her teeth scraped the rigid barrel of his dick, and her saliva bathed him from tip to balls. She began to twist her head, to pressure his cock from one angle, then another, all the while bouncing his nuts in her hands, teasing her fingers across his perineum and around the puckered ring of his asshole-anything to get him hotter, to make him squirt, so she could get this finished.
Jesus Christ! she fumed inside her brain. This bastard must be into yoga or something. It seemed as if she'd been sucking his cock for half an hour and it was still rigid and hard and he appeared totally calm and collected. The impassive look on his face belonged to a proctor monitoring a classroom exam, not to a guy getting his cock sucked! Hurry up, she prayed, hurry up and shoot your snot!
There was a rattling sound at the front of the ferryboat. Good God, Cathy told herself, we're pulling up at the pier in New Gloater! She began to suck harder, to no more evident effect, and she started to panic at the futility of it all.
Quickly she pulled her head back, till only the point of his prick was between her lips, and she began to rub her hands up and down his shaft, shucking the skin covering of his rod. That was better, she knew at once. His hips began to move as he sat upon the lid of the john and she could feel him squirming more and more as she gave him a. combination of handjob and knob-nibbling.
He put his hands on her head again, stroking and twining in her blonde hair, and then he lifted his ass slightly and she felt his cock give an unmistakable jolt of release. The head seemed to swell to double its normal size, and it burst open in the cuddle of her lips.
His first squirt of cum hit her hard, in the back of the throat, and she swallowed it quickly, but the next burst arrived on the heels of. the other and some of it dribbled onto her lips, making them slick, and his prick slid out of her careful mouth grip. Her hands were still jerking him off, but everything was happening too fast. The ferry had stopped definitely, she could hear the clinging of chains as the crew began to make ready for disembarkation of the boat's load of cars, and she knew that theirs was the third car in line, that unless they hurried traffic would be bottled up and horns would be blowing and-oh, shit!
Cathy took his sperm full in her face, not even trying to get his cock back into her mouth. He drenched her with his fuck juice, spraying her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, and she masturbated him until his balls were drained.
"Come along," he told her, standing up and reinserting his cock within his pants. "We'll have to be leaving the boat now." She followed him out the door, no longer giving a rat's ass who saw her, not even caring that his globby cum was all over her face, dripping from her lips, plain as day to anyone who might look. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyelids and brows, mopping at the jizz which clung there, and she got into the turquoise Pontiac with him, feeling cheap and slutty. Sex could never be the same again, now that she'd met Chris, but this was the price she must pay if she wanted to be free of Gwen, if she wanted the chance to start a life of her own, one that she could share with Chris.
The first car had already begun to move off the ramp when Cathy's pickup started his engine.
They drove off the dock, turning onto the main drag of the sleepy little village, and Cathy saw a service station ahead. "Look," she told the guy, "can you stop there a minute, so I can wipe my face? I won't be long."
"Oh, sure," he'd said, giving her a pearly-toothed smile. "Take as long as you need."
She hadn't wasted a minute, either, soaking some towels and washing her face clean, but when she'd come out of the ladies' room, the turquoise Pontiac was nowhere in sight and the pump jockey told her the car had zoomed away after the driver let her out. Cathy fumed a moment, her mind stringing a series of redoubtable curses, but what was the use? She had some money and she was hungry, so she went into the nearest restaurant and ordered up a seafood dinner.
Afterwards she'd wandered around New Gloster for what must have been hours, going nowhere, doing nothing. She wondered if it might not be better to go back to the island, to face Gwen, to tell her mother that little Cathy was no longer a baby, that it was time for the bird to leave the nest.
Oh, it wasn't Gwen's fault-not entirely. She knew what a shock it must have, been for her mother to catch them on the bed, fucking doggie-style, no less, but at the same time it was Gwen's fault, too. Cathy had gown into a young woman almost unobserved, while her mother had been away in southeast Asia or Africa or God knows where else, interviewing Henry Kissinger and Arafat and anyone else who happened to be in the news, and Gwen didn't seem to have caught onto that fact yet. Cathy couldn't be a baby forever. She was eighteen, she was not a virgin, and she knew what she wanted for the rest of her life-to make love with Chris Robinson. Gwen would simply have to accept that, to live with the knowledge that Cathy was a person in her own right and not merely an extension of the glamorous lady journalist.
