Chapter 10

Just before noon on Friday a huge semitrailer set out from Crescent Valley to make the long pull up the hill to Silver Tip. It was loaded with beer and detergents among other things. The driver, inexperienced with handling a big rig on mountain roads, failed to negotiate the curve at Devil's bridge where the road starts up the long climb. He slewed his huge vehicle across the road, spilling beer and foaming detergent all over the landscape when the rear door popped open.

The resulting mess struck awe in the people from the Highway Department, the Sheriff's office and curious townspeople who came out to look. The head from the broken bottles of beer quickly vanished, but the vast sea of bubbles from the detergents, augmented by the beery liquid, created an astonishing foam ocean that stimulated olfactory senses and offered a major cleanup problem.

The road was closed for the weekend. After all, Silver Tip could be reached by a steeper, shorter route from the other side of Sex Mountain. The accident, therefore, closed Mountain Rest; for no one could come up from Crescent Valley until the mess was gone. That would be Sunday night, the Sheriff's office told Calvin by phone. The closure also meant no business would come down from Silver Tip, since it was impossible to get through to Crescent Valley from that direction.

"What do we do?" asked Amy. She was used to the road being closed occasionally in the three winter months, but never in her experience had it been closed in September.

"We close up," said Calvin. "You can do what you want. Me-I'll be down at old Nickerson's cabin."

Amy spent a lonely afternoon at Mountain Rest, reassessing her situation with Calvin. She felt it was time to pull in her horns. It had been a fantastic week, with her new sex experiences with Chris, Tim and the two women, but now more cautious attitudes began to dominate her.

Calvin was her chosen mate. He had weaknesses, to be sure and she'd let him drift off to that waitress, followed by her own adulterous sex acts out of frustration. But what was the long range effect of affairs with men like Chris and Tim? One was a modern day irresponsible hobo, the other a man of the city about to be married. A lover was but for the passionate moment, but a husband was forever.

When Calvin came back that Friday night, she made him a good dinner and then later joined him in their own apartment next to the restaurant.

Calvin was in an ugly mood, frustrated by his fruitless search and belligerent. He answered her questions in grunts and proceeded to shoulder her aside as he dug some suitcases out of his closet.

"Calvin, what's up?"

"I'm packing to get out, that's what's up. Find the money, don't find the money, Sunday I'm leaving.

"You're leaving... me?"

He looked at her, his dark eyes brooding. "Has to be, Amy. I've had it up to here with Sex Mountain. You're the greatest looking woman I ever met, but I can't satisfy you, I can't make any money here and it's too damn isolated."

She wasn't as surprised as she thought she'd be. Maybe she'd unconsciously sensed his restlessness.

"Calvin, that's pretty rough."

He sighed. "Let's face it, kid. I was made for the city. A different way of life. A different kind of woman. You're smarter than me, you like more sex than I can give and you love the country here. Me, I'm just a ball-bearing mechanic who likes a cold beer, a quick fuck and a good poker game. Hell, I haven't played poker for a year or more."

"You mean you want a divorce?"

He looked like a small boy who'd psyched himself up for a tough session with his mother. "That's going pretty far. What I thought, I go get me a job back in the city. Try it out on my own for a few months."

"And what happens to me?"

"There's seventy-five or ninety guys in these hills that are dying for a smile from you, with your looks. Like that Highway Patrolman. Like that young minister in Silver Tip. Or that rancher, always stops for coffee. You could think it over, too."

"Calvin... we're married." She felt a small, wild thrill in her breast. Her man was pulling out on her and she didn't intend to let him walk out with just a few words. She began to unbutton her white, tight-fitting uniform that she'd worn despite no business.

"No, Amy, I've made up my mind," he said, weakly.

"I think I want to suck your cock," she said. "Then we can talk about it."

Calvin lay naked on the bed, his thick cock in her hand. She would jack him off until he strained stiff. Then she'd cap his cock head with her mouth until he whimpered "Hah!" and then release him until she felt the first softening of his blade. She knew it was extremely sensual to the man, drawing out his suck like this. She lay alongside of him so he could tongue her belly, her muff and snuggle his mouth between her thighs to suck her cunt as he wished.

