Chapter 4

Farleigh shifted Maeve's legs until they were on top of his, knowing that they'd be cramping her soon from being spread so long. She was absolutely limp, letting him move her as he wanted, so tired and utterly satisfied that she was in a trance and all but unconscious.

Suddenly there was a great banging on the door that sent them both clutching and searching for clothes. "Mrs. Crandall! Mrs. Crandall!" The knocking and the calling continued... louder than ever. Maeve's heart was pounding in her chest as she crawled over Farleigh to grab an old robe from the tiny closet.

"Just a minute," she called shakily, suddenly feeling ashamed and degraded, caught dallying with the Campground manager. She didn't recognize the voice. Farleigh lost no time grabbing his clothes and easing his bulk through the long narrow trailer to the tiny bedroom in the rear.

Finally Maeve had covered herself and opened the door a crack, feeling the sticky cum oozing down her legs underneath the robe. "Yes?"

A boy of about twelve stood on the trailer step. "Mrs. Crandall?"

"Yes."

"Well, Bob sent me down from the office. There's a phone call for you... and the party's waiting on the line, he says. He said you was to hurry."

"Oh... well... thanks. I'll be along in just a minute." The boy just stood there looking at her.

"Just a second," she added, closing the door and finding her purse. She came back to tip him a quarter. He went whistling off, satisfied.

When she heard the gate of the redwood fence close, she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked up to find Farleigh dressed and smiling.

"I heard. You go along and get your phone call. When you leave I'll mosey on out quietly."

"All right," she said dully. The boy's appearance had shocked her back to reality. The grim reality of what she had done. She was no better than Carl. Lowering herself to his level. To the level of that slut he'd been with. She'd been betrayed by her own body that had been denied too long... but that was Carl's fault, too, she reasoned.

"Don't look so sad." Farleigh caught her shoulders and looked at her. "It was the best. You just pull yourself together, honey. I'll look in on you later."

"No. Don't look in on me later. You'd better leave now. I have to dress." Her voice sounded as flat and dejected as she felt.

"Okay, honey." He leaned down to brush his lips against her cheek, and then he was gone. She found a pair of jeans and a shirt and a big old bulky sweater which she pulled on quickly... while her mind raced painfully. She never wanted to see Farleigh again, for every time she did she'd be reminded. He was right. It had been the best while it was happening... but not now. It seemed cheap and vulgar and humiliating.

She ran her fingers through her hair, grabbed her purse, locked the trailer behind her, and went out the redwood gate. Supposing something had happened to the children when she'd been lying in there doing what she'd been doing? Oh, no... please God... no. She began to run then, dodging the kids and the dogs and the campers.

Sam Grandfield planned to spend some social time with all the professors in the management department. Hell, that was the only way to really find out about people. He'd found out so many goof-offs and lamebrains just by being with them in relaxed situations... when they had no idea they were giving themselves away. Already he'd found out... just by driving leisurely down the coast with him... that Harry Neil was impotent.

The Admiral glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye as the professor told still another interminable smutty story. Sam Grandfield didn't have to listen. After twenty-seven years in the Navy, there wasn't a single variation he hadn't already heard.

He laughed appreciatively when Harry had finished, so heartily that no one would have known he hadn't heard a word.

"Terribly kind of you to have me down for the weekend, Harry."

"Not at all. We're delighted, Admiral."

"I need to unwind a bit... get in some fishing... think about all the things you fellows have fed me about your work to see how it fits in with what I want to do for the Navy..." Sam didn't finish what else he was thinking. No point in asking an impotent man where he could get a choice piece of tail. He'd have to find that on his own.

"Well, I think you'll find Bendemeer's Stream conducive to that, sir."

"Cut the sir, Harry, when we're away from the brass-bound portals. We're just about the same age, anyway."

"Makes things a lot more comfortable. I'll agree to that!" Harry grinned enthusiastically.

"Bendemeer's Stream." The Admiral mused. He loosened his tie and leaned back in the leather bucket seat. "Oh, yes! 'There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's Stream, and the nightingale sings round it all the day long.' Irish folk song. I remember now."

Harry looked at him respectfully. "That's a new one on me... but it would make sense. The owner and manager of the trailer park and campground is of Irish extraction. Goes over to Ireland every year on his vacation."

They had turned off the highway and drove across a high bridge over a river that bubbled and rippled clearly over a rocky bottom. Harry stopped at the end of the bridge and checked in. He also explained that he'd checked with George Lunsford and it was fine for the Admiral to use his little trailer for bunking. Farleigh seemed particularly agreeable... but then most people were impressed when you had an Admiral for a guest.

