There are many kinds of lust-but psychologists usually find they all have the same root: sexual gratification.
For many hunters, the pursuit of game and the kill is a distinct sexual satisfaction. The thrill of the successful hunt furnishes feelings of gratification that are distinctly comparable to successful coitus.
This area of investigation is tremendously complicated. It has, in fact, been the subject of many novels by authors well-known in the area of human psychology, novels which delve into man's strange mixture of sex drives which produces death as well as love.
Is it any wonder that the area of sex AND hunting can combine to create a distinctive work when the emphasis is on the sex-rather than the hunting. In a way, it is a short cut toward the examination of the true motives of the characters involved. Pleasure, as this novel reveals, is mostly sexual. The more torrid the sex, the greater the pleasure.
And just as sex lies barely hidden by violence; when sex is at its zenith, it barely clocks the violence ever eager to spew forth.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
If it wasn't for the faint feeling of trepidation, Deborah Hanson would have succumbed to the drowsiness caused by the monotony of the headlights stabbing the darkness, dancing and flickering as the station wagon followed the winding road deeper and deeper into the mountains of Southwest Idaho.
She worried that she and Jean Simpson had acted impulsively and weren't adequately prepared for a few days in the rugged Owyhee Mountains.
"Don't you think it was great of the boss to give us the next week off while the company conducts fall inventory?" Jean chirped, gunning the wagon up a steep incline of the narrow, gravel road.
"I think it might have been greater to have stayed in Caldwell and inventoried the hardware of that new salesman while the rest of the gang counted tees and plumbing elbows," she grumbled. "We could have measured a hunk of human pipe and counted two nuts-over and over." She shrugged deeper into the light jacket against the passenger door.
"Hah, you've noticed him," Jean laughed, reaching to pat Deb's left knee. "What makes you think it would be any fun to tally his plumbing fixtures? Ever notice how he blushes when he walks by while you're transcribing a letter? I bet his faucet shrinks and gets all plugged up."
"I'll bet," Deborah countered, a flush of warmth in her breasts and face, "that he doesn't. The bulge in his pants indicates he's got a full bag of tools. And if he does blush, so what? I'll bet his inhibitions would wilt at the same time he gets his pussy-stopper up."
"Oh, crap, forget about men for a few days," Jean chided. "A week of camping and hiking in the mountains will be good for us. And have you ever seen weather like this in the first week of October?"
"Yeah," Deborah frowned. "And I've heard of it turning from 80 degrees to below zero, from bright sunshine to blizzard in an hour."
"The eternal pessimist," Jean clucked her tongue. "Besides, just because there is a handsome man around doesn't mean I'm gonna drop my panties, flop on my back and spread my legs. I'm going to be fussier and fussier about who dings his bat in my precious little twatty."
Deborah was silent for awhile. "I was just wondering about how smart or dumb we are. The boss gave us the time off from shorthand and typewriters at four-thirty and we were on our way by seven. How much food do we have? Two fairly small boxes. How about clothes? What we're wearing-office dresses-hiking shorts and a pair of wool slacks each, a couple of flannel shirts, some heavy socks and hiking boots."
"And we have our backpacks on the roof rack," Jean piped.
"I daresay we can't wear those." Deborah scowled in the frail light emanating from the dash panel. "How much farther to where you want to camp?"
"Oh, couple of hours-not far from an old mine. There's a fresh stream and fire wood and absolutely no one around," Jean grinned in the dark, smoothing her sleek, blonde hair.
Pouting, Deborah rolled down her window and sniffed deeply of the tangy mountain air, the pungent aroma of sagebrush mingled with evergreen. "Don't you just love the fresh smell of the mountains, Jean-cool and clean."
"Chilly, you mean," Jean shivered. "Roll it up."
"Put your jacket on," Deborah argued. She turned in the seat and found Jean's coat in the backseat. "I'll help you; hold your left arm up so I can corral it with the sleeve."
She pulled the jacket down in back as Jean leaned forward, tugged it around her and gave her right breast a firm squeeze. "Hey, don't start a play you can't follow through on," Jean growled.
"What you gonna do about it?" Deborah taunted, grabbing the ripe, firm tittie again, at the same time shoveling her right hand up Jean's dress to grab a handful of pussy lips and coarse, blonde hair.
Jean yelped and clung to the steering wheel with both hands, keeping her thighs far apart to accommodate Deborah's fumbling fingers. "Handful of pussy-pie," she yipped. "Bet that new salesman would like to sample it."
"You hard-up little cunt," Jean admonished, laughing. "At any rate, no guy is getting any of my hair-pie without I feed it to him."
Slowly, Deborah withdrew and again slouched in the far comer. "I could play with you and finger-fuck you into a nice, hot cum."
"I might run off the road and it's a long way to the bottom of Whisky Hill," Jean laughed shakily, an excited thrill echoing deep in her hot, young pussy.
"Okay," Deborah sniffed, as if miffed, "I'll just take care of little old me."
"'Old'?" Jean said archly, glancing at her friend. "You think twenty is old? Hey, what are you going to do? What are you doing?"
"Taking off my panties," Deborah retorted, bouncing around in the seat, finally hauling white silk panties off over her flat heels. "Mind if I make myself comfy?" And she scooted around in the seat, carefully pushing her left foot into Jean's lap, keeping the right on the floor and spreading her knees far apart.
"You are something," Jean shook her head as Deborah tugged the dress tail and slip up around her waist, fully exposing her crotch that was carpeted with thick black nap. "If a bull elk or a buck deer or a he-bear gets a whiff of you, you better stay in the wagon."
"A big buck or bull, I could handle. What would a bear do?" Deborah panted, spreading the lips of her pussy with the fingers of both hands and gently stroking through her pinkish gash and playing with her clit.
"He'd probably dig both hairy paws into your honey pot and scoop out the goodie-sex-jam you're stirring up with your fingers," Jean said tersely, turning on herself as she glanced into Deborah's crotch to watch her slowly dipping a middle finger in and out of her aromatic hole. "Did you ever shave that animal?" she breathed heavily, reaching to tweak a tendril of long, black pubic hair.
"Oooooouch," Deborah pouted, starting her hips to rolling and hunching slightly in time with her in-and-out sliding finger. "Do you like to masturbate, Jean?" Deborah moaned.
"Only when I'm alone or with somebody," Jean groaned. "Oooohhh, damn you, I oughta stop right here and gobble you. Do you have any idea what you look like, with your dress tail up, your legs spread and your finger dancing in your sweet snatch?"
"Like a fuckin' cunt on fire, huh?" Deborah retorted, eyes glittering, half-closed as she jerked herself into a delicious climax. "Wish you wouldn't threaten or promise and would just go ahead and stop and eat my pussy, Jean."
"Maybe later, when we reach our camping area and get the bed made up in the back of the wagon," Jean said, tone gravelly with mounting passion. "You're so hard-up, it must have been a long time since you had any."
"Oh? A couple of weeks, I think. Wasn't too good, though; he had a short dick and too skinny-for the build of the guy."
"Do I know him?" Jean pumped. , "I don't know-maybe. He's a barber in Nampa or Meridian. Don't bother me with questions; let me finger-fuck myself into another-oooowwwwweeeee, CUM!"
Deborah was virtually unaware of Jean's steering from the main road to follow a primitive route through screening brush. "Wish there was a big, husky guy here right now," she panted, dipping both middle fingers into her hot pussy. "I could surely tolerate a big prick being tossed into my throbbing twat."
"Not me," Jean said quickly. "I'm getting a little serious about that guy from Boise. I think he may be right for me."
Deborah stirred, opened her eyes, hands pausing in her slippery gash. "Is he well-hung?"
"I believe so. I ain't never give it to him yet, but I've managed to sneak a feel and have snuggled my belly against it while we were dancing. I just want it to be right-and that means keeping my panties on and guys' dicks out from between my legs. This guy almost caught me once. The stud went out the back bedroom window of my apartment-and I thought my guy smelled pussy and pecker smoke." Deborah giggled softly, tried to dig her left heel into Jean's crotch to agitate her clit. She squared around as Jean drew up in a small clearing, eased the vehicle near a rocky cliff. She hung her panties over the rear view mirror.
"What are you doing?" Jean asked petulantly, flipping the flimsies with the back of her hand.
"Advertising, maybe, for that big stag, Jeannie," Deborah chortled musically. "Let's make the bed and get with it. You don't have any qualms about making it with a gal, do you?"
As if detouring the question, Jean asked, "Have you made it with that waitress at Jackson's Restaurant?"
Deborah helped straighten bedding. "No. But I know who she is-red-headed sex-bundle. She got fired. Her boss caught her going down on the breakfast cook-right back in the kitchen with customers waiting to give their orders."
"No shit," Jean said. "Gad," she faked a gagging sound, "I could never and would never go for sucking on some guy's cock."
"Me, either," Deborah echoed as they undressed.
"You are a liar, I think," Jean disputed. "Ever try it-giving or doing a blow-job?"
"Once," Deborah said solemnly, "I bought a passing grade in college biology by sucking off the professor. I never dreamed an old man in his fifties could have such a long, hard prick."
"I would never have dreamed a gal like you would have trouble passing a course like biology or anatomy," Jean murmured as they snuggled under the blankets, rolled into each other's arms. "Yii-likeeee," she squealed, rolling onto her back so Deborah could cup her pussy and love mound, snake a finger into her snug hole. "Soooo, goooood," she purred. "Can you suck my titties at the same time you finger-diddle my snatch?"
Jean hugged an arm around Deborah's back, caressed her bare butt, worked her fingers into the deep crease. "If you raise off me, I can get my hand under and finger-fuck you, too," she gasped, a hand on Deborah's head to hold her face firm to an opulent boobie and tumescent nipple. "Oooohhh, suck it hard and finger me fast, Honey."
"Wouldn't it be wonderful, Jean, if gals had pricks, too, so we could fuck each other as well as eat pussies?"
"Uuuummm. Don't talk. Just suck my tittie and finger my pussy. I'm about to have a stormy cum," Jean crooned, her body bucking, ass hunching, legs trembling as she began exploding little bang-bangs deep in her channel. "Popping my nuts," she squealed, ass bounding to Deborah's hand. And big boom-booms thundered all through her pussy, lightning flashing in her womb, through her heaving tummy.
"God, yes, I could use a cock thudding my cunt, but you do a fabulous job with your finger. Squiggle it around and let me enjoy my orgasm," Jean squawked.
The girls awakened about eight the next morning with squeals of concern. There was a skiff of snow, like a fine layer of whipped cream over everything. But their concern was brief as the brilliant sun began melting the snow, leaving the world wet and sweet-smelling. They cooked breakfast on a two-burner Coleman stove set up on the tailgate of the station wagon.
They clawed two suitcases from the rack and found walking shorts. "Not enough to even have a snowball fight," Jean chortled as they stripped naked and put on the shorts and light flannel shirts.
"Boots?" Deborah puzzled.
"Nah," Jean said. "We won't hike far the first time out; I just want to climb that hill to the east and see if we can get a look at War Eagle Mountain."
"What?" Deborah murmured.
"Tallest peak in the area," Jean explained. "Just our saddle shoes will be okay. And let's carry the packs to get used to them. And we'll take some candy bars and an apple apiece. We'll only go about a mile and be back before we're hungry."
"I'm still hungry," Deborah sniffed.
"Whaaaattt?"
"I didn't get my piece of hair-pie after we went to bed," she grinned, following Jean through stunted conifers, finding a game trail that meandered upward, to the east.
"Maybe we'll both have some of that this afternoon when we get back," Jean called, tossing her fine, blonde hair and signaling Deborah to come along with her play finger.
About a mile to the northeast of where the two girls were camped, two men rinsed out tin coffee cups and stowed their bedrolls in the cab of the battered Chevy pickup. "What now?" Kenny Johnson asked Don Corey, the older of the two.
They took their rifles from the rack across the back window of the cab. "Well, that little snow might start the deer moving," Corey mused. "Why don't we make a circle around to the northwest and just get everything spotted for when the season opens next Saturday. There are several little streams in this country and a number of springs."
The two men stopped on a little rise about a hundred yards from their camp, looked back at the old truck and the broad canvas fly they had strung for overhead shelter. "Guess things will be okay 'til we get back. Remember, no shooting-unless we're attacked."
"What would attack?" Kenny grinned. "Cougar?"
"Never," Don frowned. "But ... Did I tell you what happened a couple of seasons ago?" Don nudged Kenny's ribs with the butt of his rifle.
"You were attacked," Kenny laughed.
"Wellllll, not exactly. North of here about two miles there's a hot spring. Sometime in the past somebody-maybe a sheepherder or rancher or somebody-hauled in some cement and built a big tub of cement and rock he gathered up. And he built a little 'dobe building around it, hung chicken wire on it and stuccoed it-inside and out. A real cozy bathhouse. Well, in time one wall collapsed, but it's still a fair accommodation."
"So, you took a bath," Kenny kidded.
"Yeeeow, I did. But-you smart-ass, listen. I was hunting alone that year and I followed four or five deer for miles that way. I passed a camp-nobody there-the damned deer walked within fifty feet of their tent and two pickups. And I kept after those deer and eased up over this hill and I was looking right in that bathhouse at two gals squealing and splashing. No more than a quarter of a mile from camp."
"You turned and ran?" Kenny said soberly.
"Asshole! I sauntered up casually, whistling and stood there looking at those two dames squatting in the water to their chins, their undies and other clothes scattered on the ground."
"And you lit a cigaret and squatted down and asked them if they wanted a little?" Kenny said, tone helpful.
"No, you dummy," Don growled with mock contempt, "I offered to wash their backs. They must've been from Boise," he mused.
"Why?"
"They accepted," Don hooted. "They then wanted to know if I wanted my back scrubbed. And I told 'em I needed a bath all over and they wanted to know if I was going to take it with my clothes on. And I said I wasn't and started taking off my boots and you should have seen the way their eyes glittered."
They stopped atop a small hill and lit cigarettes, gazing across the fairly open country. "Good looking gals?" Kenny pursued.
"Not bad. Average for Boise, I'd say. And the average in Boise ain't bad-all those gals in government jobs living off the taxpayers-sitting on fur-fringed gold mines and giving away fortunes."
"Did you get in that big stone tub with them?"
"Yowp. Climbed right in naked with one at one end and one at the other. One of 'em handed me a bar of Dove and told me to see if it would sit on my olive branch."
"Olive branch?"
"Sure. Don't you get it? Olive branch, sign of peace. That's what they were getting at was a piece," Don chuckled, pausing to scan the countryside through his rifle scope.
"Bullshit, Don," Kenny protested.
"Nossir, not a bit. When I hesitated, they proceeded to scrub me down, paying particular attention to soaping my balls and branch that was getting longer and harder all the time. It got so stiff it would support a whole covey of doves.
"This one gal got so hot, she bobbed her head right under the water and gobbled most all of it right in her mouth. I stood up and she kept her face wrapped around my cock and I thought her tonsils were warbling around the head, really tickling it.
"Well, I sat my ass on the edge of that tub and she climbed aboard and dived her red-hot pussy right down on it, top-riding and fucking it like crazy. And all the time this other one was standing up in the water to mid-thigh and yelling for her to hurry 'cause it was her turn to have a go at my prick."
They circled to the west and south.
"So, you screwed them both?" Kenny mused.
"To this day I can't figure out who screwed whom. The more I think about it, they did the fuckin' and we all did the enjoyin'. Anyway, about four in the afternoon-hey, it's about that now and we oughta head back-those five deer doubled back and I got dressed and let them get out of sight and took after them. Well, they headed high and I started for here and walked into their camp.
"There the two gals were, fixin' supper and they all invited me to chow down with them-as if nothin' ever had happened."
"It's gonna snow some more," Kenny said, face serious as he studied a cloud the color of coal smoke scudding in from the southwest.
"Yeah," Don said. "But that's okay. Say, is that a car down there?"
Kenny peered through his scope. "Station wagon. Not hunters, though, I'd say. Probably a couple stopped in here to tear off a piece. Kind of wish we had a couple of cunts in camp to pass the time 'til the season opens."
CHAPTER TWO
It began snowing at five after four that September 27, a Saturday. Fine as dust, soft as lint, born by a deceptively cool breeze that modified the heat of the sun. But both girls reacted with squeals of apprehension, paused in their eating of candy bars.
Deborah watched the minute flakes flutter to her bare thigh, linger only briefly, then melt, hardly leaving noticeable moisture. "I don't believe it," she said sulkily. "You think we should get back to the car?"
Jean was already standing, tugging the shorts down out of her crotch and struggling with the bulky backpack. "I do reckon," she agreed. "This little snow mist will go 'way and we'll start earlier in the morning. I was sure we would be able to see old War Eagle from that ridge-back-there?"
"No," Deborah frowned. "We came that way. Remember that lightning-struck tree over there? Well, I don't see it from here-you said if we hiked straight that way, we would walk into the old mining ghost town of Silver City."
"Not that way," Jean said, facing away from her friend and shivering slightly as the breeze strengthened, definitely cold. "Let's get along," she said, trying to sound confident, brushing the congregation of snowflakes from her forearms.
"Don't you scare me, Jean Simpson," Deborah said caustically. "You're sure this is the way? My legs are getting cold. I had a hunch we should have worn long pants."
"I'm surprised you wore any-leaving your panties hanging on the mirror," Jean retorted. Half an hour later, pausing atop a long hogback ridge for breath, Jean turned to Deborah, "I think I booted it, Deb. We better just head down hill and look for shelter."
"What kind?"
"Any kind of shelter, maybe a cave. But, don't pick one with a cougar in it," Jean said into the rising wind. A little later, with the swirling snow blurring their visions and obscuring the landscape, she tossed off the backpack and turned to the stumbling Deborah. She helped her off with her pack and embraced her.
"We may die, Deb," she said, "and we'll never have a chance to take inventory."
"Inventory of what," Deborah muttered, licking snow from her lips.
"The bongos and drumstick that new salesman has dangling so temptingly between his long legs." Jean tried to grin. "Come on. Stomp your feet and swing your arms. Don't think about freezing."
"Good," Deborah yelled, "I'd much rather concentrate on how heavenly it would be to have his drumstick boinging my box and his big apples bobbing around on my bottom."
The girls, arms around each other for mutual support, plodded onward, half-blinded by the fine, gritty snow that was caking their clothes and bare, chilled legs. "Wish I had taken a course in survival instead of Student Unionism in college," Deborah complained. "It was a waste of time majoring in bridge and minoring in prick-teasing."
When one stumbled, both went down to flounder in the inch of snow. They fell again on the fringe of an open area and got to their feet more slowly. Then Deborah lurched forward, arm lifted weakly, pointing. "Oh, Jean, I think I see a camp over there against that cliff. See? Isn't that a truck? And a fire?"
The clung to each other, squinting, staring. They struggled forward, screaming for help. They stood there, trembling in the whipping wind. They collapsed again when they saw two dark figures loping toward them, like ghosts.
As they were picked up roughly, flung across shoulders, they began crying softly, convulsively, gratefully.
"Not too near the fire," one of the men said. "Plop them on the grub box and let's rehang this fly over a rope and make a two-sided tent."
Numb from cold, huddled together, the girls watched the two men batten down the sides of the makeshift tent, then bring bedrolls from the old pickup, unroll them and unzip the sleeping bags, spread them open.
"You two dumb dames better get in there 'til you thaw out," Don Corey grumbled. "Hurry up." They stood shakily and stumbled toward the opened bags. "One gal to a sack," Don said, steering Jean toward the bedroll where Kenny knelt. Obediently, the girls paused beside the inviting covers and gingerly removed their snow incrusted shoes, started to shiver onto the wool blankets. "Hey, no," Don objected, "get out of those wet clothes. You'll get everything sopping wet."
"Wait a minute," Jean protested as Kenny and Don began rubbing the melting snow from their legs with their palms, undoing their shorts. "Hey! We can manage this." But the men pushed their hands away and the girls tolerated being stripped.
After they were snug in the zipped-up sleeping bags, seeing a huge black coffee pot hung over the fire and their clothes hung on pointed sticks to dry, Jean said, "We're really grateful to you two. We were hiking and got turned around when it began snowing. We discarded our backpacks to make it easier walking."
"Where you camped?" Kenny asked, bringing two cups of coffee and squatting on the bedroll, his right hip against Jean's middle.
"We left our station wagon-west of here, I think," she almost stammered, watching Kenny take the bottle of whisky from Don and slosh liquor into the steaming brew.
"When the weather allows, we'll have to look for it," he said, leaning aside to permit Jean to crawl far enough out of the bag to accept the hot cup. "I'm Kenny and that's Don," he said easily.
"I'm Jean Simpson and my friend is Deborah-Deb-Hanson," Jean breathed, carefully sipping the scalding mixture. "We work in Caldwell."
"I drive a tow truck and Don is a half-assed mechanic at Mountain Home."
Across the narrow span, Don leaned across Deborah's middle and slapped at the younger man. "I am not a half-assed mechanic. I'm a full-assed mechanic."
Deborah squealed, complaining softly. "You got your elbow on my-" and her voice trailed off.
"That's a good sign," Don chortled, "you're thawing out if you're starting to get feeling in all your appendages."
Deborah stretched, trying to scoot away from the tall, lean man. "My toes are tingling and burning a little," she murmured.
"Yiiiiiippppe," Jean protested and Deborah twisted her neck, trying to see, but Kenny's back blocked her view of Jean. All she could see was the top of Jean's head, tousled blonde hair. "Quit that. Get your hand out of here."
"Was just checking to see if your sirloins are thawing out," Kenny chortled.
"Just keep your hands out of here," Jean said petulantly. "Deb," she called, "I think we oughta get out of here and...."
"... And do what and go where?" Deborah finished helplessly.
"It's getting dark and it's snowing harder," Don said, patting Deborah's hip, "and you'd get lost all over again and your two heroes might never find you and you'd freeze to death. It would be a shame for such choice, young, tender meat to be out there in a deep freeze."
"Don't get any dumb ideas," Jean grumbled, slapping at Kenny's hand on one of her breasts outlined by the heavy bag.
"I think we should all hit the sack early so we can look for your car, if the weather clears during the night or in the morning," Don said, standing and banking the fire.
"Deb and I will share one bag and you two guys...." Jean began, but Don sauntered over and shook his head.
"Now, I don't think that would be right. What would folks say if they found out two guys slept together? Ken and I don't want that kind of reputation."
"We'll sit up by the Fire," Jean protested.
"Suit yourself," Don shrugged, "but your clothes are still wet and there ain't no more firewood handy."
Deborah's heart pounded wildly as she huddled in the bag as the lanky Don sat on the edge of the bag, removed his boots and socks. It might be all right, she thought, mind spinning in a daze, if he keeps his pants-or even his underwear on.
But a little gasp of dismay fluttered from her lips as he stood and slowly removed his wool shirt, tee shirt and unbuckled his pants, shoved them down his long legs. She wanted to turn her head, swing her gaze away, but she watched, as if hypnotized, as he unsnapped his shorts and let them fall down to his ankles.
"You're not going to get in here with me naked," Jean yipped.
"Why not?" Kenny countered. "You're naked."
"That's what I'm talking about," Jean squawked.
Deborah swallowed convulsively as the flickering light from the fire revealed Don's genitals. Ugly, hairy monstrosity, she thought sulkily, staring at the blanket of wool across his belly, the dangling gonads in their crinkled sac and the limber, swaying rope of peter.
"I don't like this a damned bit," she whined, clambering onto her left side, against the limit of the sleeping bag as he lifted the top of the cocoon. "You just keep your distance."
She was deep in the sack and couldn't see anything but Kenny's naked body as he began shuffling down into the bag with Jean.
"Turn your back to me," Jean squawked, "and don't let your things rub against my back. Yike! Turn your back and don't let your darned peter touch me."
Deborah caught her breath deep as the chuckling Don slipped inside with her. The coarse hair on his legs scratched her bare, defenseless bottom and she tried anew to shrink away from him.
"Don't put your arms around me and keep your hands off my titties," Jean squalled. "I'd slap your damned face, but I can hardly move in here. Hey! Quit rubbing my body with yours. You aren't going to do anything, you know."
Kenny laughed with keen amusement.
Deborah shivered with short-lived relief as she felt Don's rear end rub hers, but he rolled over and planted his groin snugly to her tense bottom.
"They ain't no room in here to do anything like that," Jean whimpered. "And stop whispering those filthy, four-letter words in my ear. I won't do that-and that's it."
Deborah stiffened, but she didn't say anything when she tried to push Don's hand from her breasts. "Quit," she whispered, voice a hiss as he fondled her tittie, tweaked a nipple.
"If you do, will you be still and go to sleep?" Jean said petulantly. "It won't be any good; there's not enough room and well have a mess and the bed will be all wet all night. And don't tell me you're wearing a rubber; I know what a condom feels like-and I have my hand around your cock and you definitely are not wearing a rubber."
Deborah frowned, dismayed that her breath was rapid, that there was a warm flush in her body. She could tell herself it was caused by Jean's talk, a clear indication she was talking herself into a rastle with Kenny in the sack.
But it wasn't just that. Don's calloused hand massaging her hot breast was igniting sparks that crashed in little lightning flashes deep in her loins. And a ten-year-old would recognize that heat way down in the blankets, against the backs of her legs.
Don's breathing stirred her hair, tickling her scalp and teasing against her right ear. She tried to suppress a shudder as she keenly felt the stiffening of his bone downward against her thighs. It was so long, her mind seemed to torment her when it was limber. How long is it when it's hard?
She clamped her thighs together against the insistent prying of his growing post. Instinctively, she tried to heave away from him, and her thighs relaxed and his pecker, under a downward pressure, levered upward and slipped between her legs, like a smoldering torch.
"I want you to quit," she whispered waspishly. "Get your thing out from between my legs and hold it between your legs. I, absolutely, will not have it."
She squirmed in protest, to show him she was contemptuous of his male aggressiveness. His rigid member glided upward and now stretched across her pinched anus, putting denting pressure on the lower dimple of her pussy.
"I demand you quit," she hissed. Impulsively, she reached a hand to push his hose away, recoiled when her fingers encountered the great knob adorning the end of his long wand. She thought her fingers were singed by the heat of his faggot.
When he rubbed his hairy crotch against her tingling cheeks, she reached again, wrapped her fingers around his pecker and tried to push it down and away.
"Don't swab that sticky business in my crack," Jean wailed, a few feet away. "Kenny, stop it! Eeeeeeks, don't prod it against my asshole!"
Deborah kept her palm cupped over his monstrous knob. As long as I keep it in my hand, she thought hazily, no way can he stick it up me. Her mouth yawned open. She was appalled as her fingers explored around the big, blunt end of his prick, thumb flicking over the plum-smooth bulb.
"Put it in for us," Don whispered, breathing harshly in her ear.
"No!" she whispered in return. She wondered whether her arm had relaxed. The length of his prick again lay across her hot, itching butt hole and was snuggled to her thickening cunt lips. "This is insane," she wheezed, tormented by the unbidden kindling of excitement in her body. "Stop pawing my boobie," she snapped. "I think it's too big," she whispered, aghast, as if another person in her had spoken.
"Oh, come on," Don chided, "don't try to tell me your snatch is all that small. I bet it's had thicker and longer dongs than mine banged into it."
"Shi-oot," Deborah protested. "It has not. I can tell that you have a huge-obscene-cock. Just from what I can feel of the-knob on the end. I think it would hurt," she added doubtfully.
