Ann Griffin - Skin summer

"I thought you were broke," she said, holding up the hundred and twenty dollars.

He could think of nothing to say.

"Where did this come from?"

"I…" But there was no more.

"You've been conning me, haven't you, you bastard?"

"Susan, I would never…"

"You stinking sonofabitch. There's nothing lower than you. You fancy yourself a whore, a male whore. You're good, but you are not that good, friend."

She put her own hundred back in her wallet, then began gathering her clothes. He went to her and grabbed her swinging tits. "Susan…"

She batted him away, kicked sand at him. When he made another try, she grabbed a handful of sand and threw it in his face. "Stay away from me!"

"But…"

"You were using me, and I won't ever be used. I'm not ever going to be someone's puppet. No Goddamned prick is so big to make me a slave to it."

"You're talking nonsense," he insisted. But he made no attempt to grab her.

"Where'd you get the money? What girl was it?"

"Look, Susan…"

"You're sick," she said, making a face at him. Even grimaced, her features were lovelier than those of any woman – common or movie star – in the world. In his world, at least. "You didn't feel a thing between us, did you? You really weren't interested in balling me just for the sake of balling me. It was all a game. No, not a game. More sinister than that. It was a business venture. You were investing capital in hope of a gain. Your capital was your Goddamned cock. And your gain was to be my money. You're sick, man. Dismally sick."

She was dressed now. She started to walk away.

"I'll drive you down. Wait till I dress," he called after her.

"I'll walk," she shouted over her shoulder.

"It's a mile down there!"

"I don't care if it's fifty miles."

"Wait!"

But she didn't wait.

He ran after her a few steps before realizing he was naked. He went back to his clothes, dressed, and ran to the jeep. She was just passing it. "Let's talk about this a minute," he said.

"Nothing to talk about. And you don't have to worry about my turning you in. I don't want anyone to know I fell for your rotten come-on. Just leave me alone."

"Susan, will you let me speak?"

She kept walking.

Her ripe ass bounced and swayed.

"Susan!"

Then she was gone around the bend in the trail, out of sight, out of reach.

He got in the jeep and sat a while, thinking. He did not consider the lost money for some time, and when he did think of it was surprised that that was not the major thing that bothered him. What he chiefly wanted was to be with her. She could keep her hundred dollars. But there was no way to approach her, to talk her out of this rejection of him. For she was right. He had been using her. And there was no lie to change that.

"Shit!" he hissed, and started the engine of the jeep. He pulled away from the reservoir and down the dusty trail. To hell with High and Mighty Susan Calderwood-Logan. There was plenty of other quim and other quim was usually not adverse to paying him. He didn't need that little piece of ass. Not in the least. Brenda Markwell was paying well. And though there might be a limit to how much he could safely drain her for, there were other chicks running around horny too.

When he passed Susan, he revved the engine, threw dirt and stones back over her.

He didn't need her at all. Did he?

In the dining hall, he found he could eat only a very little. His stomach was queasy, and he was strangely depressed. He thought that it had to do with losing Susan, but then struck that idea from his mind. She was only another mark, nothing more. He couldn't afford to let himself get hungup on her. Still, he ate little.

On the way out, he met Linda Mock who was coming in to eat. He stopped her, a hand on her shoulder. "I shook that headache," he said.

She grinned. "Good for you. I wanted to talk about some maintenance problems with you. I'll be down later."

He smiled, left her there, and walked back to his cabin.

He stripped, showered, creamed his skin and washed the lotion off, did his exercises. He stretched out on the bed with a paperback and tried to lose himself in a good mystery story. But every few paragraphs, he would find his mind wandering, find himself remembering the slope, the curvaceous tilt of Susan's breasts, or the long lines of her perfect legs, or the rounded cheeks of her ass that fit so nicely in his hands.

When Linda came in an hour later, his prick was standing like a flagpole, though he still struggled to concentrate on the book. She laughed, ran lightly across to the bed and grabbed the lance. "You were thinking of me," she said, bending and kissing it.

He tossed the book aside and raised his hips, pushing the rod into her mouth an inch or so. She worked on it with expertise, sucking it so tightly that it seemed she would strip the skin off layer by precious layer. Then she stopped and looked up. "It was me you were thinking about, wasn't it?"

"Who else turns me to stone?"

She chuckled and stood, quickly undressed and laid on top of him, his iron cock pressed between their bellies. He bent his head forward just a bit and gnawed at her tits, thumbing the nipples to make them hard as bullets.

"What did you say to Jenny today?" Linda asked.

"Why?"

"She ran a two hour tirade against you when I came back to the office this morning."

He bit her breasts again, nuzzled them. "I just told her she could make some man a very good lover if she tried."

Linda laughed, showing a lot of bright teeth. "That's cruel, but it's still funny."

"She didn't think so."

"I know." She rolled on him, turning his cock back and forth between them. "Poor Jenny is so hungup on her girl-loving."

"You make it both ways?" he said.

"Don't you?"

"Just once," he said.

She slid forward and shook her boobs in his face, slapping him with them. "You should run both ways. You don't know what you're missing."

"Yes I do."

"Oh, you sucked one cock," she said. "What does that prove?"

"Proves I didn't like it."

She shook her hair. "Proves nothing. How was it when you fucked your first girl? Wasn't tremendous, was it."

He laughed. "No. As a matter of fact, I thought about giving it up."

"So what makes you think the first cock you sucked was the best you'd ever have? Two guys making it is cool in a way."

"You're ahead of me."

"You're just hungup. You should swing more than you do. Not necessarily more times, but in more ways."

"Well," he said, putting his arms around her, crushing her firm body to him, "how about settling for doing it straight?"

"Agreed."

He rolled her over, climbed onto her. He slid the thick rod into her box without lubricating it. It caught a few times, but he merely rammed harder until it broke through into her well.

"Ungghhh," she said, clinging to him. "There's nothing at all wrong with the straight way."

He stroked, wanting very badly to spurt into her. He had held himself this morning with Brenda, again with Susan. He had not lost any of his vital energies, but now it was essential to get rid of them so that he could forget Susan's body, forget the tightness of her crotch soup. Otherwise, he would not get to sleep.

"You're tearing me up!" she moaned. "No, don't slow down. Shred my cunt with that thing! Pound it in!"

He pounded it in. But though she exploded and her creamy liquids ran down her thighs, wet his own balls, Sam could not ejaculate. He could keep a hard, but he could not get rid of it. He tried thinking of Susan, tried imagining this was her that he was buried in. He envisioned her tits, but the vision was replaced by the slightly smaller, slightly less upthrust tits of Linda. He tried to see Susan's face where this girl's was, but he had no luck. At last, dejected, he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back.