Chapter 3
Every time Lydia Clark went to Silver Tip, her brother-in-law fucked her. She especially didn't want to go to Silver Tip on this trip, but her fianc', Tim Hathaway, insisted.
"We're going to get married at your sister's in Silver Tip up on Sex Mountain," he told her. "I'm sick of the city, of ten years of the wild hassle. We're going to have a mountain honeymoon and start our marriage in relaxed pleasure."
She could imagine the problems this entailed. She begged Tim to get married at some Justice of the Peace along the way. They had the license, everything. If she showed up on Silver Tip already married and on her honeymoon, Roger would lay off. Maybe. But the best thing would be not to go to Silver Tip at all. On her last visit her sister had somehow suspected that Roger sneaked into her bedroom late at night.
She couldn't afford to resist Roger; she owed him ten thousand dollars and he was pressing her. She couldn't afford to let her fianc', Tim, know that she wasn't rich, that she owed money and that she'd had an affair with Roger. Silver Tip could be a disaster instead of the beginning of a beautiful new marriage.
That was why she let all the water out of the radiator of her Cadillac when they stopped for dinner at Crescent Valley.
Just before that she'd made her last plea. "Tim, why don't we stay here in this little town tonight. Just us... in a nice motel."
She had worn her green velvet dress with the slit along the side that showed plenty of silken girl curves and had managed to loosen the laces at the neck of the dress. She also wore her fur coat. Tim's eyes gleamed. When she wore that dress and her coat he liked to strip himself naked and play with her fully dressed, rubbing his cock first on the sexy fur and then along the soft velvet, sensing the smoothness of her warm beauty in her clothes.
By the time he got her down to the buff her dress and under things were always streaked with his copious preseminal fluid, because Tim Hathaway had a very juicy, hungry cock.
Already she felt a warmth in her belly. She was marrying one of the sexiest cocksmen in the state, as well as a rich man!
But he resisted strongly. "It's only twenty-five miles up the pike on Sexton Mountain. I want to push on through."
She didn't know it, but he had another matter on his mind. Old Nickerson who lived in a cabin up on the mountain. He'd picked up a rumor that the old man was dead. If this were true, there was a chance-it was a wild gamble-that Tim could pull himself out of a deep black financial well into which he'd tumbled. Lydia thought him well off, but he wasn't any longer. There was her money, of course-she had lots of it-but it went against his grain to have to fall back on her wealth.
Despite the sex excitement she'd raised in his loins he was crazy to get up on the mountain and check out Nickerson as soon as possible.
In the few seconds alone she'd had, Lydia had not been able to quite empty the car radiator. Instead of stalling just outside Crescent Valley they'd gone almost twenty miles up towards Silver Tip before the engine steamed and Tim lost power.
"We've bought it," he grouched. "I'm going to have to pull off the road, cool the engine and get some more water from that stream I hear."
"There's a roadside place up ahead," she said. "Mountain Rest, I think it's called. It has a garage as well as restaurant."
"Don't count on it," he said. "They won't be open now. It's after eight o'clock and that's midnight, mountain time. You know these country places."
"They'll be open. They keep funny hours." It'd been more than two years since she'd stopped there last, but she knew how little things changed on Sex Mountain.
She was right. When they limped into the clearing, both the restaurant and the garage were still open. Only instead of the middle-aged couple she remembered, there was a pretty young woman and a youngish, grease-stained mechanic on duty.
Mountain Rest was hardly more than a break in the road. There was a massive old house in the rear and a long stucco front building with the restaurant on one side, the garage on the other.
"What a great place to get away from it all!" said Tim in sudden enthusiasm. "I'd sure like to leave the city and find a place like this."
Her eye fell on a neon sign she hadn't remembered: "Rooms for Rent."
"We can try it out tonight," she said. "We can stop here for the night." It was at least five miles short of Silver Tip and a layover might help her immensely. At least they'd arrive during the daylight when Roger was away at his real estate office. At night Roger drank and he was likely to shoot off at the mouth before she could stop him. If she could catch him on the phone at his office and tell him the ten thousand was practically in his pocket, she had a chance to bring the mountain wedding off. She'd be able to handle her sister better, too, with Roger away.
