Chapter 4
"Tootsie," Linda Mauro said, "this is Marc Post."
Marc was tall and thin, with long blond hair worn almost to his shoulders. His eyes were deep electric blue, and he had a broad, open smile on his lips.
"Hi," I said, somewhat meekly. He was much better-looking than I had imagined.
He nodded to me and smiled. "Hi," he answered back.
His chest was bare, and he was wearing a pair of bathing trunks and a jacket thrown over his shoulders. Even in the dim light of the beach, I could see the brown, crisp tan covering his chest and legs like a layer of cured leather.
"Tootsie's been dying to meet you ever since I told her all about you," Linda said mischievously, smiling for my benefit. The obvious smirk of her private joke made her eyes dance wickedly in the darkness.
"Linda!" I cried, reproaching her, although I was positive that Marc didn't understand the reason for my embarrassment. Still, I didn't want to seem overly anxious to him.
"Why, thank you," Marc said. He smiled at me. "And I've been looking forward to meeting you-"
"Really?" I answered, somewhat surprised.
"-ever since Linda told me all about you this afternoon," he continued, chuckling.
I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I turned and looked at Linda. What did she tell him about me? I asked myself, imagining the worst. But Linda only giggled and ran away, leaving Marc and me alone with each other.
"Oh, that Linda is something else," I said, feeling at a loss for words.
Marc agreed with me.
We stared at each other, our eyes straining through the darkness, appraising each other for one silent, awkward moment. He looked much older than I had expected, and that made me feel good. I wanted to impress him with my worldliness and sophistication.
"This is your first summer here, isn't it?" I asked, putting on a casual front.
"No. My family comes here every summer."
"That's funny, I don't remember you from last year." I stared intently at Marc and tried to remember whether or not I did know him. He still looked unfamiliar, and I was sure that I would remember somebody as good-looking as he.
"I didn't hang around here last year," he explained. He slipped his hands into the pockets of his jacket and the wide V of the zipper pulled down and exposed more of his well-muscled, tanned chest. "I used to drive into town and hang out at Kelly's."
Kelly's was a swinging bar in town. "You have a car?" I asked, further impressed.
"Sure," Marc admitted casually, as though having a car was so much a part of his life that the novelty had worn off for him. He was really cool.
"Oh. You have to take me for a ride someday."
"How about tonight?" He smiled at me.
I turned coyly away from him and walked back toward the other couples on the beach. "Maybe," I said after a moment. Actually, the idea intrigued me, and images passed through my mind of my naked body twisting sensually under Marc on the front seat of his car.
I walked slowly, letting my feet drag through the sand. The wind was chilly, and I began to wish that I'd worn my sweater. As it was, all I had on was my blouse and my hot pants, with nothing else under them.
Marc caught up to me and walked beside me. He took my hand in his with a confidence and self-assurance that I wasn't used to. It was as though we were long-time friends or overly affectionate lovers, and not strangers just meeting for the first time.
"Do you feel like having a beer?" he asked.
"All right. Do you have any?"
"Sure. We have plenty over here in the cooler. Ice-cold beer."
Our naked thighs touched as we walked, and a thrill went down my legs. I kept remembering what Linda had told me about Marc. Then I got to wondering just hoiv she knew about the size of his cock. I was sure that was something he wouldn't go around bragging about, so Linda must have known from personal experience.
"Cold beer?" I exclaimed. "Well, that certainly is an improvement over last year."
Marc looked and smiled at me. "What do you mean?"
"Last year we had trouble getting beer for our parties; no one looked old enough to buy it. So the kids would usually sneak one or two from their homes, and by the time they got down to the beach, and we got around to drinking it, the beer would be warm."
"A lot of things have changed since last year," Marc observed.
"Yes. For one thing, you're here." I looked at the sand and wasted my self-conscious smile in the shadows of the beach. "You never did explain why last year you hung around in a bar and this year you're with us? I mean, you are older and everything."
Marc laughed, and the smile crept into his voice. "Last year you were too young," he explained.
"And this year, we're ... older?"
"Yup. Older in some very important ways."