Amy was getting hot. Usually her strong drive whipped her to fuck-fury with him, riding over his needs, but now she held back, teasing, controlling her own eagerness. She was proud of her sexual power over him. He might fail as a strong lover, but he never resisted the challenge.

"Oh, baby, that's great! That's so sexy-hot!" he murmured.

He wants service, thought Amy. He doesn't like to aggress. I do like to aggress. What's wrong with that? She ran her tongue down his blade; she laved his balls gently with her mouth.

"Hah!" went Calvin. His cock gave sullen, deep-gut throbs of anticipation.

"Hold your biscuits, sonny." She laughed. "I'm going to build you till you scream for the suck-blast."

"Jesus, you can suck when you want to! Jesus, you're beautiful!"

He dived for her cunt and his tongue found her clitoris. She let him take her in a light orgasm, tightening her legs to let him feel his sex power over her.

"Ah, Calvin, oh, your big, masterful prick!" A prick was a God-given wonder tool, she thought, clinging to his hot meat. A remarkable muscle that made her body sing, made babbies, made his presence in the world real and powerful.

"Suck! Suck!" he cried.

She sucked, but she restrained him, digging her thumb into the tight sex meat as she'd read somewhere in a book or article. That pressure eased off his throw desire and they used it for men with hard-on endurance problems. Funny, she'd never before set her mind to really understanding and satisfying this huge prick.

"Calvin, you've got an incredible prick," she said. "It's better than a college diploma or money in the bank. I'm lucky to have this cunt-master between your legs. My cock! My prick! I adore it!"

"Hah... hoo!"

He strained up, tensed for a wonderful spill, but she dug her thumb in and held him back until she felt him drop off. He looked a little dazed now. The cock was almost purple from the congested blood and the little hole was wide and produced copious crystal preseminal fluid. She smeared the silken stuff all over his cock head, then licked it off, feeling her own sex desire maddened by the sight of his fuck desire.

"Oh, God, I got to go! I got to, Amy!"

She reached out and picked up her sheer, see-through panties and masturbated him with the soft material.

"Uuuuuu, that's weird!" he cried in delight.

She slid down his body to his feet and took his toes in her mouth. She knew how sensitive his feet were. Her submissive worship act almost spilled his cookies "Oh, Christ, Amy, Oh... Jesus!"

She scurried up as fast as she could, tossed aside the panties just as his belly locked and he strained up, his eyes as big as saucers.

"Oh... WHAT A SUUUUUUCCCCK!" he cried.

She capped his trembling cock with her mouth. "Ah... oh!" he went and his miniature volcano spewed forth. God, what rich creamy spurts he tossed! His lifestuff, his masculinity, pumping off, blasting, his guts wonder-filled to ecstatic pleasure, teased and sucked to his maddening climax. Wham, wham, wham!

What more could a woman want? This cock was her destiny, her master and it was up to her to adjust to him, not the other way around. Her cunt still hungered and she almost came as she drank his hot pleasure throbs, thrilled by the amount and the power of his spasms. She doubted anyone had ever managed a suck for him so well.

Then he eased off, his cock red with her saliva, emptied, satisfied and gave a huge sigh. "That, Amy, was one helluva mighty suck!"

"Show you something else." She laughed. "Look how stiff your prick still is. It's like a teen prick, it stays locked after the horses gallop for a while."

"Yeah, used to embarrass me after a jack-off, still hard for a while."

"After a few moments, not too sensitive, still hard."

"Right."

She mounted his emptied but stiff prick. "You see, Calvin, you don't have to take me before you come. Not if you don't want to."

And she fucked herself off on his stiffness in smooth pumping strokes. She was so hot that a couple of dozen made her gasp and lock. "Ohhhh, Calvinnnnn!" she whined. Her cunt paid off in deep-gut throbs, thoroughly mastered by the already empty cock. Then she lay on him, smiling at him, his cock in her cunt just now beginning to soften.

