Chapter 2

"Christ, Mandy," the blonde bitch said, steering the car out of the parking lot wildly. "You know we're expecting company tonight. You wanna sabotage a perfectly good party?"

Mandy sat silently on the passenger side and watched the little speck that was Pike's Crossing flash by her window. Maybe she did want to sabotage that party. She loved to trip Tyne up whenever she could.

And Tyne was so obsessive about her parties. Everything had to be just so fucking perfect. All the ashtrays emptied before any of the guests could arrive to fill them up. All the floors mopped to glistening. Before anybody could scuff them up. And the food had to be laid out a certain way. Before the hungry mobs could descend like locusts and chew it back to the tablecloth.

All the preparations! And she knew perfectly well she would have to do most of the work. It was like being a slave. Matter of fact, it was a lot like it. And all to please the anxious hordes of summer friends.

That's who would be there tonight. Their summer friends. Couples and singles from Chatham and the surrounding resort area. The wealthy and near-wealthy. The beautiful and near-beautiful people of the summer village. They could come in, mix themselves a drink, or have Mandy mix it and chat and sip till dawn or thereabouts.

Summer friends. Fair weather friends. It was so strange. Come the first of September, they would close up the place and move back to the city. Back to the hub of rush-rush excitement and fast pace that would entrap them until the first of June rolled around again and they would come back here.

Mandy wasn't exactly looking forward to it. It represented a big change. For it was on the first of September that she would take off her fine, satiny lingerie and let her beard grow again. For on that date, Mandy became Matthew once more in earnest. And he would take up his life as a responsible man of the world, husband and toiler as part of the city's work force.

He would labor long and devoutly, bring home a hefty pay check and keep his muscular shoulder to the grindstone the entire winter. Not that he relished his job. But it was good, honest man's work. He loved playing hockey. Most men envied his lot. Imagine doing something you love for a living, they would say, not bothering to hide their envy.

And it was true. He loved the game. and best of all, it was seasonal. There was some travel involved during the season, but since the city had built that hockey arena, most of the games were scheduled right in town.

Left him valuable time to himself. Time to do the things he loved. Shooting pool, bowling on occasion, driving his sports car and spending time with Tyne.

Winters passed smoothly enough for him. And there was always summer to look forward to. That first day of June when he would climb up to his loft bedroom overlooking the whole sunken living and dining room of their fashionable town house apartment and shed his sports duds, his man's clothes for something more comfortable.

Something like a push-up black satin bra with rosettes cascading out of the cleavage panel, Or tight bikini nylon panties, cut far, far down on the hip.

And long, filmy stockings of the sheerest, finest nylon money could buy. Lightly patterned with gold or black threads running through them. And garter belts. Snappy, sizzling stretchy garter belts with haughty, swinging garter straps hooked over the nylons and riding hard down on his manly thighs "Shit!" Tyne said, veering the car to the left of the road with a wild look in her eyes, "I forgot the anchovy paste."

"I think we've got some in the pantry cabinet," Mandy said softly, patting her satin skirt down over her knee. The slit in it made it difficult to hide her thighs, but she liked sitting like a lady, even if only Tyne were the only one around.

"But you don't know for sure," the girl snapped back, "you're just guessing."

"Okay, Baby," Mandy cooed, trying to soothe the girl's wild, unpredictable temper, "I'm just guessing, but is it so important?"

"Hell, yes!" the fiery blonde shot back, "A lot you know about it."

Mandy didn't know much about it. She let Tyne plan the entertaining. She just mopped up. Before and after.

"Well, shut my mouth and call me a stupid little pickaninny," she said back to her in one of her rare acts of defiance.

"Fucking bitch queen you are today," Tyne snorted back angrily. "What's eating you as if I didn't know. You can't stand the idea of a party tonight, can you? You don't even much like the people who are coming, do you? Well, get used to the idea, Cookie, cause it's gonna come off. Even if I have to do all the work myself."

Fat chance there was of that happening. Mandy did all the work. That part of their pattern never varied. And even when there were no guests expected, Mandy served Tyne. That ungrateful, bitchy little mistress. That aggravated blonde with the mean streak that held so much power over her. So much mystifying, awesome power.

