Chapter 3
Damn him, damn him, DAMN HIM! It felt good. It felt so good Clara could not bring herself to box his ears and pull him up, and put his face between her tits and make him put his cock in her and do it right. It felt good. But it was not what she wanted-not what she needed. She could dream this bit every night. If she were really feeling low and desperate she could fill the tub with warm water and lie there with a soothing hand in her crotch to pat away the aches, the pains, the frustrations and loneliness. She didn't need a man to do that. But oooohhh, did it ever feel good!
He was running his tongue in great lascivious circles, round and round the tiny marble-hard bulge of her clit, stroking that sensitive organ till she wanted to giggle and whinny. He was running his tongue over it, making her ass lift and thrust to meet him and draw him in deeper. His fingers were caressing her thighs, the smooth firm cheeks of her ass, lovingly counting the follicles on her prominent mons veneris.
And his tongue, oh god damn his wonderful tongue! He was licking her clit, stopping only to make darting forays up the smooth sensitive inner surface of one vulval lip and down the other. Unerringly the tip of his tongue found every itch, scratched every tingle to start a dozen new ones, driving her slowly but surely up the wall until she knew that if she didn't stop this agile tongue from probing her secrets soon, she would drop shrieking wailing and howling as she suffered a spasm and plummeted over the erotic edge of a chasm of orgasm. Oh god damn him, oh Jesus, oooooooohhhhh!
She felt her thighs close convulsively over his ears felt his ears like twin branding irons leave their burning erotic imprint in the hyper sensitized skin of her thighs. Her whole body was on fire, caught up in the toils c emotion deferred. Dimly, she realized that her health; body was extracting its vengeance for the year she had mooned about trying to figure out why old Harry ... To hell with Harry! Harry was gone. But this wonderful boy was here, right now, his head between her legs his gorgeous tongue titillating her to within an inch o sanity, tickling, tantalizing, tempting her to kick, b wiggle, to shriek and yodel her delight.
Momentarily she recalled the glimpse she had caught through binoculars of the couple next door. She wondered if they were still caught up in their own thing or ... it would be funny if they had field glasses too, if they sat idly looking out and wondering if somebody was inside here helping her to make this trailer jump up and down.
Still he licked her, running his tongue in loving circles around her fibrillating clit. Some tiny, still almost sane corner of her mind wondered. Was it normal for a healthy young stud to act this way? Clara had no had a boy since she had been a girl. She couldn't remember too well but mostly she remembered the, were all so frantic, so afraid something would comp along and spoil it or she would change her mind or ... The way she remembered them, young men were so hair triggered they couldn't wait to get it in, to manage two or three rabbit like plunges before dissolving h blurting, squirting embarrassment. Sometimes the second and third or fourth time around they had bees rather good but ... suddenly Clara realized exactly how weird it all was. He had entirely too much self possession for a young man who lived alone and managed a hard-on from the centrefold of that mindless magazine.
He should have swarmed over her like six sailors on shore leave, striving to stab her before his magnificent erection exploded and left him and teasing her, driving her out of her mind with anticipation and desire.
She had a sudden suspicion. Maybe that was exactly what had happened. Maybe in his eager haste he had managed to fire his load in the air and all this was just wallpaper to keep her happy until his youthful weapon could reload and better luck next time.
Then Clara knew she had guessed wrong. At thirty-nine she had survived enough bedroom bouts to recognize the smell of lover's elixir. If the boy had fired his load the air in this tiny trailer would have been redolent with the odd, chlorinated-water smell of fresh semen. Instead there was only the smell of virile male kissing her, licking her, squeezing her ass, caressing her, running loving hands up and down her flanks to cop an occasional feel of her colossal, firmly skyward pointing thirty-nines. The boy had not fired his load. Not yet.
If he had managed it this long without a misfire, Clara guessed the boy was competent to manage his own affairs. How many mature men could do without as long as this lonely boy must have and still manage to lie half atop her, savoring the smooth perfection of her unlined body without exploding?
