"Skin summer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Griffin Ann)

CHAPTER FOUR

The next day contained two major events in Sam Walker's life. First, he obtained his initial money as a camp hustler from Brenda Markwell. Second, he met Susan Calderwood-Logan. In the end, he would find the second girl was a much more important moment in his life than receiving money from the first.

When he came back to his cabin after lunch, most of his assigned chores already completed, Sam found a note from the Markwell girl. It was cryptically written so that no other eyes would understand it, but he knew what she meant and wanted. Her roommate was going to be gone until three, and that would give them the time they needed. He washed his face and hands, put on a touch of shaving lotion, and left for her cabin.

He was careful to be certain no one saw him go to or enter her cabin. Even though Linda was bound to him, word might get back to old lady Worley, and his ass would be grass.

Brenda Markwell was waiting for him, dressed only in a light blue robe. She pressed against him, asking for a kiss, and he gave her one she would not likely forget while his hands divested her of the robe. Her body was vibrant and exciting as he remembered it, and his swelling prick tented the front of his pants. He caressed her breasts, ran his hands down the marvelously curved back, clamped her buttocks, squeezed them until she whimpered, then continued toying with her breasts.

"You too," she said. "Undress."

It was time to make her grovel, to bind her to him with her own desire, the way he worked with all women. "You do that for me," he said.

She didn't mind. She took off his shirt, socks and shoes while he sat on the bed, then worked him out of his jeans and shorts, his prick springing free and bobbling heroically before her face.

"You couldn't fuck a virgin," she said playfully, squeezing the huge tool. "You'd kill her."

He pushed her head down, and she willingly licked his organ, starting at the hairy base and running her sharp tongue up the underside of it, then back down. It was a delightful sensation. When she tired of that, she stuffed him into her mouth while petting his heavy nuts.

At last, when he could take no more, he took his prick out of her pretty little lips and drew her onto the bed with him. He mounted her with skill, and she gasped as she was penetrated. It was no chore to hold down his cream, for his supply of the stuff had been quite depleted when he had shot onto Linda's face the night before. He slid his massive prong in and out, withdrawing all but the very tip, then slamming it in to the base. She convulsed twice before he pulled out of her.

"You haven't made it," Brenda said.

"I'm trying not to, baby. I want to give you a good ride."

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

From her expression, he could tell that she was asking for some special service. It might be unpleasant if it were some freaky hang-up of hers, but he did not dare reject offhand – or he could almost stop counting on ever prying a dime out of the little cocksucker. "Anything you want," he said.

"I…" She was embarrassed now. And this was the girl who never blushed, supposedly.

"Yes?"

"I like to be mistreated," she said, her voice stiff, as if she were asking a very proper question. He could tell that she expected to be refused offhand.

"You mean you want me to beat you?"

"No," she said. But she did not elaborate.

"Look, Brenda love," he said, "I can't read minds."

"You'll hate me," she said.

"God! Hate you for a hang-up. Hate these beautiful tits and that hot little box? Never. I don't care what turns you on. Tell me."

"Would you… could… piss on me," she said, not looking at him, trying to be as small and miserable as possible. "I don't like beatings. The pain lasts after the fun. But if you could…"

He had trouble controlling his face this time, for the first time in his life. At the same time as he was disgusted, he was also excited. There was something about the idea that appealed to him immensely. He liked his women debased, and there could hardly be any more humiliating act he could perform on her. And when he saw how bad she wanted this, he knew it was the key he needed.

"Okay," he said, watching as her face lighted and she became more animated than ever before – more than when he had eaten and screwed her. "Before we get carried away," he said quickly, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What?" she asked.

"I haven't gotten my first paycheck. And I have some bills I just have to pay or get jailed for. I was wondering if I could borrow some money from you."

She looked at him out of lowered lashes, just flecks of her brilliant blue eyes showing. She flipped her blonde hair out of her eyes and smiled at him with a mixture of impatience, anger, humor, and irony. "It's like that, is it?"

"Like what?" he asked.

"You're hustling me."

"I want to borrow…"

She leaned forward and grabbed his stiff pecker. "No, sweets. What you've got here and what you're willing to do with it are worth paying for. Without you, I'd die in this ghastly hole. How much?"

"How much have you got?" When she laughed, he got off the bed and went to the dresser, opened her purse and found the wallet. There was a hundred and twelve dollars inside. "Can you get more whenever you want it?"

She laughed again and said that she could.

