Veronica imagined what it would be like shoving off down the rapid river upstate, far from civilization, with their two young guides, one a nineteen-year-old young male, with a wild look in his eye, who called himself Buck, the other, an eighteen year-old girl calling herself Maggie, an odd name for someone so attractive and sensual.
Veronica could almost feel the wind on the river and see the frothy rapids which energetically, dangerously took them whisking downstream. She turned and looked at Buck and could see that he had a full crotch area which hinted to her that he probably had a nice cock hanging between those wild legs. For that matter, his friend Maggie was a nice stacked girl, all blond, tan and healthy, a buxom country lass who'd probably gotten her first experience in some barn or after a country square dance. But that was fine and gave the entire scene a certain romantic atmosphere, a difference from her office, with its sterile, urbanized sexuality. These kids were so much more straight forward, she thought, no nonsense, none of the beating around the bush, but probably just straight, hard action when they got down to business.
"Watch it," Veronica imagined Buck ejaculating. She moved about her bed, pretending to be amidst the dangerous rapids, their narrow canoe shuffled helplessly between the white peaks, Buck yelling orders about which way to paddle.
Buck then doffed his shirt in order to get a better handle on his paddle, and displayed a sinuous muscular build which immediately turned her on, a reaction which Maggie didn't miss, rapids and all.
In a few minutes they were past the real danger, and united in their mutual survival; there was something to having gone through the same thing with several people which draws a group together, and when the scene is created in the mind of one nympho, aided by her electric dildo, then the potentialities are all the more intense (the perfect setting for some really intimate dangers).
Veronica imagined how they'd have dinner with some fresh trout stick roasted over a wood fire. She could picture in her mind the handsome, rugged good looks of Buck, who would ravenously devour the fish, pieces of the fresh meat, stuck on the sides of his mouth, the buttery juice carelessly gliding off his lips and onto his chin. He would observe Veronica doing her own watching, and give her knowing kinds of glances. Veronica could swear that he crossed his legs in a manner which thrust his cock against the inside of his jeans, daringly outlining the stem against the material, outlining it proudly so that Vern could get an idea of its true proportions.
The group would go to sleep all in their mutual sleeping bags, but then, late at night, Buck would come over and silently get into Vern's bag, his body making the material of the bag stretch in order to accommodate her form. Vern had never made it in a bag before, and in order to simulate the experience, she wrapped herself in blankets in her bedroom, feeling the pressure against her breasts, the way her legs were pressed together such that every move had to be economized. Buck whispered in her ear, "If you never made it in a bag before, I think you'll find it quite a unique experience. You see, there's no room to move, so you have to move your room. Know what I mean?" Vern had no idea but she went along with the boy.
In a few minutes, he somehow managed to wrap his legs around her own and envelope her in his loins. She could tell that he had an uncommonly huge cock, not just a big cock, but a huge cock, a cock so giant as to dominate his center, so titan as to make her almost cry out in amazement and wonder how on earth she could accommodate the stud.
Would such a specimen put her into a comatose, an impalpable state of unfeeling, or would it be a brand new high? In order to approximate the sensation, Vern took the largest carrot from the table and brought it into the bedroom. She realized it was of incredible proportion, but by the same token, it was possible that some well endowed young lad could have such a token; it was conceivable though, no doubt, most unusual.
A cock? A rammer? A mere pecker? – or more than that, the epitome of masculine power and wildness, prepared and ready for her under the stars: the biggest fucking pecker she'd ever experience!
Veronica prepared herself to luxuriate in that cock, to ease her way into some new ultimate form of sensuality, to render her senses euphoric and completely satiated yet yearning for more under the onslaught of mere foreplay. Could such a stem be truly harmonious with her more modest pussy, or would it be an undue strain, beyond the point of diminishing returns.
