George Loomis: Three naughty girls

Charlie fiddled with bin limp prick, his face solemn. "Well, Bud, I'd have to say she's not all that tight," he said, in the manner of a judge weighing a question. "And she didn't move much."

The girl jerked away, crying. "How tight could I be in that position?" she demanded. "And all slicked up from all of you playing with me? And look at my bra. Ruined!" She was really crying now, holding the wrecked bra up to view.

The ringleader, the one called Bud, grinned and grabbed at her bruised titty again. "Tough shit, sister," he said. "You were hustling us for a place to stay – I said if you were good enough, to all of us, you could sleep in our camper. The boys, here, say you're not good enough. Maybe the other three guys might think different. We're in a big Wanderer, pink and white, parked above Moonbeam Beach." He made a fast grab at her panties, pulling them down enough to expose her sopping cunt hair, and she twisted away, her face set.

She jumped lightly out of the car, her face streaked with team and dirt, a broad, drying smear of semen on her chin, and tried to run for the gate. The tall boy grabbed her. "Not so fast, chickie," he snarled. "We'll tell you when you can go."

In the semidarkness of the baggage room, Angela, her knees rubbery from the long-lasting flow of orgasmic pleasure that had been mixed with her horror, went to the pile of luggage and began sorting out. The two teens came with her, but seemed confused, their faces twisted in strange grins, as though they felt the same conflict of emotions as Angie.

They got out on the street with their three pieces of luggage, finding a typical small-town line of cabs, all different all looking the worse for wear.

They stood silent, not looking at each other, waiting for the cab driver to appear, and with no warning, Coralee fell against her sister and began to cry quietly. "Oh, Angie," she wailed, "I'm scared! I'm sorry, but I'm scared to death!"

Reina squeezed between the two, her arms around them both. "It was horrible," the dark girl whispered. "How can you get so hot looking at that terrible, wonderful sight, and still want to kill those dirty rats?" She shivered. "Honest, Coralee, I never hod such a feeling in my life! God, Angie," she whispered, "I've got a real pain in my pussy! It hurts!"

"Don't you care," the older girl comforted them. "I know what you mean, both of you. Coralee, that's why I'd be scared to camp out on the beach – those rough guys." She sniffled a little and laughed at herself. "Listen," she said, hugging the two slender bodies, "well go get us a room, and then, if we don't find some guys, well have us a little daisy chain until we're all pooped out, right?"

She deliberately squeezed hard on one breast of the Escorial girl, and, with her other hand, stroked her sister's beautiful ass. Both her words and actions cheered them like a tonic…

"Sure, who needs guys?" Coralee asked. "Boy, the way we were all coming in there, we'll have plenty of syrup to lick up! Wow! The whole crotch of my panties is sopping!"

"Goody!" she crowed. "I'll go for anything! But honest, Angela, are we going to find some guys? I've been thinking ever since this morning: I'm gonna get fucked! I'm gonna get fucked! Oooh!" she cried, shuddering at the thought. "How wonderful! Just to be fucked with big, hard, hot cock!"

Angela whispered: "Cool it!" and the other two turned as the cab driver came up and eyed them questioningly. After Angie had given him the name of Kenny's Stables, and he smiled and said certainly, he knew where it was, and after they piled into the privacy of the rear seat, Angie hugged the Mexican girl.

"I thought you'd been fucked, Reina," she teased. "You certainly gave us a lot of gruesome details!"

Reina flushed. "Well, I did," she said, defensive. "But it was only my cousins, when we were in Guadalajara at Christmas. And plenty, too!" she said proudly. "Six, seven, eight times a day! But when my uncle tried to get into me, realized that my cousins' pricks didn't mount to much!"

"That's weird that your uncle couldn't even get it part way in," Coralee said. "Not even the red part? I know you wouldn't lie, not to us, anyhow, but that's hard to swallow!"

Reina whooped. "I bet you'd like to swallow it," she said. "It darned near choked me!"

"That was really something," Coralee said without envy. "To go down on your uncle! Shit, all our relatives am so square they probably won't even let their wives suck them off!"

"Cut it out you two," Angie chided them. "And whisper, will you? I think this guy can hear us. Settle down!"

The driver, at that moment, pressed a button and the glass between the front and rear seat went down as he turned. They were wheeling inland on Apple Tree Road, according to signs, and the man waved at a huge billboard that signaled the nearness of Kenny's Stables.

"We're getting there," he said. "How long are you girls thinking of staying with us?" He had dropped his eyes to the strong thighs of Angela, and turned back to his driving.

"A week, maybe," the girl answered, pleased at the effect she had had. "Maybe longer. We have to find a place to stay."

"Only place near Kenny's would be the Pepper Tree Inn. It's just across the road from the Stables. But they may be full up. Unless you have a reservation."

"Oh, yes, of course," Angie said.

"Well, what I mean," the driver said over his shoulder, "you ought to check that out, you know what I mean? Your reservations. Then, if everything's okay, you can get into your rooms and change, if you want to ride tonight. Or I can stay and have a cup of coffee while you're signing in, and if there's any trouble, I can take you back, see?"

If we have to, you poor bastard, we'll fleck you right out of your own bed, Angie thought. He had twisted his neck out of joint trying to get a look up her skirt. If you had a look and saw I had no panties on, you'd shoot this cab out across a field.

A pussy was a powerful weapon.

But they got a slugging blow that shattered even Angie's composure. To the clerk's quiet statement which the girls didn't quite hear, Angela answered shrilly. "No reservations? Of course we have reservations! My father made them through Luris Travel Agency. Look again."

"I'm sorry, Miss Hart," the man said in positive tones. "Luris didn't phone us; they'd know better. It's Easter week. We've been booked solid since January."

"May I use your phone to call them? Collect, of course?" Angela sparred, and then, as the man reached for the phone, she gave up. "No, never mind," she gulped. "What's the use? We've got to stay somewhere!"

The hint of tears in her voice; the fact that she was no longer thrusting her tits at him like weapons, thawed the clerk considerably.

"Why don't you go in the dining room and have some coffee or something?" She invited. "I know every motel and inn around here. I'll make some calls." He shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up, though. Anyone could have told you – the Santa Vaquita district is no place to come without a reservation. In Easter week, it's as bad as Newport and Balboa."

"At Balboa," Angie said, still game, "you can at least find a car to sleep in. But there's no cars parked along the highway out here in the boonies."

Angie smiled at the panicky faces of Coralee and Reina. Like a mother hen, she herded them to a table.

"The guy's going to find us a room," she said. "Don't worry. Oh!" she gasped, and giggled. "This vinyl upholstery feels cold to my bare ass!" she whispered. "And I'm so wet I'm slippery. I wish I had a big hankie."

They were talking to the waitress when an older man, a much older man dressed in extremely fancy Western attire, pulled out a chair at their table, nodded to them, and sat down. "Heard you at the desk, young lady," he said with exaggerated politeness. "I can help you!" He addressed himself to Angela, but included the other girls in his wet, red-lipped smile. His hair was going gray, his blue eyes were slightly reddened, and his face and neck were weathered to a deep red, but Angela looked at him with new hope.