Chapter 3
Nanci Flannigan was unhappy already and it was only five a.m. She asked Ted, "Wouldn't it be more efficient to load up inside the garage?" as she toted the fifth bundle of camping gear to the curb.
"Nah, hardly room to open the doors," Ted said, carefully placing his compound-curved hunting bow and a quiver of razor-sharp arrows above the rear seat. He ceremoniously unstrapped his .44 Magnum revolver from his leg and placed the holster and belt under the front seat.
"But all the gear's in the garage, except the food," Nanci said. "Besides, the light's better ... the sun won't even be up for another hour!"
Ted stood to his full height and put his hands on his hips. "Now, honey, I been huntin' and campin' all my life and I know-" He broke off and waved at a neighbor peering through curtains across the street. "You always load up out front! You can't catch nothin' if you're ashamed of bein' a conservationist!" He took the cased shotgun from where it leaned against the front fender and put it on the rack above the rear seat, right under the big bow.
Nanci sighed. Great. Show all the neighbors we're leaving for the weekend. It's like leaving an invitation for burglars. She shook her head and went back into the house. "Terri? Are you about ready, dear?"
The little brunette came out of her room, her voluptuous curves showing even through the heavy green of the army fatigues Ted had bought her. "Yeah, I guess," she groused. "Why do we have to be up in the middle of the night? This is dumb, Mom. We won't even pick up the guys until six and I bet most of them won't be ready." She held a bobby pin in her teeth and swept her long, glossy brown hair up and back in a motion that made her melon-like breasts strain the heavy cloth of her shirt.
"It's just part of camping, baby," Nanci said. "He-men like your father get tip early and set everything up before they track animals down." She gave her daughter a wry, half-skeptical smile. "We can always hope they'll be too tired to kill anything by afternoon."
Terri picked up her camera case and looked inside. "I still think it's stupid to take all those boys with us. Why can't just the three of us go to the mountains?" She zipped the top of the bag and looked up at her mother.
Nanci put an arm around her shorter double. They both wore fatigues, tightly tailored with name patches over the left breast pocket and sturdy hiking shoes. "Maybe next time, Terri. The scout troop thought having a football player would up their enrollment and it seems to have worked. We just have to go along with it." She patted Terri's plump behind. "Maybe he'll get it out of his system this trip."
There were four scouts sitting around the steps leading to the door of the troop's cabin. The fathers of forty years before had bought logs and built a real frontier-style hut for their sons' meetings. They planted it next to a large stucco church. Moose antlers and a carved slab of redwood with the troop's number and nickname adorned the entrance and drums half-full of anything remotely recyclable, from bacon drippings to beer cans, surrounded the porch. Two of the kerchief scouts dozed on the steps, but a tall, gangly redhead stood up, waving.
Ted pulled the truck into the lot. The sun was just beginning to peek through the morning haze and his aviator-style sunglasses reflected the modern church and the anachronism of the cabin. "Ready, guys?" Ted called heartily, swinging down from the crew-cab four-wheeler as if it were a Kenworth semi.
"Yeah," the redhead, Billy Schroeder, said. He shook the sleeping Tenderfoots awake and hoisted his pack. "What a boss truck, Mister Flannigan!" He stared at the one-ton Ford as he walked around it, pausing to run his fingers over the pheasant decal on the camper shell's door.
Ted swelled visibly. "If you're gonna get 'em, you gotta get to 'em," he said. He put one hand proudly on the white-over-yellow paint job. "Where's the rest of the patrol?"
The minister's son, Leroy Fritzheim, dragged a hand over his slicked-back blond hair. "We're the only ones that are going today, Mister Flannigan. Some of us almost didn't make it." He jerked a thumb toward the sleepy-looking duo of Johnny Short and Paul Pomma d'Oro. "Come on, Johnny ... you're the patrol leader. Show Terri and Missus Flannigan how alert and Scout-like you can be!"
"'S the Snipe Patrol, not the Dawn Patrol," Johnny grumbled, but he grabbed his pack and lugged it to the back of the truck. He blinked and moved to the double cab. "Is it okay if I ride in back?"
Nanci opened her door, leaving Terri in the middle of the front seat, her legs diagonal to the small forest of levers sprouting from the floorboard. "I think I'll ride back there, too, Ted," she said, stretching. "I still haven't caught up on those open-fire recipes." She shuffled back to the rear and climbed through the door.