"Okay, Baby," Mandy said, moving a little closer to her on the seat, "so I'd like to get you alone. Can you blame me? I don't get you to myself much once we come out here and ... "

"God, you're selfish," Tyne said, letting her words out in sharp, angry jabs. "Can't I have a little fun once in a while without you're getting jealous? What kind of a girlfriend have I got hanging onto me, anyway?"

Mandy let her silence provide the answer. Tyne knew what kind of a girlfriend she had. One who was totally devoted to her. One who loved her, worshipped her and would go to any lengths to please. Had on several occasions.

A few more minutes and they'd be home. Then the fun could begin. She gazed dreamily onto the hot concrete highway spread out in front of her. Her thoughts wandered.

How had this thing begun? Innocently, like most things. And some days, even now, she still couldn't believe it was happening. Couldn't believe that sitting right next to her on this warm upholstered seat was the most masculine man she had ever known, ever dreamed of, playing the part of her girlfriend.

She was in her early twenties when she met Matt. Maybe twenty-one or two. She never could remember, because she constantly lied about her age. She had been an avid little skater, then. Dying to make it as a professional.

Entering all those competitions had been fun. Touring with her mom, meeting Olympic skating champions, ice show stars. Of course, it had given her a pretty good opinion of herself, but why not?

She was young, hot, nubile, perfectly muscled and shaped like a little Aphrodite. Poetry on ice, some judges had called her. She always gave them a good show during any event. Especially one where she would be judged. She managed to wear the shortest little skating skirt she could find, a flared one with real tight skater's panties.

Skating past the ice stand, she would spread her legs and fly up, up over the ice giving the guys with the clipboards something to star her about. They never failed to give a good rating. That meant she could go on to the next big competition, to Minneapolis or Los Angeles and compete in subsequent events for that season.

Her mother pushed her hard. Harder even than her coach. She wanted to make her daughter a pro all right, even if she knew she would never make the Olympics. There was a lot of money to be earned if she could get her darling daughter a star spot in an ice follies show, one that toured the country. And she had invested a lot of money, with her lessons, private coaches, travel.

Tyne had little time in her life, except for skating. Skating and men. Big, beefy heroically proportioned men were her particular favorites. She used to go to the hockey games and watch those burly hunks thunder down the ice, lash out at that insipid little puck with their cracking hockey sticks and nail their opponents against the fence whenever they felt the urge to smash somebody. She didn't like to admit it, but she got off on the violence of the game, especially when somebody got their teeth knocked out, or their face bloodied.

Inevitably, she met Matt. Matthew Davidson, one of the stars of the city hockey team. Had been a prof only a short time, but an able, exciting player nonetheless. God, he was gorgeous. Six feet plus and wiry as a diving board. Lean, trim, athletic, covered with rippling big muscles and a shock of black, curly hair that made her want to cream whenever he took off his helmet.

And those eyes, those smoldering grey pools of electricity. They always got her in the soft spot. As best she could remember, somebody introduced somebody to somebody after one of the games and she ended up talking to Matt all night in some sports bar in the center of town.

But she did remember how shy he was. Painfully shy.

"Mind if I call you?" he said, setting her down in the back seat of a taxi.

She not only didn't mind, she would have asked him to if he hadn't finally gotten around to it.

"Please," she said, blinking her catty little amber eyes back up at him.

It was to be the only time she ever said 'please' to him.

Their first date had been to, where else, a skating rink. Fun, okay it had been that, but they had gone to a public rink and attracted too much attention. Tyne never could resist showing off. She was a chronic attention-seeker.

She had even dressed for their first date to get the most attention possible from this big, sexy hunk. Tight-fitting little sweater that surrounded her ample boobs and pushed them skyward. A very form-fitting black satin skirt with a slit up so far you could see her navel on a clear day. And see-through tights. She even made sure her underwear would be perfect. She selected a demi-bra with wires running underneath to press her firm boobs into each other and out toward the fuzzy little sweater. The hottest pair of silk panties she could find in the store that day. And two drops of French perfume, in an inconspicuous place.

