Somehow she had wrestled a mattress into her old car and got it up the mountain and into the house. She had covered it with brand-new white sheets. Four candles stood around the bed, one on each side and one at the foot and the head. The flames flickered in the dark, casting a warm glow over Lisa where she lay in the bed, naked, the top sheet held over her breasts. "Will you come to bed?" she asked.
I kicked off my sandals and took off my shirt. Standing where a candle could light my body, I opened my pants and dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them. I was pulsing with eagerness, but strangely calm, ready but not in a hurry, aware that Lisa waited under that sheet, as naked as when she was born...
CHAPTER I
The orchard, far up on the hillside, had been un-tended for years.
Pears still grew on the old trees, but they scarcely reached even No. 2 size anymore and shriveled soon, hanging onto the twig-like branches until winter, hanging on stubbornly long after all the leaves had fallen.
The hillside overlooked the valley where Lisa and I had grown up and it was one of our favorite places. We had been up here so often that we had started thinking of it as our own. As far as we could see, up and down the valley, on each side of the highway that bisected the valley floor as a river might have, grew pear orchards, mostly Bartletts but a few D'An-jous and Bosc. One place was owned by my father, another by Lisa's father, and the rest by our neighbors. Lisa and I sat up there on the hillside by the hour, in the shade of those overgrown, deserted trees, just her and me. Sometimes we took a picnic lunch, sometimes we just drove up for a few minutes to sit for awhile and then come back down again.
There was an old house just behind the rim of the hill. The only view the house had was of the lilac bushes that had overgrown its windows. The pioneers who planted the orchard had built the house back there, probably because they thought a wonderful view like down in the valley was indecent, displayed a willingness to loaf. After all, in those days anybody who could take time out to look at a view must have been considered a loafer, good-for-nothing, and could never have grown such a productive pear orchard on this barren hillside.
Well, the orchard grew, and would have grown anyway, even if they had taken the time to study the view for awhile. The pioneers finally had deserted it and the house, left it all to Lisa and me, two loafers, good-for-nothings, me twenty and Lisa eighteen, neighbors all our fives and only recent discoverers of each other.
As we got out of the car, Lisa said, 'Why don't you bring the blanket?"
I opened the trunk to get it out. It was an old thing I had bought when I first bought my Ford, almost four years before. It was a fake Indian blanket from Sears Roebuck. I thought that when I got the car I should have a blanket to carry around in it, for a lap robe, or for emergencies I might find along the road, or in case I ever found a girl willing to let me lay her out in the woods somewhere. The blanket had been very handy for occasional picnics, and had been offered to one accident victim but was not needed since the ambulance had arrived while I was still getting the blanket out of the trunk. It had yet to be christened in the manner I had originally hoped. So my surprise when Lisa suggested that I bring it was one of excitement and delight and anticipation.
It wasn't that I had never had a girl before. It wasn't that. It was because I was afraid I might be in love with Lisa.
As a matter-of-fact, I had had two girls in high school, both in their own homes, on the living room couches after school but before their folks got home from work.
Women's liberation had freed housewives to take jobs to help out with expenses, but it also freed licentious daughters to invite boys over for some private fun and games. In my experience in the small, northern California high school I attended, it was not easy, and usually was impossible, to make a girl during or after a party, on a date, or at any other regularly-sanctioned situation. Everybody knew everybody else, and contrary to popular opinion it did not lead to communal screwing. But if you could get into a girl's own house when no one else was expected home for a couple hours it was often possible to strip entirely naked and play around as much as you liked and even, as I learned, once in a while to get a piece of ass.
Unfortunately, Lisa's mother had never had a job. Besides that, Lisa had two younger sisters. The result was that Lisa was never home by herself where such a moment might offer itself. The girls I'm talking about were girls I knew before I realized what a swell, fun girl Lisa was.
Bess was the first. She was rather plain looking, but she was blonde with a nice, round, rather roly-poly but voluptuous body. I had business one day with her father, the local warehouse foreman. That was the day I first found Bess alone. My own father had asked me to see the foreman about some storage problem or something and for some reason I went to his house rather than to the warehouse where I normally would have gone.
Bess let me in, asked me if I wanted some cookies. Before I even found a chair to sit in she had me pushed up against the kitchen sink, her arms around my neck, her lips planted firmly against mine, and she was sticking her tongue into my mouth.
I was an innocent seventeen at the time and Bess was eighteen, a senior in high school. I might have been innocent but I wasn't exactly stupid so I opened my mouth and let her slide her tongue in and when she withdrew it I followed with my own. Her hand clamped onto my crotch and my cock rose faster than it ever had in my young life. She took hold of it, was able to get her hand all the way around it despite my pants, and jacked up and down on it, squeezed it, and shot her tongue back into my mouth. No one had ever touched my prick as far as I remembered except myself and maybe the doctor who circumcised it when I was born.
I threw my hips up to her and grabbed the plump cheeks of her ass and pulled her against me. Her tits ground into my chest and her hand kept jacking on my cock.
My hips kept thrusting involuntarily up at her, though I liked it a lot. I didn't think about anything, never thought at all that she might get me to come like that, but it rose up out of me and burst forth like it had been building up for years.
I was embarrassed as hell but I kept her mouth against mine until I finished, then let her slack off. She knew what had happened to me. She felt how wet my pants were getting and said, "Oh, Giff, look what we did."
"What you did, damn it," I corrected.
She laughed at me. We had known each other since she was in the seventh grade and I was in the sixth. We had been friends all that time but we had never dated. We felt pretty easy with each other, which helped us into what happened later.
She touched the wet spot on my pants, pressed against the head of my prick, then stepped away from me, spread her legs, and put her hand between her legs and rubbed her wet fingers back and forth against the crotch of her jeans.
That made her pretty happy but it did nothing for me. My come was seeping down my front, getting me wetter than I already was, and it was turning cold against my skin. "I got to clean this up," I said.
Bess showed me where the bathroom was and left me alone, or pretended to. At least she went into the hallway and I thought she went back to the kitchen.
I opened my pants to wipe everything out in there, I used a handful of toilet paper to wipe the inside of my pants, hoping against hope that it would dry off before my eyes. My shorts were beyond help. Come had run down into my pubic, hair and I wiped it out but some stuck there so I had to get the wash cloth, wet it, and wash my stomach and balls and my prick.
My balls pulled up tight in their sack. My prick wasn't as stiff as it had been, but it still was far from its normal size.
My shorts were too wet and cold for me to wear, so, balancing on one leg, and then the other leg, I pulled off my pants. I'd have to go without shorts. I'd bury these in a garbage can or somewhere, maybe flush them down the toilet and plug up the pipes for Bess' father.
I was just stepping back into my pants when Bess came back. She had been watching me in a mirror in her folks' room. I hadn't even noticed her, I'd been so busy trying to get cleaned up before I got caught with my pants down.
Bess had taken her top off. Her tits were heavy and hung down a little, but the nipples were right up there on top, rising up out of the small brown circles that held them like targets for my tongue.
I put my hands on her tits and squeezed them. I forgot that my pants were around my ankles.
Bess didn't. She took hold of me down there, the first time a girl had ever touched me naked, or even seen me. I liked it a lot.
She went behind me, reached around and unbuttoned my shirt. She pushed it up in back until her bare breasts could press against my back, just under my shoulder blades. Her hands worked down my stomach, which was tight and firm from having played football since I was six, and they lingered a few seconds in my belly button. My prick was back up already and her knuckles brushed the head. I wanted to turn to face her but she said, "Stand still, Giff, do like you're told."
"Yes, Ma'am," I said, looking into the mirror over the sink. I grinned at her. I was taller, but I leaned forward a little so I could see her eyes where they looked up over my shoulder. She wanted to see my face in the mirror as she rubbed her denim-clad crotch against my naked ass.
Her fingers got into my pubic hair, worked around the root of my cock, and held my balls. One finger traced back toward my ass, along the hard foundation of my cock, and her other hand slid out the length of my shaft. Her hand kept going when it got to the head and she turned on the warm water, wet her palm, and rubbed the soap.
Then back she came to my cock, her palm warm and wet now, slick and soapy with foam, and she circled the head with her fingers, sending shivers from my toes to the back of my neck. She slid down to the balls, went back to the tip and back to the balls and squeezed, worked faster and faster, then faster, my balls held firmly with her other hand.
Reaching behind me, I held onto her bare sides and lay my head back against her forehead. I didn't mind her jacking me off, since she had already done it once and this time was much better. I didn't know enough at the time to simply throw her on the floor and fuck her, I didn't know that she probably would have liked that more. At the time I didn't mind her using me; I simply enjoyed it, and it was good.
I spread my legs. My thigh muscles tightened as I rose on the balls of my feet. She gave me slight pressure on my testicles, squeezed them and pushed them back between my legs. Her soapy hand on my cock circled the head, kneaded it like a piece of dough, and I thrust with my hips and fucked through her hand, started pumping back and forth. Her crotch rode with my ass, rubbed against me, and at the same time I wanted to push my cock forward and I wanted to push my ass back into her jeans.
The end of my cock felt suddenly like it was on fire and it ballooned through her hand and I started coming again. It shot out of me like it wanted to bore right through the sink, spurt after spurt after spurt. I didn't want it to stop. It was the first time for a lot of things for me, and I wanted to score a few more firsts with Bess before going home.
Bess jacked on my cock until I relaxed. I turned around and held her tits, stuck my tongue in her mouth, pulled her against me rubbing my still-throbbing prick against her front, the end of it sticking far up past where her jeans ended, my prick rubbing against her bare skin. I held onto her tits like I was sinking out of a lifeboat.
I think she came herself then, as she wrapped her legs around mine, rode her crotch against my thigh, held onto my bare ass like she was in danger herself. She squeezed my thigh in a scissor-like grip with her own legs, rode me, pushed her cunt against me, and moaned and sighed and held on tight.
The whole thing that day kind of scared us. The frantic desperation with which we had gone into everything made us slacken off as soon as she let me go. I pulled up my pants after cleaning the soap off me. Bess inspected the sink to see what my come looked like. After she was satisfied, she washed it all down the drain and washed the porcelain with a cleanser just in case semen turned porcelain yellow or something and her folks would know instantly that somebody had been fucking their sink.
We had the cookies finally, and some milk. I gave her a long, lingering, tongue-sucking kiss just before I went out the door, on my way to the warehouse now to give her father my father's message.
About three days later, I hadn't even gotten my coat off when the phone rang. It was Bess. "Nobody's home but me," she said. "Can you come over?"
My mother thought it was strange that as soon as I got home from school I was turning around to go somewhere else, but I just let her wonder.
Bess and I didn't talk about cookies this second time. She simply opened her shirt as soon as I walked in the door. My hands were already feeling her nipples when I said, "Hi."
We lay down on the couch in the living room after kicking our shoes off. I lay on top of her with my clothes on. I was surprised at how her breasts sort of retracted into her chest when she lay on her back. She almost looked like a boy laying down like that, and I said so.
"Take my pants off," she said, "and I'll show you if I'm a boy or not."
Raising up on my knees and straddling her hips, I unbuckled her belt. She had a nice belly button and I petted it while I unbuttoned her pants, then slid down the zipper in front. I'd never had my hands this close to a girl's snatch before and I was excited, nervous, and delighted. I thought I was going to get to fuck her.
Before I took her pants off, I slid my hands under her silky underpants, flowery little bikinis, and touched her cunt hairs. Jesus they were nice. Wet, too.
"Does that feel like a boy?" she asked. "No," I said, smiling, laughing with her.
I stripped her pants off the rest of the way, pulled down her underpants, and caught my first whiff of young, excited cunt. I felt like a bee, caught by the sweet nectar of spring.
My own clothes came off fast, like I was ten minutes late getting suited up for the big game of the year. Homecoming, at least.
My prick stood up out of my black hair, hard, ready for her. She loved looking at it. "Turn around," she said.
I posed for her, turning around slowly. Then I realized that she was naked herself, lying before me with her own thatch of hair between her legs. She was the first girl I had ever seen totally naked since I had gotten old enough to fuck one. A lot of firsts. I enjoyed them all.
"Turn over yourself," I said, and watched her turn her body slowly, her breasts growing larger when they got under her, then smaller as she turned back onto her ass. Her legs parted as she moved, and I saw her cunt.
I lay down on her, my balls against her cunt hair. My cock rose between us, to our belly buttons. We rolled with each other, her legs rising up to circle my hips, her arms around my neck. I pulled back to put my cock in her but she clamped her legs and said, "No, Giff, not now, I don't want it now, please no." I stopped and lay down on her again. I respected her wishes, figured that she knew enough to decide when she wanted to be fucked and when she didn't. Nobody had ever gotten this close to fucking with me before, and I was grateful even for that.
We rode each other, my balls hanging across her cunt, our hips moving together, and we dry-fucked until my come founted up again. It shot up between our bodies as far as her tits, my come fucking out of me and over her body, fining her belly button, soaking both our stomachs.
We fucked around like that for almost a month. Her folks never had the faintest idea of what their daughter was up to, and my folks thought I was at basketball practice, or horsing around with the guys at the drugstore uptown, or doing what boys do when they're seventeen. What I did when I was seventeen was fill Bess's belly button with come about five or six times a week.
Finally it got away from us. Bess and I played around once too often, got too close to it to play anymore.
She had my prick in her hands, and I lay between her legs. She aimed it right for her cunt. Her heels rested on my shoulders. We were trying to see how close we could come to fucking without actually fucking.
I made a little thrusting motion with my hips. Bess slid one set of fingers the length of my prick and held the head in the palm of her other hand. A slight shudder went along her backbone, came down her arms into her hands and through her fingers to me. She said, "Giff."
Her hips rose a little off the couch.
"I can't help it, Giff. I want it."
I knew that was it, as soon as it started.
She brought the head of my prick against her cunt, and I hesitated while she rubbed it up and down between the lips. Then she guided me in, brought her hips up toward me. I glanced down between us and saw my virgin prick for the last time as it started sliding into her thick forest and I felt her cunt close around the head and start sucking the rest of it further inside her. She was no virgin. She had told me that before. I slid all the way in with the first thrust, her fingers working along my shaft as it went into her, then cupping my balls.
I pulled out almost to the head, then plunged in again and ground my crotch against her, our hairs mingling, my prick sheathed all the way in her suddenly hot, gripping, clutching cunt, soaking with her juices. I pumped into her and then out again, fucking instinctively from the lessons we'd had before. I looked down again and my cock, shining now with her moisture, worked back and forth in her like a piston. Always my cock had been bare and dry before, riding up between our bodies. Now it buried itself deep inside the hidden places of her body and she grasped it, sucked at it, opened and closed for it.
I came very quickly, shot her as full as I had shot the sink full that first time. My come spurt up against her insides and made her open her mouth and I kissed her, my tongue diving deep inside her cheeks as if to meet my prick coming up from the other direction. I shot her as full as I could, and hoped for more.
I never got it. What I got was my first lesson in the peculiar manner with which women pan treat their fuckers.
Bess said that if we kept fucking we would not be able to stop. At least she wouldn't, she said. She said she had fucked a guy like that before, somebody not from the valley so I didn't know him, and it had torn her up when they finally did have to stop. She said that if we did keep fucking, one of two things would happen: either we would get caught and her folks would give us a hell of a time, or we would simply keep fucking until we got married and she did not want that to happen either. She had plans to go to San Francisco in the fall and get a job and she did not want to have to go as my wife or anybody else's.
Nor did she want to leave her folks unhappy behind her.
I sat there and listened to all that with my finger up her cunt and wanted nothing so much as to be able to replace my finger with my cock, but that was that as far as Bess was concerned.
"You've got a nice cock," she said, "a sweet cock, and I'm glad I got it before I went away. I've thought about your cock since we were kids. You'll get a lot of good use out of it, but not out of me anymore."
I thought it was damn selfish of her, to use me like that for a while and just as I was getting used to getting it steady, as I was getting used to her and also used to coming without the aid of my own hand, she cut me off as completely as if she had used a kitchen knife. I was lucky it didn't turn me against girls. All it did was make me hungry for more.
I understood her reasoning and was grateful to her for ending the relationship before it got serious. I never wanted to get serious with her anyway, I just wanted to fuck her. So I was desperate for a while. I thought how much better for me it would have been if my father had owned a sheep ranch instead of a pear orchard. You can do things with ewes that you can't do with Bartletts.
CHAPTER 2
I took a cold shower every morning and another one before I went to bed. My father said he had never seen me work so hard in my life. I dated a succession of girls and tried to make them all in my Ford, kept my fake Indian blanket folded neatly in the trunk where it waited for any and all feminine asses I could bring to it. None succumbed.
After what seemed like the entire rest of my life, a girl whose parents were in the valley for only about two months during the pear harvest waved to me from the outside of the little house they lived in behind Bumside's orchard.
I pulled the Ford over to get out and see what she wanted. What it was--was in my pants.
I never found out her name and she did not waste time getting acquainted. Taking my hand, she pulled me right into the house and as the door swung shut she was hugging me, rubbing her arms up and down my sides, and kissing me on the mouth.
I knew enough by this time not to look a gift cunt in the dark places, so I walked her back to the overstuffed couch that was almost the only piece of furniture in the room and certainly the only place I could see to lay her down on. If we ever did say anything I've forgotten what it was. It certainly was not "hello".
She had no panties on. As I pushed her over onto the couch, she flipped her knees up and exposed her thighs and her hair and everything she had down there. I took hold of her snatch, squeezed it all in my right hand, then slid my middle finger into the right place. She was dry when I started but before I was in past the second knuckle her juices started. I slid two more fingers in after the first one and moved them back and forth like a prick.
She unzipped my pants. She wanted my cock so much that she tried to pull it out through the fly but it was so stiff she could not bend it.
Leaving my right hand in her cunt, I unbuckled my belt with my left and unbuttoned the waist. She opened my pants for me and pulled everything down to my thighs, shorts and all, and my cock stood out at her and she grasped it, pulled it down toward her snatch.
I couldn't understand her desperation because I had no intention of leaving without fucking her. I thought that if she had any games in mind, like dry-fucking or anything that wasn't the real thing, that she was about to be surprised.
She got my ear in her mouth and tried to stick her tongue into it. I was afraid she'd bite me, so I pulled my head away. She wrapped her legs around me and at the same time pointed the head of my prick up her cunt. I pulled her hands away, caught her by the wrists, and pinned her down on the couch. As I thrust up with my hips she came down with her pelvis and I slid right home, all the way in to my balls. She tossed her head from side to side and wiggled her ass like I had stuck a hot rod up her. She stayed right on my cock like she was glued there, her ankles hooked behind my thighs.
I humped back, kept her wrists pinned to the couch. My pants were a tumbled mess around my knees. Her dress worked up under her tits. She didn't have much in the way of breasts, and I saw finally that she had a small frame too, and wasn't very tall. I figured she was about sixteen and hungry for love. Her belly was flat and firm. The muscles stretching from her ribs down to her crotch tightened as she drove her hips up at my crotch, trying to ride my prick as ar as she could.
In her as far as I could go, I pushed down with my ass to get in further, ground her butt down into the overstuffed cushions. Her legs flew from my thighs to circle my waist, her ankles crossing behind my back. Her thighs worked up and down as I worked my cock in and out of her cunt. As I pulled back she seemed to grab me and pull me in deeper. I wanted to keep driving into her, deeper, deeper.
The room was less than ordinary. I'd passed the house many times, going from one orchard to another, and it had always been an invisible part of the landscape to me. It was a transient worker's place and had been lived in by a succession of probably a hundred families. The furniture showed it: an overstuffed chair and the couch we were banging away on, an oil furnace in the middle of the room, and beyond a door was a kitchen table with an oilcloth cover.
The girl's face was pretty. I let go of her wrists. Leaning on my elbows, I took her head in my hands and kissed her on the mouth. My tongue slid into her, another little lesson from Bess. The girl liked that, sucked on my tongue like it was a lollipop. Her hands slid around my back.
She ruffled the hair on the back of my head, hesitated just a second over my shoulder blades and her hands began their slow, impossible-to-stop slide, finger by finger down my back. Catching the cheeks of my ass, she pulled my crotch deeper into her own. I ground myself into her as if I wanted to push right through the old couch and fuck her on the floorboards.
Then her fingers traced through the crack of my ass, past my ass-hole where they almost set me on fire. They crossed my hips and passed under her own ass to reach my balls. She cupped them in both hands. Two fingers barely touched what part of my shaft I couldn't get in her and as I pumped in and out of her again she pulled on my balls with part of her fingers, touched my shaft as it slid back and forth and that was that. It felt like she had forty fingers working down there instead of ten.
Come began to rise up out of me like it was coming from my toes. Spurt after spurt shot down into her body. Her stomach wiggled after it, squirmed up to me like it was gulping everything I had to offer and would take all the come I could find to shoot into her. She was like a suicide being pinioned with arrows. She loved it. Her legs spread even further apart and her hips rose further to me and I shot deeper into her than I ever had with anyone before, deep into dark places of need and might have fulfilled her for a few minutes.
I got out of the house, like I said, I think without saying anything except maybe 'Thanks". Or maybe she said it. I was surprised at just having been raped and couldn't think much, just grin at my outrageous luck to have been passing that old house at just the right time, just when that transient girl's libido was getting out of control. Also I couldn't believe my luck at having found her at home and alone; her brothers and sisters must all have been out working with their folks and she had played sick so she could ambush some passerby, since most of the transients who came around the valley to pick pears had flocks of kids that you couldn't count with a stick.
She had lain on the couch with her right foot on the floor, her other thrown up over the back of the couch. Both arms were stretched up over her head and she watched me pulling up my pants with a pleased, half-inviting smile on her lips. Her cunt and all the hair around it were soaking with her juices and with mine. If I hadn't just given it all the fucking' I could I'd have leaped right back in. Instead I got out of there. I had no intention of coming up against an irate father, and though most of those transient guys were an honest as the hard work they did, some of them could find you wherever you hid in the dark and slice through your backbone with a knife as skinny as a toothpick before you even knew you had been found. So up came my pants and out I went.
At home that night, as I sat in my room, I began to have second thoughts and wished I had stayed around to see if she had been willing, and had the time, to fuck again. After I had showered and cleaned up I was as ready to fuck again as if I hadn't had a piece in weeks. I persuaded myself that the girl stayed home by herself all day to keep house and fix the meals while the rest of the family worked. I decided she would still be there the next day.
After school, about the same time of day, I casually drove past the house. She was outside again, but she wasn't alone. My heart almost dropped through the floor of my Ford when I saw old Bumside's shiny new pickup truck parked as brave as brass beside the house, in almost the same place my Ford had been parked the day before. The girl was standing with old Burnside just off the porch, near one of the overgrown lilac bushes at the corner of the house.
Burnside recognized my car and waved as I passed. I waved back, gritting my teeth. The girl just looked at my car as if she'd never seen it or me before.
Well, I imagined Burnside just had some business with the girl about how to run the house or maybe the plumbing had plugged up. I figured he'd be off soon to check on his orchard crew or to change his sprinklers. I figured he'd go somewhere soon. I passed back by the house in about ten minutes and the pickup was still there, hadn't moved an inch. There was no sign of either Burnside or the girl.
I drifted back and forth for about a half hour. By the time I came by and found that the pickup was gone, it was too late for me to stop. It was almost quitting time and I still did not want to get caught in the saddle by some irate father.
I drove home slowly. My second piece of ass was as good as gone.
I was smart enough to know I couldn't really keep screwing this girl. She liked to fuck, that was for sure, but I thought it could develop into what Bess had been afraid of, that if I really started with her I might not be able to stop. I had had a taste of screwing, though the variety was not as broad as some of the things I had read about in sex books. I had had two pieces of ass, on two couches, and I was just smart enough to know that I had better be careful of who I started screwing steady because I was close to marriageable age and I might just wind up with my next piece of ass being what I would get for the rest of my life.
It didn't exactly scare me off girls for good, but it did make me approach them rather more seriously than necessary.
CHAPTER 3
After that I started dating Lisa, among others. Her father owned a Bartlett orchard next to ours and we had known each other all our lives. She had been a year behind me all the way through school. We had attended the same parties and worked in the same harvests, sometimes side by side, and I had never noticed her. But the summer I got out of high school, just before I went away for my first year at the university, I did notice her, and just in time.
WhatTeally surprised me was that she had had her legs all her life and I had never seen them before. Her feet were trim little things that became thin ankles rising to smooth round calves and nice knees to sensuous thighs. I was hopping onto the flat-bed truck after unloading some picking bins and several people were already on deck and I saw the pair of legs and followed them up and for God's sake they belonged to my neighbor. She had blossomed all at once.
Her breasts bloomed that summer as if the nipples had been kissed by bees. Her face was solid California, smiling lips and white teeth, laughing eyes, the sunshine in her face framed by long brown hair.
On our first date we had cheeseburgers and root beer and French fries. It was almost as if we had just met. She was a lot of fun right from the beginning, and she also seemed to like me a great deal and she indicated that she had liked me for a long time. It was a case of the ugly duckling, though she never was that, turning into a beautiful, kissable swan.