And then she thought of the ludicrous way Gwen had reacted-the panicky "let's get out of here" commandments, the assumption that if she took Cathy away from Chris, the entire affair would pass into forgotten history. The facile and flawed judgment her mother had made infuriated Cathy nearly as much now as it had at the time, and it sealed her decision. She would leave, by
God! She really would! In the fading light of early evening she had gone determinedly to the highway to hitch another ride.
"First," Don was saying, "I want to call your mother, and then we're going back to the island."
Cathy sighed. She was trapped. She was not only trapped, she was strapped, into the seatbelt of the Mercedes, and she couldn't even jump out of the car to prevent the enactment of Don's intentions. Besides, he'd find her quickly and easily, unless she went into the water and swam to New York. She eased back in the seat and let fate take its course.
Don stopped at a service station to use the phone booth. Cathy noted with some interest that it was the same station where she had gone to clean her face, but beyond that she had no other thought.
Gwen jumped when the phone rang, and she picked it up before it had sounded a second time. "Oh, my God," she said, "is that you, Don?"
"It is, and Cathy's in the car. I think I drove every back road within twenty miles, trailing that turquoise Pontiac, and she was in New Gloster all the time."
"Is she all right?" Gwen asked hesitantly.
"She seems to be fine. A little upset, but that's all. We'll be over as soon as the ferry comes in."
"Oh, no!" Gwen wailed. "It stops running at seven and it's-oh, I thought so!-it's almost eight."
"Don't worry, then," Don assured her. "I'll find someplace for us to stay till morning and we'll come back then. There must be a motel around somewhere."
"I suppose so," Gwen agreed. "And maybe by morning Cathy will have calmed down enough to talk to me. Don, I'm afraid we're going to be forced into having a long, four-way explanation session tomorrow, too. We can't put it off any more."
"You're right," he said. "You're absolutely right. Tell you what-I'll take Cathy to dinner and then we'll find ourselves a couple of rooms. See you first thing in the morning."
"I'll be at the landing when the first ferry unloads. And Don-thank you very much."
"You don't have to thank me," he said. "After all, she's my daughter, too."
Don led Cathy into the room. "I'm sorry," he told her, "but this is the only one they have; It's the tourist season and both motels are almost filled up. Counting us, they are filled up. So-you get some sleep. I'll wait out in the car."
"In the car?" Cathy giggled. "There're two beds in here. You can't sleep in a car when you've already paid for a bed. That's silly."
"It wouldn't look good," he protested.
"Bullshit," Cathy sneered. "It'll look worse if you park me here and then sack out in the Mercedes. Besides-how do you know I won't run away in the night? Qh, come on, Mr. Robinson!" She sat down on the edge of the bed, then flopped on her back, raising her feet from the floor to bicycle them in the air.
"Anyway," she told him, "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself if you get fresh or anything." He could see the unhaltered curve of her tits outlined in the clinging shirt she wore, and the flared pants did not conceal the shapeliness of her strong young legs. She was a big girl indeed, he thought. And she was his daughter. If he couldn't share a two-bed motel room with bin daughter- "What did you tell him?" Cathy suddenly wondered, sitting upright again. "The desk clerk, I mean. How did you explain the fact that you were sneaking in a fresh young piece like me?" She laughed then, pointing her finger at him. "I'll bet you told him I was your niece, right? No! Your daughter! Am I right? Did I hit on the nose that time?"
Don couldn't repress a blush. He'd registered them as father and daughter indeed, Donald and Catherine Robinson. "It seemed the easiest way," he explained hesitantly.
"Doesn't matter," Cathy shrugged. "I mean, everybody uses a fake name far motels anyway, don't they? It's the American way."
She got up then and went into the bathroom. He heard her turning on the shower, and he listened to the water running for a long time. At last it stopped, and he fancied that he heard Cathy drying herself then, with a stiff and scratchy motel towel, while she hummed softly. Oh, hell, he told himself as he took off his shirt and trousers before climbing into his own bed. This war like something out of a dirty movie. He pulled the sheet up to his chest and tried to relax.
