“Are you trying to get us arrested?” Shelley Ordwell’s voice
was too full of restrained laughter to be a rebuke.
“Not me!” Ross Ordwell leaned to his left and peered closely
at his wife’s uncovered tits. He had removed her halter as she
drove the big station wagon over the county highway, and now he
could admire the ripe firmness of the exposed jugs at close range.
“You’re doing the driving, Shel!”
“Sure, and when some patrolman pulls me over to ask why I’m
half-naked, you’ll just sit there and watch the fun. I know you!”
“The turn-off’s just around the next curve,” he told her.
“You’ll be driving up Harp Lake Road before you know it. And no
patrolmen use that road.” He unfastened the waist of her shorts
and started to work them down off her hips.
“Ross!” she shrieked. “Can’t you wait until we get there?”
Again, her voice held more amusement than irritation, and she
lifted her ass as she held her weight on the steering wheel; she
was too fond of those shorts to have them torn.
“No, by God!” he answered, slipping the garment down over her
sleek thighs and letting them fall to drape loosely around her
trim ankles and calves. “When this car stops, I want to be ready
for a wild fuck. I’ve been horny and hard ever since we left the
freeway!”
Shelley kicked off her left shoe and worked her foot free of
the clinging shorts, thankful that the vehicle had automatic
transmission. She shifted her freed left foot to the gas pedal
while she extricated her right foot from the wad of dust-covered
fabric that had been, moments before, her favorite shorts —
fresh from the wash. As she got her right foot back on the gas
pedal, Ross put his lips over her right nipple and sucked at it
hungrily.
“Ross!” she yelled. The surprise made her foot press down in
reflex, accelerating their rate of travel just as she wanted to
slow down for the turn-off. Her right arm clamped down on his
neck, and she held it tightly within the crook of her elbow as she
braked, signaled and turned off onto the side road that led to
Harp Lake.
She stopped the car twenty feet from the county road and Ross
got out to unlock the big steel gate in front of them. Shelley
drove through and, while Ross closed and locked the gate, she let
up on the brake, allowing the vehicle to steal slowly away from
him.
“Hey!” he yelled, running to catch up and climbing inside to
sit beside her, laughing and panting. “For a second, I thought
you were going to drive off and leave me.”
“I was going to, until I remembered you brought the only keys
to the cottage and the boat.”
“Ha! Smart-ass!” he countered. “They’re on the chain
hanging from the ignition in front of you. What a dumb broad I
married!” He stuck his head back under her arm and resumed his
nibbling and sucking. His hand crept into her crotch and teased
the blonde fur of her cunt. His fingers detected a wealth of warm
moisture there.
“Yeah?” she replied. The word was half moaned, for Shelley
was just as hot for a fuck as he was. “Well, this smart-ass at
least knew enough to renew her driver’s license on her birthday,
which is more than some people seem to be able to remember!”
For her dirty dig at his forgetfulness, Ross slid two fingers
up her cunt and thumbed her clit rapidly, sucking and biting her
tit.
She squealed as she steered the vehicle over the narrow
bridge that spanned Diamond Creek at the north end of the lake.
The car lurched and swerved as she struggled to keep her cool, but
when she brought it to a stop in front of their cottage, it was
diagonally parked at a crazy angle.
“Oh, God!” she whispered, opening her thighs more widely to
his questing hand and sliding her ass forward on the seat to make
her cunt completely available to him. Her left hand reached down
to the seat lever and tripped it; she felt herself slide backward
until the mechanism latched again.
Ross let her tit flip out of his mouth as he dove downward to
get his face into her crotch. He got his hand out of the way as
his nostrils flared at the warm woman-smell of her.
Shelley put her right leg over his shoulder and he pressed
his mouth to her cunt, feeling the swollen thickness of the wet
lips as they squished aside. He thrust his tongue into her hole
and nibbled around it at the firmer flesh of the inner lips.
“Ross, honey!” she moaned. “Can’t we go inside? I see the
Cartwrights’ car by their cottage.”
But Ross was not to be delayed. He tongue-fucked her cunt
swiftly for a while, hearing her responsive whimpers as she grew
steadily hotter and more excited. He captured her clit in his
lips and gave it a rapid tonguing. She moaning loudly and wiggled
her ass on the seat, thrusting her pussy mound up at him eagerly.
