Chapter 11

It was midnight when Dave arrived. I was relaxing and stroking my prick, and fantasizing with Georgette, and my dream girl. My prick drooled but that was all. I couldn't successfully toss myself off. I needed a girl around even if it was only for the smell of her pussy.

Dave looked terrible, white and shaking. His eyes were deep-set and anxiety creased his forehead. He flung his jacket on a chair. "It's a bastard life!" he said. He stripped off his shirt.

I wasn't surprised he was pale and weak. Those three sisters climbing over him must have tired him. "Georgette was here," I mentioned.

"Fuck Georgette."

"I did."

"Then you're stupid! Who wants a prick curved like a boomerang?"

"It was a unique experience," I said coldly. I resented him adopting a veteran's attitude. "I intend to repeat the experience."

"You think you've got troubles!" he choked. "I'm so deep in the shit it's up over my head."

"What's bothering you, Dave?"

"Those three sisters!"

"Don't ask me to help out. I'm already stuck with four cunts I can't-handle."

He dropped his trousers and showed me his cock. It dangled limply, very red and very tender. "Look at that!"

"It's a little overworked," I agreed. "But that can happen to any prick."

"I found out something I didn't know until today. They're nymphomaniacs. They can't be satisfied. They're wolves. They eat me alive. I've been fucked, sucked, tossed off and milked dry of spunk every way they know. And they're still ravenous. They've been at me non-stop all afternoon and evening. They've only just let me go. They'd kill a healthy man in a week."

"Why worry," I said. "You fucked 'em. Now you can leave them."

He sat on the bed beside me moodily, pulling on his prick to see if he could get a response. "I'm trapped, Mike," he said in a voice of doom.

"Balls. You're sitting pretty. It's me who's in the shit."

"You don't know the worst," he gloomed. He dropped like a lily over a grave.

"I'll swap with you!"

He looked up quickly "Would you?"

"Like a shot. Four girls I'm supposed to marry this month, and a husband citing me as a Correspondent."

"I'm even worse off," he said. He threw up his hands in despair. "You can't trust women! We were merely having fun, the four of us fucking and sucking gloriously. That's all there was to it. Now they've plunged me into the shit and are holding my head under." I stared.

"Two of them have clicked!" he said bitterly. "They've got it all neatly recorded, and are witnesses for each other. It happened on my last leave."

"Didn't they take the pill?" I asked, aghast.

"They said they had. I fell into the trap. Now | they've got me. They've presented an ultimatum. I'm to marry one, but live with all three! The one I don't marry will apply for a paternity order to keep me legally tied up." His eyes glazed. "Think what it means, Mike! I've got to support three women, and their kids! Moreover, now I'm in the bag, they've shown me their true colours. There's no satisfying them. They're nymphos! Every leave they'll devour me like cannibals. I'll be carried aboard ship on a stretcher. They destroy all the fun in screwing. They'll drain me dry of wages and spunk."

"And you warned me not to get involved!"

"I was only screwing around," he moaned. "How does all this marriage business come into it?"

"It steals up on you," I sighed. I had gloomy knowledge of it all.

"I was merely happily screwing. Now ... there's all this marriage trouble! I can't take it, Mike. I'll blow my brains out."

"I'm in the same shit," I said.

"There's one way out," his eyes gleamed.

"There is?" I asked hopefully.

"I'll stay aboard. I'll never set foot ashore! I'll be a shuttlecock, batted from port to port." His eyes glowed happily. "That'll fool them."

"Lucky bastard!" I said enviously.

"I was smart," he said. "I didn't tell them I'm shipping out tomorrow. They're cooking lunch for me. But I'll be down river on the high tide when they wonder why I haven't turned up. They'll never get their claws into me!"

I eyed him with admiration. Then I thought of my own problems. "Dave," I said. "About that gun to blow your brains out?"

He frowned. "I haven't a gun."

"Then what do I do?" I wailed.

