Mother lover

Rex Taylor
CHAPTER ONE

Cathy stood on the deserted beach. It had taken her half an hour to gather the pile of rocks and stones at her feet. She looked up and down the strand to see if anyone was nearby and, seeing no one, she bent over and picked up a stone. She drew back her arm and flung the rock with all her might onto the incoming waves. "FUCK!" she screamed.

Again and again she repeated the process, the heap of rocks disappearing much faster than it had been accumulated, and each time Cathy let fly she wailed the obscenity once again, wailed it despairingly, as though it were the last pitiful utterance of a broken heart.

Perhaps it was. Perhaps at this very moment Cathy was experiencing the most downcast and disconsolate emotions of her life. Eighteen-year-old girls tend to be extreme in their feelings and reactions at the best of times and, if anyone had been there to ask her, Cathy would undoubtedly have replied that she felt just like dying.

She stooped to seize the last rock, a big gray chunk of stone, which she had saved for last precisely because it was bigger than any of the others she'd found. Her fingers wrapped around it and she brought her arm back for the toss. Cathy closed her eyes and she saw her mother's face, and

it made her smile to imagine Gwen standing in the stone's imminent pathway, for wasn't it all Gwen's fault?

"FUCK!" she shrieked and the rock flew out of her hand to slap and splash upon the frothing wave rolling towards the shore. Her arm dropped and she stood a moment, panting heavily with the force of her emotions, her young tits heaving as frantically.

"Are you throwing rocks at the devil?" someone asked, and Cathy whirled around, her sandaled feet whipping on the warm sand. A young man, sun-browned and wearing only a pair of skimpy black swim trunks, stood at the crest of the bluff overlooking the beach, his longish hair blowing in the sea breeze.

"Huh?" Cathy called in reply. He was coming to join her, a smile growing bigger on his face as he got nearer. Jesus, she thought, he's cute! And he must think I'm crazy or something.

"I said, are you throwing rocks at the devil?" He cocked his head to one side and stared at her engagingly. "It's kind of a joke, but I guess it isn't funny if you don't know the language. I have this friend, see, who went to a church-run boarding school when he was younger, and the supervisor used to tell the boys that getting horny was a symptom of the devil trying to take over their bodies. So, until they found out it was caused by something else altogether, whenever one of them started feeling any urges, he'd run outside and start pitching rocks until the devil gave up and went back to Hell where he belonged."

"Oh," Cathy said, lips curling into a little smile.

"I guess you had to be there to appreciate it," the boy added, and Cathy couldn't keep a straight face any longer. She began to laugh softly and his face brightened.

"My name's Cathy," she said. "What's yours?"

"I'm Chris," he said. "Chris Robinson. I don't remember seeing you anywhere. Have you been on the island all summer?"

"It seems like it," Cathy sighed. "But we've only been here a couple of days. My mom and I," she explained quickly. He really was cute, and she didn't want him to think he had no chance with her.

"My dad and I have been here a week," Chris said. "Don't you care for it?"

She shook her head. "It was all my mom's idea. Take a good old-fashioned mother-daughter vacation, get to know each other-all that shit. So, every time I try to get to know her, she says, "Cathy, honey, I have to get some work done on this article-why don't you go out and soak up some sun, and we'll talk later." The only person on this island I've said more than three words to is a really dipshit girl named Jennifer whose family is renting the place down the road from us. Until you came along, though. God, my throat is sore already from all this talking."

"Hey, don't tire yourself out. I'm not worth it."

Bet you are, Cathy told herself. Bet you are.

"Where do you go to school? You are still in school, aren't you?"

Cathy nodded. "I'll be a junior this fall. I was going to Miss Proctor's, in Darien. Do you know it?"

"No," he mused, "I don't think so. Darien, Connecticut? We don't get out here much, though. We live in Illinois. But Dad had some business on the East Coast this summer and he decided to bring me along."

"What's your sign?"

"Cancer. Born June twenty-ninth."

"Jesus," Cathy whistled. "So was I! We ought to be friends."

"Yeah," he smiled. "We'd only have to buy one horoscope." Chris stretched out his hand. "How would you like a guided tour of the south coast? I think I rank as an expert."

"You're on," Cathy giggled, and, hand in hand, away they went down the strip of deserted beachfront.

