Chapter 13

As the great swollen head of the boy's cock parted her nether lips and began its journey up the long dark passage, she suddenly felt the hot water touching her sensitive inner membranes. It felt scalding.

It was not actually scalding, she knew -- only comfortably hot, but in there where hot water had no business being, the effect was devastating. Suddenly the long slow build-up of eroticism as they had lain naked in the tub facing one another, playing casually with one another's legs while building delightful mental images of what wonderful things were about to happen -- suddenly it all came together in a deliciously prolonged, shuddery spasm of erotic delight. She felt her belly knot up, unknot, twist up in the opposite direction, flutter and fibrillate in a sudden uncontrollable seizure of joy that brought a sharp gasp from her.

There was worry in the boy's eyes. She controlled the shuddering and jerking that was drawing still more of a yearlong tension from her body. She smiled and put her hands over his cupping her tits. The boy finished straightening up and she found herself sitting on his lap, facing him, straddling him, her superb body spiked on his arrogant masculinity.

The boy reached behind him and tripped the lever that released the water. Now where did he learn that, she wondered? But who cared? She was sitting atop him, legs around his waist, her firm thirty-nines jutting into his face, and be was licking them and sucking her tiny nulliparous nipples into adamantine hardness while his arms were around her pulling her to him, pulling

his face deeper into her tits while he began slow!, rocking, and as they rocked back and forth his grea thumping cock began sliding in and out of her-ii each time he rocked back, out each time he went for ward.

Their asses were still under water and his swollen cock head seemed to be working like some sort of flesh! pump, capturing an ounce of water with each stroke and pushing it up deep, deep into her until she felt as she were ready to burst, but his cock felt so good she didn't want to make him stop because it was hard and swollen and the great round thumping head of his hammer sliding into her felt even hotter than the water and it felt so good and she guessed it was because the hot water was washing away all of love's lubrication before it could smooth and slicken those membranes but his cock was not exactly hurting but yet it was and it felt like he had wrapped it in sandpaper and still il was going in and out of her swollen, water-filled cum and it felt so funny and it felt so good and she wanted him to stop but she didn't and oooohhh, there she went again!

It felt so good she couldn't stop even though the steady pumping of his cock underwater was filling her until she suddenly realized this must be what the last few months of pregnancy are like. He was licking and sucking her tits, breaking away each time he rocked back, coming back down onto her nipples each time his glistening body came forward and she rocked back and his cock came out and scalding water came in and then he pulled her forward as he rocked back and the great living plunger of his pump pushed another dollop of scalding water up into her stretched and thrumming pussy.

The bathtub drain was gurgling lustily away like some Russian pop singer, slowly spilling the water out of the tub, but they were rocking with an accelerated rhythm now, rocking and rolling, and the water was sloshing and spilling all over the floor and she was going to have to mop it up and who gave a damn! It felt so funny -- so drum tight stretched and straining, so hot. And still they rocked back and forth and with each stroke his mouth came down first over one nipple, then over the other, licking, kissing and sucking them both into ruby-red rock hardness. With each rock-and-roll movement his cock pulled nearly all the way out and water rushed into the gap and oooohhh, it felt so , funny! But it felt so good!

The water was down around their asses now, still sloshing but mostly gone. What would happen when it was all gone, she wondered. Would she remain stuffed full of hot water? Of course not. She knew more about anatomy than that. Hadn't she douched come out of her cunt countless times? She wondered if the boy knew what he was doing to her. Maybe if she made him stop, pull it out for a minute ...

But it felt so good she knew she didn't want to stop -- not even if it was hurting and stretching and all that hot water inside her was making her tingle and glow and her pussy was fluttering and sputtering and she could feel that fuse in her spine start to burn again and then suddenly great erotic rockets of joy were firing, filling her with the joy that passeth all understanding and she was coming and she was coming and she was coming!

It seemed endless and in spite of being filled with hot water-perhaps because of it, she was experiencing a totally new kind of turn on. As the lovely boy continued his rock and roll, his joyous licking and kissing of her tits, Clara suddenly realized that this prolonged orgasm bad not been the gut wrenching, soul-destroying ordeal she had experienced earlier this morning in the trailer, then later in her bedroom with a lovely red-haired bead between her legs.

