She rolled away from him, letting her fingers brush across the cum-wet fur of her snatch. She burst a bubble of white clinging in her beaver hair, then brought the fingers to her nose to sniff delicately. Her lips curled in a pixie-like smile and her tongue peeked forth, flicking across the wet fingertips, tasting the juice, and she smiled to show him that the taste was indeed delicious.
Chris reached for her, his cock sore from the strenuous fuck but irresistibly erecting for yet another round. He was too slow, though, and she had already danced away when his hand slapped the open air where she had been lying. He jumped to his feet and ran after her, following the scuttering of her sandals-she'd never taken them off-and leaping with her into the water of the
wooded pond.
She swam away from him, laughing as she splashed, her arms and legs flailing and kicking in the water, but Chris was as good a swimmer and he caught her near the middle of the pool, holding her by the arms, bouncing and buoying on the water to keep afloat.
Cathy took his kiss agreeably, and beneath the surface of the clear pond she let her legs bump again and again upon the hardening lance of his prick, trying to trap it between her thighs. "My
God," she said lightly, "you must be a real sex maniac. Didn't you get enough the other time?"
"I couldn't get enough," he grunted hornily. "Not of you and that thing you've got."
"It's called a pussy, silly!" she giggled in delight, pulling away from him. She paddled away fast, making for the shore where they had lain and fucked together, and he swam after her like a crocodile hunting unwary bathers, following Cathy to the bank.
She was clambering ashore when he caught her by the ankle and upended her on the grass. The hairs on Cathy's cunt gleamed and shone with the water that clung to their silky tendrils, and the furry mat had parted slightly to allow him a glorious close-up of her pink gash.
Once again he told himself that she had a gorgeous pussy, a snatch that could be dangerously addictive once you'd gotten a taste of it-and he frowned then, for he'd not had a taste of it, not at all. He flopped onto his belly beside her and immediately applied his mouth to the sweet-tasting hole that lurked among her pussy fuzz.
"Oooh," Cathy purred as she felt him spread her pussylips wide. The cool breeze fluttered across her wet curt, chilling her with a fantastic shuddery tingle that was absolutely nothing in comparison to what she experienced when he nibbled on her petite inner pussylips.
He massaged her cunt mouth with his tongue until she sighed aloud with the delicious expectation of yet another orgasm, and then his fingers had slipped in once more to pry open the tightness of her young box so that he could thrust his tongue directly up her slick curt hole.
Chris stabbed hard, once, twice, three times, ramming his tongue up her cunt as though it were a frisky, limber cock, and she drenched his face with the juices of her inner depths. Her flavor drifted to his nostrils, across his taste buds, and it was like nothing else he'd ever experienced. It was sweet and it was juicy and it was all Cathy. He'd know her again by pussy-flavor alone if he didn't meet her once more for another twenty years.
He licked upward through her gash, then down, each time making sure to linger attentively upon her already soaked clit. She whined each time her love button felt the brushes and caresses of his tongue, and she cried aloud once, long and deliriously, when her wonderful new lover began to suck voraciously upon the lumpy little point of her clit. His smooth chin was pressed tightly against her cunt hole, and she knew that she was bathing him, lips and cheeks and chin, in the fluid of her arousal.
"C'mon," she called, "let's eat each other at the same time." He didn't seem to be listening. He had a habit of getting distracted while he was sexing a girl up, and Cathy knew that she loved that habit, even if it did tend to leave her squealing and beating frantic fists on the ground while she awaited the chance to do some good for him in return.
She stretched until she felt the muscles in her side begin to strain and ache, but she was able to get her fist tightly wrapped around his stiff and rampant cock. Cathy began to jerk and squeeze his meat as hard as she could, shucking up and down his shaft, holding it tight-anything to get his attention for just a moment. Sweat beads had begun to bubble once more through the pores of her pink skin. She'd gotten awfully hot in a short time. The way he was spearing his tongue into her hole and rubbing her cunt with his deft fingers, she'd be creaming again before she knew it.
"Hey!" she squealed, her ass jerking involuntarily as he gave her a very special bite in a very special place. Oh, Jesus! she taught, and she wrenched on his stiff pole for all she was worth, until Chris felt a sudden discomfort in his dick and raised his head to see what the fuck was going on.
"Let's eat each other," she suggested. "A sixty-nine. While I'm still able to suck without screaming."
He smiled and nodded, and he flipped over onto his back, waiting for her to climb aboard. His cock bounced and jiggled with his motion, making Cathy all the more eager to hop into position herself.
She settled down atop his reclining body, easing her crotch onto his face, brushing it back and forth across his lips, and at the same time she bent forward and took his prick in both her hands.