They talked as they walked, and in the space of only a few minutes it was as though they had been friends for years. There seemed to be a special bond between them. As Cathy noted, how often indeed do you find someone who was born exactly the same day you were? And the same year, it turned out, too.

Chris liked what he saw walking beside him, and he wondered if their matching astrology did indeed have any significance. Like, did it mean he was going to be able to get into her pants? Cathy's pants were well worth getting into, he was certain. She was a beautiful, willowy girl, nearly as tall as he was, with long, lissome legs whose rippling muscles moved so gracefully as to justify the whole, long process of human evolution. Her hair was a windswept mane of golden brown, a few shades blonder than his own light-colored locks, her face was clean and oval-shaped and finely chiseled, and the demure skimpiness of her bikini showed off a body put of a wet dream. Cathy's tits were high and round, not too big and certainly not too small, with freckles showing daintily on her breastbone and in her cleavage. She had a smooth, flat tummy with a navel that would just accommodate the tip of his middle finger, and her ass was young, high-set, and springy-just made to be bounced on a bed. Sometimes when she moved her legs just so, a tiny tendril of pussy hair would slip through the leg opening of her bikini bottom. The curl was dark, much darker than the hair on her head, and Chris was willing to bet a month's allowance that her cunt fur was silky to the touch. The beach narrowed, the bluffs behind creeping down almost to the surf's edge, and Chris guided the girl to a path that led up the sandy rise. They stood on the top, looking down into a wooded vale on the inland side, a little forest whose green leaves spread like a natural umbrella.

"This is virgin timber," Chris informed her, "about the last on the island of any size. Most of the woods were cleared away to make this place a vacation paradise." He tugged on her hand. "Want to go exploring?"

The only thing I'd like to explore, Cathy thought smirkily, is the bulge in the crotch of your trunks. His shorts fit him tightly, fashionably, molding the fabric around his cock and balls with a frankness the girl found totally praiseworthy. But on the other hand, she found everything about him praiseworthy. He was good-looking, had a nice, free and easy manner, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts which dominated her mind at that moment.

Throwing rocks at the devil, Cathy thought. Weird, but he'd hit it almost on the nose. She had been frustrated, she had been angry, but above all else, she had been horny-the kind of horniness peculiar to young girls who have just discovered their cunts are useful for other things besides urination and masturbation. Indeed, that was why Cathy had been so pissed off when her mother had sprung the big news upon her.

Seeing Gwen at all was a big surprise. They had been closer when Cathy was much younger, but for the past nine years most of Gwen's work had kept her out of the country altogether. Gwen was a reporter for a national magazine, and she spent a lot of time abroad running down stories and interviewing celebrities. During those nine years Cathy had lived almost exclusively at one boarding school or another, and she had almost gotten used to not having a mother at all.

And then, just over a week ago, Gwen had turned up at Miss Proctor's School to inform her daughter that the long separation was finally over, that the magazine had given her a transfer, to the Washington, D.C., offices. In July, the two of them would move into a house Gwen had already found in Georgetown, and come fall Cathy could start in at one of the many good private schools about the nation's capitol.

It couldn't have come at a worse time. After eighteen years Cathy had finally fallen irrevocably, permanently in love, with a young college student who helped out as a languages tutor at Miss Proctor's. While conjugating French verbs, Cathy had made her declaration of undying love, italicizing it by removing her blouse and placing his hands upon her conveniently braless tits. He had turned red at the first contact, and then his hands had seized upon her boobs with an eagerness Cathy wasn't quite ready for, and before she could get around to telling him how much she wanted to be the mother of his children and the love of his life, he had her lying on the carpeted floor of the study room with her skirt raised, her panties lowered, and his cock poised on the threshold of her quivering pussy.

Involuntarily she winced at the sudden remembrance of the first stabbing thrust he had made with his cock inside her virgin cunt, and, wincing, she likewise involuntarily squeezed tight upon Chris' hand holding hers. He returned the tender pressure and she was glad she'd remembered.

That had been about six months ago. About? It was at 7:35 p.m. on the evening of January twenty-ninth. A girl doesn't forget when she sacrifices her cherry upon the altar of love. And it had been a nice experience, all in all. Cathy hadn't climaxed that first time, but she soon got over that. And the third time she and her lover got together, he had made her a gift of a medical prescription which, when filled, allowed Cathy to look forward to many weeks of worry-free screwing.