She tensed as he began hunching against her. Yet she clung to the fat bulb as he slid it back and forth between her legs, against her rectum and hot sex-mouth. "Ah-ah-ah-ah," she wheezed as he moved back from her-and she clung to the solid end of his cock.
"You baaaaastard," Jean shrilled from the other sleeping bag.
"What's going on?" Deborah whispered.
"I can't tell," Don answered. "They're hassling around in the sack."
"Raise your top leg," Kenny gasped, 'so I can poke it in your twat."
"Go to hell," Jean scoffed. "Please? Won't you be satisfied if I just jack you off?"
Kenny laughed derisively and Jean swore softly. "No!" she snarled. "I won't take it from behind like a dog-it would be just like you to cornhole it up my butt."
Deborah was glad Don couldn't see the flush of her cheeks as she gripped the three or four inches of cock he was slowly gliding back and forth between her clamped thighs. And she was faintly ashamed and astonished that her hand was milking the thick foreskin back and forth over the knob of his cunt-walloper.
She was puzzled for a moment as Don stopped bumping his groin against the flaming cheeks of her butt. "What's the matter?" she whispered hoarsely, aware the slit in the end of his dick was greasing her fingers with stickiness.
"I can't see too well now," Don answered, "but I think he's getting on her."
Deborah clawed the top of the sleeping bag down and peered intently at the flurry of movement in the other bag.
"Easy," Jean admonished, "you're crushing my titties. Raise up and let me get my leg out from under you. Ouch! You're pulling my pussy hair, the way you're sliding around on me."
There was a loudness of heavy breathing. "Yeah, that's better," Jean subsided. "And for Christ's sake be still; I don't want Deb and Don to hear us-you fucking me."
In spite of herself, Deborah shook with laughter and almost choked to stifle a giggle. How could they help but hear what was going on only a few feet away. "Uuummm," she sighed, naturally, as Don kissed her neck, nuzzled his lips over her bare shoulder and licked between her shoulders.
She stared through the gloom at the jostling of the other sleeping bag that, in the dark, resembled a giant worm crawling, but going nowhere. She could see her friend's pale face and tousled blonde hair. And she had her arms out of the bag, wrapped around Kenny's neck. She couldn't see his face because he had it tucked in the curve of Jean's neck and shoulder.
"It's big; it's goooonnnna be tight. Ssssshhh, don't let them hear us talk-and fuck quietly, Kenny."
"Ooooh, you arrogant-cock-sure-bastard," Deborah gasped, realizing what she had done, that she had taken the palm of her hand from around his cock-knob and had pressed it into her sex-greased furrow and he was plowing it back and forth as she held it in the groove with the tips of her fingers.
She winced as the head of his prick slid past the entry to her vagina. It rasped her clit, sending tingles through her tummy. She held her breath as he retreated, the moist bulb sliding over her pooched-out anus, then back into her long, slick slot.
"Bad angle," she moaned, pushing her butt against him, at the same time pushing his cock firmly into her pouch. "Go slow, this time."
She inhaled deeply as he planted the head of his root at her entry and she stuffed it inside. "Push," she gasped, her toes curling as he shuffled down, brought his massive cock up under her. "Oooohhhh, Jesus," she sighed as his prick began sliding smoothly, snugly along her torrid canal. She lifted her right leg as high as she could, felt and fumbled between her legs to grasp his clutch of eggs.
"Debbbbbb, help me," Jean wailed. "He's got his big cock socked in me and is starting to fuck me.
Deb quivered and thrilled as she held his heavy balls with both hands, her thumbs gauging the slide of his prick as he slowly buried it in her seething snatch. "Eeeeiii," she gasped as the massive knob grazed her cervix, bounced off and slid deeper into her trembling body.
She strained to pull her knees upward, push back, present her ass to him so he could stick every inch of his thick cock in her hungry, tormented pussy. "See?" Don laughed softly in her ear, "you can take old Don's prick with room to spare."
"You smart-assed bastard," she retorted, "just barely. I can feel the end mashed against the far wall." She wriggled her bottom. "Well? You gonna let it soak all night, or are we gonna fuck?"
"Debbbbbb?" Jean squalled again.
"Whaaaat-what can I do for you, Jean," Deborah panted, rocking and rolling her ass to facilitate the smooth, warm glide of cock into her cunt.
"Ooooohhh, just shut up and never mind now; Kenny's fucking me into a sweet, heavenly cum." Her breathing was loud and excited. "Come on, Honey," she pleaded, "that's the way; fuck me fast and hold your jizz for a little and we'll blast together."
We've got to get away from these two, Deborah thought absently, holding Don's hot, hairy balls and shaking her butt to grab at his inwardly thrusting rod. But later, she thought dreamily, a sensation of ecstasy permeating her body as her sphincters tootled around his throbbing flute.
The wind wafted a dusting of snow into the open end of the makeshift shelter. Let it snow, she thought, I can't be bothered about that now. I have a tempest brewing right down here under the covers in my snatch.
"Not much room for screwing," she whispered, "but is there anything I can do to make our fucking better?"
"Just keep shaking your ass like this," Don grunted, shafting his cock into her and prying it around against the clutching walls of her pussy.
Deb could see Jean turn her head to stare, wide-eyed, at her. "What are you two doing, Deb? Is Don punching your pussy full of cock? I don't want to be the only gal here who is getting fucked. Oooohhhh, heeeeck," she screeched. "Forget it for now. I ain't got time to worry about it. I'm getting cock shoved in me really far and fast and deep. I'm gonna cum againnnnnnn."
I'm really getting fucked, too, Deb thought, scowling, concentrating on the pistoning of prick into her pussy, realizing Don's coital strokes were coming faster and almost brutally up her snatch.
"You 'bout ready to cum?" she whispered harshly. "Give me a little warning and play with my titties and get me all ready to cum, too, and I'll milk the jizz out of your cock with my fuck-muscles. You 'bout ready? I'm ready. Faster, Don? Hurrrrrrry? Fuck me fassssst? I wanna cummmm. Please? Pour the prick to me and fuck it to me deeeeepppp. Let's cuuuummm?" she wheedled, pleaded.
"Make my pussy smoke with your fabulous prick? Yeah, yeah, yeah! Shove it to my snatch and jizzzzzmeeeeeee."
"Are you fucking, too, Deb?" Jean whined. "I'm getting fucked and I've already had four orgasms. Is Don fucking your cunt?"
"SHUUUUUT uppppp," Deborah howled, "and let me concentrate on getting prick up me. Hurrrrry, Don! Yeah! Stab deep and-OooohhhAaaagggghhh. Sweet shit, jizz me; pump my cunt full of cum-fun."
CHAPTER THREE
Sometime, it must have been about daylight, Deborah was sleepily aware of Don's slipping from the sleeping bag. Before he pressed it around her, she shivered as a gust of cold air breathed down around her nakedness. "Grrrmmmm," she complained.
She snuggled deep into the bag and blankets, vaguely hearing the two men talking and knew Kenny had gotten up, too. "Wanta trade roommates today?" Kenny laughed and Deborah scowled, thinking, No way. And she thought, numbly, again that she and Jean had to get away from these two lunatics.
She tossed and turned, almost awakening when she heard the engine of the old pickup start, thinking, maybe, they were going to find the station wagon, but all they did was back it around and park it about four feet from the open end at the north of the shelter.
Then sleep left quickly as she smelled coffee cooking and opened her eyes warily and found she was staring into Jean's sober face, somber blue eyes.
"Did you hear what Kenny said?" Jean whispered, voice very low, "about trading tonight."
"He said today," Deborah whispered back. She frowned as Jean manipulated her eyes, as eloquent as if she had spoken or pointed. Deborah glanced toward the end of the shelter, at the back of the pickup with its battered plywood shell over the bed. Don had his dong out and was peeing a big stream far out into the snow that was some six inches deep.
"Did he fuck all that into you?" Jean whispered. Deborah swallowed hard, amazed at the length of his placid hunk of meat. Had she? Really? She nodded. "I guess he must have."
For just a second there was a flicker of laughter in Jean's eyes. "I bet if he tied a feather to the end, he could tickle your tonsils."
Deborah was aware of brief embarrassment, displeasure with her friend's flippancy about their predicament. "If we don't get the hell out of here and away from here, you're going to find out what it's like, having that monster-and it is that when he gets it hard-reaming our your precious pussy. Remember? Kenny wants to swap."
Jean's face paled. "My God," she gasped softly. "I can't; I know I can't take it. He's pretty big and he fucked me all night long, I think-but he doesn't have as much cock as Don."
"Which, if we don't shake these two maniacs, you will find out," Deborah repeated her warning. "He couldn't really hit me with all of it, fucking me from behind and my ass end in the way."
Deborah just couldn't help herself as she stared with fascination at the prominent bulge in the crotch of Don's pants as he knelt beside the small campfire to pour coffee into four cups. "You gals want a tin of this old panther piss?" he grinned amiably.
"Smells good," Jean murmured, sliding a little way out of the sleeping bag, careful to hug the end of the blanket around her jugs. "Would you toss us our clothes?"
"Sure," Kenny said, setting down an aluminum kettle in which he was stirring up hotcake batter.
"These are just our bras and panties," Deborah complained.
"Best we can do," Don said with mock apology. "But the wind whipped a lot of snow in during the night-that's why we backed the truck around-and they won't be dry for awhile. You can have your socks and shoes, though."
Deborah squinted at their socks strung on sticks stuck in the ground, shoes lined up a discreet distance from the fire. "We have to have more than just our underwear," she wheedled. "Why don't we just stay here 'til our shorts and shirts get dry?"
"Still want the coffee?" Kenny asked.
"Oh, yes," Jean said as she and Deborah wrestled under the covers, getting into panties and bras.
"Then come and get it," Kenny laughed, spiking all four cups with whisky.
"Youuuuu bastards," Deborah snarled.
"Okay," Kenny said, "Don and I'll drink it, then."
Deborah and Jean exchanged looks of doubt, resignation, then crept out of the warm cocoons of the sleeping bags. "S.O.B.s."
The girls had meant to approach the two men only long enough to get the cups of coffee, then retreat to the rumpled sleeping bags where the light was poor. But it was cold away from the fire built in a circle of flat rocks.
Almost clinically, Deborah compared the two men, as if to settle the question of who was the lesser of two evils. Don Corey-tall, sinewy, with rough features framed by carelessly cropped reddish-brown hair. Kenny Johnson with black hair hanging dankly to his shoulders, making his thin, long face with oily complexion seem even longer.
She would have guessed Kenny was the mechanic, grease under his nails. "Your hands are dirty," she said sourly. She met his gaze straight and steady and his color deepened.
"Let me work on the breakfast," Don said lightly, patting the younger man's bony shoulder.
The slender Kenny glared at her for a moment, then his gaze relented and he nodded slightly. He turned his back, dug a hand into his pants pocket and began scraping at his nails with a pocket knife. "I've been a little careless lately," he said, back still to her. And Deborah was a little regretful she had shamed him.
What a ludicrous situation, she thought, looking into the steaming coffee cup beside her on the bare ground as she sat cross-legged on the sleeping bag. I would never have imagined I would ever be sitting in a crude tent in my undies, almost unconcerned on the bed where a complete stranger had used my body so thoroughly and completely. Satisfactorily? a wee voice in her mind taunted.
Keyed by genuine hunger, she watched with interest as Don readied a griddle for the hotcakes, a large cast iron skillet for bacon he had spread out on board and eggs he was beating in another aluminum bowl.
"Did he make you cum?" Jean asked softly, leaning against her.
Deborah scowled her objection to such a question. Then she shrugged, nodded. "Yes," she whispered.
"How many times?"
Deborah covertly lifted two fingers. "Twice, as I recall."
"Did he do it to you more than once during the night?"
Deborah's brows knitted as she thought that over. "I don't really remember. I was tired. I think I fell asleep with his cock soaking in me."
Jean shuffled close to her, moving her cup along carefully, "I didn't know whether you let him or not."
Scornfully, Deborah said churlishly, "I couldn't very well have prevented it-being as both of us were naked and in the same bed."
"I didn't see him roll on top of you," Jean persisted.
Not taking her eyes from the cooking of hotcakes, Deborah explained, "From behind me, on our sides."
"Deb?"
"What?" Deborah snapped, sniffing at the aroma of frying bacon.
"Did you help him-I mean, put it in for him?"
Deborah didn't answer, knew she was blushing from the flash of heat in her face.
"You did!" Jean gasped, tone almost jubilant. "You aimed his cock for him. You had to, it's so crowded in those sleeping bags and you had to put his cock in your pussy, if you fucked on your sides, him from your ass-side."
"Sssshhh," Deborah hissed, hating the blush she knew was suffusing her oval face that normally was a deep tan, but was now tinged with red.
The men seemed totally unconcerned, even unaware, about their near-nudity, handing them plates heaped with steaming, appetizing hotcakes, bacon and scrambled eggs. "There's a spring against the cliff face at the end of the canvas," Kenny said.
Deborah did think he lingered, looking down the valley accented by the bra that pushed her breasts forward. But she was hungry-and let him stare at her lap. He couldn't see anything, not even crinkly black hair because of the double ply in the crotch of her panties.
As soon as he turned away to let Don refill their tin cups with bubbling coffee, Deborah whispered to Jean, "We have to look for a way to get away from them."
"Yes," Jean agreed. Then, doubtfully, "But look at all the snow, Deb. And I can see a cloud cover over the top of their truck. And it's cold. And even if we had our shorts-which I haven't spotted-and our flannel shirts."
Deborah was aware of a feeling of discouragement. "We have to get away. Do you want to be kept here, flopped on your back or somewhat and screwed whenever they get a pencil full of lead?" Jean was silent for a couple of minutes and Deborah thought she was brooding about their situation. "You didn't have any trouble handling all Don thrust at-in-you?"
Deborah shivered with discontent. "Why do you keep dwelling on that?"
"I was just worrying. But, if he didn't hurt you with his big knocker, I should be able to take him. We're about the same height and build."
Deborah exhaled in a soft snort of disdain. "And you were the one who was going to remain chaste and save your valuable ass for your husband."
"Honey," Jean remonstrated quietly, touching Deborah's upper arm, fingers just grazing the side of her right breast. "Right now I am thinking of necessities and expediencies. Survival, you know."
"You may get a chance to find out-they're about done with washing the dishes," Deborah gestured to the two men. She cringed mentally when Don and Kenny turned to face them.
She didn't need anyone to spell it out phonetically for her when she glanced at the welt down Kenny's left pants leg and the cumbersome bulge. And he was looking right at her Vee, Deborah quailed, immediately uncrossing her legs and scooting away.
"Kenny," Don said casually, "I just don't think you have any jazz band left in your system, after wearing out your baton all night."
"Hey," Deborah peeped as Kenny unbuttoned his shirt, tossed it aside.
"You gals had a good meal and Don and I think it only right you compensate us for food and lodging." He bent almost double to unlace his boots, pull them off.
"You guys have to be kidding," Deborah protested, aghast as she watched him take off his pants, run his shorts down his legs and step out of them, flaunting his obscene nakedness before her startled eyes.
"We are absolutely serious," Don chuckled. "Come over on the other sack," he told Jean, tugging her arms, all but lifting her to the other bedroll. He sat beside her, hugged her to him. She tried to cower away, but gave that up and let him lean her against his chest, not even Fighting off his hands as he cupped them over her opulent breasts.
Deborah stared at the ugliness of his male appendages, his pecker rapidly reaching a plethoric condition, the head massive and glazed at the end of the staff that slanted from his hairy groin.
"I cleaned my fingernails and washed my hands-twice," Kenny said ingratiatingly, dropping to his knees in front of her.
As if partly mesmerized, Deborah stared at his prodigious dick-wondering if he weren't just as well-hung as Don. What was that old, dirty song? How did it go? "It's as long as my arm and as thick as my wrist with a knob on the end as big as my fist."
She shuddered as Kenny caused his outward sloping cock to wobble by gyrating his pelvis. Ludicrous and obscene. "You two guys are thoroughly depraved," she muttered, slapping at his hand as he reached to jiggle her breasts.
"Nah," Kenny rebutted, hunching his cock toward her face.
With helplessness and despair, she looked across at Jean. Don had removed her bra and she was sitting against him, passively tolerating his fondling of her smooth, ivory-toned boobies. Or, was she enjoying it?
"Be nice and cooperative," Kenny said softly. "We're gonna have a nice, hot, satisfying fuck. So, just cooperate and enjoy it."
Through narrowed eyes, she studied him. He wasn't totally repulsive. And she was astonished she wasn't repulsed by her objective observation. He was long-muscled and seemed clean. There was a paucity of body hair that often made men repulsive. If he just had that long, stringy black hair cut ... His major ugliness-and all men were cursed with it, some with more than others-was his hideous genitals. And he had plenty of those.
"Ooooh, no, Ken," Deborah protested weakly. "It's dayliiiiight."
"Dark enough," he murmured.
Deborah glanced at Jean for support, or at least commiseration and was astonished and perplexed by the lewd glitter in her best friend's eyes.
Her hands, contorted behind her, were no match for his as he unhooked her bra, unharnessing her twin tits. She fought for the bra for a moment, then gave it. Her boobies were floating free, fully exposed any way.
"They're in here with us." She tried another ploy.
"Oh, heck, so what?" Kenny laughed, palming and gently mauling her firm cones. "Don's my friend and Jean's yours. Sort of like seconds at a duel, right?"
She went to push at him, but her hands slid . down his chest and her fingers locked on his long, hard cock. They toppled over backwards onto the sleeping bag, her legs flailing, feet flung high.
"Stop this, this minute," Deborah gasped, holding his prick away, not daring to turn it loose, therefore, unable to cope with his hand cupping her sweet, curvy crotch. "They're here and I don't want them-or anyone-friends, or not, watching," Deborah snarled, kicking ineffectively as Kenny relentlessly hauled her panties down, the waistband sliding down from the upper crowns of her buttocks.
No one had to tell Deborah she was now completely naked. A cold draft of air flowed over her body. She wiggled and squirmed under the laughing, but determined Kenny Johnson.
"Hey, you're hurting my cock," he exclaimed.
Instantly, she relaxed her grip. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said gently, without thinking. Then the wrinkles re-formed in her brow. 'The hell I am not sorry, you son of a bitch. You rapist."
His hand shoveled back between her legs and her back arched as he dipped his middle finger into her viscous cunny. "Ah-ah-ah-ah," she gurgled.
Slowly, despair and indignation were replaced by resignation and the resistance flowed from her. Her legs relaxed and her fingers now just clung firmly to his thick, rigid shaft. She actually manipulated her legs, letting and helping him get between her updrawn knees, climb on top of her.
"You gonna help us get it started, put it in?" Kenny panted, face inches from hers.
"No," she snapped, but she only withdrew one hand, keeping the fingers of the other curled around the middle of his immense sexual member. "You're incompetent," she laughed in his contorted face as he rutted ineffectively, the head of his cock rooting around in the thick hair that adorned her Venus mound.
"Help me-help us," Kenny snorted, wallowing in the deep Vee of her thighs.
"God, you're a simpleton, an inept kid," she taunted him. Then, without conscious thought, she pushed her hand back against the base of his prick, shrank her crotch away from him and angled the head of his prick into her perfumy corolla. He gasped with pleasure as he plowed the head of his prick through the petals of her love-blossom.
"Don't get so damned rambunctious," she grated in his ear, "and don't slobber all over my neck and boobies." She pushed at his cock, hauling the thick, tight skin back as she dobbed the massive knob against the gateway to her spasming pussy.
He hunched, almost brutally.
"Eeeeiii-Goddamn," Deborah howled, body writhing as he jabbed about four inches of virile cock into her tight young cunny. "You don't have to do it so rough-like you're shoving your dagger in a scabbard, Ken. Take it easy; eeeeasssssy."
She wobbled her ass about, oiling his piston and stretching the walls of her channel as she sucked his massive sausage into her fiery maw.
Deborah slapped his cheek, not roughly, just to get his attention. "If I take my hand away, you promise not to rip your cock into me like you're trying to tear out the wall between my cunt and my rectum? I want to be able-sometime-to walk away from here with my snatch intact. Promise?"
She warily took her hand from between their bodies and patted what she could reach of his ass as he scooped both hands under her, cupping her rump and lifting her bottom so he could spear prick into her pussy at a convenient angle.
"We couldn't do it this way in those damned sleeping bags," she said sulkily, kicking her feet high in the air and fanning her legs far apart to let him drive the last fraction of an inch of massive cock down and into her rolling volcano.
She drew her thighs in against his flanks, putting pressure against his sharp hip bones. "Now, don't gouge it to me," she admonished, fingers playing with his ass, an arm curled around his neck.
"Feel okay to you?" she whispered loudly, her lips kiss-kissing at his cheek. "My pussy fit good around your pecker?"
He grunted and groaned, nodding his head beside her face.
"Let your cock soak a little bit and I'll pinch it nice with my inside muscles-my pussy-fuck muscles," she crooned, curling a shapely calf across the small of his back.
Deborah glanced across at the other bedroll at Don and Jean who were leaning over to inspect the lewd penetration of her gash. "You perverts," she grunted, brow wrinkling with disgust. "Okay. Go ahead and watch us-me-him-Oh, shit, go ahead and watch us fuck. I don't care." She turned her face back to Kenny, tapped the heel of her foot on his butt. "Okay, Honey, start giving it to me. Let's go. Start fucking the nice, big prick to Deborah's hungry cunny."
She emitted a series of ragged "Ooooos" as he slowly extracted his prick until just the pulsating head was wedged in her vagina. "Yi-yi-yi-yiiiii," she whimpered as he plowed the prick back into her in a steady stroke.
"My cock feel gcod in your snatch?" Kenny breathed heavily.
"Dan-dan-dandy," Deborah cooed, using both hands to pat his ass crown and to urge him forward, into her saddle.
"Is my prick as good in your cunt as Don's?"
"Just peeeeerrrrfect," she panted. "It lights fires in my twat that flashes stars in my brain. Give it to me in slow, steady thrusts. Just pour the prick to me like we got all day to fuck and enjoy it."
"We do have all day," Kenny reminded her.
Deborah tickled the tip of her tongue in his ear. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Look at that jealous couple of queer jerks, watching us fuck up a storm," she giggled. "Why don't you at least jack off Don, Jean, if you're not going to get in the swing and screw? Don, she loves being fingerfucked, if your twang is worn out from popping your nuts in me. And Jean really goes for cunni-cunni-oh, shit, having her cunt eaten."
Squish-squish-squish-squish-squish.
Cock pumping moistly, soddenly into eager cunt.
"Good fucking," Deborah panted.
Slock-slock-slock-slock.
Prick pounding with increased fervor into torrid pussy.
"You ain't gonna jizz yet, are you? Honey? Make my pussy smoke?"
Slap-slap-slap-slap-slap.
Passion-laden big balls bouncing against Deborah's flattened ass cheeks and bulging anus.
"Really bang your prick into me first, if you're about to cum-cum and can't hold back your lovely jizz," Deborah pleaded.
"Jiiiizzzzz my cunny good. Oooohhhh, I'm cumming hard and wonderful, Hoooonnnnney. Don't stop! Keep fucking the prick to me."
She wished she had his big balls stuffed in her cunt with his fabulously gunning prick as she felt her cunny walls plastered with his thick, sticky cum.
CHAPTER FOUR
Deborah lay there, Kenny heavy atop her, in a sweet torpor, reveling in the delectable sensation of having her innards bloated with heavenly, long, fat cock. The only action she was aware of was her sphincters milking wetly around Kenny's hard, unyielding meaty tusk that reached deep into her, applying pressure through the flesh against her bowels.
She glanced over dazedly at Jean and Don, admiring Jean's Firm, jutting titties that Don was fondling as if they were modeling clay.
"Can you raise up a little, Kenny-lover?" she whispered, hands stroking his sides. "You're crushing my boobies and I can hardly breathe."
"What about us, Jean?" Don cajoled.
"It's snowing again," Jean evaded, arms dangling, hands limp between her spread legs, thumbs against her curvy vulva.
She didn't resist as he tilted her chin and kissed her full lips. "Let's fuck, now," he said.
"Nooooo," she murmured.
"Yes," Don insisted, laying her cunt lengthwise on the sleeping bag. "I'll be right back; gotta put some more wood on the fire."
Jean lay there, staring almost resentfully from Deborah to the lanky Don Corey. She didn't move when he returned, took off his boots, quickly stripped. "Let's get your skivvies off," he said sociably.
"They'll watch," Jean said accusingly.
"Well, we watched them," Don chuckled, jostling her trim body as he de-pantsed her. She clamped her thighs together and spread her hands over her mound thatched with spun gold. "You act like you're ashamed of your pretty pussy," he chided. "You have a gorgeous little pecker snatcher."
"I'm more or less engaged," Jean whimpered, yet no tears came to her wide eyes.
"I won't tell," Don said. "Now spread your legs, Baby."
But Jean lurched to a sitting position. "No. Well, not just like that," she said tersely.
"What, then?" Don demanded.
"I've gotta look," she said in a quavering tone.
"At what?" he asked, puzzled.
"Your-peter," she said petulantly. "I want to see just what and how much and all that I'm gonna get speared into me."
Don laughed with amusement. And he winked as Kenny turned his head to look. "Okay, go ahead and conduct your inspection." He posed beside her, up on his knees, his massive harpoon sloping from his groin toward her.
"Don't all of you laugh!" Jean scolded, turning to face her hard problem. She touched his cock all along the barrel with tentative fingertips. "God, really big." She tried to circle it with thumb and forefinger. "Thicker'n my arm. Too much," she said decisively, but she curled her fingers around it, added her other hand.
Almost as if under a spell, her excitement and enthusiasm burgeoned and her hands began stroking up and down on Don's lengthy joint. "How on earth did you grow such a gorgeous hunk of girl-pleaser?"
"Raised it by hand when I was a kid," Don chortled, paying homage to her saucy cones as they joggled as she flogged her hands lovingly on his passion-gorged gash-gouger. "Do you think I can really take it? It's so biiiig."
"Even in your back hole," Don nodded. He winced when she gripped his meat hard, forcing blood into the already red, glowing knob. "Neeeeeever anything like that," she said dourly. "Don't you dare even think such a thing cornholing my little butt hole-let alone try it. I won't stand for anything like that. If you do that, I'll tell when we get out of here."
"Oh, please, don't," Don said with mock fear. "I just couldn't stand it if you started a stampede of these Idaho gals wanting their assholes plugged." Jean resumed jacking him off, seemingly enchanted by the length and girth of the cock she had in her hands. "You conceited fucker," she breathed, voice low, saturated with passion and wanton desire.
"You're positively sure you won't hurt me, if I let you get on me and fuck this magnificent cock into my cunny?"
"Your sweet snatch can handle it all right," Don reassured her, gently pushing her over, taking her by the waist and flopping her onto her belly. "Pull your knees up, get your legs far apart and push your beautiful ass back here."
"Dog-fashion?" Jean pouted, looking back, trying to see just where he was going to plant his prodigious root. "Now, not in the butt, you hear? Strictly in my pussy and not up my asshole."
She felt as tight as coiled springs, her back arching and receding like a snake crawling in place. Glancing back along her right flank and up, she could see Don's grotesquely long cock sprouting upward, lying against the curved right cheek of her butt.
