"Coed camp" - читать интересную книгу автора (Romero John)

CHAPTER TWO

Dan was hot, tired, and irritated by the time he pulled into Camp Arrowhead the next afternoon.

"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Jerry Stein, the husky camp director. Jerry was also head tennis coach at Sherwood College, down in Connecticut. That was how Dan had been hired as a counselor for Camp Arrowhead; he was on the varsity team at Sherwood. The summer job, Jerry had assured him, would be a gravy train, fun and frolic and profit. Dan was Stein's number-one player, but right now he didn't seem to be the number-one boy.

The stocky ex-marine ran an impatient hand through his crew cut, graying hair. "Dammit, the Old Man was here at noon to give his annual pep talk to the staff. He wanted to know where you were."

"Sorry, coach," said Dan, trying to conceal his own irritation. He liked Stein a lot, and he was sorry to upset him, particularly at the beginning of a summer job like this. "I started out early enough, but my tires are running thin, so before I even got up to Albany, one of them blew. I was stuck on the freeway for more than an hour, trying to change the tire. Like a nut, I'd let my jack get rusty, and couldn't make it work. A truck driver finally stopped and helped me. Then I had to stop off at the next town to get the tire repaired. Didn't dare risk running all the way up here without a spare."

Stein glanced at the setting sun, and grunted. "Well, no great harm done. You can be sweet and diplomatic with the Old Man when you see him. He'll be on hand this weekend to make a welcoming impression on the kids and their parents coming in."

He looked more closely at the tall young man. "Say, you do look bushed. Have you had any chow?"

"Just a sandwich late this morning," Dan said.

"Well, go on over to the mess-hall-sorry, dining room. They're setting up things; they'll be able to give you a glass of milk and a sandwich, or a bowl of something. That ought to hold you until dinner-about six-thirty." He looked at his wristwatch. "It's four-thirty now. Then come on up to the main office and I'll assign you a cabin. Tomorrow I'll work your ass off."

Dan had to grin at the tough-talking coach, tired as he was. He knew the older man had a great affection for him, and he had a tremendous respect for Stein.

"Okay, coach. See you in a while." He climbed back into his aging MG sports car and tooled slowly in the direction of the spacious frame dining hall down by the lake.

He parked under a tall, leafy maple tree and went into the building. His head was aching and his vision was still a bit blurred from the glare of the sunlight, so he didn't notice the girl wiping off one of the long wooden tables with a dishcloth.

"Hi there!"

He turned to look, blinked, and stared, his headache momentarily forgotten. The girl who had spoken to him was facing him now, the dishcloth hanging from her hand. He saw the big smile first and the friendly deep brown eyes, her short nose and rather wide cheeks. Then he took in the rest of her. Her black, very wavy hair was cut close to her head like a helmet. The white T-shirt with the Camp Arrowhead insignia on the front made her dark skin appear even darker. Her legs, too, extending long and fully packed from a pair of light green shorts, were dark. His eyes roamed back up again, to the two prominent bulges pushing out the front of her T-shirt which proclaimed her very much a woman, although she appeared to be very young.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "I'm Dan Acres. I'm one of the counselors. What's your name?"

"Norma Medina." Her voice was throaty, with just a trace of huskiness. "I'm one of the galley slaves. Welcome aboard." She waved the dishcloth in a wide gesture and smiled again.

"Jerry Stein said maybe I could get a glass of milk and a bite to eat," he said.

"Oh. The boss. Well, if he said it, it's true. Mrs. Rogers is in there." She pointed toward the kitchen at the far end of the long hall. "Just tell her what you want."

"Thanks." He started back toward the kitchen. "I sure hope to see you around."

He looked back at her, again sizing up her lushly curving body and her white teeth gleaming in a warm smile.

"You will," he grinned.

Mrs. Rogers was a late-middle-aged woman, stocky and cheerful. While he ate the bowl of soup which she had quickly heated for him, she chatted freely, telling him about her children, all grown up and away, and herself, a widow and alone most of the year. That was why she enjoyed working as straw-boss at the dining hall in the summer when the camp was open. She was a very nice woman, Dan told himself, but she didn't help his headache with all her chattering.

He thanked her and went back through the dining hall. Norma was not in sight. His head was throbbing steadily and painfully when he went into the main office.

"Coach," he told Stein, "I've got a ripper of a headache. Do you have some aspirin?"