Having her cunt on his face was just like being trapped underneath a big feather mattress, Chris thought as the plush cushion slipped into place. He brought his hands up, prying into her puffy gash, splitting it wide to allow his lips and tongue the access they desired. He began where he'd left off, adoring her clitty with his mouth, probing her cunt hole with his digging thumbs, and he tasted her sweet juices flowing in ever-greater profusion.
Cathy wiggled her butt to show him how appreciative she really was, and she moved her face until his dong was within licking distance. Her tongue came out and she bathed his rod like a mother cat might wash a tiny kitten. She moved her wet tongue up and down his tool, licking and cleaning from balls to tip, and when she had his prick wet with spit, her fingers tugged softly upon his foreskin, pulling it back to let the glistening purple bump of his glans show in all its splendor.
She kissed his knob, squarely upon its tip, and once again she knew the delight of tasting the seminal droplet which her efforts had teased forth. Of all the guys she'd known, she suddenly realized in a flash, no two had the same taste. Cathy pressed her lips against his exposed prick knob in a thoughtful fashion, her mb-id far, far away; then, with a self-conscious little chuckle, she opened her mouth and sucked his cock in. His prick was comfortably big and thick, nestled there in the wet hold of her lips, and she suckled his rod gently, caressingly, getting used to its welcome presence.
Cathy wasn't the best cocksucker Chris had ever known-he still had fond memories of a college girl from last summer, one who hadn't been ashamed to have her twenty-year-old furrow plowed, and plowed magnificently, by a well-endowed youngster of fifteen-but she was well on her way. Even flow, with her mouth simply holding his cock, she was starting to do clever and thoughtful things. The soft, almost playful way she was scraping her teeth against the super tender flesh of his dick, for example, or the seemingly absentminded swipes of her tongue that flicked occasionally across the point of his meat-stick. It was good, damned good, but he couldn't wait forever for Cathy to begin sucking him off in earnest, So he began to lash her twat with his tongue, snapping his teeth at her love button, using his fingers to pry lasciviously at the puckered ring of her asshole, and she vibrated suddenly as though she'd been struck by lightning, beginning to hump his face eagerly.
Mmmmm, that's a lot better, Chris thought smugly as her head began to piston up and down and his cock glided again and again over the velvet carpet of her tongue, making straight for Cathy's tonsils. She had his balls in the cuddling palm of one hand while the other teased and tickled at every available inch of arousable flesh on his body-the insides of his legs, the wrinkled skin
behind his nuts, the tight barrier of his own bung-and he shot upward, pounding his peter into her greedy mouth as she aroused him feverishly.
She was getting as good as she gave, too; Sweat soaked the rounded cheeks of her butt, and his gripping hands slipped and fumbled as he attempted to control her gyrating pelvis. Her cunt grew heavier and heavier, pressing down upon him and she smothered him in her moist, fragrant snatch, but he didn't give a goddamn. The scents of her body were fresher and sweeter and tastier than the purest mountain air, and he filled his lungs with Cathy.
She was trying her best to deep-throat him, and he appreciated it, too, but the angle at which she sucked in his cock wasn't the best, and his cockhead battered fruitlessly at the roof of her mouth, denied access to the hole it longed for. No matter. She was doing just fine as it was, and he could feel the pressure upon his rod each time she pulled in her cheeks and released them. Her hands grew tighter on his balls-not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to make him wince and moan his joy into the furry plumpness of her snatch.
Again and again he whipped her twat with his tongue, scraped it with his teeth, assaulted her cunt until he was sure it would be black and blue instead of prettily pink by the time morning rolled around, but if he was bothering Cathy at all with the fury of his cunt-lapping, she gave no sign. Instead she continued to gobble away at his prick until he bid reluctant farewell to his self-control and jerked his crotch upward from the ground with the feverish release that shook his body mercilessly.
She made choking, gasping sounds as his cum boiled out and filled her puffed-out cheeks. Trying to swallow, trying to keep her mouth active at the
same time so as to drain him fulfillingly, Cathy was fighting a losing battle. His cock jerked and squirted so fast that swallow and suck as she might, bubbles of hot, sticky jizz puddled out of her mouth and dripped down her chin. For every drop she guzzled down, her lips surrendered two, and still there was a warm, satiated feeling all the way from her throat to the pit of her belly. God, she thought, sucking and swallowing, racing against the shuddering chills that were a dead giveaway of her own emotions, where does he get so much cream?
He'd filled her hungry pussy to overflowing not half an hour ago, and now he was feeding her mouth just as generously.