"We really haven't learned all the possibilities of sex, dear husband."

"You can say that again. Boy! I brought the hell out of you with my stiff prick after you sucked me dry."

"Cock power, Calvin. You're the greatest."

Calvin, she was pleased to note, showed no further interest in packing. He wanted to rest up for the next round.

In their room in the big house, Lydia felt Tim's cock harden as he gave her the enema. Being in the mountains always bound her up and when she'd told Tim she had to have an enema, he offered to help and she let him.

Now her gut was filled with water from the syringe and it hurt her, trying to hold it all in. But she was prepared for this. For her the enema was a necessary release for her occasional constipation. For Tim, it was her punishment.

He'd jawed her relentlessly about her running away yesterday with Chris. Wouldn't have sex with her last night. Spent all day today at the cabin looking for that money. But she knew he couldn't resist fooling with her ass hole. And when her rear chamber was pure and pink and clean, she had no doubt he would grease his cock and cornhole her and it would hurt like fury.

On the other hand, if she were ever to escape her nymphomania, she'd have to please this man, her lover, her fianc', her true one. Now she detested her sexual excesses of the week. That Calvin had really raped her and then, weak from that, she'd let herself be girl-fucked by the good-looking waitress.

Then Chris and his sex games had fascinated her and she'd had a wild, irresponsible time. But you didn't marry a hopeless drifter like Chris and you certainly didn't get involved with a low life like Calvin, not to mention a married man, if you wanted to be the successful wife of a wealthy man.

So what if Tim liked to fuck her in her butt once in a while? Her buttocks and hole were as much a part of her as her face or elbows and it proved he loved her. It wasn't every man that loved you enough to cherish your bathroom parts. She could adjust to this. A couple of times a week never ruined anybody's sphincter, she knew that. Give him that, he'd give her the world, plenty of fucking and sucking, anything she wanted, if he could have his backass thing once in a while.

God, the water in her gut hurt! Pure fire raced across her abdomen. She wasn't going to be able to stand much more.

"I'm cleaning you out good," said Tim. "Not only from your constipation, but for fucking around with other guys when we're engaged."

"All we did was a little oral," she protested, lying. "My cunt belongs to you, Tim. I'll never let another man put it in there."

Tim was pretty sure she was lying, but you never knew about women. Lydia had this wild streak and it was a good idea to sit on her once in a while-hard. Give her this enema until she broke out in a cold sweat and maybe even ream her sexy bottom. She didn't like that. That would make her think twice about screwing around.

"Chris," she moaned. "Chris, I can't stand anymore!"

He dug the syringe deeper into her gut. Oh, Jesus! she thought, her mind appalled at what she'd done. She was shocked to horror. I called him Chris! Oh, Jesus, God, the one thing you never do is call the wrong name of a lover. Oh, Jesus help me!

"I just made my decision," said Tim. "We aren't engaged any more. Your slip of the tongue tells me where you're at. But I'm going to finish this enema and then ream your ass good, because you deserve it."

Lydia began to cry in her pain and shame. "Oh, Tim, Oh my God, Tim what have I done?"

"Lost a husband," he grunted. "That guy fucked your brains out, sucked you and probably took your ass. I'd be crazy to marry a woman that turns on like that for another guy."

"Tim, you don't understand, Tim! Kill me, murder my vicious horrible self. Cut out my tongue. If I can't have our marriage, I want to die! Just die! Oh, Tim, fuck my ass! Please, please fuck my ass! Oh, Tim I want to give you my anus!"

He slapped her instead, as he held her down. "You're a worthless whore, Lydia! To think I was going to give up my favorite letch just to please you, just to marry you. Boy, did I find out just in time!"

"Timmmm!" she whined, seeping. Now her stomach and intestines were a swelling pain balloon and the agony was incredible. "Oh, Tim, please- my guts! I... I... can't... hold... "

"Tighten your ass hole, cunt!" he snapped and pulled out the syringe to go for more warm water. The swift action almost made her lose control and burst on the bed, but by gritting her teeth she mastered the agonizing load he'd forced into her.

