Greg Bantam was a man's man. A throwback to a bygone era. Ever since he left college, he had been traveling from one place to another, pursuing adventure, setting up challenges for himself. As soon as he had mastered a place and its offerings, he was ready to move on. He had been a seal-hunter in Alaska. A bronc-buster in Alberta. An alligator-trapper in the Florida everglades. He had even herded llamas in Peru.
Now he had been drawn to the inland regions of Northern California, in pursuit of the yellow temptress that had lured men since time immemorial: gold! Greg decided he wanted to be a rich man, so he could try out some of the challenges available only to the wealthy. He wanted to see more of the world. Maybe have his own private jet. The gold was going to get him everything he craved. And what better man to hunt for gold with than his old buddy, Hank Jones? Hank was the only man Greg had ever met whom he really trusted. Hank had proved himself in their youthful days by keeping his hands off Greg's women and by sharing his fights and keeping his secrets. Theirs was a friendship pledged in blood.
All during the week, Greg worked like a serf on his claim, from dawn to dusk. But every Saturday night, for the six weeks he had been on the claim, he went into the local town. It was not much of a town. It boasted a general store, a garage, a hotel with restaurant and four bars.
Already Greg had a favorite bar. It was the Lady Luck. He favored it because the women there were to his liking. One in particular, Wanda Wilde, who resided in the hotel and made her living off her men friends, kept Greg coming back for more. She was a raunchy redhead, with a mind of her own and a good sense of humor. Coupled with a bottomless appetite for sex, her qualities were exactly what Greg required in a woman.
Almost as soon as Greg had sat down at his favorite table at the Lady Luck, Wanda had emerged from nowhere to sit down beside him. The waiter brought Greg's order of a double bourbon, along with one of the same for Wanda. Greg looked at his red-headed companion and smiled.
"I thought I may as well save the man a trip." She tossed her thick red hair back over her shoulder in a sensual gesture that made the blood rush to Greg's cock.
Greg gave the waiter enough money to include a generous tip and waved him away. "You're a good woman, Wanda. You never waste time. I like that."
"That's because you can appreciate the way I am. We're a lot alike, you and I. We both know what we want out of life, and we go out and get it." She smiled saucily as her hand crept under the table and squeezed his prick. Her brown eyes widened. "Hmm. Ready already?" she teased. "You've got to give me time for at least one more drink."
"We'll have plenty more drinks. Then we'll get us a bottle and take it over to the hotel with us."
"That's what I like best about you, Greg. You know how to have a good time."
"Mm-hmm. I know who to have it with, too." He groped under the table and found the hem of her skirt. His fingers crept up underneath, over her bare thigh. Suddenly they were lost in a thick wiry nest of hair and soft flesh. Wanda never wore panties. That turned Greg on.
They were both staggering some when they left the Lady Luck and headed over to Wanda's hotel room. They were scarcely inside her room when Greg grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pulled her to him. His fingers wound cruelly in her hair while his tongue probed the hot receptive depths of her mouth.
"God, Greg," she breathed when at last they came up for air. "You gave me such a hard-on over at that bar, it was all I could do to stay decent. I wanted to crawl under the table and give you head, right then and there."
His eyes glinted with excitement. "It's never too late, baby," he said as he pushed her down onto her knees on the rug in front of him. He watched through a hazy glow of booze and lust as she began to work at the zipper of his fly.
Wanda's hands trembled as she struggled with the stubborn zipper. At last she had discovered its secret. She pulled it down with one urgent tug. She groped inside his pants and pulled out a hard swollen length of cock. Her tongue flitted lewdly over her lips as she contemplated its awesome size. Then, with a sudden, snake-like movement, she stabbed his cock-tip with her tongue. Her tongue began to run round and round the firm mushroom-shaped surface with building abandon, leaving a sheen of saliva on his pink-fleshed cock.
Greg gritted his teeth and grunted at the unexpected assault on his sensitized organ. "Jee-zus, woman! You sure know how to give head! Fuck! Feels great!" The teasing manipulations of her tongue-tip were more than he could stand. He grabbed her by her thick red hair and forced her face down onto his prick. The whole turgid shaft drove deep into her throat. She coughed, then quickly recovered. With experienced ardor, she began to bob her head up and down over Greg's lurching cock. Her mouth bathed his prick in a repeated wash of hot wet pleasure. While his knees quaked with excitement, Greg took a stronger hold on her hair. His hands guided her pace over his tingling cock. He threw back his head and moaned in ecstasy. It had been a long lonely week since his cock had felt anything this good.
"Shit, woman! Do it! Suck my prick, baby!"
Quivering with her own depraved arousal, Wanda worked her mouth back and forth over Greg's resilient hardened cock. She could feel her love-juices trickling from her naked pussy down over her thighs, underneath her skirt. Wiggling her ass to convey her own arousal, she tongued Greg's cock with abandoned frenzy until he was moaning in non-stop, drunken ecstasy.
"Oh yeah. Suck it! Suck it!" Greg could feel his cock swollen to rock-hard proportions, sending stirring jolts of pleasure throughout his body. When he was able to recover his presence of mind to do so, he liked to watch her head moving back and forth. He liked to see her cheeks puff out each time they opened to accommodate his big prick. Little trickles of drool dribbled down her cheeks on either side of his swollen organ. She manipulated her mouth hungrily, as though she had never performed a task she loved so much… as though his cock were the best-tasting thing that had ever invaded her mouth. "That's the stuff, Wanda! Show me how it should be done, baby! Move that mouth!"
