Chapter 7
It was a Sunday evening in the middle of July. Christopher had become bored with his vacation and he was already impatient for the fall and college. His sister had had to restrict the time she spent with him-though he was not sure of the reason. Christopher's mornings were still occupied with working in menial capacities, usually clerical, at his father's office.
Tonight he had sought refuge in a science-fiction novel and he was half finished and no longer fascinated when the telephone rang. His father had had one installed when the boy's courtship of Lisa Ferris became intense enough to warrant one hour per night of telephonic, communication.
"Hi." There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Christopher tried to identify the somehow familiar feminine voice. "I was thinking that you were too shy to call, ever, so I decided to call."
It was Wendy, Jill's "housekeeper." The first wave of delight was followed by alternate undulations of discomfort and, strangely, fear, on Chris' part. He was already helping his sister to commit adultery; if Wendy's intentions were what her sultry voice hinted at; he could complicate matters by being unfaithful to Jill.
Curiously, Jill had been solicitous of his relationship with Lisa, evidencing no jealousy and even encouraging him. Perhaps perversely they would occasionally go over Christopher's dates with her. Jill would play coach, counseling him on ploys and approaches to the young girl's virginity. The week before she had even invited the two for dinner with David and herself. Christopher's sense of irony, if not humor, was taxed by the occasion. Jill appeared to be detached and almost scientific, considering the possibilities.
"Well?" The girl's voice did not really indicate a question, but merely a self-enforced lull in her own monologue. Wendy was in control of the situation, confident and aggressive. For a moment Christopher reflected that this solved a problem about which he had been curious, whether Wendy had indeed suspected the change in the brother-sister relationship. If she had, he thought at first, she would never have called, thus poaching on her employer's "territory." But, he flashed again, what else but such knowledge would free her from the usual conventions of female passivity? Indeed, what fascination would he normally have for her? She was three years older, attractive, and almost finished with college.
"I'm just surprised, that's all," he stumbled, coughing softly at the end of the mumbled sentence.
"It's still light," she continued, ignoring his awkwardness. "We could take a ride through Griffith Park. Maybe the merry-go-round is still open."
"Sure." His assent pleased him.
"I know where you live. I'll honk. Ten minutes, OK?"
"Yeah." He put the phone down on the cradle of the receiver. His penis had gone rock hard and formed a conical bulge beneath his trousers. He straightened his hand and aimed the side of it down on the plank, pushing until he felt the strain at the member's base.
He was dressed in a tee shirt and in madras walking shorts. He went to his closet and pulled a long-sleeved, pin-striped dress shirt from a laundry hanger. He slipped the tee shirt over his head, opened the top drawer in his bureau and removed a fresh one from a short stack. He went into the small bathroom that adjoined his room. He opened the medicine cabinet and brought a can of spray deodorant armwards before flexing the limb and depressing the button. A sizzle of evergreen drowned the fragrance of masculine sweat. He blew air over the affected area, then dropped his arms and waited for the deodorant to dry.
Back in his bedroom he put on the fresh undershirt, then climbed into the starchy dress shirt. The button down collar had already been buttoned down, but for the sake of apparent casualness he undid the collar. His undershirt showed through at the top of the row of small, pearl-white buttons and at the rim of the clean white cotton a few wires of preliminary chest hair.
He stepped out of the walking shorts, approved his current briefs, and selected a pair of permanent-pressed, denim trousers from the closet. He took a new pair of socks from his second bureau drawer, unpeeled the price marker, then unrolled them to the promised calf-length before stepping into a worn pair of square-toed Frei boots.
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror behind the door. Except for the undignified erection that still stood out behind the crotch of the slacks, he looked slim and self-assured. To deflate the erection he turned his mind to thoughts of his French teacher, Miss Merriman, a thirty-ish matron who, upon the slightest reflection, could turn his concentration far away from sexual matters and simultaneously wither his member. The discovery was particularly useful when dancing at parties and also in postponing the moment of sexual climax when Jill was not ready.
He sat in his desk chair, his palms on the armrests. He was"" nervous. He tried to continue reading the novel he had begun, but his eyes could not make sense of the print.
The basso honk, recognizable as that of a Volkswagen, tooted in front of the house. He ran down the stairway, and pushed a waving hand toward the living room where his parents were intently watching television. Outside the sky was a dusty gray threatening to turn navy blue. Wendy smiled at him, flashing perfect teeth. He could not see her eyes, hidden behind huge, round sun-glasses. He stood uncertainly at the curb, but Wendy moved to the inside of the door. He heard the crunch of the handle and the door swung open and against him. He crouched and slid in.
