Chapter 1
"Play it again, Sam?"
"Terrible!" Sam Coit grinned at the shapely young brunette seated comfortably beside him on the couch. "Jo, you'd be a total failure in a trivia contest. That line wasn't even in the movie. I think Bogart said something along this line... 'Play it. You played it for her, now play it for me... '"
"I'm not talking about an old Bogart movie. I was referring to this," she said with definite disdain in her voice as she glanced over the letter she held. "This cute little note that begins, 'Dear classmate, can you believe ten years have gone already?" And ends, 'We surely hope you will make every effort to come and renew old friendships with us.' And has all this about a picnic and a Saturday night dinner and dance in between."
"Don't forget the country club, the swimming pool and the golf course," he laughed, leaning back and taking a healthy swig from the bourbon-and-water he was nursing.
Jo turned to the second page of the letter, "Hey, you forgot to fill in this section headed 'Children's Name and Age.' Surely you've got a few bastards running around this city, Sam. All successful business tycoons do. It's part of the image!"
"Not this tycoon! This is the age of the pill, remember?" he chuckled. "Besides, if a certain person is willing and she isn't prepared, there are other avenues open."
His hand wedged itself between the cushion of the sofa and Jo's young and very womanly ass, emphasizing his last remark with a firm squeeze. He received an enthusiastic moan and shiver from the brunette, but her attention returned to the letter.
Tycoon, he chuckled to himself again. The label wasn't exactly tailor-made for him. However, during the six years since college he had managed to establish a small public relations firm, nurse it along for three years of moderate success, then sell out for a tidy profit.
Storing those profits safely away in a bank, he spent the next year doing what he had spent four years at college preparing for, being a newspaper reporter. With all the scandal surrounding the Watergate row, journalism was in vogue and considered a respectable profession once again. However, the crusading journalist wasn't a role he was cut out to fill. Instead, he quit, took his savings and made some more than moderately profitable investments on the stock market. The havoc the current administration was playing with the economy made it a time to avoid being bullish on anything, despite a series of television commercials spouting the opposing view. It was the season of the bear. Shorts had been quite profitable. But after eighteen months of the market, he had suddenly pulled out, once more depositing his money in a bank and had been living off the interest for the past six months, trying to decide which direction his life should drift in next.
"Come on, Sam, you're not serious about this high school reunion, are you?" Jo chided, tossing the letter to the coffee table.
"Hmmmm mmmmmm," nodded, draining his glass. "It's been ten years since our class went their separate ways to conquer this world. And it's been at least eight years since I visited the old homestead. It might be interesting to see what's happened since then. And if you need a business excuse, I'll probably take a look at some land, which should be ripe for subdividing about now."
"Don't give me that subdividing bullshit. You're going to take this jaunt for one reason, the old high school class reunion," she grimaced. "Sam, it's so cornball."
For three years now Jo had drifted in and out of his life as many times and as rapidly as she had drifted in and out of the two marriages she had given a try, no matter how little a try, during her twenty-six years. He liked her and it was apparent the admiration and friendship was mutual, although there had never been any attempt on her part to make him number three on her string of husbands. Despite their different backgrounds, his in a small southwestern town and hers in the big cities of the north, their sporadic relationship provided more common ground than just the decided pleasure they found in balling each other whenever the occasion arose. But Jo had one trait that galled the hell out of him. He wasn't sure what the present popular jargon labeled it, but he had always called it false sophistication, that need, which came perhaps from insecurity, to be "cool," part of the "in crowd." Part of that act requires that a person frown down on what wasn't considered "in." And apparently, at the moment, high school reunions weren't in.
Jo would probably thoroughly enjoy herself at this reunion, much more than he expected he would. In fact, he had intended to invite her along with him. But this little show of bitchy "in-ness" had just cost her that invitation. He mentally juggled with the idea of telling her just that, then decided it would be more trouble that the results it would achieve.
"I was hoping we could head out to that nice cottage on the lake that my last husband left me as a portion of our parting settlement," she smiled, edging even closer and playfully letting her fingertips teasingly circle over his chest.
"Oh?" he grinned, his arms reaching around her slim waist and drawing her to him. "Anything special in mind?"
"Hmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmmm," her head tilted toward him, her lips softly brushing his.
