Chapter 4
It was nearly one in the afternoon by the time Ted guided the four-wheeler onto Hunter-Liggett, the military reservation between Big Sur and King City. They wound through the narrow one-lane tangle of blacktop roads, rising higher and higher. Neither Nanci nor Terri knew how long they could keep down the cheeseburgers and milkshakes they'd eaten just after the last gas stop. They both sat in the front seat again, with Billy and Leroy riding in the camper.
"How much further, Daddy?" Terri asked.
"Oh, not far, not far," Ted assured her. "Great place for a camping, really great." He pointed out a blasted tree beside the road. "Look!"
"What happened?" Nanci asked. "It doesn't look like a lightning strike." The tree was twisted, like most of the oaks and evergreens they saw, but dead as Christopher Columbus, gnarled and grey, with a whole side splintered. It looked as if a giant's fist had punched a hole that snapped it off twelve feet from the ground.
"The Army tests tanks and cannons here," Ted explained. "They knock the shit outa anything they hit and all the noise keeps the game up in the hills."
"But, what about us?" Terri asked. "Are they going to be shooting while we're here?"
Ted speeded up, then hit the brakes for a corner. "Nah, see the cattle? They don't let the ranchers graze here when they're testing. The herders come through here in the fall and spring, after the Army shuts down the range." He turned to look in the back seat. "How'd you like to have one of those tanks for bears, Paul?"
"Yeah," the slender, dark-haired boy said. "You wouldn't have to worry about nothin'! My dad tol' me he used to chase rabbits with 'em."
"Your dad's full of it," Johnny said. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wondering if Mrs. Flannigan had noticed his wet dream in the back of the camper. "You can't catch a rabbit with a tank."
"I didn't say he caught 'em," Paul said. "He just chased 'em."
Nanci turned around. "Now, boys, let's save our energy for setting up camp. We're all going to have to cooperate this weekend." She stared them down, taking a quick survey of Paul's prick-prospects when both scouts looked away. And I know what kind of cooperation I want!
Even with the truck scrambling and groaning in four-wheel drive, the expedition ran out of navigable road nearly a mile from Ted's planned campsite. Now, a one-mile stroll isn't much in a city park or along a sandy beach, but when two-thirds of that mile looks as vertical as a stiff prick over ground rough as a wart, it's no small task. Ted and Nanci unloaded the truck and distributed the camping tackle, the tents, the stove, the food, everything but an official Kamp King silver tea service. Billy and Leroy cut walking staffs for the two females, everyone adjusted packs, rifles, shotguns, bows and arrows and sleeping bags and trooped off up the trail like so many burdened hunchbacks. With all the knives, hatchets, canteens and assorted impediments hung about their bodies, the Flannigan mob could have been a band of guerrillas out to overthrow California, all set for a long, weary campaign.
And if it were as uphill all over the state as it is on the backside of the Santa Lucia mountains, it would be a weary campaign. Nanci and Terri struggled up the hill, using the fresh-cut saplings to keep from toppling backwards. Nanci would take a breath, then a step, then two more breaths before planting a foot on the next rock and lifting herself.
It was hard for either of the women to feel rested enough to appreciate the lush green of the trees or the happy trickle of what little water ran in the stream they crossed and re-crossed. Terri was huffing and puffing as much as her mother. Even though she was younger, her six-inch lack of height made the stretch from stepping spot to stepping spot more difficult. The area they hiked in was difficult, steeper than the rest of the east-side slopes because of a strange swirl of a canyon that let them see the ocean. The wind howled through here in winter and heavy rains followed in spring, rains that made the trees and brush thick and strong. Wherever the roots and fallen leaves didn't hold the soil tight, the action of the water had cut almost into the granite bones of the hillside. Wait-a-minute vines and branches snagged their packs and clothes and the thick second growth around them held the air dead still in mid-afternoon. A scout fell down now and then and Ted held the party up.
Terri and Nanci were thinking exactly the same thoughts just after Ted told them they were halfway to "the best campsite in California." I'm so hot and sweaty! I wish I could take off this damn bra! Terri turned around to look at her mother, digging her thumbs under the shoulder straps of her pack. Nanci's thumbs poked green shirting under the thinner straps of her bra, lifting her breasts an inch, then letting the heavy, melon-round shapes fall. Terri grinned sarcastically and nodded. She stabbed her makeshift Alpenstock into the scrubby soil and hoisted herself on up the trail.