We drove along the valley highway after we left the drive-in. The summer evening was warm, soft moonlight shimmered over the mountains surrounding the orchards. I drove up to my favorite place, where I had never taken any girl. I had discovered it one day while I was driving around trying to get over Bess. I was sure that any girl I took up there would think I was crazy, but in the back of my mind I thought Lisa might like it.
Most of the trees were the stubby, bushy variety we all grew down in the valley. These, however, were overgrown with suckers and brush and looked as despondent as deserted trees could look. Fortunately, there were only about five acres of them.
As I had thought she might, Lisa liked the place.
I said, "It's different in the daylight. It's worse."
"I don't care," she said, spinning around on the edge of the hill. "The valley is beautiful from up here. And look at the stars. You can see them all."
Farm houses below us had turned their lights on and occasional car headlights passed along the highway. I kissed her on the mouth, fully, innocently, warmly, because I was discovering that I liked her a lot. She kissed me back the same way.
I told her a lot that night, about my life and her own. It seemed we couldn't shut up. I told her about the scholarship the California Exchange Company had offered me. That was the canning company that bought almost every pear grown in the valley and a lot of other places too. I had a summer job with them inspecting pears as they came from the orchards to the warehouses and I had worked out well with the company so they had offered me a scholarship to the university in return for a promise that I would work for them at least five years after I graduated.
Lisa urged me to take it "I already have," I said.
I told her how I wanted this little piece of worn-out property on the hill. I wanted to build a cabin on the slope overlooking the valley and come out in the early morning when the sun was kissing the hilltop and change the sprinklers in my pear orchard, then drive down into the valley to work for the Exchange and come back when I was finished for the day, change the sprinklers again or do some pruning or thinning or spraying, then after supper sit in front of my cabin and watch the sunset.
I had not realized before how damned domestic my plan sounded. I got nervous about half-way through, but since I had started it I finished.
She kissed me again. T like that idea," she said, then jumped up to spin around again as if she had discovered something she had been looking for. "Hey, Giff, will you take me home?"
"Sure."
I think she sensed the disappointment in my voice. "Want to go to the movies this weekend?" she asked.
No girl had ever asked me out before. The only ones who had ever invited me so brazenly before were Bess and the transient girl, but even Bess had sort of snuck up on me to get me to come in my pants that first time.
I shrugged my shoulders, but I could not keep the joy from my mouth. "Yeah, Lisa. How about Saturday?"
We were like lads. "Okay," she said.
We drove down the grade that night with Lisa snuggled against my side. Her hand rested on my thigh. I wanted to move it into my crotch, but I also wanted to bring her hand up to my lips so I could kiss it. I did neither.
Saturday night I unbuttoned her blouse.
She lay back against her side of my Ford while the movie played on the large screen somewhere down in front of us. I spread her shirt and my hands slid around the full, rich, ripe mounds on her chest.
The nipples rose to my palms. I touched them with my fingers, rolled them. They came up firm. They were nice nipples, eighteen years old, and sweet. I sucked them between my lips and slid my hands around her smooth ribs to her back and traced down her backbone toward her ass.
She brought my hands back to the front, kissed them, and lay them back on her breasts.
I slid them down her stomach, across her rib cage again, but before I could get my fingers under her belt she caught them and brought them back up again.
She didn't mind if I loved her breasts, but she told me she was not ready for us to get into each other's pants. That's the way she put it. "I'm not ready for us to get into each other's pants."
When she said that, my cock got so stiff and hard it must have wanted to leap out and strike her on her cheek. I was horny and Wanted to slide my cock into her in the worst way, but I liked her too much to keep trying to seduce her, to play those goddam hand games at the drive-in movies. So I lay back in the seat with her in my arms, and every so often kissed her nipples. My hard-on went away after awhile and we got a kick out of the movie.
We dated that way until the last week before I was to leave for the university. She would be in the valley one more year, finishing high school.
That last week we went on a picnic into the Sierras. Hidden in a brush-filled glen beside a small stream that gurgled its way out of the mountains toward the Pacific, I lay her back on my old fake Indian blanket from Sears. I opened her shirt again. She had stopped wearing a brassiere sometime during the summer and her breasts stood firmly up even when she lay on her back.
My hand automatically traveled down her stomach line into her belly button. Her jeans came up about half-way between her crotch and her navel and that place down between her legs was very inviting and the bare path toward it and the buckle of her belt was inches away.
She did not stop my fingers as they passed below her belly button. Her legs lay straight. They parted slightly as my hand approached.
I passed over her belt buckle, down the zipper line in front, and then with no resistance into her crotch. Her legs opened further and my hand slid into the warm place and her thighs came together and rose to hold my hand where it was.
I caressed her through her jeans like Bess had done to me. I squeezed her mound and worked my fingers like electricity and her bottom responded by curling around my hand, became electric itself. Her little ass came up off the blanket and her legs kept my hand captured. My free arm was around her neck and I went down on her mouth with mine and pressed hard against her cunt with my left hand. She came. Her whole body gave involuntary little shudders and she held onto me very tight, very closely.
As she finished I slid my tongue into her mouth for the first time. She curled under me like a cat, and almost purred.
She unwound soon, raised her breasts up to touch my own bare skin where she had unbuttoned my shirt. I felt her nipples against mine.
Both her hands walked down my backbone, across my hips and down my ass. Her right hand kept going over my Levi's, as far down on my thigh as she could reach Then, leaving her other hand on my ass, she brought her right around to my front.
I raised off her just a little, so she could slide her palm across my stomach. She hesitated at my belly button, touched the fine hairs that grew below it.
With her palm turned up against my skin, she worked her hand calmly and quickly inside my pants, tracing down that faint line of hair to what she knew must be there. The side of her hand brushed my erection that was throbbing with anxiety. She cupped my balls gently, briefly, felt them in their tight sack, then let them go and passed back along the length of my cock with her palm, her fingers trailing and testing its hardness, stopping at the head to circle it. Then her hand was out of my pants and she was sliding her tongue into my mouth in the best kiss I ever had in my life.
That was it for the picnic, and for the rest of the summer.
At the university that winter I paid three visits to the local prostitute. Three visits doesn't make a profligate out of anybody and I certainly didn't neglect my studies because of it. I was a horny bastard, but I didn't have much money so I paid for straight fucking and that was what I got. Each time I finished so soon that I may as well have fucked my own sock. I figured I just waited too long between visits. The prostitute told me that all I needed was more practice. I couldn't afford that though, so I quit going. She did not offer to give me free lessons; I suppose she had a lot of pride. I continued to think about Bess and the good times we could have had if she had let me keep seeing her, and I remembered the transient girl and I regretted that I hadn't found out her name, talked to her at least so that she would have invited me back instead of old Bumside. I kept thinking also of the possibilities of Lisa, and I remembered how my cock had felt when she slid her hand around my balls. I tried to imagine Lisa naked, and my cock sliding into her, and I decided I would like it very much.
And then came the next summer and my job with the Exchange started again. Lisa and I started dating, and I discovered that while we were parked somewhere she was willing now to take my cock out of my pants and hold it, caress it, and a few times she actually leaned down and kissed it. And she let me hold her crotch, but only with her pants on.
And, about the beginning of pear harvest, the local Exchange agent gave me what at the time I considered to be great news. They wanted me to go up to Tongue River for the harvest, buy and receive pears, and live on an expense account. I couldn't wait to tell Lisa that night, and I wanted to tell her at our private picnic place at the old orchard. It meant that the company really trusted me and thought I was doing a good job.
Lisa had a surprise or me, too. We drove up the hill after dark and when we got out of the car she suggested that I bring my ratty old Indian blanket. We considered the place our private property by now, and no one had ever come up there except us, as far as we knew. We were as alone as if we were on the moon, before Sputnik.
I brought it, and spread it out on the brow of the hill under one of the trees but overlooking the valley. The lights down below looked like fallen stars, beacons for their compatriots still in the sky to come down to their disaster like decoys in a duck pond.
I lay down on the blanket and lit a cigarette. Lisa stood over me. She looked down at the valley, then back at me, then she kneeled beside me.
I was feeling pretty cocky, having gotten the news about my Tongue River trip that afternoon and having it to tell Lisa later, like an ace in the hole. But her actions baffled me. She had never acted like this before.
She said, "Giff, I'm in love with you."
I forgot everything. I felt like somebody had hit me in the chest. I had considered the possibility a lot but I never expected us to get around to saying anything like that, at least for awhile. She looked so damned adult, child-like at the same time, kneeling there in the dark. She spoke softly and seriously, half-smiling.
"I think I love you, too," I said, surprised at myself for saying such a thing. But she was such a lovely girl that she made it easy to say and I was glad that I said it. T guess I do love you," I added, as if to make sure.
She grinned broadly in the dark, her face bright in the starlight.
She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled the tails out of her jeans. With the flaps hanging loose around her hips, she unbuttoned the sleeves with her naked breasts showing, her nipples like dark eyes in their waiting for me. She took her shirt off, and stood up to take off her sandals.
I only kept smiling. I took a last draw on my cigarette and threw it away. I did not want to say anything that might change her mind from what she evidently planned to do. I did not even want to slow her down.
She unbuckled her belt, opened the button, and pushed down the zipper. Her body promised everything. Hooking her thumbs in the sides of her pants, catching her small panties at the same time, she began to push everything down at once. She stopped just as her pubic hair came into view, looked down at herself, and pushed it all down around her ankles.
I could see her clearly. The moon was about half full and the stars were millions of tiny flashlights. I'd had a hard-on since she opened her shirt and now, lying there looking up at her naked body for the first time, it seemed to grow even more.
My eyes reluctantly left the handful of hair between her legs to travel up across her flat stomach and across the soft curves of her rib cage to where the moon and stars caught her breasts, the nipples waiting in brown fire, and up her lovely throat to her smiling mouth. She stepped out of the pile of jeans and panties around her ankles.
I got to my feet and held her close to me. My hands closed on her ass and I pulled her crotch against mine. My tongue slid past her warm, willing lips and fucked into her mouth.
Stepping away, taking my hands off her reluctantly, I stripped off my own shirt, kicked off my sandals, and without any hesitation at all pushed my pants down and stood in front of her as naked as she was, my rod rising to her stomach, my black hair thick and curly around it like a nest, my flat stomach touching her own.
She took me in her hand, slid her cool fingers along the entire length of the shaft, circled it and dove down through the hair to hold my balls. Her other hand went around my waist to rest on the small of my back, just where my ass began to swell.
She said, "I don't want to be a virgin anymore."
"Why not? Why now?"
"I love you."
I held her body tight, as if she might slip away. My hand caressed her back, rubbed gently against the firm round ripeness of her ass. I kissed her eyes, twice, quickly.
"Will you ... will you fu..." She suddenly became shy, nearly curled in my arms. The air was warm against our skin, the moon hanging motionless among the stars, the earth standing still to wait for Lisa and me. "Will you make love to me?" she finally managed to ask.
"Yes. I want to." I petted her soft brown hair. "I want you to know something, though. I'm not a lot more experienced than you are."
She said into my chest, "You're not a virgin too, are you?" She laughed, squeezing my waist.
"Not really." I didn't want to tell her how many girls I had had, nor did I want her to know how few I had had. I did not know how many represented what she wanted to hear so I said nothing about numbers. "Not really," I repeated, hoping that would cover any embarrassment that might come up between our love-making.
She laughed again. Our hands became more accustomed to resting on each other's naked skin. "Giff, you nitwit, you're either a virgin or you're not. You can't be 'not really' a virgin."
The conversation was terrible and I was clearly getting the worst of it. I wanted to stop talking. "I fu..." I had never said the word to her before, but I decided that now was no time to quibble. "I fucked a few. Lisa, I fucked before. I have fucked, I will fuck, and am going to fuck," I said, trying to make a joke and messing up the tenses.
She held onto my waist very tight as my words came down to her. She buried her face in my chest.
I whispered in her ear, "But not very many."
Her shoulders shook as she laughed. She rested her head on my chest and looked down at my cock. She pulled on it and slid it between her legs, caught it with her crotch. "Will you do that to me?"
"I want to fuck you, Lisa."
"I want you to."
We lay down on the blanket. I was glad I had kept it, that I had not gotten discouraged and thrown it away.
I was very excited, with Lisa lying down with my cock in her hand. She held my balls as they hung down between my legs as I moved over her. I was afraid I would come before I could even get into her. I didn't think about her jacking me off first, so I could have given her a good fuck the first time.
I asked, "Do you want me to use anything?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you want me to use a rubber?"
"Do you have one?"
"No."
We both laughed again, but I was nervous because I could feel my come building up.
"I don't want anything in me," she said, "except your naked cock, just like it is."
I kissed her.
She spread her legs and I lay over her, supported on my knees and elbows. My stomach and chest barely brushed her. I traced my fingers once through her cunt, my middle finger sliding easily in as far as the second joint before meeting an obstruction. It was her maidenhead. She was my first virgin.
My finger slid in and out, just that far in. My palm cupped her mound, rubbed it through her hair.
She took my cock, raised her hips a little, and rubbed the head against her cunt where my finger had been. She was wet there, and the head slipped in. She said, "Giff, I want you to fuck me so much."
She brought her knees up higher, spreading her cunt.
I felt an exquisite, warm sensation shuddering through my body, transfer itself to her and she opened everything to me except that which I would have to open myself. My toes felt warm, my fingers, and the head of my prick slipped all the way inside her.
I felt the obstruction and it seemed to stretch. I pushed in with my hips and felt it stretch more. I covered her neck with kisses. She grabbed the cheeks of my ass and pulled as if to push me further and faster into her.
I was almost afraid to move, but I could not help it. I came back out of her, being careful not to come out all the way, and went back in. I imagined my entire shaft sinking slowly into her hairy mound, her cunt gripping it as it slid inside.
Her heels raked my ass, her legs completely in the air.
I pulled out again and came back, her cunt gripping the head of my cock and then the tender sides just behind the cap and she stretched more, seemed almost to part, and my come rose up in waves. I couldn't stop it, nor did I want to once it began. I poured out in spurts against her cherry that was stretched but not penetrated.
When I finished she kissed my face.
I lay beside her and held her body against mine, touching from head to toe.
"I love you, Giff," she said. T love you."
I kissed her lips. "We haven't finished," I said.
"I know." She kissed me. "I love your penis."
"It wanted you too much." I had failed her, but I could not apologize. There was plenty of time tonight, and we had the rest of the summer.
"You came, didn't you. Isn't that what it's called?"
Laughing, I said, T love your innocence. Yes, I came. like a fountain. A little early, too." Kidding, I added, "How could you tell, a virgin like you."
"It was obvious. I felt it down there. Your penis seemed to get bigger and I felt your come. It really shot out. And you got so tense, your body."
"You got it out of me."
T want to be with you every time you come. It's wonderful to feel you when you do. You must have had a lot in you, I'm awful wet down there."
"I stored up for you."
"I haven't been fair to you. I've kept you waiting for a long time." I kissed her breasts. "Did you say you love me."
"Yes."
"That's nice."
I was relieved. What could have been a terrible time for both of us seemed to have passed. We seemed to have gotten past the awfulness of my impatience. I thought of the rest of the summer and how we could spend it all, up here at the old orchard and at the drive-in and on picnics in the mountains, fucking every night that we could get together and my prick started to come up again and I imagined it wouldn't get soft again until long after I had gone back to the university and suddenly I remembered about Tongue River.
I was leaving tomorrow. There would not be any summer for Lisa and me.
"Oh Jesus," I said.
"What's the matter?" Her hand was on my wet prick and she felt it diminishing under her fingers. "I'm leaving tomorrow."
"What?"
I told her about my good fortune that no longer seemed so good.
Two hundred miles north, in an Oregon wilderness where some idiots had planted acres and acres of goddam Bartlett pear trees.
Suddenly living on an expense account and being fair-haired boy at the California Exchange Company no longer sounded like fun. It sounded like an exile.
Lisa held my prick but it would not get hard again. Another first. There was a cunt asking to be fucked, it was only inches from my cock, and my cock independently decided to become a penis again and refused to get up. I told Lisa, T don't know what's the matter."
She kissed it, but it did not get hard. Lisa seemed to enjoy holding it when it was small like that. "It's the first time," she said, "that I can get it all in my hand at the same time."
"You're not supposed to be able to get it all in your hand at the same time, don't you know anything?"
"What do I know," she said, licking my lips with her tongue. "I'm just a silly virgin."
She was that, all right, and it was my fault. "When will you get back?" she asked.
"In about three weeks. The end of harvest."
"That's all right," she said. I'll still be eighteen."
"What's that mean?"
T don't want to be a virgin when I'm nineteen. I want you to-well, I want you to fuck me before I'm nineteen."
Tf I could I'd do it before tomorrow. This has never happened to me before, you know. It won't again."
T know it. It's because of everything. It's because you're going away tomorrow and you wanted to but now you don't." She sat beside me, petted my stomach. My prick hung over to the side like a useless appendix. "It's all right, Giff. I think it's lovely it happened this way. I'll be here when you get back, and we'll do it better than we would have tonight."
"I love you, Lisa. I do love you. I'll be back for you and so will my cock. It's going to be the fastest harvest they ever saw up at Tongue River, believe me. They're not going to believe how fast those pears go into cold storage."
Take your time, you nitwit, and come back for me. I won't be nineteen until September."
In the morning, bright and early, I gassed up, climbed behind the wheel of my Ford, with my falce Indian blanket folded neatly in the trunk, and took off for Tongue River.
Within a few miles, thinking about Lisa and her body and the warm lips between her legs that had sucked the head of my cock into her, I got an erection. Naturally.
I saw her push her pants off her hips, hesitate for a second like a calendar girl with her pants half on and half off, then down they came and she stood over me naked. I imagined her waiting for me, and what we would do when I got home. My cock stayed hard for about fifty miles. I ignored it as best I could, just drove.
You son of a bitch, I thought. Where were you when I needed you?
CHAPTER 4
Tongue River was beautiful. I'd seen the Sierras in California and the Rockies in southern Colorado, but the country along that river in Oregon was really nice, farmhouses standing here and there, timber coming down to the river in places and elsewhere hovering back along the ridges. Once in a while a wide field had been cleared for alfalfa or some other kind of feed and maybe a few cows stood out in it like angels that had found what they needed for heaven.
The highway was full of curves and I had to watch out because every so often u logging truck would come busting around a blind corner, bowling over anything dumb enough to be going slow on the road. I made sure I did not linger in any blind corners. The pear orchards were located almost entirely along some narrow flats that reached for about ten miles back along a creek that fed into the river. Aside from the pears, nearly all the rest of the economy depended on logging and beer halls. It was a real country place, back woods and all.
I wasn't paying much attention to anything except staying out of the way of logging trucks when I saw the three girls. My mind didn't react to them until I had passed around a bend, so I had to turn around and go back, then turn around again and pull up at a wide spot in the road so I could sit and watch them.
One wore a solid blue suit with a little skirt attached to the bottom, but the other two, possibly sisters, wore identical red bikinis. The girls in the bikinis looked a lot alike, both with long straight hair.
I lit a cigarette and smoked slowly, the cigarette in my left hand, my elbow resting on the window ledge. The day was hot, the sun clear and golden and bright in a pale blue sky.
A semi-truck-trailer loaded with logs approached from ahead of me, boring down the river road to the mill downstream. It whined past, the husky driver using the truck's compression to save the brakes, and my light Ford quivered for a second or two as the vacuum sucking behind the trailer passed me.
Then the highway was deserted again and I sat still, smoked slowly on my steadily-diminishing cigarette, and watched the girls.
They splashed each other with the cold water from the mountain stream. Their laughing voices carried across the river to me. It was idyllic, a scene that a guy lost on a desert island might dream up, or even exiled to a lonely farm town, I added with a wry grin. All the scene needed for improvement was for the girls to strip off their suits, and call me down to join them.
The one with the blue suit was the plainest of the three. Her hair was cut short and she seemed shyest in the water. The two that I took for sisters were gorgeous, though; they jumped up and down in the water, laughed and squealed and splashed.
A farmhouse stood on a ridge just downstream from where the girls were playing. Two or three Chinese elms shaded the house from the sun, and alfalfa fields reached across the flats to the foothills that ended the valley on the far side. Lines of sprinklers extended for what seemed to be a mile or more back from the river.
I was surprised that two of the girls would be in bikinis. I had thought that farmer's daughters would be more shy about their bodies, but suddenly I remembered another farmer's daughter, Lisa, and how when my hand slid between her legs she had been moist and open and willing. I would have gone down to the river to talk with the girls and joke with them, but I'd have had to stand beside a roaring tumble of water and shouting at them would have been awkward as hell. I wasn't too far from the town of Tongue River as it was, and I thought if I was lucky maybe one of the girl's fathers would have a pear orchard tucked away in one of the canyons and I'd get to visit him to buy his pears and I could joke with his daughter then.
One of the sisters climbed out of the water, shook her long hair over the gravel embankment. As she leaned over, her hair nearly touched the ground. The others climbed out of the water. The shy one had her short hair curling around her ears and the back of her neck. They picked up towels and rubbed themselves. They began climbing the bank toward the farmhouse.
I pushed down three times quickly on the horn rim.
All three looked back quickly, saw the car across the river. The sisters waved, but the one in the blue suit was shy about that too. But finally she waved, as if she wanted to but was reluctant.
I waved back.
As they climbed the bank I imagined them as three deer climbing out of the river cut. I imagined following their progress through a telescopic sight of my .06. I imagined that I found them too lovely to shoot. I also imagined myself finding them in the woods and the pleasures they could give me, and the shyness, the hesitancy that the one in the blue suit would show and how she might come to me with her head down but joy flirting around the edges of her mouth.
And I also imagined myself trying to make love to them and coming before I even got my cock out of my pants. I imagined the shy one taking my pants down as I watched the sisters stripping and I could easily imagine come pouring out of my prick before they even touched it and when they lay down, ready for me, I imagined myself going as soft as a worn-out glove.
Well, I thought, enough is enough. To my right, on the side of the highway opposite the river, stands of pine trees clustered here and there, became gradually thicker as the ground rose to become a mountain range. I lit another cigarette and started the motor.
I felt comfortable driving along, but soon I finished the cigarette and didn't light another. The smoke had dried my mouth and made me thirsty. The girls had given me a hard-on, and I wanted them to come back to the river and I wanted to get out of the car to walk down to the water's edge for a drink and strike up a conversation, and then maybe my exile into the farmer's wilderness wouldn't be as unpleasant as I had worried that it might be. I wished I had gone down to the river to talk to them.
Pretty soon I stopped the car at another wide spot and climbed down some tumbled rocks to the river to get a drink. I kneeled in the gravel and drank right out of the cold stream that had gathered high in the mountains from springs hidden deep in limestone, but when I had my fill I wasn't satisfied. I knew then why I had had to come down to the river, why I had wanted to get away from the road.
I looked up the bank and couldn't see the road, or my car. I moved a few yards upstream, where the gravel bank gave way to a mound of earth overgrown with berry brush and cheat grass. Checking in all directions to see if anybody was in sight, if there was anyplace where some fisherman could surprise me, if there was a chance that a logger heading down the highway could see me; I made damn sure that I was alone and would not be surprised, or seen, or embarrassed, except by myself.
It's a terrible thing for a guy, when there are so many girls around who would like to be screwed, to have to do things for himself because he just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I had to do something because I could think of nothing but Lisa back home, the three girls in the river, Bess as she lay down on her couch, and the transient girl as she lay with her legs spread out after I fucked her, one foot cocked over the back of the couch, her cunt hairs shining with our juices.
Opening my belt, I unbuttoned my Levi's and pushed my shorts down under my balls. My prick stood straight out into the sun.
I remembered how it had looked pushing up and into Bess's bush, how it had glided right into her hole with the insides of her cunt lubricated for it, and I also remembered how I had taken time with the transient's daughter to see it begin to slide up into her, and I remembered how its head had felt squeezed by the virgin walls of Lisa's vagina, nosing against the tissue-thin membrane of her maidenhead.
Now its circumcised head seemed to swell, gained more mushroom proportions. I gently touched it with the ends of my fingers, pretended my hand was Lisa's as my fingers traced around the sensitive skin just below the head. I traced back to my balls with one finger tickling the underside of my shaft, then I circled it with my right fist and jacked hard a few times, squeezed tight around my stiff prick.
My hips convulsed up to my fist and I almost came, so I eased off.
My balls were drawn up tight in their sack. I petted them with my left hand, cradled them in the palm. My pubic hair was thick, black and curly. I was proud of it, and proud also of the hard-on I could get My cock was about eight inches, not as long as some I had heard of, but it was the only one I had so I planned to make the best of it. It was thick, though, and often could get so stiff it would stand almost straight up without any help from me. It was like the masthead of a ship, and could stand at that angle for a long time. When I wanted, I could raise it higher simply by tightening the cheek muscles of my ass.
I had practiced a few times in front of the full-length mirror in my sister's room, having to clean the come off it with bathroom tissue after my cock kissed it's mirror image.
Naturally, I only did that when the rest of the family was somewhere else.