He studied me thoughtfully. Then a slow grin spread across his face. Having become involved himself he now understood how easily I'd become involved. "Mike," he said. "Can you carry a tray loaded with glasses?"

"Eh?"

"Ship out with me, Mike!" he said enthusiastically. "We'll both go down river on the high tide. I'll fix it with the Purser. You'll be a steward on my ship!"

My eyes were misty. "Dave. You're a true friend!" I was a coward. I was running away. But I could start a new way of life!

Yet, even while I arranged details with Dave, my traitorous prick tried to obstruct me.

What about Georgette? it kept screaming.

The ship was a luxury cruiser. When it cast off from Greenwich, nosed out of the Thames Estuary and butted into the Channel chop, the sun was shining in a cloudless sky. I was beginning a new life. The sea air was bracing, and the rolling of the ship a sensuous lullaby. The Captain was Dave's friend and I'd been given a cabin of my own, half-a-dozen white jackets with brass buttons and three pairs of black trousers. I had four duty spells of three hours with an hour's break between. But my working hours were staggered so that I found myself working around the clock. The work was easy. I walked the decks taking the passengers' orders, and collected drinks from the bar. I usually earned a tip, which was useful because I wasn't paid wages. I wasn't even on the ship's crew list. The Captain was turning a blind eye to my existence.

Dave wised me up on handling pussy. "Be selective," he urged. "Don't snap at the first piece of tail flourished under your nose. There's so much pussy aboard you can pick and choose. Keep away from the rich old bags. They're the most aggressive. They have their hand in your fly and your prick out before you know it. But you can't believe a word they say. I've been through it all. They suck your cock with diamond necklaces dripping over their bare tits and tangling up in your short-and-curlies. And between sucks they'll tell you that in port they'll set you up in a penthouse, with a chauffeur to drive you around. That's crap. The sea air makes them cock-hungry. They'll promise anything to ensure hot cock throughout the voyage. But once they're ashore it's different. They may invite you around for a quiet session but you'll have to pay your own taxi fare."

My ears pricked. I'd burned my boats behind me. My only money was the tips. I needed capital. "Can't I ask the rich old bags for cash?"

"A waste of time," said Dave. "If you ask bluntly they're offended. Then you have to soothe their tears, and they vaguely promise a present you never get. If you ask for a loan they're eager to help you. But they've only two pence in their purse because the Purser looks after their valuables. And somehow, they never do find time to ask the Purser to open up his safe. The richer they are, the tighter they are. The sea air does it. They're twenty times as generous with their cunt but a hundred times tighter with their dough."

"Who wants an old bag, anyway?" I said glumly.

"But just once in a while you find an old bag with a gold-lined pussy and a little gold rubs off onto your prick every time you screw her. There're no hard and fast rules. You have to play it by ear. If it's only pussy you want, some of the old bags are the best. But if you want to pick up a little scratch too, you've got to use your wits."

"I need some money behind me, Dave."

"Then nympho, married women are best, those wives with an insatiable crotch and a husband who's a slosh. They've worn out their husbands, who in pure self-defense keep themselves pissed so they can't get it up every time their wives want. Those wives are ravenous for cock, and their husbands are so pissed they can easily wheedle money out of them."

"That sounds interesting," I decided.

"But watch it. Don't play the field openly. You know how monogamous women are. They talk and then gang up on you. The word goes around that you're a ponce and for the rest of the voyage not one woman will let you near her."

"You said pussy was easy aboard?"

"Only when you know the ropes. Paying pussy is easy too. But you have to use your head as well as your prick. Single girls are best. They're not getting it regularly and are screaming for hot prick. But they've got more pride than married women and won't make a loan unless you give a really convincing story. And whatever you do, keep away from the Beauty Queens."

"Beauty Queens?"