Of course, being able to fuck without fear of getting knocked up had its effect on Cathy, too. She realized within a matter of days that she didn't really love her tutor, that she was merely trying to rationalize her sex impulse, but what the fuck? When he put his cock inside her and she began to tighten her snug pussy upon it, she felt good, and he felt good, and so what if they weren't intending to make it a permanent, lifetime arrangement? What hurt most was to realize that she had been missing out on this for so long. Her tits had begun to sprout in brown-capped buds when she was eleven, and by the time she'd started eighth grade, the other girls, were calling her "Beaver" every time she undressed for an after-gym shower. She'd been ready for fucking long before she had managed to screw her courage to seduce her tutor.

What was strangest, Cathy thought, was how she'd lived eighteen years, almost, without ever being fucked and now, only six months after her first screw, it seemed to be a completely wasted week that didn't allow her to have something long, hard, and hot stuffed inside her pussy. Jesus, she said to herself as they walked into the woods, it's been nine days! And she knew as surely as she knew her own name that if this absolutely gorgeous guy didn't ball her, she'd have no choice but to rape him on the spot.

"See," he was telling her. "The island may be a tourist haven, but here in the woods you can feel just like Robinson Crusoe before he met Friday-all alone, with nature your only companion." Chris stopped in the shade of a big and ancient oak whose branches overhung them like a canopy. The leaves above their heads filtered the sunlight shining down, and the soft lighting gently accented the golden highlights of Cathy's hair and the rosy, lightly tanned pink of her young flesh. She reminded him of an impressionist painting or a David Hamilton photograph, and he wanted very much to touch her.

"It's really beautiful and quiet here," she said with a delicate huskiness in her voice. She looked at him. He was staring at her with the hunger so plain in his eyes, and she wondered if he might not be frightened. Why should he be? Chris was a good-looking guy-he had to know he was good-looking-and he should be able to read the message her own eyes were doing their damnedest to broadcast to him.

She sucked in her breath, making her tits rise smoothly for his inspection. A little flush spread across her face and she laughed reassuringly. Cathy's eyes dropped imperceptibly, peeking once more at the bulge in the front of his trunks. It seemed a little bigger than before, as if horny blood were beginning to engorge his cock in anticipation.

Her foot hesitated a moment. She was going to approach him, to take his hands in hers, to let her body brush against his, to touch him with her lips. Surely that would give him the message. Her eyes glanced past his figure and she said, "Oh. What's that?"

He turned. "That?" he said, and there was a little choke in his voice she hadn't expected. He

was getting hot for damn sure, she knew in that moment. "It's just a pond."

I can see that, she thought. "Is it deep? I mean, I'd love to swim in some fresh water. The salt in the ocean makes my hair brittle, and I think it's ruining my complexion." She waited for his answer, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"Oh, sure," he said. "It's plenty deep enough for swimming."

"Well, come on, then!" she squeaked, and she bounced away from him, making for the wooded pond. He came up beside her while she stood on the bank looking at the surface of the water, where the overhead sun cast silver blades of light across the clear green. "It even looks dean," she said. "At least compared to the Hudson or the Connecticut."

"It's clean," he said, his voice still a bit shaky. He stepped forward and put his toes into the water, shivering at the cool tingle that raced through him. Goddamn it, he cursed inwardly. He'd been just about to give her a try, too! Maybe he'd read her wrong. Maybe all she wanted to do was talk and walk.

Cathy reached up behind herself, then presented her back to Chris. "Untie me," she said. "I can't quite reach it." Of course that wasn't true-after all, she'd put her bikini on with no help at all-but she knew instinctively that helping a girl undress was a real turn-on for guys.

He'd undone the bow holding up her bra before he realized it, and all he could do was stare at her suddenly bare back as she let the bra fall and flutter to the ground. Her hands skidded down her smooth sides to pull open the bows securing her panties and these, too, dropped. In the twinkling of an eye she'd become completely naked, and he was staring at her back, almost entranced, unable to take his eyes off the sinuous line of her spinal column, from where it showed beneath the fall of her hair to where it joined the perky, plump swell of her bitable-looking butt.

She smoothed hands across her golden hair and turned around to face him. He pursed his lips as he drank in the sight of her nudity. The bikini had been flattering and a turn-on when it was covering her body so provocatively, but naked? God! His eyes bulged until he was sure they must be fully as large and round as the pink, plump tits that perched high and proud on her chest, topped off by slightly oval-shaped nipples, brown and beautiful, the paps already beginning to stiffen under the frankness of his gaze.