Between her legs, she could see the shadowy shape of her pussy, the outer lips inflated with passion and expectancy. With all her heart, she wanted to collect herself and accept this carnal debauchment with indifference.
But he aroused such high-pitched sensual sensations all through her tummy, just from teasing her with fuck-thrusts of the barrel of his prick through the splayed crack of her ass.
She rested her weight on her elbows, folding her forearms. Jean shivered violently as Don ran a big hand up and down her back, from between the shoulders to the rounded, creamy crowns of her sexy can.
"Oooohhh, goddamn," she whined as he plied just the head of his prick in her anal crevice, teasing her itching, burning anus, slicking it with the goo that seeped from the snake eye in the big tip.
Deb was right, they had to get away-or maybe spend the rest of the fall and all winter as sex toys for these two leering, uncouth maniacs.
She braced herself as Don rested his chest up on her back, looped his arms around her slender middle and made her feel she was going crazy, running his hands up and down the taut inner planes of her thighs, his thumbs paying attention to her split, spreading the outer petals that shielded the inner blossom of her pussy.
"Aaagggggrrrrr," she gurgled as he hunched his hips and the length of his cock plowed up between her parted legs and the slick, sticky head slid through the golden web on her mound and gooed her smooth belly.
Jean glanced accusingly at Deborah, not expecting help, but surprised to see she was still pinned to the rumpled sleeping bag by Kenny's sex-spindle. He was beginning to rut his body and Jean suspected he was getting ready again or had never lost his hard-on and was about to fuck Deb again. And Deb was responding to the inner gouging of her body by bending her legs, clamping her thighs to Kenny's flanks.
Jean's breath was expelled in a startled whoosh as Don used a hand to position the knob of his cock in her narrow furrow. The contact of sensitive flesh, prompted an agonizing itching and burning of her opening, flames seeming to lick inward, searing the constricted walls of her cunny.
In spite of her wishes not to respond, she began undulating her defenseless bottom, as if she were trying to corral his prick with her fluttery hole. Fleetingly, she had a mental image of the immenseness of his pole. "Don't spear it in," she pleaded. "You're awfully big and you'll have to put it in slowly, if you expect me to take all your cock. Maybe I can't take it."
Her eyes dilated as she focused all her physical senses on the experimental jabbing of his cock head against her opening. For a moment, fright was generated in her mind as it felt like little slick flabs of pussy flesh were being hauled inside her vagina. The pressure he was applying with the weight of his hips increased and Jean was aware of a stretching at her gateway. She was about to scream, but just then the massive knob sort of exploded into her and her ring of vaginal muscle gripped his cock just behind the corona, capturing the bulb of his prick just inside her.
Intuitively, she wiggled her ass, soaking the head of his cock, even pushing back to invite his penetration. "Slow," she breathed, her middle rising and falling. His thumbs were busy at her furry place, combing the thick outer lips of her pussy aside. "Eeeeeiiii," she tweeted as his thumb touched her distended clit, sending electric sparks through her belly.
Weirdly, eerily, it seemed she was outside her body and was looking down on her obscene posture, boobies dangling from her chest, her legs drawn away up, her bare bottom pushed back to be skewered by this strange man's huge, lascivious sex-spike. Jean bit her tongue, keenly sensing the slow glide of his cock along her canal, like an augur reaming out her writhing hole.
"Ooooohhhh, Jesus," she said prayerfully, her insides quavering, savoring the delectable sensual nuances come alive in every nerve fiber that served her cunt. She thought or imagined hot sparks and crackling were crashing around inside her as he inexorably imbedded his prick in her. But there was no imagination about the quivering and clenching of her asshole.
"A tight cunt," Don grunted, 'scalding my prick."
He hunched hard and Jean squealed, her body shoved forward as he launched three or four inches of his harpoon into her grasping pussy. She grabbed two handfuls of her mussed, golden hair, pushing her butt back to accommodate his invading cock.
There was a trembling weakness in her thighs as he sank his cock deeper and deeper into her roiling cavern. With an effort, she raised her chest, stared between the inverted mounds on her body and ogled the slow insertion of cock into her cunt. She felt her body was already bloated, but she could see he still had inches and inches of cock remaining. His dangling balls were so ludicrous, they were almost laughable. But there was nothing funny about all the prick she could see along the underside of his bole.
"Uh-uh-uh-uh," she burbled. "Rest a minute and let me get used to it. Please?" she begged. But her ass wobbled on his post and he continued sinking his cock into her twinging cunt.
It was almost hypnotic, watching him bore his prick into her from behind. That was something a gal couldn't do, on her back with a man on top, watch her fuck-mouth gobble cock. It seemed his balls were mobile, rolling closer and closer to her stretched pecker-pouch as his shaft forced its way into her snatch.
"Ever been cornholed?" Don gasped, hugging her middle with his hard arms, banging in the last inch of his cock, sending sharp, fiery tingles far into her womb.
"Never," Jean gasped, wondering why a man would want to do a depraved thing like that, when it was so heavenly just fucking cock in and out of cunt. "And you better not," she pouted, rotating her bottom to swizzle his massive cock around and around in her clutching twat. "You wouldn't ,fuck me in the butt, would you? Isn't this really fantastic? Doesn't my pussy wrapped around your cock feel great? Ooooh, God, I feel' all swoony, with your big, wonderful cock socked to the balls in my cunt."
She shook her ass impatiently, wanting to watch him at least start fucking her so she could see his long pole sliding in and out of her hot twat.
I must look like a skinny, human frog in this position, she mused. Her body trembled as Don stroked his roughly calloused hands over her legs and trim body. He's ready, she thought, as he placed his palms on the flare of her hips and held her steady.
Without looking across, she howled, "Deb, don't you dare watch me get fucked."
But Deborah had her legs pulled back, had her feet caught by her hands, her crotch reared high and was taking a cock-pounding in the snatch from Kenny's lunging prick.
"You've shot your wad," Deborah tormented Kenny. "All you can do is have a dry cum."
"OOOOHHHHH, GOLLEEEEEEE," Jean whimpered, watching Don extract his cock from her cunt, thinking it was endless. There was a dread sensation of emptiness in her snatch-until he banged it back in her, making her gulp and whine and swallow loudly.
For a couple of enchanted minutes, she watched Don drumming his cock up into her snatch, then peered over at Deborah. She laughed crazily, thinking how weird it was, both of them naked on top of smelly bedrolls, getting their pussies crammed full of cock at the same time.
But, apparently, Deborah didn't think it was funny. Her face was very intent, serious, eyes half-closed, as she held her feet high above and even with her head as she rocked her bottom to take Kenny's plunging, pummeling prick.
Jean began to sob uncontrollably, the pleasure almost unbearable as Don hunched and bucked and fucked at her rear, driving his prick into her relentlessly, as if trying to bang out the bottom of her cunt and reach the head of his cock into her convulsing gullet.
I wouldn't like that, Jean thought hazily, his cock iru my throat. There was a happy singing in her brain. Her ears buzzed as her pussy snockled onto his thrusting, pistoning hard prick.
Slowly, she twisted her face aside and lowered herself until her boobies were flattened against the sleeping bag. This enabled her to hoist her fanny higher into the air, thrust it back to meet the anticipated plunges of his cock, driven into her hard by his hips.
She could hear his panting and gasping as he labored faster and faster. Too, the sound of cock fucking into cunt was loud in the crude tent that fluttered from the breeze that swirled against the cliff face just a foot or so away.
For a moment, she was bewildered by a dull slap-slap sound, then realized his heavy balls were swinging like a pendulum, rapping meatily against her love pillow and flat tummy. She strangled the natural impulse to cry out as he hammered home and propelled her into a shattering orgasm. She thought that if she began screeching with erotic pleasure, it might get to him and he would hit his own peak. And she wanted him to keep going, fucking her and fucking her for hours.
"Wonnnnnnderful," she crooned, "the way you stick your cock in me. Don't cum for awhile. Let's fuck a long time 'fore you sink it deep and jizz my snatch."
But Jean couldn't help herself and she began hunching her bottom end back onto his skewering prick and her coital muscles clenched demandingly, milking all along the length of his pistoning prick. And Don began groaning and growling, his coital thrusts almost violent as he pounded prick into pussy faster and faster. His heavy balls smacked smartly against her belly as he fucked with increased diligence and Jean could smell the musky aroma of baking prick and cooking cunt.
She nearly fainted when he plugged her cunt to the balls and the first spew of jizz splattered the insides of her coiling snatch. She began mewling with pleasure and disappointment that they were about finished fucking for a little while-until Don or Kenny recharged their love-batteries.
Jean was so preoccupied with her exquisite delights, she was almost unaware he was hauling his spewing prick from her. There was an unconscious alarm ringing in her mind. But too late.
POP!
Her asshole was stretched, violated and he stuck her butt and finished jizzing his cock in her bowels.
CHAPTER FIVE
For a long time, maybe an hour, the girls lay side by side on the two sleeping bags. They peered at the ridge of the tarp that had been made into a tent, staring at their shorts and shirts and undies hanging from the rope, like scalps or trophies.
Either from exhaustion or desolation of spirit, they deigned to get up and dress. Just lay there naked on their backs.
"While they're out looking for our backpacks would be a good time to get dressed and run away," Jean said dully, but she didn't move.
"But where would we run to?" Deborah asked, tone just as empty. "There's too much snow. They could follow us. We could get lost again and freeze to death."
Spirit stirred slightly in Jean. "I guess being screwed to death is preferable to freezing."
"They can't kill us that way-with their pricks," Deborah said dryly.
"Did you see what Don did to me-at the finish of our fuck?" Jean said pettishly.
"Just screwed you, didn't he?"
"At the finish, he pulled his cock out of me and ... Well, it was just the head, but he stabbed the thick end of his prick into my rectum and showered his hot semen in my butt."
"Well!" Deborah raised slightly on an elbow.
"Did it hurt you very much, Jean?"
"Nooooo, not much," she replied thoughtfully. "It happened so suddenly and my anus must have been relaxed-and it was only the knob he shoved in me. But," she said with ominous implication, "the next step of being debased is have them rape our rears and cornhole us."
Deborah shuddered, baffled by a shiver of warmth through her belly instead of fear and revulsion. "If we could find our car, could we get out? Or is there too much snow."
As if with great weariness, Jean got nakedly to her feet and thrust sticks of wood on the waning fire. "They told us to keep the fire going. And I guess we better-or freeze-or crawl back into their sex-sacks." She checked the blackened coffee pot. "Want a cup? And I saw them put that bottle of whisky in this box." She raised the wood lid. "Here it is; let's help ourselves."
She brought two steaming cups well-laced with liquor to Deborah who had sat up in the middle of the bedroll. "Does your cunt hurt-after all the cock you've had jammed in it? Mine just burns and feels itchy."
Jean shrugged, disdainful of her nakedness, jutting tits, sweat-matted crotch hair. "I'm okay, but I'm not putting out to them again. I'll take a beating first and they'll have to force me."
Deborah stared at her. "Do you think they would go as far as beating us? I doubt we can really resist them. Both are strong-that damned scrawny truckdriver and that smug mechanic."
Jean stood again, brought the bottle of whisky and tugged their flannel shirts loose from the securing rope that created the tent ridge. "Maybe, they've had so much screwin' they won't want any pussy for awhile," she said hopefully, with a note of gloom in her voice.
Wordlessly, they put on the shirts. Deborah crawled over to add to the fire and brought back the coffee pot so they could cut the raw liquor.
Don and Kenny returned about dark, stomping snow from the boots just outside the shelter. "We found your packs-hell, there ain't nothin' in them," Don grouched. "We figure you stumbled around from the west. Your station wagon is probably over close to Sinker Creek. A mile or more from here. But, there's so much snow, you'd never get it out. Even with a set of chains."
For a time, the two girls glared at them with a mixture of resentment and hope. "You could take us out and we could have someone-friends-come in and get our car," Jean said.
"We came in to hunt," Kenny shook his head. "And it will thaw, the snow will melt. This ain't winter by a helluva sight."
"Then, we're captives," Deborah snapped.
"Hell, no!" Don bellowed angrily. "You can go anytime you feel like it." He yanked down their hiking shorts, bras and panties and hurled them at the two frightened girls. He slammed their shoes and socks at them. "You can get the hell out of here right now. Go ahead, freeze your goddamned asses. Beat it!"
Tears sprang to the eyes of both girls. Reluctantly, timidly, Deborah said, "You know we can't do that. Really," she sought to placate him, "we have no place to go, now. And we could die, if we left or you made us go." How she hated her servile situation. "But, you both know it isn't right to force us-humiliate and degrade us."
"No one is forcing you two split tails to do a fuckin' thing-and that includes fuckin'," he snarled.
And there was an uneasy, grumpy silence between the men and two women as supper was fixed and eaten. "You been at the booze," Don said after the dishes were cleaned and he dug the bottle out of the wooden box.
"We had a few tiny drinks," Jean said docilely.
"Okay," Don subsided, his surliness diminished as he and Kenny doctored their coffee. "I just don't want to hear no more talk about we forced you to do a damned thing. Hear?"
The girls nodded silently, their hopes higher than they had been since after they had wandered into the camp. If they were going to slap them around, they would have done it. And Don had said they weren't going to be forced. That seemed to be that.
Bored and restless, they watched Kenny and Don play two-handed rummy until bedtime-and they hoped the men would crowd into one sleeping bag and let them have the other. Impatiently, they watched the two deer hunters check their rifles, lock them back in the rack inside the pickup cab.
Their apprehension heightened as they watched the two men strip naked and slither down into their respective bedrolls. "What about us?" Jean said meekly, tears of despair filming her vision.
"Sleep on the ground. Curl up around the fire," Kenny said curtly. "There's enough wood to keep a fire going 'til midnight or awhile after, if you're sparing with it."
Together, Deborah and Jean peered at the pitifully small pile of wood, wondering how they could possibly make it last the night-not even half the night. Feeling like children from a ghetto who had preciously few possessions, they took their walking shorts, panties and bras from their packs where they had put them to keep dry for when they would really need them. It was unthinkable they could keep warm in such inadequate garments. Lacy bras couldn't keep titties warm, really; and panties weren't of much use except to discourage the inexperienced from getting to pussies. Oh, a dumb kid could get a finger inside the leg bands, but that was about all. And if a guy did get between a girl's legs, about all he could accomplish was dreaming and dry-fucking.
But they had nothing to keep them from getting awfully cold. However, they perched side by side on the grub box that contained the guys' whisky and fearfully fed the frail fire until not a sliver of wood remained. And it was frightfully dark in the crude tent. And cold-for them, not the two men who slumbered in the cozy sleeping bags.
After a brief, whispered conference, the two young women knelt at the heads of the two men, awakened them. "We can't stand it any more, Don," Deborah whispered, choking down sobs. "We're freezing and there's no more wood and the fire is all out. And-please? Don't treat us like this, Don."
"Got your shoes on?" he asked drowsily. "Take 'em off."
Quickly, she plopped her bottom on the ground beside him. "What about my shirt? Can I sleep it in?"
"Hell, I don't care. Got your shoes off?"
"Yeeessssss," she blubbered as she waited impatiently as he scooted over, lifted the top of the sleeping bag, creating a warm tunnel for her to wriggle into.
"You're like ice," he muttered. "Keep your feet off me 'til they warm up. Get 'way down deep in the bag. Deeper."
"Ooooookay," she shuddered, squirming downward into the gratifying warmth of his body heat and wool blankets. Across the way she heard Jean's muffled words of gratitude and endearment as she snuggled into the bag with Kenny. "Oooooh, so heavenly warm," she shivered, snuggling to him, feeling his warm, rubbery hose dangling against her bare thighs.
"Get 'way down deep," Don said, putting a hand on top of her head and pushing her.
"I'm in deep enough," she muttered.
"Not far enough," he said, pushing harder and she crept down until her feet were at the bottom of the sack. "Farther." And she bent her knees, doubling her body downward.
"HEY! NO!" she squealed, voice muffled.
"Then, get the hell out," Don said curtly. "I mean it; get out, then."
Deborah quailed with dread as he moved his body to her suggestively, his curly, coarse body hair tickling her nose and chin. His male aroma was strong in her nostrils. "Please, no, Don?"
"No," he said softly, his face inside the bag. "If you don't wanta, get out."
A cold despair was replaced by a feverish revulsion. "Can't we just have really good bed-fun by just-fucking?" Her hands came up defensively and encountered his lolling balls and lustful organ.
"Out, then," he repeated. "Just remember, I ain't forcing you to do anything. Just get the fuck out of my sack."
Mercifully, her mind began to block out reality. After all, his depraved demands were totally alien to her. Dazedly, she remembered letting the college professor urge her into the kneehole of his desk and scooting far into it with his legs apart, unzipping his pants and taking out his penis. She had sucked him. But that was for a good reason, a passing grade in biology. But, wasn't this a good reason? Survival. Taking that old teacher's penis into her mouth hadn't been so bad. And a guy's genitals weren't new to her. Several times at drive-in movies, she had jacked off her dates to satisfy their carnal desires to remain a virgin. Survival, she mused, was a pretty good reason.
The fingers of one hand moved, outlining the thick-skinned sac and tracing the shape of his big eggs-or a single egg with double yolks. Deborah drew a deep breath, worked her fingers around his fat scrotum to palm his husky nuts in their soft shell.
Big kernels, she thought. Enough to make several fruit cakes. Well, don't count on her to contribute the cherry. Hers had been harvested by the college chaplain in her senior year. Who says that sacrificial wine isn't potent and blood warming?
She shifted her body to get her under-arm free. The shirt, which had come unbuttoned as she scooted into the bag, was open and her warming boobies were growing tumescent and tingling, plastered against Don's thighs. For a second, her fingers recoiled as she touched the length of his peter. Then she traced it out, found the head dangling under her chin.
She picked it up and pushed away from him. "Can you move away any?" she whispered loudly. She got a firm hold on his meaty rope as he forced his hips against the zipper side of the sleeping bag.
Dreamily, as if in a trance in the intense, hypnotic darkness, she rubbed the head of his cock over her chin, up the side of her nose, against her eyelids, down the other side of her nose, over her pursed lips, around under her chin around and around over her smooth cheek.
She gripped the middle of the barrel almost lovingly as she detected little nerve twitches in the heavy-skinned hunk of meat. For a moment she froze as she heard a muted, shrill scream from Jean in the sleeping bag along side. Then it subsided and she worked the foreskin of Don's cock away back from the glans so the coronal ridge was fully exposed.
Deborah held the feverish glans against her lips, feeling it become plethoric as she breathed hot air on it from her nose.
His prick was still limber, but was rapidly becoming rigid and thick in her hand. Deborah squeezed the big handful of balls and timidly parted her lips, ran the tip of her tongue all over the smooth head, tracing the high ridge at the back of the bluntish knob.
She pressed the plum against her teeth, gradually opened her mouth, jaws aching, and let her fingers push the sex-fruit in atop her tongue. She wallowed it with her tongue, sucked her cheeks in against it and concentrated on the sensation of the head of a man's cock growing to full tumescence in her mouth. She writhed her tongue along the underside, knowing it was almost as sensitive as the pussy-popping knob.
As his cock stiffened, it was forced between her teeth until the head nudged the back of her throat and slid into her gullet without any effort on her part.
His cock was now fully erect, a pulsating, throbbing power in her hand. His nuts quivered in her other hand as she sucked experimentally on his massive cock. She didn't think it would take him-or her-or them long to fire his Roman candle. Not like that professor-the old bastard. She figured she had blown his cock for a good fifteen minutes before he emitted a little trickle of syrup.
There wasn't room in the sleeping bag to rear up over him and really do a blow-job of gobbling his cock. So she began nodding her head back and forth while her hand masturbated along his cock, her fist plunk-plunking against his hard groin bone. No way would her fingers encircle the monstrous stump.
But he apparently appreciated it-he was moaning and groaning as she jacked off the several inches of cock she could swallow and mouth fucked him as fast as she could, giving his husky nuts a wrenching and milking.
The storm of his lust spewed wildly info her throat and she swallowed rapidly, her tongue and swallow-muscles vacuuming out his thick jizz.
"Come on up," Don said, "you give a real fine blow-job."
Almost reluctantly, she let his massive dick slip from her sucking mouth. "Thank you," she murmured.
"Get on top of me," he whispered and she wrestled over him. "Nice," she purred and they went to sleep with his long, hard cock socked into her twat.
CHAPTER SIX
Jean burrowed feet first into the warm cave Kenny created like a fuzzless baby chick scurrying to the protective wings of an old settin' hen.
"Thank you-thank you-thank you," she chattered, teeth clicking from the cold. "Really cold-God-awful cold, Kenny-honey." She shuddered and snuggled to his nakedness, not minding that he pushed the shirt up under her armpits, that his hands mauled her rounded titties that were cold enough to freeze cream. She even pushed her bottom to his hard, warm thighs, pressed her back to his chest.
"Better be a good girl, or I'll kick your fancy little butt out and let you go cold," he warned.
"Uuummmm," she mewled, holding her arms away so his hands could ravish her breasts that were growing warm, puffy, nipples extending to hard little berry points. "I'll be a good girl," she said in the voice of a little girl. She was so grateful for his body heat, the warmth and shelter of the down-filled bag she would have done anything he wanted her to-well, almost anything. As she soaked up the heat, there was a warm, crawly sensation in the pit of her tummy. "I like it," she purred, putting her hands on his and holding his hard palms to her fleshy globes.
She sensed his arousal against the backs of her thighs, just below the inward curve of her buttocks. His penis was like a smoldering stick of wood and as it stiffened and grew longer, it levered outward, pressing where her thighs joined together.
"I knew you wouldn't be mean to me the whole night long," she sighed, expecting-even anticipating-that pretty soon they would be using that thing that seemed to be coming alive near her sensitive bottom.
As his rigid member became more insistent, she parted her legs, lifting her right thigh and, as if his cock had eyes, it bobbed and probed between her satiny thighs, the length of it stretched through her crotch, against her furry lower mouth.
"How was it when Don popped the head of his prick inside your asshole while you were both orgasming?" he whispered.
"Well," she began, her body tensing, "it happened so quickly that I hardly felt anything. But the squirts of his jizz scalded my bowels, it felt like."
"Didn't hurt?"
"No, not really," Jean murmured, her right hand drifting to cup the huge knob on the end of his cock that protruded two or three inches past the delectable inward arch of her love place.
The honey-like secretion flowing from the slot in the end of his cock quickly coated her palm and stuck to her fingers and she smeared it all over the fat, juicy plum. She cooed softly as he began working his hips, dry-fucking his prick between her clenched legs.
The harsh slide of his prick, rubbing the kinky pubic hairs against her super-sensitive protective lips of her vulva provoked a lurid, forbidden passion deep in her loins. Slowly, she began to comprehend why he had casually questioned her about taking most of Don's load of jizz in her rectum. And it wasn't concern that Don had hurt her.
No!
Slowly, her mind was immersed in a chill that had nothing to do with the unseasonable wintry weather outside the opaque darkness of the improvised tent. And could she refuse him? Would he really evict her from the life-providing safety of the sleeping bag? Did she dare even challenge him?
"Let's give it a little try," he said softly, hunching his hips away, dragging his passion-gooey cock from between her creamy thighs.
"Noooo, please?" she whined. Already, there was a stinging dread searing her tight anal crevice and her anus was smarting with her mental fright.
"Couldn't we just settle for a nice, decent fuck." She made it a hopeful statement rather than a question, her body trembling as he used his hand to swipe the head of his dong through her deep, alluring butt cheeks. Just the mere contact of his prick head against her tight little pucker set it to burning and itching.
"You better help," he breathed harshly in her ear.
She hesitated a moment, weighing the alternatives: Getting out and freezing or going along and accepting the agony and humiliation of being cornholed. "What do you want me to do?"
He shuffled on his side. "Get both hands behind you and take ahold of your fancy buns and open them as far apart as you can-really stretch your little butt hole open. Wish I had a flashlight so I could see what we're doing and I could watch my cock gore your ass."
A cold draft of air that doused her face convinced her. She gripped her fingers and thumbs on the half-moons of her butt and split them far apart, feeling the uncomfortable distortion of her anal entry. She quivered as he searched for her hole with a finger. "Ah-ah-ah," she glugged as he actually twisted the finger into her to the second knuckle. There was a little cork "pop" sound as he withdrew it.
"You will be careful and slow and easy, won't you?" she pleaded, wincing as he pushed the sticky head of his cock at the quivering access to her ass.
"Just relax and kind of grunt with your insides as I push my cock in," he said soberly. "Ready? Here I come."
Jean thought the intense pressure was comparable to a bad case of constipation she had had once. Only, this time it was something big being forced in rather than something big she had to force out.
Her body was filmed with cold sweat as she strained and bit her tongue to keep from crying as he bucked his hips in short, determined jabs, ramming his horn at her tender, defenseless rear end.
Suddenly, there was a sensation of release of yielding and she wondered, in near-terror, if he had tom her as only a couple of inches of cock popped inside her rectum. It seemed to her like a foot or more. There was a spasming of anal muscles in their natural performance of expelling.
She screamed. That was the first sound Deborah had heard-Kenny socking the head of his cock into Jean's reluctant asshole.
Jean thought her body was a mass of goose pimples as he steadily squirmed and drilled his long bone into her buttery, tight bowels. There was a sensation of liquid fire eating away at her insides. Fires, too were raging in her convulsing vagina. And her clit was like a live coal, burning in the gaping lips of her vulva.
In fact, her entire fuck-gash was on fire as she absorbed his cock and he conquered her fluttering asshole. All her senses were alive and she wondered why she didn't take her hands away-they merely flattened out her elliptical loaves so he could butt his horn deeper into her rear.
After a time, it seemed his prick was sliding smoothly and the burning sensation became pleasurable. She breathed in sobs and gulps as his bristling cock hair brushed the backs of her hands. Then she could feel the slumping sag of his balls as they rolled against her left buttock. Curiosity blossomed in her and she used her fingers to find where she was being skewered and felt his massive cock augur deep into her bowels.
Jean thought, ludicrously, she didn't dare belch or throw up or she would have the head of his cock in her mouth and no way could she spit it out because it was attached to the rest of his mammoth cock and it was hooked onto his big bag of balls and the whole business was connected to his body and that included his asshole and no way did she want the taste of his butt and all that hair in her mouth.
"Crazy," she muttered.
"Huh?" Kenny panted, his arms encircling her waist and beginning to hunch his buried cock in and out of her butt.
His cock was becoming deliciously hot and slick, gliding in and out of her stuffed butt-flames licked through her abdomen, flaring upward to spark and tingle in the turgid tips of her tits.
"I can't help you," she quavered, breathing heavily as she listened to his labored gasping and panting, feeling the hot sweat sopping both their bodies.
"It's okay, Jean-honey," he huffed, arms locked around her middle as he strained and fucked mightily at her resilient anal cavity.
"All I can do," she wheezed, "is push my butt back so you can get to it, get all your cock possible in me. I can't rock my body and fuck with you."
"Don't worry, Jean," Kenny panted, working a hand into a scoop between her legs to twiddle her clit and finger-fuck her into a chloral, vaginal and anal orgasm at the same time.
"I wish I could at least bounce my ass back as you plunge in and really plug my butt hole."
"You like it?"
