As our modern society becomes increasingly urbanized, and the overall family structure weaker, we are seeing more and more of the phenomenon known as amorality. As a result, we are becoming more aware of corruption in all circles, and more aware that there are those people who have placed little value on morals-people who know neither good nor bad.
The young girl in this story, Carla Jean Ney, is a child of the present. Living the life of the existential hedonist, she refuses to worry about tomorrow and rarely thinks of her past. Her main concern is for today and the pleasures it brings. For Carla, sex is merely something to be enjoyed, carrying neither emotional ties nor moral overtones.
WIDESPREAD AND WILLING-the story of a young girl who truly embodies the life style of many in our society, a presentiment of what the future holds. Her story is one which holds a lesson for us all.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
I slept until noon, and it felt so good when I finally threw off the covers and crawled out of bed into the sunlight coming through my window. I went to the kitchen for breakfast. Couldn't remember how long since I'd heard the house this quiet. Mom and Daddy had been gone since yesterday evening, and I'd really taken advantage of their absence. My head was still floating from the Bristol Cream I'd used to wash out the dry aftertaste of weed, but it was a good kind of floating, no shit. I had a cup of coffee, instant, and some toast, and I hesitated a moment before I smeared it with gooey strawberry preserves, but "What the fuck?" I said aloud. "Can a few calories kill you? What the fuck, Carla?" And it felt good, too, to be able to say "fuck" out loud, right here in the cozy familiarity of our kitchen, so I said it again. Louder.
Later I watched the 12:30 news. Usual crop of disasters, scandals, and horseshit from Washington and the state capitol. The weather was darling. One super weekend coming up. Great weather. Just sunshine and more sunshine. Maybe I could go over to Gail's, and the two of us could work on our tans in her backyard. Her mother wouldn't get uptight if we stripped down to our skinnies, either, not the way mine would. Of course, our neighbors are just about near enough to flush our john when they should be turning their own handles, and Gail has this really neat backyard with lots and lots of trees and privacy out the ass. She hadn't mentioned any plans for the weekend, so maybe it was a goer. Anyway, we're best friends.
After the news I had to take a look at "All My Children." My mother watches all those damn soap operas, but this was her favorite, and the last thing she told me as she and Daddy were leaving was, "Be sure and watch my story, Carla, and tell me everything that happens." So I parked my butt in front of the tube and stared at it for a while, but, Christ! Erica and Tara and Phoebe and Chuck and Phil-I couldn't tell one of them from another and I didn't have the least idea how any of them had gotten into the shitholes that their lives seemed to be at the moment. I was getting off on this one greasy-looking dude in the cast, a pimp called Billy Clyde something, who wore a feather in his hat and chewed up the scenery every time the camera was on him. He was cool and funny, but the show was so depressing I said, "Fuck it" and turned the set off. It was too nice a day to sit around the house watching a soap opera.
I went back to my room, took off my housecoat, gave myself a quick shower, stepped onto the scales (damn ii, why weren't those three extra pounds melting away?), then got dressed. Jeans and t-shirt. What else? It was summer. And I didn't have to listen to Mom bitching about me not wearing a bra, either. Not that she likes the ones I do wear.
She says they look like something a stripper would wear at the finale of her act. Just because they only weigh an ounce or so and you can see through them and they don't force your tits into points or push the boobs up so high they keep air from getting into your mouth. She thinks it's still 1959. She also thinks I'm still a virgin. At least, I think she thinks so. We've never sat down and talked about it, and I haven't bothered offering to share my pills with her if she should find herself short sometime. But you don't pick your parents. I just wish sometimes mine were as loose as Gail's. Her mother knows where it's at. Most of the times. Though she does get a bit obnoxious at times trying to be one of the girls. She knows it's 1978, but she thinks she's still seventeen, and that can be almost as much of a drag as having parents who haven't passed beyond the Dark Ages yet. Enough on my parents, okay? They have very little to do with this story, except that if they weren't the kind of romantics who take off a long weekend every year to celebrate their anniversary (the West Indies this year! I could do with a few days on the beach at St. Thomas!), there wouldn't be any story to tell. Probably.
I smoothed down the t-shirt over my tits, stroking myself till my nipples stuck out cute and stiff. I didn't have to do much stroking, since I have the kind of nips that stick out most of the time on their own, but stroking was what my tits needed at that moment, and I was happy to oblige. My boobs were still a little damp from the shower, under the t-shirt, and they felt so soft and responsive against my palms. For a moment-for more than a moment-I considered stripping off again, lying down on the bed, and giving myself the handjob to end all handjobs.
"Don't you ever get enough?" I asked myself in the mirror. My tits were moving softly under the tight shirt and my face was starting to color in a light pink flush. Which meant I didn't have nearly the tan I needed to make my summer bright. For Chrissakes, it was the third week of June already, and I looked like a freshly laundered sheet!
I ran my fingers through my hair, wishing it were the heaped mass of sun-glare blonde that Gail has, instead of the nondescript brown I have, which only looks good when the sun is on it and the red streaks start to flash out of the brunette. Also, I have to keep it cut fairly short, because when it grows out, it gets so kinky and tangled I can't even comb it, and the split ends make me want to cry. So from head to neck I look kinda like Joan of Arc, while Gail makes people think of Farrah Fawcett. Sometimes I wished I were Gail. She seems to have a lot more fun than I do, even when we're doing the same things, which is most of the time. After all, we are best friends.
"Oh, screw it," I sighed finally. I'd celebrated my weekend of independence last night, getting it off to a delicious start. Thursday programming on the tube sucks, so I ran a Betamax tape of a Robert Redford movie and, while I was watching, stretched out all pink and naked and cuddly, surrendering my seventeen-year-old goodies to the lecherous caress of my lustful hands, purring all the time, "I wish it was you, Bobby." I like my parents, even if we don't agree on most things, but having them out of the house was such a blast of freedom! Especially when I got my finger into my twat and just frigged myself for hours, slow and lazy, in-out like a movie running slow motion. I also blew a joint or two of pretty good weed Gail had scored from her big brother and broke into the liquor cabinet for Daddy's Bristol Cream. All the nice things you can't do for yourself under the watchful eyes of parents.
I went outside, and the warm summer air caressed me sweetly. I stood in the front yard, stretching, lifting my hands to the yellow summer sun like some kind of pagan at worship. Mr. Potter, next door, had mowed his lawn and was busy raking up the cut grass. He looked over at me standing there, and I knew his eyes were locked in and holding on the stiff nipples showing in the tight of my t-shirt, and" I knew what the lecherous old goat must be thinking. But he had as much chance of fulfilling his dreams of Yasser Arafat does of becoming B'nai B'rith Man of the Year. I went on around the house, butt wiggling the way it always does. It wasn't for Mr. Potter's benefit, though I could hear the old goat panting as he watched me. Anyway, my jeans were tight. Like I said, three pounds overweight. And when I get overweight it goes right to the ass. The jeans were snugging around my bottom and I thought with a sigh as I got onto my moped that I was gonna have to start turning down pizza in favor off salad. Soon. Or pretty soon. Maybe if I pedaled really hard as I started out, I could knock some of it off right now.
Gail lives on the other end of town, almost three miles from where I live. Her family has a place in the older residential area. It was built in 18-something and it's gorgeous Victorian. If they let the paint go to hell and the porch get creaky, it could be a perfect set for a Gothic horror movie. I signaled a left, went through the low stone gateway, and up the hill. Three entire acres of ground. I wished we could live in this kind of aristocratic isolation, instead of window-to-window with a dozen other houses in Little Box Land.
Nobody answered the door, but I could hear music playing, Jackson Browne and I knew that Gail was home. Somewhere. I left the moped in the yard and went around the house, through the hedge and its wicker-lined gate, and there was Gail, sitting on a reclining chair in the glory of the sunshine and in the full glory of Gail Goodman. She was stark naked, and her hands were in her lap. Her long golden hair tossed from side to side as her head shook in time with the music. Jackson B. on her portable cassette player. Nice music. I started to sway with it myself. "Hey," I called. "Whatcha doing?"
She turned at the sound of my voice, long gorgeous legs sliding off the recliner, and I saw that her crotch was frothing with lather. "Hey, there!" I said, stepping back, "don't you dare tell me you ran into a sex maniac with rabies!"
She laughed, bent over to turn down the cassette player, which was turned up really loud. Her long hair fell forward in a mist of yellow and I saw her tits move, the nipples small, taut, erect. "Come on over," she said. "It's nothing contagious."
I went to her, knelt on the grass beside her lounge chair. The stuff in her crotch was creamy and it smelled like menthol. She waved a Bic disposable razor in front of my nose. "I'm shaving," she said.
"Shaving? Shaving your pussy?" My jaw dropped. Gail has the most incredible beaver. Long, silky curls of golden hair, total natural blonde, top and bottom, and they swirl and wave around the pink gash of her twat. That bush was another of the things I envied her. Mine is coarse and kinky, the way most beavers are, I guess, and hers was so beautiful! How could she bear to cut it off?
"Here," she said, handing me the razor. "Why don't you finish me? I trimmed it way down with the scissors, so all you have to do is trim away the stubble. And you know how I am when it gets down to delicate work. Be a friend, huh?"
I took the razor, peered at the pink slice showing amid the froth of mentholated shaving cream. Jackson Browne was singing "Doctor My Eyes" and, Doctor, my eyes were full right then! I put my hand on Gail's belly and she leaned back, kinda lifting her pussy at me. "I've never shaved anything but my legs and armpits before," I said. "So if I cut you, it's your fault."
"You wouldn't cut me, would you?" she asked in her husky, coaxy voice, putting one hand on the top of my head. She laughed softly, and when her belly stopped moving, I started to work, as gently and as carefully as possible, with the razor. She smelled good, but it wasn't the menthol aroma of the cream. There was a Gail smell coming from her slightly opened hole, and it smelled as delicious as always. I was tempted to lean in and take a lick, but I don't dig the taste of shaving cream. Not even when it's coating like Kool Whip over something as pink and pretty as Gail's pussy. Ah, I thought, the waste of it all!
Shaving took longer than I'd thought, and I didn't do one iota of harm to her precious petal, the lips of which were sticking out in a cute perky pout. My fingers shook the nearer I got to her pussy flower, but I didn't try to hurry, I just did my job. And when I'd finished, and dried her off with the towel, there it was, her pussy bun, bare as a baby's. "It looks different," I said, tilting my head and studying it from several angles. "Almost innocent, you know?"
"Not in a million years," Gail replied. "So why don't you kiss it? I can see the drool on your lips, Carla Ney. You can't fool me." The pressure of her hand on my head was irresistible. I leaned toward her, and the smell of her twat came out and enveloped my entire face, and then my tongue was on her, gliding up and down the crease of her crack, slipping across the puckered, half-open gash, pushing inside her, not too deeply, once or twice, just so I'd hear her squeal in that special way.
She lifted one leg and tossed it around my neck, sealing me to her, and I had both hands in her crotch, using the fingers to open her cleft. My tongue went into her again, and deeper, and she squealed again, and I don't remember what Jackson Browne was singing on the cassette right then, but I knew what Gail was singing to me. It was, "Ooohhhhh, lick it, babydoll! Lick it sweet and wet!"
She still tasted mentholly. Like eating a Salem cigarette, maybe? It made me think" of cool woods and running, rocky streams, and all the good sexy stuff they used to show you on tv as part of the cigarette smoking life. I kept licking up and down the pouty lips of her cunt, poking inside when I felt like it (which was pretty often), and I damned sure didn't neglect her red little clit, which was standing up and waiting for the licks and caresses of my tongue and fingers. I pushed at its base with the tips of my index fingers, squeezing it up like a pimple, and I made my tongue dance back and forth over the end of her nubbin of delight, and when my tongue dipped down again, into her hole, I could taste the milky musky dew of her sweet honey juices. Inside the tight jeans I was wearing, which snugged up pretty suggestively at my crotch, my own cunt was itching like crazy and, if I hadn't been using both hands on Gail, I'd have reached down and given myself a little stroking. But Gail would take care of that. What are best friends for?
Her snatch moved up and down, smearing her goo all over my face, and I licked her like crazy, not caring how many times I punched into her snapping turtle of a cunt. The labes were rippling around my tongue and the taste of her was strong and hot in my mouth, in my nostrils, everywhere.
She took one of my hands, pried it loose from her pussy, guided it up the smooth firm slope of her body and fitted my fingers round her left tit. I squeezed, and it seemed that her flesh squeezed back at me. Gail has big tits, but they are so firm you wouldn't believe it. Her little nipple was sticking out a mile and my fingers pinched together on its rubbery extension, squeezing it, manipulating it, pulling it even tauter, longer, while she kept squealing and whining in a high, excited voice.
I ate into her cunt and played with her tit until I felt her belly heave against my forehead and then she was bucking, lurching, jerking, coming against my tongue and lips. She tasted best of all when she came and my tongue scooped up all the goodies, darting inside her to get more, and still more of the sweet juices of her orgasm. I pressed down on her clit with my lips until she released my head and fell back, hanging over both sides of the narrow lounge chair with her long lithe body.
"Oh, that was nice," she said finally, propping herself up on one elbow and looking at me. Her eyes glittered. "Do I taste different without the hair?" Her eyebrows lifted. "Or did you even notice, you greedy little slut?"
She just laughed then, and she sat up and I slid onto the lounge beside her and we started to kiss and her hand went into the v-neck of my t-shirt and she had me by the tit. I feel so inadequate, tit-wise, compared to Gail, but she says die loves to play with mine because they're small and they just fit so perfectly in the palm of her hand, and she was squeezing now, squeezing with love and delight, and her tongue was in my mouth for me to suck on, and suck I did, and we rocked around until the chair slid out from under us and we were both on the grass, Gail atop me, panting, pushing her crotch down upon mine, relieving some of the itch that had been tickling inside my pussy almost from the moment I'd come into her backyard.
"Hey," I said, wondering if it wasn't too late, "there's nobody around, is there?"
"Just us, babydoll. Were you maybe expecting the Cleveland Browns to drop by for a pre-warmup warmup?" She rolled up my t-shirt and put her hands, both of them, palms down, on my bare breasts, pressing down at the stiff nipples which erected from my (regrettably) A-cup boobs. Her own, the most splendid pair of swinging C's that God had ever created, possibly barring Candice Rialson's, were hard-nippled, bobbing so close to my face I could count the droplets of sweat on her lightly tanned skin.
"Your folks," I said. "What about them?"
"What about them? They know I fuck."
"But do they know you fuck me? I mean, it might be embarrassing if your mother came out and found you sucking my tits or something. Uh, Gail, that was an invitation. If you didn't notice."
Gail laughed, leaned toward me. Her tits brushed my tits and her mouth flickered across my own. I felt the wet tickle of her tongue and the rubbery excitement of her stiff nipples. She bit my chin, then licked down my throat, onto the curve of my tits. I sighed as she found my nearest nipple, wet it with her saliva, drew it into her mouth and began to suck. She used her tongue and her teeth, not gently. I don't always want it gentle. Sometimes I want to be eaten. Between sucks, she looked up at me. "Mom and Pop are away. The whole weekend." Suck. Slurp. Ahhh!! "Trip to Vegas with Pop's boss." Suck suck suck. "The whole scene, you know? Don Rickles, Frank Sinatra, the gambling rooms, the topless showgirls. Maybe they'll all even-" slurp slurp "-get divorced and remarried while they're at it. Or maybe Pop's boss will take him to the Cottontail Ranch and get him laid. Who knows? Who cares?"
She finished her job on that nipple, and all the while her hand was soft and active on the other, teasing my teat with clever pinches that she should have gotten a patent for.
"And besides," she said with a smirk, "if Mom thought tit-sucking was the in-thing, she'd be down on you in a second, swallowing whichever nipple I didn't have in my mouth. You know how my mother is."
True, Once she'd dome into Gail's room while the two of us were blowing some weed, and instead of pitching a bitch, the way my mother would have done, she got her own stash and rolled some in E-Z Widers, saying, "This stuff will knock you on your asses, girl." It was mostly oregano, cut with birdseed, I think. But she proceeded to get all giggly and really looped. "Don't tell your father," she reminded Gail eight or ten times during the smoke-in. "He'd never understand."
Maybe. And it really was true. Gail's parents knew she fucked, and they never gave her the least hassle about it. She was on the pill with parental consent, and once, she had told me, she took a boyfriend upstairs to her bedroom and fucked his brains out while her mom and dad were downstairs watching part two of "Roots". "The only thing," she told me once, "is that I think my old man wants a piece of me. And I just know that someday he's gonna come on to me, and I'll have to tell him, 'Sorry, Pop, you're just not my type.' Anyway, I don't think he's much of a lay. My mother masturbates all the time. She says it's to 'open up her innermost sensuality', but I think it's really because she just isn't getting enough. And if he can't satisfy a forty-year-old woman, he's gonna play hell trying to keep up with seventeen-year-old me!"
Gail was busy on my other tit now, and I had my hands around her head, cradling her to me, feeding my hot eager nip into her mouth. She sucked it with loud smacking sounds, and her tongue sloshed around and around over my stiff, horny flesh. Her hand was in my crotch. She had my jeans unzipped, and she was already inside my panties, touching with expert skill my kinky, curly dark bush and the quivery little pussy labes buried amid the forest of hair. Maybe I should shave my twat too, I thought. And then see if I could find the clippings from Gail's, and, somehow try to graft them onto my own bun. I giggled, and her tongue trilled around my nip, and her fingers toyed with my slit, touching it but not opening it, not entering the soft smooth tightness of my hole itself.
She sat up then, licking her lips. "Oh, I'm tired of being on display," she said. "Let's haul ass." She slid off me, stood in the grass, all five-seven of her stretching, sky-high above my prone body.
Gail has to be among the top ten. Definitely. California-Girl look, even if we do live in Ohio. She's tall and lean, with athletic, swimmers' thighs and the longest legs God ever put on a girl. Her hips are small, almost boyish at first glance- until you see them sway as she walks, until you see the way that a pair of skintight cutoff denims clings to every curve and hollow of her ass-and after that there's no question whether she's all-girl or not. Her hair is sun-gold, and there's so much of it. She gets out of bed with the same sexy, inviting tousle that Farrah owes to comb and blow-drier. Lean-bodied, except for the tits, which are lush and full and sway provocatively on her chest, the snail pink nipples in permanent erection. Her mother doesn't go around asking, "Where's your brassiere, young lady?" Her mother doesn't wear a bra either, but Mrs. Goodman is unfortunately a little past the age when loose free tits are desirable. That doesn't matter. I'm not going to let you meet Mrs. Goodman anyway. Take my word for it, though-Gail is a fucking knockout. Everyone knows it, and Gail best of all. I'm still not sure how we got to be best friends in the first place, but as I lay on the grass panting, staring up at her, I didn't care. We were, and that was enough.
"What the fuck do you mean on display?" I asked.
She giggled, pointed over one shoulder with her thumb. "Little Jimmy Washburn." The kid, twelve or somewhere near it, who lived in the next house. You couldn't see the house for all the trees that ringed the edges of the Goodman property. "He got binoculars for his birthday, and he likes to hide in the woods and spy on me. He thinks I don't know."
"My God!" I said, sitting up fast, hauling down my t-shirt. "Why didn't you tell me, goddamn it?"
"Oh, have a heart, Carla! He's too young to buy "Hustler". Why not let him get at least a peep at something real and pink and female? Anyway, his big brother got my cherry, and I feel an almost incestuous attachment to little Jimmy. If his complexion ever clears up, maybe I'll get his cherry. Who knows?"
I was pissed. Not because of what we'd done, but because she'd known that someone was watching while we did it. And what Gail and I shared was private. As private as anything could be. I couldn't remember how many times we'd gotten it on with guys together, in the same car or van, or in the same room, or within a few feet of one another around a campfire, but even when guys asked us if we wouldn't mind giving it a try, just once, we never said yes and we always acted as if it was a really revolting idea in the first place. Not that it was. It was just that I felt, and I thought Gail felt, that it was something that belonged to me and her, and to us alone, not the kind of thing you put on as a cheap exhibition to give someone else a few jollies. Anyway, I was half-afraid that if a guy saw how much I could get it on with Gail, he might realize how much I'd been conning him, and then where would I be?
We fuck, Gail and I. That's nothing unusual. Most girls fuck nowadays. Gail and I fuck a lot. Selectively, but freely once we've decided that the guy is worthy of our favors. I didn't fuck at all when we Were living in Pittsburgh, so I guess you could say Gail is my erotic mentor as well as my best friend. She seduced me not long after my family moved here to Albany-the classic kind of thing, last period gym class, friendly Gail sticking around to chat with the shy chick who's just started in school and doesn't know anyone well enough to say "Hi", and we sat around b.s.ing while everyone else showered and got the fuck out for home, and finally we decided we'd better take our showers too or we'd be late for dinner at our respective homes. I was a virgin, and I didn't have a chance. She washed my hair and then she washed my tits, and then she sucked my tits, and by that time we were both on the floor with the water pouring down on us and she was on her knees between my uplifted legs, her mouth glued to my cunt. I'd heard of that, but I'd never even guessed anyone would do it to me, and when I came into her sucking mouth, it was the first time I'd ever climaxed with anything but my fingers. I was just under sixteen then, and ripe for the plucking.
And for the fucking. She taught me girl/girl stuff, inside out, and I wished the lessons would go on forever, but she said, "No, babydoll, this isn't even the best part." So she fixed me up with a guy-his father was a vice-president for the company my Daddy works for, and my mother thought that was just great, me meeting the right people and adjusting so well to life in a new town-and we doubled, and both of us got fucked, in the back of a van at the drive-in theater. As American as apple pie and Norman Rockwell, mmmm?
I owed my social life to Gail. But no matter how many guys we got it on with-and thank God Albany is a big enough town we didn't get gossipy reputations!-it never seemed all that much fun to me. I mean, well, I liked it when I was riding a boy or he was riding me, and his cock jabbed up into me big and stiff, and then that hot sticky stuff gushed up my tunnel while he squeezed my ass or titties and held me tight against him, and once in a while I even came. I always let the boy think I'd climaxed, of course. That's part of the game. And I couldn't do much else, not with Gail up there moaning her guts out almost from the moment the cock parted her squishy lips and stabbed inside her.
But with Gail it was special, in a way that can be special only between girls. In fact, it was so special that lately I'd been wondering occasionally if I might not be a lesbian who hadn't found out she was even in the closet. But that was silly, wasn't it? Lesbians wore leather jackets and big boots and they carried foot-long dildos in their belts and most of them chewed cigars and looked like truckdrivers. Right? They weren't five-foot four-inch seventeen-year-olds with cute little cupcake tits and wiggly asses. Were they?
I watched Gail lean across the fallen-over chair and pick up her cassette player. Her legs were spread, and the shaven bun of her twat was framed between the tops of her thighs. I thought about that horny little junior high kid and his binoculars and how he was probably spying on us right now, wanking his rod while he peered through the lenses, and still I wanted to get down on my knees and lick the crack of her ass and push my tongue up her rosy anus and then eat the bloody fuck out of her smooth, shaven pussy. Panting, I buttoned my jeans. It gave me something to do with my hands, something to keep them off Gail's legs and ass.
"I'm starved," she said, turning around, her tits bouncing as she moved. I could taste her tits on the end of my tongue. Those little pink nipples, surrounded by delicate filigree of blue veins. The ends of her tits were still a snowy virgin white, though they'd be nice and brown by the end of summer. She'd barely begun to work on her tan. "Want to order a pizza or something?"
"I have something you could eat," I said hoarsely, and I rubbed my crotch in a nervous agitation. "You always said it was your favorite."
"I mean solid food, silly," she said, leaning in to kiss me on the end of my nose. Her hand pushed mine away and she fondled the crotch of my jeans while her lips nuzzled at my mouth and cheek. I groaned, and my legs were so shaky I could hardly stand up. No boy had ever gotten to me the way Gail's hand did, let alone Gail's mouth, and tongue, and...
"Maybe," she added, "I'll munch on the other while we're waiting for the delivery person to get here, mmmmm?"
"If you don't," I managed to croak, my insides turning to jelly, "I'll force-feed it to you." She laughed, we kissed again, and then she danced away from me with a jiggle of tits and ass. I sighed and followed her naked body into the house.
CHAPTER TWO
We'd gotten two chilly beers from the fridge, but they were sitting on an end table, probably warm and flat by now. Gail and I were on the sofa, making out like crazy. Kissing each other everywhere we could reach with our mouths, using our hands to keep the stimulation constant and almost unendurable. My pants were down around my ankles and she had her sweet stiff finger jabbing in and out of my tight cunt, and I kept squirming and sucking in air (her tongue along with it!), and the heel of my hand was pressed down hard and tight against the freshly-shaven bun of her wet pussy. The juice leaked from her. I don't think it had stopped leaking since the moment I took the razor and knelt between her spraddled legs to shave off the remaining stubble of her bush. It was a sticky creamy flow of juice and my hand soaked it up, eager for more.
"What're we gonna do this weekend?" she purred around the nipple she happened to be suckling at that moment. I didn't feel the question really deserved an answer. Now was a lot more important than this weekend, since now was now and this weekend hadn't happened, might never happen at all. At seventeen, an hour seemed like a hell of a long way into the future to me. I squeezed my thighs together around her jabbing finger, trapped her in my twat, and my pussy muscles began to suck responsively at her extended digit. She murmured softly and her teeth nipped at my tit, and she kept her finger busy as a cat covering shit, going in and out of me with mounting, excited fervor.
My hand slid a little lower on Gail's snatch, and now my fingers were on the poochy lips of her puss. She wiggled as I spread them and started to rub the slick red flesh just inside her petaled gates. The tip of her little clit was easy to find with one flicking finger, and she squealed excitedly as I flicked her again and again. She was thumbing my own orgasm button at the same time, thumbing it back and forth like a Travis-style guitar picker hitting his bases, and her finger carried the sweet sweet melody deep into my tight, clutching hole. "Screw me, oh, screw me," I groaned, and she_ was doing just that. When the fucking doorbell rang.
Gail jumped back, and her finger popped out of my sticky twat, and she said, "It must be the guy with the pizza."
"Fuck the guy with the pizza," I whispered, pulling at her. "The only thing I'm hungry for is you."
"Well, I'm starved for something that tastes more like food," she replied with a smirk, sliding off the couch.