Cathy came out of the bathroom, clothed once more, her shirt not completely buttoned. When she moved, he could see inside her blouse the soft curve of a peachy tit, almost to the nipple. She paused a moment by her bed, looking across at him.
"Lib, Mr. Robinson," she began with a fetchingly demure smile, "I should tell you-I always sleep in the raw. Do you mind?"
He shook his head. "Maybe you could wear your bra and panties tonight," he suggested, mentally kicking himself in the ass when he remembered that she was obviously not wearing a bra. He hoped she was wearing panties, at least.
She laughed. "No chance," she said. "Do people still wear undies, these days? Oh, look-I'll just sack up in my clothes, okay? I mean, I don't know if I'll be able to get to sleep that way, but-"
"I'll turn off the light," he suggested, "and you can go to bed however you please." He leaned to the table between the beds and flipped out the lamp, settling back beneath his sheet.
There was a light in the motel court outside, however, and the beam appeared to be trained upon the window of their room. Even with the table lamp off and the curtains drawn, the interior was bight as a moonlit stretch of beach, and Don realized that it simply wasn't going to work. And then, reason settled in upon him. Cathy was his daughter, even if he'd recalled her as little Susie all these years past. He'd seen her naked before-he remembered how cute her tiny ass looked when Gwen was diapering it. There was no difference, he told himself. No difference at all.
It was with that attitude of tolerant father that he watched as Cathy undid the two bottom buttons holding her shirt. Her fingers gleamed pale in the room's half-light, and he saw those fingers fly as she slipped out of the shirt. He repressed a sigh of admiration when his eyes made contact with her fine, brown-nippled tits, so high, so round, so cute as they jiggled softly with her movements.
She turned to the side, and he couldn't prevent his aesthetic sense from approving the perfection of her half-clad profile. A beautiful face that could have stepped off a cameo gem, shapely uptilted tits, a flat, smooth tummy-she was a delicious sample of young flesh and he was proud to think that she was his daughter by blood.
Cathy unbuckled her ornate belt, unsnapped her jeans, and gave her hips a wiggle that made the pants drop to the floor. She turned again, the sight of her thick, dark pussy muff smacking Don in the face, figuratively speaking. So lovely, he thought, and so sexy-he wished the divorce and separation had never happened, wished that he could have watched Cathy grow and develop into the beauty she had become.
She turned down her sheet and crawled into bed languidly, leaving him with a vivid memory of her every motion. He heard her slide the sheet up to cover her body even as he projected upon his closed eyelids a full-color image of her nakedness.
"Mr. Robinson," she said, her voice a feline purr in the twilit room.
"Uh, yes?" he choked.
"You're not like most men," she announced. "Like the guy I thumbed with when I ran away. Do you know that he tried to rape me in the goddamned car right on the middle of the ferry deck? He was pulling my shirt off, feeling me up, with all the crew and passengers around where they could see everything."
"Disgusting," Don mumbled.
"And to make it worse," Cathy went on, "the only way I could stop him from doing that was to go into the men's room on the boat and-you know?-do him there? With my mouth, I mean."
Oh, Christ! Don wanted to shriek.
"And then, she said, "he dumped me at that same gas station where you called Gwen. Peeled rubber getting out while II was in the ladies'."
"Why are you telling me all this?" he asked.
Her reply was couched upon the silky vehicle of a soft voice. "I just wanted you to know how rotten some guys can be.
"But you're not like that at all. I can tell. I mean, here we are-a really good-looking man and a cute girl, sharing a motel room under false pretenses, and I'm naked under my sheet. But you're so nice, such a real gentleman, that you haven't made the slightest pass at me. How come?"
He didn't know what to say. He shut his eyes, wishing he were able to will himself to sleep right now.
Cathy scooted across her bed, slipped out and across the narrow strip of carpet that separated her from Don. She lifted his sheet and before he could stop her, before he could even realize what she was doing, she was lying next to him on his bed, her slim shapely thighs entrapping one of his legs between them.
"How come?" she repeated. "Why haven't you tried for just one little feel, one tiny kiss, one sneaky pinch? Huh?"
