Winston McElroy: The honeymoon couple

After a few moments, Charlotte broke the tongue-twining kiss and murmured breathlessly, "I think it's time we found a bed!"

Between his legs, Frank's testicles were drawn up tight to his body by the contracting strength of his desire, and his cock ached soundingly. Moisture oozed excitedly from its tiny slitted head, wetting the inside of his shorts. He was ready… too ready, and that worried him. Christ, I feel like I'm ready to blast off right now! He was worried, because after making his bumbling play for Jim Harding's voluptuous brunette wife, only to discover that all of his roundabout maneuverings weren't necessary after all, he felt like a damned fool. Now, if I get her in the sack and shoot my wad too soon… what'll she think?

On weak-kneed legs, Frank followed her from the kitchen across the rough-hewn floor of the living room, strewn with thick warm rugs, to the steep rustic stairs that led upward to the rooms on the second floor, which were only little more than sleeping cubicles. As he followed the owner's wife up the stairs, his gaze was on a level with her full-rounded buttocks, sheathed in a too-tight pair of men's jeans, which she wore for their warmth. The weather was quite cold in northern Montana in November! Impulsively, he reached out to caress the full-fleshed moons swaying provocatively before him. She felt his eager hands and smiled back over her shoulder at him, showing her pleasure and giving her buttocks an extra little swing for his benefit.

Then they were in her and Jim's room, and she was unbuttoning her sweater. Removing it and casting it to the top of an already cluttered bureau top, Charlotte glanced out the window.

"Damn!" she said with a strength of feeling he didn't understand, at first. "It's snowing!"

Frank shrugged. His shirt was off already, and he was pulling off his undershirt. "So… it's snowing. Isn't that what it does most up here?"

"It worries me, that's all."

"Why… because your guide'll be bringing the others back sooner than you expected?" he asked. His salacious eyes watching her avidly as she shrugged out of her blouse.

Crossing over to her, he reached around behind her and fumbled the clasps of her brassiere loose, as she was answering his question. "No, it's not your wife popping in on us that bothers me," she told him, then added with a mischievous smile. "As a matter of fact, that'd be groovy. Maybe I could go to work on her and start thawing her out a little…"

Her brassiere was off now, and her naked breasts were in his hands feeling voluptuously warm and soft and pliant as he greedily caressed and massaged their satin smoothness. He reveled in the lust-inciting fullness of them, pouting out high and proud from her chest and crowding together until there was only a narrow valley between them. They coned out ripe and firm against the palms of his hands. Her coral-pink, berry-like nipples seemed to burn holes into his flesh, as he held them like rare jewels.

"Then it's your husband you're worried about?" Frank barely knew what he was saying, and it was kind of inane, he thought, to be talking about her husband at a time like this, especially when he was just about to take the man's wife to bed and screw the hell out of her. Below, his cock was jerking involuntarily with a demanding urgency. Damn! He had to get it into her… before it was too late!

"Yes," she was saying, "I'm worried about Jim… because if too much snow builds up on the landing strip, he can't make a safe landing!"

About the same time, Jim Harding was becoming somewhat worried, too. He was flying on a visual flight plan from Butte to his own little landing strip at the lodge just a few miles south of the Canadian border. Overflying Helena and Great Falls, the weather reports were becoming ominous concerning a moderately heavy snowfall over the general area east and south of Glacier Park. Critically, he listened to the tinny voice coming over the speaker, advising him of the adverse weather condition and recommending an alternate landing west of the park. Rogering out, he kept resolutely on his northeasterly course, deciding to take his chances that it hadn't snowed long enough yet to build up a dangerous cover of wet snow on the strip. Hell! I've landed there before under these conditions… and I'll do it some more, I suppose!

He was sure in his own mind that he had done the right thing in refunding Mike and Sarah Goodwin's money and flying them back to Butte. Christ! I can't win them all, I guess… but I sized them up as a couple, who wouldn't mind a swinging party while they were on a hunting vacation! Making a mental note to remind himself, in the future, to ask a few more questions, to really get at the attitudes of his clients before the final arrangements were made for a hunting excursion to his lodge, Jim settled down to fly his course carefully, keeping a watchful eye for possible icing of his wings or carburetor.

Of course, he was in a hurry to get back to the hunting lodge. Only a part of his plans had been ruined by the sour-grapes griping of the Goodwins about the uninhibited sexual activities that had gone on that first night at the lodge. Cheryl Paynter and Nancy Barber are still there… and Charlotte, of course! And, it's just a matter of time, until I get Cheryl in the sack!

It was cold in the plane's cockpit, even with the heat at maximum delivery, but he managed to keep warm, as he thought about Cheryl, fantasizing about what he would do… just how he'd bend her to his will and fuck her! Goddamn! Women like her really turn me on! They act so damned cold and uninterested… and when they begin to come apart and start begging for it, I know I can fuck them any damned way I want to! Actually, it was like a game to him… a game with a real challenge, and when he won, which was most of the time, the reward was out of this world. Unknown to any but a few of their most intimate friends, Charlotte and Jim Harding kept a secret notebook containing pertinent notes concerning the couples with whom they had swung, along with polaroid pictures, nudes for the most part; additionally, in a code known only to them, each couple was rated on a scale ranging from undesirable, at the bottom, to highly desirable, see again, often, at the top of the scale. It was clever of them, and they never seemed to want for couples desiring their company to share each other's spouses.

A real stroke of luck for Jim and Charlotte had been their acquisition of the isolated, hunting lodge in northern Montana. It was right out of a story book, having been bequeathed to Jim by an eccentric great uncle, who had seldom used the place, preferring to live in the sunnier climes of Southern California. At any rate, when the old man passed on, he had irascibly decided to leave a goodly portion of his worldly goods to his grand nephew to keep them from falling into the hands of his closer and what he considered to be his grasping, conniving and covetous kinfolks. At first, Jim and Charlotte had thought the place was useless, but then a plan evolved. He fixed it up, refurnishing it and building a landing strip; then, he began organizing hunting safaris of three to four couples, flying them into the isolated wild area, where the lodge was used for wild, uninhibited swinging sex parties. Oh, some of the guests did some hunting, too, under the expert guidance of Jonothan Longwalk, but mostly the sports were of the indoor variety of either closed or open swinging. And, it had been successful, overwhelmingly so. The Goodwins had been the first couple to object, and he cursed them roundly for causing him this extra trouble of flying them out and taking him away from the scene of the action. Oh, well… hell, it's only an hour and a half flying time, now! I'll be back just about in time for lunch… or maybe a little later! Then, he thought about Cheryl Paynter, again. I sure hope Charlotte's got things set up by now… It's going to be wild when that cute, little ice-cube starts squirming and squealing on the end of my cock!