Chapter 6

That delightful bit of fucking put my cash reserves up around where I thought they should be and so I bade a temporary farewell to my honored profession of hooking and set about motorcycle shopping. I looked around a couple of showrooms in Joplin and acquainted myself with the specifications of the various models and then finally decided that the one I most wanted was a Kawasaki 900. For those of you who have never seen one, it's a bad-assed four cylinder bike, with plenty of spare power coming right out of the bugaboo, about six hundred pounds in weight and not an ounce wasted on it. It's got plenty of speed and acceleration, plenty of power for cruising, and a good wide seat that felt like the handiest thing in the world between my legs. It probably has about as smooth a ride as any bike anywhere, but even so just the right amount of vibrations comes up through the big engine and through the frame and through the seat to keep my cunt subtly massaged as I ride along. And even aside from the vibration, just the mere sensation of straddling that big thick leather seat is enough to get my juices going.

Well I thought before I set out on the highway I should do some practice driving in Joplin and on the smaller roads around there, so I spent a couple of days just acquainting myself with the bike, taking some of my favorite customers for free rides out into the country where we could break up the monotony of practice driving with a little fucking here and there-free of charge of course. And it wasn't long before I felt I was a pretty expert motorcycle rider. Things like that come naturally to me. I think they probably come naturally to just about anyone if you can relax and just let it happen.

So I headed out west down route 40, and I can hardly describe what an exquisite sensation it was to finally be the master of my own bike. In the open stretches of country road, I would open the throttle and I would easily be topping ninety, topping a hundred sometimes, and the most wonderful thing about it was that I myself was in charge, I myself was on top of and in control of all that bike, all that steel. The engine roared and rumbled, and I really realized more intensely than I ever had before the reason why motorcycles have for so long been thought of as phallic symbols. There is something so prick-like, so aggressive, so strong and uncompromising in the feel and the motion of a bike-I won't say I felt like a man, I'm far too much of a woman to phrase it that way, but I must admit that I felt what must be some of the best parts of being a man, strong, in charge and on top of things.

Also I must say I've never had such a full and wonderful experience of scenery before. When you're in a car, you've got a windshield around you, and you're always looking out at the world through something. And even when you're a passenger on someone else's bike, you're always looking over his shoulder or around the back of his head, but when you're on your own bike, when you're riding, there's nothing at all to ruin the landscape-you're part of the landscape, as surely as if you were a wild horse roaming through the woods. You are in no way separated from the entire outside world, and there is something very beautiful, and in a purely animal way very sexy.

Well, I chalked up about two hundred miles worth of highway that first day on the road, which is certainly a sizeable piece of America to be chewing up on a bike the first day out. I rumbled out of Missouri, almost due south toward Oklahoma and then south southwest into Texas, the state that never ends. It was interesting to see the flatness of Missouri give on to the different kind of flatness of Oklahoma, and to see the oil wells bobbing their heads in the night like some sort of dinosaurs waving. And then into Texas the soil suddenly got redder, it was like that red clay sort of soil that you always see in the movies and never believed existed. I whizzed past acres and acres of fenced fields, watching the cattle graze, and seeing the beautiful strong cowboys with their leather riding pants keeping things in order. The whole thing was a tremendous turn on, a more multifaceted and universal turn-on than I ever remembered experiencing.

By the time I had covered those two hundred miles, my hands and my ass and my cunt felt like they had been so thoroughly shook up, and my whole body felt so grungy from the grit and dirt of the road that all I wanted to do was to find a campsite somewhere, hopefully with a shower or even with a stream or a lake so I could dunk myself in some water and crash. I realized on that first night that there's nothing quite so wonderful and so languorous as the total physical exhaustion that comes after a good long motorcycle ride. But as it turned out, there was a lot more excitement for me at the end of the road and the sleep that I thought I so badly wanted would be postponed for a good few hours of fucking. But I didn't mind-after all, a motorcycle rider has to be able to put up with these little unexpected hassles.

Well, to make a long story short, what happened was that I pulled into a campground, picked myself out a little place to park the bike and a place to roll out my sleeping bag, and I politely inquired if there was a pond around where I might get a swim. Well, a very helpful young fellow told me that he was just on his way up to the pond, and giving me a sort of wink that I, couldn't quite figure out at the moment, said I was welcome to walk with him if I liked. Well I thanked him for his hospitality, and though I was a little confused by the way he winked at me-although certainly not in an unpleasant way, he was a good-looking guy, and if he wanted to give me a little bit of help while I stood in the water and cooled my tired bones, that would be just all right with me.