She reached around beneath the sheet, and her hand closed upon the front of his shorts, where Don's cock had already become aroused from the sight and recollection of her nudity. Her fingers traced the outline of his half-stiff tool, and she pressed closer, kissing his body with the perky nipples of her tits. "Is there something wrong with me?" she asked. "Don't I turn you on just a little bit?"
CHAPTER NINE
Her warm body wrapped around him like an electric blanket turned to high. She had one hand on his cock, the other stroking his chest, and her lips began to nip and kiss at Don's neck. Her nipples were hot and hard against his skin, and he could feel unforgettably the firmness of her tits, round and proud.
"Stop it, Cathy," he whispered, struggling with her in the bed, trying to dislodge her hands and her body. "Stop it!" His pecker was hard as steel, thanks to the fondling of her fingers, and she was tugging at the waistband of his shorts in an effort to free his prick.
"Oh, come on," she teased, the words humming in her throat. The shorts went down, and she snagged the elastic waistband beneath his balls. Her hand made a grab for the protruding tool and she held it lightly, her fist smoothing softly along its rigid barrel.
"You have a nice penis, Mr. Robinson," she said in a deceptively genteel voice. "It's long, but not too long, and it's thick but not too thick. And I can feel your heartbeat when I hold it this way. Mmm, your pulse is a little bit fast. Are you getting overheated about anything?"
"Cathy," he begged her, "don't. Go back to your own bed and go to sleep. Be good. Don't do something you might be sorry for later."
"What's to be sorry?" she wondered, kicking away the sheet that covered them. "Besides-you'll like it. I'm good. Ask Chris. I bet Gwen didn't tell you that she caught us today. Did she tell you? We were on my bed and I was on hands and knees while Chris put his prick into me from behind. I really liked that-I'd never screwed that way before. We could do that, if you want to. I'll do anything.
"No, no, no," he said, over and over, trying to shut his ears against the silkily erotic insistence of her voice. She was tantalizing and provocative, and he could smell the young-girl fragrance of her, mixed as it was with the warm lush aroma of her cunt, and he knew now why it was that Chris had fallen so hard for this wanton teenager.
Her lips traveled down his neck, across his chest. She sucked at his nipples until they were stiff and hard, and then she dragged her wet mouth across his stomach, making a beeline for the lance-like thrust of his cock.
"We can't," he said weakly. "We can't. You don't understand. You're-" and, he was on the verge of telling her the truth right then, that she was his daughter and Chris' sister, bound by the tie of blood and kinship even if she didn't know it, but somehow he couldn't. Much as he wanted to tell her, much as he wanted to take her in his arms and call her daughter, much as she needed to know the truth-still, it was Gwen's duty, not his. He was torn between his obligations to his child and his reaction to the erotic stimulation his child was providing him at that moment.
"I know what you're trying to say," Cathy said quickly, "that I'm Chris' girl and that I shouldn't be doing this wit you. Well, so what? Chris owes me one for what he did to me at the party last night-screwing that damned Penny while I had to stand watching-and besides, I've been turned on by you ever since I saw your picture. You're such a peat-looking man, you know?
"And we're here together in a motel room, aren't we? And didn't you fib to the desk clerk when you registered? Huh? And nobody will ever know. If Gwen didn't trust you, she'd never have sent you to hunt me down, so she's not gonna accuse you of trying to make me. And I'm not going to tell anybody, for Christ's sake. I'm horny and so are you, if that cute thing-" She dipped her head and planted a kiss right on his cocktip- "is any indication. So let's get with it, Mr. Chris Robinson's daddy. What do you say?"
The touch of her lips so briefly upon his dick had been a totally unnerving experience as far as Don was concerned. It was like standing with wet feet while sticking his finger into a hot socket and, though premature ejaculation had absolutely never been a problem with him, for a hesitating instant Don wondered if he were not about to geyser his cream into the air to splash searingly upon the mom's ceiling. The almost irresistible urge passed him by, leaving behind only a tightness of feeling in his balls, and it was then that Cathy bent her head and began to suck at his dong.