One day my father was out somewhere and Mother decided she needed some stuff from town for the PTA meeting she was presiding over that night and she took my sister Jeannie in with her to help carry the boxes. I knew I'd have at least an hour alone to myself in the house, so when I got tired of watching TV I decided to see how my muscles were growing. I was fifteen at the time, and it was two years before Bess found me and rescued me from a life of masturbation.
I had inspected myself in Jeannie's mirror before, but I had always worn something, so at first I just took off my shirt and stood there in my Levi cut-offs. I flexed the muscles of my right arm, then my left. I posed like the Great John L., flexed the muscles of both arms at the same time, then struck up a boxing pose, switched to the other side and struck the same pose.
I was well-built for fifteen, and had a faint line of hair already leading from my belly-button down into the top of my cut-offs. I sucked in my already tight stomach and my cut-offs slid down a little, resting on my hips. The hair below my belly-button got a little thicker. I never wore underpants in those days and I knew I was naked under my cut-offs. My prick began to stir just a little, got a little hard down there, filling with blood, a phenomenon I understood since I had paid attention to that part of health class. I got the idea of seeing if I could push my cut-offs down without unbuttoning them. I could.
First the hair got thicker just over my crotch, and the cut-offs hung up a little where my ass swelled, but still I pulled them down tight over my ass, then they were past that and went easily down to my knees, then down in a heap around my ankles.
I stood naked in front of the mirror.
My prick rose like magic, the head swelling, the shaft becoming like a thick iron rod. I forgot about my muscles and stared at what was happening out of my crotch. I wasn't really surprised since I'd had a lot of hard-ons, but I never really knowingly had jacked off or even considered it much, though I had had a few orgasms, usually like wet dreams.
But this time my prick rose up out of my young crotch and took control and my hand went right to it and started stroking and before I knew what was happening I was stretched out on Jeannie's bed writhing back and forth, stark naked, throwing my legs up and down, sprawling over her pillows, rubbing my cock over her sheets, and in general embarrassing myself but completely unable to control what was going on. My prick really took charge, and if Jeannie had been home I'm afraid I'd have done something terrible to her. She was two years older than me and a great sport, but she would never have accepted her little brother throwing her on the floor and ramming it to her.
I spread-eagled myself on my stomach, humped her pillows a few times as if they were indeed her and my cock was sliding up her cunt. I lay spread-eagled on my back with both hands around my cock and I pumped my hips up and down fucking my fists.
I was afraid to come on her bed, so I went back to her mirror, stood with my legs apart right in front of it, arched my back and jacked hard on my cock, my left hand squeezing my balls, and I thought that this was how it was going to be when I started fucking girls, and my tightly-squeezed ass thrust itself forward and in the mirror I saw my come shoot hard against the glass and I didn't see anymore because my mouth fell open and my eyes closed as I kept shooting, pumping.
I thought it was funny to be thinking about jacking off when I was jacking off, so I replaced the image of myself in front of Jeannie's mirror with the image of Bess' soapy hand sliding back and forth on my prick and how good it had felt to have a girl finally really holding and squeezing and loving my cock.
I jacked hard, standing there in the brush over the Tongue River, my pants down around my ankles. I fucked into the air, threw my come as far out of me as I could, pumped it over the Oregon mountains.
There was nothing to stop me, and no one to see me, and I enjoyed it, but I regretted coming as soon as I had finished. It was not a good way to find satisfaction, it was lonely, and I wanted nothing more than to have Lisa with me for all three weeks I would be here. I wanted her to come up here and save me from myself. I wanted to be her lover, and I was afraid that I never would be.
If I couldn't wait three weeks to get back to her, then I saw no way for her to be able to wait the same three weeks for me to come home. There were a lot of guys in the valley who would be happy to throw it into her, and with pear season coming up there would be a lot of transient guys and it would be simple for Lisa to pick one, select who for her would be either the best-looking or the one most--likely to be able to succeed with her, and that would be that. Her cherry would be gone by the time I got home, there would be no need of her to use me or my too-anxious prick, and I could stay home and fuck my fist for the rest of my life.
So going down to the river for a drink of water didn't do me any good at all. If anything, it only made me thirstier as I climbed back up the tumbled rocks to the car.
CHAPTER 5
Town in that part of the country wasn't much more than a single street stretched along the spur-line of the railroad, a post office at one end of the street and a warehouse at the other. In between were one-story buildings the pioneers had thrown up in the hopes that a lot of people would be attracted by the architecture or something, and make Tongue River a real thriving community, an economic and cultural center. Well, that didn't happen, but the buildings were taken up by a grocery store, a clothing store, a restaurant, a bar, and a few residences. On a rise above the town a solitary motel consisted of eight separate cottages, each with its own little kitchen.
The motel owner was a heavy woman named Mrs. Davis who grunted as she walked. "I'm fifty," she said, "if it interests you. I come down here from Portland to get away from the people."
"Can you get away from people when you own a motel?"
"In Tongue River, you can."
I was her only guest. A logger and his wife lived more or less permanently in the last cottage in the row, so she no longer considered them guests since it seemed that they owned the cottage and were her neighbors instead of being rentors.
I pulled the car right up to the front of my cottage. The logger's wife looked out her window when she heard my car and she kept watching me until I carried my suitcase inside my own place.
The room was nice. It had a double bed with a sort of Mexican spread laying across it. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a lamp, and across the room was a desk with deep drawers for my clothes. There was some paper in the desk drawer with a picture of the motel on the top, as if I were in a Howard Johnson's someplace in downtown LA. The trees around the motel in the photograph were all young though, and when I looked out the screen door to make sure I was in the same place I saw that all the trees had grown up.
Mrs. Davis was coming across the grassy parking lot toward my cabin. She was a hefty woman, with a nice face framed with dyed-blonde hair in curls.
"Nice little place, isn't it," she said when she was almost to my door.
"It's going to be all right," I said.
It was the first time I'd ever had a place to myself. On school trips, I had always been in a room with a classmate or in a dormitory, and on vacations with the folks we had all stayed in huge, sprawling motel rooms. I was glad to be in a cottage by myself and I thought that Tongue River could be a nice vacation spot.
"Too bad," I said, "that you don't have a little lake right here. I'd take a swim before supper."
"No lake," she said in her cheery voice, "but nothing wrong with the river. It's a little cold, but at least it's clean. That's more than you can say for a lot of places."
I started to say something in agreement, but she didn't need any encouragement.
"My family used to swim in the Columbia up to Portland. That was long before your time, when I was a girl. Don't look at me like that. I did used to be a girl, I wasn't always like this. We swam up there right in the river. Can't do it anymore. Nobody swims in the river up there anymore. Everybody dumps their sewers into it. Did you know there's a river back east that caught on fire? That's right. Just caught on fire, there was so much garbage and sewers and oil in the river. Imagine that. A river burning."
She was inside the cabin, checking that I'd emptied my suitcase and hung my shirts up properly. She walked into the small kitchen in the back of the cabin and called back to me, "You cook?" I can.
"If you have to."
"Yeah."
"Well, don't worry about it. How long you say you'll be here? If you want breakfast, I'll provide it in the office. Nothing imagine, I ain't running a restaurant, but I'd be glad to furnish you breakfast for a slight increase, save you from having to cook yourself and maybe burning down my cabin and save you from going without anything to eat. No suppers, though, don't count on my furnishing supper, not even for an increase. There's a good restaurant in town, just down the road, and there's a drive-in cafe just out past the post office. You can get a hamburger there but I wouldn't recommend it since that ain't much of a supper, you eat in the good restaurant since your company's paying for it. They are, ain't they? You on an expense account?"
"Yeah," I said, not wanting to encourage her to say anything more but not knowing how to stop her. Also, I had had good upbringing that had taught me to speak when spoken to.
"Well, you're a young man, it's nice that you're on an expense account, but don't forget breakfast, it's easy for me to cook an extra plate of eggs. You can get it anytime, let's say, between seven and eight.
You going to spend most of your time in the warehouse or out buying pears."
"A little of both."
"Your company sent another man up last year. Funny guy. He had one of them campers on the back of a pick-up truck. He stayed in it, parked right up the road off my property, then when he was through with his business here in town he stopped by my place and wanted me to write him out a phony bill so he could collect on his expense account."
"Did you do it?"
"I did not. I come down here to get away from phony sons of bitches. I don't want to encourage them to come poking around my place. I like you, even if you are just a kid."
"Thanks." I was taller than she was, but skinnier.
"No offense meant, nothing wrong with being a kid. Lot right with it, in fact. Wish I was one again. You'll get over it as you get older, then you'll wish you hadn't."
"Not much I can do about that, is there."
"Nothing," she said, beginning to laugh for the first time since she'd come in to pester me.
I think she only came in to see if I could take her, to perform some kind of verbal combat with me, since if we were going to be neighbors and possibly breakfast-mates for three weeks we should find out right away if we liked each other or not.
I wasn't sure what she decided, but when she left she banged the screen door behind her and said back toward my general direction, "See you at breakfast. You want me to ring a bell?"
I yelled at her through the screen, "No bell."
It was only mid-afternoon when I finished getting my clothes unpacked and had my little house in order. I decided to drive to the warehouse and find the manager to start right out in the morning buying pears.
On the way I took a slow cruise down Main Street. The Blue Sky Cafe was tucked between a grocery store and the dry goods emporium. It didn't look exciting, but it did look like it served good pie, so I decided to try it for supper. But now I had to get to work.
The warehouse was the last building before the country became woods again. On one side of it was a pair of weedy, rusty-looking railroad tracks, and on the other side the narrow highway that lead eventually down the Tongue River and to civilization.
A man stood on the loading dock and watched as I parked my car. He was dressed in khaki pants and shirt. A tan baseball cap was pulled down to shade his eyes. He had a thin reed-like piece of pine in his hand, like I imagined swagger sticks used to look like.
He transferred the stick to his left hand as I walked up the short flight of stairs to the dock. He held out his right hand. "I'm Lou Carson. Are you Mr. Stewart from the Exchange?"
"Yes." We shook hands and I felt already that he was trying to get ahead of me, put me in my place.
"They told me you would probably come by today. They called from down below, you know. Long distance."
Right away I didn't like him. He kept up that kind of chatter for a few more minutes while we stood there. Finally he got to what really irked him.
"You're new with the company, aren't you?"
"This is my second year with them."
"You must have started pretty young."
That was what was on his mind. I said, "You don't have to be old to know a good pear."
He got defensive. "No, I didn't mean you were too young, I just meant that you'll be dealing with a lot of different growers. Well, I think maybe a more mature man might have been able to work with them a little better. Some of them can be pretty strange characters."
"My father's a farmer, Mr. Carson. I grew up with farmers."
He hemmed and hawed, swapped his stick from one hand to the other, and finally gave up with his nonsense and led me into the office at the end of the loading dock.
A woman wearing glasses, with her hair curled around her head much like Mrs. Davis wore hers, sat at the desk. She stood up and shook hands with me like a man, but Carson only introduced her as, "This is my wife."
We smiled at each other, then Carson handed me a list of growers who would probably market their fruit through the Exchange. Carson stood to make a good profit for his warehouse and that was why he had hoped the company would send an older man, maybe somebody a little tougher, who could have urged even more growers into selling to the Exchange and using Carson's warehouse facilities for storage and handling. The Exchange was paying enough money per ton this year, so I did not expect to have to wheedle any farmer. Besides, having grown up with farmers I knew that they already knew themselves what they wanted to do with their crops; any of them who wanted to gamble on the fresh market was free to do so, as far as I was concerned: a farmer purchases the right to go broke along with the title to his farm.
Carson was urging me out of the office, so I gave his wife another little smile. She nodded to me perfunctorily. It was not uncommon for warehousemen to have their wives on the payrolls as bookkeepers, and usually the wives did a damn good job, but it was unusual for him to treat her with even less respect than he'd have given the janitor.
He gave me a tour of his packing shed and sorting room, the unloading facilities, showed me his three forklifts that could all be used at the same time for unloading tote bins full of pears, and the cold-storage shed. It was a good size, about a hundred feet long, forty wide, and twenty high. He had the temperature down to forty degrees and said, "It'll be down to thirty-four tomorrow and it'll stay there as long as the Exchange has any pears in storage here."
"That's fine," I said. "Have you made provision for when the hot pears are brought in, and when the doors have to be opened and closed for the forklifts? I don't want the temperature going too much above thirty-five just because more pears than you expected were brought in one afternoon."
"No problem, Giff." He had become friendly, which put me more at ease. If I had had real problems with him, the three weeks could have been hell. There was no other warehouse within fifty miles."
"We've been storing Exchange pears for eleven years and no problems yet."
"I hope we don't have any this year, just because I'm a kid." He laughed. "We won't."
I tucked his list of growers into my pocket. He leaned on a forklift to draw me a crude map of how to reach some of the ranches in the back canyons.
That night I had supper at the Blue Sky. Their special was chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes. I had it, and some pie. I was right about the place. They were short of class, but they did make good pie.
I watched the waitress's legs all during supper. She was a pert, smart-mouthed brunette with chubby hips, but she was still cute and I was working up my courage to make some kind of smart remark to find out just how pert she really was when a big bastard of a logger came in, clopped across the floor in calked boots and pegged pants, said, "Bring me my supper, honey," and patted her on the ass. She brought me my pie before she gave him his supper and I wondered if she still felt his hand on her ass. Maybe the image of her ass made my pie taste better.
I left her a big tip because I wanted her to remember me as a traveling man for the Exchange who wouldn't be around too long and she had better make good use out of me while I was here. But I didn't expect her to fall for such a stupid ploy. She was too stuck on that big logger.
While I was going out the door I snuck a look back and saw her scoop my big tip off the counter without even looking at it. She dropped it all into her apron pocket with all the other nickels and dimes and quarters that guys had left her through the day in the hope that she might give them more attention the next time. With her apron jingling, she sat down in the booth with her logger friend and lit a cigarette.
She saw me looking back and cafled, "Come back soon, honey?"
I said, as great as I could, "See you tomorrow."
I didn't have any great choice, since I knew the drive-in would not have such good pie as the Blue Sky.
A different car was pulled up to another of Mrs. Davis' cottages when I got back. She was having a boom in business. I waved to the logger's wife on my way to my own cottage, but she just sat there like before, looking out at something, me or the sky or the trees or space.
I lay down on the bed and plotted out where I would go in the next few days buying pears. Once I had done that, and figured out on Carson's map how to get to those places and back, I had very little to do. My mind began wandering and it went on almost a straight line to the old dilapidated farm I shared with Lisa. I hit the pillow with my fist.
There was an old radio on the desk, so I put a dime in its slot and listened to a Klamath Falls station for half an hour, until-the dime ran out. That should suffice for an idea of how old the motel was, and how recently it had been remodeled and brought up to date.
I walked outside. The air was mountain cool, and stars were as clear as crystal. I went to Mrs. Davis's office to see if she had anything to read.
Her new guest was leaning on her glass counter talking to her. They both looked up when I came in and said, "Hello." I mumbled something, and thought I had interrupted a little rendezvous. Mrs. Davis introduced me to the man, who was a middle-aged salesman pushing a line of tennis shoes to the emporium "downtown". He visited Tongue River twice a year and Mrs. Davis obviously knew him quite well.
I took a handful of old Lifes and Looks and said, "Good night."
I wasn't halfway to my cabin when the guy caught up to me and said, "How about joining me for a drink? Not much goes on in Tongue River after dark."
"Not much in the daytime, either," I said, not in any hurry to get back to my cottage to read twenty-year-old magazines.
"My name is Howard Jimson," he said. "Come on."
"Okay. Giff Stewart. Glad to meet you."
He was only staying the one night so had not unpacked his suitcase. What he had done however was to set a bottle of bourbon on the lamp table beside the bed.
He had carried in a small pan full of ice, evidently what he had visited Mrs. Davis for. He put ice in two glasses and poured in the bourbon. "Here's to small towns everywhere," he said, downing his. Mine went a little slower. I sat in the easy chair beside the bed as he sat on the bed itself. He seemed eager to pour me another drink, so I let him.
After we talked about our mutual ills of being trapped in Tongue River, he went after the town with a different slant. "You know, it's not hard to find women in a town like this. A stranger can very often make out very well, since nobody knows him and he's usually leaving the next day anyway so he won't be around long enough for the women to feel guilty. These women are really virtuous, but they like to play around as much as women anywhere. They just don't get much of an opportunity. But with us in our position we can give them that opportunity."
"I've been here a day already," I said, "and none are knocking on my door yet."
"Give them time," he said. "I'll bet you'd like to give some of them the opportunity they want. I'll bet you would, young as you are, I'll bet you're just full of spunk and sperm."
His hand wavered around and landed on my knee as if it had no other place to light. He did it so casually, so much in a spirit of comradeship, that I didn't think much of it, was sort of agreeing with him that I was indeed full of spunk and sperm. Then he moved his hand from my knee up along the top of my leg, sliding toward my crotch.
I stood up like he was wired for electricity and had just blown a fuse.
"Giff," he said, at last coming out with it, "I'm just like those women locked up around here. I want it, and there's no one who can give it to me. You can. Will your
"No," I said. I wasn't sure exactly what I was turning down, but I was damn sure I didn't want any of it. "You'll find it somewhere."
He stood up. Some of his drink spilled on the bed. "You can give it to me now. There's nothing wrong with it, if you just give it to me now."
"Sorry, can't. Just don't want to."
"A fuck's a fuck. What do you care where you put it, as long as you get your rocks off."
"I do care, I guess. No thanks, Mr. Jimson." I put down my drink and walked to his door.
"God damn it," he said, his voice low so he would not attract either Mrs. Davis or the logger's wife.
"Good night," I said.
"There's never been anybody else at this motel when I stayed here, and now that there is somebody here it turns out to be a goddam country cherry. You bastards don't know anything about fucking. God damn you and your kind." His voice began to rise in a shriek so I got out fast. 'You sons of bitches," I heard him say as I crossed the grass, through the clean dark, under the clear faraway stars, to my own cottage.
In the morning, with my toast and eggs, Mrs. Davis asked me, "How did you like your drink last night?"
"Wasn't my brand," I said, watching her face to see if she knew what I was talking about. When she laughed, I asked her, "Did you know about him?"
"Sure. He's just a guy. Comes here twice a year so he isn't so bad."
"Maybe not for you. You might have warned me."
"How's your breakfast?"
"Fine."
"You like your eggs over easy like that."
"Yes, I do."
"My husband taught me to cook them like that. What would I have warned you for. You got out okay, didn't you?"
"Would you have come and rescued me if I hadn't gotten out okay."
"No."
"Then you might have warned me."
"You'll learn."
CHAPTER 6
I got stuck in the mud and had to borrow a farmer's tractor to get my car out. I got stuck in the sand and had to borrow a farmer's pickup truck to pull me out. I got high-centered on a rock and had to borrow a farmer's lift truck to get my car off it. I tromped through weeds and sagebrush and wild asparagus ferns. I scratched my shins on thistles and was attacked twice by rattlesnakes and also several times by domestic animals. Little kids stood outside farmhouses while I dickered with their fathers. Old women raised their hands to shield their eyes from the sun as they told me where I might find their husbands out in the orchards.
I bought a lot of pears.
The Exchange was paying $95 a ton that year. The year before the farmers had gotten only $30 and had considered themselves lucky to get that. But this year was different. The combination of an especially light crop in California with a blossom-time freeze up north in Washington put these Tongue River farmers, sitting pretty with almost full crops, good-sized fruit and a ready market, right in the banker's office with smiles on their faces.
I was popular whenever I pulled into a yard, because they all were ready to go cannery. I punched pears to test the degree of maturity, gave advice on when to start picking and what end of the orchard should come off first, and bought entire crops. My second two weeks in Tongue River would be busy as hell I thought, with the fruit coming to the warehouse where I'd grade it and send it into Carson's cold storage where it would wait until the Exchange plants in California were ready to can it, then trucks would pull up, load up, and head south.
I was so busy that first week I almost forgot about Lisa. I enjoyed the work and did my best to do a good job for the company and also be fair to the farmers. Being the son of one of them gave me an added insight that often college graduates from the Exchange did not have.
And at the same time I wondered about Mrs. Davis' guest, the queer, and what he meant when he called me a country cherry. I thought I knew, and I did not like thinking of myself as naive sexually, as an innocent in a land of plenty, but I did not have much evidence to present on my own behalf. I did not think my having screwed only two girls and three whores and almost screwing a virgin who I thought I might be in love with would really make me sexually experienced. I thought the queer was probably right. I was a country cherry. If I had to fuck him to get experience though, I thought I would-have to remain cherry.
Each morning when I woke up my prick was looking me in the face, letting me know by its hardness that it did not consider itself naive. I was faced with the truth I had always known: it was up to me to find someplace to put it, and my clenched fist was not the place.
Early in the second week I started slowing down. I had visited most of the farms and later in the week the fruit would be ready to come off. I had only a few outlying farmers to see. One of the last ones was the Perkins ranch.
Mr. Perkins stood by the tool shed as I drove into his yard. "How you doing, bub?" he asked, before I even got out of the car. "I been expecting you."
I brought the contract papers out of the car with me. Without a word, I laid them on the warm hood of my Ford and handed him a ballpoint pen.
He leaned over them, made sure they read $95 a ton, and signed.
"Now that business is out of the way," he said, "nice to meet you."
"Same here," I said, grinning.
"You know, we got over a hundred dollars during the war."
"War's over."
"Yes it is, bub. I'll take the ninety-five and be glad to get it."
I liked him right away. He led me into his orchard and showed me the fruit hanging heavy on the limbs. He figured, and I agreed, that he ought to pick out about a hundred tons, just about all profit to him. "Be a nice year, for a change," he said.
When we got back to the yard he asked, "I was supposed to take the wife to town today."
Then I knew what was going to happen. I just knew it. I felt it coming.
"If you're going that way, would you mind giving her a lift? Save me a trip, and I've got some things to do around here."
T wouldn't mind at all," I said. I felt it coming.
Mrs. Perkins was ready to go.
She was taller than her husband. She wore country-style capris that ended mid-calf, a soft blue blouse, and a red bandana around her hair. She was about forty, I judged. like I said, I just knew what was going to happen.
Mr. Perkins held the door of my car for his wife to climb inside. I started the engine without looking at her.
She said, "Thanks, Ed," as he closed the door. He was about ten years older than she was.
He came around to my side of the car. "I'll be picking pears next week. See you then."
I waved to him. Backing around so I would miss his tractor, I pulled out of the yard and up over a small rise that cut his house off from any view except that of pear trees, and headed down the road.
Mrs. Perkins had a plain face, but her sldn was smooth, soft, and her mouth was not a harsh straight line like the mouths of most of the women around Tongue River. Her mouth curved, her lips seemed full and ripe, and she turned them toward me and said, "Can I call you Giff?"
"Yes, Mrs. Perkins. I'd be glad if you did."
"Call me Lillian."
We drove along the river for awhile, not saying anything. The paved road, to avoid a high steep cliff that had intimidated the highway department, rose up a steep bluff. On top, a dirt road led away from the highway.
Mrs. Perkins said, "Turn in here."
I didn't play any games. I didn't ask if she wasn't going to town, or wasn't she going to visit Aunt Mathilda. I turned where she said to turn.
We drove in more silence until the road made a fork and she said, "Go right."
I bore right.
The road petered out to nothing. It seemed that there had been an old mine here once and the road used to go to it, carrying the diggers in but never getting much of an opportunity to carry whatever was being mined out, since there obviously turned out to be precious little of it, whatever it was. I parked not far from what appeared to be the remains of the gaping hole in the ground, the caved-in entrance to the old mine. All traces of man's energy expended were gone except for the hole, and nature had worked hard itself trying to close that. Brush had almost overgrown what was left of the road and the car, where I parked it, was shielded by the brush even though probably nobody ever came here anymore and there wasn't even a jet in the sky flying from Seattle to LA. Just me and Mrs. Perkins.
"Let's get in the back seat," she said. We each got out of our respective sides and climbed in the back.
"Take off your pants," she said.
I looked at her, having expected her at least to hem and haw a little bit. She was unbuttoning her blouse. "Take off your pants," she repeated. "Not a virgin, are you?"
I couldn't let her think that, not her too, so I said, "No," probably weakly. Oh Christ, I thought. She's a real fucker. She'll want to fuck all day and what I'll do is come when she first touches me and it'll stay soft the rest of the afternoon. I thought it was going to be a painful, very long drive the rest of the way to town.
I unbuckled my belt. It was funny to be undressing sitting down. I pushed the front seat forward so it would lay over the wheel and give us more room. I pushed my pants down around my knees and sat there in my shorts, my prick hidden among the white folds of jockies, keeping its head down.
Lillian was reaching behind her back to unfasten her brassiere. She thought about it, whether it was worth it or not, and asked, "You want some tits too, or just cunt?"
"Oh, I don't know." I felt like a fool. "Whatever you want to give me."
She decided against the bother of unfastening her brassiere and let her breasts stay in the tight clasps of white on her chest. They might have sagged a little and embarrassed her. She kicked her shoes off with the toes of her feet, unzipped the side of her capris, and pushed them off, stripping her panties down with them. She dropped it all on the floor of the car.