I pulled up my pants, got them fastened, and slid the t-shirt back down over the upper half of me. My tits heaved under the tight white cotton, and my nipples were big enough for three, sticking out boldly and with more than a little frustration.
The bell rang again. "Just a goddamn minute!" Gail shouted, and she went around the sofa. She leaned over, and my, eyes followed the lithe curves of her body. My tongue lolled across my lips and I choked back a sigh of yearning. She picked up a blue silk kimono that had been lying on the floor, wrapped it around her body, tied the sash firmly. "Back in a sec," she said. "Oh, don't look so downhearted. Maybe I'll stick an anchovy up your snatch and lick it out. And don't tell me that idea doesn't turn you on, Carla Jean Ney, because I know you too damned well to be fooled."
She went out of the room, and I heard the door open, the sound of distant voices echoing through the long hallway at the front of the house. Then footsteps, bare and shod, and Gail came back into the game room, followed by a tall, muscular, dark-haired guy. He was holding a long flat box and I could smell it, pizza and all the trimmings. The guy? Well, he looked as if he didn't know whether he wanted to grow up and be the Fonz or John Travolta. Sullen, almost-cute face, maybe too hoody-looking. He was wearing a white t-shirt with a pack of (I swear to God!) Camels rolled up in one of the short sleeves, and his jeans were so tight he'd probably been fitted into them iA the maternity ward shortly after birth. They fit him snugly in the crotch, and his bulge was impressive. He stood- there holding the pizza in one hand, looking at Gail in her blue kimono, looking at me (mostly at my stiff-nippled tits, which my t-shirt was a little too flimsy to conceal), and one corner of his mouth was turned up in an expression he'd probably spent hours testing in front of the mirror before he sprang it on a delighted world. It looked like a combination of James Dean showing pleasure and Humphrey Bogart showing interest.
Gail looked at me, and she winked. It was a private gesture, meant only for my eyes, but I'd seen it before, when she would be sizing up some possible stud, and I damned sure didn't like the way her green eyes glittered at me. I frowned, my way of saying, "Not on your life!" but she just smiled.
"Hi," the guy said to me, balancing the pizza box on two fingers of his left hand. Cool, I thought. Really cool. About like a burning stake up the ass. Oh, Christ, Gail was obviously in one of her greaser moods! All this guy needed was a sleeveless jacket with the insignia of some cycle gang sewn onto the back.
But Gail turned, and she flashed him one of those dazzling smiles that can melt flesh like a furnace, and I saw his eyes light up with interest. He looked at me again, but his eyes were aimed no higher than my still erect nipples, and I tried to tug at my shirt, loosen it a little so that my tits' arousal wouldn't be so noticeable. It didn't work. Not that I expected it to in the first place.
"How much is it?" Gail asked.
"Six-twenty-five," he said, slouching a little, as if he were down on the corner watching the girls truck by on Saturday night.
"I'll have to get the money," Gail said. "Back in a sec, okay?" He nodded, and she went out of the room, her kimono swishing around her long legs. It was a short kimono, about as short as a mini-skirt to begin with, which meant that about half of Gail showed below the hem. The pizza delivery boy took in every inch as she deliberately walked away from him. I could have torn his eyes out, I was so jealous of the lust simmering in them!
Gail came back a few moments later, smiling like a shit-eating dog. I sighed. We'd been doing fine, just the two of us, and now I knew she was going to spoil it all. For me, at least. She looked as if she were about to have the time of her life.
"Uh, the money," the guy said. His diction was a little clearer than John Travolta's. He needed to practice more on slurring.
"The money," Gail nodded. She untied her robe and I closed my eyes. I didn't want to look. But I opened my eyes again. I had to look.
She was pointing down, into her freshly-dehaired crotch, and there was a flash of green in the pink of her slice. I thought, God, how tacky!
The boy-he must have been in his late teens or early twenties, I guess; no one from high school, I was sure-set down the pizza box, on the end table beside our two cans of Bud, and he put his hands on his hips for a moment, studying Gail, naked under the kimono she'd thrown open. He was already eating her tits in his mind, I could tell from the way his lips worked unconsciously as he stared at her body. And what was she thinking? I didn't have to see her eyes to know.
He moved toward her, taking one step where anyone else would have taken two, and he started to reach for the piece of money she'd stuck partway up her pussy. Gail giggled, slapped his fingers. "Anybody can pull it out with his fingers," she said. "You don't get it unless you're inventive. Know what I mean, mmmm?" And she winked at him, her hands holding her kimono back so that she stayed naked and exposed.
He put his hand on her chin, squeezed, leaned in and planted a hot, smacking kiss on her mouth. Her lips were still wet from the kisses I'd put on them, and I felt even more resentment boiling in my blood. She purred back at him, wrapped her arms round his neck, and made her body dance against his, wiggling herself from side to side as she made contact. When she pulled herself back, the bulge in his tight-crotched pants was bigger. A lot bigger. If he padded his crotch for the sake of a good appearance, well, his padding had a hard-on too.
I clenched my fist angrily. Damn it, I didn't want it to be this way! We'd been having fun, me and Gail, and I didn't like the way it was being interrupted. She could be such a slut when she wanted! And today, apparently, she wanted. Very much. Making me perform for that dipshit kid and his binoculars-at least I supposed it was true about little Jimmy and his spyglass-and now, doing this! I could have killed the bitch!
He dropped to his knees, put his hands on Gail's upper thighs. "No hands," she reminded him. They dropped away. Gail laughed, spread her legs a little more. I could see the end of the bill sticking out of her puckered cunt. It must have been a ten, unless she had change shoved up her pussy as well. Maybe she was including a tip for the delivery boy?
He thrust his face up into the fork of her body and she threw her head back, long golden hair shaking and swirling, and she made the same kind of purred squeals she had voiced when I was eating her, out in the backyard. Her eyes were closed and she had both hands on his head, pulling him up, into her. I leaned to the right, got a better view. I saw him clutch the bill with his teeth, jerk it out of Gail's hole. Then he released it, let it flutter to the floor and he aimed upward at Gail's pussy again, this time with his tongue protruding from his lips. I saw it go into her, and I heard Gail make that cry again, and I didn't know if I could stand to watch any more of it.
"Coming back for your tip?" she panted, and she squatted downward, forcing him to the floor. They ended up with him on his back, stretched out, and Gail pushing her snatch down onto his face. He had her by the tits now, and she wasn't saying a goddamned thing about "No hands!" She was making her twat dance across his mouth, and I could hear the slurps and smacks as he gobbled her gash. I could also see how his cock was standing up, rigid and tight, inside his snug pants, and I felt a chill of revulsion as I saw Gail reach back to caress his pecker bulge.
She looked over at me. "I'll have to order pizzas from Marino's all the time, if this is typical of the service," she snickered, and then she made a loud gasping sound and she moaned, "Oh, make me come, you horny bastard! Shove your pussy-licking tongue up me!" Her fingers flexed on his covered cock, and I saw how his legs quivered there on the floor.
Gail leaned further back, and she began to work on his zipper. Her hand entered his pants, which was pretty remarkable, considering that they fit like second skin around his dick even when the damned thing was soft, but it sure wasn't soft now, and she gasped and panted as she fought to drag him through his opened fly. All that for a cock? I thought. When you had me? I felt sick to my heart.
"Well, come on, babydoll," she purred at me, making a kissy-face with her puckered, pink lips. "Old Aunt Gail's gonna get both of us laid. Don't I always do something nice for you, mmmmm?"
Nice? Was that what you called it? I'd been looking forward to a delicious afternoon with Gail, making the kind of sex that was my favorite kind, and still she'd gone ahead and done it, brought in a third party-a third party we didn't need one damned bit. What could he do for her with his cock that I couldn't with my hands and my mouth?
Admittedly, he was hung. His cock looked like a bull's pizzle when she finally got it out of his pants. When I first started screwing, I thought size was everything. But it wasn't, and it isn't. Anyway, I didn't really get off on cocks anymore at all, and the sight of this one, thick and red and long, didn't affect me much one way or the other. I just frowned, and I felt cheated. I hated that guy on the floor, the delivery boy who was scarfing Gail's snatch. I really hated him. I'd like to have taken a sharp knife and sliced his cock right off. That would have shown him! Because without his cock he'd have been totally lost. While I never had one to begin with and didn't need one, now or ever! Or ever! I reminded myself, angrily crossing my arms over my tits.
"Get with it," Gail gasped. "Oh, Jesus, honey, can you taste it? I'm coming in your mouth! Oooooohhhhh-just like buttermilk, isn't it? Lick me! Stick your tongue up me! Lick my twat inside out! Yesssss... " She squashed her pussy down onto his face, writhed in abandon for a moment, a long moment. It seemed endless to me. She was holding his head with both hands, drawing him up into her musky hole, and his cock stood up of its own power, wiggling from side to side like a flagpole about to topple to the ground. The tip of him was red, and it seemed to glow. His knob was enormous and I could see the big veins standing out along the shaft of that exposed rod.
Gail moaned through her come, then slithered off his face. He sat up, licking his lips, and she squatted beside him, the kimono slipping off her shoulders, leaving her totally naked. "Is that it?" he asked. "I have some more deliveries to make."
"Do you really have to?" Gail purred, and she cupped her big firm tits with their stiff nipples sticking out. It was as if she were offering them to him, the way she'd offered her shaven snatch. He lay watching from the floor, and I lay watching from the couch. Gail lifted one tit toward her mouth, leaned face forward, and her tongue shot out. It scraped over the tip of one of those stiff pink nipples, maybe six, seven times. She strained a little, pushed, leaned, and the end of her nipple pushed between her lips. Sighing, she began to suck at herself. The pizza boy's face turned red, and his mouth curled up into what was definitely a smile now, both ends of his lips upturned. He stood up, unbelted his jeans, slid them down his legs. They were tight jeans and it took a bit of effort to get himself bare, but he did it, and he stood above Gail, his cock jutting forward.
Gail let go of her boobs. "Come on, chickenshit," she told me, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward them. Her touch was so soft-almost magical in the way it made my blood pulse in my veins. I sighed and moved in the direction she wanted, and as I moved I slid my t-shirt upward, baring my cupcake titties and their big brown nipples. My own teats were sticking out too, thanks to the display Gail had put on. She'd done that in front of me before, and it always turned me on, but I'd never seen her do it for anyone else. I felt as if a private confidence, a secret trust, had been betrayed. I didn't like it, but my hands ached to feel her body, my mouth longed to taste the sweet honey of her cunt.
We'd never done anything like this before. Like I told you, we fuck a lot, and we had fucked in close quarters, and once or twice we'd even let ourselves be talked into switching partners for the second round. But we had never gone two girls on one guy before, and I didn't know if I wanted to do it now. But goddamn it, what choice did I have, with Gail pulling on my hand and looking up at me with her fathom-deep emerald eyes.
She let go of my fingers as the pizza boy advanced toward her. "I did my share of sucking," he told her. "Now it's your turn." He grabbed her golden hair and lifted her face to meet the thrust of his stiff dick. Gail opened quickly, expectantly, her mouth a pink-lipped O, and he thrust into her. She closed her jaws around him, rose onto her knees, holding him by one hand and by one buttock, and she started working her mouth back and forth, faster, even, than the excited stabs of cock into her orality.
She was my best friend, and I loved her, but I hated her a little, too. I unsnapped my jeans, worked them down my legs slowly, reluctantly, stood there a moment wearing only my panties. The pizza boy pointed at my crotch. "Your panties say Thursday," he told me. "This is Friday."
"You want to know what day it is, get yourself a fuckin' calendar!" I shot back angrily. He just laughed. Gail was still eating his prick, eating it savagely, taking it deeper and deeper into her mouth. She could deepthroat a rod with the best of them. I'd tried it, but never gotten the knack. I always gagged too soon. She had told me it was all in breath control, but how the fuck can you even breathe at all when your mouth is full of prick, I'd like to know? Still, she seemed to be doing a job on the pizza boy, sucking him deep into her mouth. Her cheeks were drawn in and she held him as if she didn't want to let go, ever, I've sucked my share of cocks, and eaten more than my share of cum. Half the time I'd just as leave give head as pussy. It's not as messy, and you just swallow the evidence, and you don't have to take your clothes off even, if you really don't want to. The only guys I'd been with were from high school, anyway, and teenaged boys would rather get head than snatch most of the time. They get really macho shoving dick into a girl's mouth and making her swallow their jizz. The pizza boy looked like a study in macho as he fed himself into Gail's mouth.
I took off my panties and stood there, running my fingers through my beaver. The hairs were coarse and curly, not the silky softness Gail had had and then cut off. I stroked myself nervously, and I remembered that not ten minutes ago I'd been leaking juice onto Gail's fucking finger, but right now I felt dry as a bone. Oh, loosen up, damn it, Carla! I told myself, and I jabbed my finger up my hole, screwing it into me, round and round, sighing as I touched deep places inside my pussy. It's only a fuck, after all, I reminded the reluctant inner me. How many times have you been fucked, for Chrissake? At least a hundred? At least. And this would be 101, probably. Just another lay.
The guy grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. As Gail gobbled his goober, he tipped me backward and leaned in to plant a gooey kiss all over my mouth. I wanted to keep my lips sealed tightly at first, but his tongue wouldn't be denied, and it got inside me. Oh, fuck, I thought then, and I started to give his tongue a little head. His hand slid down my back, cupped one of my buttocks, gave me a firm hard squeeze. And through it all, the kissing, the tongueing, the ass-clenching, he kept feeding Gail his prick in hot, horny strokes, penetrating her mouth as deeply as he could, and she crouched on her knees on the floor, eating it up like a two-dollar hooker who'd gone too long without. I didn't know which of us was the more disgusting, me or Gail, but I wasn't taking bets on it.
Suddenly he reared back, dislodging his cock from Gail's mouth. She leaned in to retrieve it, snapping her teeth like a hungry lioness, but he was already turning, toward me. "What do you have in the middle of all that hair?" he asked suavely. "Bet it's a tight sweet little pussy, huh?" He cupped my pubes and squeezed so hard I lifted up onto my tiptoes, and I made "Gaaaaahhhhh!!" sounds. "You ought to shave it like your girlfriend. Make things easier to find."
"Screw you, turkey," I said, "I'll do what I want with my pussy."
"I think I'll do what I want with your pussy, too," he leered, leaning in very close. I could smell beer and tobacco on his breath, which somehow I'd missed noticing while he was kissing me. His fingers tightened on my box and I started to moan. Still moaning, quivering with reluctance, I felt myself being pushed down, onto the floor. At least there was a soft covering of carpet. I wouldn't have to lie on cold hard wood. It seemed reasonably significant at the moment.
He wedged my legs open with his own, and Gail was beside us, her hands all over his stiff dick. "Be careful," she told him. "Carla's sweet and tight. I don't want you to hurt her with that big club of yours, darling. Fuck her pretty, for me, mmmm?" and she threw her arm around his neck, brought her face close and kissed him, all the while her fingers were sliding the outer skin of his prick up and down.
"I don't think I want to-" I managed to get out before the head of his big cock bruised my petals. Gail still had ahold of him, and she was giggling like a speed freak as she worked him into the snug opening of me. This, I thought, this is what it's like to be raped. I was in no mood at all for what was about to happen, but I had no real choice in the matter. I spread one of my legs a little more to the right, and then he came down upon me, into me, fucking hard as he fought his way up my twat. I grunted at the initial pain of his entrance, but as he went deeper and harder, my cunt began to grease itself, if only in self-defense. He put his hands on my tits and squeezed them, and his prick sawed in and out of me. I sighed and moaned, and my nipples were taut between his pinching fingers, my twat snug around his thick rod. I could hear Gail panting in excitement beside us, and as the pizza boy kept on fucking, she leaned in and smeared her wet lips all over mine. They tasted of cock and I turned scarlet, embarrassed as hell that she could even think of kissing me so passionately in front of a stranger.
"Hey, that's good," the guy said. "When I finish the two of you, why don't you get it on together? Maybe get me hard enough to go another couple of rounds, huh?"
I sputtered in protest, but Gail's lips were hot and wet on mine and they took away some of the discomfort my pussy was feeling. Anyway, I was greasy up my tube now. The ramming of his cock in and out had caused my juices to begin flowing. It didn't hurt any more, though I would a million times rather have had Gail's finger in my snatch than that big, fat-knobbed, thick-veined prick that was actually inside yours truly. He was holding my ass now, lifting me to meet his thrusts, and it was Gail's hands that caressed my tits. I could feel the difference. She had a gentler touch on my nipples, and her fingers were long and slender and artistic. They played my flesh like Joan Baez plays a guitar, and the throbbing hum that coursed through my tits began .to make up for the angry reluctance I felt toward this whole disgusting episode.
He gripped my ass harder, and he began to thrust into , me with an almost savage impatience. My cunt screamed its protest at the rough manner of his fucking, but I couldn't do much about it, except endure. And Gail's hands and lips were so soothing, so affectionate where they touched me. I could almost forget the nasty parts as I surrendered myself to the impulses her caress brought to the surface of my aroused flesh.
But old instinct took over for me, thank God, and I began to moan and shake and quiver, and my legs started jerking up and down, one knee sliding along his flank as if I were pulling him into the pit of my pussy. Kissing Gail, being kissed, being felt by her, it was so much easier to pretend, and I made my stomach heave and then I gasped "Oh, Goddddd!!!" and voila! One more fake come for the memory books of Carla Jean Ney, seventeen-year-old expert come-faker.
I heard him roar in satisfaction, and Gail's lips twittered against mine as if she were sucking my soul out through my mouth, and the pizza boy-Christ, I didn't even know his name! Neither did Gail. The pizza boy jerked his dong out of me, which was what I'd been hoping for all along. I kept moaning and groaning and my body writhed on the floor, and there was a pleasant wetness on the lips of my gash, but that was it. Unless, of course, Gail's mouth, even now sliding down to attack my nips, decided to go a little further south and show the pizza stud precisely how an expert goes about turning on the vibrant body of a lissome young thing like yours truly, Carla J.
"Oh!" I said, as she was jerked rudely off me. The pizza boy had her by the big swinging tits, and she was cooing with delight as he manipulated her into position. She went onto her hands and knees like a bitch ready for the servicing, and he moved in behind, his cock still erect, redder still now thai it had been screwed in and out of my tight hole. "Stick it in, damn you!" Gail shouted, wiggling her ass invitingly. He laughed, pointed his dick at her crack, and shoved, and she closed her eyes in delight. I lay watching. She dug it. She really dug it. No matter how trashy. What kind of friend did I have after all, fori Chrissakes? Could I really feel the way I felt about her when she was-when she was like that? No more than a walking pussy, open and wet for any cock that wanted a) little slice of action? I I reached up, touched her cheeks with the backs of my fingers. She was sweating and flushed, and her skin felt lik" fiie. Her lips moved, but all that came out was "Aaeaaahhhhhhhlihh!!!" a low, purred moan of pure unfakable delight.
He worked her with his hands, jiggling her buttocks up and down, the buttocks that I loved to lick and kiss and touch in every secret, turn-on place with my own fingers, and through it all he was ramming her fiercely with his stiff dick. I heard his groin slap against her ass each time he plunged, and I was touching Gail's face and I could feel the quivers that raced through her body. "Fuck me, baby," I heard her groan. "Oh, really fuck me! Don't just shit around!"
In a way it was disgusting, I suppose. But I didn't hate her. In fact, my God, watching her like that, I knew that I wanted her more than ever, that I had to have her again, soon! But not while he was here, damn him! I wouldn't give him that satisfaction! And the sooner he creamed and got the hell out, the better for me. And for Gail, too. I'd make her see how much better.
His face went white suddenly, and he jerked his rod out of her pussy, laid it in the crack of her ass and squirted his ; jizz up her back, just like they do in the porno movies. He held his cock tightly, squeezing it, milking every last drop from his tip, and he panted like a winded animal while he did it.
Gail didn't seem to mind. She was obviously in the middle of an orgasm. I touched her mouth. It opened, and she sucked my fingers inside, and worked on them with her teeth and tongue while little purring groans of delight oozed through her slightly-parted lips, and then she just collapsed onto the floor, still moaning and groaning, semen splashes up and down her pretty, smooth back, from shoulder blades to ass. I could even see a few gummy drops clinging to her golden, silky hair.
I crawled closer, cuddled her to my breast while she finished her come, and the pizza boy knelt watching, his cock slowly going down. He breathed hard, and once in " while he'd reach out and stroke the inside of Gail's thigh, near her shaven crack. "Well, hell," he said finally, standing up, his cock fully limp now. "It was fun, ladies, but I have to put in the rest of my eight hours. The whole world is waiting for pizza, and I deliver. If anybody ever asks you, tell them-I deliver." And he laughed while he put on his pants.
Gail turned over. One of my nipples was taut and stiff against her warm cheek but she didn't seem to notice. "You don't want to watch us together?" she asked in a hoarse voice. "You said you did, remember?"
"No more time," he replied. He buckled his belt, zipped up, then stooped to retrieve the ten-dollar bill he'd gummed out of Gail's twat. "Tip included? Thanks. Say-I get off at eight. And I really get off with the two of you. What ya say we make an evening of it, huh? I pick you up around eight-thirty, maybe, and we try for an instant" replay?" He lifted his eyebrows, tried to give us a hoody look of nonchalance, but his eyes were eating our naked bodies, and for a guy who'd been all macho horseshit a few minutes ago, he looked almost pathetically vulnerable now.
"Sounds great," Gail said, sitting up. "How about if we meet you downtown? By the park? The corner where they have the Civil War memorial statue, okay?"
"Gail!" That was me. She squeezed my thigh and I shut up.
"Deal," he said. "Hope your pizza's not too cold." He put the ten in his pocket. "I can find my own way out," he added, and with that he was gone. I looked at Gail, and she was simpering, but she didn't say a work until we heard his car start up outside.
"What a fucking turkey!" she said. "And did you catch that bit where he jerked his whang out just before he shot off? Christ, I thought that went out with black socks and Lone Ranger masks!"
"Hey," I said, "you made a date with him. For both of us. For tonight. And I'm not going. I don't care if that asshole dies. I'm not going."
"Oh, fuck, neither am I," Gail sighed, standing up. She yawned and stretched, and the motion of her tits was a glory to the eyes. Especially my eyes. "Say, what the hell are we going to do this weekend?" I shrugged. "The weather reports are fantastic," she went on. "It's too nice just to sit around beating each other's meat."
I sighed. That suggestion had been on the verge of spilling from my lips.
"We could always pick up some guys and go to the drive-in. Or vice-versa."
"Saturday Night Fever" and "Lipstick" at the Skyline," I said, "and "The Love Bug" and "Herbie Goes To Monte Carlo" at the Fiesta. I don't want to see any Disney, and I'm not in the mood for more greasers, not after that second-rate John Travolta impersonator. And they're still checking IDs at the Park, so unless we can prove we're over eighteen, we don't get to see "Lesbian Holiday" and "The Opening Of Misty Beethoven."
"We're setting our sights too low," Gail said, plopping down beside me. Her tits were on a direct eyeline and I ravished them with my eyes. Delicately, carefully, I reached out to touch one. She covered my hand with her own, pressed it down. The heat of her nipple radiated into my palm and I sighed, loving it. "What I mean is, why don't we take off? Your folks are out of town, and so are mine. Why should we hang around? I have it! We could go up to my Aunt's place by the lake! Sure! Nobody ever uses the cabin. Why shouldn't we? And Christ, who knows what kind of luck we could get up there?"
"What do we take?" I asked. "My moped isn't big enough for two."
"Silly ass," she snickered. "My parents flew to Vegas. The car is in the garage and the keys are in the switch. All we have to do is put our asses in the front seat and fucking take off!"
I considered it for a moment. "It might be nice," I agreed finally. "But Gail-why don't we cool it a little? Just a little? Have some fun, sure. That's what it's all about. But do we have to throw ourselves at everything wearing pants? Like that creep who was just here. I mean, that guy was a turkey! I wouldn't have given him a second look if you hadn't insisted, and even then-"
"Even turkeys need a little nookie," Gail grinned. "Besides, it was a great goof. Think of how he's gonna be slavering all afternoon, just waiting till his shift ends and he picks us up at the park for some hot and heavy action. He's probably got us figured for an all-nighter. And there he'll be come sundown, with his pecker in his hand and nowhere to put it. But I promise. We'll be good girls for the weekend. Nothing sluttish. We'll just have fun. Okay? Now let's see about that pizza. And we'd probably better get fresh beers, too. Scarf some junk-food goodies, then pack up whatever we're going to need for the weekend, and we'll haul ass to the lake. Agreed?"
"Agreed," I said. But I hoped we wouldn't be too good. I had some ambitions I'd like to work out on Gail's sweet body, and maybe a weekend by ourselves at the lake would be the perfect place to try them. Maybe we could even talk it out, find out why she turned me on more than any of the guys we balled. Maybe we could come to an arrangement. I wouldn't mind if she fucked around sometimes, but I wanted my fair share of her too. But how much of Gail was my fair share? Perhaps we'd find out over the weekend.
CHAPTER THREE
It's about 150 miles from Albany to the lake. Most of it is four-lane highway, which means you can make the trip in about three hours if you keep a steady speed. We left Albany not long after four in the afternoon, and the nose of the Goodmans' Imperial was pointed steadfastly north. We didn't take much along-just Gail's cassette player, a change of clothes, some makeup, a little weed, and of course my moped, stashed away in the trunk. There was no one for us to tell goodbye, except maybe that greaser dude who expected to meet us by the park at eight o'clock for a full night of loose, hot sex. And the laugh was on him, wasn't it? Not showing up at all was the best way to tell him goodbye.
Gail was driving and both of us were singing along with John Hartford on the tape player-"Granny Won't You Smoke Some Marijuana?" We weren't grannies, nowhere near it, but each of us was Bogarting a fat joint of really good stuff, courtesy of Gail's older brother, who had scored the shit at Ohio University, dope capitol of the world. It was fine grass, went right to your head and stayed there, and it wasn't laced with oregano, let alone that lethal angel dust that's been getting into a lot of street weed lately and can really fuck you up. Just good smoke, and we kept our throats lubricated with diet-cola. The car held at just under sixty, neither too slow nor too fast, and it was a gas to watch the scenery float past while the smoke curled its way through my body and got me ripe and mellow.