And she flaunted it. Flaunted it wherever they went. Walking hand in hand in the park, she swung her tight, muscular hips to and fro, to and fro, like a pendulum working double time. She felt eyes turn in on her. She wanted everybody to approve. Of her and the man she was with.

He seemed to approve. He was shy, though. He had a bit of difficulty looking her straight in the eye. Had no difficulty looking at her body. His eyes raced from her head and down to her toes thirty times that night. She counted.

"Wanna come up to my place for a drink?" he said, after the night had worn out.

She thought he'd never ask. "Sure," she said, nailing him with a toothy little grin.

"Can't skate there," he said, scratching his ear. Tyne noted that if he'd reached high enough to scratch his head, he'd bust the seam of his shirt.

"It's okay," she said, laughing at the idea, "I like to walk on carpeting once in a while. At least it doesn't melt."

"Now," Matt had said to her after they had gotten inside, "what'll you have?"

Tyne wanted to tell him right then and there that she wasn't especially interested in booze, that she would prefer him with a swizzle stick, or straight up, if that be the case.

But, she bit her tongue and sat back in the crimson sofa, "Brandy," she said watching him walk to the liquor cabinet. There was something hypnotic about his ass. The way it fitted into those pants. The way he moved it. She felt a little gurgle rise up and flood her cunt.

"I don't keep too much liquor in the house," he said, pawing through the short supply of bottles until he found the one with the European label, "hope this is okay."

They had a drink. They talked some more and Matt lit a fire in the fireplace. The place was cozy enough, but not especially colorful. Probably because he was a bachelor (thank God!) and didn't spend a lot of time in the house.

"I like this place," she lied through her teeth, "I like you, too."

That was no lie. She had liked him the first time she saw him drive his puck onto the ice. Before she even looked him up in her program or got her friend to introduce them.

"I'm glad," he said, sitting down next to her.

Again, her cunt began to drool just from being close to him. He was so massive and masculine. Not crude, exactly, but not too refined either, like a lot of men she had met. He looked and acted like he belonged in the country somewhere, fishing or hunting or hiking or raising horses.

"I don't meet a lot of girls, Tyne," he said, setting his drink down on the end table and putting his arm around her, "I know that sounds odd, being an athlete, but it's something I never seem to find time for."

"What are you saying?" Tyne winked back at him. She was giving him signals right and left and she hoped to hell they weren't being missed.

She wiggled her hips in closer and arched her back slightly. She was pretty proud of those tits of hers. Maybe they would act like the honey she needed to trap this big, cuddly fly.

"I'm saying I hope you won't be disappointed," he said, covering his mouth and clearing his throat at the same time.

"In what?" she said, snuggling in as close as she dared without sitting on his lap.

"Me," he said letting his hand relax down onto her shoulder. "I hope you won't mind if I make love like a novice."

That did it. She knew she was home free. This guy wanted her, too. That made it all the better. All the tastier. Delicious, in fact. She could relax now.

She reached up and yanked the rubber band out of her hair and let it fall, blonde and thick and bouncy, down onto her shoulders. And she let her legs flop apart a bit. To make it easier for him? To give her cunt some much-needed relief? It felt like it was about to erupt with hot lava.

"I doubt that," she said, feeling pretty sure of herself once more. Sure enough to slide her hand along the sofa seat and press it onto the man's inner thigh. It was as strong as a tree trunk and about as big around.

She weaseled her hand up high enough to feel the pulsating heat from his groin. Could be he felt the same way she did about then. Hot!

She let her drink form a wet circle on the mahogany top of the end table. She didn't need it. This guy would be all she would need for the rest of the evening. and as it turned out, for the rest of her life.

She froze her buns to the sofa seat as the big man turned and brought his face down close on hers. The stubble of his beard grazed her cheek lightly and she winced a little from the impact. It felt good. Good to be held by this gigantic man. His arms wound around her like powerful pythons and pressed her to him.

That was what she wanted, to be squeezed silly by this gentle giant. To have the guts wrung out of her and the cunt juice. The juice that was building up like water behind a dam.