Harry was feeling pretty pleased with himself, too. Carl was going to shit green when he found out! Harry was pretty sure that this invitation was going to assure him of getting that research money everybody knew the Admiral had come out to award.

As they rounded a curve in the winding dirt road, Harry saw that Maeve's VW bus was parked in front of the redwood fence. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It had never seemed fair that Carl had the Harvard Ph.D. and Maeve. Well, it looked as though he wouldn't get that research money, he thought smugly.

Maeve. God, he'd almost had a full hard-on at the reception just looking at her. She was everything Jo was not. And he was absolutely sure Jo was the real reason he just couldn't get it up any more.

Maeve yanked her sweater down over her bottom and picked up the phone. She still felt dirty, soiled and ashamed, wanting to hide... to scrub herself clean and hide.

"Hello?"

"Maeve? It's Betty Lunsford."

No one had to tell her who that syrupy southern voice belonged to. How dare that woman call her! How did she even know she was here? Maeve was shaking inside, her guts churning with white-hot fury at the slut's audacity. She struggled for control.

"Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know that we'll be down later in the weekend. Oh, not to stay. Just Sunday. You see, Harry Neil called, and he took the Admiral down there as his guest and we've lent our little trailer for the Admiral to use. So, I thought, since the Neils and you and... well, I thought we ought to decide about food. I'll do a southern baked ham, and maybe you and Jo could barbecue a turkey. Oh... and I'll bring my usual watermelon filled with the fruit in sauterne. Then, if you and Jo could just add salads and rolls... why, that's all we could possibly need," she ended brightly.

Her ears took it in, and intellectually she understood the words... but Maeve felt incapable of dealing with the content. Did that bitch think their relationship was going to stay the same? Did she imagine that they'd have weekend trailer parties casually as they had done in the past? How did you cope with a slut so brazen that she could fuck your husband and then casually call you up and arrange a little party for the Admiral... just a few hours later. Maeve could still see Betty's tanned legs wrapped around Carl's hips and her heels spurring him. The visions also triggered her own guilt over Farleigh, to come rushing into her aching head. But she mustn't let go now. She licked her parched lips and tried to be casual.

"Yes... I guess that would be all right. I haven't seen Jo... and I didn't know the Admiral was here. This is all news to me... I just came down to paint... I... well... ah... how did you know I was even here?"

"Oh, I called the house as soon as Harry called and arranged things... and Carl said you'd gone down to paint... but I knew you'd want to help entertain the Admiral for Carl, of course. Carl's probably trying to get you now... and here I am holding the line up. So George and I'll see you all Sunday. Goodbye."

"Goodbye," Maeve answered lamely to the dead receiver that emitted a dial tone now in her ear. Slowly she replace it, but hung onto it with her hand. For a moment she thought she was going to faint. Her face felt clammy, and a wave of nausea hit her, and the cramped phonebooth swayed before her eyes. Then it passed, to be replaced by a terrible pain in her belly that twisted her insides. Oh God, how did she ever get inside such a nightmare?

Somehow she got back to the trailer. She scrubbed herself all over in the tiny tub till she felt raw as a lobster... but she would never feel really clean again. Finally wrapped in the old robe, she found part of a bottle of brandy in the cupboard.

When most of it was gone and the pain had eased in her stomach, she crawled into bed in the cramped little bedroom and closed her eyes, wishing hazily she'd had some sleeping pills so she'd never have to open them again.

Sam Grandfield moved on farther upstream through the underbrush that was no longer trampled. He was away from the campers and trailers and any sign of people except for the occasional beer can. The river sparkled in the light that was beginning to strengthen and brighten the early morning.

Jo Neil had given him some beef heart for bait. From the look of her last night, she'd have given him a lot more than that. But with an almost surely impotent husband, he didn't blame her for that. She was not atypical, actually. Among Navy couples he'd found it a fairly common situation... and he was convinced that the whole tradition-bound rigid service structure was the cause... as it was of almost all social problems that plagued commanding officers. Now that he was in a position to do something about it, he damn well was going to. The press was mostly with him on the reforms he'd done for the enlisted men and now, while they still considered him the fair-haired boy, he wanted to get something done for the officers... all the officers from the lowliest ensign to captains and admirals.

He circled around a huge mass of boulders, and as he came around the other side of the granite outcrop, he almost stumbled over a girl painting at an easel. She looked up when he was almost on top of her. Why, it was the little live thing! The one he'd almost collided with at the reception.

"Oh... oh." Her great brown eyes looked frightened as a doe's.