We kept switching tapes, finding songs we enjoyed singing along with. Neither of us is much of a singer, taken separately, but we make a fair harmony together and there are overtones of Linda Ronstadt with a slight head cold if you don't listen too closely. From Hartford we went to David Allen Coe, and neither of us knew the recitation part by heart but we joined in on the chorus, a pair of city girls shouting defiantly, in almost-on pitch voices. "If that ain't country, I'll kiss your ass!" On to Jimmy Buffett, Townes Van Zandt, Jackson Browne, and doctor, my eyes were feeling no pain at all. Everything they saw was beautiful. I could hardly wait till we reached the lake and got our asses moved into Gail's aunt's place. I only hoped no one else in the family had decided to use it this weekend. But Gail said her aunt never went up any more, or almost never, and anyway, Aunt Sybil was visiting her married son in California this summer, so what the fuck? "What the fuck indeed?" I giggled, and we were both kinda stoned.
Gail saw him before I did, standing by the road with a banjo case in his hand and a pack on his back. He looked like an aging hippie, bearded, hairline starting to recede, and I waved at him with the tag end of my joint as we went past. But I felt the car braking hard and I turned, really slowly, the way you do everything when you're fucked up, and by the time I'd asked her "Whatcha doin'?" we were already pulled off onto the shoulder, the Chrysler at a complete stop, and the bearded guy was running up alongside the car.
"How far you going?" Gail asked, when I'd push-buttoned down the window on my side.
"Cleveland, for now," he said. "After that, who knows?" He sniffed. "Mmm, that smells good."
"Hop in," Gail invited. "We're going that direction. And we can't let a fellow connoisseur of good shit stand out in the sun." Reluctantly, I slid over and made room for him. He put his backpack and banjo case in the backseat and settled in beside me. We weren't exactly crowded, since the Imperial is a big car and he was nearly as lean as Gail, but I just didn't feel like having company along.
"Gail and Carla," she said, introducing us. He smiled, took the fresh-rolled joint I offered him, and, after a deep toke, he allowed as how his name was Bruce and he really dug the weed and the music, but did we have any bluegrass or Texas swing in our tape collection, by any chance? I found an Asleep at the Wheel in the tape box, slipped it into the player and as the music began he started tapping his foot in pretty good rhythm.
He finished his j pretty fast, smoking it with gusto, whooshing as he toked in air and burning weed. I was in the middle, nearest the ashtray, so I stubbed out the unmanageable roach. "Really good," he said. "You must have connections in Colombia. Or maybe at Athens?" Gail laughed that really fresh, sparkling laugh of hers. He put his hand on my bare thigh-I was wearing a pair of cutoff denims that were cut off pretty high, baring a lot of pink leg-and started to tell us his life story. He was a traveling bluegrass banjo player, on his way to Cleveland to gig up with a band some of his buddies were starting, and he left the distinct impression that he'd picked banjo with a lot of big name bands though I didn't believe a word of it. His beard hung halfway down his chest, and that still doesn't go over too well in the hillbilly beer joints where big name bluegrass bands do most of their picking. He flexed his fingers on my thigh, and he looked down at the way my tits were outlined, with their hard nubbin nipples, in my t-shirt front, and he was just about to say something else when Gail interrupted.
"I'd love to hear you play banjo," she said, "but it's a little too cramped for that. How about showing me your cock?"
My eyes got big and my face went beet-red. "Gail!" I said, trying to remind her with my inflection that she had promised us a weekend free of this kind of sluttiness. She only shrugged, and then she reached across me, steering with one hand, aiming the other into his crotch. He was wearing loose jeans, and a t-shirt with a silkscreen portrait of Earl Scruggs, and as she touched him, he lifted his shirt and undid his belt. While her fingers danced on his pants, he unzipped himself and pulled out a long, soft cock.
"I like women who get right to the point," he said, helping her make a fist around his pecker.
"Why don't you get to the point?" Gail suggested, jerking up and down but not getting much of a rise from his soft dong. And there I was, sandwiched between them, wishing I were someplace else-anywhere but here! Gail on my left, steering the car with one hand (it had power steering; you could have piloted it with the tip of your nose, I guess, but I felt safer when she had both hands on the wheel), reaching across me with the other. And on my right, Bruce, the banjo-playing hippie, with his cock in Gail's hand. "Oh, goody," she said, "there's a rest area half a mile up. Playground, shall we say?" She let go of his dick, grabbed the wheel with both hands. "You work on him for a while, Carla," she said. "Get him all hard and stiff for us, babydoll."
"No!" I said. "You promised we weren't gonna do anything like this!"
"Promise was for when we get to the lake," Gail said. "And we're not at the lake yet. Anyway," and she winked at the bearded guy, "a hitchhiker has to pay for his ride, doesn't he? And I think he has exactly the right amount of cash in his pants."
She pulled into the rest stop. We were the only car there, though a big truck was pulled off, just ahead, the driver probably catching a few winks of sleep.
I guess it was an awkward situation. Here we were, the three of us, Bruce lightly fingering his prick, Gail tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, both of them quite ready, and me in the middle, frowning, sulking, my lower lip stuck out petulantly.
"Oh, fuck," Gail sighed. She opened the door. "Then you drive for a while," she told me, getting out. As I slid into place behind the wheel, she went around the car and entered it from the passenger side, oohing and giggling as she piled in next to Bruce. Now he was in the middle, and she didn't waste a second. She grabbed his prick, leaned in to start licking it. I made a snarling noise, shoved the car into gear, and we peeled out, meshing into the traffic half a collision from an enormous White freightliner, which had to switch lanes with a squealing of brakes and the blast of an air horn, just to avoid hitting us head on. I gasped, sobering up fast as I realized how nearly we'd come to being totaled by that huge truck. My hands were so shaky I could hardly hang on to the wheel, but it didn't appear that Bruce and Gail had noticed at all. He was leaning back in the seat, his legs thrust forward against the floorboards, and Gail's head was down in his lap. I could hear the sounds as she sucked his rod, and I could hear him panting, and I didn't have to see his pecker to know that it was hardening fast in Gail's mouth.
I stole a peek when she lifted her head, though, and she was licking her lips dreamily, eyes starting to glaze a little as she drank in the sight of his erected tool. It wasn't a big tool, not in length, but it was a thick one. A hand as small as mine would have a little bit of trouble joining fingertips to thumb around that barrel-like piece of prick. About half his foreskin was peeled back-his prick was uncut-baring the gleammy knob at his pinnacle. Gail started to work his outer shell of flesh with her fingers, pulling back the foreskin, baring him completely. She leaned in, started rimming the head of his cock with her tongue, and little purrs of encouragement escaped from her lips as she performed her duties.
Well, damn it, they weren't her duties! She had no call to be doing this! None at all! And especially not after the promise she'd made me back at her house. But here we were, not two hours from home, and she was blowing a hippie banjopicker who had thumbed a ride from us. What the hell kind of a weekend was it gonna turn out to be, I wanted to know, if she could break her promise so quickly and on such flimsy grounds! There was no reason for her to have Bruce's cock in her mouth. There was no actual reason for him to be in our car in the first place. But he was, and she was bobbing up and down in his lap, sucking his prick as if it were a cool juicy popsicle in her mouth.
But it wasn't a popsicle at all. It was a cock. It was hot, not icy-cold, and the juices that oozed along the shaft were from Gail's own mouth. They didn't even taste sweet.
She eased off the seat, giving herself a little better access to him and giving me a slightly better view of the whole thing on those moments when I chose to take my eyes off the road ahead for a second and look over in Gail's and Brace's direction. At least, I thought, she knows his name. It wasn't quite the same as the anonymous blowjob she'd given the guy from the pizza place. But it disgusted me just as much, and I thought, sweet Jesus, Carla, what kind of friends do you make?
Asleep at the Wheel were just breaking into "Bump Bounce Boogie" when Gail oozed upward from the floor of the car and maneuvered herself into position atop Brace's lap. She'd managed to pull his pants down far enough to free his cock, and her striped shorts were pulled to her knees, which left her crotch area open and ready. Ready? I could smell how ready she was, despite the Imperial's marvelous air conditioning system. The sudden aroma of Gail filled the car, made my nostrils twitch and my head swim, and I felt the wheel veer in my hands. I was damned near asleep at the wheel myself.
She settled downward, while Brace held his cock erect and pointing upward, and there was only a second's hesitation as he fought to enter her twat. "Put it right there," she husked, coming down hard on him. "Oh, shit, yes!" she moaned, squirming around on his lap. The music was loud but I could hear the squishy sounds his dick made, stuffing itself up into her dominant cunt, and they were awful!
"Here, let me," I heard him say, and I stole another peek, little as I could afford to take my eyes off the road. Gail was wearing a blouse tied up between her tits, and his fingers got busy and she was hardly wearing the blouse. Her big tits thrust out free and stiff-nippled, and he had his hands all over them, pawing her bare flesh as they writhed and squirmed through their moving fuck. I saw him pinch a nipple in his fingers, pinch the tender little pink bud, and I heard Gail cry out with what could be nothing except undisguised delight. Goddamn it to shit! I thought, and I slammed my foot down hard on the gas pedal. The Chrysler took off like a pursuing animal and I watched, big-eyed, as the speedometer climbed from sixty to sixty-five to seventy to seventy-five, faster and faster___ The engine roared under the hood, and Gail was husking and panting and moaning beside me, and I was so pissed off I didn't realize at first how scared I really should be. Like in that old song Commander Cody does, we were passing cars like they were standing still, and I guess some of the people we zipped around must have gotten incredible eyefuls of Gail's big tits being handled while she fucked frantically on Bruce's lap. I didn't give a goddamn. I just wanted to go faster and faster, and maybe the whole yucky scene would be over and we could be the way we were before, a couple of best friends going off to have some fun on our own for a weekend-a weekend that belong to us and us alone. We'd get to the lake and Gail would stop being such a slut, if only for a little while, and I'd have my chance to love her and use her and make both of us feel so much better than she could possibly be feeling right now, even with that fat dick stuffed up her pussy.
I yanked the Wheel tape out of the cassette player and there was no more music. Gail and Bruce didn't need any. They had all the rhythm either of them could possibly want, and they were using it, screwing like a pair of animals. I pushed the gas harder, harder!
And then it occurred to me that I, Carla Jean Ney, was in total control of this roaring monster of an automobile. A big automobile. A powerful automobile. A fucking Chrysler Imperial. Me! Who'd taken driver's ed in a car not much more than compact-size. Who occasionally got to drive my mother's Volkswagen. Who found the birthday moped a bit of a challenge to keep in hand. I started to scream, and I couldn't stop screaming. My foot pumped in terror at the brake pedal, and they were power brakes and they caught almost at once, and we went off the road, skidding through the gravel alongside the highway, and beside me on the front seat Gail was humping madly and Bruce was pawing her tits and both of them were gasping and moaning, and so was I, oh, Lord, so was I!
But the car stopped, finally, and it seemed that even as the steel monster eased to a stop Bruce clutched hard at Gail's boobs and she rammed down just as hard upon his dick and they both groaned and I didn't have to look at her snatch to know that he was filling her with his cum, pumping the juices up her tube. She just kept saying, "God God God God", over and over, and it was real, she'd climaxed in a big way with him, and his knuckled were white hanging onto her tits. I shook my head and looked away, out the window on my side of the car, the driver's side (had I really driven this animal, this Imperial? All by myself) and there, beside the car, tapping his foot, was the biggest, gruffest-looking state policeman I had ever seen. Not that I'd seen so many of them, of course. He tapped on the window and I pushed the button that rolled it down.
He had on sunglasses that covered his eyes, but I knew he wasn't missing any of it. How could anyone look into that car and not see Gail's undone shirt, her big, pink-teated boobs sticking out, Bruce's hands all over them? And they were half-naked. Both of them had their pants down and she was squashed down on his lap. It didn't require Kojak to know what had been happening in the car.
"On your way to a fire?" the cop asked dryly. I think that was when Bruce and Gail first became aware of his presence. Gail turned her head slowly, eyes misted-over from orgasm, and she just laughed, like a little silver bell tingling away, and slowly, very slowly, she drew her blouse shut.
"Driver's license?" the cop said. I fished it out of my purse and handed it to him. While he was looking at my name and address I made frantic motions to Gail. She shrugged, slid off Bruce's lap, and hiked up her shorts. Bruce lifted his and ass and pulled his pants up too, and he was just zipping them when the cop handed me back my license.
Bruce and Gail had to show IDs too, and the car registration, and he just stood there shaking his head. I felt doom clotting in my blood. We were going to get run in. I knew it.
"You were going pretty fast," the cop observed, leaning on the side door. "Well over the speed limit. I'd say about seventy-five, eighty miles an hour?" I gulped. "And that's not the only law-breaking that's been going on in this car," he added. "You! Beard! That girl is seventeen years old. Did you know that? And do you know that you just committed an act of statutory rape? I could send your hairy ass to Lucasville prison." He straightened up. "If I wanted to."
His eyes were unreadable behind the green lenses of his aviator-style Foster-Grants. But I knew that he was staring at us all, staring fixedly, and he must have been thinking, because his lip gave a little twitch, and then he started to smile, from right to left. "Out of the car," he told me, and I got out, trembling. Other autos were whizzing past us, some of them beating the speed limit by fifteen or twenty MPH, but he paid no attention. I stood by the car, one hand drawn up to my lips, and I felt as if his hidden eyes were stripping me naked, tearing away my t-shirt and cutoffs, and all that was under them was me.
"Turn around," I turned. I put my hands on the roof of the car and spread my legs and-I swear!-he frisked me. I had always thought it was against the law for a male officer to frisk a female suspect, that you had to call in a policewoman for that purpose, but I was afraid to ask about points of law. He patted me up and down, and his hands seemed to spend much longer than necessary around my tits and at the fork of my legs. Christ! Couldn't he understand that my t-shirt was so tight a concealed weapon would have been about as obvious as Johnny Wadd's cock? His hands moved down me, down my smooth firm-fleshed legs, then up the insides of my thighs. He patted my crotch, and one of his fingers eased under the leg opening and for a moment, a long moment, he was touching me right on the fur and the labes. He had a hangnail and it scratched, but I didn't bring that up either.
"Whose car? Her parents'?" He pointed to Gail. I nodded.
"We were just going up to visit some relatives," I said. "Up by the lake. For the weekend. I'm sorry if we broke the law, officer, but-"
"Come on," he said, pointing to his own cruiser, which was parked about fifteen yards behind the Imperial. Gulping hard, I followed him. Once I looked over my shoulder and I saw Gail and Bruce staring at us, from the car. I shot a look of desperation at Gail, a look that tried to say "It's your fault, and I'm sorry, and I love you, and won't you please help me?"
The cop got into the back of his cruiser, and he settled his bulk onto the seat. He had a couple of chins, a fairly large belly, and legs so long there wasn't room for them on the back seat, let alone for me too. I crouched on the floor after I'd pulled the door shut behind me. He was still wearing his glasses and his Smokey Bear hat, and I really couldn't see much of his face. Except for the mouth, which was hard and smiling, but if his lips were drawn back and his teeth showing, the smile was nonetheless full of contempt.
"Teenage sluts," he said. "Jailbait. That's all you are. Did it give your friends a thrill when you rammed it in the ass and hit eighty while they were humping around like wart hogs in heat? Bet it did. That friend of yours. She probably came like a river all over that longhair's dick, right?" I didn't say anything.
He patted his crotch. "Well?" he said. "Get with it." I gave him a look of uncertainty. "Some head, you dumb little twat!" he exploded, and I thought he might bash me alongside the jaw to help make his point. "I want to be sucked off, and I want a better blowjob than you ever gave any of those hairy young studs your kind likes to run around with. Don't shit me, trying to look innocent. You've been fucked. You're no virgin. I could probably float a battleship on the cum that's been poured down your throat. I know what you hot young bitches are like. I've got a daughter. She's sixteen and she'll go down on anything that looks like it belongs in a barnyard. Did you get any of that longhair's peter? Does he have a big one? Why aren't you talking? What did you say your name was?"
"C-C-Carla," I stammered, huddled on the floor, scared shitless.
"Well?" he went on. "Why don't you get busy, Carla? Otherwise, I run you and your friends in. For speeding, for possible car theft. And that's just for starters. If I searched that Imperial, I'd probably find all kinds of dope, wouldn't I? Dope and cock. That's all you hot little bitches think about. Smoke some dope, blow a cock. And what about that longhair? I could nail his ass to the jailhouse wall for statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency of minors. Would you like your parents to come and pick you up at the county jail? Or would you rather suck my cock like the hot little bitch you really are? It's your choice, cunt. Hurry up and make it."
CHAPTER FOUR
Everything in me screamed NOOOOOOH!! but I reached for his zipper. He sucked in his breath, lifting his gut a little, and I undid his pants. "Don't take them off," he said. "I haven't got time for that shit. Just take my cock out and suck it. You know how. Do it."
I reached in through his undone fly and found his dick, semi-erect inside a pair of boxer shorts with a large slash in their front. I pulled him out into the light and stared at his rod for a moment while my fingers held it steadily.
He was uncircumcised, and his foreskin was drawn up fully over the end of his dong. I'd never messed with a prepuce before, believe it or not, and as I worked his foreskin back, it occurred to me that Bruce, too, had one of these seemingly useless pieces of skin on his rod. Bruce! Goddamn that hairy-faced banjo player! If that stupid cunt Gail hadn't stopped along the road to pick them up, I wouldn't be on my knees in the back of a police car fiddling with a state trooper's dong! Stifling the river of curses that were forming on my tongue, I began to work his pecker in my fingers, teasing and tweaking him till I could feel the spurts of erotic energy begin to flow into his cock.
"Don't just play with it. Suck it," he commanded. I looked up, trying to hide the disgust I felt. He was fondling the handle of his .357, and his fingers dwelled lovingly on the webbed grip, as if it were the soft smooth skin of a lover. The sunglasses covered his eyes, and I wished that I were wearing them, too. My eyes must have been full of the emotions that were coursing in my blood, but could I do anything else? Jail? Jail???? It would kill my mother.
I leaned forward, tongue coming out, and I licked gently at his flesh. First at the covered tip of his rod, my tongue playing over his foreskin, then I peeled it back with my fingers and lipped his knob for a few moments, until it began to pulsate against my mouth and I could feel it stiffening between my clutching fingers.
He grew fast, once he started, and in only a few heartbeats it was fully erect in my hand. Disappointingly erect, too, in comparison to a lot of other cocks that sprang to mind at that moment. Stiff, he was less than six inches long, pretty thick, but very short.
His foreskin retracted as he grew fully stiff, and the head of his prick stared up at me, cut by a deep cleft at the very tip. He was moist and he glistened where my tongue had already wetted his flesh, and the color of his knob was a grapelike shade that struck me as halfway between purple and green. I don't mean to say he had a green dick, just that the color was ambiguous and changed as the sunlight came in and accented different portions of the flesh I had already licked on.
I guess I hesitated too long before popping him into my mouth, because suddenly he was yanking at my hair and jerking my head upward. "You don't like the idea?" he said, impassive eyes behind sunglasses. "Try sucking on this!" And he jerked his .357 out of the holster, raised it, and I thought, sweet Jesus, he's going to shoot me!
But he shoved the tip of the pistol firmly against my lips and screwed it in short spirals till I gasped, and then the thing went into my mouth, cold and metallic, slightly oily as well. It was like a giant ice cube on my tongue and I sat there frozen in horror. "Sluts!" he said. "Young sluts. Running around all over the place with no underwear, no morals, nothing! Hot young ass looking for somebody to plug it! Like you. I can see your nipples through that shirt. Do you always go around that way, showing off your tits? Don't you know that mankind sinned in the Garden and God made us put on clothes so we'd always be reminded of our sins? You're not supposed to show everybody your tits! You're supposed to wear underthings. You don't. I felt your pussy inside those slutty cut-offs. Just hair and hot cunt inside them. Well? Aren't you gonna say anything? Or does Smith and Wesson have your tongue?" He laughed. I guess he thought it was funny. I didn't. I was scared, and I felt the tightening in my bowels that comes with real fear.
He eased the gun from my mouth, slowly. I saw my spittle on the end of the muzzle. I'd felt the sharp front sight against the roof of my mouth. "I'll suck your cock," I said in a whisper. "But please, don't do that again."
And I bent forward, took his rod into my mouth, and I sucked. By God, I sucked! Up him and down him, using my tongue and my jaws and my cheeks, sucking the way Gail had taught me such a long time ago (only last year?) when I was a virgin eager to lose it and ready for anything. Well, it looked as if anything had finally arrived. I was giving mouth to a guy who might still blow my head off at any moment, if the notion hit him. And God knew what kind of notions were floating round in that cop's head! How in the name of shit did he ever get issued a badge and uniform in the first place, for Chrissakes? He was fucking stone crazy!
"Do it nice," he said, gripping my head. He started to force my face up and down on his pecker, thrusting into me until my lips scraped the zipper of his fly. He wasn't big enough to deep throat. Even when all of him was in me, I still had plenty of room to breathe. And time to think, also, for all the good that did me.
"Know why I picked you?" he asked. I gurgled a negative reply. "Well," he said, releasing the pressure on my skull for a moment, "I didn't want anything to do with that other cunt, not with that longhaired hippie's scum still hot in her crack. I won't take sloppy seconds to a prick like him.
"But that's not all. You look like my kid .'Know that? She wears her hair short, like you do, with the bangs and everything, and when she was little, when she was an innocent baby, she was the prettiest thing you'd ever want to see. And then she grew up, goddamn it, and she turned into a slut, and now all she wants to do is run around to rock concerts and ride around in vans and smoke marijuana and suck the cocks of scum like that friend of yours, guys that don't have the fucking right to live! They're getting her! All of them! My daughter! Taking her clothes off, spreading her legs, sucking her titties, feeling her cunt, sticking their dicks into her and making her scream for more! My daughter! My Marcy! Godddd... " He pumped up into me then, hard, seven or eight times, plunging so fast my tongue couldn't keep up with him, and my mouth was dry and tense around his prick, and I was even more frightened than when he'd forced me to give head to his .357. His fingers dug into my skull and he force-fed me with his pecker, and I could tell that he was turned on, really super turned on, and it was like something bursting inside me when I understood why.
He'd spelled it out for me, hadn't he? His daughter. Said she looked like me, or I like her, at least. And the fantasies he nursed in his mind, about the things she was doing, the things people were doing to her-Jesus! Dollars to doughnuts he got stiff every time she jiggled her little body past him, and he knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't control the urges all the same, and now, golly wow gee, it was my turn, little old Carla Jean Ney's turn, to be the recipient of his suppressed incestuous cravings! What a lot of shit! Oh, by God, I thought, sucking harder as his insistent thrusting dropped off, oh, by God, Gail is going to catch bloody hell for this! It's all her fucking fault! And we are through, goddamned through, being best friends! Forever!
But that was in the future, and I've already shared my philosophy of the future with you. Right now I had a state policeman's dick in my mouth and it was the dick of a crazy state policeman, and everything inside me said, Carla, you had better do your goddamnedest, whether you like it or not!
I didn't like it, but I could suck a cock and that's what I did. As his body grew less tempestuous and he left off the savage thrusts into me, I took control. I petted his beer gut and used my tongue gently around his rod as I went up and down on it. Now and then I'd let him slip from my mouth and lick him delicately from stem to tip. I even pulled his fly open a little further and licked inside his shorts, running my tongue across his tight wrinkled sac of balls. He groaned loudly when I did that, and I looked up, stealing a peek at his face. His sunglasses had fallen askew, and I could see that at least the visible eye was shut tight. His nostrils were twitching and his lips were formed into an 0 through which he moaned and groaned his pleasure. I popped him back inside my mouth, rode up and down him again, doubling the activity of my tongue on his slippery cock surface.
"Whatever happened to morals?" he was asking in a tense voice. "I saw your driver's license. You're only seventeen years old. How did you learn to suck a cock so good, so fast? Christ! Don't stop or I'll shoot your fucking head off, you little slut! My fucking wife-I've been trying for the past twenty years to make that bitch learn how to eat my dick, and all she does is gag and cough and cry, and the only time I ever came in her mouth, she ran into the bathroom and barfed it up. Bet you wouldn't do that, would you, Marcy? If I came in your mouth you'd gobble it up and suck it down your throat and keep on sucking till you'd drained my nuts? Wouldn't you, Marcy, you hot little bitch?"
He might have had his cock in my mouth, but his head was in the Twilight Zone. I stopped short in my sucking when I heard him call me by his daughter's name. His hangup was serious. No shit, Sherlock! I won't be a senior in high school until next September, but I could tell this dude was fucked up!
"Suck it, goddamn you!" he shouted, and he planted his hammy hand on the back of my head, slamming me down onto his jerking rod. I gagged this time for real. Something about the way he went into me. The end of his prick tickled the top of my throat and I thought I was gonna barf, the way his wife had.
But I didn't. I got my wind back, and I kept on sucking him, hard and fast, the way he wanted it, and he just let his fantasies flow. "Do it for me, Marcy," he whispered, in such a tiny tender voice I could almost feel sorry for him even while he raped my unwilling mouth. "Do it for your daddy. Suck me. Isn't that nicer? Don't I taste better than those freaks you run around with? When did any of them give you a cock like this to suck? Your tongue-baby, your tongue! Move it around on me-yeah-lick me while you're sucking! Suck me while you're licking! Do it all, Marcy, do it all, do it for your daddy, baby-suck me, suck meeeee... " He groaned, and his cock twitched in my mouth and I readied myself for the gush of his cum, but it didn't happen. He gave a loud, moaning gasp, relaxed some of the pressure on my head, and he said, "Come here, Helen, come here and look at this, you frigid bitch. You can't do it, but Marcy can. Watch her. Maybe you'll learn something. Suck for daddy, doll, suck for daddy. Show Mommy it's nothing to be afraid of. Just a cock in your mouth, a big hard cock that tastes good and makes you feel so good while you're eating it-tell me how good it makes you feel, Marcy baby."
"Mmmm," I managed to purr, and I guess in his mind I was Marcy then. His teenaged daughter, sucking her father's dick. Who says that people who look normal on the outside don't have weird, repressed fantasies roaring like blast furnaces inside their heads? Christ, I was getting a fantasy fucked into my mouth!
