Chapter 9
At Sonar Beach, the mid-June sun is still bright at eight in the evening. So that John, naturally a bit tense at welcoming friends known only by correspondence, leaped nervously at the sight of the big blonde woman as she came through their patio gate from the parking area.
She had shed her dress as she got out of the big black Cadillac, tossing it to the chubby, pink-faced man in the loud sports shirt and beautiful slacks.
Her strong and lavishly sculptured body seemed to flow in constant movement as she came through the gate, followed by her husband, and she shucked her bra--surely a thirty-eight double-D, Pam thought as the big, firm tits bounced out--and dropped it as she looked up and saw John and Pam.
Her voice matched the rest of her--big, rich, smooth. And loud. "Hello, you wonderful fuckers!" she shouted. "I'm Chris! This," pointing to the chubby man who was picking up her discarded bra, "is good old Harley!"
She wiggled her hips as she thumbed her panties down, exposing the smooth, hairless cunt they had studied in the photos, and kicked her final undergarment high in the air for Harley to catch. The kick seemed to open the bottom of her body, a wide slash of wet pink flesh.
Mechanically, John followed Pam out to greet this incredible display of lusty beauty, of loud-mouthed good humor, and he glanced guiltily up to the house on the hill above them, shocked at the sight of his ex-wife staring with open mouth. In spite of himself, he put out a pleading hand, his face twisted in disapproval, and said: "For God's sake, hold it down a little!"
The blonde woman, her face changing to that of a scolded child, stood still, but her husband angrily said: "What the hell's with you, brother? What kind of a shit are you, some Goddamned puritan?"
Pam moved quickly to put her arms around Christine, one hand going down to have her first feel of that unbelievable cunt, smiling over the woman's shoulder at Harley. And John, forcing his gaze away from the deputy's home on the hill, said desperately: "I'm sorry, but there's a snooping deputy sheriff who lives up there--and he's been watching us!" His voice was placating, his face miserable, but chubby Harley, deliberately dropping his slacks--revealing that he wore no shorts--and pulling the wild shirt over his head, looked brazenly up toward the house John pointed out.
"Fuck the deputy!" Harley shouted. "Fuck him! I've got more clout at the courthouse than a dozen shit-ass flunkies!" He stomped around the patio, his big cock and balls swinging, until Pam, giggling in spite of her shock, took him in hand.
"Don't let these goodies hang out and get sunburned, Harley," she laughed, squeezing his balls gently. "Bring them in, while I fix you and Chris a drink!"
He submitted to being led into the house by his cock, which by now was growing in Pam's warm clasp, but he continued to regard John with something less than friendship.
"I have to say that this was a chickenshit welcome," he said, ignoring his wife's signals to pipe down. "By God, I do the tax work for half the big shots in this county. I save 'em money, I've kept most of 'em out of jail--and you better believe I don't take any shit off of any meat-headed, half-assed deputy! Nor any jerk of a professor," he said. "For two cents, I'd put on my clothes and get out of here!"
The heavy but beautifully made woman, who had been sitting on the couch while Pam, standing, let her hand stray warmly between the big boobs, spoke sharply. "Shut up, Harley! And don't be stupid--the professor had every right to shush me. I know I come on strong." She smiled up at Pam. "It's my nature. And Harley's, too. He works too hard, and gets all wound up, and fucking's the only thing that relaxes him. And the little bastard can certainly fuck!" she said proudly. "Now, Harley, say you're sorry!"
To John's surprise, the chubby little man with the big cock burst into a natural, pleasant laugh, and squeezed John's hand. "Christine's right," he said. "I do get wound up. And I do talk out of turn. But you can really quit worrying about that turd up the hill," he said earnestly. "I mean it. As long as you're a pal of mine--and you're going to be," he said, giving Pam a full-hand pinch on the rump that made her leap and squeal, "no fucking pig of a deputy sheriff can push you around."
He gestured at John's crotch. "Take off your britches, prof," he said. "Let's see your cock. Christine said she didn't believe it. And don't think I'm trying to make up. I didn't say I was sorry, did I?"
He turned truculently toward his wife and Pam, and the bogus Mrs. Lamberson, by now freed from the bikini which had become her dress-up clothes--she preferred nudity most of the time--stuck out her tongue at him and said, mimicking the little man's wife: "Shut up, Harley! And come outdoors--I want to show you something!"
Christine Duke looked calculatingly at John as he finished undressing, still shocked out of his normal pattern.
"Come here, doll," she smiled, and John, without a word, walked over and boldly stuck his limp prick against her face, reaching down to fondle and squeeze both of the big tits.
