Chapter 10

Maybe it was the way she smiled, or perhaps it was a new swing in her walk. But somehow, someway, old man Pines knew that Lucy was up to something. He'd yet to land any concrete evidence, something that could pin her with the guilt he wanted her to suffer. But that didn't really matter. He could fish around, and maybe, just maybe, he would come up with something. And if he did, you could be sure he'd let Lucy know. With his leather strap.

He'd arrived back at Camp Thunderbird in good humor a day later than expected. He drove down in front of the cabin and just waited. Sooner or later, he figured, his daughter would make a mistake. And maybe not that day. Maybe she'd just come out on the stoop and be surprised that he was back.

And sure enough, that's what happened. In fact, though, Lucy had heard the car pull up. She watched from the window, and when she saw that her father was getting out, she went outside to meet him. "I see the way you're looking," he said, getting out with some difficulty, "that you been up to something. So just fess up and let me know right now."

"Oh, Daddy," she calmed him, "don't be such a worry wart."

It was this new confidence, more than anything, that set Pines on his daughter's trail. He knew by that ring in her young voice that she was hiding something. He'd have to wait, he also knew, to find out what exactly had been going on in the past week or so.

That night Lucy prepared for bed in her usual manner. She inspected herself in the mirror and felt the old longing for something carnal. She knew she couldn't contain her desires for long. It had been two days since her last anal fuck, and that had been with J.B., a quickie, satisfying, seeming now to be years ago. She looked at her long nude body and wondered what man would next plunge his sexy sword into her ass crotch. She could feel the juice in her pussy leak. Just the thought of a penis in her ass-hole made her horny. But she went to bed without much more thought on the matter.

That night Lucy slept fitfully. She tossed and turned, waking up to hear her father dragging his lame foot back and forth on the roughshod floor below. When she woke in the morning she recalled a brief dream: Her mother was on the couch in the house they used to own in the city. She was bare-assed and frolicsome. Her legs were spread, one even dangled over the cushions of the couch, touching the floor. Her toes were buried in deep rich carpeting. She stroked her mother's arm, and her father entered the room. His leg was not injured, and he was strong and virile. He came up to her and said, "Lucy, you must go to town now." She left obediently, but rather than go to town, she snuck around to the window of the house. She peered in and watched her father stuff his huge organ into her mother's butt. She lay on the couch motionless. Lucy knew that she was dead.

That was the dream, and it left her somewhat emotionally uneasy. She served the breakfast line of Thunderbird campers with little or no interest. She was unusually short with the boys, shoving their platters of food at them as though she were merely hired help, a servant. She resented her role as slave to Thunderbird, worker for her father, rape victim for counselors. She longed to be taken by a man of her choosing, like Carter the supplier, or Jackson the logger, or even by J.B., the caretaker. At least those were men for whom she performed her anal service willingly.

When breakfast was over, and as it was her duty, she helped clear dishes and trays. The garbage from a hundred young campers was enough to turn her stomach. That, and of course the dream, combined to make the morning drudgery even worse than usual. But in the kitchen, when she dumped her last pile of plates at the dishwashing machine, she saw a man that she knew she wanted, one that she hoped would feel about her as she knew instantly she felt about him.

He was the cook for Camp Thunderbird, a tall, burly sort of fellow, with a reddish beard and an open shirt that revealed curly black hair on his chest. He wore a blue bandana around his neck and a beret. He had glasses on but they didn't hide his deep set dark eyes. She'd seen the cook a thousand times before, but suddenly he seemed different. Perhaps it was the change in herself, the fact that she wanted someone special, or just someone to call her own. Whatever the reason, when her father left the dining hall to tend to some camp business, she approached the cook.

"Breakfast was very good this morning," she said in her best teenage voice.

"Oh, yeah," said the cook, scraping grease from the griddle. "You liked that?"

"I heard the kids talking-they said they liked it a lot." She smiled and waited for him to look up. She wondered if her aggressiveness had put him off. "I hope you don't mind-"

"I don't get paid to mind anything, Miss Pines. I'm just the cook." He shoveled the grease into a corner of the griddle and lay down the scraper. "That's it until lunch," he said, moving past her without a word.

"Say," she said, jogging after him, "where do you go between meals?"

"What's it to you?" he said over his shoulder. He undid his apron and hung it on a nail at the doorway. "You have something you need cooked between meals?"

"You might say that," she admitted bluntly.

"I go for walks," said the cook. He turned and started into the hall, on his way.

"Mind if I go with you?" she asked, catching up to him outside.

He turned and looked down into her cool blue eyes. He stroked her silky blonde mane. "No," he said softly. "I don't mind. But your father might."