"Now, Helen," he groaned, and his sunglasses fell completely away. I heard them hit, and I peeked up quickly. His eyes were shut as tight as a blind man's and I knew that he wasn't seeing me, only the fantasy of his wife and daughter that he'd been playing with from the time he led me back to the cruiser. "Watch this, you cunt!"
And he jerked his cock out of my mouth, pulling so hard I thought my front teeth were coming out with his dick, and he began to work his salivated flesh up and down in quick sucking strokes. I closed my eyes just in time. The first blast of his hot sticky cum splashed my face, and there was more where it came from. He kept gasping "AAAGGGHHH!!" and jerking on his tool, and the white stuff kept blasting me, and I kept my eyes shut even though I knew that it wouldn't make you go blind if you accidentally got some of it in your eye. Actually, I think the reason I kept my eyes closed was because this was his fantasy trip and I had already seen more of it than was good for me.
He wiped his cock in my hair, then gave me a push backward. I rocked against the back of the front seat, and he sat up, kicking me with his big shoe as he moved his leg. He zipped up, patted his crotch. His face was red, and his eyes were open. I looked up at them, and they were human eyes after all-eyes that were all too human. He must have sensed that I was penetrating his weakness, for he quickly reached down and grabbed up his sunglasses, put them back on. Then he sighed. Once more the sturdy professional, I thought, but I couldn't bring myself to feel for him the contempt that I knew he deserved. He'd forced me to do a shabby, tacky thing, but there were forces inside him that he didn't understand, certainly.
Christ! I smiled wryly. Didn't I have some of the same kind of feelings inside me? Like the way I felt about Gail? I mean, I wanted her in the same fierce way he wanted his teenaged daughter-to possess her sexually and every other possible form of possession besides-and I had to wear a mask most of the time because I was afraid to talk it out with Gail, as afraid of my desire as he was of his own. We're only people, I thought. Is it our strength or our weakness?
"Okay," he said, adjusting his sunglasses. "You can go. I'm not writing any tickets. But hold the speed down to fifty-five. I may not be so generous next time." He cleared his throat. "Well?" he said. "Get the hell out of my car before you drip that stuff on the floor!"
I touched my face, and it was gloppy from my jism-bath.
The stuff was cooler now and starting to clot in places. I hoped there were some Handi-wipes in the car, or else a gas station very near by where I could wash my face with soap and water. "Thank you, officer," I said archly, and I got the hell out of his car.
Gail was sitting in the front seat, by herself, when I returned to the Imperial. "What happ-" She didn't have to finish the question. I settled in on the passenger's side, opened the glove box, found a pack of tissues. I started to wipe my face. "Bruce left," she said. "I guess he was scared of that cop. God, Carla doll, was it-was it bad? I mean, did he-"
"He made me blow his rod, and all the while he was pretending that I was his teenaged kid," I said. "Her name is Marcy and he would like to get into her pants but he's too chicken to try, so I got drafted as substitute. Does that answer your question? Yes, it was pretty bad. Yes, I'm glad Brucie took off, because if he had been here when I got back from the police cruiser I would have cornholed him with his banjo-the round end first! Now let's go. To the lake. You drive. This car scares the shit out of me. Be on the watchout for the next exit where we can find a gas station, because I want to wash the jism off my face before it eats up my skin. We are not picking up any more hitchhikers. We are not exceeding the speed limit. And we are not going to spend this weekend catting around, which is the impulse floating around inside your gorgeous head right now. I'll talk Itf you again in about twenty miles. I should be cooled of a little by then. So drive."
She made a sal, hurt face at that almost melted the resentment boiling in my bones. I wanted to reach over and kiss her and tell her I wasn't really angry, but that cop was sitting behind us in his cruiser, watching us through his sunglasses, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me kiss Gail. She started up the car, eased into the highway, and we were off, cruising at a safe fifty. The cop car followed the Imperial for maybe the next ten miles or so, but then he passed us and took off like a bat out of hell. By then it was almost dark and we were half an hour from the Lake. I wondered if I had enough strength left in me to make the weekend enjoyable. It had gotten off to one hell of an auspicious beginning, hadn't it? Somehow, I wished I were back home, jerking off to a videotape of Robert Redford in the privacy of my own living room. But then I saw Gail's lovely profile, half-shadowed in the fading sunlight. The curve of her chin, the straight aristocratic line of her nose, the deep set, long-lashed eyes. I sighed. And I scooted a little closer on the front seat. "I feel like some music," I said. "Which would you rather hear, the Eagles or Warren Zevon?"
How could I stay mad? Weren't we best friends, after all? And as for the weekend, well, she had promised. Hadn't she?
CHAPTER FIVE
Gail kept tapping on the door of the toilet stall. "Oh, for shit's sake, baby doll," she said, "come on out, will ya? I told you, he has a friend!"
I sat on the john, just sitting, my legs crossed and my arms folded defiantly across my chest. My lower lip was stuck out in a pout and my eyes were stinging with the tears I refused to let flow. What had ever made me think I could trust that cock-hungry bitch? Even if she was my best friend? Even if she had promised?
We pulled up at her aunt's cabin not much before eight. That interlude with Bruce and the cop on the road had thrown us about half an hour off schedule. You could see the lake, silvery in the twilight, from the small rustic cottage, and, unlike the other times I'd been up here to the big water, there was no smell of rotting fish on the beach.
Gail knew where the key was hidden, and we let ourselves in. The food supply was pretty good-plenty of canned stuff, though we'd have to stock up on whatever perishables we might need. Even a few bottles of booze-vodka, scotch, bourbon, some imported red and white wine. The place was a little dusty, but half an hour's work had the place liveable. Gail changed the beds while I dusted and swept, and I wanted to suggest that there was no need to make up two bedrooms. One would be more than enough. Surprise her, I though slyly. When she crawls into bed tonight, maybe a little heady from wine and weed, and finds a warm, responsive body waiting under the sheets. Seemed perfect. No tv, but who needed one? We had each other for entertainment, and we had the sun and the beach and the water. We could work on our tans at the same time we were working on our bodies. It seemed really perfect.
Until Gail suggested, as we were relaxing with a glass of white wine after our chores, "Why don't we hustle into town and hit a bar or something? It's so damned quiet out here! I want music and smoke and people!"
"No, let's not," I said. "Anyway, we're underage. They won't serve us in any bars. You have to be eighteen just to buy 3.2 beer."
"This is Holiday Land," Gail said. "Ohio's sun coast. If you can see over the bar they'll serve you. Trust me. Come on, let's put on some clean clothes and doll up a little and see what the action's like this season."
"Remember what you promised?" I reminded her. She smiled, nodded, and it was such a sincere smile I couldn't distrust it. We wound up, half an hour later, in the Chrysler, headed down the road to Lucerne-on-the-Lake. Gail drove, and she took us up and down the main drag until she found a club whose looks she liked. She parked, and we went inside.
We weie both wearing halter tops, tight, backless, our nipples sticking out bravely, and she had cn jeans while I wore a wraparound skirt. We were made up to a T, and Gail had teased my hair with a hot comb until I looked less like Joan of Arc and more like a gamine on the prowl. She didn't have to do anything. Makeup or no makeup, she was gorgeous. She'd combed her hair, a few perfunctory strokes, just enough to emphasize the natural tousle. I followed her through the door, and I couldn't help thinking how desirable she looked, her back bare, her ass encased in skin-tight denims whose bottoms belled out over her cork-heeled shoes. I wanted to grab her hand, jerk her back out the door, and carry her to the car. I wanted to give her the sexing of her life.
We had no trouble getting served. The bar wasn't too crowded, for some reason, and we found seats right at the counter. The sign that said "No Minors Served" was hanging right above my head, but the bartender took our orders and brought me a frozen daiquiri and Gail a vodka martini, no olive.
The jukebox kept playing, and you could sense the ambience of the joint from the music. Someone would put in a quarter and do Waylon or Willie, and then someone would punch a couple of Ohio Players or Shaka Khan tunes, back and forth, all the time we were there. The most popular song seemed to be, however, "Let's Get Drunk and Screw" by Jimmy Buffett. The record was almost worn out but it seemed to come up about every third or fourth play.
"Pinball!" Gail said, pointing to an unoccupied machine along the far wall. "Let me show you the Wizard at work, baby doll!" and we grabbed our drinks-third round for each of us, and I could barely feel the floor under my feet-and she led the way to the machine.
She was pretty good, racked up a lot of free games, and when she'd played her fill she turned the machine over to me. She went hack for fresh drinks and I was having a good time, a really good time, tilting the machine every now and then and blowing a game, but neither of us really gave a shit. It's going to be a nice evening, I thought then, but so much nicer when we get back to the cabin and settle in for the night.
I didn't even see them until they were standing beside us, a couple of lean raggedy-ass types. They looked like farm boys or local yokels of some sort, and there they were, one of them watching over my shoulder, the other one kinda nudging up to Gail where she stood along the flank of the machine. Real hicks, I thought, but that eye peering over my shoulder made me so nervous I tilted the machine again. "Oh, fuck," I snarled, "there goes another game. Back off, would ya?"
The one behind me apologized but he didn't move. At least not far. He went around me and he put his hands on the polished glass top of the machine and he looked at me with a big shit-eating grin, and his eyes kept floating down to where my nipples stuck out in the clingy halter top. It was a little disgusting, more than a little disconcerting, and I almost wished I'd brought a bra along.
"You know," I heard the other one say to Gail, real cool and suave, you know, like treading through a meadow full of cowshit? "You know, they have a wet t-shirt contest every Sunday at the beach, and I bet you'd win it hands down. Or should I say tits down?" And with that he reached around Gail and cupped one of her tits, where it hung loose and stiff-nippled inside the flimsy halter she was wearing.
"You should say 'Hands off,' sucker!" she said, brushing his fingers away. She tried to move out of his reach but he hooked his finger in the empty belt loop of her jeans and jerked her back toward him. "Leggo of me, cocksucker," she said, threateningly. He grinned.
"If you don't want 'em tickled, what do you have 'em stickin' out for?" he wanted to know, turning her round to face him. His finger stroked rapidly across the well-defined erection of her nipple.
She clenched her fist, and I was about to move into her defense too when the one nearest me said, "Hey, honey, how about you and me gettin' it on? I like the looks of what you're carrying around, know that?" And he put his hand atop mine where I was still holding onto the pinball machine. He leaned close, so close I thought he was going to drool saliva all over my tits.
"This act has about as much class as the Three Stooges," I said, trying to pull my hand free. "So where did you leave Curley? In the get-away car?"
"Are these guys bothering you?" came a voice from the darkness. There were booths along the wall, 'way back there, so dimly lit you could hardly see the booths themselves, let alone who might be in them, but here stood our Galahad, apparently sprung from one of those dark booths. He was tall, big-shouldered, and he had fresh clean good looks. About twenty-two or twenty-three, I guessed, with a head full of unkempt blondish-brown hair and a bandito mustache. He reminded me of Robert Redford as the Sundance Kid.
"They're bothering us very much," Gail said. The guy touched the shoulder of the rube who was accosting Gail.
"Get lost, asshole," he said, and it wasn't the kind of command you can ignore easily. He was well over six feet, probably weighed two-hundred or so, built like a football player (star, not bench warmer), and his voice was soft but very authoritative. Our hick friends disappeared into the woodworks. Gail was looking up at our rescuer and her green eyes sparkled in a way I knew all too well. Oh, damn it, maybe if I'd been the one he specifically rescued, instead of just a bystander, maybe I'd have been making eyes at him that same way. Her lips curled up in a smile of thanks, but she was telling him more than simple gratitude with the curl of mouth, the flash of teeth, the hint of tongue showing between those perfect white teeth. He took her hand and she sighed, and I saw her fingers squeeze at his, and I said "Gail... " but she didn't answer. She was still holding his hand, and they were walking away from the pinball machine into the darkness surrounding the booths.
I grabbed my drink, poured it down my throat in a hurry, and I felt it hit almost immediately. It must have been my fourth, and I'm not much of a drinker. I get giggly on a couple of beers. I felt all woozy, but in spite of the dimness between my ears I knew that she was doing it again, that she had lied to me, that she would keep on lying to me, that the only reason she had wanted to come up to the lake, to drive out bar-hunting, was so she could find herself still another piece of strange cock. Me? I was just along so she'd have someone to talk to when her mouth wasn't full of some stranger's prick! I saw her and her mustached friend slide into a booth, and I heard the merry silver of her laugh, and I thought I could even see a third face in that booth, but by then I didn't give a bloody fuck. I headed for the ladies' room.
Jimmy Buffett was asking musically, for at least the fortieth time, "Honey, why don't we get drunk and screw?" but Gail didn't need the excuse of liquor or a song, even. I paid my dime, closed the stall door behind me, and pissed. And I didn't come out, even when I was done. My intention was to stay here. Forever if necessary.
When she finally talked me into coming out, I was still so pissed off I couldn't see straight. "Oh, cool it, babydoll," Gail told me. "When did you lose interest in fun, for Chrissakes?"
"Is this what you call fun?" I asked. "Fucking everything that's human enough to grunt? I'm surprised you didn't take on those two hillbillies. They were greasy and dumb and stupid-baboons wearing clothes-should have been right up your alley."
"Ssshhh," she said, pushing the door open, and we went back into the bar. They were waiting for us, the mustached, Redford lookalike who'd come to Gail's rescue, and, just as Gail had promised, his friend.
The friend was shorter, maybe an inch or two taller than Gail if both of them were barefooted, and he was built on a fairly lean frame. His hair was dark and shaggy, he had a crooked nose, and he looked about as happy to see me as I was to see him. Gail introduced us. Her guy was Chuck, which figured. The friend was Alex. I just nodded.
"Tell you what," Gail said. "Why don't Chuck and I go along, and you guys can follow us? Here's the keys to the Chrysler," she added, pushing them into my hand. "Drive slow," she whispered. "I think I'm gonna get really lucky tonight. Isn't he gorgeous?"
He was gorgeous, but I'd been the one who'd counted on getting lucky, and it appeared I had walked under too many ladders. And it wasn't even Friday the 13th. I watched Gail and Chuck go out, and I knew what she had in mind, the cunt! "Might as well have a drink for the road," I told Alex, the ugly one. "It is on you, isn't it? Frozen daiquiri."
He drove, of course. I was in no shape to get behind a steering wheel. He didn't know the way, and I wasn't all that sure of it myself, but we finally got to the cabin, about forty minutes after Gail and Chuck had taken off and left us at the bar. A VW was parked in the driveway. Alex had to help me up the front porch steps.
I don't suppose I have to go into great detail about what, was going on in the front room when we came in, do I? They'd built a fire-the day had been warm but there was a certain nippy chill to the evening which even I could feel in my daiquiri numbness-and they were lying naked on the white rug in front of the fireplace. Gail and Chuck, two glorious bodies joined together in what amounted to a virtual symphony of naked flesh.
She was riding him, bouncing up and down on his cock, and from what I could see, he had a big thick one. Her ass twitched from side to side as she galloped, and that big spear pole kept stabbing up into Gail's wet tight hole. "Oooohhh, Goddddd... " she kept moaning, over and over, and he had her by the tits, squeezing and pumping them in his hands. Aesthetically, it was a more pleasing sight than Gail balling one of those hillbilly twerps who'd come on to us at the bar, but I still found myself a little surprised that she had turned down the first offer. After the pizza boy (and was he still sitting around the park in Albany, waiting for us to show up?) and the hitchhiker, her sudden restraint was amazing. "Cunt," I said in a low growly voice. "Stinking cunt."
Neither of them heard me. Gail was facing the door but her eyes were shut and she was just moaning and groaning to beat the band, and her cunt, which still looked funny without its normal coating of gorgeous golden hair, ground down upon Chuck's loins, swallowing his pecker time after time.
From what I could see of his body, he was built to perfection. Broad chest and shoulders, nice coating of golden body hair, heavy patch of it around his prick-how did that feel, I wondered, all that hair of his tickling her twat every time she came down on him and wiggled around to increase the intensity of their contact? Someone like him, I thought. Someone like him I wouldn't mind so much. Just being with a bod like his might make me come.
"Hey," Alex whispered, "let's back out of this scene, okay?" He took my hand and we went back out the front door, onto the porch. Even there I could hear Gail moaning. I shook Alex's hand loose, went to the window and peeked inside. They'd switched positions. She was crawling down his body with her mouth now, using one slender hand to hold his cock upright. He had a long hard rod, and the firelight gleamed on it, made the flesh appear even redder than it ought to. She was licking his nipples and his navel and he was sifting with his hands through the heavy falls of blonde hair from her head.
She lifted her face, kissed him up and down his dick, used her tongue in the million-and-one ways Gail Goodman knows how to use a slick wet tongue on stiff male flesh, and then she took him slowly into her mouth for the sucking. I saw Chuck's face break into a grin of delight as she gobbled up his pecker, and I knew how good her mouth could feel, working on your most sensitive places, and I wished to hell that he and his ugly friend were both in hell or someplace equally distant and that Gail's mouth was working on me, damn it, the one who deserved it!
He was stroking her flank and thigh, his fingers sliding over the curve of her slender but shapely ass, and she got the message. Without missing a suck on the shaft of his dong, Gail wiggled around until her snatch was planted on Chuck's face. I saw him spread her buttocks and lap up, into her shaven sweetness, with his eager tongue, and I saw the hearty, excited twitches of her bottom as he ate her out.
"Looks like they're going to be a while," Alex said. He'd been looking over my shoulder. Probably wishing that it was his dick in Gail's mouth, not his friend's. Men were like that. "What shall we do? Go for a walk or something?"
I was starting to come down from the alcohol. I straightened up. "You mean," I told him, "why don't we find ourselves some place where we can screw, too, right? Well, baby, it's not gonna happen. Just because my best friend is the easiest piece of ass east of the Mississippi-east of the fucking Pacific Ocean!-doesn't mean that I'll just roll over and spread my legs for the first guy who comes along and asks for it. And you know something else? You're kind of ugly. I don't think I want to fuck you anyway."
"I didn't ask you," he said, showing his teeth. "All I said was, why don't we go for a walk or something? You're not quite as sober as you think you are and a walk would probably do you some good. Besides-I'm really ugly, not just kind of. Oh, hell, come on. Let's walk some of that booze out of your system."
We went down the beach, but we didn't really go very far. I was starting to feel a lot better, the further I got from Gail and the house, and somewhere along the line I noticed that I was talking to Alex. I don't remember what we talked about. Something about KSU, where he was a student in journalism, and I made a Woodward/Bernstein crack, which only reminded me of Robert Redford and how much Chuck resembled him, and I got quiet again.
"It's cold," Alex said. "What we need is a fire. Look around, if you can stand up by yourself. Find some twigs, leaves, small branches-something that will burn. We'll fight the demons of darkness like prehistoric men did."
The woods lapped down close to the beach here, and it was no problem finding the stuff we needed. In ten or fifteen minutes we had a nice little fire going, down on the sand. Sighing, I sat down by the fire, and I watched Alex on the other side of the flames. Strange shadows played across his face, and he didn't really seem so ugly, you know? Not pretty, no, but who said men had to be pretty in the first place? I found myself moving a little closer toward him, around the fire. "I think it's warmer on your side," I told him. My knee bumped his and I looked down at where we'd touched, and then I looked up into his face, and it wasn't an ugly face at all. It had character. Especially that crooked nose. I made up a story for myself, how he'd gotten it, defending some girl's honor in a barroom brawl, and it made me smile.
He touched my chin. 'That's better," he said, and one of his fingers pushed my lip a little further upward. "You're cute when you smile. But not when you frown," and he did a scathing, but utterly honest, imitation of the way I looked when I was pissed off. The snarl of lips, the lower lip protruding, nostrils aflare, eyes lowered and the brows looking thick. I laughed. I couldn't help laughing. Alex touched my shoulder and I don't know which of us leaned toward the other first, but all of a sudden our heads were there, together, and our mouths so close we could smell the alcohol on one another's breath. Some of that aroma went up into my nose and my nostrils did a twitchy tic, and I put my hand on his shoulder, and our mouths came together, wet, ready, and I was kissing him, guiding his hand downward so he could cup it around the firm taut cupcake of my left breast. My halter top seemed to peel away as his hand stroked me, and it was bare tit pressing into bare palm and my nipple was so stiff it actually hurt, and I couldn't breathe very well, my throat felt so raspy-raw, but I couldn't stop kissing him, either, and we rolled over onto our sides, legs entangled, my body curling sinuously against his.
He rolled me back, and he towered above me, silhouetted in the light of the fire behind him. I was naked to my waist now, the halter tossed God knows where, and as I lay there panting, I cupped my tits and offered the stiff nipples to him like a pagan sacrifice. I'm drunk, I told myself. Stone fucking drunk. And this is going to be just as stupid as all the other times, all the other times I let some boy use my pussy just because Gail was doing it and I didn't want her to think I was some kind of a baby, because I wanted her to like me, and if she fucked, I ought to fuck too, and she'd like that, wouldn't she, Carla...
He reached down, undid my wraparound skirt. I rolled out of it and he threw it out of the way. That left me wearing only a pair of tiny bikini panties. The color arrangement of them was nice, but I didn't suppose he could appreciate the delicate interplay of red and green and blue and violet and gold. I arched my back, lifting myself toward him. He put his hands on my buttocks and held me up like that, squeezing me, caressing my ass through the thin mesh of panties.
"I suppose we might as well fuck," I said, and I tried to sound casual, but there was an edge to my voice, nervous, tense, maybe even a little insistent? I didn't know. I could only feel the sensation of my labes, swelling up inside my panties, swelling and leaking out a sticky dew of juice that seeped into my hair and made me feel so damp and squishy down there, so damp and squishy, especially when he made my thighs rub together and there was a sudden unexpected pressure on my cuntal cleft. "Aaaahhhhh," I said, almost croaked it out. His hands slid down my thighs, to my knees, then off my legs altogether and I slumped onto the ground again, panting, looking up at him in a mixture of dread and anticipation. I'd been nervous and scared the first time I really did it with a boy, even though Gail had shown me what to do. Later, doing it with boys, I'd been bored and disdainful, wishing mostly that the messy business was over and done with so I could wipe off my cunt, pull up my panties, and get back to watching the movie or onto the dance floor again or whatever. And now, lying by the fire in the moonlight with this ugly, dark-haired dude kneeling beside me, I felt the same nervous tension that had raced like amphetamine through my bloodstream the night I lost my cherry. Silly. It wasn't the same thing at all. Was it?
He came down upon me slowly, taking my face in his hands for some kissing-a lot of kissing-and at the same moment his groin settled down onto my body and I could feel the stiffness of arousal in his pants. God, here I was, naked except for my panties, and they so wet they stuck to the labes of my twat, and he hadn't taken off anything! But my hips moved under him, and it was as if I were full already of that hard rod of his. I lifted my knees, trapping him between my legs, and I wouldn't let go. His tongue was in my mouth. I sucked it. His thumbs were on my nips. They throbbed. His stiffness touched my belly. I got creamy.
It was starting to happen. I knew it in my blood, even while I resisted it with my mind. The same thing that happened to Gail whenever she saw anything faintly resembling a male. I was turning on. No, I thought, I'm still drunk on all those frozen daiquiris I put away at the bar. That's all it is. Liquor fogging my head. Sex is only something I use to stay close to Gail, I tried to explain to my body. Sex is something I do to myself with my fingers, or something Gail does to me with her fingers and mouth when she has time to bother with it. Letting boys crawl onto me and shove their cocks up my cunt-that's just fucking, just something that I let happen so Gail won't think I'm a baby and too dull to be her friend. Alex's mouth moved down my face. He sucked my chin, licked me with his tongue-he had a big tongue-it seemed to be everywhere at once, all over my face. And then he was kissing my neck, and then he was sucking my nipples, and I knew they must have felt like hot coals against his tongue. I could feel how hot each little pap was, could feel how big my teats had swollen as his mouth enveloped them, and he sucked hard, hungrily, but with a gentleness in spite of it all. His hands worked the edges of my tits and he was really doing it to me, making love to me, not just slurping my boobs a little in the kind of boy/girl foreplay that had been the limit of my experience before tonight.
Yeah, I thought, I'm still drunk. But drunk doesn't explain the sticky ooze in my cunt, the dampness of my panties, the way my legs are up, clutching at his thighs, holding him in a trap that he'll have to break out of forcibly if he breaks out at all, and if he doesn't break out I don't care, because I could he here all night with my tits in his suckling mouth and that hard-on in his pants pressed against me. Could he here all night, and all day tomorrow, and all the next.
As he nursed my tits, I thought about today. It had been a long day, and a busy one. Gail had come on to the pizza boy and he'd fucked both of us. Gail had come on to Bruce, the hitchhiking banjo player, and she'd gotten herself a hell of a ride on his thick cock. And what had I gotten? The chance to blow a half-demented state cop in the back seat of his cruiser, and a gush of cum all over my face, and the chance to see how a crazy mind puts things together. And now? Well, now Gail was in the house, fucking and sucking with a Robert Redford lookalike and I was lying on the sand beside a crackling little fire, having my tits sucked by Robert R's craggy-faced friend, and something in my belly, some twitch of sudden heaving excitement, told me that maybe my own luck had changed. Maybe I was getting the best of it after all! If Gail felt half as good as I did now, she was walking on air. My toes curled and wiggled in the air, and by now Alex's mouth had gone down my belly, with a lingering stopover at my tiny little navel, and he was face-deep in my busy of dark pubic hair, burrowing into me, using a finger to hold my panties' crotchstrip out of the way while his lips and nose moved lazily, almost casually, up and down the sticky-wet slice of my cunt. My legs were around his neck now, but I was still holding him tightly, possessively, and I didn't think I'd be letting go soon. No, not soon!
"Let's get these down, okay?" he said, and he lifted his face while he pulled my panties down, past the hairy fork of my body. I couldn't speak, could only moan. He must have known what it meant. He fought around in my tight-locked leg embrace, got the panties completely free of one foot, left them dangling from the other ankle. He put his hand on my pussy, pressed down for a long, sighful moment, and I was full of sighs that had nowhere to go except out, through my pursed lips. He found my slit, toyed with it a moment, letting the tip of one finger slip between the swollen, dewy labes. There was a teasing at my clit. Not an exactly on-target pressure, just a small wiggle of his fingertip that told me he new exactly where my love button was and that he could find it any time he wanted to. He leaned down, kissed me on the belly, just above the bush, and his lips moved downward, through my hair, onto the crack of my pussy. His fingers spread me as his lips moved into position, and the next kiss I felt was directly upon my clitoris, which couldn't have been any readier than it was when he touched it with his smacking mouth.
