Chapter 4
For the first time in her life, Amy sensed that a stranger was going to ask for her ass.
She was alone with Tim Hathaway in the bar section of the Mountain Rest establishment. It was after ten and she'd told him she doubted that any more business would come in. She turned off all but the night light, put out the "Closed" sign and cut off the outside neon lights. She drank with him in the bar, moving about from time to time to clean up, automatic actions she knew so well. Each time she moved about she saw him staring at her behind.
She felt that his eyes undressed her. She wore a tight white nylon uniform that pulled taut across her meat. She knew he could see the lines of her panties, so sheer was the material. She knew that her buttocks looked very sexy in this outfit.
He'd been pumping her for information about Old Nickerson. She wondered if he were another treasure hunter, but it meant little if he was. No one had been closer to the old man than she and he'd never mentioned any money. If there was, he'd certainly have let her know about it, after what had happened between them ten years ago. So let everybody hunt; she was sure that there was no hermit's fortune to be found.
The man, big, dark, good-looking and much more elegantly spoken than Calvin, was a little swacked now and they no longer talked about the hermit. Instead, she wondered if he'd make a pass at her. After all, he was engaged and his fianc' was just a small piece up the road. "Guess they're about due back." His eyes were hot, liquid.
Amy felt the tease in her rise. Especially if he were a fanny man. She laughed her full-throated laugh. "My dear husband diddles," she said. "We'll be lucky if he gets back by eleven."
"The car's only a mile up the road."
"No matter." She put her face close to his and he was able to stare deep in her hazel eyes. No harm in having a little innocent fun. She made her eyes soft and womanly.
"Calvin knows that if he stalls till eleven all my clean-up work will be done. I think we won't see them for another hour."
"Smart man," he said, faintly. There was perspiration on his brow. She could see him figuring the odds. An hour was plenty of time to try to make the waitress. On the other hand, he loved his woman and was holding back.
"Another drink... Tim?"
They were on first name terms now. "Another one, Amy." As she turned to get it, he went on. "I have to tell you, Amy, you have the cutest fanny I've ever seen on a woman." She laughed and gave her hips an exaggerated wiggle. "I thought I saw you noticing."
"I'd like to... "
Instead of finishing, he slid off the stool and came around behind the bar. She sensed him coming and she knew he was going to touch her and she didn't quite know how to handle it. So much had happened in the last couple of days-the discovery of Tim's faithlessness and her bursting out yesterday in that wonderful but frightening orgy with Chris Donaldson up at the Pool.
Amy wanted things to slow down. She knew her frustration with Calvin might be causing her to act too wildly and in terms she'd later regret. That was why she hadn't gone out today to seek more of Chris's wonderful prick, although a part of her had hungered. Now here was more sex coming at her right in her own bar.
He touched her all right! He patted her buttocks.
"Just to let you know I mean it," he said with a nervous laugh.
"Hey, now," she protested. The trouble was, she was a very anal person and even this innocent loving pat started a tickle in her belly. What's more, what if this Tim Hathaway was also Greek? Her pulse was already fluttering. You met so few men that dug rear ends above all.
Now, despite her protest, her sharp "Don't," he dug his fingers into her buttocks. "Amy, in the ass department, you're something else again."
"Your fianc' wouldn't like this," she said tartly. Her pulse was definitely moving fast now and her cunt had begun to glow. But she mustn't... couldn't...
"My fianc' is the most wonderful woman in the world," he breathed. "My fianc' also does not like to have her bottom appreciated and that's too bad, because I really dig rears."
"Mine is definitely not up for grabs."
He backed off and turned to point at the juke box. "Sure, Amy. How about a couple of dances to kill some time."
She meant to say no, but to her surprise her mouth said yes. Well, she was intrigued by all the special attention he gave her rear end.
They floated together in a body-hugging old-fashioned fox trot. She sensed he was rusty and probably had danced to nothing but rock for years. But this type of dancing enabled him to take her in his arms. As they moved she felt his hand slide down the curve of her back. She was breathing a little too fast; this man was about thirty-one or two and close up he exuded male sex power. He cupped her behind.