"Oh," I said, and I understood at last.
We were standing over the cooler. Marc let go of my hand to bend down and get the beer. Behind him, I could see the other couples of the party. They were broken up in small groups, spread across the sand. I could see Linda and Jerry in the water with another couple I didn't recognize, and the giggle of their laughter was hollow against the emptiness of the beach. Sandi and Dave were sitting across from the cooler, smoking silently, passing the same cigarette back and forth between them. There was another couple to our right, but I couldn't see who they were because they were covered with a heavy blanket.
Marc stood up and blocked my line of vision.
He was smiling as he handed me a beer. They were pop-open cans, and both were open. "You're older, Tootsie, aren't you?" he asked.
I took the beer, the cold wetness of the can giving me a chill. "Old enough," I answered.
"Good."
Marc took my hand again, and I felt the delicate, warm movements of his finger against the palm of my hand. "Why don't we go over to my blanket?" he suggested. He punctuated the question with a long draught on the beer can. "The blanket's over there, a little further down the beach."
I nodded silently, and we walked, hand-in-hand, down the almost empty beach. The brushes of his thigh against mine began to happen more frequently, and I realized they were no longer accidents. Still, the touch of his body excited me, and I could feel the crotch of my hot pants getting wet in anticipation.
We passed another couple in the darkness, but I couldn't see who they were. He was on top of her, between her legs, and they were kissing. At first I thought they were fucking, and my cunt gripped tightly in a spasm of excitement, but as we walked past them I could see the girl still had the bottom of her bathing suit on. How long it would stay on was something else; judging from the way he was humping between her legs, it couldn't be for long.
I could still see the couple from Marc's blanket, and occasionally I could hear the harsh, urgent whispers of lovemaking. I turned my attention from them and looked again at Marc.
"Drink up," he said, draining his beer. "It will warm you up."
I did as he instructed, holding my breath and allowing the cold bitter fluid to trickle down into my stomach. I hated beer; it made me silly almost immediately, but I could never admit that to Marc.
"It's good," I said, smiling across the darkness.
Someone put the radio on, and I could hear the sound of the Stones against the muted roar of the ocean. The music sounded far away and small in the emptiness of the night.
"You going steady with anyone?" Marc asked.
"No." I thought of Stu, my boyfriend back home. "No one. What about you?"
Marc thought for a moment. "I was, but we broke up."
I took another sip of my beer. I was beginning to feel swimmy and light-headed. "Why did you break up?"
Marc ignored my question. "You smoke?" he asked.
I took another swig of beer. "Sure."
"Good. I've got some good stuff with me." He reached over and fumbled through the pockets of his shirt. He pulled out two crooked-looking cigarettes, lumpy in the middle with the ends twisted. I suddenly understood what he meant by "smoking."
"It's good stuff," he repeated. "You want to light up?"
"You go first," I said, feeling my stomach go empty. "I want to finish my beer."
Marc put the joint in his mouth, twirling it around and wetting it down. Then he put it between his lips and lit it. He made a loud sucking noise, and the end of the cigarette glowed brightly in the night. It looked like he was holding his breath. He offered the cigarette to me.
I swallowed heavily on the beer and took the joint. I put it to my lips nervously and took a small drag. The smoke was thick and hot and burned in my lungs. I expelled it almost immediately and handed it back to Marc.
"No-no!" he said, taking the joint. "Hold the smoke down, down in your lungs. And take more air in when you suck." He handed the joint back to me.
I sucked with all my might and felt a solid mass of smoke flood my lungs with a burning harshness. I almost gagged, and I coughed up the smoke.
Marc took the joint from me. "Are you sure you've done grass before?" he asked, staring at me.
I turned away from his stare. "Of course I have," I lied. "Hundreds of times. It just went down wrong."
"Oh," Marc responded flatly, and I couldn't be sure it he knew I was lying. "Well, you've been doing it all wrong. Watch me."
I took a long sip of my beer; it tasted cool going down my throat. I almost enjoyed it this time. I watched Marc carefully.