"I'll take fifty then. Does that sound fair." When she agreed, he laid the bills on the dresser and closed her purse, went back to her. "Where do we do it. Not in the bed?"

"No," she said. "On the floor where I can clean it up later. In the living room. There's no carpet."

They went into the living room, and she knelt before him, then stood up. "You'll never manage it all stiff like that. You'll have to lose your hard." She went away, came back with a cold washcloth. He jumped when she wrapped his dick in it, but he soon wilted as she wanted him too.

"Hurry," she said, "On my face. Please on my face." She closed her eyes, waiting.

He knew that he would grow hard again soon, and he strained his bladder. "I've never heard of this," he said.

"You don't hate me?"

"No. No, but why?"

"I don't know why," she said impatiently, and he realized any further questioning would only infuriate her.

Then he felt the warm urine coming up his limp staff. A moment later, it streamed out, struck her face. He raised and soaked her hair, then trained it on her breast, back to her face. Yellow liquid dripped from her nipples, her nose, her full lower lip. She licked her lips and hugged herself. He saw her contract, quiver, climax twice. He had not realized a masochist could have an orgasm just from being debased and humiliated.

Then the fluid would not come anymore, for his prick had grown again, larger than ever before. Brenda scuttled forward and began sucking it. The unusualness of the situation had brought him to an apex of sensuality from which he saw only one way down. He slammed his hips into her urine slimed mouth until his cream charge spattered down her throat and there was no more male milk in him.

"You can go now," she said. She looked him in the eye, unashamed. "I'll clean this up before my roomie gets back."

He dressed and left without a word – but with his first fifty dollars.

He checked in at the office to see if Linda had any work to be done. He noticed that she seemed to be dragging this morning. There were large dark circles under her eyes, and her face was drawn. When he came into the office, Jenny Sansom rushed over as if guarding the younger girl. When he saw what there was between them, he only smiled, took the three job sheets Linda had for him, and left.

It did not surprise him that she was AC-DC, that she could use that marvelous body with women as well as men. Linda was oversexed, and she probably rarely ever received as much loving as she wanted. As long as Jenny Sansom wasn't able to turn Linda against him, he didn't care who ate her cunt.

He fixed a broken window pane in the dining hall door and replaced the washers in a cold water kitchen sink tap in one of the cabins. It was on the third job that he met Susan Calderwood-Logan, and that was to change just about everything.

The water that had been coming out of the taps the last two or three hours had been somewhat muddy. Linda wanted him to drive up to the small reservoir on the mountainside above the camp and check the pumps and filters to see what was malfunctioning. It was only a mile, but he did drive rather than waste energy walking.

The reservoir was kidney shaped, the second lobe invisible from the first, screened by a copse of trees and brush. He checked the pumps in the first lobe of the kidney and found the intake pipe had slipped off its mooring post and was lying on the floor, sucking up mud from the reservoir bottom as well as water and weeds. It was a simple matter to reset the pipe and secure it. When he was done, he heard the splashing noise from the other lobe of the kidney, listened a moment, wondering whether deer were down to drink. He worked his way along the shoreline, around the trees, and carefully peered out, looking for the deer. He saw nothing at first, for he had been so certain of animals that he had not been adjusted to the sight of a girl. She stood in two feet of water, half facing his direction, completely nude.

It had to be one of the girls from the camp, for no one else could have reached the reservoir. He watched her, admiring the absolute beauty of her body. Despite the experience with Brenda Markwell only hours before, he felt his penis stiffen and nudge at his shorts, anxious to be free.

For a fleeting moment, he was amused at the way sex could so easily slip into his mind. It seemed that he was perpetually ready to plunge his meat into anything female, like a stag without sense. Yet sex was what life was all about, wasn't it? Men and women welded together, making it in a million homes at any given moment. Sex was a shout of endorsement to life. In times like these, when war and hatred and ugliness seemed to bloom everywhere, sex was perhaps the only good activity left. He felt a moment of guilt when he thought how he had used and was still using his body – for profit, not for love – and he doubted his actions. But he had handled himself this way for too long to let that guilt establish itself. Rather than lose confidence in his body and the tightness of his use of it, he stepped out from concealment and walked along the beach toward the naked girl standing in the water, splashing it with her legs, bending and throwing it up over her.

