Ann Griffin - Skin summer

"Ooohhh, Jenny, Jenny," Linda moaned, writhing in the chair, her body breaking out with sweat against the black leather.

"I'm better, aren't I?" Jenny asked, looking up.

Linda pushed her head back to the wet, pounding cunt.

"Aren't I?" Jenny demanded.

"Jenny…"

"Damnit, tell me I'm giving you a better fuck!"

"Yes, yes. You're better, Jenny. Much better. Tongue me, sweetheart. Eat me, please. Please…"

The little woman went back between her legs and brought her to a furious, throbbing climax that left the big girl happy and more than ready to return the favor with her own tongue and teeth. As she ate the dark woman's love-box, she thought about how much she liked sex – all kinds of it. She could make it with a man or a woman. It didn't matter. She could go for straight on fucking, for cocksucking, for licking a pussy. She had no hangups whatsoever. She felt a sadness inside her for people like Jenny Sansom who were so disturbed, who could not ever know the joy of a man inside her. But she also found sadness in the people who could not enjoy homosexual relations as well as heterosexual relations. Both were exciting acts for different reasons. To go through life without making love to both sexes was a major crime. A girl should know what a man feels when he eats her, should make love to another girl to find out. And a man ought to understand what a girl feels when his prick was lodged in her mouth, when he shoots down her throat. When she was younger, in her teens, she had thought she was sick, mentally ill. Society had told her that these kinds of things were wrong. But with education and maturity, she came to understand that it was society that was sick, not her. She was mature. Society was still in its infancy. Now, she could enjoy herself with anyone she had affection for.

She tongued Jenny harder.

The little woman erupted.

Linda felt her velvet passages getting wet as Jenny's own began to lubricate, and she knew their ecstasy was not yet ended. They would roll together, enjoying the feel of their bare skin, exploring each other's recesses, kissing, caressing, licking the silken flesh of private, secret parts. At last, they would fall exhausted into bed, Jenny's head nestled in Linda's big breasts, their crotches pressed at different places on each other's bodies. And the perfect night would end in sleep.

In his cabin, Sam Walker was asleep again.

And dreaming again…

Pleasant dreams at first.

Then he began to toss about in the sheets.

And to moan.

His dreams were becoming nightmares!

Bad ones.

The same old ones he knew from other nights.

He pitched, kicked the sheets. He would wake before dawn…

Sam had been up since five-thirty, had taken the standard series of vitamin tablets he swallowed regularly every morning, and had just finished his shower. He was doing calisthenics in the bedroom when he heard the rattly bell of the front door. He finished the last three push-ups, slipped into jeans, and went to answer it.

Brenda Markwell stepped inside when he opened the door, encircled him with her arms, and darted her tiny, pink tongue into his mouth, touching along the base of his teeth, caressing his gums, striking out at his own tongue. When he could finally pull away from her, he closed the door and said, "This is craziness!"

"It's only six-thirty in the morning. No one's up. And I was careful that no one should see me coming here."

"You damn little bitch! They're going to see you leave if you don't get right out of here. And they already suspect something is going on between us."

She paled at that, but didn't ask what he meant. "Please don't send me out. Let me stay a while."

He thought of Susan, of that fantastic body he would be able to plummet the depths of this afternoon. He didn't want to waste an ounce of juice or energy. He had hoped to avoid Brenda today, but obviously that was nothing more than wishful thinking. He tried to find some way of getting rid of her without losing her as a possible source of income. "I have to go to work," he said.

"You don't have hours. You do the chores at your leisure."

"You don't understand what…"

"I'll pay," she said. She opened her purse, fumbled with some bills, pulled out four twenties.

He watched her, saw what was in her eyes. "That's not enough," he said.

"Yesterday you took fifty."

"That was yesterday."

She smiled knowingly, extracted two more twenties. "A hundred and twenty dollars for say two hours of your time?"

"Where'd you get that? I left you with sixty-something yesterday."

"That was yesterday, as you said. I cashed a check."

He took the bills and stuffed them into his jeans. "You've paid for this kind of thing often, haven't you?"

She shrugged. Her blonde hair was absolutely lovely, freshly washed, falling over her shoulders, to the tips of her breasts. "Not many guys are willing to do what I want."

"I guess not."

"I've always had to pay for the strange stuff," she said. "It's easy enough to get straight screwing, but the others comes expensive."

She reached into his jeans and found his hard prick. "Ummm," she said. "My lollipop."

"I'm afraid I already pissed," he said.

She grimaced. "You're trying to embarrass me, but I like it. I like to be called names and humiliated. That's what I'm paying for."

"Suck me," he said. "Over here on the bed."

They went into the bedroom. She unzipped his jeans and freed the massive lance that lunged at her as if powered by a spring. He stepped out of the jeans. When she was naked, he said, "Come on you little cocksucker. Work it over."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, call me cocksucker. I like that." She shivered, her breasts quivering, the nipples swelling.

She dropped to her knees while he sat on the edge of the bed. His baggage was slung over the mattress. She slid the long phallus, between her lips and tongued him expertly.

"God, God, what a bitch of a whore," he said, obliging her desire to be humiliated. "A cock-sucker, whore-mouthed bitch."

She sucked faster, jiggling his balls in one hand and stroking the inside of his hairy thigh with her other. She worked at it as if her life hung on her success. She chewed and drew, licked and nibbled until she had him gritting his teeth and cursing her.

At last, he pushed her away. "Lay on the beds whore."

"Yes," she said, timidly, doing exactly as he directed.

When she was stretched out, he came over her, holding his prick in his hand. He laid it on her closed eyes, drew it across her forehead. He held it under her nose, as if trying to stuff it up her nostrils. "Smell the meat," he said.

She sniffed it.

"Does it smell good?"

"Yes," she said. "Oh, very nice."

"Tell me how crazy my cock smells."

"Tremendous. I love the smell of it. I love to smell and lick your cock. It's delicious."

"Open your mouth," he said.

She obeyed.

He stuffed the stone general in between her lips until she gagged, then pounded it in as if he were lodged between her tanned thighs. She gagged, choked, but made no protest as the heavy blood-filled lance reamed her throat.

When he could no longer hold down the surging river of love milk that wanted to find egress from her body, he took his meat from her face, went down her body, kissing her, and worked his tongue into her tunnel, made her come. When she finished shuddering, he raised his head and said, "Anything special you want?"

"Make me do something awful," she said. Her face was strained. He knew she had climaxed, but that her greatest thrills would come not from what he did to her that was normal – but what he could force her to do that would make her an animal. He turned, came around, remembering how he had made Linda suck his nuts. He almost sat on her face now. "Lick my asshole," he said to her.