He shoved the metal forward and locked the door. Not looking at him, Wendy shifted from neutral to first and the car made traction on the suburban street.
"Were you surprised that I called."
"Yes." He was surprised that he could admit it without discomfort. She turned and smiled, twisting the wheel rightward in a a turn. "I figured you would be." She paused. "But you're glad?"
"Yes," he answered sincerely, gulping nonetheless. It was true. Wendy was neither pretty nor beautiful, yet she was startlingly good to look at. Her skin was a bright peach haze and her hair bright red, almost orange. Her eyes were blue-green, her lips full and always glossed with scarlet lipstick. Her body Christopher counted among the world's wonders. Her breasts, always encased in starchy brassieres, were huge and the end-tips were rounded. Her rear was large, full, compact. Her legs were stick-thin so that one almost wondered if they were strong enough to transport their accustomed load.
It was dark as she drove the car through the winding roads of the park. She stopped short on an embankment. The recent tracks of another, larger car were already engraved on the dry, pale-brown dirt. "We can walk down this ridge," Wendy announced. "It's very pretty."
She led the way. She was in beige levis and her ass squirmed in reaction to each cautious step. She was threatened with a loss of balance as her boat shoes skidded a couple of feet down the slope. He could make out the indentation of strict elastic under each of the semi-spheres. She pushed her right arm behind her and he took the wrist in his own larger hand. From that point they moved hand and hand until they reached the valley itself. One could look straight up and see the cliff edge demarcated against the sky.
Wendy stood against a large rock. She seemed to be digging her buttocks into the rock. Nervously, Christopher bent down and picked up a severed branch, then started to divide it into twigs.
The girl was wearing men's denims. He heard the sizzle of metal, then looked up to see the slacks divided, exposing between the flaps her partially clothed stomach. She wore half panties that came halfway between the overturned base of the pubic triangle and her navel. They were thin, but colored with swirls of bright color. His eyes focused on the mesh that seemed to shield the skin from the surface of the synthetic fabric.
Wendy smiled, then held her lips where they were, parting them to ask in a tone almost of hurt: "Don't you want to?"
Christopher's adam's apple bobbed. "Yes." His voice was high and he coughed to clear his throat of a clot of mucous.
As he started to walk to her he felt the trembling of muscles in his thigh. The prick quickened and burst from his undershorts. The slit rubbed against the lining of his trousers. He felt a stirring deep inside the scrotum. He tried to think about Miss Merriman, but he could not draw his eyes away from Wendy's hands, which were now pulling the tight jeans down her thighs, just as she flexed her legs in turn. A shoed leg pried its foot wear, then the naked toe folded, inside the remaining shoe and pushed it down past the sole. It dropped on the dirt. Both feet were naked and both were soiled.
She reached under her pistachio-green blouse and unhooked her brassiere. She pulled the emptied cups down across her stomach and then turned, placing the garment on a safe surface of the large rock. "I'm cold," she said, wrapping her arms in gesture across the covered breasts, but Christopher could see the fire-red tits beneath anyway. They were large and round, the size of quarters.
She pulled the pants down below her crotch, then shook her limbs forward, forcing them to slide down the thin poles of her legs. Her pubic hair was bright copper, thick, and the skin just around it was much paler than that of her legs, arms, and face. Christopher stared at her breasts and thought he detected similar whiteness around her nipples and the sides of her breasts. She had been sunning herself.
He put his mouth toward and then against hers, but she forced him back by placing her palms on his chest. At her touch his own nipples became rigid. She turned her face away. "Eat me." He looked into her eyes. They were hard and, despite her request, they did not plead, but rather ordered.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his fingertips against her thighs. She moved her legs further apart, creating a wider angle. "Lick it," she said, and as his tongue touched the clitoris he felt the tremor that jolted through her torso.
"Wow, that's good. Who taught you?" Though the words were punctuated with sighs, the girl's tone was conversational. "Oh, nobody, really," Christopher responded, cursing himself as the words came out for sounding so silly.
She forced her tuft of hair past his lips and onto his tongue. He covered the edges of his teeth with his lips and pulled in at the sliver of wet skin, now moistened with his own saliva. Her smell was stronger than his sister's, though he detected a masking odor that he guessed was that of a feminine hygiene spray, a formality his sister had dispensed with.