Chris eyed the fine lines of her young body, and he wondered why his face was growing so red-indeed, why his face could be growing red, for it seemed that every drop of blood in his body was at that very moment pumping like crazy into the barrel of his prick. He looked down at his front, saw the crotch of his trunks tenting out as his pole went up. Her eyes dropped with his, and she smiled to see what effect her nakedness was having upon him.

"Does that always happen when you see a naked girl?" she asked innocently, her fingertips brushing across his budding hard-on. He jumped as if she were wired for electrocution, and his cock bulged all the more, beginning to ache with the need he suddenly felt.

"A girl like you," he said softly, staring at the stunningly dark hair of her crotch. Her pussy fur was almost black, in vivid contrast to the golden glow of her head hair, and it was impressively thick, so much so that he couldn't even see the lips of her cunt through the under bush. He couldn't help himself-and obviously she wanted it, too, or she'd never have stripped off in front of him-and his hand closed upon her furry muff.

"Ooohhhh," she whispered as she felt him grip her twat in his firm paw. Her hand dropped to stroke his.

He filled his hand with her snatch, reveling in the plump thrust of her cunt mound, in the satiny smoothness of her fuzz, in the moistness he could already feel beneath his palm. He clutched her tight, fondling her cunt, and while her fingers teased and trailed across his wrist, her thighs began to clamp together, pressuring him softly in return as he pressured her.

Cathy moved against him, so that her tits brushed against his bare chest. He felt her nipples stiffen on impact, and then her boobs crushed against him and she began to rise on tiptoes, her hands clutching his shoulders to support her body, and he dropped his face slightly to meet her lips with his own.

She parted her lips immediately, and he did likewise, his tongue stabbing out, scraping across her white teeth to penetrate the cavern of her mouth. She caught his tongue hard then, sucking it voraciously as it slid wetly across her own, and Chris could feel his Lower lip brushing again and again upon her teeth. Her mouth opened slightly then, and she began to probe and explore with her tongue inside his mouth. She was aggressive, as aggressive as any girl he'd ever known, and he loved it. He could tell she'd be a tiger when they got around to the actual fuck.

He let go of her pussy, pulling his hands out of the space between their bodies, and she was rubbing him now from tits to knees, trying to wrap her legs around him where he stood. Chris reached behind to cup the cheeks of her rosy ass, to give her additional support as she raised herself against him, and in the process he let his fingers drift

roguishly into the crack between her asscheeks. Cathy squirmed when she felt his fingertips brush round her puckered bung, when she felt them begin to twine and pull the soft, sparse hairs that grew further back in her crack, and she rubbed him all the harder with her bare body, thrilling delightfully as she felt the lump of his prick grow and grow and grow inside his shorts.

She pulled her tongue back, let his slip free, and she spoke to him, so close that her milky breath tickled his upper lip. "Let's go swimming," her voice invited.

"You've gotta be kidding," he whispered in amazement.

She giggled and slipped back onto the soles of her feet, drawing back from him a step or so. "My God," she said, looking at his stiffened cock. "If you go in with that, you'll displace all the water."

Cathy dropped to her knees before he could stop her, as if he had any intention of doing so. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband of his trunks and tugged them down.

Freed suddenly of its imprisoning garment, Chris' cock bounced and bobbled and bumped Cathy hard upon the chin. She laughed a tinkling laugh at that, and she looked up at him with an indescribably mysterious expression in her pale blue eyes. He realized at that moment that she had eyes of the purest, sweetest blue he'd ever seen-a delicate watercolor shade whose beauty he'd never appreciated, particularly since his own eyes were only a hair darker and he'd been ribbed for years about having eyes like a milk-faced country maiden. Seeing Cathy's eyes now, seeing the look that was in them, made him forget all the dorm-room teasing.

She took his cock in a small, dainty hand, stroked up and down its rigid length, appreciating its size, its thickness, its hard masculine beauty. And it was so warm, so full of life. Cathy loved cocks. She loved to touch them, to stroke them. Sometimes she was content to begin a sex session by deftly jacking off her partner to a spurting, splashing climax, confident that she could easily arouse him to a fresh hard-on that would last an hour or more.

"Do you play with this very much?" she asked suddenly, her voice honestly curious.

