Chapter 5

Thank the gods for daydreams, Rod thought. Remembering the sudden surge of joy and disbelief that day with Myrt in the lake had brought that final edge to his tool and now he was pouring it to the lovely long legged blonde beneath him almost as well as he had been before that goddam telephone had rung.

Vera was properly appreciative, pulling him down atop her until they could kiss without breaking the vital plug and socket connection. She swapped tongues with eager abandon while putting her hands against his chest as if trying to push him away. For a moment Rod was confused, then abruptly he understood what this lovely, single minded creature was up to. Instead of making him support his weight on his elbows as is customary in missionary position, she was freeing his hands for whatever erotic purpose he might find.

Jesus, what a lovely hard, smooth skinned body she had! Not an ounce of fat or flab. She was firm, smooth, without a single stretch mark or wrinkle but above all, she was tight. God, was she ever tight! Despite having come twice already, her tiny, easy-to-enter snatch still closed around his flagging phallus like some firm fleshed erotic funnel, growing tighter as he drove deeper until at the bottom of each stroke he could feel nameless muscles squeezing, kneading and caressing the head of his cock, reminding him of how it had been when he was a younger man engaged in a constant struggle not to come prematurely and fire his precious load before the bringer of all this joy could receive proper compensation.

Even now Rod suddenly knew he had not totally defused this lovely smooth skinned blonde with the endless legs. Each time he drove deep into her and held a second she squeezed, kneaded, caressed the tip of his throbbing tool with some erotic machinery deep in the depths of her cock pocket, bringing him a thrill of joy that he had not experienced since -- To hell with that line of thought, Rod decided. If he went daydreaming and remembering long gone fucks he was going to lose his laboriously regained hard-on. He broke free from their endless tongue-swapping kiss and reared back to admire the lithe perfection of her blond-haired, blond snatched youthful body. Jesus, she was a lovely lascivious little lass! He didn't want to do anything to lose her.

She had been moaning out her paean of erotic joy while his freed hands ranged over her, inventorying, memorizing, exulting in the fine firm female feel of willing flesh. He had caressed her firm, skyward pointing jugs, run his hands over the firm but yielding smoothness of her ass wrapped tight around his throbbing thumper, had gotten a finger between their slow-banging crotches to add an extra flick to her clit each time he pulled out end gathered forces for another soul-jarring slam down onto, into her firm flesh.

Now he reared back where his eyes could focus on the full perfect length of the body beneath him, spindled on his thrumming spike. She was slim, lithe and lovely, with a mind totally adapted to living within a body that was built only for fucking. Staring down at the lovely round smoothness of her deep-naveled belly, knowing he had his cock deep inside that lovely trap, Rod felt a renewed surge of desire. If only he could depend on his aging body to respond this way every day Rod knew he would do something irrevocable and foolish like asking Vera to marry him.

The lovely lithe length of blond fuckability beneath him misunderstood. his reason for rearing back to admire her full length perfection. Vera rose to meet him, to kiss him and plaster her firm jugs against the graying expanse of his chest. She moved her long legs carefully and one at a time, taking infinite pains not to break the erotic connection between her prurient pussy and that throbbing thumping hunk of masculinity that was giving her such supernal satiation.

Rod rearranged his legs and finally Vera settled down with a happy sigh. Now he sat on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the floor. The prick stiffening blond sat astraddle his lap, facing him, endless legs wrapped round his waist, her firm upstanding jugs jutting toward his face, and with his cock driven deeply, inextricably up her fleshy erotic funnel, 'her lovely ass grinding so tight against his crotch that not even the most limber piece of wet spaghetti could escape. "Aaaaahhh!" Vera said.

Rod was inclined to agree. She began rocking gently back and forth, grinding her ass against his graying pubis, forcing his cock ever deeper into her with each rock and roll. Slowly, they began rocking farther back and forth. Vera kept trying to accelerate but Rod knew it was essential to hold a steady beat if this rock and roll were to last long enough to be worth while.

Vera rocked forward, raking his graying chest with the firm protrusions that adorned her chest. Her thrumming pussy came in hard and deep for a full and complete envelopment of Rod's rod. As she rocked forward and he moved back, her face met his; their lips connected and touched tongues. They held for a moment of frozen ecstasy and then Vera relaxed slightly, allowing her smooth firm torso to fall back.