Then her mouth was pressed against his lips. He opened his mouth, accepting the tongue that came darting forward, twisting and turning in an array of pleasure-provoking maneuvers. As the taunting oral probe slithered away from him, he followed it back into the warm sweetness of her mouth, providing a few inciting flicks and twists of his own.
In a smooth movement that did nothing to interrupt their oral taunting and teasing, he slowly slid to his back, pulling her atop him. The firm contour of her pussy enticingly ground over the awakening length of his cock, while the twin mounds of her tits rolled over his chest.
"Mmmmmmm," she sighed as they parted. "Does a weekend at the lake, locked up alone with an oversexed divorcee, sound any better now?"
"Much more inviting," he whispered as he busied the lobe of one of her delicate little ears with his nibbling teeth. "But I still am going to the reunion."
"Sam Coit! You're undoubtedly the most stubborn bastard that has ever entered my life!" she pouted and her big brown eyes suddenly filled with hurt and rejection.
"It won't work, Jo," he smiled, his fingertip tracing over the sensual fullness of her lips. "You've used that act before... "
"And it didn't work then either, if I remember correctly," her pout was again transformed into a smile. "But you can't blame a girl for trying. Remember, we're socially conditioned to use our feminine tricks on men."
"This is the era of feminine liberation," he chuckled. "Besides my daddy didn't raise his sons to be fools. He explained all that feminine mystique crap to me one day out behind the barn."
"What else did your dear 'OLE daddy teach you out behind the barn?" her eyes were lit with a coy sparkle of wickedness.
"He told me that when the opportunity presents itself, I should use the hayloft since it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than the back seat of a car," he grinned, pulling her to him as his mouth once more covered those full red lips.
She came willingly, her mouth opening to his seeking tongue and her hands cradling his face, making sure that he didn't pull away from her, as if he had any intention of breaking their embrace. Again her pelvis began that rocking undulation, rubbing the plumpness of her pussy mound seductively over the now fully aroused length of his prick.
Being far from inactive, his hands wiggled their way to her chest and surrounded the still blouse-covered bulges of her tits. Gently, but with a definite firmness, he squeezed, feeling an excited shiver race through the woman lying atop him.
"Yesss," she sighed as their lips drifted from one another again, "yes, I see."
She paused, as if trying to remember what they had been talking about, "Hmmmm, rustic. If you find a young lady who's willing, you drag her off to the hayloft. Very rustic indeed."
"Indeed, young lady," he grinned. "You'd better read up on your botany. Fresh mowed hay has a very sexual aroma about it, none of that sweetness you're always reading about."
"A farmer's guide to aphrodisiacs and hayloft romances," she smiled. "It all sounds rather primitive."
"It is," his hands squeezed roughly into her breasts and he was answered by a delighted whimper of arousal that came quavering over her trembling lips. "Sex is primitive, a primal urge!"
She whimpered again as his encompassing fingers tightened their hold on her tits, digging into the soft, veiled mounds. "Primitive and rough. Is that the way all you down home boys treat your young lady friends?"
"If that young girl is in the hayloft, there's already a question as to her being that much of a lady," he answered with another squeeze of her pliant tits. "And I don't know how all the boys treated their women, just how I did."
"Oh and how is that?" she smiled, obviously interested in giving that hayloft a try, even if it had to be an imaginary one here in his apartment, rather than the actual one that stood a thousand inaccessible miles away.
"Like this," he grinned, lifting his head so that their lips met, while his hands firmly kneaded the fleshy mounds of her breasts.
A few minutes later, they had reached that imaginary hayloft in his bedroom and the willing young brunette lay atop his bed, obviously reveling in the lingering gaze of admiration in his eyes as he stared at her unashamed nakedness.
As his fingers busied themselves with the buttons and snaps to his shirt and pants, he took the opportunity to do just that, gaze at the shapely symmetry of her naked body.
She could never be described as beautiful, but attractive wasn't quite strong enough. Cute came closer to pinpointing Jo's bared attributes. Her body matched the girlish roundness of her face and the wideness of her brown eyes. Rather than white, her skin was a glowing pink, a pinkness that reminded him of innocence. Although she was far from innocent, as she had demonstrated, on numerous occasions in between her two husbands, as well as during those husbands.