Greg had always enjoyed making out with women who were professionals rather than fooling around with dates and seductions and all the rest of the shit. He appreciated a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. And if she needed the money to keep her going, Greg was glad to oblige. Not all the women he called professionals actually asked for money. Some liked to give it away, wherever they could. They were all "whores" to Greg's mind. But, to Greg, a "whore" was the best thing a woman could be.
"Suck it, whore! Oh yeah, baby! You're good! Real good!"
Reveling in the praise, and in the depraved abandon of sucking slavishly on the big man's cock, Wanda gave her task everything she had. She stabbed her tongue tauntingly along the length of Greg's organ. She nibbled the firm flesh with titillating little manipulations of her lips, until his hands gripped her hair tighter and his groans grew louder and more excited. While she held his cock at the base with one hand, to guide it surely into her mouth, she groped under her skirt with the other. Her cunt was throbbing hotly, crying for attention. No longer could she resist the temptation to stroke the engorged bud of her clitoris.
The young prospector felt a new surge in his cock as he realized the redhead had begun to play with herself under her skirt. He saw the look on her face change from one of vicarious passion to a lusty glow of delirious excitement. The thought that sucking his cock had driven her to such wanton heights made Greg grab her hair more harshly. He forced her mouth back and forth, back and forth along his cock until at last his prick had reached a fine pitch of arousal.
Roughly he pushed her mouth away from his throbbing member. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the couch. He leaned her over the back of it, so her ass was squirming high in the air. With trembling hands, he pushed her skirt up to her waist and admired the fine firm swells of her naked white buttocks. Then he guided his hard cock in between her flaring ass-cheeks. Like a homing device, his prick found the yielding hole to her pussy. He shoved deep inside, feeling himself shudder as his cock was suddenly immersed in hot clinging cunt-flesh.
"Shit! That's good!"
The redhead's entire body convulsed with passion as Greg's big cock invaded the hungry confines of her pussy. At once, she began to hunch her ass back at him, urging him to screw her. He lost little time in obliging. His cock began to saw rhythmically in and out, spreading her cunt-walls wide on each ruthless instroke. It gleamed with a tantalizing sheen of pussy-juice on the outstroke. The sight made Greg's balls hang a little lower.
"You've got a sweet twat, Wanda honey! Shit, it sure is greedy! It's grabbing at my prick like it ain't been fed in a month!"
"Oooooohh, baby! It hasn't… nothing this good, anyway. Your cock makes everything else seem like corned beef hash!"
"Wanda, baby… you sure know how to make a guy feel good! Mmmpphh! Uuuhh man!" His lust soared as he watched her ass being buffeted harshly forward by his long unyielding strokes. He loved the way she squirmed avidly back at him, as soon as she had recovered her equilibrium. Up inside her wet pussy, her cunt-muscles clutched his filling presence with glee. This was the way Greg liked it. Hot and heavy. Hungry. No holds barred.
The perverted thrill of her subservient position made Wanda climb one step higher toward orgasm. She loved being bent over and ruthlessly fucked this way. She loved the unstoppable power of the swollen cock splitting her pussy-walls wide, forcing its way up inside. With tireless energy, she wriggled back against the big man's loins, reveling in the tantalizing collision of bodies as his cock was sunk to the hilt in her craving hole. Each thrust made her feel a little bit better than the one before. Each thrust robbed her of a little more of what was left of her self-control. Soon she was nothing more than a mewling, wailing hysteric, just a cock-stroke away from an overwhelming crisis.
One more hard powerful lunge and Greg watched the woman before him dissolve into a shuddering being no longer capable of conscious thought or movement. He realized she was cumming, more powerfully than he had ever seen a woman cum before. Ump as a rag doll, she collapsed into a heap over the back of the couch, whimpering out the last of her orgasm.
Only a few more urgent strokes lay between Greg and his own release. The thought of the pleasure he had brought the woman opened him up. He felt the tide of his cum-juices build to a crescendo, then spill over into her hot hole. "Uh baby! It feels good to cum in you!"
Now that they had enjoyed their orgasms, the large amount of alcohol they had drunk began to take its toll. Somehow, they managed to scramble over to the bed, where they slept soundly until the first light of dawn. Wanda was awakened by the insistent prod of Greg's cock against her buttocks. She squealed with delight and squirmed her cunt down onto his filling prick. They fucked until the sun was out.
"Oh baby, that was good!" It was an effort for Wanda to struggle out of bed and retrieve her cigarettes from her purse. "Want one?"
"Sure do."
They smoked lazily, gathering strength to deal with the bright new day. "How's that claim of yours coming, Greg?"
"Fair. I've got an old buddy of mine coming out to work with me on it."
Her brown eyes flashed with interest. "He my type?"
"If you mean does he like screwing the answer is yes. But there's a complication. He's got a brand-new wife, scarcely dry behind the ears. Eighteen years old."
"You sound bitter."
"Hate to see a good man fall is all."
"Well, who knows, maybe he'll be in need of some alternative company from time to time. What do you think?"
"If he is, I'll give him your name, Wanda. Hell, you'll probably meet him. We'll be in here drinking on Saturday nights, like always. Hank's the only guy I ever knew could keep up with me."
"Maybe being married has changed him."
"Well, if it has, I think it won't take any time at all to unchange him. No woman could come between what me and Hank have together."
"You guys are beginning to sound like a couple of fags."
"You looking for a good clout in the jaw, Wanda?" he asked lazily, putting out his cigarette.
"Not exactly. But I'm not above a little hard stuff, if that's what turns you on." Within moments they were wrestling furiously on the bed. Greg had one last thought for his buddy. He sure hoped that that wife of Hank's wasn't going to turn out to be some kind of prude, trying to interfere with good men's work and fun. Cause there was no way Greg was going to put up with that. He wasn't going to let any woman make life miserable for his good friend, Hank.