So the two of us walked up the dirt road into some scrubby woods until we came to a pond. Back in the distance, about a third of the way around the pond, I saw a group of people skinny-dipping. Now being a country girl, this did not strike me as anything strange--I know all those city folks think they have cornered the market on sexiness and nudity, but out here in the country seeing people swimming in the nude is the most natural thing in the world. The only thing is, out in this neck of the woods people don't usually necessarily think that it leads to fucking. It's sexy in a way, of course, but everyone tries to be cool about it-usually. So this guy I was with tried to subtly steer me over toward that part of the pond. He was trying to act real cool, as if he were afraid he might scandalize me by the thought of nude people-that was rich, he never would have imagined that only a couple of nights ago I had been a hooker.

But rather than spoil his illusions, rather than deflate his big fantasy that he was seducing me, I played along, acting as if I didn't know what was going on. In a kind of perverse way, it was a turn-on for me to be playing the dumb girl, it made me feel like much more of a whore to realize that I was so thoroughly initiated into all this, that I could adapt any attitude that I damned well pleased. I had barely passed my twentieth birthday, and already I was jaded. Not jaded in a way where things ceased being fun, just jaded in a way where I could handle anything in the world, I knew I could handle any sex scene no matter how perverse, no matter how out of the ordinary. I had made myself a total cunt by the age where most women are barely learning how to fuck gracefully, and you better believe I was proud of it. My cunt started getting wet as I mulled over these flattering reflections in my mind, and I hoped that once we got to where the skinny-dipping was going on, my escort wouldn't waste too much time getting down to the nitty gritty.

Now what I expected was that these people were going skinny-dipping and then pairing off and coyly slipping off into the woods to fuck. It never occurred to me that what was going on was a full-scale orgy-the people you find in campgrounds, while they're often some of the nicest people in the world, tend to be sort of straight and "wholesome types. Now I don't mean really square-I'm sure a bit of fucking in the woods would be perfectly acceptable to all of them, but I really didn't think that a full-scale orgy there at the side of the pond complete with bizarre configurations of three or four bodies doing everything to each other that they could think of, lesbianism, and such a tangle of arms and legs that I had ever seen in my life, would be going on. But as we got closer to the group of bodies, I could see through the dimness that that's exactly what was happening. I don't know how many people there were altogether-about twenty I guess, but they came in all shapes and sizes, young, old, male, female, and the only thing they had in common was a love of the highway, the great outdoors, and above all a love of fucking.

The bank of the pond was a sort of silty, muddy bank, kind of a mud beach actually and some of the action was going on right there in the cool mud. The people who were groveling in the mud seemed to be enjoying it terrifically-I could almost feel it myself, the cool and slippery feel of the wet dirt, the way it made everyone's limbs slippery and cool, and how delightfully dirty the thought of rolling in the mud is. Some of the other people had waded in, and were standing in water up to their thighs, leaving their genitals obscenely exposed just above the surface of the water so that they might be optimally shown off, and so that fingers or mouths or pricks could easily find their targets. Here and there a man stood in such a way that only the tip of his erect cock was above water, bobbing there like some sort of ruby floating animal.

Well, I don't know how my escort expected me to react to all this. My guess was that he would have been flattered if I'd been shocked, if I had let him think that I had never seen anything like this before, but at the sight of all this fucking going on, I just lost all control over the game I'd been playing in my own mind and decided to join right in in my own way-which means all the way. So as quick as I could, I slipped out of my riding clothes, and without even looking back at him I just ran into the v I water as fast as I could. The water itself felt wonderful, it was mildly cool, and felt tremendously cleansing and refreshing after my day on the road. From the sheer joy of it, I plunged under the water and swum around looking through the murky gloom, seeing with satisfaction and anticipation the rows of thighs that stood before me in the water.