They were firm in spite of their size, firm and smooth and warm, and the nipples thrust out proudly, further and further, until they seemed as large as his little finger.
He bent to her merry face, and got a healthy start as she bit down on his tongue. "Watch it!" he said. "You're a rough customer!" He was laughing, though, and he quickly fell to his knees, unable to resist the impulse to suck those long, hard nipples. As he mouthed and licked them, trying to gather a big mouthful of her tit, she lay backward, spreading her legs, and he lost the breast, finding his mouth nearer to the hairless cunt than to the big boobs. And somehow, the heavy thighs were wrapped around his neck, across his shoulders, and he thrust his face boldly between the smooth cuntlips.
It was a shivery feeling, his cheeks warmed on each side without the tickle of crisp cunt hair, but the warm and aromatic rosette of softly pulsing inner lips, the clear and sweetly saline flow from the dark little hole, was every bit as pleasing to his smell and taste as Pam's or Melissa's.
They both tensed as they heard a wild cry from the rear patio, and John, his cheeks shining from contact with Christine's active cunt, ran out with the big woman behind him. It was a magnificently shocking sight.
Pam, knowing they would be gone soon, and angry at the woman up above, whose identity she knew only too well by now, had boldly pulled the chaise pads out from under the pepper trees and was riding Harley's cock, in plain view from the terrace above them.
Her ass, spread wide open by her position, seemed to mesmerize Christine, who dropped on her knees between her husband's shins. She turned a frantic face up to John and asked huskily: "Is your wife bi?" At his puzzled look, she framed the question more plainly: "Is your wife bi-sexual?" but John, casting his eyes from the sight of Harley's cock appearing and disappearing with machine-like regularity in Pam, up to the unoccupied terrace, still did not answer...
He was suddenly aware that Pam, her mouth clamped on that of the man beneath her, had gestured toward the crack of her ass, and the bounteous woman., her big tits falling against the back of Pam's thighs, began to lick up and down on Pam's cunt and asshole as the girl bobbed up and down.
As the saliva and her sensations grew, Pam felt an old instinct crowding her guts and sat up in spite of Harley's loud protests. With a grin of pure animal desire, she arose just enough to make a quick turn as she had with John the day before, but with another purpose.
Squatting as she was, with her cunt facing Christine, she said: "Help me get it in my ass--then you can lick me better!"
Grimly attentive, her mouth partly open and drooling with excitement, the larger woman carefully aimed her husband's prick at Pam's stretched anus. The younger blonde, her thighs strained with her position until the big tendons stood out like cables, felt the big, blunt head slip into her rectum with a crowding sensation that caused her to giggle in near-hysteria.
Her asshole was slick with Christine's spit, and Harley's tool was slick with the flow from her cunt, but the sphincter muscle gripped in momentary alarm.
Not since she was ten years old, and two neighbor boys had persuaded her to undress with them in the basement of her old home, had anything larger than a finger shoved into Pam's bowels. Now, balanced between fear of and desire for the unknown, she hung suspended until Harley, with a quick thrust, crammed another two inches of the stretching monster into her. And Christine, impatient at the delay, pulled one of Pam's feet out, so that the girl, with a shrill, wild scream, went plunging down, feeling as though her guts would split under the pressure. But not for long.
Amazingly, the pain was not really pain at all--simply a matter of an easily bearable discomfort. And, as she slowly squirmed on the rock-hard cock, she felt an entirely different sensation--a spreading warmth that flushed all through her lower body, insistently washing over her exposed cuntlips, her trembling clitoris. With a gasping moan, she relaxed on Harley's broad, smooth chest, hearing his breath whistle out as he took her full weight, murmuring: "Great, baby! Great!"
Now that she could feel the juice drying on her sensitive cunt, Pam kicked out urgently, trying to hook one of her feet around Christine to draw the expert lips to her. But she felt a shadow cross her closed eyes, and opened them to see the bald cunt, its inner lips gaping redly, slowly descending as the big woman braced her hands on Pam's thighs.
"Oh, God, Christine!" Pam cried, "bring it to me, baby! Shove it down! Let me eat it!" She felt the moist heat, the lovely texture, the thrillingly female taste as the weird pussy came down on her, and would have screamed again as a vast sensation of being sucked inside struck at her guts. But the pressing cunt muffled her voice, and she sucked greedily, catching the warm flow of Christine's juice, her body jerking and writhing as Harley's cock in her rectum, and Christine's knowing mouth on her cunt poured a wild delight into her, deep into her, until she almost burst from pleasure.