One thing Clara knew for damn sure: she couldn't. She felt her belly knotting and twisting inside as a year without a man prepared to wreak vengeance upon her. It felt so good and yet it was still not what she really wanted. After a year without a man she wanted what only a man could do. She wanted his honker rammed deep into her, gouging, twisting, turning and churning her insides into a pink froth of passion. But if he kept tormenting her this way she knew it was going to happen. Inside her or not, this lovely boy was going to make her come.
What would happen if she were to grab him firmly by the ears and draw him properly up on top of her, guide his mouth down onto one of her hard, throbbing nipples and guide his splendid, heavy-veined hammer into that part of her where it could do the most good?
She didn't know. Suddenly she was frightened. Since she had burst into the trailer and surprised him naked with his cock at port arms, the boy had not uttered a word. But -- neither had she. Was it natural to act this way? She sighed and tried to still the rising crescendo in her belly. It was the most natural thing in the world, she guessed. Bright and clever people wrote brittle, Noel Coward-style dialogue about it, but then she knew which side of the bed the late Mr. Coward had gotten out of. For people with normal appetites -- for men who liked women and for women who liked firm young men, this must be the most natural thing in the world: no talk, just action.
But did it have to be this kind of action? It felt good. Oh God, did it ever feel good! But, she reflected, it was like a Chinese dinner. It felt good but there was not the satisfaction that came from a solid piece of meat and two potatoes banging against her ass. An hour from now and she knew she was going to be hungry again.
But that would be an hour from now. Right now she had a boy's tongue up her cunt. He was making little detours from her clit now, nibbling on her ass, licking the soft sensitive strip of skin between cunt and asshole, driving her right up the wall with his pitiless titillation. Each time he returned to the warmth at her pussy his agile tongue drove deep into her vagina, giving her a delicious little portent of what it would be like when he got his gun in there. If he ever did. Damn him, what was he waiting on?
She wondered if 'this boy was sophisticated enough to realize what he was doing to her. She had done it often enough back before she had settled down to twelve years of dullness with Harry. She remembered the merciless way she had tormented her young men, forcing them into positive agonies of ejaculation before she would relent and permit their reviving rods inside her. She had always said it was because they were too hair trigger to be worthwhile the first time. But that had not been the strict truth. To herself she could admit that it had been for the sheer fun of it, for the joy of watching a man suffer. And now, if she didn't watch herself, this young bastard was going to watch her suffer.
Who was he? Where did he come from? What was he doing in her trailer? Was he on the run from the road camp? Or was he from the funny farm? Damn old Harry! Why wasn't she in town in a nice comfortable condo instead of out here in the boondocks at the mercy of some stiff cocked stud who stood a good chance of being a psycho?
If he didn't stop this licking and kissing and sucking soon she knew she was going to scream. She was going to go crawling right up the erotic walls of this little bedroom-on-wheels, going to shock her nude and fun loving neighbours right out of their free-wheeling minds when she got to her feet and snatched that Colt out from under the napkin and they were treated to the sight of a naked boy stampeding through the weeds chased by a naked woman with a pistol which would be bobbing up and down as vigorously as her unconfined thirty-nines.
The mere thought brought a faint smile to her and saved her from imminent disaster. The boy had his mouth deep into cunt country and seemed to be rising toward some sort of an oral climax -- whatever that might be. To Clara it was only a tongue deep into her, twisting and turning as no man's meat could ever turn, poking and probing unexpectedly in delightful new directions and it felt so good and oh, god damn this wonderful boy! Would he never put it in?
She could feel her empty vagina contract, struggling to give a loving squeeze to a cock that wasn't there. The boy's tongue was exciting her, driving her half batty, but it could never satisfy her. Her whole body yearned, had been yearning for nearly a year for something hot, hard, and male sliding in and out, in and out, filling her with the joy that passeth all understanding.
This damned boy was just like her dreams. Hot and fast, empty calories. When this was over she was going to be riddled and exhausted -- wrung out. But unless she could get this little monster to ram his big monster into her she was going to be just as frustrated, just as emptily grumpy as she always was when she awoke hot and sweaty, cunt brimming with the juice that rises from the well of loneliness.