"You feel good," the man said into her ear. His hot breath warmed her down to her toes.

"Same goes for you," she said back up to him, rubbing her hard, hot tits around in his chest area.

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. She wondered why the hell he needed to be so shy about everything, making that remark about not being too experienced with women. She couldn't have cared less how experienced he was, or if he had any at all. She just wanted him. Every nerve in body strained forward and told her that.

The muscular man brought one mammoth mitt up to her waist and began tracing gentle circles around her tummy. That was exciting, erotic, daring. And very sweet.

"Ohhhh," she let cut softly, in spite of herself. She had wanted to keep still. Not to let out any words that would ruin this moment.

Matt stuck his huge hand up under her sweater and aimed toward her tits. He felt the flat, hard plane of her diaphragm, the sharp, jutting rib cage and finally, the smooth, satiny globes of her hot, eager tits.

He worked his man hands up around them and stroked her nipples. They responded by bouncing up hard into the palms of his hands. He twisted them around like dials on a radio set. He felt his pecker bag tense and bounce hard against his cock. He made him glow. The whole lower half of his body felt fluorescent.

"I love your hands on me," Tyne said, letting out a smooth lung full of air. "They feel so good, so capable."

It was a line she had heard once on a soap opera on TV, but what the hell.

This was an important moment and she couldn't afford to screw it up with any stupid stuff. She would have to go for the jugular.

Matt wound his powerful hands around her tit spheres and kneaded them this way and that. He wanted to rip her clothes off right then and there and fuck the stuffing out of her, but he thought it best to move slowly. He hadn't had much experience with women. They had always frightened him a little, but he did respect them.

He loved the way they moved and he especially liked the way they dressed. He watched with longing whenever one of them dressed or undressed. Those lovely, silken under things. The way they hugged and clung to their bodies, accentuating, altering their shape. The way that filmy, gauzy stuff felt against his skin whenever he touched them. It was pretty awesome. Overwhelming.

He felt the satiny stuff of her bra under his hand as he pushed her cups out of the way to get a better grip of her tits. It felt so gentle, so personal rubbing against the back of his hairy hand.

Again, his pecker tugged at his shorts, careened toward his pant leg. It hurt a little, but the pain was splendid.

Tyne could feel the savage little interloper craning down his leg, inching closer and closer to her hand. Her hot, eager hand. She had to repulse the urge to reach down and grab his cock and rip it out of his pants, but she didn't want to seem too man-hungry. Even though she was.

"Touch me," he urged at last, not wanting to wait any longer.

Tyne patted his fat cock stick, just at the tip, through the forbidding wool of his pants. Then, she reached for his belt buckle. She hoped that wouldn't make her look like an aggressive bitch, which men had told her she was, on several occasions. But she was getting too excited to wait for him to do it. And once he had made the invitation, well, what the hell.

She got his buckle loose with little trouble. Next, she made for the top button of his tight woolen pants. He had to raise his hips up a little to make room for her to open it, but she did it mostly herself. She had the idea in the back of her head to pull his pants all the way down, but somehow, in her excitement, she couldn't remember what she was supposed to be doing and forgot herself completely. That's when she reached in and grabbed his tool with her anxious, fluttering hands. Reached right in and gripped his mighty oak tree and hauled it out for inspection.

"Take it easy," Matt said under his breath.

She hoped he wouldn't think her coarse, or too hot for her own panties. Which she was, she definitely was. She made an effort to slow down, but that was proving rough going what with him sitting there with his cock in her hand.

She couldn't restrain herself from looking at it. It invited a studied examination. Such a swarthy, inviting long fuck stick. With those walloping big balls tucked up underneath it. The massive, round head was bobbing at her, beckoning her nearer.

Matt drew a sharp breath in through his closed teeth as the girl fondled his prick. Those warm, soft silky hands of hers encircling it and pushing it around, so determined, so spirited a girl was this one. And such a looker! A natural blonde. The kind of girl he had always dreamed of holding. Dreamed of having her hold his cock and admire it, the way this girl was doing now.

"I gotta say it," she sighed, unable to keep it down a moment longer, "you've got a beautiful cock."