Tim started talking to the mechanic while Lydia went inside the restaurant for a coffee. Tim's grunt had probably meant "no," but Lydia meant to keep them away from Silver Tip that night at all costs.
Tim came in almost immediately, beaming. "No big problem. Some joker in Crescent Valley merely robbed us of water. The radiator's okay."
"Tim, please, it's only ten dollars to rent a wonderful room here for the night. Miss-Mrs.-Amy here-tells me it's old-fashioned featherbed sleeping."
"No way," said Tim. "We've got to push on." Then his eyes fell on Amy Forbes in her tight-fitting white nylon uniform. To Lydia's annoyance, his eyes gleamed. "Of course we could stay and have a drink." He waved at the small bar section. "Another half hour isn't that important."
For once, if she'd known, Lydia's twinge of jealousy was unfounded. Tim was thinking that this country waitress was probably a gold mine of information about Sex Mountain and he could pump her about Old Nickerson.
Lydia excused herself to make a phone call at the public booth outside the place. "I'll just call my sister," she muttered and dived out into the cold mountain air. She had no intention of calling. She was determined to go no further than Mountain Rest tonight. Unobserved, she slipped over to her Cadillac and once again opened the valve at the bottom of the radiator. She wished she knew another way to sabotage the car, but she didn't.
She stood up-there was the mechanic, staring at her in an odd fashion.
"I been watching you and I know you," he said. "Your name's Lydia Clark."
Lydia was as shocked as if a Martian green man from a flying saucer had called her by name. He was medium height, dark and intense looking. He wore scruffy clothes and there were grease stains on his hands and face. She was sure she didn't know him.
"Three years ago-Simmons Garage in Oakdale. You know, the city suburb," he said. "I worked there a while. Bet I even worked on this same goddam car.
Lydia felt herself blushing in the dark. Memories of the time of her divorce three years ago were not the kind she wanted to revive. Or memories of Simmons Garage. She'd known a few of the mechanics there too well. But not this one, she was sure. "I'm Lydia Clark," she admitted. "I still live in Oakdale, but I don't trade at Simmons and haven't for a long time."
"Too bad." He grinned. "They always gave top service."
She rushed on. "My fianc' and I-his name is Tim Hathaway-are headed for Silver Tip to be married-"
"Be slow going," he interrupted. "Looks like your radiator has a girl leak, lady trouble."
Damn! He'd seen her. "I... wanted to get my fianc' to stay here for the night," she stammered. "Tim won't listen. I find your place so attractive... woodsy."
"It's about as fucking woodsy as anything ever gets," he said. "I'm Calvin Forbes, Lydia."
She saw him stare at her in appreciation and she was aware of the soft folds of her velvet dress under her fur coat. Surely he'd worked at Simmons; he had the look: aggressive, forward young man. She resented his bold look and his familiar use of her name. Unconsciously she closed her coat.
"Well, yes-woodsy," she stumbled, feeling the stab of a possible headache. She'd never been quick with clever retorts.
"You want to cripple the Caddy, I got better ways," said Calvin and he narrowed his eyes in a cynical look. She saw her chance then. The man was greedy to get both the room rental and more charges to work on the car. Plus a tow, even.
She glanced at the restaurant and saw Tim at the bar, deep in conversation with the waitress. He was oblivious to what went on outside there.
She reached inside her purse and got out a ten dollar bill. God, how she hated to part with the money. But it guaranteed the delay.
"Yes, I'd appreciate your help," she said.
He grabbed the bill. "Just like the old days in Oakdale, huh, Lydia? Just keep your boyfriend busy for about five minutes... "
Things worked out fine after that. Calvin did whatever he did and when Tim had finished his drink they started rolling up the road again, but she knew it wouldn't be for long. Meanwhile, she could relax. A silver moon sat on the crest of Sex Mountain and bathed the trees in an almost eerie silver light. Lydia began to feel good, snuggling to Tim and he began to stroke her thighs. To Lydia, strong fingers stroking and digging into her thighs was as sexually exciting as nipple manipulation to most women. The warm hand sliding, the fingers digging into her muscles, gave her a sexual glow. After they were towed back to Mountain Rest, she was going to give Tim the ride of his life to make up for her sabotage.