He came to the edge of the water before she saw him. He had time to examine her closely, and his breath was taken away by what he saw. She was, without question, the most madly, wildly beautiful chick he had ever seen. She stood about five feet nine. Her legs were very long and lovelier than any legs he had ever seen. He could feel them pressed against his back as she writhed beneath him, and he knew he must have her. Her hips were ample, her ass so ripe that it made him ill. Her waist was tiny, which made her already large tits seem absolutely startling. Her face, framed in pitch black hair, was a vision. Wide lips, small nose, green eyes, smooth, clear skin. Her mouth had a constant sensual pout to it, and he wondered what it would be like to plow his meat into it.

She looked up, gasped, and went into the September Morn pose.

He laughed and said, "You've nothing to worry about. Besides, I've seen everything you've got anyway."

She dropped her hands from her breasts and put one on each hip, immediately transforming from modesty to brazenness. "Do you always sneak around looking at naked women?"

"If they parade around in the open," he said.

"You're the handyman here," she said. "I know that, so don't try anything funny." She laughed to show she meant it.

"That depends on what you mean by funny." He watched her luscious, creamy knockers. "Are you coming in?"

"Why don't you come out?" she asked.

He stood, watching her, looked around at the thick trees on all sides, thought about the isolation of the reservoir, and said, "Fine." He took off his shirt, dropped his pants and shorts, and went out to her.

"Well, well," she said, eyeing the hobbling, steel prick between his legs. "So you did have nasty thoughts."

He objected: "They were beautiful thoughts."

"Well," she said, "the cold water will take care of that."

He looked down at the protruding lance, took it in his hand and tested its stiffness. He looked up and grinned. "I don't think so."

She bent, her dizzying breasts even larger as they hung away from her, the nipples as big as chocolate drops, and splashed water onto him with her hands. She backed, laughing, as he tried to catch her, still splashing, make it impossible for him to close the distance. At last, when he was totally drenched, he dashed forward oblivious of her attack, closed with her, grabbing her, bearing her down into the sand and water.

He splashed her, then, until her lovely raven hair was plastered tightly to her head. Unlike most girls, she was unable to take exactly what she had dished out, and she sat in the water, her beautiful tits specked with sand and water droplets, laughing. He saw that she had perfect teeth, white and not so small that they looked like the teeth of an animal. When she was as wet as Sam, he stopped splashing her, and they sat in the water that came up to the bottom of her breasts, and laughed and joked with each other until she said, "Well, I bet that cold water worked, huh?"

He stopped laughing, only smiled now, and stood up in front of her. His great prick was still as stout as a wooden club, blood gorged, throbbing, aching along its length for a taste of her jelly.

She looked up at him, slightly shocked. "Are you the mythical God Pan?" she asked. "You must be."

"Someone once told me I was Jesus Christ," he said, laughing, watching her, wondering if she would react favorably if he tried for her now, tried to plunge her sweetness now. God, she made his balls throb and hurt with a physical pain! He had never seen any woman before who was so absolutely perfectly built, so designed for sex.

"To have a perpetual erection must be an attribute of a God," she was looking different now, more sensual. He knew that she could not take her eyes off the bloated organ, and that the longer that she looked at it, the more chance there was of having her.

"It's not perpetual," he said. "It takes a helluva chick to keep it up through all we've just done." He reached down and took it in his hand, toyed with it, held it toward her, the blind eye winking at her in the hot red knob.

"You're only trying to excite me when you play with it like that." She made no move either to come to him or to leave. Her indecision, he decided, was a good sign.

"Does it excite you?" he asked, still holding the lead like lump in his hand, milking it.

"Yes!"

"Well, you can hardly expect me to stop."

She raised her shoulders and shivered, making her king-sized boobies jiggle and tremble, bounce up and down. The nipples were swollen an inch and a half beyond the rest of the breasts. He felt his mouth go dry as he considered the delight of chewing and sucking them. "I've never seen one that size," she said, eyes still on the meat log in his hand.

"How many have you seen?" he asked. God, she was going to make him spurt right now, without even touching her. He slowed his hand and brought the trembling organ under control.

"Not many," she said. "Half a dozen. One of those was my brother's. I caught him jerking off in his room. Quite by accident, you understand."

"What did he do when you walked in on him?"

"He jumped up off the bed and tried to hide himself. I told him I only wanted to watch. I was fourteen. He was thirteen. He didn't want to let me at first, but then he got hot to the idea. I used to watch him every once in a while. But he wasn't that big. And neither were any of the other five I've seen."