As she fell back Rod rocked forward, his mouth coming away from hers to plow a loving furrow down her throat, deep into fit territory. Each time his mouth switched targets from her lips to the rock hard nipples of her twin pectoral volcanoes Vera emitted a throaty gurgle like a bathtub trying to decide whether it would empty or not.

And each time Vera rocked backward and Rod forward his firm phallus came out. slightly. Not far enough to put him in any danger even if his erection had not been as suddenly firm and satisfactory as this delightful exercise had put it. The movement of his cock in and out of her cunt was not all that much. But it went out only slightly, stopping still deep inside her, then each time she rocked forward and Rod backward his cock went from deep to deeper up that lovely firm fleshed funnel, driving nearly to the portals of her womb where that special musculature deep inside this accomplished girl was squeezing, massaging, almost grinding at the head of his joy filled jock.

"Aaaaaahhhhh!" Vera commented.

It was the sort of conversation Rod enjoyed. It was the kind that required no answer. Not that he didn't enjoy talking with women, but if thirty years of fucking had taught Rod anything, it had taught him that women who talk are usually more interested in talking than in fucking. And the worst kind of talkers were, he had discovered, those who made a big deal out of how emancipated they were, how many dirty jokes they knew, and man, you look like you're well hung and when are we going to get together? Then there were the quietly competent women who didn't have to say anything -- women whose body language radiated readiness. And this tiny nugget of philosophy almost cost Rod his hard-on.

Damn! he thought. Any man who couldn't keep his mind on this lovely business must be approaching senility. He clasped Vera's hips and pulled her down firmly over his dwindling dick, lunging and struggling to drive deep into her before the blonde's uninhibited bouncing up and down his joy stick could make it bend and fall out.

And Vera, lovely smooth skinned and hard bodied child of nature, put the best construction on his frantic effort to save his hard-on. She assumed that Rod, like every other young stud she had permitted to enter her treasure trove, had succumbed to the irresistible eroticism of her long-legged, firm-fitted body and was about to come. Vera began bouncing harder, faster, struggling to draw him in deeper.

She was coming again, a vacuous smile filling her lovely face. Deep inside her Rod felt her cunt pulling, squeezing, massaging the head of his softening hammer. It felt so good he could feel his tired old cock start rising to the occasion. But quite suddenly Vera's vacuous smile turned into what someone less wise might have considered a look of intense pain. Her lovely lithe body stiffened and she quivered, fibrillating like some victim of electroshock therapy. She emitted a tiny little screech of a peculiarly grating quality and Rod felt her belly tighten as every muscle contracted around the head of his cock.

Vera's eyes rolled and her head lolled. Her face and tits flushed, then turned pale. Rod would have been frightened if he had not seen all these signs before, and if he had not experienced her inarticulate but intense gratitude for the pleasure he had given her. After twenty or thirty mini orgasms this lovely, built-for-fucking blonde had finally gotten around to the Big One.

Her fibrillating pussy was pulling, squeezing, mauling his half flaccid hammer unmercifully. Rod ramslammed against her taut trembling ass, struggling to come. And didn't make it. Vera gave a fluttery little gasp and fainted. He tried to pull out and couldn't. Son of a bitch! Now that had never happened before. He wondered. Why did bitch have to be a pejorative term for a woman? Vera must be built rather like a bitch inside and Vera was one of the friendliest, most honest, utterly relaxed and fuck-able women he had ever known. But bitch like, she had clamped down over the head of his cock and he couldn't get loose.

If I told it at the pool hall nobody'd believe me. Rod lay relaxing atop her flaccid body, smiling bemusedly as he waited for his hard-on to dwindle. Damn, he was tired. Fucking was fine and if he lived to be a hundred he'd never say a word against it but there were times when a forty-five-year-old man didn't feel much of anything except sitting down with a glass of something cool and watching the young stuff walk by.

Vera half smiled, stirred, and brought up a moan from deep within her seductive soul. "Aaaaaaahhhh," she explained.

