Summer has arrived and once again those three swinging couples, the Talbots, the Aliens, and the Barnets, are off to the Hamptons, there to spend two glorious months swimming, sunning themselves and swapping their cares away. Joining them this year are the Kellers, James and Claudine, James hoping that a hot summer with his spouse-switching friends will help unthaw his frigid wife.
Unexpected pleasures await this octet of merrymakers, for no sooner do they arrive at the estate they have rented for the summer than they bump into a herd of thrill-seeking teenagers, twenty boys and girls who have decided to camp out on the beach and lose themselves in one unending love-in.
It's decided that no salacious summer would be complete without at least one grand orgy, a truly memorable sex party that would have thirty or more lust-happy people loving it up under the stars.
But posing a problem is George Hardington, millionaire homosexual who spends his time wrapped up in his own uptightness and also trying to rid the Hamptons of what he calls "its undesirable element." And this summer the aging Hardington and his frail friend, Arthur Treeman, are determined to halt the sex worshippers' annual pilgrimage to the shrine of lust.
And so it's up to Rhonda Talbot, a luscious, titian-tressed doll, the beautiful blonde, Barbara Barnet, the curvaceous Judy Allen, the entrancing Claudine Keller, to convince the hard-nosed homosexual that boy-girl sex is more fun than the unnatural embrace of Arthur.
Meanwhile, their horny husbands are sampling the sexual abilities of four tempting teenagers, beautiful young ladies who quickly forget all about the generation gap when they're being satisfied sexually.
It looks like a long, hot summer for the swappers.
CHAPTER ONE
Muttering under his breath, Brian Talbot pushed himself out of the sofa and marched to the television set. Hands on hips, he stood looking down at the twenty-one inch screen, shaking his handsome head in disgust as he watched the rookie outfielder circle the bases.
The young ballplayer danced across home plate and into the arms of his joyous teammates. After recording the moment of hugging and back-slapping, the cameras proceeded to pan over the wildly cheering fans, all of whom seemed to be ecstatic over the fact that their last place team-eighteen games behind the leader of the division and sinking slowly into oblivion-had just beaten a pennant contender.
When the camera switched to the broadcasting booth and a somewhat sad-faced announcer began his wrap-up of the ballgame, a very irritated Brian reached down and snapped off the television set. Then he returned to the sofa, dropped into it, and reached for his rum and coke.
"Hey, is the game finally over, hon?" Rhonda Talbot asked, securing the large pink bath towel around her shapely body as she moved into the living room. "Boy, that was sure a long game. Who finally won it?"
"Montreal," Brian groaned.
"Ahh, too bad, honey," his titian-tressed, twenty-eight-year-old wife said, settling herself into the sofa next to him. "Well, maybe the Mets will win tomorrow."
"Man, this was really a waste of three hours. A scoreless pitching duel for thirteen innings-then with one swing of the bat some rookie no one ever heard of, a .239 pinch-hitter, smacks a home run and wins the game. Holy Shit!"
Rhonda smiled. "Now, darling, is that any way for a high school English teacher to talk?
What would your students say if they could hear you curse?"
"They'd probably say, 'Hey, the guy is human after all.' They don't trust anyone over thirty, you know."
"Honey, you're only thirty-two. That's not exactly the age of senility, is it?"
Brian chuckled, his disappointment over seeing his team lose a heartbreaker fading fast as he viewed his beautiful wife's smooth, unblemished face, her warm smile, her twinkling green eyes. She's an outrageously desirable creature, he thought, a sight so scintillating as to turn the head of even the most jaded girl watcher.
"Come here, dreamboat," he smiled, reaching for the curvaceous (38-25-36) female beside him.
Rhonda's smile disappeared. Pretending to be piqued, she said, "Well now, I'm not so sure it should be that easy, lover. Here you ignore me all evening while you watch that silly old baseball game, and now that it's over I'm suppose to just fall into your arms."
Brian grinned. "Can I help it if I get horny watching ballgames? A nice relaxing bath always makes you itchy for some sex so-"
"Who says a bath makes me hot for cock?"
"You do, sweetheart. You once told me that lying there in the tub, the soapy water caressing your tingling flesh as you play with yourself, triggers thoughts of my pecker."
"Nonsense," Rhonda said softly. "A grown woman doesn't play with her body in the bathtub. At least I certainly don't."
"Like hell, baby," her husband chuckled, grabbing hold of his lovely wife's arms and dragging her to him.
"Oh, Brian ... stop," Rhonda squealed, making only a half-hearted attempt to free herself from his strong grasp. "Brian, I ... oh, you really are too much, darling."
"Yep, that I am, sugar. But you love me nonetheless."
"So says the conceited one," Rhonda teased, snuggling against her husband's chest and wrapping her slender arms around his back. "And conceit does not become you, my darling."
"Well, don't you love me?"
"I'll think about it. Give me a few minutes, will you?"
"All right," Brian said, "and while you're doing all that hard thinking I'll just ... " he let his voice trail off as he moved his wife back. With a snap of his wrist he jerked down the bath towel, exposing to his gaze the stimulating sight of Rhonda's magnificent mammaries.
"Brian, I'm still damp," the luscious redhead complained. "The water will drip onto the sofa, darling."
Brian grinned. "The only thing that's dripping, beautiful, is your hot snatch." His hands slid up his wife's smooth, flat belly to cradle the spongy melons of her breasts.
"So having flipped off the boob tube, you're now going to enjoy my boobs, huh? Well, I like that."
"Yeah, I know you do, baby," Brian chuckled, beginning now to knead the gelatinous globes of creamy flesh. He worried the crinkled, rose-colored nipples with his fingers, turning them almost instantly into tiny darts of desire.
"Ohh, you think you're so smart, Mr. Talbot," Rhonda sighed. "You think I turn on sexual at just the snap of a finger, don't you?"
"Maybe not at the snap of a finger, honey," Brian said. "But it doesn't take more than a quick glimpse of my cock."
Rhonda shook her head, feigning dismay. "You're such a smart-alecky so and so. 'You should be glad that I'm a girl who-likes to screw. Lots of men have trouble getting a response from their wives. You happen to be one of the lucky few who ... ohh, baby, what are you doing with those crazy hands?"
"You said it before, sweetheart. I'm enjoying your boobs."
"And they're enjoying your touch," Rhonda admitted, the strong, knowing message being administered to her quivering tits by her handsome hubby's skillful hands making any further pretense of annoyance downright foolish.
Although she would never admit it to her husband, she had indeed been fondling her succulent body in the bathroom. While reposing in the tub, she had pleasured herself with a dextrous stroking of her pretty pussy and her beautiful breasts. Closing her eyes, she had imagined herself running naked in an open field, only half-heartedly trying to escape the giant in hot pursuit, the giant whose intent it was to fuck the life from her with his two foot cock.
Now, sitting on the living room sofa next to her handsome hubby, the large bath towel draped over her lap, Rhonda was feeling that spark of desire first ignited in the bathroom grow into a small fire. Her pussy was beginning to purr, to secrete the lubricant which would make entry of a sturdy cock that much easier.
Brian now moved his hands from his wife's tingling mounds of spongy flesh to the top of her head. One by one he began to pluck the pins from her hair, allowing her flaming mane to fall into place a little at a time.
"Have I told you lately, Mrs. Talbot, that I think you're one helluva good-lookin' dame?"
"Not lately, Mr. Talbot," Rhonda answered, grinning at her brown-eyed, sandy-haired husband. "But it's always nice to hear"
When the last of her flaming tresses had tumbled from the top of her head to her creamy shoulders, Rhonda promptly maneuvered herself onto her husband's lap. As his hands returned to her beautiful boobs, she began undoing the buttons on his shirt.
"I can hardly wait for Saturday to arrive, honey," she said. "We're all going to have a real ball this year."
Brian smiled. "I think we have a great time every year, baby."
"Sure we do. But something tells me that this summer is going to be the best one yet. I don't know, maybe the fact that this summer the Kellers will be joining us has something to do with it. They're really a very attractive couple."
"Just can't wait to start squirming your lush ass under James Keller's prick, can you, sweetheart?"
"Ha, you should talk, lover. I've seen the way you look at his beautiful French wife, Claudine. You can't tell me you're not eager to see that gal in a bikini."
Brian chuckled. "True, and even more to the point is that I'm dying to see Claudine in the nude."
Rhonda undid the last shirt button, then peeled back the blue shirt and placed her hands on her hubby's hairy chest. She began to slide her hands over his flesh in slow, sensuous circles, her desire to be pronged by Brian's bloated bone becoming more intense with each passing second.
"I wonder if James can fuck as good as he looks," she said, lifting her plush posterior so her husband could pull the bath towel out from under her. Now she was completely bare; a blatantly beautiful redhead whose twat was beginning to twitch in anticipation of a fierce reaming.
"Ditto for his wife," Brian said. "In fact, if she's as good on her back as she is on her feet, you may not see much of me all summer."
Rhonda squirmed her still damp derriere on her husband's lap. "Perhaps," she smiled. "But comes the fall and you'll be back in the nest with me."
"Think so, huh? What makes you think I wouldn't leave you for one of the female members of our little swap group? Barbara and Judith are-"
"Are in love with their respective husbands," Rhonda finished. "And the reason I know you'll never stray too far from my snatch is because I treat you so nice."
"Really? In what way, beautiful?"
"In this way, you big lug," Rhonda grinned, her hand suddenly diving into her husband's lap, fingers fumbling for the zipper and digging into the opening of his beige slacks, her hand groping for that which would soon be tunneling into her itchy twat.
Somewhat to her surprise she discovered his pecker was only half-hard. She frowned, her fingers curling around the semi-stiff length of meat and beginning to stroke it tenderly.
"Huh, maybe I am starting to lose my touch," she wondered aloud. "I .thought by now you'd be straining at the leash, lover. Where is my favorite six-shooter, the one that shoots bullets of pleasure into my vagina?"
Brian smiled. "You're holding it, hon. What you see is what you get."
"Well what I see is not what I want, lover," Rhonda grinned. At least not in its present condition. I guess I'll just have to remedy the situation with a nice blow-job."
"That's what I love about you, hon," Brian chuckled. "You always come right to the point."
Rhonda climbed off her husband's lap and stood next to the sofa. "Come on, stud-of-mine, peel out of those duds so I can get to work on your pretty pecker. If you're not in the bedroom in two minutes, I'll get out the eight inch dildo you gave me last Christmas and while using it pretend James Keller is fucking me. How do you like those apples, lover?"
"I'll 'apples' you, you raving nympho," Brian laughed, jumping out of the sofa and starting after his giggling wife, who was already scampering off into their bedroom.
Without further delay, Brian now began removing his clothes. He peeled out of his opened shirt and tossed it onto the sofa. Then he kicked off his brown loafers, sat and removed his socks. His pants and white boxer shorts were next. After depositing the two garments with his shirt, he quickly finished his rum and coke.
Then, bare-assed naked, the thought that within moments his extraordinarily attractive wife would be wrapping her soft, succulent lips around his tool and propelling him onward, he started for the bedroom and the waiting Rhonda.
"You know, darling, I was just thinking," Rhonda said, when her husband appeared in the bedroom.
"About sucking my cock, I hope," Brian smiled, moving without pause to the double bed. He climbed onto the bed and rolled over onto his back, stretching his six foot one inch frame and folding his hands behind his head.
"Well, yes. But also about George Hardington, that disgustingly narrow-minded multi-millionaire who thinks we're the devil's gift to the Hamptons. Sure hope he doesn't spoil the summer for us."
"Yeah, that old bastard sure gave it a good try last year, didn't he? Seems he was coming around every other evening and threatening to call the cops if we didn't keep the noise down. He and a few other long-time residents of the Hamptons think of Eastern Long Island as their private terrain. Why they can't be satisfied with their huge estates, and leave us ordinary folk alone, is something I'll never understand."
Rhonda shrugged, then stepped to the side of the bed and sat down. "Well you know what it is, honey. He thinks we give the area a bad reputation."
'T know, I Know," Brian frowned. "We and our friends disturb the peace and tranquility that he's become accustomed to all these years. Well, I say that's tough shit. The old fuddy-duddy should mind his own business. Let him count all his money instead of annoying us with his stupid threats and nasty remarks."
Rhonda permitted herself a small smile. "Funny, isn't it, hon? He compares us to the 'groupers'-the single guys and gals who rent a place for the summer on the Island and share expenses. I guess he considers us no better than the teenagers who flock to the Hamptons every summer."
"He's just a frustrated old bastard," Brian said, dropping his hand onto his wife's knee and patting her firmly. "What he and a few others out there need is a hot-blooded young chick, some sexy little broad who could put some life into their tired bones."
Rhonda's smile broadened. "By 'bone' I suppose you mean this little old thing," she said, twisting around slightly and placing a warm hand over her hubby's now flaccid organ.
"That's exactly what I mean, baby. If guys like Hardington got laid once a while, they wouldn't be so ornery. Although maybe he can't get it up any more."
"Living all alone in that huge estate of his must be awfully lonely. I wonder what he does with all his free time."
"Counts his money, of course." Brian sighed loudly. "Boy, what I wouldn't give to have just half of the loot he's accumulated in his lifetime. We could live like royalty, baby."
"Well, money isn't everything, darling," Rhonda said, fondling her husband's penis, tickling his hairy scrotal sac. "I'm perfectly happy living here in this nice apartment. Although it will be good to get away for a couple of months."
"That it will, hon. I'm looking forward to it myself."
"I just wonder, though, if maybe this summer we shouldn't have rented a house further away from Hardington's estate. That way we wouldn't risk provoking his ire."
Brian frowned. "His 'ire' be damned, baby. Look, for the past three years you and I, together with the Barnets and the Aliens, have rented a very comfortable summer house. And we've always managed to have a great time in spite of Mr. George Hardington. We'll do this summer what we did in the past-and that's to ignore the old grouch completely. There's not a damn thing he can do to us if we mind our own business and don't trespass on his precious property."
Rhonda nodded. "I know you're right, darling. He just makes me nervous, that's all."
"Well he shouldn't, baby. He's just a bag of wind-all bark and to bite." Brian paused for a few seconds, then added, "Hell, renting that place for the summer is the only real luxury we all allow ourselves during the entire year. Being cooped up in the city all year, we need a little rest and relaxation."
His luscious titian-tressed wife smiled. "I'm not sure 'rest and relaxation' is the appropriate term, honey. My poor pussy and your cock are all .tuckered out comes the Labor Day weekend. Gee, when I think of all that sucking and screwing-mind-boggling is what it is."
"That's for sure," Brian said, chuckling. '. 'And the Kellers should add immeasurably to our enjoyment of the summer. I'm glad we were able to talk them into joining us this year. Mumm, boy, I can't wait to feel Claudine's saucy little seat squirmin' under me as I pound the meat to her. She's one French dish I'm really going to enjoy sampling."
"Humph! If you keep talking about her," Rhonda said, "you're going to have one very jealous wife on your hands."
Brian grinned. 'Tell you what, beautiful. If you promise not to tease me about Jim Keller, I'll promise not to mention his taste tempting wife any more. Fair enough?"
The dazzling redhead hesitated.
"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know I couldn't live without you. Now do we have a deal?"
Rhonda turned away from her husband, who was squeezing her knee playfully. After a few seconds, she said, "Yes, we have a deal, darling," in a voice which was deliberately made too serious for the situation.
"Good. Now why don't you-"
"I can't help but wonder, though ... " the titian-tressed beauty let her voice trail off, a dreamy, faraway look bathing her unblemished, unlined face as she stared into space.
"Wonder about what, baby?"
"About the size of Jim's tool," Rhonda answered quickly, trying to stifle the laugh about to burst from her throat.
"Why you little ... " Grinning broadly, Brian reached for his wife and pulled her roughly down to him, her spongy tits flattening against his muscular chest. "Now you're really going to get a fucking, beautiful."
"Promises, promises," Rhonda teased, her lush body squirming stop her husband's hard, lean one.
Brian began to speak but was quickly silenced, his words smothered by Rhonda's mouth as she pressed her supple lips against his own. Her tongue flicked out and darted into his mouth, the fleshy serpent seeking out and then hotly embracing its mate.
Brian's hands wandered up and down and all around his wife's smooth back, slipped down to caress the mouth-watering half-moons of her delectable derriere. His fingers dived into the narrow crevice of her succulent seat and he felt her body's answering quiver, felt, too, the sudden swelling of his penis.
Whimpering into her handsome hubby's mouth, Rhonda began now to grind her warm pelvis into his middle, the feel of his thickening cock as it strained against her body sending ripples of lust traveling up her spine.
And when at last the torrid kiss broke, both knew that the time for laughing and teasing was over, that further discussion about their upcoming vacation with their swinging friends would have to be postponed until a later date.
The moment had arrived when Rhonda would fulfill the promise made earlier in the living room. She would suck her husband's six-inch cock, once again wrap her lovely hips around the stalk of flesh she loved dearly.
Her goal would be not to breathe life into Brian's organ-she knew that he was already in a state of total tumescence-but to further whet his appetite for sex, to hone his lust to such a fine edge that in his intense, maniacal urge to fuck her he would be like one demented.
"Mmmmmm ... " Brian hummed, "that's what I call a kiss, baby."
"What more, lover?" Rhonda breathed, smiling down into her husband's face.
"Lots more, sugar. But do it-"
Once again the curvaceous redhead silenced Brian by pressing her soft lips against his thick ones. The kiss was quick, much shorter than the first, and when Rhonda lifted her head Brian could see the sexual need etched into her face. Her eyes were clouded by desire, her nostrils were flared slightly, her expression one of great hunger.
"I know what you want, baby," she whispered hotly. "You want the kiss of love."
And with those words Rhonda began her descent, inching her way down her husband's hard body like a large serpent snaking toward its home. Weaving slowly downward, she kissed and licked Brian's chest and flat tummy, pausing momentarily to drill her tongue into his navel before continuing toward her goal.
"That's my girl," Brian husked, encouraging his beautiful wife's descent to his now fully erect dick by placing his hands on her head and applying downward pressure. "Go get it, baby. Play with my bone like a puppy."
Which was Rhonda's intent exactly. No sooner had she arrived at her destination than her mouth opened, her tongue sliding out to lick her supple lips. Crouched now between her husband's widely splayed legs, her face hovering over his warm loins, she took hold of his meaty cudgel and directed it to her oral cavity.
Cradling his warm, hairy scrotal sac in the palm of one hand, she began to lick the throbbing length of hard flesh, her tongue wandering salaciously over the bulbous head of his stiff organ. Her strokes were artful, precise, designed to do no more than suffuse her husband with an unholy desire to be blown, to tease him into a wanton lust that only taking of his entire tool in her mouth could assuage.
Lips nibbling and tongue twirling, she worked her way from the base of Brian's bone to its plum-shaped head, paused to wedge the tip of her tongue into the tiny, salivating slit, then proceeded to wash the other side of her husband's manhood.
And now another brief pause while she swabbed his balls, her hard-working tongue lapping at his tasty testicles as she inhaled the intoxicating aroma emanating from his crotch. Mashing her lovely face into Brian's loins, Rhonda coated his scrotum with warm saliva while with the fingers of one hand she steered his turgid tool out of the way.
"Ohh, baby," Brian groaned. "Put it in your mouth, Rhonda. You're driving me crazy with those lips."
The ravishing redhead ceased her licentious labors, lifting her face from her husband's genitals. Her smile was knowing, faintly feral. "Too much of a good thing, lover?" she asked.
"Stop teasing me, baby. Just stick this candy cane in your mouth and start sucking."
"Yes, master," Rhonda said, winking. "Your wish is my command."
Seconds later Brian felt his wife's soft lips close over the purplish crown of his stiff prick. He moaned his approval, thrusting up his hips in an attempt to stuff more of his meat into Rhonda's moist mouth.
But Rhonda would not be hurried. Working deliberately, she slid her pursed lips down her husband's bone, savoring the slightly salty taste of his organ as it inched toward the back of her throat. And then at last she had it all, or at least that portion of his meaty member which she could contain comfortably in her mouth.
Now she commenced to suck, slowly but surely, her beautiful head bobbing lazily over
Brian's loins. Her flowing, flaming tresses shielded her lovely face from view, formed a tent, as it were, a silky screen behind which she could leisurely suck her husband's tasty tool.
Tiny grunts of pleasure burst from Brian's lips as he squirmed on the bed, the feel of his wife's succulent lips sliding wetly up and down his tumescent prick casting all reasonable thoughts aside and befogging his mind with passion.
"Chew it, honey," he groaned, his fingers entwining in Rhonda's long hair. "Suck on that hot cock, you beautiful bitch."
His wife's reply was a gargled groan, an unintelligible sound smothered by the cock she was sucking a little faster now. Her copper-colored cunt was sending out serious signals, twitching and salivating in eager anticipation of the reaming it was soon to receive.
Spurred on by her ever increasing desire to be dicked, as well as by her handsome hubby's explicit exhortations, Rhonda again increased the tempo of her lewd cocksucking. Her head now bobbed and weaved at a rapid pace over Brian's loins.
"Yeah, baby, that's the way," Brian moaned, his fingernails digging into Rhonda's scalp. "Gobble it all up, honey. Chew for all you're worth, my cock-loving lady."
Teeth scraping, tongue swirling, Rhonda began to feast like one famished. The itch in her twat was growing to gigantic proportions, her swaying boobs tingled maddeningly. Her weeping womanhood was demanding its due. Her cunt craved cock; a hot, throbbing, blood-packed cock that would come tearing into her body with a relentless determination.
And so she worked on Brian's bloated bone like a madwoman, caring naught for propriety and only for hot prick. Frantically and with total abandon did she suck on that life-giving root, time and again swooping down to engulf almost its entire length with her saliva-filled mouth.
Being a mere mortal, Brian could stand just so much delicious torment. Emitting an animalistic groan, he suddenly sat up and with considerable effort pried Rhonda loose from his now slimy shaft. The luscious redhead snapped back to her haunches, a look of surprise and some displeasure on her beautiful face.
"Quick, honey," Brian rasped. "Get on your back. My cock is about to explode!"
"Yesss," Rhonda hissed, her perfectly set white teeth clenched, her face a mask of pure need. "I've got to have a cock-your cock, baby. Stuff it in me."
Seconds later the gorgeous titian-tressed female was on her back, her arms extended in warm invitation, her knees splayed wide to accept her hump-hungry hubby. She wanted desperately to be dicked. Her copper-colored cunt was crying to be fed, the lubricating fluid trickling out of her flowering sex lips.
Brian was on his knees between his wife's parted legs, one hand gripping his pulsating pecker hotly. Through passion-clouded eyes he looked down at his prick-famished wife, the sight of her naked, squirming body, her face flushed with desire, her silky red hair fanned out over the pillow, almost causing him to shoot his load on the spot.
"Do me, darling," Rhonda pleaded. "Do me hard and fast. I'm dying for your hot cock."
"You'll get it, baby," Brian growled. "Every last fuckin' inch is goin' in your pretty cunt."
"Yes, darling. Stick it deep. Bury that bone in my twat!"
A moan of animal passion bursting from his throat, Brian fell forward and with a single thrust buried his throbbing bone to the hilt in his wife's soggy vagina. Rhonda immediately wrapped her arms and legs around her husband's hard body, the breath whooshing from her lungs when he dropped down atop her beautiful breasts.
At once did they begin the primeval dance of lust, their naked bodies writhing hotly together, flesh against flesh, their warm loins locked in genital embrace. Six years of marriage had taught each much about the other's body, and so now they rocked and rolled in synchronous harmony.
Time and again Brian banged his turgid tool into his wife's clasping cunt, received in return Rhonda's answering pelvic thrust. In and out he plunged his hot prick, the meaty cudgel scouring the wet walls of Rhonda's weeping womanhood.
"Ohh, baby, give me, give me," the ravishing redhead moaned, thrashing under her humping hubby like an impaled insect. "Pound the hell out of me, my great stud. Screw that cock deep!"
"Harder? Faster?"
"Yes! Bang me bloody, Brian. Kill me with your hot prick!"
His taut buttocks bobbing rapidly up and down, Brian boomed his rock-hard rod to the depths of his wife's syrupy cunt. Rhonda took it all and begged for more, the gutter words she was now spewing into his ear spurring her husband on to even greater effort.
This was it, her lust-befogged mind told her. This coupling of male and female was all that really mattered. To be fiercely fucked, to be reamed regularly, made life on this trouble-plagued planet worthwhile.