Oh, God, he thought, she is good! A girl had to be born with the gift of sucking cocks that well; it was nothing that could be learned from any teacher. The action of her hands, her lips, her teeth, her tongue, her cheeks-it was all perfect in its application, its coordination. He closed his eyes and let his body get into tune with her blow job.
He felt like a pervert, lying there in a darkened room while his own daughter licked and sucked his pecker, and he felt like a bastard for letting her do it.
But he couldn't stop her. He'd tried, and nothing short of physical violence, which he could not allow himself to use, would have diverted her from her intention of seducing her boyfriend's father. Tomorrow, when she knew the truth, what would happen? Would she scream, cry, denounce him to Gwen? He hoped she would do nothing more extreme than the last, hoped she would understand that it was at least partially her own fault.
His ass moved heavily as her sucking became intense, inspired. Of their own accord Don's hands went down to tease and touch her hair as Cathy slurped away at this bedtime snack. His eyes were still closed, and there was a shocking sensation that seemed to burn like wildfire along his spine as he realized that he was using his voice to encourage her at her work, that he was saying, "Yes, Cathy, suck it for me, oh, nice, nice. I like the way you do that. More with the tongue, you hot little bitch!"
And it was then that Don came to understand fully what was afoot. She was his daughter, yes. He had, some seventeen years ago, planted the seed of Cathy in Gwen Corby's hot, sucking cunt. But it was only biological. He had never been a father to the girl in any ethical or moral sense. She was, to him, a stranger, a sexy teenaged stranger with whom he was at the moment sharing a bed. That was all. He was no more her real father than she was or could ever be his real and true daughter.
With the awareness came a new sense of freedom to his body. It was all fight. He was doing nothing wrong, nothing at all. There was no shame, no stigma in responding to the fantastically gifted oral caresses this young girl was doling out, and he began to respond thrillingly. His hands grew tight upon Cathy's head and he moved his body, and now she was on her side and he was seizing control of the situation, fucking her eager mouth with his hot, throbbing prick. She made her lips a tight, sucking ring and allowed him to have his way with her, taking with delight the ever-harder stabs of his big, thick prick.
Only the constant salivation of Cathy's mouth prevented her lips from igniting spontaneously with the friction of his rapid in-out, in-out thrusts. She swallowed his rod happily on each thrust, feeling his cock grow bigger, stiffer, wetter each time he fed it to her anew, and she wondered idly if he intended to let her suck him to completion.
She soon found out. Don's cock slipped free of her mouth on one backstroke and, though she lunged for it with snapping lips and flipping tongue, his reddened tool eluded her.
"You like it dog-style," he grunted, "so get on your knees."
"Out of sight!" Cathy giggled, and she hurried to obey him, her body swaying as she got into position and awaited his penetration.
Don knelt behind her, steadying his body for a moment with his palms resting on her hot young ass, and then he took his pecker in hand and slammed it into her hole as hard as he could.
Cathy bucked forward, screaming, "OH, JESUS!!" as her wet cunt made room for the full entry of Don's prick. His cock was perhaps a bit larger than his son's, or so it seemed, but his meat presented no problems to Cathy's resilient snatch. The elastic lips yielded and then formed tight around the invading organ, and she began to work her ass in counterpoint to the dynamic flicking Don was giving her.
Her hips rolled and twisted, putting almost unendurable strains and stresses upon his dick, the subtle working of her snatch muscles tempting him to relinquish his self-control and let his cum fly, but Don fought the temptation. She was young and tight-he hadn't banged a girl this young since his own teenage days-and he'd forgotten how sweet and snug a eighteen-year-old cunt could really be. Old memories returned to him, of young girls with apple cheeks and rosy lips, with tight high boobs and tight juicy twats, and it seemed that twenty years of his own life had rolled away in a twinkling. This, he knew, this was what drove his son wild about Cathy, and it was driving him wild as well.
He wanted to fuck her all night, to shoot his jism into her cunt, to force his cock stiff once more for a fresh bout, and on and on in that manner until the sun rose over the blue Atlantic to eastward. He could do it, he was sure, but he would be a wreck tomorrow and tomorrow was the day in which all the chickens came home to roost.