"What're you smiling about?" Tim asked.
She looked at his elegant profile and sighed, loving him; she said: "I'm so happy! In love with and about to marry the most handsome, virile man in the state."
"Honey, we'll make a great team!"
Her looks, he thought, her class, and of course her money. He felt proud, too, amazed that he'd been able to lock up this delectable female that so many men desired. He was beginning to get hard and sex hungry.
That was the moment when the car missed, growled and began to fade out. In seconds they were off the side of the road and Tim had the hood up, digging at the engine and cursing. It wasn't the radiator this time. He couldn't get it started, of course.
"Damn hick mechanic! Looks like a fuel line blockage. I'll have to go back for a tow. Silver Tip's too far."
"Let's start hoofing," she said with enthusiasm, starting to get out.
He pushed her back into the car. "You're going nowhere, Lydia. It's a mile down a dark stony road. You'll never make it in those platform shoes and you haven't gone barefoot for years. I'll go."
"Will I be... safe?" He patted the Cadillac. "Like in a tank. Lock the doors-you're as good as in a bank vault." And he kissed her and was gone, loping off in the darkness, quite happy, she thought, to be prowling in his beloved mountains.
She was right. Tim hurried down the mountain road, inhaling the sharp, clean air that bit into his lungs, his head filled with ideas. Delight in being back on Sex Mountain where he'd enjoyed hunting and fishing so often. Pleasured by the serenity of the place after a hectic year in the city. And excited by what he'd already learned about Old Nickerson. Amy, the good-looking waitress had told him the old man was dead. He needed more information and this situation was ideal. If he asked too many questions while Lydia was present, she might start asking questions of her own. This way, while Amy's grease ball husband was up the road fussing with the Cadillac, he could dig for what he needed to know.
Back in the Cadillac, Lydia laughed. No Silver Tip tonight! She stretched out her long legs and lit a cigarette. Tim would hoist a few at the bar and be relaxed and ready for sex by the time she got back there. They said liquor turned men off sex; not Tim. His intensity hampered his hard-ons. When he was relaxed by liquor he had plenty of libido to make him hotter than when he was sober.
Wouldn't it be great if she could delay their reaching Silver Tip another couple of days? It was just barely possible. Mountain Rest would make an excellent honeymoon site and the folks in Silver Tip would probably be relieved. It was Tim himself in his aggressive way who'd called them and invited himself and Lydia up there for the wedding, so if she called now and cancelled they'd be more pleased than hurt.
She dived into her handbag and produced her small battery-powered vibrator from its zippered pocket. Here she was, deliciously alone on the mountain road and somewhat sexed up. She might as well have a quick one in anticipation of the fun yet to come.
Simmons Garage! How well she remembered the first time she'd seduced one of the young boys who drove the customers' cars back and forth in Oakdale. When you wanted service, they drove you home, brought the car down to the garage and when the work was done returned it.
It had all started because of Lydia's degenerating first marriage. That first marriage failure was an outgrowth of Lydia's lifelong problem. Lydia's mother had called her a "real lady" and a real lady she'd been, all through school and into her mid-twenties and her marriage to a "real gentleman" who had his own insurance agency. Alfred was religious; he thought sex "dirty" and offered very little of it.
Lydia tensed her body, cried "Ah!" in pleasure as the trembling vibrator split her cunt lips and made her juices flow. The clitoral stimulation was almost too much. She moaned and rolled across the wide seat of the Cadillac.
Back then, starved for sex, her dark side had just burst out. One morning she sat next to a virile young mechanic who was taking her back to her house and she looked at his profile and thought how rugged, dirty and sexual he looked compared to her sexless, soft-skinned husband. She found herself fascinated by the big bulge in the boy's pants. She hadn't had sex for three weeks and it hadn't been much at that. She suddenly reached out, stroked between the mechanic's legs.
"I'll bet your wife thinks you're well hung!" she burst out.