Vern looked at the carrot, imagining it to be the man's fantastic endowments. The fat stem and the way it tapered ever so slightly toward the tip, its firmness and sinuous contour, its determined penetrating look. She feared it might create convulsion, a stitch in her sensations, or some other torment as she would be racked by the huge member; but on the other hand, the other possibility was enough to keep her going. It could mean untold pleasures, new, enticing sensations of even greater intensity than those of which she was accustomed (and given her recent experience, that was really saying something). She could feel the stud moving his hands against her thighs as he struggled to move in on her pussy. Such was the difficulty, and he be came kind of stuck just as he made his way below her abdomen. She wanted to help him, but found that the bed was just too snug for her to make any kind of move.
There was one dividend, though, in that she could feel her loins become plastered against his, his cock proudly erecting to its nearly full size, surfacing above her pubics and reaching almost all the way up to her belly button.
"Baby," she whispered hotly, "that's one tool you have there."
"I'm known for it around these parts."
She liked that, hearing him proud of his endowments, rather than sporting some mock modesty or worse yet, the vestiges of shame.
"Push," she whispered.
He managed to position himself lower in the bag – or so Vern imagined it – until he was just about a foot below her head, his chin digging decisively into her tits. He liked that too (and who wouldn't like getting a chin full of such magnificent, womanly, flesh) so he kept pushing against her, perhaps pretending that there was no other way to move, more likely intentionally taking advantage of a good situation. They both began their gyrations, their sexual pyrotechnics.
He finally managed to push his cock just up her thighs and into her slit. "Oh, baby," she cooed, "that's the way to do it." She pushed her bazoo against his and could feel his hot breath cover her lips with passion. "Come on, fuck me. Stick that giant inside of me all the way."
"You sure you can take it," he said by way of a challenge, partially just to get her wrath up a bit, and bring the feverish pitch to a nice climax.
"Fuck me,fuck me!" she whispered but with incredible intensity as her teeth were clenched and her shoulders pushed upward in desperation.
She looked at a certain glow over his face, created by the moon, and the wind, and the general quality of the air, which gave him a sort of eerie quality, but still highly sexual.
She heard some rustling over by John, and kept quiet, because the way Vern imagined it, she couldn't be sure if the stud would take it the wrong way. After all, he was fitting them with gear, footing the bill, and certainly didn't go to all the trouble to be kept out of the hot action he all but anticipated. But Veronica wanted this young buck for herself the first time, to have nothing divert her attention from his huge cock, the sensation of having it slide into her, first slowly, and then very, very quickly.
"Come on, stick it in me now, stick it in all the way."
"You'll get yours."
"I want it now."
"You want it now, do you? You want my cock, okay bitch, you got it," he said, whispering the last words for emphasis.
"Quick, stick it in."
With that encouragement, Buck was able to slide his cock in, first slowly, and then with a violent thrust until he was all the way in.
"Oooh," she moaned out. She could not believe how full she felt. In actuality, Veronica had pushed that carrot inside her womanhood all the way, and was experiencing very close to the sensation she imagined would be created by Buck's cock. The situation was intensified somehow by being surrounded and tightly bundled by the covers, her body kept prisoner by the material, yet her mind not wishing for freedom in any sense of the word.
"You mother fucker," she said.
"I know you like my cock, don't you."
"I like it okay, but more than that, I want you to come inside and then make me come at the same time."
Ordinarily, the excitement of having anything so huge inside would have made her come too soon, thus mitigating the possibility of simultaneous coming, but there was something about Buck which aided her self control, and allowed her to maximize the experience. Sure, he was such a figment of the imagination, but his mere specter was enough, the mere concept of the man, could keep her at a feverish pitch.
Whence came such feelings? From what pool of passion could such endless desires spring? From an overactive clit, a veritable unconscious filled with latent incestuous desires or a sense of impending doom which dictates epicurean delight, before the deluge, like some antediluvian impulse to self-preservation?
It mattered not, and such thoughts did not even pass through Veronica's mind. For she was too filled with more immediate concerns – the sensation of that thick cock, the concept of a pair of balls almost splitting from the pressure of their hot heavy contents, the physical sensations created by being bundled so tightly, like two sardines in a can, ready to be temptingly tasted.