There was another shadow crossing above her, and she opened her eyes, suffering a pang of regret as she saw John's big cock against the bright sky, his hand slowly pulling the foreskin back and forth. She remembered how, only a few days before, when they had first sucked one another, she had told him solemnly: "You'll never have to waste this lovely stuff on masturbation as long as I'm around!" Now, in her selfishness, she had left John out!
Unable to speak with the soft, smooth cunt plastered on her mouth, she raised a hand that had been caressing one of Christine's big, warm tits, and beckoned frantically, pointing at the stretched slit between the big woman's haunches.
Far above her, inverted in her peculiar position, she saw the light come into John's face. With his longer legs, and with Christine's thighs spread to keep cuntal contact with Pam's busy mouth, the professor's long cock was aimed exactly at the dark opening just below the winking asshole of the big woman, and Pam gratefully saw it slide in, feeling Christine's leap of joyous surprise as the big cock went home.
John's balls moved rhythmically back and forth on Pam's forehead, and she breathed carefully through her nose, enjoying the sweetly rank scents which arose all around her.
She had rolled and flamed with orgasm three times in a brief space--when she had first slid stretchingly down Harley's whopping big pole, when his cock had thundered deep into her guts, and, in a twisting spiral of released fury, when Christine's wide, warm mouth had first settled on her strained cunt. Now, with the sounds of the feels and smells of hot sex enveloping her, she helplessly felt her entire body shaken by an orgasm which seemed to expand, to burn, to twist until she felt she would blow open--a soaring spasm which seemed to spread through every body in the pile.
There was a hoarse shout from Harley, and Christine's moans hummed vibrantly in Pam's cunt walls, but the wildest cry of all came from John.
As he pumped furiously above her, hot gouts of his seed rolled down into Pam's face, trickled off her cheeks to descend on Harley. And, as the grip of pleasure relaxed and released them, their limbs going nerveless from the thudding spasms, they slowly tumbled to their left, still joined.
Christine's tongue continued to lick weakly at Pam's cunt, just as the younger woman did at the quivering bald slit, and Pam moved sharply and groaned as Harley's diminishing cock slipped out of her softened asshole. But John, on the outside and with his eyes closed in exhausted delight, felt a wonderful, warm mouth enclose his shrinking cockhead. He enjoyed it for a moment and then sat up, to meet Harley's knowing eyes. They were in shadow now, the sun having gone down, and John shivered. Why, he did not know.
All of them thoroughly enjoyed the magnificent feast which had stayed warm in the oven. "It's only some old stuffed pork chops and scalloped potatoes," the young redhead had protested as John and Pam had exclaimed over the teasing aromas of cooking. But there was also hot French bread, sliced and buttered, and lemon tarts and a dish of garlic-flavored almonds, as well as a big pot of coffee.
Harley pulled the slit in one of the stuffed chops apart and licked at it, grinning. "It's just like a cunt," he said. "Remember last Thanksgiving, old lady, when I used the leftover stuffing to stuff your twat?"
Statuesque Christine roared with laughter. "My piss smelled like sage and onions for three days after," she said. "But Harley said it was the best dressing he ever tasted!"
"Everything reminds me of cunt," Harley explained, and John said: "Sure. Why not? Last night on the telly, they had one of those detergent commercials--you know, a stack of soft, thick towels, folded. I thought then, all they needed was some hair peeping out, and those long slits would have looked like cunts!" He laughed, pushing his hand down between the massive thighs to probe in the hairless lips which Christine automatically thrust to meet his finger. "If I had known about this," he said, pressing warmly in her slit to make certain she knew which "this" he meant, "I think I would have gotten up and fucked the tube!"
Pam laughed richly. "Over my dying corpse," she said.
They discussed such things later, on the carpet, as John humped Christine and Harley did the same loving chore for Pam, all dog-fashion. At John's suggestion, they were as close as possible, the girls facing in opposite directions, so that John could squeeze Pam's titties and Harley could tug at Christine's. There was a great deal of giggling, and Harley's lascivious descriptions of cunt-like rock formations, or the hot lips of a toothless lion kept them all hot and happy.
"This is a great idea, John," Christine said over her shoulder. "It's not as* wild as that four-decker sandwich, but it's sort of warm and home-like."
"When I was sucking your cock out there," Harley said, and laughed as Pam tensed under him, "I was thinking: 'This guy may be new at swapping, but he's a genius at improvising!' "
Later, as they lay together on the floor, Harley ran a hand along John's belly. "Don't worry about me being queer, kid," he said amiably. "It's all a part of life. Part of sex, and sex is life!" And John said softly: "Yeah. I dig."