"Huh?" he asked, his prick throbbing in her grip.

"Do you play with it?" she repeated. "You know, just lie around, touching yourself, stroking it, whatever?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "Not as much as I used to, before I found out about girls."

"I know what you mean," she sighed thoughtfully. Again she moved her hand up and down his shaft, fingers teasingly loose upon his hard cock flesh. "I wish I had one of these," she added. "I'd play with it all the time. I think I'm in love with the idea of a penis." Her face moved, cheek rubbing along the stiff, reddened dong. He felt the warmth of her face vibrating through every pore of his body and he let his hands come down to touch and stroke her soft hair.

She put her fingers upon the tip of his rod, pulling back, the foreskin until his cockhead was completely bare, and she stared for a moment at the purple knob, already bearing within the slotted cum-slit a tiny drop of clear liquid. She moved her head again, her lips brushing his wine-dark cocktip, taking away with the initial drop of lubricating juice.

Cathy lay back on the grass while Chris stood above her, his breath leaving him in excited gasps. His trunks were hanging at knee height on his slightly spread legs and, as soon as he could collect himself, he rejoined his legs so that the garments fell completely off. He kicked them away impatiently, then slumped down beside her..

She was waiting for him, lying on one side and licking her lips. One of her hands was brushing back and forth across an already stiffened nipple, making the little brown bump jiggle provocatively. Nothing, he thought, that he had ever seen was half so sexy, so immediately desirable. Let alone so immediately obtainable.

He threw himself upon her, forcing Cathy onto her back once more, his mouth covering hers, his hands roaming and straying across every inch of her body. He filled his hands with her ripe tits, feeling the nipples punch hard and hot against his palms in reply. He drew fingertips across her snatch, feeling the tightly clutched lips part for him, feeling the dewy wetness of her cunt. He slipped his hands beneath her body, once more grabbing at the luscious cheeks of her butt, and she lifted herself to make it easier for him. And at the same time her hands were upon him, touching his back, stroking his hair, his shoulders, slipping low to tease his own ass, to slip into his crack and fickle the back of his balls. She tangled her fingers in his crotch hair and gave a teasing pull, and he moaned aloud into her sucking, kissing mouth, feeling her soft giggle in reply.

He kissed his way off her mouth, onto her chin, catching the bold point in a sucking wet grip that made her thrust it against and into him. He slid farther down, sucking and biting at her neck, at her shoulderblades, making his way onto the rising curve of her tit. She touched his ear with her fingertips, tracing the whorls and folds of his flesh, digging gently at it, and he felt her fingers stiffen when he descended to her nipple.

"Yes," she whispered as she felt his teeth graze the rubbery hardness of her nipple, and "Yes!" she whined again when his tongue lashed that same stiff point, and "YES!" she wailed loud when he began to suck and nurse upon her sweet boob. "Suck me like a baby," she pleaded, her fingers curling in his hair, her head thrown back, eyes closed deliriously. She loved to have her nipples kissed and licked and sucked, especially now when the guy was also beginning to use his fingers on her cunt!

His mouth full of tit, Chris let his hand slip southward, discovering en route that her navel was one of Cathy's most delightfully erogenous zones. She had a great many of these, he was learning, but the depression of her belly button and the flesh immediately surrounding it was a real champion, a standout in any crowd.

Regretfully he left it behind, about the same time he shifted his mouth to her neglected right nipple. The little pap reacted gratefully, throbbing and humming with sensuality as soon as he began to kiss it, but perhaps some of the reaction was due to the fact that his hand had simultaneously made contact with Cathy's sopping pussy.

He corkscrewed his finger into her hole, stiff digit probing and diving up her wet tunnel, and she opened her cunt for him. Her snatch was everything a girl's ought to be-hot and wet and TIGHT! She came on like Tina Russell, and he could jab his finger into her cunt deep enough to be positive she'd been fucked before, but she hadn't been worn out. Not by a long sight. Inside, where it counted, her twat was tight and snug as a young virgin, and no matter what happened in the next few minutes, he was going to get his prick into her cunt and fuck for all he was worth. If Gabriel blew his horn right now, Chris Robinson

would pass up the Last Judgement until he'd blown his nuts off inside Cathy's honey-dripping snatch.