"You do look under the weather," said Stein, staring up at him keenly. "Go on over to the infirmary. Marsha Wilson is there. She's the nurse. We can take care of your quarters later."

Leaving the MG parked in front of the main office, he walked the fifty yards or so to the building with a huge red cross painted on the side. He stepped up on the porch and knocked at the screen door.

"Come in," a voice called.

He pushed the door open and went in. A woman with carefully arranged platinum blonde hair sat at a desk, writing on a piece of paper. Instead of a nurse's uniform, she had on a pair of white shorts and a blue polka-dot halter. Dan noticed immediately that the halter was well filled and straining, and the halter wasn't large enough to conceal the deep cleavage down the front. She put down her pen and turned around in her chair to face him.

"Hello," she said with a pleasant smile. "What can I do for you?" Her blue eyes swept up and down the tall, wide-shouldered young man standing before her, and an extra interest flamed in them for an instant, to be quickly replaced by a more professional look.

"I've got a splitting headache, nurse," Dan said, running his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Could you let me have a couple of aspirins? Oh," he caught himself, "this damn thing's hurting so bad, I'm forgetting my manners. I'm Dan Acres. I'm the tennis counselor-or coach-or whatever you call it."

She laughed, a light, pleasing laugh. "Whatever you call it. Okay. What caused your headache?" She gestured to a chair next to the desk.

He told her about not getting much sleep the night before-though he didn't go into detail as to why. And about the long drive in his open sports car, the tire blowout, no lunch.

She got up and stood by him, placing a cool hand across his forehead. "Pretty feverish," she commented. He caught a slight whiff of an exciting musky perfume, but it was tantalizingly faint. "Come on in the other room and relax. The main ward isn't ready yet, but you can relax in my place."

He got up and followed her through a door that led into a simple but comfortable efficiency apartment. She motioned for him to lie back on a chaise lounge; mean- while she went into her bathroom, returning quickly with two white tablets and a glass of water. He swallowed the tablets and drank the water and lay back. She put the glass away, then came back and sat on the foot of her large double bed, a few feet from the chaise lounge.

Through half-closed eyes he looked her over more closely as she sat facing him. He guessed Marsha must be in her late twenties, but she was certainly a well-kept woman. Every blonde hair was in place, her brief clothes fit perfectly, her fingernails were smoothly manicured and polished, her eyebrows were full but delicately arched. Her smooth, milky-white thighs were as firm and shapely as Angie's. At the thought of Angie, he recalled the little episode of the night before, and a light smile touched the comers of his lips.

"You must be getting better already, Dan," Marsha said. She had been looking him over as intently as he had her. "What do you study in college?"

"I'm going to be a doctor," said Dan. "I'll be going down to New York this fall to go into pre-med."

"Great. Maybe we can swap some professional notes, Doctor," she said.

"Dh, I've got a long way to go yet," he said, opening his eyes and looking into hers. "You can probably teach me a lot."

She studied him sharply for a second, to see if his words had a double meaning. But Dan kept his face completely innocent. "We'll see about that," she promised. "Maybe you'll have time to give me some lessons in tennis."

He grinned. "Frankly, you're so pretty and so-unruffled looking-I can't imagine you running after a ball and puffing and sweating."

"I might surprise you," she said, a little smile on her smooth lips. She got up and came over to press her hand against his forehead again.

"That feels good," Dan said. "Your hand is so cool. And it's nice and cool in here."

"Then just relax, Dan," she said, keeping her hand on his forehead.

He caught the scent of her perfume again, a musky scent that excited him as no flowery perfume ever did. He wondered what it was. He felt a pressure against his shoulder, and without moving his head he turned his eyes. She was closer now, her rounded hip touching his shoulder. He moved his eyes upward to see the out-thrust bottom of her halter, rounded by the big tits it contained. They jutted so far out he could only see part of her face.

His headache was gone. He wasn't sure, but the pressure of her hip against his shoulder seemed to be increasing just a bit. He reached his hand up and placed it over hers, against his forehead.

"You're a great doctor," he said, "You've made my headache go away."

She turned her hand about, grasping his and lowering it so that the back of it pressed against her bare thigh. He leaned his head over until it rested lightly against her halter. Her other hand came up and clasped the back of his head, pressing it closer into her springy boobs.

"I think you're probably a great coach," she said. "Does this feel good?"