He sucked in on the cigarette, taking a tremendous drag. The sides of his mouth were open around the joint, and he seemed to be pulling in air as he inhaled. Then he closed his mouth and held the smoke down in his lungs, sucking more air into his body every few seconds. After a long time he exhaled, and a thin cloud of smoke gushed from his mouth.
"Wow! This is good stuff. What a rush." He looked over at me, but his eyes looked out of focus. "You want to try now?" he asked, offering the joint to me.
I drained my beer and flipped the can away. "Sure," I said, feeling the heady confidence of the beer swirling in my brain. I took the joint and sucked on it, holding my breath and drawing in air just as I had seen Marc do.
"That's it," he observed. "Good. Good. You're doing it good now."
I felt something hot in my chest, spreading out through my body like warm rays of sunlight. My arms tingled and my fingers felt numb. Something seemed to be traveling up my spine, fondling my brain, clouding it up like steam.
I let my breath out and my blood felt warm, like surges of heat rushing through my body. "Wow!" I said, listening to myself talk, feeling almost dizzy. "That's good. It's strange."
Marc took the joint. "I told you it was good dope."
I tried to listen to the music, but I kept forgetting the words. I started to remember, but I got halfway through and I would forget what I was thinking about.
Marc handed me the joint, and I dragged on it again. He seemed to be blipping in and out of my awareness.
"Is that song still on?" I asked Marc after I had exhaled. "It seems like it's been on for so long."
Marc smiled stupidly and shrugged his shoulders. He began to giggle uncontrollably. "It does, doesn't it?" he said between laughs.
The laughter was infectious, and I found myself giggling. "Well, it has been a long time!" I insisted, giddy with laughter. "I remember when it came on, and it was a very long time ago."
He handed me the joint, and, strangely, it was almost gone. I sucked on it again, burning my lips and fingers but not caring. The smoke felt like a fist punching into my chest.
"Man," Marc giggled. "You're really stoned."
I spat the smoke out in a loud laugh. "I know it!"
I rolled over on the blanket and looked up at the stars. They looked so far away and I couldn't remember what they were.
"Hey!" Marc said. "Gimme the joint."
I looked over at him. "Didn't I give it to you?"
"No. It's still in your hand." He pointed.
I looked at my hand and tried to figure out what it was. "Oh, yeah," I said. "It burns."
Marc took it. "You want to eat the roach?"
I giggled and shuddered. "No. I hate bugs."
Marc took the smoldering joint and dowsed it against his tongue. I heard the ember sizzle, and his tongue curled back into his mouth, and he swallowed the roach.
I began to giggle again. "Oh, I must be stoned," I said. "I just saw you eat a cigarette, and I was going to ask you how it tasted!"
Marc joined my laughter. "Great!" he screamed, as though it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard.
I began to roll around on the blanket, laughing hysterically and holding my sides. "Oh shit!" I moaned, weak with laughter.
"What's the matter?" Marc asked, lighting the second joint.
"I can feel my laughs!" I screamed. "I can feel them along my skin. It feels like they're running up and down my arms like wiggles."
"You can feel your laughs?" he asked, inhaling.
I took the joint from him, controlling myself. "They seem to be popping out of my stomach like bubbles, tiny bubbles of laughter." I sucked deep on the joint.
The fit of laughter seemed to pass as suddenly as it had descended upon us. Not that I was sad or somber, for an occasional fit of giggling did manage to break through, but it was a singular explosion, and not part of the whole previous mood. My body seemed tired, but not sleepy-languid almost, maybe even sensual. I felt myself stretching across the blanket, enjoying the sliding, shifting sand underneath, relaxing in pleasure as it comfortably supported my body.
"Wow," Marc mumbled for the hundredth time. "This is really good shit."
We smoked in silence, feeling the unreal, dream-like numbness of the smoke. My thinking patterns seemed to broaden, and I found myself wandering down them, losing myself in the complex patterns.
I watched Marc stand and lie down next to me on the blanket. He seemed to be moving slowly, almost in slow motion, as though he were floating in water. His body felt warm and pleasant against mine; if I listened very closely, I could almost hear his heart beating.