And now she had two glorious months of screwing to look forward to, sixty days devoted to the sun and surf and sex. With their very good friends, the Barnets, the Aliens, and the Kellers, she and Brian would swing and swap the summer away.
CHAPTER TWO
"Honey, maybe you should phone Brian to verify the time we're supposed to meet," Barbara Barnet suggested, when her good-looking husband, Christopher, returned to the bedroom.
"Man, that shower was great," the blonde, blue-eyed Chris said, stepping over to his dresser for some cologne. "I feel fresh as a daisy, baby." He winked broadly. "You had better keep your legs tightly closed, beautiful, because I've got an urge to rape a few luscious females tonight."
Barbara smiled. "And when was the last time you had to rape me, Mr. Barnet? Aren't I always the compliant woman, a female ever eager to be seduced by masculine charms?"
"My, my, aren't we the poetic one tonight?" the six foot two inch, one hundred eighty-five pound Chris chuckled, splashing some of his favorite cologne onto his hairy chest. Except for the bath towel which he had thrown over his left shoulder, he was completely exposed.
"Anyway," Barbara began, "to get back to what I was saying. I think you should give the Talbots a buzz."
Chris frowned. "Why should I call them at this hour, baby? First of all, it's a bit late. And secondly, I have no reason to speak to Brian." He broke into a small laugh. "Hell, we'll be seeing the Talbots all summer. Not only seeing them, but screwing them."
"Well, I just thought you might want to double check the time," his lovely wife said. Barbara Barnet was lying on the double bed, clad only in a pair of white panties.
"The time? It's almost midnight, honey."
"Oh, you idiot," Barbara groaned. "You know perfectly well what I meant. I can't remember if it's eight or nine o'clock that we're supposed to meet Brian and Rhonda outside their apartment building. I think it's a good idea if-"
"Honey, it's eight o'clock," Chris interrupted, putting the small bottle of cologne back on the dresser top. A smile began to crease his well-chiseled face as he took the towel from his shoulder and began to dab his still damp body.
"So you think my idea was stupid, huh?" Barbara asked.
Chris's smile broadened and he shook his head slowly from side to side. "Baby, you know I love you with a passion. You're one of the most attractive, most intelligent, most desirable, most-"
"Enough already," Barbara grinned. "Get to the bad part, will you, lover? I know your flattery is leading up to an insult."
"Not an insult at all, baby. But the fact of the matter ,is that you worry too much. Everything was all arranged just two nights ago, when the eight of us got together at the Talbot's place. You remember that, don't you?"
"Well, I would hate for us to be the ones to foul things up, that's all, darling."
"Baby, we are adults, aren't we?" Chris asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. "We won't foul anything up. You just handle the packing and leave the transportation problems to me."
"You had the car checked out this afternoon, didn't you?" the twenty-seven year old blonde beauty asked, lazily stroking her golden nest of pubic hairs.
"Grrr," Chris growled, throwing the bath towel aside and darting suddenly toward the bed as if he were intent on attacking his wife. He climbed on the bed and took Barbara into his arms, his face softening as quickly as it had hardened into a scowl of mock anger. "What in the world am I going to do with you, beautiful? You are just too, too much."
Barbara smiled. "Bet you say that to all your women."
"I have no other women, honey. I mean you can't count Rhonda Talbot and Judith Allen-they're just our swinging female friends."
"And this summer you'll be adding Claudine Keller to your list of admiring friends, darling," Barbara said, snuggling close to her well-built husband.
"True. And to your list of studs will be added the name of Mr. James Keller, free-lance magazine writer of some repute. Now if he can handle his cock the way he handles his typewriter, then you should be in your glory."
"A man's occupation means nothing to me, honey. As long as he's good-looking and knows which end is up, I don't care how a man earns his daily bread."
Chris grinned. "May I assume then that you are perfectly happy with your high school guidance counselor husband?"
"Yes, luv. You may assume that I absolutely adore you." The lovely blonde reached down and curled her fingers around her husband's cock. "And that I adore this beautiful organ on your beautiful body."
"And speaking about beautiful bodies. ... " Chris left the thought unfinished as he began to knead his wife's creamy boobs.
Barbara and her thirty-one year old hubby had been married for five years and were still very much in love with each other. Both looked upon swapping as a very pleasant complement to an already very satisfying union. Mate-trading, they thought, was a most delightful pastime, one that all married couples, happy or not, should engage in. And while each relished the thought of bedding down with someone new, of sampling different dicks and snatches, both realized the greatest pleasure when fucking each other.
"Mmmmmm, that's nice," Barbara purred. "I think you like my boobs best of all. It's your favorite part of my anatomy, isn't it?"
Chris grinned. "Well, not exactly. This is what really turns me on, sweetheart." He slipped his hand from his wife's pert tits and slid it down to cup her pantied pussy.
"Oh, honey, do I ever love when you play with me there," Barbara sighed, rolling over onto her back and spreading her legs for her husband's exploring hand. "You can't imagine how much pleasure a female receives from being stuffed with a hot cock."
"I think I can, beautiful," Chris said. "In fact, Mrs. Allen and Mrs. Talbot have told me often how much they enjoy getting laid."
"Oh, the hell with them, darling," Barbara moaned. "I don't want to talk about the females with whom I'm sharing your wonderful cock."
"Jealous, huh?"
"Of course not, Chris. I love Rhonda and Judith, you know that. But I ... oh, baby, kiss me down there. Do me with your mouth, my darling. Your hand is making me so hot, so very hot."
"Your crotch is wet, sweetheart," Chris said, patting his blonde wife between her sleek legs.
"I'm wetting for you, lover," Barbara said, her voice growing thick with passion. She began now to squirm on the bed, her hands slipping down to the elasticized waistband of her white briefs. She started to push the sheer undergarment down, wanting to bare her box for her hubby's warm mouth.
"Not so fast, beautiful," Chris said, preventing Barbara from lowering her panties by grabbing both her hands and holding them against the bed.
"Come on, baby," his lovely wife moaned, becoming more frantic with each passing second. She had always been a female easy to excite, one who treasured those moments spent writhing under a pounding prick. And now, with her handsome hubby teasing her pantied twat and the thought that soon his delicious dick would be planted in her hot hole dancing in her head, she was becoming increasingly desirous of a second screwing.
"Come on, what?" Chris teased, receiving a perverse thrill from the sight of his near-nude wife squirming helplessly in his firm grip. "Exactly what is it you want, my beautiful and randy wife?"
"Damn you, Chris," Barbara cried. "Don't start that stupid teasing again. Just pull down my pants and start sucking my cunt. And do it now. I'm dying for your kiss."
"Say please," Chris persisted.
"Oh, you are a bastard," Barbara groaned, unable to still her squirming hips. On her face was a pained expression of sexual need. Her shoulder-length blonde hair swirled about her face as she rolled her head on the pillow.
"I'm waiting, beautiful," Chris grinned.
"All right, you beast," his wife cried out. "Please pull down my pants and suck my cunt. Is that what you wanted to hear, you big stinker?"
"Try pretty please with sugar on top," Chris said.
"Christopher!"
"All right, all right. Don't go turning sour on me, honey."
Knowing that any further teasing of his wife would only result in dampening her desire, Chris now released his grip on Barbara's hands and moved to lower her briefs. Eager to glue his mouth to her salivating snatch, he proceeded to peel Barbara's pants down, working them around and off her svelte hips as she lifted her curvaceous ass to help in her denuding.
He tugged his wife's briefs down her creamy thighs to her knees, then, as she raised her legs, he worked the silky undergarment along her shapely calves to her feet. After working the pants around and off Barbara's feet, he tossed them over his shoulder and prepared to feast on a taste-tempting twat.
"Now do it," Barbara demanded, thrusting up her pelvis. "Get down there and start eating me, baby."
"One cunt-lapping, coming up," her husband grinned.
Chris now positioned himself between his wife's legs, crouching low as he gazed at Barbara's golden bush. With his thumbs he parted her sticky sex lips, pausing for a moment to study the swollen, pulsating bud of her clitoris. Then, licking his lips in anticipation, he burrowed his handsome head into her warm, odorous loins and commenced lapping at her pretty twat.
"Oh yes, darling," Barbara sighed. "Yes, yes, yes!"
" ... and so that's why elephants love to fuck," Judith Allen explained, finishing what she considered a delightfully dirty and very funny story.
Her husband Paul laughed. "Baby, you are one crazy lady. Have you ever thought of visiting a psychoanalyst, hon? Jokes like that could put you on a shrink's couch in no time flat."
"Oh, go on. You thought it was cute, didn't you? Your mind is just as filthy as mine. Filthier, in fact. Most of the dirty jokes I know I learned from you, sweetheart."
"Yeah, I guess I can't deny that, baby," Paul grinned. "You and I are just a couple of depraved married folk."
His brunette wife smiled, winked lewdly. "Yep, and isn't it just marvelous, honey?"
Paul joined his wife in laughter, giving her a playful shove which almost caused her to drop the squat jar of petroleum jelly.
The Aliens, members in good standing of the small swap group, were at the moment preparing to engage in what both regarded as a most pleasant sexual act-anal intercourse. Both were bare-assed naked and sitting on their king-sized bed, the petite Judith lovingly applying the lubricant to her attractive hubby's fully erect, six inch cock.
Although in build Judy Allen was small, her figure being nice and compact and devoid of needless fat, her appetite for sex, in all its delightful variations, was large indeed. Few in number were the sex acts and positions the Aliens had not tried during their very happy eight year marriage.
"Well, I guess it might be nice to live in a house," Judy said, smearing the thick jelly up and down and all around her husband's swollen prick. "Maybe someday we'll buy a little place. But in the meantime we have our summers with our friends to look forward to."
Paul smiled. "Yeah, that's something, all right. It's fortunate that I've got a partner who can be trusted. Otherwise I'd never leave the store in his hands for two whole months."
"Tell me, hon," Judy said, "you have the schedule down pat, don't you? I mean time is very important."
"Got it all up here, princess," Paul answered, tapping his forehead with a finger. "At precisely seven-fourteen the Barnets will leave their apartment. They'll hop into their '69-and let's not hear any vulgar comment about that number-their '69 Dodge and proceed to Riverside Drive.
"At seven thirty-two they'll arrive at our apartment building. We will get into the automobile and all four of us will head for the Talbot's residence. If we make the lights and avoid all accidents, we should arrive at Brian and Rhonda's abode by eight o'clock.
"Whereupon we will say hello to Mr. and Mrs. James Keller, who have bussed from their apartment in the Village to the Talbot residence in the East Eighties. If time permits, we will gulp down a fast cup of coffee in Rhonda's kitchen. If not, Jim and Claudine will climb into the back seat of Brian's '70 Chevy-Brian and his wife will be up front.
"You and I and Chris and Barbara will be in the Dodge. Then, with a hearty farewell to the city and all its dirt and grime, it's off and away with us. Eight swappers in search of greener pastures."
Judy just looked at her husband, trying very hard not to burst into laughter. "You know something," she said finally, the smile she'd tried to stifle now blossoming on her cute face, "I think you've flipped out. You are really the-"
"Well, you wanted to know if I remembered the arrangements, baby. I was just trying to show you that I've got a memory like that elephant you were telling me about before."
"Idiot," Judy grinned, raising the small jar of jelly as if she intended to hit her husband over the head with it.
Paul threw up his arms in self-defense. "Hit me, princess, and you'll make three females, very angry. How will a wounded man be able to sexually service Rhonda, Barbara and Claudine? It'll be a calamity, honey."
Judy just shook her head. "A nut, that's what I married. A real screwball is what I have for a husband."
The job of preparing her hubby's prick for entry into her warm rectum now completed, the pert brunette climbed off the bed and returned the squat bottle of jelly to its place in her night table drawer. Paul looked down at his now jelly-coated cock and grinned.
"July third to September fourth," he heard his wife say. He looked up to see Judy fondling her small but firm tits in front of her dresser mirror.
"Two whole months of nothing but good sex," Paul said, easing himself down on the bed and stretching his five foot eleven inch frame. He placed his hands behind his head and sighed. "Yes, sir, little lady, I hear the call of the wild. Swimming, sunning and screwing, what more could any healthy, red-blooded male want?"
"Or healthy, red-blooded female?" Judy added, smiling into the mirror as she lifted and squeezed her spongy melons.
A moment of silence ensued, during which Paul, his slimy cock pointed toward the bedroom ceiling, smilingly studied his pretty wife's reflection in the mirror.
"You've got a nice pair of tits, luv," he said finally, for some reason thinking it necessary to reassure his wife that her breast development wasn't retarded. "It's no wonder the guys love to handle 'em."
"It's a wonder to me," Judy said, her brow furrowing slightly. "I've got the smallest boobs of all the girls."
"How do you know? We haven't seen Keller's wife naked yet. Could be she's padded on top, honey."
"Oh, I doubt that. Nope, there's no getting around the fact that when boobs were being handed out I was last on line."
"Rubbish, baby," Paul said. "You happen to be one perfectly proportioned female. A sleek pair of legs, good hips, cute fanny, squeezable tits-I wouldn't want you any other way. You know how crazy Brian is about your body."
Judy smiled wryly. "Yeah, I know. And there's a guy whose wife is built like a goddess."
"A busty goddess."
"Perhaps, but still and all I think most men like big-breasted women. They like a pair of boobs they can hang onto."
"Well, I'm not one of 'em, baby," Paul stated, his wife's sudden concern about the size of her mammaries beginning to irritate him just a little. "Now are you going to leave me in this condition-my prick greased for the ass-fucking you said you wanted? Come on, honey, wiggle your tail over here and let's get on with it."
Judy turned from the mirror and grinned at her horny husband. "I'm sorry, darling. I guess we did get off on a tangent."
"I don't know what we got off on, princess. But I do know that I want to get in your saucy ass. Now haul it over here like a good wife and get into position."
"How do you want me, hon?" Judy asked, moving toward the bed. "I mean, in what position?"
"The usual one," her husband grinned. "Head up, tail down."
"On the bed?"
"Right," Paul replied, rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. His greased rod swaying slightly, he watched his wife climb onto the bed and quickly arrange herself in the proper position.
Once again excited by the prospect of having her rectum reamed, Judy crouched on the bed on knees and elbows, her head cradled between her arms, her taut tail pointed toward the ceiling. She looked back at her husband and wiggled her pert ass.
"See anything you like?" she asked, grinning.
"Indeed I do, princess," was Paul's throaty reply.
For a few long seconds he stared at his wife's delectable derriere, the derriere now posed so provocatively before him. An obscene offering to the gods, he thought, watching Judy thrust out her curvaceous posterior even further and begin a slow, sensuous rotation designed to tease and tempt.
Then he stepped into position behind his wife, stilling the salacious motion of her shapely seat with his hands. His greasy bone poised for the plunge into Judy's shit-chute, Paul commenced a loving caress of her firm, taut bottom, allowing his hands to wander at will as he savored the smooth texture of her warm flesh.
"Oh, your touch makes me tingle, darling," Judy chirped.
"I love to fondle your fanny, baby. It's one of the prettiest asses I've ever fucked."
"Nicer than Rhonda's? Or Barbara's?"
"Much tighter, princess," Paul answered. "But let's not start comparing figures again. Boob-wise and ass-wise I think you're just perfect. Now, ready for your fucking?"
"Do it, darling," the petite brunette cooed. "Shove that greasy old bone right up my bottom."
A smiling Paul Allen directed the bulbous head of his sticky cock to his wife's wrinkled anus. His hands clamped firmly over her hips, he leaned forward slightly and began the invasion of her constricting shit-chute.
"Relax, baby," he said, the tip of his tumescent tool straining against Judy's small nether hole.
"Yes, I know, honey," Judy replied, the words bubbling up from her throat as she crouched even lower on the bed. She bit down on her lower Up and clenched her hands, awaiting that first soul-searching thrust which would signal the start of her rectum reaming.
Relaxing her sphincter muscles and thereby facilitating her hubby's entrance into her compact fanny was easier said than done. For although her posterior had been packed with many a prick, there was always the pain of the initial thrust to contend with. Once entry had been accomplished, once that hard, thick length of flesh was pistoning in and out of her ass, her discomfort would almost magically disappear and only pleasure would remain.
But first her rectum would have to endure a painful stretching.
"Push back, baby," Paul rasped. "Help a little."
"Yes, all right," Judy mumbled.
She closed her eyes tight and shoved her fanny back, at the same time trying to open her anus by pretending to fart.
And then ... success. Judy heard her husband's grunt of desire and felt the cold, greasy head of his stiff pecker lodge in her small anus. Seconds later that length of thick meat was burrowing into her tight bottom, shoving aside all in its path in its purposeful march to the depths of her bowels.
"How is it, baby?" Paul asked, his voice thick with passion. "If it's too-"
"All right, it's all right," Judy groaned. "Keep it coming, honey. Stuff it all in me. I want every inch of your fat prick crammed into my ass."
"You're tight, baby. It's the greatest."
"Push it all the way in, Paul. Bury your beautiful cock in my shitty ass."
His hands still wrapped firmly around his wife's hips, fingernails digging into the resilient flesh, Paul inched his turgid tool into her constricting rectum. She was deliciously tight, almost painfully so, her warm rectal muscles squeezing his trundling bone like a dozen gloved fingers. And some fingers!
But then he was home, his root firmly imbedded in Judy's clasping nether canal. All six inches of his jelly-coated cock were now snugly encased in her stretched rectum.
Judy moaned her gratitude, happy now that her quivering fanny was filled to capacity with hot cock. And she was pleased that her hubby hadn't lost control and stuffed her ass with one mighty thrust, that he had instead packed his pulsating prick into her body with considerable care.
Paul held himself immobile, allowing his wife to become accustomed to the thick intruder in her behind. He flexed his rigid rod in Judy's narrow nether canal and thrilled to her answering moan of delight.
How outrageously obscene, how deliciously depraved, he thought, looking down to feast his eyes on their unnatural connection. He had planted all but his hairy balls in Judy's greedily grasping shit-chute and her widely distended anus was hotly hugging his pulsating passion root.
"Fuck it now, honey," Judy breathed hotly. "Give me a royal reaming, my darling."
The pain of the penetration had all but disappeared and now she could wallow in perverse pleasure, savor each strong thrust of Paul's bone as he dicked her derriere. It felt as if a bar of molten steel had been crammed into her ass, she thought. But her diminishing discomfort was of little import when compared to the unholy lust now washing over her small but perfectly-proportioned body.
"Hold on, baby," Paul husked, beginning to move his fleshy spike in the muck of his wife's rectum.
"Don't be gentle now," Judy said, pressing the side of her face into the mattress. "Do it hard and fast. You know I can take it, darling. I like it rough and tough."
"And that's how it'll be, princess."
"Yes. Sock it to me, my handsome stud."
Inspired by his pretty wife's lewd request for a royal ass reaming, Paul proceeded to work his stiff rod in and out of her quivering fanny. He withdrew his root until only the pear-shaped head remained sheathed in Judy's rectum, the sight of her stretched shit hole tenaciously gripping his stained spear, causing him to shudder with hot lust.
With a bestial moan of passion he thrust forward and sent his rock hard pecker tunneling up into his wife's narrow passage. He heard her tremulous sigh of pleasure, again withdrew much of his meaty cock and again stuffed it back into her bottom.
"That's it, darling," Judy moaned excitedly, wriggling her up-thrust posterior in lewd abandon. "Do it hard and fast. Shove that thick cock clear up to my tits."
"Yeah, baby. You're going to get it all," was her husband's throaty reply.
Moments later Paul had settled into a comfortable rhythm, his besmirched bone sliding smoothly, effortlessly in and out of Judy's stretched shit-chute. Hands on her hips for leverage, Paul time and again battered his pretty wife's bottom with his well greased tool.
The fact that her hubby was hammering his pulsing cock into her ass and the fact of their upcoming swinging summer vacation combined to trigger thoughts of previous rectum reamings. Springing to Judy's passion-dazed mind was the memory of last summer, when on one occasion, after a refreshing swim in the ocean, she had allowed the painfully horny Brian Talbot and Christopher Barnet to strip off the lower half of her bikini and fuck her fanny as she knelt on all fours on the sand and whimpered like a bitch in heat.
But that delightful memory was erased in a jiffy, jerked out of Judy's mind by a particularly pulverizing plunge of her husband's prick into her trembling tail.
"Arghh, good!" she wailed. "Fuck it bloody, darling."
"You beautiful bitch," Paul groaned, intent now on giving his wife the ass reaming of her young life.
Emitting hoarse grunts of lust, he pounded his dirty dick into Judy's ass with a vengeance, his hairy thighs repeatedly slapping against the backs of her soft, creamy ones. His lust-happy mate continued to groan with delight, imploring him to render her unconscious with his magnificent manhood.
Again and again Paul boomed his besmirched bone into Judy's constricting shit chute, the lusty moans and breathless sighs she was emitting providing ample evidence of her enjoyment of the unnatural coupling. Tears of happiness were trickling down her cheeks, he observed, with not a little satisfaction.
"I want an honest answer now, darling," Claudine Keller said, smiling as she turned from the full-length mirror on the bedroom closet door and stepped to her husband, James, who was sitting bare-assed naked on the edge of the bed. "Please don't tell a lie just to make me feel good. I want the truth, Jim."
Her ruggedly attractive husband smiled, his large hands moving up to clamp over Claudine's shapely hips. "The truth, beautiful, is that you look absolutely smashing in those pink hot pants. And I still say you should resume your show business career. With your face and figure, your great talent as a dancer, the producers-"
"Now don't go changing the subject, darling," the raven-tressed beauty said, smiling down at her handsome hubby. "I want to know if you think maybe they're a bit too much. I would not like to be arrested."
Jim Keller smiled. "Well, I'll put it this way, sweetheart. If you wear these eye-catching hot pants on the street as you're wearing them now, with those beautiful boobs bared for all to see, then I think you might very well get arrested. The police will charge you with inciting a riot."
"Oh, James," Claudine chuckled. "You know that isn't what I meant. I want to know if-"
"There are many broad-minded people here in the Village," her husband continued, "but I don't think even they are ready for the sexy sight of my luscious wife walking down MacDougal Street attired only in hot pants. Boy, we'd have the first mass rape in broad daylight."
"Honey, will you stop?" Claudine asked, frowning. "Now just tell me if they're too tight." She turned smoothly in her husband's hands and presented him with a scintillating view of her hot-panted posterior.
"Hot pants are supposed to be tight, aren't they, honey?"
"Well, yes, but I don't want-"
"Baby, believe me," Jim interrupted, "these pants of yours are just perfect. If anyone can wear fanny-hugging shorts, it's you. You've got great legs, sleek hips, and a behind that...." He let his voice trail off as his fingers fumbled for the single button and then the zipper at the side of his wife's pants.
"A behind that ... now, honey, what are you doing?"
"I'm not scrambling eggs, that's for sure," Jim chuckled, as he proceeded to peel
Claudine's tight-fitting shorts off her hips and curvaceous bottom. He worked the pink garment down her firm but very shapely thighs to her knees, then let it drop to the floor to form a puddle at her feet.
"Jim," Claudine whined, "I feel so naked now. This isn't nice at all, honey."
"It's more than nice, sweetheart," her husband corrected, referring to Claudine's denuded derriere. "It's a heavenly heinie."
"Oh, Jim, that tickles," the lovely French female giggled, the feel of Jim's thick lips on her bare bottom making her tingle with pleasure. "Don't do that. Don't! Oh, Jim. Darling."
"Mmmmm, you know you love it, baby," Jim said, trailing his moist tongue over the creamy smooth mounds of his wife's buttocks. With nibbling lips and stroking tongue he explored almost every delightful inch of Claudine's firm, taut posterior, this salacious swabbing of his wife's delectable derriere prodding his prick into motion.
Holding his wife in place, he continued to pay oral homage to her shapely seat, ignoring her quiet murmurs of protest as his lips and tongue roamed over the taste-tempting flesh.
Then, as he wedged the tip of his thick tongue into the narrow crevice of her ass, he bade Claudine bend over. His great prick was on the rise, that eight inch length of meat swelling slowly but surely to a tumescent state.
"No, not that," Claudine protested, trying to pull away from her husband's strong grip on her hips. "I don't want that, Jim. Now please, let me go."
Claudine loved a screwing as much as the next female, but there were some sexual acts she just couldn't bring herself to enjoy. There were limits, she believed, to the liberties a wife should allow her husband, no matter how much in love she was with him.