"The prettiest half-a-dozen, single girls. Men swarm around them, setting up deck-chairs, pulling them up out of the swimming pool, buying them drinks and queuing to dance with them. Those girls are besieged by pricks, I don't know why, but it's always that way. The Beauty Queens are deluged by pricks while the rest of the women prowl the decks like hungry leopards. The only time to tangle with a Beauty Queen is if you're so hot for her, you can't live without it. And then you have to work hard proving you're better than the competition."

"You tell it different now to the way you told me ashore," I accused.

He looked at me sadly. "You're overlooking something, Mike. You're you. And I'm me!"

I bridled. "You cocky bastard!"

"No, Mike," he said patiently. "I'm a Ship's Officer. I walk the deck in my white uniform and I burn up under all those hungry eyes riveted upon my crotch. Pussy can't resist an officer's uniform. Even the Beauty Queens fight for seats at the Captain's table. I often can't taste my food for the smell of hot pussy steaming up from under the table. Every time I go to my cabin I have to send a steward in first to chase out any hot pussy that's got undressed and crawled into my bunk. D'you know that every voyage the girls run a sweepstake? Each time they score with a Ship's Officer they pay a pound into the kitty. The girl who scores most, scoops the pool. It gets to be a pretty big pool. When land's sighted competition gets fierce and it's a jungle below decks. Any girl an officer meets in a corridor is liable to have his prick out and up inside her for a two-minute screw so she can improve her odds on winning the kitty."

"How do I get to be a Ship's Officer?" I asked wistfully.

My around-the-clock timetable stopped me seeing much of Dave. Occasionally I glimpsed him pacing the bridge, or casually striding the deck, looking magnificent in his white uniform. The women's heads turned like men in Soho studying a hustler's strut. But Dave wasn't my nursemaid and I had to find my own feet.

By the time the ship had steamed through the Channel, turned left around the north coast of Spain, weathered the Bay of Biscay and docked for twenty-four hours in Gibraltar I knew the prices of all drinks, could balance a tray on one hand, knew which was port and which was starboard. When the ship steamed out into the Atlantic, to my astonishment it was as smooth as a millpond. The sun was hot, the passengers lay around in swim-suits all day, and the cooks in the galley worked stripped to their jockey-shorts. But sex didn't rear up until we'd rounded the tip of Africa and set course for the Canary Islands. It took a few days for the sea air to enliven the passengers, smother self-consciousness, breed conviviality and make pussies itch. I used those few days to size up my stock-in-trade.

Each shift I worked different decks. This widened my range of passengers, who usually put down roots and sprawled in the sun in deck-'chairs they always occupied. I mentally selected three married pussies. One was a redhead, about thirty-two, and a lovely figure she showed off in a wispy bikini. But she had a big mouth crammed full with enormous teeth. She was an easy-going woman, but when she smiled, which was much too often, she looked like a horse snickering. Her husband was about thirty-five, well-made but flabby. He sat perched up at the bar and soaked from morning until night as though he'd wagered he'd drink the ship dry. There was only the merest hint of a bulge in his swim-trunks and he'd have needed to dry out for a week, and employ hustlers to work upon him, before he'd get a stand. I observed how redhead's pussy got itchier and itchier. First, she sprawled out long-leggedly, watching the men who walked past through dark sunglasses. Later, she removed her glasses and stared at the men boldly. Then she began calling out cheeky comments to those she'd met casually. Finally, she engaged them in conversation, inveigled them into sitting down to have a drink. Her husband couldn't have cared less. If he was drawn into the conversation he'd make an effort and say a few words. Otherwise, he sat with a glazed expression in his eyes, his tilted glass spilling whisky over his thigh.

Nobody gave the redhead a tumble. There were reasons. She was married, and male passengers went after the single girls. Also, there were four or five Beauty Queens aboard and each trailed behind her a large school of admirers with open mouths and bulging cocks. And then, there was the redhead's big teeth. She laughed too often. Only a Texan wearing boots and spurs could have felt at ease with her. In desperation she worked at it too hard. Her gushing eagerness frightened off many men who suspected a catch to it. Eventually she took on the silent, brooding alertness of a cat stalking a bird.