She shook her head vigorously in the dark. "I didn't ever dream I could or would," she confessed, "but it's really nut-cracking, having your fabulous prick socking into my hot back hole." She laughed shakily.
"What?" he gasped, holding her tightly as she shuddered violently and kicked wildly as she seemed to explode in a tempestuous climax.
"I-I-I was just thinking how absolutely stupendous it would be if you had two beautiful cocks and could fuck one in my ass and one in my pussy at the same time."
"You're a nut," he groaned, his pace quickening, fucking it to her ruthlessly. "Oooohhh-OOOOOOHHHH," he moaned as she began shrieking. He slammed his cock way up in her ass and unleashed a shattering stream of jizz.
Huddled closely together, his still-rigid cock buried to the hairy coconuts in her anus, she whispered, "I don't think Deb and Don did anything."
Kenny kissed her neck, licked a tongue over her shoulder. "Yeah, they did," he whispered back, "Deb went down on him and sucked his cock."
Deborah awakened slowly, stretching luxuriously in the warmth of the bag. She opened her eyes warily and was staring across a span of two or three feet into the staring, wide blue eyes of Jean. Her eyes were solemn, inquiring. Just moving her eyes, Deborah glanced toward the open north end of the shelter.
"Where are the men?" she whispered.
"Messing around in the back of the truck," Jean responded. "Did Don make you do that? Kenny said that was what he had you do. Was it so horrible?"
Deborah shifted her gaze above Jean's pale face to the sloping, snow-crusted tarp beyond. "He made me suck his cock," she said without emotion.
"Was it really bad?"
"Sucking his cock? I'm glad it was dark, way down under the covers and I couldn't see what I was doing," Deborah replied. "No, it wasn't too bad." Lamely, she added, "A gal will do what she has to do-like I had to give that professor a blow-job to get her grade."
They were silent, listening to the rummaging sounds coming from the crude plywood shell on the bed of the old Chevy. "Kenny is a real depraved pervert," Jean muttered. "And the worst of it was, I know I didn't dare protest." Haltingly, she said, "He took me from behind and I was still-numb with cold and did it to me in the rear."
"Cornholed you," Deborah frowned. "If we don't-I was about to say blow these guys; I've already done that to Don, though-escape these jerks, no telling what they will do to us and make us do."
Deborah glanced at the grub box, the stacked tin plates. "What time is it? They've had their breakfast."
"It wasn't so bad," Jean said slowly, dreamily. "I had always thought it would hurt like hell, having a man's cock rammed into my rear."
"Got you warm in a hurry, huh?" Deborah asked, tone sardonic.
Jean's pretty lips curled into a petulant smile. "Hot is a better word. I actually orgasmed-hard-after I got used to it."
"I heard you scream," Deborah murmured. "I was just getting a big jaw-full of prick. And it's no wonder the hinges of my jaw ache this morning." Almost imperceptibly, Jean nodded. "I screamed, I guess, when he forced the big head of prick inside my ass. That really burned and hurt, felt like he was tearing out my insides."
Deborah laughed softly. "I spent the night-the rest of it-slipping on top of Don with his cock tucked away in my pussy. Helluva way to top off a blow-job, topping the guy's hard prick."
They hushed, listening to the faraway, elusive whine, thinking it was probably a jet taking off from the Boise airport. But there was no sonic boom over the desolate country. Then the sound grew louder, stronger, almost angry.
The girls huddled deeper into the sleeping bags as the pickup shook and creaked. And the two men shuffled into the shelter. "You gals awake?" Don said, not expecting an answer to an obvious question.
"Bet I know who that is coming in," Kenny scowled. "Old Tom 'Frog' Greene and Clint 'Dirty' Downs. That sounds like old Frog's beat up four-wheel drive rig."
"Pulling a horse trailer with Dirty's two mules," Don said.
Kenny bent, pushed coals together, stoked the Fire with some small pieces of wood and set the blackened coffee pot to bubbling. He poured four cups, sloshed whisky into the brew and set a cup in reach of Deborah and Jean. "You gals hungry?" Sitting up in the bags, grappling with their shirts to get them over their naked breasts, they picked up the hot cups carefully. "No, not hungry yet," they murmured.
"There's leftover pancake batter in the grub box with eggs and bacon," Don said, sitting on a comer of the sleeping bag next to Jean.
"If those two bastards wander up this way-I think they will camp at Dirty's usual site about a mile down-road-you gals stay out of sight. Don't worry, though-stay out of sight-we'll run 'em off if they do come in here. I don't want those sons of bitches camping closer'n a mile to me."
"Who are they?" Jean asked dazedly. "Dirty Downs and Frog Greene?"
"Old Frog," Kenny said, "drives a cab in Boise. He's fat as Frank Cannon and bald as Kojak. He's no good-sells whisky from his cab late at night and stakes out a couple of whore-gals in a cheap motel. Dirty is just that. Not that he doesn't ever take a bath. He's a pretty good mechanic on small engines."
"He worked in the same shop I did once," Don added. "But the boss fired him when he caught him making out with young boys-giving 'em fifty cents to go down on him. He's still around Mountain Home and Glenns Ferry and over to Nampa, working on chain saws and motorcycles and lawn mowers. The story is around he likes little girls, too. Girls so young, they don't have any pubic hair yet. He doesn't pay them, they like it and let him eat their little pussies for free."
"Ugh," Jean feigned a gagging sound. "Nobody could be that-that depraved."
Kenny giggled. "You just ain't met Dirty Downs. And best you never do. He'd get you down on your back, most likely, and shave your snatch and eat you out of cunt and asshole."
"I don't believe you," Deborah said petulantly, doubtfully.
Don stood, stretched as well as the A-shaped tent shelter would permit. "I think they've stopped down the road. I think I'll get the rifle out and mosey down, Ken. It's warmer than yesterday. We may get a thaw and the snow will go fast."
The girls clambered out of the bags, tugging the shirttails down over their bare bottoms, holding the flimsy garments together over their unsheathed pussies. "And, then, we can...."
Without looking at them, Don said, "Yeah, maybe we can locate your station wagon."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Don heard the raucous braying twenty minutes before he shuffled through the ankle-deep snow into the rough camp. The two mules were picketed on a rope stretched between two scrub firs. A sway-backed tent with patches on its patches had already been pitched. Tendrils of steam wafted from the hood of the battered green IH Travelall.
"Hello, Dirty. Frog," Don greeted. "I knew I heard you coming in. Whyn't I build a fire and get coffee started?"
"Hello, Corey," a fat man grinned, tongue roving over wide, thick lips. He wiped massive hands on his coveralls and dug a blunt finger into an ear with tufts of grey hair.
A lean, sandy-haired man slouched out of the battered tent. "Thought I heard 'Loose-rods' Corey. Where's Kenny?"
"At camp," Don said, adjusting the slung rifle on his shoulder, bending to clear snow for a fire. "Seen any game, Don," Frog asked.
"No. We haven't looked much," he replied, wadding a newspaper, arranging kindling from a cardboard box, striking a match. "Took a little circle in the snow yesterday, saw some fresh sign."
"Snow won't last," Dirty said. "Weather report says we can expect a warming trend and the snow should all be gone in a day or three."
He handed Don a gallon syrup bucket and a can of Folgers. "Now, where is that jack-off, Ken?" Carefully, Don pushed the side of the bucket of water to the blaze. "He's at camp."
"Hah!" Dirty snorted, blew his nose through thumb and finger, wiped his hand on his pants. "I just bet you two guys brought a couple of split-tails with you this outing. At least one."
"You're rotten," Don said, standing, resettling the .06 and lighting a cigaret. "Did you bring a little boy to blow you? Or are you paying Frog fifty cents nowadays to screw his asshole?"
Dirty laughed. "Let me know when you want to make a half a buck for the best ass-fuck you'll ever find."
Frog returned from breaking a bale of alfalfa for the mules, laughing, hands cupping his rotund belly. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, 'Loose-rods'."
"One of these days, Frog," Don said sourly, "you're gonna have to get a wheelbarrow to push ahead of you to haul that gut. Or maybe you have a special saddle for it to let Dirty ride. At least, get a bridle for it to keep it from getting you in trouble."
"Ssshhhhiiiiiitttt," chuckled Frog.
Don poured loose grounds into the boiling water, took the bale and set it away from the blaze. "Got a cup of cold water to settle the grounds? Nah, you guys, we got no cunts in camp."
He frowned as Dirty squatted across the fire from him.
"I don't believe a fuckin' word you say," Dirty sneered. "You gotta have pussies up there against that cliff-or Ken would come taggin' after you. He wouldn't stay in camp alone. Hell, ever'one knows you can't fart without him there to sniff it."
"Aw, screw you guys," Don muttered, watching Frog pick up the tin bucket and slosh the cups full with sheepherder's brew.
"Nobody wants to play three-handed rummy, do they?" Kenny asked, taking off his boots and setting them near the fire to dry. He brought the half-full bottle of whisky back to sit on his sleeping bag.
"No," Jean said. "If those other men-the ones you call Frog and Dirty-can drive in, why can't you and Don take us to find our station wagon?"
"We'd have to put on chains," Kenny said. "Dirty and Frog have a four by four Travelall." He lay back, running a hand along Jean's bare thigh, up under the shirt to jostle her firm, sloping breasts. "Nice jugs, Jean," he said as she tried to drag his hand away from her bare body.
"Quit it," Jean protested, "we want to get out of here."
"Nah, you don't," he laughed, "don't be in such a hurry."
"We do," Deborah said adamantly, glaring at him as he tried to shove his fingers into Jean's crotch and she squirreled away from him.
He sat up slowly, lips compressed, a whiteness around his mouth. He raised an arm and Deborah cowered away, thinking he was going to strike her. "All right. Get your damned clothes on and get the fuck out of here. If you really wanta. From what you said, you left your car over near Sinker Tunnel. That way. About a mile or so. Go ON! Get your clothes on and beat it. Get the hell out of here!"
The girls peered at his face, contorted with anger. There was fear and hurt and disbelief in their eyes. "Come on, Kenny?" Jenny pleaded.
"Get the ding-dong fuckin' hell out of here," he yelled.
"Come on, Jean," Deborah said quietly and the girls tugged at their backpacks, dug out their clothes and dressed, ignoring his blazing eyes on their nudity. Quickly, they tucked tittie balloons into lacy boobie bags, wiggled into panties and shorts, put the flannel shirts back on.
They picked up the backpacks, turned to look at him to see whether he was relenting. His arm still pointed toward the west. "Scram."
"Let's go, Jean," Deborah said softly, leading the way into the snow. Their low-cut shoes were full of powdery snow in seconds, still they plodded through the unbroken blanket, to the west. Within a hundred yards, their legs were wet and chilled. Both slipped and fell as they climbed the first low ridge. Within another hundred yards they were soaked to the skin, shivering-and desperate.
Two-hundred yards later, they peered meekly into the shelter at Kenny loafing on the sleeping bag, playing solitaire, sipping coffee and whisky, wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
"Got lost again and walking in circles," he said curtly, hardly looking at the soaked, bedraggled girls who shivered, eyes begging him to invite them inside. "We couldn't go on," Jean said, tears in her voice.
"Please?" Deborah said resentfully. "Our feet are like ice and we're wet through and we'll catch pneumonia and maybe die."
If they weren't so miserable, they would have exploded with exasperation as Kenny bunched the game of cards, turned, sat up, cross-legged and laughed at them. "Pleeeeease?"
"Jesus," he gasped, "a couple of sopping little pullets. You better put down those silly packs and get in here and dry off. Put some more wood on the fire and strip out of those wet duds. God! Imagine the lack of brains of you two coming into the mountains wearing those goddamned ridiculous shorts and bobby-soxer shoes."
Gratefully, the two slipped into the shelter. Jean went to stoke the fire. "We can dry out with our clothes on," she said meekly.
"You'll catch colds and-be sick and won't be worth a fuck or fucking," he growled.
Deborah glared at him, her dark eyes flashing as she tried to comb out her straggly wet black hair. "Damn you, Ken," she breathed, staring at him, seeing the curly tendrils of black hair and a white length of his penis through the gape of his shorts. There was a nervous tingling in her tummy as he dug a fingernail into the mass of curls to scratch an itch on his groin.
"Well, get out of those clothes," he ordered and handed them his cup. "Give us all a fresh drink-you both need it. Hang your wet things on the ridge rope."
The girls hesitated only a moment, shrugged and slowly unbuttoned their shirts, shuffled out of them. They left their shoes near the Fire, socks stretched atop them to dry. "Well," Deborah said, exhaling with a sense of resignation. And she kicked out of her shorts. "You smug bastard," she grumbled, peeling off her panties, then her bra and turning her naked back to him.
"You both got goose bumps on your bottoms," Kenny taunted them. "Now, mix us some coffee royals and let's figure out how to pass the time." Tartly, Jean muttered, "I can guess what you have in your sex-warped mind."
Almost as if reading their minds, Kenny said, "The booze oughta hit you pretty good-not eating any breakfast."
Deborah shivered slightly, forcing herself to be oblivious of his eyes on their nakedness. Cautiously, she stepped to Don's sleeping bag, stretched out on her side, lying on her naked belly, shielding her lolling boobies from him with her left arm as she sipped the steaming alcoholic concoction.
"You can share my bed, Jean," Kenny grinned, moving over slightly. When she hesitated, standing above him, saucy titties bobbing freely, facing him, tolerating his covetous eyes on her hair piece, he teased, "You have-come on, now."
Warily, she squatted beside him, her buttocks against his curled up knees, holding the hot cup gingerly in both hands. Looking into Deborah's face, she said, "Kenny, you aren't thinking about doing-that-to me again, are you?"
"Doing what?" he parried, tone of feigned innocence.
"Come on, now, you know," she said with irritation and a stirring of fear, dread.
"What?" he continued baiting her.
She swiveled her head to stare into his gleeful face, her blonde hair swaying in wet strands. "Damn you. Tell me you aren't planning on ... cornholing me again, some more."
"Ooooohhh, does your little asshole burn? I just bet it's itching and craving cock pumping inside and hosing down your sexy fire."
"Filthy turd," Jean slurred, struggling for possession of her left hand, then letting him have it, grimacing with disgust as he pushed it inside his shorts, onto his prominent prick.
She glanced to Deborah for understanding, commiseration. Her eyes said: See, I can't avoid this, Deb. He can make me-or you-do whatever lewd, lascivious thing he wants. Slowly, she turned her gaze from Deb's concerned face, stared at where her hand was, fingers tentatively groping and curling around the warm, pliable hunk of meat.
Jean winced as Kenny separated the snaps that secured the waistband of his underpants and spread the fly so that the opening was teeming with crisp black cock hair and his prick was fully visible.
Unbidden, her fingers tightened on the shaft, feeling the fluttering of sensual vibrations. "This is dirty," she murmured, her fingers tightening, moving, lifting the full size of his cock clear of his shorts. She flopped it against his belly, slapped it with the tips of her fingers. "Filthy, obscene cock," she breathed, eyes remaining on it, as if fully fascinated with watching it expand and lengthen.
Lying there naked, watching, Deborah was aware of a hot excitement stirring in her own body, the heat emanating principally from her womb. She thought Jean had said something, then decided it was just a gurgling in her throat. It was entrancing, lying so close and staring at the two nude people, watching Jean, her best friend, set aside her empty cup and help Kenny take off his shorts. It was almost as if they had forgotten her presence.
"You want to do it," Kenny said, so softly Deborah hardly heard.
"No, I don't, Kenny," she shook her head, her gaze not wavering from the engorging cock she now held with both hands. "I just couldn't do anything like that; won't; don't want to, Kenny."
"I'll have Deborah, then," Kenny said mockingly.
Deborah tensed. Jean never even glanced in her direction. "Noooo, Ken," she said, her fingers playing around his thick shaft as if it were a flute and she was fingering the holes. "Is this good, Kenny?" She ran her hands up, riding the thick foreskin up over the purplish glans, milking a tiny drop of sticky dew from the gaping, unwinking eye in the tip of his hefty dick.
"It'd be better if you'd...."
"Noooo-Ooooooh," she whined. "I don't mind doing this for you-it's kind of fun-kind of exciting. But don't make me do the other?"
Kenny reached to palm her left buttock. "Want me to finger-fuck you into a cum?"
She shook her head doubtfully, laughed nervously. "I guess not-you might get carried away and punch it in my ass."
"I got enough fingers for both your fun-holes," Kenny said, voice low and confidential. "Come on, do me nice and wet and good."
"Pleeeeeease, nooooo, Kenny," she wheedled.
He stroked his hand along the satiny side of her back and her body arched like a cat being petted. She winged her elbow out to permit him to cup her left boobie, kneading and loving it, tweaking the turgid nipple that was smooth and ripe-dark as a scrumptious berry.
"Uuuummm," Jean purred, her hands gripping his long dong harder, jacking him off with a passionate frenzy, the upstroke of the skin lifting his husky nuts high around the hairy base.
Jean's slender, naked body undulated under his lascivious caresses and she emitted faint hungry sounds mixed with soft squeals of protest as Kenny held his hand at the back of her neck. "No, Kenny? Please, noooo?"
"You want to. You know you do," he argued, amusement and determination in his tone. "See? You're licking your pretty lips for it. You're dying to give it a try and do it."
As he applied pressure, Jean squirmed about, her butt shining and vulnerable, not really trying to get away, Deborah thought, a delicious crawling intensifying in her loins.
"Damn it, no, Honey," Jean protested, yet, her hands were still busy on Kenny's massive cock.
"Want to quit and get your soggy clothes on and get out in the snow, Jean-even though you know you are aching to do it?" he taunted her, taking his hand from her neck and letting it rest lightly on her bare shoulder.
"Kenny, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?" Her tone slipped up an octave and her voice was mimicry of a little girl.
"I might-and invite Deb over," he threatened. Deborah scowled instantly, a cringing in her loins that was quickly dispelled by a delectable surge of heat and a liquid burning in her narrow hole. Would she? What would she do if she were confronted with his lewd, confident proposal? Yes, she had sucked Don's cock, down in the dark of the sleeping bag without protest. But there had been the threat of freezing all night long. But it was cold now, outside the shelter that was warmed by the small campfire, the shelter retaining its heat with the coating of snow. Would she willingly substitute for the reluctant Jean and go down on Kenny's big prick? It seemed enormous, the way it stretched up out of Jean's hands that held it like a baseball bat.
"No, Kenny," Jean quavered, "you wouldn't do that."
"Kick you out or ask Deb over?"
Her gaze flickered to his face, her blue eyes meeting his briefly. "Both-maybe," she said. "Let me do just this? I kind of dig the feel of your peter and jacking you off."
"Not enough," Kenny said decisively. "Make up your mind and get with it-or get your wet duds and get out."
She gritted her teeth, bit at her lower lip as she stared at the dark purple, pulsating head of his thick prick. "Don't be too quick," she mumbled, "I'm thinking about it. Really I am."
Kenny began hunching his hips, facilitating and helping her masturbating hands. "Time's up," he chuckled.
"I'm about to decide," Jean blubbered, tears welling in her eyes. She moved her face close to the lewd knob, ran a palm over it to remove the sticky honey that oozed from the red slot.
Deborah slowly sat up, so as not to draw attention, so she could have a full, unobstructed view of what was happening. She could see full-on, Jean's rear end, the dark little dimple that Kenny had defiled the night before by skewering his prick in and out of her and gushing her bowels full of his copious jizz. The lower tip of her dainty, furry pouch was puffy and there were tiny droplets of her female sex secretion clinging to golden strands of her curly hair.
Shit, she thought, mind spinning in sexual turmoil, the little hussy wants it-any and all of it. She's wanton as a bitch in heat. Deborah glanced down at the creamy crowns of her breasts that sloped down and out, the tips tilting jauntily. The nipples were rosy and hard. And she could smell the sweet, musky perfume emanating from her own sex-slot. And I'm not?
Jean brushed irritably at her straggling hair, pushing it back of her shoulders as she lowered her face, slanting the fat end of his cock like a spear at the pursed lips that quivered.
"Psyching herself," Deborah whispered only to herself. I did, rubbing Don's prick all over my face, before I opened up and gobbled him in.
Jean extended about an inch of her pink tongue, moved the smooth head to it. Then she began a slow, tantalizing lick over the full, blood-gorged glans. "Aaaagggghhhh," Jean growled as if in agony or emotional torment. Slowly, determined she opened her mouth wide, lowered her face, pressed her teeth against the meaty morsel. She slurped loudly and sucked in the mouth-watering plum. "Uuuummm-yuuuuummmm," she gurgled, both hands flexing on the shaft of his cock, against the massive base.
Her eyes were intent on Kenny's face, unblinking as she wallowed the head of his cock from cheek to cheek with her slithering tongue.
She sucked noisily on Kenny's massive prick as she began to slide her oral cavity up and down, tentatively, on his long staff.
I wonder if my eyes had that same glazed, depraved look when I sucked Don's cock? Deborah mused. "And if my face was contorted with that lustful look and looked as bloated?" she whispered. I bet it was-Don's prick is just as thick as Kenny's. "But did I make all those ravenous, wanton noises while I was going down on him?"
In her fervor, Jean had gotten her feet under her and was up, stiff-legged, her delectable butt foisted high in the air, offered and ready to take on a long, hard fucking cock from behind.
With legs stiff, feet far-apart, her entire body rocked back and forth as she mouth-fucked Kenny's prodigious prick, taking more and more of his meaty tusk into her throat until Deborah could actually see the bloating and stretching of her gullet. Her greedy rumblings reminded Deborah of some starving animal that had found a meal and couldn't get enough and was trying to swallow it whole, without chewing.
She had moved one hand to cup Kenny's pendulous, ponderous balls while the other was still around the base of his vibrating wand.
Jean emitted plaintive eeeeeks and squeaks as she paused to savor the male passion-pole she had impeded in her gulping throat. Kenny didn't bother up-fucking his cock, but lay still, eyes glittering as he watched the little blonde attempt to devour the entire eight or nine inches of pulsating prick.
Jean eased back, still keeping the head of his cock in her teeth. "Cuuuummmmm! Jizz in my mouth!" she screeched, resuming her wild, frenetic fucking of his cock with her glutinous mouth.
She sank her mouth 'way down on it, her forehead resting on his groin as she took his first copious copulation, gulping madly to gulp down the erratic spewing and gushing of thick, pearly jizz.
Jean's buttocks were waving and rotating coitally as she launched into a vicarious climax, her pussy erupting and thudding like a drum as she devoured Kenny's fountain of fuck-fun.
Even after he had spent his reservoir of jizz, she continued sucking his cock, whining with dismay that he was no longer hosing his cock juice into her mouth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Deborah was so enthralled with the sight of Jean's passion-engendered gobbling of cock, she shrank to the bedroll on her tummy, knees pulled under the sharp sexual spasms in her pussy.
Unconsciously, she rolled her exposed bottom in the air, revelling in the stimulating cool breeze that wafted against her hot ass. Her mouth felt dry and she smacked her lips, tasting Kenny's cock in a vicarious manner.
There was a hot, creeping sensation on the insides of her satiny thighs and she knew her cunny was secreting sweet juices of passion, itself yearning for relief only a long, hot tongue or a pistoning prick could provide.
Dazedly, she heard the approaching shuffle in the snow, shifted her gaze to the open end of the shelter and watched unblinking as Don stooped to enter, leaning the rifle against the wooden grub box.
"Welllllll, goddamn," Don muttered, hands on hips, eyes flickering from Jean's almost rabid ravishment of Ken's cock to Deborah's proffered posterior. "Good thing, Dirty isn't here, he spear that ready asshole faster'n a rabbit could breed."
Deborah's gaze dropped from his amused face to the prominent tenting of his pants. She swung her feet to the side and waggled her rounded bottom.
"Do me, Don. I need it; I want it. Do me, please?"
"Kenny never got to it, huh?"
"He's been busy," Deborah whined, "Jean's taking care of him and he ain't got enough for both of us at the same time. Come on, do me?"
She licked her lips with erotic anticipation as Don undressed. As he dropped his shorts, her eyes focused on the wobbly sway of his burgeoning cock and the quivering of his heavy balls. "Good! You got lots left this morning, even after I sucked you off. Hurry, Don?"
She looked along her flank as he settled to his knees at her rear, prepared to address her flattened cleavage, brand the dark brown swath.
"How about the asshole?" he grunted, flogging his cock to bring it to full erection before feeding it into her.
"I don't care," Deborah whimpered. "I'd like it better in the front hole, but I need cock so bad, you can fuck my ass, if you want."
Her brow wrinkled as he swabbed the head of his cock up and down her rectal crack, dabbled it into her gaping pecker-pouch.
Her back humped and she shivered. "Oooo, your hands are cold," she sighed as he laid his palms on her buttock crowns, squeezed her soft flanks. Her bottom bucked backward eagerly as he plowed the twitching knob into her slick furrow. "You may have cold hands, but you have a hot iron between your legs-er, between mine."
She kept bobbing her ass around, trying to capture the elusive head of his prick with her quivering snatch. "Push it to me," she whispered harshly, slightly exasperated. "My cunt is on fire and you keep teasing me with your hose. Give it to me before I do get Kenny."
"He's too busy," Don gloated.
And Deborah glanced over at the other couple. Jean had finally relinquished Kenny's cock with her mouth and was astride him, his cock speared into her twat and she was wailing up and down on it. Her arms were flung out straight from the shoulders for balance as she glided up and down on his passion-glistening cock. Her eyes were half-closed, glazed and her titties bobbed and bounced like balloons on a tether.
"Heeeeeeey, look at me fuck the snot out of Kenny's long cock," Jean yelled.
"You lucky bitch," Deborah started, but just then Don hunched his hips and lunged five inches of prick deep into her coiling cunt. She bowed upward. "Aaaagggghhhh," and reared her butt back to grab the other four inches of his rocky cock with her twat.
The coarse hair across his groin tickled her fanny. But he circled her slender waist with both long arms and slammed cock into her, his lower belly slapping sharply against her tingling ass cheeks.
Deborah blinked rapidly, savoring the plundering of her pussy by prick. Her entire body was consumed by a rapturous sensation as all her senses were tuned to the humping and bucking of mammoth cock into her clutching cunt.
"Rub my belly and stick a finger in my groove and tickle my clit," she wheezed, shaking and rotating her butt, shoving back to counter his forward lunges. "Oooohhhh, yessss," she bawled loudly as he gouged a thumb against her belly button, sending needle-like pains into her guts. "Ooohhh, Geez, fuck the cock to me, Don. I. can 'bout make it right now; give me half a dozen hard, fast in-fucks and make me cum. Please? Fuck the cock to me fast and make me explode."
She thought she could hear or feel little drum-beats of lustful passion rattling throughout her canal as he poured the prick into her boiling cunt.
"Aaaarrgggghhh," she gurgled gratefully, back fucking her ass, feeling his heavy balls slap up under her, bounce off her obscenely stretched outer pussy lips. The wet sound of meat slogging into meat-cock into raw cunt-was a pleasant music in her ears and she inhaled deeply to savor the musky, earthy aroma of cock mated with cunt.
"That's the way to throw your ass around," Don marveled, hunching prick into her. "And you have your milk muscles squeezing around my prick now. You have all the equipment to be a first-class fucking machine, Deb. And you're a top-notch cock-sucker. "
"I give a good blow-job, too," Jean squealed as she settled her split onto Ken's throbbing, gushing cock. "Don't I, Ken? Don't I suck prick real good. Don, you'll have to try your cock in my mouth tonight."