"Sorry... I..." His foot slipped, and he slid, stumbling and grabbing at her as he went. His fishing gear clattered dully as it hit, and her paintbrush flew out of her hand into the water.

"Oh... dear..." She gasped, trying to keep her balance with the descending force of the Admiral, his hands grabbling her arms. Finally he straightened and had his feet on solid rock that didn't slope. By this time they were almost in the water, teetering and hanging on to each other.

Sam did exactly what he'd wanted to do that night at the reception. He scooped her into his arms and kissed hell out of her. She was a little live thing! She squirmed and wriggled and fought like a little wildcat. When he thought she'd had enough, he let her go. She backed away from him, her breath rushing through her lungs so hard and fast that her breasts heaved up and down deliciously under her thin white cotton shirt. Tears were streaming down her face, which was twisted with fury.

"You! You!" she spluttered with rage and fright, and then she walked right up to him and slapped his face with all she had. His face really stung, too. God, he loved a woman who fought a little! No, Harry could never have done this well for him.

"Don't you know you can be court-martialed for striking a superior officer?" Sam grinned, seizing her and pinning her against him, twisting both her little arms behind her and holding them with one arm. With his other hand he caught her jaw and held her face still, crushing his mouth down again on hers and forcing his tongue so hard into her mouth that she was almost gagging.

Maeve knew there was no one around. She'd purposely come this far this early so there wouldn't be anyone around... and by so doing she'd trapped herself with this maniac of an Admiral. She knew that lie must know there was no one this far upstream, either.

No matter what happened or how she tried to avoid it... it seemed as though this ghastly nightmare she'd been in since last night kept going on and on. Like a Shakespearean tragedy that must be played to the inevitable end.

She could feel her pulse beating wildly in her throat where the heel of his hand rested as his fingers bit into her jaw and held her. His tongue was hitting her tonsils, and his lips were bruising her mouth from the pressure of his gleaming white teeth. Her arms were hurting where he held them in a steel grip behind her. Her mind was screaming in her skull... No... No... No... but no one heard, and it echoed and echoed inside her own head.

Miraculously, he pulled his mouth away, but Maeve could feel his breath whistle through his nostrils for his tanned hawk face was still only inches from hers where he held her. He forced her to look up into his steely gray eyes through the blur of her tears.

"You are the loveliest little thing I've ever seen. The more you fight, the better I like it!"

Dear God, she had been captured by a beast! There was nothing of the gentleness of Farleigh. She knew, standing there, without any doubt, that he'd rape her as casually as he'd give an order to an aide. How could a man like this be an Admiral? Not just an Admiral... the wonder-boy Admiral who could do no wrong. The world was coming apart... and her with it.

Sam felt her breasts, thrusting and mashed delectably against his chest, and the "V" of her jean-clad legs and mound against his hard thigh. His cock had sprung as smartly to attention as was possible inside his skivvy shorts and dungarees and was beeping out a pulse that decoded to FUCK... FUCK... FUCK! It was beating this message through his clothes and hers right into her soft little belly.

His hand slid down her throat and inside her shirt and bra, burrowing to reach the nipple. The soft, tender, silky-skinned nipple hardened instantly at his touch, shrinking to a tight little bud of desire. He knew she wouldn't fight so, now that he'd told her how much he liked her to fight. She didn't. She just looked at him with those huge wet brown eyes as he thumbed and pinched her tit. But it registered. Those eyes widened to deep pools that glazed a little at his touch. He was reaching her, all right!

Maeve shuddered as his hand found her breast,. and she could feel her nipple fold into a rigid little knob of carnal anticipation. That was the trouble! Her whole body kept betraying her, acting independently of her wishes! If you couldn't trust your own body any more...!

She could feel his mouth begin to explore her face... the cheek, then her ear where he bored inside the tender orifice with his burning tongue that sent sparks of electricity shooting up her spine.

Nothing in her whole past life had prepared her for these last two days. Nothing. What did you do when you found your own body was a black traitor? What did you do? Was any man able to arouse her? Was she nothing but a whore who'd missed her calling? What was Maeve Crandall?

She had no thought now of Carl or how furious he'd be if she antagonized the Admiral. She only knew she had to regain some measure of respect for herself before she slid down a bottomless pit of wanton behavior.

"Admiral." She said as calmly as she could. But that didn't stop him. He was kissing her eyebrows and temples, and his hand had left her breast to caress her shoulderblades that poked out like singed wings.

"Please don't do this." She tried so hard to be dignified, but her voice came out breathy and her shoulderblades were tingling from his hand.