Well, he thought, tomorrow was tomorrow, and he couldn't do anything about that. Right now he was fucking the buns off a girl young enough to be his daughter-a girl who was indeed his daughter, or would be tomorrow, when she knew the truth. Tonight was another story and he intended to make the most of it.
Cathy's head and shoulders sank onto the bed, but she kept her ass high and her pussy full of Don's prick. She sighed and she sobbed, she moaned and she murmured, and she continued to give him a response worthy of a five-hundred-dollar call girl. Oh, yes, he told himself, this bitch-and he meant the imprecation affectionately-was born to be fucked. Born to be fucked.
He threw his head back and sighed a groaning sigh through his clenched teeth. The pressure upon his balls was absolutely incredible at this moment! He remembered his teenage days, the evenings spent in hours-long petting sessions with some eighteen-year-old virginal flower, the type who allowed anything as long as it was above the waist, and he remembered how, after those hours of fruitless fondling, his cock would thrust out in a steel-rail hard-on and his balls turn blue with frustration. And he felt almost the same way right now, as his body screamed to him to let go, to flood Cathy's box with his fuck juice.
Sanity exercised some hold upon him, even m the frenzy of that longing. Cathy was shaking and twisting with her own orgasm now, mouthing obscenities of the tenderest sort, and he could not bear to hold out another minute. Quickly he extracted his cock from the rippling maw of her snatch and he fought the young girl onto her back.
She lay writhing, her eyes fuzzy, out of alignment, as he knelt astride her boobs. Don took his cock in hand and pressed it once more against her lips. Everything that had happened in the last few days could be traced back to that evening in 1958 when he had accidentally impregnated Gwen Corby, and he didn't mean to tempt fate twice in a row, particularly when the girl involved this time was his own child. He didn't know whether she'd taken any precautions, so Don resolved to do his duty regardless.
Cathy's quivering lips parted, and Don's mighty dong slid into her mouth, carpeted by her pink tongue. She made a tight 0 of her lips and began to suck his rod voraciously, in the process coating her inner mouth with the accumulated wetness of her pussy that had clung to his cock from their fuck.
Her tongue flipped his knobby glans and her lips and teeth wobbled upon his prick shaft. Don groaned loud and tried to hold himself upright, to keep from doing as he wished and plunging his dick fully into her throat. She was at a terrible angle for sucking, and when his load jolted into her mouth, she found that she could not swallow much of it. Her throat muscles ached from the strain as she drank his sperm down, and her hands came up to scoop at the cream which spilled abundantly from the corners of her gulping mouth.
His cock slipped out, still squirting, and Cathy took his sperm willingly on her face. When she had momentarily ingested all that was in her mouth, she began to lick at her lips and fingers, showing him dramatically how much she had enjoyed sucking his cock.
Don took his sopping prick in hand, shucking on it to clear himself of any, leftover cum, and in the process he managed to drain his sperm sac completely. When the last pearly drops had bubbled forth from his slitted tip, Cathy grabbed his dick and licked it clean, smacking her juicy lips as she savored the final remnants of the cream cocktail he had mixed especially for her.
And then she lay back on the bed, pursing her lips, pinning him with her eyes, and he rolled into her arms, his mouth seeking hers as avidly as his hand sought and cupped her firm tits, as avidly as his leg thrust itself between her thighs to press lovingly at the wet and furry mound of her cunt.
"Now we're even," she whispered, and Don looked at her strangely. "Me and Chris, I mean," she explained. He wasn't sure what she meant, but he didn't care either-all he wished to do at that moment was place another kiss upon the wet and sensual softness of her pink-lipped mouth.
CHAPTER TEN
The morning sunbeams knifed through Gwen's kitchen window to make a blinding glare upon the polished surface of her tea kettle. She stirred her coffee and looked at Don where he sat facing her across the table. It was safe to speak-she'd lent her Volks to Chris and Cathy, and they had gone for a drive.
"I've been thinking," she began, at precisely the same moment Don's lips gave vent to the very same words. They laughed benignly, and she surrendered the floor to him.
"I wonder if things haven't gone too far already," he said. "With the kids, that is. What's going to happen to them when they find out they're really brother and sister? That worries me very much."