That was when she noticed me. I'd always eyed her with interest when I served her drinks. She had good tits and a firm belly. When she was stretched out in her deck-chair, her bikini cut across her abdomen so low that auburn curlies peeped out from it. While she basked in the sun I suspected she fantasized. She moved her ass subtly against the canvas deck-chair, drawing her bikini up tight beneath her crotch. Sometimes it was so tight it showed the deep crease within her crevice. Often there was a little wet patch there. Simply looking at her gave me a hard-on. It showed through my tight, black pants. I kept my face turned away from her while I served her husband's drinks so she could study it. I was a mere steward. But I made her aware that passengers weren't the only men who had pricks. She began ordering twice as many drinks and kept me fetching and carrying like a shuttlecock. While I served her she chatted with me and surreptitiously studied the bulge of my cock. I answered her bantering with double-meaning sentences, and boldly admired her. She loved that. She sat in all kinds of poses that showed off her figure. She'd artlessly learned my working schedule and called me two minutes before I was due off-duty.

"Steward."

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"I'm going down to my cabin, number two-seven-three. Bring down a long cool drink, please. Lemonade, dash of gin and ice." She looked at me expectantly. She knew what I had to say.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. I'm going off duty."

She smiled easily. "Then why don't you just bring my drink down anyway? Bring one for yourself too. You've been so rushed I'm sure you'd like to relax."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. That's not possible. There's a steward for cabin service." There are strict rules about cabin service and I didn't want to cause a strike.

Her face fell. "What a pity." She was all out of ideas and looked at me hopefully.

"If you wish, Ma'am, I could personally bring a bottle to your cabin. That wouldn't involve steward service."

Her eyes shone. "That would be lovely, Steward!"

I'd saved enough tips to buy a bottle of whisky. She opened the door, closed it behind me and as I placed the bottle on the table, I heard the door lock click. She was still wearing her bikini. She'd set up two tall glasses. I sloshed whisky into them. She shouldered me on one side. "You've been working hard. Sit back and relax and let me wait upon you for a change!"

I relaxed in an easy chair while she added water to the whisky. She brought my glass to me, looked deep into my eyes when she handed me the glass and then sat opposite me. Her tits swelled out provocatively from her wispy bra. "My husband's no company!" she sighed. "He's always sloshed. I long for a quiet drink with somebody interesting."

"Has he got business worries?" I sympathized.

She sniffed. "He's never done a day's work! The fat dividends roll in every year." She scowled. "It's better he doesn't poke his nose into the office, Then we might have troubles!"

"May I risk causing offence?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Must you?"

"I think you're very lovely!"

Her tension melted away. "You are sweet. What a nice thing to say!"

"You're so lovely yet he just sits there and drinks and doesn't even see you! I can't help it. It makes me boil inside."

"You're a dear boy," she said tenderly. Concern showed in her eyes. "You must be hot in that stuffy jacket. Take it off and make yourself comfortable?"

I wore nothing under it. She admired my smooth-skinned torso. "You're beautifully muscled. Charles is all flabby flesh."

"That's because I have to work hard. I don't mind so long as I can earn the money for the operation."

"Operation?" Her eyebrows arched.

I invented a sister. "It's a spine injury. She can't walk. It means months of specialized hospital attention. So I save every penny. In a couple of years I'll be able to put her right,"

"You are a sweet boy." Impulsively she placed her hand upon my knee. I looked down at it. I tried to control myself. I shuddered with the effort before I gave way to impulse. I seized her hand and kissed it.

She came right up out of her chair and stood over me, pressing my cheek against her belly while her fingers stroked my hair. "You sweet boy," she said huskily. "You are so sweet."

My hands rested on her satin-skinned back just above her bikini. No more than that. If I made her work at seducing me she'd have a sense of responsibility. "You're lovely," I whispered into her hot belly. My huffing breath sent a shudder rippling through her.

"Dear boy!"