The last twenty vertical feet called for hands as well as feet and sticks. The gray rock was split and cracked with the perennial action of rain and snow and frost, crumbly as plastic foam to the touch. The narrow, spout-like chute went up between two hummocks, like stone cleavage between the clay tits of a broken-down statue. Ted swarmed up like an ant, then disappeared. Leroy followed, then Terri, with Nanci leading the three remaining scouts. Her feet slipped and Nanci felt the sharp pain of split skin when her knee hit a pale-veined rock outcrop the size of her fist. In the instant after the twinge struck, Nanci was sure she would slide back down onto Billy, only a few feet beneath her. She dug the toes of her hiking shoes in and her eye photographed every detail of a bent, weak-looking sapling a foot from her face. With a final grunting lunge, she pulled and thrust herself over the top of the chute into a punchbowl-shaped clearing, about forty feet across. Ted had already shed his pack and as soon as she came over the top, he swung his arms expansively.
"Here it is, hon. What do you think?" He looked around, proud as if he had created the bowl himself.
"Isn't it neat, Mom? Daddy says it used to be a little lake, but the stream shifted over there," Terri said, pointing toward the south edge. The summer grasses were knee-high, rising a bit more toward the edges of the clearing. Every leaf and stem within the bowl had turned yellow-brown, save for a bush or two on the sunny side of the occasional boulder.
Ted Flannigan picked up his pack in one hand and started toward the southwest portion. "I figured we'd set up camp over here. The water's close enough and we won't lose too much light ... it'll look great in the morning."
Nanci hitched her pack up again. "Okay, hon." She followed her husband to a flatter spot and sat down, leaning against the thirty-pound weight of her backpack. "Just tell the boys what to do and I'll watch."
Nanci set the folding bucket down, slopping a few drops of water onto the dirt floor of the tent. Fourteen thousand dollars ... fourteen THOUSAND, she reminded herself and we can't even sleep in the goddamn thing. Four-wheel drive! Camper shell! Shower! Chemical toilet! And here I am, playing Mrs. Daniel Boone an hour's hike away from our rolling hotel. She bent to dig a towel out of her pack and hit her head on something. She batted at it, checking the annoyed swinging hand just before she hit the .44 Magnum. And then the sonofabitch leaves me a gun I don't even know how to use.... "to protect yourself," he says. Nanci dipped a sponge in the bucket and wiped the trickles of sweat off her forehead. Even this tent's bloody hot!
She heard the scouts shouting to each other. Ted had taken the boys and Terri to explore the area around the punchbowl. They sounded as if they were at least a quarter-mile off. Still, I better not do this outside. No telling how soon those little pricks can come back. Nanci's pussy moistened slightly as she remembered her recent struggle with one of the little pricks' prick.
She began to unbutton her skirt. You know, she told herself, I bet if you started young with 'em, one of those Boy Scouts might make a good lover. Ted and his wham-jam fucking isn't the best ... not that he's that bad sometimes. I do wish he'd spend, a little more time warming me up.
Nanci tugged her shirt off, then reached behind to undo her bra. She bent forward slightly and shrugged the straps off, letting her voluptuous breasts free themselves from the lacy cups. Oh, Jesus! That's so much better! She dipped the sponge in the bucket and mopped the cool water under each arm, then across the sweaty mounds of her bosom.
Yeah, the patrol leader ... Johnny ... he'd appreciate my titties. Ted hardly seems to notice them, unless he thinks I'm showing too much when we go out. Nanci dipped the sponge again, then paused. Something about the woodsy sounds was different. A little ray of light, marked exactly by the floating dust motes inside the tent, flicked out just as a stone rolled outside. Nanci kept her back turned to the sunny south side of the tent. "I'll bet my makeup's a mess," she said aloud. She pulled a compact from the an outer pocket of her pack.
Nanci ran a fingertip along the sensuous width of her mouth, as if she were trimming a trace of excess lipstick. She tilted the mirror and saw a shadow on the nylon behind her. It had to be one of the scouts, with the off-center wedge of a uniform hat looking almost like a skewed horn atop his head. The shadow moved and the dusty beam of light shined onto the floor again. Nanci felt a quiver in her cunny and she was suddenly conscious of the vulnerable nakedness of her titties. The dark, brownish-pink tips of her nipples rose like gun barrels probing through turrets and the wide circles of her aureoles crinkled into sensitive mazes of taut flesh. Which one is it? It can't be Johnny ... I saw him leave with Ted.