Ted's eyebrows lowered, but his expression cleared in seconds. "Okay." He grabbed a map from the dashboard. He ran a finger along a route, then looked at the three scouts who still stood in a semicircle before him. "With only seven of us, we can go further than I thought." His face got cagey. "There's a military reservation up the coast. There won't be anybody but us there this time of year. What d'ya say?"
Leroy's eyes lit up. Billy looked at Paul. All three reached a silent agreement. "Okay," Leroy said. "Sounds great to me!"
Terri scooted toward the open door. "Shouldn't we tell somebody we aren't going where we said we would?"
Ted checked his watch. "We'll call when we get there. There's a pay phone by the road down to King City." He slapped Leroy on the back and ruffled Paul's hair. "Let's hit it!"
Nanci closed the cookbook. God, I'm beat, she thought. I bet I didn't get more than three hours sleep last night. She yawned and swung her legs up onto the narrow shelf on the left side of the camper shell. Poor kid looks even tireder than I am. She looked at Johnny as he shifted from his back to his side He can't be over twelve years old. What kind of parents would send him out with that huge pack before the sun's up?
Johnny muttered something in his sleep. His left hand shifted down to cup his crotch. His fingers grasped and the olive-green of his uniform pants tented closer to the outline of a long, narrow bulge behind his fly.
He's got a hard-on! He ... he's starting to masturbate ... in his sleep! Nanci marveled. She sat up, then lay back down again. An antsy, restless feeling stirred in her loins. Should I stop him? If he wakes up and sees me watching....
Johnny muttered again. His other hand moved down from pillowing his head. Now both hands grasped the outline of his erection. Nanci's nipples swelled. She licked her lips, wishing she could see more of his organ than the inch or so that his hands didn't cover.
Nanci winced as she thought of the shameful embarrassment she'd felt when her father caught her masturbating. And I was sixteen ... much older than Johnny is. Oh, god! He's going to have a sexual trauma if I don't stop him!
But how? It would be just as bad if I woke him up, Nanci worried.
Johnny's hands moved distinctly. Nanci's titties ached and a telltale warmth flooded her panties. It's for his own good, she told herself. Stealthy as a lioness lurking toward unsuspecting prey, she swung her feet down from the shelf. Nanci knelt on the metal floor between the padded beds. Her heart was in her mouth. She touched his wrist.
The skin, still barely haired, unlike Ted's furry, bear-like limbs, was warm and dry. A quiver went all the way from Nanci's fingertips to the pit of her stomach. She felt the same fluttery tension she remembered from blind dates before she was married. The hum of the tires on the pavement, the slight swaying and the dim light filtering through the curtains on the windows all combined to make her feel the same secretive lewdness that new situations did-before Ted had taken all the novelty out of her life.
"Uhhnnnhhh," Johnny groaned. He sounded as if he hurt when Nanci finally managed to move his right hand off the swollen front of his pants. "Aahm-ruhh," he said, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
That flutter in her belly moved lower. Nanci's mouth was suddenly dry as ashes. She ran her tongue over her lips. Without realizing it, she cupped her pussy mound in one hand. Slow as a stalking huntress, she touched his other hand. Substitute ... must have a substitute to fool him. Can't let him wake up!
Nanci slipped a finger between his hand and his prick-bulge. Even through the heavy regulation cloth of the uniform, she could feel the heat of his twelve-year-old wand. The warmth in her own crotch intensified.
Johnny's hand tightened on his prick, trapping her finger. He was definitely jacking at the shaft now. Nanci looked at his face. His eyes were still closed, but he was definitely looking back and forth, dreaming. Her breasts ached. She wondered what a boy his age would dream about while he handled his cock. Was it a woman, like herself and the look of her naked body? Was it practices he could only have heard rumors of, like fellatio, cunnilingus, the strange positions Ted sometimes bent her into?
From dry as dust, her mouth moistened as she tried to imagine the boy's fantasies. Nanci swallowed and the sound seemed to fill the whole camper shell. She squeezed her thighs tight around the heating puffiness of her love mound and a flow of rich cream wet her panties. Holding her breath, she moved Johnny's hand away from his prick.
He moved and Nanci's heart thudded. For an instant, she thought about flinging herself back to the other side of the shell. No! He'd wake up for sure!