She was writhing and thrashing as he nursed and stabbed at her pussy, and she wished nothing more at that moment than for him to hurry up and get on with the balling. Oh, she enjoyed what he was doing. She enjoyed the hell out of it! But after all, it had been nine goddamn days since she had been screwed, and her cunt was screaming a silent message to her brain- I wanna be fucked. I wanna be fucked. I wanna be fucked!

Cathy's crotch swiveled invitingly, and she tried to get her legs around him in an effort to catch his attention. Come on, she thought. I'm as hot as you're gonna get me. Crawl aboard and feed me your cock, your beautiful fat cock.

It wasn't the biggest or the thickest cock she'd had. Of the six different guys she had screwed up till now, one had a dong on him that was noticeably bigger than Chris', but at the same time, the guy's prick had been so big that it was slightly uncomfortable to have it inside her. And to make matters worse, he was like so many other guys with super cocks-he'd never learned, anything about technique, relying instead on his mammoth dick to get the job done. Which, as a lover, made him slightly less desirable than Cathy's language tutor, whose prick was only of average size, as she understood average size, but who could fuck up a storm once he had it inside her pussy.

Well, Chris had nothing to be ashamed of. His cock was about seven inches long, maybe a fraction less, and thick enough to give a girl a nice handful. Cathy knew from her fairly limited experience that he could fill her twat up nicely, without any undue strain upon her elastic young cunt, and she wished to hell he'd get on with it and fuck her.

"C'mon," she sighed, head rolling from side to side, "c'mon and do it to me." He continued to suckle her tits and rub and dig inside her pussy, and she realized that his arm must be dripping with her juices to the elbow at the very least. Her snatch had never been this hot and wet in her life, but then she'd never gone nine days without a lay since she'd first started fucking, either.

He made slurping noises as he ate her tit, smacks and pecks that rang a sympathetic chord somewhere round the base of her neck, and she throbbed in unison with his nuzzling. "C'mon, c'mon," her voice pleaded, breaking into a falsetto squeak as the need to be fucked became more and more pressing.

His teeth worried her nipple the way a dog worries a blanket tossed to him for play, and she screamed at the agonizing needs he seemed unwilling to satisfy. She bounced her plump ass on the ground again and again, cunt muscles throbbing around his inserted fingers, her mind not appreciating at all the obvious truth that his finger play was making her hotter, wetter, more ready to accept fully the forthcoming insertion of his prick.

"Fuck meee now!" she shrilled, pulling at his hair with both hands, causing little tears of sudden pain to fill his eyes. He raised his mouth from her titties, looking up at her face to see the look of unbridled passion and fuck-fury that possessed and twisted her features.

He noticed for the first time that her snatch was as wet as though she'd been swimming in the pond after all, that her twat muscles were beginning to twist and suck like a vise upon his teasing fingers. She was ready to fuck. It hadn't hurt her to wait. And after all, hadn't she played it cool and coy with him from the beginning, keeping him in suspense about her intentions right to the last minute, almost? Chris smiled and climbed to his knees, sliding out of the grip of one of her legs.

She paid no attention, for her eyes were closed tight and one of her hands had already ventured to assault the same tits and nipples which he had just relinquished. He saw her fingers tugging and jerking at the rock-hard brown nipples, saw her hands cupping and squeezing the firm round titties, and he could see the abundant droplets of juice that had seeped from her open snatch to collect in the dark, satiny ringlets of her fuzzy beaver. He crawled around, spreading her thighs wide.

Her snatch was open for him now, the pink and coral interior showing like a freshly revealed treasure hoard, and he loved it at first sight. Nothing turned him off like a pussy so worn-out that the inner cuntlips protruded like a pink-brown tongue. He liked his cunts nice and fresh and tight-the kind you have to open up in order to inspect, and he stroked his fingers through her gash once more for luck, now that he was ready to fuck her.

She whined as his fingers slid in her slippery slit, and she whined again when he caught the bud of her clitoris between two fingertips and squeezed it. More wetness seeped from her pussy when he touched her love button, and he knew from the way her twat smelled, from the slightly, hollow quality in her cry, that she was on the verge of coming already. So much the better. Her cunt had been tight and active upon his fingers when they were inside her hole, and he was pretty sure she'd have his nuts cracked in no time flat, so all the more reason to get her good and hot before he stuck his meat into her.