She could smell Buck all the more poignantly, that mixture of sperm, tobacco, and sweat which characterized the most manly of men; he had it all.
She even felt the thick, incarnation of his flesh and blood pulsing against her own, and the coarse texture of his pubic hairs. Veronica imagined desperately trying to get down and feel his pubics, all scratch along his belly, or feel his upper legs, hips, and most of all balls, but she could not even move her arms without first splitting the bag (she would have gladly done this, but for the strength required and the possibility of wakening the others).
Buck started to really get down to pumping, somehow turning on top of Veronica and pushing his hips up and down. The scene must have looked odd to anyone looking down from one of the trees: four sleeping bags in the camp, one empty, inconspicuously pulled away from the fire, two filled, occupied by innocent sleeping types, one a girl, the other an older man; and finally the sight of this big, thick bag with the movement of a live worm, squirming, turning and twisting, quietly pumping away, far from the glowing fire, yet visible in the moonlight.
Impending disaster? Violence from a jealous boy, a mean man, liberated under a refreshing uninhibited natural setting? Not at all. Veronica was the director of this scene, and she wouldn't knock anyone off if she didn't want to, that is. Sure, if she found one of the studs talking a little mean, there was nothing to stop her from getting a little heavy, without fear of consequences: another dividend of the vivid masturbator.
"Come on, give me all you've got."
Buck didn't need much encouragement, for he knew they were minutes, perhaps seconds away from the big moment.
It all started to come together for her now – the great lay with John in the car, the fantastic young high school stud in the shed and in her parents bed, John and the party, with Monty and with Bernice and Lu, and now this, Buck and Maggie, waiting in her own bed. She'd had a taste of everything, young and old, straight and kinky, hetero and bi, the best of all worlds, pulling together, making her come like mad, and all thanks to that one little electric dildo and a stimulated imagination.
Come on Buck, she thought, make me come like mad. Make me want to pull this fucking sack apart, go wild on me like a wild animal. He was weighty, yet possessing a marvelous buoyancy, and a volatility which preserved her own relatively delicate form. She could feel their hips melt together as he pushed, pumped and grinded his way to ecstasy. Faster and harder he pushed, then in one great effort, he pushed his hands on her big boobs, which were almost cemented in place from the pressure of the straining material of the bag.
"Oh, that's it, squeeze those tits."
"You like that, I know you like to have your big, fat tits squeezed."
She liked to hear him talking dirty like that, especially enjoyed his abandonment of all the civilities he courted during his working day when he watched for their safety and guided them to whatever part of the wilderness they wanted to enter.
Now he was as wild as that wilderness, as uninhibited and ruthless anything in the environment.
Harder and faster he pumped, until he could see it was a little painful for Vern, but she didn't mind, and neither did he. They began to be ruthless, hardly caring if they woke the others, for nothing must stand in the way of their obsessional cravings. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, the stud's body tightened, and he paused as if frozen in space. His eyes rolled back a little into his head, his face became dangerously flushed, and every muscle in his body seemed to freeze simultaneously, waiting, imperiously, with a frozen, steely posture, as he gathered every ounce of energistic resource. Then it came (he came) in a wild, incredible moment, his body spewing forth, unloading the heavy contents from his balls right into the womanly receptacle, filling her with the pleasure of his syrupy sacks. "Ooh," he moaned out, almost crazy with satisfied desire.
Veronica went through the same sensations – or at least the female counterpart – as her body went into spasms of delight, each one more intensive than the last, more lasting and melting and fabulous. "Aggghh," she ejaculated, tightening her cute little buns, feeling her nipples getting even harder under the onslaught of the pleasure.
When it was over, they felt locked into each other, and only able to recover by breathing deeply and letting their minds go completely blank. Actually, they had covered some ground. Their movements alone had taken their sleeping bags the full ten feet between the fire and the edge of the wood, so that when they looked up, they saw they were nestled against the side of a mighty oak, its own shaft rising proudly for scores of feet above them. The rest of the trees were pine so that the ground was filled with a matting of needles, browned and decayed just enough to ensure slight softness, perfect for nature fucking.