She started to protest, but thought she'd leave it there a minute, it felt so good. Her own sexual excitement was rising and now she almost held her breath; as he lightly worked the sheer cloth over her buttocks, he was getting hard. She could feel his knob faintly, then more strongly and then she knew it was growing in his pants and he was beginning to breathe faster. Apparently he didn't at all mind her knowing what the contact did to him.
Now he boldly pressed his belly to her loins and she felt the outline of his rigid member on her abdomen. This one was no kidder. This man was anal and he was dying to prong her up her back passage, never mind his redhead in the fur coat. Well, he'd said she didn't dig butts.
True analists were rare. Guys would do it, some of them, if you asked. Some of them liked it all right after they tried it, but most did not. Something to do with their desire for it proving them homosexual. Amy did not want to complicate her life with more sex from a stranger at this point, but she happened to be anal herself and she hadn't met a true butt man since Old Nickerson.
Here was a live one, right in front of her, rubbing her buttocks and making her cream in her panties and her bottom, making him want to shove that excited stiff prick up her dark, inviting crack and drive it home as deep in her rectum as he could get. Amy was halfway to orgasm, just feeling that eager hand dig deeper into her crack, trying to touch her ass button.
If he touches it, I'm gone, she thought. I'll go weak in the knees and come and beg him to cornhole me, after a long, long drought.
Aloud she said, "I don't know, Tim, if I can stand your doing that... " She pulled free, embarrassed that he'd forced the dress material so tightly in there that it stuck.
He stared at her, his sex blush covering his face, his cock making a tent in his pants.
"Maybe I'm a little drunk and willing to say what I think, but, baby, I want your ass! I've never wanted to jump a sphincter so much in my entire life."
She stared back at him; it was the moment of truth. He was anal, confirmed, over and out. She felt a sex rush that was impossible to control.
"Oh, my God!"
"You dig anal!" he cried in triumph. "You want me to ream that luscious butt!"
"Tim, Tim," she moaned, pressing her legs together and feeling light flutters of orgasmic anticipation. Then he was peeling up her dress and going for her panties and she was reaching for the nearest grease, a butter dish and her pulse pounded in delight as she prepared to enjoy this secret, unholy sex that most people ignored but that made her knees weak with delicious anticipation.
Roughly in his eagerness, he pushed her face down over one of the tables, her bare ass open to him and she shuddered at the feel of the cold table top and the feel of his warm hand greasing her crack. Her womanly juices flowed freely now and it was hard to tell whether that jelly feeling between her buttocks was the butter he used or her own glandular liquid. Her crack was squishy now with the mixture and she felt the delight of air bubbles popping there under his fingers. Then she felt his stiff, hungry cock probing...
Old Nickerson, ten years ago and Amy, fifteen and scared, bent over the table in the hermit's cabin. Only back then Amy had never felt any form of sex except her own finger. It wasn't as if the old man had lured her there. Amy had made friends with the supposed hermit to escape many pressures.
There was her kindly but too inquisitive aunt, who feared the flowering beauty in her home, afraid that the girl might get into trouble with boys before she knew what love was all about. And there were the boys at High School down in Crescent Valley, where her beauty made her a prime target for all. In addition, Amy's sexuality scared her as much as it attracted others. As the boys relentlessly pursued her she felt a rising, rising desire that at first plagued her and then became an obsession. She was convinced she'd weaken some day and be made pregnant, helpless to prevent it, defeated by her own wild sex desires.
Old Nickerson was a safe haven. To her he was a wise and gentle old man who, with humor and understanding, not only eased her mind but allowed her to dwell on the one topic that consumed her: sex, a compulsion forced upon her by her fast-developing richly endowed body.
Finally she begged him to teach her...
He was sixty then, but quite capable of hard-ons and sex-especially, she later realized, when offered pleasure by a fifteen year old virgin. His taking of her maidenhead wasn't much. He used a rubber and seemed as nervous as she. Yet for a week Amy went around in a happy daze, delighted that she'd at last felt a hard cock in her belly and had survived. The fear of the unknown was behind her. Yet it seemed a disappointment.