He lowered his head and aimed his tongue-tip inside the gash. The taste of her cunt-flesh was sharp, bitter. He wagged the soft flank back and forth inside the expanded slot The back of his finger rubbed against his lips and chin as he shoved it inside the pussy. Wendy's fingertips played with the surface of the rock. She doubled her fingers over on their knuckles and moaned as Christopher gnawed at the fragments of flesh. He bit into the hollow of one thigh, then wiped his salivating tongue across the other side. His fingernails plunged into the meat of the outer thigh. She thrust her pelvis forward and a single pubic hair caught between his front and canine teeth. He bucked his head away from the redhead's groin, cutting the hair painfully as he did.
"Harder," she said, "make me come." There was a gurgling sound deep in the girl's throat. "Make me come good." She dug her fingers into his thick hair, pressuring the scalp beneath with the sharp nails. He bobbed his head as he licked the slit over and over again. Sounds like flatulence interrupted the silent tongue-lashing. "Yes, yes... yes!" Wendy put her palm to her forehead. The palm's sweat blended with the moisture that had escaped the skin over her furrowed brows.
He felt her body squirming inside his embrace. The cheeks of her ass strained against the hands which held them cupped and captive. She was turning around. Now her stomach touched the rock, against which she had been leaning. Her buttocks stuck out behind her and her pelvis bucked away from the stone. Her hands were behind her and her thumb pointed toward the crack from either side of the precipice. She was separating the two mountains. Christopher was puzzled.
He pushed his stomach against her naked ass, feeling his prick tingle as the head jammed into the soft and yielding flesh.
"Inside," she whispered, and lie watched as she turned her head slightly on her neck. He could only see her ear and he puckered his lips and pressed them, dry, against it. His lower, teeth scraped the lobe and a spasm of pleasure passed through Wendy. She arched her spine and she rubbed the occipital bone of her skull against the base of her neck, shuddering. "Stick it in...." She breathed deeply as Christopher pushed his penis underneath the arch her spread legs formed. He pushed upward, hoping to achieve the vagina canal. "No," she counseled, bumping her buttock against his hard stomach, "up the ass."
Christopher moved back and the prong sprung out. and in between the two cheeks which she held open her fingers tightening their grip on the flabby tissue. In one stroke almost the whole of his penis was covered. But at the end of the swing he reached the obstruction of the anus. The ring of flesh was cramped tightly in folds where the dome tried lodge.
The sides of her fingers brushed along his sex. She was reaching toward the rectal muscle itself, trying to pull it apart so that he could enter her. His cock anxious for friction, moved inside the sheath of he flesh. A few droplets of early emission greased the opening, but as he pushed forward he was blocked. Her index finger moved under the head of his penis and into the small, tight hole itself. She shoved forward, buried the digit to the first knuckle, and then unplugged herself. She pressed the dry fingertip against the flattened underside of the penis' spine. He felt the slit touch the tiny ripples of muscle. He hoisted himself forward, and Wendy grunted as he filled the first few inches of the thing with the dong.
"You're in," Wendy said, whispering as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs. He tried to push further inside, but the soft wires of his pubic hairs merely pressed into her buttocks and he seemed to gain no more thorough a penetration. She wiggled the insides of the cheeks against the stern and he felt it bend. "Deeper, stick it deeper." This time she curled her spine and aimed her ass into his stomach. His cock was half covered inside the anal tract. He felt a certain dampness in the tissue that clung around his erect fiber. But each millimeter of passage was an effort, and the glans was rubbed nearly insensitive as he plowed through her.
He felt her soft, small hand fold around his four long fingers. The palm touched the curve of her pelvic bone and the tips glossed over the fabric of her woman's wool. She touched the back of his stubby forefinger with her own and slid it to the clitoris. Christopher rolled the tip of the digit over the pearl. The folds of the vaginal opening were wet and he stuck his index finger as far up the hole as it could reach. The edge of the first finger squirmed over the button while the other plodded mechanically up the moistening snatch. He fingered her slowly, drawing out each stroke. His forearm ached with the exercise before long. Christopher was sweating and he felt the chill of the night air cool the beads of perspiration that had formed on his neck. His shirt, fastened by the sweat, adhered to his shoulder.