"Thanks," he said, "that's decent of you."

Tyne lowered herself down over it and looked into the slit. It was filling up with a little drizzle of clear, juicy pre-cum. It must have liked to be touched as much as she liked touching it. God, how she wanted to wrap her hot little lips around this thick meat loaf. To suck it to shreds, to suck the life out of it. To give it life with her mouth. To pump energy from it. To slobber all over it.

Then, she felt the big man's mighty hands making their way up under her skirt. It wasn't difficult, with that slit there. He found the edge of her nylon panties and toyed with them for what seemed like an especially long time.

"That feels great," the hunk said down to her in his deep, base voice, "I love touching it."

She wasn't sure what he meant, since he hadn't reached her pussy yet, but she had to agree that whatever he was doing felt great. Just great.

Matt diddled with the girl's panty legs. Felt the smooth silky material against his massive palm. His gorilla strong hand. How it loved the feel of silken nylon against its extended palm. How it groped for it, magnetized.

Tyne nudged his huge man dick around a little under her hand. She felt the throbbing vein on the underside pulsate hard, harder, against her hand. She wanted to get down there and watch it, but he would get the wrong idea. Or an idea she didn't want him to get yet. She was curious.

The thing was jutting, banging, slamming against her hand. She wasn't doing much, just anchoring it there. This guy's cock had a life of its own!

"What can I do?" she asked, demanding advice, guidance, direction.

"I was about to ask you that," Matt answered, trying to control his heavy breathing.

"Let me take this off," she said, sliding around in a position where she could master her zipper and get out of the rather cumbersome skirt.

Matt helped her slip out of it and eyed her precious pink bikini panties. He saw the little dark spot in the crotch and put his big man's hand over it. He dabbed it lightly and brought it to his face, sniffing it with his eyes closed.

"Smells fine," he said, confidently. His cock picked up a little more steam under Tyne's guidance and aimed its head due north.

He pressed his whole palm down onto her crotch again. The live, steamy heat from her pussy rose up into his hand, warming it. The touch of the nylon under him stiffened his dick still more and he edged in closer.

"I want to fuck you," he said, knowing that might sound sudden, but he couldn't help it. "And I have a request."

"Anything," Tyne said, roused from the heat of her passion. She meant it by this time. "Leave these on," he said simply. He snapped the waistband of her bikini panties to punctuate his words.

"Sure, but how will we ... "

He broke her thoughts off with his breath, insisting it down into her ear along with his smooth, confident words.

"Leave it to me."

Tyne lay back and gripped the bottom of her sweater. She lifted it up over her head and exposed her high, full breasts above the bra she still wore.

"You want me to leave this on, too?" she asked, figuring the guy knew what he wanted, so what was it to her?

"Yeah," he said, looking up at the delicious tits popping over the beautiful lacy bra cups. "Your stockings, too."

Tyne had never had such a request. Most Joe's just wanted her to get naked as fast as she could and screw the life out of her. Wham. Bam ... thank you Ma'am. But this guy was different. Different and deliberate. He made sex fun. It was going to be fun to make it with him.

She let her legs fall apart a little and sat up to watch him effect penetration. That was one of her favorite moments. The moment of contact between the man's round, brown dome and her open, willing pink gash. But how the hell was he going to penetrate her unless he took her panties off. She didn't have to wait long for the answer.

The thick, muscular man yanked her panty leg up, up over her downy little pussy mound. That tight little Venus crest with its moist blondish hairs, growing out at every angle. She felt a little breeze stir her bush and looked down to see it exposed to his sight.

"Oh, God," she said, as he pushed the tip of his cock onto her quivering hot pussy lips. "That is just about sensational. No, I take it back, it is sensational."

Matt couldn't answer with words. Instead, he shoved his cock up hard inside her. Hard inside the gripping, weeping hole. He felt the band of elastic press into his cock shaft as he drew it out a little only to push it in again.

He brought his huge man hands up to her tits and fondled them as he plugged her savagely. He let the elastic of her panties alone to do its thing. And it did.