Her first anal intercourse was not.
He eased her into it by pointing out that it was safe for both of them and offered almost as much pleasure as screwing. He stroked her gently and fingered her to orgasm while slowly entering his stiff prick into her tight backhole. His intrusion was painful, but the pleasure of his finger play up front made her willing to give up her back channel to this unnatural sex.
Then she sensed his extreme pleasure as he began to ream her. Her sphincter was fully open and the first pain dulled so that she just felt full with his prick.
His fingers in her free-flowing cunt began to take her into the first real sex pleasure she'd known as the old man's cock slowly violated her at the same time. She now felt a pleasant burn in her rear and a sort of sexual pleasure at eliminating his cock from her body in one motion and taking it back in the next.
Her sex nerves made her tense her full buttocks under the old man and shake and shudder. He cried out: "I feel your ass going-oh, kid, your sexy ass loves my prick!"
"Fuck, fuck my ass!" she cried, the first time those words passed her lips to a male. Strangest of all was his leaping orgasm as she felt him flood her chamber at the same time his fingers brought her to fantastic girl orgasm. That time she lay gasping and spent under him with his cooling prick still buried in her gut and knew that her body had felt-and deeply enjoyed-her first sexual surrender.
She used him and he used her for the next couple of years, off and on. To him it was a twilight fling of an old, withdrawing man, destined for the utter loneliness of his last years. To her he was a safety valve against the temptations of all the boys around her. By having both love and stimulation for her eager clitoris from him, she did not have to sell out for sex to the boys who could cut her up.
Some of the maturity she learned from him helped her later in situations that could have hurt her badly. Watching other girls whose physical beauty approached hers, she learned that attractive girls were little prepared for the pitfalls that awaited them.
She paid a price, of course. She lost something because of her unusual introduction to sex which left her with an anal letch. Later lovers did not desire it.
"Nobody wants to stick his prick in a woman and pull it out with a gob of shit on it," said one of her young lovers contemptuously and she had to agree that if you played with shitholes you might find shit; it was a gamble. Nevertheless she never lost her hunger for that sexy, peculiar burning sensation of having her sphincter and bowel invaded by a cock or finger. Occasionally when she masturbated she used her own finger to simulate a cock cornholing her and indeed it still made her hotter. She finally forgave herself for her letch, as she gave it up.
"I just have more stimulating nerves around my anus," she told herself.
Now she had returned to that pleasure with a live one and she trembled as she felt Tim's eager cock press open her ass muscle and ooze up into her gut. That sexy, unforgettable burn on one side of her membrane and the delight of his finger in her cunt on the other side!
"Oh, God!" she breathed, coming alive to erotic thrills at this double use of her parts, feeling his manhood fill up her body. She clenched her buttocks.
"Ah, God, you ass... rich!" he cried. He'd dropped his pants and shorts and she felt his naked thighs pressing her own thighs. The feel of her muscles working against his thighs as she eased against the pressure he put to her seemed to fill him with rich sex energy.
"Ass... ass-fucking your guts!" he breathed. He bent over her and gathered her upper body in both arms, hugging her. Then he began to ream her, with her whole body locked in his arms. The feel of his strong prick piercing her tenderest parts filled her lower belly with golden liquid fire of pleasure.
"Take my cock, take my meat up your hole!" he quavered, plunging hotly against her and into her.
"You're fucking... my ass... c-c-cornholing meeee!" she cried in wonder. Her own finger had replaced his on her empty cunt, as she stroked her own clitoris. She felt wildly exultant that Tim wanted her so badly he couldn't take the time to finger stroke her, but just grabbed her and reamed. It was as if he wanted to pour his whole body, his masculine being, into her body as his prick opened her guts and split her body apart.
