Chapter 1
What do you do about a twenty-five-year-old mean sonofabitch who tries to keep all the women in the commune for himself?
If you have any sense at all, you kill him before he gets into gear, but we didn't know what was up when the big hog rolled into the acreage of the Jilkes Group in the San Andreas Valley that day in August. The rider's name, he announced, was Pietro. He was an American-Sicilian and claimed to be the embodiment of the Mafia, an electrical storm and a ten ton hydrogen bomb all rolled into one, and he looked around at our thirteen chicks and said to Sofia, the best of the lot; "You! You're the first one, babe. Off with the clothes! I'm gonna have me some barbecued cunt!"
And right there in the sun alongside our flourishing melon patch, he waded into Sofia with a movement and a growl that you normally only see in the jungle at the height of mating season.
She didn't seem to like it at first and she screamed for us to help her. By the time I had an axe in my hand and was ready to take off the big monster's head with it, Sofia had just enough of the sunny Sicilian's big ramrod and she loved it now and waved me back, screaming; "No, no, no! Leave him be. My god, he's great! My god, he's marvelous! My god, he's the absolute supreme!"
And I looked at the big shock of black hair and the wide back still covered with the motorcycle jacket with the sign of Scorpio emblazoned in red and I had second thoughts. Maybe the axe would bounce off; then where would I be?
Pietro was in her so quick, we didn't have time to gauge the size of his prick, but little Lila, the sweetheart of Kent State, said it was in the enormous category and she was drooling and we knew she was hoping to be next.
We stood spellbound in the hot sun and watched Pietro fuck lovely Sofia, and lovely Sofia responding with howls and shouts and screams of pure pleasure. Her naked buttocks were grinding in the sandy soil and I figured she would be out of action for a week with a sore ass. The motorcycle jock had one speed: fast.
He had ripped off her blouse because she hadn't undressed fast enough and his big hairy hands were clenched over her breasts and lovely Sofia was pushing her chest up at him, begging for him to squeeze tighter and to fuck harder.
He did both.
Pietro had only dropped his pants, not taking the time to remove them altogether, and he had lean dark buttocks that flexed with the power of Hercules , as he rose and fell on the pretty favorite of the commune.
"Goddamn good fuck," he said when he was halfway finished. He looked around and his grin was enough to stop any potential detractor; he had a tooth missing in front and, with the stubbly beard and the beady, sharp eyes, he looked mean enough to kill us all if we interfered.
When Pietro was finished, he stood up, wiped his big black tool on Sofia's discarded blue jeans and turned to the group. "I'm king of this frigging outfit now," he growled. "There are two things I love. I love to fuck and I love to work. I have fucked and so now I work."
And he did.
That big, broad-shouldered, muscle-bound motorcycle ass of a Sicilian ripped off his leather jacket, tore the axe frog' my hand and proceeded to chop down seven dead 'trees beyond the garden and split them into firewood. When he was finished, he snatched a hoe from Kath, the sweet-heart of Kansas U., and ravaged all the weeds in the potato patch. His next attentions were turned to the irrigation ditch we thirteen men had been trying to dig from Dingus Creek to the pecan orchard. We had been working on it a month and still had fifty feet to go and figured it would take us another week to finish it.
Pietro had water flowing through the orchard be-fore dinner; and then he ate our entire day's provisions.
"I also love to sleep," he announced, stretching almost to the sky and rippling more muscles than we knew existed. "Anybody comes near me gets a stiletto in the heart."
He slept on my cot and, after grousing about it for a couple hours around the campfire, and listening to the girls rap on about what a superb man Pietro was, I crawled into Tonia's sleeping bag for solace. Tonia is an exchange student from Yugoslavia and very much a sweetheart.
"What are we going to do about him, Tonia?" I opined as I slid my hand up between her soft thighs to an already moist pussy.
"Sofia says we should keep him," she said, giggling in the darkness in her own inimitable Yugoslav style.
Night is solid in this part of the country when there are clouds. We had clouds that night. It was blacker than the inside of a whore's heart and I could not see the otherwise gleaming white breasts I was kissing.
"Keep him, hell," I snarled, moving down in the bag to get my head between her legs. "We worked long and hard to get this family going. We've been highly selective in our group membership and we have thirteen of the most beautiful girls in the country, along with thirteen of the horniest men in the whole world."
"Fourteen," she giggled as she nibbled sweetly on my erect cock.
I spread the lips of her sweet pussy and lashed out with my tongue. I felt the quivering moist flesh through the thicket of cunt-hairs and Tonia closed her thighs over my ears. They were soft thighs and felt good in the cool of the night. Her pussy was musty and good. I hadn't had for two weeks and it was especially good.
"Okay, I said, my voice muffled by cunt and sleeping bag. "Go ahead and make jokes. The next thing you know, he'll be calling you a bitch and telling you to take off your clothes and routing you in front of the whole damned . . . "
"I certainly hope so," she said in her intriguing accent. "I hope he eats me for breakfast."
Damned women!
But I soon forgot about Pietro in the heat of the moment and the black night, and I pretended that Tonia had forgotten him, too. I did everything I could to make her forget.
First, the gamming. I sucked gently on her cuntlips and then moved my tongue into the musky interior to seek out the soft, delicate little morsels that would send Tonia into whirls of delight and cause the soft thighs to crush me tighter and tighter.