Some things were just not done. She enjoyed warming to the occasion while receiving her husband's knowing caresses, realized considerable pleasure in his firm yet gentle fondling of her naked body, but there were times when a halt had to be called. And this was one of those times, Claudine thought, still resisting Jim's attempts to bend her over so that he could corkscrew his tongue into her anus.
"Come on, baby," Jim said. "Don't be difficult. If you'd just let me do it to you once, you'd see how good-"
"I say no!" Claudine shouted, breaking free at last and spinning around to face her husband. "What you want to do is dirty. It's dirty and animalistic. I don't know why you think I would enjoy such a filthy thing."
"All right, forget it then," Jim groaned, not bothering to disguise his displeasure. "I won't stick my tongue into your precious little ass-hole."
"Darn right you won't," Claudine mumbled, stepping out of her pink pants and then reaching down to pick them up. She moved quickly away from the bed and over to her vanity. She tossed the hot pants aside, picked up a comb and began combing her long dark tresses.
Jim turned on the bed to look at her. "So that's that, huh? I mean, now that you've spoiled the evening, you're just going to sit and calmly comb your hair."
"I haven't spoiled anything, James," Claudine shot back.
"You've managed to dampen my desire considerably, baby," Jim said, which was far from the truth since the sight of his naked wife was filling him with raw lust and diminishing not at all the size of his now totally erect prick.
But Claudine had aroused his ire, had annoyed him by once again resisting a little harmless sexual experimentation. How anyone who delighted in a fierce dicking-and Claudine loved to get laid-could continue denying herself new pleasures was something he would never understand.
He had met Claudine while on an assignment in France, wooed and won her in the space of four months and married her upon their return to New York. Quickly but with much love she had transformed his comfortable four room bachelor pad into living quarters for two, and they had eased into what both figured would be a life of connubial bliss.
But now, three years later, the cream was beginning to curdle a little. He still loved his wife, of that there was no question. And for all intents and purposes he was comparatively happy living the life of a married man, although he remembered fondly his swinging days as a footloose and imagine-free single man.
But it was not because of an intense, overwhelming desire to fuck another female that Jim had readily agreed to accompany his good friends, the Talbots, the Aliens, the Barnets, on their annual pilgrimage to passion's playground. Nor was the wish to prong a different pussy responsible for his having devoted every other evening during the past four months trying to convince Claudine of the numerous benefits of swapping.
His purpose in bringing Claudine into the mate-trading set was primarily to get her to open up, to force her into realizing her full potential for pleasure. And at long last, after considerable debate and argument, a few million words later, Claudine had consented to mingle with the mate-switchers.
Jim knew that his twenty-five year old wife had not been around much prior to their marriage. This, despite all that is said about the French female's liberal attitudes concerning sex and the advent of the Pill. And so her decision to sleep with another man had no doubt been a painful one, one made only because she wanted to please her husband.
But it had been a necessary decision, Jim thought now, as he watched his beautiful wife brush out her raven tresses. The health of their marriage depended in a large part on Claudine learning to respond with unashamed enthusiasm to those sexual acts she now labeled "vile and despicable perversions."
Claudine could see Jim watching her in the mirror. He's angry with me again, she thought. Because I wouldn't let him lick my ass-hole. But permitting that sick act would be as bad as taking his cock in her mouth and sucking it. And that she would never do.
"And I'll tell you something else," Jim said suddenly, breaking the silence which had enveloped him and his wife. "If you don't loosen up a whole lot and start acting like a normal, warm-blooded female, you're going to spoil the summer for everybody. I'd hate like hell for my wife to be called the party-pooper."
"And I might just decide not to go with you," Claudine said, laying her long comb on the vanity and staring at her husband's reflection in the mirror. "I can still change my mind, Mr. Keller," she said.
"But you won't, Mrs. Keller," was Jim's retort. "You'll have me looking like a complete fool if you change your mind and back out now. All the arrangements have been made, Claudine. Come Saturday morning and you and I will be heading for the Hamptons with the others. And that's final."
"You can't wait to see me with another man, can you?"
"Baby, that isn't the point. I'm only asking that you relax and learn to truly enjoy sex. I think a group of sophisticated swappers like the Talbots, the Aliens and the Barnets can teach you a helluva lot about yourself. Chances are that they can succeed where I've failed."
Claudine chuckled derisively. "And while I'm in 'class' learning all about myself, you'll be bouncing on Rhonda or one of the other wife-whores. Come to think of it, James, maybe that's a decision I should ask you to make. What exactly do you want ... a wife or a prostitute?"
"Claudine, you're being ridiculous," Jim groaned, falling back on the bed and turning onto his side, his back facing his wife. His cock was still stiff, almost painfully so, and he realized sadly that chances of bedding Claudine tonight were next to nil.
"Ridiculous, am I? You were the one whose bright idea it was to join the swinging set. Brian Talbot and Christopher Barnet and Paul Allen are suppose to turn me into a raving nymphomaniac while you're out servicing their wives. I call that ridiculous."
"Come to bed, Claudine," Jim sighed wearily. "There's no sense in us rehashing all of this. The hour is very late and-"
"And I'll bet the girls' eyes pop open when they catch sight of your big cock, darling," Claudine interrupted, her usually soft, lyrical voice laced with sarcasm. "I'll bet that during the course of one whole year of stupid swapping they don't get to wrap their vaginas around such a large organ."
"They don't swap during the year," Jim casually informed his wife. "Neither among themselves or with friends. That's what makes their summer vacation so appealing."
"Ohhhhh ... " Claudine sang, again in a voice which reflected her low opinion of those who switch spouses. "For ten months of the year the Barnets, Aliens, and Talbots behave themselves, then they all get together for two months in the summer and really go to town. That's how it is, huh, James? Look but don't touch until vacation time?"
"Yes, that's how it is, Claudine," Jim said softly.
The stunning French girl stood and left her vanity, the hint of a smile on her beautiful unblemished face as she moved to the bed and climbed into it.
"I was just thinking," she said, somewhat wistfully, "that maybe I can help make this one summer those swappers will never forget."
"What?" Jim asked, knowing he couldn't have heard correctly.
"Nothing, darling," Claudine replied softly. "You just finish masturbating and then go to sleep. Good night, husband."
"Bitch!" Jim muttered under his breath, wishing that lying next to him was the titian-tressed Rhonda, or the beautiful blonde, Barbara, or the little brunette doll, Judy. Any female other than his wife.
CHAPTER THREE
Eight o'clock Saturday morning found the summer swingers outside the Talbot's building. Brian, Paul, Christopher and James huddled over a map of Long Island which had been spread atop the hood of Brian's auto, their attractive wives clustered nearby.
It was an absolutely gorgeous early summer day and the swappers considered the beautiful weather an excellent omen. Brian and Rhonda, like the others, were attired in casual clothes.
And like their hedonistic friends they were eager to get under way.
The titian-tressed lovely was especially excited, the preceding ten months of decorous behavior and too proper parties having kindled a lust within her that she figured might be satisfied by the Labor Day weekend.
This business of abstaining from swapping orgies during the year was comparable to a prison term, Rhonda thought. Or like being exiled to a foreign country. It was no wonder people sometimes went nuts in jail, she often remarked to Brian. When denied that which he finds most pleasurable, a person is apt to go slightly crazy.
And now Rhonda was chafing at the bit, her pussy already purring in anticipation of two magnificent months of unadulterated, no-holds-barred sex.
True, hers was a self-imposed abstinence, one which she compared to a religious fasting or a diabolical diet. It was, in a sense, similiar to self-flagellation. To Rhonda's way of thinking, there was something decidedly masochistic in the deliberate repression of those delicious urges to copulate like mad, to exchange mates for wild and woolly screwing sessions.
Yet she had to agree that not swapping for five-sixths of the year was a worthy, if most difficult self-sacrifice. For by the time July third rolled around she was like a cow in the midst of a herd of horny bulls, more than ready, most willing, and very able to be fucked out of her skull.
A few years back the swappers had agreed not to switch spouses except when ensconced in the summer home they shared, thereby whetting their respective appetites for unholy orgies and making of their vacation a truly memorable experience. In Rhonda Talbot's case this plan worked to perfection-her appetite had been whet, and her copper-colored cunt was getting wetter.
And to add to this summer's fun there was a new couple, the very attractive Kellers. Every so often Rhonda's soft green eyes would wander over to James Keller. She would silently appraise his six foot three inch, two hundred pound body, wonder about his ability in the sack while she pretended interest in the talk of the other females.
She and Brian had known Jim for almost five years but, rules being rules, it was only after he returned from France with his bride that they had invited him to join the small swap group. And Claudine was truly a pretty female, Rhonda had to admit, knowing that Barbara Barnet would waste little time trying to seduce the attractive French girl. "Babs", as she was sometimes called, had a taste for twat.
No doubt about it, Rhonda mused, wishing the men would throw away the map and get the show on the road, abstinence makes the cunt grow fonder.
Not much later, after a last minute check of luggage (most of the clothes and other paraphernalia that would be required during their stay in the Hamptons had been brought up to the summer house two weekends ago), the summer swingers were climbing into the autos and starting out on their vacation.
Two months of happy humping to look forward to. The thought of screwing the summer away was more than enough to start cocks stirring and twats twitching, enough to keep the swappers' engines running as smoothly as those under the hoods of the automobiles.
Waiting for the seasonal switchers, expecting their arrival any day, was the multi-millionaire George Hardington, who found the wild antics of the swappers as loathesome as an important real estate deal that had fallen through and hurt him financially.
At the moment he was in a helicopter, fulfilling a promise made last night to his close friend, Arthur Treeman. Arthur had requested, after his sixth potent screwdriver, an aerial view of George's magnificent estate and surrounding property. Being an obliging sort, and at the time thoroughly soused, Hardington had almost immediately phoned a nearby airport to demand that a helicopter and pilot be placed at his disposal the next morning.
And so here they were, circling Hardington's twenty room mansion and the lush, well cared for gardens which surrounded the house like a display of botanical wonders shielding it from prying eyes.
"You have a beautiful home, George," Arthur was saying, peering down at his friend's palatial residence. "It's lovely ... simple lovely. The more I see of it the more envious I become."
"Nonsense, Arthur," George said. "Your place in California is a masterpiece of construction-an architectural marvel."
"Yes, perhaps. But these older estates have a certain charm that simply cannot be duplicated in a modern house. I wouldn't mind trading homes with you, George. I mean that sincerely."
The rotund, sixty year old Hardington emitted a grunt. "You wouldn't care for my neighbors, Arthur, that's for sure. They're a scurrilous lot-no breeding, no taste, nothing."
Arthur, a delicately constructed man of fifty-six with pale blue eyes and a rapidly receding hairline, looked puzzled. "Surely, you're not referring to the Waincotts, George. Why, I think they're a lovely couple. You yourself told me that-"
"The Waincotts are good people," George interrupted. "But every year they spend three months in Europe, and for two of those months they rent their house to a group of fast-living, pleasure-seeking people who haven't the slightest respect for decorum. It's disgusting, Arthur. Every summer these uncouth hedonists ensconce themselves in the Waincotts' place and destroy-"
"Destroy? You mean they actually break the furniture. Oh, my goodness, that is dreadful."
"No, Arthur," George groaned, somewhat irritated. "I don't mean the physical destruction of property. I was referring to the wanton destruction of morals, the total disregard of all that clean-living individuals hold dear. These sinners don't care about decency and honesty. They are totally lacking in moral fiber."
Arthur Treeman shook his head slowly side to side. He was sitting directly behind Hardington, who had settled his five foot eleven inch, two hundred pound body into the seat next to the pilot. Unlike his friend, Arthur was extraordinarily sensitive, a man whose angular face seemed always sad, as if he knew for a fact that at any moment he would be confronted with an unsolvable problem.
He and Hardington had been friends for close to twenty years, almost all of which had been spent refining their homosexual relationship. Although each had managed to accumulate a great deal of money, Arthur and George had little in common except their wealth and their enjoyment of homosexuality.
Their relationship was a simple one. George was the master, Arthur, the servant. George did the giving and the talking, Arthur listened and received graciously. Both were content and felt comfortable when in each other's presence.
The loud, occasionally boisterous George Hardington and the quiet, unassuming Arthur Treeman-happy homosexuals, who, when out strolling on the beach, would always appreciate the flash of a well-molded thigh. Provided that limb belonged to a muscular male.
"Is there nothing you can do about this annual invasion?" Arthur asked his friend after a while. "Surely, these people are a menace to society. And if they break laws, then-"
"They don't break any laws, Arthur," Hardington again interrupted, nudging the helicopter pilot and pointing in the direction he wanted to go. "Their sense of right and wrong is nil, they live by their own code of ethics, they defy the teachings of the church. But for that they cannot be put in jail."
"Unfortunately," Arthur said.
"Yes, unfortunately is right, my friend. But I've made up my mind not to tolerate another summer of their bestial behavior. I refuse to sit still and do nothing while these ill-bred idolaters wallow in wanton sex and turn this idyllic community into a hotbed of perversion. The groupers, the married swappers, the spoiled rotten teenagers-it's too much. And I intend to put an end to it."
"Did you say 'swappers', George?" Arthur asked.
'That's exactly what I said, Arthur. I've seen them, too. They think nothing of cavorting in the nude and making love outdoors."
"I wonder if these people act like that at home."
"Who knows, Arthur?" George answered, shrugging his large shoulders.
"But, and very apparently so it seems to me, it's obvious they think that when they arrive here all thoughts of propriety are to be quickly forgotten. Dispense with decency and on with the sex-that's their motto."
"Dreadful ... simply dreadful. I think now that I would not like to change houses with you, George."
Hardington emitted a throaty chuckle. "Well, my friend, believe me when I say that this will be the last summer of such shenanigans."
"Have you tried getting the regular residents to sign a petition demanding the ouster of these summer revelers?" Arthur asked, peering out the helicopter window and viewing the long stretch of almost white sand they were flying over.
"No one wants to start trouble," George sighed. "In some ways my neighbors are like many other people-they don't like to involve themselves in sticky situations. And since that's the case, I will have to take matters into my own hands."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Nothing at the moment, Arthur. But you can be damn sure I'll think of something. And soon, too. I'll have these animals packing and heading back to wherever they come from just as soon as possible. Bitches in heat and lusting studs-that's all they are. Well, let them pollute their own environment."
"You can count on me to help, George. If there is anything you think I can do to-"
"Look! Down there, Arthur. See? This is exactly what I'm talking about. See them groveling like animals in the sand?"
"The married swappers?"
"No, I don't think so. They look to be teenagers from up here. But look at them, will you. Bah! The sins of the fathers are-"
"She's sucking his prick!" Arthur gasped. "It's only a little past eight in the morning and they're both naked. She's eating his cock ... on the beach ... under the rising sun."
"There is nothing poetic about the situation, Arthur," Hardington snapped, irked by his friend's rather enthusiastic response to what was taking place just below them. "Jack, get this thing closer to the ground. Maybe we can scare them off."
"Yes, sir," the helicopter pilot shot back, unable to stop the smile now spreading quickly over his tanned face.
Skillfully but with great haste he turned the copter around and then maneuvered it down to the naked teenagers. More often than not his flights were routine affairs, so Jack was eager to view up close the scintillating scene being played out on the sand. It wasn't every day he got the chance to watch a pretty girl blowing a boy.
'The filthy brats!" George barked. "Look at them. They don't even know we're here. Can't they hear the noise of-sure they can, but they've chosen to simply ignore our presence. Oh, those lousy hopped-up, pill-popping brats!"
'They're preoccupied," Arthur said.
Jack burst into laughter.
"I'll preoccupy them," Hardington growled, running a pudgy hand over his bald pate. "Jack, get down closer to them. Land this thing on her shoulders if you have to."
"But Mr. Hard-"
"Do as I say, Jack. Or I'll tell the airport people that you're an incompetent employee."
The helicopter pilot shrugged, then ever so slowly began to put the bird down. "The draft from the propeller should chase them away," he remarked, at the same time silently noting that the teenagers had not yet even looked up.
"They're not budging, George," Arthur said, his eyes riveted to the kneeling girl who was avidly sucking her companion's cock. "I'm sure they know we're up here. I mean the awful noise and ... look, see how the draft from the propeller is churning up the sand all around them."
"Spite," George snapped. "That's what it is. By not moving they're telling us to go to hell. The brats know we won't come close enough to hurt them."
"I don't dare drop any closer, Mr.
Hardington," Jack said. "I mean we're hovering over them now and-"
"All right, all right. Get us back up and let's return to the airport. I'll find another way to handle this."
"We could land and then chase them," Arthur suggested.
"And they'd probably jump us," Hardington said. "I wouldn't be surprised if there were a dozen kids hiding behind that sand dune over there. They're probably hoping we do land. Then they can jump from cover and beat us up. These rotten kids will do anything for kicks. I wouldn't put anything past them."
Jack made the necessary adjustments and the copter began to climb back into the cloudless, early morning sky. Moments later the clumsy bird was in full flight, humming its way back to its nest at the small airport.
"Look, they're waving at us," Arthur exclaimed. "The kids are saying good-bye."
"The stinking misfits," George muttered.
Hardington's faithful chauffeur, Winston, was waiting for his employer at the airport. George and Arthur climbed out of the helicopter and into George's '70 Lincoln Continental. Winston quickly took his position behind the wheel and within moments the trio was heading for Hardington's estate.
"Now you see what I have to put up with every summer, Arthur," George said, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief. "It's like an insidious disease, a sickness that will continue to spread and spread unless something is done immediately."
"But I think the cancer might be incurable," Arthur said.
"Only if remedial action is not taken at once. Drastic steps are required and I intend to take them."
Arthur nodded in agreement, then after a long silence said, "I certainly do not condone what those teenagers were doing back there on the beach, and yet I ... I . ... "
"Stop fumbling around, Arthur. That really is a most nasty habit you've got. If you have something to say, say it. Don't beat around the bush, man."
"Well, truth is that I ... well, watching that young lady suck her boyfriend's cock made me excited. I was wondering if when we got back to your house you would ... er. ... "
George permitted himself a rare smile. "So, you've got a yen for my big prick, eh, Arthur, old friend. You want my permission to suck it, right?"
"Yes, George. I need something in my mouth. I know we fucked last night but-"
"No apologies, Arthur," George said, placing his fat hand on the thin man's bony knee and patting it gently. "You know you're always welcome to feast on my prick." He took Arthur's hand and placed it in his lap, allowing the cock-hungry homo to feel the beginning of his erection. "How's that feel to you, Arthur? like something you'd enjoy chewing on for a little while?"
"Yes. Yes, indeed," was Arthur's soft reply. Almost timidly he squeezed the bulge in George's large lap.
"And then maybe you'd like it up your ass?"
"Yes, George. That would be heavenly ... simply heavenly."
CHAPTER FOUR
Bikini-clad Vicky Andrews purred like a contented pussy as her muscular boyfriend, David Maxwell, dipped his hand between her warm thighs and commenced a firm massage of her covered crotch. Her pert posterior squirmed on the cool sand and she spread her sleek legs for the good looking youth.
"Feels good, huh?" David asked, a bright smile bathing his tanned face. He was lying on his side next to Vicky, his head propped by his right elbow, his left hand squeezing and stroking his pretty girlfriend between her shapely thighs.
"Mmmmm ... you know it, Dave," said the perky brunette, who at sixteen already possessed a figure the envy of many women twice her age. "I just love it when you play with my body, honey."
Dave chuckled. "You've got a honey of a body, baby."
"Yours isn't bad, either," Vicky smiled, placing a hand on her boyfriend's smooth chest. "Do you think you'll be able to manage without your weights for two full months?"
"Sure. I'll keep in shape by doing some calisthenics every day. Then when I get back home I'll start lifting the weights again."
"Well I think you're perfect right now, honey. All those bulging muscles, your beautiful smile-you're a regular Mr. Atlas."
Dave frowned. "You forgot about my cock, Vicky."
"Oh, silly, that's the most perfect part of you." The tempting teenager reached down and patted the bulge at the front of Dave's bathing trunks. "I wouldn't care if you were ugly and pale and thin, honey. Just as long as you had this one very important muscle to flex in my pussy."
"That's what I like to hear, my cock-hungry cutie," said the seventeen year old Mr. Maxwell, whose wealth of curly blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and well-developed physique caused the twats of many females from thirteen to thirty to moisten in excitement. A number of sex-hungry nymphs at Willow High were forever creaming in their panties, it taking no more than a greeting from the handsome, well-built youth to start their pussies purring.
"Speaking of cocks and being hungry," Vicky began, "I wonder if old man Hardington has gotten over the shock of seeing me eating you."
Dave laughed. "I'll bet that grumpy old character is still fuming, baby. Man, I wish we could have seen the expression on his fat face."
"I'm sure it was him in the helicopter," Vicky said, smiling
"Sure it was him, honey. Who else around here would try such a ridiculous stunt? Last summer he tried to chase us on foot, remember? Now I guess he's decided to pursue us in a helicopter. Shit-what a jerky guy."
"He really is hung up on trying to scare all the vacationers away from the Hamptons, isn't he? Gee, the way he acts you'd think we were trespassing on his private property or something."
"Oh, forget about the old grouch, baby," Dave said. "He's just a lonely, frustrated old millionaire who doesn't like to see other people having fun. He can't do us any harm if we stay away from his estate."
Vicky suddenly started giggling.
"What's so funny, baby?"
"I was just thinking about our plans for the summer. Mr. Hardington should only know that about twenty kids intend to live on the beach all summer. Boy, he'd have kittens."
Dave chuckled. "You telling me. Hell, he'd probably come after us in an armored tank."
Together with a number of their high school friends, Vicky and David planned to camp out on what they called the "Beach", a seldom traversed, isolated stretch of sand that they considered ideal for their sex parties. Dave had discovered the seldom used section of beach last summer, and after showing it to his teenager friends, male and female, it was decided that this desolate area of sand and ocean was ideally suited for their love-ins.
The year couldn't pass quickly enough for the excited teenagers, who, after Willow High School closed its doors, would head for the Hamptons, singly or in pairs, and enjoy a summer packed with the lively pleasures afforded by prick and pussy. Or as Dave referred to it, "a summer of screwing and swimming and sucking."
Dave and his girl had arrived at the "Beach" yesterday afternoon, having spent the morning hitchhiking to the Hamptons from New York City. Susie, Peter, Henry Marcy, Karen and all the others were due to arrive sometime in the next few days. Dave and Vicky were the advance guard, so to speak, and in less than twenty-four hours they had already managed three lovemaking sessions and the cocksucking, the one viewed by an irate George Hardington.
"You know, it was really stupid of us to get dressed," Dave was saying, his strong hand still ministering to Vicky's bikinied-box. "I mean after you finished blowing me-"
"Not staying naked was a concession to the Establishment, huh?" the perky brunette asked, smiling as she gave the growing bulge in Dave's swim trunks a healthy squeeze.
"In a way, yes," her boyfriend replied, nodding his handsome head. "The Establishment as represented by that old foggy, Hardington. And I wish you hadn't stopped me from giving the guy the finger when they left. That would have-"
"That would have added insult to injury," Vicky interrupted. "I mean why look for trouble. The fact that we waved good-bye was proof positive that we don't give a damn about him and his silly, old-fashioned morality. By grinning and waving we told him what he could do with all those middle-class values and hypocritical philosophies of life."
Dave grinned. "Yeah, I guess you're right, baby." He thought for a moment, then broke into a loud chuckle and shook his head.
"Now what are you laughing about, lover?" a smiling Vicky asked, suddenly squeezing her legs closed and trapping her boyfriend's hand between her warm thighs.
"Talking about hypocritical people reminded me of my parents," Dave answered. "Guess how dear old Mom and Dad are going to spend this summer."
"Mmmmm ... let me see. They're going to Europe to visit relatives."
"Nope."
"They've decided to become more involved in the problems plaguing the city and have decided to stay at home and-"
"Baby, you've got to be kidding. My folks couldn't care less about pollution and crime and corruption in politics. The only time they get upset is when some politician suggest raising the tax on booze and cigarettes."
"Well, then I give up. What will Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell be doing while their son is in the Hamptons screwing himself dizzy?"
Dave chuckled. "They'll be doing the same thing, baby. Fun-loving Mom and Dad are members in excellent standing of a wife-swapping club in the city."
"You're kidding."
