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

CHAPTER SEVEN

Susan was waiting beside the rugged dirt road that led up to the reservoir, back among the trees he could not see her. When the jeep was about a hundred yards off, she stepped into the open and waved.

He pulled up alongside her, reached over and opened the door for her. She clambored in, leaned over and kissed him. It was a mildly passionate kiss, but it was enough to start his muscles aching in all the proper places. She was dressed in shorts, white and very tight. He could make out her Mound of Venus, straining against the cotton. She wore a halter top out of which half of her moonlike breasts peeped. She was as stunning as he had remembered her yesterday. The greatest knockout he had ever seen.

"Do I turn you on?" she asked.

He squeezed the breast nearest him, bulged it even farther put of the blue and white check halter. "Even your voice turns me on," he said. When she laughed, he shifted gears, let out on the clutch, and took the jeep up the bumpy mountain trail toward the camp reservoir.

It was a beautiful day. The sunshine slanted through the trees, catching what dust was held in the air and lighting it like fragments of diamonds. They did not need to talk yet. They enjoyed the view.

He parked by the pumps at the water, and they walked hand-in-hand along the sand, their shoes left behind them at the jeep. She was a super-dazzling wench in the sunlight, her black hair reflecting bits of golden light, her eyes sparkling the greenest green imaginable. She asked him about his college life, what he was doing there, what he expected to do when he got out. He told her about film making, about his plans for Hollywood, for working his way up through a major studio. He had big plans, and she did not laugh at them as most people did.

After a while, after walking several times around the little lake, they talked about her. Her father was big in frozen foods. He had started one of the very first companies. He had expanded into other things, picking up stock in major companies like most people acquired trading stamps. She loved her parents, though she admitted she knew little about them. She expected to go to some girl's college next to some ivory-walled boy's university. Though there was a year of high school to finish yet. What she would take in college was a mystery. She liked literature and little else. She thought maybe she would like to write. She realized there was not often much money in that occupation, but she was honest enough to admit she didn't have to ever become a real success, for she could live off a fraction of what her inheritance would eventually be.

Sam waited for her to become amorous, to touch him, so as to be touched. That was the way women were to act. She should have been bound to him. She had said that he was a fantastic lover, had made her come more often than ever before. Yet she seemed unconcerned about whether or not they would make it today. When four o'clock came and they had spent an hour talking, he finally broached the subject himself. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, worked his tongue into her mouth.

Although she had not seemed interested, she responded easily now. Her arms went around him, and she shoved her enormous knockers against him. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt and worked them open. She allowed her halter to be unsnapped. It fell away onto the sand.

He sucked breath at the sight of her breasts. They were beautiful, more beautiful than he had remembered. He bent and kissed them, took the chocolate drop nipples between his lips and chewed them into ridiculous erection.

She pushed him back and took his shirt off, then unzipped his pants, reached in and brought forth his stick. "I was afraid it might have shrunk," she said, laughing.

"As you can see…"

She stroked it. "Yes, yes." She dropped to the sand, stretched out for him.

He knelt beside her, slowly stripped her of her shorts. She was not wearing any panties. "Dirty little girl," he said, making a tching noise with his tongue.

She giggled. "I read it in a book somewhere, about this girl who never wore any panties. She eventually became a nun."

"You're religious?"

She motioned for him to get out of his pants. He complied. She sat up and took his swollen meat in her hands and caressed it lovingly. "I could see this every day for the rest of my life and still not get used to it. It's so thick. Like it was overweight and then someone beat it with a hammer to spread it out."

"The worst beating it's gotten, Suzy, is when you smashed it up in that sweet little tunnel of yours." He worked a finger into her sweet, dripping honeycunt.

"Ahhhh," she said. She arched her back a bit, making her creamy tits jut up at him like twin mountains. He buried his face in them while he fingered her.

"I want to be fucked," she said in a little voice that caught in the back of her throat.

"My pleasure," he said.

She spread her astoundingly lovely thighs and engulfed his big organ on the first lunge, up to his hilt.

He tightened his stomach muscles and used his sphincter muscles to draw up on his balls. If he didn't take precautions right off, this fabulous cunny would drain him in minutes. Methodically, he pumped her, taking the longest strokes possible. Sinking to the base of his shaft, his testicles crammed against the split labes of her slit. He held onto her big breasts, gripping them tightly, while he plunged her, much like a cowboy holding onto a saddle horn.

She threw her long legs about him, beat at his back with them. "Uhhhh-oh!" she cried bumping and grinding with a solid, joyous orgasm.

He continued to stroke, faster than ever. He knew she must not be allowed to go down. It was easier to give her successive orgasms if he were already just below a high peak. And she exploded once more, the walls of her tunnel clutching his stick and trying to milk it.

He pulled out of her and slid down, buried his head between her legs, bit at the flesh of her thighs, leaving little red teeth marks on the sensuous curves. Then his tongue was teasing her secret flesh, and he was leading her on, further and further until she made it again. He moved up then, sitting on his knees, one to either side of her waist, caressing her boobs. His hot prick jutted out like a steel ingot.

