Chapter 7
The tree bark scratched her flushed cheeks, the cold night air bit at the tender nape of her neck as a forest breeze tossed her auburn hair recklessly over her shoulders. Carla clung to the pine tree as if it were the warm arms of a compassionate lover. Hysterically, she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Finally, when the sniffles subsided, leaving open her senses to the deplorable state of her situation she glanced wild eyed through the dark silhouetted trees. Panic set in.
Running, stumbling over the soft forest floor, she heard the nearby purr of a car's engine. Wildly she squinted through the trees, and shot a withering glance at the moon. The thumbnail sliver hung stoically and unaiding in the brittle sky. The forest was damp and dark, cave-like and terrifyingly eerie. The thought raced through her mind that something predatory could be out there watching her every movement, listening to her helpless cries ... just as the stranger had witnessed her lust with Chet today on the mountain top! That thought shivered through her lithe body as her legs, charged with adrenalin, scissored towards the splash of car headlights washing over the tree trunks.
"Wait ... help! Stop ... please!" Panting, she tore down a shallow ravine, and tripped over an exposed tree trunk. The earth was moist and cold under her cheek. Wearily, she pulled herself up onto her knees and crying, brushed her sweater clean of pine needles and dead leaves and made her way to the highway.
Two cars whizzed uncompassionately past the woman waving her arms. Another drunk, they thought, passing her by. Hardly a night for a stroll with the sky hard and dark. That was precisely what the driver of the third vehicle contended.
Through tear-wetted eyes, Carla caught the blurry image of an elderly man with a fluffy white beard pull onto the shoulder and open the door of his beat-up pickup truck. "Ain't no night for a gal to be walkin' by herself," he cajoled. "Hop in ... I done my share a hitchhikin', too," he assured.
Carla would have refused the offer had it not been for the orange tabby tiger cat perched on his owner's shoulder. A more comfortable and harmless two-some she couldn't refuse. She was miles from the beach, cold and depressed. At the Johnson Road turn off she asked to be let off. Reluctantly, he did so, and rattled off his rusted truck.
The shocking adjustment to the darkness made her wish she had accepted his offer to drive her to the campgrounds. Miserable and self-pitying, she started to take bitter delight in the knowledge that if anything unpleasant happened to her it was Paul's fault. No self-respecting, sane human would let a woman walk alone in the woods with no flashlight, no weapon, leaving her to the elements.
And where was Paul? Why wasn't he looking for her? Selfish bastard, she thought bitterly. His precious beer and Mae are more important than me! To think I was going to marry a selfish creep like him! How could I be so stupid? Those negative thoughts were hardly convincing, though, as she raised a balled up fist to her trembling lips and bit down hard in attempt to stem the tears flooding her eyes and making a watery blur of the stark tree silhouettes closing in on her threateningly. The idea of letting Mae see her in this tremulous state was equally devastating. Well, if Mae wanted to play her games, let her ... this one was dropping out of the running!
Mae stormed to the van, her heavy breasts rising and falling from anger snorting from her deer-like nostrils. So Chet and Carla-pooh spent the afternoon sucking each other's genitals! How cute ... how disgustingly cute. She threw herself through the opened door and collapsed on the lower of the two single-bed mattresses built into the deluxe camper van. Anger, a rage so hot her cheeks flushed in the bitter air suffused her lissome body. She felt as if she might burst out of her skin! "Damn!" She punched the bed with a balled up fist and swore until her breath failed her.
She'd been so certain, so confident that Paul still loved her. And she'd tried being the mellow, magnanimous ex-girl friend, feeding him little tidbits of goodies toward Carla. Oh, he'd gone for it hook, line and sinker ... gobbled up her honeyed phrases like a bear licking honey ... and then poof. The second she wanted him to get a little kinky with sex, he freezes up worse than his cutsie fianc'e!
"Men-fuckers!" she spat, wishing there were somebody there to listen to her, somebody to take frustrations out on ... somebody to fuck and get her mind off these stupid creatures. "Shit!"
And Chet, the stupid bum, curled up on the sand like some Central Park bum, hugging his bottle. She pressed her perky nose to the window, the stentoriously flaring nostrils steaming the window. That's just fine with me! Wait till Paul comes back ... just wait. I'll fuck him right in front of everybody and then see what they do!
A portable heater sat on the carpeted floor. With an angry twist, she turned the knob, delighting in the warmth. Hell, he could sleep out on the sand for all she cared. She was going to bed!
