Hugh Kissasse - A Little Night Nookie

"Ooof, oohgh, oof!" she was saying. "It's so BIG, it's… oh, Gene, it's enourmooooous…"

If he hadn't been just as busy up at my end, I might have felt a little jealous, but I had no reason to be. Gene's big hooked nose was right up against my clitoris, and I swear he was wiggling the tip of that nose like an amorous llama; but even better, his tongue, as long and pointed as a snake's, was popping in and out of my pussy. In addition, he was blowing into it from time to time, roaring with laughter, and his bristly mustache was tickling my crotch into final ecstasy.

"Yi!" I yelled, bouncing on his shoulders, and he let out an ecstatic Greek grunt, just as Dottie gasped loudly; we were all coming together, and I had just a second to admire the marvelous timing of it all before I went into epileptic fits of orgasm. Finally, we were all flopped limply in a damp heap, Gene still grunting with elephantine laughter from time to time, and we two giggling weakly.

"Hoo BOY!" he said, sitting up. "First, an-other bottle." He stood up, grabbed one from the bar, and drained it; he turned, grinning, holding out another.

"You girls like maybe little pick-you-up?" he inquired. "Before next round?"

"Next round?" I asked weakly, and saw that that enormous pillar of meat of his was still up, and apparently undamaged, though somewhat damp. He glanced down at it with a prideful grin, opened the second bottle, and poured a slash of brandy over it. "Stuff good for both ends," he said, and laughed.

"He's got to be kidding," Dottie said, panting slightly; she was lying as limp as a French doll, goggling her eyes at Gene's inexorable advance.

"Okay, Sweetie, you get let off this time," he said, grinning at her. "Only, cute girlie here, she got to get one more, how you say, screwy. That right word?"

"Oh, my goodness," I said, as he came up and knelt over my slightly crumpled body. "I mean, it's the right word, but…"

"Yum!" he said, and engulfed me in a bear grip, low down; his mustache felt like Brillo as he planted hot kisses on both nipples and his hands parted my thighs, spreading me until I suspected I might split. He blew in my ear and I felt the huge throbbing knob of his cock pressing against my wet slit; but he was surprisingly gentle, considering.

"Yah!" he said, nibbling my ear. "Now, we make old-fashioned belly bump, just for a variety, hey?" He slid it slowly in, an inch at a time, caressing me all over as he did it. It was tremendous, but to my surprise, it went in… and in… and IN. It was in so far that it felt as if it was bumping against my collarbone, and I felt as if I were simply filled right up- wow! I couldn't say anything at all except some odd meowing sounds, which seemed to tickle Gene enormously.

"Hey, girlie, you like, hey?"

"Oh, man, I like," I managed to say, and he started moving it, very slowly. I almost fell apart.

"I like it. I like it!" I yelped, and brought my hips up in spite of his weight, got my feet around behind him, and started kicking my heels against the hard muscles of his back.

"Okay, first we go… IN…" he said. "Nice and slow… and out… and in…"

"Christmas!" I squeaked, and shoved myself up against him harder, gripping him with my legs; his bristly hair against my fuzzy down scraped deliciously and now he really started moving.

"Uh, uh, uh!" he said, and pushed harder and harder; I thought something had come loose inside me somewhere, but I didn't care. Fireworks kept going off in my vision, and the last thing I remember was digging my nails into his hack and chanting something in what I thought might be Greek.

I don't know exactly how much later on I started using my thinking apparatus again, but it was plainly getting dark outside. I noticed that about the same time that I noticed a funny thumping noise somewhere inside the boat, and I also noticed that Dottie and I were now alone. For a couple of minutes I was contented enough, just lolling around and feeling delightfully tingly and filled-up, with all sorts of interesting aches and bruises here and there. And then it began to dawn on me that the thumping noise was an engine, and that the boat was starting to move.

Dottie was flopped out, rear end up, on the other divan-her bottom bare except for several blue finger-prints – soundly asleep. I reached over and slapped-hard.

"Yowl" she said. "Hey!"

"I think we're getting kidnapped!" I biased. "'This boat's moving!"

She snapped out of it fast, and sat up.

"Gee, let's get off quick!" she said.

We grabbed the bite of bikini lying about, and started off without bothering to replace them, out through the cabin door onto the deck. We could hear voices, but nobody was within seeing distance of us. The shore looked miles away, however, farther than when we'd come aboard.

There was a big raft-like object lashed to a rail, and we untied it, as fast as we could, and dropped it into the dark sea. We followed it down, splash, and came up grabbing it.

I blew out a mouthful of water, and started paddling.

"I don't think anyone saw us," Dottie gasped, paddling away next to me.

"This thing doesn't float very good," I complained, still paddling. But it was holding us up, anyway. In the twilight, I could see the Callipyge's lights going away, fast, and I breathed a relieved sigh.

"What… were they going to do with us?" Dottie puffed, paddling.

"Darned if I know," I told her. "I don't want to think… about it. Just keep kicking." There was enough of a current going our way, thank goodness. But it still took quite awhile; we were pretty -winded by the time we got into the surf. And it was dark, now, which was a good thing, since neither of us had anything except a bottom half of a bikini left.

We pushed the raft up onto the beach and sat down on it, puffing and blowing; the town lights were on, but the beach was dark, except for a bonfire a little way off. There seemed to be quite a lot of people around the fire, and there was a sound of guitars-a picnic probably.

"Hey!" Dottie said, fiddling with the beached raft. "Look! No wonder this thing didn't float too well. It's got thing attached to it."

What was attached to it was a big plastic bag, sealed with tape, as big as a laundry sack, and heavy. I opened it, curiously, and then wished I hadn't.

"Golly!" was all I could say.

"It's pot," Dottie said, staring into the sack. "It's hashish," I corrected her. "Enough to turn on an army! Wow! That's what those characters were up to. They're smugglers!"

"Oh, boy, look at all that!" Dottie said, agog.

"We'd better not fool around with it," I said, worried. "We could go to jail for years and years."

"We could keep a little of it, couldn't we?"

"What I'd like to figure out is how we're going to get across the boardwalk to our car," I said. "Would you rather get arrested for public indecency or for dope smuggling, or both?"

But our problem was about to he solved.

The noise around the bonfire had gone up a lot, and some of it was music; and now, with the sea water drying out of my eyes, I saw that it looked like a really far-out, groovy thing. Lots of chicks and cats were bouncing around the fire, and it looked as if some of them weren't wearing much more than we were. It wasn't a squares' picnic after all, and the fire looked nice and warm too.

"Listen," I said, "let's go over there, and maybe we can sort of borrow somebody's top, long enough to get to the car. I can see several chicks who've shed theirs, and nobody will notice us, I'll bet."

"It looks like a smash, too," Dottie said excitedly. "Hey, let's!"

We abandoned our prize, and headed for the bonfire.

We were right about not getting noticed much; there were several chicks down to the barest minimum around the middle, already. It was a very groovy group and we melted right into the scene, with no introductions at all. The music makers were local kids, apparently, and they were really rocking. In no time at all I was getting fed scorched hotdogs and getting a fairly seductive line from a large brown young man who said his name was Ginger. I caught a glimpse of Dottie, also doing the visiting royalty line with a couple of very male types on the other side of the fire.