And suddenly it didn't matter at all, for she was coming, too, her wet pussy glued against his nuzzling face, and she let his cock slide from her lips as she buried her own face against the muscular hardness of his thigh. It had been good, supremely good, for both of them and they were happy together.
Another swim to clean the sweats and fluids of sex from their tired bodies, and when it was over, they dressed themselves by mutual unspoken agreement. In the aftermath of sex, Cathy was even more beautiful than she had been before. Her face glowed with a joyous fresh sheen, and the body flush of her arousal still showed on the curve of bosom above her bikini bra. She giggled at the softest touch of his fingers upon her, and the sparkle of her giggle was so magical that he kept touching her that way, again and again, until they were both even weaker from laughing.
"Stop it!" she finally squealed, slapping ineffectually at him with her open palms, and he surrendered with a panting laugh of his own. "I've gotta get home," she pouted. "Gwen's gonna be wondering where the fuck I am, if she stops typing long enough to notice I'm not there."
"Do you really have to go home now?"
Her eyes went round in a parody of suddenly enlightened innocence. "I know what you're thinking," Cathy announced. "You think you're gonna get to take advantage of me!"
He thought of his fucking-sore, creamed-out cock and balls, and he wondered who was taking advantage of whom. "I got a better idea. Let's stop by my place and get something cold to drink."
"That's a good idea," Cathy agreed. She rubbed her lips with the back of her hand. "I've got this awful taste in my mouth.
Chris struck out with his palm, intending to give her a good slap on the ass for that one, but she was too fast for him once again, and she stood prancing a few feet away. "Which way's your place?" she called. "I'll race you there."
The house Chris and his father were renting was on the south shore of the island and its back porch overlooked the ocean. Cathy and her mother were staying in a place on the north coast, so their summer cottage had a view of the sound which separated the island and the mainland. Otherwise the two houses were much the same-slightly rustic in appearance, to give moneyed city dwellers the illusion of roughing it, but really as comfortable and accommodating as any other living quarters.
The car shelter beside the house was empty. "I guess Dad's out," Chris commented as he led her onto the front veranda and into the residence's living room. "Here, sit down. I'll get us something to drink. What would you like? Coke, beer, or something hard?" She gave him her most definitely Mona Lisa smile at his double entendre. "Seriously."
"A beer, I guess." He went out and she leaned back on the couch, stretching her long legs across the top of the coffee table. The room looked as if it were occupied by a couple of guys, she thought. It had a general aura of dismay and confusion.
"Michelob all right?" Chris asked, interrupting her train of thought. He handed her a brimming glass of foam-crested beer, then sat down close beside her, their thighs brushing suggestively. "Here's to us," he said, clinking his glass upon hers, and they drank a toast which left beer-foam mustaches around theft mouths which could only be wiped away by putting their lips together very tightly.
Cathy broke off the kiss and slid back on the couch. He put his hand on the inside of her thigh, just below the leg slot of her bikini bottom, and he held her in a firm, possessive grip. "You know," she began, "except in the Biblical sense we hardly know each other at all."
He twisted his head. "What would you like to find out?"
"Oh, just the important things-your favorite color, your favorite singer, do you like President Ford. I mean, I have to find, out whether we're compatible, for Christ's sake."
He looked pensive a moment, then said, "In that order-aquamarine, Carole King, and absolutely not. Are we compatible?"
"I don't know," Cathy confessed, "but we do fuck together very nicely."
"Does anything else matter?"
"Not really. But tell me about you, all the same. About your folks, where you live, where you go to school."
"I live in Illinois, not far from St. Louis, and I go to Dawson Academy-they're prepping me for Harvard, which is where Dad enrolled me as soon as he was sure Pd be able to learn to read and write. As to folks, I have him. And two stepmothers collecting alimony somewhere. One's in the West Indies, I think."
"No mother?"
He shook his head. "She died when I was just a baby.. Long before I was old enough even to remember her."
"We do have a lot in common. Not just our birthdays. I'm a half-orphan, too. My parents were divorced when I was a little kid and he-my father-died not very long after. So Gwen is all the folks I have."
"We're not all that alone," Chris suggested as his hand came to rest over the crotchband of her bikini pants.
"No, we're not," she agreed, wiggling out of his clutch reluctantly. "But I'm afraid you're gonna be alone for a while now. I really have to go home. Gwen will have the cops looking for me if I'm not there for supper-if she stops typing long enough to notice I haven't gotten back."
His hand trailed down the ticklish inside of her thigh as she got to her feet, and for just a moment she seriously contemplated sitting down again and letting him have his way with her. But they'd already done it twice, and she wanted him to be at least partly conscious tomorrow so they could do it all over again. "Feeling me up won't help," she warned him. "If I've gotta go, I've gotta go."