"It sure does."

"Then just relax," she said. She began to massage his neck and his shoulder muscles. "You've got a fine set of shoulders for a young man, Dan. How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," he said.

"You're a big boy," she said, massaging slowly and deeply.

"I could go to sleep like this," he said after a while.

"You'd better not," she said with a pleasant chuckle. "If Jerry Stein or anybody else came in and found you sleeping in my bedroom, they'd kick us both out of this camp. You must have missed out on C-C's lecture on purity and morality at lunch. Of course. You hadn't come in yet."

"Who's C-C?"

"That's Charles Culpeper, owner and grand mogul of Camp Arrowhead. Also, the one-man watch and ward committee. Oh, you should have heard him, Dan. Like an old Puritan preacher, warning us of the devil in the flesh." She laughed again. Dan liked her laugh, a light musical sound, more like that of a young girl than a-well, an older woman. He wanted to ask her how old she was, but was afraid that it might get off on the wrong foot.

He laughed, "And what was the main theme? Don't seduce the twelve-year-olds?" He moved an arm up and about her hips, his hand pressing lightly on the plump cheek of her firm ass. He felt like clutching it, but he didn't want her to think he was just an impatient young punk.

She didn't seem to mind. Her right hand continued expertly massaging his neck and shoulders, while her left held his free hand, still against her thigh. I've got all summer, he thought. I'd better play this cool.

"Well, yes, it was something like that," she said. "But he went into such a lurid discussion of what not to do, I've got a sneaking suspicion that our white-haired C-C is really a dirty old man."

"Then a beautiful woman like you had better be careful around him," said Dan.

She stopped massaging his neck and sat down on the edge of the chaise lounge. Still holding his other hand, she looked steadily and openly into his eyes. "I'll be very careful around him, Dan," she said. "But I might appreciate the attentions of a healthy, clean-cut young man like you."

A pleasant sensation shot up through his groin and through his guts. He looked back at her, his dark brown eyes fixed steadily on her shadowed blue eyes. "I might have a relapse this evening," he said. "Your massage really works miracles and I might need another."

Her slightly pouting lips curved in a wide smile. "For a young man, Dan," she said, "your head is on remarkably straight. I'll be in all evening, and here in the good clean outdoors we don't lock doors."

After Stein had assigned him to a cabin, Dan moved his luggage in, took a shower, and lay down to loaf until dinner time, only a few minutes away. He dozed off, to be awakened by Stein roaring at him from the open doorway of the cabin.

"Come on, dream boy. Soup's on. Let's go."

Dan slipped on a pair of slacks and a clean sport shirt, shoved his feet into a pair of comfortable moccasins and joined his boss. They walked down together.

The table nearest the kitchen was set up for Stein and the counselors. Dan noticed that Norma and a skinny young sandy-haired boy with adolescent pimples were waiting on the table, and through the open door to the kitchen he saw two more young girls helping Mrs. Rogers.

Stein introduced Dan to the others at the table. Except for a married couple who seemed to be in their late thirties, the other counselors were like himself, college students. Their names slid right out of his memory, but he figured that they would all be well acquainted in a few days. He glanced about for Marsha, the nurse.

At that instant she came in, looking fresh and cool in a simple light frock and a pair of sandals. "Hello, everybody," she greeted them. "I hope I haven't held up dinner."

"Not a chance, Marsha," the older woman, the married counselor, laughed. "We're just waiting for the food."

The two girls in the kitchen came out then, carrying plates and bowls of food. Behind them came the young boy with bread and other things on a tray. Dan raised his eyes and looked across the table and into the kitchen and saw Norma standing facing him. When she saw him looking, she flashed him a cute smile and a long wink. Then she moved out of his range of vision. Now what was that supposed to mean? he asked himself.

"Would you pass the salt, please, Dan?"

He looked diagonally across at Marsha, who had directed the request at him. The salt shaker was right in front of him. "Of course." He picked it up and handed it to her. Their fingers met lightly, but the smile she gave him was purely impersonal. He could hardly believe this was the same luscious female who had so recently caressed him and made a date for that night. She was a cool chick, all right.

After dinner he went down to the lake with Buddy Young, the short, muscular swimming instructor. Buddy was a pleasant-seeming man, about his own age, heavily tanned and with short dark-brown hair. "Feel like a dip, Dan?" he asked.