Now he held her down on the bed with her rear up, the syringe in and him stroking under her belly to get more water in. She felt a burn of sex from his hand that sometimes touched her cunt. All that impossible pain in her rear end and the pressure making her cunt wet up and glow. Oh, oh!

Her forehead sweated with pain. "Oh, Timmm, baby, I'mmm afraid... you'll... I get... permanent damage... " All her insides were distended by the awesome load he'd forced up her butt. "Oh, Tim... "

"Take it, whore bitch!"

She pulled back her head like a horse crazed by a vicious whip. "NO... OH, GOD! OH, MY GOD!"

He got the message then and rushed her to the bathroom. Her explosion was humiliating and incredible. She didn't know whether or not he stayed to watch. She just let it all go with enormous animal grunts, huge relieving gushes that cleaned her out. After it was over she felt good, she'd never felt so good! She felt cleaned out and sparkling, from her navel to her knees. After the fullness-pain, the relief was enough to make her laugh in uncontrollable, half-mad giggles and shiver. Her cunt glowed with pleasure. She felt creamy and high and almost came by simply rubbing her legs together. At last, feeling great, she cleaned everything up, took a shower and then marched slowly back into the bedroom where Tim lay naked on the bed.

Tim's cock, shining with grease, jutted up from his belly. She got on the bed beside him, canted her hips up high, spread her legs to open her parts for him and got a pillow well under her hips. His cock now had direct access to the pinkest, cleanest rear end in the Western United States. But to her surprise he said "No." He eased down her hips and fucked into her cunt instead. The grease helped because her cunt was only mildly self-oiled. She gasped in pleasure as the cock rode over her clit and forced her vagina open.

"I'll show you I can outcock any young hippie punk," he growled. And he began to fuck her in earnest. Surprising waves of hot sexuality swept up her. He'd never fucked her before in anger, used her so peremptorily, pumping his cock into her like She was something to be used. She still felt a mild after pain in her rectum and the pleasure his hot cock whipped up in her over that pain was doubly delicious!

"Oh, Tim, that's so good!"

"I feel good, too, fucking a garbage can."

She swept up, grabbing his body, "Fuck, fuck, fuck your garbage can!" she cried, suddenly delighted in her lowly status. "Slam my rotten guts with your cock!" God, she was hot!

"I'm a low down hunk of sh-shit!" she whimpered and then she began to laugh. The laughs turned to sobs as the emotions raced across her in a kind of hysteria. Oh, the cock burned deeply and good, like a surgeon's knife cutting out the rot and she rose and rose towards purity.

"Oh, Tim, you're a real maaa-maaaa... "

"Baa like a sheep!" he hurled at her. "Talk animal, animal!"

"Oh, God, I'm c-coming!"

She began to strain up. Her guts twisted in on themselves like a coiled spring and then she spent with a fierce run of throbs that were high ecstasy. As soon as he felt her give in to his fuck, he calmly stopped, locked and she felt his spurts leap into her cunt, so marvelous was his control. Juicing off in her like she was a pisspot.

"Ah, uh, uh!" he groaned as his hot stuff seared into her cunt.

"I always thought you were a lady, high class," he said. "You're nothing but a good-looking turd."

She was so hot she thought she was going to come again.

"Oh, Tim!" she cried. "Piss on me! Beat me! I'm a worthless girl shit, rotten all through! I've fucked all kinds of guys, done weird things!"

He looked at her in surprise, glowering. Then he began to smile and then laugh. "Why you beautiful little devil!" he said. "You like it rough and you so ladylike I've played you tender all this time. Now I'm going to tie you up and beat the hell out of you with my belt!"

"Oh, please don't!"

She rammed her finger up her cunt and rocked on it, obviously thrilled to ecstasy at his new discovery about her. She'd won him back, she knew. She'd won him and she'd have him, as she had to have him, she the victor by admitting her rottenness and begging hot, sexy punishment...

"So you think you're going to pull out on me?"