Now her hands reached behind her, across his sides. She gathered his buttocks into her hands squeezing at the trousers and bringing her fingertips in the space between the globes. She held the flesh so tightly that Christopher squirmed and pushed the dong further inside. The rectal lining stretched with the movement. Welded to the instrument, she could hardly move her groin. He teased the labia with his fingers, spreading the moisture from inside the twat with the flats of the tips. Then he pushed four fingers of his right hand, curled together, inside the slot, rubbing the glistening hairs at the side of the hole with the inside of his left hand.
As he moved his weight back she shoved her full hips into his stomach, deep, and he gasped. He came forward and the sphincter coil relaxed; he was able to bury a full inch more of the cock within the long, tight hole.
His right hand continued to play with the furrows of the redhead's warm cunt, but his left went underneath her sheer blouse to feel her nipples, which were large and stiff. Gingerly his forefinger traced the areola's circumference. His palm turned over and he held the round breast from its underside. She thrust her chest forward deeper into his hand and he rubbed the tit on the silk-like fabric of her shirt. In response she jammed her rear close on his stick, bent forward, and reached under his legs for his scrotum. He was ticklish as she pulled on the tough skin and a hidden ball bounced on her knuckle.
Her body began to twist above the waist and her shoulders rose and fell with the same rhythm he used to plug her. She farted, and the wind broke across the head of his cock. "Deeper," she moaned, screwing her ass against his stomach while he spread his legs wider and bent his back.
Her bung-hole was so tight that it seemed to squeeze the cream out of the prick's head. Wendy groaned as a trickle of the warm fluid dribbled on the walls. The outside of her beaver was greased with the thin, sticky wetness of her cunt's interior. The clit was swollen as Christopher pressed his fingertip into it; it sprang back and he rolled the ends of the pussy hair back down upon it. He put his mouth on her shoulder and his tongue moistened the tanned skin. His teeth cut into the flesh and Wendy shivered. His tongue slid down to the pit, hairless and sweaty; she was salty to his taste.
He rose up on her toes to plow the dong further up her snatch. The sides of the hole caught each millimeter of movement. At last the creaming came, burning him as it poured from the end of his phallus.
His first and second fingers smashed through the labial folds and stuffed the cunt. Wendy twisted wildly, gasping with each violent stroke of the fingers as they made jerking motions imitating fucking. The twat-muscle contracted, holding the bones so tight they could not move. The contraction was followed by a dilation that let him shove the digits an inch further up her juicy socket.
She was shaking as the come soaked the dry, musky walls of her ass-hole. He was bouncing on his feet and as the cock rose inside of her it pushed at the sphincter. She farted again as the last hot spurts filled her rectum. The semen he'd deposited in the early strokes streamed down and started to. drip from the hole itself, back upon the uncovered part of his shaft
The fingers were scratching the surface of her tit, already as sharp as a diamond. Her breast shook up and down against his wrist while she pushed her pussy down on the fingers stroking her. His thumb brushed quickly against her inflated clit-pimple and the hairs were wet with perspiration and hormonal oils; the smell of her groin filled Chris' nostrils.
The last shove made her butt cheeks jump for seconds afterward, but now he stayed inside her, half the way into the rectal passage, spent, with his cock diminishing in size with each second. Breathing deeply, Wendy made her breasts move against Christopher's wrist. "Oh, wow," she said, her voice surprisingly deep now, "that was perfect."
When she had recovered from her exhaustion, Christopher was still dazed. She squirmed on the deflated shaft and tried to shove her body forward to free herself. The head popped out; his glans felt raw and Christopher noted with amusement the thought that passed through his brain-it felt like it would never come again.
She turned to face him. She thrust her crotch out at him and he felt soaked in her womanly moisture. His cock hung limp between his spread legs. "Let's relax," she said, and her voice was softer and more natural sounding now.
The two lay naked on the ground, and Wendy rolled over on Christopher's chest. He was only vaguely excited by the way she took her breast in her hand and touched her own areola to his, though both tits stiffened immediately. She pushed down and set her mouth against his areola; her breath was warm against it as it rushed from the corners of her closed lips. The folds were wet, though, and she moved her head back and forth. She pressed on him with the force of her teeth, below the lips.
Then the lips drew open and she rustled on the circle of pink with the edges of her front teeth. He winced, but the painful feeling was relieved in just a second when her tongue gave the nipple a bath in saliva. She whipped it with the tongue's tip, then zeroed in for slow circular motions that had him breathing in deeply within moments.