"Sounds like a good idea," Dan said. "I'll have to go back to my cabin and break out a pair of swimming shorts."

"Don't bother," said Buddy. "It's past sunset, and it'll be dark pretty soon. We can just go out to the end of the dock and swim in our skivvies."

They went out on the wooden boardwalk which extended about thirty-five yards into the lake, ending in a large square float. They stripped down to their underwear and dived in.

Dusk had settled in when they swam back to the ladder and pulled themselves up on the float.

"Skinny dippin' already! I declare, you all are just the most."

"Come join us, Annabelle," Buddy said to the tall, slim blonde with the mint-julep accent who stood on the float, looking down at them.

"Unh, unh. No way. That's just too much exercise for me," she drawled.

Dan wondered if the accent was for real. The girl certainly was. She looked very slim in her hip-hugging jeans and bare midriff blouse, but even in the growing darkness he could see that she had a pair of fair-sized tits. The blouse was extremely thin and she had on no bra. Her nipples showed plainly against the sheer material. She brushed her long straight hair back from her face and surveyed the two wet men calmly. They both had on jock shorts and they were dripping water on the float. Buddy looked at her, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his shorts.

She caught the hint. "I'd best get myself out of here before you embarrass me," she said, and turning around she strolled casually and gracefully back over the boardwalk.

"I'll bet you'd be embarrassed," Buddy muttered.

"What's her name?" Dan asked.

"That's Annabelle Faulkner, our riding instructor. Jerry Stein calls her 'Miz Magnolia.' "

Dan laughed. "Looks interesting."

They peeled off their sopping underwear and got back into their slacks and shirts and shoes and went back up to the camp.

Dan went to his cabin and dried down and put on some more clothes. His wet body had made the others uncomfortably damp. He looked at his watch. It was past eight o'clock, and quite dark outside. He turned out the light in the cabin and went out, leaving the door open. The camp was far enough away from any neighbors that there was no fear of prowlers. A large forest surrounded it, except for the lake front, and Arrowhead Lake was miles wide.

In the darkness he made his way toward the infirmary. As he went past the main office, he could see through the lighted window Jerry Stein and the married couple sitting around drinking coffee. Dan went on past.

The infirmary was in darkness, but he remembered what Marsha had said about being in, and the door being unlocked. He stepped carefully up on the porch and felt his way to the door. It was unlocked. He pushed in and entered, closing the door behind him. The office was dark, but he remembered the layout. Still feeling his way, he crossed the office and came to the door on the far side, which was also unlocked. And when he opened it, there was light in the room inside.

Marsha lay against a stack of pillows on her bed, reading a book under the shaded light of a bed lamp. She had on a thin, cream-colored caftan that came almost to her ankles. Without moving her body, she raised her eyes to him and smiled.

"Come on in, Dan. I was expecting you."

Dan came in and closed the door securely behind him. His quick glance showed him that heavy curtains were drawn over her apartment windows. For a moment he stood there uncertainly. He knew why he was there, but Marsha was so cool and sophisticated that he didn't want to blow the whole scene by acting like a teenager.

Marsha relieved the situation by getting up and sliding gracefully off the bed. "I have a bottle of Riesling wine chilling on ice. Would you care for a glass?"

This is class, Dan thought. "Yes, thanks," he said. He would have said yes if Marsha had offered him strychnine.

She stepped behind the counter to the refrigerator and lifted out an ice bucket with a wine bottle sticking out the top. She set it on the counter and lifted two glasses down from a shelf.

"This is a real nice place, Marsha," be said.

"It is," she agreed. "It's tiny, but everything's convenient. I can even cook a meal on this hot plate if I don't feel like going down to the dining hall."

She poured two glasses of wine while Dan stood wondering where he should sit down. Except for the chaise lounge, there was no other chair in the bedroom. Marsha brought the glasses toward him.

"Just sit on the bed," she said, placing the glasses on the oversized bedside table. She moved the pillows around and made room for him.

He kicked his moccasins off and sat cross-legged on the bed near the edge, where he could reach his wine. Marsha sat against the headboard, facing him. She lifted her glass.

"To a pleasant summer," she said.

"To us," he responded.

She smiled. "I like that."

They sipped their wine, and then Dan said frankly, "You know, I figure I'm very lucky. You're a wonderful person, I can tell. But I can't quite figure why you-you know-invited me around right off like this, before you even get to know me."