Perplexed, Deborah sensed Don was becoming slightly indifferent, the way he was routinely shoving his prick in, hauling it out, shoving it in her cunt. Oh, she was bursting with sexual enchantment, but it was always better if the man fucking her was really heaving his prick up her snatch, working and sweating and grinding his meat into hers.
"Something the matter?" she whispered softly, her head twisted back, her face sober as she peered at his tense face.
"Noooo, not with you, any way," Don said, rubbing his hands over her naked body, massaging the crowns of her bobbing buttocks as she squirreled her cove around his slippery-sliding prick. "Maybe I just fucked myself dry in your nice, snug pussy. I've been on the verge of pulling the trigger a dozen times, but I guess the powder is dry. Not your cunt and ability to fuck, Deb," he said, "your pussy bangs a guy's cock as good as any in the country."
She worked her ass and pussy on his prick with increased fervor, wanting to satisfy him-but also wanting the exhilarating sensation she always had when a massive prick erupted and gushed her twat full of steaming semen. "What can I do to help? Would it make you hotter if I sucked your cock awhile? I want you to enjoy it, too. I've already orgasmed three times and I'm close again, but I want you to come, too, Don-honey."
"I'll blow your cock, Don," Jean chirped.
Deborah scowled her dissatisfaction at her friend who was just sitting on Kenny's middle, his prick impaling her snatch while she held his head up so he could sip whisky from the bottle.
"Mind your own business, Jean," Deborah said. "When I am fucking a guy, or getting my pussy fucked, you just keep your mouth shut."
Jean tilted the bottle to her own lips and laughed with amusement. "Deb can't get her cunny to fire her guy's cock."
Dismay went through Deborah like a chill. Was it her or Don? Jean and Kenny hadn't had any trouble. She could see the insides of Jean's thighs. There were drops of thick cum wadded in her sweaty pussy hair and slicking her creamy skin.
She turned her head to the right and looked back at him. "Come on, Don, fuck the prick to me; you can do it. Sock your wonderful cock in deep and make my pussy smoke and gouge out my fuck-hole." There had been times in the past when a guy would be scared or nervous and couldn't copulate and some dirty, sexy talk would get his gun off in a hurry.
There had been times when she had sort of fibbed in her praising a guy's appendages, but not with Don. She meant every word. "You have a wonderfully huge cock and I love sucking the plump knob. And your prick fills my pussy to overflowing so pump it to me and blast me silly." She felt a fine film of perspiration slicking her body as she humped and hunched and bucked to meet his pounding, prodding cunt-walloper. "Going to make it, Honey? Can you cum?"
He grunted and groaned and labored his prick far into her vibrating, singing cunt. "God, I can almost-I get right to the point and slip past. I'm sorry, Deb."
For the moment, she hated Jean who was gently rocking her naked body up and down on Kenny's rock-hard cock and laughing.
"Don't quit, Don," she snapped. "Keep fucking it to me. I love your cock and I want you to cum and spew sperm in my snatch."
"I-don't-think-so," Don panted.
For just a moment, she considered the humiliation of her talk and Jean's and Ken's watching them. But wouldn't the humiliation be greater if she and Don had to give up and admit she couldn't fuck him out and he couldn't cum in her pussy? Would that be an indication her cunt and fuck-ability wasn't as good as Jean's?
"Try it in my asshole," she whispered to him. "It's hot and tight and you can shoot your jizz in me there. I know your huge cock will hurt, but that's okay; I want you to cum in me."
She braced herself, shudders of anticipation and apprehension cascaded through her loins as he stopped fucking, slowly extracted his hard cock with a little "plop" sound and swabbed it around in her tense, nervous crack.
"Go ahead, I can stand it; cornhole me and cum big and gushy," she encouraged him, shivering as he pressed the immense bulb against her anal ring. She forced her innards to relax as he pushed. "Use your thumbs to pry me open," she whispered.
Deborah winced as he squeezed her ass cheeks, stretching her tight, tender little opening. The head-just the tip-of his prick burned like fire and she braced herself to accept the lascivious violation of her rectum. "Come on; don't go soft; keep a big hard-on; put on pressure; push it into me, Don."
She stifled a groan as he butted at her. Little slivers of pain danced into her bowels as he strove for penetration. Deborah gritted her teeth, sharp, dazzling lights dancing in her eyes against a field of black.
"Aaaahhh-ah-ah-ahhh-aaarrggggghhhh," she growled with a sense of relief as there was release in her crack and he popped the head of his monstrous prick inside her asshole. She was wet with sweat and her entire lower body seemed on fire. "See?" she gasped, appreciating his consideration as he reached under her to fondle her burning boobies. "It went and your cock is hard as ever and I can feel the knob pulsating inside my butt. Keep going, Honey, feed it into my ass 'til I got it all, then fuck and roar and cornhole me 'til you shoot your cum-wad in my guts."
She felt her anal channel writhing against the slow, steady intrusion of his goring cock. "Geez, I feel it going and my asshole is on fire. Keep one hand playing with my titties and use the other one to finger-fuck me," she pleaded.
As she absorbed more and more of his long, rigid prick, she felt she might swoon, with so many of her sensual areas being stimulated simultaneously. His hand jostling her tits and one playing with her pussy were about to rocket her into a tempestuous orgasm. But she just had to have him go off in her before she could feel she had done a satisfactory job of fucking him.
As soon as she felt the sag of his loaded nuts against her gaping vulva, she began rotating her butt hole on his prick as if it were a wheel and it was an axle: "Your big cock feels so good in my ass," she breathed, "now fuck it to me in long, loving hunches."
She wobbled her asshole on his slippery dick as he bent to kiss and lick her back, between the shoulders, sending scintillating ripples of pleasure through her heart and into her firm, hot titties.
The pleasure of long, hard prick gliding in and out of her torrid asshole was so excruciating, it was almost agonizing. Deborah began sobbing softly, her body seemed out of control, as she slammed her bottom back, begging, slave-like, for the sodden, slugging impalement of her rectum.
"Ooooohhhh, Jesus, soooo good," she whimpered. "Faster, Don; fuck your prick up my ass as fast and deep as you can. Oooohhh, I wish I could feel your balls and watch your cock banging into my butt. I'm gonna cum again, Honey; fuck your prick to me and make me go boom-boom. Oooohhh, I love cock fucking me dizzy."
She knew he was going off soon, could hear him grunting and growling and slobbering as he huffed and puffed as he slammed his prick into her, nine inches at a whack. She contracted her anal muscles around his sliding shaft as she felt it expand and swell, imagining the head was growing bigger and bigger and fantasized it was getting so bad it would be locked in her famished asshole like the ball on a dog's prick caught in a bitch's cunt.
"Aaaaiiiieeeee! Arrrggghhhhh! " she growled as he ripped into her, spearing his prick far into her bowels, the head lancing toward her guts as he tripped his cum-trigger and spewed a torrent of lava-fire-cum into her spasming asshole.
"We're doing it! We did it!" Deborah screamed triumphantly as she straightened her legs, collapsing slowly with Don atop her, his spewing prick remaining imbedded in her suckling asshole. "Love it, Honey," she purred, naked body flat on the sleeping bag. "Can you feel my asshole muscles milking your fabulous prick? Sensational," she breathed, almost completely enervated, content and glowing, feeling his husky nuts crushed against her convulsing pussy mouth as her rectal canal massaged all along his quivering organ.
CHAPTER NINE
After lunch the next day, Don sat on the grub box, counting on his fingers, "Today, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday-before the season opens."
"Ken, I think we should take another circle this afternoon and see what we can see."
Kenny nodded, got their rifles from the old pickup.
Then Jean began crying softly, standing on her knees naked in the middle of one of the sleeping bags, hands to her face, arms crushing her bare breasts.
"What the hell's the matter with her?" Kenny grumbled, his gaze flicking with only minor interest over her nude body, maybe lingering on the hairy patch that Veed up from between her legs.
"We want to get to our car and go home," Deborah said caustically, sprawled on her belly on the other bedroll, facing them.
Without looking at her, Don said casually, "I thought we might see if we can spot your station wagon. I mean, we'll sashay in that direction."
Jean stopped crying, wiped her eyes, hope gleaming in her eyes.
Deborah eyed the quick look Don and Kenny exchanged. She took a deep breath. "You know where it is," she said flatly. "I think you've known where it is all this time. And we want you to help us get over there and get out so we can go back to Caldwell."
"We think it's probably over near Sinker Creek," Don said, ignoring the acid tone of her voice. "We'll take a look and let you know." He finished lacing his boots and stood.
"Just better caution you. If a big fat, bald man and a snaky-like individual slinks around here, you better lie low. They would be old Frog and Dirty Downs. And it wouldn't surprise me they don't come sniffing around, Kenny. When you didn't come with me down to their camp yesterday, they were hinting we had gals in camp."
"Blow their fuckin' balls off, they sneak around here," Kenny snarled, jacking a round into the chamber of the .308.
As they stooped to leave the shelter, Kenny kicked snow away that had drifted between the tent and the pickup. Don said over his shoulder, "Just stay out of sight."
"I'll just bet they aren't as bad as you two let on," Jean pouted, sniffling again. "You just want to be sure you have two easy lays and girls to satisfy your depraved appetites."
Out of the girls' sight, Don said grimly, "You just get with them and you'll find out all about Dirty Downs and Frog Greene."
"I don't believe them," Jean whispered, even after they had been gone several minutes. "And you're right, Deb, they do know exactly where we left the station wagon. I was going to tell them it is green-but I think they already know that."
They fell silent at the sound of footsteps and slithered into the sleeping bags. Kenny stuck his head in. "We may be gone 'til after dark. Did you say your rig is green?"
Then he was gone and Jean and Deborah peered across the space at each other. "We didn't say what color it was, did we? And I know he wasn't outside listening. They know."
"Maybe they will help us get to our car and leave," Deborah said dully.
Jean kicked and tossed and turned in the bag. "Yeah, whenever they get good and ready, after using us the way they've been-get tired of fucking us and cornholing and making us go down on them."
For a second, Deborah felt argumentative-probably due to her frustration-and she was about to taunt Jean about how it looked to her that she, Jean, rather enjoyed sucking cock, the way she gobbled and mouth-fucked it. But, maybe Jean could accuse her of the same thing. Maybe? Was it true?
Well, one thing they didn't need was to be quarreling between themselves. "Just the same," she said solemnly, "I don't know whether I like the idea of being left here alone all day-and after dark."
Don and Kenny were watched closely when they left their camp; Kenny's brief return was duly noted. The direction they were taking added up.
Downs and Greene left the bareback mules picketed to an evergreen bush in a stand of scrub timber and shuffled up a rocky, dry creek bed, circling the camp from the southeast.
"Betcher sweet ass," Greene huffed, plodding after the agile Downs, "we were right when we were kidding them about having split-tails in camp this trip. And I betcha that station wagon we spotted this morning belongs to whoever is in their shelter. It was plain that vehicle had been there awhile-no tire nor human tracks around it. Whoever belongs to it is or are in that improvised tent."
"Think Corey or Johnson will spot our mule tracks?" Downs whispered as they paused about fifty yards from the tent where Jean and Deborah huddled unhappily in the two sleeping bags.
"Nah, we came in from the west and they won't circle that way," Greene grunted. "Let's mosey on in and see what kind of company old Corey and Johnson have here."
They shouldered into the shelter and the two girls squealed with dismay. "Who are you?" they chorused.
"Clint Downs-that's me-and Tom Greene," Downs said. "I bet you two gals belong to that green station wagon back over on Sinker Creek."
The girls stared at them with mingled feelings, wanting to jump from the bags, but remembering their naked states. Instead, they crimped the bedding about their chins. "You saw our car? Is it far?"
"Maybe a mile," Tom shrugged, picking up two tin cups, pouring lukewarm coffee into them, finding the whisky in the grub box, adding it to the coffee. "Be a problem getting out now, though. Probably be done tomorrow, if it keeps thawing, like it is now."
The girls sat up, half mindful of their nudity, that the two men got a glimpse of breast globes before they wrapped a blanket to them. "Could we get over there and get out today?"
Greene frowned, sipped the coffee and whisky. "Be a real chore. It would be a hassle, hiking over the mountains to your car and I doubt you could get it back to the main road. Whatcha doin' here?" Alternately, hopes burgeoning, they told the two squatting newcomers how they happened to be there, only alluding to what they had done and what had been done to them since their arrival Saturday-loosely four days before.
"I can guess most all of the sordid details," Tom Greene murmured. "Those two bastard scoundrels. Did they mention us?" He didn't wait for them to answer, didn't look at their jerky nods. "Bet they told you we are terrible men? Well, I would say they were describing themselves."
He finished the coffee and shook out the tin cup, stood. "We sure wish we could help you-we got a four-wheel drive rig that would take us back around the mountain and in on Sinker to your car, but I don't want to get into a passel of trouble with those two-a mean pair, I'll tell you."
Deborah sat up, experiencing a mingling of hope and despair. "Couldn't you get us down to your camp and take us around and help us get our car out and we could go on back to Caldwell?" The sense of desperation that a chance to get away might slip away, she was oblivious to the exposure of her nakedness, that the two men could ogle the proud swaying of smooth, fleshy orbs sloping out from her chest.
"I mean," she said, flustered and hopeful, "that we do need help. No telling how long we'll be held virtual prisoners by Don Corey and Kenny Johnson."
"Those lustful, lewd bastards," Greene said curtly. "We just can't go over in the country where your car is-we might blunder right into them and there would be trouble-and you might just wind up in their clutches again."
Jean squiggled part way out of the bag. "They said they probably wouldn't get back here 'til after dark. Wouldn't we have plenty of time to get away from here-and them?"
Greene and Downs exchanged glances. "What do you think, Clint?"
"They're mean bastards," Downs shook his head. "They might not try tracking Us, if they get back after dark-but they'd know where these poor girls went. We might have to fight 'em, if they come barging into our camp."
"But couldn't we just hurry down to your camp and get your truck or whatever and go over to our station wagon?" Jean fretted.
"We could," Greene said. "But it'll take hours to head back out of the mountains, cut across-and we don't know what kind of shape that road is in-and come back in on Sinker Creek."
"Smartest thing," Downs said, "would be to wait 'til daylight and head out then. You see, we'd have to break camp and load them darned mules and that'd take time, too."
Jean and Deborah peered at each other intently, questioningly. "We couldn't be any worse off than we are here," Jean said softly. "And Mr. Greene and Mr. Downs said they would take us over or around or whatever to get our car in the morning."
"We got plenty of room in our tent for the night," Greene said, emptying the remainder of the cold coffee in the two cups, helping himself to Kenny's and Don's whisky again. "If you want to chance a fight with them two, we oughta get goin'. You did wear some clothes, didn't you?"
The two girls, huddled embarrassedly into the bags, faces pink. Haltingly, Deborah said, "If you'll sort of look the other way, we'll put on what we have. Would you scoot those backpacks over, please?"
They ignored the surreptitious eyes of the two men as they fumbled for their clothing. "I'm not going to bother with bra and panties," Jean, whispered, wrestling her bottom into her walking shorts.
"Me either," Deborah replied, buttoning the flannel shirt with flying fingers. "I'm ready. Oooohhhh, let's hurry," she breathed anxiously.
With the stub of a pencil, Greene scrawled a note on the top of the grub box: Thanks for the coffee and snort from your bottle. Too bad nobody was here to show us hospitality.
"Maybe we can confuse Don and Ken a trifle," he chuckled. "You gals," he said, "come on out and go 'round their old truck. You'll find old Don's tracks leadin' toward our camp." He patted each on the rump as they sidled past him. "You take off in his tracks-hurry right along. Clint and I will backtrack and join you a ways down the canyon. Don't you worry none; just hustle your little fannies along-it'll help you keep warm, too."
The girls slipped arms through the backpack straps and waded into snow that was a little sloppy from the thawing sun that was sinking beyond the slump-shouldered mountains to the west.
"You find the tracks?" Greene called as he and Downs retraced their steps toward the picketed mules.
"Yes," Deborah called as she and Jean went jogging away, their socks and shoes already soaked, their feet tingling with the cold. "Please hurry."
"We'll be along," Downs called, waved.
About four-hundred yards down the trail, they paused when they saw the two men astride mules approaching from an oblique angle. "I'm getting some bad vibrations," Deborah muttered.
Jean nodded. "They started when that grotesquely fat man patted me on the bottom."
They stood shivering in the snow. "We have to trust them and pray they'll keep their word and take us around to our car," Deborah whispered as the two rode up, slipped from the bare backs of the animals.
"You two ride and Clint and I will lead the mules the rest of the way."
He squinted at the western horizon after the girls were lifted onto the broad backs of the mules. "Gets dark fast in the hills this time of year; that's a good thing for us. I just hope old Don and Kenny make a long sashay and don't get back for hours. Come on."
At camp, the girls were ushered into the ragged tent and the men picketed the animals, dropped hay in the snow for them. Jean and Deborah stood in the gloom of the old tent, shaking and apprehensive, feet cold and sloshing in wet shoes.
"Maybe we made a mistake," Jean whispered as they removed the packs with uncertainty, dropped them against a canvas wall.
"Sssshhh," Deborah breathed.
They stumbled aside as Greene and Downs pushed into the tent, secured the flap. "Now, let's have a light," Downs said, pumping up a Coleman gasoline lantern. "We cook on an open fire."
"We have a gasoline camp stove at our wagon," Jean said.
"Nice, but who needs it?" Greene grinned, thumb nailing a wooden match head and handing it to Downs to light the mantle. He rummaged in an old military footlocker and drew out a fifth of whisky, broke the seal and unscrewed the cap.
Downs held four tin cups and Greene filled them half full. "This will take the bite off the chill. Clint, stir up the fire outside and brew some coffee."
"How do you keep warm in the tent-with no fire or stove or anything?" Jean asked timidly.
"Shucks, we don't get cold. If we do, we just put on some more clothes, or go to bed." Greene squinted at the half-naked girls. "You better take off your wet shoes and socks." He set the lantern on the ground. "You sit on the bed there and put your feet to the lantern. It'll warm your feet."
Downs returned to the tent, refastened the flap. "Coffee be done in a jiffy." He squinted at the two girls sitting on the rumpled quilts of the crude pallet. "You know, Frog, I think we'd be smart if we repacked everything we don't need; even hook up the trailer and load the mules. If we want to or have to move fast, all we have to do is strike the tent, roll up the bed and pitch 'em on the top rack and scram."
"Yeah, you do it; you thought of it," Greene grinned, his thick, fat lips lax, almost obscene-like the shaved cuntal lips of an old, worn-out whore.
"Let me drink my booze and I'll get it done," Downs said. "You girls are going to owe us a lot-for all we're doing for you." He squatted on his haunches beside Jean, patted her left leg, just above the knee.
"Frog, the way I see it, we could wait 'til into the night awhile, then-if Johnson and Corey don't come makin' trouble-we can just quietly skeedaddle with the gals and be to their vehicle before noon tomorrow."
"Yeah," Greene nodded, eyes bulging as he stared down, unblinking, at the young women. "We could even pitch a new camp over there-I never did mind hunting the Sinker Creek country." The tent was cozy from the lantern and body heat of close conditions. And the bottle of whisky was almost empty. Outside, a quarter-moon failed to dent the ghostly dark of the snow-covered world.
"Maybe," Downs said softly, "we are being foolish, Frog. Maybe we should let Corey and Johnson have the girls back-if it means trouble."
"Ooooohhh, noooo," the girls chimed. "You promised to get us back to our station wagon." Outside, the mules stomped and kicked restlessly in the horse trailer. "We're going to a lot of trouble," Downs continued.
"You promised," Jean repeated accusingly. "Come on, Clint," Greene admonished softly, heavy jowls jiggling as he swallowed a gulp of liquor. "I'm sure the two pretty gals recognize the trouble we're taking-and will be glad to make it worth our while. Right, gals? And who's who? We don't know your names."
"I'm Jean."
"Deborah."
"If you don't know; he's Clint; I'm Tom-or Frog. You are willing to make all this trouble worth our while?"
The Coleman lantern hissed softly and Downs got busy on the pump. Jean and Deborah peered at each other solemnly, disgust and dismay in their pained eyes. There was no mistaking what the two men had in mind as restitution. The stark question in their eyes was not whether they would let them; not whether they could prevent it; but, who was going to have to take on the hideous fat man. But was the snake-like, oily Clint Downs any less repulsive.
"We have to get to our car and get out and back to Caldwell," Deborah said with a tone of resignation. "And you will keep your promise?"
"Absolutely. You can trust us," Greene laughed, hugging Deborah's narrow waist, his huge, pudgy hand pawing briefly at her un-bra'ed breasts pushing against the front of the flannel shirt. "In a couple of hours or less we'll be on our way over to Sinker. Clint, whyn't you douse the lantern?"
CHAPTER TEN
"Deb. Deb. Deb? I'm scared," Jean whispered, her voice frail and shaky in the darkness that seemed so intense it hurt Deborah's eyes.
Somewhere out in the mountain night, the plaintive call of a Coyote quavered on the still air, ending in a series of "Yip, Yip, Yip," exclamation points. The sound of heavy breathing was loud and close in the small tent. And Deborah wondered whether the others could hear the heavy pounding of her heart.
There was a stifling heat in her chest, but a frigidity between her legs and she wondered whether her sex cavity was shrunken and shriveled as she imagined. The two men had left no mystery about what price they required to take them away from this deep, narrow mountain canyon to their station wagon and get them out. What was so unknown and filled her with apprehension, as it did Jean shaking next to her, was how they would pay it. Almost as if hypnotized, she acknowledged it would be paid with flesh and lust. The almost casual contemplation of servicing whichever man would settle on her provoked a sensual crawling sensation in her loins.
Her eyebrows arched in the purple darkness as she became aware that her ears were straining for the sound of zippers skidding. But, maybe, the two
I'll men wore pants with button flies. She tensed at the identifiable sound of boots being tossed aside in the dark. There was a threshing and grunting in the dark, the unmistakable sounds of men removing their clothing.
"Clint, you take the back side of the bed, okay?" Greene grunted and Deborah tensed as she felt a meaty bare leg brush against her knees. Nerves screamed through her body as a great arm encircled her narrow waist. In the dark she imagined it as a great log that was hinged.
Panic welled in her as Jean began thrashing about and, apparently, was being dragged away. Jean was crying softly and began hiccupping from nervous tension.
"Aaaaahhh, Noooooo," Jean whimpered. "Don't tear the buttons off my shirt."
The coyote yip-yip-yipped again, but the only sound really heard was the harsh breathing in the tent.
Deborah's back stiffened as she felt a heavy hand pawing across her front, brushing the upper crowns of her forward sloping breasts. Then the hand lifted them, one by one, and fingers fumbled at the buttons. She clenched her hands in her lap, thumbs pressed almost painfully into her mound and the tenderness of her labia.
The shirt was parted and the hand groped inside and fondled her firm cones. "Fantastic melons," Greene panted in her ear. "Ripe, nice, full female chest fruits," he said, fat lips touching her left ear.
She cringed as he mauled the tender flesh, then rubbed down over her tense tummy and thick fingers groped and gouged to get under the waistband of her shorts.
"You'll break the thread holding the button on the side and ruin the zipper," she protested, unmoving.
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Greene agreed and he loosened the shorts.
Deborah felt she was totally bereft of morals. Inexplicably, her legs skidded apart and his hand shoveled into her crotch, palm molding over her mound, fingertips exploring the thick, hair-tufted lips that protected her vulva and the opening to her sexual passage.
She winced as his fingers separated the long, narrow folds and dappled inside. Her back straightened and she choked off a cry of torment as he found the little, fleshy sheathing that protected her clit. Hot sparks lanced inward, seeming to explode in senses-dazzling fireworks deep in her womb.
The early, untidy feelings of humiliation ebbed and she felt resigned, her intuitive forces accepting, succumbing to his carnal aggressiveness. She leaned back, her stiff arms catching the weight of her body as her right leg moved wide and he prodded at her hole, a finger wiggling inside, rough-textured and demanding.
"Oooohhh," Deborah sighed softly. "Careful?"
He had his other arm looped around her, his hand fumbling to get under the shirt. "Take it off," he groaned.
"Okay." And she straightened, slipped the opened shirt from her arms and tossed it off to her right.
"Your bottom, too?"
A chill of revulsion flickered through Deborah. "Later," she demurred, leaning back again, tolerating his hairy arm around her, his hand up under the armpit, palm massaging the rubbery cone. She gritted her teeth, hating herself as she felt the nipple responding, expanding, growing turgid under his loathsome goading.
Her knees buckled upward as he probed into her cunny, arching her crotch to his obscene touch. "You like to be finger-fucked to get you ready for the real thing?" Greene breathed his whisky breath in her ear.
What could she say? One thing, though, it did stimulate her sexual juices and she didn't have to accept the penetration of a big cock in a shrunken, dry hole. "Yeah, you like a finger reaming around in your snatch first. Your twat gets all crawly and wet. Christ, you have a tight snatch and hotter'n hell.
"Get your hand over and play with me a little 'fore we get squared around and start fuckin'."
He tugged her against his right shoulder. "Come on, get ahold of my john and hand-love it a little."
She began to wish she had drunk more of the whisky as a sick, sinking feeling assailed her mind. Why couldn't he have gone for Jean and she would have had the slender Clint Downs.
"Aaaarrrggghhhhh! Jesus Christ!" Jean screamed loudly and Deborah could feel the draft created by her threshing legs. "Oooohhhh, my God," Jean sobbed, a tone of panic in her voice. "No warning, no nothing. You just climbed on me, and get between my legs and...." She beat her arms on the crude bed, " ... and I thought you were going to just put your thing in me and screw me at least civilized." She yelled in agony. "Oooohhhh, God, save me! You aren't human. You just-now warning-fucked it right into and all the way up my asshole and you're hurting me like hell. Pleeeease? Be gentle and start slow and let it soak a little in my butt, then you can fuck your jizz out in my rectum."
Stunned, senses numbed by Jean's outburst that had now subsided to a low moan and sobbing, Deborah groped in the dark, felt the immense hairy thigh, felt a deep revulsion as her fingers rubbed across the great, protruding belly.
Then her fingers closed on the soppy knob and she rubbed her palm around over it, spreading his sex oil. Maybe she was lucky-if anyone could call loving it up with a great, fat slob like Tom Greene lucky.
"Yeah, baby," Greene panted, his finger posting into her cunny, the end crooking to send tremors of excitement through her lean loins.
Her hand slid down the gigantic rod, calculating how much she would have to contend with, if he got her down on her back and rammed it up her pussy. It seemed even more lecherous, with no foreskin, just the huge knob standing out there like a dead lightbulb on the end of a pole.
"How do you go for giving a blow-job?" Greene hissed in her ear. "I dig cocksuckers, myself. You like sucking prick?"
Deborah shook her head vigorously in the dark, forcing her hand to stroke up and down, jacking him off slowly, praying he would get carried away and ejaculate and would lose interest for awhile. "I f can cum half a dozen times without hardly stopping for a breather or a smoke or a shot of booze," he said, "and don't worry that my big belly gets in the way of my fucking all nine inches of prick into a gal's bunny burrow."
