Kipp Ersnack - Holiday on Vice

Nearly all American women were the victims of a massive 'prettiness' syndrome, promoted by Madison Avenue and the mass media, which sold billions of bucks, worth of cosmetics and thousands of items to make them look sexier. And younger.

One of the best fucks of his life had come from a middle-aged half Negro and half Chinese woman in Tahiti. Rather plump and jolly, childlike in her generosity. She'd mastered the art of clamping her cunt, tightening in voluptuous cadence, relaxing, almost caressing the prick with her box. He had lived with her a month, and had finally pulled out because he was coming too hard and too often. She thought nothing of getting her jollies thirty or forty times during one fuck session. She thrived on it. She had never seen TV or read American 'beauty' magazines. A real beauty. Well, when in L.A. do what Californians do.

He'd had enough sliding pussy for a while, and he started something he was certain the sisters had been secretly craving for many years. Resting on his ass between them, a cunt in each hand, he said, "I sure like to watch two girls fuck."

"You do?" Lauren laughed, spreading her silky thighs. "Janni and I just don't do that. I told you-"

"You watch each other get off," he said slyly. "What's the difference?" "That'd be-dirty!" Janni exclaimed.

He sighed. In many ways they were so juvenile. But, then, how did one combat the lingering influences of two hundred years of Puritanism?

"Well, in that case I think I'll go for a walk," he said.

"Don't you want to come in one of us?" Janni asked, lifting her pussy against his fingers.

"Sure, later," he chuckled. "I won't be gone long. Maybe you two could fix some lunch."

"You are something!" Janni said, not all too pleased.

Fuck her. He had an appointment to meet his contact, and he was not going to miss that, cunt or no cunt…

"Imagine him asking us to perform for him!" Janni said, watching Lauren prepare lunch in the kitchen.

"Oh, cool your pussy, Sis," Lauren smiled. "You have to admit, we've thought about it." "Yes, but Jeeeeese!" Janni protested. "I was a 35 virgin, and he didn't seem excited at all."

"He's probably had dozens of them, honey," Lauren giggled. "Don't knock it. We're here for fun, so relax and enjoy."

Janni dressed in a sheer short black nightie like her sister's, watched Lauren's well-contoured tits as she moved about the kitchen. All three had showered, Matt had left, and now the girls were waiting for his return.

"Does he always go away alone, when you're here with him?" Janni asked. "Yes. I asked to go along once and he nixed it."

"I noticed he walked uphill, toward those trees," Janni said. "I bet he meets somebody there!"

Lauren stopped in mid-movement. She had not really considered that. He always said he just needed exercise, a rest from sex, and… She was still determined to find out who he was.

"Maybe one of us ought to follow him," Lauren said. "I'll slip up there," Janni exclaimed. "Well, be careful, honey."

"Maybe he'll give me some cock in the bushes!" Janni giggled. She turned and wiggled toward the guest bedroom.

Matt Dobson waited at the appointed meeting place, a dip in the ground, surrounded by brush. Traffic whirred below on a freeway. The guy always came from a turnout down the hill, on a side road, the one he used to reach the cottage. He fingered the envelope in his jacket pocket. It contained microfilm he had taken with his Minox. He knew about cameras. He had once lived with a photo nut who had a darkroom in her mansion as large as any commercial setup. Good fucking, too. In her middle forties, tall and limber-assed. She had found a younger live-in; he had moved in with another widow he had been humping on the side. Win a few, lose a few. In his younger years he always had a new one waiting in the wings, as it were.

He heard twigs snap, and turned. A broad moved into the grassy pocket. What the fuck was this! She smiled and came closer. Very fine stuff, dressed in Levis, a shirt, sneakers. She was dark, her hair cut short, close around her face. She appeared athletic, a good set poked at the shirt, fairly long legs, excellent ass, about twenty-five or so.

"I'm your new contact, Hillman," she.said, "You have the stuff?"

"I can get it," he said cautiously. "Who the hell are you?" "Linda. The code is Santa Anita. Right?"

He relaxed, recalling that his usual contact had said he might someday send a replacement, that he might get tied up. She must be genuine.

"Yeah, the stuff is here." He drew out the envelope. She peeked inside it, then reached in her large handbag and passed over a thick brown envelope. He looked inside. Twenty grand was the figure, he'd never been shorted. It looked right.

"You're some stud," she smiled, gazing at his basket. "I wish /could afford you." "Give me your apartment address and phone number," he grinned. "There wouldn't be a fee, for you."

She smiled, reached in her handbag and drew out a card. He took it, their hands touched. He tickled her palm and she giggled.

"You must be good, all the millions that Stella Fordham has. What do you charge for, say, a whole weekend?"

"It would range from five to twenty, depending on how good she was, and a few other things." "Jesus," she breathed. "Look, I gotta split-"

"Like to hold my cock before you leave?" he grinned.

She blushed. "I'd better not, have to go back to work."

"Ah, come on," he encouraged her. "It won't cost a thing." He unzipped his pants, hauled out his half-hard prick. She stared at it, bit her lip, turned and almost ran from the scene. He grinned. Ten to one she'd box her cunt before she returned to her job.

Linda Field sat behind the wheel of her Olds Cutlass, cheeks still burning. She didn't trust herself to drive just yet. Her hands trembled, her clit ached. No man had ever stirred her so swiftly. He was twice her age, at least! But his animal appeal had been like an invisible hand on her cunt and breasts. His cock was beautifully large and thick, but that wasn't really all of it. God! He was like a prize stallion made for one thingbreeding. Too much! Her right hand dropped to her crotch. She could feel juices along her crevice, wetting her panties. The side road where she was parked, at the turn-in, was relatively quiet. She had seen only two cars since she'd arrived, ten minutes early.

Actually, she had the rest of the day off. Purdy figured he owed her that much for substituting. She knew why he couldn't make it today. He was fucking a young widow over in Claremont. She knew the stud's real name wasn't Hillman.

Maybe he would have fucked me right up in the bushes! she thought. / was ready! He knew it. I haven't been this turned on in years!

She hugged her cunt, started the motor and drove away. It seemed hours before she reached her apartment in Santa Ana. She was still warm and tingly as she rushed inside, locked the door and ran to her bedroom, tossing clothes every which way. She flopped down on her bed, thighs sprawled apart.

Usually she had to fool around with herself at least half an hour before she got her goodies-but not today! The heel of her hand on her clit zone, she began rubbing it. Ohhh, wow! She bucked her hips, left hand stroking her swollen, dark-crested tits. She imagined him kissing her, fondling her pussy, her right hand gripping his cock. Uhhhhh! Number one was arriving! Yes, yes-ohhhh, damn! No thought of dragging it out this time, she had to finish]

She squealed as the hard, luscious pulses erected her clit and ripped through her loins. Even with her last boyfriend she had not climaxed this good! She moaned and whined and finished with quick little upthrusts. What sweet sensations of exquisite relief. Ohhh, beautiful! Linda never kept her boyfriends very long. She soon tired of what she was sure was their ineptness in the bedroom. She had decided early on to be a career girl, so she'd had herself sterilized at twenty. She had class, looks enough to attract good-looking men-but somehow they were all too much alike.