Dave Friar - Bonnie

"Of you or me?"

She grinned. She bent, tucked my cock back into my pants, zipped and fastened me with deft efficiency.

"Maybe both," she replied and strode back to the house.

It took a minute for that one to sink in.

I have a little nook near the back of the property, a bit of clear lawn set back into the otherwise uninterrupted brush and trees. I have a pair of cheap, folding beach chairs and a painted steel table meant to hold an umbrella in the middle, but without the umbrella; I had trees. You can't sit back there after about eight in the morning, because all the mosquitoes and flies and other bugs are up by then and they want breakfast, i.e., my flesh.

But at six-thirty or so, it's lovely. The hares and squirrels and even the occasional pheasant know they have nothing to fear from me and sometimes pop their heads up to watch me eat my toasted English or drink my coffee. All of them scatter when I light my pipe. Hence the term, "dumb animals."

It was a glorious morning and I had it all to myself so far. I didn't feel nearly as hung over as I deserved to feel, and I was feeling pretty cocky (you should excuse the expression) after Bonnie's oral expression of lust. I figured the rest of the crew would sleep in. They were used to city air or canned air, and something in the clear air out here makes folks sleep hard and late.

I sat there, contentedly doing in my second mug of coffee and reading the Friday Newsday and smoking my pipe. It must have been around seven-thirty when she lowered herself into the other beach chair and sat a mug of coffee on the table.

Irene.

She was wearing a cotton halter, strapless. The cotton was thin, the cotton was white and the cotton was tight.

So were my jeans, suddenly.

I couldn't see her eyes behind the big sunglasses. Her hair was all disheveled in that unmistakable Just Got My Cookies tousle.

"Good morning, Uncle Dan." A smile was twitching at the corners of her mouth.

"Well, good morning to you, Irene. And what's with the 'Uncle Dan' business?"

"I understand that's what all your fans call you."

"Now, look, Irene – "

"Shhhh.*You* look." She stood. She was wearing a pair of cut-off denim shorts, old, often washed, faded and shrunk to fit like an extra layer of very taut flesh. She popped the waist snap and tugged down the zipper. Alllll the way down. She pushed the denim down to mid-thigh. Her pubic hair was close-cropped and neatly trimmed to a small tuft around her very swollen labia. I could see her rather prominent clitoris through the curls. "Even though Bonnie already had breakfast, I'm sure there's some leftovers, but we wouldn't want anyone to see, sooooo…"

And she pulled the shorts back up, zipped and fastened them – and sat down again. Smiling. Her nipples were rock hard inside the halter. "Questions?"

"Hammana-hammana-hammana."

"Bonnie and I are going to tease you unmercifully."

"More?"

"Much more. And we just know Dolores isn't going to let up on you, either."

"Who told you?"

"Bonnie. And Kate is going to be just keep on being sexy, casual, earth-mother Kate."

"You're planning to kill me this way, right?"

"And this afternoon, when Dolores and Penny come out in their teeny-tiny bathing suits and go down the road to the beach, those cute little buns all twitchy, and Mark takes Kate upstairs for some more yowling, Irene and I are going to do all sorts of lovely, lickety, squishy, sucky things."

I groaned.

"And you can join us – if you can find us." She smiled broadly. Then stood, turned and sashayed back to the house. My cock throbbed in time with her steps.

I sat there long after my pipe had gone out, long after I'd finished my coffee, long after I'd finished the paper. I had to. Because it took a long time for my cock to deflate to a sufficiently decent level that I could dare enter the house.

As it was, Dolores nearly knocked me down. She was wearing track shorts, a track shirt and Serious Running Shoes. "Hi, Uncle Dan. Going jogging. See you later." And then she was gone, out the door.

But not before planting a big, wet kiss right on my lips – which, given the disparity in our heights, meant she had to jump up and cling to me with her arms around my neck and all her sweet young lovelies were pressing into my body.

Broing!

I had just put my cup and plate down on the kitchen counter when the door to Irene and Bonnie's bedroom opened and they came out, also in jogging attire.

"Good morning, ladies."

"Oh, look, he remembers us!" Bonnie said, pointing at my crotch.

"And he's going to be tracking us," Irene said.

"Hah!" Bonnie replied. "He hates jogging."

"No findee, no nookie," Irene admonished.

Exit two bi-beauties, stage left. Leaving me standing there with a pole in my pants and aching nuts.

I decided there was no hope for it but to hit the cold shower. Or maybe a morning swim. I grabbed my swim trunks from the closet in the bathroom and shut the door. I was just about to deal with the challenge of getting Mr. Pecker into my swimsuit when I heard a muffled moan. I stood still and closed my eyes, straining to hear. With success. It was coming from Penny and Dolores's room. Was Penny having a nightmare? She'd been plagued by them when she was just a tyke.

I pulled my jeans back on, dick rapidly deflating as my concentration shifted, and went to the bedroom door. I opened it just a crack. Penny was not having a nightmare. Penny was moaning constantly, but the volume rose and fell in time with the movements of her hands between her legs.

Broing!

Yes, there was little Penny, eyes closed and hair a mess on her pillow. She had her tee-shirt rolled high around her waist and her legs were high and wide with her knees bent and her toes curled. And she was working a plastic vibrator up and down against the hairless lips of her pre-teenybopper pussy – which, incidentally, was swollen and red. And glistening – just like the vibrator.

She was rubbing faster and faster, her narrow hips jiggling. Her nipples looked like they were on the verge of poking through the teeshirt and she had caught her lower lip between her teeth. She was almost there, grunting with passion.

Suddenly, she shifted the vibrator and began pressing it into her cunt while furiously fingering her clit with her other hand. It wasn't a big vibrator, but she had a minuscule pussy and I doubted she was going to get anywhere.

Bit by bit, though, she drove the white plastic toy deeper and deeper into her tiny cunt. Her wee labia were stretched so thin that they looked ready to snap, but she obviously knew what she was doing – because she groaned and let her legs fall almost back to her shoulders and pushed all but maybe two inches in her. Her moans rose in pitch and she stiffened – and then shuddered and jerked in orgasm. She continued working the vibrator in and out, continued rubbing her clit, drawing out the orgasm for all it was worth, before she finally groaned in satisfaction and relaxed. Her cunt seemed to expel the vibrator of its own accord. Her legs fell back flat to the bed and she lay there gasping, eyes still closed, as she turned off her little friend. Then she rolled onto her side, facing away from the door and sighed deeply.

Before I closed the door, I feasted on the sight of her hard little ass and the peach of her pussy peeking from between her firm young thighs.

My thoughts were churning as I went back into the bathroom and got into my swim trunks. I didn't even bother with the jockstrap. Speed was my only hope now – get to the pool and start swimming to calm the Savage Beast. Speed and silence.

I opened the bathroom door and Penny nearly fell into me; she'd just been reaching for the doorknob. She was still in her tee-shirt, still flushed, reeking of sex – and holding the vibrator in her other hand.