She turned toward me, sliding her ass on the seat. Between her legs, a fist of dark hair was like a little furry animal caught there.
She saw my shorts and said, "What the hell is that?"
I reached down to take off my shoes so I could get my pants off. I tried to brush my penis so it might get hard, but nothing happened. I got my shoes off, then folded my pants and lay them in the front seat.
I kept my shorts on, not wanting her to see my cock laying limp and useless over my sagging balls.
She looked at me peculiarly, then slid down on the seat and swung one leg up over the back rest, stretching the other over my lap. I saw all over her black bush, and just below it the opening of her cunt, her red lips, just before it sank down to the seat.
She slid her hand inside my jockies and took hold of me. I felt my cock coming up.
"Here it is," she said. "You're a big boy, Giff, and I know what will make you feel bigger."
I pushed my shorts down, wiggled my feet out of them. She held my balls in one hand, pulled on my cock with the other. I got on my knees between her legs. "Lillian," I said, "I thought I'd get to know you better before we got to this."
"You're nice," she said. "But all I want is a fuck. Then maybe I'll get to know you." Her head fell back against the car seat. "All I want is a fuck," she said again.
My cock grew in her hand until it was long enough for her to stroke. She raised both knees to my armpits and eased my body into position where she could aim my cock right between her legs. She touched it with the ends of her fingers, around the now huge head, its slope on top back to where my foreskin had been removed, around its circumference and back along the stiff, hard shaft to where it was attached to my body. My cock was exactly how it should be, and how I saw it just about every morning. Thanks to Mrs. Perkins' desires, it was going to go where it ought to go for a change.
Without any more pleasantries, she brought me to her and I slipped right inside like a grape being sucked into a mouth and she accepted the shaft that followed with eager pleasure, grunting once when I got all the way in her.
'That's a nice cock," she said, "never be shy about your cock, it's a nice cock, it's a long one and thick and nice and big. Oh it's so big, and hot, and hard. Never be shy about your cock."
That itself was enough to turn me on pretty good. I started fucking, slid out of her and pushed back in, and she pushed her hips up meeting me. I don't know if it was the combination of surprise and the speed with which we had stripped and started fucking, or if I was sensitive about fucking someone so much like all the women in my mother's sewing club, but my cock kept pumping into her and did not feel much like coming yet.
She squeezed my balls, felt them drawing up in their sack as my cock grew even inside her. Her hands ran all the way over my back, hugged me to her, grasped my ass. Her legs wrapped my waist in a scissors hug but my ass kept rising and falling, my prick rising and falling with it, humping in and out of her. She moaned a few times, wriggled her ass on the seat, then, to my surprise, pushed me away a little and brought both her legs up to her own chest.
My cock stayed in her, but she seemed to go off on her own, grabbed her legs around the knees and pressed against her breasts with her thighs. Her eyes closed and her head rolled from side to side.
Holding onto the back seat with one hand, I got a grip on the back of the front seat with the other. Kneeling at Lillian's bottom, I leaned my shoulders back, pushed my hips forward, and let her have the only thing she seemed to want, plunged it in as far as I could, our pubic hair clutching like lovers, my prick plunging deep into her steaming hole, her thick black forest.
My balls banged against her ass. I felt on the verge of my orgasm but also, peculiarly, seemed to be able to hold it, something I had never experienced before. The touch of her cunt was exquisite as my prick slid up it, but it wasn't like making love to Lisa. It wasn't like trying to fuck somebody I loved, or even knew.
And Mrs. Perkins only wanted a young prick. Who it was attached to did not matter.
And the queer at Mrs. Davis' motel was right, too. My prick didn't care where it was, it was simply enjoying the fuck.
So I gave it to Mrs. Perkins, right in her forty-year-old cunt, and she held onto her knees with her ass-end wide open for me and I pumped as hard as I could into it, in and out, in and out. My prick swelled, got thicker, and God but it was good not coming like this. I tried to reach the top of her snatch but each time I thought I might hit it she seemed to grow deeper, as if she was leading me further and further into a bottomless cave.
She started coming. She did. She started coming, squeezed her legs until she lay curled almost in a fetal position, almost perfectly still, her legs quivering and her body beginning to shake. She gasped through her open mouth and I knew what was happening to her. It was the first time a woman ever came with my prick in her. She got even wetter around her cunt than she had been before and she squeezed my cock with her muscles.
Her legs flew apart and I plunged onto her, grasping at the car seat with my knees, pushing hard against the wall with my feet, holding my cock far into her, thrusting even more if I could, and it was like all my blood vessels in my legs closed, sealed tight, and suddenly opened up when I started to come, blood shooting through my body, pump after pump of my heart thrusting the blood through my tightened veins, like my semen bursting out of the head of my prick as hard as a twenty-year-old can shoot.
"Aaaahhhh," Mrs. Perkins cried, "aaaahhhh, that's it, I feel it, come in me, pump me," and her ass raised for me, her hands held my ass firmly between her thighs.
I held onto her, my arms around her neck, until I was finished.
Her body gave another involuntary shudder, and her legs flopped to the sides of my hips.
I began to think that Mrs. Perkins was the reason why her husband looked so old. I didn't know if fucking like that would make a young man old or an old man young. "Do you do your husband like that?"
T never fucked him. We make love. We don't fuck like that. I just fucked you. And you fucked me. I like that more." She pulled away from me, sat up, and started mopping her crotch with a tissue from her pocket book. "You better clean yourself up. We have to be on the way, I have to be in town before long."
I wiped myself with the tail of my shirt and started pulling on my pants.
"It's strangers," she said.
"What?"
"Strangers. I can only fuck like that with strangers.
I can't do it with anybody I know, not even my husband. Especially my husband."
"Why not?"
"How do I know. I'm not a psychiatrist. I just like strangers."
I kissed the side of her face, but she turned away. It was as if she wanted no tenderness, just the fuck. As if she reserved all her tenderness for her husband, while refusing at the same time to show him just how much she liked, needed, and wanted a big prick ramming up her cunt.
We climbed into the front seat. Everything was cleaned up and we looked very presentable, as if nothing at all had occurred except that the Exchange man had kindly given Mrs. Perkins a ride into town.
I dropped her in front of the emporium. It was about two o'clock.
"I'll need a ride home," she said.
My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to give her another ride, since we would have to pass the same turn-off to the old mine and I suspected that she would be unable to resist another dip into the sexuality of life. I was pleased that I was in the right place at the right time to give it to her, and was beginning to shed' some of my burden of being a country cherry. But at the same time I did not want to drive her home where I would have to face Mr. Perkins waiting beside the tool shed again. I had liked him and did not really want to boldly drive into his yard after fucking his wife, with him knowing exactly what I had done, had not been able not to do.
"Couldn't you catch a ride with a friend?" I asked, not meaning it.
"Don't be silly," she said. "Be here at three thirty." She walked into the store.
I was weak. I thought I might find the strength to face Mr. Perkins, if I was able to screw, his wife again.
Maybe he wouldn't be outside anyway, maybe he'd be on the far side of the orchard when I got her home.
So I went back to Mrs. Davis' motel to rest. The logger's wife watched me park the car and I toyed with the image of knocking on her door, screwing her without a word, until three thirty, but instead of marching straight to her and sticking it in I only waved and went to my own cottage.
I thought I saw her own hand go up in a little wave. I thought I was making headway, if after five or six days of waving to her she had finally acknowledged my presence. Her logger must have had a real tree, between his legs, because she did nothing all day as far as I could tell except sit there beside that window and wait for him to bring it home to her.
When I went back to the emporium at three thirty Mrs. Perkins was not alone.
Oh Jesus, she had a friend with her who was about thirty five.
They both saved their tendernesses for their husbands. Their fucking they had saved for me.
CHAPTER 7
"This is my friend Patsy," Lillian said. "Patsy, meet Giff."
"Hi," she said cheerily.
I helped them put a few packages in the trunk of the car. "Patsy would like a ride too," Lillian said.
Patsy smiled through lips red with lipstick. She had fine white teeth that she must have taken to some big town like Bend or Klamath Falls to have capped. The rest of her was nice too, and her breasts were held behind a cool-looking green shirt. She wore capris, like Mrs. Perkins. They were a sort of casual uniform of middle-aged women in Tongue River.
Patsy and Lillian were not like dating Bess, or Lisa, or any other girl I had ever been with. We headed back toward the Perkins place, with me assuming that we may never get there. These two women were plainly predatory, though for anyone to see them strolling along the street they looked like they were just riding along to the sewing club.
Patsy asked, as if she was making a comment about the weather, "How long is his prick?"
Lillian laughed. "Oh Patsy, look, you made him blush."
My face felt flushed. I tried to grin it off, but the back of my neck suddenly felt hot. Patsy, as soon as we were away from town, stroked the back of my head. "Hey, Giff, I didn't mean to embarrass you." For a moment it seemed like she was going to lay off. Then she added, "I just wanted to know how long is your prick."
I stopped being embarrassed as my prick started its rise in my pants.
"Mrs. Perkins," I said, almost bouncing on the car seat, "is this going to be another one of those kind of trips?"
She laughed brightly. Patsy collapsed into the back seat. Lillian's voice when she laughed was that of a young girl.
"I'm afraid it is," Lillian laughed. "I'm afraid it is."
So it was back to the mine, off with the pants, and let's go to work. Mrs. Perkins let Patsy go first.
"I'll hunt around here for relics," she said, walking gingerly over the rocks toward the mine shaft. "Maybe I'll find an old tool or something." She looked just exactly like a tourist's wife exploring an old Indian ruin, her husband wandering somewhere with two or three cameras hanging on straps around his neck.
Patsy stood outside the car to take her clothes off. She hung her blouse on the open door and slid out of her brassiere. Her breasts were not very firm when she let them loose, but they did show how fine they had been and the rest of her body was firm and smooth, moved gently inside her skin.
She looked at me sitting in the car with my pants and shoes off, my cock hard, and she said, "Take off your shirt. You in some kind of hurry?"
It was a bright, hot day. There was not a cloud in the sky. I took off my shirt and lay it across the rear-window shelf. I felt silly with nothing on but my socks, so I took them off too and sat with my feet up on the seat. Stark naked in the back seat of my car.
Patsy stepped out of her sandals and pulled off her capris. She climbed into the car wearing only her pink panties. "Will you take them off me?" she asked.
She took my prick in her right hand, caressed my cheek with her left. "Oh yes, it's going to be fine," she said. "It's a nice one, a very nice cock."
She did something then that surprised me. Leaning toward my crotch, she lifted my dick and kissed it. Only Lisa had ever done that before. Her face came quickly back up and she kissed me on the lips. I opened my mouth and slid my tongue between her white, even teeth.
She kissed me back hungrily. Patsy was even more in need of a fuck than Mrs. Perkins had been. She seemed more starved for it. Her mouth attached itself to mine and sucked my breath out, her tongue fought for control of mine, and her hand squeezed all along the length and thickness of my manhood that I was so ready to slide right into the most secret places of her body.
I got my fingers inside the elastic of her panties and I pushed down. My thumbs hooked the waistband and as my fingers slid along her ass her panties came down all the way to her knees. She raised one leg so I could work the leg hole down over her foot. Shivers rose in waves along my backbone as my body sensed that she was naked too, leaning over me.
I slid down on the seat until I was lying flat, my knees in the air. Patsy took her mouth away and rose up over me. I looked down between our bodies. Her cunt hairs, thick and bushy, outlined the place of her desire and as she stood on one foot to spread her cunt over my crotch I saw her lips down there snap open. For a second I saw them shining, and a drop of moisture appeared on her hair, then it disappeared as she lowered her body onto me, raising my prick to meet it.
With one hand holding the front seat for balance, she lifted my cock with her other hand. I lowered my legs when I saw what she wanted to do, and gave her more room. When the head came in contact with the lips of her cunt, she wiped it back and forth with her hand, back to, front, front to back, the head slipping between the lips and back out. She came down a little more on it.
"Giff," she said through almost clenched teeth, "I haven't had anybody's penis since I got married and I only had two others before that. I've wanted my hands on another penis so long, oh so long, and it's such a nice cock, just like Lil said it was, it's so nice and it's all mine right now, just mine."
She slowly sat down and sucked my prick up into her body, sliding directly home, and went exactly where she wanted it. She said, "Oh, that's just right, just right."
I put my arms around her waist and pulled her down to me. Her breasts touched my naked chest and I lifted my ass as high as I could, pushing up with my feet, raising her body with me. My cock slid further into her. Her legs came up my sides and when I lowered myself her knees came up along my ribs.
I couldn't do much fucking, under her that way, but she took care of that. She moved her ass up and down and when my cock was almost out of her she sat down quickly again on it, sucking it back inside. My hands squeezed the cheeks of her ass, spreading them and opening her crack wide to my thrusting hips.
Patsy's tits were bobbing around just over my face so I reached up with my tongue and licked one. She stopped what she was doing and lowered her chest a little and I took the nipple into my mouth and sucked on it.
She squirmed even more, rose up a little and came down hard on my crotch, bumping and grinding into my pubic bone, our hair tangling and getting sopping wet from the moisture that was flowing out of her gash. I thrust up into her as far as I could. My cock swelled, gorged itself, and I thought if only I could have performed like this with Lisa, if only I could have given her such a hard organ, I could have broken through her maidenhead with hardly any effort and she herself then would have climbed my body in her ecstasy.
Patsy pulled her breast away and offered me the other. The nipple slid right into my mouth, my tongue caressing it, licking it, and I nibbled it with my teeth and started sucking on it. I imagined it was Lisa's firm, upright young breast, the crowning glory of her sweet body before I got my cock into the supreme, queen-like vagina that was still, I hoped, guarded by its thin, stretched membrane. I imagined plunging hard and fast into Lisa, her body opening to me as it had our last night together, my cock like it was right now, hard, swelling larger with the nipples in my mouth, Patsy shuddering and quivering over me, her body moving into what I took to be an orgasm.
Her head rolled back, her mouth opened in sighs.
She squatted down on me, her knees level with her cheeks. My hands clutched her sides, swept under her legs to squeeze her body together and hold her down on my cock while I thrust up with my hips, no longer wanting to hold myself back. The head of my cock caught fire and I shot up into her, my come splashing inside her body, my spunk shooting far up into her in strong, long spurts.
She hugged my head, held it to her breasts, and buried my nose in the valley between them.
She stayed on me until my prick stopped throbbing, then she dismounted and held it in her hand. T haven't had a nice, hard young prick like yours since before I got married." She kissed my lips again.
"You're nice. Don't get married too soon. Will you? Don't spoil your fucking too soon."
"I'll try not to, Patsy. Thanks. You're nice too."
"Thank you" She kissed the head of my prick again, lingering longer to almost take the head between her lips.
I wanted her to take it right in, suck on it, since I had never had that pleasure and didn't know how to ask a girl to do that. The tip was tender now though, and after she passed her tongue over the little hole that so recently had given me such incredible bliss she moved away from me and stepped out of the car to dab at herself with tissues.
It was the second time I'd seen a woman do that. Mrs. Perkins had cleaned herself up after we fucked too. Neither Bess nor the transient girl had made any effort to do that. I thought it might be something that came with experience.
Patsy stepped into her sandals and walked around the car so she would be out of sight when Mrs. Perkins came. "Oh Lil," she called. "Lillian!"
"Here I am," Mrs. Perkins said. She walked gingerly back toward the car, stepping over small round rocks that seemed to twist her ankles. She still reminded me of a tourist wife exploring ruins in the afternoon.
"You were right, Lil," Patsy said. "It's nice to have it."
"Didn't I tell you?" Mrs. Perkins stood outside the car, smiling through the windows at her friend.
Patsy asked, "Does anybody ever come around here? I mean, could somebody just accidentally drive in here and catch us?"
"Now is a fine time to worry about that. But don't. I've never seen anybody here, anytime."
"I just wanted to know. While you're busy then, I'm going to explore. And since nobody ever comes here, I'll go like a hippy, okay?"
"What's that mean?"
"Like this." Patsy walked around the car. Without looking back, the cheeks of her ass bobbing left right left right at us, she walked into the brush toward the mine shaft, without a care in the world that her friend was seeing her naked.
Mrs. Perkins acted like she wanted to call after Patsy to warn her to be careful, not to get a sunburn or something, but she instead turned to me. "Come out of the car, will you, Giff?"
I climbed out. The rocks hurt my feet. I didn't know how Patsy could walk on them without showing pain. Patsy's cunt juices dried quickly in the air and my prick dangled at half-stand over my balls.
Mrs. Perkins looked at it and said, "You'll have to get that back up. Think you can?"
My feet tried to find a smooth place to stand. I worried a little about how my prick had responded to Lisa, and I was afraid it might repeat on me. It was sexy though, standing on the rocks, naked, with Mrs. Perkins fully clothed looking at me the way she was. "I hope it comes back up for you, Lillian," I said. "I'm grateful, you know. It's kind of nice fucking out here in the noonday sun."
I surprised myself talking that way to a woman her age. But it seemed silly to mince words when she was staring right at the bare nub of my prick.
"One thing I really like about young men like yourself, they do like to fuck and when you get them in a place where they can they'll all do it. And they're grateful when it's done. It's nice for me too. Thanks for being good to my friend. Patsy hasn't had a fresh piece of meat since she got married fifteen years ago. I think you may be a real breakthrough for her."
She led me around the car. After taking off her capris and panties, she sat down on the passenger seat with her feet outside the car. I stepped up to her and she held my genitals in both hands. I moved one hand down across her chest, down to her bare stomach and into the hair between her legs. It was thicker than my other girls', and I went down far enough to play with the edges of her cunt. She was already moist, ready.
She weighed my balls in her hands, held my prick between her thumb and forefinger and stretched it out. Her left hand edged under my crotch and worked up the crack of my ass. My cock started to rise.
She kissed my nipples, sucked on them. I held her by her shoulders and let her bring me back up. She did. My cock kept coming up. I thought she might go down on me, but she kissed only as far as my stomach. She licked my belly button, then back up to my nipples again.
"Your body is like a girl's," she said. "Not a hair on it except around your balls."
I didn't think that was fair since I did have a few hairs, precious few, on my chest. She just didn't notice them. But my dick was stiff again and we didn't want to talk very much.
Its head was a little sore, but it felt good to have used it so much, and apparently so well.
She lay flat on her back, her face under the steering wheel. Her heels caught on what would have been the running board if such a thing were still being made.
I had never seen a woman quite as open as that. Starting at her knees, I walked my fingers gently across the skin of the inside of her thighs, right to her womanhood, and before I knew what I was doing I was bending over to kiss her cunt. She grabbed my head quickly, pressed me further into her snatch.
It smelled like woman, and my lips clamped onto it and my tongue shot out of my mouth and I licked at her juices. I was surprised there wasn't more taste than just a slight, musky tang. I wanted more of it, but Lillian pulled at my hair and brought my face, wet with her juices, up to her mouth and she licked my cheeks and lips and my tongue and kissed me.
I was shocked at what I had done, and I think she was too.
I raised my ass so my cock could be aimed at her cunt and she guided it right home, but before plunging it in I rubbed the head through the juices, then brought it out to rub the head along the sides of her cunt, down against the puckered skin of her ass-hole, back up along her thighs.
My feet found a comfortable place to stand, my legs slightly spread, my balls dangling in the air. My cock swelled, the head enlarged. I rubbed it in her juices some more and moved it down to the tight ass-hole and pushed just a little. Her ass started to open, but Lillian said, "Oh no, no, no, no, not there," and she took hold of it and put it back at the front of her cunt.
What the hell am I doing, I thought. First I try to eat her out, then I try to fuck her in the ass.
I leaned forward and my cock slid right in on greased skin. My toes clutched in the gravel for firm footholds. Mrs. Perkins swung her feet up around my hips, raised them to push up against the top of the door frame, and she held me tight with her fingernails on the bare skin of my back. She let me go quickly, then caught my ass with her hands, her fingers pressing hard against the soft skin down there, pulling my ass deeper into her crotch.
My prick felt like it grew six inches more. It felt like it was deeper into a woman than it had ever been. This was my third time in one day. I'd matched the number of times I had fucked prostitutes, and I had beaten the number of times I'd fucked girls, if I didn't count the failed time with Lisa and I thought I really couldn't count that since only the head of my prick got into her, almost none of the shaft, and I didn't think you could fuck anybody unless you were in up to the balls. In just one day I had matched almost all of the times I had succeeded in my five years of trying. And I was succeeding in a place like Tongue River, the last place the mail reached, the most out-of-the-way spot on the map, where you would think anybody who would fuck a stranger would have been burned as a witch.
Mrs. Perkins reached her orgasm before me and I kept fucking in and out of her while she seemed to ride it out and just as she started easing off I came into her further, or it felt like I did, and my prick exploded again, the come rising all the way from my ankles. Mrs. Perkins sucked it up her cunt like it was going to have to last her a very long time.
"Ohhh, Gifffff," she said, "Ohhh, Gifff, I wish you were here all the time. I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish I wish. Why don't you cut it off and leave it here with Patsy and me? We'd take very good care of it."
"You already have taken good care of it." I was collapsed over her body. I imagined what a strange sight we were, with her bare legs sticking out of the car and my naked ass between them. "But my prick goes where I go. It's a rule."
"Oh, fuck rules."
She gave my cock a muscle squeeze and let me out of her. She wiped my crotch with her panties. "I'm sorry I'm such a prude, Giff."
I kissed the top of her head. She stroked my penis. "You're not a prude," I said. "How can you be a prude? You just raped me, you and your friend."
"I don't mean about that. I mean about doing strange things. like you kissing my vagina, things like that. like you trying to put it in my, well, in my ass."
"Oh." I had forgotten about that. "It's nice fucking you. Those other things aren't so important."
"It's just that I've never done them, and I don't think I'd like them. I just like fucking. It's so, well, so natural."
I kissed her again.
When we were cleaned up and dressed, she called Patsy and said it was all right to come back. We stood by the car and finally Patsy emerged from the brush, carrying the rusted spade part of an old shovel. The handle had been broken and what stub was left had nearly rotted away, but Patsy thought she had found a real antique. "Look at this, this must have been here when they tried to dig the mine."
I liked watching her cross the rocks in her bare feet, carrying that dumb old shovel. She had forgotten that she was naked, or she simply no longer cared about it. Her breasts bounced as she walked, swung from side to side like testicles, arid her pubic hair winked back and forth as her thighs pushed forward.
She held the shovel out for us like a child who had found something no one else had been able to locate.
I couldn't stop myself. I slid my hand down the curve of her back, across the swell of her ass, and rested there.
"Patsy," I said, "you look nice naked."
She smiled at me, then at Mrs. Perkins. "He is nice, isn't he."
"Didn't I tell you?" Mrs. Perkins said.
"Giff," Patsy said. She looked down. Once again I was surprised at a woman. When we first came out here, she had been the bold one, had asked how long was my prick and embarrassed hell out of me. When she had asked that I hadn't even been able to answer, had been too shocked at finding myself in the hands of two horny, middle-aged women, both residents of this dinky little town. Now she had changed again.
She stood in front of me, her body naked, shy, her free hand straying over her crotch to shield her pubic hair from me. She looked down at the ground and said again, "Giff," like a third-grader asking for another cup of hot chocolate.
If she hadn't gone into the brush without any clothes, if she had even worn pants, I doubt if I would have been able to do anything for her again, or even want to. But as I watched her walk out of the brush with nothing on, carrying that dumb shovel, I got horny for her again and my cock started moving in my pants.
I didn't say a word. I thought it would be a fast fuck. My cock was hard already and it was still in my pants, she hadn't even touched it, much less even seen it again.
I took the shovel out of her hand and gave it to Mrs. Perkins. Lillian smiled at me when she took it, smiled at something she saw in my eye, either a gleam or a glaze I don't know which.
I helped Patsy into the back seat and climbed in after her.
She lay down and spread her legs for me. Her breasts fell to the sides, became smaller and firmer. Without unbuckling my belt, she unzipped my pants, pushed her hand inside my fly, worked my shorts down, circled my stiff prick with two fingers and pulled it out.
"It's just as nice as it was before," she said.
I leaned over her, kissed her nipples, sucked them up between my teeth. Patsy drew one of her own hands through her cunt, paused to work her fingers into it to get her moisture running again, and "he put my rod in it.
It was almost a case of in and out. Up and down I fucked, my ass in the air and then coming back down between her legs, my cock sliding up her, coming down fast, in and out. She pumped her crotch up at my thrusting hips.
My belt must have hurt her, but she didn't stop. She seemed to like fucking me with my clothes on, like we were doing something really on the spur of the moment.
My cock slid in and out of her, she clutched at it with the muscles of her cunt. She gripped me like no other cunt had; she seemed to try to hold me still as if I shouldn't move at all. But each time my cock slipped out of the grasp of her cunt again. I pulled out of her and came back for more and her cunt would try to grip me again, but I'd pull out again, slide on the slippery sheath of her vagina, and then come thrusting back up her with all the engorged, thickened prick that I could give her.
