Ann Griffin
Skin summer

CHAPTER ONE

When Linda tugged off her faded jeans, pulled them down her long tan legs and dropped them on the floor beside her rumpled bed, she was clad in only a bra and a very brief pair of yellow panties. Through the thin amber silk, Sam could see the dark patch of her bush. In a few moments, she would be offering that sweet rounded hillock of flesh between her lags, and he would be accepting what she so badly wanted to give. This was the third time in two days they had met in her cabin to make love – always at her suggestion. It was that way with him. He very seldom needed to do the seducing.

Sam Walker was a beautiful boy, only twenty, but very much a man where it counted. His body was smoothly muscled, tawny. Afterwards, when he laid in bed with his women, they could never resist feeling his body with the same tenderness and passion a man usually feels toward a lovely woman. He had the face of someone you were certain you had seen in the motion pictures, and he would keep his boyishness, like Gary Grant or Hudson, keep it well through middle age. But it wasn't these things alone that drew women to him. He had an air of sensuality about him that was undeniable. He radiated a male virility that a number of types of women could not resist. Fortunately for him, he could come through in the bedroom well enough to insure that his original impression remained when the women left him. It was this talent with his male baggage that had gotten him spending money, a used car, and any number of other little luxuries during his first few years of college. It had also come in quite handy in one or two courses for getting better grades than he deserved.

"Get undressed," Linda said from the bed where she sat, her long, well-formed legs stretched out taut before her.

"You first," Sam said from where he stood by the door, still fully clothed. "I like it much better when you're naked first. Then you can undress me."

She shrugged her shoulders, pushed a strand of long, brown hair back from her face. He knew she would agree. Women always agreed with whatever he had in mind – especially after he had banged them once before. She reached behind and unclasped her bra, shrugged it down her arms, and dropped it on top of her jeans. Her breasts thrust out proudly, handfuls of warm, white flesh, a violent contrast to the darkness of her tan. He could see that the nubs of the nipples were standing high and tight in the middles of the huge pink-brown roseates. She was ready for him now, wanting him badly now. She would do anything to get him in her.

When he had first come to Daley-Hanover Camp for this summer job, Sam had been momentarily worried about being able to work his racket as he wished. It was essential that he be able to bind the camp director to him as insurance against being prosecuted for what he planned to do – and, more simply, as insurance against being fired. But the director had been Mrs. Amanda Worley, in her early sixties and well past the point where he could use his baggage to make her his tool. He had been about to abandon the entire idea, when Linda Mock had come into old lady Worley's office, and he had discovered that it was Linda who actually ran the camp, supervised the labor. Mrs. Worley was a figurehead and did a little paperwork, nothing else. She owned the camp, but she knew little or nothing about what went on in it.

And he knew he was going to be able to make it with Linda Mock, for she had given him the familiar cow-eyed look the first moment she had seen him, the look that said he could crawl into her pants any time he wished without any dues being involved. It was a great relief, for it not only meant he could keep his job and work his racket when the camp opened, but it meant he could enjoy Linda whenever he wished – and she was certainly an enjoyable enough female.

She had her panties off now, and was massaging her pubic thatch. "Come on, now," she said to him. "I want you quick."

Sam stood by the door a moment, making her wait. It was no good to do anything her way, for that put her in charge. He must always be the dominant partner if he were to keep her as a tool. At last, he crossed to the bed and stood before her, looking down at her thirty-eight size breasts, further to the curling black hairs at the bottom of her belly. She had been working her cunt with two fingers, and there was a trail of her sweet juice through her thatch.

"I want you to take my clothes off," he told her again, and he stood waiting for her to move.

She dropped to her knees before him and worked at his belt, then the snap on his Levi's.

"My shoes," he said.

She worked his shoes off, loafers, and his sox, then drew down his jeans. When he stepped out of those, she pulled down his white cotton shorts as well, helped him get rid of those, then turned back to the thick penis that hung in front of her face, bloated, red, throbbing with a hot rush of blood. She took it in her hands, feeling the heat of it, marveling at its size. It was between seven and eight inches long, but very much wider than most organs she had seen. She closed her eyes, kissed the knob of it, then stood and helped him out of his shirt.