"Listen," he said, and for a moment I thought he was talking about what I was just thinking, but he wasn't, and I heard something else. It sounded like a moan.
"What is it?" I asked, trying to fix the sound in my mind.
"Shsh. Listen."
"Uhhh!" the moan said. "Harder. Push in harder."
It was a girl's voice, but I couldn't remember whose. But that wasn't important. All that mattered was that she was being fucked, and I could hear her moaning in pleasure.
"The couple on the blanket next to us," Marc whispered.
I remembered now. Yes. The humping couple on the blanket. Now they were fucking. The thought excited me, and I found myself humping my body up slightly, as though it were me who was being fucked. The tightness of my pants crotch rubbed erotically against my wet cunt.
"Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhh," she moaned. The grass made it sound as though she were on our blanket. "Fuck me, Billy! Fuck me hard!"
I felt my body coloring with her mood, as though I were a sponge, sopping up her passion. My nipples got hard and tingled. Marc's fingers tickled up and down my naked arm, and I felt my skin puckering up into tiny bumps of pleasure.
Marc moved over me, hovering for a moment before his lips came down and touched mine. His tongue pushed between my lips; my mouth was wet and hot against him.
Without thinking, letting my passion rule me, I reached down between our bodies and put my hand on top of his bathing suit. His cock was hard and thick under my fingers, and I rubbed my hand up and down against him.
Linda was right, I heard myself think. She was right. He is big.
Marc groaned into my mouth when I touched his cock, and his tongue pushed out stiffly against mine. The hand that was touching my arm slid across my body and touched my breast. His fingers tightened against the flesh as he pinched inward, lifting the flesh.
"Under the blouse," I whispered urgently, pulling my lips away. "Play with the nipple."
But instead of sliding his hand under the blouse, Marc's fumbling fingers worked on the hem, pulling it up over my head. I began to protest, but it felt good, and the top slid off my body. I was naked from the waist up now.
I moaned excitedly at the tingling touch of the cool night air against my nakedness. My head was spinning with passion, and I could hear the moans of that other girl mixing in with my own groans of pleasure.
"Do the nipple," I said to Marc, slipping my hand down the front of his bathing suit to touch his cock. "Suck on the nipples."
His cock was like fire, and my fingers gripped it tightly. I squeezed in against his hardness, stroking it up and down with my soft hands. Marc's cock was bigger than Stu's was, bigger than any cock I'd ever felt. My hand was going crazy against him, touching, grabbing, pulling, fondling his hard-on, jerking him off with my fingers.
The wetness of Marc's mouth against my nipple made colors flash in front of my eyes, the pleasure was so intense. My breasts were always sensitive; once I almost came from Stu just sucking on them. But tonight the sensation was ten times more intense than I had ever felt. It was as though my whole body had become a raw, exposed nerve, tingling with the touch of Marc's fingers and tongue playing against me.
"Fuck me harder!" I heard the girl moan, and I saw pictures of them in my mind. I saw his thick cock pushing between the lips of her cunt as she lifted her hips and pressed herself against his thrusts. My imagination saw it as clearly as though it were happening to me.
Marc's tongue curled around my stiff nipple, and he flicked it wetly. I felt his breath against the flesh of my tit; it felt hot and exciting against the coolness of the night air all over the rest of my body. As his teeth ground erotically back and forth, gently biting into the nipple, I began to jerk my hand violently up and down Marc's cock.
"Suck me off," Marc suggested, pulling his lips away from my breast. "Suck my cock."
There was a thin film of saliva spread all across the tip of my breast, and the nipple looked like it was glowing in the darkness. The sight fascinated me and I stared at it.
"Suck my cock, Tootsie!" Marc commanded.
The words burned in my brain like a brand and I felt my mouth go dry at the suggestion. I'd never sucked a cock before in my life, and up to this very moment the idea repulsed me. But something was happening to me, and my mouth ached to swallow Marc's hard cock.
"Yes!" I hissed. "I'll suck it."