It was a more gentle turn on but it lasted and lasted and lasted until it felt like she was coming sweetly, joyously, steadily for hours and hours and it felt so good she prayed the boy would never tire of this lascivious licking, this lovely erotic rock and roll that joined two bodies into one and opened the one true channel of communication between them.

She caressed the nape of his neck, she kissed his ears, she ran loving hands up and down his back, memorizing the hard-muscled contours of this lovely young body. And slowly the water gurgled out of the tub, slowly, an ounce at a time, his great swollen plunger pumped it into her until with each stroke she knew she couldn't contain another drop and yet with each plunge of that magnificent rod into her pussy he was driving still more hot water up in there to stretch her, to lave every crinkle and fold, to give her the most prolongedly satisfying turn-on she had experienced since -- since when? Since the last time he had worked his magic on her, she knew. She had never found any male of any age who was half the man this downy-cheeked boy with the first wispy hint of moustache was turning out to be.

The water gurgled and she felt a million tiny trickles as each crisp pubic hair sprang free and recoiled. Then there was only a tiny tingling trickle around their enjoined asses at the bottom of the tub. The boy stopped kissing her tits. He straightened up to fasten his mouth over hers. They kissed, then his tongue invaded her and she reciprocated and they swapped tongues with gay abandon until they were both gasping for air.

The boy reared back until their eyes could focus on one another. "Deezneelen?" he asked.

"Mmmmmmmmm!" Clara agreed.

Abruptly the boy pulled his cock out of her. Clara gasped. Like a broken fire hydrant her cunt gushed water, spewing and spilling as it emptied the accumulation the boy's cock had pumped into her. And suddenly as all that pressure emptied she felt her belly twist, knot, untwist, wind up in another direction as great erotic gusts of joy swept through her, racking her body until she was wailing and gasping in the deepest, most cataclysmic come she had ever experienced.

It went on and on, wrenching her, tearing her, driving her up the wall with uncontrollable, inexpressible joy as her cunt contracted, relaxed, squeezed again -- coming, coming COMING!

Still water gushed and gushed from her and she realized dimly that somehow this kingsized grandmother of all orgasms was connected with the sudden release of pressure, the gush of hot water from her vaginal canal. How, she wondered, could anything so simple feel so goooood?

She was still coming, great surges of erotic joy spurting in time to the tiny spurts of water that still remained inside her. She would empty completely, she knew, once she stood up. But for now she was still unable to stand, still fluttering and flitting from one orgasmic peak to the next, still purging herself of all the joy that lovely boy had pumped into her.

Finally she slumped, satiated. Wonder Boy had done it again: he had gone and driven her right out of her mind -- and just when she had thought all that gut wrenching soul tearing was over-just when she had been setting down to the lovely little turn-on of that low-keyed non-stop orgasm.

She looked blearily at the boy. He was bright-eyed and alert. He had not, she suddenly realized -- had not come! But she had. Had she ever!

And slowly it dawned on her what he had done. Why that little bastard! The boy had known all the time what he was doing to her, pumping her full of. hot water with his ineffable injector, slowly and carefully carpentering this situation until she had exploded in the most unexpected -- the most devastatingly delightfully prolonged spasm of joy she had ever experienced. That little bastard! Where, she asked herself, where had he ever learned a trick like that?

Some hot spring where the village boys and girls used to spend their spare time? Who could say. Someday if she could ever teach him to speak English maybe he could tell her. Meanwhile, what was more important was -- could he do it again?

What was she thinking? Not again! Not now -- not already, please. Tomorrow, the next day, a week from now maybe -- but not right now, please! But ooooohhh, had it ever felt good!

She still lay nerveless and exhausted in the bottom of the tub. Suddenly everything was going fuzzy around the edges and it seemed as if she was seeing the boy through two long pieces of pipe. She felt him lifting her to her feet and draping her over his shoulders until her superb thirty-nines were mashed into the hard muscles of his back. He was bending over, fiddling with something. Suddenly the full force of the cold water shower hit her without a single mitigating drop of hot. The boy pushed and prodded her until her entire body had been laved, shocked and tightened by the blast, then abruptly he turned it off and she was standing wide awake in the middle of the bathroom floor while he wiped her dry with a rough towel.