We broke together. The first time I ever came simultaneously with a woman like that. It was like the car was floating on a stormy lake. We floated with each other. Her cunt gripped me and I couldn't slide out, my cock burst its head and filled her full of all the come I had left.
We both groaned with it, let our voices blend as our juices were mixing.
Mrs. Perkins came back and together we cleaned each other up and also the car. The front of my pants was a mess, but I didn't mind since I was sure I could get into my cottage without seeing anybody except the logger's wife. What I worried about was meeting Mr. Perkins.
Mrs. Perkins told me not to worry about that, we were going back to town.
I worried when I heard that, because I was afraid I had fucked them so good they wanted to come to my room with me. We would start such a hell of a scandal that no farmer in Tongue River would ever again sell his pears to the Exchange. I could kiss my scholarship goodbye, and all that would be left for me to do was move to Tongue River and fuck Mrs. Perkins and Patsy until I dropped dead.
But they had no such foolishness in mind. In fact, they had covered all the little angles. Mrs. Perkins just wanted me to drive them back to town so they could pick up Patsy's car. Patsy would drive her home. I probably wouldn't see them again after I dropped them off.
"Thanks very much," Mrs. Perkins said as I loaded the packages into Patsy's car.
Both women moved now like middle-aged country women, come to town for an afternoon of shopping.
Patsy waved from behind the wheel. Her face was pretty for her age, still soft, and her grin was like a schoolgirl's.
I drove away without looking back. I didn't want to start gossip.
I waved at the logger's wife and she waved at me. I got into my cottage before Mrs. Davis could catch me and see my pants that were reeking from Patsy's juices. Inside, I took a shower. I washed my cock very well, soaped it gently and rinsed it and my balls with warm water. I was proud of the work it had done. Four times. Four in one day. I couldn't believe my luck.
Four times. Two women, twice each. Both had come back for more.
And from me, who had never had the good fortune to ever screw the same woman more than once.
I was asleep by six thirty, without supper, no nothing, just stretched out naked on the bed, a thin sheet over me. The sunset was just beginning to glow outside.
Lisa came to me just before I slept, but she wore her bikini panties so I didn't get an erection, just drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 8
Lisa eased her panties down just a little.
The fur of her pubic hair came into view, peeked over the top of her little panties. I could see the bushiness through the thin material. I could feel it.
Her nipples looked at me like two eyes.
Her panties eased down over the wide part of her hips. The material caught in her crotch, then pulled loose and I saw all her pubic hair, but before she stepped out of the pants she fell into an invisible swing and kicking her legs high in the air, she sailed over my head, then back. The cheeks of her ass lit in the swing, her legs kicking, and she sailed back and forth with her legs open, her head thrown back and her hair flying like a horse's mane. Her open thighs invited my head up them, up and up along their silky smooth skin until my face was right in the hair and my tongue was sliding through the lips of her vagina, right up into the heat of her body, and we fell back with her thighs straddling my face, my tongue rising into her like the gorging head of a prick, and her hair kept flying like a horse's mane.
I woke up with an erection. I was starving to death. It was after nine and the last time I had eaten anything was a candy bar just before I drove into the Perkins place.
I felt cocky as I rolled off the bed, my cock bouncing out of my crotch. "Stay stiff, you bastard," I said out loud, "until we get home to Lisa. And after we're home awhile, I might let you he down, not before."
I pulled on some clothes and banged out the screen door. The apple pie dump closed at nine and I was afraid I wasn't going to make it and would wind up with no supper at all. The logger's wife was looking out her window again.
Damn, I thought, maybe I can come back here tonight and throw it to her.
With only a little encouragement from Mrs. Perkins and Patsy, I had turned into a machine. I was ready to plow through every woman in Tongue River.
The Blue Sky was closed, lights out, even the neon sign over the door was dark. Now what. I sat in the car with the motor running and thought over where I might find something. I considered asking the logger's wife for a handout of some kind in return for a hand in, but I did not feel ready to face what I imagined to be her hulk of a husband who just might come stomping home at the wrong time with his calked boots walking up and down my spine.
Then I remembered the drive-in that Mrs. Davis had told me about. North I went, around a few turns in the road, and there snugly nestled in a protecting pocket of pine trees stood the Evergreen Drive-in, its neon glowing, two cars parked in front with trays on the driver's sides holding hamburgers and French fries and all kinds of good things.
A little girl, with her brown hair cut short under her ears was the only carhop. She was about eighteen. I watched her legs as she walked toward my car, her thighs disappearing into her short-skirted uniform and a little white apron. She seemed to move shyly, like a girl who was brave but not completely sure of herself. I liked her voice. She was smooth, clear-skinned, and had a bright smile. She reminded me of Lisa when I had first met her.
"What would you like?" she asked, fucking a little number card under my windshield wiper. There was so little business that there was no way she could have gotten any of the orders mixed up, but she probably had been told to put cards under windshield wipers and she seemed like the kind of girl who would follow instructions. Her breast brushed my car and I felt like it brushed my own shoulder.
"How about a deluxe burger," I said, " a large order of fries, and a large root beer."
"Okay." She wrote it all down, neatly and legibly.
When she walked away I thought about what she had between her legs, and how it wasn't going to change too much for her for the next twenty years, if Mrs. Perkins was any criteria. I took out my list of orchards and checked off the ones I had seen today; there were only three to go, and they were all higher on the mountain ridge so I could see them anytime in the next day or two because their pears would be ripening later than those closer to the river, valley. And within a day or so, maybe even tomorrow, the first loads of fruit would start arriving at the warehouse. I was doing a good job for the Exchange, and not a bad one for myself. Living on the expense account was the way to go, I thought.
It had been nice, very nice, screwing both Mrs. Perkins and Patsy, and on the same day. I wondered if I would see them again at all during my stay, or if all during the remainder of my visit I would be pounding my own meat, alone in my room, trying to work up the courage to visit the logger's wife and failing, trying to work up the courage to visit Mrs. Perkins again and failing that too. I wondered where Patsy lived.
When the carhop reappeared with my order I remembered where I had seen her before. She was the shy girl, who had been swimming with the other two in bikinis.
She was surprised when I hit her with it, but she hooked the tray on the window ledge without a problem. She took my money and dropped my change in my hand, carefully not touching my skin with her fingers. She seemed very sweet. "Oh, I go down there quite often. I live on that ranch just upriver." She smiled. Her two front teeth were slightly off center, but that only made her more attractive. Her teeth were white and pretty. "It was Mary and Marty with me. They were down visiting. I remember you now. I remember your car. You parked across the river. We saw you."
For a terrible moment I thought the girls had seen me jacking off a little further up the river.
But she said, "You were smoking, sitting in the car watching us. When we got out of the river you honked the horn."
I smiled, happy as could be. "That was me, all right."
'Well." She stood there, watched me pick up a French fry and slide it into my mouth. Her eyes were bright in the neon glow from the Evergreen sign.
'Want one?" I asked.
"No, thanks," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not allowed to eat on duty." She made a move like she was going to leave, then stopped. "Will you be in Tongue River very long?"
"Another couple of weeks. I work for the California Exchange, buying pears. If you're ever around the warehouse in the next couple weeks, drop by, I'll probably be there. I'll give you a pear."
"Maybe I will." She started away. "I'll tell Mary and Marty I met you. They'll think it's funny you came in, just like this."
"Why funny?"
"Oh, not funny, really. I didn't mean funny. It was just an expression." She went away.
When I had finished, she came to take the tray and I asked, "Do you work every night?"
She smiled like she was glad I asked. "Five nights. I don't work Monday and Thursday."
"When do you close here?"
"At ten."
"Okay." I smiled. I started the car. She stood there with the tray in one hand, her feet firmly on the gravel, her legs slightly parted. "I'll see you, okay?"
She smiled again. "Okay."
"What's your name?"
"Melanie. What's yours?"
"Giff."
"Okay."
"Okay."
"See you."
Without stretching our conversation any longer than necessary, I backed out and headed down the road.
Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I should have taken her out tonight, right after work. Maybe she wouldn't be there again, or maybe she would have time to think about it and would decide she didn't want to lie down with a stranger. I thought I probably should go slowly with her, but I must also be careful and not go too slow. Girls could be lost, I knew from bitter experience, either from going too fast with them or too slow, and to complicate life every girl was different. Incredible creatures.
Since it wasn't even ten yet and I sure as hell wasn't sleepy after meeting Melanie, I decided to take a drive and listen to my car radio. I could do that for nothing and save paying Mrs. Davis her measly dime. I passed through town again and saw that lights were on at the warehouse. Lou Carson's car was pulled up at the loading dock.
I stopped myself. I thought I'd go in and chew the fat with him about the harvest, and let him know that Exchange kids were no slouches when it came to night work.
Lights glared out of the open office door when I stepped up onto the loading platform. Everything else was dark, hidden in night shadows. I walked into the office and found Evelyn Carson hard at work on the books.
"Getting a little overtime?" I asked.
She laughed. "No, not me. The boss's wife just puts in overtime, she doesn't get any. I'm getting time sheets lined up for the crew."
"Lou around?" I asked.
"In the mechanic's room, overhauling a lift truck. I didn't feel like sitting home by myself so I tagged along."
"It's nice for Lou to be able to do two jobs at once, the bookkeeping as well as the mechanics."
"I don't think he appreciates it, Mr. Stewart." She had the easy, bantering manner of most people in the country, a simple, straight-forward way of kidding each other as well as themselves. These people didn't take themselves too seriously, and they were always ready to turn a comment into a joke. "I'm just a wrench, I think. When he needs me I'm there and when the job is finished he puts me back on the rack. Lou is very neat with his tools, and he keeps them in just the right order."
She was smiling, a friendly expression in her brown eyes, but I had a peculiar feeling that she had stopped joking. It was difficult to determine if she was making a serious comment about her marriage or if she simply had got caught in our line of conversation and hadn't known how to get out of it.
"But that's not why you're here, Mr. Stewart. You're no wrench. What brings you out so late?"
"I had supper at the drive-in and was sort of taking the long way back to the motel. I didn't want to pay a dime to listen to the radio in Mrs. Davis' place."
"Don't tell me she still has those old radios there. And it costs a dime to listen to them?"
"A dime. But you get a full half-hour."
She laughed again, with a tinkling sound in her throat. "I'm afraid Lou and I haven't been very hospitable. Why don't you come to supper some evening while you're here. We'd like it, and I can assure you I could feed you better than the Blue Sky or the drive-in.
"I'm sure you could. I'd like that a lot." From the looks of Evelyn, I thought she would be more at home behind a stove than slaving in the middle of the night over timesheets for her husband. "Thanks."
"Fine, Mr. Stewart. How about Tuesday? About six?"
"Fine with me, if you call me Giff?"
"Sure, Giff," she laughed.
"I'm not used to the Mister, is all."
She looked at me, smiled, and I shuffled my feet a bit, sort of half-turned to look around the office. I cleared my throat. I had just been invited to supper, like a grownup. I hardly knew what to say or do next. "Did you say Lou was here?"
"Yes." She kept smiling. "In the mechanic's room, working on the lift truck."
"Well, I guess I'll drop in on him and say hello. Can you tell me where it is?"
"On the basement level, below the packing shed. There'll be a light on and you'll probably hear Lou swearing at the machine. That's how he fixes things."
"Sometimes it helps."
"Oh," she suddenly cried, "I forgot. We got some pears in today. You don't know it yet."
"From where?"
"Ferguson. Down by the river. Three tote bins. Want to see them?"
She was like a girl with a new pair of skates.
"They're in cold storage." She jumped up from the desk. "Come on, I'll show you."
She took an old leather flight jacket from a nail behind the door and handed it to me. She brought for herself a wool, red-checkered coat with black striping.
She led me across the loading platform and into the pitch-black warehouse. I couldn't see a thing. "Here, take my hand." I took her hand and followed, trusting her to lead me to the pears. We went through passageways that got darker than the one just before, but she knew her way around that warehouse. It was like a Halloween maze your parents have fixed up for you and your friends, without anything scary in it.
At the back door of the cold storage room, we put on our coats and went inside. We could see our breath, even in the dark. She turned on a switch and the big room was flooded with overhead lights. The cooling machines kept up their low constant humming like the motors of a giant refrigerator. At the end of the room, near the far wall, were Ferguson's three tote bins of Bartletts.
We walked down to see them. I passed my hand over them, dug down into the bin to see if Ferguson had sorted the top layer to get rid of the culls. Ferguson was as honest as I had thought him to be when I bought his fruit. "These are nice pears," I said.
"Aren't they?" Evelyn turned one over in her hands. "Mr. Ferguson puts a lot of work into his orchard."
I looked over the other bins and found only a few that might have been No. 2s for size. Not one cull. I felt that Evelyn was watching me, that she was inspecting me as I inspected the fruit. "These are really nice," I said again. When I stopped, I turned toward her. She did not turn or move or look away from me. "I'm glad you brought me to see them."
"I thought you'd like to see them," she said. She almost took a step toward me. We were about three feet apart and I could easily have reached my arm out and taken her to my chest. I thought she. wanted me to.
She turned abruptly and walked toward the big front door. I followed, disappointed, thinking that she was going to lead me to the mechanic's room. Instead, when she reached the door, she put her hand on the light switch, waited until I was close behind her, then turned out the lights.
I couldn't see for the first few seconds, but I knew when she was near and I opened my arms for her to walk into them. I kissed her on the mouth. She held the back of my head with both hands, ran her fingers through my hair, and pressed her lips hard against mine. I bent her back a little, cradled her head in.my left hand and circled her waist with my right, pulled her tight against my stomach. She had to feel my prick that was suddenly hard against her front.
She pulled her mouth away. "Oh, Giff, Giff, Giff, you're so young. So young."
I kissed her again, ran my hand down across the loose jeans covering her ass.
"Oh Giff," she said, out of breath. "Come with me, come, come, this way." She pulled away and led me back deeper into the room. "Oh, you're almost young enough to be my son. Oh come with me." I was afraid she wanted to screw on top of Ferguson's pears and I knew if we did that I'd freeze my ass off in the 34 degree temperature. Damn her husband anyway.
Couldn't he have started his fucking refrigerator tomorrow?
Evelyn pressed me against the bins. "You're so young," she said.
"So are you," I said, believing it, chasing her lips with my tongue.
"I'm over thirty. Over thirty, damn it, you hear that?"
"You don't look thirty," I said, sucking her mouth.
"I don't feel it," she said around my tongue. "I feel seventeen. I've always felt seventeen."
Her hand found what it wanted. She squeezed my prick through my pants, like Bess had done the first time, but instead of making me come like Bess had, Evelyn found my zipper, worked it open, and slid her cold hand inside my pants. She caressed my prick through my shorts, then her fingers, warm now, worked inside the elastic band and pushed down my shorts and she pulled my cock out into the cold air.
It almost leaped out at her. After what it had gone through only this afternoon, I was amazed at how hard it was.
"It's frozen stiff," I said, kissing the top of Evelyn's head.
"It's not frozen at all," she said, sliding both hands around it, working two fingers inside my pants to run through my hair and around to my balls where they were drawn up against my crotch. "You have a nice cock, I'll bet the girls just love it."
She knelt in front of me and kissed its head. She circled its nub with her pursed lips, formed a puckered O, and slipped the head of my dick right inside her hot, soaking mouth. Her tongue quickly worked over its head, down under its very sensitive glans.
I was flabbergasted, delighted, and happy as hell. I did not pull back or resist at all, I moved my hips forward a little and spread my legs to give her more cock if she wanted it.
Her mouth opened more and she took it. She was very careful with her teeth and not once did she brush my skin with her ivories. Her mouth was like a warm, wet cunt, wanting to do the work and let me stand back to enjoy it.
I heard her breathing through her nose. The low hum of the refrigerating machines filled the dark room. It was like standing in cold, black outer space with a very wonderful, warm and hungry mouth fastened onto my cock trying to suck my inner self through its little hole. I was surprised how much suction Evelyn had. She knelt between my legs, sucking at the root of my life.
I spread my legs some more. She held my thighs with her arms, her hands spread out on my ass. She sort of half-murmured, half-sighed through her nostrils. I held her head, ran my fingers through her hair.
Her mouth was firm and her tongue busy. It was like Bess masturbating me, her hand gripping tight but slipping back and forth on its soapy palm, like the first time I got into Patsy this same afternoon, or maybe more like the second time. It was like the first time I jacked off in front of my sister's mirror, the time I lost my mind and rolled all over her bed, fucked her pillows, and finally shot my come against the mirror, my come running in slow motion toward the floor where I caught it in bathroom tissue.
Evelyn took me further into her mouth. I thought I could feel the head of my cock in her throat. She had just about all of it now and I did not know how she kept from choking. It was like she wanted to swallow me.
Her hands left my ass and two fingers squeezed the root of my cock where it came out of my pants. Her other hand found my balls, pressed up through my pants to hold my balls against my crotch. She drew back on me, opened her mouth, and the cold 34 degree air hit my skin, wet with saliva, and got cold instantly but her mouth was back on me, she slid my cock back into her mouth, sucked me back into her, and my hips began moving in a circle.
I held her head tight, wrapped my fingers in her hair, held her ears, ran my thumbs over her eyes. I couldn't get over the idea of a woman's face down there in my crotch. I was getting sucked off, I was getting some head, a blow job, my cock was in her mouth and she was loving it and so was I.
Holding her head, I pulled my cock back, almost out. Her lips nibbled eagerly, trying to suck it all back in. I brought it forward slowly, gently so I would not choke her, and she took more of it than she had before, sucked hard on me, her tongue and gums and jaws working together, and my hips began convulsing again.
My eyes closed in the dark. I took a deep breath of the almost-freezing air. My cock was the only warm part of my body and I felt like it was catching fire, a warming, pleasant blaze never to be extinguished by anyone. I leaned my upper body back away from her, my crotch moving toward.
She put both hands on my cock now, pressing with fingers against whatever part of it wasn't in her mouth. Her tongue and gums and jaws and lips sucked at me, sucked and sucked, kept after it, and I thought I was slipping down her throat, and it was like she had found another tongue, and another, and they were all circling, licking my dick, they were all going over and around and over and under sucking on the root of my life.
My knees felt like they leaped into her mouth. They became part of my cock, a further extension of it, and I rose onto the balls of my feet, then lowered onto my heels. I came up again as all of Evelyn's mouth seemed to close on every bit of my cock and my semen began to boil over. My balls started to burst to extinguish the fire in my cock, and when Evelyn felt my glans swell in her throat she squeezed with her fingers on my cock, constricting the tubes, and the semen when it burst through had the force of dammed-up water finally breaking loose in all directions.
She took all of my sweet young come. I filled her full from the top down, my first time in that direction, pumped until my balls felt empty, drained, and I felt fulfilled and empty at the same time.
Evelyn continued to suck until I was limp in her mouth. She drank me down like I had the nectar of life.
When she let me go I tucked myself quickly back inside my pants. I didn't want to catch a cold down there. I kissed her, rammed my tongue far into her mouth to catch a taste of myself but she had drank all of me, her mouth was clean, her tongue anxious for mine. I gave it to her.
"You're so sweet, GifF. So sweet and hard, and I love your prick. I love it. I love your prick."
I kissed her for that too, then said, "I love your mouth."
We went out through the back door. She led me back through the dark passageways and when we got into the fight of the loading platform we squinted at each other until our eyes were adjusted to the brightness. I looked at her face and thought that she was very attractive, but that she did show her age more than either Mrs. Perkins or Patsy had. I looked at her mouth that I had so recently fucked and wondered how I could face her husband.
"Do I look different?" she asked.
"No, well, maybe nicer."
"I'm sorry I did that, Giff. I couldn't help myself."
"I wanted you to. It was my fault." I was a generous bastard, I thought. The only way it could have been my fault was that I had a cock between my legs.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but I have to retract my invitation to supper. I'm embarrassed. Do you mind?"
"I think I understand, but I'd still like to come if you want me to."
T don't think I could face you, not a whole evening with Lou on the other side of the table. Not now."
I kissed her eyes, very quickly in case a neighbor, or maybe Lou, was standing somewhere in the dark. "Can you forgive me?" she asked.
"For my missing supper, yes. But not for the other. I want to do the other with you again, somewhere else, somewhere where it's warm."
"We can't again. There's too much danger in a small town."
Lou, as if to underscore what she had just said, was waiting in the lighted office. A smear of black grease crossed his face from an eyebrow to jawbone and his hands were rubbing each other with a cleanser to rid themselves of the black, slick stains.
I told him Evelyn had shown me Ferguson's pears. He grinned, said that Ferguson was one of the best damn growers in the valley.
We joked about what each of us were doing up so late. Lou seemed calmer than he had before, as if the arrival of the first load of pears made him realize that the harvest would take its normal route now, regardless of what either of us did, and since it was therefore out of his hands he could relax.
He said to Evelyn as she sat down at the timesheets, "I bet Giff is plenty sick of the Blue Sky. What do you say we have him over for supper the first of next week? Could you rustle up a stew or something?"
"Yes," she said, her voice hesitant. She wanted to decline, but did not know how. "I suppose I could."
I smiled at her with my eyes to. let her know that if the evening had to happen that I would make it as pleasant for her as I could.
Lou asked, "How would you like that, Giff? I bet you're tired of chicken-fried steaks."
"As a matter-of-fact, I am."
"It's settled then. What night is good for you? Though I suppose you're not finding too much in Tongue River to do at night. How about Tuesday?"
Evelyn asked, "You don't think we'll be working late Tuesday, taking pears in?"
Lou said, "Let's just not work late Tuesday night. Let's make a rule now. The growers will understand and won't bring anything in."
"It's okay with me," I said.
"Good, that's settled." Lou grinned at me, and plunged both hands back into the grease cleanser.
Evelyn walked me out to the loading platform. "Good night," she said.
"We couldn't get out of it, Evelyn."
"It'll be all right." Her voice was resigned, as if she had decided something that had troubled her for a long time. "It will be very nice indeed. Lou and I don't very often have guests for supper. I won't make any old stew for you, either. Not now, not after what I did. You're going to have a very nice supper."
"I'm sure I will." As I stepped off the platform, I slid my hand that was in the shadows along the outside of her thigh. She pulled back from my touch as if my hand was hot.
"Good night," she said. "Giff."
"Good night," I said. "Mrs. Carson."
CHAPTER 9
It was incredible. Patsy and Mrs. Perkins had been rather apologetic about not sucking my prick. Evelyn had nearly collapsed after she sucked it, from shame. Crazy damn women. Couldn't they just suck it and like it, like I liked it?
We got busy as hell at the warehouse, as Lou had said we would be. Everybody seemed to think his pears had to come off right now, as if the Exchange would renege on the $95 now that we had everybody signed up. But when the loads came in I saw that the pears were all ready to come off, nobody was getting ahead of his fruit, they were fully mature, so I just let them roll and the bins stacked up in the cold storage room and within just a few days I no longer knew which bins I had been leaning against when Lou's wife did her business on me.
I drove into the hills to find the last two farmers, hoping while I drove that I'd run into Mrs. Perkins and Patsy again. It seemed strange to me that they would have come on so strong just for an afternoon, then drop completely out of sight. Maybe extra-curricular screwing was more dangerous in a town like Tongue River than I thought. Maybe the aberration was that I'd gotten to screw them at all, and that Lou's wife had been bold enough to do what she had done. I decided I should not expect more from just one visit to a town like Tongue River. I thought I had done all right and I should be satisfied.
But I wasn't. I wanted more. I thought there should be a lot more lurking in the timber around town if only I could flush it out and I wanted to get all I could before harvest was over and I was back on the road to California. If Lisa wasn't waiting for me at home, I knew there would be very little chance of me getting anything from my other neighbors and I would be facing myself in the mirror again until I got back to the whores at school. I did not face that prospect with any delightful anticipation. None at all.
I ate only at the Evergreen Drive-In. I left the Blue Sky waitress to the loggers. Melanie reminded me more and more of Lisa and she seemed truly happy at having a young stranger paying so much attention to her. I thought if I was lucky we might get something going but each time I asked to drive her home she refused, cheerfully, and waved gaily, like a young girl, when I backed my Ford out of the drive-in to go back to the warehouse for the three or four loads that usually came in after supper.
Then one afternoon she took me up on my offer to visit me at the warehouse. She drove in, in an old pickup truck with two other girls to protect her from her, the long-haired sisters from the river, Mary and Marty.
Melanie was in her uniform since she was on her way to work, but the sisters wore the same red bikinis they had been wearing when I saw them in the river so long ago.
Naturally I stopped grading pears. I wrote the farmer out a clear ticket, no culls or 2s, and leaned against the grading table to explain my job to the girls.
Lou almost had a fit when he saw them. He had known them all since they were born and he thought it was a travesty of some kind for them all to have piled into a pickup to visit me at his warehouse. And wearing those damn bikinis while they did it too. And Melanie in that short-skirted uniform. Damn kids anyway.
