Sid Farmer: Hot and horny weekend

"No, George…" she managed to say breathlessly. She struggled out of his powerful hold, dazed, not quite sure yet what was happening, but knowing something was wrong, realizing that this place, this music, George Farrington, everything, had excited and aroused her far beyond the danger-point.

She was frightened, knowing that George excited her, that she wanted him! But she had gone too far, too fast. She must stop.

She turned and walked quickly but unsteadily from the dance floor toward the door, bumping into people as she left. George Farrington, smiling broadly, followed her outside, picking up her wrap at the hat check. Round one, he knew, was his.

The headlights of the passing cars glared into Laura's half-closed eyes as the white convertible sped along the divided freeway. Not a word had been spoken since they had left the nightclub, and Laura was grateful for George Farrington's silence. Her confused brain whirled with shame and embarrassment as she recalled her lewdly uninhibited behavior on the dance floor, and she thought guiltily that everything that had happened had been her fault. How could she have been so wanton, so uncontrollably obscene? She knew that the answer must lie in the fact that her sexual needs had been so long unfulfilled, but that was no excuse for the spectacle she had made of herself.

She didn't blame her next door neighbor one bit for having responded to what she considered her brazen overtures while they danced, and she knew that, in losing control of herself, whether because of the liquor, or the atmosphere of the nightclub, she had perhaps ruined their friendship. Little did she realize, of course, that her fatal weakening had been planned for, and exploited by, the man sitting next to her in the car – the man she assumed was her friend.

Deep in self accusation, Laura failed to notice the bright lights of the exit turnoff. George had driven off the freeway far from either of their homes and he seemed to know exactly where he was going. The intoxicated young girl, far on the other side of the car, paid no attention to him, but he didn't care at the moment. He knew the liquor and sex potion he'd given her were still powerful enough to turn her on again if he played his cards carefully. He smiled to himself as he realized that his plan was working perfectly and that her seduction was assured.

Laura watched the lights of the city grow smaller as they drove up Mountain View Drive. Her senses were still fogged, and each impression that she received through her eyes was a singular and momentary one, giving her only time enough to analyze each light, each sense separately. Her mind slowly calmed as she watched the beautiful city unfold below her, spreading for miles in lines of brilliant lights, illuminating every block of the huge valley. She felt completely alone until the car pulled into a secluded parking spot at the topmost viewpoint of the drive.

"I thought you'd like the view," George said matter-of-factly, as he got out of the car. He walked to the other side and opened her door, holding his hand for her to grasp as she nearly stumbled from the interior of the automobile. "It's too beautiful a place to pass without stopping on a clear night like this. Besides, it should clear both our heads a little," he said, with a reassuring laugh.

Laura said nothing as she followed him toward the edge of the cliff. She looked silently, awed by the creations of electrical engineers that had illuminated the city with bulbs of every size, shape and color, giving it an almost supernatural glow. Somehow it seemed perfectly natural to her that George should put his arms around her petite waist as he stood behind her, looking over her soft shoulders at the spectacle below. That meant they still were friends, she thought drunkenly, and she felt strangely at home in his arms. For a moment the guilt returned, but was swept away in an instant as George slowly lifted his arms, positioning his hands at the fullness of her quivering breasts. At first Laura jumped at his electric touch, but then the drugs she'd consumed stilled her conscience, and she gave herself over to the comforting, relaxing sensations his hands were giving her.

George smiled as he felt all resistance flow out of his helpless victim. He could feel the taut nipples of her voluptuous breasts pulsating eagerly beneath the thin material of the light dress. The cool air and events of the night had kept them almost hard since they had been dancing at the discotheque, and his expert ministrations urged them on. Laura's head lolled back without resistance against his shoulder as he urgently massaged her softly resilient flesh. She put her hands over his, entwining their fingers.

"Ooooooh, George," she murmured softly, her aroused body shifting with the movements of his hands. There was no thought now of her husband, no thought of the man she had vowed to love. Only the gentle urgings of the hands manipulating her tingling flesh into the white-hot heat of desire.

Cupping her hands over his, she started to turn, but George took the lead and pulled her around to him. They stood, their bodies touching full length, and looked at each other. He's so good, she thought. So gentle. Nothing he could do would be wrong… nothing… The rock-hard bulge in George's trousers twitched lewdly against her smoothly flat belly, and she felt the dampness between her legs renewed as her thoughts suddenly envisioned what the huge swollen member would feel like worming around deep inside her love-starved cunt. There was no turning back now. It had been too long… much too long. And almost eagerly she let George draw her lips to his and kiss her, softly at first, then more urgently.

Her lips pressed hard against his, open and willing to take his tongue as it probed the depths of her unresisting mouth. Small moans of erotic stimulation gurgled from deep in her throat, and the drug she had unwittingly consumed made his touch seem Godlike. She was a Grecian princess standing on a hill above ancient Athens, about to be taken for the first time by a ghost-like creature who had come to her in a dream. A strange, erotic dream that knew no right or wrong, only passion and an all consuming desire that mattered above all else…

They stood motionless as George pulled his lips from hers and gazed momentarily into her eyes. He knew she was ready but she surprised him by how ready she was.

"Oh, please," she cried, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Let's make love, George."

Her words were those of a woman who hungered for escape from the fears that plagued her insecure life. She was afraid of being alone, afraid of being unloved, and her words surprised her as much as they did George; but she did not try to take them back. She had said them, and she somehow, through the honesty of her alcohol and drug-dimmed mind, knew she wanted him. The drug had taken complete control of her mind and body and nothing else in the world mattered.

George laughed triumphantly to himself, and led his young neighbor trance-like, to the open car door. He didn't release his hold on her, his one hand fondled her rock-hard nipples as the other hand reached for a lever on the back of one seat, releasing a catch that held it upright.

Laura felt her conscience shouting at her as she watched the seat descend to a reclining position, but she ignored it, and bent robot-like to enter the car. She released the other catch herself and rolled onto her back on the driver's seat as it fell gently back. She lay back trembling on the car seat, her legs slightly parted and waiting to be taken. And, in spite of her desire, she was slightly afraid: it was all new to her and for all practical purposes she felt like a virgin. No man had ever touched her except her husband, but now he seemed like only a dream. Everything was so unreal. She couldn't stop her brain from whirling around crazily, and each movement of arms and legs and bodies as the couple came together in a fiery embrace was slow motion, preplanned, unhindered by inhibition.