He was very young, very embarrassed, but not shocked. Later she learned she wasn't the only frustrated Oakdale housewife attracted to those big cocks in the mechanics' pants. But this one was a little uptight.
"Got no wife, lady. Got no steady," he said, blushing, staring straight ahead. But he spread his legs for her hand.
She was shocked at herself but burning with desire. "Do you mind if I... see it?"
"Hell, no! Be my guest," he burst out, obviously excited but not daring to look at her.
She unzipped his pants and released his prick, playing with its growing hardness as her cunt went wet. Inside of a block she'd stroked his peter to a swollen size that amazed her. The fugitive small cock of her husband was her main experience up to that time. Now she was transfixed by the size and hardness of this stiff male weapon. She kept on pumping it the few short blocks to her home and could not let go of it.
"Drive into the garage and stop the motor," she ordered, cool above her fiery inner excitement. "Don't worry; there's no one home."
The young man, who'd been getting hotter and hotter, stole a glance of wild delight at her redheaded beauty, her gorgeous longhair and exquisite milk-white skin. She was the princess with the peasant and the peasant had overcome his natural surliness to want sex with her.
She sucked off the boy's cock right there in the car in the garage, enjoying a huge orgasm when his finger rubbing her cunt from the outside threw her over the line as his powerful prick burst a seed flood in her mouth. It was a stunning flowering of a new sex life, beginning for her at the age of twenty-six.
"Ah! Oh, God!" moaned Lydia in the present, remembering the hot moment and plunging the vibrator up her receptive channel. God, a solid prick felt good!
Back then, she had changed fantastically in the next six months. She got a complete sex education from the young mechanics at Simmons and very good service too, at the lowest prices. That was four years ago. At that it was a painful year, finally ending up in her divorce, but it was also exciting because she used several young men to guide her through the fascinating new country of sex.
At first she did not understand the new danger, but it was there. In her ladylike mind sex was all right with ill-educated mechanics who smelled of grease, but not okay with men of her own education and income level. At first, her new freedom was enough.
"Going... hot... f-faster," Lydia told herself, feeling the vibrator thrust in and out of her cunt, feeling her hot wet juice on it. She gave herself long, slow strokes that reminded her of the best of her Simmons lovers-Happy, the married mechanic, older, that she liked the best.
Happy had gone crazy for her, wanted to marry her. They were so wild together and open with each other that once she let him fuck her in the kitchen while Alfred, her eternally non-sexual husband, watched TV in the den in their big house.
After the divorce she found she couldn't stand Happy when they weren't having sex. He wore cheap clothes, he had a dull mind and he was unacceptable to her friends and relatives. So she found a new kind of agony connected with her sex life-the men she could fuck she couldn't stand and the ones she liked couldn't get her excited enough about.
There was another bad side effect of her escapades with the boys at Simmons. They talked about her among themselves and sometimes the wrong ones tried to put the make on her. Her lust by no means extended to all of them; in the long run she had to stop going to Simmons. But this was probably how Calvin at Mountain Rest knew about her wild times at Simmons without having met her. He'd no doubt seen her a few times towards the end and listened to the stories of the others-which, she thought, were very likely highly exaggerated.
Now, in the excitement of her mountain road masturbation, all the memories of their bodies stirred her: thick pricks and thin ones, circumcised ones and natural ones, men's hairy thighs, men's smooth thighs, male buttocks tensing under her eager hands, the sublime feel of cock friction, stiff meat reaming her vagina hungrily, male voices grunting in delight, male loins working her for their hot cream spills, red faces, cries of orgasm... "I'm coming! Ahhhh, Ahhhh, HERE IT GOES... "
And in her mouth, cocks pulsing, straining, spurting that rich life sperm, body hot and frothy, sex-smelling and starchy.
My God, in her nympho days back then, as she now thought of them, she'd given herself to six or seven of them... but never a Calvin... no, never, nev-er!
In her delighted sex stress Lydia rolled in abandon on the seat of the Cadillac. Her hand thrust the hot vibrator faster, faster... oh, she was rising to glory!