"You'll love it," he said against her mouth before he caught her quivering lips in a long kiss.

His free hand then reached between them and unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it down over her shoulders till it did the work of his bruising arm that had held her. Swiftly he tied the tails back around her arms that were pinned behind her back. Both his hands were then free to cup and squeeze her lushly full breasts that spilled over the top of her thin, transparent net bra.

Maeve backed away, her arms pinned to her sides and almost bare to the waist. It took a supreme effort to back away from those questing hands that had hardened her nipples to rosy, passionate and pointed peaks of quivering anticipation. Her breath was rushing through her laboring lungs, and she could feel moisture wetting her bikini panties.

She stood there, trembling, her breasts heaving and quivering and her eyes wet above tear-streaked cheeks, arms bound like a victim, but nevertheless there was a blazing defiance in her eyes. Sam assessed the fully ripe lush breasts straining at the net bra that could not hide their coral-red areolas and stiff nipples, the tiny thin-skinned waist indented by the waistband of her tight white jeans and the slow curve of hip and thigh. His prick was pounding a maddening, futile beat now inside his pants.

"We'll now proceed, Mrs. Crandall," he said formally.

"How... how did you know...?"

"We were introduced. The receiving line at the reception."

"But... but how could you possibly remember all those names?"

"The first prerequisite to becoming an Admiral is a good memory." He stepped up to her then. "And I can even repeat my exact thought at the time we were introduced... check on this one, she's going to be a good fuck!" He grinned engagingly. "And so you are."

"You're... you're despicable," Maeve spat at him.

"In a little while you'll think otherwise." He picked her up easily and carried her the few yards to a grassy meadow. Maeve wriggled and struggled, but he held her with no apparent effort and set her down on her feet in the thick grass. She felt him reach behind her and untie the shirt that bound her. Quickly she shrugged it back on her shoulders and covered herself.

"Take your clothes off," he ordered, "Or I'll have to rip them off and you'll have to get back to the campground naked." He then calmly proceeded to pull off his old white turtleneck to reveal his hairy, beautifully muscled chest and strongly biceped arms.

Maeve stood as if in shock, watching him pull the white dungarees down and stand, stork-legged, first on one foot and then the other, to remove them. His thighs swelled with muscle and his calves looked like gnarled oaks, but her eyes were fastened on the great bulge in his brief shorts. It looked like a codpiece on one of the figures in a Breugel painting from the middle ages... a tacked-on, padded thing to make a man look as though he had a permanent hard-on. The codpieces men wore then had always been so exaggerated that they looked laughable to Twentieth Century eyes. You knew that no man ever had an erection that big. But he did! Maeve caught her breath and waited for the unveiling, the freeing of that huge thing, bundled so painfully in the tight shorts.

He looked up to see Maeve still standing frozen as a statue, staring at him. She'd made no move to take off the clothes. "I said, take off your clothes!"

She jumped, startled, and met his hard gray eyes. For a brief second she thought of running. She had the advantage, for he'd have to get his clothes back on, but she knew he was not a man to tangle with. He'd run her to ground if it took years. With shaking fingers she pulled off her still unbuttoned shirt and reached behind her for the hooks of her bra, her eyes locked by his in a duel she was losing.

Slowly she slid the straps down her shoulders and let her breasts flop free, white satin fruits tipped with ripe red nipples he bit with his eyes. She began to enjoy the effect her strip was having on him... and she stretched it out tantalizingly. Her eyes never left his lusting face as she popped the snap of her waistband and slowly unzipped the front zipper of her jeans. She wriggled her hips as she slid the jeans very slowly down, pushing them with her hands. They were so tight she had to push down each leg individually. When they were finally down to her ankles, and she stretched it out as long as possible, she kicked off her sneakers and stepped out of the jeans.

Sam stood with his hands on his hips, knuckles under so she couldn't see the shaking of his hands. God, what a luscious little thing, standing there like a miniature Diana with the woods behind her... white as marble but dipped with rose. He half expected to see her pull an arrow from an unseen quiver. Her naked body was a breathing statue, shoulders thrown back, and her needle-nippled, thrusting, beautiful breasts pointing at him as she stood with her weight on one leg so that the curve of her hips down to her knees made a triangle and her pubic hair another and her thighs joining her crotch still another. The curve of her delicate rib cage narrowing to her very tiny waist was repeated perfectly by the curve from waist down to hip. She still wore the thin wisp of bikini panties, and he watched, holding his breath, as her hands slid down over her sculptured hips to slide fingertips inside the edge of the cloth and slip them down till they fell to her feet. He could see that she was moist between her legs, for there was a faint sheen high on the inside of her upper thighs... and the panties that fell to her feet had circles of wet on the crotch.