The sisters had nice mouths, like Melanie's. While I talked, I couldn't help my eyes keep from wandering down the front of one or the other, cross lovingly the thin red material that covered the blossoming breasts, the nipples just visible through the cloth. My eyes went down further to their belly buttons, the tight stomachs where equal little dots were like punctuation marks in each of their middles, and down further, light glistening on the very fine hairs that covered them like peach fuzz, down further to where the tanned skin disappeared into the red crotch covering, their pubic mounds rising into the cloth. I could almost see the curly pubic hair in a fist against their panties, and everything ended abruptly where the material tucked between the legs. But my eyes kept on down the smooth, trim legs to the ankles and feet where each girl stood in identical sandals.
One of them turned while my eyes were on that downward plunge and her ass was a fully-formed handful, tight in the bikini bottom, just a suggestion of the crack at the base of her spine, and my tongue nearly got mixed up with my teeth while I explained that No. I pears are larger than No. 2s.
The older sister was Mary. She was eighteen. Her sister, Marty, was only a year younger, seventeen. Mary was slightly taller, and except for that there would have been almost no way to tell the girls apart. I wondered if they were both virgins, and if only one was, that would be a way to tell them apart; except that to find out if it was true or not you'd have to take both those bikini bottoms off and I knew that if I was successful in doing that, they would both very shortly be the same down there too.
Melanie had told them about me, she said, and the sisters had wanted to see me to make sure I was what I was telling Melanie I was.
"What's the verdict?" I asked.
All three of the girls smiled. "You're here inspecting pears, that's for sure," said Mary.
"Am I as nice as Melanie said I was?" I asked grinning.
"Maybe. It's hard to tell," Marty said, "just seeing you once."
The sisters stood there in their almost naked glory, smiling, and Melanie beamed as if she had found the lode star.
Lou stomped off his lift truck and told the girls to get lost. They all seemed to get younger as he spoke, as if he was of their parent's generation and had the same authority over them. "Sorry to spoil your fun, girls, but it's pear harvest. You did know that, didn't you?"
We all laughed, and the girls piled back into Melanie's pickup and with Melanie at the wheel, sitting three abreast, a sight that almost took my breath away, they drove off toward the Evergreen.
"My God," Lou said, shaking his head. "Everybody in Tongue River knew we had our hands full when those girls were only ten and eleven. Don't think it's just you, Giff. They put everybody through the wringer."
'"Do they wear anything except those bikinis?" I asked.
"Since school let out last June, that is all I've seen them in. My God, they drive the town crazy."
"Do they have parents?"
"Sure. Nicest couple you'd want to meet. Nothing wrong with the girls either.. They're not wild at all, they just look like they could be wild. That's what drives everybody crazy, waiting for those two to bust loose. And nobody can touch them, because they know everybody. And everybody knows everybody else wants them, and nobody can have them."
We got a load of pears then, and after that Perkins came in with his first load. Perkins stood and talked with me at the grading table as if he knew nothing about me and his wife, and I was sure he knew all about it. He was a real gentleman.
Lou and I didn't get back to our conversation about the bikini twins until that evening as we were sitting around Evelyn's supper table.
Evelyn had kept her promise not to serve me stew. She set a dish on the table that made both Lou and I sit up and take notice, chicken breasts cooked in a wine sauce. Lou said he had never seen her cook like that. "Well," he said when Evelyn was in the kitchen, "we don't get company very often."
We got back to the subject of the sisters and Lou said, "That's one of the things right with a little town like this. You can have a pair of girls running loose like that, damn near naked all summer, and nobody will touch them. Everybody respects the girls' parents too much for that, because everybody grew up together and the girls are free to grow and develop as they want to, without being bothered by every man in town chasing after them. We trust each other here." He added with a grin, "Have to, since everybody knows what happens, about ten minutes after it happens. There's not much that's allowed to happen, because of that."
"Not always," Evelyn said, dabbing a napkin on the very same lips that had nibbled, kissed, and accepted my cock.
"Do you know something I don't?" Lou asked. "Maybe. If I did, I might not tell you."
"You'D tell me all right. Sometime over the winter, you'll tell me. You see, Giff, the winters are awfully long up here and sooner or later just about everything that anybody knows gets told one time or another, sooner or later, just to make conversation."
Evelyn looked at me and said, "I don't think everything gets said. Not everything. You keep some things back."
"I don't know what they are," Lou said.
"The reason you don't know," Evelyn told him, "is because you just aren't told."
About nine thirty I got up to go. Both Lou and Evelyn walked me to the car. It was another of the warm nights we had had since I arrived. I shook hands with them both and said thanks for supper, it was delicious Lou said I'd have to come back for stew some night, that Evelyn made delicious stew as well as chicken. He added that he didn't know how good Evelyn was at this French stuff. Both Evelyn and I looked at him, but he seemed not to know what he was talking about so we both took his comment to mean the chicken breasts in wine sauce and not our secret adventure in the cold storage room. Evelyn squeezed my hand when we touched.
I drove right to the Evergreen Drive-in. It was only five days now and I'd be back on the road to California and Lisa, carrying home to her all my new experience for the ritual of her cherry-giving if she still had it to give. I trusted Lisa, but I also knew deep down that there was absolutely no reason why she should save it for me since I was sure as hell not saving anything for her. I knew that I would not pass up any opportunities for nooky, that I would take it wherever I found it whether in a car or cold storage or wherever and that I'd take any more that I stumbled across. I supposed I would be unhappy for awhile if I got home and found Lisa was no longer a virgin, but I thought I could get over it if she would take me anyway. It was a hell of a way to think of a girl who I professed to be in love with.
So it was almost ten o'clock, time for Melanie to get off work, and I thought there was no use not to take another pass at her. If she refused me tonight, I was going to ask her to fix me up with the bikini sisters. Since nobody who lived in Tongue River dared touch them, I hoped they might be anxious for the touch of a stranger.
Melanie brought me a cup of coffee.
"If I can't take you home," I said, "will you come on a drive with me?"
"Yes," she said, smiling her virgin smile.
Well, hell. Probably my mistake earlier had been in asking to drive her home. I had never simply asked her to go on a drive with me. Or maybe the bikini sisters, who seemed to have had a little more experience than Melanie, had told her I seemed like a straight shooter.
I had become familiar with back roads through the valley, rattling around them searching out stray pear orchards, and I drove Melanie straight to one that dead-ended at a docking ramp on the river, surrounded by tall pines, lighted only by the moonbeam playing across the still water.
I turned to her in the dark and she suddenly folded into my arms, pressed herself against my body, buried her face against my chest, and circled me with her arms.
Lifting her chin with my right hand, I kissed her on the mouth. Her breath was sweet and soft, full of whispers, and she put her arms around my neck, held my face on hers. Her mouth opened for my lass. Melanie, so sweetly pure, so innocent-looking, seemed about to rape me. Well, God, here I was, willing.
My tongue slid along her lips, eased just a little between her teeth, and she accepted it. Her own tongue came after mine, hesitantly, shyly like she had been when I first saw her on the river, but she seemed to like the taste of my lips and she touched them with the tip of her tongue, beginning to lick as a kitten takes to her milk. It was like no one had ever kissed her decently before, and she had been waiting.
I knew by now that there was no use wasting time with Tongue River women, so I slid my hand quickly over her little breasts, across her stomach, pressed once at her crotch. She drew back a little, but I thought only because she had that shyness. My hand traced along her leg and began to work up under her little dress.
She caught it and said, "No, not yet, Giff, please."
I took my hand away from her snatch. With my other hand still holding her head, my mouth leaving kisses all over her face, I opened my pants so I could rise up into the night air. And rise up I did, and up and up and up, my cock as stiff as iron.
I caught her right hand and drew it cautiously down through the dark air until she gasped and her fingers went around it, shyly of course. They traveled once to the root, to my hair and balls, up again, up and up almost driving me crazy, to the head, her fingers almost kissing the very tip. Then her hand went away and she wouldn't bring it back.
"Giff, I've never touched anybody before. I've never gone this far at all."
"Where did you learn to kiss like you do?"
"From you. Right now. Tonight."
We kissed for another fifteen or twenty minutes but she wouldn't let me get my hand back on her tits or in her snatch or even on her legs. She said I set her on fire. And only once did she bring her lovely fingers to my cock again. She barely touched its sensitive skin, brushed the ends of her fingers longingly against its length as if she wanted to take it all in her hand and squeeze it but couldn't. Her soft fingers traced again around the head where I had been circumcised, around the mushroom cap, to the tip, then down again, the fingers a little bolder as if she was a blind girl feeling someone for the very first and last time. My mind almost went crazy.
Goddam virgins, I thought. Goddam them to hell. I put my cock back in my pants and drove her back to the drive-in where she hopped gaily out of my car.
"See you tomorrow?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Anyway, have a good sleep." She jumped into her pickup truck and started down the road in it.
Now what in hell did she mean by that, I thought. I drove up to Mrs. Davis' motel. The logger's wife watched me cross the yard to my own porch. I considered going to her and asking if she would let me fuck her and if not that then would she please go down on me, anything so I wouldn't have to jack off in the bathtub. I dreaded taking my clothes off, because I knew I would find my friend still as stiff as iron, waiting down there in my crotch for me to put it somewhere, and I knew I had nowhere to put it except into my own soapy fist
I opened my door and went inside. When I turned on the lights, I found the very nicest pair of surprises I could ever have found.
Mary said, "Come in," and Marty added, "and shut the door please."
They were lying on my bed, on my bed, on my very own bed. I didn't know which was Mary and which Marty. I closed the door, being at least alert enough to follow instructions.
I believed Lou Carson now. They were still in their red bikinis.
"I'm Mary," said the one on the right.
"I'm Marty," said the other one. "How did you get in here? Not that I'll kick you out."
"You didn't lock your door. Nobody ever does." The one I thought was Mary sat up and asked, "Do you have any grass?"
I shook my head. Standing at the foot of the bed, I looked up along their legs, smooth, long things, their thighs inviting me to crawl onto the bed with them. One of them stretched her body, her stomach tightening, her breasts rising under the thin red strap.
"I don't smoke," I said absently.
"Do you have any bad habits, like drinking booze?"
"Yes, but I don't have any of that either."
"Well, Mr. Stranger, we thought you might not have any booze either so we brought our own. If we'd had any grass, we'd have brought you some."
She gestured toward my kitchen and I saw a quart Mason jar half-filled with an amber liquid. "It belongs to Daddy," one said. "We took it out of his bottle and filled the rest with water so he wouldn't know we took it. Pretty slick, huh?"
I grinned at them both. "Very slick."
Then up they jumped, their breasts bouncing, their thighs pumping, and they hugged and kissed me on both cheeks. I blushed, because I'd never kissed a girl in front of another girl before, unless I could count Mrs. Perkins and Patsy and I didn't think either of them had watched me fuck the other. I hugged them both, kissed one, then the other, getting used to it fast. I sucked each of their tongues. "Hey," I said when I stopped for breath. "How am I going to know one of you from the other. I can't tell you apart."
"We'll fix that," one of them said.
She went into the kitchen and poured three drinks from the jar, topped the glasses off with cold water from the tap. While she was carrying all three glasses to the table by the bed, the other girl, either Mary or Marty, I don't know which, reached down to her own hip and started untying one side of her bikini.
The other placed the glasses carefully on the table and stood up, turned toward me, reached behind her back and untied her bikini top. Down it came, slowly, and her nipples stood firm on her perfect little breasts, little girl breasts, her nipples stood on perfectly round lakes of brown puckered skin. She was all skin from her head to her stomach where just a faint suggestion of hair showed over her bottoms. Below were her legs, waiting to squeeze me.
My God, I thought, if Lou Carson or any of the other neighbors knew what I had in my room right now they would go berserk, they might blow up the world, they would do anything to get inside my door with me.
The other sister finished with her knot and opened that side of her bikini like unwrapping a Christmas present from a favored lover. Her cunt hairs burst into view like a dark bush suddenly flaming with light, and she let her bikini hang from her crotch while she untied the other side. Then she pulled it from between her legs and stood with nothing on in front of me except the thin red line over her breasts.
"Now can you tell us apart?" asked the one with the naked tits. "I'm Top and she's Bottom."
I walked into their arms like falling into the warmest, coolest, deepest, most welcoming lake of gentle fire.
CHAPTER 10
Bottom lay down on the bed and spread her legs. I thought she was the younger sister, but there was no way I could be sure. She said, "Hey."
Her pubic hair was a thick forest at the triangle of her body. Where her smooth stomach ended below her belly button, her mound rose in a suggestive, inviting welcome. It disappeared in the dark hair that rose higher, then plunged suddenly into the valley of her crotch where her pink, moist slit beckoned to me, invited me in.
I leaned over her with one knee on the bed and planted one kiss in her forest. My kiss grew, forced by the root that was stiffening in my own pants, grew into a longer, deeper kiss. My lips stayed between her legs, nibbled, worked their way through the thick hair, pressed against her skin, over to the sensitive inside of her thighs, back up the mount to the very lips of her cunt.
Never had I smelled a cunt so deeply, never had it been in my mouth and nose like now. The musky, mysterious, dark odor was at the same time repellent and inviting. When her thighs moved to graze my ears, everything that was repellent disappeared and my lips found her cunt and forced it open. Everything was inviting now, and I needed more of her.
Top did not keep out of the way. She untied the shoelace on the foot I had on the bed and slid my shoe off, and my sock. I lifted my other foot and the release I felt as she tugged the lace free was almost as if she had pulled down my pants and my cock had slid into both girls at once. It let me know, if I needed reassurance, that the girls were going all the way, they were not going to hold hands with me and then, when we got to the fucking, dash out the door like shy virgins.
Top slid off my second shoe and worked my sock down over my heel. The air was cool on my foot and she kissed my instep, tickling me. I moved my face from side to side in her sister's crotch, licked her cunt from bottom to top, from top to bottom.
I had never practiced their kind of love before and wasn't sure I was doing it right. I reached in with my hands and gently with the tips of my fingers parted the lips. All of Bottom's pinkness was there in folds, layers, and more of her rose to my nostrils and my lips went down on her again, inside her this time, and my tongue instinctively began darting into her.
Hands were on my legs. Top worked her way up my body until her hands slid over my butt, down through the crotch of my pants, and around to my front. They passed over my hard prick where it stood straight up and she pressed along it, feeling its hardness, its length and thickness, comparing me, I imagined, to the other guys they must have taken like this. I could not imagine anybody rejecting two such lovely things out here in the wilderness.
Raising my stomach, I let Top fumble my belt buckle open. Then she unbuttoned my pants and unzipped me. I kept my tongue in Bottom as Top pulled on my pantlegs and down they came. She was right back on me, sliding her bare breasts along the backs of my legs, up to my ass, where she hooked a finger in each side of my briefs and pulled. As my ass came into view, she planted her lips on my cheeks and kissed it, licked it. I turned partly on my side as she lifted the front to get it over my cock. I sat up quickly and with Bottom's juices still on my lips I kissed Top on the mouth. Her hand held my cock, still covered with the soft white cotton of my jockeys, and she squeezed it. Jesus, I thought she might make me come like that, but she understood when to let go of the head. She gave me another quick squeeze on the shaft and let go.
Her lips tasted like strawberries.
As she pulled the waistband out enough for my prick to stand free, I went back to Bottom, my face and mouth back between her legs. Her thighs held me by the sides of my head. I moved a little so Top could pull my briefs down past my knees. Bottom's hands held the back of my head, pressed me against her, ruffled my hair the same as I had done to Evelyn when my cock was deep in her mouth.
At the front of Bottom's cunt I discovered a very sensitive spot with my tongue. Each time I flicked against it her ass rose from the bed. Girls must have been designed for this kind of loving, I thought, because the curvature of her body was such that my face fit exactly between her legs. Where her crotch sloped over to form the protected spot for her cunt was just right for my mouth and nose, and my chin rested perfectly on the swell of her ass. It was uncomfortable for my neck, but when I slid my hands under her ass and raised it a little everything just fell into place.
Top got my briefs off my calves and over my ankles and slid her breasts back over my legs, skin to skin. I turned more on my side as she worked her way between my legs, her breath warm on my thighs, her body lightly pinning one leg under her, my other leg raised up to rest over her shoulder.
She flicked her tongue across my balls and their sack drew up even tighter, and my prick hung down in front, throbbing with blood, stiff with sinews until it seemed it would break its own skin.
She licked across my balls again. I thought of her small, girl-like face framed with her long hair, and I imagined her eyes closed, her lips seeking, her tongue darting in and out as it flicked across me and kissed, licked, tasted from my balls to the base of my cock and started a slow maddening climb up it.
My own tongue shot in and out of Bottom's cunt. Her thighs gripped my head, she rolled slightly back and forth. I darted my tongue faster and faster. My face reeked with her juices, like I had laid my face in the largest, warmest, juiciest orange in the world and I couldn't get enough of the tangy moisture that gushed from its openings, oddly almost without taste except for a musky, strange odor on my tongue that kept me plunging back for the real taste, for the mother-lode of her body.
Top breathed heavily on the underside of my cock. Then, holding it with both hands, she took it into her mouth. I felt her upper teeth as I went in, then the roof of her mouth, and her lips closed around me and I felt her throat sucking at me, the head of my cock swelling, filling her mouth, and she took more of it, worked her tongue against the underside, sucking me, sucking, sucking, as Bottom said, "Ohh, ohhhh," as she began a throaty moan.
My fingers pressed against the fleshy parts of her ass. My tongue darted faster and faster against the sensitive spot I had found. My lips opened more and I pressed my teeth into her cunt, shot my tongue as far into her as I could, kept right against that upper place, my tongue a tiny, soft, probing prick.
I raised my leg from Top's cheek and she came further up my front and slid more of my cock into her mouth. She slid up and down on it, up and down, her lips forming an O for it, opening and closing against the shaft, her mouth sucking, I felt my come mounting.
I squeezed Bottom's ass, I dove into her cunt as if I wanted to smother in it. My hips began pumping back and forth with Top's sucking on my cock. She squeezed my thigh with one hand, my balls with the other, and I didn't try to hold back anymore, my hips shot forward in an involuntary shudder and my balls burst, come shooting the length of my cock to burst against the back of Top's mouth, shot after shot, spurt after spurt, long and short, come after come.
My tongue shot further into her sister and she came too I thought, her legs stiffening, her body shaking, and more juices flowed from her and her hands wrapped my hair, held me in her as if I might let go too soon.
We shuddered back down to the bed where it seemed we had been floating above it. Top rose from my prick to kiss her sister on the mouth. Bottom licked my come from Top's tongue, from her teeth.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My cock did not soften at all. It stayed just as stiff, just as hard, as if it waited only for what it could get into next.
I put a hand on each girl's hip. They remembered me then, Bottom turning her face up to me for a kiss and she licked her own juices from my cheeks. She fumbled with the buttons on my shirt, got the top three open, and was working on the last two when Top reached for my prick and milked out whatever come was left in it.
"I can't believe you two," I laughed. I was almost hysterical. My door was closed, the curtains drawn, no one was coming to my cabin, we had half a Mason jar of whiskey, and the girls seemed that they had not had enough of me but were patiently waiting for me to give them more. Tongue River was the greatest town in the world. "What in hell are you two doing here?" I asked, laughing, grinning, running my hands over Top's nipples.
Bottom slid her tongue into my ear. "We want you to feel welcome, Mr. California Stranger. We don't want you going back home thinking bad things about us small-towners."
Top took my cock in her mouth again and I had to wriggle away from them both before they tickled me to death. My shirt was open now and I kneeled on the bed to look at them both, my front wide open from the knees to the top of my head, my prick standing in front of me pointing at them.
The girls sat in front of me like girls anywhere, as if they were on a picnic. Bottom's cunt hairs were a dark inviting forest again but her breasts were covered. Top's tits rose off her young chest open for my caresses but her crotch hid under her small bikini.
I slid my shirt off my arms and lay down across them both. My fingers slid into Bottom's bare crotch and my other hand touched Top on her breasts. I rolled her nipples between my fingers. I worked two fingers into Bottom, caressed the same spot I had so recently tongue-fucked.
Together they went down on my cock, each licking along one side. Then took turns sliding it into their mouths, first one then the other sucking it inside, tonguing it, licking it, letting go so my prick could be caught by the other and my root sucked deep into her.
Their faces were beautiful. They had fine strong cheeks, full lips, sculptured noses and the deep brown soft eyes of tame deer. Their hair cascaded off then-heads to bounce against my thighs, my balls, to fall over my prick.
My ass and balls were held by two pairs of hands. Two pairs of hands pulled on my prick, stretched it into their mouths, two pairs of hands slid up my stomach to my nipples, down my sides and around again to my ass, down the back of my thighs to my coverts behind my knees, back up the inside to stroke my balls, hold them, pet them.
Tongue River was the very nicest town in the whole damn world.
I lay Bottom over on her back, raising my body up between her knees. Top guided my prick to Bottom's cunt and. my cock slid in the young, well-lubricated slit, the head was in and the shaft followed as my ass pressed down and Top's fingers lingered along what part of my cock had yet to go into her sister.
Then I was in all the way. Bottom's legs came up my sides, her ankles crossing behind my back. My ass pulled out, my prick sliding almost all the way out, and back in I plunged, my pubic hair tangling with hers, my balls hitting her ass.
I held her mouth with mine, shot my tongue into her mouth as my cock sought the deepest part of her cunt. We rode back and forth with each other. My hands held her shoulders, I rode on my knees and elbows, my stomach stretching along hers, my crotch against hers, my cock probing deeper and deeper inside her.
Top slid over my back, her naked nipples barely skimming my skin. She stood on the bed over us, straddling me, and lowered her ass still covered with her bikini onto my skin and she humped back and forth with me as if it was she doing the fucking, as if my cock were somehow attached to her and she was the one making Bottom gasp, making Bottom roll from side to side under us.
I searched Bottom's teeth, her gums. My tongue probed deep in her mouth. My cock swelled inside her. I rode back on her, Top's weight nothing to me, the feel of Top's cunt and her ass coming to me through her bikini, her crotch dampening as her own juices flowed down while she rubbed herself against my backbone.
I rode to the top and almost broke over the edge. But I didn't want that, I wanted to fuck them both with the same hard-on, before coming in one I wanted to be in the other. I pulled out of Bottom, the skin on my cock so sensitive that I damn near shot my come across the bed.
I tried to tug Top's bikini bottom off. She let me slide my hands through her crotch and feel her hair. My left fingers went inside her pants and scratched her hair and got almost to her cunt when she pulled away. "No, not now. That's reserved, Mr. Exchange Man, Mr. California Stranger."
"Reserved for who? You must be crazy." My cock began a slow descent and my heart with it.
Top bent over and took my cock in her mouth again, touched it only with her lips and tongue and mouth, and all of the hardness, all my readiness, came right back. I caught her ears and shoved my cock deep into her throat, no longer caring if I choked her or not, fucked her in the mouth until I almost came again.
I left her head then. She sank back on the bed. Bottom spread her legs for me again, her lips smiling, her mouth opening for my kiss, and I slid back inside her, my hips plunging to her crotch and I was in her again to my balls, sheathed far up her warm sack. Her muscles slid along my shaft, made me grow, stretched my cock even further.
My ass humped up and down, pulling her ass up and down with me. She rose to meet me as I plunged down and her thigh muscles tensed as she spread as far as she could for me, as she gave me all the fuck she had in her body. My cock was flooded with her come, engulfed in a sea of warmth and tightness as my lips held her mouth. My tongue shot into her as my knees fought for a firm grip on the bed so I could keep my cock thrust as far up her as I could as my come rose in spurts to splash her full, coming, coming, coming.
Pump after pump I left in her, shot in her. I thought of how my come had flooded Lisa's maidenhead and how my prick had refused to rise again and I thought if only she was here now in Tongue River I could break through the weak wall of her resistance and she could engulf my prick with her own juices, accepting me, and I could fulfill her with my own. At last I was empty. My balls were drained.
Bottom and I sank in collapse, useless to each other and to ourselves.
Top pulled the blankets from under us. Her teenage tits bounced back and forth as she tugged on the sheet, her young nipples looking very much like Patsy's. I realized that a teenage girl should not worry that when she is twenty that her best years are behind her; that she still had the body and the fuck and if she took care of it, it would last at least another twenty years, if not more. There was a lot I had yet to learn about women, and I looked forward to learning it all.
Top spread the sheet over Bottom and me, to keep us from getting a chill she said, like a maiden aunt with her tits hanging open. Bottom and I sat up in each other's arms and the sheet fell to our laps.
Top sat down on the bed, cross-legged like an Indian, and we sipped our glasses of whiskey.
I smiled a lot. I couldn't get the grin off my face. "You are two of the most wonderful girls I've ever met in my life."
"We thought you'd think so," Bottom said, "once you got to know us."
"What made you come in here tonight and wait for me? Don't you know you could be arrested for breaking and entering?"
"We didn't break anything. The door was open. Anyway, we were horny." Top giggled into her glass.
"Is that all?" I asked, incredulous. "You were horny?"
"You're cute," Bottom added. That helped."
Her hand rested on my prick where it lay long and soft between my legs. My balls stayed tight against my crotch and my cock did not withdraw at all but kept most of its length. All it needed now was a little firmness and we could go again.
"Do you girls do this very often?"
"We don't get much chance. This is a small town. I'm sure you noticed. It's hard to make love to anybody and not have everybody else know it."