Finally he wasn't sure whether it was the head of his cock shrinking or her deep bitch-muscles relaxing, but he felt his cock begin slowly to slide out of her. He glanced at the alarm clock above her tousled blondness and -- oooooohhhh shit. How had he let the time get by like that? Son of a bitch! Had he really been fucking away in this rock and roll position with Vera on his lap for nearly an hour? No wonder he was tired. No wonder Vera's brains had turned to come and trickled out of her cunt. He had to get her out of here. Rambling Rose was going to come pounding on that door any minute.

He hadn't even come. How about that? He'd pleasured his lovely long legged blonde to within a millimeter of her mental health and he hadn't even fired his load. Oh well, he philosophized, he'd already fired one into the sheets for his dream girl. He guessed he could get through the day without a stone ache.

Vera was still half conscious or half asleep. He got her into the shower, got a towel over the remains of her hairdo and began washing her off. Even soaking wet and soap slick in the shower she was a lovely sight. He felt a thin tendril of desire begin to grow in his loins. It was funny. He had to get her out of here. She was fucked out, and now she was all wet and, and... why didn't women have sense enough not to waste so much money on clothes when all it took to turn on a man was the sight of their lovely round bodies glistening with soap and water and -- wow! Was there anything on earth one half so aphrodisiac as the sight of a lovely clean naked woman coming up out of the water? He remembered that day at the lake.

After an interminable fumbling struggle with belt and Levi buttons, with knotted shoe laces, with every possible impediment that can befall an eager boy trying to undress, he had finally gotten out of his clothes and belly flopped into the lake. When he came up the lovely Mona Lisa smiling Myrt had been a dozen feet away and despite the chill of the water he had felt his fifteen-year-old cock give a leap at the sight of her sleek wet head.

Myrt had turned out to be the kind of woman it would take him years to appreciate to the fullest. She was a doer, not a talker, limiting conversation to the bare essentials. But surely his boyish ears, eager for any hint of hidden eroticism in the most ordinary utterance -- surely she hadn't meant it the way he thought. "Uh, what?" he asked, then by way of explanation lest he seem a total idiot, he added, "Got some water in my ear."

She had been walk-floating on the bottom until now she was within touching distance. "I said the nicest thing about swimming," she repeated, "is that nobody can see under water unless they're right here where we can see them too."

That had been what Rod thought she said. Jesus! Did girls really think about the same things he did? He didn't think even other boys thought the way he did. There was something special and secret about Rod's way of thinking. Other boys made coarse jokes about fucking -- whatever that was. They made jokes about girls' bodies and their mysterious functions. And like any boy, Rod had gone along with it.

But all the time, every time he had listened to a group of boys boasting of the dozens of little ways they had discovered to put girls down, to show their contempt for anything female, Rod had known deep in his heart of hearts that perhaps for the others it might be true but not for him.

Not for Rod. For as long as he could remember he had loved girls' bodies, women's bodies -- anything female. He loved to look at their legs, at their faces, at their asses, at the interesting bulges in the front of their loose fitting late-depression dresses. The other boys might laugh and snicker their contempt. Rod did too as long as he was with the boys.

But alone he confessed to himself that he would do just about anything if he could, just once and without fear of some girl running off to tell his mother -- Jesus, what wouldn't he give just for the chance to put his hand up a girl's dress and find out what her thighs felt like, to memorize the contour of her ass, to find out if they were all pouting lipped like old six-year-old Antoinette or if she had been some kind of a freak.

And tits, oh Christ, oh Jesus, what wouldn't he give to be able to see a real live pair, just once to run his hands over them and find out if they were as delightfully warm and soft as they had to be and -- "What?"

"I've been watching you watch me all summer," Myrt said, still wearing that imperturbable Mona Lisa smile.

"You what?" My god, he thought, had she really caught him looking at her tits? He felt like sinking to the bottom of the lake and never coming up.

"How good a swimmer are you?"

"Oh, uh -- pretty good," Rod managed.

"Can you open your eyes under water?"

"Sure."

"Duck your head and look straight at me," Myrt said. "I want to see if you can do it."

Rod ducked and saw Myrt's face underwater less than a foot away. He also saw that she had peeled down the top of her one piece bathing suit. Staring at him like twin headlights were the tits he had admired all summer. Now he was seeing them without any intervening cloth.