I raised my head slowly and looked up through the twin swell of her bra cups into her eyes. "You're so understanding," I said. "I'm so happy to be with you. I want to sit and hold you in my arms. May I?"

"For a few minutes," she said huskily.

We sat on the bed. I slid my arm around her bare shoulders and pulled her cheek down upon my chest. Her auburn hair tickled my nostrils and her breast nudged my belly. I kept my prick under control by deliberately not thinking about pussy. That gave me an advantage because she couldn't think of anything else. When she realized I intended simply sitting there she sagged her weight against me until it bore us backwards.

"This is better," she whispered. "I can lie in your arms more comfortably." She swung her legs up on the bed. "Make yourself comfortable."

We lay side by side. Her tits prodded my chest and her shoulder wriggled until her bra strap was under my hand. If I merely twitched my fingers a bare tit would pop out at me. But I tenderly kissed her forehead, and her closed eyelids, sighed wistfully. "It's lovely simply to be with you!"

"I'm Gloria," she said. "What's your name?"

"Mike."

Her fingertips ran up and down my spine, drawing sensuous patterns. Then she massaged her tits against my chest and gently eased one leg over mine. I raised my knee. She wriggled again and was astride it. I raised my knee higher and my thigh pressed hard into her crotch. She bore down against it. "We shouldn't be doing this," she said breathlessly. "But I'm so drawn towards you."

"I'm drawn towards you too, Gloria. But I don't want to endanger your happiness."

"You're making me happy now!" Her crotch bore down more powerfully on my thigh. Her pussy was burning. Even through her bikini and my pants it was glowing like a torch.

"But ... your husband?" I protested.

"Don't worry about him, Mike."

"But you're so lovely. He'd be terribly hurt if ... "

Her caressing hands were very urgent. "He doesn't appreciate me, Mike. He doesn't know how to love me. The truth is, he can't! He's always so stewed. He couldn't make love for a thousand dollars."

I was incredulous. "Not with a lovely woman like you?"

"Love me, Mike," she choked. "Hold my breasts. Kiss them!" Her shoulders wriggled, trying to snag her bra strap in my fingers. I ran my fingers down between her shoulder to her bra strap. She gasped as it snapped open. Then I eased the straps off her shoulders and pulled the bra out from between us. She gave another gasp and her sweaty tits slithered all over my chest as she clasped me to her tightly. Her hot crotch bore down with tiny, squelching sounds. I could feel the stickiness even through-my pants. She was hot stuff. She'd demand hot cock six times a day and play with herself in between. I ran my hand down her spine and her belly arched in powerfully against mine. I eased my fingers into her bikini and molded them over the curve of her bottom, pressing down and adding pressure to the bearing-down of her crotch. That sent her. She clung to me savagely while spasms raced through her, riding my thigh like a rocking horse. With every spasm she gave a deep-throated growl. When it was over she clung to me with her heart hammering and it was minutes before she could talk. "I don't know what came over me," she whispered.

"You came all over my thigh. You're sticking to me!"

"It's been such a long time, Mike. My husband neglects me."

When a woman has an orgasm with a man, their relationship changes dramatically. "I love you coming," I said.

Her hand snaked between us, snapped open my trouser button and zipped down the fly. "Get comfortable, Mike," she said, pulling down my pants.

I lay beside her. We were both gloriously naked. She held my prick with both hands and rubbed its sticky knob into her navel while I bathed my fingers in her sticky pussy.

"You don't mind me being sexy, Mike? You don't think I'm too demanding? I love to be played with, like this. Do that two or three times and I'm really in the mood."

I moved around to get at her better. I lay on my back with one thigh drawn up. She lay with her bottom against the inside of my thigh with my prick standing up against her belly. When she splayed her legs apart I could get right into her. Her red-haired pelvis was a mound of hard bone. My fingers rustled through the springy hairs, curved over the bone and squished into hot, mushy crotch. She sighed deliciously, gripped my prick convulsively and abandoned herself up to me.