Stretching her arms over her head, she pulled free of the bulky wool sweater covering her naked, melonous breasts. Tiny goosebumps polka-dotted her luscious flesh, a tingle of salacious expectation shivering through her body at the feel of being naked from the waist up. Standing up, she pulled at the metal tab of her Levi's zipper and hauled the denim down over her hips, stepped out of them, and kicked them free of her ankles.
Naked and loving the feel of being unrestricted, a shiver of naughtiness crept into her brain. Tossing honey blonde hair over her naked shoulder, she squatted down next to the refrigerator and dipped a delicate hand beneath; her fingers touched the gold glass and she hauled it out. With a retributional snicker, she twisted open the cap of the Jack Daniels bottle, broke the seal and tossed back her head. The liquor burned like a fire eater's show time lunch, but she endured and spitefully tipped the bottle again. She swished her head from side to side loving the feel of her soft hair brushing over her back.
Then with curl-lipped deliberation, she stretched out nakedly atop the goosedown coverlet and with the heater warming her as an absent lover couldn't, she stretched languidly, taking long deep swills of the liquor in between heady thoughts of lying there naked until Paul came to find her. Then she'd screw him silly ... in front of snob-nosed Carla and her drunken boyfriend.
Raspberry polished fingertips ran narcisstically over the goosebumped bumps and curves of her bronzed nudity, coming to rest on the strawberry tips of her nipples, puckering from the titillating touch of her own admiring fingers and expectation. Another deep swill of. the burning alcohol tickled down her swan-like throat, while curtains of honey hair sprayed over the coverlet. If touching her own body could feel this wonderful to her, Lordie what it must do to men!
The thought of how fantastic it must feel to be a man, to have the power to penetrate a woman made her pussy burn with lust. During a few photography sessions, she'd been asked to squat naked next to a woman in the simulated act of lesbian love. A few times, too, the temptation to let a woman fondle her had popped to mind and along with it snuck the temptation to penetrate a woman, to share the power afforded only to men. Frantically, she lifted her head from the mattress and took a deep sip of the Jack Daniels, noting that she was well on her way to drunkenness. Spite rippled through her as she became aware of the stubborn pulsing in her female flesh, deep in the valley of her thighs.
Lying naked in a warm spot like here next to the heater, always made her feel happy and sexy. Smiling crookedly, she drew her dimpled knees up to her fully swollen breasts and turned her face to the heater, feeling the slight tingle, like the sun's rays, playing over her anger-flushed cheeks.
With deliberation, she rubbed her fingers over the tips of her breasts, warming them with her hands. It was an automatic reaction, something she'd been taught to do by photographers who wanted their models warmed up and ready for a sexy photo session. The touch of her own fingers against the sensitive flesh provoked an unusual response, a thrilling jolt that seared to her belly. Suddenly, the snugly fitting bikini panties felt horribly restricting, confining the hair-fringed fleshy lips of her pussy. God, they were soaked too! She could feel them sticking to her inner thighs, crying for attention. She lifted her hips from the coverlet and peeled them down over her swelling hips and slender thighs, and kicked them off her ankles. She drew a deep breath, another shock of excitement racing through her loins as her vaginal furrow rubbed down against the coverlet.
"Damn you men!" she snarled under her breath. She seemed to have become a toy for men ... an object of their selfishness. A cold rush of night air rushed over her suddenly exposed pussy and she caught her breath, sinking down into the coverlet. Lazily, languidly she stretched out now, arching her back a little to stretch out like a cat before the fire. Oddly, she sensed her muscles tightening sensuously under her sun-bronzed skin. God, she needed to make herself cum ... just to forget.
With a little smile of anticipation, she slowly spread her legs apart and let her hand drift down over the shallow bowl of her belly into the chestnut burnished thatch of her pubic hair. Her eyes were half-closed, the thick, dark lashes fluttering over her cheeks as her fingers lightly brushed the swollen bud of her clitoris. Already she could feel the lips of her love-hungry pussy growing hot, tingling and throbbing under the gentle rubbing pressure of her fingertips. God, it wouldn't take long ... not long at all!
She raised a delicate hand to cup one after the other of her fleshy breasts, taunting the tightly clenched nipples between her fingers, after propping the Jack Daniels bottle up against the van's wall in a cuddly nest of the coverlet's wrinkles. As her breath began to come in short labored gasps, she felt the lust smoldering in her loins ignite into a bonfire of passion.