I screamed like a banshee and locked my legs around his head and grabbed at the dark thatch of hair An his skull, and my hips began to move, pushing my twat upward, smearing the juicy crack all over his face. As he started eating me, a little purr escaped from his lips, a humming vibration that reverberated through and through my pussy, adding to the excitement, to the delirious frenzy, that were already filling me.
My cunt was wide open now, spread by his fingers, and he pushed his face into me. It felt as if he were fucking me with his nose, and I wondered how I'd ever thought it ugly in the first place. There was this incredible pushing sensation at the mouth of my hole and the juices oozed from me in a milky river, and then he was on my clit again, sucking it, loving it, doing things to my cunt that I had thought only women knew how to do. Boys had eaten me, boys from school, but sloppily, clumsily. Boys don't want to lick cunts. They want to have their cocks sucked or their ashes hauled in the suck of a tight pussy. Boys think girls taste like tuna fish. Alex knew better. I could tell from the action of 'his tongue, thrusting inside me, agitating the ripple of my pussy mouth, then jerking out of my twat and flicking like a whip across the red, stiffened bud of my clit, smearing some of the pussy juices onto that throbbing nub of erected and sensitive tissue. I humped his face and I clutched my tits, squeezing them in delight as he kept eating and eating and eating. "Oh, Christ," I whined, "I don't know what you're doing to me, and I fucking don't know why you're doing it, but if you stop, I'll kill you stone graveyard DEAD!!!"
He laughed into my cunt, and where his purr had been a rippling echo like the hum of a vibrator drawn back and forth through an interested crotch, his laugh was an explosion that sent shattering sound waves through me, and through me again, and again, and again.
CHAPTER SIX
I guess I came while he was scarfing up my pussy. Jesus, I don't know how I kept from orgasming as long as I did! His tongue was insane, rolling through the hills and valleys of my cunt, in and out of my hole, up and down the pinnacle of my stiffened clitoris. Sometimes, the bastard, he'd even use his fingers, working some of the hairs back into my gash so that the little coarse wires stroked irresistible tickles through my whole pussy and got me rocking and rolling. "Stop that!" I'd giggle, but I didn't want him to stop, and he knew I didn't want it, because he didn't stop, he just kept fingering me and eating me, and my pussy kept oozing its cream into his sucking mouth and his tongue shot up me in search of more, and my cunt walls were shivering and snapping. I suppose you could say I was turned on.
Of course, it wasn't supposed to be happening. I mean, I didn't even know this guy! An hour ago, maybe, he'd been someone sitting in a booth way back in the corner while I struggled to keep from tilting a pinball machine and fucking up another of the free games Gail had laid on me. Maybe it was the fire, yellow-red flames crackling, lapping like tongues toward the night-dark sky overhead. There's something wild and free about an open fire in the nighttime. At least, it seems that way to me now. I'd never thought much about it in the past, and I didn't really have time to do any thinking now. Not with those explosive tremors going off inside my cunt.
To be completely honest, he probably made me come a couple of times with his mouth and fingers. It felt like more, and that was what counted. My twat ached from the intensity of my responses and I thought he'd begun to eat me for real, chewing my labes like bubblegum. I knew that my juice was all over his face, that he was groveling happily in the sweet-sticky goo of my snatch, slurping as he dined at my slitted cleft. I squeezed his head with my legs and said, "Oh, God, stop, would you stop, I can't take any more of this, I really can't take it, I'm on fire, I'm coming, Christ, you know I'm coming, you can feel me coming can't you? Feel it all over your mouth? Feel the way my cunt bites you and sucks back at you? Oh, Jesus, let me do something, I can't just he here and take it any longer! I want to do things! I want to do everything, darling, and I want to do it with you, for you! Let me suck your cock! Please? Whip it out of your pants! If you don't, I'll do it for you and I won't be gentle! I'm crazy! I'm stone fucking crazy! Oooohhhhhhmygoddddadddd... " He hadn't quite stopped, the naughty soul! He gave my clit one last long pull with his wet lips, and I thought the damned thing was gonna come off in his mouth. I gave a sharp keening cry and thrust my cunt up at him, one last rub of greasy juices onto his face, and then my legs went loose and he slipped free, patting my pussy for good luck, and he crawled up alongside me. I grabbed his face, brought it to mine, and licked my cum off his mouth and chin and the tip of his cute crooked nose. The firelight wasn't as bright, the heat not as intense. His face no longer glowed red like a horny devil's, but with a paler shade of coloring that made me think, for some reason, of the hearts on Valentine cards. "Be my Valentine," I whispered, but I don't think he heard me, and it's just as well because my head wasn't screwed on too straight and I couldn't have explained to him what I meant by the remark. Not in language, at least. It was so atmospheric! The cool breeze coming in,off the lake, the warmth of the fire where we lay, my body hot and his so chilly by comparison.
Chilly? By God, it wouldn't be! Not when I put to work all the skills that Gail Goodman had worked so hard to help me learn! "Get out of those clothes, turkey," I grinned, sitting up and jerking up on his t-shirt. "I want skin next to skin, and it had better be yours, if you know what's good for you!"
"It doesn't have to be good just for me," he said, touching my tits, and I hung my head to one side, smiling. Words were unnecessary to tell him it had been very good for me. And was gonna get better!
He finished taking off his shirt. I was already on my belly, undoing his pants. The thing I wanted was inside those pants, and as I pulled them down, it came jumping out at me. He wasn't wearing any underwear, which made it a lot easier. His hot cock brushed my face and I grabbed it. I needed two hands, not because he was enormous but because my whole body was shaking with the anticipation of what I was bout to do. I don't remember how many blow jobs I've delivered, but none of them had mattered the way this one mattered. My lips fluttered and my tongue yearned for the taste of his hot salty flesh.
He wasn't built like a bull, in case you're interested. I used to think that a guy swinging less than nine inches of bony gristle was a victim of nature and probably a latent homo as well, but I knew better, after a lot of bad rides on big dicks. Alex's prick was six inches long or thereabouts-they tell me that's the average size of a pecker, but I've never checked the statistics with a tape measure of my own. He felt clubby and thick in my hands, but he wasn't as big around as a barrel of beer. A fantastic fistful, throbbing against my palm, and I could rub my thumb along the vein that carried his heart's blood into his cock, kept it stiff all the while I teased it with my hand and my face. There was a little ridge where his foreskin had been cut away. I tested that with my thumb too, rubbing round and round him, and all the while I was guiding the flat, plush knob of his cock across my upper hp, bumping it against my mouth and nose. He kicked off his pants and lay down flat, and then I was over him, and my mouth opened naturally and his cock thrust inside just as naturally, and I started to suck the fuck out of him. He might have been a stranger until just a short while ago, but we had become somewhat more than friends in that short time. His cock felt as if it belonged in my mouth, and I felt my tongue and lips adapting gracefully to his presence. God, I was sucking him the way Gail sucked cocks! I had never nursed a cock so eagerly before, not even when I was just past my cherry and sex was still something I found rather interesting and exciting. It hadn't interested me or excited me in a long time (not unless I was doing it with Gail), but I was more than excited tonight, here on the beach, a stone's throw from the rippling waters of Lake Erie. My guts were afire with the need, and I began to understand how people could really go wild about this basic human act, this meeting of man and woman, cock and cunt.
All the time before, I'd done it, but mostly because I wanted to be Gail's friend. Tonight I was doing it because I wanted to, and it made all the difference.
Alex petted my head as I moved up and down on his rod. I couldn't decide what to do next. I kept raising my head and sliding my mouth down the outside of his shaft. I even spread his legs and nuzzled into his fork and started licking and sucking his balls. They were hairy, and his body was pretty hairy, as my fingers on his chest testified, and the hair felt so crisp and clean between my fingers I wanted to scream big as mine, but as rigid, and he smoothed my hand down, let me feel around his chest. My fingers slid into his armpit, and the hairs were damp with sweat. I could smell his perspiration, and it was a heady aroma-the dean scent of a clean body. A body in excitement. As much excitement as I felt? I didn't stop mouthing his cock so I could ask him. I wolfed that sweet prick down, and I licked its exterior from tip to root, and I sucked his nuts, and I even licked past them, toward his asshole. I didn't care. I would do anything. Anything at all, if it could turn him on the way he'd turned me on. Or maybe he was already that excited?
I looked up, my grinning mouth full of his hard pecker, and he was grinning too. "Looks good on you," he said. "I think I'll just leave it there."
I lifted my head, drooling, and I wiped my mouth with one hand. Saliva was flowing like a river behind my lips and I swallowed hard. My mouth was as wet as my cunt, and my cunt made Lake Erie look like the fucking desert! "I know a hell of a lot better places to put it," I said, and I lifted my eyebrows suggestively.
He got the message. He caught my hand, pulled me atop him. I squealed in glee as I mounted his body, straddling him in a squat. I reached under me, grabbed his prick, rubbed its drooled-over knob back and forth through my crackful of matted hair, making him tickle the almost tickled-to-death lips of my hole, and then I held him straight up and I settled down slowly, feeling every inch of him as he tensed and began to thrust upward, meeting me as I came down, his cock sliding to rest in my snatch. "Sweet God," I moaned as I finally touched his groin with my sopping-wet beaver. I could feel his balls under my labes and his hard body, taut against mine, and he was holding me by the waist while my legs clamped snugly alongside his body. I reached into my crotch, touched my clit, and moaned like a wolf (wolfess?) at the starry sky overhead, and I watched the cry climb upward to those stars, along with a few sparks from our fire.
Our fire. It was burning down, way down. It'd need some more wood soon. Oh, shit fucking hell, who needed fire? If I'd been this hot, bodily, last January, Ohio wouldn't have had to worry about that humungus blizzard that snowed us in for what seemed like years. The snow would have melted like SNAP! I giggled softly at the idea, but Alex was using his hands on my waist, and I felt his rhythm, and I started to sway, and the swaying made his cock rotate in my hole, and the rotation made me want-need-to do more than just sway, goddamn it! I began to move up and down, very very slowly at first, because my possessive twat hated to lose even an inch of the stiff prick that filled me so perfectly. It felt so good, filled with his dick! It had never felt so good! But the friction reminded me that this was only the beginning. My cuntal lips were raw from the orgasms he'd sucked out of me, and the scraping of his rod agitated that rawness, made my skin crawl and my heart skip more beats than seemed possible, and I started humping. Humping!
"Oh, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," I panted, pulling his hands up to clutch at my tits. My cupcakes needed some attention too. They were as hot as if they had just come from the oven, and the nipples felt like bee stings, but his fingers could be so gentle and soothing, where they rubbed and toyed their way across my throbbing tits. I closed my eyes and groaned in delight. I was in control now, my body moving up and down, his thrusting to meet me, but the rhythm was mine and the power was mine, and I knew that soon, very soon, the orgasm would be mine, too. No, maybe I'd share that with Alex. Mmmmmmmm.
Gail had immediately picked out the cute one, of course. God only knew what they were up to in the house by this time. Maybe God even cared. I didn't give a shit. If she could possibly feel half the ecstasy that was racing through my bloodstream right now, she was luckier than she had ever earned the right to be. God, look who was talking! I didn't deserve what I was getting! But that didn't mean I was going to crawl off that cock, not when it was banging deep into my pussy and bumping its blunted snout on the receptive flesh of my cervix, reminding me that even a six-inch dong can fill a woman's hole to overflow. When I came down on him, I was stuffed. Like at Thanksgiving dinner, only you couldn't get this kid of high from turkey and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. You could only get this kind of a lift from a stiff dick that was in you, that belonged in you. And I knew, fucking down to meet his dong's excited stabs, that Alex belonged in me the way no other cock ever had.
As we fucked, I thought back over the last year or so. Me and Gail. Popular girls. We could have been cheerleaders, but who needed all the practice sessions? There was no way we could miss being princesses at the homecoming dance this fall. The football team voted on that, and how many guys on the team had we not balled at least once, me and Gail? God, all those guys! Double dates almost every Friday and Saturday. Picnics and long drives in the country in the afternoons. Skinnydipping and fucking on dry leaves afterwards. Fucking at the drive-in. Fucking in the back of someone's van. Skipping study hall to make a quickie foursome in the school basement and watching over our shoulders all the time to make sure none of the janitors heard the noise. Gail had turned me on to sex, and then she'd turned me on to boys, and I'd done my damnedest to profit by her lessons. But when you got down to it, I had never been really, truly, fucked. Not once. I tried to remember the faces of the guys who had shoved their rods up me. Just a blur in my memory. Well, by damn, I was being fucked right now, and I knew it! And it was okay by me! As Alex kept fondling my tits, I put my hands on his thighs, leaned back, and took his cock at a slightly different angle that made it feel even better going in and out of me. My cunt was sloppy with my jism, and soon it would be sticky, awash with the seed of that sweet horny tool of his. And I wouldn't need a tissue or Handi-wipe afterward. I'd just let that juicy stuff clot in my hole and my hair, feel it run down my legs in a river of sweet after-sex. I guess you could call me that "Finally Hooked on Fucking" Girl.
"Oh, God," I said, laughing despite my total involvement. He didn't miss a stroke, but I saw him raise his eyebrows. "I should have told you," I added. "I'm jailbait. If a cop comes along and catches us, you're in trouble. I'm only seven-aaaagggghhhhh-teen!"
"You fuck a lot older," he said, and for some reason that struck me as totally hilarious. I'd been leaning back, riding him aristocratically, but I just cracked up. I fell forward, collapsing onto his chest, and he turned my face and kissed me, and my little tits were hot and tight against his chest, the nipples a mile long and throbbing every inch of that mile, and I sighed, and then he rolled me over, and now he was on top, without missing a stroke. I was on my back, legs lifted, and he was pumping it into me, that stiff ramming dong of his, and it just seemed to go deeper and deeper every time, and I thought, Christ, this whole day has been worth it! Gail making me do her while that weirdo neighbor kid spied on us with his binoculars; Gail and the pizza boy; Gail and the hitchhiker, which led, almost automatically, to me and that fruitcake case cop. Oh, God, for another crack at something like this, I would, I swear on my very life, I'd go through this whole day again! Every second of it! Even the gush of that policeman's jizz into my face, as sticky and nasty and yucky as the mind inside his skull. But who was I to judge? Maybe he felt as good doing that to me as I felt, now, getting this hard driving fuck from Alex. Alex. God, I was as bad as Gail! I didn't even know his last name! All I knew was that he was a college student at KSU. Hey! Barring the cop, who really didn't count, I was taking on my first, my very very first, OLDER MAN!!!!
That, in itself, was a milestone, I guess, but even more thrilling was the way I felt. Maybe it was true after all. Maybe you do get a better ride from a guy who's had the chance to get dry behind his ears. No high school fuckmate had ever made my juices flow the way they were flowing now, had ever made me itch with the need to get screwed harder, faster, nd most important, right NOW!
"How much older do I fuck?" I asked him, panting out the words as we wrestled and fought, both of us eager for the same bursting result. Only way to fight.
"At least one-to-five worth," he grinned, and he pounded it into me more times than I could count. I scratched his back, bit his neck, wriggled my sweaty thighs around his body, and pushed my twat up to meet him, and I could feel it starting to happen inside me, the orgasm, the explosion, the Big 0. The last thing I thought before I came was, Christ, it never felt this good when I did it to myself! Would I ever find anything to make me feel this good again? I didn't care. Fuck the future. No, fuck me! Fuck meeeeeee!!!
That's what I was screaming as my insides erupted and my pussy began to milk up and down the throbbing shaft of his dong like a giant squeezing fist, clamping tight on every sweet inch of him, and he was in me deep, so deep I didn't want to let him go. I moaned and held him tighter with my legs and I thrust my cunt up at him, and he pushed it into me, that rod of his, giving it a frisky, randy wiggle, making it move inside my hole, and even though my eyes were shut tight and I was moaning like a bitch and floating on a cloud among the stars high above us, I heard the sudden gasp that burst from his lips and I felt his body go taut everywhere it touched mine. His cock seemed to expand inside my convulsing cunt, and the sensation of being imploded was too fucking much! I screeched again, and then I felt it, the sharp stabbing jabs of Alex's dong as he began to come his jizz into me. I held him tightly and we rolled about, his rod spurting goo up my chute, my pussy eating every drop of the juicy stuff and sucking at him, hungry for more, still more, and we were both making sounds like predatory animals of some kind but they were the music of live, those sounds, and they were like the ringing of sweet silver bells in my ears. When I bothered to listen at all.
While it was happening, while I kept moaning "I'm coming, ooohhh, you made me come, nobody ever made me come before, not like this, never, do it again, keep fucking me, can't you feel it, can't you feel it all?" I thought the whole thing might last forever, and I couldn't think of a better way to go through eternity. But even orgasms have to stop sometime, and mine began to ebb after maybe the fifth or sixth separate set of convulsions had shot through my pussy and disseminated through my whole body. God, I was numb! I didn't know if I'd ever be able to feel anything again. Gasping, shaken, I let go my hold on his body and I slumped back onto the ground. He lay atop me, his cock making a last stab or two into me, but the stiffness was going out of him and I could feel his softening pecker begin its slow, inexorable retreat down my pussy tube. That's a marvelous thing to feel, by the way, a cock going limp inside you after it's done such a great job and sent you beyond the farthest stars. I was Carla Skywalker. They ought to make a movie about me. And if they did, Darth Vader should watch his ass!
Neither of us spoke for a while. His softened tube was in me, but only just, and my tunnel was still hot and raw from the workout. I didn't think words were especially necessary, so I used my lips and tongue on his face, my hands up and down his body, to tell him thanks and more thanks. We kissed a lot, playfully now, laughing in breathless voices, for he was as winded as I was. He'd done a hell of a job on me and I thought, God, if he hands out this kind of screwing to a bar pickup, what does he do in an emotional relationship?
I was wondering about that when I saw his face in the dying firelight, and I had never seen a face so beautiful. At least, not on a man. Redford? John Travolta? Peter Frampton? Jackson Browne? None of them came close. I reached up, touched his cheek with my fingers, touched his crooked nose, let my fingers slide down onto his lips. He kissed them, then started nibbling at my fingertips, using just enough teeth to let me know he was still alive and maybe still interested. Oh, sweet Jesus, I thought, and my heart was pounding madly inside me. I was seventeen years old and I'd never really been in love with anyone, except maybe Gail, if that even counted, but there was a swelling behind my cupcake titties, making them push up toward his bare, hairy chest, and my heart raced faster and my head was dizzy like I'd been hyping on a really good joint, too good to toke and pass on to the next friend in line, and I wondered if that was how love felt.
"Mmmmm," he said, and he eased off me. His soft cock left my hole and there was a slow ooze of juices from me. Sticky, warm jism leaking from my labes, into the wet matted curls of my beaver. I reached down, touched myself wonderingly. The liquid, thick and viscous, was like a balm. I started to giggle as I began rubbing it onto the fucked-out lips of my cleft, and it felt good, really good-so good that my clit began to peek out of its hiding place to see just what the hell was going on this time. I closed my hand over my snatch and squeezed, and it hurt in a way, and in another way it felt incredible. Alex covered my hand with his, and he helped me squeeze, and our eyes met. Magic.
"I didn't intend for this to happen," I told him. "I don't think it would have, if I hadn't been so drunk. Maybe I'm still drunk. My God, I can't remember how many times I've done it, but I never felt this way afterwards. Nobody ever made me come. Not big. Jesus, I must have gone over the top a dozen times! I always thought multiple orgasms were something Helen Gurley Brown invented to juice up "Cosmo", you know? But, wow! You're gorgeous. You know that?"
"So are you." He leaned in as if he were going to kiss me, then he drew back. "Are you really just seventeen?" I nodded. He laughed softly. "Well, it's not the first law I've ever broken. And I doubt if it'll be the last. If it's any consolation, you weren't that drunk, and I didn't mean for it to happen either. I just saw the way you stared through the window at Chuck and your girlfriend, and I figured I'd better get you out of the way before you started ripping somebody's eyes out." I gave him a quizzical look. "Hey, kid, I've been around. I know jealous when I see it. But what was the jealousy for? Because your friend got Chuck and you wound up with the Igor lookalike, or was it because Chuck got your friend?"
He patted my tits. "Thought so. Don't look away. Let me see your eyes. Mmm, your hair looks nice in the firelight. It looked good in the bar, too, but I don't like the frizzy curls you tease it into. Know what else I like? Cute chubby asses. Like this one." And he reached down, caught a handful of mine, and pinched it gently. I squealed gleefully, and rolled atop him. My hand slid down his body as we kissed, and his cock was nice to hold even if it was small and soft and sticky. More of that sticky was still oozing from my happy hole and I made my thighs come together, pressing into the delight that still pulsated there.
"You wanta hear a dumb story?" I asked.
"How dumb?"
"The pits."
"It'd have to be pretty dumb to match some of the stories I could tell you. Go ahead."
So I told him. I won't repeat it now, because if you've read this far, you already know just about everything. Me, Gail, the kind of things we did, the things that happen to us. I didn't hold back a goddamned bit. I told him all of it. Even the way I felt about Gail. Or the way I'd felt about her until maybe twenty minutes ago. Lying here, now, atop Alex and remembering the way he'd plugged my pussy, I knew that I had been thinking way too simplistically. I squeezed his cock, and it didn't bother me about Gail and that other guy. I didn't care what they were doing, what he might be doing to Gail. She was still my best friend, but that certain sexual dependency I'd been feeling toward her-I didn't feel it any more. And I told Alex. "Maybe," I said in conclusion, "maybe I'm in love with you. Does that sound dumb?"
"Pretty dumb," he answered. But he said it in a nice way, and he smiled, and then he kissed the end of my nose. "About as dumb as a guy who picks up a girl in a bar and bangs her on the beach and then wonders why it felt so much better with her than with any of the other girls he's screwed the last too-many years. Hmmm?"
I rolled off him and looked up with big, eager eyes. "You felt it too? Something really wild happening between us? Something that you never felt before?"
"I wouldn't say 'never'," he replied, touching my tits. "But it's been a hell of a long time. Yes, I felt it, Carla. Damn!" He lay back, staring up at the cloudless night sky, the millions of stars in the firmament of deep blue-black. I laid my head on his chest and felt the soft tickle of his hair. He put his arm around me and I snuggled closer.
"But for one thing, it's not very likely to go much further. We're both just up here knocking around for a short vacation, and when the vacation is over, we have homes, or at least places to go back to. You're seventeen years old and I'm twenty-eight, which means I was in the sixth grade the year you were born." Twenty-eight? Gods, he really was an older man! I played with his nipples, and I coaxed a little more information from him, such as the fact that he'd spent four years in the army after high school, that his broken nose was a souvenir from a knockdown free-for-all in a Munich bar, and that he'd be graduating from KSU later in the summer, after which he was going to enter the glorious world of newspaper journalism and become a world-famous reporter, exposing corruption in all kinds of high places, destroying the evil. "And you know as well as I do that you'll go home, and I'll go home, and neither of us will ever see each other again. I mean, Christ, Carla, after I graduate, I go to work. The Logan "Tribune". It's not the "Washington Post" or the "New York Times", but it's a start-"
"Logan, Ohio?" I asked, sitting up. He sat up too, nodding. "And that's your car, the VW?" He nodded again. "And you'll be tied to a desk in the editorial office twenty-four hours a day and they'll bring you your meals and give you a bedpan so you won't even have to leave the press room to go to the john?"
He laughed. "Well, hell, no! I'm not that dedicated!"
"So?" I challenged. "It is exactly eighteen miles from the Logan city limits sign to the Albany city limits sign. Sure! Down 33? We'll be neighbors. Almost. You just get in your VW and you take Spruce Street and at the edge of town it turns into Route 33 and you just drive, and before you know it, you're parking your VW in front of my house and ringing my doorbell. I mean, if you want to. This didn't feel like a one-night stand to me, and I don't think it did to you, either, Alex-what the hell is your last name? Mine is Ney, but I think I'll change it to Yea, as far as you're concerned, that is. Lovejoy? Alex Lovejoy? Oh, that's too much! Well, if you love joy... I mean, as much as I do... I'll give you my phone number. There isn't even a toll charge between Logan and Albany. You can call me free and let me know you're on your way. If you want to, that is. It's up to you."
His mouth came down on mine, and his hand cupped one of my tits. I groaned, thrust my tongue into him, and we rocked on the sand. Our fire was almost dead, just smoldering remnants of the flames that had crackled and gleamed alongside our fucking, but the heat in my body hadn't diminished a particle. "God," I said, withdrawing from the kiss, "listen to me! That's the first time in my life I ever made plans in advance! Usually I don't know what's going to happen five minutes from now, and usually I don't even care, but-" " "I know what's going to happen to you in about five minutes," Alex interrupted. He slid closer, and I felt it, his cock, beginning to twitch and grow with renewed interest. My hand went down, captured him, and I started to work him eagerly in my fist, shucking him back and forth as he fattened in my fist.
"Is it going to be as good, o seer of the future?" I asked. "What does Karnak see in his crystal ball?"
"It's going to be a lot better," he whispered. "I wasn't in love the first time I fucked you." I spread my legs, pulled his engorged cock, helped him mount me. "Are you now?"
"I don't know. Honestly. I don't know."
"You will by the third time," I murmured. I closed my eyes then, and his mouth came down upon mine just as his cock stabbed up into my pussy. I moaned into his mouth for the pleasure of feeling him inside me once again, inside where he belonged, and his prick was hard and majestic, puncturing me at my most vulnerable, most empty spot. But it wasn't empty now, not with his sweet dick in me. "Oh, do it," I sighed. "Fuck me. Really fuck me. And don't hold anything back. I'll give you all I've got if you'll do the same for me."
"I'll do more," he promised, and he began to stroke, slowly, careful of my tender labes. The friction was lazy but still there, and I twined one heel around his leg.