Johnny moaned and the hand she'd first moved away burrowed between his waistband and belly. Nanci didn't know what to do. The knowledge that his boyish prick was so stiff, so excitingly warm and so close made her desperate. She watched his fingers straining to writhe under his belt. I can't let him wake tip! Oh, sweet Jesus, I have to help him!
Her titties were masses of taut, throbbing pain. Nanci used both hands as gently as possible to ease the web belt. She pressed her upper arms against the outer swell of her breasts, trying to contain the lewd ache. Her nipples were saluting the inside of the cups, tingling with their lusty effort to penetrate the cloth and spring free.
With the uniform belt loosened, Johnny's hand plunged straight down to the middle of his shaft. Nanci's eyes tried to drill through the cloth and focus on his grasping fingers and the imagined shape of his cock. The scout moaned low. His trousers moved down a fraction of an inch with every stroke of his hand. Nanci watched her fingers as if they were part of another being. She saw long, manicured nails and slim fingertips move to the, button at the boy's waist. Taking advantage of an upstroke that relaxed the tension of the cloth, she flicked the button open with a single swift twist. An arrow-like wedge of purplish flesh appeared, then pink, oily-looking cockskin covered the head again.
Nanci covered her aching left breast with her hand. She squeezed at the voluptuous mound as if she were kneading bread, forcing the hot, hungry sensation to spread all through the erogenous tissues. Her other hand sneaked under the outer flap of his fly and Nanci closed her eyes. Unable to even watch her right hand moving so assuredly, she flicked four more buttons open by touch.
When she looked again, the whole length of Johnny's prick was visible. The smooth, suntanned brown of the back of his hand glided up and down, contrasting lasciviously with the pale, pink-white skin of the shaft. Nanci's mouth hung slackly and the look of desperate, abandoned female lust was all over her face. Even her eyes were half-lidded and the dark dots of her pupils had expanded to take in as much of the boycock as possible.
Nanci ached to feel the masculine warmth of Johnny's cock. She saw the pearly single drop of cocklube appear at the tip of his cockhead. But ... he's so young, she marveled. He couldn't possibly....
She spread the overlapped layers of his fly. There's hardly any hair at all ... just little strands, almost like duck down. It ... it looks so clean, so nice and ... kissable!
No! I ... Johnny ... Ted ... Nanci gulped. Her hand still rested near his groin. She slowly moved her fingertips toward that growing bubble of white fluid at the end of his urethra. Her other hand began to pad in her own crotch, squeezing first one side of her pussy, then the other. The lusty female heat radiated and the whole zone beneath her panties felt squishy-soft and greased with cuntal oils.
"Ohhh, big ... pretty tits," Johnny moaned. Nanci froze, then slowly, carefully, as if even the tiny motion of her eyes could wake him, looked at his face. He'd thrown his head back, but his eyes were still closed.
Nanci's cunt heated even further and that made the tips of her nipples feel hard as ball bearings. Johnny's free hand moved down toward his crotch again and Nanci stopped reaching for his prick. I know what he wants ... I know, she told herself and she unbuttoned her fatigue shirt in a series of swift, almost ripping movements. She pulled one bra strap down and yanked the cup out of the way. Her breast looked huge, pale and creamy in the olive-drab frame of her unbuttoned shirt. The bandeau of her bra still held the lush mound up and her nipple was as hard and blunt-pointed as Nanci had ever felt it. She intercepted the slow glide of his hand and guided it to her bare titty.
The boy's hand was clammy and warm and it felt lovely. Nanci leaned forward, offering more of the rich contours to his fingers. His palm covered her nipple, pressing the aching bud back into the silky warmth of her tit and Nanci was ready to do anything for him. Please, please don't wake up, she prayed silently. Keep touching me, but don't wake up!
"Umm-hmmm," Johnny groaned, his fingers exploring the opulent swell of her breast. "So good, so damn good!" His other hand moved faster on his prick.
Nanci watched his fist move. She felt her cunt heating faster and hotter. It's been years, she thought. I haven't seen it shoot in so long! She flicked her eyes from his face to his groin again and again, wanting to see those spurts and the ecstatic expression they would bring to the boy's face. Will he? Can he? She stared until the boy's hand seemed to weary. The skin just at the top of his fist reddened, as if the constant flexing over the ridge of his cockhead was wearing it out.
