George Loomis: Three naughty girls

She saw how his eyes kept straying to her breasts, and with an inner burst of confidence, she held her fringed leather jacket open so that her boobs showed plainly under the thin knit shirt. She had devastated bankers and school teachers and professors and policemen with them; why not this red-necked stud?

"You know where we can get a room?" she eked, leaning toward him. "Gee, Mister, that's great! Where is it? Close by?"

The man looked around cautiously and bent closer to Angie, closer to those marvelously firm titties which made her seem more like the age she hoped to project. Unconsciously, his hand moved along the table, and Angie pushed a little closer.

The old dog! She thought admiringly. He'd got guts! Right here in front of everybody, he's trying to feel me!

"It's not exactly a room," the man said hoarsely. "I'm Jud Kenny – I run the Stables, you know? And I've got a little trailer." He looked at her closely, and her sensitive breasts felt the warmth of his rather bourbonish breath. "You can sleep there tonight, at least – and we can get you a room tomorrow, maybe." As a seeming afterthought, he smiled at Reina and Coralee. "The girls can bunk in the stable," he said.

His meaning was so clear that she was at once flattered and amused. He wants to fuck me, she thought. What a great old guy!

Feeling unexpectedly grown up at the very idea of playing hard to get, especially when she was so achingly anxious to be gotten, Angie said: "The manager here is trying to find something."

The weathered old dude in the fancy shirt and vest, the tailored jeans, and the cowboy boots looked at her calculatingly.

"Number one, baby, he ain't going to find you anything." His tone was positive. "Number two, if he gets some other desk clerk to give up his room, it's going to cost you a bundle. You want to pay forty bucks a night just for a room? You got that kind of money?"

Angela felt better. "I've got my Master Charge card," she smiled. "If I have to pay forty dollars, I will." She was breathing faster, just feeling his staring eyes on her trembling boobs. She was still so eager, that anything connected with sex gave her a warm feeling in the pit of her belly, almost an ache. There was a very small, tickling movement deep inside her. How wonderful it was, just to be a woman, just to own a cunt with the grown-up capacity to produce its own slick lubricant. In the dark deft of her ass and thighs she suddenly felt warm and puffy, and she shifted to free her swelling cuntlips from being so compressed on the slick chair seat.

The two girls were now finishing up their ice cream, watching the action with understanding eyes, rooting for Angie.

"Master Charge is fine, but you've got to find the room before you can use it," the man said. "What I'm talking about won't cost you a cent, baby – uh, Miss, that is. Zip! That's what it will cost! Nothing!"

She could see the desk from where she sat, and the clerk had stopped phoning. The cab driver had finished his coffee and was at the magazine rack, looking up at her now and then. He knew Jud Kenny and his legendary fondness for young women. It was why he gave riding lessons at cut rates, people said. Helping those teens onto horses, getting that helping hand right up between the cheeks of their asses! A character!

Angela left money for the check and a tip, and now she and the other two girls were in the parking lot, listening to old Kenny, who was gesturing across the road.

"Right there, across that pasture," he was saying. "The tack room's on the left, the feed barn next to it. That's the stable over there. You're not afraid of horses? Good! Just cross the road, go trough the fence and up the slope between the tack room and the barn. I'll be in the trailer." He was flashing a toothy smile, alert with anticipation.

"Why don't we just ride over there with you?" Angie asked, but she guessed the answer. There was someone the old fart, tad to deal with, or to avoid – a wife, a partner, maybe the guy who slept in the trailer.

The old man gave her a very heavy look. He knew that this girl, acting so smart – used, was on the hook. "Do it my way or forget it, baby," he challenged her. "You want to hang around here and gamble on a room? Don't make me laugh!" He gave her a knowing grin. Angie swung her shoulder bag around to the front, produced her wallet, and flipped it open in the waning light. She turned to the driver. "Would you put our luggage in the gentleman's car?" she asked sweetly. With the eye away from the two men, she winked at Coralee and Reina, standing quietly by.

He drove away, and the two girls glued themselves to Angie, whispering, pulling, hugging, giggling. When she had them quieted down, she said: "It's very simple – he's giving me – us, that is – a bed for a bang."

"Do we get banged, too Angie?" Reina asked excitedly. "Is he by himself. Can he do all of us?"

"Don't worry me," Angie laughed. "We're off the big hook – we've at lest got a place to sleep. Anything can happen."

The fence was say to negotiate, the slope was gentle, the curious horses eyeing them quietly. Coralee skirted a pile of fresh manure, giggled, and said to her sister in a low voice: "You never fucked a guy that old, did you, Angie? Can he get it up, do you think?"

"You know Doctor Grass, down at the clinic?" she asked. "When I went there for pills, he said he'd have to examine me, and man, did he ever! He got it up, and he's older than Kenny." She closed her eyes and shuddered deliciously. Just the thought of a prick, anyone's prick, was marvelous.

They were right up to the tack room door before they saw the man, gesturing to them in the gloom. "Come in here," he whispered. "We've got a little problem."

Through a window, he pointed at a red house a hundred yards away, on a low bill, partly masked by a small trailer that had a sign marked "Office" over its door.

"We can't use the trailer," he said. "My wife's up there. She saw me drive in. If I go in the trailer and turn on the light; she'll be over here in a couple of minutes, wanting to know what's up."

Angie felt silent, choking back a desire to taunt the man about being afraid of his old lady. Not entirely because a night's lodging was at stake, either. She knew he wasn't afraid of his wife. And she saw, was looking at it right now, in fact, a long, thick bulge in the tightly tailored jeans.

She we suddenly hungry for cock. Fiercely hungry for any cock that would go into her, that would stretch and tickle and stuff and hi her achingly wet cunt, make her feel alive inside, bring that wonderful feeling of being a real woman.

In her breast, she felt an affectionate respect for this tough old man. She knew the effect her ripe and girlish body had on of all ages, but how phony and skitterish toy were when they biked to her – not a one of them had the guts to proposition her. Now, here we this old stud, old enough to be her grandfather, with the guts to grab, boldly at strange cunt, to bring three girls right under his wife's nose, and then to put it up to her – take it or leave it. In the dark she could hear Coralee and Reina, breathing heavily.

Kenny's voice was home but strong. "Well, any of you got any complaints?" he asked.

Angie moved directly to him, her hand out toward the strong figure, submissively putting her face up to him, and behind her, one of the girls gasped.

She got her hand on his cock, and his mouth closed on hers, his big tongue filling her mouth. He tasted of whiskey and tobacco, his mouth strangely exciting, and the girl groaned with the aching desire that burned through her.

With his help, she got his zipper open and his cock out, big and hard and rising at a proud angle, and almost pushed him off balance as a wave of heat seemed to thrust her against him, her soft, firm tits boring into his muscled chest.