Nanci casually put the mirror down. She picked up her sponge again then dropped it, bending down in profile to the watcher's shadow. She knew that her breasts looked even bigger, more sensually appealing, when they hung in lush cones. She fiddled on the floor as long as she could, making her nipples bob and weave in erotic circles as she pretended to chase the elusive sponge. Nanci rinsed the sponge thoroughly and dabbed at her forehead.
"Oh, I'm so hot," she murmured. "I should change clothes ... if I brought anything cooler." She lifted her pack off the floor and rummaged briefly, teasing the boy outside by blocking his view with her arm from time to time.
Heat built up in her loins, heat that threatened to turn her whole pussy into a steaming swamp. She heard the boy breathing fast and shallow and suppressed a smile.
"But I have to wash first," she said conversationally, making sure the scout outside heard her. Nanci turned toward the hole in the tent and lifted one foot, then the other. Her breasts touched and flattened slightly when she drew her knees up. She heard a faint metallic "clink," and knew it was his uniform belt's tip sliding through the brass buckle. He's pulling his cock out now ... a nice, clean boyprick ... probably as naked as a baby's. Nanci's mouth watered as she thought of the pale pink spike emerging from heavy pants only a yard away. She took her hiking boots off, then straightened up. With slow, deliberate motions, as if she was thinking of anything but where she was, she unhooked her own belt, then snapped the zipper at her waistband. She was almost reluctant to lower her pants ... Nanci knew that the tight cunt emphasized the length of her legs and the lusty swell of her vulva. She'd felt the center seam see-sawing at her pussy-cleft with every step she took and she knew her pussy lips were red and moist with the constant pressure. Even so, she knew that the tight casing of cloth on her lissome lower body accented her asscheeks and her pussy, leaving just enough to imagination. Her ears reddened as she pulled the zipper down.
Nanci turned her back on the boy when she took her pants off, spending a long, tantalizing time folding them, then rolling them up into a tight package. She reached behind herself to tug the arched line of her pan ties' leg holes lower on her voluptuous ass. Her panties were tiny bikinis, cut low enough to show half her rear cleavage and thin enough that the shadow of her pussy hairs showed through in front. Nanci pressed her knees together to emphasize the lusty, vase-like curve of her hips and bent to put her pants away.
The moist, hot center of her cunny was wet enough to darken the middle of her panties and Nanci knew that the boy must be getting an eyeful. The flat, faintly concave base of her pussy peeked out beneath her delicious cheeks, still concealed and she heard an unmistakable sound.
Nanci recognized it immediately ... her own hand had made that sound on the base of Johnny's belly not long before. The constant thwack-thwack of a young fist around a stiff prickmeat made her dizzy. She steadied herself with a hand on her packframe, then pulled out a pair of scanty, off-white shorts.
Nanci liked wearing those shorts ... they set off the deep, luxurious tan of her long legs perfectly. With white, her legs looked almost too dark, but the oyster-colored pants made her abdomen and thighs look like a smooth extension of an exotic pleasure-valley. She stood straight again, holding the shorts against her pelvis. Nanci used the motion skillfully, pushing the waistband of the bikini panties down until an inch-wide strip of pubic hair curled loose above the flimsy cloth.
"Now where did I put that soap?" she wondered aloud. Nanci turned around again, hands on her hips. Her delectable body was full-front toward the eye-covered hole in the nylon wall. She heaved a huge sigh, pushing her heavy breasts lewdly forward. "Hooooohmy, she said. "That's frustrating!"
The shadow on the wall was bent over. Nanci couldn't even gauge the boy's height. There was no way she could deduce who was outside, masturbating faster and faster as he looked at her near-naked body. "Well, I'll just have to do without," she said and bent to slide her panties down.
With her thumbs hooked in the sides of the waistband, Nanci knew that the deep vee of her cuntal bush and the dark, glossy edges of her cuntpetals showed clear as daylight. She pushed the cloth down to mid-thigh, then quickly finished disrobing. She stood again, her feet planted wide apart. "That breeze feels so good between my legs," she said. "Gawd, I thought my pussy would melt all the way here!" She leaned her head back and put a hand on either side of her pussy. With a sensuous, slow, rubbing motion, she opened the plump, wet pads of her outer labia. Her breasts thrust forward proudly. Nanci relished the cooling air on the wide-open central valley of her cuntal cleft pussy. She held the pose for ten long seconds, listening to the ragged breathing of the boy outside.