"Dance for me," he commanded imperiously.

"But... I..."

"You've taken ballet. You know how. Ballet should be danced naked. I want to see it."

She moved uncertainly away from him, walking at first and then slowly raising her arms and beginning small leaps. This strange brutal man seemed to know everything about her, including the fact she had taken ballet. She imagined some giant computer feeding out the events of her life to this Napoleonic tyrant. But while she danced, she reasoned, he couldn't rape her.

Maeve began to enjoy the feel of the air on her naked body and the stretch and pull of her bones and muscles as she made the exacting steps. She rose on her toes, arms over head in the exaggerated stretch that pulled her breasts even higher, and then dipped. Soon she was racing around the meadow in pirouettes and leaps, faster and faster, losing herself in the dancing.

She was a nymph racing gracefully through the grass, naked and free. Sam felt his erection swell even harder and fuller, painful, for his guts were beginning to churn at the sight of this beautiful creature.

"Enough," he growled, skinning his shorts down and kicking them aside as he walked toward her. She bent at the waist, her fingers gracefully brushing the toes of one outstretched foot and then sinking down on the knee bent behind her till she was seated on that leg and her whole body bent forward abjectly and obediently in the classic ballet bow that ended performances.

Sam reached down and picked up her hands and pulled her up till she was standing at arm's length. He pulled her into him sharply, feeling her heaving breasts mash into his naked chest. Her skin was like warmed silk, and he plunged into her soft mouth, his tongue like a miniature penis invading the wet cavern.

"Mm-mmmm-mmm..." she moaned around his tongue, drinking him into her throat with an eager sucking motion, much to her own amazement. The dancing had left her breathing hard from the effort and, strangely, the effect of the sensuous movements had kept her body heated. The feel of Sam's hard naked body had simply sent the inner temperature soaring even higher. His blazing hand was stroking her and leaving burns wherever it went. She could feel his enormous rod jerking against her quaking belly, and every jerk sent a spasm through her own aching, needing pussy.

She had crossed some invisible, intangible barrier... and was his prisoner willingly. The inevitable was coming, and shivers brought goose-bumps to her skin and a prickling, wondering excitement.

Sam pinched her nipples brutally as though quenching red-hot points of flame, for they felt that hot between his thumb and forefinger. His hands were so hot he felt as though he were leaving handprints wherever he caressed her, and the blood was coursing through his thick, rigid shaft in an insane treadmill. Pressed against her white belly, it pulsated like an engine just waiting for him to pull the throttle... building up a steam that was going to blow all by itself if he didn't hurry!

Her breasts were heavy in his hand, and firm as a young girl's. Hard-soft, hot, squishy rocks. He pulled away in order to bend and catch one in his mouth... stretching his lips as wide as he could, to take in as much of the scented, rosy, sweet silky flesh as possible. Jesus! She tasted like sun-warmed rose petals! She must wear some rose-based perfume.

He sucked on her tit hard and long, leaning her back over his strong arm in a back bend. Her head dangled back and her eyes closed, but her hands came out to catch his head and mash him ever farther into her naked breast flesh.

"Oh-h-h-hhh-hhhh," she sighed faintly as his tongue began to whirl and titillate her clenched little fiery nipple. He moved to the other breast, and she shuddered and shook, pressing him anew till his face was buried in the white satin mound.

Suddenly she stiffened, her spine snapping her upright, and her eyes flew open, staring like great brown bruises against her smooth white face.

"I heard something..." she whispered in an agonized voice. They stood listening for a long minute, but the wooded silence was only broken by the faint gentle rippling of the water and the sighing of a small breeze through the trees.

She pulled away from him, still straining to her another twig snap as she was sure she had a minute ago. But, nothing... so far. There was somebody out there somewhere, though. She was sure of it. She hadn't just imagined that twig snapping.

Sam watched her, straining to hear, poised for flight like a startled doe, eyes wide and frightened. She was so incredibly beautiful and somehow vulnerable he felt almost ashamed of the way he had humiliated her... but not enough to let her go. There was no one out there... and if there were he couldn't stop now. His cock was jutting out from his aching loins like a bull's prick, jerking its unseeing eyes in search of a hot hollow to bury itself in. The pressure in his balls was unbearable, and they were swollen hard into knots of churning semen. He had to shoot that load soon up deep into that smooth belly.