She laughed, her melodic light laugh that he found so appealing. "It's not really that sudden, Dan. Remember, I've been in the medical field a long time. I'm thirty years old, in case you're wondering. And I've learned a lot about human nature. You're quite mature for your twenty-one years, and I can tell that you're a man who keeps his own counsel. Of course," she smiled, a frankly inviting smile, "you're a very attractive and virile-looking man, too."

Dan leaned toward her and she leaned to meet him. They kissed, a short, get-acquainted kiss.

He chuckled. "You know, the only bees-and-flowers talk I ever had with my father, he said to me, 'Son, don't ever talk about your women. It's not gentlemanly. And it's not smart.' "

"And have you had a lot of women, Dan?" Marsha asked, her warm smile broadening.

"Not really," he admitted honestly. "Very few, in fact. I guess I've been more interested in a lot of other things, sports and stuff, than in being a full-time cocksman."

"I like that," she said, and drank some wine. "Do you like this wine?"

"It's good," he said.

"Then finish it," she said.

He turned up his glass, drained it, then he put it down on the table beside hers.

"Take off your clothes," she said.

He was hardly surprised at the abrupt words. With Marsha, he felt that everything would be exciting and different. He stood up and quickly stripped off his clothes, tossing them across the chaise lounge. Then he sat back on the bed beside her, leaning against the cushions at the headboard.

She looked down at his cock, which was beginning to rise. "That's a nice tool," she said, reaching over to stroke it expertly. She circled her thumb and forefinger just behind the rim of the head and squeezed. It grew larger and harder under the warmth and pressure of her smooth fingers.

Dan put his arms about her shoulders and started to pull her into his arms, but she put a hand up against his chest and held him away.

"Slowly, Danny boy," she smiled, her blue eyes burning brightly into his. "We've got a lot of time, and we want this to be very good. When all the kids get here this weekend, we might not have many more such beautiful opportunities. You must learn to make these fortunate occasions work for you."

Dan relaxed, taking his arms from about her. He was quite willing to follow her lead; Marsha was something else!

Her hands began caressing his body. "Lie down," she said. "Remember, we were going to give you a massage."

He rolled over on his belly, his hard-on flattened between him and the midnight-blue satin bedspread. Her hands moved over his back, his neck, down over his waist and over his ass. One hand went between his thighs and moved up high, her fingertips stroking his balls, then coming up to tickle his asshole. He quivered all over. Her caressing hands slid on down the back of his thighs, over his calves, and-*strange sensation-*he felt her smooth cheek against his ankles as she leaned far down. Then as her hands moved back up his body, he felt her soft lips gliding lightly over his skin as well. When she reached his ass, he felt her teeth bite lightly into his skin, and again he quivered. At that moment he would have sold his soul for Marsha.

His cock was so stiff under him now that he had the notion that it would spring him up off the bed.

She stopped and sat up.

He turned to face her, wondering what was next in store. She leaned and kissed him again, this time more lingeringly. And again he caught the subtle musky scent that excited him so.

"Go pour us some more wine, Danny," she said. She turned from him and clicked on her radio to an FM, all music station. Soft mood music came, permeating the sealed-in atmosphere of the room.

Dan slid off the bed, his cock throbbing heavily in front of him as he picked up the empty wine glasses and went behind the counter. She looked at his wide shoulders and trim waist admiringly.

When he turned back toward the bed with the two wine glasses in his hands, Marsha lay naked on the blue spread, and the light had been turned down even lower. Dan caught his breath. He walked slowly toward her, and she watched him, her eyes shadowed but wide open. He sensed that she delighted in every sensation, from her eyes, her fingertips, her… what else? It seemed to him that his cock swelled larger than it had ever been before. It was like some sort of radar, tuning in on her vibrations.

Her eyes dropped and focused on the throbbing, pulsing rod, and she narrowed her gaze and her pink tongue came out to run across her upper lip. As he came to the bedside, she sat up sinuously, like a graceful white cat, her large smooth thighs stretching out as she straightened up. Her large melon-shaped tits swung outward, sloping a bit from their weight.

He saw that the hair covering her cunt was as platinum blonde as that on her head. Undoubtedly she bleached it with the same bleach she used on her head, and rinsed it with the same rinse. He thought she looked like a goddess. Carefully he set the full wine glasses on the bedside table. She patted the bed beside her lightly, indicating for him to sit there again.

