Chapter 4
Betty had been able to hear all the fun and games down at the lake, and she was surprised when Bob came into camp by himself. She had busied herself with fixing dinner while Bob chopped aimlessly at firewood for a bonfire later that evening.
Sally and Rita had pitched in after they got back from their swim, but it was pretty quiet as they worked at the four-burner propane stove that Tex had designed and made. The stew that the woman prepared tasted somehow better for having been made in the mountains, and everyone enjoyed it. After the third bottle of burgundy had been consumed, everyone was feeling loose and relaxed.
"What say we go fishing tomorrow," said Tex. He and Rita loved to fish.
"Oh, yes, let's go," said Sally, knowing full well that Jim didn't like fishing.
"Fine with me," said Bob, looking at Betty who sat bundled up in a parka even though the evening was mild. She shook her head.
"Why don't you and Jim hold down the fort," Sally said to her, "while the rest of us go fishing, then.
"Fine with me," said Betty, not really caring what they decided. She was going to have a miserable time, and it wouldn't matter who planned what. She felt the outsider again, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Sure thing," said Jim. "No telling what Betty and I will get into tomorrow."
"You mean what you will get into?" Tex said with a playful sneer on his face.
"Betty just might have something to say about that?" added Rita.
Betty pulled the dark parka up around her face and ears. The flames of the fire danced in her eyes, but the rest of her face was hidden.
"The world is full of surprises, Rita. You never know what's gonna happen," said Bob, reaching over and playfully goosing her between her drawn up legs.
"Aaaaiiiiii!" she screamed, and threw a branch at him.
"I think I'll turn in," said Betty. She had watched Bobby's thumb jab Rita right between the bulging halves of her cleft pussy. She didn't have to put up with that.
"Night, Betty," said Sally.
"See you tomorrow," Tex said.
"You coming, Bobby," Betty asked her husband.
"Think I'll just enjoy the fire a bit longer, honey. Be there directly."
Betty shrugged the huge shoulders of her parka and strode off toward their tent. Enjoy the fire, my ass, she thought to herself. Enjoy ogling Sally and Rita's cunts and tits, he would.
Betty shucked off her clothes and slipped on her flannel nightie. She crawled into the sleeping bag and curled up toward the shadows that danced on the canvas. She could hear their talking and laughter. Another bottle of wine was being passed around, and Rita's high-pitched giggle suggested someone else had probed her puffy pussy. Betty put her hand between hr thighs and cradled her cunt in her warm fingers. She hoped for sleep.
Bob's watch said 2:30. He tried to go back to sleep, but the wine had stretched his bladder as far as it would go. He would have to get up and chance waking Betty.
He slithered up out of the twin bag, raking his stiff prick against the zipper. He managed to keep an oath suppressed, and disentangled himself from the bag's lining. He rubbed his cock soothingly.
He didn't know if he held a piss hard-on in his hand, or if his cock was still hard from listening to Sally and Rita with their suggestive banter all evening. Either way, he had to piss.
He pulled on his slippers and let himself out of the tent. The pine needles crunched and squeaked beneath his leather soled slippers. He thought for one moment that he should go back and slip on his pants, but there wasn't a sound to be heard beyond the soft babble of the distant brook and the whisper of a wind in the trees. If he ran into a bear his pants wouldn't matter anyway, he thought to himself, half amused. He looked around carefully nonetheless.
Bob wanted to get far enough away from camp so that there wouldn't be any chance of waking the others, but also for sanitary reasons. They had tagged a rather remote area beyond the camp as the "potty park." Bob made his way between the two large boulders that designated the outdoor privy.
Good thing I'm not back in camp, he said to himself as he opened up his firehose of a cock and sprayed piss upon the flat wall of a rock.
"My God, who is that," said a female voice in the darkness.
Bob tried to cut his flow, but the pressure was too great, and he just kept pissing against the rock. "Shit!" he said. "It's Bob. Who's there?"
After a short giggle came, "It's me - Sally." She giggled again.
"I'm glad you think it's so fuckin' funny, Sally."
"I'm sorry, Bobby. Really, it just sounds like a rainstorm. What's that old saying, 'like a cow pissing on a flat rock.' "
"Jesus, Sally. Just wait up and I'll be finished." He drained his prick and shook it vigorously. Only then did he remember that he was stark naked.
"I hope you are about done, 'cause I'm about to bust a gasket."
"Sally!" he almost shouted as he heard her coming across the blanket of needles. "I'm not dressed. I mean . . . " He suddenly didn't know why that should matter, for they had seen one another nude in the lake earlier. But it did seem to matter.
"Guess what, Bobby, so am I, and I got to piss, naked or not, so I'm coming through-You want to close your eyes, you go right ahead."
Out of the darkness she materialized, first her sleepy heart-shaped face, then her white shoulders and tits, almost glowing in the weak moonlight, and finally her thin hips and moon-blanched pussy hair.
"You didn't close your eyes, Bobby. Thought you were the one concerned about being naked."
"Christ, Sally, you are fantastic in the moonlight. Hell, you're fantastic in any light." Bob Allison was aware then that his pissing had not shrunken his cock, for it stood up at a forty-five degree angle and bobbed its purplish head in the same moonlight that bathed Sally's delicious body.
"I'd like to admire that thing," said Sally, "but I really got to piss, Bobby." She walked over beside a tree and squatted down. Her own flood gates opened with a rush, and the piss flowed in a wide river between her feet.
"Real lady-like, ain't it, Bob. But here we are in the wilderness, and we have to make allowances, right."
"Right," he said, admiring the curvaceous halves of her ass as she squatted there. She balanced herself with the hand that held a roll of toilet paper against the small pine tree.