She wasn't hard to please. She was a glutton for orgasms and didn't need to be titillated. It was enough to shove four fingers into her clinging mush and strum briskly. All of her pussy was highly responsive. She climaxed every few minutes and then widened her thighs instead of clamping them tight, so I'd carry on rubbing her up into her next orgasm. No wonder her husband got sloshed! She was a man-killer. She needed a machine, not a husband. When she'd had half-a-dozen climaxes my fingers were tired. But when I eased down my strumming she gave a despairing wail that broke my heart. I shifted around adroitly and got my thigh rammed up high in between her legs. Our bellies ground together and her wet pussy-lips were splayed apart over ray thigh. I drove it up hard into her crotch while she bore down. It gave my fingers a rest while she tossed herself off half-a-dozen times on my thigh. That took the edge off her appetite. She clung to me with my prick crushed against her belly while she took a breather. Her crotch was scalding hot and my thigh so wet she rode up and down like it was a greasy pole. "I'm a sensuous beast, Mike," she whispered.

"A lovely beast."

"You've got me in the mood! It'd be lovely if you kissed me!"

I swiveled around until her soft belly melted against my chest and her red curlies tickled my chin. Her wide-flung thighs opened up her pussy like a deep cleft. I licked around, tonguing up juice and she had an instant orgasm. But she handled my prick delicately, cushioning it between her breasts and giving only an occasional, lingering lick across its knob to keep it simmering. She was scared I'd get tired before she'd been satisfied. But sucking her was a pleasure because it was so easy. Merely running my tongue along her crevice made her climax. Licking around her love-lips made her come, sucking one love-lip into my mouth and nibbling it gently gave her an orgasm. She kept going off like a firecracker, one orgasm blending into the next, her loins pistoning gently and rubbing her hot crotch into my mouth. She became as wet as a rainy day. Her thighs swam in drool and my cheeks ran with goo. I'd licked her off a dozen times before her fingers gently intervened between her pussy and my mouth. "Shall we have a little rest, darling?" she said huskily.

I slid up alongside her and she snuggled into my arms. "You make me feel so lovely, Mike."

"You are lovely," I said dutifully.

"Make love to me, Mike," she panted. "Like a true lover!" She gave my prick a quick rub-up, pushed its knob down into her groin and rolled over on her back. I kneeled between her parted legs while she circled my knob around inside her crevice, frictioning nicely and bearing down until my knob rested squarely upon her vagina dimple. "Come into me slowly," she panted. "I love feeling you enter."

I had to enter slowly. She probably spent most of her time playing with herself. But rubbing up her love-lips and clit-bud didn't stretch her vagina. Probing my knob into the ring of muscle around her vagina entrance was tough going. And sliding up into her was like boring my own hole. Her hot, stickiness resisted until I feared I was tearing her. When I was right inside my cock was so tightly sheathed every pulse of blood increased the constriction. Her finger-tips, pressing into the creases of my bottom, strained powerfully, trying to cram more of my throbbing prick up inside her. "Slowly, Mike," she said dreamily. Her eyes fluttered and looked up into mine tenderly. "Can you kiss my breasts at the same time?"

Her tits were slippery with sweat and very pliable. I pressed them together and pushed them high. They were so soft I could mould them together until their taut nipples touched. I licked them both. She quivered. I kept licking, and her hands slid down my buttocks to my scrotum, teased my balls and bathed them in the love-juice trickling out from her pussy. It was all very enjoyable, and I was keeping my big prick under reasonable control. I'd almost gained my objective so now I could give my prick its head. Her two taut nipples, squashed together, were as inviting as two iced cherries. I sucked them into my mouth and laved them with my tongue.

She whimpered. "Fuck me, Mike. Fuck me!"