“Oh! Fuck the Cartwrights!” she screamed as she came. Her
back arched tightly and she screwed her cunt into his face for a
second, then collapsed on the seat, gasping. Ross peeled off his
shorts and athletic briefs and got onto the seat on his knees.
He stuffed his discarded clothing under her ass, then laid
the tip of his cock in the slippery nest of her cunt and shoved it
into her hole. He immediately began screwing wildly. He was not
going to last long, he knew; he had been boiling for a fuck for
hours, and he was too excited to prolong things.
“Oh, flick it, Ross, daddy!” Shelley cried happily, driving
her ass upward hungrily to meet his thrusts. The fullness of his
cock in her snatch, working back and forth to stir her juices into
a froth, was sending her to the heights again.
Suddenly he buried his prick in her cunt to the balls and
shuddered as the familiar electric thrills raced through his
groin. He shot his semen into her swat, groaning lustfully at
each jet, feeling her cunt close around his cock as she started to
come again.
“Oohhh!” she moaned as strong orgasmic waves shook her.
They clung together until Shelley’s spasms faded away; then
Ross pulled out of her cunt, wiped his limp, dripping cock on his
briefs, and shoved the dampened wad into her crotch. She brought
her legs together to hold it in place.
“You unlock,” she told him, handing him the keys from the
ignition. “I’m going to make a fast dash as soon as the door’s
open.”
Ross got out and strode to the front door of the cottage,
chuckling all the way. His stride was normal, despite the fact
that he wore only a short beach shirt and sandals. He glanced to
his left as he neared the door, grinning as he saw Rhoda
Cartwright’s trim figure emerge from the front door of the only
other cottage on this side of the private lake.
He unlocked the door and had just stepped inside when Shelley
came breezing through to collide with him. She was giggling as he
put his arms around her.
“We got … caught!” she panted. “Rhoda’s on her … way
over!”
“I know. I saw her come out of the house.” Ross was
laughing as they separated, but he knew he should prepare himself
to be laughed at, for he heard Rhoda Cartwright’s beach clogs
clatter on the front porch. He looked away from the appealing
nudity of his blonde wife to stare at his lovely neighbor.
Rhoda wore an ultra brief bikini that emphasized the ripe
fullness of her tits and cunt mound. She and Shelley wore the
same sizes in everything, but Rhoda had the dark complexion that
went with her glossy black hair. She was toasted to a gypsy
brown, and Ross knew that the color was the same under the skimpy
covering, with three delicious exceptions.
Rhoda sunbathed with pasties that protected the tender
tissues of her nipples and the moistly flaring lips of her cunt.
Ross could see the deep cleft of that flare-lipped pussy where the
tight bikini dug into it, and he felt himself starting to get
another hard-on.
“I’m going to picket this place,” said the brunette, walking
through the open doorway to stand and stare at the semi-erect cock
that peeped from below Ross’ shirt. “You two are unfair to
organized swapping. Couldn’t you have waited a little longer?”
“Waited for what?” Ross said, wearing an innocent look.
“Come on. I know you knocked off a piece in the car!” Rhoda
said. “Don’t be so damned innocent!”
“What makes you think we’d do a thing like that?” Shelley
asked.
“For one thing,” Rhoda told her, “ordinarily you wait until
you open the cottage to start undressing. And then there’s the
matter of Ross’ shorts tucked into your crotch. I can smell fresh
man-cum a block away!”
“And on that flimsy evidence —” Ross started to put up a
weak defense.
“Besides which,” Rhoda continued, “I watched you from our
front window — with binoculars!”
“Christ!” Ross said. “At a hundred and fifty feet you must
not have missed very much!”
“The hell I didn’t!” Rhoda replied. “I missed the load you
pumped into Shel. I hope you recover fast. We’ve been up here
since 11AM and I’ve been itching for a good lay these last five
hours. Jack made me wait … said he was saving himself for
Shel.”
“That’s a damn lie!” said the big man who had come up behind
Rhoda quietly. His hand brushed a lock of straw-colored hair out
of his eyes as he stepped into the cottage and join the others.