"Don't you think somebody might have seen you come in here?" I tried not to imagine the horde of irate townspeople descending on my cabin with jealous fire in their eyes, pulling me naked from the girls' arms and slicing my prick off, smashing my balls, stabbing my eyes out with sticks.
"Nobody saw us," Top said. "We came in after dark. One at a time, like commandoes in the movies. You were late getting back. We almost gave you up."
"Boy, I'm glad you didn't." I looked at their naked skin, imagined myself plowing into them again, and the thought that I had almost missed them by minutes made my heart ache with joy.
"I was out with Melanie," I said. "We went for a drive."
"She had you out?" Bottom asked, her eyes wide. "Melanie? I'll be darned. She was supposed to send you right home. She almost made you miss us."
"Hey," said Top, "I'll bet that's what she wanted to do. She's kind of stuck on you, you know."
"What did you do on your drive?" Bottom asked.
"She's my best friend, except for my sister, but she is a prime virgin. I'll bet she didn't let you make love to her."
I laughed. "She did not"
"Can you imagine that. She tried to keep you away from home because she knew we were waiting. Isn't that the berries. Will we give her a piece of action. She's waiting for us down by the drive in. She's going to drive us home in her pickup. At least she'd better be waiting. Can you imagine that? Little Melanie, trying to keep you away from us."
I remembered Melanie's tender tracing along my prick, her shy fingers feeling the head, and I felt bad. She had known that if she weren't successful at delaying me, the prick she had been feeling right then would soon be in her friends, would soon be giving them the pleasures Melanie denied her own body.
"Be nice to her," I said. "Don't be mad at her."
"Oh," Bottom said, "we won't be, we'll just tease her a little. We love each other."
My come was oozing from Bottom's cunt. She stuffed a corner of the sheet between her legs. I tried to imagine Mrs. Davis' anger when she saw what she had to clean up, but I forgot her as my hand strayed to Top's bikini again and I stroked her hair through the thin material.
"Why won't you take it off?" I asked.
"It's a silly idea," she said, "but Bottom and I agreed that whenever we made love before we got married that we would leave something on. And with a bikini it's either the top or the bottom, isn't it? Neither one of us has ever been entirely naked with a man. We want to save that for our husbands."
"You're right," I said, "that is a silly idea. But it is kind of cute." My hand pressed against her cunt and my fingers tried to work inside it, pushing the material inside her too.
"Wait, wait," she said turning to Bottom. "Are you through, Sis? You want any more?"
"We can swap, if you want to." Bottom swung out of the bed. She stood in front of me a moment, her bush dark before my face. "Take a last look, California Stranger." She spread her legs.
I kissed her hair, bit it, got hair in my teeth, stroked my fingers through her cunt.
The girls turned their backs to me and when Top spread her bra over her chest and reached behind her back to tie it, Bottom untied her own red bra and let it fall.
For a moment, Bottom made a mistake and was entirely naked from top to bottom and from bottom to top, but not for long. She bent over and picked up her bikini, clamped it between her legs, and started tying the ends at her hips. While her firm-cheeked, slim, tasty ass was disappearing, Top was sliding her own bikini bottom off her hips and her ass, just as firm, slim and tasty, came into view.
I sipped my drink, my prick all by itself rising a little, its head coming up from the bed as if it wanted to see what was happening.
Bottom, who used to be Top, sat down on me. Top, who used to be Bottom, put her breasts in my mouth. My hands went into Bottom's fresh cunt and her hair was as thick as her sister's, her cunt as juicy and with as many secret pink places to touch and lass and use my tongue on to send shivers along her backbone. I bit her sister's nipples, first one then the other, my hands moving to her ass inside her bikini, then moving back to Bottom to feel her naked cheeks, my fingers sliding into her crack where they found her ass-hole. My middle finger, just a bit, easily, tenderly, shyly, slid into her ass while my thumb worked into her cunt. I held her head with my other hand and kissed her mouth while Top sucked my balls, taking first one then the other into her mouth, holding my cock with both hands; then her mouth slipped over the nub and I was in her again. Then we experimented with all different positions.
I lay on my back while Bottom raised and lowered her cunt over my upright prick. Bottom squatted over me while Top guided it in, Bottom lying down on my chest as I raised my ass high off the bed, Top holding my prick far up in her sister. Then Bottom lay on her back across Top's ass while I plunged into her from above, my only grip on the world my fingers and toes on the bed, my prick stretching to reach the very end of Bottom, the very heart of her. After that she took me into her mouth while Top sucked my balls. One of them slid a finger partly into my virgin ass. Then I fucked Bottom in the chair while Top sat on the floor to lick my balls. I sixty-nined with Bottom, my face in her cunt while she swallowed my cock almost to the balls, my fingers gripping Top's breasts, rolling her nipples back and forth like hard marbles.
I stood up with Bottom impaled on my cock and walked her around the room. I lay her back over the bed, over her sister, my ass rising and falling fast, my cock thrusting deep into her hot, grasping cunt. Top worked her middle finger as far as the second knuckle into my ass and I felt her trying to reach further into me. My tongue fought Bottom's for control of our mouths. Top's finger shot all the way into me like a tiny, narrow prick. She pulled it out fast and shot it back in and it set Bottom on fire. She clung to me, sweat soaking her stomach, her legs spread wide for me, my cock plunged as deep as it could go in her, filling her, stuffing her, and Top pulled her finger out of my ass and dove back in with it and my cock burst in ah directions. I pinned both girls to the bed as my come burst out of me in spasm after spasm, draining me again, emptying my balls again, and my orgasm ended with a deep-held rush of breath that Bottom took into her mouth, taking even that from me, sucking it into her lungs to meet my come rushing into her from below.
After that the girls licked me until I was clean. They licked their own come off my balls. They cleaned themselves up and tied on the rest of their red bikinis, then sat down on the bed with me for a few final sips of their drinks.
"Can you come back tomorrow?" I asked.
They laughed. 'It's too risky. We don't get to go out much. Our folks don't trust us. They think we're with Melanie tonight, and her folks think she's with us. We all have to get home now, before midnight."
"Melanie really is waiting at the drive-in? I thought I saw her go home."
"She'd better be waiting. She was supposed to double back after you left and wait for us. She'll be there. We're best friends. She's hurt that we got you tonight and she didn't, but she knows it's her own fault for insisting that she wants to stay a virgin."
"Do you think she will stay a virgin?"
"She'll give in sometime."
"Why don't you bring her back with you. I'll be here another four days."
"She'd never do that. Anyway, Sis and I won't even be back. We can't get out anymore. It's hard to navigate when your own folks don't trust you."
"Well." I kissed them both. "Thanks for coming tonight. It was a pleasure."
"-likewise," one of them said.
They each dipped their heads to take a parting suck at my cock. It hung soft and limp, but still long, and they took it in their mouths again, then let it out. The second sister held the head between her lips, then let it go reluctantly.
She said, "If you come back next year, well do it again."
"If that's a promise, I won't leave all winter."
The tall sister stood up and turned out the light. "Goodbye, California prick."
They both slipped out my door. Just like they said, like commandoes on a raid.
I lay down on the bed, stretched out in the dark, naked from head to toe. Drained and full. Lisa, I thought, stay ready. I'm learning a few things for my homecoming. Stay ready, lovely, I'm coming home soon.
CHAPTER ll
Somebody was drawing a cover over me. No, it wasn't a cover. My feet were still bare.
Somebody was muttering over me, mumbling in the dark.
I struck up at the form. "Who's that?" I cried, struggling to sit up.
I was held by the arms, gently, a woman's hands, a woman's wrists.
"Lay back," she said. 'It's terrible. Terrible. Lay back. Relax a minute. I'm here now, it's all over."
"What is it?" I struggled up and tried to peer through the dark. I'd woken from a deep sleep. A woman's hands were on my chest. Had I screamed in a dream, thrashed around until I had woken everybody in town and were they coming now to seek their revenge on my body? To finish my sex forever?
"The dirty tramps." The woman's soft, foreign-sounding voice was in my face. "Relax. I want you to wrap this robe around your body. And come with me. Will you?"
"Where? What is this?"
"Just come with me. Trust me. You can trust me. I am the only one in this town you can trust."
I sat up on the edge of the bed. She had wrapped some kind of robe around my naked body and I stood up, pulled the robe over my shoulders and tied it in front.
The woman's form rose off my bed and opened my door. She looked out at the starry night and waited until a cloud passed over the moon, darkening all outdoors, then she beckoned to me and whispered, "Come with me. Come on, be quick."
Well, I thought, I had nothing to lose. I had had only pleasure by following the whims of the Tongue River natives so far, so I stepped out the door and into the night.
She led me straight to the end cabin. My neighbor, the logger's wife, had come out.
Inside, she turned on the bathroom light and we sat in the dim glow in her living room-bedroom. She was about forty, with long brownish hair, eyes that drifted often to the door as if she expected someone at any time. Her cabin was the same as mine, only white doilies had been placed under the lamps and on the back of the chair. Some of Mrs. Davis' old magazines were stacked neatly on top of the radio. It seemed like a very grim place in which to wait for a husband, or anybody, but this woman had been doing it since I had been in Tongue River, and who knows how long before. Her husband went to work in the mid-afternoon and came home late and between the time of his departure and the time of his homecoming, she waited.
"I saw them," she said, her brown eyes turning almost black. "Who?"
"Those girls. Those awful girls who wear those tiny, tiny," her voice rose to a small pitch like a bird, "tiny, tiny bathing suits."
I worried that she might have escaped from some asylum. Maybe she had murdered the real logger's wife. But her voice came back to normal, to reality. "I've seen them running around town like that. I was afraid they would come after you. I've seen them go after other men and I was afraid they would go after a nice, clean young man like yourself."
She wore a nightgown made out of white linen. It had a frill collar. She did not seem at all shy about pacing back and forth in front of me with her bare feet poking from under her gown as she walked. I was wearing her own robe. She had taken it off when she found me naked in bed. When I crossed my legs it fell open and I reached down and flipped it closed.
"They're nice girls," I said. "They're very friendly."
"There is nothing nice about them. Nothing. They were after my husband once, but I warned them to leave him alone or I would put out their eyes and they left him alone. Good thing, too. I'd have done it."
I stood up like I had had enough and wanted to go. I had been fucked already three times and did not feel like arguing. But I didn't know how I should leave the woman's robe since I didn't want to take it home so her husband would have to come after it early in the morning in his hard hat and boots, nor did I want to simply take it off and hand it to her, walk out of her cabin stark naked. I gestured rather helplessly and made a move for the door.
A smile spread across her face, inviting and warm. "I'll bet you're starving," she said. "I'll bet a young man like yourself is hungry. I'll bet you'd like some good pie."
I stopped. I was hungry. "I don't want to argue about the girls."
"Oh, I won't say another word about them."
"What kind of pie."
"Huckleberry."
"Sounds good."
"Made it today. With some milk."
"Well, only if you don't complain about the girls anymore. I like them and I don't care if you do or not.
But I have seen you at your window and I've wondered about you."
"I thought you had. I thought you were wondering if you could come in here or not. I thought so. Harry won't be home until the wee hours of the morning. It gets so lonely waiting for him. I was hoping somebody like yourself would come by and help me eat the pie."
"You got yourself a pie eater," I said, sitting down again.
She went into the kitchen and started clattering dishes around. Her little cabin was a lonely place, especially with no one in it but herself.
"How long have you lived here?"
"Six years. And nobody's been in here except Harry and myself, until now. I came to see what those girls did to you."
"You promised to lay off them."
"Yes, I did, but I can't help it sometimes." I heard her cutting the pie and putting it on a plate. She poured the milk. "I got so mad. I wanted to come over earlier, but I was afraid they would hurt me if I interrupted. You know, nobody wants to get involved when they see trouble, nobody wants to get involved even in a small town like this. You expect it in a big town like Portland, but not here in Tongue River. Here you expect neighbor to help neighbor." She came in bearing the pie and a glass of milk. "But I couldn't come over while they were there. I just didn't have the nerve."
"It's all right." I held the pie in one hand, used the fork with the other. I was damn glad she had such a stroke of cowardice.
"My name is Frieda," she said.
"I'm Giff. The pie is nice."
"Thank you, young man."
She sat on the bed a moment longer, watching me, but finally she could stand it no longer. I was a strange man in her room, her husband was not home, and I was naked under her robe. She asked, "What did those girls do to you?" and as I was preparing to take another bite of her pie she slid off the bed and knelt in front of my chair.
"I think you know," I said. I uncrossed my legs and sat with my knees apart. The robe fell open.
She lifted the hem, folded it back across my knees, and opened my crotch. My prick lay over my balls, its head hanging down against the chair. Frieda crept toward it. "Did they do bad things?"
"Only good things." I took another bite of pie.
She breathed on my crotch. She had seen my prick before she covered me with her own robe, but her eyes were bright as if she had liked that view and had waited to have it again. Without touching me with her hands, she lifted my prick with her lips. It rose almost as fast as she nibbled it into her mouth. By the time she had it sucked most of the way in it was hard again.
I swallowed the last of the pie. As she sucked on me, I spread my legs to the side of the chair, opened myself like a girl about to be fucked. I sipped at the glass of milk she had brought me.
She rose to her knees as my prick came up. Her head lowered over it. She passed her hands along the inside of my thighs to my balls and she cradled them; squeezed the base of my cock, raised and lowered her mouth on me, sucked me in and shoved me out.
"Frieda," I said, "Frieda, that's what they did, that's what they did."
She almost ate it. I felt her teeth. She pushed my cock to one side of her mouth, between her gums and her jaw, then took it back across her tongue to the other side, then back to her tongue.
She sucked out to the tip, held it straight up with both hands, licked down the underside and kissed my balls, licked them up and took the head in her mouth again, let it go and came back to kiss its mouth, covering the head with her lips.
It was a pleasure. I didn't feel at all like coming yet and thought I could hold off for a long time. I sipped at the milk. If I could stay like this until I got back to Lisa, not only could I fuck her very well before coming but we could sixty-nine, anything we could think of, and when I was ready I would come, when I thought she was ready and not before. I thought never again would I have the trouble of spilling my seed before I even got in the door.
Without taking her lips away from my cock, she reached up to untie the sash of the robe. She bared my stomach, passed her palms over my nipples. I finished the milk, took her hands and kissed them.
She devoured my cock like she hadn't had one in her mouth for months, or years. like she had been waiting for a cock and had almost given up hope.
Some of her saliva ran down the side. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks sucked inward as she tried to pull my semen out of my balls.
I held her head with both hands. Raising my ass from the chair, I humped into her mouth a few times, enjoying it. I liked the fact that she wanted my dick so much, enjoyed giving it to her, letting her have her mouth full of it. And I enjoyed being in control of myself, knowing that I would not come too soon with her but could, for the first time, let my passion build up, build up, and stop it if I was coming too soon; then let it build up again until I felt like the circulation stopped in my legs as my balls mounted to their explosion, and suddenly all my veins would open wide as warming blood would shoot through my legs in the finality of my orgasm.
I stood up, still holding her head, and pumped my dick into her mouth. She stood on her knees, her hands holding my thighs. Her fingers traced around behind my legs and came under my ass to fondle my balls. She knew men well. She traced back and forth along that part of my cock that extended from my ass to my balls, along the base of my crotch. I humped fast, fucked her mouth as if it was a cunt, back and forth, back and forth; and she opened wide for me, let me use her mouth as a cunt and let me fuck it, enjoyed my fucking it.
But I didn't come. I left my cock in her mouth and he closed her lips around it, sucked deeply, but I still felt in complete control and I did not come. My blood subsided and I relaxed enough to start a slow grind with my hips, pumping around in a circle while Frieda held the head of my cock between her lips.
Then she opened her mouth and let me out of her. She stood up, ran her fingers along my balls, my dick, my stomach, to my chest where she touched my nipples.
Drawing me with her, she walked backwards to the bed. She said, 'Take off the robe." I let it drop to the floor.
As she lay back over the bed, she pulled the gown up to her stomach. With one hand over her snatch, she pulled a pillow down, shoved it under her hips. I climbed onto the bed with her and she sat up, took my prick in her mouth again, soaked it with as much saliva as she could, then lay down again, keeping her hands between her legs so I could not see her cunt. She spread her legs and I knelt between them, my rod standing stiff and eager, wet from her mouth. As I leaned down over her, she moved one hand just enough to take hold of my dick.
Then, moving her other hand to also hold my dick, she wiped the head up and down through her cunt, soaking it with her lubricating juices, and aimed me lower. The head of my cock came up against her tiny bottom hole.
"I want you there," she said in her strange foreign voice. "I save the normal place for Harry."
I didn't mind. I'd never fucked an ass before. I didn't mind that it was forty years old. Her mouth had given me a tremendous sucking and I thought I would try to do the same for her.
She pushed out with her bowels to open her hole for me. It accepted the tip of my penis, held it in the bloom of her ass, then she relaxed and her ass sucked me in further, just the head. It was tighter than any cunt. I leaned on her and felt myself slipping in, in, a little further. She ate me down there too. It felt like her ass was sucking me in a little at a time.
I pulled back to ease the passage. Her bowels opened again and I plunged in deeper, sliding on the juices from her cunt and on her saliva. I went in a little further. I didn't know how she was doing it. I had never even been sure that such a thing could be done. I slid my cock further up her ass, and her mouth grabbed the skin on my neck and sucked it.
I thrust one hand between her legs and began plunging my fingers up her cunt. Her bowels were tight and there was no lubrication in there except what I had carried in with me, but there was enough of a passage, as her muscles relaxed to allow me to stay in, for my entire prick to work its way in. My hips began pumping, grinding.
My fingers went up her open snatch, in and out of her soaking hole like tiny snakes. My mouth caught her lips and my tongue dove into her. I was in all three of her openings, a new first for me. My cock drove hard up her ass, all the way in now, as far as my balls. My knees gripped the bed and I drove my crotch against her buttocks, my prick buried deep in her ass. My fingers played like fire in her cunt, her hot wet dungy place, three fingers at once, my thumb rubbing her mound, coursing through her hair. My tongue probed her mouth that had loved my prick so much, that had crept between my legs and sucked me inside against her teeth. Nqw she had me in every way a woman could take a man.
My feet found the footboard of the bed. I thrust up against her, pushing, fucking, jumping into her. She reached under her own ass to find my balls. She squeezed them. Her eyes closed and she started coming. I floated back and forth on her, pressed her body down into the bed. The hand that I had up her cunt was soaked with juices flowing out of her. I fucked her, back and forth into her ass, back and forth in her tight hole, up and down, up and down. I was almost coming. A few more strokes would do it. I began to ride up the crest of my own orgasm.
The door opened. A man's voice said, "I'm home," then grew in crescendo like a giant tree beginning to topple in the woods, grew and grew into, "What are you doing with my wife! You son of a bitch!"
My eyes saw that big bastard of a logger that I had imagined so many times before. He stood in the doorway looking as tall and thick as a century-old Douglas fir. He wore a yellow hard hat, a red-checkered shirt, pegged jeans and caulked boots. His face was ragged from lack of a shave, dirty, and his hands were almost as big around as truck tires.
I leaped off his wife, my tongue out of her mouth, my fingers out of her cunt, my prick ripping out of her ass. My brain stopped me from continuing to fuck her, but my balls had no eyes and could not stop from following through with what they had been so close to achieving. Come shot out of my prick in a burst like fireworks, up in an arch toward my foe to land in a splat at his feet. The logger watched its flight, not believing his eyes, and it was followed by another shot like an artillery barrage. I moved back to the edge of the bed, my prick still pumping until my orgasm was complete. I stood up, my guns empty now, prepared if necessary to defend myself with my bare hands.
Frieda screamed, "Harry, it was for you!"
Harry didn't pay any attention to Frieda. His eyes were set on my throat and his truck-tire hands went up for me. He leaped forward. His caulked boots caught in his wife's robe where I had dropped it off me. He tried to back up in mid-air to untangle his feet and his hard hat flew off. He began a slow, twisting tumble and down he went like a tree cut off at the ankles, CRASH on the floor, and he rolled over once and lay still, sprawled out on his stomach.
Frieda and I, naked, looked at each other. I knelt beside Harry. He had hit his forehead on the footboard of the bed. He was still breathing, but he was knocked bongo. I was still alive.
I said, "Frieda, I got to go home." By home, I meant California.
She grabbed me around the waist. "Oh Giff, oh, Giff, I wanted to help you so. I wanted to repair the damage those girls did. Everything went wrong. Oh, Giff, I couldn't help myself. Do you understand?"
"Everything. What the hell is he doing home now? Is he early, or what?"
"Yes, that's it, he's early. He's never come home this early. Oh Giff, you do understand."
"Let go, Frieda. I got to get out of here before he gets up."
She held me. "Let me wash you first. He won't wake up until I help him. Let me wash you off. Let me wash your thing, it's been in such a nasty place."
I stayed, though I thought I was crazy. I let her lead me into the bathroom. She washed my genitals, ran Mrs. Davis' water until it was warm then soaped her hands and rubbed my balls, stroked my dick, and naturally I got hard again. I never could stand to have somebody stroke me with a soapy hand. A memory-trigger, I suppose, of that first time with Bess.
She knew damn well what was happening to me. "Will he hurt you when he gets up?" I asked. I meant her husband, not my dick.
"No. He's caught me with other men before. He's like a lamb afterwards."
"What the hell is this? Was I set up?"
"Set up? No, I don't know what that is. But Harry just needs to know I am desirable to other men. Then he forgets the whores he visits sometimes and he sees me as a very desirable woman again and our marriage is once again very nice. It renews us. It is good for our marriage, for him to catch me from time to time in the act of copulation."
"Aaahhhh," I said, my cock rising in her palms. "He might have killed me if he hadn't knocked himself out."
"Oh no. I would not have let that happen. He would have shaken you a little, but he had never killed anybody. He is a very gentle man."
My cock was up again. Frieda led me by it back into the other room where she lay face down on the bed, her feet on the floor. She reached behind herself and pulled the cheeks of her ass apart. "You're so young, Giff. Your come is so strong. I saw it shoot. I want to feel it in me."
My cock was still covered with soap. It was still warm from her touch, and from the water. I aimed it into her hole and it slid right in almost with no hesitation, no tightness. I fucked her standing up, my feet firmly on the floor, my ass throwing my cock far up her ass, in and out of her on my soaped cock, in and out, in and out. She gasped, moaned, cried. She held onto the other side of the bed and tried to drag her body toward it but the bend at her hips held her where I wanted her and I didn't let her up. I threw it into her, and threw it in, plowed new openings far up inside her that had never been touched before. My cock plunged as far up her as it could go. My balls banged against her cunt lips. My pubic hair ground into her crack. The feel of her round cheeks against my crotch and stomach brought my come rising again.
I looked down and watched my shaft sliding in and out of her, plunge back in to the root, out and in, in and out. It did not take me very long this time.
My come started up. I looked once at Harry's legs, sprawled perfectly still along the floor on the far side of the bed. Nothing moved except the bed as Frieda and I bounced up and down. Frieda's breath came in heavy gasps through her open mouth. She gasped as my come mounted, gathered, and shot forth along her anal tract maybe as far as her stomach. It leaped out of me as it had just before, shot along my constricted prick to leap out of the head, spitting in spurts far up her body exactly where-she wanted it to be.
I pulled out of her ass and wiped my cock on a towel in the bathroom. Frieda lay sprawled on the bed, her ankles dragging the floor. As I reached the door to go outside, she dragged herself across the bed, stretched a hand down to caress the back of Harry's head.
"Will you be all right?" I asked.
Her voice was muffled. Warm. "Yes. Thank you. You helped my marriage. I know it must be strange to you, but you did help my marriage. I hope I helped you a little bit, getting over those awful girls."
"Oh, you did. You did."
I closed the door behind me. The stubble in the yard hurt my feet as I crossed toward my own cabin. The moon was full and the night, as had all the nights since I had been in Tongue River, was warm and comfortable on my skin. I thought it would be nice to take the bikini sisters for a swim some night, and if the water was too cold we could play on the sand. After I had some rest, of course. After sleep caught up with me and I gave my body the rest it so needed and deserved.
Somebody stood in the shadows on my porch. I was afraid for a moment that it might be the father of the sisters, but I calmed down just as suddenly. I feared no man, after the revelation I had just had concerning the hard-hatted logger. I feared no man after I had just had myself sucked and fucked until I could hardly see straight. I stepped onto the porch, my cock dangling between my legs, my body erect and brave and naked, and I prepared to face whoever waited for me there.
"I try to run a nice place here." Mrs. Davis' voice was quiet, gentle, low. "I try to do the best I can, with my limited abilities."
I couldn't really have been surprised. Nothing could have surprised me about Tongue Paver women anymore. I liked her, had shared her breakfasts for the last almost three weeks, and I stood ready to do her as well as I could, as I had for any other Tongue River woman who had wanted me.
"Giff," she said, her voice still quiet, "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about what could happen to a young man like yourself in a small town like Tongue River. It would never have happened up north in Portland. It would never have happened in a big city. It's the degradation of the small town. Had to happen. Bound to happen."