Marc rolled over on his back, and I leaned across his belly. My hand was still down his trunks. I grabbed his cock tightly and pulled myself across his body down toward his hard-on. With my other hand, I pulled back the elastic tightness of the bathing suit, and Marc's cock sprang erect in my face.
Marc hunched up his hips and pushed his prick toward my mouth. He was excited, and I could feel him trembling under my grip. His cock looked like a long, thick silhouette against the shadows of the beach, and I moved my open lips toward it.
"Oh God!" Marc moaned. "That's it! Do it!"
I felt the shaft slip past my lips, scraping lightly by my teeth, and press heavily against my tongue. His flesh was hot, and I licked his cock and tasted the bitter, sweaty taste of Marc's body. My lips tightened around the sides, and I plunged my face down the shaft, feeling excitement as his cock slid into my mouth.
"You're good, Tootsie." Marc moaned. He trapped my face against his belly, his hands in my hair. But the precaution was an unnecessary one, for I had no intentions of relinquishing my hold on his cock.
I moved my head up and down his cock, licking at him furiously with my tongue and sucking as hard as I could. His cock was all wet and slippery in my mouth, and I could almost feel it throbbing between my lips. I grabbed Marc's balls in my hand and squeezed them tightly together, my mouth aching to be filled with his come.
I felt Marc's hand opening the side button on my shorts. Then, once the button was opened, I felt his hand slide hotly across my naked ass and push down between the cheeks until he was touching my cunt.
My hand was still on his cock, and I jerked him off and sucked him at the same time. He must have enjoyed it because he moaned and pushed his finger up hard, between the wet lips of my cunt, impaling me from the rear. I felt the lips of my cunt shut quiveringly tight around him, sucking the hardness of his finger up into my already hot box.
The pleasure was almost driving me out of my mind, and I moaned at the wet, slurping sounds of my mouth sucking on Marc's cock. I spun my body around, on top of him, and his finger pulled free of my cunt.
"What are you doing?" he asked. His voice sounded muffled against my ass.
I didn't know. All I knew was that I was hot and excited, and my cunt was aching with pleasure.
I pressed my cunt back against his face, locking his head with my thighs and crushing my crotch against his lips. I didn't care that I still had my shorts on, for the idea of what we were doing was almost as exciting as doing it. I could feel Marc's wet mouth licking at the dampness between my legs, and as I sank my mouth down around his cock, I felt the tickle of his tongue pressing up into the wet material of my hot pants. I sucked hard on his cock, using his flesh like a straw to suck out his come. His excited fingers fumbled in the tight leg band of the shorts, desperately trying to expose my cunt to his lips.
I felt the wet, moving lick of his tongue against my thigh, and then, once, the tickling sensation of him flicking the outer edge of my cunt lips. But the pants were too tight, and he couldn't lick me directly.
"Fuck me!" I moaned, pulling my lips from his wet cock. My cunt felt as though it were going to explode any moment. "Please, Marc! Fuck me!"
Marc was anxious to do just that, and he rolled me off him.. I lay flat on my back, crazy with passion, and arched my hips up when I felt Marc pulling down the loose material of my hot pants. I didn't care that I was completely naked out in the open, with at least nine or ten other people nearby, any one of whom might momentarily come over to our blanket for a visit. All that mattered was the burning ache in my cunt and the driving lust that pushed me to satisfy that passion.
The air felt cool against the wetness of my cunt, and I felt my whole body come alive with excitement. The breeze seemed to tickle up between the lips of my cunt, teasing me with its touch against my aching cunt.
I couldn't resist the lure of my own body, and while I was waiting for Marc my fingers stole down to my crotch and I began to rub my clit feverishly.
"Oh Jesus!" I heard Marc moan. "Tootsie, let me watch you do it to yourself! Please, let me watch!"
It sounded perverse, as though I were putting on an exhibition for Marc, teaching him the most intimate secrets of my body before he claimed it for himself. I wanted to let him watch me as I fondled myself; the very thought excited me wildly.