"I kid you not, baby. Of course they don't know that I'm aware of their extra-curricular activities." ' Dave grinned. "They must think I'm a real naive kid."
"How do you mean?"
"They honestly think I believe them when they tell me they're just going to take in a movie, or visit some of my father's business associates. I always tell them to have a good time-even though I know that before the night is over my father will have buried his bone in another woman's cunt."
"And that your mother will have another man's cock jammed into her cunt."
"Yep, that's it exactly."
"Gee, that's a shame, Dave. I wish you had told me about your parents before this. It must be difficult to live with the knowledge that your folks are swingers."
Dave shrugged. "It doesn't bother me too much, baby. I mean that's just their bag. What they do is their business, right?" He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll bet they wanted to jump for joy when I told them I'd be spending the summer out here on the Island. This will give them an opportunity to host a few of their own mate-switching orgies."
A brief silence ensued then, the two teenagers for the moment lost in their own thoughts. Wanting to snap her boyfriend back to the present, a strong desire to see him happy now overwhelming her, Vicky after a while pushed herself up to a sitting position and smiled lovingly into Dave's face.
"Would you like me to suck you again, honey?" she asked, in a voice no louder than a whisper."
Dave grinned. "Now if that isn't a silly question. You know I love the feel of your sweet lips wrapped around my pecker. But right now I want to suck your pretty cunt, baby."
"No problem," Vicky said, grinning impishly. "We can eat each other at the same time. A sixty-nine, honey."
"You think of everything, don't you?"
"Well, you know me, Dave. I'm a girl who's on the ball and who loves to ball. Now come on, peel out of those trunks while I'm getting out of this damn bikini."
The pretty teenager bounced to her feet and immediately began removing the upper half of her blue and white polka dot bikini, her shoulder-length tresses dancing about her face as her youthful tits tumbled free from their confining cups.
Dave jumped up off the sand and without delay proceeded to remove his beige swim trunks. Then, when he was bare-assed naked, his well-muscled body gleaming in the morning sun, he stood and smilingly watched his gorgeous girlfriend hurry out of her bikini pants. And before he knew it she was as naked as he-one of the most fuckable creatures he had ever laid eyes on, the sight of her excited nudity sending licentious thoughts flashing to his brain and causing his young cock to stand at attention.
"Wow! That was fast," Vicky exclaimed, staring at her boyfriend's suddenly erect and throbbing pecker.
"You done dood it, baby," Dave grinned.
"And now you can do me, lover. Come on, Fido, roll over on your back like a good doggie."
Wordlessly, Dave dropped to the sand and then stretched out on his back, his tumescent tool pointing skyward.
"Hey, now the sun is in my eyes, Vicky," he complained, draping an arm over his face.
"Well we'll fix that little thing," his grinning girlfriend said, quickly sinking to her knees and then maneuvering her ripe body over and onto Dave's well-muscled one. Now she was straddling his smooth, hairless chest, her bottom hovering over his attractive face and her own face scant inches from his proud pecker.
"It's too early for lunch," Dave teased, inhaling the intoxicating scent of Vicky's sex.
"Just get busy and eat," the perky brunette called back over her shoulder. "Or I'll ... " she let her voice trail off.
"You'll what, baby?"
"Or I'll do this." Dropping her head and opening her mouth, the tempting teenager latched onto Dave's lance and bit down with her teeth.
"Oww! Hey, stop that. That hurts, honey."
"Feel hungry now?" Vicky asked, removing her boyfriend's stiff meat from her mouth and grinning broadly.
"All right. Just don't bite my bone off, dammit. I want my cock in A-l condition when I start screwing Marcy Adams. You know how cock-crazy that little bitch is. The last time I fuc-"
"Ohh, you," Vicky groaned. Without further ado she plunked Dave's thick dong back into her mouth and began sucking it for all she was worth, her pretty head bobbing crazily as she scoured his meaty member with scraping teeth and twirling tongue.
"Jealous, huh?" Dave laughed, placing his hands on Vicky's smooth flanks. "I don't get upset when I see you chewing on Henry Jackson's big black cock."
Ignoring her boyfriend's banter, Vicky concentrated on the delectable dick she had stuffed between her soft lips seconds ago. Feasting like one famished, her pretty head in constant, frenzied motion, she sucked Dave's turgid tool as if it were the tastiest piece of meat in the world, a delicious bone that must be chewed clean in record time.
For Dave the time had come to stop teasing and proceed with the twat-tasting. Many were the times he had passionately sucked his favorite girl's adorable cunt, thrilled her with the thick tongue he would drill into her steaming sex hole. And now, with Vicky vacuuming his stiff prick into her moist mouth with an unholy fury, he was most eager to once again munch on her furry love nest.
Vicky suddenly adjusted her position just a bit, her knees digging into the sand as she inched back, brought her cunt even closer to Dave's handsome face. Whimpering with pleasure, wagging her head like a happy puppy, she continued gobbling up her boyfriend's rock-hard, pulsating pecker.
Dave wet his lips and then stuck out his tongue, took a deep breath and inhaled the musky scent of his girl's passion. Then he closed his eyes and began to feast, burrowing his face into the wet warmth of Vicky's snatch and sending his tongue on an exploratory mission.
Vicky emitted a gargled moan of approval, the strange sound smothered by the thick prick stretching her jaw and bumping the back of her throat. But very quickly she was back sucking, her smooth cheeks puffing and then deflating, puffing again as she resumed her frenzied cocksucking.
His fingers digging into the supple flesh of his girl's velvety hips, Dave continued his oral workship of her taste-tempting twat. He blew into Vicky's hot sex hole, then wormed his tongue as far as it would go into that oft-filled cavity.
His teasing tongue found her swollen clit, and he began to poke and punch the tiny erectile into quivering submission. He curled his thick lips around that blood-gorged bud of passion and proceeded to suck it violently, seemingly intent on wrenching it from her flesh.
Dave's exploring tongue and munching mouth continued to elicit sharp grunts of pleasure from the cock-hungry Vicky, animal-like snorts and wheezes which struggled out around the prick packing her mouth.
For the next five minutes the teenagers feasted on each other's warm flesh, finally rolling over onto their sides without breaking the mouth-pussy, mouth-cock connections. Alone on the "Beach" with only the bright sun to witness the oral homage they were paying to each other's genitals, Dave and Vicky ate like gluttons; the boy supping on snatch, the girl dining on dick.
Then, their heated bodies demanding more than a swirling tongue and a sucking mouth, the teenagers suddenly stopped their licentious labors and rolled away from each other. Hungry for a humping to end all humping, Dave pounced on his sex-craxed girl and frantically sought to bury his root in her salivating cunt.
Vicky was turning and twisting on the sand, unable to still her churning hips and thereby facilitate the entry of that which she craved with a heathenish passion. Dave wrestled with her, calling upon all the strength in his one hundred ninety pound body as he pinned Vicky's arms back and banged his blood-filled bone against her brown bush.
But because she was not be quiet, because while he struggled to insert his prick she continued to roll her head and body on the still cool sand and emit guttural groans of desire, Dave had at last to deliver a stinging slap across her face.
Vicky's eyes flew open, her face a mask of stunned disbelief. And in that split second her boyfriend reared back and boomed his aching bone into her syrupy love canal. The beautiful brunette teenager shrieked with pleasure, wrapping her arms and legs around Dave as he began immediately to piston his prick in her cunt.
"Ohh, lover! My stud! Bang me bloody with your cock."
"You beautiful bitch!" Dave groaned, time and again smashing his hard body down into Vicky's soft and supple one.
"Screw it deep, Dave. Fuck my hot cunt!"
Dave used his thick dick like a battering ram, pounding his six inch, blood-gorged tool into his girl's grasping vagina with a almost cruel precision and touching bottom every time. He was giving her all he had, his saliva-coated cock plundering her weeping worn am hood without mercy. It was a demonic dicking. And still she begged for more and more, her sex-saturated mind refusing to accept the fact that her cunt was already crammed full of burning cock.
"Do me dirty, Dave," she cried out, tears of intense pleasure washing down her flushed face, a face contorted into a mask of sheer sexual need. Her nostrils were flared and her hazel eyes were glazed, her head was pounding the sand. "Fuck me, stud! Ram it to me, you big-pricked bastard!"
"I'm doin' you, cunt," Dave growled. "I'm doin' you good."
In this moment of supreme passion Dave lost sight of the fact that the girl writhing under him and spewing filth into his ear was one he truly loved, one whose understanding and genuine concern for his well-being he valued highly. Vicky became all women, a very lush female symbolic of all those who crave a fierce fucking.
And so he screwed her accordingly, his experienced erection running amuck in her juicy twat as she raked her long nails across his hard back and pleaded to be killed with his hammering cock.
"Pump it, lover," Vicky begged, breathlessly. "Fuck me hard."
"I'm coming, baby," Dave gasped. "Coming!"
The seventeen-year-old's virility and muscular physique inspired considerable envy in many mature men, but his staying power did not. Dave was always quick to jump in the saddle, but his ride was most often of short duration.
And so it was that after comparatively few short, hard jabs of his young cock into Vicky's molten cunt, Dave began to shudder with pleasure and spill his seed into her beautiful body.
Gasping and grunting, the good-looking youngster emptied his balls in his girl's mushy vagina, the rich creamy fluid shooting from the tip of his tool like water from a pistol. Eyes closed, his hands digging up fistfuls of white sand, he ceased bouncing atop the vivacious Vicky and shuddered through his discharge.
Vicky felt her boyfriend's love juice streaming into her viscid cunt and immediately began squeezing his ejaculating organ, intent on wringing from that throbbing tool every last ounce of milky semen.
She dug her nails into Dave's back and bit into his shoulder as the sweetest sensations washed over her.
"Baby, baby," Dave gasped, his face twisted into a mask of intense pleasure.
"I love you, Dave," Vicky breathed, her words partially smothered by her boyfriend's smooth shoulder. "Love you so much."
And then it was over, Dave rolling off Vicky and onto his back next to her as already some of his love fluid began trickling out of her bright pink sex hole. He rested, shielding his eyes from the sun as he attempted to gain control of his breathing.
Moments later, a contented Vicky Andrews was snuggling up against her boyfriend. Dave's sticky semen continuing to ooze from her just-reamed cunt as she placed her head on his shoulder and threw a leg over his lower body.
"You're the greatest," she said softly, tracing tiny circles on his chest with her small hand. "No one fucks me any better than you, my darling."
Dave smiled faintly and with one hand began to caress Vicky's back, stroking her tenderly as she purred with pleasure.
"Did you come, baby?" he asked, aware of his inability to prolong the sex act for an appreciable length of time, knowing too that a man's reputation as a competent lover was based upon the skill with which he pleasured the woman and brought her to climax.
"It was just beautiful, honey," Vicky answered, begging the question. "Very, very good."
"Yes, but did you-"
"All right, you two," a voice from nowhere suddenly interrupted. "Stick 'em up."
A startled Dave and Vicky sat up quickly and then jumped to their feet, turning to face the voice almost in the same motion.
"You big idiot!" Dave groaned, smiling faintly.
"Shit! You scared the hell out of us, Henry," Vicky said, holding her throat with one hand. "I thought that old grouch Hardington had decided to come back and. ... " she left the thought unfinished.
"Hey man, you guys don't look too happy to see us," Henry Jackson said, flashing Dave and Vicky a huge grin which lit up his ebony face.
"We could have busted in sooner, you know," said his pretty blonde companion, Susie Jones. "But we waited until you had finished fucking."
"You are a considerate bastard, Hank," Dave grinned.
"How are you, handsome?" the spunky, sixteen-year-old Susie asked, smiling at Dave Maxwell. "Got a little something left for little old me?"
"I've got this for you, sugar," was Dave's reply. He reached down and grabbed hold of his limp pecker, pointing it at the blue-eyed blonde who was attired in blue jeans and a white sweatshirt.
"I'm afraid I took some of the starch out of it, Sue," Vicky said. "You might have to-"
"Don't worry about a thing, Vicky. They don't call me Susie the Sucker for nothing, you know."
Henry Jackson smiled at Vicky. He was a lanky eighteen-year-old whose black cock had visited not a few white girls' cunts. And having watched his buddy, Dave, fuck for awhile, he was now in the mood to stick his dark meat into the pretty brunette's white love hole.
"And you're lookin' just beautiful this morning, Miss Vicky," he said, in a tone of voice he figured an arrogant slave might have used years ago when addressing the mistress of the manor. His dark brown eyes roamed over Vicky's lush nudity.
"Well now, Henry," Vicky replied, "you're lookin' might fine yourself." Her poor imitation of a blushing southern belle, accent and all, brought a chuckle from the tall, lean black youth.
"I suggest we all take a swim in the ocean," Dave said, as the always hot-to-trot Susie Jones started towards him, her bright blue eyes riveted to his flaccid penis.
"Chickening out?" Susie asked.
Dave grinned. "Nope. Just want to get clean for you, princess."
"Sounds like a good idea to me," Henry said, eager to get out of his dusty clothes and refresh himself in the water.
He and Susie had experienced considerable difficulty in getting to the Hamptons from Manhattan, it having taken almost six hours of thumb-waving and eight automobile rides Before they arrived at the "Beach."
"Come on, everybody," Vicky suddenly shouted. "Last one into the water is a dirty old nigger." She spun around and then made a dash for the ocean.
"Man, I'm goin' to dunk that white gal," Henry grinned, his bony fingers fumbling with the buttons on his green sport shirt.
"Did you see any of the others?" Dave asked Susie, who was about to pull her sweatshirt up over her head.
"Yeah, we did. Karen Farrow and Marcie Adams. The guy who gave us the last ride stopped for a light, right alongside a snazzy yellow convertible. And who was in the back seat of the convertible but Marcie and Karen. So, I guess they'll be joining us very soon."
"Unless they decided to screw the two sailors who were givin' them a lift," Henry grinned.
Dave waited for Susie and Henry to finish shucking their clothes, then the three teenagers, who with approximately twenty others intended to turn the small stretch of beach into a playpen of passion, raced down to the water's edge and hurled themselves into the welcoming ocean.
While the four teenagers were dunking themselves in the Atlantic, George Hardington was dunking his small but thick cock in Arthur Treeman's soft-reamed ass-hole, pistoning that stubby length of hard flesh slowly but steadily in and out of his friend's rectum.
"Mmmmm, you do it so good, George," Arthur purred, the taste of Hardington's prick lingering on his thin lips. "Not too fast and not too slow. It's just right."
"Enjoy, enjoy," George said, his voice thick with passion. "And when we're through, you can lick me clean. Would you like that?"
"Yes, oh yes," said his fragile friend. "I'd like that very, very much."
Arthur was bent at the waist, with his arms extended full length and his bony hands clamped firmly around the seat of a wooden straight chair. George was standing behind Arthur, his meaty hands on the man's narrow hips, his big belly jiggling like a bowlful of jello as he worked his fat cock in and out of the constricting nether canal.
Hardington fucked with care and consideration, deliberately prolonging the pleasurable rectum reaming. But even though he was thoroughly enjoying the screwing of his friend's ass and was looking forward to the moment when he would come, his mind kept wandering back to the scene he had witnessed on the beach just a short time ago.
There had to be something he could do, he thought, some action he could take to prevent the wanton ravishment of all that he held dear. He could not allow the Hamptons to become a summer sanctuary for sinners.
CHAPTER FIVE
The swappers had arrived.
Laughing and joking, they had quickly unpacked their bags and changed into their swimming attire. And now, less than forty-five minutes after their arrival, the eight pleasure-seekers were sitting around the large living room of the Waincotts' estate and chatting merrily.
"Well, what do you think of this place?" Brian Talbot asked, after taking a sip of one of the eight scotch and sodas he had prepared to celebrate the "homecoming."
"It's absolutely beautiful," Claudine Keller answered, her eyes roaming around the elegantly furnished room. "It's got to be at least ten times the size of our apartment."
"Make that fifteen times the size, honey," said James Keller, who was sitting next to his lovely French wife on a long black leather sofa. "This place is really something else."
"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Rhonda Talbot said, smiling. "It's a wonder the Waincotts are willing to rent it out every summer. You'd think they'd be afraid of someone damaging all this gorgeous furniture. If it were mine, I doubt that I'd entrust it to my mother."
Brian chuckled. "No wonder, baby. Your mother is a home wrecker par excellence."
"Brian, that isn't at all fair," his wife frowned.
"Well, you've got to admit that she did her damnedest to break us up when we were first married. She doesn't think I'm good enough for you, beautiful."
"Oh, honey, you're exaggerating the whole ... "
"Hey, hold on you two," Christopher Barnet interrupted. "Let's not start our summer with an argument. Besides, the mention of in-laws is not allowed during a homecoming party."
"I'll drink to that, honey," Barbara Barnet said, smiling as she brought her scotch and soda to her lips.
"You'll drink to anything, Babs," Judy laughed, poking her husband, Paul, in the ribs. Paul was perched on the arm of the chair in which his wife was ensconced.
"And speaking of starting the summer," Brian began, "I suggest that to get off on the right foot we have our first orgy immediately. Right here, in the living room."
"Oh my," Rhonda sighed. "If Mr. and Mrs. Waincott only knew."
"Gee, I was planning on a dip in the ocean," Judy said. "You know, to refresh my weary bones after that long car ride out here."
Brian chuckled. "Judy, honey, I love you just as you are. Besides, I've got one healthy bone that'll restore some life to all of your tired ones."
This brought a laugh from all the swingers, including Paul who said, "I second Mr. Talbot's motion. The ocean will always be there for us to enjoy, but right now I'm in the mood to enjoy a warm pussy."
"That's the ticket, Paul," Brian grinned. "You're a man after my own heart."
"Is that agreeable to the both of you?" Barbara asked, looking first at James Keller and then at his wife.
"Fine by me," Jim said, smiling faintly.
"Me, too," Claudine chimed in. "Let's get on with the screwing and the sucking."
Chris smiled broadly. "Now that's the way I like to hear a lady talk. None of that false modesty crap. Tell it like it is-that's my motto. If a woman wants a cock, all she need do is ask for it. Paul promises to deliver."
"Maybe I'm not the lady you think I am," Claudine said softly, smiling her most sexy smile for the good-looking Mr. Allen.
As the other swappers broke into chuckles, James looked intently at his wife. He was more than a bit confused by Claudine's sudden change of heart, finding in her enthusiastic response to Brian's suggestion of a screwing session a curious contradiction of her earlier hesitancy to participate in swapping games.
Why, he wondered, was Claudine so eager to get herself laid by another man when up until a few nights ago her thoughts on the subject of swapping were filled with doubt. He had envisioned his wife entering the world of the spouse-switchers with considerable trepidation, like a bather who gingerly tests the temperature of the water with his toe before plunging in.
But Claudine seemed determined to prove fraudulent the painting which depicted her as a reluctant, hesitant hedonist. And thinking back now, Jim realized that it was in the midst of their most recent argument concerning the merits of mate-trading when his wife's curious "role-reversal" first became evident. He remembered his surprise at her somewhat veiled promise to "make this one summer the swappers will never forget." But he had forgotten her comment minutes after she had made it. Now, however, her words were coming back to haunt him.
"Okay then, folks," Brian said in a loud voice, "everybody on their feet and let's get the show on the road.
"If I had known this," Rhonda said, pushing herself out of a very comfortable modern chair, "I wouldn't have put on my bikini."
"Yes,-likewise," Judy chimed in.
"Oh, come on, girls," Paul grinned. "Stop all this complaining. "You both know you're dying to screw."
Judy and Rhonda exchanged knowing smiles, and then, like the other swingers, began to remove their swim suits. In the next thirty seconds, swim trunks were joining body-hugging bikinis on the living room floor as the eight thrill-seekers denuded themselves in preparation of this initial swap of the long sexy summer.
There was no embarrassment, no shame, six of the group having seen one another in the nude many times in the past. And as far as the Kellers were concerned; Jim, at thirty-four, had long since past the stage when undressing in front of others disturbed him, and Claudine was now fiercely intent on challenging her husband's worldly sophistication.
What would his thoughts be, she wondered, after having spent a full summer watching her get laid repeatedly by three other males. Especially if she threw herself into the wild proceedings with total abandon and without the slightest trace of remorse. How convinced would Jim be of the merits of trading his wife after seeing her time and again respond like some two dollar slut? Would he love her any the less? That was the question Claudine wanted answered.
Three pair of eyes were now taking in Claudine's lush nudity, Paul and Brian and Chris staring at the desirable female whose pussy they had yet to plow. Meanwhile, Barbara and Judy and Rhonda were enjoying a different visual feast, their eyes focusing on Jim Keller's limp but lengthy manhood.
"Beautiful-just beautiful," Paul breathed, taking in the French girl's firm, up-thrust breasts, her smooth, flat tummy, the swell of her hips and taste-tempting tail.
"Boy, I'll say," Judy said abstractedly, her eyes refusing to stray from Jim's eight inch penis. "Blessed are the righteous."
Keller chuckled. "I assure you, Judy, I'm not very righteous."
"The hell with righteousness," the titian-tressed Rhonda grinned. "Just tell us where you purchased that delicious hunk of flesh."
"Would you believe the local meat market?"
"I'm first," Barbara said suddenly, her voice soft but firm. "I mean, you just have to let me try him out first. My cunt is crying for Jim's cock, already.
"Hold on there, honey," Christopher said, at last forcing his gaze away from Claudine. "I guess we'll go about pairing off in the usual manner. Right, Brian?"
"Whatever you say, old man," was Talbot's reply. He was still looking at Claudine, his eyes dining on the mouth-watering French dish, his thoughts unprintable.
"Snap out of it, lover," Rhonda said, smiling wryly. "You were the one who wanted to get things rolling."
At the sound of his wife's voice, Brian came out of his trance-like state and turned his attention to the others. "Right you are, beautiful," he said forcefully. "Paul, will you get the playing cards? I think they're over there in the desk."
"I'll get the straw beach hat," Barbara chirped, moving off into the large kitchen.
Jim Keller looked puzzled. "Beach hat ... playing cards?"
"Sure," the petite, well-proportioned Judy Allen grinned. "How else but by the luck of the draw?"
Within seconds Barbara returned from the kitchen with a beat up old straw hat and Paul returned with the cards. Brian took the hat, held it while Paul dumped the fifty-two cards into the center. Then he began shaking the hat and mixing up the cards.
"Beginning to get the idea, Jim?" Chris asked, as he and the seven other naked swingers crowded around Brian Talbot.
"More or less. It's obvious that we're going to pick cards from the hat."
"Correct," Brian said, smiling. "And it works like this-very simple, really. We all pick a card in turn, and the first two to pick matching cards are screwing partners for the day."
Jim grinned. "What happens if two men..."
"Or two women," a smiling Barbara broke in.
"I knew you'd ask that, Jim," Paul said. "If it happens that members of the same sex select matching cards, we just toss the cards back in the hat and pick again." He paused, then added, "Of course, if sometime during the summer you have the urge to ... well, what I mean is that we have no rules against homosexuality. If you and a consenting partner want to indulge, that's your business."
Barbara smiled at Claudine.
"Let me see if I understand this," the French female said. "We take turns picking cards from the hat, and when a male and female have picked, say for instance a seven, then those two are paired off."
"That's it exactly," Brian smiled. "Simple, isn't it?"
"Yes, very," was Claudine's answer.
Brian gave the large straw hat a final shake, then said, "I think it only fair that Jim and Claudine have first pick. After all, the Kellers are our newest members."
There were smiles and nods of agreement from the other swingers, who watched as Brian stepped to Claudine. Holding the straw hat by the brim, he grinningly suggested she pick a card.
"Any prize for picking an ace?" Claudine asked, winking at Talbot and then casting a quick, cursory glance at her husband.
"No special prize, honey. Just the usual one of a nice thick prick-if a male picks another ace, that is."
Tingling with excitement, Claudine reached into the hat and took a playing card. She turned it over, smiled faintly, and showed it to the others.
"Hey, a deuce," Chris said. "Are deuces wild, Claudine?"
"French girls are," was Claudine's quick answer, bumping her shapely hips in Chris' direction before once again casting a brief glance at Jim.
"Okay, Mr. Keller," Brian said, "it's your turn." He stepped to the well-built Jim, whose long, dangling cock was still drawing stares of admiration from Judy, Barbara and Rhonda, and held the hat in front of him.
"Jack of clubs," Jim said, after he had picked.