Her long shapely legs began to scissor open, making folds in the coverlet half-draped over her thigh, while the heater warmly kissed her nakedness. As she stroked the hotly throbbing nipple of her clitoris, her eyes became glazed and smokey and she felt her nerve-endings tingling with the needs built up in her womb. Her smooth rounded buttocks twisted frantically against the mattress. Her full sensuous Clara Bow lips fell open in delight as her trembling fingers slid downward to the soft, hair-covered lips of her pussy and pulled them outward to expose the tiny opening that throbbed hungrily between them.
Tenderly, cooing to herself, she wormed her outstretched middle finger into the moistly quivering hole of her sex, forcing it into the clasping wet hole until her finger was squirming up inside the warm, liquid tightness. A shudder of delight rippled through her naked body as she began to fuck it slowly in and out of her hungrily working belly, feeling her greedy cunt walls pulling and nibbling on her finger.
But one wasn't enough for Mae ... men, fingers, cocks ... one was never enough. She quickly thrust another finger past the swollen flanges of her moist cunt, gradually widening the lips as she rotated the inserted fingers deep around up inside her cunt with sensual abandon. Disconnected images of Paul fucking his cock into her hotly writhing body began to flash through her inebriated mind as she drove her hips eagerly upward to meet each downward sloshing movement of her fingers into her penis-starved pussy.
Abruptly that image faded. No not Paul ... not a man ... not someone to use her and throw her away. Gradually, almost before she was aware of it, the erotic visions transformed into the softer features, softer body, softer touch of a woman. A woman's soft fingers tracing the luscious bumps and curves of her naked body with an appreciation a man wasn't capable of. The idea of rubbing her flesh against another woman's was hellishly intoxicating filling her hungering vaginal cavity with a heated presence of her own fingers. The idea brought a groan of lust from her lips, and she pulled her knees back up to touch her breasts and lewdly ground her hips upward to meet each delightful stroke of her fingers fucking into her desire-drenched pussy.
The sand was damp and cold as a wet towel, but Chet felt more than a vague discomfort that centered somewhere in his chest like an ache of longing disguised by inebriation. The tide was rising to its peak, frothy waves crashing against the night-hard silhouettes of rock outcroppings that mark the Pacific as treacherous. Through his brain rattled hate-filled words accompanied by a deep sense of loss. He rolled over onto his back, nostrils stinging from smoldering logs.
A bloodcurdling glint simmered in the short man's eyes as he stalked the helpless figure slumped before the fire. Scrambling beast-like, the knife between his teeth caught the slender glimmer of moonlight as he neared his prey. Adrenalin pumped in his veins when Shorty stretched out a cold bony hand to awaken the drunken camper. He'd heard the gorgeous-bodied blonde rail at him for being drunk and watched surreptitiously from the sidelines as she ran towards the van.
Through murderous eyes, he glanced over his shoulder to stare long and hard at the burgundy van that had been his object of attention since the last campers got here. Tonight was the night ... she would be his! Oh, she would get it ... every place he wanted to put it ... like the other fool women who thought they were alone on this beach! His dark eyes snapped toward his lanky friend hovering in the bushes. A nod of the head was the signal.
On all fours, resembling a warlock, gnarled and quick, Chuck sneaked toward the van. Ten feet away, he dropped to the ground and crept reptilian-like toward the shiny vehicle. His fingers touched the dew-wetted metal as he pulled himself up to nose level with the low convex window.
Abruptly he pulled in his breath, his ghoulish features leathery from months of living on the briny-aired ocean beach, cracked into a lecherous grin as he stared at the lusciously naked body of the bitch blonde that he and Shorty had stalked ... as they had the slimy Viet Cong back in Nam.
From his back pocket he hauled out the pair of bikini panties he'd found earlier in the day from the mountain top where he'd discovered the drunk and the dark-haired bitch lying naked under the sun. He would have got the dark one then ... would have plunged the knife into her heart ... but she had seen him and foiled his plans.
Chuck's bony hand wadded up the bikini panties; he brought them to his nose, sniffing, taking in the' rich muskiness of a female in heat. The bushiness of his hair and a pair of foreboding eyes rose above the ledge of the van's window as he watched the gorgeous blonde fucking herself with her fingers, lying outstretched nakedly, just waiting for him and Shorty. It seemed too perfect, too easy. He balked, waiting for Shorty.