Tippy gasped and surged against the naked Chris. The slick oil made him gleam like a statue come to life. Her own body was covered with warm, scented oil and it was so sexy, their bodies sucking together in the oil fuck, that she could hardly speak. Her cunt was steaming hot.

"I just thought I'd... I'd... "

They were in Old Nickerson's cabin, on the floor of the kitchen on a piece of canvas Chris had rigged.

He'd heated some cooking oil on the stove, scented it and then smeared it all over her. Then he played with her until he himself dripped with the golden ooze. When he slid on top of her the normal body suction of the two coming together was grossly accentuated. The endless sliding, oozing feeling was incredibly sexy, like a bucketful of cunt oil thrown on her.

He pinched her cheeks pulled her mouth open and gave her a taste of his oiled cock. "You leave when l say leave, you stay when I say stay," he told her.

Then he pulled her legs apart and slid his cock part way into her cunt. It was exquisite, because the oil made his cock so slippery he could get it in and out easily no matter how tight she was. He held his own weight up, hardly touching her, just his cock prodding about three inches in, sliiiiidddding over her thrilled clit.

"Oh, Chris, oh God, that's sexy!"

"It doesn't hurt now, does it, Tippy baby? With all that oil, I can just... "

He slid in and out of her easily, teasing her with his fuck, a weird feeling.

"Now, Chris now, now!" She was panting, trying to hold the cock and guide it into her cunt, but the big, hard muscle was so slippery she couldn't hold it and get it in her.

"Sure you want it, sugar?" he called, delighted at her wiggles.

"I want fuck, goddamit!" she cried, getting a little mad.

"No, you want suck!"

He suddenly pulled her slim body out from under him and before she could react, his big cock was in her mouth, tasting like cooking oil. He lowered his body and they slid against each other slowly, in oiled ecstasy, their bodies making astonishingly loud suck sounds.

"Christ on toast!" she gasped. She was at her come point and he wouldn't let her have relief. She tried to get her own hand between her legs to jack herself off but he wouldn't allow that. She tried to suck his cock, but he laughed and took it waay.

As she begged for it, he relented and deeliiiiight-fully oozed back up into her. She tried to grasp his hips with her arms but they kept slipping. Oh, the wonder of that deep, plunging cock, taking her up! She locked her legs over his hips to force the prick in deeper, but her legs slid down on the oil and he pulled back.

"SHIT! Chris, oh Chris!" she moaned.

He took it out of her and she fell off orgasm hill again. Now he seized her loins and forced his fingers into her gash. Two, three, four. Ah, God it felt exquisite, his fingers pistoning her fuck-crazy belly. "Uh, uh, uh, uh!" she went as he played her like an instrument. Wild streaks of pleasure tore her apart.

"Go, baby!"

"Ahhhhh... "

Then he stopped, pulled back completely.

"Oh, Chris. NO." Her cunt absolutely ached for cock domination and fulfillment. She slid on her back across the tarp panting, seeking him.

This time he didn't try to escape, just hung there on his hands and knees, let her scoot under him, let her lift her loins, open her legs, aim at his prick. With a sob of relief, she worked her cunt up to his cock, bent it down, gave a sex-hungry thrust...

Oh, thank God! His solid golden cock rammed hard and strong deep into her cunt, riding the clit with mastering strokes while her belly thrilled. And he drilled her, drilled her with his prick, riding her off with cool, determined, satisfying action.

"MMMMMM WOW!" she went and locked and spent furiously, achingly and satisfyingly around the sliding cock. She felt his first burst as her own belly triggered. Throb, throb, throb, wonderful rich, lustful squeezings on his dong to get herself off, heated by his spasmodic spends, oiled by his man cream.

"Take it, take it!" he growled in spurting satisfaction. She took all of it in wild delight and then slid off him, relaxed in the splendor of her after-fuck.

"You're crazy!" She laughed in relief and happiness.

"I own you," he said. "You're my bird for getting off my crazies." And he hugged her and kissed her and she knew suddenly that she wouldn't be leaving Sex Mountain after all.