She was glad it was dark, but it accentuated all of her other senses. Her cunny was alive and active around the big finger gouging in and out of it. Her boobies were afire and nipples taut as he caressed and mauled and kneaded them. Her hearing was tuned to Jean's non-stop groaning and the coital sounds were so distinct she could see, in her mind, Downs' prick fucking in and out of Jean's tortured asshole. But Jean must be accustomed to it now, she thought hazily, from the juicy, moist, sodden sound of meat thudding into meat-in this case, raw rectum.
"When I shoot," she heard Downs whisper, voice raspy, "I'll dump part of my jizz-load in your butt, then haul my cock out and spear it into your cunt and finish cumming in your young little pussy."
We should have stayed where we were, Deborah thought wearily, turning slightly to get both hands on Greene's monstrous cock. "Wish you would just suck on the knob," Greene whined. "I know you can't fuck all of it down your throat; most gals I've been with can't do it-I just got too damned much pussy-wrecker for 'em to mouth-fuck all of it."
Deborah swallowed, her throat feeling sore just from the lewd, depraved proposal. When she jacked down on him, she could feel his immense coconuts roll high in the scrotum against her little finger.
"Get those ridiculous short pants off," Greene gasped, "and let's fuck awhile."
Deborah felt faint, fearful. She remembered hearing someone say a long time ago that one shouldn't be afraid of something, just because they couldn't see it. Well, she was unable to see Greene's grotesque penis, but she could feel it all right-and she was damned well afraid.
"Not right now," she tried to stall, "let me jack you off for awhile. I like the feel of your nice, big prick in my hands," she lied.
"Well, that's good," Greene laughed coarsely, "but you'll like it a lot better stabbed in your juicy little cunt. I think I can make you beller like a yearling heifer when I get the old wand fucking away at your pussy full blast."
Unexpectedly, a white fire lanced through her, from her gripping pussy to the tip of her tongue. Her breasts seemed to harden and lift under the calloused palm Greene was rubbing back and forth of the twin globes of milky flesh. Oooohhh, Jesus, she agonized over the surging depraved hunger in her loins, don't let him bring me out and let me enjoy this terrible debauchery.
"Where? How do you want me?" she gasped. She let him lay her back, lifted her bottom so he could peel away the shorts so she was naked and ready.
"What are you doing?" Jean wheedled. "Is he doing it to you? What are you doing?"
Deborah held her hands up in the dark, thinking how he would squash her, if he fell atop her. Her hands found his shoulders. She cringed as his thick body wedged between her legs. She drew her knees up so her saddle would widen and flatten. It seemed his torso was as big as the barrel of the mule's body.
"What are you doing, Deb?" Jean worried again. "He's getting ready," Deborah answered, aware of the closeness of the other couple.
"He's getting ready to fuck you?"
Deborah winced as Greene snuckled the massive head of his prick into her raw, tender gash, prodded it against the fluttering curtain that shielded the opening to her pussy. "He's getting ready to-fuck me, Jean. Now, hush."
Strange, she thought, that his ponderous belly wasn't getting in the way. She wondered, idly, whether his heart could stand the exertion and the excitement, the way he was gasping and panting.
"Aaaaaiiiieeeee," she squeaked as he thrust the knob of his member inside her vibrant pussy.
"He's in you with prick?" Jean yelped.
Deborah felt him lift her butt off the hard bed with a hard thrust of his prick, driving it into her snug, yielding cunt.
"He's getting there, getting his prick in me," Deborah panted, lifting her knees to brace herself under his armpits. Little lights seemed to dance just in front of her wide, staring eyes as his whole body shook, his fat thighs and butt humping his prick into her.
Jean whined in an erratic voice, tone like a distant siren. "I'm having an asshole cum; he's jizzing his cock in my guts."
Deborah bit her tongue against the impulse to cry out as his prick bloated her belly, stuffing her fuck-mouth full. Her hands left his shoulders and groped in the dark, brushing something. Then she felt to identify it. Two hairy thighs. A lot of heat.
Her fingers closed and she gasped silently. She held two big, heavy hairy nuts. A wetness. She was clinging to Downs' throbbing gonads as he backed off.
Jean screamed again, shrilly. "You squirted on my belly." There was a sodden sound. "Aaaarrrggghhhh. Use your prick in my pussy a few times while you shoot the rest of your jizz in my cunt and I'll cum off along with you."
Deborah held onto his big balls as he began' rocking and socking prick into Jean's pussy, as Greene crammed the balance of his cock into her own clutching snatch.
She found she didn't have to work her butt to get full satisfaction from his prick. He rocked up over her, backed off. He was so huge in body that he set her body to bouncing and bobbing on his mammoth sex-skewer. There was no sound at all between her widely spread legs. Her cunt was simply too tight around his plunging prick to make any sound, unless it was that of squeaking.
Strange, unfamiliar, lustful sounds began issuing from her gaping mouth as he labored the prick to her. "Uhhgggrrr; Rrrggggg; UH-uh-UH-uh-uhuuuugggghhhrrr," Deborah growled, her insides coming alive and wanton as he plowed his prick into her suctioning, greedy pussy.
She could feel his massive belly rolling around atop her frail body as he held her middle lightly in his big hands, tugging her crotch to him as he hunched his cock into her tight canal. He began laughing boisterously and she could feel the vibration of his mirth in his surging, plundering prick.
"I can just see old Don and Kenny," he guffawed, "coming back to camp and finding their choice little split-tails ain't there. Sort of wish they could be sittin' right here and watching us fuck the piss out of them."
Deborah wrenched Downs' pulsating balls as he began fucking cock into Jean's pussy. Such an obscene observation almost prompted her to slap away at Greene's face in the dark. But it was starting to feel so heavenly and exhilarating in her pecker-popped pussy she was afraid he might stop. And she didn't want that, even if only long enough to slap her back.
Deborah frowned with displeasure in the dark, released Downs' swaying balls and scratched at Greene's laughter-shuddering shoulders. She tried to shake her ass up against his immobile prick.
"You can laugh and brag later," she said tersely, trying to rock her aching crotch upward. "But right now, I'm about to cum, so, please, come on and fuck your prick into me and I'll cum and I'll make my pussy squeeze your big prick and you can jizz me. Come on! Get busy and finish what we got started. Come on, and fuck me."
Even from the top of a snow-covered ridge, the camp exuded an aura of abandonment. There was no lantern inside that would have given the canvas shelter the appearance of a Japanese lantern. No glimmering of a fire. No smoke.
As they strode past the old pickup, Kenny swore, "Those sons of bitches came up here, sneaking around, and got 'em."
Without speaking, Don hunkered into the shelter, lit a lantern, read the scrawled message left by Greene. "Well, maybe not," he muttered. "But, they were here. I just don't like two motherfuckers prowling around my camp." Carefully, he explored outside. "Looks like Dirty and Frog retraced their steps." He pointed. "And the gals went that way." He followed the tracks to determine the girls had followed his early trek to Downs' and Frog's camp. "Do you suppose they saw or heard someone else move into the area and just picked up their hot little butts and took off?"
"Dirty and Frog have 'em," Kenny declared, hands nervous on the rifle. "I'm for slipping down there and shooting off their balls."
"Well, the gals didn't leave the same direction as Frog and Dirty," Don muttered.
"No matter," Kenny grated. "Why didn't Dirty and Frog come right on in with their mules? Because they laid out there somewhere and watched our camp and saw us leave. Then they came in and got our cunts."
Don returned to the shelter, shuffled a fire together. "Well, you may be right, Ken. But let's have some grub and a drink. I don't think it would be smart barging into their camp at night. If they took the girls, it's a good chance they're laying up and we could get our heads blown off. I think we just as well wait 'til mom, then wander down there."
It was about three o'clock in the morning when they were awakened by the protesting whine of the IH engine, carried keen and clear on the crisp mountain air.
"They got 'em and are pulling out," Kenny howled, crawling from his sleeping bag and kicking into his pants. "Let's get after them and shoot their asses."
Don dressed in silence. "You're right-they have Jean and Deb. I guess I knew it all along."
"Let's get after them!"
"We couldn't catch up to them," Don said, lighting the lantern and restoking the fire and pushing the cold coffee pot onto hot coals. "Let's figure this out. Where would they go? Take them back to town? I doubt that, Ken. Now, use your brains. What would be their move? I think I know. Go ahead and get your shirt on. We got lots of time; we'll put out about daylight."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Somewhere close in the dark, Jean was whimpering and crying softly. Deborah heard Downs moving about. "I'm gonna start the engine so the heater will warm up the Travclall," he said.
Deborah was acutely aware of the hulking Greene on top of her. His thick body spread her thighs so far apart she felt a creaking ache in her pelvis. He rutted tentatively and she winced as his swollen member jostled her insides, sending tingles and sparkles all through her fluttering vagina.
"Haven't you had enough for a little while?" she complained in an irritated whisper.
"I told you I could come five or six times without stopping," Greene panted, "and it's been a long time since I had my prick buried in such a tight, sweet, juicy pussy, Debbie."
"He cornholed my asshole all full of hot jizz," Jean whined. "It would have been good in my pussy, maybe, but all he wanted to do was fuck my butt."
The engine settled into a low, steady whine of power, a door slammed, then Downs slipped back into the tent.
She kept her body relaxed, loose and fluid, letting it roll and rock back and forth as Greene thrust into her gorged cunt. His thick prick was well-greased and succulent squish-squosh sounds emanated from between her spraddled legs. Each time he punched prick to her, her feet jogged against his heavy thighs, toes rubbing his hairy skin.
She scowled in the dark at the angry scratch of a wooden match. Suddenly, the tent was filled with harsh, yellow light and she glanced to her left at Downs squatting near where she was getting the business.
"Put out that damned lantern," Deborah hissed. "I don't want you sitting there and watching me get fucked."
Downs ignored her, his gaze intent on the action between her tortured legs. "Frog, you got her so hot and worked up her pussy lips are bloated like a big rubber donut around your slimy cock."
"Put out the light," Deborah demanded again. "I think you're horribly depraved, sitting there and ogling my snatch being crammed full of obscene prick."
"Hurry up, Tom, thump the cock-walloper to her and unload your bail of wax and let's get under way," Downs urged. "The heater should be hot by now."
"Hot as her little sex-furnace is, we won't need the heater," Greene retorted, huffing, puffing and pouring prick into Deborah's vacillating, suctioning cunt. "She's gonna cum off bang-bang in a minute, I can feel the walls of her twat crawling around my cock like a den of snakes," Greene grunted, hammering cock to her hard, his big belly plop-plopping against the flattened little bowl of Deborah's belly. "Oooohhh", Geez, she fucks good."
A snarl began forming in her throat, on her lips as Downs reached to cup a feverish breast that was quivering on her chest like a bowl of Jello. But a tempestuous storm was building to cyclonic proportions deep in her snatch under the relentless lashing of Greene's plundering prick.
Downs tweaked the nipple, sending lightning flashes downward through her belly to crash like electrical thunder around the goring tusk of male flesh. The half-formed snarl changed to a soft shrieking as the storm built toward a tumultuous climax and Deborah began shaking and rolling her rounded ass to take advantage of every inch of the mammoth prick that was being pummeled and pounded into her quivering sex-maw.
"Give it to me," she said breathlessly, up-fucking her butt the best she could with Greene's monstrous belly flattening her middle to the rumpled bed. "Sock it to me-in deep-and let it soak while I unwind my cum," she begged, her crotch reaching to capture the pistoning prick that was gliding soddenly in and out of her emotion-screaming fuck-hole. "I'm cuuuummmming," Deborah squalled, "can you do it now? Can you rut your cock in deep and sock my insides with the wonderful, big head and jizz me good?"
She tossed and writhed under him in wanton passion. "Give it to me. Heave your cock inside and blast me. I want all your prick hosing me full of heavenly jizz. Come on, Mr. Greene, work hard-fuck fast and deep and-OOOOOHHHH, GOOD GODDDDDDD, I'm cumming good. Dig your prick in and let my pussy milk out your hot, juicy love-juice."
She almost swooned as he ripped the cock into her cunt and the massive head began sloshing her snatch with torrid cum.
Numbly, she was aware of Greene's keeping her pinioned on his cock as he reared back, stood up. "Spread out the bed in the back of the rig," Greene rasped, "you can strike the tent by yourself and I'll top off this little split-tail after we get under way."
He carried Deborah, still impaled on his rigid cock outside. "Bring all our clothes, Clint," he yelled, hugging the naked Deborah to the huge barrel of his hairy body.
Deborah was dully aware of Downs' opening the back door and tossing the bedding inside, spreading it out. Then he carried the nude Jean and pushed her inside. Greene crawled in and Downs slammed the door.
With the tent stowed in the top rack, Downs asked, "You want me to drive?"
"Sure," Greene muttered, standing on his knees, meaty palms shaping and caressing Deborah's rounded buttocks. "You're always scared I'm gonna have a wreck and kill your mules. Yeah, you drive."
Deborah clung to his bull neck with both arms as he laid her back on the carnal bed. She glanced up and Jean was nearby, sitting on her curled up legs, saucy breasts jouncing gently as Downs eased the IH forward. The mules brayed and stomped in the trailer, but Deborah didn't hear it as she concentrated on Greene's adjusting to a satisfactory position to hump the cock to her throbbing pussy as they bounced over the rough road.
Each time the ponderous vehicle hit a chuck hole or a rock, it seemed Greene's massive cock speared into her cunt half way to her gullet. When the head of his prick socked into the bottom of her well, mashing flat, she quivered from the sharp erotic nerve tinglings unleashed through out her suckling cuntal cavity.
She was peeved at Downs who turned on the dome light so he could watch as Greene fucked her, via the rear view mirror. Once, as an enervating orgasm rumbled through her womb, she was about to appeal to Jean to help her-at least, do something instead of sitting there whining and holding her own hard titties and massaging her pussy on her bare heel.
All in all, she mused, brain feverish, it wasn't too bad; her pussy was well-adjusted to the lengthy slide of Greene's prodigious prick into her passion-slicked canal and her knees lodged in his armpits held her rock-steady beneath him as he rutted his huge body between her splayed thighs.
"What will I tell my boy friend?" Jean lamented.
"Tell him nothing," Deborah groaned in retort. "Or, I'd like to be present if you tell him about our hiking in the mountains and winding up in the camps of Don and Kenny, of Mr. Greene and Mr. Downs and getting fucked silly and cornholed and going down 'til I feel like I've had more prick stuck in my mouth than a porcupine has quills."
She looked back into the sweating, intense face of Greene. His eyes bulged and his nose seemed to wiggle like a rabbit's. "Why don't you fuck Jean awhile and give me a rest," Deborah said, the inner planes of her thighs getting a little raw from Greene's rubbing body hair.
"Huh?" Greene grunted as if he had forgotten the little blonde. "Nah, I got me a better idea. Get around here, cutie and show me your bottom and I'll eat you."
Jean stopped sniveling. "Now can you do that?" she asked timidly.
Jean got clumsily to her feet, her hands on Greene's hair-tufted shoulders balanced her. She stepped forward. "I don't see how you can eat my pussy this way," she whined, pushing her hair-thatched mound toward Greene's face.
In the pale, harsh light, Deborah watched the gross, naked man cup Jean's trim ass cheeks and pull her to his face, his slobbering tongue licking through her hair, over her flat tummy, dabbling at her navel.
"You can get your tongue in my pussy-groove like this," Jean fretted, her hips moving coitally, arousing rapidly as the wet tongue laved her creamy belly.
"Turn around," Greene said, tone guttural and glutted with carnal lust. "Get ahold of that pipe that runs above the back of the seat."
"How?" Jean whined, looking over her shoulder. "Oh, I see it."
Uncertainly, she reversed her position, grasped the hand-rail. "Like this?"
Deborah waited impatiently, Greene's hard, rigid prick idle in her snatch as Greene seized Jean's satiny thighs up high and tugged. Jean carefully moved her feet back until they were planted under Deborah's arms, ankle bones against her lolling boobies.
Greene took her at the hips and pulled her exposed crotch to his gaping mouth, suctioned the fat lips onto Jean's gaping sex-wound. She whimpered with flutterings of ecstasy as Greene sucked and tongued her wet, hot groove, licked over her bulging anal pucker.
"Hold still," Greene muttered as Jean swayed back and forth with the jostling of the vehicle.
"I'm trying," Jean retorted irritably when contact between lascivious mouth and hungry cunt was broken.
Deborah raised her arms and placed her hands on the fronts of Jean's thighs, above the knees, steadying her. "Sooooo, goodie-nice," Jean purred as Greene slurped at her wet, glistening furrow and snaked his tongue into her churning cunt.
Deborah stifled a moan of gratification as Greene adjusted to eating Jean's pussy and pronging his prick into her pussy with a steady, soul-shattering rhythm. A few miles farther, the road smoothed out and the three of them began functioning together; Jean pushed her wanton, lustful ass back to Greene's savoring mouth when he withdrew his cock from Deborah's aching cunt, then yielded forward as he forked his tongue into her and thudded his cock into her cunt.
"Well-coordinated fuckin' machines," Downs chortled, dividing his attention between the snowy road and the rear view mirror.
"Mind your driving," Greene commanded.
"I'll give you a quick kiss and french your tongue," Jean murmured. "Wish you could suck my boobies while Mr. Greene eats my pussy. I can really orgasm when my titties are sucked and I'm getting fucked at the same time."
"Frog, when you get home, you're gonna have to fumigate this thing and air out the quilts," Downs hooted, "otherwise, it's gonna smell like hot cock and cooked cunt for months."
Deborah felt as if she were in a trance as she watched Jean tremble as she had her pussy eaten and felt herself slipping toward another rending orgasm as Greene steadily. drilled his long, thick cock into her convulsing cunt.
There was a hot, pleasant numbness in her bloated labia as Greene drummed his stick into her. "You 'bout ready to jizz me again?" she asked softly.
"You really have my pussy stirred up," she whispered, "but after we make it hot and hard this time, could Jean trade places with me and give my snatch a rest?"
Greene didn't answer, just began popping his prick into her faster and faster. Deborah curled her feet up over the top of his huge butt, concentrating on the quivers and tremors in his plunging rod, matching the tempo of her passion to his and hoisting her pussy high as she sensed the surge of lust in his loins.
"OooooOOOOooooohhhh," she quavered as he plunked his prick in deep and sprayed her innards with another torrent of cum-lava. Her sphincters milked along the barrel, draining his thick, sticky cream.
He didn't say anything; there was just a faint withdrawal of his body from her. Awkwardly, she began wiggling from under him, on her back. Her cunt clung to his cock, as if reluctant to have it leave the sex-cocoon. At last, she, was free of him and squirmed to a sitting position, looking into Jean's contorted face.
"Your turn, Jean," Deborah said softly.
"My turn?" Jean asked dumbly.
"Your turn to have your pussy fucked."
"Okay. My turn. My pussy is ready for it, too. It's on fire and is itching like crazy for a nice, wonderful cock."
"Come up here in front with me, Deb," Downs said.
With cum trickling from her vulva and worrying down the insides of her tender thighs, Deborah crawled over the seat. She watched Greene roll onto his back, lift Jean bodily and hover her bottom just below his rotund belly.
"You lift it up in the air and position it and I'll set your needy little cunt right down on my prick," Greene said.
"Yes, yes, yes!" Jean agreed eagerly. "I like it like this-top-riding a long, hard cock."
In the darkness of the shadow of their bodies, Deborah eyed Jean's liberal boobies and listened to her moanings and sighings as she held Greene's prick, took it up her lusting cunt.
"Slides in good, doesn't it?" she chirped, bringing her hairy gash down on the impaling horn. "Deb, you got his cock all greased up good for my twat. Eeeeeiiii! God! I got it all now. I got all his big cock socked away in my cunt."
Deborah turned part way around in the seat, eyes widening when she saw Downs had his pants unbuttoned, his hard cock out, his hand jacking off slowly.
A dull insanity wormed into her mind. "Did you wash off your penis?"
"What?" he muttered.
"You had it in Jean's asshole; did you clean it off?"
"Oooohhh? Yeah. Sure I did," Downs murmured.
"All right," Deborah sighed, leaning toward him, pushing his hand away, getting her face between the steering wheel and his thin body.
She grasped his rigid joint near the base and slowly, wetly, as if obsessed, slipped her lips over it and sucked the firm knob into her mouth.
"Uuuummmm-yyyuuummmm," she crooned, hand masturbating along the long shaft as she sucked voraciously on the lust-gorged head of his throbbing prick. "If you had your pants down, I could play with your balls and really make you cum good by mouth-fucking you," she mumbled, nibbling and gnawing at his cock as if she were eating a roasting ear, cob and all, from the end.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"That's the way to go, Jeannie," Greene grunted, "get your wet trough down on my old prick and rub it around, make your little fun-thorn tingle and cum on my cock."
"Wheeeeee," Jean said softly, feet bent back against Greene's ample ass, knees spread wide so she could really absorb his prolific nozzle. "Can you really stay hard all night and shoot jizz again and again?"
"I'm gonna show you, Baby," he chuckled, squeezing her firm cones and teasing the taut nipples.
The sounds of heavy breathing and the familiar snock-snock of massive cock socking into pussy dominated the gentle whir of the heater and the steady hum of the engine.
Deborah paused with her teeth closed cautiously behind the meaty ridge of Downs' corona, her lips sucked tight on the blood-veined barrel of his long prick. Every time she gnashed her teeth playfully behind the head of his dick, a shiver went through him and his legs tensed.
She ran the tip of her tongue over the slick plum and dabbed the tip into the gaping slit in the end, savoring the warm, musky flavor of his prick. Her fingers tightened on the thick shaft near the base, pushing his pants down so she could peer, cross-eyed down the massive barrel.
Jean had this big thing shoved up her ass and here I have the knob of it in my jaws. Her mind quailed momentarily and she was glad no one would ever find out. She took solace from what she had told Jean about not having to tell her boy friend anything. Well, if no one was told, why not make the best of the situation-even enjoy it.
She sucked mightily on the warm flesh and swallowed, doting on the sensation of having the knob of a cock in her mouth and the way Downs trembled as she sucked on him. She remembered attending a lecture at the College of Idaho a few months before on biofeedback or something in which it was demonstrated that a knowledgeable person could rob a person of strength, just by rubbing him a certain way, in a certain place.
Well, she believed it. She could take away Downs' strength or energy just by rubbing him-that is caressing his prick with her tongue and sucking him off.
The thought amused her and she giggled silently. Downs groaned as she collected the accumulation of saliva and swallowed it, running her hot, moist mouth down a little ways on his sensitive rod. She took her hand from the base of his prick and fumbled his belt and top button loose, pushed apart the leaves of his fly. She unsnapped the waistband of his shorts and spread them so she could comb her fingers through the coarse mat of pubic wool and caress his hard groin.
"Great," Downs murmured, stroking her bare back, running a hand over her ribs to find and fondle a dangling boobie, pinching the silken, fleshy globe until it grew feverish and the nipple extended to a smooth, blunt point.
"Uuuuummmm-yuuuuummmm," Deborah purred, working her mouth down on his shaft, swabbing the knob from cheek to cheek until it pressed against the curvature into her throat. She slurped her tongue around the shaft and worked her right hand into his clothes so she could heft his husky nuts.
She jacked him off roughly, her fist pounding against his groin and her chin as she slowly immersed his prodigious prick in her guzzling gullet. She didn't think she had ever taken so much prick into her throat and enjoyed sucking one so much.
"I'm coming," Jean shrieked, "and Mr. Greene's huge cock is shooting jizz straight up into my pussy."
Deborah slacked off, feeling the buildup of climax approaching in Downs' lofting balls and contented herself with licking the head of his cock. "How long is your prick, Clint?" she murmured.
"Hell, I don't know," Clint whispered hoarsely, his hand warm and snug and demanding on her tumescent tittie. "I never measured."
"Is it as long and thick as Mr. Greene's?"
"We never compared," Downs laughed, tweaking her nipple until flames of passion and lust danced through her breasts and clattered like electrical thunder in her belly and pussy and itching asshole.
"You just oughta measure them," Deborah teased, again going 'way down on his enchanting cock, huffing her breath, trying to blow wind through his prick and into his belly.
"Son of a bitch," Downs gasped as she sank her face down on his cock, so far the fluff of his pubic hair tickled her nose and her chin. "Go, Babe, go," he gasped, mauling her tit and momentarily taking his other hand from the wheel to shove her face down while he hoisted his cock up into her mouth and into her throat.
She felt the tell-tale tremor all through the post of meat imbedded in her throat and backed off until she had just a comfortable mouthful of throbbing cock. She squinted in the pale, green light emanating from the instrument panel, wanting to watch the convulsions of his cock as it expanded, contracted, his cum-pump starting to prime.
"Squish your jizz to me," she breathed, her hand plying up and down the base of his pulsating wand. She savored the vibrant knob with her tongue with a series of ardent swishes and sucked deeply, swallowing the spit that accumulated and took the initial gush of cum in a torrid splatter against her tonsils.
"Glug-glug; slurp-slurp," she gasped and gurgled, enchanted with the sensation of thick, hot semen spewing from the expanded head of his cock. She went down on him hard, pulling in her cheeks to mouth-fuck the cum from him.
He groaned and Deborah sucked with an exhilarated ecstasy, gobbling on his delicious meat as if trying to inhale his cock all the way into her tummy. She doubled her middle so he could paw and palm her bottom and play his fingers over her distended asshole.
She squealed with surprised ecstasy as he found her opening and gored a finger into her butt. Orgasm surfaced quickly as he wiggled the tip of his finger in her. She blasted away, in her ass and cunny, as he shafted the remainder of his middle finger up her butt.
As she mouth-fucked him avidly, she wiggled her butt hole around on his twitching, kinking finger, getting all she could from his hand. There was a dizziness in her mind as she sank her mouth down, down, down on his spasming, spewing jizz-hose until she had all of it lodged in her throat. The fingers of her right hand clutched his throbbing balls lovingly, milking them. His finger felt so good in her rectum, she wished that she could get her left hand in his crack and finger-fuck his asshole.
In back, Jean was flying high, squalling and hurling her cunt up and down wildly on Greene's insatiable cunt-buster. She kept her hands on the railing atop the seat and Greene mauled her hot, creamy titties as she bounced and rotated her hot, wanton ass, grinding her passion-thickened cuntal lips against his groin to crush and knead her distended clit as she pop-popped her nuts on his goring cock.
When they left the oil and again were jouncing along a gravel road, Deborah relinquished Downs' slightly dwindled prick and sat up, careful not to dislodge his finger from her anus. She peered at the ghostly naked figure of Jean as the curvy blonde raised off Greene's prick, let it flop onto his mountainous belly.
"Oooohhh, golly, look at my pussy," Jean whined.
Deborah stared with disbelief. Her outer cuntal lips were so swollen with lust and passion they protruded from the Vee of her thighs like a miniature tire inner tube-with a rich sprinkling of golden fleece.
They were five times their normal size, Deborah thought as she stared with wonder at the obscenely protruding lips. She was apprehensive of Jean's wild, glittering eyes and turned away as the little blonde lifted Greene's monstrous prick, swabbed the immense head into the circling gasket of pussy lips and sank her ass back onto it.
Deborah turned in the seat, keeping Downs' finger up her ass, braced her feet on the seat, hunched forward and stared between her own thighs. Her cunt mouth was just as swollen, the lips wearing an obscene leer, gaping lewdly, inviting a kiss or a plundering, rapacious cock.