Her face was the most exciting he had ever seen. It spoke of sex, of oral contact, of new heights of sensation. He longed to take his meat and stuff her pretty, innocent mouth with it. But that could come later. Now, he had to carry through with his plans.

"You didn't make it?" she asked.

"I guess maybe I'm worried about too much. But I can give you a few more rides."

She looked concerned. "What are you worried about?"

"It's none of your concern. Just enjoy yourself."

She rolled her head back and forth on the sand, her dark hair spilling out in an aura around her. "Now that's stupid. How can I have fun when you are too worried about something to come?"

"I'm sorry I said anything."

"Tell me, Sam. I ought to know. Maybe I can help you."

He made a show of deciding whether or not to say anything. "It's some bills I have at college," he said. "They gave me credit at the bookstore and dining hall. But my payment schedule is behind. Now they say I either have to pay in full or not come back next year."

"I can help you with money," she said. "I wouldn't want to ask."

"Why not? How much do you need."

"I couldn't…"

"Oh, hell, Sam! You'll pay me back. Now how much?"

"Say a hundred dollars?" he asked.

"That's all?"

He immediately wished he had quoted a figure at twice or three times that much, but there was no possibility of changing it now and maintaining credibility. "That's all," he said.

She pushed to get up.

"Where you going?" he asked.

"To get it."

"I want to screw you again," he said.

"The money's here," she said.

"You carry that much with you?"

"It's pocket change. I told you daddy was a collector of stocks instead of stamps. I meant it. He's worth something like forty million. You think his daughter can't have a couple hundred to spend when she wants?"

"The idle rich," he said. "But I will appreciate this."

He let her up. She went to her clothes, found her wallet, and extracted some tens and fives. She lifted his jeans and balled the bills up, stuffed them into a pocket. And suddenly froze…

She brought her hand out again, but this time she clutched two rolls of money. She laid her own hundred dollars aside, opened the other bills and counted a hundred and twenty. He stood, his erection lost now, and frantically tried to think of some explanation. They were, of course, the bills Brenda Markwell had given him. But he could not tell Susan that. The entire hustler's bit relied on each woman thinking she was the only one. Except in Brenda's case, perhaps. She might like the humiliation of knowing he cared not a damn for her, only for her money. But not Susan. Never Susan. She was a different sort of girl.

"I thought you were broke," she said, holding up the hundred and twenty dollars.

He could think of nothing to say.

"Where did this come from?"

"I…" But there was no more.

"You've been conning me, haven't you, you bastard?"

"Susan, I would never…"

"You stinking sonofabitch. There's nothing lower than you. You fancy yourself a whore, a male whore. You're good, but you are not that good, friend."

She put her own hundred back in her wallet, then began gathering her clothes. He went to her and grabbed her swinging tits. "Susan…"

She batted him away, kicked sand at him. When he made another try, she grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in his face. "Stay away from me!"

"But…"

"You were using me, and I won't ever be used. I'm not ever going to be someone's puppet. No Goddamned prick is so big to make me a slave to it."

"You're talking nonsense," he insisted. But he made no attempt to grab her.

"Where'd you get the money? What girl was it?"

"Look, Susan…"

"You're sick," she said, making a face at him. Even grimaced, her features were lovelier than those of any woman – common or movie star – in the world. In his world, at least. "You didn't feel a thing between us, did you? You really weren't interested in balling me just for the sake of balling me. It was all a game. No, not a game. More sinister than that. It was a business venture. You were investing capital in hope of a gain. Your capital was your Goddamned cock. And your gain was to be my money. You're sick, man. Dismally sick."

She was dressed now. She started to walk away.

"I'll drive you down. Wait till I dress," he called after her.

"I'll walk," she shouted over her shoulder.

"It's a mile down there!"

"I don't care if it's fifty miles."

"Wait!"

But she didn't wait.

He ran after her a few steps before realizing he was naked. He went back to his clothes, dressed, and ran to the jeep. She was just passing it. "Let's talk about this a minute," he said.

"Nothing to talk about. And you don't have to worry about my turning you in. I don't want anyone to know I fell for your rotten come-on. Just leave me alone."

"Susan, will you let me speak?"

She kept walking.

Her ripe ass bounced and swayed.

"Susan!"

Then she was gone around the bend in the trail, out of sight, out of reach.

He got in the jeep and sat a while, thinking. He did not consider the lost money for some time, and when he did think of it was surprised that that was not the major thing that bothered him. What he chiefly wanted was to be with her. She could keep her hundred dollars. But there was no way to approach her, to talk her out of this rejection of him. For she was right. He had been using her. And there was no lie to change that.

"Shit!" he hissed, and started the engine of the jeep. He pulled away from the reservoir and down the dusty trail. To hell with High and Mighty Susan Calderwood-Logan. There was plenty of other quim and other quim was usually not adverse to paying him. He didn't need that little piece of ass. Not in the least. Brenda Markwell was paying well. And though there might be a limit to how much he could safely drain her for, there were other chicks running around horny too.

When he passed Susan, he revved the engine, threw dirt and stones back over her.

He didn't need her at all. Did he?