Well, when I join the party, I do it with style, so it entered my mind that a good way to join in this particular orgy might just to be to take a cock in my mouth while I was swimming there under water. So, holding my breath as long as I could I swam around until I saw a nice meaty one bobbing there before me like a huge worm on a hook. I swam right up to it like some sort of whorish mermaid, and opening my mouth as I swam, I let it slide right in. The owner of it, who hadn't seen me coming through the murky water, must have been shocked-and I bet a little frightened at first-but thoroughly pleased because the head of that prick immediately began pulsing in my mouth. I sucked it under water for as long as I could hold out, and when I was finally out of air, I released it and came up for a good deep breath. I found myself standing opposite the owner of that sweet delicious cock, a big beautiful long-haired hippy who looked like an easterner-he had that kind of sandy brown hair, and those intense eyes, that usually mark a disillusioned young man from the east, seeking himself out in the wide open.

I just stared into those intense eyes, the memory of the delicious prick in my mouth still with me, and he stared back at me so intensely that I thought I would just drop right there on the spot. He seemed to have a different kind of sexuality from any that I had encountered before, a sexuality that was based on intellect, that was based on a mind so thoroughly sexualized and so thoroughly sensual that it transformed everything it saw or thought into terms of fucking. We stood there just staring for what must have been a full minute or more, and then he reached over and, holding me under my arms, he lifted me up-of course I was very light and maneuverable because of the water-and as smoothly as could be, he just sat me down onto his hard swollen prick. My cunt was so wet from the excitement of his stare that the prick slid right into me even though it was a good thick one, and I lay there against him, my legs wrapped around his waist like a little girl swimming with her daddy, and the head of his cock probing deeper and deeper into the mouth of my womb.

It was one of the pleasantest things I'd ever felt, this aqueous fuck, and I let myself lie hack on the surface of the water, my legs still wrapped around him, his prick still sticking into me and I was secure in the knowledge that his mind was in perfect control of his body, and that his body was in perfect control of me. After a couple of minutes of this remarkable stillness, he began to walk with me through the water, gently putting me along as if he were towing a small rowboat behind him, and the motion of the water tickled my thighs and gently surged over my breasts. With his cock still inside me, it seemed like a wonderful sort of swimming fuck, and the water that lapped against the inside of my thighs and the lips of my spread-open pussy was more sensual than any contact with the air or fabric could ever be. There is something so sexy about the whole idea of water-it conjured images of the primeval cunt of the world, it brings us back to the womb, but not a restful womb, a sensual womb where everything feels good, where everything is allowed.

Finally I sat myself up again, and held him around the neck with both hands. His cock seemed to be swelling still more from the continual but subtle excitement of lying so deep inside my pussy, and I could not restrain myself from lasciviously wiggling my hips against the lower part of his belly. It was as if I were swimming down onto him, as if I were a sort of mermaid working my hole down onto the lovely cylinder of a submerged rock or some sort of blind sea creature. I let myself fantasize about all sorts of ocean fucks, about being fucked by the ocean, about being fucked by fish, about swimming through cold seas holding on to the cock of a whale; with my fatigue from the road and the wonderful sensuality of the water my fantasies ran wild, and each new image I conjured up made my cunt wetter, and my hips rotate more strongly and with greater abandon.

As if he could read my mind, the beautiful man on whose cock I was so wonderfully installed also began to grow more excited. But control was his main concern-I don't doubt that he was enjoying every moment of the fucking, but part of his game, part of his style was to remain as impassive as could be. This excited me still more-I've always thought that the most controlled men were the sexiest, far sexier than the men who infinitely give themselves up to their passion and begin flailing away.

This sweet, slow torture continued for a while longer, and then my lover began wading with me toward a cluster of people who had been standing and toying with each other a little ways away. He told me that he wanted me to meet some of his friends, a beautiful lesbian couple who he was sure would take an instant liking to me. I felt my cunt give an extra little squirt the first time he mentioned the word lesbian-I still remembered my titillating encounter with that marvelous dyke on my first night in Joplin, and I had been hungry ever since for a woman's touch, for the feel of a woman's mouth and a woman's pussy.