She ground her bush against his crotch, pressed tightly against him, the curves of her luscious body molding into him, her heavy knockers hard against his chest. "Now?" she asked.

He smiled. She was possessed of some understanding now: she had no say and she realized it. She must do what he wanted of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and pressed down. "Suck my cock," he said. "For starters, anyway."

She went down before him and pressed her face between his legs, smothering herself in the heavy equipment nestled there. She was breathing heavily, excited. A moment later, she pulled back and grasped his penis in her hand, held it like a banana, looking at it with very wide eyes. Then she bent her head and slid the knob of his beast between her full, wet lips.

He started at the warmth and slickness of her mouth, felt his balls jerking on their cords. But his great talent had always laid in his ability to keep from ejaculating for excessively long periods, and he soon had a firm grip on himself.

She pulled back, letting the beast bobble before her, glistening with her saliva. "It's long," she said, still looking at it, unable to pull away her glazed eyes. "But that's not so important as the thickness. It's so wide, so thick."

He did not say anything, merely pushed her head nearer his aching rod.

"Wait," she said. "Can we move to the bed? Lay down, and I'll suck you then."

"Sure," he said, lifting her, cupping her large breasts and squeezing them, kneading them. He felt his prick jump between her legs like an animal with a life of its own. "Come on," he said, turning her to the bed. He stretched out, his head on a pillow so he could watch her work over him, then smiled at her.

She kissed his chest and belly, then his heavy penis. She slid the brute into her mouth, stuffed it back until she gagged. She tilted her throat at a slightly different angle and was able to get more of it in, tonguing the underside of it, pumping it in and out as if he was really buried in her cunt and not her mouth.

Sam gripped the sheets and concentrated on getting the most out of her soft mouth without spitting any precious cream. He was going to need every ounce of vitality starting tomorrow, and he would have to conserve on his fluids from now on. Daley-Hanover Camp was a summer retreat for the daughters of extremely wealthy families. The parents went to Europe or South America, and their daughters came here where they would be out of the way. The staff of the camp was female, except for the handyman needed for heavy work. This summer, Sam Walker had landed that post. He was confident that the paycheck he picked up from the camp would be secondary to the money he could get out of some of these wealthy little bitches.

There were bound to be a number of swinging chicks spending the summer here, away from civilization (the hottest place around was Tannersburg which had a population of two thousand) – and horny as hell. He was going to play as many of them as he could find and bend into the semi-slavish status he enjoyed with women. So now he must start conserving his juice.

Although it was difficult. Linda stirred him terribly as she pumped her mouth on his rod, faster and faster until every inch of his big organ was tingling mercilessly. He watched her eating him, then said, "Come on. You can do better than that."

She whimpered, then took the hairy sac between his legs and fondled the rocks inside while her mouth continued wetting the big penis. Her face was wild now, her hair in chaotic disarray, her own saliva over her chin and cheeks as she slobbered over his meat.

He drove his hips at her, trying to sock the organ down her throat. At last, when he felt the steaming of come in the base of his rod, he withdrew from her mouth and breathed deeply a moment until he knew he was safe from ejaculation.

"What do you want now, Sam?" she asked. She straddled him, a knee on each side of his chest.

He looked up at the knockers that hung over him like small mountains, ran his hands from them, down over her smooth belly, then grabbed her hips and rolled her sideways, moved on top of her. He took her right nipple into his mouth and sucked on it with greedy enthusiasm, squeezing the resilient flesh with both hands. When he left it for the other nipple, it stood ridiculously high and hard. Then he went down her body, kissing and licking her tan flesh, rustled his face in her bush, then spread her legs and brought the wet lips of her cunt into view.

He teased her with his fingers until she was writhing on the bed, making little noises deep in her throat and fighting for breath. Then he found her slit with his tongue and tasted her love box honey, nibbled gently at the button of her clit.

"My God, my God…" she sighed, arching her back, pushing the hot mouth of her love hole into his face.