Her breasts were larger than one would expect on such a small frame, two firm cones that now jutted from her chest with stiff nipples topping them, displaying the extent of her arousal. She was thin, bordering on skinny. What extra weight there was on her body had been appropriately placed in her breasts and the womanly flare of her inviting hips.
She rolled a little, scissoring one of her long, shapely legs over the other and giving him an unobstructed view of the sleek suppleness of her calves and thighs. The movement also provided him with a fleeting glimpse of the pinkness of her cuntal lips, hidden beneath a soft-looking mat of light brown pubic moss.
His thumbs hooked under the elastic band of his jockey shorts and peeled them off. The stiff, rigid length of his cock jerked and twitched eagerly in its new-found freedom. He watched her admiring gaze drift to his crotch and the thick, swollen rod of his manhood.
"Beautiful," she whispered, as she rolled to her back, her thighs opening to him.
"That's supposed to be my line," he grinned as he stepped to the side of the bed and stared down at her.
"I think if I'd been one of your country girls, we would have made a regular habit of playing in that hayloft of yours," she coyly mused.
As he watched, her hands reached out and lovingly caressed the rigid shaft of his cock. Tenderly her fingers ran up and down the stiff, swollen length, sending sizzling sensual thrills to his testicles. The rock-filled bag dangling from his groin tightened familiarly with growing arousal.
"Bring it here," she smiled. "Bring it to my mouth."
He needed no second urging. Crawling atop the bed, he straddled her chest, letting the stiff nipples of her tits teasingly tickle at his ball sac, while he watched her fingers pull his cock downward toward her waiting lips.
Kneeling there above her, he gazed down, seeing the wet flicking pinkness of her tongue as it slithered from her mouth. Closer and closer it danced toward the engorged head of his prick. Then her tongue tip was there, tapping at his glands. He moaned as the growing sexual energy of his loins raced through his cock and swirled in his balls.
That moist pink tongue was all over his cock's crown, licking and laving at his lust-filled glands like a young girl delightfully working her tongue on an all-day sucker. Around and around the warm wetness of her oral digit washed the head of his prick, occasionally pausing to probe the tip, the very tip, of her tongue into the slitter-mouth of that arrowhead-shaped, nut-like mass of sensitive flesh. Wave on wave of growing excitement coursed through his groin, as he watched her eagerly bathe and caress his glands.
Abruptly her oral tactics changed. Her tongue was gone and her lips formed a lewd circle. Her fingers once more edged the thick pole of flesh toward her face. Wider and wider that hungry "AO" formed by her lips grew. Closer and closer his prick came.
Her head lifted slightly from where it had rested on a pillow and she pulled the swollen crown of his cock into the warm shelter of her mouth. He moaned as he felt himself slide over the velvet carpet of her tongue toward the depths of her throat. She sucked at him, her cheeks hollowing deeply, then pushing out as she took him. The knobby head of his prick nuzzled at the back of her throat. Her eyes rolled up to him, glinting with pleasure, as she slid off his rod. Outward his cock came, glistening with the moisture of her intimate oral caress.
Again, her head rose and the ponderous mass of his turgid cock vanished into the pleasurable haven of her face. Back and forth her head rocked, sheathing and re-sheathing him with her lips, while she sucked and licked to her heart's content. Her actions increased to double time when he ran a hand behind him, drifting over the trembling flatness of her belly and settling a finger in the quivering groove of her pussy. She moaned around the mouthful of man-meat she so expertly sucked as that finger easily glided into the channel of her cunt.
She was wet and hot inside. The effects of her mouth-to-cock caress apparently were working as much on her as they were on him. In and out, in penis-imitating fashion, his finger pumped into her pussy, receiving a slow hunching motion from hips in approval. There was no doubt in his mind that she was ready. And so was he.
His hips eased away from her, pulling his cock from her clinging lips with a wet, sucking "pop." She glanced up at him, confusion in her eyes.
"We're here to demonstrate my hayloft techniques," he grinned. "And for the sake of authenticity, I'm afraid I'll have to give up that fantastic mouth of yours. None of the girls I ever knew down home had your marvelous talents."
She smiled, obviously pleased by his remark. Her legs once more opened to him and he extracted his entrenched finger and scooted down to lie atop the willing bed of flesh she offered to him.
