Chapter 6
Carla was right about one thing in her daydreaming about the Thompson family: Cousin Scott was excited to see her and Cousin Scott was horny. But Cousin Scott wasn't waiting to get her out behind the barn to make a pass at her. She'd met him only ten minutes ago, and already his prick was throbbing against her ass. And Christ, the thing felt huge!
Carla sat in the cab of the pickup truck, right smack on Scott's lap. Cousin Jenny sat next to her, in the middle of the cab, and Uncle Fred, wearing a white cowboy hat and bushy blond sideburns, sat behind the wheel. Uncle Fred's brown hands looked muscular enough to rip the steering wheel off the steering column with a flick of his wrists. And Cousin Scott's hands, just as muscular, but with younger-looking skin, felt like hot bear paws through Carla's T-shirt.
Carla was trembling. Scott's arms were wrapped around her in a bearhug, and all the muscles of his sinewy, rock-hard body quivered against her.
As they headed down a dirt road, flat green fields on both sides, the sun blazing in through the windshield and heating up Carta's bare legs, Uncle Fred pointed out the gray-green mountain range in front of them. The ranch was nestled in the foothills at the base of those mountains, he said.
"You'll love the ranch," Jenny said, without trying to hide her excitement in the least. "We'll go bareback riding." She squeezed Carta's hand. She'd entwined her fingers with Carta's when they'd first climbed into the truck, and she wouldn't let go. Their palms had grown sweaty against each other, and Carla could feel a pulsebeat against her palm.
As they drove along at a leisurely pace-Uncle Fred didn't seem to be in any hurry-Jenny continued to shamelessly jabber with excitement, and Uncle Fred continued to point out landmarks.
Scott didn't say much. He was too busy nuzzling Carla's neck with his nose and trying to sneak feels of her braless tits when Fred and Jenny weren't looking. As the truck bounced over ruts and holes in the road, Carla bounced in Scott's lap, and Scott's cock throbbed and jerked. Every once in a while he moaned load enough for Carla to hear him.
Carta's pussy dripped. She was sure that before they reached the ranch her shorts would become so drenched that she'd leave wet spots on Scott's jeans. But what could she do? It was Scott's fault. He already had her so hot that she wanted to scream.
The Thompsons-at least these three-were not at all the shy, folksy people she'd imagined they'd be. Uncle Fred did have a slight drawl, but he used words Carla had never even heard. He was a tall, lean cowboy, and, although older than her father, he looked younger. And so-o-o handsome! Oh, so handsome! Carla couldn't imagine Aunt Brenda nagging Uncle Fred the way her own mother nagged her father. This man was too princely to stand for any nagging.
And Jenny wasn't any shy little country girl. She had a body like a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader and hair just as long as Carta's, except that it was golden as a ripe wheatfield instead of black. And Jenny walked with such self-assurance and energy that Carla began to feel that she'd been living in a morgue all her life.
And Scott. Jeez! Luke had made an understatement when he'd called Scott handsome. Scott was the handsomest, most beautiful young man Carla had ever seen. He was a younger version of Fred, but with an added fifty percent of pure handsomeness and sexuality thrown in. Like his father's and Jenny's, his hair was bleached-blond, and it hung to his shoulders. But his eyes were a deep brown -very dark-though they glowed like suns. Fred and Carla had them too, these paradoxically dark eyes combined with sunny yellow hair.
This family was so energetic, so intense, so overwhelming, that Carla felt as if she were in the grip of a tornado. Before she knew it, she was stumbling out of the truck into Aunt Brenda's golden arms, and pressed up against Aunt Brenda's big hot tits. Then she was saying hello to Matty. A cuter, prettier, more devilish-looking boy she'd never seen. Though he wore a tiny pair of shorts, he looked perfectly naked as he greeted her under the cascades of warm sunshine. Carla felt tingly all over. The boy exuded an electrical sensuality that was almost visible.