Gwen nodded, recalling last night with Chris, her mind conjuring up the image of that frenetic first fuck, of the exploratory second, of the totally incredible third. "Yes," she agreed. "It could be unbearably traumatic."
Don was taken aback by Gwen's easy acquiescence and so relieved that he failed to notice the odd smile on her face. "You know," he said, "I was up most of last night thinking about this," and he winced at the unforgivably Freudian word-play he had made. But it was true. Cathy had been literally insatiable, and he felt tired as hell this morning, but a hundred thou wouldn't have bought that sense of exhaustion from him.
"We have only one option," Gwen pointed out. "We have to let this ride. The alternative is unthinkable. Cathy and I will be here another week before we go on to Georgetown. She's on the Pill, so there's no danger of pregnancy, and, if it's all right with you, I'm willing to look the other way while she and Chris do whatever they want."
"I don't see any other way," he concurred. "Besides, this is only a summer romance, and you know what those are like. A week alter they say good-bye they won't remember each other's names. So," he added, "at last we find something that we can agree on."
"That's a new one, isn't it?" She got up to freshen her coffee and Don followed. When Gwen turned, the coffee cup in her hands, Don reached to cup her unholstered tits where they rested inside her scarf halter. She frowned. "Don't," she told him.
"You're as beautiful as ever," he said. "And I used to play with them all the time."
"You signed away your right to do that when you made your X on the divorce papers," she pointed out.
He let go of her tits, and she went back to the table. Don leaned against the stove watching her. "I had thought that maybe-"
"That maybe we might take advantage of this and do some reuniting of our own? Not a chance! I told you a long time ago-the day you took me to catch the Reno plane-that I never wanted anything to do with you again, Don. I meant it then and I mean it now. You haven't changed a bit, you know. You're still as cocky as ever, so convinced of your own sexiness that you think I'd flop into bed with you at the drop of a hat."
He smiled. "You haven't changed much either, Gwen. Sometimes I hate you and sometimes I love you. Right now I don't know which." Don shook his head. "Did it ever occur to you that we wouldn't be in this situation at all today if you'd sucked me off on our first date instead of spreading your legs in my backseat and letting me pop your cherry?"
He thought for a moment that she was going to throw her coffee cup at him but she didn't. "You bastard," she said, and then Gwen got to her feet. She went to him slowly and their hands touched. "Maybe," she said, "as long as we're more or less forced into each other's company
"For old times' sake?" he suggested.
"For old times' sake," she said. "Maybe."
And so the sticky situation of Robinson and Corby was resolved. Neither Don nor Gwen felt any real guilt about what they had done with their children the night before, but they agreed that it was better for Chris and Cathy never to know the truth.
The kids? Cathy beamed when she received complete and total parental approval for anything she might wish to do during the rest of the vacation, and she couldn't restrain herself from giving Don and Gwen one great big kiss apiece. A heady sense of freedom swarmed through the ripe nubility of her body and that night, when Gwen joined Don for dinner at the Robinsons', Cathy was insistent that Chris be her guest, for dinner and for bed.
They lay together on Cathy's bed, fresh and mellow in the aftermath of a steamy sixty-nine, her fingers playing with his wet, limp cock. She knew that she could tease him to a new hard-on with only the slightest of exertions, but why hurry?
They had all night if they wanted it.
"You know what they're thinking," Chris said matter-of-factly.
"I know," Cathy said. "When it comes to Gwen, I have ESP like you wouldn't believe. She's not too happy about us, and I guess I can't blame her from her point of view. I mean, here she is, finding out that her little girl is not only old enough to do it, that she is doing it. It's a threat to her own security, a sign that she's growing older. I mean, Gwen's still very attractive, and sexy, too, but I can't stay a baby all my life for her sake."
"Maybe she'll realize that both the Corby women can be gorgeous and sexy and great lays all at the same time," he suggested, recalling again that incredible session he had passed with Gwen last night. It had been tremendous-hot, fast, horny-but she had scared the shit out of him. It was like trying to fuck a cyclone. He shut his eyes a moment and summoned up the image of Gwen riding atop his cock, her cunt working him like a demon, her face glowing with the saintly luminescence of a Flemish Madonna. It was freaky and far-out, but he didn't know if he wanted to try it again. He preferred Cathy. Sex with her was pleasurable and fulfilling and always full of surprises, but with Gwen it skirted dangerously close to being a religious experience. He was surprised that she hadn't crucified herself once it was all over.