I have to see it, I have to! I can't let him just be ... frustrated!
Nanci removed her hand from the hot, hungry thumping at the center of her pussy. This was more important, this constant, skin-tiring motion of Johnny's fist on his cock. She put her fingertips, soft and gentle, around his cockshaft. The motions of his fist slowed. She checked his face again. His eyes still rolled dreamily under closed lids.
Nanci took a deep, shaky breath. Easily, making sure she could stop if he started to waken, she slipped one finger under his hand, then another. Her fingers went around under his palm, then slid up until she lifted his thumb. Johnny's hand moved away and she breathed again.
Nanci had his cock in her hand now and she loved the feeling. The slick, satiny feeling of his pale prick was heavenly. She stroked the skin upward until her fist barely covered the ridge of his glans. She twisted the loose skin slightly and Johnny moved his hips in a sensuous coital motion.
Yes, that's it, Nanci thought. With even greater stealth, she moved her other hand closer. She jacked slowly, then, feeling the iron-hard bar of his cockcenter, squeezed harder.
The gratifying thrust of his hips made Nanci's cunt drip a fresh gusher of cream. She felt her pussy juice flooding from her panties to the thick fatigues, even moistening the tops of her thighs. Nanci crossed her legs and forced her puss-lips to slither back and forth around the hot spike of her clitty.
The forbidden thrill of jacking off a little boy's cock made Nanci hotter as she thought of it. His tidy neckerchief had slipped off to the side and the cap stuck in his belt bobbed with every motion of her hand on his prick. Nanci looked toward the front of the truck, letting the nearness of her burly husband send hotter shivers down her spine. She covered the head of the boy's cock with her other palm.
Johnny's fingers dug into the lewd mass of her breast. Nanci smeared the warm, sticky fluid from his come slit all over the purplish knob of his cockhead. She felt the wide-flared glans expand, growing bigger with every stroke. She wanted to squeeze harder. Ted always wanted her to squeeze harder, but Johnny was so young....
Nanci pressed the spongy end of his knob down, smearing the lube until it soaked into her palm and the knob of his cock. She felt the little double-spear of the hard rod inside and the indentation that would pulse semen out. She swiveled her hips lasciviously, wishing that Johnny's hand were in her cunt.
The meaty sound of the edge of her hand hitting the base of his cock inflamed her. The constant whack-whack-whack set up a beat in her brain, a beat that made the fingers on her titty seem to reach all the way down to the sopping nest of her cunt. Nanci stared at his cock, forgetting about everything but the remembered vision of male cream spewing high. She pleaded silently, Please come, Johnny, let me see it! I need to see your cream, baby, let it go! Oh, God, oh, God, I'm trying, Johh Johnny!
"Uhhh-uhhh-uhhh!" Johnny moaned, arching his back. His hips were off the bed entirely. His other hand went to the exquisite mound of her titty. Johnny mauled the tender flesh, then, with a gasp, he jerked his hips higher still.
Nanci wanted to scream. She jerked the come-slippery palm of her hand away from his cockhead and a long, ropy stream spurted high. She saw the arching flight end suddenly against the roof of the camper. She jerked harder, whispering, "More, baby, more!" The first mild ripples of a tiny orgasm tingled up and down the walls of her cunt. Another burst, smaller but more forceful than the first, reached clear to the front of the camper, disappearing onto the double bed above the cab. Nanci knew she couldn't let the cream fly all over ... there was no way to find and clean off every spot in the truck. She cupped her hand over the end of his shaft again.
The stuff was warm, warm and soupy. The faint yellow tinge made her belly ache. She loved the way it shot up and out and the sound of the semen plopping against the shell or into her hand. The pool in her palm built up, rolling off the edge of her hand. Nanci jacked and milked, squeezing harder as the shooting spurts died. Thank you, Johnny, thank you, she thought. Oh, my god! The little ripple in her pussy faded away and she realized she'd been rolling her hips lasciviously. With a quick peek toward the cab of the truck, she raised the handful of semen to her mouth and swallowed it. Can't leave any evidence, she told herself as the thick, pollen-like cream slithered warmly down to her stomach. Besides, it makes my mouth feel so nice! She licked her palm clean and started buttoning her young man's pants up again. No evidence at all, was her regretful thought as the softening length of the boy's prick disappeared.