"Come here," he whispered fiercely... and she ran to him for shelter. He caught her by her round little buttocks, lifting her high, and her legs wrapped around his back, her arms around his head, and slowly he lowered her onto his throbbing upstanding cock. Her seam was wet, and his fingers opened its edges from underneath, her little butt sitting on his palms.

Maeve felt herself lowered very slowly down Sam's hard body, and then his great throbbing rock-hard shaft touched her vulva. She jumped as though prodded with an electric cattle prod... arching her spine, for the head of that hot pulsing shaft sent an electric jolt reverberating through her... but slowly, inexorably her body descended! She'd split completely in two on that huge lusting depraved instrument! She couldn't take it! Her body would split completely apart!

"No... Sam... no," she begged.

"Easy, baby... easy," he grunted as he eased her over the head of his prick and it slipped through her outer lips as they closed around it hungrily. Her body had poured such copious lubrications that it slid in with no pain so far... and... dear God, it felt so good!

He staggered slightly, getting his balance, for her weight was light. He'd lifted two hundred pounds at the gym last week, and this little thing couldn't weigh more than a hundred. With his legs braced apart slightly, it was easier. With her firmly planted on the greedy throbbing head of his cock, he let his hands come down suddenly and pushed with his legs as he felt the clasping walls of her warm wet vagina close over his thrusting rod in one swift slide.

"Agh-gh-ghhhhhhhh!" Maeve screamed as she felt that great, purple-headed thick knife slice up into her and impale her deeply up into her belly.

"Don't move," he commanded. She couldn't. She was caught on the enormous cob of his penis that jerked in her belly like a wild ferocious beast. He so filled her that her entire hole felt brutally stretched and on the point of tearing and bleeding over his mammoth penile member.

Sam flexed his buttocks, hardening the muscles, and it sent his pulsing cock ramming into her sensitive cervix. It felt like a nose, a rubbery nose against the head of his prick that was jerking and throbbing now almost uncontrollably. Christ, she was so achingly, beautifully tight around his hard shaft, and he could feel the tight walls of her vagina clenching and milking him like a million skilled fingers.

His legs were tiring, but he loved holding her like this... wearing her on his manhood. She clung to him as he began to walk around the meadow with her impaled on his bold rooster-proud cock. This was a fuck he was never going to forget! Every step sent his prick digging up into her wet warm pussy even deeper.

At last Maeve felt him ease her up off that slicing, digging, brutally huge penis and lay her gently down on the warm grass. It felt so soft and lovely beneath her, and she stretched herself, luxuriating in the feel of it. Her legs spread and stretched, opening her pussy to his lascivious, lusting gaze.

"Spread yourself wider," Sam said harshly, his face contorted with the agony in his balls and the sight of her naked white softness spread out for him on the grass. He could see her hair-fringed lips, swollen and wet, with the carnal anticipation of his throbbing entrance and beating ride. He knelt between her legs and spread her soft white thighs with his palms even wider till her whole burning, wanting, weeping, flowing cunt was open to him. The lips were red and glistening, and the hair was matting from her juice that poured out from deep inside that hot, vibrating box.

Maeve felt his fingers gently split her slit at the top and heard the guttural groan tear from his throat as her clitoris came into view. Very gently he touched it with one finger and began to stroke the erect, quivering little organ. She arched up to his stroking finger, her hips raising from the grass, for every stroke drove her crazy with the electric zigzag of sexual sensation that flashed in crazy paths through her veins. Her aching vagina was pulling inward in frantic pulls, and there was nothing there to hold and suck into her body. She was starving for that great pulsing cock to bite into her and feed her aching void. She wanted to devour it... all of it... deep... deep... inside her.

Harry froze in his steps... wanting to rub his eyes in disbelief but unable to move a muscle. There through the thicket on a sunny and dappled meadow were two naked white bodies standing mashed together in a long, deliberate hungry kiss. He felt his cock twinge. He eased closer through the underbrush, trying to watch where he stepped. This was something to see!

Carefully he eased a branch out of his line of sight.

Great balls of fire! It was the Admiral and Maeve! Naked as the day they were born and a whole lot bigger. Jesus Christ! His balls began to itch, and his brain tried to right itself and begin to function properly.

That little bitch! She'd run away from him at the reception when all he'd done was flirt a little and look... and here she was naked in the Admiral's arms!

The sight of her arms clinging to the Admiral's neck and her white rounded ass cheeks being clutched by Sam's hand as he pressed her into him, their mouths working, tongues dueling, he was sure, in each other's throats, almost set Harry clawing the air. His head was racing and his emotions churned up a storm in his belly and loins and prick.