Feeling wild abandon, Veronica imagined getting out of the bag, totally in the buff, and running through the woods, only lit by the moonlight. She was chased, of course, by Buck, whose huge cock was once again limpid, but filled enough to be remarkably large as he went prancing after her. She felt that he was gaining on her and was a little surprised that she could not muster greater speed – was it the weight of her large breasts bobbing up and down, creating a true wind resistant factor, or the fact that her great hips twisted sideways as she ran? – whatever, she was soon overtaken.
Buck said, "I must say, you've got a lot of energy for someone who was just run down."
"Run down, maybe, but not run out."
"You're one girl, do you know that?"
"I'm aware that I have a few talents of my own thank you, but I have to admit this nature stuff is all new to me." She looked down and admired his cock. "Tell me, do all of you country boys sport such big ones, or are you just well endowed?"
"Well, that's tough since I haven't seen all the cocks around here."
"Tell me," she said, diplomatically changing the subject, "have you always lived up here?"
"To tell you the truth, no. I saw some action in the war – I know I look young, but it was a young war."
"Funny, a guy like John, with his age and all, was behind a desk."
"I could believe that."
"I didn't like the way he handled himself in the raft."
"I wouldn't come down so hard on him. After all, he taught me how to swing, took me to some real parties, and was doing all sorts of things I didn't have the guts for at first."
"Like what?"
"Well, parties, for example. He brought me down to some orgies, and I got cold feet, but he brought me back, and I was okay."
"Not bad. You know, you do have quite a body."
"Why, thank you. I could tell you were turned on to me right away."
With a sudden motion, the lad turned and walked away, down a kind of path. "Where are you going?" Veronica imagined asking.
"Hear that?"
Veronica couldn't hear a thing.
"That's the sound of water, and where's a better place for round two than some water."
"Round two!" Veronica exclaimed. Hell, she was already a little sore from all the action a few minutes before, but this lusty young Buck had more in mind – well, that was one advantage to youth. She watched him lead the way, the manner in which he shamelessly tore through the bushes, his sinuous buns unbelievably appealing, and his big buns just visible between his legs, tossing to and fro like two sacks.
Sure enough, Buck led the way to a pond at the bottom of a trickling waterfall. The water was cool, but not unbearable and Vern watched as his balls became shrunken as a means of defense. He moved in slowly at first, then with more assurance, until he dived in over his head.
Just then, Veronica's imagination was rudely interrupted by the phone once again. She was going to ignore it at first, but then decided to answer it, if for no other reason than to stop that damn ringing.
"Yes?"
"Listen, I don't want to be a pest, but how about a date tomorrow night?"
"John… you don't take no for an answer."
"What's going on, Veronica, anyway? You're not really acting yourself, you know, all this cold shoulder routine, the phony excuses, the talk. I don't buy it Veronica."
"You don't have to buy it."
"No, really something's going on, and I'm going to find out about it. I just have this feeling that I've been on your mind, right?"
"I don't have to answer you. Who do you think you are, anyways. You spent the war behind a desk, right?"
"What… what the…"
"Never mind."
"No. I have the feeling you're on to something here. You don't think I'm colorful enough, is that it? Well let me tell you, bitch, I've done some time in the Caribbean, you know, getting mixed up with some shady types in a hotel deal, risking some real heat, then getting sealed. Colorful enough for you? You didn't know that about old John boy, did you?"
"Look John, trying to impress me isn't going to change anything."
Veronica abruptly hung up, then realized she might have made a mistake treating John in such a novel fashion. But that was it; she'd no intention of wasting any more of her precious weekend fling on such prosaic matters. The situation seemingly under control, she returned to her bedroom. Deciding upon an intermission in the festivities, the broad turned on the tube, watching a game show passively, admiring the body of the host, and the indirect passes made by both celebrities and contestants.