Well, his friends were certainly no disappointment. They were two blond sisters whose names were Jill and Jamie and who both looked like water nymphs, standing there as they were sunk in up to the waist, with their beautiful twin pairs of tits shimmering above the surface of the water. Their hair was the exact same shade and they looked astonishingly alike-they might even have been twins. Well, as soon as my lover carried me over to them, the two of them began complimenting me on my breasts and they lost no time in beginning to fondle them. They each began playing and paying all sorts of the nicest attention to my breasts, first fondling with their hands, cupping the entire weight of them at first, as if to measure their size and their firmness, and then beginning to concentrate more particularly on the nipples, which responded well, immediately becoming taut and hard in the cool night air. Seeing that their tit play was having such a marvelous effect on me they soon gave me their mouths. At one and the same instant, their two lush sets of lips came down onto my nipples and they began to suck me, as if I were the horny mother of a pair of twin baby girls. But their sucking was so deliberate and more expert than a baby's could ever be; they were thoroughly versed in the perfect use of tongue and lips, and they knew just when to bring their teeth into play. Until my nipples reached their maximum degree of tautness they only teased me with their smooth lips and the slippery tips of their tongues. But when they could feel, with a woman's sure instinct for figuring out the workings of another woman's body, that my nipples had reached their maximum degree of tautness and thus their maximum degree of sensitivity, they began to use their teeth on me, and I myself was amazed and excited by just how taut I was-I felt the resistance that my rubbery nipples were putting up against their sharp but sensual teeth, and I was excited by my own excitement.

Unconsciously, I had let go of my lover's neck and was now again lying backwards on the surface of the water, his dick still in me. He looked down at me, on his face a look of infinite calm and of infinite excitement, pleased by the sight of his two friends working on my tits. The two women supported me gently by placing the palms of their hands on my back, and I floated there in a kind of total ecstasy. And then, without even quite realizing how it happened, I realized that I had slipped a hand between each of their sets of legs and that I was fingering them both! I really don't know how it happened, I guess it was just another instance of the workings of that animal sexual instinct, that blind and all-consuming drive that lets me know exactly the kind of horny thing to do in any situation. Being a slut certainly comes naturally, and I constantly amazed myself at how adept I am at it! So I found myself lying back in the water, fingering them gently and rhythmically. Their cunts felt wonderful and smooth under the water. Against the coolness of the pond, the heat that was radiating from both of their pussies seemed all the more exquisite, and I was excited by the slippery feel of the cunt sap that slowly oozed out of them in steady pulses and retained its marvelous slipperiness even when diluted by the water that the pond had to offer. Their cunt hair floated like some sort of wonderful seaweed and I ran my thumb over and over the knotty texture of it as I worked my fingers into them.

I suppose they liked the way I fingered them,' because they began to moan softly, in a kind of perfect harmony as they sucked my tits. Driven on by the exciting sound of their sexual groaning, I now slipped two fingers into each of them, then three, and though I worked my hands slowly and steadily, I kept increasing the pressure of my arms, thrusting my fingers into them with greater and greater force, fucking them more and more authoritatively while I lay there being fucked myself and having their sweet mouths on my tits.

I fingered them harder and harder, I felt their juices coming more and more thickly, being expelled into the water in greater and greater volumes, and as I brought them nearer and nearer to orgasm they increased the pressure of their fingers on my back, now beginning to knead my skin in a most wonderful washing, and then finally digging their mouths into me, scratching at me playfully and with just the right degree of volume as I continued frigging them. I have always loved fucking women, and the thought of bringing the women to orgasm has always been one of the most exciting things for me-so imagine how I felt now, while I was lying back with a good thick cock in me bringing two women to orgasm at once! With a kind of frenzied energy, I frigged them again and again, worked my hands up into them until my arms ached and I felt I could no longer raise them. But the desire to make these two women come was so strong that my arms kept moving long after the point when I thought all my energy was expended. And finally my efforts were rewarded-the two women clenched their breath at the same exact second, their moans changed to a kind of low extended shriek, and I felt one final squirt of cunt juice flow out over each of my hands, I felt one final surge of the hotness of their pussies come down over my hands and wrists and I lay there fingering them in the water.

The wonderful sensation of this, of their cunts flowing outward into my hands, sent me off into an orgasm of my own. And though my stoic lover did not deign to move his prick, but just kept it lying there like a log inside me, I felt myself vibrating all around it, I felt my clitoris pulsing, and the walls of my vagina going off into crazy fluttering spasms.

When that initial orgasm had subsided, the beautiful sisters lifted me up so that I was again holding the neck of my lover. He looked at me gently but also with a sort of calm ferocity, and said that now he was going to take me to the bank, and fuck me in the mud. Although I was reluctant to leave the water, the thought of the mud excited me terribly. I loved the whole idea of it, the whole idea of fucking in the wet dirt, the whole idea of being covered with filth and at the same time being wrapped in the arms of a lovely man.