Then he saw the Admiral bend her back and plant his mouth on her beautiful big luscious tit. Harry had to choke back a groan. He wanted to be standing there biting into that great ripe breast. God damn! She was loving it! She was mashing the Admiral's face right into her white flesh. Harry could even hear her moan.

Harry's cock began to rise like the phoenix from its own ashes. It was getting really hard! Oh, Jesus. What was he going to do? He only knew he had to see this... all of this! He eased forward to a clump of bushes where he thought he could see better... and his foot hit a twig that blended so perfectly with the dirt and leaves that he hadn't seen it. It snapped with a sound that seemed like a cannon to Harry. He looked up to Maeve stiffen and then finally move away from Sam. She'd heard it.

Harry's heart beat so loud in his thin chest that he thought they surely would hear it, too. But they mustn't! He had to see... all of it. He had to!

Very slowly he squatted on his heels and found there was a hole in the bushes down at that level. Jesus! He could see everything! Carefully he eased himself down until he could sit on the ground and watch without his legs cramping. His own private skin flick in comfort! But no skin flick could ever match this... not even the best wide-screen color ones in San Francisco. This was in the flesh!

Harry felt his hair rise and his breath inhale hollowly, for Sam was easing her down on his cock, standing up. Harry felt his own prick begin to quiver and jerk in his pants. Quickly he unzipped his pants and feverishly pulled it out where he could hold it.

The sight of Maeve's naked white loveliness had made it harder than it had been in ages. It actually stuck up through the fly in his pants in a decent erection. Harry's hand closed around it gratefully. He had to make the most of this. He stroked it up and down, up and down.

Watching the Admiral walk around the meadow with Maeve riding on his cock, buried from sight all the way up her pussy, almost drove Harry crazy right then. He jerked frantically on his rod, pulling the foreskin back and forth.

When Sam laid her down on the grass. Harry could see her whole hair-outlined cunt glistening in the sunlight. She was hotter than a pistol! Right then he promised himself... he didn't know where or when... but one day he'd lie down between those beautiful white thighs and bang hell out of her till she screamed for more! God damn that prick Carl! Trying to do him out of the research money when the bastard had that to crawl on every night. It wasn't fair! It just wasn't fair.

Harry also realized that if he had something that good to fuck all the time, he'd go after that research money with a vengeance. That's why Carl was rooting for it so. But damnation, Harry needed it worse. He'd never had a piece that juicy in his whole life!

Harry jerked harder on his bursting prick as he saw Sam spread her even wider and begin to tickle her clitoris... and she was shoving it up to him and loving it! Then Harry had to clamp one hand around his own mouth for fear of groaning out loud and spoiling everything.

Sam looked down at the writhing, beautiful, naked woman as he applied the finger to her agitated quivering clitoris. Her love juice was pouring out like a damned fountain now, and her hips were arching up to him like a gyrating belly dancer afraid of losing her job! Oh God, he had to taste that before he fucked her senseless.

He leaned down suddenly and moved his finger off the button. He put his teeth where his finger had been and gently took the erect shuddering clitoris between them and bit gently.

Every muscle in her body ridged and quaked as though she was being electrocuted, and her hips lifted completely as she ground that shaking tiny center of her slit up to his admiring tongue and teeth.

Her head flailed as she screamed, "Go-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-od-d-d!" His tongue licked into her juicy split seam, lapping up her musky, womanly fluids, and he thought she was going to faint.

"Take me," she wailed, almost weeping again. "Take me!" "Ta-a-a-ak-k-k-e me-e-e-e-e! Fuck me please... fuck...!" The tears were streaming now from her eyes, closed and contorted like her lust-crazed face.

"Don't cry, ba... by..." he panted. "Here it is!" He raised himself on his hands and toes in a pushup and looked down the space between their bodies to his weeping cock that was just as crazy with the waiting as she was. He aimed it and hesitated, hanging poised above her quaking body. And then he dived straight for her open wet-petaled pussy that needed him so.

"Ah-h-hhhhhhhhhhh Godddddddddd!" she screamed as the huge blunted long blade cut straight into her very being, filling her to bursting! Her aching, empty void was filled, and she felt her muscular walls close around his pulsating cock gratefully and hold him hard and close inside her.

Sam began to stroke into her almost immediately. He'd dragged it out so long he felt like he was dying. He could hear the sluicing of his aching rod slip into the slippery hot hollow of her vaginal passage... the sound of fucking! The sound of fucking coming just after her lewd pleading sent him ramming into her like a maniacal jack-hammer.