“She raped me before we were here fifteen minutes!”
“Blabbermouth!” Rhoda said accusingly. “I had ’em believing
me, too. They were beginning to look guilty as hell.”
“Not me!” Ross protested. “I gave up feeling guilty over any
and all kinds of sex. I think it was for Lent … several years
ago.”
Shelley noticed that Jack’s Bermuda shorts were bulging with
the beginnings of a respectable erection, and she was still
feeling the itch for fun.
“Our place or yours?” she asked, doing a gentle burlesque
grind as she stared into Jack’s eyes.
“Our place is all shipshape. Everything’s ready for a
party,” Jack said, grinning.
“Yeah, after five hours I can imagine,” Ross replied. “You
must have a good foreman to leave a construction job that early in
the day. I think we’d better organize things here. We haven’t
been up for weeks. Stick around and tend bar, Jack. I’ll unload
the wagon and the gals can chat while they put stuff away.”
Jack opened up the bar that ran across one wall of the big
living room and Ross went for the first cartons from the station
wagon.
“Go ahead and shower, Shel,” Rhoda said. “I know where you
keep everything.” Shelley smiled her thanks and went to clean up,
holding the wadded shorts against her cunt as she hurried away.
Ross unloaded in three fast trips, took time for a quickie
shower, and joined the others at the bar. Jack was telling the
girls about something he had seen the previous summer.
“… must have been every bit as big as a wolf, but he didn’t
quite look like a wolf, either.”
“Hey! Start over, Jack. Sounds as if I missed something!”
Ross grabbed the Scotch and water Jack handed him and took a seat
in a low chair near the bar.
“Oh, I heard something in Fall Creek this morning when we
came through, and it reminded me of what I saw when I was sanding
our beach last summer.”
Jack Cartwright was one of four men who jointly owned the ten
acres that completely surrounded Harp Lake. Ross had bought all
the property four years earlier, but found it too much to handle
by himself as a vacation spot. He had mentioned it to Jack during
a weekend swapping session, and by the following Monday, papers
had been drawn up and money changed hands, with two other men from
the swapping group taking the remaining half of the load.
As a building contractor and general contractor, Jack
volunteered to furnish the required equipment and labor at cost,
so four cottages could be erected and the beach renovated from its
crude wilderness. The work was done between contracted jobs, and
the four families had inaugurated their private resort at the and
of the previous summer.
“It was when I was dozing the last load of sand next to the
dock. I happened to look up on the cliff back of the cottages.
And there was this dog or wolf or whatever. He was pure white,
and he looked fairly clean, so I thought he must belong to
someone. A dog runs wild in the woods, he’s gonna be gray and
muddy and streaked and full of burrs and tangles. But this one
looked pretty well groomed.
“Anyhow, when I lifted the blade and ran the dozer up the
ramp onto the truck bed, I guess the racket spooked him. When I
looked again, he was gone.”
“And you heard about him in Fall Creek today?” Ross asked.
“Yeah. Rhoda wanted to browse in that damn Trading Post, so
I went into the bar next door and had a beer. Heard these two
old-time residents talking. Seems that a Mrs. Woodstock …
another long-time resident … had been attacked by an animal this
spring. She was in her late sixties, lived alone in that little
bungalow with the picket fence where we turn off the county road
onto our private entrance. She was gardening late … almost dark
… and this animal jumps her picket fence, corners her next to
her chimney, and starts tearing her clothes off her.
“She dropped her digger, so she was defenseless. The damn
thing ripped her clothes off just enough to get at her pussy. He
rears up and knocks her over, then puts the meat to her. She was
screaming until then, but she shut up when she had to look up into
the animal’s face. He was slavering and drooling and whining all
the time he was screwing her.
“She was torn up pretty bad. And she had to tell the doctor
about it.”
“And this animal’s description matched the one you saw on the
cliff above us here?” Ross pursued, frowning slightly.
“It sure did. Made me wonder if maybe we shouldn’t install a
few more floodlights out there. We have quite a few shadowy areas
on really dark nights.”