Sam continued to stroke his penis, then dropped his hand and cupped his balls in it, stood massaging them. He saw her lick her lips. She was not, he could tell, the sort of whore that Brenda Markwell was. She was just a girl of the free sex generation, still a bit hungup, but free none the less. She had to be coaxed and led into giving herself, but he was confident he would have her. "How old are you?" he asked.

"Almost seventeen," she said.

"When did you see your first one?"

"I was thirteen. A year before I caught my brother. It was the gardener's boy."

"Gardener?" he said. So she was rich. More than a little. If her family had a live-in gardener, they had a lot of other staff too. Here was a source of lucrative income if he could bind her. Perhaps better than Brenda Markwell. "The others?" he asked.

"The other what?" She was slightly dazed now, hypnotized by his hands as they worked over his male baggage.

"Pricks. The other cocks you've seen."

It seemed to be the words "prick" and "cock" that finally turned the tables. They had been using euphemisms to refer to what dangled between his legs. Now that he had named it, some dam broke in her, and she came to her knees, walked a few steps on them, and pushed his hands off his organ, took his baggage into her hands and caressed him.

"That's nice," he said.

"I didn't know they were so big," she said. "It's long, but more than that – it's so damn thick!" She fondled it a while longer. "How do you ever get it in a girl?"

"Let me show you," he said.

"Yes," she said. "Of course. Oh, I wouldn't let you get away without letting me feel this in me." She stroked the hot root until a droplet of lubricant, clear and syrupy, rose out of j, the meatus. She giggled. "He's very anxious, isn't he?"

"I guess so."

"And what do you do with milk once you have it?" he asked, urging her on.

"Drink it," she said, leaning forward and licking away the drop with the tip of her tongue.

"Was it good?"

"Ummmm," she said, licking her lips.

"More?"

She leaned forward without warning and took most of his organ into her mouth and sucked it with expertise he had never before encountered. It was like being trapped in a machine built especially to drain a rod, a machine that science had spent the last hundred years perfecting. No girl with only five experiences should be able to suck like that. She knew enough to trace light patterns on his balls with the tips of her slender fingers, and before long his knees were so weak that he could no longer stand.

He pulled his prick out of her gorgeous lips and dropped onto his knees beside her. He took one breast in both hands and still could not contain all the warm, vibrant flesh. "I can't believe you're sixteen with tits like these."

"They're too big," she said. "What are they?"

"Thirty-nine C-cup."

"Not too big." He squeezed them, massaged them, concentrating oh the enormous nipples. "Though you could never breast feed a baby. He'd never get these buds in his mouth. But you're not too big. I don't like girls thinking their breasts are wrong. If you've got big tits, that's a wildly happy bonus for your man. But even if they're small, they're delightful. Small girls usually have better formed breasts. Though yours are perfect."

She pressed them up at him, and he took the hint, suckling the big dark nipples, still astounded at the size of them. While he licked and drew on them, he felt her hand going between his legs, clutching at his cock and squeezing it tightly. He continued to suck her tits, but used a hand to find her snatch and plug it with a finger. She bucked against him, mashing his head in her breasts, and he finger-fucked faster, more thoroughly.

"Don't make me come yet," she said. "I want to come with this in me." She squeezed his organ.

"That too," he said. He had almost completely forgotten about the money he might get from her if he could play this right. Her body had intoxicated him until he was dangerously delirious. But a small segment of his consciousness kept reminding him that he had to give her a long ride, multiple orgasms like she had never had. There was no other way to bind her to him so that he might eventually hustle her.

"I can't make it more than once," she said. "I'm a limit chick."

He swirled his finger in her soup, drew back his head to look at the rest of her. "Baby, with the stuff you've got, you're anything but a limited chick. If you've never come more than once at a time, you've just not been in the right hands."

He pulled her to him, crushing her breasts, working his fingers in her snatch faster and faster. His penis was pressed against her belly, and she moaned every time it throbbed. Then she was clutching him, pressing even closer, until she exploded, hissing hot air between her teeth and clamping her mouth down as if biting her own tongue off.

When it was over, he led her into the shallow edge of the reservoir where the water was only an inch or two deep, laid her down and moved his face between her silken legs until he was directly before the fascinating mound of her cockpit. It was unlike any vagina he had seen. The flesh was thick, the lips fatty and puffed out. It was a caricature of womanhood. He spread the furry lips and did not have to search far for the pearl of her clit. It was big, three times as large as any woman's nub he had thumbed and sucked before. When he tickled it with his tongue, she arched her back and threw her fine legs about his head. "Eat me," she said. "Gobble me up. My God, I really do think I can come again."