She looked around the room a moment, and bet eyes fell upon a picture in an expensive frame. "Oh, is that you and your dad?" she asked, going to take a closer look.
It was a fairly recent photo, and it showed two really sharp-looking guys, Cathy decided. She had a soft spot for Chris, of course, because they seemed to have been made for one another, but his father was okay, too. A tall, well-made man, he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans in the photograph, which appeared to have been taken at a marina somewhere. He looked like a matured and mellowed version of his son, with the same fair hair, along with a superb tan and nicely developed chest and shoulders. "Your dad's cute, too," she told her friend.
He colored strongly for a moment, as though he were getting angry, and she wondered if she'd made him jealous. Hope so, Cathy thought. Can't let him think I'm too easy.
"What did your mother look like?" she added. "I mean, you seem to have taken after him. I'll bet she provided those dreamy blue eyes, didn't she?"
"Dad's eyes are almost blue, too," he informed her. "And I really don't know what she looked like. I saw a picture of her once, years ago, but it was just a snapshot-not very distinct-and when Dad caught me looking at it, he took it and tore it up."
Cathy blinked in surprise. That wasn't very romantic. Chris' father must have been rather young when he lost his wife, and it seemed to her that he'd have devoted himself from that day forward to cherishing her memory. On the other hand, his picture revealed a man of lusty appetites and pragmatically frank features. Maybe he wasn't the poetic type.
"Will I see you again?" she asked in the quietness. "Or is this just one of those summer romances?"
"I don't know," he said, trying to sound uncharacteristically impartial. "Think it'd be worth it?"
"We could always find out," she suggested. "How about tomorrow? Say about ten or, even better, eleven? I like to sleep late. But not after twelve, because I want to shake that slut Jennifer-I told you about her, didn't I? She lives in the place down the beach from us, and she's one big pain right in the you-know-where. I got rid of her today by pretending to have an appendicitis attack, but I don't think it'll work again tomorrow. I'm afraid she might be queer for me."
"I wouldn't blame her if she was," he whispered, bending in to kiss Cathy and take a parting feel of her superb left tit. She pried his hand away and fluttered out the door. "Tomorrow, then!" he shouted after her. "Same place as today? Down on the beach?" She looked back to nod and wave her acquiescence and in the process nearly collided with the gunmetal Mercedes which was just turning into the drive from the highway.
"Oops, goddamn it," Cathy muttered, looking fiercely at the driver. Her angry glare changed to a warm smile, though, when she realized that Chris' father was the man at the wheel. And besides, if she'd been looking where she was going, there'd have been no danger to either of them-so she rationalized.
Don Robinson eased the car into the shelter and got out, turning to follow Cathy's retreating ass with his appreciative eyes. She had a cute figure, he decided, with everything in the right place, and she knew how to carry it around, too. Her butt wiggled as smoothly as a ticking clock.
Chris was in the living room finishing his beer when Don walked in. "Feels nice," Don said. "If I could just engineer a way to air condition the distance from the carport to the front door, I wouldn't have to suffer a moment's discomfort."
"Can't have everything, I guess," Chris noted.
"Looks like you're on the way, though. The girl. Who is she? I don't remember seeing her around before.
"Oh, that's Cathy. I just met her today. She's okay."
"Sure is," Don agreed. "You get into her yet?" Chris grinned. "That's telling. But, since we're old buddies, and not just any father and son, the answer is "Bet your ass!"
They had a good relationship, with no secrets and no need to have any. Chris knew the score, and if Don brought home a lady to enliven his weekend, there was no need to hide the fact from his son. Chris knew what would be going on in his father's bedroom and after the lady had gone her way, the father and the son might sit down for a friendly beer and discuss her appearance and performance. They hadn't progressed as far as sharing girls yet, although a few of Chris' teenaged female friends certainly did affect Don right in the old gonads.
And this girl was right up at the top of the list as far as gonad-affecting wept, Don had to admit. She was easily a doll, and her body seemed to have been assembled for no other purpose than to turn guys on. "How was she?" Don asked.
"Good enough I'm going back for thirds tomorrow," Chris beamed.
"You mean seconds."
"I mean thirds. I had seconds today."
Don shook his head, whistling appreciatively. "That's my boy." Your mother would be proud of you, too, he thought with a sardonic chuckle. Chris' mother had been a women's libber well before the title had been invented. If only she were there now to see her husband and their son shooting the shit about said son's nooky-hunting. She'd crap her drawers.