The words she used, and her tone, set me off. I'd been holding back. Now I let go. I reared up on her, skewering her powerfully and her gasps of ecstasy were a spur. Her loins pistoned frantically while she writhed, and I crammed her tits into my mouth and chewed them while she all but thrust my dangling balls up inside her Brownie. My hot spunk surged through my richly expanding prick with a sweet agony that split us both apart. I couldn't get enough of her, and she couldn't get enough of me. We writhed, clung and tore at each other, and when it was over we were exhausted.

She stirred beneath me. "Do you want to pull out?" she whispered.

I slid down her sweet-slippery body and withdrew my prick slowly. Her vagina was so tight my cock stretched. It was still thick, but flabby. I kneeled up and it bowed over. Her eyes were soft and shining. "That was lovely, Mike. Why don't you sit astride my chest?"

I straddled her, my knees tip under her armpits, her breasts squeezed together between my thighs. She pulled my prick towards her mouth and her eyes held mine as her tongue tantalizingly laved my knob. My prick twitched and her eyes gleamed. "It responds beautifully, Mike."

"It knows what it likes!"

She swallowed my knob into her mouth, sucked gently a few moments and pulled it out. She watched it quivering excitedly and oozing little droplets of love-juice. "Does it often respond?"

"When you make it respond."

"I mean ... that is ... how many times can you come?"

"Often. If you work on me between orgasms."

She swallowed my knob into her mouth again, sucking and licking simultaneously. My prick thickened and stiffened and stood up so rigidly she couldn't crane her mouth forward enough to hold it. She licked around the knob and down the shaft to my balls. "It's lovely now! Use it to play with me. I love that!"

"Sorry, Gloria." I said firmly.

Her eyes widened. "No?"

"I must work. I've just time for a straight in-and-out."

"Must you go?"

"I work all the hours I can. I need the money! I love being with you. But you do understand!"

Her eyes were swimmy. I didn't know if she was crying for herself, or my fictitious sister. "Things will improve, Mike," she whispered. She grabbed my prick and pushed it down to her groin. I slid down with it until I was kneeling between her legs. She closed her eyes, buried my knob in her crevice, whisked it up and down for a minute and then came very, very satisfyingly. "That's it, Mike!" she choked. That's lovely! Now you do it. Hold it with both hands."

"I haven't the time," I said firmly. I leaned forward and-went straight in, so forcefully she gave a gasp. She almost didn't know what had happened until my prick was rammed high up inside her. I grasped her floppy breasts, pushed them high and squeezed them together. "It's got to be a quickie." I said and licked her nipples. They tasted salty. I licked them again. Her eyes rolled up and showed the whites. "Fuck me, Mike," she panted. "We'll make some arrangement. Fuck me!"

I held her firmly and drove deeply until she gibbered and clawed at my shoulders. Every spurt of spunk seemed to draw sandpaper across the quick of her sensitivity. She quivered and jerked like a marionette. The ecstasy of it was too much to bear and every muscle in her body strove to restrain my last spasmodic convulsion.

I drew away from her. She was splayed out limply, her breasts heaving. I'd wiped my prick clean on the bed sheet and had climbed into my pants before she had the strength to prop herself up on her elbow. She looked at me with melting eyes. She was a picture, with her big tits hanging heavily, her red hair falling across her flushed cheeks and her thighs glistening with love-drool. "When will you come again, Mike?"

"Whenever I can. I don't have much spare time. I help out in the kitchen if I can. I need every penny I can earn."

She pouted. "Don't you enjoy being with me?"

"It's heavenly."

Her eyes were brooding. They narrowed. "Perhaps I can help, Mike; if it's a question of money?"

I drew myself up stiffly. I tried hard not to be offended. "It's very kind of you," I said. I reached for the door handle.

"I didn't mean it like that, Mike," she wailed. "Please listen. I just thought ... perhaps I can make you a loan ... I would like to help you."

"I'm not offended," I said softly. "I'm just a little hurt." I jerked the cabin door open and was outside before she could answer. I strolled away whistling cheerfully. I'd planted the seed. Now it was up to her.