It gnawed his prick flesh. It bit into his throbbing big dick and chafed him as he pumped his cock in and out of that little girl's blonde fringed hole.

Her muscular control proved a revelation to him. She was working along with him to effect the tightest fuck he had ever had in his life. Not to mention the wettest. Her cunt was absolutely flowing juice. His cock was engulfed in it He patted the silky smooth panties with his hand as he continued to fuck her to the accompaniment of her startled cries.

"Screw me, Matt."

"Don't stop."

"I'm gonna come."

"You're making me come."

"Fuck me."

"Fuck my hole."

"Oh, God, I'm coming."

She did, too. She tossed her hips mightily up into the air and banged them down into the sofa. She let out a wild cry and hurled her head forward as she shot her juice. Shot her exquisite bountiful come juice out her pussy in thick, oozing drops.

Matt hung on as long as he could. Hung on to his hard on with all his might. But the sight of her hard tits bouncing like jelly, the feel of her tight, juiced up pussy gripping at his pounding cock, the feel of those silken little under things against his hand. Those tiny weightless panties, crushing his mighty powerful athlete's hand. Those things proved too much for him.

"Hold on," he instructed her.

Tyne dug her nails into his back as he lifted his hips a moment before slamming down into her hot, throbbing cunt. He slammed. She pounded her fists on his back in the exquisite pain of yet another orgasm.

He ground his cock into her fiery tight pit, that juiced up little socket that was eating him alive. He thumped his hips hard against hers and shot. Shot his load of man come. Tossed up his wad of white, thick jism. It spewed out of his cock tip like a hot geyser.

Tyne felt it shoot. Felt it fill her belly to brim full. And she saw his eyes, staring down at the place of entry, now the place of orgasm.

"Oh, no," she shouted as she plunged off into her third and final climax. "I don't believe it. I'm coming again."

It was a record for her. A first. She had never come this many times in this short of time with a man. Ever. She grabbed the beefy shoulders and pulled her down to him.

Matt gripped her slender arms and pulled her up to him. His still rock hard cock was showing no signs of diminishing. He kept it inside her cunt and let the savage little elastic band burn into his man meat.

The two pressed their bodies together, held onto each other in safety and comfort and surprise. It had been an effective coupling. Delicious. Full of unexpected pleasure.

"You like me to keep my undies on, huh?" Tyne had asked him later. "How come?"

"I like the way they feel on you," he said back, not at all self-conscious about being asked. No wonder. A guy this good had to be pretty sure of his masculinity. "I like the way they feel next to me."

Matt got up and walked to his closet. "But I don't ask every girl to keep her underwear on, the few that I've had."

"Why not?" Tyne shot back, admiring his body as he pulled off his shirt and pants.

"I'm just not always comfortable asking for what I want from a woman," he said, reaching inside and grabbing a velour robe off the hook in the closet.

"You should be, Matt," she said, a little vapor of steam rising from her well-fucked cunt.

"Thanks," he said, slipping the thing on his powerful shoulders.

"I mean it. You've got everything a girl could ask for going for you. And if there's something different or unusual that you want when you're making it with me, I want you to ask for it."

Matt turned to her with a luminous glow in his eyes. He tied the sash around his robe and walked slowly over to where she was sitting.

"There is one thing," he said, "something I've wanted to try, you know, experiment with. I've never asked anybody before, I feel kind of strange."

He was feeling strange. For one thing, his cock was on the march again. And that was unusual. It usually didn't start acting like this for at least twenty minutes after he had fucked someone.

"I got no problems in this arena, Matt," the blonde tigress purred back, "I even like things a little, you know, strange, sometimes."

"I think you do," the black-haired hunk shot back, "I think you mean it and I'm gonna tell you what I want."

"Okay," Tyne said, adjusting herself on the sofa and listening good.

"I'd like to get into your pants," he said brightly.

"Didn't we just do that?" she said, wondering if he was teasing her. She usually preferred to do the teasing.

"I mean I wanna wear them," he said back to her, bringing his hard, muscle-bound athlete's butt down onto the sofa. And the big, solid piece of crimson-covered furniture damned near cracked under his weight as he did.