Patrick Murry - Sex In The Sticks

"But you're not even breathing hard," she observed, deciding to pass over the compliment.

"Oh, this wasn't much," he assured her. "See, a lot of the time I run over my routes. It's a good way to keep down my weight and besides, I can get the work done faster and have more time to laze around and look at things I want to see."

Gina said nothing to that, though she nearly remarked that from what she had seen his efforts at keeping his weight down had been fantastically successful. She remembered seeing him nude; there had not been an ounce of superfluous weight on his tall, wide-shouldered body, she thought. At once she also remembered his prick, a memory which set off a vague flurry of feeling within her body.

Oh, you can't be thinking like that, she thought. He's thirty years old at least; he wouldn't be interested in you! And you certainly aren't interested in him – you barely know him!

Nevertheless, she could not erase the image from her memory. Following him along the trail, she constantly watched his trim hips, tightly encased in the battered blue jeans, and found herself weaving fantasies around the man. These daydreams had only a semi-sexual content – she seldom envisaged herself actually engaging in sexual activities with a man – but even so she found that she was rapidly becoming excited. Throughout the rest of the afternoon her pussy remained at a low boil, as it were, and constantly reminded her of its presence.

You're getting as bad as Pam and Ellen, she told herself as they headed back to the cabin.

"We'll be back at the shack in a quarter of an hour," he said. "Plenty of time to think about dinner. Maybe even a turn in the pool. You can go first if you like."

"Huh?" Gina asked, having been deep in her own thoughts. "Oh, yeah. Say, I've got some things to wash out – why don't you go ahead while I do my laundry? It won't take but a little while."

"Whatever you say," Pete agreed.

When they reached the cabin Pete doffed his shirt, picked up his towel – he had only one, it appeared – and set out for the pool. Gina gathered up her socks, panties and other articles of clothing while she heated a pot of water. After reflecting for a moment, she stripped naked and added the clothes she had been wearing to the small pile. Pete's discarded shirt was big enough to come halfway to her knees and she slipped into it for the time being. The shirt was still warm from his body and when she realized that her nipples were rubbing against the spot where his own broad, hairy chest had rested only moments ago, she again felt a tremor of desire pulsing out from her pussy.

What a silly you are! she told herself as she laid out soap and a pan for the washing. Letting a little thing like that affect you this way!

Nevertheless, she found that her body was more insistent than her conscience. She received another stimulating shock when she bent over the pile of clothes she intended washing; the panties she had discarded still had the warm, cunty smell of feminine excitement and reminded her of her own basic hungers.

At least they don't smell as bad as Pam's and Ellen's, I'll bet, she mused. Mmm, remember that smell you used to have when you'd wake up in the morning after a long night with Willie? Oohh, what a sexy odor that was – so strong and virile!

This memory assailed her senses with an even stronger gust of emotion. In spite of her warnings to herself, she could not prevent her right hand from slipping inside the front of the shirt and darting toward the apex of her thighs. The probing finger found the tip of her clitoris; the first contact brought a gasp of surprised delight to her lips. She hesitated a moment but then pressed her hand further between her thighs and grasped the lips of her pussy between her thumb and forefinger. After rubbing the tender, hypersensitive folds of flesh together for a moment, she capitulated to her desires.

Oohh, what a bitch you are! she thought as she leaned against the wall of the shack and brought her left hand down to her pussy. Mmm, always ready for this, aren't you? Ahhh, so alive with feeling, so tender and warm!

Again she pried open the mouth of her cunt with both index fingers. The orifice parted reluctantly but joyously; her fingers worked deeper and her thumbs closed upon her clitoris. Gina hesitated a moment and then began working her hips back and forth, almost as if she were facing a man and had his cock rammed deep into her womb.

A standing fuck! she thought. Damn, I want to do it standing up with a guy! Just like this, with his cock spearing up into me!

The thought excited her greatly and brought her measurably closer to the climax she sought. Her active imagination pictured Pete standing before her, now endowed with an erection of outstanding proportions; she tried to feel his chest pressing against her nipples and.his prick sliding into her cunt.

"Unngghh! Fuck!" she muttered hoarsely. "Now fuck, damn you, fuck it out! Mmm, cum, make it cum! Cum!"

After a moment of furious activity she felt every muscle in her midsection suddenly knot up into a tight, tingling ball. Recognizing the prelude to orgasm, she clenched her hips and thighs and fucked her fingers even more furiously. When the explosion burst within her loins she cried out weakly and trembled heavily. She pressed forward, holding her hands tightly against her pussy until the climactic seizure had passed. Then she dropped her hands down and slumped back against the wall.

Gina always fell into a mildly depressed state after having masturbated, and this time was no exception. The knowledge that she could be so easily swayed by a part of her nature that she had been taught to believe evil and "unladylike," to use her mother's favorite expression, never failed to excite stern reprimands from her conscience and exhortations to do better in the future. After berating herself for a moment and promising that she would exert every effort to exercise a more complete control over her turbulent emotions, she levered herself away from the wall and went over to the pot of water. Finding that it was boiling, she poured a portion of it into the pan, adding some cold water, and began doing her laundry.

When Pete returned from the pool she had strung up a line across the shack's porch and was draping the last garment across it. She apologized for appropriating his shirt and was told that it was hers as long as she cared to wear it.

"You look better in it than I do," he said with a shy laugh. "Go on and enjoy the pool. I'll look around and see what's available for dinner."

Gina walked up the dim path leading to the pool, stripped and bathed. She squatted in the shallow creek formed by the pool's overflow and soaped her body thoroughly, rinsed and went back for another swim. After fifteen minutes in the water her flesh was nearly blue but she felt immaculately clean. Upon returning to the cabin she found that Pete had already started a meal. They ate heartily, talked while they cleaned up the dishes, and then sat on the shack's porch until the sun was almost down.

"I think I'll take that tree over there," Gina said, pointing to a tremendous fir only a few yards from the cabin. "That looks like the best spot around for a good night's sleep."

She got out her sleeping bag and a ground sheet, arranged her bed and was snugly zipped up in her sleeping bag by the time the sun had disappeared. Pete remained on the porch for a while longer; they exchanged a few words in the darkness but then Gina dropped off to sleep and knew no more. Pete had a lantern in the shack but seldom used it; as he said, he had little use for light and found it more convenient to use the sun when it was available.

Gina slept late the next,morning, waking at about seven-thirty. The sun was well over the peaks to the east and she could hear Pete bustling about in the cabin. She lay there for a moment, luxuriating in the crisp morning air, and then crawled out of her sleeping bag. She moved quickly, fearing that Pete might look out of the shack at any moment arid find her naked, and reached for her clothing.