Judy grinned. "A jack for a good-looking, well-hung jock. Most apropos, I'd say."
"Too bad these damn cards aren't marked," the red-headed Rhonda smilingly remarked.
Brian grinned and stepped to his wife. "All right, Mrs. Hornier Than Thou of 1971, see if you can pick another jack."
"Sometimes I wish you were a bit more jealous, darling," Rhonda said, dipping into the hat and pulling out ... a jack of diamonds. "Wow! I did it-on the first try. How 'bout that?"
"Some gals have all the luck," Judy frowned.
"Take heart, honey," her husband grinned, draping his arm over her shoulder. "The summer is long and you'll have your chance with Jim's big pecker."
Christopher Barnet picked next, and then his shapely blonde wife, Barbara. The Aliens, Paul and Judy, followed, and then Rhonda held the hat while her husband picked a card. It took five more rounds of picking cards before the match-ups for the day were settled.
The luck of the draw had paired the browned-haired Judy with Christopher Barnet, Brian Talbot with the lissome Claudine, Barbara with Paul Allen, and, of course, titian-tressed Rhonda with the well-hung James Keller.
After a few minutes of small talk mixed with laughs, the couples moved off to find a convenient spot to screw. Judy and Chris wound up on the long sofa, Brian and Claudine selected the bear-skin rug in front of the fireplace, Paul and Barbara chose a comfortable armchair, and Rhonda led James to one corner of the living room, where sat a huge leather hassock.
"This place is really very large, Jim," the luscious, sultry-voiced Rhonda said, as she planted her plush posterior on the large hassock. "It has two upstairs bedrooms, you know, and if you think you'd be more comfortable ... "
"Right here is just fine, Rhonda," Jim smiled, looking down at the succulent redhead. "This way we can watch the others fuck."
"Yes, I agree. It does add something when all around you are screwing up a storm. My one real goal in life is to participate in a massive orgy-a real wing-ding of a screwing party."
Jim chuckled. "Well, that's as good a goal as any, I guess."
Rhonda smiled, her eyes wandering from Jim's attractive face to his hairy chest, down his hard, flat stomach to the nest of dark pubic hairs surrounding his large manhood. Her slender hands drifted up, one going to his still limp tool, the other slipping between his thighs to cup his large scrotal sac.
"My husband says I'm an excellent fellatrice, Jim," she said, her eyes devouring his genitals. "Let's see what you think."
And with that, the blatantly beautiful Mrs. Talbot commenced proving her cocksucking abilities, her experienced tongue snaking out of her mouth as she brought her face to Jim's loins. With the fingers of one hand she held his cock aside, the better to feast at will on his hairy balls.
Her talented tongue began to tease Jim's testicles, to poke and jab at that wrinkled pouch of flesh as if it were a tiny punching bag. She licked like one lapping up a ball of ice cream, working first one tasty testicle into her hungry mouth and munching gently, then after a while releasing it to stuff the other sex ball into her oral cavity.
Jim placed his strong hands on Rhonda's head. The redheaded vixen needed no guidance, no direction of any sort. But Jim knew full well that it would take less than a minute of such maddening pleasure to stiffen his prick, to have him trembling and weak-knead with a fiery lust.
As Rhonda released his scrotal sac, began stuffing his limp organ into her mouth, he turned his head in the direction of the brick fireplace. There was his wife, on the bearskin rug, her sleek legs splayed wide in lewd invitation to the man who crouched between them, his handsome face mashed hotly against Claudine's love nest.
"Brian ... ohh, Brian," she breathed passionately. "What are you do. . . ing!" Claudine's eyes were closed, her raven-tresses fanning her beautiful face as she rocked her head side to side and willingly endured the tantalizing tongue of Mr. Talbot.
"I'm chewing on your cunt, princess," was Brian's throaty reply. "Your pretty and delicious cunt."
"More. Do it more. I love it, Brian."
Claudine lifted her hips in wanton welcome, her face screwing up into a look of pleasure when Brian opened her dewy sex lips with his thick thumbs and drove his teasing tongue into her cunt.
And it wasn't long before the talented Mr. Talbot was munching like a madman on Mrs. Keller's wetting snatch, using his tongue like a scoop and slurping up the lubricating juices which were dribbling from her warming sex oven. And in the process, driving the delectable French female crazy for a sizzling fucking.
Jim turned from the sight of his lovely wife being eaten, his gaze now coming to rest on Judy Allen and Christopher Barnet, who were lost in a world of their own on the long sofa. Judy was lying, or rather squirming on her back, her arms wrapped around the back of the man who had seconds ago plunged his meaty spear into her palpitating pussy.
"That's the way, Chris, honey,"' she was moaning. "Give me all you've got, baby. Fuck the shit out of me."
"You're still the same Judy," Chris panted. "Always ready for a prick in your tight twat."
"Is that bad, lover?"
"Bad? It's delicious, baby. Delicious."
"Do me then, stud," Judy breathed hotly. "Pound me into the fucking sofa with your fat cock. Ream my tight twat for me."
Jim's eyes left the salacious scene being played out on the sofa, lowered to take in the equally licentious sight of Rhonda Talbot sucking on his cock. The redhead was now working on a very stiff and very long prick, finding this particular act of fellatio almost an ordeal because of the great size of Jim's manhood. But an ordeal she would most willingly undergo at any hour of the day or night.
"You are good, baby," Jim said, his voice becoming increasingly thick, the words stumbling from his mouth. "One of the best cocksuckers to ever go down on me."
The compliment was like music to Rhonda's ears, inspiring her to perform orally as she never had previously, to, make of this cocksucking a lust-provoking memory that would long be cherished by both herself and Jim Keller.
Eyes closed, lips pursed around the man's throbbing tool, Rhonda sucked as if this were the last and not the first time she would be treated to the taste of Jim's eight inch organ. Her lips slid quickly up and down the long spear of flesh, teeth scraping over the tiny valleys and ridges.
"Yeah, beautiful," Jim grunted. "Suck it fast and hard. Gobble my cock all up, you luscious wench."
"Argh-uhh," was the animalistic, totally unintelligible sound that came struggling out of Rhonda's prick-packed mouth.
"Don't talk, baby. Just suck like a good girl."
Jim was determined to ignore his wife and Brian Talbot, to allow the moans of passion she was now emitting to fall on deaf ears. He realized that this was only the first of what would be many such sex parties, and that he'd have to get used to seeing Claudine in the throes of a sizzling, all-consuming lust. Yet he could not help but wonder if the decision to join the merry mate-traders hadn't been arrived at too hastily. Perhaps his idea that Claudine could learn from the experienced switchers was, as she had often argued, ridiculous in the extreme.
In any event, he found himself less sure of the merits of wife-swapping-at least as far as Claudine was concerned. Her obvious enjoyment of Brian's oral ministrations, her continuous moans and groans of sheer pleasure, were downright disquieting. To say the least.
Two who found Claudine's whimpered pleas for a mind-numbing cunt-licking enjoyable were Barbara Barnet and Paul Allen, both of whom were savoring the pleasures of a slow but thrilling ass fuck.
The blonde Barbara was draped over the back of the large armchair, her hands clamped hotly around the arms of the chair as her up-thrust bottom received Paul's pleasurable plunges. From where they were screwing they had an unobstructed view of the other coupled couples.
"Claudine's gettin' a charge out of Brian," Paul was saying, stating the very obvious to no one in particular.
Barbara lifted her head. "That's good," she said softly, breathlessly. "The first swapping orgy is an important one. It serves to kill the inhibitions and..."
"Inhibitions? Claudine doesn't strike me as being inhibited."
"Could all be a lie, Paul. I mean ... oooo, you do know how to ream a gal's rectum, honey. I swear that cock of yours has eyes, Mr. Allen. You sure ... mmmm, that's nice ... you sure know your way around an ass-hole."
Paul chuckled. "You mean in an ass-hole, don't you? Anyway, what were you saying about Claudine?"
"Fuck Claudine," Barbara sighed. "Just keep plowing my shitty rectum. And pick up the pace a little, will you?"
"No, I'm interested, baby. You think maybe Mrs. Keller isn't as eager to swap as she pretends."
"Could be. Maybe she's just trying to impress us with her sophistication. Maybe-oh, who the hell cares, Paul? I just care about your thick prick plunging into my ass. Now do as I said-start banging it in there faster and harder. I-owwww!"
"That what you had in mind, sugar?"
"Yesss," Barbara hissed, her blonde hair shielding her face as she looked down into the armchair cushion. "But you don't have to get sadistic, lover. I like it rough but don't break the fucking thing off in my rectum."
Paul chuckled loudly, then began to boom his turgid tool up into Barbara's shapely bottom with greater force and speed, his hairy thighs slapping the backs of her smooth ones as he repeatedly scoured her shit-chute with his hard-thrusting cock.
"Yeah, that's what I like, lover," the blonde beauty mewled. "Fuck it deep and hard. Bang that big cock into my filthy behind."
"Wait until Keller corn-holes you, baby," Paul huffed, grinding his lean middle into Barbara's fanny and flexing his besmirched bone in her rectal cavity. "Bet you'll be screamin' for mercy."
"I shit bricks," Barbara spat, in answer to her corn-holer's implication that her narrow nether canal would experience difficulty in harboring an eight inch hard-on.
The eight incher in question was about to explode, the creamy seed about to streak through its jaw-stretching length and drench Rhonda's wildly sucking mouth.
"I'm coming, you bitch," Jim growled, his fingers digging into Rhonda's scalp. "Drink it down-all of it."
The titian-tressed bobbed her head violently, vacuumed Jim's about-to-burst bone into her mouth with demonic frenzy. Only when the first of his seed spurted forth did she stop all movement and concentrated on swallowing the sticky come.
Jim emitted a strangled moan of pleasure and shoved his hips forward, seemingly intent on puncturing the back of the redhead's throat with his ejaculating cock. The love fluid streamed from the tip of his shuddering shaft and splashed against Rhonda's throat.
Rhonda did her damnedest to swallow it all, her Adam's apple bobbing frantically up and down as Jim's viscous semen inundated her mouth. But her feverish labors proved futile, much of Keller's come spitting out around the corners of her semen-coated lips.
The creamy substance dribbled down her chin, droplets of love fluid dripping onto her heaving breasts and trickling down to her blood-gorged nipples. Disappointed but not discouraged Rhonda continued to swallow like one demented, at times gagging and choking but determined to ingurgitate as much of Jim's come as was possible.
Meanwhile, on the bearskin rug, Claudine was announcing the onset of her orgasm in a shattery, high-pitched wail of pleasure. Brian's incessant chewing and licking of her sticky snatch had elicited from the passion-dazed female a flow of vulgar exhortations.
And now she was coming, the peak of passion having at last been attained after a most delicious climb. In intensity and duration it was not the kind of climax she often experienced when Jim was spilling his seed in her fluttering cunt, but it was highly satisfactory, nonetheless.
In fact, her orgasm's strength surprised her. Never had she sucked her husband's manhood and rare were the times she had allowed him to feast on her pussy, so oral sex was almost foreign to Claudine. But Brian's skilled, probing tongue had turned her inside out and now she was shuddering through an orgasm which, as good as it was, would trigger a desire to have more than a tongue pistoning in her twat.
"Ughh ... Arhh..." Claudine moaned, arching her back off the bearskin rug and clutching at the air with her hands. Her flushed face was screwed up with a mask of keen pleasure, those fantastically good fluttery spasms rippling up her spine and catapulting her into a world of sheer sensation.
But Brian was not yet ready to cease his lewd slurping at the Frenchwoman's leaking cunt. His mouth was still glued to Claudine's pussy, his thick tongue still pistoning. It was as if Brian Talbot and Claudine Keller had been cemented and were nevermore to be separate individuals.
Brian was on his knees, bent forward slightly, his hot hands under Claudine's trembling tail. He was holding her up, forcing her exquisitely proportioned body into an almost painful arc. And he was grinding his handsome face into her steaming snatch, rubbing his nose against her pulpy love lips while with his tongue he slurped up her passion product.
Only when Claudine had quieted, when the final spasm of pleasure had rippled through her warm, happy body, did Talbot relax his hold and allow the French female to drop back to the bearskin rug. Then, without delay, he shuffled forward on his knees and directed his bloated bone on target.
"Now you're going to get fucked, baby," Brian rasped, his thick lips coated with Claudine's flowing excitement.
"Yes. Fuck me, Brian. Screw me senseless, honey."
The sight of the ravishing, raven-tressed female squirming on the white rug, asking for her boffing, triggered in Talbot an unholy urge to bury his aching, blood-gorged cock to the hilt in her weeping womanhood.
Which is exactly what he did. Wanting the deepest penetration possible, Brian grabbed hold of Claudine's well-molded calves and began drawing her legs up and back, forcing her bended knees back against her beautiful boobs.
"No ... no, I don't think ... " was Claudine's meek protest.
"I want you to really feel it, baby. Every last inch of my hot cock is goin' to be buried in your pretty pussy."
"But you'll hurt-ooomphh!" The breath whooshed from Claudine's lungs when Brian suddenly dropped down onto her, at the same time thrusting forward with his hard hips and burying his pulsing prick in her viscid vagina.
Immediately he began to pump his bloated bone, his hairy balls time and again slapping up against Claudine's puckered ass-hole as he plunged, withdrew, plunged, withdrew, plunged again. Each torrid thrust of his thick cock into her leaking cunt elicited from the woman squeals of delight, her surprise at his sudden insertion replaced by a feeling of utter sensuality, of wanton lust.
The position they were in had more than a little to do with the gut-jumbling sense of helplessness now suffusing Claudine.
She was almost doubled over, her knees mashed against her tingling tits and her calves resting on Brian's sturdy shoulders. She felt open and vulnerable, her pussy totally exposed. It was a shameful position to be in, Claudine's passion-befogged mind told her. But she was unable to deny the fact that Brian was thrilling her with his fierce plunges.
"Ugh ... so deep ... so hard. It's filling me up, Brian."
"Want more, baby?"
"Yes. More. Much, much more."
So engrossed in the forceful fucking were they, that neither Brian nor his partner heard Judy Allen's demented wails of sheer lust. She was nearing the end of her ride to paradise, the joyful trip to nirvana culminating now in a most intense climax.
Still on her back on the long leather sofa, arms and legs wrapped around the happily humping Christopher Barnet, Judy was moaning and groaning as if her suffering were acute, painful beyond belief. The exact opposite was true, of course.
Bolts of unbelievable ecstasy flashed to her brain as she and her picked partner, Chris, traveled together through a wind storm of pleasure, the two swappers having arrived at the plateau of bliss at precisely the same time-a simultaneous orgasm.
And how sweet it was, this feat that is not often accomplished without considerable cooperation between partners who know each other's body very well. But it had happened to Judy and Chris, on this their very first screw of the summer.
And they were reveling in their accomplishment, wallowing like pigs in a mud bath. Gasping and groaning, clutching each other with all their might, Mrs. Allen and Mr. Barnet shuddered through their respective releases, each knowing but not caring that this fantastically potent pleasure, this gut-jumbling exercise in ecstasy, would be damn difficult to duplicate in the weeks to come.
Not very far away, over there on the large armchair, a lust-drenched Barbara Barnet was preparing to receive Paul Allen's copious discharge in her quivering fanny.
"I want it, I want it, I want it," she was chanting, her lush body still draped over the back of the armchair, her succulent posterior still being buffeted by Paul's plunging prick.
"Where, baby?" Paul rasped. "Tell me where."
"In my ass," Barbara groaned, her golden-tresses whipping her face as she tossed her head side to side and up and down. "Cream in my shitty bottom, you hot fucker!"
"You cock-loving cunt!" Paul shouted back.
"Screw it deep, bastard!" was the beautiful blonde's passionate plea. "Drive that dirty dick up my bowels."
"Prick-crazy slut!" Paul yelled, smashing still another time into Barbara's plush bottom, his pile-driving cock expanding the constricting walls of her clinging shit-chute.
"Bastard!" Barbara spat, tears of happiness sliding down her flushed face.
In the throes of an unearthly lust, their hot, trembling, sweat-soaked bodies honed to a fine edge of pleasure, Paul and Barbara continued to hurl epithets at each other. With demonic glee did they shout out the vulgar invectives, the four name-calling serving only to heighten their already very tall concupiscence.
Over and over again Paul Allen boomed his besmirched cock up into a grunting, groaning Mrs. Barnet. He drove his dirty dick to the depths of her foul bowels, seemingly intent on poking a hole in her belly with his punching, plunging prick.
Each pulverizing thrust into her trembling tail was punctuated with a vulgar expletive, as Paul plunged beyond the pale, and now, searched his passion-drenched mind for those gutter words with which to describe the mind-shattering sensations now coursing through him.
And Barbara, who was very impatiently awaiting that most blissful moment when her corn-holer would come, countered each of Paul's passionately-voiced vulgarisms with an appropriately obscene one of her own.
But then it happened, all hell breaking loose as Paul emitted an unholy moan of lust and sent his seed rushing into the lovely blonde's hot, clasping rectum.
"Arhhh ... owwww..." Barbara groaned, gripping the arms of the armchair tightly when she felt Paul's warm sex fluid spurt into her backside.
"Take it, bitch," Paul shouted, the words tumbling from his lips as he shuddered through a most intense orgasm, his lean body trembling from head to toe.
"Good ... so good," Barbara whined, squeezing her rectal muscles around the ejaculating cock, looking for all the world like one who loathed having her rectum stuffed with hot cock, when, in truth, she considered a heinie-humping a most delicious way to start a summer of sexual shenanigans.
And back on the big hassock, a very pleased Mrs. Talbot was tidying up, her sperm-coated lips moving lazily, lovingly, all around Jim Keller's cock and balls in an attempt to return his genitals to a pristine sparkle.
"You do love to eat it, don't you?" Jim asked, a small smile on his handsome face.
"Mmmmmm ... I love it," Rhonda answered, between licks of Jim's limp, now sorry-looking penis. "Especially when ... when I have a real ... big prick to chew on."
Keller ran his fingers through Rhonda's long flaming hair as she continued to swab his privates with her stroking tongue and softly sucking lips. He turned his head, once again caught sight of his wife trapped in primeval passion.
There she was, almost rolled up into a ball, Brian Talbot fucking holy hell out of her as she pleaded for more and more of his bone-crunching thrusts into her very vulnerable pussy.
This, then, was the beginning of a long, hot summer for eight hump-happy swappers, seven of whom were absolutely convinced that it was going to be a simply smashing season.
CHAPTER SIX
The following Saturday found Rhonda Talbot driving into Southhampton to inspect the art gallery there. She had decided, in a rare moment of self-appraisal, that it might be well to soak up a little culture along with the sun and sex.
She was alone in the car, the other swappers having declined her invitation to view the paintings of local residents which were presently being exhibited at the gallery. They had opted for a swim in the ocean and some romping on the sand, which left Rhonda, who was not all that crazy about the water in the first place, to view alone the works of the talented and not so talented.
But she never made it to the gallery, her good intentions evaporating like steam after just a few minutes with the two hitchhikers she had smilingly picked up along the way. Their names-Henry Jackson and David Maxwell.
Two miles from Southhampton, titian-tressed Rhonda had allowed David and Henry, whom she thought excellent specimens of young manhood, especially the muscular Mr. Maxwell, to climb into her auto. Not long after settling themselves into the front seat next to the ravishing redhead, who was attired in an attractive white pants-suit, the two teenagers said they were on their way into town to pick up some supplies for what promised to be "the first really big blast, outdoor barbecue come orgy, of the summer season."
Naturally, Rhonda perked up, becoming all ears as David and the black-skinned Henry very nonchalantly detailed their plans for this and future sex parties on the "Beach."
"But how can you manage something like that?" she asked, not at all eager now to get to Southhampton. Her glowing green eyes spent almost as much time on the youths she had picked up as they did on the road.
"You mean our sex parties, Mrs. Talbot?"
David said, a faint smile lingering on his youthful face.
"Yes. I mean how can you all run around naked on this particular stretch of beach you speak of. Aren't you afraid that somebody will call the police?"
"No sweat there," said Henry Jackson, who was sitting next to the door, his arm resting on the window ledge. "This section of beach is really isolated from everything. No people around and no big estates nearby. We got all the privacy we want."
"That's the truth," Dave added. "Sometimes I think we kids are the only ones who know about the 'Beach'. I discovered it last summer and we decided to have our orgies there this year.
"Well, I'll be," Rhonda said softly. "It certainly is hard to believe. I mean it sounds great and all, but still ... "
Dave chuckled. "We did have kind of a mini-problem last week, Mrs. Talbot."
"Oh, what was that? And listen, boys, do me a favor and call me Rhonda. That 'Mrs. Talbot' stuff makes me feel like I'm a middle-aged, dried-up prune."
Dave and Henry laughed, the thought running through their minds that this luscious creature driving them into town was a long, long way from being a washed out old lady. In fact, their youthful cocks were beginning to stir in hopeful anticipation of laying the ravishing redhead, her genuine interest in their plans for an orgy sparkling the hopes that she just might be willing to mess around some.
"Okay, Mrs. er, Rhonda, that is," David smiled. "Now as I was saying, we don't anticipate problems from anybody-except maybe that old grouch George Hardington. I don't suppose you know the man."
Rhonda let this pass, thinking it wise not to divulge her involvement with a swap group. At least not yet.
"Well," David continued, "this old goon decides to take an early morning helicopter ride last Saturday. And he flies all the way down the beach to that secluded spot where we intend to hold our parties. And ... and..." At this point he started to laugh.
Rhonda smiled broadly. "Well, what .happened? Let me in on the joke, will you?"
Dave brought himself under control and said, "well, that silly old bastard spotted me and my girl. She was blowing me." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he paled, his smile vanishing as he wondered if he hadn't gone too far, hadn't been too bold with this older, married woman-even if she was obviously a very good-natured and worldly-wise person. So in a soft voice, trying to undo possible damage, he said, "I mean she was fellating me."
Rhonda grinned broadly, recalling that in the past week, following the sizzling sucking she had administered to the well-hung Jim
Keller, she had blown Paul Allen and Christopher Barnet twice and Keller two more times.
"That must have been something," she said at last. "What did the two of you do? Run like hell, I'll bet."
"Nope. We didn't do a damn thing. Vicky, that's my girl, just kept ... kept fellating me. We didn't stop even when that helicopter was no more than forty feet over our heads. Hardington figured he could scare us off, but we fooled him."
"He is a bastard, isn't he?" Rhonda said.
"You know the guy?" Henry asked, a puzzled expression on his angular black face.
Rhonda took a deep breath, then let out a sigh. "Guys," she began, "I'm going to level with you. I'm sure I can trust the both of you not to blab this all over the place."
"Blab what, Mrs.-, I mean, Rhonda?" Dave said.
Rhonda tossed back her head and laughed, her flaming hair fanning her beautiful face. With her eyes on the road she said, "Fellows, you're looking at one gal who appreciates good hot sex as much as you do. I happen to be a wife-swapper."
"A wife-swapper?" the teenage boys chorused, faint smiles forming on their faces.
"Sure. Now don't tell me you've never heard of married couples changing partners. Why, it's done every day in the week. Surely two very sophisticated kids like you should-"
"Oh, we're not surprised, Rhonda," Henry interrupted. "It's just that, well ... "
"Well, what?"
"What my buddy is trying to say," Dave began, coming to the rescue of a suddenly tongue-tied Henry Jackson, "is that we're not shocked to learn you're a swinger, but envious of those to whom you grant your favors."
Rhonda's eyebrows arched and she smiled. "My, but aren't we the diplomat, Mr. Maxwell? And a very handsome one to boot. Tell me, are you as adept at pleasing a woman sexually as you are at charming her with complimentary and ego-pleasing phrases?"
Dave and Henry were silent. A hundred different yet similar thoughts were suddenly darting about in their heads, all of them having to do with getting into this beautiful female's panties. That is, if she was wearing any.
The door had certainly been opened for them, they thought. If her last question wasn't a come-on, then they had never heard one before. This beautiful babe couldn't have been more direct had she come right out and said, "I want to get laid, fellas." But they would have to follow through with some tact, Henry and Dave thought. Maturity and some subtlety was called for, lest she decide they were mere juveniles and change her mind about screwing.
And neither Dave nor Henry would ever forgive themselves if they let such a desirable, well-stacked female squirm off the hook. They hadn't even bothered to bait the line, yet she had nibbled. Now they had but to reel her in.