A strange expression came over Rhoda’s face, and her hand
stole into her crotch to cover her prominent pussy mound, but not
before Ross noticed that her bikini was darkened with the moisture
of her excitement. She wet her lips sensuously.
“Let’s not waste time with small talk,” she said hoarsely.
“The water must be great out there, to say nothing of the feel of
that warm sand. Come on! Let’s party on the beach!” She slid
off her bar stool and held out a hand to Ross. He grabbed it and
let her pull him to his feet.
He was wearing only a light terry robe that reached his knees
as he stood. Sitting, the hem barely covered his balls, and Rhoda
had been stimulated by the brown curls that peeped from under the
fabric.
They charged out of the cottage onto the beach, veering to
their left to the dock and boathouse. Rhoda slowed as they neared
the water’s edge, letting Ross know she was much less interested
in the water than in the warm sand.
He stopped and pulled her against him, feeling the warm satin
of her belly against him. She pulled the robe off his shoulders
and he broke their embrace to get rid of the hampering garment.
Rhoda removed her briefs and halter and they stared at each
other for a second.
Ross licked his lips as he studied the exciting female beauty
before him. Her nipples were dark rose islands in the coppery sea
of her tanned skin; her tits were heaving with the intensity of
her desire and there were burning lights in the depths of her
brown eyes.
His gaze dropped past her smooth, rounded belly to the glossy
tendrils of black hair at her crotch. The dark delta was split
asunder with the pinkness of those thickly swollen, outward-
flaring lips he remembered with lustful hunger.
With a groan, he seized her and pulled her down onto the
fine, white sand. Their bodies pressed together and their mouths
met in greedy, wet seekings. The swelling nipples of her tits
burned hotly into his chest, and the rock-hard club of his cock
poked her brutally in the lower belly.
“Fuck me, Ross!” she begged when their mouths separated. Her
ass was rolling desperately in the sand and she was humping
herself up at him, trying to capture the head of his cock in those
avidly flaring lips nestled in her crotch.
“Soon,” he promised. “But I have to smell and taste you,
first!” He kissed her belly as he maneuvered himself downward,
then he was sniffing at the steamy slickness of her gaping slit.
The faint scent she wore did not hide the basic woman-smell of
her, and its primeval musk excited him madly.
He licked into the soupy trough of cunt flesh, tasted her
juice, and let his tongue slither over the entire surface of her
box. She whimpered her excitement; Ross tongued the entrance of
her tunnel, fucking her with his tongue, then nibbling at her
clit.
“God, Ross! Don’t make me come that way!” she pleaded. “I
need my strength … I want to come with your … cock inside me!”
Reluctantly, he abandoned his feast. He crawled into the
outspread vee of her legs, kneeling carefully in the exact spot he
judged would position him properly. He laid his cock in the wet
warmth of the flared cuntlips, nosed the tip into the fleshy
funnel of her hole, and shoved slowly but firmly into her swat.
The heated walls of her cunt clasped his dick snugly. He
could feel the throat of her cunt swallowing his tool. It took
him several deep breaths to regain his faltering control. Rhoda’s
cannibal cunt was tremendously stimulating to enter, even though
he had sampled it before and was prepared for it!
Then he was balls-deep in her snatch; he felt the embrace of
those greedy outer lips as they suctioned around the sensitive
package of his scrotum. His nuts seemed to dance wildly for a
second, and then he began to screw her with a spiral drive that
gave him the feel of every square centimeter of her vibrant,
grasping sheath.
She was juicing like a bitch in heat, and he sensed the tiny
rivulets that washed his balls before trickling down to be lost in
the sand.
“Oh, that cock!” she moaned. “Keep it up, Ross! Fuck the
piss out of me!”
He groaned and bit his lip, continuing his slow, grinding
thrusts without let-up. From previous experience, he knew what to
expect from her, and when she gasped loudly, he braced himself to
fight for control.
Her cunt clamped on his prick like a vise, then relaxed as
she gasped loudly. He changed his timing, fucking into her, then
holding his cock there as she clamped down in the next spasm,
during which he withdrew slightly for the next thrust.
Moaning, she completed her series of convulsions. Only the
weight of his body kept Ross in the saddle, for her ass bucked on
the sand constantly. When she went slightly limp, he began to
screw her in earnest once more.
