Don Keye - Sexual Free-For-All

There wasn't a one who hadn't gotten a hard-on watching, either. To be invited to watch, with the promise of more personal attention afterwards was second only to be invited to share a bed with Catherine Deneuve.

Bert said, Td really like to, Carole, but Mr. Woodward's pushing me hard on a photo deadline right now. I've got to get the pictures done before Friday."

The number two photographer, Warren Pease, dunned in, "Ah, go on, Bert. You can get that spread done in less than an hour."

Bert looked at him, eyes cold, then replied in a tone that should have frozen hot water pipes all over the building. "I want to take my time and make sure the photos are the best I can do."

Turning back to.Carole, he said, I'm afraid I can't make it out to see you, Carole."

The girl's eyes flared. The five boys cringed, waiting for one of the famous Carole van der Hoff rages. But the fire in her eyes was something other than anger. Warren could hardly believe his ears when she said, That's okay, Bert. As Idng as you can make the picnic Saturday."

Bert's mouth thinned to a line, and he solemnly shook his head. "Boy, Carole, you're making me seem like some sort of a monster. I might have to turn you down on that, too."

Before he could concoct the rest of his negation, Carole chirped up with, "I can pose for you. For that contest. You can combine your work with some relaxation. You're working far too hard, Bert."

Warren and the other four had tiny beads of sweat on their foreheads. The interplay was unbelievable. Any of the five would have fallen all over himself accepting any of Carole's invitations, and here was Bert

Ellis refusing all of them on the flimsiest of pretexts. None could understand Bert. And none could understand why Carole kept hammering away until he began to give in.

A single glance at any male in the high school and she could have had them following her around like puppy dogs. Any male except one.

Obviously, Bert Ellis was something different.

"Gee, Carole, I guess you've talked me into IT! go along on the picnic if I can take a few shots of you." His voice lost the slight trace of animation it had possessed, and he continued in a flat monotone, "I get to choose the setting, though. And wear something… red and thin."

Carole's smile bedazzled all the males-except Bert That's great! But well be talking before then. We can go to…"

"Sorry, Carole, but I've got to disappoint you. Won't be able to even see you until Saturday. Bye!"

With that, Bert pushed his way through the small crowd and vanished. Carole drifted off in a daze as if she had been hypnotized.

Warren spoke in a reverent tone one might reserve for the rare occasion when talking to God Himself, "Bert's got the secret I've never but never seen such a 'Fuck Me!' look on a chick before. And Bert was so frosty. Hell, if Carole had said just one word to me besides, 'Outta the way, stupid!' "I'd've jumped into her pants so fast you could've heard the sonic boom."

The others muttered similar comments, and Warren said, "And to photograph her! The way he said it almost makes me want to tag along and sneak a peak through the shrubs. She ain't gonna have on one stitch of clothes, believe it, guys. And she's gonna be begging him to take off his threads, too.

"Wow, what does that stud have?"

Comparing notes on the Bert Ellis-Carole van der Hoff phenomenon proved extremely beneficial for many of their mutual friends. Small discussion groups formed, then paired off and the flames of more than one romance were ignited by the strange doings of Bert Ellis.

No one ever came up with a good explanation of what he was doing. Even fewer could understand Carole's single minded devotion to trotting around behind him like a lost waif trying to find her way home in a raging blizzard. The cooler he was to her, the hotter she became.

Saturday arrived bright and cheerful, and Bert presented himself at the van der Hoff household with his camera in hand. It was a good camera, a Nikkormat. For the work he wanted to do, he needed the best. The Nikon was perhaps the finest piece of lens he could find.

Bert wasn't sure if the timing was right yet to try for that finest piece of ass. Only time-and Carole's attitude-would tell.

As Bert rang the doorbell and heard the chimes in the distance, the door was flung open and Carole quickly attached herself to his neck and gave him a big, juicy kiss. "BERT! I'm so glad to see you! Come on in!"

Bert had to restrain himself. He could feel the bulge in his jeans growing like the mushroom cloud of an atomic bomb detonated in his crotch. Carole had taken his advice to heart when be told her to wear something red-and thin.

She was hardly dressed for a fall day, even one as warm and summery as it had turned out. Indian Summer had crept over the autumn and momentarily hidden the icy claws of winter that lurked so near. The halter top was nothing more than two scarves tied together. Knotted behind her neck, the broad silk crisscrossed her chest and tied again behind the girl's back. Stomach, back, and indeed, most of her tits were fully exposed. The brief, skimpy shorts were so tight that, if they had ripped, they would have to be repaired using a can of red spray paint.

Her long legs edged into white sneakers. Bert was going to have a hard time not showing some interest in this almost naked broad who was so hot to have him fuck her. And all because he refused to treat her with anything but contempt and disdain.

Sometimes he thought there was no justice in the world. Bert was certain his attitude would change when he finally decided the time was ripe to ram his cock up Carole's quivering quim.

She pirouetted for him. "Is the outfit all right?" She sounded so eager for approval Bert knew he couldn't say that it suited him just fine.

"I suppose so. Those tennis shoes, though… they seem so out of place. Do yon have any calf length black leather boots?"

"I have some vinyl ones. Would those do?" She was puppy-dog eager to please him. He nodded.

As she raced off to change, Robin came in, a grim look on her face. "Bert," she started, I don't know what you've done to Carole, but I'm not sure I like it-Bert simply replied, "I haven't done anything-yet I may not. After all, you're so much more mature than she is, even prettier."

His brief flattery had taken the edge off Robin's anger. Carole reentered the room with her knee-high vinyl boots and ended any further conversation between her mother and her mother's some-time lover.

"Those'll be just fine, Carole. Let's go. See you later, Mrs. van der Hoff!" Bert let Carole heft the weighty picnic basket and carry it to the car. She never protested the burden.

The couple paraded out to the car, Bert silent while Carole kept up a continual spate of chatter. It was painfully obvious that she wanted nothing more than to be taken out into the autumn cloaked countryside and raped.

Bert opened the car door for her and tried to ignore his urge to reach across, grab the voluptuous girl and grant her unvoiced wish. But he was playing for the long time stakes, not just a one-timer. He had gotten further with her than 90 percent of the guys with whom she had gone out. If the photographer played his cards right, he could make it a truly worthwhile acquaintance. With repeat performances whenever he wanted.

No more iceberg. No more frigid stares. Just willing blonde pussy.

The spot Carole had chosen for the picnic suited Bert's purposes perfectly. He realized that the isolated picnic grounds in the forest probably suited Carole's as well; she wanted him to lay her. He knew that the time was not yet right

It would be.

Soon.

"Let's stop here, Carole," he said before she could. "I think we could put the blanket down over there and, after we eat we can get on with the real purpose we came out here."