"Give it... all of it to me!" he insisted. He thoroughly understood the use of cock in a woman's body, imperial and demanding, not apologetic but riding her guts as king and conqueror, making her submit to his pleasure. She thoroughly understood this rather demeaning sort of sex and its appeal to her, her need to be dominated and even punished for her beauty that had brought her such a variety of unearened rewards.
"You've got my ass... my t-tender guts... going!" she managed. "Ram me! Take me!"
Now he reached under her for her tits in her dress, crudely popping the buttons and digging under her bra to get at her beauties. As his palms found her nipples new waves of sex thrills crisscrossed her sweating body. "Oh... don't do that," she whined, hoping he'd never stop.
He bit into the soft skin of her neck, holding her symbolically as most animal males controlled the female for the fucking. The pain made her twist in delicious agony. He'd found the secret door to her soul, not gentle, not destructive, but using her so that he reached all parts of her deeply sexed body. The cock high in her ass, the strong body hug, his hands working her breasts, his mouth biting and licking the tender spot in her neck, a fully committed male using his female to the limits.
"Oh, God, God!" she cried. He was driving her out of her mind. She fucked faster and faster against his violating prick, allowing her sexuality to swell and swell. In his instinctive wisdom he matched her rhythms so when she thrust back against his prick he shoved forward and when she retracted he slid back past her glowing burn point, only to pierce her again. Her ass muscle was relaxed now and open to his dominating fuck.
"Ah, Tim... going, going... you're ha-having me!"
"Give your ass to me, give me everything!"
"Ah, ah, ah!"
"Take it, bitch! Take it all!" Mock anger, mock cruelty, competition in cooperation, and as with Chris, she had to surrender her great sexuality to him. She froze.
It was unlike the other day. A thick, deeply erotic throb seized her, shook her and all her muscles locked. He was giving her a slow orgasm like she'd never had before. He reamed her unmercifully and she locked on him, her buttocks hard, her nerves quivering. Another throb made her gasp with pleasure. Another throb and she began to slobber and sob in taken rapture. Her aching body relaxed a little so she could breathe and then she locked again, spending against his lusty prick.
"Going crazzzzzyyyy!" she called in utter delight and kept throbbing. "OH, CHRIST!"
She felt him lock and she held her breath. Now!
His first hot burst made her jerk her body under him as she felt his sex juice squirt into her gut. Then she felt the excited cock swell and spend in rhythmic pulsations that relieved his tremendous back pressure. He groaned in ecstasy, holding her fiercely tight and seeding her channel at his deepest possible penetration.
"Ah... ah... ah... ah... "
She felt more liquid filling her, making her quiver as he kept on spending gloriously, soaked in pleasure. At last he finished as her knees, weak from all the sex stress, began to tremble and give way.
"Ahhhhhhh!" he sighed in satisfaction and slid his invading member out of her body.
Amy's ass burned and glowed in after pleasure. She felt taken and rewarded richly as her belly relaxed in the splendor of this completed exercise. No man had ever ass-fucked her like this! The reluctant analists had been too tentative and the old man had simply been too old.
"I hope your fianc'e digs ass-fucking," she laughed as she staggered about, finding the buttons he'd popped off her uniform and locating her panties.
"She digs everything about me, but not that too much," he said. He felt absolutely great physically, but mentally he was coming down off his high to realize what had happened. He-a man in love and about to be married-had enjoyed wild sex with another man's wife, without a thought to his true loved one. Lydia had reluctantly given her rear to him a few times, but she did not dig anal sex. As a result he'd convinced himself that it was immature and unwise, that he must give it up completely. He knew he could do that and that he enjoyed normal sex so much that it simply wouldn't be a problem. Just a little more growing up to do.
Now suddenly, out of nowhere, he was thrust back into his favorite letch and had enjoyed the most perfect ass he'd ever seen, voluptuous and shapely, part of an incredibly beautiful woman. It was frighteningly confusing and now he was tired and wanted not to think about it.
"You wore me out." He smiled, a tame bear now. "Could I see the room you plan to rent to us?"
Amy took him next door to the big house and set him up in one of the guest rooms. As soon as he saw the bed he said: "I'll just lie down for a few moments until the car and luggage arrives."