We moved easily into the ageless, timeless rhythm of the fuck, and it was slow and sweet and dreamy, not the mad frantic rush of our first time together. We'd gone for hot, unslakable passion the first time out. This time-maybe it was for love. I didn't know, and only time could tell. But it felt more like love than anything else I'd ever experienced, and my heart was as full of hope as my pussy was of cock. A dynamite combination. My hands slid down his back and I cupped the cheeks of his ass, working the firm manly flesh of him. "Do it," I purred. "Oh, really do it. God, one good fuck is just like a Chinese meal! Twenty minutes later you have to have another one! Something tells me this could be addictive. You want to be my pusher, mmmmm?"
"This kind of pushing?" he replied, his cock moving deeply into me. It was exactly the kind of pushing. I didn't have to tell him in words. My head went back and my mouth gaped open and I could have been screaming, but no sound came through my lips, nothing but the rush of breath being sucked into my lungs and whooshed out again, like air escaping from a balloon. His belly was against mine, his pubic bone rubbing slow semi-circles onto my fully erected clit, and I had him by the ass, tempting him even deeper. My pussy muscles wanted to eat, and that piece of bony gristle jutting from his loins was the chefs special.
We changed position slightly, and now we were on our sides, and we hadn't missed a stroke, and his cock hadn't been out of me for even a second. I pushed against him and he pushed against me, and we made the kind of love I had read about in books and seen in the movies but never really dreamed would ever happen to me. But it was happening now. His hands were around me, on my ass, and mine were on his ass, and we just kept pulling and pinching and squeezing. My leg slid around him and he managed to get in, even deeper, and I closed my eyes, purring like a cat. "Oh, let's do it," I said. "Let's do it every way that it can be done, and when we run out, we'll make up new ways!"
"You're hard to say no to," he told me.
"Then don't ever tell me no," I whimpered. Our mouths met.
And then something icy cold touched my shoulder and I heard a voice, a million miles away, say, gruffly, "Hey, mister! That girl is under age! Are you molesting her or does it just look that way?"
I opened my eyes, fast, and I was staring down the double barrels of a shotgun. They were a mile long, and at first that was all I could see. I froze, and so did Alex, and his cock melted inside me, and I made a choking "Gahhhh!!" sound.
And then my eyes cleared up a little, and I saw that the other end of the shotgun was in the hands of a girl. "You BITCH!" I shouted. "What the FUCK are you trying to prove?????"
Gail let the barrel drop and she just stood there, a blanket draped around her body. "I don't know," she said. "It seemed pretty funny, but... "
CHAPTER SEVEN
She wasn't alone. Chuck was standing behind her, also wrapped in a blanket. "We saw your fire," Gail said, dropping to her knees beside me and Alex, "and you looked like you were having fun, so we thought we'd come out and keep you company."
"Well it was pretty damned stupid, if you ask me!"
"I'm sorry," she said. "I told you I was sorry. We found the gun while we were looking for the wool blankets. Christ, it's chilly out here! You must be cooking, the two of you! Chuck, doll, would you run back to the house and get some kindling wood? Let's have a real bonfire. And bring that bottle of Wild Turkey, too! Let's have an orgy while we're at it!"
The blanket slipped off her shoulders, and she was naked under it. Her body was as gorgeous as ever, and I knew that Chuck had been tasting all the delights of her body, but I didn't care. And do you know what made me feel even better? Alex looked up at her, at the full glory of Gail-the long tousled blonde hair, the bouncy ripe tits, the shaven place between her legs where even the fading firelight demonstrated her hairlessness, and her long, sleek thighs and calves-he looked up at her, and he said, "Hi," and then he put his arm around me again and drew me close to him. Our eyes met and I knew for sure that he didn't regret having drawn me in the lottery of fate and bar pickups.
Gail spread out the blanket. "Here," she said. "Stretch out on this. God, isn't the sand cold? And what about about all those little pebbles? Oh, here comes Chuck. Let's get this fire stoked up."
The fire crackled as Chuck tossed the kindling wood into it, and flames shot up. He added some heavier pieces of wood, and it was warmer, the way it had been when Alex and I first built the fire, But he and I didn't need flames to keep us warm. I had to confess that the blanket was a little more comfortable than the bare ground, though.
Gail spread another blanket near ours, and she patted it. Chuck sat down beside her. They were both naked, and I could see goosebumps on their flesh. Chuck's cock hung down, fairly long, very soft. Damn! Alex's prick was soft, too! Gail's dumb asshole trick with the shotgun had startled the lust out of him. But not for long, I promised myself.
"A pagan orgy," Gail said. "Wine, women, and song. Who wants a swallow of Wild Turkey? Ooohhh!! It really goes down easy, doesn't it? I think I'm getting warm from the inside out." I could have told her all about that.
I didn't know if I wanted to do it like this, though. I mean, Gail and I had been in group things before, but that was the old days, the old Carla. And I wasn't that girl any more. But Alex just shrugged as if to say, "I don't mine," and I nodded. We treated ourselves to a couple of hearty swigs of Wild Turkey, then kissed the drip over from each other's mouths. The liquor tingled as I lapped it from his lips, and it tasted headier than when I had poured it down my throat, straight. Alex put the cork back into the bottle, and when we looked up, Chuck was moaning his head off while Gail lay across his lap, doing her best to suck his cock off.
She was showing off. It was like her. Chuck had a long dick, and she was giving him a pretty good job of deep-throating, moving her lips way, way down the shaft of his rod as it erected in her mouth. She could almost touch his balls with her pursed lips, and I saw one of her eyes flicker in our direction, as if she wanted to make sure we were getting a good look. "Christ," Chuck panted, grabbing her head, "I think this lady is part barracuda! Can you believe these chicks are only seventeen, old buddy? Damn, but this is worth going to jail for!"
Alex didn't answer him. He put his fingers on my chin, cupped it, leaned in to kiss me. His breath tasted of bourbon, and so did mine, and I could feel that buzzing in my head that you get from good liquor and good dope. We lay down on the blanket then, our heads pointing in opposite directions. He fished into my hairy hole with gentle, questing fingers, and I was reaching for his cock, opening my mouth in anticipation almost as soon as my hand brushed his moist little worm.
I licked him eagerly and realized with delight that the moisture was the aroused juice of my pussy, in which he'd coated his dick during our second, interrupted fuck. It tasted good. I hoped he liked what he was eating, because the piece of meat in my mouth was just what the doctor ordered. I sucked hard, and he began to get hard. Oh, yeah!
I could hear Chuck moaning lusciously as Gail began to work on him, and I knew what her mouth could feel like when it was hot and primed for action. But I had my own lips wrapped around what had to be the sweetest, hardest dick in existence, and a stealthy tongue was making like Lewis and Clark up my pussy, and I didn't have to moan to show Alex that I felt good. I just rubbed his face with my snatch and he slurped into the wet, milky juices oozing from me, and my tongue and teeth did wicked but delightful things to that hard pecker I nursed inside my mouth.
He was leaking cum in little bubbles, and I guess my tongue was partly to blame for that. I was holding him by the root of his upstanding cock, making him steady, and I was using the tip of my tongue like a little dagger, spearing it into the slitted groove at the very end of his prick as if I meant to get inside him. My tongue was cruel but loving, and I felt him squirm, heard the little sighs from his mouth reverberate through my cunt, and it made me giggle, anxious to do it again. So I did. I was seventeen years old, I'd been sexually active, so to speak, for a year or more, and I had been pretty damned active in that year, thanks to Gail. But for the very first time I was sucking a cock I enjoyed sucking and a skilled mouth, a male mouth, was exploring my hole while his fingers and palms caressed all the sensitive places between my belly and knees. Let me tell you, I had plenty of those! God, it was almost like being a virgin again! I could almost convince myself that when he mounted me again, pushed his rod up my cunt and started to fuck, my cherry would pop and little rivulets of blood would cluster and clot on my inner thighs and amid my forest of dark pussy hair. I sucked harder, not wanting to blow him off completely, wishing only to let him know he was loved and appreciated. I wanted to feel his cum rocketing into my gulping mouth, feel that viscous oily cum ooze down my throat in a hot torrent of passion, but it didn't necessarily have to be now. The night was young, after all, and hadn't he told me that he would soon be living only a few minutes' drive from my house? For someone who doesn't believe in making heavy future plans, I was doing a lot of prognosticating, mostly about me and Alex and what we would be into by the time fall rolled around and he had become a resident of our neighbor city, Logan.
Wonder what my parents would think if I just packed up and moved out of our house and into Alex's? Or could I do that? I was under eighteen, and consequently jailbait until next May 29. I had a year of high school to finish.
Christ! Just listen to Carla Jean, the girl who believes in taking life as it comes and worrying about tomorrow when it gets here! I hadn't given this much thought to my future since I was six years old and wondering if that baby tooth I'd just lost really would grow back-and if the Tooth Fairy would leave something nice under my pillow in exchange for the now-useless molar. And here I was now, seventeen, mouth filled with hard shafted cock, and trying to figure out how to tell my parents I had found my man and wanted nothing but his body and his soul. Well, mostly his body, I guess. But was that the kind of thing you could discuss with your parents, in a civilized manner? Or with my rather stodgy, old-fashioned parents? Goddamn it, I was doing it again! Making plans when I should have been sucking dick!
If I didn't get my shit together, this might become a habit. Hell! More of those "might becomes" and "what ifs" and all the other time-wasters that are part of rational thought. And who could be rational, could even afford to be rational, in my situation? I opened my mouth and throat wide and tried to swallow Alex's dick. He stabbed into me, pretty deep, and the head of his dong went further into my mouth than I'd ever taken a cock before. It wasn't up to Gail's sword-swallowing routine (really, she could join a circus and get star billing, though I doubt if she'd settle for swallowing just swords), but it was good. I could feel the growing sense of commitment on my part, the interest and affection blossoming like a flower inside me, and I knew I'd get better, given a little practice. Something to work on later. And there would be a later. I'd make sure of that.
Alex wriggled back, drawing his pecker half out of my mouth. I resisted, grunting "Nnnnnn!!" and I clung to the knob of him with my lips and teeth, but he'd stopped eating my pussy, which now, in many ways, resembled the Okefenokee Swamp, and he was saying, "Let's finish what we started to do, baby. Let's fuck."
"Well!" I said happily, releasing his rod and sitting up. "Why didn't you say so to begin with?" We met, both of us sitting on the blanket, which really did feel a lot better than the cold pebbly sand, and our mouths came together and we drank each other's juices, tongues scooting back and forth, saliva flowing from one mouth to the other. We made smacking sounds, and his hands were down my chest, pinching the taut, love-hardened nipples of my tits, and my hand was in his lap. Bet I don't have to tell you what I was holding onto!
"Lie down," he said, and I was more than happy to do just that. I lay down on my back. He shook his head. "Unh-uhh. Turn over. I'm going to put it in from behind."
"Uh, wait a min," I said, "I ought to tell you-not that I don't want to do everything with you, baby, but, I mean-well, I never had it up the ass before. I've always been kinda afraid to try. Afraid it would hurt, you know?"
"It probably won't," he said gravely, "but I was talking about rear entry. Of this sweet little rosebud," and he touched the pouty labes of my puss with his fingertip. I squealed excitedly and spread my legs, humping my ass up toward him. My head was down, and I could look back through my lets as he got into position behind me, and then the head of his dong was sopping up the sticky juices of my wet hole and I said, "Oooohhh, yeah!"
He worked into me slowly, carefully, but I was so hot and ready I just slammed back and swallowed his dick in one pussy gulp. He went into me, right to the balls, and I reached under myself and cupped his nuts, holding him tight against me. "That's the spot," I panted, feeling the sweat of passion ooze through my pores. I jiggled his sac and I felt his nuts bang together. I heard him go "Aaaahhhh," and then he was holding me by the ass and I let go of his rod. It was time for a fucking, and I was due to be the recipient. "So what are you waiting for?" I asked, my anxious hand dropping off his testicles.
He wasn't waiting for anything. He pinched my chubby ass and he started to fuck, and from that moment on, I couldn't just lie there and take it. I had to react, and react I did. I yelped and squealed, and beat my fists on the blanket, and now and then I'd reach back through the gape of my legs, feeling with my fingers the hard male power of his prick as it stabbed me again and again in my most vulnerable place. "Oh, I feel like I'm dying," I said in a faraway wistful voice. "Don't stop, baby, don't ever stop!"
I looked around, saw Gail and Chuck on their blanket. He was tilting the Wild Turkey bottle, pouring bourbon down his throat like water, and she was going to town on his dick. She had the tip of his long tool in her mouth, and she was sucking that, sucking it ravenously, using her hands to scrunch and squeeze his balls. From time to time her mouth moved down his rod, and she took a lot of his length into her seemingly bottomless oral cavity, but she was watching me and Alex with one eye, and I didn't miss her coy little wink. It seemed to say, "I told you we'd have some fun up at the lake, didn't I, babydoll?" and for a moment I was too embarrassed to wink back my "Sure did!" I thought of all that had happened to us today, this day that had begun like any other summer day. A lot of changes, inside me and outside of me too. I wondered if I was the same Carla Jean Ney who'd gotten out of bed at noon and ridden her moped over to Gail's house.
Oh, damn it, worrying about the past is nearly as bad as fretting over the future! And I was getting too damned sweet a fucking to justify me in thinking about anything except the cock in my cunt, sliding greasily in and out of my vulnerable yet willing hole, stirring me from head to toe with each of those delicious deep thrusts. And his hands, caressing my ass. He even liked chubby asses. Like mine. His fingers rolled off a little pinch of fat and I purred in heartfelt jubilation. I was glad I wasn't the same Carla I'd been fourteen hours or so ago.
Chuck recorked the bourbon bottle, put it down, burped, grinned, and then his cock exploded in Gail's face. "Ah, do it, do it," she panted, allowing his jizz to flood her face. She held the spouting end of his rod against her skin, and some of the juice ran into her mouth and some of it dripped from her chin. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slid lasciviously up and down his prick, sucking up the cum as it trickled down his long thick shaft.
She made a production of it, but I guess that's Gail's way. And I saw her looking in my direction now and then, but really I was too busy having fun to pay much attention. If her showing off was for my benefit, or Alex's, it was wasted. Alex was still pumping the prick into me, and my cunt was in raptures of delight, eating every inch of meat he could thrust my way. My ass swayed from side to side, and his fingers pawed happily at my little rolls of chubbiness, and I thought, it never felt so good having a fat little ass before! Maybe I shouldn't lose those three pounds I'd been worrying about. What would he have to squeeze, if I did?
His cock kept on working, and he had my buttocks spread. "Did anyone ever tell you that your asshole looks like a pinprick in the middle of that pretty little crack? Cute, tiny-call it irresistible." And he started to finger my anus, grinding the tip of his pinky (I guess it was his pinky but I couldn't really see) at the stretched tautness of my hole.
"Ooohhh," I said, "that hurts a little." He stopped. "But it hurts nice," I was quick to add.
"Oh, don't stop!"
"Know what I'd like to put in here?" he wondered, working at me again. I was stretched, and tight, and his fingertip felt enormous probing at me that way, but I couldn't deny that it felt almost wickedly nice. Particularly when he'd push with his fingertip and struggle with the reluctance of my sphincter muscles. My head jerked up and my back arched, and all his cock slid into me, and he kept working, and I just said, "Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!" over and over.
And then he was in my asshole with his finger, slick as pie. My eyes got big and I whistled.
"Wow!"
"Try this?" he asked, doing a corkscrew motion with the finger. "Holy fucking wow!!!!" I blurted.
He pulled back with his cock and I felt it sliding from my eager, moist tube. "Don't stop fucking," I said.
"Ouch!" He popped right out of me. "Oh, put it back!"
"How'd you like to have it right-here?" he asked, easing his finger from my virginal ass. And replacing it with the pressure of his sticky-wet, fattened cock knob. He pushed, and I could really tell the difference between his pecker and his pinky.
I'd never allowed anyone to fuck my asshole before, though I'd been asked more than a couple of times. Gail said it was a blast, but she wasn't really into it, and I didn't see why I should trust the word of someone who cornholed on a very occasional basis. Anyway-the asshole is tiny and tight, and the male cock is big and thick, and wouldn't it tear me up or something if I let him stick that prick of his up my shitter?
On the other hand, I really didn't know. He'd been gentle with his finger. And certainly if I changed my mind and asked him to cool it with the buggery, he'd whip that dick right out of me and return it to its proper hole. "I'll try anything. With you," I said. "Go ahead. If you think it will fit. I really don't, but then-OHMYGODDDDDDD!!!"
Damn! I guess he'd done a fair job of opening me with his finger. All it took was one sure push of his cock against my asshole and he was fucking IN me. I thought my eyes would pop right out of my head. I said "Jesus," reverently, my voice high and thin and tight, and I was really clutching at the blanket now, clawing at it with my fingernails. My knees dug down hard, making hollows in the sand under the blanket, and it felt like he'd shoved a Cadillac up my rectum. And that was only the tip of him. When he started to fuck me, what would it feel like? Ooooohhhh, something told me I was on the verge of finding out!
He reached under me, found my tits, their stiff puckered nipples. "If it hurts, don't hesitate to tell me," he said considerately, and then he cupped my titties, firmly, possessively, and he started to fuck.
I yelped. Oh, God, I yelped! "Want me to stop?" he asked, fingering my nips. I shook my head, told him absolutely not, I was just getting used to the feel of something going into a hole that had previously been used only for letting things out. "Okay," he said, and he made his cock dance in and out of me.
Another hand touched me, on the back. It wasn't Alex's, for his fingers were calloused at the tips. Jesus! I'd forgotten already what Gail's fingers felt like on my skin. "Ooohhh, babydoll," she purred in a soft kittenish voice, "Look what he's doing to you! I thought you were the kind of girl who didn't dig this kind of sex?"
"I used to be," I panted, "but before I could tell him, I wasn't that kind of girl anymore. God, does it always feel like this?"
"Sure," Gail said. "Big, swollen, and you're so tight around it you don't know whether to die or just moan your guts out." She leaned down. I didn't see it, but I felt her hair tickle my back, and then she kissed me, right at the small of my back, and her lips were like leeches clinging to me. Her hand went under my body and she cupped my pussy. Alex's nuts must have been banging her fingers every time he pushed deeply into me, but she didn't mind. Her fingers tightened on my twat, and she slipped one of them between my wet, sticky labes. I felt her fingernail brush my clit, and a spasm of excitement shot through me. That, together with the incredible tightness of Alex in my asshole, threatened to blow my cookies in one big heave. I gasped and my chin came to rest on the blanket. "Do it," I said. "Really do it."
Gail spread my labes and started fingering my clit and my pussy .mouth. I was gasping from that stimulation, and really, I didn't have too much breath left to gasp as I panted my way through Alex's inexorable attack on my ripe cherry asshole. I wouldn't have let anyone else do that to me, no one but him.
He was as gentle as I needed, which means he wasn't a milk toast nor a Viking rapist. Somewhere in between, and just right!
"Let me get under you," Gail said. "I'll eat your pussy while he fucks your asshole. Okay?"
"No-need-to-" I panted. "I'm going to-aaaaaiiiii- eeeee!!!! COME!!!!!" and I did! My asshole contracted around Alex's dick and my pussy leaked its milky dew all over Gail's fingers, and she was pushing my clit like it was The Button and she was Commander-in-Chief.
Alex jerked his prick out of my rectum and thrust it up my cunt in one long, sweeping, incredibly fulfilling stab. I guess Gail's fingers got knocked out of the way because I didn't feel them on my puss any longer, but I didn't need them. My snatch was full of dick, and that dick slammed up my rippling channel again and again while I humped back at him in wild, lustful abandon, and it must have been Gail's hands on my back and tits then, but I couldn't keep straight who was feeling me, but I knew damned sure whose dick was in my cunt, and the muscles of my snatch sucked it, milked it, until I heard Alex cry out in his own joy.
He grabbed my ass, plunged into me, and I felt his cock begin to unload, so deep in my pussy I didn't think I'd ever be able to get him out of me. Not that I even wanted to. "Oh, God, I love you!" I wailed, and he collapsed upon me, his dick jerking spasmodically inside my clutching twat as he finished spilling his seed up my hole.
And we ended it sweetly, a huddle of three naked bodies falling onto the blanket, the fire playing warm red patterns across our skins, casting shadows, making my face grow hot where I lay. Alex's jizz was only just beginning to drip from my crack and I reached down, rubbing my finger in the sticky offering of his cock. To the east, the sky was beginning to show gray against the blue, and the moon was long gone and the stars seemed less distinct than before. Good God, I thought, it's going to be dawn before much longer! Have we really been out here most of the night? And, Lord, what a night! I, for one, would certainly never forget it. As long as I lived. And I hoped that would be a long, long time, so that I might treasure my memories every day of that space.
Alex found the bottle of Wild Turkey. He pulled out the cork, offered it to me. I took a swallow, swishing it round and round in my mouth, then gulped it down. Tasted good, but, I thought, eyeing the fuck-softened limpness of Alex's dong, I could think of something which would taste a lot better, dollars to doughnuts. I passed the bottle to Gail, who took a man-sized swig, and my hand came to rest in Alex's lap. "I really think you want to do it again," he said. "Don't you ever get enough?"
"Not a chance," Gail cut in, leaning across me. "She learned from the best teacher around. Me! And the trick is, never to get enough. Always want just a little more than any guy can give you. That way, you always have something to look forward to." She flashed her sparkling green eyes at Alex as she passed the fifth back to him, but I was positive he paid her no attention at all. Anyway, I was still playing with his prick, squeezing it, pulling the sticky little thing, trying to make it harden up for me. And for what? My cunt had been fucked raw. My ass felt as if I'd just developed a bad case of hemorrhoids. I could hardly sit still on the blanket because my entire crotch ached with the sweet aftershocks of love. Maybe, if I could get him hard, I'd take him in my mouth and show him that Gail wasn't the only girl around who enjoyed drinking cum. Somehow, the idea of performing in front of Gail turned me on a little.
Anyway, she was out of the game. Chuck was lying on his blanket, right where she'd left him. His eyes were shut and he was on his side, breathing softly, sound asleep. She'd certainly fucked him to a frazzle. He looked like a Valium OD case. He snored, too. God, I hoped Alex didn't snore! Well, I'd find out, fairly soon. Mmmmm.
"I have to go to the ladies' room," Gail whispered into my ear, very elegant and genteel-not like Gail at all. "Come with me, please."
Even girls aren't sure why they always go off to the bathroom two at a time. It's just something that comes automatically. I released Alex's cock, kissed him goodbye (didn't want to stop!), and said, "I'll be back in a jiffy." He nodded, poured down another swig of Wild Turkey, and lay by the fire watching as Gail and I went up the bank and into the scrubby woods that edged the beach here, on her aunt's (thankfully!) secluded lake front estate. We were no more than a hundred yards from the highway, I guess, and anyone driving by could have seen the flare of our beach fire, but the ground sloped just enough, and woods tongued in in the right way, that our lakeside games had been conducted in complete privacy. Anyone close enough to see us would have been close enough to join the party.
Gail went around a tree and squatted, her legs spread. I could hear the flow of her piss and I thought I could see steam lifting where it splattered onto the cold ground. What the hell? I thought. I'd been potty-trained at a early age, but some of the ache in my lower parts was apparently due to a slightly swollen bladder. I squatted too and let my piss go. "Ah," I said, "that feels fantastically good!" And it did, too!
"Well," Gail said, not rising, "it looks like Chuck is done for the night. That's the trouble with athletes, you know? They get all that training bullshit drummed into them, and it's almost impossible to keep them awake after the sun goes down."
I said, "Jesus, Gail, it must be four-thirty! I'm kinda knocked out myself, you know?"
"Let's finish the evening with a bang. A big bang. What do you say? The two of us. We'll gang-rape what's his name, the one with the crooked nose. Game?"
"I am not!" I said. For a moment all I could see was red, my eyes full of it, a blistering blinding red that was where Gail's face should have been. I didn't even know that I'd clenched my fist and raised it. Sure, I heard the voice that said, "You try the first fucking thing on him and I'll rip your heart out, Gail Goodman, and you can bet your cunt on that because I mean it!" I heard those words, but it took me several seconds to understand that I was the one saying them. I shook my head, listening to hear if it rattled.
"Sorry," Gail said. "I mean, what's the big deal? We've shared and swapped before, haven't we? Okay-I'll be honest. Chuck has a big tool and a body that is mwahhhh-" kissing her fingers gustily "-and he looks like Robert Redford's slightly less cute kid brother, but he's not the greatest lay that ever came down the pike with a hard-on. And all the time he and I were balling in the house, we could hear you out here on the beach, screaming your goddamned guts out! Now I think you've latched onto something good, and I think you don't want to share it with old Aunt Gail. Is that the story, Carla? Are you getting selfish?"
I shook my head. Then I nodded. "It's hard to explain, Gail. You know that song you don't like, and, well, I don't like it either-but that isn't really what counts. When Alex and I were doing it-well, I felt him lighting up my life. If you don't stop laughing, I'll-Gail, it's something very special. He's touched me in places I didn't think I'd ever be touched. I know it just started out like any old pickup, but it turned into something else along the way. Anyway, he's not your type. I mean, you went straight for the good-looking one." I laughed. "But I was the one who got lucky."
She said, "Carla Jean Ney, have you gone out of your fucking head? And if you start singing that goddamn song, I'll do to you what some music critic should have done to Debby Boone the first time she ever opened her mouth. I can't fucking believe you're sitting over there in a puddle of piss and telling me what I just heard you say. Is he that good? I mean, if he is, I have got to give that dick of his a ride."
"You'll be sorrier than you ever were in all your life," I said softly. I meant it.
"Okay," Gail said abruptly, standing up. "If that's how you feel. I'd be the last person in the world to stab a friend in the back."
And you know, I actually believed her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When we got back to the fire, Alex was wearing his pants. And the sky was much grayer eastward. It must have been later than I'd suspected. There was an orange light at the very edge of the horizon, off towards Erie, PA, and the sun would be up before much longer. "Sorry to cut the evening short," he said, "but I have to be going. Well, I don't, but Chuck does. He's due in Kent Sunday morning for prayer breakfast, followed by a kick-ass round of football practice. Somehow I've gotta get him into the house and into his clothes and then into the car-maybe I should just leave him here. Who'd miss one jock, for Chrissakes?"