She was almost tempted to ask Downs to pull off the road somewhere and give her a good, fast fucking before they proceeded, but the eastern sky was acquiring a silvery, pinkish tint, a promise of the coming day.
Deborah huddled against him, lifted his cock in her left hand and jacked him off slowly, relishing the warm air from the heater that fanned, like a sexual breath against her grinning gash.
"Where are we?" she whispered, kissing his whiskered cheek.
"Maybe twenty miles to where your station wagon is parked," Downs answered. "Reach under the seat. Wrapped in an old shirt is a fifth of booze. Let's have a drink."
Deborah found the bottle, unscrewed the cap after breaking the seal with her teeth. She took a short swig, put the bottle between her legs and worked the neck all the way into her viscous snatch, twisted it back and forth, then handed Downs the bottle.
"What was that for?" he grinned, sticking the neck of the bottle into his mouth and gulping.
"Built-in chaser," Deborah giggled.
"Flavorful gravy," he managed, choking slightly on the fiery whiskey. Deborah passed the bottle back to Jean who took a quick swallow, paused in her top-riding and helped Greene drink.
Deborah glanced in the back where it had grown quiet. Jean was asleep atop the big, fat man. He had drawn a ragged, dirty quilt over their combined nudity, but Jean still had his swollen organ lodged in her sexual pit.
"Awhile ago you mentioned something about who had the biggest ones between Frog and me," Downs said casually. "I bet we're better hung than that Johnson and Corey."
"Huh?" Deborah responded drowsily.
"I bet those two have small dinkums," Downs smirked. "Little pricks."
"Huh? What? Ooohhh, no," Deborah straightened. "You're mistaken; both of them have really big peters." She peered into Downs' crotch, worked her fingers on his half-limp meat, stroked it gently, rubbed the end of her thumb across the purplish glans.
"Bigger'n mine and Greene's?" Downs pursued petulantly.
"I don't know," Deborah said doubtfully.
"Not as big; not as well hung as we are," he said hopefully.
"I really couldn't even guess or estimate," Deborah said evasively, jacking him off slowly, fingers firm on his hot tusk, amused by the display of male egotism. "Maybe they have smaller cocks; maybe bigger. Maybe longer, but not as big around; maybe shorter, but thicker. I don't know."
Deborah turned in the seat and stared at Jean sprawled asleep atop Greene who was snoring on his back. "Jean, which guys have the biggest and best cocks?" She turned back to Downs, kissed his cheek. "She's asleep-but probably all she knows is that cock is cock and they're all good fucking." Disgruntled, Downs muttered, "I bet I have a better bag of tools than that damned Kenny-maybe even that Don Corey."
Deborah glanced out the right window, stifled laughter and jacked off Downs rapidly, roughly, lustfully. "We'll ail probably never know for sure," she breathed, "really, pussies aren't very good rules, you know. They just take all the cock a guy has and mostly that's enough; some pussies would like and take more."
"Do I have enough to satisfy your pecker pouch?" Downs scowled.
Deborah bent to kiss the reddish head quickly. "Ooooh, Lordy, yessssss. You have plenty of prick; fills my fun-hole to the brim and I can barely mouth-fuck all of it down my gullet."
In silence, Downs wheeled the Travelall and the trailer with the two mules up sharp inclines and around twists and turns. "From where you walked over to those clowns' camp, you almost had to have taken that turnoff up ahead," he said, slowing.
"Je-Jean would wake up, she'd know," Deborah said pettishly, glancing in back at the little blonde' who had writhed about on Greene's cock until they were uncovered.
"This has to be it," Downs muttered, "let 'em sleep."
Deborah clung to Downs' prick and the pipe atop the seat back to brace herself as he swung off the main road to Silver City and through brush that grew close to the crude road.
"Look familiar?" Downs queried.
"It was dark when we drove up," Deborah said anxiously, peering at the scenery that was fresh and green and alive in the growing light of the new day. Soon, she mused, Jean and I will be away from all of them and out of here-clear of this debauchery and lewd fornication. A trace of a frown furrowed her brow as she wondered whether she and Jean would suffer any trauma after what they had done-not that they had really been forced.
Deborah experienced a sensation of a lurching, triumphant buoyancy when she saw their station wagon, still in early morning shadow. There was a cupcake frosting of snow on the top and the wind had plastered the passenger side. But there it was.
"We'll let them sleep and I'll just pitch camp," Downs said, twisting the steering wheel and backing the horse trailer with the mules in beside the station wagon.
Deborah glanced at the still sleeping Jean, an uneasiness in her to get out of the Travelall and start the station wagon and leave. She peered in the back, into Greene's bulging, unblinking eyes. He yawned and his thick, fat lips reminded her of her sex-bloated outer pussy lips.
Jean slumbered on, rippling her body back and forth on Greene's coarse sex-prod and murmuring contentedly. Deborah could see the muscles rippling in her smooth, rounded buttocks as she did the rutting on Greene's meat spindle.
Your pussy lips will never have a chance to subside to a normal sex mouth, if you keep it gorged with pecker, Deborah worried, peering quickly at her own crotch where the rubbery folds were so prominently and orgiastically crowding out of her thighs.
She climbed quietly into the back, avoiding Greene's sex-finger as he aimed it between her legs at either her swollen pussy or butt hole. She found her walking shorts and Jean's shirt. Then she uncovered her shirt and Jean's shorts. Undecided, she held the two shirts up for inspection. Apparently, Downs had dropped them in the snow when he was breaking camp and had walked on them; both were soaking wet and there were mats of snow in the wrinkles.
Deborah shimmied into the shorts, found her shoes and socks and put them on. She thought of donning the wet shirt, but what the hell? The two men had seen her titties, even pawed and mauled and sucked them. So, let them look. She searched for the backpacks and deduced they had been thrown onto the top rack.
She wasn't about to get out just yet, climb up there just to get a bra. She watched Downs tug down the tent and shivered. There was a dainty frost, like Fine lace on the outside of the windows.
She patted Jean's rump gently and the blonde mewed softly, screwed herself down on Greene's prick and clenched her asshole. The warped outer lips of her pussy snuckled around the base of Greene's monstrous cob and she could see a lewd twitching of his mammoth balls.
For a moment, Deborah's eyes glazed as she tried to imagine what it looked like, Greene's cock buried in Jean's frail body. Her insides must be stretched all out of shape, Deborah frowned, dismayed by the convulsive gyrations set off in her own innards.
She slapped Jean's ass again, hard enough to leave the reddish imprints of her fingers, but not hard enough to raise welts. Jean murmured her dissatisfaction. And Deborah leaned over her bottom and nibbled at the smooth half-moon.
"Yeeeeee-ikes," Jean whimpered, awakening with a start. She yawned as she straightened, waving her arms in a stretch. Then she scowled at Deborah, lowered her chin to peer at the hard cock spearing into her pussy. "Weeeeellll, looks like I went to sleep riding the rail. Hoooo-hummmmm, did I have sexy dreams."
"You better dismount from your stallion and get your shorts on," Deborah scoffed, "the station wagon is just outside."
"Yeeeeaaaaa," Jean said and Deborah thought there was a lack of enthusiasm which disconcerted her.
"Our shirts are all wet and I think we can dry them in the sun. There's your shorts. I thought when Downs gets done, we can have him get our packs down and get into our bras, at least."
"We got blouses in the suitcases in the car," Jean yawned as she slowly lifted her body, myriad emotions flitting across her pretty face. "You know, I sort of hate to do this," she said, a slow smile curving her unrouged lips, peering at a great exhibition of thick cock held upright by her latched on snatch. Then she lifted her bottom and Greene's cock plopped out of her with a soft uncorking sound.
Jean turned around, her bottom to Deborah and slowly, lovingly began licking it from the glazed head to the yo-yoing nuts. She licked along the sides, lifted it with her lips and slid her mouth down on it, slurping it in until her body shook, as much as she could swallow without choking.
"Mmmmm-ymmmmm," Jean murmured, backing off from his massive cock, "thanks for the ride."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Wordlessly, the two girls watched Greene toil into his pants, breathing harshly as he struggled into his socks and boots. Grunting and groaning, he found his shirt, opened the rear door of the Travalall and climbed out. He shook out his shirt and thrust massive arms into the sleeves, wrestled it around his gross torso and buttoned it.
Both girls leaned to peer out the window as he tried to stuff his still-hard cock into his pants, gave up and buckled the belt over it, the voluminous knob protruding above the waistband.
"Would you-I can hardly believe I-we-had that whole entire thing in us," Jean breathed.
"Our swollen pussy rings oughta testify to something," Deborah said dourly, voice breaking into a quavering yawn. "I need some sleep-you got some, as well as a constant dicking."
"Envious?" Jean meowed, tweaking one of Deborah's taut nipples, then massaging her full, firm breast.
They watched Downs rise from the campfire he had built, round the back of the vehicle, and fling open the door. "Come on, gals; coffee's perking. I want to get the bedding out and spread it in the tent."
"I could use some bed-time-alone," Deborah muttered, scrambling over the front seat and exiting through the driver's door, followed by Jean. They stood near the fire, arms folded under their sloping globes of flesh, letting the rising sun bathe their nakedness and soaking up the fire's heat.
They squatted to accept the steaming cups of coffee Greene poured for them. "Want some hooch for a warmer and an eye-opener?" he winked, sloshing whiskey into his own.
"I'd rather have some eye-shutter in a bed," Deborah raised a hand to stifle another yawn, aware of Greene's lascivious eyes following the lift of her right boobie. But, she didn't care.
She leaned to whisper to Jean, "My cunt flaps are so sex-swollen from being fucked my shorts don't hardly fit over them."
"Me, too," Jean replied, "the seam rubbing in my gash makes me itch and burn."
"You're horny? After fucking and being fucked almost around the clock?" Deborah mocked.
When Downs dropped their packs to the snow, Deborah strolled over, picked them up and took out their bras, before tossing them in the station wagon. "Want this boobie-bag?" she asked Jean, dropping the flimsy halter of lace and straps on her right shoulder.
"Where's the key," Downs called, "I'll crank up your car and see if it's going to run okay."
"I hid it inside the gas cap," Jean answered. And returned to sip the hot coffee. "Yeah, give us a little firewater in our coffee, Mr. Greene." And the girls held out their cups for a slosh of liquor.
All heads turned when the engine of the station wagon turned over slowly, didn't start. "Low battery-almost dead," Downs called. "Frog, you got those jumper cables? I think I'll put a shovel full of hot coals under the oil pan to warm the oil and thin it down."
"The cables," Greece grumbled, succeeding in pushing the head of his cock below his belt, into his pants, "are wherever you put them after we started that pickup in Grandview. They ain't been used since."
Off to their right and behind them, Downs rummaged in the big, green vehicle. Then he started swearing and slamming things, his tirade started the mules to braying in consternation and jerking against the picket rope stretched from a post on the front of the trailer to a small fir tree.
"Gawddamn it, Dirty," Frog howled, "what the hot-bitch, fuckin' hell you doin'?"
Downs answered Greene's question with another flurry of profanity, "I tugged on this damned cable and pulled the terminal clamp off one end."
"Then, fix it," Greene muttered, pouring his cup half-full of whiskey and just warming it with coffee.
"It'll take a little while," Downs grouched.
The mules quieted and returned to the hay on the snowy ground. Deborah glanced at the tent behind Greene who, indeed, resembled a giant frog, hunkered on a white lily pad. "If there is going to be a delay," Deborah said tentatively, "would it be all right if I-Jean, too, if she wants-take a nap, get some sleep? In the tent? I mean alone-not be bothered-at least, for a few hours?"
"Suuuuuure," Greene grinned, winking. "Nobody is going to fuck with you. Go ahead."
As they ducked into the tent, Downs called cheerfully, "I'll have things running fine in plenty of time before dark."
Nervous braying of the mules caused the girls to turn restively under the quilts, the afternoon heat thick and heavy in the tent. Then they awakened with near-panic.
A rocketing sound of a shot crashed and shattered the mountain calm. The mules brayed with greater alarm and began straining against the picket rope. The girls scrambled for the tent fly, fearful the animals might trample the tent-and them.
"It's them sons of bitches, Kenny and Don," Downs yelped.
Another shot fluttered overhead, the report echoing like the end of the world from peak to peak. "One of the goddamned mules is loose!" Greene bellowed.
The girls peeked from the tent and watched Downs lunge for a loose halter rope, slip in the snow and fall. The mule dragged him in the snow and the mud beneath. It backed into the Travelall, hopped forward, frightened, lashed out with hind feet and caved in the passenger door of Greene's rig-
"I'm gonna kill that fuckin' mule," Greene yelled as the sound of damaged metal subsided. "It's them; up in the trees and rocks yonder," Greene screeched, triggering three or four shots up the side of the mountain.
Another shot from the hillside tore off the rear view mirror on the left door of the Travelall. "You son's of bitches and bastards took our girls," a voice wavered down from the rocks and scrub pines.
"Not your girls," Downs yelled back, having secured the scared mule and firing a whining shot off the rock's up-slope. "They just wanted to get away and we're helping 'em out."
"What else did you help them with?" Don yelled down, punctuating the question with an .06 exclamation point.
"I'm gonna shoot your balls off, Dirty Downs," Kenny screamed, shooting out the left front tire of Greene's Travelall.
"You puny, pimple-peckered son of a bitch," Greene howled.
"Hahhahahahah," Kenny retorted, "you talk about little peters; if you had an inch less you'd have a hole in that big, fat belly."
"They're going to kill each other," Deborah cowered.
"I can lay more meat on the block anytime of the week, Corey, than you can even wish about," Greene snarled.
"They're insane," Jean snapped. "And they could kill us, too. We can find ample peckers anytime, but this little, hot pussy is too young to die. We have to stop them."
She began screaming incoherently and the shooting and outside shouting subsided. "Come on," Jean breathed, and they grabbed their bras and vaulted, naked to the waist, into the open.
"Knock off the foolishness," Jean yelled as she and Deborah waved their bras and strode bravely, yet apprehensively, into the sun-sparkling snow.
"Make war-NEVER! Make love, not war," they chanted. "Lay down your guns and pick up your peckers," Deborah shrieked. "You crazy bastards," Jean yipped, "You're gonna kill us dears."
They glanced up the slope and saw a tentative motion as either Don or Kenny waved a cap. "Stop shooting for awhile," Don yelled. "Maybe we can talk?"
"Sling your rifles and come on down," Greene proposed, "and we'll set our guns aside."
Without hesitation, Deborah and Jean stalked over and took Downs' and Greene's rifles, stood before them as naked shields. "No more of this nonsense," Deborah called, "come on down, Don and Ken."
Downs and Greene stood and stepped ahead of the girls as Kenny and Don emerged from their shelter and shuffled down the side of the mountain.
"Let's have something to eat and tilt a bottle," Greene invited.
"Come on," Jean added.
Warily, the four men hunkered around the campfire and the girls dug up extra cups, handed Greene the bottle to do the whiskey pouring. It was then, after the excitement and the rampant exchange of bullets was over, they focused attention on their near-nudity. They glanced sheepishly at each other, slipped away to pick up the bras they had dropped in the snow after they had succeeded in achieving a wary cease-fire.
"Who's gonna account for my tire and mirror?" Greene grumbled. "And I don't want no more talk about your girls. We brought 'em over here to their car 'cause they wanted us to 'cause they want to go back to Caldwell."
"We were going to manage for them," Kenny protested, unconsciously rubbing his genitals, a finger tracing the prime welt down his left pants leg.
Greene laughed harshly. "Let the girls decide. Or, we can draw straws or flip a coin or something to decide who gets them."
"Just a minute," Deborah snapped. "We ain't on the slave block and you guys aren't Arab Sheiks to talk about bartering us back and forth. We don't belong to any of you."
Downs replenished their drinks. "What difference does it make?" he ventured cagily, "the gals will be taking off after I get their car started, any way."
Deborah and Jean glanced at each other, hope and encouragement gleaming in their eyes. Just get out of here and let these knit-wits fight. Probably, if they were removed from the scene, the trouble and bad blood would simmer down and the four of them would sit around and drink whiskey.
"I got an idea-rather, Debbie planted the idea," Downs said wisely.
"For a minute," Kenny said flatly. "I was about to cover my ideas, 'cause you never had an idea worthwhile in your life. But if Deb planted something in your mini-brain except a new way to eat kiddie pussy or ass-end fuck some kid, it might be worth listening to."
"Screw you," Downs spat.
"Not with your gangrenous pole," Kenny muttered.
"Shit on your balls, Johnson," Downs grouched. "Suppose the best men entertain the two young ladies the rest of the day-or until they decide to leave-whichever is the longest."
"Best men?" Don said softly. "Hell, I can whip either one of you guys and I bet Ken can take you easy, Dirty."
"Not talk about fists," Downs said archly. "I'm talking about the best men. I bet we're hung the best-better'n you and Kenny."
"Oooohhh, shiiiiit," Don chuckled. "Don't tell me Deb brought up a subject like that. Did-she?" Downs sucked his teeth complacently, nodded, whistled softly.
"Goddamn!" Don blurted. "Well, tell 'em, Debbie. Tell them Ken and I can hang out more any day than they can."
Deborah felt a blush pinkening her skin from the top of her shorts to her scalp. "You nutty nincoms," she muttered, not meeting their glittering eyes. "Well, I don't know about such things. How the heck could Jean or I say who has the best-most-biggest ... Crap! You guys are disgusting."
Downs stood and Kenny reacted defensively by standing and putting swinging room between himself and Clint. "I'm willing to have a pants-off showdown and let the girls decide," Downs smirked.
"Pants-off showdown?" Don cackled, choking. "Listen, Dirty, I wouldn't drop my pants with you in ten miles of me."
"Piss on you, Loose Rods," Downs sneered. "Just don't turn your back on me or bend over.
Wham-bang! One ruptured asshole." And he laughed lewdly.
"Who would do the comparing?" Kenny asked cautiously. "I sure as hell don't want yours or old Frog's fingers on my super prick."
Greene chortled with amusement, as if he didn't care what happened. "Let the girls decide."
"Hold it a darned minute," Deborah interjected. "No matter who wins-it wouldn't be Jean and I." Downs stepped behind the two squatting girls, put hands on their bare shoulders, rubbed their naked backs. "You want to get out of here-and you can't do that 'til we get this issue settled. Right, Loose Rods? Kenny?"
The girls stared resentfully at Don as he shook his head slowly. "Nuts," he mumbled. "I know I can raise more cock-meat than either of you. What would this be? One on one-me against old guts there, and Kenny against you, Dirty?"
"Whatever," Downs shrugged, rubbing his loins with exaggerated anticipation.
"Deb? Jean? What do you say?" Don scowled. Deborah and Jean withdrew a little way and put their heads together. "Did you ever hear of anything so zany?" Deborah whispered.
"Just crazy enough to be exciting," Jean managed to control a giggle. "If we just had the car running, we could get them with their pants down, run and jump in the car and take off and let the four guys make out amongst themselves."
"But the car isn't running and we could be in for another round or session of having our poor, gored, swollen-lipped pussies punched some more," Deborah frowned.
"Heck, let's do it," Jean muttered, eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement. "Who has a ruler and a piece of paper and a pencil?" She turned with Deborah and they strolled up to the men. "Getcher pants off and yur pecker sup," she taunted as Greene lumbered to the dented Travelall and returned with a 12-foot tape, a ballpoint pen and a pocket-size Spiral notebook.
"Old Don and Kenny won't use up much of this tape, but me'n Clint may stretch the spring in it a mite," Greene chuckled, handing the items to Deborah.
"I don't know whether I can get a hard-on under these circumstances or not," Kenny hedged as the four men looked from one to the other to see who was going to start unbuckling and unzipping or unbuttoning first.
"All right, you guys," Jean goaded, "on your mark, undress; get bare-assed and let's get this carnival of comedy cocks on the road."
"Plumb naked?" Don protested.
"Absolutely," Jean retorted. "Help your buddies," she patted Greene on the huge pot-belly.
Deborah and Jean helped themselves to the liquor as the men began pushing down pants and underwear. "Sit on the ground and tug each other's clothes off over your boots," Deborah said sternly.
"Freeze my ass off," Downs whined. But he sat down, holding his balls out of the snow while Greene tugged off his pants and shorts.
The girls pranced around the four men standing there in the brilliant sunshine in their shirttails, laughing. "Look at the limber dicks; you're all losers; my clit's bigger'n all your pricks."
"Heeeeeeelppp," Kenny chirped, grinning with good-humored embarrassment as he lifted his peter and let it flop back between his legs.
"This is going to take all the rest of the day," Jean sniffed, waltzing about them, her firm, saucy titties swaying and bobbing. "Give me the tape, Deb; you run the pencil like a good secretary taking the dick-tashun I give you."
"We gotta be hard," Downs complained.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Jean laughed with rising excitement and mirth as she pranced around the four nearly naked men who were nervously fondling their unresponsive genitals.
Deborah frowned, took her arm and pulled away a short distance. "I don't see how you can relish this, Jean. Don't you know that how ever this comes out, we're going to get it-them-their pricks? At least, the peckers of two of them."
Jean pushed the metal-cased tape into a front pocket of her shorts, peered down at her breasts, brushed fingertips across the turgid nipples. "At this moment, I don't care," Jean pouted. "Have you ever imagined such a contest? I think it's hilarious. Look at them, worrying about who has the biggest dicks. At my tender age, I already know it ain't the size that counts-but it helps."
She squeezed one of Deborah's exposed titties and sauntered back to the men standing naked from the waist down in a semi-circle beyond the dying fire.
"I don't think there is a super-stud in the herd," she chortled. "Look at you, wilted sausages and rotten eggs."
"Awwww, come on, Jean," Kenny protested, finger and thumb lifting his peter by the head and letting it flop back to an uninterested-and uninteresting sag.
"I can't get a hard-on, standing here with these other naked bastards," Downs complained.
"I gotta sit down," Greene grumbled. "Even in school, I could never concentrate on my hard subjects standing up."
"All subjects were hard for you, Frog," Don muttered. "I bet you flunked every course except masturbation and sniffing seats where the girls sat."
"Get them camp stools, Clint," Greene said, all but his contemptuous eyes ignoring Don Corey.
Jean waited until the folding stools were brought and the men were seated in a semi-circle, limp peters and balls sagging ludicrously between their spread thighs. "Well, I could measure your limber peckers, but I don't have much enthusiasm for toying with little flabs of twang. Say! Why don't you play with yourselves?"
"Or with each other?" Deborah stalked back and forth in front of them.
"Shit!" Kenny blurted, scowling, inching his stool a few inches away from Clint Downs.
"I got nothing against jacking off," Downs said, "but not with Loose-Rods watching me and getting envious."
"You guys are procrastinating," Deborah said. "Why don't we forget it and you guys get our car started and we'll head home. And you can shoot each other or make boy-boy love."
"Don't talk like that," Downs whined. "You mentioned the idea of measuring pricks."
"Not soft dangles of gristle," she said scornfully. "Well, help us," Kenny proposed.
"Help yourselves," Deborah retorted scornfully. Deborah squinted thoughtfully at Jean as the little blonde eyed the four men.
"Well, I'll help you," Jean giggled, "but I only have two hands; so we'll concentrate on two contestants at a time. For three minutes, I'll work to get you hard; then we'll measure you; then condition the remaining two pricks. Okay?"
"Huh?" Greene gaped as Jean stepped behind and slightly between Kenny and Clint. She leaned over their shoulders, pushed their hands away and took their cocks in her hands.
"Yeeeaaaah," Greene nodded, turning his round head on his short, thick neck to watch as Jean began jacking off the two slenderly built men. There was a twitching in the cockheads flopping around as her hands flew up and down thickening shafts.
Deborah hunkered on her heels to watch Jean masturbate two cocks at a time. I could work on Tom Greene and Don, she thought, glancing from the comer of her eye as the other two men gawked, hands clutching their pendulums and twin jewels.
"Spit on the knobs," Jean breathed, jacking them off roughly, flogging their meat as quickly as she could. She held their peckers steady, fist closed up behind the flanges on the heads as both men dropped gobs of saliva on their respective organs. "That'll help," Jean lauded, her hands again slipping and sliding up and down the thickening, stiffening meat-posts.
Kenny and Clint leaned back against Jean, turned their heads, contorting their necks to lick in her nipples. "Oooo," Jean cooed as they cupped the undersides of her flushed boobies and nibbled her tumescent nipples. "Yeow, your cocks are getting hard and ready now."
"Ooohhh, Christ, take turns blowing us," Downs moaned.
''I don't think He would be interested in such a thing," Deborah said laconically. "But Jean might."
"Hush," Jean chided, her hands flying high, palms up over fully budded cock bulbs.
Unmistakably, Deborah caught a whiff of distinctive, musky, earthy aroma wafting from Jean's well-fucked, swollen cunt. She worried her tongue into a cheek, reflectively. Hell, she mused, Jean is hot-pantsed and looking forward to making it with all four of them. She glanced at Don's and Tom's hairy crotches where dongs were beginning to outgrow the hands as they watched Jean's fingers matriculating on the pair of cocks.
"I'm about ready to pronounce you full-blown pricks," she said merrily, words coming in passionate gasps.
"We haven't been blown yet," Downs groaned, lips clinging to Jean's dainty nipple.
Jean stood, pulled her tittie tips from the two men's mouths and sidled between them. "Keep your peckers up," she warned, fumbling for the tape. She pulled out a foot of the steel tape, locked it in place and held the case firmly in her right hand. "Let me have your cock," she told Downs.
"I'd love to-right up your hot little asshole," Dirty panted.
She bent his peter out, holding the skin under the head, pressed the end into the coarse hair, against Down's groin. Then she read off the measurement.
Dutifully, Deborah wrote it down in the little Spiral notebook, repeating the measurement Jean had given her, "Eight inches to the ridge on the back of the head, half the length of your thumb and a little, teensy-weensy bit more."
"What the hell kind of measurement is that?" Kenny yelped, leaning over, hand gliding up and down his own rigid joint, and staring at Jean's employment of the rule.
"You're next," Jean chirped, moving over between his spread knees and taking his hot peter from his hand. She stretched the tape along the top of Kenny's throbbing dong. "I make it the same number of inches-and half the length of my thumb and a teensy-weensy bit more or a fraction less-whichever is the most or the least." She patted both cocks, looked around at Deborah.
"You got all that?"
"Everything but how many ounces their baby-makers weigh," Deborah said soberly, reaching for the nearly empty whiskey bottle and taking a couple of glugs.
"Boys, just keep your pussy-knockers hard while I take care of Don and Frog," Jean said, waddling over, squatting in between the remaining two men, taking their peckers. "Both of you have nice sets of goodies dangling below your butt holes," she chuckled.
"You two guys," she said to Kenny and Clint, "just keep your hands on your own pricks and don't violate each other." She jacked off Don and Tom avidly, fingers massaging and teasing along the already-gorging barrels. "Won't take long," she panted, "to get you guys at full-mast-anyone got a pennant to tie on the tips?" She leaned her face to one, then the other, blowing her breath on the fat glans, spitting on the head of each lustful cock.
"How about your sweet pussy?" Don suggested, eyes squinting shut with exquisite agony.
"Ho-ho-ho-ho," Jean chortled, beating their meat faster and faster. "I think I'm ready to put the lie to your bragging about how much cock you can raise." She dropped their cocks, pulled out the tape.