"Jesus... J-eeee-s-s-s-u-u-u-us-s-s!" The sounds spewed from Sam's lips as he humped and pumped it into her steaming, boiling cunt. He'd never felt a pussy so tight and clasping in his life! She was tighter than a friggin' virgin! It was like plunging into a vise that sheathed his rocky prick and skinned it deliriously close and then clenched it and shook it when the head hit her cervix.

Maeve had forgotten the feel of the grass mashed under her, the warmth of the sun where it hit her in patches, the glare coming in dappled spaces to hurt her eyes... the scent of the woods or the terror of being seen. She could only respond to and sense the stimuli that emanated from this straight, hard, lean hawk of a man who fucked her now! Oh God, was he fucking her!

With every thrust of his hard body, sending his gigantic steel penis ramming into her very depths, she knew she was being fucked completely out of her mind! Her hands caught his narrow granite buttocks as far as she could reach, and her nails dug into his flesh with the quakes that were shaking her closer and closer. The weight of him pressed on her was so delicious and felt so right and good that she found she was weeping now from sheer joy. The bliss and ecstasy of lying with him between her legs, his chest mashing her breasts, his face buried against her throat so that his breath blew a blast furnace of passion on her skin!

Sam could feel the steaming, churning, swirling vat of semen about to burst the seams of his bloated balls as they swung and smacked against her ass when he dived his fiery cock into the blazing passage that clutched his so lustfully. He'd needed a fuck, and by God, he was sure getting one. Damnation! This was one hell of a hot woman!

Suddenly her legs clutched him higher and higher as she strove mightily to grind her twitching clitoris up to harder contact.

"That's... it... baby... grind it up to me!" he urged, the breath whistling through his mouth and lungs in heavy labor.

"Fuck... harder... fuck hard!" she panted, and her legs were up around his body, clenching him like curled scissors, and she rode his pole like it was a merry-go-round! And by God, he was going to see she got the brass ring!

Harry was shucking his cock up and down in a maniacal jacking, his hand as slippery as his fluid-soaked prick... his eyes fastened on Sam and Maeve, who were fucking like crazed people out in the sun on the grass. With every up-and-down move of his hand he could imagine he was sinking his maddened rod deep into Maeve's pink-lipped pussy. He was getting so close he was going to spill his whole load soon, so he backed off a little, trying to time his own orgasm to Maeve's. If he could do that, he could almost imagine himself sunk to the hilt in her passionate sucking cunt.

Maeve's body began to twitch and writhe in time to Sam's ardent fucking so they met with a smacking, sucking sound in mid-air and she could feel bone grind on bone with the intensity of his thrusts. Her thighs clutched him high so that her whole velvety-fleshed wet cunt hole was open for his onslaughts, and she could feel him dig deeper and deeper inside her. Her nails were digging narrow little stripes down his shoulders and back as though a cat were clawing him. She felt his hands slide under her and grip the cheeks of her ass up to him even higher.

Sam lifted his face briefly and stared down past his lean belly as he shifted into a longer and even deeper stroke, seeing the glistening cock veins stand out as he withdrew till only the head was inside and then watching her hairy cunt hungrily gobble him up on the instroke. The noises coming from her chest became broken gasps of pleasure, her groin flailing and writhing under him insanely and her heels beating and spurring him on.

He lunged harder than ever, catching her mouth with his, and tongue-fucking her in time to his bombarding, rapacious shaft. She groaned deep in her throat in anguish, her hands clawing at his back and then catching his buttocks and pulling, in an attempt to make his prick pierce her entirely through to her very vitals. Suddenly she stiffened, her body rigid, and she lifted so high it was as though she hung in mid-air, supported only by the hardened length of flesh inside her.

"Oooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!... I... cummmmmmm! Pleeeeeeeeeeese!"

The moment her body stiffened and she began to scream, Sam felt his hard-driving cock explode his boiling sperm deep into her womb, the spurts soaring like a geyser, and his prick sputtered and jerked, spewing the long-stored cum deep into her belly. He felt Maeve's legs shoot straight out into the air, frozen there as she reached the full intensity of her climax and he emptied and emptied his aching balls into her demanding body.

Finally both bodies went limp and collapsed in a heap, Maeve's teeth pulling away from Sam's shoulder, where they had sunk in exaltation. His breath was wheezing past her ear, and occasionally they twitched in final spasms together. Harry was still sitting on the ground, trying to keep his own breath as quiet as possible, and his chest heaved and the last few drops of his sperm dribbled out the end of his deflating cock. They pooled on the ground between his bony knees.