"I'll meet you. In the woods up from my father's cabin. It'll be nice ... it'll be..."

He said he'd meet her and left. Lucy raced to the cabin and retrieved a blanket. She was careful not to be seen circling the cabin and trudging up the snow-covered hillside. Soon she was out of sight from the grounds below. Her long young legs carried her quickly up the hill, between the thickly populated woods. Breathless, she arrived near the top in a clearing surrounded by dense evergreens. She passed into the circle of barren ground and a hand grabbed her by the arm. "Here I am." It was the cook.

"Oh, God," she moaned, "you frightened me.

"You frightened me," he said, letting go of her arm. "You brought a blanket I see." She spread it out on a patch of dry twigs and earth. "How did I frighten you?" she asked softly, undoing her pants. "Don't you like it when women tell you they want you?"

"Sometimes," said the cook, "it makes me nervous. I don't know why-understand why they want me." He kneeled next to her.

"You better hurry," she said. "We haven't got all that much time." She slid out of her pants. Her blonde legs looked pink compared to the snow around the blanket. She slid out of her parka and blouse. She wore only her socks. "Don't you want me?" she asked. "I want you."

The cook stared at her lovely pendular titties. They hung down, almost like cylinders. The nipples were brown caps. In the center of the brown caps were long, rose-colored tips. "You have nice tits," he said coolly.

"Thank you," she said. "Don't you want to feel them? Touch them?" She stuck out her chest.

"Of course I do," he said.

"Well, come on," she persisted. "We haven't got all day, you know." She reached up and tugged on his belt. "Sit down next to me here. I'll get things started since you're so shy." She unzipped his ski-jacket and reached around behind him to remove it. Her nipples and a portion of the tops of her breasts brushed against his shirt. He could feel the soft flesh, even through his winter clothes. They felt like jello bags. She started on his buttons. "You'd think you were helpless the way you just sit there. I'm not going to bite you."

"How do I know that?" he asked with a smile. "Maybe you're a mad-killer woman out to eat up all the flesh you can get your hands teeth, I mean-on. Maybe you live by sucking the blood from men you seduce and abandon." She was flattered with the power he attributed to her, but she was disturbed slightly by the image that went with it. "Maybe," he began again, but she didn't let him finish. She pulled his shirt off. "Maybe," said Lucy, "you should concentrate on the real me instead of all that other stuff." She pressed her long nude body against his. They were the only warmth on the hillside. Her titties pressed against his chest, rubbed in the dense curly hair on his torso. "I want you to take your pants off," she said.

"You do it, please?" he said softly. "At least the belt?" She smiled and undid his belt. She reached her cold hands into his crotch and found his pecker. Even though her hands chilled him for a moment, he permitted her to continue because of the way she rubbed his meat. Soon, he knew, they would both be very warm. She slid one hand under his balls and onto his fanny. The other tugged gently on his meat. "Mmmmmm," he said, "that's nice."

"As hot as your griddle?" she asked, her young eyes flashing. He didn't answer. He merely stood up and kept looking at her young soft flesh, at her nubile legs. She sat with them folded partially under her, one out a little more than the other. She looked like a snow-bunny, a naked pink body in the middle of nothingness. He took off his pants while he watched her look gently into his eyes. He sat back down.

"You have a nice prick," she said, reaching out and grabbing it in her hand. "Do you mind?"

He smiled and shook his head. How could he mind? She applied her other hand, rubbed his meat. He'd feared the cold, but now, with Lucy's soft palms rubbing on his stem, he didn't fear anything. "That's nice," he told her. "I like that."

"You just be patient," she said, "and you'll have a lot of nice things from me." He looked at her titties as they shook a little at a time while she rubbed his cock. The nipples fascinated him. "Do you mind?" he said, reaching out and palming one breast from underneath.

"I like it," she said. "I like it a lot." She didn't lose her rhythm on his cock. She rubbed her palms back and forth on the stem as though she were rolling a vertical piece of dough. The cook fondled her titty, especially the nipple. With some distance in his eyes, he rubbed the cap with his thumb. Then he squeezed the whole breast. "You have great tits," he said. "I can't get over how nice your breasts are."

"Thank you," said Lucy, appreciating his gentle approach. "I like your prick, too." She leaned down and he let go of her titty. She gobbled up the top of his cock. The mushroom head disappeared inside her face. Her lips spread out around the shaft, cupped it with some small smooth suction. Her head bobbed in his lap, slipping up and down on his joint, inching on and off the mushroom head. He wondered if her saliva might freeze there if she stopped. It was cold everywhere except where she touched him.

Lucy hummed on the fuck-stick. Then she looked up, using just her rubbing hand to keep the pecker hard and warm in the cold air. "I like special things," she said. "I like things that not everybody does. Do you like special things?" She tilted her head. Her blonde mane shined in the morning sunlight.