"Uh-huh," Cathy nodded absently. Studs ran in the Robinson family. Don had been pretty good once he got over his initial reluctance, but he moved and flicked with a raw, throbbing power that left her feeling just a bit uneasy. There was a lot she could learn from Don, but wouldn't it be a lot more fun to discover the highways and by-ways of sex on her own, with Chris as a willing fellow student? No one could make her come quite the way Chris did-not Jennifer, not Don, no one. It had to be love, love eternal.
"Anyway," he said, "the reasons aren't that important. What does count is, where do we go from here?" He began to pet the smoothness of her thigh, massaging Cathy's flesh with his tender fingertips. "Do you remember what next week is?"
"Huh?" She lay a pensive moment. "My birthday."
"Our birthday," he reminded her. "June twenty-ninth. And we'll both be seventeen. Which means that in just one more year we'll both be eighteen and
"And legally adults!" Cathy squealed triumphantly. "Old enough to shack up together on our own."
"I was thinking about something slightly different."
"Okay, we'll get a witch doctor to say a few words and make the whole thing more or less legal."
"You know, we don't have very good examples to work from. I mean, your mom is divorced, and my dad's been married two or three times. But I think we can make it."
"I know we can," she informed him. "I know we can. It's because we're not just a guy and a girl who really get it on together. Of course we're that, too, but it's not the only thing you and I have. We like being together, we can talk to each other, and I think you have a knockout sense of humor. You know, I'll bet we're better friends than most brothers and sisters, for God's sake."
"And we have more fun than most brothers and sisters, too."
"Yeah," she agreed, "unless they come from way-out families."
Her fingers became insistent upon his cock as their laughter faded away. "Come on," she said, "get a hard-an for me. I want to play."
"We just finished playing."
"I want to play again, then, Mr. Know-it-all."
"Later," he protested. "I'm too worn-out to get it up right now."
"Get un-worn-out," she said. "I don't invite my best guy over to spend the night and let him get away with any ridiculous sleeping! You came here to fuck me, and that's what you're gonna do. Ooohh, that's better!" she added as his dick began to bloom afresh for her. She bent her head in close and adored his cock with a tender kiss which made his tool grow redder, stiffer. Yes, she thought, we can get it on all night. She'd fed him oysters for his dinner.
"Hello, stranger," she told his prick. "I haven't seen you in a while." With a tinkly laugh she peeled back his foreskin and gave his glans a thorough cleansing, for she believed strongly in sanitation and had no desire to put anything into her cunt that was not hygienic. Besides, she loved to feel the strong presence of his cock in her mouth.
"Ready for a quick screw?" she asked him. "Just to keep in practice?" He nodded eagerly and she shifted position, scrambling atop him. Her crotch hovered above his while Cathy guided his prick to her pouting gash, and then she thrust herself down upon him, taking Chris' cock inside her eager cunt to the balls.
He grabbed her by the waist, bracing her swaying body, and he rabbit-fucked up into her, thrusting quickly, not caring how long he lasted. She was so hot for him that she was starting to come already, simply from the security of his prick in her hole, and he knew it was going to be a long but happy night before Cathy finally allowed him or herself to get any rest whatsoever. He didn't care.
Chris was already dreaming of the days and years that were opening for them, of the life he and Cathy would someday soon begin to make for themselves. He supposed there might be some trouble with her mother then-it was obvious she wasn't happy about the situation as it now persisted-but she'd have to learn to live with it. He and Cathy were fated to meet one another, he was certain. It was as if their entire lives had been destined with this meeting, this sexing, as the outcome. They were the happiest of lovers, closer in spirit and mind than blood relatives, and he could no longer imagine a future that did not include Cathy in a major role.
He jabbed his prick upward, impaling her with his spasming rod, flooding her cunt with his love. She collapsed atop him, still clutching his softening rod with her contracting snatch, and they drifted together into dreams of a beautiful life ahead.