She squealed weakly, seemed to try to escape by wiggling out
from under him, then abruptly changing her tactics to meet his
every drive with a tossing of her pelvis and a gulping of her
cunt.
The stimulus of her first orgasm was still with her, and it
speeded up the second climb considerably. She started to grunt
and moan, with little whimpering sounds interspersed between.
Then she cried out loudly.
“Ross! Oh, squirt it in me!” Then she wrapped her legs
around his waist and sobbed as he shot his load in her insatiable
cunt. The first hot jet triggered her claspings again, and the
milking action took his last drop from his balls in a painfully
voluptuous ecstasy.
When they fell apart finally, sand seemed to be clinging to
them everywhere, especially where their juices mingled. Ross
guessed that he must have thrown up a bunch of sand with his knee
when he withdrew.
“Let’s swim in and rinse off this damn sand before it grinds
off our play-toys!” he said. He held out a hand for Rhoda to
gasp. She got up and looked across the lake as they started for
the water.
“Looks like everyone’s late over there,” she said. “No cars
at the McNallys’ or the Lafayettes’.” * * * He had come to the lake to drink, but as he looked over the
edge of the cliffs he watched the man and woman fucking on the
beach. He lay down, the sun warming his white fur.
Instinctively he knew what the man and woman were doing as
they writhed and grappled on the beach. His ears perked up and he
could hear the woman’s voice screaming in ecstasy as she climaxed.
He watched as the couple on the beach got up, dusted the sand
from their glistening bodies, then walked hand in hand toward the
woods.
He rose, then cautiously trotted down the hill, ears raised,
eyes alert. He stopped near the edge of the woods and looked over
the stretch of beach sand. He could hear the man and woman
laughing and giggling, but the sounds of their voices were
diminishing as they moved further into the woods.
Moving at a brisk trot, the white dog hurried across the
sand. He stopped abruptly to sniff the sand where the couple had
lain. He could smell cunt and semen, sweat and human flesh. Then
he hurried to the shoreline and lapped at the cool water. Chapter 2 Cassandra Lafayette was sprawled, belly down, on the flat
rock that formed the floor of the tiny cave. Her miniskirt was
higher than usual on her thighs, due to the wiggling she had been
doing as she gazed through Tom McNally’s binoculars at the beach
below.
She shook her head to chase away a persistent deerfly, and
her mahogany hair flew around her in wispy tendrils, then settled
on her back and shoulders and the cave floor. Tom McNally, seated
beside her, caught the fragrance of her hair and felt his rock-
hard cock throb in anticipation.
Tom had been studying her legs, growing steadily more excited
at glimpses of her scantily covered crotch and the feathery tufts
of cunt hair that peeped from the elastic legbands. He was surer
than ever that this was the day he would get into those panties
for some choice fucking.
The moment he knew that Cassandra’s parents had invited his
parents to ride with them to Harp Lake, Tom began to scheme.
Since he always drove his own car on the trip, it was natural for
him to offer to drive his folks to the Lafayette home, where the
two older couples could chat before starting the trip. And it
would look as natural for Tom to leave them and rush off on the
thirty-mile trip; they would not expect a sixteen-year-old to wait
around.
he had counted on an equally natural reaction from Cassandra.
Denise Lafayette’s inability to meet any social schedule had
elicited comments from husband Andy and daughter Cassandra for as
long as the two families had known each other — almost two
years. So there were no raised eyebrows when Cassandra jumped at
the chance to ride up with Tom instead of waiting for her
unhurried mother to get ready.
On the way up, Tom’s hard-on had shown bulkily in his tight
jeans, for he had no air conditioner in his car and his lovely
companion had her blouse open to the third button, exposing the
upper third of her tits to him.
His excitement had not been calmed any, either, by the way
the air from the ventilator duct blew up her ultra short skirt to
reveal the none-too-thick reinforcement of her panty crotch. The
dark mahogany cunt curls crept from the hems, and her prominent
pussy mound was cleft thrillingly by the tight garment.
The rest of his planning — up to now — was a cinch. They
were well ahead of the adults, and he had intrigued her by
describing the cave in the cliffs at the western edge of the
property.