But then her doorbell rang. Without thinking, foolishly, forgetting her resolve, Vern answered it. Sure enough, it was John.
"Just thought I'd pop over. Mind if I come in?"
"Yes!"
"Thank you. Before you know it, we'll be best of friends."
John was already inside, lighting a smoke and making himself at home by sitting in a chair.
"Place looks a little messy, like there's been something going on around here. Been seeing anybody?"
"You have a nerve. I don't owe you anything, and you don't own me just because we go out."
"Such may be true, but you must understand, Veronica," he said snidely, "I really have your best interests at heart. There are some pretty seedy characters out there, you know."
"Oh, come off it John. You're just hot and bothered that's all, and if I'm downright jealous, only you don't know over what."
Vern became jumpy when she realized she'd left the box of her vibrator out. If John saw that, it could blow her entire cover, and he'd never let her forget it – and what's worse, spread it around the office.
"I'm afraid I'm busy John, now don't make me get nasty. Listen, if you don't get right out of here, we're through."
Then the big business man walked right up to Vern until her breasts, uncontrolled as they were under her bathrobe, touched his chest, and made him instantly hot. If only he knew he'd seen some action in her little warped imagination during the last twenty-four hours, his attitude would have been entirely different; but such wasn't in the script.
"Okay," she said, "I tell you what, there are some things I have to work out between you and me; let's just say certain things I want to get out of my system. How's this: you let me think it through, and I promise I'll call you at two tomorrow, Sunday, rain or shine. Fair enough."
Heartened by her sudden change of attitude, John backed off. "Sure, sure enough Vern. I just thought you'd flipped or something, but this sounds reasonable, very reasonable, and only a cad wouldn't allow a lady a few hours to herself. But please, do call."
"You know you can count on me," Vern said as she showed him out. Instantly she was relieved as the door closed and she ran to gather the dildo box, a telltale sign if there ever was one. Whew, she thought, close but then again, in this game a miss is as good as a mile. Vern wandered back to her room, then lay on the bed, instantly hot and bothered once again, and aware that it would be easy to begin things on her little nature trip – just picking up right where she left off.
Sure enough, she was able to picture that cold, night lake and Buck diving in ready for a skinny dip. "It's great," he called out, shivering a little, other wise seemingly alive and healthy, "Come on in."
"Oh no you don't, not me, not me, I'm no masochist."
But she moved too close to the edge and in an instant Buck grabbed her leg and in she fell.
Such was the facility with which Veronica could move to her private fantasy life, as if it were some real thing, a simple scene entered as easily as an up stage right entrance.
Veronica thought she could feel the water flow through her, wetting her, soaking her, but best of all seeping into her cunt and giving her a kind of nature douche. Suddenly, Buck was up to her, pushing his fast, lithe body against her own until she could sense that he managed to get one of his virile hands while swimming around in that cold water. "I don't know how you do it," she said, "but you sure have a way with your cock, getting it up whenever you want it, right?"
"Something about the country that does that to a fella, I guess."
Meanwhile, to set the scene back at the camp: John awakens, notices that Buck and Vern are gone, suspects hanky panky, but for that matter seizes the circumstances as an opportunity. He moves slowly over to the sleeping Maggie and kisses her lightly on the lips, knowing of three possibilities: (1) she could remain asleep, not the worst option; (2) she could awaken and rebuke him, possibly with a slap, a kick, or worse (that is the poorest option); or (3) she could awaken and give him the okay.
Since a woman does not grow jealous in a fantasy of her own making, Veronica was satisfied to let the couple go at it. "Well," said Maggie, "you sure do take your time. You realize that Buck's been coming on to your date for quite a while."
"Of course," John lied, "you know how these over-sexed secretarial types are… oh, but then again, I guess you don't."
Maggie leaned forward and kissed the man on the lips, which got him going immediately, got him into a state of sheer desire. "You are one nice girl," he added.
So complimented, Maggie slowly lowered her white top, exposing her large, magnificent tits. "Well, well, well, those are a pair, a real sight."