He was tonguing her deeper now, harder and faster. His hands were in incessant motion, exploring every contour of her ass, caressing her thighs, memorizing the swell of hip and flank, running in warm friendly circles round and round the rising mounds of her twin searchlights, stopping only long enough to twiddle her tiny nulliparous nipples into rockhard erection before returning once more to tickle her ass.
Her insides were turning to jello. She hadn't exploded in a king sized screaming and wailing orgasm but her cunt was so brimming with love's elixir that she wondered how the boy could continue his incessant muff-diving without drowning. Another tiny anticipatory quiver passed through her belly like a carnal earthquake, a precursor of the storm to come if only the son of a bitch would just stick it in her and start pumping.
And then suddenly he wasn't even licking her. God damn him! He's gone-and let himself get too excited and he's come all over the floor instead of inside me where it could do some good! The little bastard! I'll make him pay for that -- won't I just ever! Just wait till he wants to put it in and I cross my legs and say "No. Not until you clean up in here and cut the grass."
She closed her eyes, the better to visualize all the ways she was going to torment this errant stud, make him pay for the way he was tormenting her. The nerve of him! He couldn't be over eighteen. Maybe only fifteen. His beard was just getting well started. And here he was trying to dictate sexual terms to her -- to a woman in the prime of life -- only thirty-nine, with a bust to match, and the kind of experience that would put this novice to shame. The nerve of him!
I'll make him go take a shower and I'll find the dullest goddam razor blade and make him shave and then I'll make him give me a bath and paint my toenails and kiss and lick me all over until he's out of his mind and still I won't let him get it into me. I'm going to dance for him -- belly dance and drive him wild and every time he grabs I'll be just out of reach and I'll be so smooth and seductive his thing will swell and throb and his eyes will get big and he'll look at me and suddenly he'll be spurting and squirting all over the place and he'll be ashamed and he'll run into the bathroom ant then I'll come in and be kind to him and comfort him and then his thing'll start to come up again and I'll bi kind and motherly and he'll think this time I'm going to let him put it in and his thing will get just as big ant hard as the first time and he's so young and so inexperienced that he'll be gritting his teeth and even, muscle straining to keep himself from another accident and --
And none of it was true, she abruptly realized. Shi was the older woman, the one with the experience. Shi ought to be-teaching him, guiding him, initiating him u the arts of love. Instead, she had lain passive, let him kiss and lick her into sloppy insanity.
What was the son of a bitch up to now? She strainer to raise her head and see him. He wasn't licking he any more. His head wasn't even between her legs. Suddenly something rough and scratchy was in there pushing, blotting.
Abruptly she realized what was happening. Her inexperienced, naïf boy had taken over complete control, had made her come with happy little mini-orgasm so many times she couldn't remember. He had done none of the things an eager and blundering boy was supposed to do. His cock was still rock hard. He was still fully loaded. He was using her, tormenting her, titillating and tickling her, doing all the things she was supposed to do to him. The next thing she knew hi would be dancing, forcing her into still another orgasm from the mere sight of his hard young body, his blue veined tool swaying gently in time to ...
Why was she daydreaming like this? Had a yea without a man driven her round the bend? What the hell was he doing to her? Abruptly her soaring imagination came back to earth and she understood the significance of the thing between her legs. He had captured her shorts and wadded them up. He was wiping and blotting the juices of joy from her cunt, letting her know that he knew what his licking and kissing had done to her -- that he had made her come explosively, joyously, repeatedly, while his hammer was still pristine, his hard-on undamaged.
God damn him! What was he going to do now? Make her beg for it? Then she understood. He was wiping her dry so he could get his face in there again and lick her some more. If that was the only thing that turned him on she guessed -- knew she would have to endure it. Already just the thought of his agile tongue in there again was enough to turn her will to water. He was sliding, scooting back up onto the bed now. Then abruptly she realized he was sliding higher this time. His silent, expressionless face hovered over hers. She felt the heat radiating from his cock, warming her seething crotch, threatening to coax still another flutter from her. Then she felt the tip of his tool actually start to push its way past the lips of her vulva. He was finally going to put it in!