"I wish ... oh, I feel so nice! If only we could camp naked," Nanci said. "I could feel the sunshine all over me, even on my breasts and my pussy and it would be so lovely!" She slid her palms slowly up, nipping in at the sharp indentation of her waist, then out again at her ribs and forward to lift the pale, hard-tipped mounds of her bosom. "I'm sure the boys wouldn't mind ... they'd all be out hiking anyway."
Nanci's ears strained. She heard the pounding sound speed up until she could all but see a young man's hand blurring on his prickshaft. She imagined the head of his cock turning darker, swelling larger. She swallowed a flood of saliva and felt drops of pussy juice weight her pubic curls down. A strand of cuntal hair glued itself to the top of her thigh. She turned, showing the delicious hemispheres of her ass to the peeking eye and started to sponge herself off.
The cool water on her upper chest made her nipples contract even further. They felt hard as twin marbles before she'd even touched the rough surface of the sponge to the pale, untanned triangles that her bathing suit had shielded from the sun. Nanci slid her tongue over her lips, then let her mouth go sensuously slack as she rinsed the rich, ripe under swell of each titty. She moved as erotically as she could, fantasizing that she was on a stage in front of every Boy Scout in America. In her mind's eye she saw thousands, millions of hairless cocks swelling up and twice as many balls flogging up and down, rousing the youthful seed toward the tips of all those plum-like cockheads.
Nanci moved the sponge down her belly. She parted her cunt lips with two fingers and ran the chilly moisture of the sponge up the lusty center of her inner cuntflesh. She shook with a sudden spasm of intense feeling when the cold sponge touched the inflamed tip of her button-hard clitty. "Oh, that's nice," she cooed.
Nanci dipped the sponge in the bucket. She glanced at the wall again. The scout had dropped to his knees and the outline of his elbow moved as fast as the racketing throb of a jackhammer. She heard stifled grunts of approaching ecstasy.
Nanci all but gave up the pretense of washing herself. She kept her cunt lips spread wide and rubbed the chilly sponge up and down the glistening trough of her love mound. With every scratchy stroke a lewd hunger built up inside her. She spread her knees wider, giving the boy a better look at her cunt and her hand a better shot. She pressed the sponge against her clitty, shaking with passion as cold water trickled down to mingle with cunt juice, then dribble across the tight, sensitive ring of her asshole.
Nanci felt the sensation building up in her. It was like the crawly tension when the hairs stood up on her nape, but pleasant. She knew that she would come if she had just one more dipperful of cold water, one more long, lascivious swipe of rough-textured sponge along her cuntflesh. She dipped the sponge again and pushed it against her cunt without even squeezing the excess water from it.
The chill made her pussy contract and Nanci struggled with the reactions of her body. She bore down, opening the orchid-like folds of her cunt mouth and a scalding flood of piss poured out of her pussy, joining the icy water and the thick, oily secretions of her cunt. With shame and fear and sheer cunty heat taking control of her whole body, Nanci let herself go. She jammed two fingers into her cunt and felt the wall give way. With a spasm of icy heat that ran all the way up to her brain, Nanci let her pussy collapse on her fingers.
The soft inner tissues kissed and sucked at her fingers like a loving, toothless mouth. Nanci loved the feeling. She felt waves ripple outward and little skyrockets of light shot through her vision. Her knees wobbled, turning as soupy as the walls of her cunt. She took a staggering step forward, then sounds jerked her out of her total self-centered ecstasy. With a "plop" like the first fat drops of a rainstorm she heard the boy's come hit the tent.
The knowledge that his young prick was shooting made her pussy spasm again, harder. The next quick, finger-tugging grab of her cuntflesh was harder yet and Nanci fell to her knees. She was bent back like a limbo dancer, her finger-filled cunt exposed to the staring eye in the wall. Nanci let her head go back, back and back further, moving more with every thrilling pulse in her loins. She let her head touch the floor and the orgasm went on and on. Her bridge-arched torso settled onto the pool of cunt juice and water and still-hot piss. He came ... he came with me, she thought, about to pass out. Oh, thank you, God!