"I'm glad you like them. Why don't you get acquainted."
John pushed his face into the tits and lathed them in his own saliva, basking in the fullness, in the roundness, in the utter beauty of the whiteness of the skin.
He looked closely and observed that her nipples were exceptionally large, like fantastic red buttons, all ready and erect, begging him to lower his head and dig in as if in some sort of sexual and orgiastic feast. He kissed them, one at a time, together, then pushed the spheres in each direction, delighting in the action and in the slightly paltry color afforded by the moonlight, a rare and exotic touch. In addition, the wind on his back – raising bumps as it may – added another layer of excitement to the texture of the evening.
"What if they should return?" he asked conservatively.
"So what?"
"So what?" He paused, then continued, "You know, I think you're right. Here they've gone off for some hairy canary and I'm scary, sitting here wondering if I'm sinning. Boy, I've been a little twisted, but my little Maggie, you're helping me to see the light."
Just then he pushed his face right into her tits and began to kiss the entire area, passionately, most fervidly. In another instant the duet would have been enlocked in love had not Maggie slowed the pace slightly in order to wallow in the fun of foreplay.
He decided to get into the bag, but Maggie had other plans, quickly exiting hers and walking to a large exposed rock. She simply lay back against it, looking like a wild animal, ready to unleash her passions.
John quickly approached and was almost frightened by the look of total and complete abandon in her eyes, the look of a tigress, ready to love and ready to pounce. He enlocked her lips with his own, pawing her up the front, her tits and nipples, down below to her stomach. Her nostrils flared like a sex Goddess and her hips began to undulate, begging him to enter, inviting him to taste her insides. Then they heard some rustling, and realized it must be Buck and Veronica returning, but then they lowered their heads and the sound was gone for an instant. That was the way Vern liked to plan her fantasies, mysterious and lively, with the touch of the unknown and the dangerous lurking just behind, whether it be from man, beast, or nature.
What could it be, thought John? Are there bears up these parts, or other large game.
Reading his mind, Maggie whispered, "Don't worry, I can tell by the sound that those are human feet, so it looks like our friends are either returning from their jaunt or searching out some new locale. Actually, I think they're just rearranging themselves."
How right Maggie was on that score.
"Look," John said, overcome with passion, "I think, the hell with it."
Maggie began to play hard to get, as many a woman does when she knows that she has the man in the bag, and ran over toward the pond, as if she was aware where her friend Buck had been. Stripping on the way, she soon ran through the underbrush nude, except for a tiny strip across her loin miraculously held on by the force of the wind. As soon as she reached the water she took this away, also, and jumped in head first without hesitation, emerging unscathed but cold and tingling. John couldn't wait to touch the cold flesh, which he soon did, enveloping the girl in his arms, his big naked shoulders going half way around her naked body. He could feel the cold water between them warm, the slightly purple tinge to her lips melt into a crimson, and her face flush once again in the sexually healthy manner it had in the sleeping bag.
"You live dangerously, little girl," he said, then began to place his fingers right inside of her cunt, slowly at first, then with greater velocity, until he realized that he'd just about driven the girl to her first big "O" when he removed his fingers.
"Scud-lee-dud," she quipped, "taken' me almost all the way, then retreating, what is this?"
"Two can play hard to get, you know."
Suddenly, the girl took his cock between her fingers, then said, "In a manner of speaking – as we say in these parts – now I've got you by the balls." Admiring her spirit, John obeyed the orders to continue his finger fuck, which he did with spirit and gusto until he could sense she was just about at the "O". She began to groan out, "Oooh, ah," the faster became her breathing until her entire body began to go in circular motion, her feet positioned firm on the ground then standing on tip toes, on the ground again, and repeating the cycle.
As a madman runs from the asylum, as a flock of geese flies from the north in winter, so this man's cock knew its destination, almost as if it had a mind of its own.