In the valley of his thighs, Chuck felt his cock bloat from the salacious finger fucking the blonde woman was giving herself. Christ, what a body ... ! His hand slithered down to his pants to cup the weight of his cum-filled balls. Jesus, he couldn't wait ... couldn't pry his eyes off of the bronze-bodied bitch tossing her blonde hair over the bed, trying to make herself cum. His cock was hot and thick when he yanked down his pants zipper and hauled it out into the night air. Hot and thick beneath his fingers as he envisioned her pink pussy lips wrapped around his cock while he screwed into her, pulverizing her guts!
Chuck's hand stroked steadily up and down the bloated length of his hard cock, pumping it, pulling the foreskin back and forth lustfully with teeth-gritting lust. The bitch ... the bitch ... like the whores back in Nam who jammed glass tubes up your prick and laughed while a scrawny Cong Commie grumbled out interrogations, threatening you with worse than death if you didn't cooperate. Two years of that was enough to make any man go fucking crazy ... want to kill.
His hand began to beat up and down his penis, making lewd slapping sounds against his hairy groin each time his gnarled, leathery fist struck downward. His body tensed and trembled and he chewed on his bottom lip as he concentrated on the feast a window-glass away. He could hear her grunt and groan, twisting and arching her back off the mattress while she finger-fucked herself into oblivion.
On the other side of the window he watched as Mae delved down between her satiny legs with the other hand and feverishly pinched and teased at the tiny, swollen bud of her clitoris while her hotly clenching buttocks danced insanely to the savage rhythm of her driving fingers. Choked gasps of animal pleasure and lust arose in her throat, and her face contorted to a wild mask of lust as she speeded up her rhythm, straining toward her orgasm that she needed so badly. Her long blonde hair tossed around her baby-featured face as she struggled for it and hung there ...
Hung there while the lusty-eyed murderer watched with hollow-cheeked glee ... knowing that in minutes she would be his to play with and taunt. And nobody was there to help her, nobody to hear her screams.
Shorty had done a helluva job on the MG's clutch and both of them had watched from the manzanita bushes the driver curse and swear as his car lurched down Johnson Road ... never to return ... with the dark-haired bitch beside him, leaving them free to do as they pleased with the baby-faced bitch.
He glared through the window, his breath steaming on the pane as Mae hovered for what seemed like a year of seasons on the edge of her climax, and she placed both hands over her straining young cunt, frantically massaging and fingering the hot, slippery inner walls with all the strength remaining her. Mae forced herself to finger fuck long after she realized it was no use ... she was too drunk ... something was wrong. She needed a man to make her cum, needed something more adoring than her own fingers dipping in and out of her crying cunt. She needed attention ... and groaned aloud with frustration.
Chuck's body became board stiff as he watched Mae's luscious breasts jiggle from her thrashing movements. Ah, in a little while she would be going wild and her slippery pink cunt would bathe his cock in hot, musky juices. Tight and smooth and velvety on the inside would be her cunt ... he thought, licking his lips as he stared at the woman's crying genitals. He gave his cock an extra pull as he stared at the glistening oil drops of her lubricants. Christ, this one would cum the second he shoved it to her, unlike that other bitch who fought and scratched ... until they were forced to hurt her-bad.
He knew he would cum in three more strokes. He felt it amass in the hairy balls of his testicles, felt it burn in his gut ... then felt it gush. His knees buckles and for a steadying moment, he was forced to lean against the van to keep from collapsing. He cupped his hands to the main force of his semen and with a grunt, gave it a last pull of the foreskin ... the one that arched his cock backwards, and pulled hard on the skin of the head so that it stretched painfully. Then he grabbed the panties from his back pocket and with a snarl of contempt, let the shower spurt onto the black undies. His head snapped back, his ghoulish face bathed in threads of moonlight as his mouth fell open in slack-jawed ecstasy and relief. Christ, he couldn't wait to fuck her! Grinding his teeth, he groaned a muted gurgle of pleasure-filled expectation and, breathing hard, glanced over his shoulder to see Shorty winding ropes around the drunken man's arms pulled back behind him.
The fun was about to begin. As always happened on nights when he and Shorty felt the unstoppable thrill of bringing back to life the gut-tearing reality of war, a tingle of wariness crept in beside expectation. He could feel it in his fingertips, feel it in the soles of his feet, could taste it in his mouth. The thrill of fear was tangible within him.
Cramming his flaccid, sticky tube back into his pants, he zipped them up and stole around to the door side of the van. He could smell her womanly scent through the metal door. There was no stopping them now.