Cathy jolted at his first touch, the way she always did when a guy was about to put the prick to her, and she opened her eyes, half sitting up. He was between her spread thighs, tickling his knob on her cunt hairs, drawing the tip of his rod again and again along the dripping lips of her snatch. She wiggled her ass for him, scooting towards him so that he'd have no choice but to ram his tool home, all the while concentrating in an effort to make her cunt gape open so far his dick would be sucked in just like dirt into a vacuum cleaner.

He smiled at her, placed his prick squarely against the opening of her cunt, and he thrust suddenly, so quickly, so deftly, so unexpectedly, that she wasn't quite ready. She felt his cock drive home, all the way into her wet depths on that very first stroke.

His prick filled her cunt sensationally, just as she'd known it would, and the walls of her elastic-lined pussy snapped back into place around his imbedded cock, giving them both a sudden feeling of snug, warm wetness. Cathy closed her eyes again, sinking her head and shoulders back upon the cool green grass, her hips and ass lifting to meet his thrusts, retaliating in good kind for the deft and rhythmic pistoning of his crotch against hers.

Her twat was a wet glove of sticky, slick flesh upon his prick, and within seconds his hands had once again found her boobs, fighting with her own fingers for the right to play with her tits during their fuck, winning that fight and immediately putting the victory to good use. He caught her nipples in pinching, squeezing holds that made her scream in unparalleled delight, and the incessant activity of his fingers upon her paps signaled a telegram of increased arousal to her brain, serving only to underscore what Cathy already knew and knew well-that she was about to come!

Again and again his thick shaft slicked into her hole, pulled nearly all the way out, then rammed home once more. The constant stretching and releasing of her rubbery snatch mouth was making

her clit stretch and relax in equal measure, and this, coupled with the steady in-out, in-out, of his prick in her twat and the effective work of his fingers upon her hot, melting nipples, was too much for Cathy, making her scream out her joy long before she really wanted to.

"YESSSSS! I" she shrieked then, her body dissolving into a mass of molten lust. "OH, GOD!!" were the last coherent words to burst from her lips before the rippling of muscles and fibers within her body became uncontrollable and it seemed as if her very nerve endings lay raw and exposed.

Chris smiled indulgently to see her reaching an orgasm, proud of her for being so sensitive, proud of himself for having had the patience to arouse her so fully before seeking his own pleasure. She convulsed in the grip of her climax and he held up a moment, watching her and loving her, then he began to hump away, now in dead earnest, sawing his cock in and out, of her cunt in an attempt to reach his own release in time to share it with Cathy.

Fucking her during her orgasm was like nothing he could ever have imagined. Her cunt seemed to have become electrified, to be massaging his prick with millions of rolling, gliding fingers, and he knew from the way she clutched at his rod with the lips of her snatch, with the inner muscles of her pussy, that he could not hold back long.

He jabbed her again, again, again, three, four, five, six times more, fucking frantically, and suddenly he knew that his time was at hand. He looked at her, and he realized there was something he needed to know, to know fast! "Can I come inside you?" he asked in a sharp voice, trying to cut through the fog of release that hung over Cathy. "Is it all right if I come inside you?"

She squealed sharply, her eyes still shut, her

hands sifting through the grass on either side of where she lay, and he knew that she hadn't heard him, that she was in a world all her own at that moment.

"Can I come inside?" he asked once again, louder, clearer, but making no more impression. He knew it wouldn't. His question had been asked for the sake of convention that last time, for even as he spoke, he felt a sudden wrenching in his balls and his sperm began to let fly.

He was inside her cunt when the first squirt left his cock, and he knew there was no real safety in pulling out now, so he began to lunge and jab inside Cathy's pussy, jerking hard as he shot his creamy load.

She jerked in reply when she felt his first squishing spurt deep within, and her cunt throbbed and hammered with a new fire that even his copious jism could not extinguish. Her snatch wrung and twisted around his cock as he shuddered and came, and she used her cunt to suck his prick dry of everything his balls could produce.

Later, when they lay together, sweaty and naked, on the grass beside the pool in the woods, he whispered softly, "I tried to ask if it was all right for me to come inside you, but you didn't answer and I couldn't stop myself by then."

"It's all right, silly," she purred, "I'm on the Pill."

"Good," he sighed. "That's a very responsible attitude."

"It sure is," she agreed, "so remember that you don't have to ask the next time."

"Is there going to be a next time?"

"Bet your ass there is," she giggled, kissing him on the tip of his nose.