It seemed perfectly natural to me that I stood in front of her bare-ass naked. That my penis was hanging out of my crotch, almost shining in the moonlight. I was willing to fuck Mrs. Davis if she wanted, but my body was exhausted. It was three in the morning.
"Mrs. Davis," I said, hoping to help her get her proposition out into the air, help maybe hurry her along so we could finish at least in time for breakfast, "I like you a lot myself. You're a beautiful lady." I meant, as she understood, that she might not be beautiful in a cigarette-advertising manner, but she was out of this world in a soul sense.
She replied, "And I like you, Giff. I liked you from the minute I set eyes on you. Now go right on inside and get into that bed and you stay there. Pull the covers up so you stay warm and don't catch a chill. I know very well all that's been going on here tonight and I intend to stay right here on this porch until daylight to make damn sure that you're not bothered again tonight."
I wanted to kiss her, but she was not affectionate in such an open way. I said, "See you for breakfast."
"Bright and early," she said. She popped me on the bare ass as I went past her.
I closed the door behind me. Climbing into bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin. They warmed me, toasted my naked body, as if I were in a mummy's shroud. I thought of Lisa kissing my stomach, gently brushing my dick with her lips. The last thing I heard before my eyes closed was Mrs. Davis settling into the chair on my porch, striking a match to light her cigarette.
CHAPTER 12
The point of her tongue licked along the edges of my belly button, then dove inside. She breathed through her nose and I felt her warm breath on the fine hairs below my navel, that led down into my crotch. Her tongue explored my belly, her lips kissed my stomach, and moved lower.
I extended my own tongue as her loins came toward my face. I caught her mound in my lips, kissed it, caught her hair with my teeth, and with my nose I smelled her nectar, the honey that fringed the lips of the entrance to her body, her virginity that had known no man but me, that had waited, kept itself warm, anticipated my return.
The candles burned slowly, the flames as upright in the still night air as the shaft of my manhood, as unwavering and steady as Lisa's faithfulness. The mattress was soft, our love calm and unhurried and dark and mysterious as in the shadows we opened ourselves to each other, ourselves for ourselves and for each other.
I raised myself for her to take me into her mouth as she lowered herself over me. And the goodbyes at Tongue River were on my mind, and how I had come home.
The morning after Mrs. Davis had guarded my front door, the pears passed over my grading table like so many marbles. It was all I could do to tell a Number 2 from a cull, a Number I from an apple.
Evelyn had brought lunch for me, along with Lou's, and together the three of us sat on the loading dock and ate bologna sandwiches, spread with mayonnaise and mustard, ate our oranges and pieces of cake, and drank our coffee out of the same thermos. Evelyn seemed to have forgotten that she had ever gone down on me, and Lou was more attentive to her than he had ever been, as if she was giving him something at night that he hadn't had before and was glad to get.
And just as we were finishing lunch, the panel truck that ferried loggers to and from the woods stopped in front of the warehouse. We watched several men in yellow hard hats climb out. Then, oh my God, here he came, Frieda's husband, clambering out of the truck and lumbering toward the warehouse in his pegged pants and caulked boots with his hands swinging like truck tires again.
Evelyn said, "Why, Giff, here comes your neighbor."
"I see him," I said.
Bold as brass, he walked right up to me. He didn't give a damn whether Lou and Evelyn heard him or not. Loggers never cared a damn for fruit growers anyway, or the puny guys who drove lift trucks for a living and hung around warm warehouses all winter. Loggers brushed guys like that aside like wading through buckbrush up on the mountain hogbacks.
Harry had a knot on his forehead that made his hard hat sit at an awkward angle on his head. He looked down at me. I didn't know whether to get to my feet and get knocked down or simply stay down where I wouldn't have so far to fall. He said, "Don't get up or I'll knock you down."
I didn't get up.
He said, "Don't go near my wife again, understand?" I was willing to agree to that. "Harry, I won't."
A grin trickled across his face. "Think she's pretty hot stuff, don't you?"
Frieda's plot came clear to me. "I sure do," I said.
"Don't you lay a hand on her again, or I'll cut it off." The grin became a leer. "I don't care how tempting she looks, how crazy you go for her, don't go near her again."
I thought if Frieda could do that to this big hulk of a logger when she was forty years old, she must have been able to drive him berserk when she was younger. I thought I'd help her however I could, even though it was-likely she would never need help. "It's tough to live in a cabin so close to her and not be able to do something about it."
"You don't know what tough is, but you'll find out if you hang around there any longer. And to make damn sure you don't, I'm bringing my axe home tonight. Keep that in mind."
He spun around on those caulked boots, a lot more agile than he had been the night before, and stomped back to the panel truck. He climbed inside. The other loggers glared at me, then piled in behind him and the truck took off for the mountains.
Lou looked at me with a dazed expression.
Evelyn looked at me with a knowing smile, with memory.
I finished my coffee. "Think nothing of it, Lou. Just a little disagreement between neighbors."
Evelyn started to laugh. She couldn't stop. Lou's face turned red and he started laughing as well. I started laughing. None of us could stop.
We were still laughing when Perkins arrived with his last six bins of Bartletts and had to honk his horn several times to get our attention. He brought with him another opportunity for me to say goodbye.
Mrs. Perkins stood across the grading table from me while I wrote her husband out a clear ticket. She said, "I waited until the last load to ride in. I thought I would see you here. For a while I didn't want to see you, then I decided I did, that it would get you out of my system if I saw you working, like any other normal person. I was right. Have a good time when you get home. It was a pleasure meeting you. Patsy asked me to tell you if I saw you that she enjoyed meeting you too. She asked me to tell you not to get married until you want to, don't rush into it. But you know that. I just wanted you to know I appreciated the lift you gave me that day. My husband appreciates it too."
That night I drove to the Evergreen to try to persuade Melanie, since she obviously knew about the bikini sisters and me, to give up her silly virginity. She was not there. The owner's wife had taken her place for the night. No, she did not know where Melanie was, home sick in bed was where she was supposed to be. And Melanie had better damn well be at work tomorrow night because the owner was plenty mad that his wife had to wait on cars out here just like any old carhop.
I didn't feel like ordering even a hamburger from a bitch like that so I drove around for awhile, then drove up to the motel and stopped in at Mrs. Davis' office.
She asked me, "Harry find you today?"
"Yes,"
"He's a nice guy, Harry is. Not a mean bone in his body. But I'm glad he didn't get hold of you last night. No telling what he'd have ripped from your body. That Frieda really runs him through the paces. But she hangs onto him. I never saw a woman that could hang onto a man like that Frieda."
I shuffled my feet. Mrs. Davis knew I obviously knew more about Frieda than she ever would, and she very politely did not pump me for information.
She simply accepted the fact that I'd fucked Frieda, and the bikini sisters, and who knew how many other of her neighbors, and none of it was my fault. I had been tempted.
"How about some supper? You look starved."
She pulled a big venison steak out of her freezer and threw it on the fire still frozen. With it, she served me home fries, applesauce, a lettuce salad, black coffee and ice cream. It was the best meal Fd had since I left California.
We talked after supper. She was a kind woman, generous to others who lacked what she called moral fiber. "It's not that I wouldn't like to pile into the sack with you myself, Giff. Understand that. It's just that it weakens morals."
"My morals haven't weakened," I said. "It's just that my opportunities have broadened."
She threw back her head and laughed out loud. She said, "I suppose it doesn't hurt anybody, as long as you both want to do it. I'm old fashioned, though. I like myself just the way I am."
"I like you the way you are, too."
About nine o'clock I felt restless and said I thought I'd take a drive, then come back and go to bed early. She kissed me on the cheek as I went out the door, like a friendly old aunt who loved me very much.
I wasn't far down the road when my headlights picked out a figure struggling out of the brush onto the pavement. I stomped on the brakes and a girl ran to my window. As I rolled it down, Mary or Marty said breathlessly, "I thought I wouldn't catch you. We were waiting. You wait now. The others are coming. We almost missed you."
In a minute her sister ran out of the dark, also breathless. The girls' chests heaved up and down as they caught their wind. I opened the door for them to slide in, then Melanie walked out of the brush and climbed in the front seat beside me. She had not run so fast, I think because she saw that the sisters had stopped me.
"I thought you were sick," I said.
"I'm playing hooky," she laughed. She was very excited. "I've never played hooky before."
"It's fun doing things you've never done before," I said.
The sisters climbed in the back seat and my car suddenly was filled with female bodies, sldn, their smells, their hair. I started down the road again, grinning in the dark.
The sisters had persuaded Melanie that it was time she lost her cherry. They had also persuaded her that she would be better off if she lost it to me, a stranger, than to some guy she had gone to school with who would only make her feel guilty, or that she owed him something. With me, the sisters had explained, there would be no chance, none of our getting serious. The matter would be treated as a friendly act between strangers and neither Melanie nor I would feel obligated to the other, or under any compulsion to carry the relationship further.
"I have only one request," Melanie said. "I don't want to do it in the motel. I got very nervous while we were waiting for you. I don't want to have to pass that motel the rest of my life and remember that I lost my virginity in there with Mrs. Davis watching TV only a few doors away."
"All right. I'll take you to a place you have probably never been to and wouldn't be able to find again."
"I'd like that."
Marty said from the back seat, "Oh Melanie, I'm so excited for you I could almost come in my bikini."
I drove up the bluff toward the Perkins place and turned off on the same dirt road I had been shown so long ago. Around the curves and hidden bends to the abandoned mine shaft, the end of the road. Melanie had never been here, and neither had the sisters. I parked beside the tall bushes, perhaps in the same tracks I had been in before. Mary .told Marty to come on out, they would explore by moonlight until Melanie and I called them to come back. "Good luck," they said to their girlfriend. "Have fun."
Melanie lost almost all of her shyness. I unbuttoned her shirt after we got into the back seat. I took her shirt off. My hands passed over her bare shoulders. I thought it would be best if I got into her right away; I had been happy to have been able to fuck the sisters and Frieda with such control the night before, but I still did not really trust myself knocking on a virgin's door.
She took off her own brassiere and I kissed her breasts, fine small mounds on her chest, each with a distinct nipple standing out in front, firm and hard, pointing up. Her tits were beautifully formed and exactly right for an eighteen-year-old girl. They were so much like Lisa's that I thought fucking Melanie was going to be very much like fucking Lisa.
I took off the rest of her clothes, trying not to linger too long over this or the other part of her body. My cock was stiff already, simply from the excitement of undressing her and the idea of her becoming naked on my car seat. She said, "Mary and Marty have this funny idea about saving something for their husbands so they leave some of their clothes on. I don't want anything on, Giff. I want you to be naked, too. Will you take everything off? I want us both to be totally naked when we make love tonight. All right?"
I stripped off my own clothes fast, kicking off my shoes, socks, pants and shorts and my shirt. "I'm naked," I said. My thigh brushed her bare leg.
She lay down under me. I touched her bush once to see if she was ready, and she was. My fingers felt their way through her cunt hairs, and around the edges of her lips. "Giff, Giff," she whispered, squeezing my hand between her legs. "Giff, Giff, nobody has touched me there. Nobody. Giff, Giff, be gentle."
Her hand slid along my cock, feeling its hardness, its readiness. "It will go in, won't it? All of it?"
"Yes. It fits. It's supposed to fit and it will. It might hurt a little at first, but not for long. Did the sisters explain anything?"
"Just how nice it is, and how nice you are." She moved her hand back and forth along my cock. She was not exciting me too much. I felt in control. She felt my balls. "I trust you, Giff. Please don't stop if I cry. If I say to stop, please don't."
I lay over her body, touched her stomach with my cock, her nipples with my nipples, my balls rubbed gently against her hairy mound. She opened Eer knees and I lay between her legs.
"It will be all right," I said. "Don't be afraid for anything." I kissed her mouth. She was very sweet and put her arms around my neck. She spread her legs wider.
"Giff, I'm ready. I'm ready."
I passed my middle finger through her slit and she was ready all right. Her juices were flowing out of her and down her ass, soaking her cunt, waiting for me, anticipating me. "Let me do something first," I said. I raised her body to me, brought my face down between her legs, and gave her mound its first kiss. She was ready for that too. She did not draw back but gave herself to me, raised her crotch so I could get in further. My tongue licked along her virgin cunt, my fingers parted it and my tongue darted inside her, found the top of her slit and almost set her on fire just by shooting in and out against it. I held the cheeks of her ass in both hands, squeezed them and thought about fucking her there too.
"Ohhh, Giffff, GGifffff, yessss, yyyeesssss." Her thigh muscles became taut. She straightened her back. Her ass began squirming in a circle, her cunt pushing up to my face.
I ripped my tongue away and forced her body back down to the seat. Her legs spread, went up, and I lowered myself between them, brought my prick to the mouth of her vagina, pressed down slightly and in it went.
The head first, her cunt lips spreading easily to take it. They closed on it to caress part of my shaft. As I pressed forward some more I felt her maidenhead. I kept pressing and felt it stretch. "Giff, Giffff, it's in me, it's in me."
She kicked her legs. She could feel the head of my dick inside her and it was driving her insane. Her head tossed to the side, she moaned and gasped and kissed me, she clutched my back, held onto my neck, her heels raked my ass, her thighs gripped my hips.
I eased out but not all the way, then came back and her maidenhead parted easily this time, seemed to shred as if made of thin cheesecloth, parted as the head of my prick slid further inside her. I pulled back again, easing the pressure. "Melanie, it's all yours now. You can have all of me now."
"I want you. I want you so."
My ass gathered its strength. My cock grew in size. My balls tightened in their sack. I came down again, slid in almost all the way, in past the head, past the tender circumcised skin, my shaft sinking into her warm, hot, welcoming, insisting hole. I felt the sides of her cunt all the way in, her muscles opening and closing for me, gripping me and parting for me. It was like a tight glove made of kid leather, my prick sliding up the dark, warm, wet finger of the glove, the finger expanding, stretching, accepting me. "I want it all," she sighed, "all of it, all, all, all. I want it so bad, I want you in me, far up in me, now Giff, now." Her legs pulled at my sides, her loins thrust up at me.
Withdrawing just a little, I lay back over her, pushed against the side of the car with my feet, and plunged in her up to my balls, my cock going all the way, giving her what she wanted. All of my cock plunged into her, in and out again, back in, fucking her, in and out of her, in and out, and her loins kept thrusting up at me, her cunt opening, taking me, keeping me, not wanting me out, fighting to keep me in.
We rode together for a long time. My hands held her firm little ass. She stroked the back of my head, petted my back, reached to my own ass and held me in her. "It doesn't hurt now, Giff. It did at first when you broke through but not now. Not at all. It's the most wonderful feeling, the warmest I've ever had. Oh Giff, can you stay in me forever?"
I had never had such a long fuck. I pulled almost all the way out of her, her muscles gripping at me as I pulled out, then slid slowly, long and hard, back in. She closed on me, held me there, pumped her hips up and down and fucked me.
At last we stopped talking. I lay her ass on the seat and fucked in and out of her, in and out, in and out, back and forth, my prick sliding on her juices, back and forth in and out of her tight sheath, her muscles gripping me all the way. She started coming, her ass trying to throw her cunt further up for me, her rhythm matching mine as we rocked back and forth. I pumped in and out of her, in and out, her sweet young slit taking me all the way, her dark place between her legs wide open, my hard cock sliding up into her, back out, up into her, back, out, the head reaching further, stretching further. I felt my orgasm mounting, coming along the backs of my legs, along the shaft of my cock, the head enlarging, growing, expanding.
It mounted in me as Melanie let all of herself go, as she clutched to me, held me tight with all four of her limbs. My come spurted into her, rose in waves, splashed far up inside her, filled her cunt, came and came and came.
When we called the sisters back, they wanted a go at me, dressed in their costumes as Top and Bottom.
Melanie wrapped my old fake Indian blanket around her shoulders. It fell down past her rear and covered her thighs in front. She stepped into Bottom's sandals and walked into the moon glow, excited she said by what had happened to her, and also by the fact that she was walking around naked, wrapped only in my blanket like my lover.
Top and Bottom went to work on me, for the last time. Only a few stray loads of pears remained to be brought to the warehouse and I did not intend to hang around waiting for them. I had left Lou with instructions to give them all clear tickets, so for me the harvest was as good as over. The cold storage room was filled with bins of Bartletts and Lou kept the temperature hovering right at thirty-four degrees, so now there was nothing to do but go home and tell the Exchange to get ready to can fruit because it was all in storage, the fruit was ready any time their machinery was. There was nothing left for me to do but go home, report, and get ready for another term at the university, so when Top went down on me I was ready for her, hungry for her, and I kneeled in the back seat while she sucked on me, leaned over her head as my come started to rise and I held her head with her nose buried in my pubic hair as my come pumped down her throat. And Bottom took me in her cunt. I tried to fuck her ass but she said it was reserved for her husband. I left it for the poor sap. I was willing to leave his future bride with at least some part of her body unplowed. So I held Bottom on her knees, her ass against my pubic bone, and fucked her from the rear, my fingers flicking the top of her cunt as my cock plunged in and out of it. Her ass bumped my belly like Frieda's had and when Bottom started moaning I pumped harder, my balls swinging back and forth, free between my legs until Bottom caught them; and when I came I humped hard, thrust myself forward, driving Bottom's head into the car seat, fucked up into her cunt upside down, loving it and she loving it too.
When Melanie came back she lay the fake Indian blanket on a soft mound of earth. We lay down on it together. Top sat on one side of us, Bottom on the other, and Melanie and I fucked slowly, spread out, our bodies touching from head to toe, my fingers working in her and her fingers working my balls, discovering my prick, my ass, my back, my ears, my mouth. When I sank down into her there was no resistance, only murmurs of approval from Top and Bottom, kisses for my face from Melanie. The fuck was long, slow, a drawn-out orgasm that began slow and stayed hard all the way, a hugging of our bodies, and our mutual orgasms were our offerings to the earth.
As I drove out of the mountains two days later, I experienced an all-over feeling of warmth and pleasure. My body was fulfilled, my job well-done, and people were pleased back there. Mrs. Perkins and Patsy were happy. Evelyn had released some trigger, something pent-up in her libido when she dove down on me in the cold storage room. Even Frieda, old brown-hole Frieda, had her husband again. Mary and Marty were the same as they had probably always been, dashing here and there in bikinis, driving everyone in town out of their minds. Melanie had emerged from the smothering burden of virginity and was ready to move into a life of an adult teenager rather than a shy, forlorn little girl. And Mrs. Davis had kept company with me, very righteous company with nothing untoward occurring just as she wanted, and she had happy memories of me too. The mountains were as gorgeous as they had been when I drove north, and all of my future waited for me, down the road, at home.
I didn't call Lisa when I got home. I stopped at my folks' place to let them know I was home, that the Tongue River harvest had gone well and they could be proud of their darling son. Only after I had eaten something and rested from the drive did I get back into the Ford and drive over to Lisa's. I walked in on her as she was washing dishes after her family's supper. I said, "Ready to go?"
Smiling, she wiped her hands on the dish towel, took off her apron, said, "Bye," to her mother and kissed her father on the cheek. We went out the door, hand in hand.
"I thought you would be home today or tomorrow," she said.
When we got into the car, she asked, "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," I said, and let her kiss me on the cheek.
We drove to the mountain orchard. Sunset was a red glow over the ridgelines to the west. "Has anything changed since I was gone?" I asked.
She smiled, looking directly into my face. "No. Nothing."
"Do you still love me?"
"Yes."
"Nothing has changed with me, either. If anything, I love you more than when I went away."
"It .seems like three years, instead of three weeks." She held my hands. "Has anything else changed?"
"My experience, a little." I grinned.
Her laughter was like music. "Did those country girls do bad things?"
"No, just good things. Only nice people live in Tongue River."
"If they only did good things to you, it's all right."
I brought my old fake Indian blanket out of the car. It was my idea of resuming with Lisa exactly where we had left off. She held my wrist when I brought the blanket. "There's been some changes," she said. "Follow me."
She led me through the rows of withered, dried-up pear trees, away from the rim of the hill where we had been before. We passed the overgrown lilac bushes and stood at the broken threshold to the old house.
"I've been up here a few times," said Lisa. "I don't know if you'll approve or not, but I've done something."
Only I had ever been to the farm by myself before. I thought that if Lisa thought enough of the place to drive all the way up here in her rattle-trap car she had inherited from an older brother, then she very-likely was the girl for me. "What did you do?" I asked, pretending to be stern. "Tell me, woman, what did you do?"
She made me close my eyes and wait outside. I was nervous because I was afraid that her games would ruin everything I had learned in Oregon, that maybe I loved her too much to make love to her properly. Maybe we just wouldn't be able to make it together. When she called, "All right, come in now," I stepped over the broken threshold into something divine.
Somehow she had wrestled a mattress into her old car and got it up the mountain and into the house. She had covered it with brand-new white sheets. Four candles stood around the bed, one on each side and one each at the foot and head. The flames flickered in the dark, casting a warm glow over Lisa where she lay in the bed, naked, the top sheet held over her breasts. "Will you come to bed, husband?" she asked.
I folded my fake Indian blanket at the foot of the bed, making sure to lay it far enough from the candles that it wouldn't catch fire. I kicked off my sandals and took off my shirt. Standing where a candle could fight my body, I opened my pants and dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them. My penis was stiff, thick, long, pulsing with eagerness but strangely calm, ready but not in a hurry, aware that Lisa waited under that thin sheet, as naked as when she was born.
Her legs moved under the sheet as I kneeled beside her. She lifted the sheet and I lay down along her body, pulling her to me. My penis rose against her stomach. Her legs wrapped one of mine and she pressed her cunt against my skin. Her arms wrapped my shoulders, her nipples kissed my chest.
I kissed Lisa from her forehead to her toes. She turned over and I kissed her from her heels to the top of her head. I turned her over again and kissed her mouth. Her legs wrapped my chest, my waist, my balls fell against her cunt, my prick rubbed her breasts, her stomach, her mound where her hair and smells excited me. I kissed her thighs, then her virgin cunt. My face, blessed with her juices, rose to her mouth and Lisa tasted herself on my lips.
She kissed my penis, my balls, my stomach, my nipples. She took, for the first time, the head of my cock between her lips.
When she was ready I lay her on her back. I let her take my balls in her mouth, then I moved down her body so she could kiss along the bottom of my cock.
"Can I have it again?" she whispered. "Can I kiss it again? Afterwards?"
My answer was a kiss on her lips as I slid the head into her body. I pulled back and lowered myself again and went in further. I felt her maidenhead. I pulled back and went in again. Her legs spread to the side, her loins came up to meet me, stretching her, making it easier, faster. She began to part. "Oooohhh, Gifff, Gifff, I want it so, I've wanted you for so long." She said through her kiss, "So long, so long."
I held her hips with my hands. Her legs locked over my shoulders. I came down again, my cock wet now, soaked with her natural lubrication, and half the length of my prick slid into her. I was in. I was in Lisa. My prick felt no more like coming than it had when we began. It was a hard, useful tool and I was in control of it, not it of me.
Her muscles relaxed. She pumped with her cunt as I pulled out and came thrusting back in and she took all of me. I felt her hair against my hair, her cunt lips gripping the root of my cock, her pubic bone against mine. We began a methodical, rhythmic pumping of our bodies and Lisa came very fast, as I wanted her to. Her cunt filled with her juices, easing whatever pain she might have had, and as I worked back and forth stretching her cunt, enlarging it, opening it, she kissed my lips and caressed my tongue with her own.
When I came it was almost as if mountains fell, the earth bucked, the rains came, and my body shot forth into Lisa's and hers opened wide to receive me.
Afterward we lay still for a long time, petting each other. Very soon we began, quietly, softly, to make love again and Lisa turned her body to kiss my belly button, lick it with her tongue, and she began to kiss the fine hair that led to my cock. I lifted one of her smooth legs over my face and she lowered her mound to me, her aroma filling my lungs, my mouth reaching up for her even as she raised my penis with both hands to slip its head between her lips, and as she began to suck on its tender mushroom shape, and as she took more of it until I could feel her lips completely circling the shaft.
We fucked twice more before we slept. It seemed my cock would not get soft, nor did Lisa want it to. After the third time we fell asleep in each other's arms and woke up sometime after midnight because of a light patter-patter-patter on the roof. I sat up quickly, glared around through the dim candlelight Lisa kissed my back and laughed.
It was raining.
I reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled my fake Indian blanket over our legs. The roof leaked in a few places but luckily not over our mattress. "How did you know it was going to rain?" I asked. "Is that why you fixed the house?"
She hugged my body. "I thought it might rain on us, one time or another when we're up here." She folded the sheet over my old blanket to make a neat bed. "You don't mind, do you, if we come up here again sometime?"
"How about tomorrow?"
She pulled me down to the mattress. I tugged the blankets up over us as her hand dove down to my crotch. My penis had risen in my sleep and was stiff and thick again, ready once again for her. "I always wanted to fuck on top of my old blanket," I said. "I never thought I'd be doing it underneath it."
"Let's see what it's like," she said, her lips kissing me from my mouth down. "Let's see what it's like under the blanket."