"Je-Jekyl and Hyde!" she gasped. That was the sex history of Lydia Collier Clark, cold, silken smooth on one level, but cock hungry and cunt open to the proletariat on another. It had taken psychiatry to break her out of that pattern. Only in the past year had she been able to relate to highly educated men like Tim, to fall in love at her own level and still let her animal desires be met. She would never go back to the cellar-sex creature she'd been at Simmons, just as she'd never go back to the frigid sexless lady she'd once been. She was a lady, but highly sexed, sexlady, sexlady, sexlady- Her orgasm burst inside of her in an exquisite freeze and in strong cunt throbs that sent glory racing up from her belly.
"Ah... fucked... glorious!" she cried aloud, jerking in her deep belly pleasure. She felt the sweat of her body, smelled her earthy cunt smell fill the front seat of the car.
The car door opened; cold air rushed in.
"Hey, Lydia," said Calvin, "you sure have got a love lock on that vibrator. God, it smells like a cunt whorehouse in here."
Coming off her high, with her belly glowing, Lydia was harshly dropped into reality. She stared at Calvin in shock, disbelief and shame. Her legs were spread apart, her silken panties on the seat beside her; the vibrator was still plunged deep in her swollen cunt. "Oh, my God!" she cried, scrambling.
"You didn't think I was going to sit back there and wait, did you?" asked Calvin. "I got on my putt-putt motorbike and followed you."
"He knows, he knows," moaned Lydia.
"He doesn't know nuts from bolts," said Calvin. He slid into the seat beside her, shoving her over to make room with a heave of his hips. "Move over, Lydia; it's ball-freezing cold outside... that's better."
"He'll come back."
"Nope. Met him a little ways down the road. Told him he was lucky-I was just starting up to Silver Tip to get some wiper blades for the garage. Apologized for the breakdown. Told him I could get the blades tomorrow easy enough. Gave him my motorbike to ride back down to the Rest. Couldn't bring him back-it won't ride two. Told him I was sure I could fix the Caddy and roll it down to the Rest. He took to my motorbike like a candy-hungry kid. Told me to take my time and roared off, flying."
Calvin took Lydia by the shoulders and tried to kiss her on the mouth. All he got was a flash of warm lips.
"HOW DARE YOU... " she cried in rage, jerking free. She tried to slap him, but he caught her arms.
"I dare, Lyd. Oh, I dare. You're going to suck my cock, baby-full and good."
"Oh my God!" Her mind was in a turmoil.
"Know why, baby sweets? First clue: you fucked plenty of guys at Simmons... except me. I most went out of my mind back then, whenever you came in. 'Real class,' I told the guys. 'I'm going to get that bird if I die for it' used to beat my meat over you lots of nights. All the time you looked right past me, Miss Snots and me dying for the gorgeous red-haired queen."
"If you so much as lay a finger-"
"Fingers I'll lay. Prick, too, Princess. Clue Number Two: What you did to Happy, a real great guy. You pulled the poor bastard right outa his world. Fine wife and kids, but he deserted them. Decided he had to be an engineer, big shot white collar man, marry the Princess. But ol' Hap couldn't cut it at school with the books. He started popping pills, then more pills. Last year ol' Happy blew his brains out. You'd long ago dropped him, of course. You never look back, do you, Miss Prig?"
She felt his fingers tight to her throat, yet the stab of agony she experienced was not from that pain.
"I'm... so sorry!" Poor Happy! She should've guessed he'd never gotten over her.
"I'm sorry, too, Madam Jet-set. I'll take that cocksuck in the name of old Happy. He deserved better. Clue Number Three: I'll bet your big shot boyfriend you're about to hook into marriage doesn't know about your times with the boys at Simmons. So the cocksuck keeps my mouth shut."
She moved restlessly under his strong grip. "Look, Calvin, please... back in those days I had to do what I did. But I grew past playing around. Please-I'm so sorry about Happy-but I'm in love now. I've changed-"
"Probably had your beautiful head shrunk. That's okay. Look on this as a test. A quick nip of the old bottle to prove you're cured."
"Your wife!" she gasped. "You have that gorgeous wife. She's prettier than I am. Why do you want me?"