They raised their glasses to each other, then drank deeply. Marsha reached for his glass and put it and her own down on the table. Almost in the same curving motion, she dropped her head down across his belly so that he felt her smooth blonde curls brushing against his pubic hair. And then he felt his cock being enveloped in a hot, moist mouth, with soft lips pulling and pressing around the head. Her tongue rubbed across the head and wrapped around it, flickering along the rim. Then he felt her sharp teeth biting with tender lightness into his shaft, halfway down to his balls. He felt that she was swallowing him. Involuntary quivers tremored in his belly.

Abruptly she came off him and straightened up. She picked up the two glasses of wine, handing one to him. She tilted her own, taking a deep swallow. Dan did the same, feeling that he was just following cues in this ecstatic game.

They finished the wine and she placed the empty glasses on the table. Then she turned to him again. He took her in his arms, and this time she did not push him away. His lips covered her own in a long, deep communion. Her tongue moved lightly at first, just the tip darting at his lips, then thrusting deeper inside his mouth. He felt her smooth body tensing under his embrace. As his fingers kneaded the pink nipples of her swaying tits, her breath came in quicker pants.

Finally, he thought, we're going to fuck. I'm going to shove my cock inside a hot, juicy pussy and finally get my rocks off. He felt her warm hand squeezing his feverish cock. He leaned against her, pressing her body down toward the bed.

But she glided out from under him and leaned back against the headboard cushions again. Her hand went under his chin, stroking softly.

"Danny, I'll bet you've never eaten a pussy, have you?"

He shook his head.

She smiled. "It's something you must learn. I'll show you first." She pressed him back so that he lay against the cushions. Then her head dropped and he felt her lips sucking and nibbling at his throat and down his chest. She nipped lightly at his nipples and they hardened into sensitive little nubs. Her tongue came out and lapped at his chest, down across his belly, into his belly-button.

His ass began to quiver. Down she went, below his belly button and across the front of his thighs, the sharp point of her tongue stabbing at his legs while her soft lips brushed and kissed and sucked at his flesh. He looked down at her beautiful platinum head between his thighs, moving upward as her tongue licked moistly between his thighs and her hair brushed his balls. His cock got harder than ever and thumped against her forehead as she went up higher into his balls. He felt one of them sucked into her mouth and caressed by her tongue, then it was released and the other went in, a soft suction that almost made him come.

Her hands went around his ass and cupped his cheeks firmly in her hands as she raised her head for a moment, poised, then slid down on his cock, swallowing nearly half of it into her mouth. He could feel the head rubbing against the soft palate in the back of her mouth, and his ass quivered faster.

Just as he was about to put his hands on top of her head, to hold her down on him while he fucked her mouth and throat, she pulled up and away. She slid back up alongside him on the bed, drew his head to hers and gave him a long, open-mouthed kiss.

"That's heaven, Marsha," he said. "I've never had anything like that."

"I'm sure you haven't," she said. "Now it's your turn. But first, let me show you something-Doctor." She took his hand and pressed it against her hairy mound. He felt the moisture of the love-juice soaking the hair. Her hand fitted over the back of his, her middle finger pressing his. Skillfully she guided it into her cunt, maneuvering his finger until it touched a small protuberance. As he instinctively stroked his finger tip across it, she gasped.

"That's it," she said, lying back across the cushions. "That's my clitoris. Now it's your turn."

He lay across her so that part of his chest pressed against her hard-nippled tit, and he kissed her lips, running his tongue about the inside until he could feel her body tensing. Meanwhile his hand was caressing her other tit, fondling it and stroking the nipple until it was almost as hard as a round marble. He lowered his head and took the nipple in his mouth, sucking it and nipping it gently with his teeth while her hand came up and stroked the back of his head and neck.

Just as she had done, he went on down, his lips traveling over her smooth white belly. The musk scent came more strongly from around her belly-button, he found, as his tongue poked into the deep hole. As her hips began to writhe, he slid his hands underneath her, caressing the firm round cheeks of her well-developed ass, then gripping a cheek in each hand. He went lower in the bed, his head sliding between her satiny thighs. She spread them far apart as his lips traveled up the warm, moist skin of the inside, right up to the hairy lips of her cunt.