"I'm going to fuck you Maggie, like you've never been fucked in your entire fucking life." With that he rudely penetrated, absolutely clawing at the girl's back until his nail marks turned into red streaks. But she didn't stop him, didn't stop him a bit as he fucked. In mid-fuck, he pulled out his schlong and demanded she suck it, a request she honored almost before he could ask.
Down she went, quickly and surely, her nose first making contact, the proboscis covered in jism, her nostrils flaring into the side of his fat meat, driving him, making him wild. "Baby, you know how to do it, you really know how to get to me!"
"Happy to oblige," she said coyly, with class and distinction.
Veronica had to pause in her fantasy. Even she could hardly believe how elaborate her theme had gotten, how detailed she was able to picture sexual happenings, from plot and character, to detail of body to dialogue. She'd never realized how her imagination could work once fueled by that electric dildo, the perfect creative accessory. And it was all hers, just she and the machine until the next afternoon.
The woman went into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror. Not a classically beautiful face, but a sensual face, a face which demanded to go beyond what she knew previously, to constantly grow in body awareness, to take in more and more cock and know how to take advantage of a man's every move. Her lips were parted and she could just see inside into her sexy red opening. She had fine, high cheek-bones and large, wide eyes, which she made-up to maximize the effect, with black lines which drew endless compliments.
She admired the way she barely had a line on her entire face, nothing which was out of place. She was cute, maybe even beautiful, yet she was discovering the fun of doing a solo, the real girl, she thought, then paused… hand made… hand maid… She laughed at the pun, but was diverted by another angle of her face. She could see from this profile that she had an exceptionally strong chin, a chin which would hold up well over the years and retain her beauty, fighting a cruel and unremitting gravitation force. So there was plenty of time for men, which meant there was plenty of time for herself. And how did the saying go: one must take care of oneself first.
So she returned to her little country scene, the image of John finger fucking his lady then pushing his long, delightful schlong all the way into her as he pushed her body against the hard, sterile rock. "Fuck me all the way," she moaned as she clutched at his fat, distended balls.
"Squeeze them harder," he pleaded.
"What?"
"Harder, harder."
She squeezed them as hard as she dared and it seemed to only increase his excitation beyond a feverish and almost to an instant pitch. That's when he let the throttle out and just started pumping away madly. His thrusts were so powerful, so unmodulated, that he pulled her entire body up a full several inches with each penetration. He pushed in and out harder and faster until nothing short of another dynamo could have stopped him. Certainly Maggie wasn't about to, for she'd never seen the likes of this before from her country boys, even Buck.
Just then he pushed so hard there two bodies went straight down on the ground and it was fortunate for Maggie's tender buns that John was able to break the fall with his outstretched hands. The miracle is that the didn't come apart, but were only mutually cemented all the more securely.
Faster and harder he pumped, and spread legs apart with his own. He wanted to be blown, though; he wanted to come right in her mouth, so, without undue hesitation, he slid his wet, sticky cock out and brought it up to her mouth. She basked in the sheer abandon of it all, taking it within, tasting the salt and bitter, feeling the gooey texture, the sexy wetness which made her suck harder and with more passion than she ever had.
"Suck it, suck it!"
"Mmmmm, it's good," she moaned out before taking it in once again. The fellatio was going along superbly, the man just to the right pitch, the girl going at it as quickly as the man would like, then suddenly (if an instant came be considered such) his body lurched into the inevitable pre-come freeze. Just then Maggie had the same feeling, and the couple knew they were in for a simo (simultaneous). They came out together and went flying right over the edge.
The clutched together so severely that they might as well have been one person, not two, locked in amorous embrace. Soon it was over and they lay there huffing, but the wind was gentle and air a touch warmer, so that out of exhaustion, they no longer felt desirous of returning immediately, but rather made the mistake of taking a short nap.
They awoke naked when the sun burst over the horizon, at first timorous, then quite aware that under the circumstances they had not wronged. They slowly walked back to camp, looked at Buck and Veronica who were awake and ready to greet them, wide-eyed and anything but angry.
"Well," Veronica said, "we trust you folks had a good time?" – and why not? – anything goes in fantasy.