"Number one, she's not that much better looking than you. Number two, you're class in a way she isn't. Velvet dresses, panties with butterflies, an expensive fur coat. Number three, we're breaking up. I've had it with her and her asshole mountain."
His cock was already out and he pulled her head down to his lap.
"Calvin, please... I can't... OH!" The last as his insolent fingers rubbed her moist naked cunt lips before she could close her legs. She felt a streak of sex fire.
"Try, lovely lady. Eat about ten sucks off my cock. I'll help you count."
"Oh, God!" She could smell the feral male odor of him as he forced her fingers around his thick cock. The feel of his male meat thrilled her-she was back in her Cadillac seizing that first hot young cock that began her true sex life.
"I'll give you money, anything!" she begged.
"You'll give me suck I waited three years for!"
He forced her head onto his cock. Her mouth opened and the warm cock head passed into her mouth. At almost the same moment his fingers oozed up her cunt and she grunted in shock and pleasure.
Her thoughts in a turmoil, Lydia began to suck his cock with tentative movements of her head and tongue. The luscious male meat was reaching for her. The cock tension and desire, the smell, the protein taste of it-the texture of stretched sex muscle. A sexy, big cocked mechanic... ahhhh!
She raised her head and laughed in exasperation. "Calvin, if you let me off the hook I'll take you there, all the way. Just this once." For the first time she looked fully in his face. At least he was genuinely hot for her, his face filled with awe and delight.
"Don't you know, great lady, that guys lose their minds over beautiful foxes that play like Mrs. God? To hundreds of poor slobs like me, their wives or girlfriends wear sackass jeans and sport stringy hair, never a dress or nylon hose, you're the sexiest piece of meat in the Western United States. The queen fuck."
Thrilled at this awkward compliment, she laughed a delighted laugh and capped his cock with her mouth. Garbage man and queen-life's most exciting game and it was fabulous to be thought as queenly superior.
Lydia was amazed at how eagerly she sucked this mechanic's prick once he forced her to it. She reveled in the acrid odor of his sweat. She sensed the pleasure the long, bobbing strokes of her head gave him, providing hot, teasing friction on his prong, her suction and her tongue-tease thrilling the rich nerves of the cock and especially the cock head, to set his sperm boiling in his sex machinery. He really felt it, twisting, gasping, moaning.
"Oh, you high class bitch... you're a whore now... su-sucking my prick, getting ready to drink it... ahhhhh!"
His fingers plunged roughly into her cunt. She could not have stood that crude thrusting in her guts from a sensitive man, but now she rode one, two and then three of his fingers with grunting animal delight, giving herself to him. Waves of pleasure danced up and down her backbone as she felt irresponsible, open and soaked in free sex.
With Tim, with men who impressed her, there were so many hangups: not to appear too unladylike, not to notice odors or make sounds that might embarrass them. With this barnyard animal there were no restrictions; she let her pleasure flow.
He held her head now with his free hand, using her mouth like a cunt, directing her.
"Fuck faster, you slut! Take me deeper in your pretty mouth. Ahhhh, that's it, you fake, phony big shot lady! Oh, oh, oh!"
She sensed his rise and she rose too, with glory. She gave a mewing cry of delight as she felt him kick forward and freeze.
"GOD DAMN!" he keened, all motion stopping. Then his cock burst his cream in her mouth, impulsive squirts of body-heated jism. She felt her own cunt begin to freeze, feared strangling on his pumping come, swallowing as fast as she could before his plunging fingers deprived her of movement.
Lydia barely made it. She froze just as the last of his spurts filled her mouth and she took them down. Then came her own ecstatic run of spasms, her cunt throbbing strongly in bursts of pleasure against his fingers.
"That's it, spend, you cunt!" he cried. "You're a fucking prick hound, just like the other animals."
"Uuuuuuu," she whined as the pleasure locked and unlocked in her belly and she gave him her delicious sex death. They lay on the front seat of the Caddy, panting in the afterglow of the suck and Lydia realized in candor that she was not cured of her desire for low-down sex partners. Oh, she could abstain. She could marry Tim and enjoy a good sex life, but she'd always have a taste for a man in dirty clothes, with a slow mind and a crude personality. It confirmed her sense of class and dignity.