Bob's head spun with the possibilities that fluttered before him in the night. His prick throbbed in \as hand, and he discovered that he was squeezing his cock with a vicious grip. When he let go, the blood filled the white imprint of his finger prints.
"Sally," he said, "Sally, can I do something weird?"
"What, Bobby?" She wrapped toilet paper around her fingers like ribbon.
"Can I wipe your pussy."
"You serious, Bobby? Wipe my pussy?"
"I know it sounds kind of ... "
"Kinky?" she said.
"Yeah, kinky, I guess."
"You ever wipe Betty's pussy after she pissed?"
"Hell, Betty don't even like me to be around when she pisses."
"Shit, Bobby, you want to wipe my pussy, come ahead." She got up and handed him the roll of toilet paper. He reeled it off around his fingers as she had done.
He stood there waiting.
"Well," she said.
"Well," he said.
She finally spread her legs slightly and thrust her pussy up toward him. He reached down and patted the thick bush of blond hair with the papered fingers of his right hand. He barely touched her cunt hps beneath the thick gauze of hair.
"Hey, Bobby, that's not wiping." She reached down and took his wrist. "Like this," said Sally, and she began rubbing his fingers up and down her cunt hps. "That's better." She spread more and lifted her cunt up to him.
"I don't believe this is happening. Pinch me, Sally. I must be dreaming."
She reached down and pinched the thick, mushroom-like head of his cock. "Nope, Bobby, that's the real thing."
"Oh shit, Sally." He pulled his hand away and stepped back. "This is crazy. You better go on back to your tent before something really stupid happens."
"You are sweet, Bobby Allison, but the only thing I can think of that would really be stupid for me to do would be to go back to my tent."
"Sally?"
She fell softly to her knees and took his thick, meaty cock in both hands. "How could I pass up this lovely thing?" she said, looking up into his bewildered eyes.
Bob's cock was not exceptionally long, but it was the thickest prick Sally Westmorland had ever seen. Even Tex, who had the biggest tool she had ever come into contact with, had to come up second best when it came to thickness. Bob's cock was thicker than her wrist, and she pumped up and down on it with both hands.
"Why have you kept this monster hidden from me all these years, Bob? You are a selfish man, you know. Keeping this thing hidden in your pants and all. Hope Betty appreciates what she's got here." She dipped her head and her tongue licked at the pee slit, still salty from Bob's piss.
"God, Sally, this is too much. Won't Jim ... "
"Won't Jim what?" She took the smooth cap of his cock into her mouth and ran her tongue around it in slow circles. Her tongue stopped at the very tip and probed the pee slit as deep as she could. Bob thought his prick would split in half as she worked her sharp little tongue down inside the tiny mouth of his cock, but he would have gladly rather have had it happen than stop her.
"Uuuuuuuuh," he moaned, his head falling back. His hands ran through Sally's long blond hair, held it by the handful, and pulled her gently onto his cock.
"Easy," she said, lifting her face from his raging, reddened stalk. "I ain't superwoman, you know." She sucked up the head of his hefty tool and worked as much of it into her mouth as she could.
Bob could feel his cum bubbling deep in his balls, responding to the suction of Sally's sucking. Her soft hands jerked him off in wild, rapid motions, and his balls bounced crazily between his legs.
"Sally," he said, but she was lost in sucking his cock, and the frenetic jerking of her small hands laced around his enormous prick.
"Sally," he said again, and pulled back on her head. "I want you too, Sally. I want to eat your pussy."
"Yes, Bobby, yes, yes - eat my pussy. My pussy is just itching to have you suck it out - eat it all, baby." And without a second thought, she fell onto the thick carpet of pine needles that littered the forest floor.
Sally Westmorland felt Bobby's tongue run up and down her inner thighs, stringing trails of icy fire from knee to crotch. How unbelievable that a chance piss in the night would throw her into an old, persistent fantasy. As long as she had known Betty and Bob, she had dreamed of fucking him, and when she had seen him in the lake - the well-toned muscles that had developed from wrestling and still maintained by working out with weights, she had begun to hope fervently. Now her hopes were being realized.
Bob's tongue ran the length of her slit. He pushed her legs apart and pulled up her knees, pulling her cunt lips apart with his fingers. His tongue ran up and down the groove of her cunt rapidly, thrilled with sensations as it did.
"Oh, Jesus, God, Bobby, God help me. Oh shit, fuckin' shit, Bobby - do it, do it to my cunt, honey. Lick it, hon, oh lick the shit out of it." Her pussy pumped up into his face and his tongue probed deeply into her inner lips, flicking in and out with quick, stabbing thrusts. His tongue was exceptionally long and snaked its way up her pussy passage farther than Jim's had ever done.
"Ooooooh, honey, eat it, eat it all. More, baby, more, lick out my honey pot, Bobby, lick it clean." Her pussy closed on his tongue and her cunt twisted and turned.
His tongue withdrew slightly only to launch a full assault on her erect nub of a clit. The quick tip of his tongue slapped the fleshy finger back and forth, sending vibrations up Sally's cunt and spreading throughout her body.
"Oooooooh," she moaned as his tongue licked her most sensitive point. "Oooooooo, honey, I can't take it any more." But she did take it, and pulled his face down into her crotch, buried his nose in her cunt, and would have tried to swallow up his entire face had her pussy been larger.
"I can't hold on . . . I'm gonna . . . oh, Bobby . . . I'm gonna . . . CREEEEEAM," she cried, forcing his face even deeper into her pussy. "Oh, yes," she cried, head flailing in the pine needles and legs clutching Bob's head like a vise. "Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . suck my cunt, baby . . . yes - oh, yes." The spreading fire of her orgasm outran her senses, and she mumbled incoherently as she rode the final spasms of her passion. "Eat . . . pussy-fuck . . . Bob prick . . . oh, asssuckerfuckshit."