At the dinner table that evening the family kept up the same incessant chatter they had begun the moment Carla had stepped off the bus. The rectangular table-solid oak according to Uncle Fred-was spread over with a checkered red-and-white oil cloth. The food lay across it from one end to the other: The greenest lettuce Carla had ever seen-homegrown. Loaves of homebaked golden bread. A pot of steaming beef-and-vegetable stew -from the ranch, of course. Pitchers of fresh cold milk from the family milk-cow. A tub of homechurned butter. Bowls of fresh wild strawberries swimming in chilled cream. A jar of bronze-colored honey. All quite different from the TV
dinners Carla was used to eating almost every night.
The Thompsons dug in and ate. Fred talked about the ranch. Aunt Brenda asked about Carla's mother. Jenny raved on about how much fun she and Carla were going to have all week. Scott flirted shamelessly with Carla. His eyes cried out "I wanna fuck you" as loudly as if he'd shouted it.
And Matty, slouching in his chair directly across the table from Carla, made obscene little noises with his mouth as he chomped on his food. His shining little eyes glued themselves to Carla's tits until Carla imagined her nipples beginning to smoke under the focused beams of light emanating from his gaze.
Carla tried to ignore both Scott and Matty, for she was having a hard time trying to converse with Jenny and her aunt and uncle with these two hot boys all but groaning out loud as they studied her. But the boys wouldn't let her. They were relentless in their horniness. All.at once Carla felt a hot bare foot press down on top of her own. Across the table, Matty slouched way down in his chair now, his eyes fiery as he gazed at her, a lecherous grin on his freckled face even as he chewed on a thick, crusty slab of bread.
Carla couldn't help but respond to the young boy's pass at her. The moment his flesh touched hers her pussy felt as if a hot wet tongue had licked it from one end to the other. Now it was throbbing with her pulsebeats. She wiggled her toes up at Matty's hot sole, and Matty wiggled his toes down against her smooth instep. Matty's other hot foot moved down, and suddenly she and Matty were playing a game of footsy that had Carla's cunt churning with sparks of lust.
Oh, Lord! If she could only tear off her clothes and wrap herself around that devilish little prick across the table from her! Christ, she was hot! She'd even let him fuck her! Goddamn, if she wouldn't!
Matty's hot pubescent toes slid up and down her legs. His toenails scratched her exquisitely. All her skin seemed to be suddenly as sensitive as her clit. Every touch of Matty's feet to her legs had her on the verge of orgasm. Matty's feet pressed into the warm, sopping-wet crotch of her shorts. The balls of his feet rotated against her clit. Her cunt felt as if it were tying itself up in tight, pleasure-filled knots. Matty's hot feet massaged her pussy like the forepaws of a mating tomcat.
The room was spinning. Carla's eyes were hot with tears of lust. Her eyes swam. Her vision blurred. Matty's hot toes danced against her cunt. The hundreds of knots of sex-tension that had been building in her cunt since this afternoon when she'd jacked off Luke, when she'd bounced her ass against Scott's big cock during the ride to the ranch, and now, when Scott and Matty were drooling over her-all these hot knots reached a peak of tension.
Matty wriggled his toes against her clit in one final flourish, and Carla's pussy spasmed. All those knots of sex-tension unraveled in a chain reaction, and Carla held tightly to her chair to keep from toppling out of it.
She squeezed her legs together, clamping Matty's wriggling feet between them. As the spasms shook her cunt, her ass made spontaneous humping motions that she couldn't control. Her cunt felt so good! She wished she could let herself moan and thrash around, but what could she do here at the kitchen table in front of five near-strangers?
She tried as best she could to control her breathing. She even tried to smile. But she could feel her eyes rolling, and her ass bucked. She wondered if not only Matty, but everybody else, knew that she was coming. She held on, and in fifteen seconds it was all over.
She gave Matty's feet a pat and pushed them away. He sat up in his chair and grinned at her devilishly, as if he'd just pulled off a bank robbery. Then he winked at her and popped a strawberry into his mouth.
Across the table, next to Matty, Scott gazed at her out of the corner of his eyes. He was flushed, and misty sweat-droplets gleamed on his brow. As he spooned strawberries dripping with cream, his hand trembled. It was obvious that he knew what had happened.