Chapter 2
The reflection of the half moon rode the gentle swells of the lake and looked like a wobbly chunk of silver. Betty stood watching, catching her breath. She had run all the way from the camp, as though pursued by demons.
She folded her nightgown and placed it on a rock beside the lake. In the moonlight she could see her wiggling reflection on the surface of the water. At thirty-two, she still looked good. Her pear-shaped tits stood straight out, no hint of sag. Her waist was narrow, twenty one inches, just as it had been before the children - she was proud of that. And her hips were full and curvaceous. The moonlight didn't reveal her midnight black hair - it only revealed the splashes of moon itself that caught in it. The same dark hair haloed her pussy, the moonlike flecks of silver settled in her pussy hair as she stood beside the lake.
She cursed her misfortune. Why was she like this? Why did she so want to enjoy all the things that were forbidden. Someplace deep in her psyche she knew it was as bad to want the enjoyment as it was to have it, but she couldn't let such an idea see the light of day, or even the moonlit night. She pushed it back beneath the surface and stepped out into the warm water. She needed to cleanse herself. Clean herself, that's what she would do.
She waded out into the deeper water, soap in hand. The water felt good. She let herself sink down into its warmth. It seemed a very safe and private place even though she was miles and miles out in the wilderness with who knew what roaming around in the woods. The water was soothing and relaxing, and she needed to relax. Her whole body had tensed. The episode in the Latham's tent had wound her tight like a guitar string that might break into two twanging halves.
Betty waded out farther, navigating the slippery rocks on the bottom carefully, until the surface lapped at her floating titties - lapped at them like large, wet tongues. She rubbed herself - her tits, her arms, her belly, between her legs - it all felt so good. With slow scuttling motions of her hands she was able to lift her feet from the rocky floor of the lake and float suspended, buoyed up by the warm water.
Even though the water was relaxing, Betty noticed that it had not quenched the flame that continued to flicker in her cunt. That flame burned steadily - a persistent beacon in the distant dark. Her hand warmed itself between her legs, pushed up against the door of her tiny furnace. Her mind reeled off a bright burst of images - Tex and Rita locked in wild thrashings, Tex's enormous cock pile-driving into Rita's writhing cunt, images piling up on top of one another like double exposures.
Betty hurried back to the shore and got her soap from the rock. She waded back out to her waist and began to soap herself vigorously. She lathered her tits, rubbed the soap into her firm flesh, flattening her perfect tits against her ribs. The small hard nipples felt like burning stones that rolled between her hands and the flattened flesh of her rib cage. Her hands flew over her body, soaping and rinsing, and soaping again. Between her legs, the bar of scented soap rode up and down the crack of her cunt, the rounded end working its way deeper into her pussy, like an angular cock that had crept into the lake to seek out the tight, hot warmth of her cunt. She spread her legs to allow more of the bar into her pussy. The blunt, slick corner caressed her clit. She rubbed harder.
"Oh, my God," groaned Betty, the fire spreading, licking out with its long tentacles to touch and inflame the passion she had so carefully stored away over the years. The pockets of dusty passion erupted into flame like dry kindling. "Oh, my e,ver-loving God," she whispered hoarsely into the night, the water at her waist churning with frenzied activity. "Jesus," she cried with a sharp intake of breath, the whole bar of soap almost sliding right up her cunt. "Uuuuuuuu," she murmured, the whole width of the bar easing its way up her cunt, its wide span stretching her pussy walls farther than they had been stretched in who knew how long. "Ooooooo, Christ, ooooooo," she cooed, working the bar in and out of her cunt. But in the next instant a chill ran through her body that seemed to douse every flame.
"Whoooo . . . whooooo . . . whoooooo." The sound filled the night and Betty tucked into a tight ball in the water, only her head remained above the surface. The soap had slipped from her hand and fluttered lazily to the bottom.
"Whooo . . . whooo," came the sound again, from almost straight above her. And the branches of a pine tree near the lake shuddered and shook as a great owl flapped its way out into the night sky, its white underbelly and wings reflecting the soft moonlight with an eerie glow.