"Well, I'm waiting for an answer, Dave," Rhonda said, still smiling as she turned the car onto Job's Lane. They were in Southampton now, heading very slowly into the pretty and tranquil center of town where they would find dozens of expensive, elegantly decorated shops.
"Rhonda, I have an idea," Dave began, attempting to sound purposeful and mature as he addressed the woman who was eleven years his senior. "And I think it's a good one."
"Oh, really? And what is this good idea of yours, David."
"I suggest you postpone your visit to the art gallery until another day and let Henry and I give you the grand tour of the beach. I mean that section of beach we're goin' to hold our parties. I think you'll find that more interesting than any old art gallery."
Rhonda didn't answer immediately, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Dave's hand inch along the car seat to her leg, his fingers finally creeping up and over her knee. And then her knee was being squeezed.
"Come on, Rhonda. How 'bout it? It would be a shame to spend a beautiful day like this indoors."
"That's for sure," Henry Jackson injected, nudging his buddy in the ribs. And maybe the three of us can go for a swim ... or something."
"Or something?" Rhonda asked, smiling.
"Or something." Dave echoed. Suddenly he was brimming over with confidence. He felt sophisticated and very wise, yet found it hard to contain his youthful eagerness as to his mind there came the very pretty picture of Rhonda Talbot, warm and naked and squirming on the sand, helpless in the grip of a lust inspired by his knowing hands.
"Now I'm waiting for an answer, Rhonda," he said.
Once again that sensuous smile began to form on the beautiful redhead's lovely face. She stepped lightly on the brake and brought the car to a gradual stop at the side of the road. She looked back, checked the oncoming cars, and when the way was clear she made a U-turn and started back.
"I wouldn't know a Picasso from a Warhol," she said finally, her voice sultry and deliciously mysterious as she turned to the young men and blessed them with a meaningful wink.
"Mmmmm ... that's nice, Dave," Rhonda purred, allowing herself to go limp as she savored the pleasurable sensations to course through her rapidly heating body.
"You're nice," Dave countered, smiling softly (a mature, compassionate smile, he thought) as his hard hands roamed over the lush contours of Rhonda's succulent mammaries. He trapped her hardening nipples between his thick fingers and pinched, eliciting from the titian-tressed temptress a soft sigh of approval.
Dave and Rhonda were lying on the sand, in almost the same spot where one week ago Vicky Andrews had conferred upon Dave a most enjoyable blow-job. Henry, Dave and Rhonda had gone through the motions, exploring the "beach" in a silly, superficial fashion before deciding to rest.
All knew full well that it was recreation and not rest which would ensue when they plunked themselves down onto the warm sand. The teenagers' tools wanted to stretch-not then-legs. And Rhonda's copper-colored cunt was beginning to moisten in anticipation of harboring two such youthful, hopefully experienced, pricks.
So it was that not long after depositing himself on the sand next to the ravishing redhead, after mere minutes of casual talk interspersed with chuckles, the muscular, weight-lifting Dave Maxwell had taken the bold step.
Wanting to conceal his great excitement, fearing that a display of great haste would botch the whole thing, he had moved to remove the top half of Rhonda's white pants suit, his handsome face bathed in a smile as his quivering fingers undid the buttons of the thin jacket.
But he need not have worried. Few and mild were the almost inaudible words of protest uttered by the excited Mrs. Talbot, who herself was trying desperately to remain cool and controlled. For her rapidly growing desire to be boffed by these two young bucks was seriously threatening to turn Dave's almost timid seduction into a wild and woolly rape.
Rhonda was now nude from the waist up, her thin brassiere having been removed right after her jacket. She was on her back, her lush body making an indentation in the white sand as Dave's hard hands continued to explore her mouth-watering melons and she squirmed with hot pleasure.
"Good ... ohh, so good," she sighed. "You have a nice touch, Dave. Strong ... demanding. But I really ... " she left the thought unfinished, a soft moan of delight drifting up from her throat and out her lovely lips as Dave dropped his head onto her gelatinous globes of flesh.
"But what?" Dave asked, nibbling now on Rhonda's blood-gorged nipples.
"I shouldn't ... shouldn't let you do this. I am married, you know, David."
"Uh huh, but you're also a swinger, Rhonda," Dave breathed. "A very beautiful, sexy swinger."
"Mmmmmm ... flattery will get you everywhere, young man."
Enough of that "young man" stuff, Dave thought, as he munched on Rhonda's creamy melons, his moist tongue leaving a trail of saliva as it scoured the smooth globes. She would forget all about his age once he was pistoning his cock in her hot twat. That much he was willing to guarantee.
A leering Henry Jackson was enjoying the sight of Rhonda and Dave petting on the sand. Moments ago he had bounced to his feet and had started to undress, shucking first his thin sport shirt, then his sneakers and dungarees. Now he tugged down his jockey shorts, balancing on one leg and then the other as he worked the garment around and off his feet.
Then he was bare-assed naked, his warm, slightly sweaty black body glistening in the sun. He dropped to his knees on the sand, his ebony erectile in full erection and his mind conjuring up the image of the lovely redhead passionately receiving his hard manhood.
Rhonda opened her eyes and saw the black teenager, a dreamy smile forming on her face as she viewed his stiff, pulsing pecker.
"What's the matter, Henry?" she asked, reaching out to embrace the teenager's tool. "Feel left out of things, huh?"
"There must be room for me somewhere," was Henry's reply, looking down as Rhonda commenced a gentle stroking of his black bone.
"There is, baby. There is, indeed."
Rhonda spent the next full minute caressing Henry's hard-on while thrilling to the warm hands and wet mouth of Dave Maxwell. But then it was no longer enough, not nearly enough. She had to take a more active role in the salacious proceedings.
And so she told Dave to cease his wanton sucking of her boobs, at the same time released
Henry's hard cock. Dave moved off, falling back on his haunches as he watched Rhonda get to her feet and begin removing the pants part of her pants suit.
The horny youths stared hungrily, their eyes riveted to the stunning female who within seconds would be clad in only her smooth skin. Rhonda peeled out of the white pants, revealing to the boys' appreciative gaze a pair of sheer, yellow briefs. Then, after delivering a wink and a smile, she removed these, too.
"Wow!" Henry exclaimed.
"Somethin' else," was Dave's excited comment.
"Does that mean you like?" Rhonda asked, grinning sexily.
"We like, we like," Henry blurted out, his eyes trying to take in everything at once, every square inch of the beautiful woman's-perfectly proportioned, naked body.
Rhonda felt a ripple of desire, shoot up her spine. How wonderfully wicked and perverse it was, she thought, to be standing here without a stitch on, to show off her beautiful body to two obviously appreciative young studs. It was not yet noon but here she was; savoring the admiring stares of a pair of teenagers she had only recently met, feeling decidedly wanton as she stood under the sun and courted their words of praise.
It was all so utterly shameful, so marvelously sinful. And, yes, just a little bit dangerous, for if some stroller should by chance stumble across the three of them, she would be hard put for an explanation. But then again, what the hell, she thought. If necessary, to keep the peace, she could always screw the stroller.
Rhonda looked at Dave, smiled and said, "Don't you think you should ... your dungarees, Dave."
"Oh. Yeah, of course." Snapping back to attention, the well-built blonde teenager jumped to his feet and immediately began shucking his clothes. In no time at all he was naked, his thin shirt, blue dungarees, shorts and sneakers now lying in a not so neat pile next to his friend's clothes.
Then Dave looked at Henry, trying with a bemused smile to silently communicate the pleasant problem facing them. Who would be the first to stick his cock into this luscious piece of tail?
Moved by the youth's moment of indecision, aware of what they were thinking, Rhonda came cheerfully to the rescue. She sank to her knees between the two teenagers, then rolled over onto her back.
"You're thinking that two into one won't go, right?" she smiled, wrapping her hands around the boys' stiff pricks as they shuffled forward on their knees, one on each side of her voluptuous body.
"We'll take turns, Rhonda," Dave said, hoping he sounded authoritative and masterful. "I'll take you first, and then-"
"Nope, it's not necessary, my young stud. There's room for you both in my body."
Dave frowned, "But I don't under-"
"A sandwich fuck!" exclaimed a grinning Henry Jackson, whose frequent trips to an Amsterdam Avenue whorehouse with a black buddy made him knowledgeable in such matters. (Those Puerto Rican sluts would take a cock anywhere and any time, and three times on Sunday.)
"A sandwich fuck," Dave echoed, cursing himself for not catching on immediately. Especially when just six weeks ago he and Peter White had "sandwiched" the nymphomaniacal, pill-popping Marcie Adams in her own home.
"Sure, man. One in her ass, the other in her cunt. Lotta gals I know love it that way. The old double-dicking routine."
Dave looked down at a still smiling Rhonda. "You want us to do that to you?" he asked, trying to decide how best to handle the problem posed by an affirmative answer. Who would fuck which hole?
"Uh huh. Do you have any objections, Dave?"
"None. Absolutely none, Rhonda."
"Good," the titian-tressed beauty grinned. "Shall we proceed?"
"Right," Henry said. He looked over at his white friend, received Dave's nod of agreement. Then the youths raised their right arms and clenched their fists. At the same time they brought their hands down, Henry spearing the air with two fingers, Dave with one.
"That's one for me," Dave said. "You know I always have odds."
"All right, you're one up," Henry frowned. "I'll get you this time," he added, again raising his clenched fist over his shoulder.
"Would you mind telling me what you're doing, gentlemen?" a flabbergasted Rhonda asked, looking first at one youth and then at the other. "If it's what I think-"
"Odds and evens, Rhonda," Dave explained, interrupting. "Henry is evens and I'm odds. Two out of three wins it."
"Wins it? You mean you're deciding by this stupid game who ... I think you're both odds."
Dave looked at Henry. "Rhonda's right," he said sternly, determined to recapture the composure and confidence which he had somehow managed to lose in the space of seconds. "This is ridiculous. I'll do it regular-you take the rear entrance. Fair enough?"
"Really now, fellas," Rhonda chimed in.
"Fair enough," Henry said quickly, fearing that further delay would find him watching an irate Rhonda dressing and leaving him to masturbate. The thought that he might have to manually accomplish that which this luscious white wench could provide was almost too painful to bear.
Rhonda released the boys' thick cocks and turned onto her side, a sigh of thanksgiving escaping her lips now that a decision had been reached. Immaturity, thy name is youth, she thought, as Dave and his buddy worked themselves into position, one in front and one behind her lush body.
But the feel of the two hard cocks probing her orifices, fore and aft, helped to quickly dissipate the feelings that she was but a large chunk of meat to be haphazardly punctured by fleshy spears. Her desires to be royally screwed, which had diminished somewhat during the teenagers' odds and evens game, now quickly returned in full and fiery force.
"Mmmmmm, that's the way to do it, Dave," she purred, draping her left leg over the teenager's thighs as he began working his rock-hard pecker up into her twitching vagina. "Slow and easy does it, my young lover."
Rhonda felt Henry's black bone pushing against her small anus, the bulbous head knocking defiantly at that small opening and demanding access to her bowels. Then, when with a sudden forward thrust he sank two inches of meaty manhood into her rectum, Rhonda emitted a grunt of pain and curled against Dave.
"Easy back there, Henry," she cautioned. "I'm a big girl and I've been corn-holed before, but just remember that isn't a ship's porthole you're puttin' your cock through."
"Yeah, all right," Henry grunted, pleased that he had punched his way into the beautiful woman's posterior without very much difficulty. No doubt her husband reams her regularly, he thought, beginning now to inch his fat black cock up into her creamy bottom.
"Good, huh?" Dave asked, his face scant inches from Rhonda's. He had succeeded in planting almost all of his stiff prick in her warm, mushy cunt, and now, his confidence restored, he wanted the woman to affirm the fact of his manhood.
"Good-it's very good," was the redhead's reply. "Move it now, baby. In and out-hard and deep."
Shit, she doesn't have to tell me what to do, Dave thought, as he commenced reaming Rhonda's syrupy vagina with his sawing bone.
Rhonda remained almost motionless, allowing the white youth to slowly but firmly fuck her front while in back the black boy was worming his manhood up into her broad bottom.
Delicious, she thought, simply delicious. Two at a time was one of her most favorite sexual treats, one she had not yet given herself this summer. She recalled the size of James Keller's beautiful organ and made a mental note to have him ass fuck her at the earliest opportunity.
But right now she was very satisfied being sandwiched by these two young men, both of whom seemed experienced in matters sexual despite the immaturity they had evidenced earlier. Dave was continuing to churn her cunt with his hard cock and the almost completed invasion of her rectum was thrilling her no end.
"Ohhh, yes," she purred happily. 'That is good. Bang it into me, Davey boy. Show me your strength, stud."
Dave grinned. He was in control now and loving it. Although his position was a bit awkward, he managed to slip a hand between his body and Rhonda's and begin a rough massage of her tits. Slowing the pace only slightly, he wriggled closer and then mashed his mouth over the beautiful redhead's.
Henry was elated. He had succeeded in burying his black bone to the balls in Rhonda's luscious ass-a succulent white ass. And now he squirmed even closer to the lush female, pressing his chest into her smooth, unblemished back and nuzzling his face in her long flaming hair.
Rhonda moaned into Dave's mouth when she felt Henry begin to ream her rectum, the feel of his hard black bone sawing rhythmically in and out of her hot, clasping shit chute fanning the ever growing flame of lust within her.
Dave suddenly broke the kiss and buried his head in Rhonda's creamy shoulder, his face pressing hotly against the side of hers as without pause he continued screwing her copper-colored cunt. He could feel his friend's cock through the thin membrane which separated Rhonda's cunt from her after passage.
"Yes, fuck me, boys," Rhonda moaned, beginning to move now with her young lovers. "Screw me to pieces with your wonderful cocks."
"Man, she's a hot bitch," Henry said, his voice thick with passion. "And her ass-it's somethin' else, buddy."
"Tight, huh?" Dave grunted.
"Like puttin' ... puttin' your prick into a butter-coated vise."
"Fuck her good, pal," Dave advised. "Make her know it."
"Ohh ... uhhh ... arhhh ... " Rhonda grunted, very willingly enduring the steady buffeting of her body. "Fuck me hard, boys. Screw those pricks deep into me."
The ravishing redhead was chock full of cock, skewered like a chicken on a spit. She squirmed with joy, thrusting her hips forward to greet Dave's hot dick as it boomed into her hungry vagina, shoving them back to welcome Henry's ebony erectile as it tunneled up into her stretched shit chute.
"Tell us you like it, baby," Dave ordered, a strange sense of power sweeping over him as he continued corkscrewing his bloated bone into Rhonda's mushy, molten love oven. "Let's hear those happy words of love."
"I-I told you, Dave," Rhonda breathed hotly, her face flushed with excitement. "You know I love it, baby. It's-ugh-ahhh."
"Better than your husband, huh? Better than ... what you get from your swinging friends, right?"
The titian-haired beauty didn't answer. Although dazed by passion, she was aware of the not so subtle change taking place in the seventeen year old youth. He was becoming crude and arrogant and not a little cruel. Fully aware that he and his black buddy were giving her much pleasure; conscious, too, of the fact that she was an older, married woman-albeit, a swinging adult-Dave figured he had the right to lord it over her.
"What's she say, man?" Henry asked, his voice thickening as he continued pistoning his hard prick in Rhonda's quivering bottom.
"Nothin' yet, pal. But maybe..." Dave left the thought unfinished as he suddenly began to thrust violently into the woman's womanhood, using his cock as some sort of fleshy knife and slashing away at her viscid vagina.
"Urgh! Ugh!" Rhonda grunted. "Don't-take it-"
"Sock it to her, Henry," Dave shouted. "Smash it up her dirty ass."
Henry wasted no time in following his friend's directive, accelerating the speed of his fierce plunges into Rhonda's rectum until his black ass was bucking and bouncing crazily.
"Oww! You're hurting me now," Rhonda whined. "Slow-slow it down. You're-owwww!"
'This is ... what you like, baby," Dave panted, beads of perspiration forming on his warm body as he continued smashing his rock-hard cock into Rhonda's love canal.
"No-too much. Too hard ... too fast."
"The best you've ever had, baby. Is that right?"
"Better than ... than her swapping friends," Henry chimed in, as he ground his ebony cock into the redhead's stretched shit chute.
Rhonda groaned.
"All right," Rhonda gasped. "You're great. The both of you are the best. I love it. I love your big cocks. I've never ... never been fucked so good. Hear me, Dave? You're the greatest."
Dave emitted a throaty, passionate chuckle, then reduced the pace of the prick. He had elicited from this beautiful woman ego-enlarging words of praise and now he was satisfied. Henry, too, was very pleased, and like his buddy he stopped the savage thrusts of his hard prick.
Immaturity, thy name is teenager, Rhonda thought once again.
For the next several minutes the two youths continued punching their thick, blood-gorged cocks into the redhead's trembling body. And Rhonda, now that she had the situation under some control once again, responded enthusiastically to the dual dicking.
Grunting and groaning, the trio rocked and rolled on the sand, the burning sun overhead bothering them not at all. Henry and Dave timed their hard thrusts into Rhonda's body so that she was never without a thick cock. When the white youth slipped his tool out of her weeping vagina, the black one boomed his bone up into her clinging rectum. And when Henry was withdrawing his shit-stained tool, Dave was storming Rhonda's cunt with his meaty member.
In fact, so thrilling was the hot double dicking the boys were giving her, that Rhonda was more than willing to forgive them their occasional lapses into childish behavior. Boys they might be, she thought, but their cocks, their thick, plunging cocks, could please the most demanding of women.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Following her eminently satisfying sandwich-fuck, and after a few minutes spent chatting about orgies, the "beach," and other related matters, Rhonda returned to the summer home she was sharing with the seven other swingers.
Dave and Henry, remembering only after the sizzling screwing that they still needed food for their upcoming sex party, started tramping back into Southampton with hopes of getting a lift along the way.
Upon her arrival at the Waincotts' house, Rhonda was greeted by Claudine Keller and Barbara Barnet, who were enjoying a moment of relaxation and a refreshing iced tea in the sandy backyard. The blonde, blue-eyed Barbara, clad in her red and white bikini, was tanning her lush body on a chaise lounge. Beautiful, raven-tressed Claudine was sitting in a garden chair.
"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Talbot," Barbara grinned. "Claudine and I were just talking about you, honey."
Rhonda smiled. "I know, my ears were ringing."
"Ha! Mine only ring when I'm getting laid. Why don't you pull up a chair and tell us all about your cultural expedition. How did it go at the art gallery, hon? Meet any dashing, debonair artists?"
Rhonda chuckled. "No, not exactly," she said, pulling a canvas chair over to where Claudine was sitting and then settling herself into it.
"You look a little, oh, I don't know, rumpled, I guess," Claudine said, who was fetchingly attired in a bright blue halter and orange hot pants.
Rhonda grinned but didn't speak.
"Rumpled? You're much too polite, Claudine. Mrs. Talbot looks like she's been banged by half a dozen tanned and handsome beach boys. I think she's been pooped by a hell of a lot of young studly cocks."
Mrs. Barnet grinned.
"Well," persisted Mrs. Barnet.
"You're not too far off," Mrs. Barnet," Rhonda said, adding a broad wink to the smile she directed at her friend and fellow swapper.
Barbara's eyes widened and her eyebrows arched. "You're kidding, honey. Did you really get-"
"Hey, where are all the others?" Rhonda interrupted.
"They're occupied," was Claudine's answer. She smiled softly. The lush redhead nodded in understanding.
"Oh, to heck with the others," Barbara said, her interest in Rhonda's experience growing by leaps and bounds. "Hurry up and give us all the juicy details. Who was he? Or should I say, who were they?"
"Oh, Babs," Rhonda said, "it wasn't such a big deal. On my way into Southhampton I picked up a couple of kids and, well, one thing led to another and-"
"Uh huh. Now I wonder who did the leading honey. And besides, what are you doin' messing around with kids? You going to tell Brian about your little adventure?"
"Boy, aren't we full of questions today," Rhonda smiled. "What did you do, Claudine? Wind Babs up to run all day?"
"Very funny, Mrs. Talbot," Barbara smirked. "Now come on, out with all the interesting data. Where did you lay these kids?"
Rhonda perked up. "Well, that's something I do want to talk to you about-you and the other members of our little group. I think I've found a way to participate in a really grand orgy without much fear of being spied upon."
"Hey, that sounds even more interesting than your getting laid by a pair of kids," Barbara said. "But first things first. Tell us what these two were like. They were teenagers, I guess."
Rhonda grinned and shook her head. "You know, Babs, you're acting like a female who hasn't had a stiff prick in weeks. Or maybe that isn't iced tea you're drinking."
"Come on, Rhonda," Barbara pleaded.
"All right, I'll tell it like it was, Mrs. Barnet. I picked up these two teenagers, Dave Maxwell and Henry Jackson, and while driving into town we started a conversation. They mentioned a wild sex party they were planning at this secluded stretch of beach they discovered, and then, well, before long I was turning the car around and we were heading for the beach."
"The beach? What beach?"
"That's what the kids call this particular section of beach-the isolated area where they intend to have orgies."
"Not very original, is it?" Barbara asked, frowning.
"What isn't original? Having orgies."
"Calling the beach the 'beach,' I mean," was Barbara's reply.
"Well, they're just teenagers," Claudine interjected.
"I don't see what this has to do with anything," Rhonda said. "Now do you want to hear the rest or should. ... "
"Let's have it, honey. I'm all ears."
"You mean you're all pussy," Rhonda cracked. "Anyway, we drove to the 'beach' and then Dave and Henry gave me a fast guided tour. Then we, mmm, and did we ever!"
"Then you gave the teenagers a guided tour of your body, huh?"
Rhonda grinned. "They didn't require much guidance, Babs. Dave and Henry know their way around pretty good."
"You-you screwed them on the beach?" Claudine asked, finding the idea rather hard to believe. "Out in the open, naked?"
"Out in the open, Claudine. It was fun, too. They both fucked me at the same time."
Barbara grinned. "In the ass and cunt, right?"
"Yep. I got myself a royal reaming, hon. Mr. Maxwell took care of my vagina and Mr. Jackson screwed my fanny with his nice big black cock."
"Black cock? One of the kids was black?"
"Sure, why not? Haven't you ever gotten screwed by a black, Mrs. Barnet?" Rhonda asked, a wry smile on her beautiful face.
"Believe it or not," Barbara replied, "I've never had the pleasury of a black bone. Guess it was good, huh?"
"Good? It was great!"
"But doesn't it-" Claudine began, then faltered. "I mean it must be very painful to be penetrated by two cocks at the same time. I've never even been. ... " she let her voice trail off.
"You've never been fucked in the ass, Claudine?" Barbara asked, the expression on her face suggesting that the French female's sexual education had been lacking in fundamentals.
"No, never. James has wanted to do that thing to me for a long time, but I won't let him. I think it's awfully perverted."
"Like hell it is," Barbara said. "It's heavenly, that's what a good rectum reaming is."
Rhonda looked at Claudine and smiled. "I'm sure that before the summer is out you'll change your mind about anal intercourse. There's very little real pain involved, you know. I'm just a bit sore now, that's all."
"Ohh, think of it," Barbara sighed, leaning back in the lounge, "a thrilling fuck by two healthy young men. It's been ages since I've been sandwiched between two thick pricks."
Rhonda grinned. "Well, I'm sure all you have to do is say the word and somebody will come to your rescue. I'm sure Claudine's husband would enjoy plunging his big beauty up your backside. And while Jim is reaming your rear, perhaps Brian could work on your cunt."
"Yes, it sounds just delicious. Tonight I'm going to have me a double dicking. Mmmmm, I can hardly wait."
"Well, can you hold on long enough for me to tell you about this piece of property that's apparently ideal for orgies?"
"What?" Barbara said, the image she had conjured up of herself and two males passionately entwined in a three-way screw fading from her mind.
"I'm talking about the desolate area the kids call the 'beach,' Mrs. Barnet," Rhonda answered, a touch of impatience in her voice. "The boys suggested that we use this out-of-the-way spot for our sex parties, and from what I could see of it-"
"Which wasn't a helluva lot, honey," Barbara interrupted. "I mean, you were on your back all the time. And if you weren't on your back, neither were you in a position to properly canvass the area."
"Oh, Babs," the redhead groaned. "You're throwing cold water on the whole thing even before I've had a chance to-"
"Okay, I'm sorry. So you think we can have a real wing-ding of an orgy on this so-called 'beach,' huh?"