The whole world seemed to disappear while I was engaged in this immensely pleasurable occupation and so I engaged myself with even more courage and conviction. I ran my tongue along the sides of her pussy walls and, swirling it into a kind of corkscrew-shaped poker, I rammed it up in her until I heard her breath come in a kind of hissing sound.
Her lips and tongue were by no means idle. We did not approve of idleness in our commune, whether it be in the act of fucking or the act of working. Beautiful Tonia, with her Old World ways, drew my cock into her mouth and, while her tongue slithered around the swollen flange of my cockhead, her lips were tight against my shaft, working slowly and wetly up and down. Both her small brown hands were on my balls and I felt a stray finger dawdling with my ass and I felt as though the whole world revolved around our actions at that moment.
To our right, Ken and Kath were past the gamming stage and their sleeping bag was leaping all over Kath's cot. Ken comes from Florida and he is accustomed to fucking on the open beach; the sleeping bag was definitely surplus material to him. But he had learned, like Robert Jordan, to hump his lady-love inside a sleeping bag, because the Jilkes Group had voted to obey a strict decorum. We never fucked openly in front of each other and Pietro had broken that code. But there was nothing to be done about Pietro--not just now.
To our left, Toodles, a happy-faced, smiling young mogul from Texas Christian, was similarly involved with the red-headed Margo who was a great loss to Ohio State since she had come west to join our group. All up and down the long great-house we had built, cots and sleeping bags were leaping and jumping about.
In the midst of this great black night of lovemaking, Pietro slept like the dead and snored like thunder.
After my mind had roamed all around the room, singling out couples like that, it returned to the business at hand and mouth, and I felt a hot flash of passion trickling through my genitalia. Beautiful Tonia, in her gentle kissing of my cockshaft, had reached my balls and slipped them into her mouth to suck on them.
I never tire of such things, but I was ready for the come at any minute. I probed her pussy a bit more with my tongue and then shifted around in the bag until I had her legs spread and my body between them. I poised above her with my cock jerking in the blackness, just above the hairy muskiness of her cunt. She clung to my shoulders and bit my left ear and moaned softly; "Now, Ronnie, baby, now. Oh, sweets, do it now and do it hard."
"I want to try the back door," I said.
"Not tonight," she said. "Another time. I need that hunk of meat in the right oven tonight, Ronnie."
Always happy to accommodate, I lowered my hips until I felt the tip of my cock nestling in her soft pubic hair. Her hands flashed onto the scene and I felt her long, slender fingers guiding my cock to its destination. Tendrils of electric feeling ripped through my loins as her fingers kneaded the hard shaft of my penis.
And then, contact!
I held the head of it just inside the opening of her vagina. She flexed her cunt muscles, trying to suck it into her, and I felt the slow, gentle motion against the sensitive prickhead and I thought of how her lips did just the something sometimes and wondered just how much similarity there was between a mouth and a cunt when it came to sex. Pretty much, I decided.
And then came the slow entry. Tonia has a very small pussy and no matter how many times she has been fucked, it does not seem to stretch. She is tiny all over, except her buttocks and breasts seem large in comparison--or contrast, perhaps--to her little body. I had one breast in my mouth and the other in my hand as I began the long glide down into her, and she was wriggling and moaning and biting my ear until I thought I would come on the way in.
Her hands and feet were locked over my buttocks, pressing, squeezing, straining for me to ram it in her harder and quicker. I held back with every muscle in my hips and made it slow and sweet, enjoying the slow sweep of my cockhead against the slippery walls of her pussy. And that invisible telegraph line that leads from the cock to the brain told me over and over that it was very good.
"How much more, Ronnie?" she whispered. "My God, how much more?"
I gave her the rest and she gasped and I heard the soft, healthy squoosh when my cock hit bottom and our groins came together.
"That's it, sweet Tonia. There isn't anymore."
"Oh god, it's enough. Fuck me now, Ronnie. Please fuck me now."
We made sweet music in that old sleeping bag then and, when I was really slamming into her juicy little pussy, I didn't even hear the big Sicilian snoring down at the end of the room. I worked with a fury borne of desire and anger; desire for Tonia or Sofia or Kath or Marga or Lila--for any of our thirteen chicks--and anger for the encroachment of the big Sicilian.
I thrust the motorcycle rider out of my mind altogether and then pounded her harder. and harder. We let the slaps escape from the sleeping bag and resound under the thatched roof of our Great-house. She bit into my shoulder and her hands slipped from my straining buttocks to my .hanging balls and she gripped them tightly, like a rock.
"Come now," she said. "Oh Ronnie, come into me now!"
And I did. In great, galloping, angry-happy bursts, I spurted into her small pussy and. felt her body alternately gripping and relaxing as her own come joined with mine.
We lay silent for a long time and my mind went gradually back to Pietro, the motorcycle ass. I lay on my side and tried to see the rafters of our Great house above me, but couldn't. We twenty-six charter members of the Jilkes Group had built this house and this fine farm without any help from big bastards who rode motorcycles and bullied other people about. We had built it all without his help and it was a heaven nestled on the rich plateau of the San Andreas Moutains and who the hell was he to come barging in once we had all the work done?
Tonia was reading my thoughts.
"You're jealous, Ron Jilkes," she said as she lashed her tongue in and out of my ear, trying to get me aroused again.
"Shut up and keep squeezing," I said. "There's another drop of spunk in my balls."
She needed no further encouragement. Her legs wrapped around me again and I felt her pussy flexing on my softening cock. The drop came and I felt it ooze out through the narrow hole in my cock; and then I slipped my mouth over one lovely little pointed tit and we slept.