He led her into the bedroom and stretched her out. She was alert again, remembered that he had not come, knew that within seconds he would be atop her pouring it to her again. Oh Jesus! He disappeared into the bathroom again and then she realized after a moment that he was sponging up the spilled water, getting the remains of their underwater orgy down to manageable proportions. He really was a nice boy. Suddenly she was asleep.

When she awoke with a start minutes or possibly hours later she was alone. The boy had thrown a coverlet over her. Suddenly she was, sure it was over. He'd gotten all he wanted, all he needed. Now he had packed up and gone on his way toward new worlds, toward ever younger and tighter runts. Abruptly she felt the weight of her thirty-nine years.

And the most galling part of it, she suddenly realized, was that he had done that whole bathtub bit just for her benefit. The boy had not even come! Now she knew what it felt like to receive charity. She was suddenly ashamed. The boy had fucked the living daylights out of her in the trailer. And she had handed him a scythe and put him to work. He had licked, kissed and sucked her pussy into a raddled satiation she had never known before -- and she had introduced him to a lawnmower.

Jesus, she, thought in sudden understanding, no wonder he disappeared! He was too tired for any more work.

So it was over. Finished. She was alone in the world again, perhaps with her reputation none the worse, unless the neighbours had nothing to do. Tomorrow she would rest, fix her hair. And Monday she would go back to the office just as if nothing had ever happened. But people would know. For weeks, months maybe she would radiate the sleek satisfaction of a well-fucked woman. For weeks she would smile and be tolerant in. stead of snapping at the stupid, bungling girls who worked under her. They would know.

So to hell with them! But, she resolved, the next time some halfway acceptable male invited her to a weekend at his chalet or on his yacht she wouldn't be so snappish in her refusal. She might refuse but she would always leave an opening -- a little room for hope. For the first time she realized that for this last year since old Harry had disappeared, she had been so snappish, so standoffish that people who knew no better ... she wondered if some of those stupid, bungling girls were calling her a bull dyke behind her back. If ;they only knew ... and if she could only know, convince herself that they were not stupid, bungling girls. They were just young, still learning their way around life. She was going to try to be nicer to the poor kids.

But who was going to be nice to her? How long could she live on a memory? Already just thinking about that wonderful cock and all the things it had done to her she felt a little tendril of titillation deep in her belly -- deep up inside where vagina and womb join together, where the blunt knob on the end of his knocker had been pounding at the portals of her baby factory.

She sighed and got up and put on a peignoir and began checking the house. He was a man and therefore constitutionally incapable of housekeeping, but the boy had done a surprisingly good job of picking up and tidying. She went around putting things back in their proper places. undoing his well-meaning efforts at stowing household goods. To her surprise he had found the mop and, even more surprisingly, he had cleaned it and put it away again. God, if only she could keep this kind of a boy -- this kind of a man around the house indefinitely!

She remembered her lovely fine-spun fantasies, about marrying him or adopting him or whatever. He would be miles away by now. She wondered if once he had settled down and was rich and spoke good English and had greased a judge somewhere to make him a citizen -- would young Att remember her, his first piece of American cunt?

And she had thought they were communicating. He had learned a few words of English. She knew he was intelligent. Why hadn't he been smart enough to see what a good thing it would have been for him to stay here with her? Then she remembered how she had fucked him and worked him, fucked him and worked him. No wonder the boy had bugged out. He was intelligent. He had seen the pattern before she had.

Sadder but wiser, Clara made the rounds of the house checking doors and windows. The boy had been considerate enough to set the spring latch behind him even though he could not throw the deadbolt from outside without a key. He had been in civilization long enough to understand the need for locks.

She glanced out the kitchen window toward the trailer, across the newly mown backyard, realizing guiltily that now that he had scythed it, she had been planning on having him mow it tomorrow. Damn! She would mow it herself even if it killed her. Do it as penance for driving him away. Do it to exercise the tingling tickle that fluttered in her belly every time she thought about that lovely, golden-skinned boy.

Then, glancing out again -she saw what was funny, what had caught her attention the first time. The curtains on the trailer were all drawn but the little roof ventilator was open. Light was coming out of it.