"Yes, I do. You know how I've always wanted to participate in a real wild, full-scale Roman-type orgy. Well, Dave and Henry told me that we could use their spot whenever we wanted, and that they and their teen-age friends would join us if we so desired."
Barbara frowned. "You think it was wise telling these kids that we're wife-swappers? Teenagers sometimes have big mouths, you know."
"Oh, these kids are all right, Babs," Rhonda assured her friend. "Look, they're swingers just like we are. I thought it was nice of them to offer us the use of this secluded spot."
"But that's just the point, hon," the blonde said, pushing herself up off the chaise lounge and swinging her legs over the side so that she was now sitting. "Just how secluded is this place? We have enough to do keeping out of George Hardington's way, and the last thing we need is some prudish old dame spying on us and then running to the city fathers. And who knows, could be that Hardington owns this particular piece of choice real estate."
"Oh Babs," Rhonda again groaned. "He doesn't own anything."
"I'm not sure I understand this," Claudine interjected. "I mean, why is it so important that we make love outdoors? We have this large house with its two bedrooms and-"
"It would be fun, Claudine," Rhonda argued, her voice rising a trifle as she tried to make her point. "Sure, we don't have to have a big sex party on the sand, under the stars, but I think it would be just super. It's something I've always wanted, that's all."
Barbara smiled. "And what Rhonda wants, Rhonda gets."
The luscious redhead shrugged. "I guess not. At least not this time. It's obvious that the two of you are less than luke warm to the whole idea, so we'll just forget about it.
There was a moment of silence.
Barbara started to speak.
"The idea of a super-duper orgy with, how many kids would be joining us, Rhonda?"
"Dave said that about twenty kids would be there all during the summer. A few more are expected, but they won't be staying for longer than a few weeks."
"All right, twenty or more kids. There are eight of us, so that means all told they'll be somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty people frolicking in the nude, screwing one another senseless under the twinkling summer stars, if you will. Now this I like. What disturbs me is the possibility that we'll find ourselves, bare-assed naked, being led to the town jail by a few civic-minded citizens."
"That would never happen, Babs," Rhonda sighed.
"But how can you be so positive, honey? Where is the written guarantee that says thirty nude individuals can romp on the sand and screw up a storm some summer night without fear of being caught? I mean, it would be a helluva thing to be fucking some curly-headed kid and all of a sudden look up and see a policeman."
"Barbara, you're being plain silly," was Rhonda's retort. "The possibility of us being seen or heard by anyone who would file a complaint is very, very remote."
"You say," Barbara countered, "and remember too that our husbands have reputations to protect. How would Brian explain to his students that he was jailed for participating in a wild orgy? Hell, he'd be fucking girls who are the same age as those he's teaching."
"It strikes me as being very dangerous," said Claudine, who was trying to follow the argument and not allow her mind to dwell on her husband and Judy Allen. She knew they were together at the moment, having last seen them walking hand in hand down to the beach. Was he fucking her in the water, she wondered?
"All right, then. I promise not to pursue the matter any further," Rhonda said. Pushing herself up out of the canvas chair, she added, "I think I'll change into my swimsuit and go for a swim. Either of you two care to join me?"
"Now you're angry," Barbara said, smiling softly at her friend.
Rhonda shook her head. "Of course not. Why should I be angry, Barbara? I just think your fears are groundless, that's all. Who knows, maybe we can find another spot for our outdoor orgy."
"Orgy? Did I hear someone say the magic word?"
Rhonda, Claudine, and Barbara turned in the direction of the voice, small smiles lighting their faces when they saw Paul Allen and Brian Talbot.
"And for saying the magic word," Brian added, grinning, "the lucky gal wins a good screwing."
"Orgy, orgy, orgy!" Barbara chanted.
Brian searched around and found still another canvas chair and dragged it over to where his wife was sitting. Paul took a seat on the chaise lounge next to Barbara.
"Okay, I'm sorry. So you think we can have a real wing-ding of an orgy on this
Rhonda grinned at her husband. "What art gallery?"
Unable to contain herself, Barbara burst in and informed Brian that his wife had been boffed by a pair of teenagers. This brought a loud laugh from Paul and Brian, who winked at each other like comrades acknowledging the completion of a recent mission.
Barbara caught the winks and said, "I think I smell a rat here, ladies. The boys are keeping something from us."
Paul smiled. "Now what makes you think that, Babs?"
"Your silly smiles, for one thing," the curvaceous blonde replied. "By the way, have either of you seen my husband lately?"
Again, Paul and Brian looked at each other.
"Well, have you?" Barbara asked again.
"When we last saw Chris," Brian began, "he was tossing a big beach ball to Judy. He decided to keep her company while-" he left the thought unfinished and glanced at Claudine.
What the hell was going on here, the raven-tressed, French female wondered. More to the point, where was her husband?
"Well, go on, Paul," Barbara urged, nonchalantly dropping her right hand into the man's lap and patting the small bulge in his swim trunks. "How come my handsome hubby had to keep Judy company?"
"Because Jim wanted to keep somebody else company," Brian said, his grin broad.
"Oh, stop this foolishness," Rhonda smiled. "Quit talking in circles and tell us what's going on, or what went on."
"Okay, we'll level with you," Paul said. "Right about now, Mr. Barnet is probably humping Mrs. Allen and Mr. Keller is throwing the meat to Susie Jones."
Claudine frowned. "Who is Susie Jones?" she asked, reluctantly admitting to herself that the idea of yet another female sharing Jim disturbed her not a little.
"Yes, indeed," Barbara grinned. "Who is this Susie character?"
"All right, twenty or more kids. There are eight of us, so that means all told there'll little minx I've ever come across. And a damn pretty kid she is, too."
"Kid?" Rhonda exclaimed. "You too, darling? You mean, while I was being banged by my hitchhikers, you were-"
"Uh huh," Brian grunted. "Paul and I met Susie on the beach and no sooner had we introduced ourselves than she was leading us behind a sand dune and peeling out of her bikini."
"And what a build on that blonde babe," Paul grinned. "Now I can understand why you enjoy teaching, Brian. Man, I wouldn't mind spending every day flirting with pretty nymphets like Miss Jones."
"And my husband is with her now?" Claudine asked.
Paul nodded. "Yep, that he is. And if her performance with Brian and myself is any indicator, little old Susie is probably going bananas over Jim's big whang."
Rhonda laughed. "Well, how 'bout that, honey? Today we both got ourselves laid by a teenager."
Brian reached over and squeezed his beautiful wife's knee. Smiling, he said, "Yeah, but you're one up on me."
"But that can be remedied," Rhonda said quickly, shooting Barbara a quick smile.
"Really? Tell me more, my luscious mate."
The ravishing redhead launched into an explanation of that area the teenagers had named the 'beach,' in an excited voice telling Paul and her husband all that she had told Claudine and Barbara earlier when trying to convince the females of the area's suitability for outdoor orgies.
But by the time she finished, there was a faint frown on her lovely face. It was most apparent that the men, like the women, were not too keen on the idea of sexing it up in the open.
"Mmm, sounds a bit risky to me," Paul said, as he placed a hand on Barbara's right boob and squeezed tenderly. "Maybe these kids like to live dangerously, but as for me-"
"As for you? Look at yourself right now, Paul. There you are in broad daylight playing with Barbara's breasts. Now suppose that old grouch Hardington is watching the whole business through binoculars. That would be. ... "
"No, that's different, baby," Brian interrupted his wife. "This is our property, at least for the summer, anyway. Messing around on property that we've rented is one thing, screwing one another on the beach, having a wild orgy, is something else altogether."
"True, very true," Paul added. "The key word here is privacy. I'd love to participate in the kind of mass fucking that Rhonda speaks of, but I don't relish the idea of being hauled into jail for disturbing the peace."
"That's exactly what I said earlier," Barbara said. "The idea of an orgy with twenty or more teenagers is certainly appealing, but I don't want to pay for it with a stiff fine and/or a night in jail."
Rhonda emitted a groan of despair. Again, she pushed herself out of her chair, informing the others that since she had struck out for a second time, she was going to seek solace in a swim.
"I think I'll tag along, Rhonda," Claudine said. "That is, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," Rhonda smiled. "Want to check up on that good-looking hubby of yours, huh?"
Claudine smiled but didn't speak.
"Have fun," Brian called out, watching with Paul and Barbara as the two women started off in the direction of the beach.
"And check all the sand dunes," Paul added in a loud voice, his suggestion intended for the stunning French female.
No sooner had Rhonda and Claudine left than Brian, Paul, and the blonde Barbara Barnet fell into a lively discussion about orgies in general and the redhead's proposal that they stage one on the 'beach.' All agreed that a wild and woolly fucking fest would add considerably to their enjoyment of another summer spent swapping. Yet, they dreaded the possibility of bringing the law down upon their heads.
"You said it before, Paul," Brian smiled at his friend. "Of real importance here is the matter of privacy. If only we could find a truly ideal place to stage the orgy, one that afforded us the protection against detection, then I'd be the first to undress."
"And I'd be the second," Barbara grinned.
Seemingly lost in thought, Paul Allen said nothing for a number of long seconds. Then suddenly, he started to smile.
"Does Mr. Allen have a solution?" a grinning Barbara asked, her hand still wrapped around the bulge in Paul's swim trunks.
"Maybe, just maybe," was Paul's softly-voiced reply. He looked over at Brian. "Remember who we saw on the beach this morning just before bumping into Susie?" he asked.
Brian nodded. "Sure. Hardington and another guy-some thin, mousy-looking character."
"Right. And what were they up to? I mean, where were they headed when we spotted them?"
Brian thought for a few seconds. "Hell, to take a swim, I guess. I mean, they were walking toward the water."
"True enough," Paul said. "But I don't think the ocean was their original destination. I think seeing us on the beach made them nervous and caused them to change direction quickly."
Rhonda laughed. "Well, how 'bout that, honey? Today we both got ourselves laid by a Hardington and his friend?"
A smile began spreading over Paul's face. "I guess you didn't see that they were holding hands. They released each other the second they realized we were present, but I saw them strolling across the sand, hand in hand, on their way to a large sand dune."
Barbara almost choked on the iced tea she had just put into her mouth. After swallowing hard, she said, "Are you saying that George Hardington is a homosexual, Paul?"
Paul nodded. "That I am, baby. I'd be willing to bet on it. I was never able to lay my finger on any concrete proof, but last summer I began suspecting our number one enemy of preferring the company of males to females. Remember the few parties he hosted last year, Brian? Only males attended, right?"
"Yes, of course. You're absolutely right, Paul. Now why didn't I put one and one together and reach the conclusion you reached?"
"I remember now, too," Barbara said. "We used to see all those men milling about Hardington's place. They never really did anything, though. I mean, there was no kissing or any of that stuff. And they were always fully dressed."
"And they're all queerer than a three dollar bill," Paul smiled.
Barbara shook her head from side to side. "Hey, if that isn't something. To think that the guy causing us headaches with his constant snooping is in fact a homosexual. Wait until I tell the girls."
"Yeah, it's certainly interesting," Brian said. "But what has Hardington's homosexuality have to do with our finding a good spot for a screwing party?"
"Blackmail!" Barbara exclaimed. "Paul is thinking of blackmailing the old boy."
"But for what purpose?"
Unable to come up with an answer, Barbara turned to Paul and asked, "Why blackmail, Paul?"
"You know, I haven't given the idea of blackmail much consideration, Babs. But it's not a bad thought at all. Perhaps by threatening to expose his homosexuality we can bring Mr. Hardington into line. He might then be very willing to allow us to hold our grand orgy on his property."
"Yes, of course," Barbara chirped. "He's got enough property to house a three-ring circus. It would be ideal, really. No one would dare bother with the very wealthy George Hardington. We would be assured the privacy and safety we needed."
Brian nodded his agreement. "But you said you had something else in mind, Paul. What was it?"
Paul grinned. "Well, before Babs mentioned blackmail, I was thinking in terms of a program of persuasion."
"You mean, just walking up to him and asking to use his estate for an orgy?" Barbara asked.
"Not exactly. I thought we might punctuate our request with a little female pulchritude. That is, if you and the other girls are willing to lend your pussies to the cause. Chances are that if the four of you paid a little visit to Mr. Hardington, pretending a need for his cock, of course, we'd have him eating out of our hands."
Brian frowned. "Hey buddy, you just finished making us realize that Hardington was queer. A stunt like that would never work with a homo. He'd laugh in the girls' faces."
"Oh, I don't know about that, Brian. Once our wives give the old bird a taste of heterosexual love, he might just begin realizing what he's been missing all these years. In any event, I think it's worth a try. I mean, a seduction by four beautiful females coupled with a threat of exposure might turn the trick."
Brian shrugged. "Well, like you say, I guess it's worth a try. It certainly can't do any harm."
The two men looked at Barbara.
"Sure, why not?" the beautiful blonde said. "I'm sure the other girls will go along. The seduction of that old goat might turn out to be more fun than the orgy. Although like Brian, I wonder if it's possible to turn a homo into a cunt-crazy satyr overnight."
Paul grinned. "It's not necessary to turn him into a raving sex nut, Babs. Just work him over until it dawns on him that he's lived a wasted life. And if he should resist your considerable charms, we can always fall back on the blackmail bit. It'll be our ace in the hole, so to speak."
"Gee, I'm getting excited already," Barbara grinned. "Tonight when we're all together, we'll set everything up."
Brian grinned. "You know something, Paul, I think Barbara, Judy, Claudine, and Rhonda are going to eat Mr. Hardington alive."
"Oh, he'll be eaten, that's for sure," Barbara smiled. "Among other things, of course."
"Wait until he sets his beady old eyes on Rhonda's creamy ass," Paul said. "If he doesn't find plowing her rectum more fun than banging another guy's tail, I'll go over there myself and suck his cock."
"Mmmmm, I'm just wondering," Barbara purred.
"About what, baby?"
"About the size of the old guy's cock."
Paul joined Brian in a bout with laughter.
". . .and so, after awhile you become accustomed to having a hard prick shoved up your backside," Rhonda was saying, trying to explain to Claudine the delights of anal intercourse as they tramped over the sand on their way to the water.
"It must hurt the first time, though," Claudine argued. "I mean, it's not natural to be screwed in the behind."
"It's not all that painful the first time, honey. A little uncomfortable, maybe. But if your partner is considerate and takes his time, you'll find the initial experience most pleasant. And the more often you're fucked in the fanny, the more you'll appreciate it. Believe me, after your ass has been reamed a few times, you'll wonder why you hesitated experimenting.
"Maybe, but still-"
"Come on, Claudine," Rhonda urged. "Loosen up a little and start enjoying the summer. Life is so short as it is, baby. We owe it to ourselves to take every moment and make the most of it. That's why I didn't hesitate when the opportunity to get laid popped up this morning. I couldn't see denying myself the pleasure of two virile young men. Why should I?"
Claudine sighed. "Well, I guess I've got an awful lot to learn about ... shit, what was that?! "
An unholy shriek of lust suddenly streaked through the air, causing both Claudine and Rhonda to jump and turn immediately in the direction from whence the bestial noise had come.
"Sounds like an unwilling cow being banged by a bull," the redheaded Rhonda remarked, a faint smile forming on her face. "Come on, let's go take a look."
With Rhonda leading the way, the two women plowed through the soft sand to a large dune about fifty feet away.
"Maybe we shouldn't intrude," Claudine said, her voice little more than a whisper.
"Sure we should," was Rhonda's quick reply. "Besides, I'm sure they're much too involved in what they're doing to even notice that we're spying on them."
The titian-tressed beauty then scrambled up the sand dune and peeked over the top, a lewd grin coming to her face as her eyes feasted on the sight of Jim Keller plunging his eight-inch cock into a blonde teenager's pert fanny.
Claudine reached the top of the dune a second later. She knew in her heart what she would find, thought she was prepared, yet the sight of her handsome husband feverishly cornholing the obviously pleased girl brought a gasp of surprise.
"Oh, my-" was all that she could manage to say, additional words sticking in her throat and refusing to come out.
"He must just have rammed it in," Rhonda said. She was silent for a moment, then added, "Perhaps I should amend what I told you before, honey. If you elect to have your good-looking husband provide your first rectum reaming, there may be more than a little pain."
"He's hurting her," Claudine whined. "See how the poor kid is crying."
Rhonda snorted. "Crying? Honey, that 'poor kid' is loving every second of it. Those are tears of joy."
For only a few seconds more did Rhonda and Claudine watch the pretty teenager who was on her hands and knees, receive the repeated thrusts of Jim's big bone into her quivering fanny. Then they slipped and slid down the dune and resumed their walk to the ocean, each silently considering the lewd spectacle just witnessed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
George Hardington couldn't believe what was happening. It was so crazy, so unreal, that he figured he must be imagining the whole thing. An excess of alcohol and little sleep last night were to blame for this horrible nightmare, he reasoned.
How else to explain the fact that four beautiful women had brazenly barged into his house, then pushed and shoved and prodded him upstairs to his bedroom while he uttered profanities and yelled for his friend, Arthur Treeman, who had chosen this Tuesday morning to visit the supermarket?
How utterly preposterous was the situation, Hardington thought, squirming on his bed and trying to slap away the hands of the four females who were attempting to denude him. He was going to be raped! Right here in his own bedroom he was about to be sexually molested by four of the sickening swappers who were living next door. It was grotesque, to say the least.
"Get his socks off now," said a hard-breathing Rhonda Talbot to Barbara Barnet, who had just yanked off Hardington's loafers.
"Yeah, will do," was the beautiful blonde's reply.
"Stop, I say!" Hardington shouted. "Stop this madness at once. Do you hear me?"
"Come on now, Georgie," Judy Allen grinned, "stop being so childish and start acting your age."
"The police, I'll phone the police. They'll come and throw the lot of you in jail. Now, unhand me, dammit!"
Ignoring the millionaire's muttered profanities and blistering warnings of revenge, the grinning, giggling quartet of females went about the business of undressing him.
Barbara peeled off his socks as Claudine worked his trousers down his fat, hairy legs.
Rhonda and Judy were kneeling on the bed, one on either side of George. Working together, they removed his sport shirt and then his undershirt, then pushed him back down onto the bed and moved to lower his boxer shorts.
Confused by this sudden, unexplainable attack, overwhelmed by the audacity of the four females, George was able to do little more than kick his feet and flail the air with his hands. He knew the sex-happy people who rented the Waincott's house for the summer were an unwholesom, scurrilous lot, eight hedonists capable of the most dastardly deed.
But never had he dreamed that the female members of the uncouth group would, with such contemptible boldness, storm the sanctuary of his estate and defiantly denude him. Would they stop at nothing in their unholy search for new and better thrills, he wondered?
"Hold his legs together," Rhonda said to Judy. "That's it. Now Claudine-yeah, that's the way."
"Wait a minute," Barbara said, moving quickly around the bed and then climbing onto it. "This should keep him quiet."
The luscious blonde promptly positioned herself over the still struggling Hardington, then settled her bottom on his chest. She squirmed forward a little, leaning back and shoving her sheathed crotch under his double chin.
"Ugh! Pigs, you're all filthy animals,"
George groaned.
"Okay girls," Barbara chuckled, "now you can get his undershorts off."
Rhonda, Judy, and Claudine all grabbed hold of George's shorts and began tugging the garment down. Working quickly, they brought the sheer shorts to his knees, then to his calves, then peeled them off his fat feet.
"Whoopee!" Judy yelled, tossing the millionaire's undershorts over her shoulder. "World, meet Mr. Hardington."
"Insane," George grumbled. "You're all, arghh!" The remainder of Hardington's sentence was choked off, the words breaking in his throat when Barbara clamped a hand over his mouth.
"He's a wee one, isn't he?" Rhonda said, nodding in the direction of George's small penis.
"James Keller he's not," was Judy's reply. "But it's better than no prick at all, I guess."
"Well, what do we do now?" Barbara asked, looking back over her shoulder at her comrades, her right hand still pressed over George's mouth.
Rhonda grinned. "We could play evens and odds."
"Evens and odds?" Claudine asked. "What is that, Rhonda?"
"It's a way of deciding who fucks Mr. Hardington first."
"Let's all play with him at the same time," Judy suggested. "That sounds like a better idea to me.
Rhonda nodded. "Yeah, you're absolutely right. We'll get undressed and then put Mr. Hardington through his paces."
The girls' attire for this friendly sexual attack consisted of halters and fanny-hugging hot pants. Rhonda was all in yellow, Judy in blue, Barbara and Claudine in identical black and white checkered hot pants outfits.
And now the sexy attire was being removed, Rhonda and Judy and Claudine peeling off their breast-holding halters and tugging down their tight-fitting pants.
"I'm going to get off you now," Barbara informed the no longer struggling George. "If you try to escape, I'll sit on your fat face. Understand, Mr. Hardington?"
George had never once made love to a woman. Never had he pushed his stubby cock into the velvety warmth of a mushy cunt, his sex life revolving around the pleasure received from other males.
He had long ago ceased wondering about his predilection for prick instead of pussy, had given up trying to analyze the reasons which lay behind his preferring males to females.
George didn't hate the so-called weaker sex-some of his best friends were women-nor did he consider the liberation movement to have been the brain child of power-hungry females who had more than a passing interest in lesbianism.
It was simply that he preferred the company of men over women, this preference first sparked, he realized, when as a college freshman he was seduced by a very muscular assistant football coach. That memorable encounter, the first of many, had gently yet firmly started him on the road to homosexuality.
And so George had moved comfortably from one male partner to the next, enjoying their company and their cocks and giving little thought to what it might be like to stick his stiff tool into a female's soggy vagina.
His life had been comparatively happy, he thought. He had met numerous people from many different walks of life and his various real estate ventures had proven, with not one exception, to be very rewarding financially.
George cherished his long-standing friendship with Arthur Treeman, a little man with a big heart and understanding nature. And without regret would he have gone to his grave, say, perhaps, ten or fifteen years from now, if he could continue living as he was at present.
But now, alas, his world seemed to be falling apart. His cock was about to be introduced to not one but four cunts.
"All right, girls," Rhonda said, taking charge of the situation. "Who wants what part of Mr. Hardington?"
Judy giggled. "I'll take the face," she said, as she cupped her cute cunt with both hands. She, like the other three females, was now bare-assed naked.
"And how about you, Barbara?" the gorgeous redhead asked, turning to the beautiful blonde. "What part of Mr. Hardington's anatomy do you favor?"
"I'll work over his torso," was Barbara's answer. "For starters, anyway."
"Good enough. And your choice, Claudine?"
Claudine considered her answer for a few long seconds. Of the four, the lissome French beauty had been the least enthusiastic about the sexual molestation of the millionaire. And now, as her eyes roamed over the man's fat frame, she couldn't remember the last time she had viewed such an unappetizing specimen of male.
On the other hand, since she was here. ...
"I'll take the bottom half," she decided. "The legs and calves and feet."
"Well," Rhonda shrugged, "everybody is passing up Georgie's little old pecker. So, I guess it's up to me to see if I can't stiffen his meat. I'll go down on him while-"
"No!" Hardington suddenly shouted. "This is too much. This has gone just far enough. I won't allow this horrible travesty of, of-"
"Of what, Mr. Hardington?" Judy asked, a broad grin on her face.
"I don't know how to describe what you're doing," George growled. "It's vile and loathsome, despicable beyond belief."
Rhonda chuckled. "And it's also goin' to be fun, Georgie. The time has come for you to learn all about the female form. You're about to take a graduate course in heterosexual relations, my good man."
"Preposterous!" Hardington snapped, making a move to leave the bed. "I will not allow-"
"Girls, to the attack!" Rhonda shouted, her voice charged with emotion. (The beautiful, titian-tressed general leading her soldiers into battle, the battle of the body.)
It was funny to all but George Hardington, who found himself being rudely pushed back onto the bed. Within seconds, the four females were swarming over him, their lips and tongues and teeth feasting feverishly on his unwilling flesh.
He tried to struggle, to escape, but to no avail. Their combined strength was simply too much for a man who frowned on physical fitness programs and who, when he exercised at all, strengthened only his stubby pecker.
The women had verbally partitioned his body, choosing territory, as it were, and now, like birds of prey, they swooped down for the kill.
A squirming Judy Allen snuggled against George's heavy body and proceeded to attack his face with nibbling lips and swirling tongue, her head tilting this way and that as she bathed his fat face with kisses.