Her hand was at his crotch, testing him, and she squeezed together the scrotum and the cock which was slowly filling with blood. Her fingernails ripped into the wrinkled scrotal-skin and she stuck her thumb into the base of the erecting instrument.
Her hands were open and rubbing gently at his chest just below the nipples. She kept up the subtle massage as she lowered herself down the line of his body. When she took the head of the half stiff penis in between her lips, holding the bag still in the center of her hand, Chris wondered what his cock smelled like from her rectum. But the feel of her tongue along his burning slit banished any other thought from his mind but the way she would continue. He straightened his legs and waited for her to go down the pole; she did not disappoint him.
Her lips were pursed around the end of her tongue and she was stretching it out of her mouth so only the tip scraped wetly at the center of the prick. She started at the indentation in the head just behind the opening and slipped down the stalk's middle. The tongue stopped briefly at the softness of the bag and her finger, dampened with her own spit, pushed between his ass cheeks. He reached below and played with her breasts, somehow impatient.
She came up as quickly off the dong as she had slipped down it. By now it was hard enough for insertion, but instead she gripped the penis with her teeth just below the glans on the pulled foreskin. One side of the head touched the dry roof of Wendy's mouth while the other brushed upon the moist and momentarily lifeless tongue.
He heard her draw in air through her teeth as though she were sucking, but he didn't feel the force of her mouth until she, closed her lips around the shaft's circumference. Now the blood was being pulled up toward her mouth and he felt a straining in the region of his balls. She was exciting him too quickly after the last bout, but he couldn't tell her to stop-not that he really wanted her to.'
Only the first few inches of cock were in her mouth under the grating of her teeth. She was licking the glans side to side, over and over. With one hand she rubbed the part of the organ outside of her mouth and her fingertips pressed forcefully. Her strokes were short, blunt and yet deft. Turned on, Chris pushed his buttocks into the earth and closed his eyes, imagining himself being sucked inside her mouth, beyond the lips....
With her other hand she had clutched her breast and she was kneading the soft mound. The nipple was stiff and now she put her palms down on the ground beside her lover's hips. She let both boobs dangle down on his crotch. One jug was on each side of the penis. She pushed up on her arms and slid the nipple of the left breast, then the nipple of the right breast over the head. His slit leaked drops of come on each areola. She raised her chest off of him. On her knees she took one breast in each hand and she rubbed the semen into her nipples until both tits were dry and raw.
She was leading, one knee at a time, her legs straddled, toward his cock with her cunt. She wiggled her outer pussy on the head of the instrument and her hairs and slickened labia tickled him. She had framed her breasts in her hands, but now he pressed the tip of his forefinger into one nipple and shoved the other back into the surrounding flesh with his thumb. She let go and lazily massaged the outside curves of her butt, thrusting her pelvis forward, trying to get the prick to where it could shove in and fill her hole. He took the organ near the root and rolled it around threateningly while she hovered above the head. She leaned forward and stroked his stomach lightly with her fingernails. "Put it to me, Chris. Put it inside me. Mmmmmn, it's so big."
With that she stuck her finger between his balls and jabbed the base of the dong. Reacting, Chris shoved up and made a shot inches wide of the orifice.
"Here, let me," and her own hand folded around the stick above his. She bent the rod forward and then touched it to her twat lips. They were wet and soft. He could see them move around the cock as she sat down on it; they were more purplish now than pink.
"Oh," she said, her voice once again miraculously deep. "Yeah," she mumbled, as the stiff member cut through the oily tissue toward the base of Wendy's womb. She pushed forward and her breasts collided with Christopher's chest. The nipples were as sharp as needles, but she moved them hardly at all. She was parallel to him as he lay there, and her legs stretched out at Chris' sides. He drew his knees toward his stomach between her limbs, forcing her fanny up in the air and allowing him deeper penetration.
Being that far inside of Wendy's pussy, however, he could not move very much between the converging walls of tissue. He wiggled his ass on the ground, and the tip of the prick smashed into one wall and then the other. Excited by the way he stretched the lining of her cunt, Wendy followed on his lead and began to swing out with wide strokes.
The gummy fluid sprayed out before she expected it, and to give herself an orgasm she put her hand under her and pulled at the filament of her clit, yanking the puffy button until her cunt opened wide with the first wave and her hips forced her stomach even further down the phallus.