Gail giggled, elbowed me in the ribs. She grabbed up the blankets while Alex held Chuck upright. "Get the Wild Turkey," she told me. "And don't forget the shotgun! Mustn't leave it out in the damp!" I hesitated at the gun. The damned things scare the shit out of me. "Oh, dummy," she added, "it's not loaded! Which is something you can't say about our friends, mmm, babydoll?"
Somehow we got all the shit together and into the house. Chuck came to, fortunately, and with a little help he got himself dressed. The sun was climbing out of the earth east of us, a little light shining through the kitchen window now. Alex put Chuck in the car, then came back to me, where I stood in the front door bundled up in one of the blankets. "I'll see you when I get back from Cleveland, right?" he said. I gave him a "maybe" look. He kissed me, slipped his hand inside the wrap of blanket, and I felt his fingers rove exploratorily across my tits, down my belly, into the cum and sweat-matted fur patch. "You get some sleep," he told me. "I'll come by around eight. Maybe we can just go someplace this evening, have some fun? There's that big amusement park at Indian Point. They have a tunnel of love which is out of this world. Or so I'm told."
"Maybe we'll find out," I purred, licking his mouth and giving his crotch one last feel. My insides were warm and juicy as I watched him go down the steps, get into the Volkswagen, and back out. He beeped his funny little horn twice and then he was gone, racing down the highway. "I can hardly wait till evening," I called after the vanishing car. Then I yawned. I went back into the house. "Wow, Gail, I'm ready for bed! Don't wake me before late afternoon, at the earliest, okay?"
"Okay, babydoll," Gail said. She kissed me goodnight, and I went into one of the bedrooms, dropping the blanket on my way. My clothes were still lying out on the beach. Fuck 'em. I rolled down the covers, crawled into bed, closed my eyes. Within twenty heartbeats at most I was in dreamland.
I don't know how long I did sleep. The sun had gone clear over, and its light came through the window of the bedroom I'd picked, and that told me it was obviously very late in the afternoon, or maybe even later. But, God, I'd been so tired, and it felt so good now, throwing off the covers and stepping into the small shaft of sunlight through my window, watching the dust particles float in the beam, bathing myself in sunshine, so to speak.
I stretched and yawned, then found myself a fresh pair of panties and a couple of scarves to make a halter with. Not that I need much haltering. The scarves were silk and they felt nice against my nipples. I smoothed them down with my hands, sighing as I felt my nipples begin to stiffen up, and I stood there squeezing my tits for what may have been five minutes altogether, sighing and caressing in delicious alternation. "Mmmmmm," I said, "the day begins late, but it promises to be a fantastic day all the same."
Tonight, of course, Alex and I wouldn't lie out on the cold pebbly beach sands. We'd usurp the white rug in front of our fireplace for our very own and we'd fuck till tomorrow's sun came up. And maybe we wouldn't even stop then. Gail? She could keep out of our way. Surely she had that much intelligence. Anyway, if I didn't miss my guess, she'd be out in her father's Imperial tonight, cruising Lucerne-on-the-Lake and its environs in search of fresh meat. Chuck was gone, but she'd not be too satisfied with him, if I could trust what she told me in the woods. She'd come up here to play, no matter what she had promised me back in Albany, and she'd be out tonight, playing. We wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted, unless she chose to stage another foursome.
I came out of the bedroom, still caressing my silk-covered tits. I said "Gail?" but I didn't hear an answer. There was an uncorked bottle of red wine on the coffee table in the living room. I picked it up, took a swallow, went "Mmmm" as the fruity taste filled my mouth. Now that was how red wine ought to taste!
Holding the bottle, I went to the window, and my heart jumped into my mouth. Alex's yellow Volkswagen was parked out front, beside the big Chrysler Gail and I had come up in. "Oh, hot damn!" I said gleefully.
But where was he? Not in the house, certainly. I went into the kitchen. The door was open and I was just starting to push the screen door outward, his name already formed on my lips, when I saw them.
Alex and Gail, standing on the beach, maybe forty feet from the house. She was stark naked and her body glistened. Tanning, no doubt. I had memories of rubbing coconut oil onto the lithe and luscious curves of her sweet flesh. I opened my mouth but then Gail moved and I couldn't speak.
She thrust her hand into Alex's pants. They must have been unzipped already. I noticed that he was wearing a pair of maroon jeans, a black vest, and red-white striped shirt, with a black Billy Jack hat tilted back on his head. Why did I bother noticing that, for Chrissake?
"Oooh," I heard her say, and I felt the kiss of the wind in my face. God love the wind, it blew her words straight to where I stood, in the shadows just inside the kitchen door! Goddamn the wind! "Ooooh, is this what you used on Carla last night? Or did you bring it special, just for me?"
He didn't answer. She oozed against him, rubbing him with every inch of her long, lean body. Her big tits nestled against his chest and I didn't need binoculars to know that her nipples were standing up, big and pink and-irresistible? Was that how he'd find them? Irresistible?
She pushed his hat off and she slinked even more sinuously, as if she were dancing, around his upright body. Her hand was still inside his jeans and her hair was shaking, loose, free, tousled golden hair, the most beautiful hair on the most beautiful girl in Ohio. "I want to see what you did to Carla," I heard Gail say. "You really turned her on, do you know? And she doesn't turn on easily. She's usually a cold fuck. Fakes it most of the time. But she wasn't faling with you, was she? Bet you felt those little labes of hers sucking up your cock and milking you, mmm? Tell me about it, baby. Or if you won't tell me, then-" and she lifted her head slightly, pressed her mouth against Alex's.
He stood there unmoving. I should have noticed that, damn it. He didn't put his arms around her. He didn't do anything. But I wasn't thinking rationally. I was watching my best friend come on like a bitch in heat with the man I thought I loved, and my blood started boiling in my veins. There was this tremendous throbbing in my temples, also, and my vision kept blurring. Maybe that's why I didn't see it. God, I thought, I can feel what she's feeling, that sweet cock of his growing in her fist, swelling, fattening, the rapid pulsation of blood as it flowed into his dick and made him stiff, hot, ready to fuck... her. And she'd promised! Goddamn her, she'd promised! But it meant no more to Gail Goodman than any of the other promises she had made to me, and, watching that awful scene on the beach, I knew it, and I said to my heart, "I'm going to kill her. I'm going to kill that bitch."
Gail's cassette player was on the kitchen table. I stumbled back, saw it. The nearest tape was an Eagles. I shoved it into the machine and "Life in the Fast Lane" came blaring out of the speaker. It was loud. They'd hear it on the beach. They'd know I had returned to the land of the conscious.
To the sound of the music, I pushed open the screen door and walked toward them. They'd rearranged themselves. Alex's pants were zipped up, I noticed, and Gail stood in a perky, modelly kind of slouch beside him. But her nipples were fat and stiff, really swollen on the ends of her tits, and those boobs were still heaving a little. She could hide some things from me, but she couldn't hide that. Not in a million years.
"Carla," Alex said, smiling. "I'm a little early. Hey, is that what you're going to wear tonight? If it is, I'd better take that shotgun with us. I may need it to fight the guys off your bed. Mmmm, you look good." He came toward me, his arms outspread, but my eyes were aimed a little lower than his, and I saw the lump of his semi-erect cock inside his maroon jeans.
"Can't go," I said. He stopped short, frowning. "My period," I added. "It started about half an hour ago."
He came to me, put his arms around me. His face nuzzled into the nape of my neck, and I knew he could feel my stiff nipples through the thin layer of silk that covered my tits. His hands moved down me and he took gentle hold of my ass, fondling it affectionately while he nibbled my neck and ear. "Doesn't matter," he said. "I'm interested in more than just your body, kid. Or didn't I tell you last night?"
I broke loose. "I also have a headache and I feel like ten cents' worth of dried-up dogshit on a hot sidewalk. I just don't think I want to do anything tonight."
Gail came up to where we were standing. I didn't mind the fact that she was naked. Even when she wore clothes, she looked naked, you know? Her body flowed like a mountain river. But I saw her there, smiling, oily with her tanning butter, and I asked myself, Why would anyone want me when he could have Gail? God-was it possible? That Alex had come on to me last night only so he too would have the chance to get into my friend's pussy?
She said, "Well, hell, Carla, that's too bad. Listen, Alex-if Carla wants to stay home and brood, well, I'm not doing anything. Hint, hint?" She winked at me. "Carla and I are best friends," she added. "We've even used the same toothbrush on occasion."
His face clouded. I guessed that he didn't want to come on to her too strongly in front of me. Maybe there was a shred of decency in him. "No," he said, "I think maybe I'll just go back to my place and sack in early. I guess last night left us all pretty bushed."
"Not me," Gail simpered, and she let her finger slide down her body, past her belly button, into the smooth fork where curling silky golden hairs used to grow. The lips of her snatch were pink and prominent and she let her fingertip glide down her crack. It was blatant, even for Gail.
"Look," I said, "I'm on the rag and I feel like hell and I just want to sit around tonight with a glass of wine and some Femirons. If you want to have a good time, take Gail. She'd probably dig the tunnel of love. And anyway, I think I'd rather be alone. Ill see you sometime." And with that I turned and went back to the house. Alex called my name but I didn't look around and I didn't stop walking. I wouldn't give them the pleasure of seeing the tears in my eyes.
You're probably aware that I was lying about it being my period. I wasn't due for another couple of weeks. But what I'd seen out there on the beach had shaken me up no end, and I needed to be alone, to have a good cry all by myself. The Eagles were doing "Hotel California", and I thought, great, just fucking great! When I need inspiration all I get is a song that sums up the mess my life has turned into! I rejected the cassette, put in what turned out to be Asleep at the Wheel. At least the music was bouncier. And what was the name of that song? "The Letter That Johnnie Walker Read"? Inspiration indeed!
There was maybe half a bottle of Wild Turkey left, after last night's al fresco party on the beach. I picked it up and went into my bedroom. The door had an inside lock, and I clicked it, and I sprawled onto the bed, sucking at the bourbon in a sullen rage. I'm not much of a drinker at best, and I was far from my best.
I heard Alex's car pull out. A VW engine is unmistakable if you've ever been around Volkswagens. And I heard Gail come in through the kitchen. She turned off the tape player in the middle of "Where No One Stands Alone", which was a pretty good indicator of my feelings at that moment. I heard her knocking around, heard the water running in the bathroom. Later she came to the bedroom door and knocked. "I, uh, I'm going out," she said. The bitch! I knew where she was going! To meet Alex! They'd made the plans after I cleared out. Oh, damn them, I could see it all happening. Would he make her moan and cry out the way he'd done me? Probably. "Are you okay, Carla?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm okay," I said. "So if you're gonna go, go now, will ya?"
"Well, excuuuuuuuuuuse me," she clowned, and it always used to break me up that she sounded so much funnier than Steve Martin making the same noise, but this time it was nothing to laugh about. She was beautiful and charming and she could be witty and clever when she wanted to be, and here I was, Carla Clutz, lying on my bed with a bottle of booze, trying not to cry out loud until she'd gone.
Of course I started to bawl like a baby as soon as I heard the Imperial fire up out front. She was gone, driving like a bat out of hell, and I was finally alone in the house. Oh, God, I thought. In my whole fucking life, maybe two good things have happened to me. A, I met Gail. B, Alex. And now she'd taken him from me, with just the wiggle of her little finger inside his pants, the tickle of her stiff, long nipples against his chest. She had taken him. Right now she was on her way to meet him. Certainly. It seemed the only possible answer. I tilted the bottle and poured a long swallow down my throat, and it burned all the way to the bottom, but it went inter my head almost at once, and I realized that my stomach was almost totally empty and that I would be drunk, very soon. Very drunk. And probably sick in the bargain. Oh, fuck, I was already sick! What harm could a little 86.8 do to me, for Chrissakes? I took another drink. It didn't burn as much. My throat was getting anesthetized.
The shotgun, I thought, an hour or so later. It was dark outside and the bottle was almost empty. The shotgun. I ought to look around for some shells, load it up, and KILL HER when she came home. But I didn't know how to load a gun and I knew I couldn't use one, not even with the anger that raged inside me, the anger that the bourbon couldn't quench. "Goddamn you, Gail Goodman!" I said aloud, toasting her in her aunt's whiskey. "I hope I live long enough to see you get yours!"
I sat up. My clothes felt too tight and confining. I slid off the bed, and I didn't really feel my feet connect with the floor, even though I was standing upright, more or less. I untied the silk scarf halter I'd made for myself, and I threw the scarves across the room. They floated like graceful birds. I took off my panties too. And I touched myself between the legs. No tampon string hanging out. "Guess you played a swiftie on them, hey, girl?" I asked myself, giggling. But who had played whom? And what was the tune everyone was dancing to?
My feet may have been numb, but my pussy wasn't. I stroked it without really knowing that I was doing it, and my finger eased into the tight, small cleft in jerky, spasmodic fashion. "Mmmm," I said, stifling a burp, and I sat down on the edge of the bed. From there it wasn't too difficult to swing my legs up and finally to lie down, flat on my back, my knees parted and up, one hand still attached to my pussy as if it had been glued there. My cunt and clit ached, with the pains of the damned, and no matter how briskly I rubbed myself, it only got worse.
"Oh, Christ," I said, "I didn't want it to be like this! She promised me. She swore. She's my best friend. And she-lied. Goddamn her, she lied! As soon as my back was turned, she came onto him, and only because she wanted to take something from me. What kind of friend is that? What kind of friends do I make in the first fucking place? I mean, look at the shit she's put me through the last couple of days. Getting me to lick her when she knew somebody was watching us with a spyglass. That guy who brought the pizza. What a creep! The hippie with the banjo. I'd still like to ream him with that fucking instrument, just ram it and nam it up his ass until his eyes popped out. And what came of that? She got a woozy oozy come and I had to suck off a cop to keep our asses out of jail. Jailbait asses. Maybe we belong in jail. Oh, shit, I think I'm drunk. Like, who but a drunk would talk to the turkey on the label of the motherfucking bottle and expect it to answer? Well, turkey, are you gonna gobble or are you just gonna stand there with your dick in your hand?"
My finger stabbed deeply into my pussy and I screamed, , kicking the bed with my heels. My puss was still a little raw from the heavy fucking it had gotten last night, the best fucking I'd ever gotten, the best fucking my best friend had ever fucked me out of, and fuck her, if it came to that. Yeah. Fuck her! I grabbed the bottle and gave it a corkscrewing twist in the air, pretending that I was thrusting the thing right up Gail's asshole. Oooohh. I'd gotten fucked in the ass last night for the first time. I could still feel it, the way his dick had throbbed in me while he was plunging up my rectum. It was something I'd never forget. "Take that, you cunt!" I shouted, and I jabbed into the air with the bottle, and each time I jabbed, I was shoving it up Gail, raping her with a whiskey bottle's neck, making her scream, making her ache, making her hurt the way I hurt. No, she couldn't begin to hurt as much as I did. Never in a million years. Well, this settled it. As soon as we got back to Albany she could go fuck a jackass for all I cared. I would have nothing more to do with the treacherous twat, even if she was my best friend, the only real friend I'd ever had before Alex.
My finger was in my cunt, and it was almost as wet in there as if I'd really been menstruating. I couldn't understand why I was turning on so much, unless I had saved up for tonight, saved it for Alex, and now had to use it some way. Did that make sense? I asked the turkey and he didn't say anything. The son of a bitch. I pulled out the cork and killed the fifth, taking it down my throat in one hot, burning swallow that seemed it would never end, and it must have been the way Gail felt, deepthroating the cock of some dude she'd just picked up in a bar or at the snack stand in a drive-in theater or hitchhiking on the road or any of the other places she picked up strange cock.
There was still a drop or two in the bottle, and I thrust the end of it into my mouth, lips closing around it. Didn't taste like cock, though for some reason I thought it should. I sucked hard, and the last drops rolled slowly down, and out, and into me. They were hot and tingly on my tongue, and the fifth was empty. I'd drunk-how much-ten ounces of 86.8, straight, no chaser even, and in how long? Two hours? "Whooooooo!!!" I gleed, pulling the bottle out of my mouth. But, even drunk, it still hurt. And it would keep on hurting. The best I could do was try to ease the pain a little and hope that eventually I'd pass out and not recover consciousness at all. It was one of those evenings. If you've never been there, don't ask for directions.
I dropped the empty bottle onto the bed and I attacked my cunt with both hands. "You could be having this, Alex Lovejoy," I said aloud, angrily, "but no, you had to settle for flash and big tits and Farrah Fawcett hair and a little Susanne Somers voice and a Gail Goodman hand around your pecker. I hope you die!"
I spread myself until it hurt, and the fingers of my other hand began to assault the pink prettiness of my puss. My clit was up-I don't think k had gone down since the first time Alex got his mouth into my furry pie-and I flicked it cruelly with thumb and finger, kept on flicking it even while I moaned in the mixture of pain and ecstasy that it brought me. Juices were leaking from my hole and my fingers coated themselves in the milky flow, scooping into the mouth of my twat now and then, nails scraping the tender delicate lining of my tube. It hurt, but I was in a hell of a good mood and s/m seemed to be in order. So what if I had to be the m as well as the s? I was all I had, and I might be all I'd ever have. I kept on masturbating, and my armpits grew squishy with sweat. My nipples were standing out like pieces of brown candy planted on the white tips of my boobs and they hurt, even without being squeezed. But I only had two hands, and both of them were needed in my snatch.
"I don't need you, Alex," I said. "I got along without you before I met you and I'll get along without you now." It seemed to me I'd heard that line before, but I couldn't remember where, and anyway, I thought it suited the occasion. My index, middle and ring fingers merged into a tight phallic thruster, and I thrust them up me, savagely, into the heart of my twat where I couldn't help but feel their energetic attack.
"Do it to me, baby," I pleaded with myself. "You're still the best, and you know it!"
But I could feel the difference. Even with my fingers diving in and out of my hole, it wasn't the same. Alex's cock. I could remember in crystalline detail every thrust, every injection he'd given me, the way I'd responded to each of his plunges, the shudders of delight that had passed through me like waves on a storm-shaken sea. And it wasn't the same. I pushed my clit down, thumb riding hard on the end of it, and it hurt in a sweet kind of way, but it still wasn't the same as feeling his body grinding against mine, me full of his rod and his pubic bone making music where it rubbed friskily, randily, against mine. I ached to enfold him in my legs, and he wasn't there. He was with Gail and I was alone. So goddamned alone.
The milky goo was thick on the labes of my cunt. I soaked my fingers in it, thrust them up my hole and wiggled them around, and it made me groan in a kind of pleasure. But, God, it wasn't enough! I rocked about on the bed, fucking myself with my fingers, wishing that there was something more, something really solid to fill my twat- And then my elbow bumped the empty Wild Turkey bottle I'd dropped in frustration once I'd cleaned it dry of bourbon whiskey. The glass felt cold and solid against my arm and my eyes opened a little wider. "Oh," I said, "it's not possible. And besides, it's degrading."
Was it any more degrading than what I'd watched on the beach, my best friend coming on to my guy, turning him on, turning herself on? Was it any more degrading than the image in my mind right now, of Alex and Gail riding through the tunnel of love, bathed in darkness, his hands hot and impatient all over her big tits, her fingers working busily inside his pants? I picked up the bottle.
The neck was about five inches long, not quite as thick as Alex when he was at full erection. I slid my fingers up and down it, and I asked myself, why not? I needed something, and this was better than nothing. But I didn't want to watch, so I closed my eyes.
I slid the end of the bottle down my tits, across the achingly erected nipples, and then down my cleavage and tummy, rimming it round my navel, finally sliding it into the patch of hair at my loins. It felt cold and inhuman, but the emotions boiling inside me weren't human emotions, when you got right down to it. I had been betrayed, and by people I had thought I could trust. They hadn't fooled me a goddamned bit. Alex was on top of Gail right now, ramming his cock up her twat, making her come and scream and moan the way he'd done me. Goddamn the both of them! The edge of the bottle slid through my pubic hairs, onto the little puffy ridge of my cunt. I clenched my teeth as I worked it between the swollen labes, and then I felt the glass touching the very mouth of my twat. "Do your stuff, turkey," I said, and I pushed.
It went into me. It was cold and hard, inflexibly rigid as it made its way up my pussy tube, and I groaned in a mixture of despair and a strange kind of exultation. Who needed friends? I asked myself, when you had a good strong bottle close at hand.
It couldn't go deeply, but I could make it fuck in and out of me with a savage, insistent drive, and that's what I did. I bit my hp and tasted blood as I worked the bottle in and out, and from time to time I just left it there, rammed as far up me as it would go, while my thumb made exotic circles around the swollen nub of my clitoris. My armpits got even wetter, and so did the rest of me. I could feel sweat in the joint of my thighs, at the backs of my knees, rolling across my forehead and across my closed eyelids.
"What else does a girl need?" I gasped. "It's hard, and it never gets soft, and when it fucks you, it really FUCKS YOUUUUUUU!!!!"
I made the thing move faster and faster, streaking in and out of my cunt. I couldn't mistake the sensations that were alive inside me, the ripple of pussy muscles, the flow of juice from my hole. Greased me, it did, made it all that easier for the bottle to work in and out of my pussy. The bottle. I was honestly to God fucking myself with a bottle. Could I possibly sink any lower? Yes! I could trust people. People like Alex and Gail. And nobody could get any lower than that! Not even disillusioned, heartbroken girls who fucked themselves with whiskey bottles. "Beat this, you son of a bitch," I told Alex in a groan, as I began to come.
CHAPTER NINE
I don't remember how many times I fucked myself with the bottle. It must have been more than just once, because my pussy was so sore come morning I wished it belonged to someone else. And the juices of my twat had even eaten away the paper cover on the bottle neck. I guess I put in a night of it. But nothing like the night Gail and Alex had enjoyed, I thought angrily.
After a while, of course, the liquor just knocked me out. I passed out, woke up in the dark with the bottle wedged into my snatch, my juices still flowing. I might have been unconscious for hours, I might have been out of it for only a couple of minutes. I pissed a lot, and I threw up once, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. And each time I came back to bed, my pussy was running like the nose of a hay fever victim in pollen-filled August, and I'd grab the bottle and jam it up my twat and fuck myself again and again, till I passed out again. An endless cycle, I think they call it. A snake swallowing its own tail. I didn't care. I just kept doing it.
The last time I went to sleep it was like dropping into a deep, revolving coma. I'd finally taken the bottle out of me and dropped it onto the floor beside the bed, but my cunt still had that hard-stuffed feeling and my hand was on my pussy as I went to sleep, fingers curled amid my damp, soggy hairs, palm resting lightly on my crack. It was still there when I woke up, sometime about noon Sunday. At least it felt like noon, and the sun wasn't coming directly through my window.
And there was music in the house, Gail's tape player rocking softly to "Still Crazy After All These Years." I thought, Jesus, the music around here gets more apropos with each passing hour. But I got out of bed, wobbly on my feet, and I found a shirt and some cut-off denims. I didn't want to see Gail, not right now, maybe not ever, but I had to get up sometime and it might as well be now.
She was in the kitchen, wearing a halter and panties, sitting at the table with her long legs stretched across the floor. She sipped at a cup of instant coffee and there was a bowl of dry Granola into which she dipped from time to time. "Oh, hi, babydoll," she said as I entered the room. "Are you feeling better this morning?"
"Is it morning?"
"Not much after. I stopped by your room to say hello, but you were dead to the world and I saw the empty bottle on the floor. I guess you tied one on last night, mmm? You should have come with me. I tied one on, too. And was it fantastic!" Goddamn her! Rage seethed inside me and I clenched my fist, nails biting into my palm. Not only had she betrayed me, she had the colossal nerve to brag about it afterward!
"Mmmm, yeah," she went on, not even looking at me.
"Went bar-crawling, got tossed out of a couple of place because I didn't have an ID, but it all paid off. I met this guy in the parking lot and he hit on me, and we ended up getting a gallon jug of Bali Hai and going to a party on the beach. Partied all night, made whoopee. It was, mmm, yah-hahhh!!"
She was lying. She'd met Alex. Hadn't I seen it all, projected like a movie on my eyelids last night? "I came in around five," she added, "fucked to the gills. Jesus, I scratched the fender on the car. Hope to Christ Pop doesn't notice it. I'm not even sure how it happened. I think somebody must have side swiped me." Changing the subject. Yes, a sure sign. Scrape me just enough to draw the blood, then pretend it hadn't happened. I made myself a cup of coffee and drank it black, bitter. My stomach was growling, totally empty. I hadn't eaten anything at all yesterday, and I'd barfed at least once during the night. Solid food would taste pretty good right now. But dry Granola? Not on your life! Anyway, I didn't want to be in the house with Gail if I could help it.
"Listen," I said, turning down the volume on the tape player, "I'm going to get out the moped and go into town. There's some kind of grocery store or something, isn't there? I need some food. Some real food."
She nodded. "You can take the car, if you want."
I frowned. She remembered what had happened the last time I drove the Imperial. Was she rubbing that in, too? Oh, God, I was gonna get her! If it took me a million years, I'd get her.
"I think I'm gonna hit the beach," she said, standing up. She took off her shirt, and I saw her tits come bouncing out. The nipples were taut and pink, and after she dropped the shirt she held them in her hands a moment, just caressing her flesh, purring softly. That's all she cares about, I thought. Herself. All she's ever cared about. I'm just something to have fun with, something to use. Someone should teach her a lesson. A real good lesson. Well, I thought, the day would come. I'd bide my time and when it rolled around, I'd get even.
She went out the door and I watched from the kitchen as she dropped her panties, stood stretching and yawning toward the sun overhead, then lay down on the sand, a gleaming sacrifice to the solar rays. She was beautiful, even though I hated her, but she'd gone too far when she ruined what had begun to happen between me and Alex. And she would pay for it.
My moped was under the front porch. I rolled it out, stopping a moment beside the car. Scratched the fender? Jesus Christ! It had a dent in it almost as big as a horse's head. I was pretty sure her old man would notice. But, Gail being Gail, I also knew she'd get away with it. Not even a scolding. I shook my head, climbed aboard my moped, started pedaling. The motor fired up and I cruised into Lucerne-on-the-Lake in search of a decent meal. I needed some kind of goal right then and food was as good as any.