"Wow," said Betty to herself as she hugged her breasts tightly with her arms. "Scared the shit out of me, owl." She watched it flap quietly across the lake, swooping once when sighting some small night creature, but lifting again to disappear over the trees. Betty's heart pounded against her ribs. Her bath was finished.
She stood on a rock to keep her feet clean. She dried herself briskly with the terry towel - her back and breasts, her arms and legs. She ran the towel between her legs and, with a hand on either end, she ran the towel back and forth between her legs, drying her bush and heating up her pussy at the same time. Her hips moved slowly against the thick toweling, her cunt catching the rhythm of her action. She pulled up hard against the terry cloth and felt the friction mount, the nubs of the cloth against her pussy hair buffing the puffy lips of her snatch. She looked like an exotic dancer perched atop a rocky stage in the muted light of the half moon.
The moon passed behind a ruffle of clouds, and shadows fell across the lake. A shiver ran up Betty's spine and she quickly sought her slippers beside the rock. She slid her damp feet into them and felt around for the flashlight. It had fallen over and had rolled several feet away from where she had set it beside the slippers. She snatched it up from beside the rock.
She grabbed the flashlight quickly and didn't get a good hold of it. The cold metal handle slipped from her grasp and fell. As she grabbed for it, she caught the upper barrel of the handle and pulled it against her. The cold butt of the handle hit her flat belly just above her pussy hair.
"Shit!" she cried. To keep the flashlight from dropping she had to press its cold metal against her warm flesh. It sent an electric chill throughout her body.
And then a strange thing happened. Betty pressed the cold metal against her belly. The alien object felt cool, but good - hard and smooth. She pressed it into her flesh harder, the rounded butt of the light's barrel nosing into her pussy hair. The cold metal seemed to leave a burning trail across her skin. She ran it across her lower belly in zig-zag lines, then in circles through her cunt hair. It felt so good, so unusual. A flashlight was a nice neutral thing, wasn't it? It was the coolness, the hardness that she liked. There could be no harm. This was a simple enjoyment that her mother surely couldn't object to. She fingered the smooth surface of the lens, the raised switch, the suddenly exciting length of it.
Betty spread her towel out on the rock and sat down, spreading her legs fully, and began running the flashlight up and down her inner thighs. The longer she held the light, the warmer it got. The butt end probed up into the thick hair that surrounded the mouth of her pussy, and rubbed around the swollen lips. Betty lay back on the towel and pulled up her legs. She took the light with both hands and ran it up and down the full length of her cunt slot. The metal warmed her even more.
It felt so good. How could there be any harm in this - enjoying the cool hardness of a flashlight. It was different with a man's cock, wasn't it? That was the kind of enjoyment that was wrong, that good girls didn't feel. Her mother had never talked about flashlights or candles or cucumbers, had never mentioned the word masturbation to her.
The warm metal nudged up between the wet lips of her pussy, burrowed into the moist folds of flesh, and found the deep gash of her cunt. "Oooh," Betty gasped, the large rounded handle fully inside the mouth now. "Oh, Jesus - God," Betty said, her head rolling back and forth on the spread-out towel. "Yes, oh yes, Jesus, God - yes." She shoved the full length of the flashlight up her cunt in one sudden heave. "Ooooooooh," she gasped. "Fffffuuuuuuck," she stuttered, the thick metallic prick stretching her pussy walls and reviving all the dying coals. Betty Allison lay on her towel atop the rock and fucked in and out of her cunt with the long-handled flashlight. The night was filled with her soft moaning and the sucking slush of the handle pulling out and plunging in.
"Do it," she muttered, "Oh yes, do it," she begged some composite image that flickered in her mind, a composite drawn from the three men who slept in the tents. The hard prick belonged to the three of them, and she loved it - but it was only a flashlight, wasn't real, so it couldn't be bad, could it? She fucked against the metallic cock until her come crashed in upon her like a collapsing dam, flooding her with icy fire as its passion engulfed her.
"Eeeeeeiiiiiiii," came her cry and carried out across the lake where it startled a smaller owl perched atop a tall pine. The bird flapped slowly and disappeared as Betty's convulsive fucking eased and she lay still upon her rocky bed, flashlight buried to its flaring lamp up her cunt.