"I think I do," said the cook. "What kind of special things?" She smiled and let go of his cock. She pressed her palms to his hips and pulled on her pelvis. "Come on," she said. "Roll over and I'll show you." He looked incredulously at her, but then he turned and gave her access to his backside. "You don't have to be on your hands and knees if you don't want to," she said. He lay down on his side. She approached his naked butt sideways, leaning down and laying her head on her arm. She was level with the crack in his ass. "This is even nicer," she said. She kissed one of his buttocks. "That tickles," said the cook. She asked him: "What about this?" She splayed her tongue down the groove between his ass cheeks. When she arrived at his anus, she pushed him over on his belly. She climbed up between the backs of his legs and bowed down to his ass-hole. She pressed her tongue up through the sphincter. Her drilling mouth muscle filled his ass-hole with a hot, wet juicy feeling. He rolled his hips up, involuntarily pressing his bunghole into her mouth. "That's nice," he said at long last. "That's very, very nice."

Lucy sucked his bunghole. She filled the small crater, the tight sphincter, and a portion of the tube with her tongue. She kissed her way in and out of the rear exit of his body. She kissed the inside folds of his ass cheeks, the long narrow groove between them, and then the base of his spine. Her titties rubbed at the backs of his legs. His butt was the only thing that felt warm on that cold, snow-covered hillside clearing. "You know your stuff, I guess," he said.

"Yeah, well, if you get any more enthusiastic," she said, "I'll get up and die."

"Sorry," said the cook, "I didn't mean to be unkind."

"That's o.k., " she whispered. "Now me." She climbed over his body, rubbing her nubile teenager flesh against his long, muscular, hairy body. She landed next to him on her belly. "Come on," she said, "you can lick my ass, too. Don't you think I'm cold, too?" He worked down to her butt and splayed his tongue across one smooth white cheek. He licked the other one, too, in the same fashion. Then he sloshed his mouth muscle down the length of her ass crack and landed neatly in the confines of her sphincter muscle. He stuffed his mouth organ down deep and felt Lucy squirm on his tongue. She rolled from side to side, like a big pink flesh snake, squirming with his tongue up her butt. His tongue was one long muscle, beginning in his mouth and ending somewhere in Lucy's comely flesh. Though it entered in her ass-hole, he wasn't sure where it ended. She writhed in ecstasy: "Oh, God damn, this is good!" She squirmed up onto her hands and knees. He followed her up and reached forward, under her body where he cupped her hanging knockers. He rubbed them with his long fingers while his tongue drilled her ass-hole. The sphincter tasted all right, he thought, not at all foul as he'd expected. He didn't mind her wiggling and squirming, either, and he could feel his body blushing, growing feverish. "Shit," she cried out in a muffled voice, "this is going to be awfully fucking good."

"You know," said the cook, taking a breather, "for a kid you sure have an active vocabulary."

"I love sex," she explained. "That's all." She looked back over her shoulder and smiled. "Why don't you use your penis now? That's what I really want?" She didn't wait for him to answer, but she hung her head between her arms as though he could do any damn thing with her luscious young body that he wanted. So he lifted his cock and rested it between the flesh loaves. Placing it was no problem, but keeping it there required a careful stroking action. He could only rock so far back without dropping out of the anal holster, and he could only go so far forward because of their basic anatomy. He settled for an inch by inch rub of his meaty joint.

"O.k., " he said finally, "I think it's good enough now. I mean hard enough." She said nothing. He looked down at the tip of his cock, and noting how dry it was, dipped a finger under her, into her pussy. There he found enough lubricant to fuck just about anything. He spread it on his cock, and into her ass-hole, and just about everywhere that might be involved in the anal intercourse. "O.k., " he said again, "get yourself open, honey. It'll make it that much easier."

Lucy reached back and peeled her cheeks to the sides. The cook leaned down for a look inside. The sphincter was about the size of a bottle top. He had no idea how he might fit his huge flesh sword into it, but he began with a fingering. "I just want to see how it feels." He jammed his index finger into the tight space. He went deliberately hard-why he wasn't sure-and she accepted his bony digit with an appropriate cursing: "You fucking prick! Not so hard at first!" He quickly jerked his finger out of the ass tube. "Sorry," he said, "I didn't realize." Then he understood what fun he was going to have plowing the teenager's hungry hole. It was a tight space, one from which, once he'd penetrated it, his cock would derive great pleasure. The very essence of the anal fuck, he observed to himself, was the tight narrow tube wrapped securely around a thick hot penis. "Ahhhhh," he said, even before entering. "Now I understand." He lifted his joint and hammered the head into the sphincter.