"Don Corey," she said solemnly, brushing a blonde tress from her avid eyes. "Exactly nine and a quarter inches."
"How much of your thumb and how many teensy-weensies over?" Don groaned.
"That's it," Jean said imperially. "I measured all you got-that includes your purple plum. Okay. Frog."
She probed at his hairy mat with the end of the tape. "Get your hands down here and lift your big belly out of the way," she commanded.
Jean took the measurement, peered intently at the numbers and fraction marks. Then she touched the release and the tape snapped back into the case.
"Well?" Deborah queried, ballpoint pen poised on the notebook.
Jean stood, picked up the bottle and took a couple of swallows. "If Frog had an inch more, he'd have more or less the same size pecker that Don has. If the head was loped off, he'd definitely have a prick an inch-more or less-less than Don has."
:
"Your measurements are precise then?" Deborah intoned, closing the notebook and taking the bottle from Jean, emptying it.
"Who wins?" Kenny groused.
Eyes swimming from the liquor, Deborah watched Jean swagger back and forth in front of the four leering men who held their rigid organs tightly in their fists. Her breath caught as Jean would stop, shimmy her body, setting her jutting cones to jiggling, rotating her bottom and curving her crotch tauntingly to their bulging eyes.
The light, gypsy breeze shifted, blowing ashes from the fire around the men's boots. Deborah sniffed deeply, eyes widening. She was smelling the warm, sweet aroma of hot, ready cunt-and realized it was drifting to her nose from her very own split.
There was a quickening of her blood as she recognized what Jean had in mind-or imagined it, any way. Lay these guys one last time, get their car started and go home. The way her pussy was responding with tantalizing twinges, it wouldn't object-just an hour, maybe not that long-to having a couple of miles of prick shoved into it, nine inches and half a thumb at a time.
Wham-bam.
And they'd be on their way.
Deborah walked up behind Jean, put her arms around her, under her arms and cupped the blonde's hot, firm mounds. "Jean? Are you thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking? Take 'em on; roll 'em off; get our car going and hustle our butts down the road to home?"
"It'd be an ever-lasting shame to let such big, ready cocks go rot in their hands," Jean whispered, pushing her bottom back against Deborah's tender, itching love-mound.
"In the tent," Deborah yelped suddenly, pushing Jean in that direction and following her. Before the men could troop inside, the girls quickly peeled off their shorts and turned to face the wide-eyed hunters.
Don lunged at Deborah, tripped and fell, his hands curling around her ankles. She bent to help him crawl forward, but he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her down. Kenny circled her, lifted her hips, knelt and socked his cock into her gaping pussy.
"Aaaaeeeeiiii," she gasped as her swollen gasket of cuntal lips closed on the head, behind the coronal ridge.
Deborah looked up at Jean who waited impatiently as Greene flopped heavily onto his back. Jean stepped astraddle him and slowly lowered her grinning gash toward his massive cock, held upright by his left hand.
A dizzying ecstasy fluttered in her pussy and rectal canal as Kenny pumped forward, driving his cock through her grotesquely swollen labia into her steaming pussy cranny.
Don rolled over, eyes staring glassily into hers. "Scoot under me," she whispered, her lips forming a kiss as her gaze shifted to his cocked cannon lying unaimed on his hairy belly.
As he scrambled back under her, she reached for his bolt and bag of nuts. There was a mushy squishing sound at her rear end as Kenny grunted and hunched his hips. She held her body rigid, her pussy taking his cock slowly, the crimped walls yielding grudgingly around the massive pear on the end of his prick.
She grasped the base of Don's cock as Kenny's prick explored deeper and deeper into her succulent fuck-cave. Deborah lowered her body, supporting herself on her elbows. She breathed on the bulb of Don's pulsing prick, opened her mouth until her jaws ached and closed her lips on the opulent head of his thick prick.
Her back bowed as Kenny lunged his cock into her, almost brutally, the head slipping past the cervix and stuffing her hole up to his sagging balls.
She licked her tongue around Don's flat glans. "Kenny has all his cock up my cunt," she gasped.
"I can see it," Don replied from beneath her tortured twat.
She went down on him slowly, her mouth stretched, tongue swishing around the invading hunk of meat. She slurped carnally as she forced the head past the softness in the curve of her throat and the shaft was guided deep into her gullet.
Deborah closed both hands on his scrotum, fingertips loving his plump eggs, waiting for Kenny to begin pumping and fucking his prick to her.
She pushed her ass back, letting Don's long dick slide out of her throat, clinging to the head with her lips. Kenny backed his post out of her hole and thudded it back into her; she let his power shove her forward, thus fucking Don's huge cock back into her throat.
Her insides were churning around Kenny's pistoning prick and her mouth felt heavenly glutted with Don's spindling spine of sex.
She wanted to yell at Kenny to fuck her fast and hard, even rip it up her asshole on one stroke, into her pussy on the next. But he was thumping and thudding the cock into her with increasing fervor. And she had all she could cope with, mouthfucking Don's expanding, lengthening cock.
She shook her ass wantonly on his plunging prick. She lifted off Don's prick just long enough to wail, "Keep going; never stop fucking your fabulous prick up my snatch."
And she went right back to work on the big prick she was sucking, licking away the honey trickling from the slit and swallowing greedily.
"Uuuummm, yesssss," Deborah mumbled as Don's hand closed on her feverish tits, squeezing gently on the luxuriant melons and tweaking the hot, ripe little berries.
"I love having my cunt fucked and sucking delicious cock," she blubbered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jean chunked her hungry cunt down hard on Greene's prick, whirled her pussy on it and glanced at Deborah who was sucking cock with a frenzy. She watched Downs hunker behind Kenny.
"Quit licking my balls and asshole, Dirty," Kenny yelled, kicking at Downs' dangling cock and balls.
Jean spun her snatch on Greene's hard rod and reached for Downs. "Commeereeee," she wheedled, doodling her fingers at him.
"Give me your wonderful meat and I'll show you how to take care of it." Jean squeezed the lean buns of his ass, drew her to him, her open mouth quickly capturing his passion-bloated head.
Downs placed both hands on the sides of her head, brushed her hair aside so he could grasp her ears like handles. "You go down on a guy better'n any gal I know," Downs moaned. "You really know .how to give a blow-job," he added as Jean sucked the knob and pushed her face forward to absorb a couple of inches.
Her hands fell away from the lean cheeks of his ass when he yanked her by the ears, imbedding the full length of his prick in her face. Her eyes glazed and rolled wildly as her tongue worked along the underside of his trembling member.
He hunched, fucking his cock as far into her gullet as he could, setting her back hard on Greene's impaling monster, grinding her ballooned cuntal lips around the hair-tufted base and mashing her tender clit.
Jean groped for him, found his swaying bag of balls and gripped hard as her other hand ran up his springy thighs, around the under slope of his ass and fingers dug into his tensed crack.
"Yaaaaahhh," Downs yelled, his hips bucking and hunching, fucking her mouth fast and vigorously. Jean fumbled a fingertip at his tight brown patch, forced it into his scalding anus.
He hauled his cock far out and thudded it back in as she gulped frenziedly as the thick shaft pistoned in and out of her ravishing mouth. Jean was aware of a gloating satisfaction as she made Downs squall while her finger was ramming and reaming his tight, tender asshole.
Greene was laughing, his monstrous belly bouncing with his mirth. "Squeeze his balls off, Jeannie," he encouraged as she milked his full cod with clenched fingers.
When Deborah began mewling and yipping, Jean glanced at her, envy rousing as she watched her best friend beset with the ecstasy of orgasm, mouth-fucking cock with an expression of famished lust on her intent face, her rounded bottom swinging and thrusting to catch all the cock Kenny was tossing into her twat.
She wanted to shout something about "go-go-go" to Deborah, but Greene grabbed her flanks, palms pressing her flanks, shoving her crotch down on his cunt-shafter and began gushing her coiling cunt full of scalding jizz.
Jean left off momentarily her cock-sucking to concentrate on the enchanting sensation of cock stuffing her and showering the deepest recesses of her twat with hot cum that sent dazzling flashes of ecstasy cascading through her.
She wasn't the least disturbed that Greene had unleashed his cyclone of copulation so soon-he'd said he could cum over and over again.
Jean sat there, his enormous prick socked away in her sex-pocket, until he moved his business, signaling her she could get her fuck-machinery in gear again. Quickly, she picked up her coital rhythm of fucking her mouth forward on Downs' juicy prick and back on Greene's perpendicular prod.
Deborah was writhing and whining again and Jean wondered which hose was blasting away-the cock in her mouth or the one shoved into her cunt.
Not missing a lick with her cuntal mouth on Greene's big-knobbed dong and her tongue swirled around Downs' thrusting cock, Jean peered down at Deborah who screamed sharply, in surprise.
Jean knew what probably had happened, as Deborah's scream changed quickly to a croon of pleasure. Kenny had missed with too-long a thrust and his slick plum had skidded out of her groove, into her anal crease and was banged to the balls into Deborah's squeegeeing asshole.
Kenny began socking the cock up Deborah's resilient back hole and she slowly lowered her rump. She cooed with erotic ecstasy and Jean knew Don had seized the opportunity and was eating her hair-pie and yum-yumming the copious pecker and pussy juice she and Kenny had stirred up.
Gradually, the hand holding his balls relaxed and fell away. She didn't need it for balance; he had her by the ears as he pummeled his prick into her mouth; and she still had a hand in his crack, a finger nailing his snug asshole. She found it enthralling, his heavy balls swaying forward as he chucked his cock into her throat and bouncing against her neck-at just about where his big walloping knob was throbbing.
She reached between their bodies, up, over and down the lower incline of Greene's belly to feel around her grossly distorted labia. It was fascinating, feeling his slick cock slip out of her snug cove and glide back into her cunt as she lowered her ass on his fleshy spire.
Greene groaned as she rubbed his soaking pubic hair and scratched a nail up and down his blood-veined phallus. Her tightly crammed cunny had leaked enough syrup of their combined passion that both of them were sopped with sticky goo.
Jean rolled her eyes upward to peer at Downs' twisted face, trying to gauge the level of his passion, wanting to blast her own dynamite box at the same time he went off in her mouth. She calculated she could force Greene's big gun whenever she wanted or needed, just by pinching down with her sphincters and squiggling her pussy around his responsive prick.
Downs' tongue was hanging out and he was fucking cock into her mouth fast and jerkily and Jean knew he was close. She lashed at his pistoning prick with her tongue and sucked hard, pulling her cheeks in against the sides of his enormous cock.
The first flush of jizz hit her with his cock buried in her throat. Jean backed her mouth off so she had just a comfortable length in her face and could swallow each succeeding torrent without impediment.
At the same time, she settled her frantic cunt full on Greene's long prick and spasmed her fuck muscles around the entire barrel. He came off just like she had estimated, spewing jizz all the way to her womb.
Tears of excitement and elation stung her eyes, blurred her vision as she concentrated on getting cock-blasts of jizz in both ends.
When Deborah screeched, she turned her face sideways and stared down at her writhing friend. Don had cum off in her mouth and Deborah had accepted his gushing fountain until Kenny hiked his cock all the way into her and cut loose a storm of passion in her ass.
Deborah raised off Don's prick and was jacking the spewing semen from his loose cock with both hands.
"Aaarrrggghhhh, my god," Deborah howled. "I can't stand it, it feels so good. I love it. Keep your prick up my butt and never stop jizzing my bowels."
"Getcher balls off my eyes," Don complained, 'so I can see how to eat pussy."
Deborah had lowered her body so low-just Don's head between her belly and the bedding that Kenny was flattened out so he could keep at her asshole with his spewing prick.
Jean backed off farther on Downs' cock as his flow diminished so she could concentrate on sucking just the slick head of his prick, not lose a single droplet of delectable cum.
"Ggggrrrr-uuummm," she moaned, devouring the knob and savouring the trickle of jizz. "Turn loose of my ears," she demanded, "or I'll bite off the end of your prick and you'll have the shortest dick of the four of you."
Suddenly, Greene began bucking under her and she was rolled sideways, breaking the connection between Don and Kenny as Deborah was flung to one side.
"I gotta have me a drink of whiskey and I think I hear another vehicle coming," Greene snorted. He lumbered to his feet, stared about, then stomped out of the tent, remembering he had left his pants outside with those of the other three men.
"You bastards," he yelled, "you better get your pants; someone is coming," Greene called.
With a flicker of panic in their eyes, Jean and Deborah grabbed their shorts and stuffed their butts into them. Jean ran to the Travelall and retrieved the shirts they had laid across the hood to dry. She ran back in, handed Deborah her shirt and took the bra Deborah held out to her.
In a few minutes, they were all sitting around the rekindled fire, drinking coffee and whiskey when a green pickup with camper rolled and rocked in.
There was an insignia on the door. "Game wardens," Don muttered as two men in uniform with badges got out.
"We heard a lot of shooting over this way," one of them said, pausing to look at the shattered mirror, the flat tire on the Travelall.
"It was us," Greene said. "And I did that-don't ask me to tell you just how I shot up my own rig-you wouldn't believe me."
"Probably not," a tall, reddish-haired officer said, grinning. "Well, that's your problem. We are patrolling before the season opens, looking for poachers and checking to see if hunters in the woods are okay after the snow."
"We're all okay," Downs said.
"All of you camped here?" a black-haired officer asked, peering doubtfully at the crude camp, grimaced when the mules began kicking and braying.
"No," Don said. "We're over the mountain a mile or so." He indicated himself and Kenny. "The two gals belong to that station wagon. Old Froger, Tom-and Clint brought them around after they hiked over to our site."
"Their battery's dead," Downs offered.
"And we just moseyed over to see if they're gonna get started okay," Don continued.
"Supposed to snow some more tonight," the red-haired man said, "if the Weather Service with all its billion-dollar gear knows what it's talking about."
Downs eased back, set his cup down. "I had to fix the jumper cables; let me see if I can start their car."
"I'll give you a hand," Don said, ambling along, sitting under the wheel as Downs set the cables, started the Travelall for the boost of battery power.
Unobtrusively, Jean and Deborah checked around for any of their things, checked that the packs were in the station wagon, that the Coleman stove was safe, that their suitcases were secure.
"You fellows around here close?" Greene asked casually, his eyes on the girls, following the flash of bare, white legs in the afternoon sun.
"Parked about twelve miles this side of Murphy," the red-haired officer said, "primarily so we have good radio contact with Boise headquarters."
Conversations ceased as the station wagon started, engine clattering until the cold oil began circulating. Deborah waded the snow on the right side, waited impatiently for Don to get out so Jean could get in, unlock the passenger door.
"I got an idea," Don said, getting out, but still blocking Jean's entry, "why don't you give us a lift back around to our camp?"
Deborah scowled across the top of the vehicle at Jean. "I don't think so, Don," Jean said.
"It's a long walk," Don said, tone slightly wheedling. "Least you could do, after we hiked over the mountain to save you."
"Hah," Jean snorted. "What we can thank you for is joining Frog and Dirty to help in really shooting dears-just a couple more trophies for all of you arrogant men to brag about."
Downs disconnected the jumper cables, closed the hood of the wagon. He and Don drifted off a little way when the two rangers strolled over. "You gals are heading back out of the hills now?" the red-haired one asked. "I suggest you not loiter, not with another snow forecast."
Jean nodded, reading the nameplate above the flap of his shirt pocket: Mike Brown. "Yes, we're going on back to Caldwell."
The black-haired man leaned into the open doorway. Sam Franklin, his nameplate read. "You want to be careful; there's still a lot of snow on the shaded stretches of road, slushy and slick."
"Any way," Mike said, "we'll be following along pretty soon and will keep an eye open for you, in case you have any trouble. By the time you pass where we're camped, the road is bare."
"Where are you camped?" Jean asked casually, putting the car in gear.
"Oh, you can't miss it in daylight," Sam said, smiling, teeth even and white in the darkly tanned, angular face. "You cross a shallow stream as the road enters a wide flat and we have camp set up at the east side of the flat, near a grove of pine and poplars."
The mules hawked raucously as Jean eased the car backward. Mike slammed the door and he and Sam stepped back, Fingertips touching the brims of their hats in a Smokey Bear salute.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For a couple of miles, the girls were silent, absorbed in their own thoughts. "What are you going to do when we get home, Deb?" She smiled wistfully, "Go down to the office and change the ribbon on your typewriter?"
"One thing I'm not going to do," Deborah frowned, "is bring my diary up to date."
Jean laughed. "Amen. All you'll need in the years to come is look at those blank pages and it will all come back with a rush and the memory of the gushes."
Deborah felt her face pinkening. "What about you?"
"Think I'll see if I can put a hot pack between my legs and make the swelling in my pussy lips go down."
Deborah turned in the seat, rummaged in one of the backpacks. "I sneaked half a bottle of whiskey when no one was looking. As far as a hot pack, I kind of got the idea those two rangers or wardens would be happy to accommodate you-both have tremendous hot packs to fit between your-our legs."
Jean didn't look at her friend, but a warm flush crept up her throat, tinted her pale cheeks prettily. She tilted the bottle quickly, handed it back to Deborah. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "we do have four days left on this week off from the office. It would be no more than common courtesy to stop at their camp and have a cup of coffee with Mike and Sam."
"Mike and Sam?"
"I read their nameplates," Jean said. "Mike is the handsome redhead; Sam is the dark-haired one. What do you say about having a cup of coffee, maybe a drink with them?"
"And getting laid?" Deborah taunted.
"I won't tell anyone if you won't," Jean grinned impishly.
Deborah pouted for nearly a mile. "How do you propose to have our seduction take place? Those two fellows are gentlemen. And I'm not quite of a notion to drop my shorts and flop on my back and say 'come on, one of you guys-or both-fuck me.'
Mountains and canyons to the west were already shadowed when Jean eased the station wagon through the small stream. "This has to be the place," she murmured, looking for a turnoff.
"They didn't mention a camp trailer," Deborah said, a nod of her head indicating the small trailer blocked up near the dense grove of trees. "It may be some more hunters-looking for deer, dears and between-the-leg trophies."
"Ooh," Jean said, "poooh," and she turned the wheel to the right and jounced toward the aluminum-skinned trailer, parking in behind it. "Let's get out the stove and brew some coffee. I bet benefactors will be along soon."
Deborah pumped up the gas tank while Jean brought water from a spring at the edge of the stream that trickled past the edge of the trees. They heard the approaching vehicle several minutes before it angled toward them and were drinking a cup of coffee, tempered with some of Frog's and Dirty's liquor.
"Well," Mike grinned, "you decided to dawdle on your way home."
"If you have cups, we'll share our coffee with you," Jean said. As they hunkered around an open fire Sam built, Jean said solemnly, voice quavering, "We're grateful to you for coming by up there-and helping us get away from them."
Deborah stifled an exclamation of surprise, then closed her mouth, curious about what Jean was about. "How's that?" Sam said, his head turning in a quirk of attentiveness.
"Well," Jean continued, "we weren't with them voluntarily. We drove up to do a little hiking and got lost and wandered into one of their camp's. We were helpless-and they took advantage of us. Then we thought we could get away by escaping with those other two-and they took advantage of us."
"They raped you?" Mike scowled, a whiteness around his taut mouth.
"Not exactly rape," Deborah caught the thread and chimed in. "You see, we were dependent on them-and had to go along with their exploitation. We just had no choice."
"Those sons of bitches," Sam muttered. "Did they hurt you?"
Jean and Deborah exchanged questioning looks, like what can you two do about it, if they did. "We're sore and stiff," Jean said.
I think you guys are getting stiff, Deborah mused, eyes flitting casually from their doubled knees to their important joints.
"Do you think you need to have a doctor see you? Need first aid?" Sam murmured.
"I don't know whether there is anything you can do," Jean said doubtfully, standing slowly and bringing the coffee pot. She apportioned the whiskey equally. "That's all of that," she said, with a note of sadness, "it helps a little."
"We have more in the trailer," Sam said quickly.
"As far as first aid goes," Mike pursued kindly, "Sam and I both earned our Boy Scout rescue badges and we both passed the advanced Red Cross first aid courses."
"What can that do?" Deborah muttered disdainfully, a hand falling between her legs, palm against her bulging labia.
"First rules of first aid," Mike said bravely, "are to inspect the afflicted area. Oftentimes, massaging helps; we have liniment; we splint broken bones...."
You ain't gonna put no liniment on my afflicted area, Deborah quelled an urge to laugh. And I don't think you could get a splint on it.
"We could check you?" Sam offered helpfully.
"I don't know," Jean shivered, eyes on the low-flickering fire.
"Come on in the trailer," Sam urged, standing.
"Do you have licenses to practice medicine?" Deborah murmured.
"We can show you our Red Cross certificates," Mike smiled.
"It's getting chilly," Jean sighed.
Eyes turned to the western sky. "There comes that snow cloud," Sam said, tone dour, but eyes gleaming. "Let's get out of the cool air."
The trailer was small. There was a double bunk across the back and a single bunk slung hammock-style above it. Whiskey was' stored behind a supply of staples in one of the compact cupboards.
With a blue butane flame dancing under a coffee pot, Sam asked, "Want to see our certificates? Want us to make a check of your possible injuries and damages?"
"It would be terribly embarrassing-where we have been stabbed, where we ache," Jean murmured, holding her cup for a healthy slosh of Old Crow.
"We're professional men," Mike said, smiling, eyes warm and concerned.
"How would you go about it?" Deborah quailed as the four of them squeezed into the small breakfast nook.
"Well, we would have to see the area," Sam said sagely.
Jean and Deborah drank slowly, eyes meeting. "That would mean we would have to-take off our clothes, at least our, you know, shorts."
They watched Mike and Sam exchange looks. "We won't look while you take them off."
"I don't think you can help us," Deborah stalled.
"You never can tell," Sam said, voice suddenly tight.
"It won't hurt us for you to just-look," Jean wavered. "Would it, Deb?"
"Just look?" she said thoughtfully.
"Where would you want to make this examination?" Jean said softly.
"Well, where you've been fu ... injured," Mike nodded vigorously. "I mean, why don't you go back to the big bunk, remove your shorts and we'll come back and take a look."
The girls slid from the booth and shuffled to the rear of the trailer. "You won't watch?" And they quickly removed their shorts, sat on the edge of the bunk, their garments shielding their nudity.
"I guess we're both ready," Deborah giggled softly.
Unblinking, they watched the two tall men saunter toward them, thinking that if anything needed splinting it was the bones in their pants.
"What do you want us to do?" Jean asked in a tiny voice.
"Just lie back and relax," Sam said, tone solemn and professional. And the girls let them pull away their shorts, toss them on the floor of the trailer behind them. "Just lie back."
With creamy thighs pressed together, they lay back, heads up, staring at the two men who went to their knees. "Between your legs, right?"
The girls nodded.
"Well, can you raise your legs up in the air and spread them for us to have a look?"
The girls nodded.
"Myyyyyyy! Yessssss, indeed," they murmured together, "you did take quite a fu ... er, a bit of abuse in there."
The men bent their heads forward, peering at the presented bottoms, the distended labia, the yawning vulvas and red holes.
The girls trembled as index fingers probed gently at the fleshy donuts adorning their female treasures. "Like tiny tires," Sam muttered.
"Inner tubes like kids float the Boise River on," Mike corrected.
Jean let a tender sigh flutter from her lips as a fingertip traced over her itching anus and ran up and down the flat crack of her butt. "Gotcha there, too, Mike said.
"A few times," she replied. "Bit and long and all the way in."
"Snk, snk, snk," Mike clucked his tongue against his teeth.
The girls locked their hands against their thighs, behind their knees to keep their legs up high and wide apart, so the two men could do a competent job of inspecting where they had been wounded, make a careful analysis of how badly they had been speared.
"We had our-you know-our breasts mauled, too," Jean said softly, fighting to keep her bottom from up-thrusting to improve contact between her aching pussy and the first aid finger.
"Ooooh, yes?" Mike said. "Sam, we better have a look."
They leaned up over the girls, between their legs, and unbuttoned their shirts, spread them open. "All over our poor titties," Jean whined softly.
"You poor dears," Sam breathed heavily, leaning extra close to inspect Deborah's feverish breast cones, fingers kneading gently. "Does that hurt?"
She was about to tell him it felt wonderful. "No, it feels-okay."
"No bad bruises or teeth marks," Mike said.
"That's nice," Jean purred. "Is there anything you can do to relieve my-where I ache?"
"Just keep your legs up high like that," Mike said sternly as he and Sam leaned back out of their Veed thighs. "Maybe a little massage and hot packs will give you some comfort," he added.
"I don't see how you can massage us where we ache," Deborah said, eyes wide and innocent, noticing she could no longer see Sam's belt buckle.
Deborah winced as a pleasurable sensation rippled up through her tummy. "What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Trying a little massage," Sam said, "with my finger."
Her brow furrowed. "I don't think it's going to do any good." Nerves crackled, muscles jerked in the inner planes of her thighs. "It just doesn't reach far enough."
"I'll just have to employ other, far-reaching measures," Sam grunted.
Eight inches and half a thumb and a teensy-weensy bit more, she hoped. "Get your knee out of my way," she scolded Jean as Sam leaned his long frame in between her upright thighs.
She looked over at her gasping girl friend and at Mike's head above and very close to Jean's face. "You're reaching in toward the tender spot," Jean whimpered, her body jostling on the bed.
Mike didn't reply.
Deborah pulled her legs farther back toward her head. Her eyes opened wide with pleased surprise, feeling something wonderfully hot and firm and therapeutic swabbing in her burning groove, then dobbing against her searing scalded area.
She closed her eyes, all senses focused on the delectable relief aroused by the slow, steady progress of Sam's massager into her tormented little pussy.
Jean was whining and whimpering. Deborah glanced over and Mike was already giving her the treatment, rocking back and forth between her drawn-back legs.
"You're getting there, about to reach the tenderest spot," Deborah crooned as Sam pried his prong deeper into her. "Yes," she cooed, "work on my titties, too, they ache and bum," as he palmed her hot, hard boobies, massaging and tweaking.
"I bet you got an A-plus for your Red Cross course in first aid," she purred as he stroked his oar into her hot, turbulent canal.
Scintillating tingles were beginning to spark all through her snug cunny as he probed his prick to the balls in her. She could feel the thick foreskin caught behind the massive flange of the head of his cock, rubbing against her swollen pussy lips.
"Massage me faster and all the way in," she pleaded, setting her ass in motion, rotating her hole A on his spindling prick.
Jean began sobbing convulsively. "What's the matter, Jean?" Deborah moaned.
"It's working," Jean yipped, "I feel the release of tension all through my poor, throbbing cunt."
"If this treatment works," Deborah shouted, "Jean and I can stay over a few days and you can take care of our hot, aching cunts several times-even see if you can do something about our assholes. You know, they got pretty well-banged, too."
"And our tonsils," Jean volunteered. "When you finish-OOoooohhh, JESUS!-rubbing your cock in my hot pussy, I think I could go for having my throat swabbed. How about you, Deb?"
Deborah could feel Sam's heavy balls rolling and plopping against her feverish bottom. I'd made up my mind, she thought heatedly, I wasn't going to suck any more cocks, but....
"I believe so," she said, sliding a hand down her thigh to cup Sam's big balls against her asshole, "if Dr. Sam has any medicine left in his bag and sex-syringe."