So we waded in to shore, and though I could feel my weight increasing on him, as the water got shallower, his steps never flagged or faltered. He was very strong, he carried me effortlessly, as if I were a small child, his unflagging cock still sticking in me the whole time. He never showed the slightest sign of strain, or of fatigue. When we reached the muddy beach, he lowered himself gently to his knees and without ever taking his cock out of me, he laid me down on my back and began to fuck me slowly and rhythmically. The feel of his hot cock coming down into me from above and the feel of the cool mud clinging to me from below merged into a beautiful sensation of total sexual abandon. I could feel the back of my head in the mud, I could feel it seeping through the hair on my soft cunt, I could feel it all down my back, and I could feel the wet dirt of it creeping between my buttocks, covering my ass. He fucked me steadily and calmly, letting me build up to another peak before he extended any tremendous amounts of energy himself. He was a consummate tease and a thoroughly wonderful fuck.

I could feel the juice spilling out of me and mingling with the mud beneath me as he fucked me harder. His cock seemed to grow now with the motion of his pumping hips and as it thickened and grew longer, I gyrated my hips around it more vigorously. As I moved I could feel the cool slime of the mud crawling over my skin, I could feel it being ground into the skin of my buttocks and my entire back. And the feel of it excited me terrifically. Again and again he came down onto me, came down strongly between my wide-open thighs, going deeper and deeper into the upper reaches of my snatch, and ground me down more and more forcefully into the mud.

And then, all of a sudden, as if he wanted to show me that it wasn't only me he wanted to make muddy, not only me that he wanted to smear with the filth of the earth but himself also, he adeptly spun over onto his back-still without taking his cock out-and installed me on top of him. In this new position, his cock seemed to get higher up into me, and I greedily sat down onto it with all my weight. But perhaps even more exciting than the feel of his prick was the thought that now it was his back that was in the mud, now he was the one who was on the bottom, and now it was his back, his hair, his ass that was feeling the slimy intrusion of the mud.

Turned on beyond words by this thought, I began gyrating my hips as hard as I could. Sitting straight down on him, digging my hard hands firmly into the strong muscles of his belly, I worked my cunt around that rock like piece of meat for all I was worth. Farther and farther up it went, more and more it filled the narrowing at the end of my cunt, and fired by the image of him lying there in the mud, and the feel of the mud now drying on my own back and being melted again by the sweat that was now pouring off me because of my fucking, I worked harder and harder. I felt a huge orgasm welling up in me, I felt that at any moment I could just change the rhythm and bring the orgasm about, but I didn't want to change anything. I wanted to go like this, build the pressure up more and more until I thought I would burst, and then let the orgasm overtake me all at once.

I was sweating profusely now, I could never remember having worked so hard for a fuck. The sweat was running off me in dirty rivulets of caked mud, but still I worked and still I moved my hips. I could barely draw breath. I looked down and saw my own breasts throbbing wildly with the efforts of my breathing. But I was determined not to stop until the biggest orgasm I had ever felt had welled up to the point where it would rack my whole frame. I humped again and again, sat down onto him more and more fiercely, dug my pelvic bones into his hips cruelly, I didn't care, I just wanted to get every last millimeter of his prick into me.

And then it happened, the long rise, the slow release, the final fluttering, the final spastic spasms that started out from my cunt, deep up in my cunt and radiated out into my entire body, making my breasts cleave apart with the force of it, making my shoulders shake and the air escape from between my teeth in a long low whistle. Then my lover, letting me savor the orgasm to its fullest, remained perfectly still while the energy rolled out of me, while the sap flowed out of me in one slow gush over onto the steaming pole of his cock, and then, when the peak was passed, when the orgasm was beginning its downhill phase he pulled me down onto his sweaty chest and rolling me over and over again in the mud, he let me enjoy the orgasm down to its last pulse. I was coming and coming and coming, as he spun me over the mud, as we rolled over the beach like two animals. And finally, when I thought my joy was thoroughly spent, I felt his sperm coming into me hot and thick in long gushes, and though I had no idea where the energy came from, the spurting of his come sent me off into yet one more delightful orgasm.