He raised his head and with his fingers he parted the silvery hair, exposing the pink-purple lips of her pussy. He put his mouth against them and shoved his tongue in as far as it would go, licking it up and down against the smaller inner lips. He pulled her cunt wider apart and found her rigid little clit with his tongue tip.

Then Marsha nearly went wild. Her legs jerked up and her thighs clamped softly but firmly around his ears, nearly smothering his face in her musk-scented bush. Moans tumbled out of her, her back arched and her body writhed with ecstasy. He held onto her ass tightly, burrowing farther and farther into her love-tunnel with his tongue, then moving it up to titillate her clit again.

Her heels came down hard against the bed and she threw her hips up, plunging against his face as he thrust his tongue deeper. Her clit became more distended, and he sucked it, hard. Her sharp moans became a series of little yelps and her back arched up off the bed in short frantic heaves. Then she collapsed with a long, shuddering sigh, and Dan knew that she had come.

He moved back up alongside her and held her quivering body in his arms until she began to relax.

"Ah, Dan, you're marvelous," she exclaimed, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. She gazed at him tenderly. "You really brought me off, darling." She kissed him, softly at first, then more passionately as his hands roamed over her body again. She slid a hand down and grasped his hard, eager cock. "This needs some action," she said.

She drew him on top of her, spreading her legs wide for him to slide between. Still holding his cock, she guided the head up against the juicy lips of her cunt. Then she rubbed the head between the lips until it, too, was wet.

"Now," she said, putting her hands on his ass and pulling him into her.

His cock slid in fairly easily at first, but the walls of her pussy seemed to block him when he was halfway in. He stopped pushing.

"Is everything all right, honey?" he asked.

"It's wonderful," she gasped. "But you're so big, Dan. You have a magnificent cock. Just go slowly. Okay?"

He knew that the excitement plus the heat of her snug pussy had caused his dong to swell even larger than usual. He backed out a couple of inches, leaving just a little more than the head inside the tight passage. Then he began to push in short strokes, going no deeper than halfway. Her excitement increased and her tunnel got even juicier. She began to roll her hips rhythmically, and he fell into the rhythm.

Gradually he slid in more cock, making the strokes longer. It was feeling so good he felt that he would have to come.

"I think I'm going to shoot off," he said.

She stopped her movements immediately. "Hold it," she said. She slipped a hand down under her ass and between her legs and seized the base of his co‹;k, right at the balls. She squeezed down, very hard, and Dan felt the action stopping. After a few moments he regained control of himself.

"Okay?" she asked.

"Okay," he said.

She let go his cock and put her hand on his back again, and slowly renewed the steady rhythm of her hips. Now he was all the way in, his balls hitting against her ass on the instroke. She slipped her hand down again, this time to hold his balls. Soon her breathing was speeding up and her fingers dug into his back.

"Come with me this time, honey," she gasped, quickening the rhythm of her ass movements.

He pushed into her harder, and as he felt the charge of sperm building up, he slammed even more forcefully against her. But her passion made her slam, back against him just as hard, panting each time her ass came up against him.

"Now!" she said. "Now! Now! Now!"

He felt her hand slide down from his back to his ass, and just as the first spurt of jism blasted through the length of his cock, she shoved her finger into his asshole. His muscles tightened in reflex and he shoved his ass forward, driving his cock right up to the end of her love-tunnel.

"Oh!" she cried, and locking her legs about his hips, she squeezed him as if she would crush him. Her pussy muscles, too, clamped down, milking away at his pulsing, squirting cock, and he felt that he would come forever.

Finally he lay panting and sweating across her body, completely spent.

"Baby, I've never come like that before," he said, when he could get his breath.

Marsha said nothing, but just smiled contentedly.

They lay silently for a long time, perfectly relaxed. Finally she shoved at his shoulder, and he rolled off her and onto his back. She slipped off the bed and hurried into the bathroom. In less than a minute she was back, a warm, wet hand towel in her hands. She raised his now limp tool, considerably shrunken in size, and wiped it clean with the towel. She went thoroughly all over his balls, too, and the inside of his thighs.

"Now," she said, "you'd better get dressed and slip out of here before we fall asleep and find ourselves in an embarrassing predicament in the dawn."

Dan dressed quickly, gave her a warm goodnight kiss, and crept quietly out through the dark office. He made his way through pitch darkness to his cabin. Without turning on any lights, he stripped down to his shorts and crawled into his bunk. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.