There was no need for either of their hands to guide his cock to its destination. His saliva-slicked glands nuzzled its way through the silken strands of her pubic down and nestled against the slightly pouted lips of her outer labia. His hips jerked and he thrust into her waiting slash, fully impaling her with seven inches of long, hard, pulsing cock.
"Ahhhhargahhh!" she groaned with decided relish, her eyes fluttering closed as he filled the liquid warmth of her cunt with every solid inch of prick he had to offer.
With equal roughness, his hips wrenched back, then lashed forward, once more spearing into the velvet-lined interior of her pussy. She moaned and her ass swished, hissing over the sheets beneath her nakedness. Her hands gripped his ass, squeezing the taut boulders of flesh his buttocks presented.
"Rough and primitive," she muttered.
"I believe that was the way you requested it!" he grunted, slamming his swollen cock back into the tight confines of her juice-filled cunt.
"Yes's! Yes! Yes!" she urged him, her hips hunching to meet the impact of his groin. "Rough and primitive!"
Responding to her emphatic desires, his hips bucked forward, skewering his cock deeply into the wet folds of her hungry cunt. He wrenched back, as her cuntal muscles squeezed around him, then slammed back into the recesses of her pussy.
There was but one method in his plunging hips and pistoning prickƒ_"the method she had requestedƒ_"rough! Hard and deep he drove the ever-thickening lance of his sex. She groaned and moaned under each brutally forceful lunge of his cock, savoring the fullness he pumped into her wanton body. Her fingers clawed at the tight balls of his buttocks as she pulled at him, trying to draw him even deeper into her heated pussy.
"Yes! That's it! Fuck me!" she thrashed beneath his weight. "Fuck me! Fuck! Eeeeeee!"
His hips increased their tempo, driving to meet the demands of her body. Harder and harder, he poled into the depths of her hot, wet cunt. Her hips jerked and hunched in the steady rhythm of their desire. She writhed under him, her head rolling wildly from shoulder to shoulder. Her lips parted as an unbroken stream of moans and groans rolled up from her throat.
His balls seethed in their lust. His pelvis rose and fell in jack-hammering strokes that fully impaled the tremulous socket of her desire on his pulsating length of prick.
"Close," she moaned-whispered. "Close! So damn close!"
In and out the piston of pleasure packed into her body, driving her in reckless abandon toward the full measure of sensual delight she demanded. Her body quaked and shuddered with ecstasy as she came, moaning out the extent of her fulfillment.
Still he pumped into her body, sending his rigid shaft into the orgasmically contracting channel of her cunt. The fire in his balls boiled higher and higher. He could no longer retain his lust.
Like liquid fire, the release of his need rushed through the lust-throbbing length of his prick and gratefully gushed into the clinging folds of her pussy, saturating her still-quivering channel with hot sperm and semen. He clung to her, squeezing the fleshy mounds of her tits as his body emptied itself into her belly in fountain upon fountain of thick come.
Neither of the moved or spoke until the last tremors of delight had passed from their bodies and they were filled with the warm glow of satisfaction and gratification of quenched passions. Together they rolled to their sides. Her legs locked behind him so that she could retain the still thick and hard presence of his cock within her.
She smiled at him, "Still set on making that trip?"
He nodded, returning her smile.
Her hips wiggled a little, rocking his prick around in the soft persistence of her clinging cunt, "We really could have an enjoyable weekend at the lake. You know, as they say, we could really make music together."
That was an understatement if he had ever heard one. Jo just didn't make music, she was a complete symphony. But he had made his decision. "I'm still going to the reunion."
"You really are stubborn, you know that, Sam?" her hips increased their gyrating undulations, bathing his cock in the liquid heat of her cuntal interior. "But if you're going to go, you're going to go and it seems there's not a damn thing I can do to prevent it."
He laughed as she once more tried her hurt, pouting expression, "Don't worry. It won't be for long, a week at the most."
"Hmmm! A week! That's a long time without the kind of music we make together," she smiled, that coy sparkle returning to her eyes. "Don't you think you should leave me with something to keep me satisfied until you return?"
His hips answered the question, slowly moving in and out of the tightness of her cunt. This time he would take a long time, slowly building up her desire until her body once more was caught in the exploding pleasures of climax.
"Yes," she moaned, snuggling close against him so that her tits tried to dig their stiff nipples into his flesh. "That's the music I want... play it again, Sam."