"Ooooh, God you're big!" she cringed. "Do you think--? "

"Nope," he said. "Never." He thrust forward with his hips for leverage and force. His head squeezed past the tight sphincter and expanded inside the tube itself. His flesh arrow head now moved smoothly down the length of her shit tube. He had the tight sphincter gripping his stem, holding onto the thick shaft. "Uuuuuuuuuhhhh," cried Lucy, "it's so fucking gigantic. I didn't realize." She wailed with her head bowed to the ground in front of her. "It's so fucking big!" He continued the descent into her bowels, filling her rump with all of his meat. He ceased pushing when his groin was flush with her buttocks, when the base of his meat had exploded the sphincter. He was in up to his neck. "Ahhhhhh," she moaned softly, trying to keep from mentioning the pain she was feeling. She wanted his anal fuck in her butt to be good, and she didn't want to ask him to get out because he was too big. "I like that," she told him. It was true, but it also hurt her.

"I like it too," said the cook with a new exuberance in his voice. "I like this a lot." He patted her butt, and then went back to squeezing her titties and tugging on her nipples. "Mmmmmmm," she hummed, "this is getting better and better all the time." The cook noticed that he didn't feel anywhere near so cold as before, at least not while he had his pecker buried to the hilt in her rump with her titties in his hands. "I like this," he said. "Never did it before."

"You wouldn't know it," said Lucy. "You do it like you really are an experienced ass fucker." It was an effort for her to speak. The pressure in her butt was explosive, stretching her out in ways she'd never expected possible. "Rub my cunt, please?"

He reached down to her twat. There he jammed a finger in. It was wet and slippery inside her pussy hole, like a hot spring in the middle of tundra. His finger rolled against her clitoris. There was familiar territory, a piece of flesh he knew well. He teased the thing upwards, brought it quickly to life with his digit. He rubbed back and forth across the friendly piece of twat-penis, and then he added a second finger to the sexual manipulation of Lucy's front hole.

"Oooh, shit," she cried, "this is getting to be so good. I don't know how long I can last." She rolled her smooth hips, her pecker-filled butt, and reached down under her crotch to take a quick feel of his nuts. She grabbed lightly and tugged on the scrotum and the rocks within. "Nice," he told her. "That's really nice."

She let go of his nuts and went for his hand in her twat. She showed him just exactly how she liked it to feel in her cunt. She pushed his finger in at just the right angle, at the exactly right place. "I'll come in a minute," she said. "This is the way it should be." She jerked her hips and moaned: "Oh, yes, God, please!" He felt the gush fill his palm. He continued to rub her through the throes of ecstasy, and she waved her ass on his meat, as though there were no tomorrow. She shook violently back and forth, as if to say, "I'm going to wag that meat right on up my shit tube. I'm gonna have so much of it for me that I'll never need another cock again." She jammed up into his crotch, pushing into his beef, trying to get it all at once.

"Oooh," groaned the cook, "that's too good!" His penis twitched in the tubular anal muscle. Jism rolled down the shit hole, into the anal reservoir. He jabbed with his groin, pushed and shoved, and Lucy wailed softly that she enjoyed the fuck, that she loved the prick in her butt, that she wanted such love-making in her ass to last forever. When he'd finished with his orgasm and he felt that she had had enough, he extracted his penis from her fanny.

The bone came out stiff, covered with slime, ready for licking. Lucy was up to it, too. She jumped around and down on the hog she went, saying as she did: "No sense in letting a good erection get away all together." She sucked off the meaty bone tip, then the mushroom rim, and finally she went to work on the shaft, sliding her tongue along that thick wedge of flesh prong. She sucked and nibbled, cleaning the cook's cock the way he cleaned his griddle. She slid her tongue back and forth. At the end she ducked down under him and came up in his ass-hole for a final anal clean-out. He nearly sat on her face in ecstasy, he was so pleased with the delicious work in his butt. "You know," he said to her as she finished her ass kissing, "I think you are quite a remarkable young lady."

"Thank you," said Lucy. "I had an inspiring cock to work with, though, you know." She smiled and lay down on the blanket.

"Aren't you cold?" asked the cook, picking up his trousers.

"Wait," she said, seeing that he was intending to get dressed, "you can't go yet. We only just got started."

"But I thought..."

She pressed her hand to his meat. "What did you think?" She smiled and rolled her tongue across her thick young lips. "Did you think I wouldn't be able to take more penis in my butt? Did you think I'd let you go away with just a little bit of pleasure?" She leaned down on his hog. After a few quick licks she said: "I want so much of you I don't know what to say."

He looked down into her clear blue eyes and told her that she was doing just fine.