That was all right with her. Amy felt charged with energy herself and very tender towards him- he'd given himself so completely and in her very favorite way. What a fantastic lover!
When she checked back in about ten minutes, having changed her uniform and finished her cleanup chores, he snored with a slight smile on his face. Amy went to him as he lay on top of the covers, fully dressed. Shyly she got out his cock that had done such a tremendous job on her but that she hadn't seen. She hefted the warm cock and balls in her hand while he continued to sleep. She judged he would come to about seven inches expanded, as well hung as Chris, her bearded hippe.
"Just once more, at least once more, before you go out of my life forever," she whispered and kissed the soft cock mass.
Calvin and the woman, Lydia, returned with the Cadillac about eleven-thirty. Amy made her face impersonal; it wouldn't do for either of them to know that she'd had hot sex with Tim. She needn't have bothered. Calvin seemed peevish and slammed about the garage, closing up. Then, without even telling her good night, he went to the smaller building and disappeared into their compact apartment, which was attached to the restaurant garage.
Lydia seemed sleepy, almost dazed. Encouraged that such a relaxed customer could have no suspicion about she and her fianc', Amy fed Lydia a free drink at the bar while she took the bags up to Tim's room. The woman looked too weary to carry anything more to the big house besides herself.
When Amy got back the bags were in Tim's room and he continued to sleep deeply. She threw a blanket over him, deciding that it would be best for Lydia to decide whether to undress him or not. Then she went to Calvin's apartment and checked him. She wouldn't have to worry any more about Calvin tonight. He'd skinned down to his shorts and flopped into bed and a deep sleep also. With Calvin, once he was out, he was out for the night.
Amy went back to pick up Lydia and escort her to her room.
"I need to take a shower and I'm too sleepy." Lydia laughed. "Your mountain air is too much."
"It's the altitude. You'll adjust in a couple of days. Let me help you upstairs."
The woman was indeed worn out because on the stairs she sagged once against Amy. The red-headed woman in her fur coat was soft and sexy and Amy was startled to feel little tremors of sexuality run inside of her as she held Lydia tight. There was a sensual weakness to Lydia's mouth and a submissive light in her eyes. If I were girl-hungry, this is exactly the kind of female I'd like to fuck, thought Amy.
She got Lydia to Tim's room and said goodnight. "Goodnight and thanks," sighed Lydia and she turned to enter. For a moment the light struck her milk-white throat and Amy saw the unmistakable sight of a fresh bruise.
Male teeth marks.
Lydia smiled, softly closed the door and was gone. Amy stood there struck by confusion. Calvin! My God! This rich, classy woman... and Calvin? Impossible!
But it had to be. She was sure the mark hadn't been there earlier and she knew Tim hadn't had time to fuck Lydia before the car stalled and he came back. The car was too far up the road, the time too short, unless Tim could fuck and drive a dark, winding road that was strange to him at the same time.
No, it had to be Calvin. Some rich women had strange tastes. It also explained his conking out so completely. As usual, Calvin had no doubt started out strong and then failed the woman, which had made him peevish.
Amy felt suddenly angry. Despite his faults, Calvin was hers! There were lots of things about him she liked. Then she felt hurt. Instead of being remorseful about that waitress in Silver Tip, Calvin was expanding his adultery-the beast!
Then the irony of her own activities hit her. She'd given herself to Chris yesterday and Tim tonight. She had no right to be angry with poor Calvin for getting his load off with the soft, sexy redhead.
Amy went on to her aunt's bedroom where she'd been sleeping since her fight with Calvin. Her mind was in a worse spin than before. She should be frozen, locked in gloom and despair, unloved and unfucked, after her battle with Calvin. Instead she had flowered, she had easily committed her own adultery with two men and enjoyed it. She still loved Calvin, yet her sex fires seemed to be raging; she could even picture herself making love to the girl in the fur coat. Where would they all be by the end of the week? Things were getting exceedingly murky, perhaps dangerous. Just to survive the week until her folks returned. Just to survive the week!