He grabbed her round, taut buttocks in both hands and drew her up so that he could lick more deeply. He knew she exploded when her cunt walls convulsed, squeezed gently at his probing tongue. But he didn't stop there. He tongued her further, more thoroughly than even before, until he had brought her back to the brink of a second orgasm. He stopped then, came up to face her, dipped his fingers into the open Vaseline jar on the headboard, coated his prick to the base.

"Ask me," he said to her, looking into her face, keeping his eyes on hers.

She swallowed and clutched at him.

"Come on," he prodded. "Ask me now."

She closed her eyes and said, "Fuck me, Sam. Please fuck me. Ram your cock into me, Sam."

"With your eyes open," he said.

She opened her eyes, her face flushed red.

"Come on," he said.

"Fuck me."

"More," he said, not taking his eyes from hers. "I want to hear more than that."

"I love your prick," she said. "Put your lovely Goddamned prick in me. Please, fuck me, Sam."

He smiled, moved between her legs, and touched the tip of his burning organ to her wet slit. He hesitated only a moment, then drove it home, up to the balls, shivering with pleasure as the warm, sucking walls of her box slung to it and drew upon it with a thousand mouths.

She jerked upon the bed, threw both lovely legs around his back, strained to bring him even more deeply into the channel of her being. He probed her, slamming his organ in and out, faster and faster, keeping it against the top of her love tunnel to give her the greatest sensations possible.

"It's coming out my mouth," she said, clutching him. "Oh, Sam, it's so damned good. So fucking big."

"Fucking big," he agreed, somewhat breathless himself now.

"Here it comes," she said, wriggling, pounding, bouncing beneath him. "Oh, squirt now, Sam. Squirt me full. Come with me."

He clung to her, knowing he would have to come. This had been too good. If he didn't let go tonight, he would have blue balls for at least a day, aching cords and sac that would be a nuisance. But he didn't want to let it go this way.

Linda came, gurgling unintelligibly in her throat. When it was over for her, Sam withdrew his prick, straddled her, and nudged it against her lips once more.

"It's not clean," she said.

"Come on," he prodded.

"It's got my pussy on it – and your come."

"I haven't come yet," he said, thickly.

"You're not going to squirt in my mouth, are you? I don't like that. You know I don't."

"Suck it, damn you!" he shouted, ramming the blunt end of his big tool against her lips. It slid across her face, lubricated by her juices.

She opened her mouth and took him in, made a face at the taste of her cunt fluids and the Vaseline that remained. He was over her now, and he slammed his prick into her as if he were plunging her vagina. His balls slapped against her chin, adding to the wild sensations building hotly in his groin. Then, abruptly, the thick cream surged up his staff, burning through the tubes. She felt the surge and tried to pull away, but he grabbed her head and held her mouth on his penis, jetting the sweet load of his balls into her throat. He continued to pump until the last dribbles of fluid had been drained out of him and until his organ had become limp and useless.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said, still with the taste of his load in her mouth.

"You're hung up, baby," he said. "You won't grow a mustache or get a deep voice just because you ate me."

He stood and gathered his clothes, began dressing. She watched him from where she lay in the rumpled sheets. At last, when he was tightening his belt, she asked, "Will you be back tomorrow?"

He came to her and took a tuft of pubic hairs between his teeth, chewed them, then looked up at her. "Of course, lover. You're too good to avoid, you know."

"Do you mean that, Sam?" she asked, sitting up. When he nodded, she said, "I'm so glad! You're so good, and I want to please you as much as I can. You make me come three and four times. No man ever did that before. I want to keep you as long as I can."

He leaned forward and kissed her, holding her breasts in his hands, thumbing the nipples. When he pulled back, he said, "I'd like to stay. You know that. But tomorrow's the first day with the kids here, and we're going to need our energies."

"I know," she said.

He stood and left her there, closing the door to her cabin and walking down the trail between the pines to his own place. He chuckled as he walked. He had told Linda they must save their energies, and that was most certainly true. But while she would be saving them for the work of running the camp, he would be storing his own up for the little rich bitches of fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen years that would come through the main gates tomorrow.