I parted my thighs even farther and pushed my cunt up against my hand. My fingers worked furiously in the wet forest of cunt hair, slipping across the soft skin, pressing down into the swollen bud of my clit. My cunt was so wet that I could hear my hand squishing between the lips.
"How does it feel?" Marc moaned. I heard a slapping noise above the sound of his voice.
"It feels good," I said, opening my eyes. "It feels like I'm going to come soon."
I stared down my body. Between my open legs was Marc. He was on his knees, jerking himself off and looking at my cunt. His mouth was open and his eyes looked dazed. The muscles on his neck and shoulders were tensed, as though he were straining against his passion. His hand was a blur against his crotch; his cock vibrated up and down from the enthusiasm of his pumping fingers.
"Put your finger into your cunt," he said, grunting.
I slipped my other hand down over the swell of my cunt, down between the wet lips. I could feel the swirling brush of my middle and index fingers working rapidly against my clitoris as I pushed two fingers of the other hand into my cunt. My insides were wet and hot, and I stirred the fingers around, pushing in and out of the hole. All the while I fucked myself with my fingers, I watched Marc jerking himself off between my legs.
"Put it in me when you come," I instructed, feeling my orgasm drawing close. "I want to feel you come inside me."
"Yes," he agreed. "I will."
It was like all my fantasies when I masturbated. I always thought of cocks and cunt, of fucking and sucking. Now I was doing the same thing-doing it in front of someone-but this time I had a real cock just inches from my cunt, ready to plunge into me and flood me with come the moment I began to have my orgasm. It was like fantasy and reality all mixed up in my mind.
My fingers rubbed violently against my clit until my arm ached and my fingers felt as though they were going to cramp up. I hunched my cunt up and down, straining my back and elevated ass. Marc jerked his long, thick cock up and down, almost touching my cunt with his outward strokes.
"Now!" Marc moaned. He hunched forward.
Just before his cock touched me, I felt a blob of thick, wet come spurt from the end of his cock and splash against my fingers. My cunt dripped with his come, matting in the hair and wetting my clit as it oozed between the open lips of my pussy.
I pulled my fingers from my cunt and grabbed for Marc's cock. With my other hand still on my clit, masturbating, I pulled his coming cock and buried him between the lips of my cunt. His cock throbbed inside of me, still spewing out its cream, flooding my cunt as he slid deeply into me.
The moment his come touched me, I began to come. My legs almost pressed together now in passion, and I had to force them apart to allow him entrance. My thighs quivered as I came, and I felt the scratch of his pubic hair rub against the fingers that were still twirling the bud of my clitoris.
"Fuck me!" I moaned as my orgasm exploded all around his cock. "Come inside me!"
I finally pulled my hand away from my cunt, and I locked them behind my knees, bending my body almost in half. I pulled down with my arms, and my body rolled up, my cunt almost in my face. I could see Marc driving into me, pushing open the lips, and I could smell the sweaty odor of my own come-filled cunt.
Marc's cock slithered thickly into me until my cunt had embraced all his seven inches. My cunt seemed to swell up around him, tightening down around him, squeezing the cream from his cock. His balls rested against my ass, tickling me with the wiry hair covering his flesh.
One thrust was all either of us needed. We were both primed from masturbation, and we completed it by fucking. Fantasy and reality: a shattering combination.
Marc rolled off of me, and my legs fell down. His come dripped over the mound of my cunt and out from between the re-closing lips. The wind felt cold blowing against me, and I tried to close my legs. The come was slimy between my legs and made my skin sticky.
I could hear Marc breathing next to me, and my hand reached across the darkness for him. His hand was all wet from the combination of his cream and the sticky discharge of my cunt. We locked our fingers together.
"That is some crazy grass," I finally said, squeezing our hands together.
I could hear the roar of the beach again, and just above it the muted sounds of music from the radio. I couldn't place the song, but it was pleasant.
Marc snorted.
"Did I say something funny?" I asked. We were both naked, and his body felt warm against me.
"No," he answered. "I just thought of something that was funny." "What?"
"I have two more joints in my shirt pocket," he said.
I smiled. "Good. Save them. It's going to be fun to use them."