She really thought that would do it and that he would now fix the car and take her back to Mountain Rest. After all, she'd given him what he wanted and fulfilled a sex fantasy about her he'd had for three years.
"My God, I finally got you!" he told her. "Miss Red Fox herself, I could never get at Simmons! That I died for. Tonight I got you, babe and rammed it hard down your throat!"
"You got the best I've got," she said with an exasperated laugh.
"You came like my cock was worth a million dollars," he exulted. "You swallowed in my cock spurts."
"It was simply great, Calvin. Nobody at Simmons ever got it better."
But he wasn't done with her. He fooled around fixing the car and then got back in and began to undress her.
"Hey, what is this?"
"Know what I dreamed back then, hot lips? I dreamed getting Miss Red Fox naked and fucking you naked, just wearing your fur coat."
"Oh, no! Listen! I gave you what you wanted-in the name of Happy and all that."
"Get in the back seat. I'm going to fuck you naked in your fur coat."
She couldn't talk him out of it. His virile cock was standing again hot. What a man! His good-looking wife was a fool to lose that precious cock meat. This man could fuck all night without stopping.
But after he'd petted her, kissing, stroking, biting her breasts and playing with her in the soft fur coat, he stripped it off her.
"Hell with it. I want you bare-assed naked!"
He took her nude, dog-fashion from the rear, slipping his thick prick under her buttocks and distending her flowing cunt to ram it home. As the fierce blade pierced her she felt a deep gut thrill that set her heart to racing.
"Oh, Calvin! Don't! I can't stand the fr-fric-shunnnnn!"
She came almost at once in light panicked flutters, but his plunging hot cock was just setting her up for a big orgasm. She could hear his meat using hers; she had to grunt as his powerful thrusts slammed home and her belly thrilled and thrilled to their tight lock.
"Oh, God, Calvin," she whined.
"Fuck it up tight in M-Miss Red Fox." He laughed. "Slam you hard, make you groan!"
"Oh, oh, oh!"
He seemed to tear her vagina apart and she conspired in her own sex destruction as he drove himself into the very marrow of her being with his hot, fast thrusts. And he kept going and going until she felt her identity, her consciousness, slipping away. He was turning her into a ravening animal.
"Got to have it... it... it!"
Would he never stop? Her cunt was tender now and she was close to unbearable distress, yet he wouldn't come.
"Oh, please come!" she begged. "I can't... stand... more!"
Calvin felt it was the premium fuck of his life, dog diddling the classy broad in the back seat of the luxury car. For once his cock was lasting, holding, brought to a peak of sexual delight but not spending. The prick strength he'd never had before. Instead of a woman controlling him, asking for more than he could give, he mastered her, made her beg for him to finish.
Spirits soaring, he drove her up and felt her hot naked body twist in his arms. Then fall to stillness. For long thrilling seconds she was frozen, her muscles locked while he kept riding in her. Then she came.
"GOD! GOD! GOD!"
She hunkered and he felt her vagina contract and involuntarily squeeze his prick as if she had a third hand down there. It was rich! He felt her body give in to him completely and he felt her quakes driving her into a light unconsciousness as he completely fucked her out. What a conquest!
"FUCKED!" he screamed in delight, diving down into his own sex surrender gladly, letting it all hang out, feeling his piston pumping hot, thrilled cream in her belly, feeling his sex equipment discharge with maximum delight.
Spurt, spurt, spurt! His fucked lady was getting the cunt flood of her life and taking it with moans of pleasure.
She subsided under him when he was finished and they lay there, fuck-locked awkwardly in the back seat, his glowing dong still hard and bathed by the rich rivers of their combined fluid deep inside her. He was almost as exhausted as she.
She thought, Oh, my God! I hope I can... make it back to Tim. Oh, my God, I was fucked and used tonight like never before and I won't be able to rise for days. Tim will find out, but I don't care, I don't care, that was the Big O, just like with Happy-the real thing! I'm engaged to Tim, I love Tim, but this crazy mechanic fucked me to the Big O and I loved it, loved it...