The town is very small, though its population swells tremendously during the summer, with people on vacation by the lake. There wasn't much sign of life this Sunday noon, though. Maybe everyone had been partying last night and was sleeping it off today. Still, I found a store, parked my bike, and went inside. I didn't have much money, but I could afford a quart of milk, some hamburger, a pack of buns. And a couple of gooey, calorie-rich candy bars I could snack on while I scootered back to the house. I decided that there was no real reason to worry about my weight. Not any more. Maybe I'd go on a gluttonous spree and eat everything in the state of Ohio, swell up like a blimp, and let the team at school use me for a football when season started. I went back out to my bike, and the day was just starting to get nice and hot. Maybe I'd do some sunning today. At least I could be a tanned fat girl. I was putting my sack of groceries into the basket when this roaring Baja buggy pulled into the lot and screeched to a halt about six inches short of the store's front door. Big fucking deal, I thought, as two shirtless guys, wearing levis and cowboy hats, clambered out of the buggy. "Get some Stroh's," one of them was saying, and the other countered with, "I don't like that horse piss, man-Genesee for me.. " I stood by my bike a moment, staring at them, and I guess one of them notice; me. They both turned in my direction and it was a struggle to place their faces, but it finally hit me. Of course! They were the two rednecks who'd come on to me and Gail-actually, they'd come on to Gail; I was just there, like the pinball machine-at the bar Friday evening. The ones Chuck had come along and rescued us from. They looked different in the daylight. Not better, just different.
"Hey, mama, how're they hanging?" one of them said. They'd recognized me, too, and they were coming toward me. I was ready to get on the moped but as I saw their eyes, gliding up and down me, studying the way my ass stuck out in the tight cutoff denims, a very wicked idea began to take shape in my head. And by the time they'd reached the bike, the idea was fully formed.
"Hi, guys," I said cheerily, leaning forward a little. My shirt was unbuttoned down three or four buttons and when I leaned forward I gave them a cheap peek at my tits. I knew what I was doing. And my nipples throbbed in excitement. It seemed so evil, in away, but so just.
"Nice bike," the taller one said, easing back his cowboy hat. "You like to ride, huh?"
"Sometimes. Depends on who I'm with, you know?"
They both snickered, and so did I. It was a little joke and we all shared it together. "Hey," I went on, "what happened to you guys the other night? I mean, you just disappeared."
"It looked like we weren't wanted," the shorter one said. He had a little beer gut hanging over the top of his levis, not much, but it would get bigger in its time. His pants were tight, riding low around his waist, and they fitted closely to the shape of his cock. "Your friend came along and we figured, hell, piece of pussy is what the cats fight about. Anyway, your girlfriend with the big jugs acted-"
"Acted," I said. "Hey, you really let us down, you know? I figure you for guys who've been around. And you know as well as I do that when a girl says 'no', it means 'maybe', and when she says 'maybe' it could very well mean 'yes', don't you?" They looked at each other, and their faces lit up. "Besides, that jock who butted in-all his muscle was in his shoulders. Gail was telling me just this morning that we really blew it the other night, you know?" They knew. And the thrill in my bones told me that I knew what I was doing, too. My heart raced madly as I embellished the story. Their eyes were glittering with lust and the shorter one had started to get hard in his pants, especially when I told him that Gail was lying out on the beach right now, as naked as the day she was born, soaking up sunshine and wishing she had something a lot harder and meatier to soak up.
"Listen, I have to run an errand. Why don't you guys just go on out and surprise her? She'd dig that. And you can't miss the place. Just head out of town, watch for house with yellow shutters, on the lakeshore side. Impossible to miss. There's an Imperial parked in front with this humungus dent in the back fender. What do you say?
Are you game? Maybe later we can all take in the wet t-shirt contest you were talking about. I've got a t-shirt, and I'm kinda wet just thinking about it," and with that I leaned against the shorter one and squeezed the lump in his pants.
"Hot damn," he said, and he grabbed at me. I thought he'd just throw me and fuck me, right there in the parking lot, but I pushed him loose. "Hold your horses," I told him. "I'll be there soon. Don't worry about starting without me. Gail can handle things till I get back." And I tickled his hardened bulge again to emphasize the point.
They didn't even bother getting their six-pack; they just hopped "into the Baja buggy and peeled out of the lot, racing down the highway. I watched them disappear and for a moment I wondered if I had really done the right thing after all. "Yes," I said aloud, tapping the seat of my bike. "It's as much as the bitch deserves."
I cruised around the three-block heart of downtown Lucerne, just killing time. As the moped rolled along I tried to imagine what was happening out by the lake. They were there by now, for sure. Was Gail fighting them? Sure she was. She didn't put out for hicks. But something told me she would be putting out for these hicks. In the mood I'd crated, they weren't about to take no for an answer from Gail Goodman. They'd fuck her raw. They'd rape her if they had to. Oooohhh, God!!! It made me so excited I could hardly stand it! My thighs scrunched together on the triangular point of the bike seat, and I felt these really hot flashes shoot through my pussy, and I could feel the wetness forming on my labes. Oh, damn, I had to get back out there-I had to see it happening to her! What good is revenge if you can't watch it in progress, if you can't see your victim squirming on the point of the pin? I made a U-turn in the middle of Main Street, got the bike going to its full 35 m.p.h., and tooled back the way I'd come. I heard a horn blowing, but I thought it was only someone pissed off about my biking skills. Until the yellow VW came around on my left-hand side, pacing me. I looked at the car. It was Alex. "Pull over," he was saying, "Pull over, goddamn it!" And he worked the nose of his car in ahead of me so I had no choice but to pull over. He parked just ahead of my bike and jumped out of the car, hurrying back to where I sat astride my machine, biting my hp in frustration. We had nothing to say, me and Alex. And I had places to go. Like out to the cottage, to watch Gail getting raped!
"Make it fast," I told him. "I'm in a hurry."
"Shut off the engine," he said, and he put his hands on my shoulders. His face (was it ugly-handsome now, or just ugly? I couldn't decide) glared down at me. "What the hell was going on last night?" he asked as the engine died. "And don't he to me, Carla. If you don't want to see me again, say so. I'm an adult, and so are you. We should be honest with each other, especially after the closeness we've had. So what is wrong? Friday night you were like a blast furnace, Saturday you were a fucking iceberg."
"Don't you know?" I said snappily. "Look-I saw you and Gail. Down on the beach. I mean, if you just wanted to use me as a way to get to her, well, I can dig that. I know I'm not as pretty as she is, and I'm not stacked like Gail, but you didn't have to tell me-"
"I didn't have to tell you anything but the truth. Oh, fuck! I know what you're talking about. Your friend came on to me. I told her to get lost. She isn't my type. If she was my type, I'd have had her Friday night and you'd have been stuck with Chuck. If I used you to get to anyone, it was to get to Carla. To you. Can you dig that?"
"You didn't go with Gail last night?" He shook his head.
"You swear on your mother's life you didn't?" He shook his head again.
"Listen, Carla," he said, "I've been thinking about us, and I realized last night that when I win the Pulitzer prize, I'm gonna need someone I can thank in my acceptance speech, you know? 'And if it hadn't been for the constant love, tenderness, and support of my devoted lady Carla, I'd never have blah blah blah' ".
He stopped and I looked into his eyes. They were the most sincere eyes I had ever seen. He meant it. And I knew that I had fucked things up. Badly. Gail. She hadn't really betrayed my friendship. She'd tried to, but that wasn't quite the same, was it? Good God, it didn't entitle her to the kind of revenge I'd set up! "Alex," I said, "I have to go back to the cottage. Right now. Be on the porch in half an hour and we'll finish talking. I believe everything you told me, and I've made a terrible mistake and I have to try and undo it. Don't ask questions. This is something I have to do myself." I kissed him, pedaled out of his reach, and felt the motor kick on. "Half an hour from right now!" I called over my shoulder. "Don't forget!" His face assured me that he wouldn't.
I should have had him come along. It might be rough. But I had done it, and I had to undo it, if I could. Oh, God! If I could!
The Baja Buggy was parked in front of the house and I could hear groans and cries from the other side of the low dune that sheltered the beach from the road here. I knew what those sounds meant.
Into the house. Where in the hell did we put that stupid shotgun the other night? It had scared the fuck out of me when Gail stuck it into my face. Loaded or unloaded, it ought to work again. I found it in the hall closet and, though I'm deathly frightened of guns, I picked it up all the same and hustled my ass into the kitchen.
From the doorway I could see it all, and I stood a moment in the doorway, eyes wide, my blood freezing at the sight.
They were with Gail, down on the beach. She was naked, and she was struggling for all she was worth. The short one was holding her arms, and the other guy was in position between her flailing legs. He had his cock in her. I saw the tension on his face as he pounded his way into her shaven snatch, and I heard her moan throatily at each penetrating stab.
He was holding her up-her torso was almost horizontal though her pussy area tilted upward-and her body wasn't really touching the sand. Her shoulders were braced against the body of the other hillbilly, and he had her arms pinioned, his own hands busy on her flopping tits. "Goddamn you," Gail sobbed, "what the fuck do you think you're doing? You won't get away with this! I'll have your-aaaaaagggghhhhhh!!!-asses in the slammer, you cocksuckers! I'll see you in the electric chair for this! You son of a bitch! Ooooohhhhh! It hurts! Aaaaggghhhh! Ohhhhhhhh! Jeeeeeessssuuussssss!!!"
"Can't you shut her up some way?" the shorter one asked, pinching Gail's tits. She whimpered again. "I thought you were hot to get it, bitch! Your little friend said your pussy was just dripping away, waiting for us to get here and scratch your itches. Mmm, hard nipples do feel good, though!" He rolled his fingers on them and Gail whined again. Her blonde hair was really tousled now, stray locks fallen across her face. And her body was taut with tension.
"Here goes!" shouted the one who was fucking her.
"Want it or not, mama, you have done been laid!" And he started to pump in and out, fast, and I could see his face contort, the way men's faces do, sometimes, when they're spilling their seed. He was coming inside Gail, squirting his jizz up her reluctant twat, and I stood frozen, watching it, the shotgun in my hands. My feet were rooted to the floor and I couldn't move to save my soul, let alone Gail's ass.
And there was a wicked voice inside my head, a voice that said, "Carla, doll, listen to me-is she really getting more than she deserves? What about Friday? You and that cop. Remember?" I remembered, but it seemed so long ago. There had been a grudge, sure, but did I still feel it? My conscience told me that I did, no matter what my heart tried to argue in reply. I stood in the doorway, panting a little, wondering what I ought to do. Part of me said "Save her," and part of me said, "Let her find out how it feels first."
The taller one jerked his cock out of Gail's twat, and he sent a last splatter of jizz flying onto her tits. "Damn it, Lee, you came on my hand!" the shorter one said. Lee just grinned. He stood up, kicked off the pants he'd only dropped in order to rape Gail.
"Let go of her," he said, straddling Gail's chest. The short guy let go and Gail's head dropped to the sand. Lee was on her in a second, pulling her up by the hair. His cock was still semi-erect. "Suck on this," he commanded, wiping his jismy rod all over her mouth and chin. He pulled her hair again, and I saw her mouth open, slowly, reluctantly. "Wider," he said, and he worked the end of his tool into her, thrusting deeply. She made a "Gaahhhhh!!" sound as he began to fuck her mouth, but by that time, she had other things to worry about.
The short one was dropping his pants and easing into the fork of Gail's legs. He spread her, and his prick jumped out as his pants fell. I'd helped him get that hard, I recalled, with a little judicious fondling and some horny suggestions, but Gail was about to feel the full measure of the lust I'd stirred up. His dick was fairly long, not too thick, and he went into her sloppy seconds with a quick, jabbing thrust. She moaned around the dick in her mouth, and one of her legs shot up into the air. The short guy braced her thigh against, his shoulder and he put his hand in her genital area. "She's wet and dripping," he said. "I don't mind taking seconds on this. Christ, Lee, this is one tight cunt!"
"Worth waiting for, Hodge?" Lee wondered, still feeding Gail his cock orally. He'd jerk on her long hair now and then to emphasize her subjection, and he was making deep thrusts into her mouth. Every time he pressed down he'd close his eyes and groan, as if he were feeling the joys of heaven surrounding his pecker.
Hodge-the short one-was fucking fast and hard. Gail's pussy must have been pretty well lubricated by the juices. Lee had squirted up her, and he had an easy job of work at hand. His hand stroked her from thigh to pussy, and he kept saying, "Just don't look the same without hair," as his fingers slid across the shaven bun of her snatch. Her toes were high in the air and I saw them do a little wiggle that seemed to coincide with the deepest plunges of Hodge's long slender dick.
"Bitch was right," Hodge volunteered. "Whey they say 'no' they mean 'maybe', and when they say 'never', the mean 'right fuckin' now!" He thrust into her six or seven times rapidly, and he was moaning like his gut was disintegrating, and I couldn't help seeing, too, that Lee's cock was hard again, in Gail's mouth. And he wasn't pulling her hair now, nor snarling commands at her. She had her eyes closed and her lips were pursed tightly around him and she looked as if she were almost taking part in this of her own will. That one leg high in the air, toes wiggling happily, the other leg starting to curl itself around Hodge's waist as he pushed pecker into her cunt.
"Oh, I'm gonna come," Hodge moaned, and he started fucking even faster. Gail's hips seemed to lift, meeting his plunges, and her leg was around him for sure now, wrapped like a finger around a cigarette. And she had her hands on Lee's waist. No. Only one hand. The other hand was on the shaft of his dick, the part she couldn't get into her mouth. Sweet Jesus, I thought in disbelief. What is she doing?
"Now!" Hodge shouted and he began to pump scum up her pussy. Her belly undulated and her toes wriggled and her leg slid up and down his midsection, as if she were teasing him, pleading with him to do even more. He thrust into her cunt and ground his belly against her shaven mons, panting as he emptied his nuts into Gail's hole. And Lee's prick was rigid now, in Gail's mouth, and I couldn't understand what I was seeing. I said "No!" and kicked the door open and ran out, bringing the shotgun up to my shoulder.
Both of them turned at the sound and I saw the shock and fear on their faces. My thumb somehow located the shotgun's hammers and I pulled them back. "It's over,'" I said. "Get off her! Right now! And get the shit out of here, if you know what's good for you!"
Hodge fought himself free of Gail's leg and his cock dripped semen as he pulled up his pants and looked around for his hat. He didn't bother zipping up.
"You too!" I said, and I pointed the gun at Lee, staring down the barrel as if I were sighting up my shot. My finger twitched on the trigger and the gun felt so natural in my hands I couldn't believe it.
Lee rose slowly. "What the hell's going on here?" he asked, trying to cover his stiff rod. Gail was sitting up, now, brushing hair out of her eyes, blinking again and again. "You said she wanted it!"
"You had it. Now go." And I made a menacing motion with the gun. Lee retrieved his pants, got into them. He and Hodge stood up the bank, talking in soft voices, and then they turned, disappeared over the rise. I heard the roar of the Baja buggy staring up, and then I heard the vehicle start down the road at high speed. I lowered the gun, trembling, and I went to Gail. "Are you okay?" I asked, tears welling in my eyes. "Oh, God, I made such a horrible mistake! I told them to come out here and fuck you because I hated you so much for-well, I guess it was for almost nothing." She gave me a quizzical look. Her mouth was frothy with spit and she was panting, her tits rising and falling in soft little heaves, the nipples pink and stiff.
"You and Alex," I said, kneeling beside her. I found her panties lying on the sand, where she'd left them, and I tried to wipe her lips and pussy of the sticky ooze that flowed through the two holes. She didn't say anything. I took a deep breath and told her what I'd seen yesterday, what I'd thought about all night, my suspicions, doubts, fears, resentments. By the time I finished I was crying, and as we walked to the house, Gail was supporting me.
"Poor babydoll," she said, touching my face. "Poor Carla."
We ended up in the bathroom, and Gail took the washcloth from my fumbling fingers. She wiped her face and tits and pussy, and then she sat down on the john, inserting a disposable douche in her cunt. She squirted the stuff up her pussy, sighed, rolled her eyes. "How did we get this way, Carla?" she asked. I didn't know what she meant. "This way. Me, coming on with your guy like some kind of hot-assed slut, for a start. I figured you must have seen something, and that's why you were so pissed last night.
God, I didn't know it cut you so deeply! But I should have known, goddamn it!" She removed the tube, let the liquid flow back out, and she wiped herself with a tissue wad.
"Do you want to know the worst of it, Carla? Out there, when those assholes were raping me-I was starting to enjoy it! Enjoy it! Getting wet and woozy, you know? I was sucking that guy's cock. Really giving him a job of head. And I was doing little pussy wiggles on the other one. You must have seen I had my leg around him. My God, Carla, I don't think I want to be like that! I think I'm sick or something."
"No," I said, spring in to defend her from herself. She was still my best friend, wasn't she?
Again? "It's just-"
"That wasn't the worst." The worst is what I did to you. And I'm sorry. It's just-well, when I watched you and Alex out on the beach Friday night, I could feel the electricity building between you. Something really special was happening to you, Carla, and I was only getting fucked. You had something I didn't have, something I've never really had, and I was jealous." She laughed. "Imagine that. Jealous. Couldn't you tell, when I was on the both of you, trying to make it a threesome? I wanted to be part of it. But even when I was trying, I knew that I couldn't. Not really. You think you're in love with him? That he lights up your life, to paraphrase that awful song?" I nodded. She sighed, stood up. I followed her out of the bathroom, into her bedroom. She opened her traveling case, took out a clean pair of panties, stood there holding them. "How does it feel?" I lifted my eyebrows, not quite understanding. "Making it with somebody and feeling love, not just fuck, sparking between you? It's never really happened to me. Not that I've been aware of. I thought maybe if I offered some to your boyfriend, that maybe I'd feel it too, the way you did. How does it feel, Carla doll?"
My eyes were still misty with tears. I went to her, scooped back her long silky hair, and for a moment we stared deeply into one another's eyes. "Something like this," I said, and I tiptoed up, my hands on her shoulders. I kissed her, with all the love I felt for Gail as my best friend, as the only person I'd cared about until Alex came along. My mouth was hot and wet on hers, and I felt some of that old love and caring come back. Had it ever really gone away? Hadn't most of my rage been because I loved her almost as much as I did Alex and I couldn't bear the thought of her betraying me so shabbily? As our mouths mingled and our tongues began to play back and forth, I knew that Gail would always be part of me and I hoped that somehow I'd always be part of her. But there was room inside me for Alex, too, and there was plenty of room inside Gail for someone who could touch her the same way Alex had touched me. We never had to be alone, any of us.
I eased her backward, and she settled onto the edge of the bed. She dropped the panties she was holding and they slithered silkily down my back. By that time I was nibbling her chin, licking my way down her neck, onto the jiggly surfaces of her tits. I cupped them in my hands, squeezed them together, and my lips flitted back and forth, from one hard pink nipple to the other. I kissed them, licked them, sucked them in little nippy swallows, and she held me in a warm, sighing embrace. Her tits moved gently against my lips and they tasted sweet, utterly feminine.
Her nipples swelled even more in my mouth, and my tongue did circles around their pink tips. Gail moaned in delight. I worked myself, on my knees, into the willing spread of her legs, and I put one hand on her shaven pussy. It was warm and damp, and her lips were puckered and sticky. My finger toyed with them as I continued to nurse her tits, and then I eased gently into her cunt with my finger, probing into the slippery slick of her hole itself. I began to rotate my finger inside Gail, working up and down at the same time, and my knuckle brushed nearer and nearer the pink button of her clit. I felt its hot little erection, and I heard her sigh and purr in appreciation. Reluctantly, I loosened my mouth from her tit and licked down her belly, while she lay back on the bed, opening her legs wider still, opening herself completely to me.
"We've done this a million times," I heard her say, "but it never felt quite like this before."
"It always did, to me," I whispered, and my lips slid across the tip of her clitoris. She moaned, and her flesh was burning hot against me, and her cunt a sucking mouth that clutched my stabbing finger.
Somehow I got that finger out of her hole, and I opened her puss. She was pink inside, pink and wet, and the flesh glistened with the ooze of moisture from her twat. I sniffed at the delicious aroma of her cunt, then nosed into the treasure box, rubbing through her vulva. I even stuck the tip of my nose into the mouth of her hole, where I felt the muscles begin to squeeze and clutch, the way they had when my finger was doing all the work. Milky juice coated her splayed twat, and it smelled good, and it felt good, and I couldn't resist the urge to see if it also tasted good. I stuck out my tongue and let it glide up and down the pink surface, lapping up the juice of Gail's arousal.
"God, yes, Carla doll," she sighed, reaching down with one hand. It rested for a moment on the top of my head, and then it pulled insistently, and I had neither choice nor desire to do anything but follow her will. I leaned into her cunt and began licking in earnest, from her clit to the mouth of her sweet tunnel.
My tongue was like a whip on her flesh. She moaned in delight, humped upward. I giggled and my fingers slid a little lower, onto the firm fleshy cheeks of her ass. I spread her, until the tiny pink allure of her asshole was visible, the flesh puckered around the little opening. I shot my tongue out, licking her anus friskily, working with the tip of my tongue as if I meant to put it inside her, the way Alex had worked his cock into my not-too-resistant asshole out on the beach that fateful Friday orgy night. "God, Carla!" she squealed. "Do it again!"
"Because I love you," I said, and I licked her again, this time with more care and precision. She tasted warm and rather fragrant. My finger slid into her crack, and I used it in counterpoint to my tongue, pushing her tight little hole with my fingertip, smearing around the drool my tongue had eased onto her rosy opening. She squirmed, and I could feel her whole body going loose and happy on me. It was a feeling I knew pretty well, thanks to Alex, and it was something I'd been trying to communicate to Gail as long as I'd known her. I guess she'd always regarded me as just another fuck. Maybe I could show her that we meant more to one another than that.
"Let me put it in you," I suggested, and she made a giggling response that didn't say "yes" but damned sure didn't say "no" either. I licked her asshole again, really licked it, smeared the drool around, and then I put my fingertip squarely atop her puckered anus. "Loosen up a lot more," I suggested, pushing, and I felt her body soften up still more. I didn't want to hurt her, but I really wanted to put my finger inside her ass. A few moments' pushing, another lick or two around the insistent wedge of my finger, and I was in her! My finger thrust, and she made a gurgling sound of joy, and my mouth jumped back up to the pink, milky spread of her pussy. She was holding it open for me now, her long slender fingers keeping the labes widely patted, and I went into her like ugly on an ape, smacking and slurping and using my tongue to probe as deeply into her twat as I could make it go.
"Carla doll!" she moaned as her pussy snapped madly around my stabbing tongue. I jerked my tongue out, licked her long pretty fingers, then shot up to savage the button of her clit. And my finger kept moving in and out of her ass, cornholing her digitally, short but effective strokes that made her throb and groan and shake like jelly on a plate. Her legs came up, wrapped around my neck, and I had no choice. I'd have to ride her to the end of this fuck. But who the hell would do it one bit differently, I want to know? Would you? Carla Jean Ney wouldn't. When I start something good, I stick with it, and I had started something better than just "good".
I covered her snatch with my mouth, and I sucked at her, feeling the milky juices hot and sticky as they oozed from her hole. My tongue stole into her pussy, lapped up the girl-cum at its source, and I couldn't help shivering as I thought how nearly we had come to fucking it all up, me and Gail. Part of it was her fault, yes, but part of it was mine. Blame? This was no time to think about blame. We had made up our differences and we were best friends again. We'd always be best friends. And maybe she'd think of me as a lover, too, the way I thought of her. Can you love two people at the same time? I think so. Even as I ate Gail's twat I was thinking about Alex and how much I longed to feel his mouth on my tits, his cock in my pussy again. He'd be out soon, I thought. I told him to wait thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes? Good Christ!
Was that a car outside? Was that a Volkswagen outside? How can you not tell a VWs peculiar sound when you hear it? I smiled, and I kept scarfing Gail's pussy. Jealousy? I didn't feel jealous any more. My body was chock full of love and Gail's legs were all around my neck, a lithe silky prison of flesh encompassing my head. I couldn't stop eating her, not now, not when she needed to find out how it felt to be made love to. It wasn't the same as fucking. She had to learn that. I'd learned it. And-what about Alex?
Something told me that he would understand.
I heard the knocking at the door, and somehow I managed to pry my mouth off Gail's pussy. "Come on in!" I shouted.
"Who's that?" Gail asked, sitting up, puffing.
I reached up, touched her nearest tit. The nipple twitched in the caress of my fingers. "A friend," I told her. "A friend of ours."
"Where are you?" Alex was calling. He was inside the house now.
"In the bedroom," I replied, caressing Gail's thigh, kissing her moist, sleek flesh. "Just open doors till you see us. I'm into something I can't quite get out of."
He opened the door, stood there, holding the doorknob, watching us. "Hello," I told him, the side of my face resting against Gail's moist pussy. "Would you like to join us?"
"Only if you want," he replied.
"Yes," I said, "I think that's what I want. Come here, darling." He came closer. I reached up with one hand and touched his crotch. The middle finger of my other hand was still inside Gail's asshole, not moving now but an inescapable presence in her tight rectum. Alex grew hard inside his pants. He looked at me, then at Gail. I nodded, my eyes bright, and he unzipped. I reached in, fondled his stiffening cock.
"Gail," I told him, "wants to know how it feels when you fuck with love. I'm trying to show her. Do you want to help?"
"I want whatever you want," he said.
I nodded, then turned to Gail. "The only thing you have to remember, pussywillow, is that he is mine. He's only going to show you how it feels. Once I've finished, of course. After that, you're on your own, and you have to find your own karma." I jiggled my finger in her asshole and she squealed. "Got the rules straight?"
"I think so," she said happily.
"Okay," I replied. "Just so you understand. We're all going to be very good friends in the times ahead and we might as well start it off the right way, don't you both agree?"
No one said differently, so I turned my face and began once more to eat Gail's pussy. Alex was shucking off his clothing and I'd already felt the rigid bone of his erection. It belonged to me, but today, when she needed it, I was willing to share that cock with Gail. Not on a permanent basis, but special circumstances really do call for special measures, and there was nothing I wouldn't do for Gail right now. After all, she was-is-my best friend, and what are friends for, when you get right down to it? And something told me we were going to be better friends than ever, all three of us. Friends and lovers, lovers and friends. When they put better words in the dictionary, I'll use them. Goodbye, now, and if you're looking for something, anything, I hope you find it as sweetly as I did. Carla Ney, signing off.