Barbara Barnet, who was perched on the bed on Hardington's right, swooped down to lave his chest and worrying his nipples with a jabbing, tickling tongue.
The lovely Claudine was seeing to it that every square inch of George's legs was coated with warm saliva. Beginning at his heavy thighs, she proceeded to run her tongue in tantalizing circles over the smooth flesh, moving gradually toward his knees and then his thick calves.
And redheaded Rhonda was feasting on Hardington's flaccid penis, hoping to stiffen that organ through a dexterous oral massage. Right from the start she sucked with abandon, vacuuming George's limp pecker into her mouth with an enthusiasm usually reserved for the-likes of Jim Keller.
Merrily did she munch, her tongue twirling around the wet noodle that was Hardington's penis. She sucked quickly, with determination, as if the fact that the man was a homosexual had triggered within her a fervent desire to establish conclusively the beneficial aspects of a good blow job.
Helpless, managing only the mildest of protests, George endured the almost fanatical feasting of the four females. He thought of his friend, Arthur, wondered if perhaps upon the man's return the two of them could fight off these blood-thirsty vultures.
Minutes passed, long minutes during which Hardington's softly-voiced pleas for mercy mingled with the gargled grunts and mini moans being emitted by the quartet of hungry hedonists. These harlots would be dealt with, George promised himself.
He had yet to unearth a satisfactory solution to the problem of those summer swingers who every year give vent to their passions without caring if they offend others. But now he had something to hang his hat on, some concrete proof that those who revel in la dolce vita were a menace to society.
These women had broken the law; they had barged into his home, with malice, and then undressed him. They had disturbed his peace, they were trespassers. They were, yes, it was true, rapists!
And George made a silent vow to have the four gluttonous women locked in jail before the day was over. He would have them, and their equally obnoxious husbands, placed under arrest. No doubt the men had put their wives up to this atrocious violation, he thought, wondering just how smart-alecky those swinging husbands would be when they and their spouses were stewing behind bars.
But then, miracle of miracles, George Hardington began to respond to the females' ferocious ministrations. His transformation from unwilling and disgusted victim to grateful recipient was a slow, .steady thing, taking just about as long as it took his cock to harden in Rhonda's saliva-drenched mouth.
And harden it did, that once sorry-looking member now a small but thick length of meat filling the redhead's oral cavity. Pleased by her success, Rhonda sucked all the harder, seemingly possessed by the fear that if she stopped her wild blow job, Hardington's cock would return quickly to its limp state.
But George was aroused now. He could neither believe nor understand his curious turnabout. Nor could he fathom the feelings of intense pleasure coursing through his warming body. And he could not deny the fact that his body had come alive; he was tingling all over, wallowing in the delicious sensations now tumbling from the top of his head to the soles of his fat feet.
"Oh, oh my," he gasped, unable to still his squirming hips.
"See, you're a lover after all," Judy Allen grinned, looking down into Hardington's flushed face.
No sooner had the words left her mouth than she was dropping her head and mashing her soft lips over George's thick ones, driving her tongue into his mouth and pressing her succulent nakedness against his chubby frame.
Rhonda and Claudine and Barbara were all still hard at work, devoting themselves to a detailed examination of that part of Hardington's anatomy they had chosen to explore orally.
Claudine was now sucking on George's thick toes, moving from one digit to the other and vacuuming it into her mouth.
Barbara was nibbling on the fat man's knees, chewing like a hungry mouse on a mound of cheese.
And Rhonda was still eating George's cock, cupping and squeezing his hairy scrotal sac with one hand while the other held his bone perfectly perpendicular. Up and down her lovely head bobbed, her face shielded from view by the wealth of flaming hair which cascaded down and around her shoulders.
And then a stunned Arthur Treeman appeared in the doorway, his presence announced by the loud gasp which burst from his throat at the gut-jumbling sight of his friend being eaten alive by four obviously ravenous females.
Barbara looked up. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's his friend," explained Rhonda, who like Judy and Claudine had ceased chewing on George and turned toward the doorway. "The one Paul was telling us about, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that's right."
"What is going on here?" Arthur demanded to know, clutching to his bosom the two large shopping bags he held in his quivering arms. "What are you doing to Mr. Hardington?"
"We're making him happy, you fag," was Judy's sarcastic retort.
"The police. I'll get the police, George," Treeman turned, started moving quickly down the hall.
"Arthur!" Hardington yelled. "Come back here, you idiot!"
Mad, they were driving him ma'd, Arthur thought, stopping dead in his tracks at the sound of his friend's voice. He turned around and cautiously returned to the doorway, his mind still refusing to believe what his eyes were telling him was so.
"It's all right, Arthur," George assured his friend. "I can't, I don't understand it, but these ladies have-" he left the thought unfinished, realizing that it would be impossible to explain to another homosexual what he himself found totally unbelievable.
"Come on, join the party," Rhonda said, grinning broadly.
"Yeah, there's room for one more," Judy chimed in.
Arthur hesitated, began to speak, and changed his mind. A fierce battle was suddenly raging within him. On the one hand he wanted to flee from this hideous place, to run just as fast as his legs would carry him to the safety and solitude of the living room downstairs.
And yet, something was forcing him to stay put, to keep his eyes glued to the four naked females and his equally naked friend. How could this be, he wondered?
Did George actually appreciate what these four famished vixens were doing to him? George? A good friend with whom he had been intimate more times than he could remember-a fellow homosexual?
"I'll get Arthur," Barbara stated suddenly, moving from the bed to where George's frail friend was standing in quivering confusion.
"Bring him here, Babs," Rhonda said. "You and I will pleasure Mr., er, what was your name, Arthur?"
"Treeman," Arthur answered in a quavering voice, "Arthur C. Treeman.
Rhonda smiled sexily. "I'll bet the C stands for cock, right?"
Arthur took a few steps back, widening the space between himself and the still stalking Barbara. "I think, I think I'll be leaving now," he stammered. "I'll be downstairs, George."
George frowned. "Put those packages down, Arthur, and come over here. These women aren't going to hurt you."
"But George," his friend complained, "how could you, I mean, what about us? What did they do to-"
"Enough talk," Rhonda interrupted, once again taking charge. "Babs, take those bags from Mr. Treeman and bring him here."
Before Arthur could make a move, Barbara grabbed the two packages from him and set them on the floor. Then she took Arthur by the arm and steered him firmly toward the bed.
"No, please," Arthur protested, pulling away. "I don't like this sort of thing at all. Really I don't. Tell them, George. Don't they know that-"
"Oh, don't be such a baby," George said, his voice mirroring his irritation at his friend's whining complaints. "Come and enjoy with me these delightful and talented young women."
He reached for Judy Allen and drew her down into his arms, his heavy hands moving sensuously up and down her smooth back as she resumed the washing of his face with her wandering tongue.
"George!" Arthur shouted. "Have you gone mad?"
"Not mad, Arthur," was his friend's softly-voiced reply, "I'm learning to be happy, truly happy."
"But one doesn't change overnight, George. I mean, you're a homosexual. You can't do this to me, George. Please, tell me that you're pulling my leg."
A pained expression broke over Arthur's lean face as he watched his friend plant his thick lips on Judy's soft, pliant ones. Again, he started to protest, the fear that a good friendship was going right down the drain almost overwhelming him. What would he do without George Hardington? And without George's cock?
But Arthur was denied further contemplation, Rhonda jumping off the bed and bounding over to him. Together with Barbara, the redheaded lovely began quickly undressing the trembling man, removing his shirt, shoes, slacks, and socks in what had to be a record time for a denuding.
And when Arthur was standing in trembling expectation, Barbara sank to her knees and without further ado stuffed his limp penis into her mouth.
"You and Judy continue working on George," Rhonda said, turning to address Claudine. "I'll help Babs with Mr. Treeman."
"All right," the French female replied, watching as Rhonda moved around behind Arthur and then dropped to her knees. It was obvious that Rhonda intended to lick the man's ass.
"And we thought we'd have to blackmail good old George," Rhonda said, chuckling lightly. "This should teach us to underestimate our powers of persuasion."
"You don't think we'll have to threaten to expose his homosexuality?" Claudine asked.
Rhonda grinned. "Honey, we're home free. Home free!"
And with that, the titian-tressed beauty placed her hands on Arthur's hips and shuffled forward on her knees, her tongue snaking out of her mouth as she brought her face to the man's slender behind and began licking.
"Oh! Oh my," Arthur gasped. "What are you doing?"
Not by choice did he place his bony hands on Barbara's head, but the shock of Rhonda's tongue working up his ass-hole necessitated his grabbing hold of something for support.
Claudine watched for just a moment longer, her eyes drifting from the beautiful blonde eating Arthur's prick to the gorgeous redhead chewing out his ass-hole. Then she turned her attention back to George Hardington and Judy.
Judy was now sitting on George's chest, her soft sighs of delight suggesting that the fat man was doing an adequate job of sucking her twat.
Claudine's gaze wandered down to Hardington's now unattended cock. It was hard and throbbing, wet with Rhonda's saliva.
After brushing back a few strands of her long raven hair, the stunning French girl moved into position between the man's heavy legs. Crouched on her elbows and knees, she opened her mouth and steered George's small but meaty member between her lovely lips.
CHAPTER NINE
Not long after their wives had left to visit George Hardington, Brian, Christopher, Paul and James decided to inspect that portion of beach which had been suggested for the grand sex party.
It should prove to be interesting and might even be fun, Chris Barnet had said, having in the back of his mind the thought that perhaps they'd meet a few of the teenagers who were camping out of this "pussy paradise." In any event, it would give them something to do in their wives' absence.
And so the four men had hopped into Brian's auto and driven off in the direction of the "beach." The "beach" was about a thirty-five minute drive from their summer home, and with the aid of the map, which Rhonda had drawn while explaining the area, they had no difficulty in finding their way.
And now, having explored the out-of-the-way strip of sand and water, the four were enjoying a brief rest and the six-pack of beer which Paul Allen had thoughtfully suggested they bring along.
"Well, it's secluded, that's for sure," Chris was saying, sitting, as were the other men, just in front of a large sand dune.
Paul nodded, "Oh, yeah, it seems quiet enough," he said, looking slowly up and down the beach.
"Almost too quiet, if you ask me," James Keller interjected, after he had swallowed a mouthful of the refreshing beer. "It's almost eerie."
"Yeah," Brian agreed. "Where the hell are all the kids who are supposed to be here? Didn't my wife say that there'd be somewhere around twenty boys and girls camping here for the summer?"
"Yep, she did that," Paul answered. "Maybe those two kids-what were their names?"
"Dave Jackson and Henry Maxwell, wasn't it?"
"No, it's the other way around, Brian," James corrected. "Dave Maxwell and Henry Jackson. Jackson was the black boy, remember?"
"Oh yeah, that's right."
"Well, whatever their names are," Paul said, "maybe they were just pulling Rhonda's leg. You know how kids are-they get a charge out of putting one over an adult."
Brian shrugged. "Could be you're right, Paul. But Rhonda's not that naive. She would have known if their story was a phony."
"Well, then where are all these horny juveniles?" James asked. "I was hoping I'd bump into Miss Susie Jones again."
This brought chuckles from the three other men.
"Yeah, wasn't that something?" Chris said, grinning. "That good ass-fucking you gave the kid should teach her not to wander off the beach." Now she knows better than to stray from the area she and the others have staked out."
"Man, I'll bet her ass-hole is still sore from the reaming you gave it, Jim," Paul said.
Jim smiled. "You guys have it all wrong. I wasn't trying to chase Susie away. I wanted to give the pretty kid such a fierce fanny fuck that she'd come back for more." He turned from his friends and looked up and down the beach. "But maybe I did scare her off, after all. I've got the funny feeling that we're the only ones here. I don't think there's another person within five miles of this place."
Brian laughed. "Well that'll teach you to fuck only adult female fannies, Jim. See what happens when you corn-hole a kid? She probably went back and told her friends that some big-pricked bastard had ruined her ass."
"And then they all took off for parts unknown," Chris suggested, a small smile on his handsome face.
Jim shrugged. "Well, I've got to admit that it's beginning to look as if you're right. This place is like a graveyard."
"But the dead can't screw, can they?" a light, cheerful voice asked. "And we sure as hell are alive, handsome."
Startled, the four men turned to look behind them. There, standing on top of the sand dune, were four of the most taste-tempting teenage girls Brian and the others had ever stared at. And Brian was a high school teacher by profession.
The bikini-clad beauties were all smiling, each, it would seem, silently selecting the male she wanted to screw.
"Well, hello there, Susie," a smiling Jim Keller said. "We were beginning to think that you and your friends had left town."
"Not a chance," the perky blonde girl replied, her grin almost as bright as the brilliant yellow bikini she was wearing.
"Come down here and introduce us to your friends, Susie," Christopher said.
"And what pretty friends they are, too," was the grinning Paul Allen's comment.
Holding onto one another for support, the four sexy young females slid and stumbled down the sand dune to stand before the four adult males, all of whom had gotten to their feet for the introductions.
"Which one of these good-looking studs has the big prick?" asked the cute and curvaceous brunette who was standing just to Susie's left.
"Oh, Marcie, behave yourself," Vicky Andrews said, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "These nice men will think we're a bunch of alley cats."
"You'll have to forgive Marcie," Susie said, draping her arm over the brunette's shoulder. "She just falls apart when she spots a handsome stud."
"Ha, you should talk," Marcie snorted. "You were the one who told me how great that ass-fucking was."
"All right now, girls," Brian said, employing the tone of voice he used when trying to quiet a classroom. "Let's not get all involved in an argument. Susie, why don't you introduce your friends?"
The blonde nymphet nodded and then began the introductions, speaking the girl's name and then adding her age, as if the two were somehow mysteriously linked, the one inseparable from the other. "Marcie Adams, age sixteen," was the first introduced. Then, "Vicky Andrews, age sixteen," and finally, "Karen Farrow, age seventeen and one half."
"We're delighted to meet your, girls," Paul said.
"And last but not least," Susie finished up, "there's little old me, age fifteen."
"I think we've met," Jim grinned, winking slyly.
"So he's the one with the monster cock, huh?"
"Marcie, will you just shut up?" Vicky pleaded.
"News travels fast, Jim," Chris said, nudging Keller in the ribs. "You might become a legend in your own time."
Jim chuckled. "Oh, I doubt that."
"My sore ass-hole doesn't," Susie grinned. "You should see the size of the turds that I've been shitting."
The four males laughed, then, realizing that Vicky and Marcie and Karen hadn't met Chris, Brian and Paul, Jim made the necessary introduction.
"It was my wife who your boyfriend screwed, Vicky," Brian said. "He and his friend, Henry, gave her a real good time."
"Uh huh, I know. Dave told me all about it. But how did you know that Dave was my boyfriend?"
Brian smiled. "In telling my wife about your little experience with George Hardington, he happened to mention his girlfriend's name was Vicky. So, unless there's another Vicky around someplace..."
"Nope," Vicky grinned. "I'm the one and only."
"I'll say," Paul beamed, his eyes feasting on the teenager's overripe body. Either her bikini was two sizes too small, he thought, or she was blessed with a pair of boobs and a behind that would easily bring tears to a gal whose equipment was inferior.
There followed an awkward moment of silence, the eight people wanting to screw, knowing they would screw, yet wondering how best to start the ball rolling. It was in times like this, moments of indecision and doubt, that Marcie Adams showed her spunk. Marcie, as her friends well knew, could always be depended upon to come to the rescue with her usual lack of subtlety.
"Let's start fucking," she said, in a tone of voice which suggested that, to her, copulation was on a par with eating a meal. Both were natural, healthy, necessary, and fun.
The four adults looked at one another.
"You won't get any arguments from us, Marcie," Brian said, turning from his friends to talk.
Their was a brief moment of silence. Then Karen spoke.
"Marcie, you're just too much," Karen smiled, "But I will admit she had a great idea."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Paul asked, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on his sports shirt. "Time waits for no man, you know."
"Nor for any lady," Vicky added, reaching around in back to remove the top half of her solid black bikini.
Clothes were hastily removed then, the four luscious teenagers divesting themselves of their bikinis while the four adult males, their eyes on the tempting girls, stripped to their skins.
"Are we going to have a bash one of these nights?" Vicky asked, stepping out of her bikini bottom. "Dave was telling me that your wife was really keen on the idea. The orgy, I mean."
Brian grinned. "Well, let's just say that we're working on it."
"This spot would be just ideal for a big boffing blast, don't you agree?"
"We're not too sure about that, Vicky," Paul said. "Fact is, we have another place in mind. We'll know for certain if the property we want is available to us, as soon as we get back home."
"To your summer house?"
"Right."
"I don't understand."
"It's not important, Vicky," Brian said. "If everything works out the way we hope it will, we'll get in touch with you and your friends. How's that sound to you?"
Vicky shrugged, smiled a big smile. "Sounds just great."
The eight were bare-assed naked now, the lean, hard bodies of the four males contrasting sharply with the lush softness, the tempting torsos and tails of the four sexy females. The pairing off was accomplished easily, naturally, the moment of hesitation and uneasiness which had afflicted them all earlier now a thing of the past.
Having been told of the wonders of Jim Keller's cock, eager to discover for herself the thrill of being banged with a mighty bone, Marcie Adams hurried quickly to Jim's side. She reached down and wrapped a hot hand around his flaccid cock. "He's mine!" she was telling the world.
Paul extended his arms, spreading them wide to accept the well-endowed Vicky Andrews, who immediately began to grind her succulent tits into his hard chest.
Redheaded Karen Farrow leaped over to Brian Talbot, who at the moment was comparing the spicy little doll to his wife. Karen was a miniature Rhonda, he thought, as he dipped a hand into the hollow of her smooth thighs and proceeded to squeeze tenderly.
That left Susie Jones with Chris Barnet, a match-up which both heartily approved of. Prior to having her rectum reamed by Keller's big beauty, Susie had sampled the shaft of Mr. Barnet. And now again her pussy was purring in anticipation of harboring the man's tool.
The couples gradually sank to the sand, male and female. Breathlessly aching for Karen's clitoris, Brian curled his lips around that stiff mini-penis and sucked it hotly into his hungry mouth.
Vicky felt compelled to suck Paul Allen's rapidly rising prick, and so, as he stretched out on the sand, she dropped to her knees and crouched between his spread legs, lowered her head and began
Last but not least, Marcie Adams, a girl whose broad but firm bottom was made for ass-fucking.
Karen Farrow, whose copper-colored cunt was in a state of readiness, wanted to waste not a single second. Preferring a good hot fuck with no time consuming preliminaries, she fell to the sand and rolled over onto her back like a well-trained puppy.
"Fuck me, mister," she growled. "Sock it to me.
Brian was more than willing to comply with the little redhead's explicit request. Pulse pounding, heart beating fast, he dropped between the girl's splayed legs and without delay sent his stiff prick scurrying up into her deliciously tight twat.
Christopher Barnet was in the mood for some oral sex, his desire to munch on a tasty twat no doubt sparked by the fact that the perky Susie Jones was begging to be eaten. Spread-eagled on the sand, her warm, young body squirming as if out of control, she beseeched her stud to chew her cunt to pieces.
His cock stiff, rock-hard and ready, Chris moved quickly into position between Susie's quivering legs. He lowered his head and opened his mouth, began burrowing his handsome face into the hungry teenager's golden snatch.
"Your tongue," Susie moaned. "Use your tongue-on my clit."
Chris was already too busy to answer, his searching tongue in butterfly swirl within the mushy confines of the girl's sex hole. He ate like one famished, his pistoning tongue imitating the movements he would make very soon with his blood-gorged cock. He poked and jabbed at Susie's. clitoris, curled his lips around that mini-penis and sucked it hotly into his hungry mouth.
"Ooooo ... good," was the always ready-to-be-reamed teenager's excited response. "Chew it for me, stud. Bite it bloody!"
Last but. not least, Marcie Adams, a girl whose broad but firm bottom was made for ass-fucking. Yet, strangely enough, Marcie was still the not very proud owner of a never once reamed rectum. Not even her steady boyfriend, a twenty-one year old Vietnam war veteran who had fucked many foreign sluts, had now taken on the task of deflowering Marcie's most delectable derriere.
But now all would be rectified. With the eager assistance of Jim Keller, she would join the ranks of those females whose fannies had played host to a thick male cock.
Yet it was not without a certain anxiety, a sense of foreboding, that the auburn-haired teenager arranged herself on elbows and knees on the soft sand, her plush posterior pointing toward the blue sky. For while she wanted very much to be corn-holed, enjoyed the idea that at last she would lose her back door virginity, there lingered in her mind one nagging doubt.
Could her never-before-reamed shit chute comfortably contain eight inches of rock-hard prick?
"Are you sure you want this, Marcie?" Jim asked, dropping to his knees behind the crouched female, his hard hands sliding over her curvaceous bottom.
"Yes, I'm sure. Go ahead and do it, Jim."
"I don't intend to stop once-"
"I know, I know. It's all right. Just put it in me back there."
Fear of the pain involved in the upcoming ass-fucking had taken some of the starch out of the sometimes smart-alecky, occasionally rude Marcie, and her words were uttered softly and not with the greatest conviction.
Still and all, she was most curious about anal intercourse and eager to learn if all that Susie had told her was true. This, combined with her determination to be bottom-busted, helped to make somewhat bearable the awful thought that when Jim thrust his eight incher into her she would scream bloody murder.
"Try to relax, baby," Jim said, directing the head of his bloated cock to Marcie's tiny nether hole. Earlier, he had spit into his hands and then smeared the viscous substance all over his tumescent tool, the better to gain entry into the girl's unused rectum. It was a kindness he figured Marcie would appreciate.
Now, as he held open the cheeks of her nicely rounded rear with his thumbs, Jim leaned forward and began the job of working his slimy prick up into her tight shit chute.
Less than ten feet away, Brian Talbot was throwing the meat to a whimpering Karen Farrow. Unlike thrilling than the one preceding, rapidly in and out of the teenager's heavenly sex hole.
It was like dipping your dick into a jar of vaseline, Brian thought, his taut buttocks bobbing up and down as he pistoned his thick prick in the girl's mushy vagina. She was tight, deliciously so, and the fact that her cunt was gripping his hard cock so fiercely added immeasurably to his enjoyment of the fuck.
"Slam it deep, baby," Karen growled. "Ram it up to my tits. Hurt me with your cock, you stud."
"I'll give it to you, you little bitch," Brian rasped, punctuating his promise with an especially brutal thrust into the teenager's weeping twat.
"More. Give me more. I want it all-everything!"
Karen wrapped her arms and legs around the humping Brian, held on for dear life as he continued savaging her vagina with his pile-driving prick. Time and again she was speared by his blunt bone, each mind-numbing plunge of his cock into her molten sex oven causing grunts of pleasure to burst from her throat cries of delight as he began the anal screw.
Jim, allowing his eyes to wander over the sea of naked, squirming bodies in Hardington's backyard, answered, "Yes, it's almost too good to be true. I've never seen so many naked people screwing at one time before."
Claudine smiled softly. Still averting her eyes from her husband, she said, "You certainly couldn't have chosen a better classroom, that's for sure. I mean, I'm getting an excellent education in sex, James. Did you see me getting banged in the butt by that big kid. And as soon as I've grabbed
"Call me 'doll baby,' " said the blue-eyed Dorothy. "That's what my father calls me." Rhonda on the beach."
Jim turned now to his wife, a frown on his handsome face. "Are you enjoying the party, Claudine? I mean really enjoying it."
The lovely French female chuckled. "Of course I'm enjoying this mad, mad orgy. What girl wouldn't? And look what a fantastic education I'm getting in the process. Boy, after a summer spent swapping and a few more orgies I'll be able to match the most skilled courtesan in technique. I'll be a regular little trollop always hungry for cock."
"Claudine, I-"
"You really owe Hardington your thanks, James," Claudine persisted. "I mean he's helping to further your wife's sex education." She started laughing lightly. "You' know, I'll bet you won't even recognize me when we get back home, James. I'll be a completely different person." She paused, then added, "And that should make you happy."
Jim studied his beautiful wife. He didn't speak, merely let his eyes feast on her lush nakedness, on the body that had and would continue to be explored by other men.
Claudine at last turned to her husband, her soft eyes locking with his. "It's going to be a long summer, Jim," she said softly, a sad, wistful smile on her lovely face.
Jim nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I guess it is."