He set to sucking with more delight than he had ever felt. As her juices coated his tongue, he found that she had an indescribable musky taste, sweeter and creamier than any woman he had ever tasted. He worked his quick tongue all over the lips of her slit, as deep into it as he could go. He wished he had a serpent's tongue to lick the farthest recesses of her fantastic fuckbox.

"I'm coming… coming!" she moaned, tossing on the sand, wriggling her gorgeous body, burrowing her plump buttocks into the sand.

He licked faster, more furiously, and brought her through a twin explosion in less than three minutes. He planned to lick her until she came at least twice again, but he could not wait to screw her. His cock throbbed heavily, and he knew that he could not hold back his load much longer. He had never been with a woman he could not bring to at least half a dozen climaxes.

He moved up and probed at her sopping slit with the smooth head of his organ.

"Yes," she said, breathless, excited.

"I usually can give a girl more fun before I have come," he said, apologizing when it wasn't necessary.

"You come," she said. "I know I will. I have to with that Goddamned huge thing in me!"

She thrust her hips up.

Her puss slid around his swollen organ.

"Oh, God!" he said, falling onto her heavy tits, clutching her sides. "God, do you have a tight hole!"

She had her head thrown back now, her mouth open, eyes closed. Little grunts and squeals echoed up her throat as he rammed his log into her. She tossed her head from side to side, gasping, murmuring incoherently.

He grabbed her tits, tried to keep from shooting. He stopped the wild strokes and gritted his teeth, but it was too late. The big prick jerked and pulled against the slimy walls of her box, and a heavy wad of thick sperm spilled into her.

"Fill me up," she whispered. "Let me milk you dry." She began flexing her cunt muscles, squeezing the prick tightly. He gasped, felt his nuts jerk. Another spurt of cream jetted out of the meatus and spattered over her warm tunnel. Again and again, the prick bounced and heaved, though there was no longer anything for it to produce. When it was over, he understood that he had had at least one orgasm beyond the usual, probably as many as three.

He rolled off her magnificent body, onto his back on the sand beside her. He looked up at the sky, at the few white clouds that floated there. She had given him as many climaxes as he had given her. There had never been any woman who had come close to that. One was his limit. This was no way to conserve his energy.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, rising on one elbow and looking down on him. Her tits hung over him, delicious mounds of soft flesh. The nipples had softened, but they were still large, and the roseates were still enormous.

"You were good," he said.

"Me? What about you!" She reached forward and took his wet, limp organ in her hand and fondled it. She went down and licked and sucked it until she had cleaned it of his glistening sperm and her own cunt liquids. She dried it with her pitch colored hair.

He watched her, knowing she could not arouse him for at least another hour. Even then, she might have trouble. He needed rest and time for recuperation before trying her again. But he could still use his mouth, and he thought that might be wise. He had only given her four orgasms, when his trademark was to make them come until they nearly passed out. Even if he had a limp rod, his tongue would be active enough. He got to his knees and pushed her back.

"Again?" she asked, wide-eyed. She had such a little girl face to go with such a shocking body.

"We came out even so far. I always like to give more than I take."

He went down between her legs to the soft mound of her box and ate her as thoroughly as before until she had bucked and kicked and come twice again. Then, satisfied that they were on the basis he liked – with her owing him something – he quit.

"What time is it?" she asked suddenly, sitting up.

He found his watch in his pile of clothes.

"Four-thirty."

"We have to get back," she said. "If you'll drive me most of the way, I'll walk the last hundred yards. They shouldn't see us come back together."

He took her in his arms and squeezed her, feeling her, kissing her long and hard. "Will we be doing this again?" he asked.

"What do you think, Sam?" She giggled as she slipped into her clothes.

"Tomorrow?"

She looked surprised. "If you're up to it."

"Here," he said. "Tomorrow. At three o'clock. Wait a couple of hundred yards out from the camp. I'll pick you up in the jeep and we'll come up here."

And tomorrow, he thought, I'll hit her for a little money. Not much. And I'll have to give her a better time than today. But she ought to be good for quite a pile. And it'll be a pleasure to get paid for beating my meat off in that kind of skin!

Unfortunately, Sam Walker had made the mistake of thinking only on the physical level. Some girls – many girls – he had known could be bought with his body. Susan Calderwood-Logan was somewhat different. He would find that out before long…