Saturday is the busiest day of the week at a rural riding stable, and work starts early. In the cool of dawn, Jud Kenny came into the darkness of the feed barn to kick a few bales of hay out of the loft.
The thud of the bales caused stirring in the blankets in the corner, and he smiled at the innocent eroticism of the three juvenile bodies, twined together.
The three were stirring as their damply warm bodies felt the chill morning air, and Reina, flopping over on her back; opened her thighs invitingly. Jud could not resist fingering her warm slit, its lips stuck together with the drying flow of cunt-ooze, and he smiled as she pumped her smooth loins up at him in her sleep when he got a finger into the warmth of the tight hole.
After they awakened, all three as unselfconscious as animals in their nudity, he told them what to do.
A half-hour later, after the girls had finished a big breakfast in the dining room of the motel, Jud came in, had coffee, and went out to his station wagon. The girl's came out and went through the motions of a conversation, none of them looking toward the stales, since they might be under observation. When they at last got in the car, Angela sat primly against the door on the passenger side, and was first to jump out when the wagon pulled up beside the trailer.
"You come along with me, Miss – was it Hart?" Jud said casually. "You other girls walk around and look things over."
The trailer looked different to Angie than it had last night – not so cozy, a little shabbier. At the small dining table on built-in bench, there was a woman who looked about the same age as Angie's mother, who smiled at her and Jud.
"This is Angela Hart, Rhoda," the man said with no hint of guile. "Miss Hart, my wife, Rhoda. Miss Hart and a couple of her friends from Citrus City got cheated out of their reservations up in Apple Tree, and slept in a used-car lot last night. Miss Hart says she knows horses, and is willing to work if we'll let her and the two girls bunk in the tack room. We could use an extra hand, especially this weekend." He smiled at them both.
"Sure," the woman said, looking Angela over with unusual thoroughness. "You got any working clothes, dear? Like jeans, or slacks? If you tried working around here in that skirt, bending over and all, the rest of the help wouldn't do much work!"
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said. She felt uncomfortable under the woman's friendly scrutiny. She might be old, but she had once been beautiful, Angie thought, and corrected herself – she was beautiful right now! Those boobs! It was clear that she wore no bra, and didn't need one. And no fat on her – she was in remarkable shape.
The implication in the crack about Angie's skirt made the girl flush. This older lady wasn't afraid to mention sex. The girl somehow felt the kiss of warmer air around her bare bottom, which in some way suddenly felt exposed.
In a moment of confusion, she glanced at the bunk, and what she saw was deeply disconcerting.
There, where she and dud had spent that glorious hour fucking, was a large damp spot, and Angela felt that she could almost see the prints of her bare ass, the depressions made by her heels and Jud's knees. Defensively, she swung her gaze back to Rhoda, and found understanding in the older woman's eyes.
"Miss Hart, is it?" the woman said. "Angela Hart, right? From Citrus City. Did you own a horse, or work around a stable, or do show-riding, or what?"
"All of it, ma'am," Angie answered, still flushed front the frightening knowledge of that damp spot on the bunk. "I've had a horse since I was little, and after I was twelve, Daddy thought I ought to work at the stable for my horse's board. And I worked a horse or two – three-gaited, mostly – at little shows around the county. Nothing important."
"Oh, then you really ought to be useful. It seems funny to put somebody to work without checking them out. But what the hell, it's wily for a place to sleep – isn't that what Jud said?"
Just outside the trailer, Jud's voice arose, pleasant, casual. "That's right, Rhoda."
"So I won't have to bother you for a Social Security number, will I, Angela? It's okay for me to call you Angela, isn't it, dear?" A glance at the damp spot, another glance back to the girl. "You're like, uh, in the family, anyhow, aren't you?"
Angela almost choked on panic and tears. She did not – could not – feel a burden of guilt. What had been done had come naturally; she had been so hot, crazily hot; she would have avidly fucked an orangutan last night. But neither could she feel defensive; certainly not angry.
Through the window, she could see Jud walking toward the feed barn, and she only wished that she, too, could flee, for she feared what might come next. To her surprise, the woman said.
"Come here. Come around here and sit down."
In a daze, still not daring to look up, Angela edged around to the built-in seat that served the tiny dining area, and sat down, finding herself grateful, since her legs had gone weak and trembly. In a warm glow, she felt Rhoda Kenny's arm go around her, a very strong arm, pulling her close, so that the woman's hand closed on her firm tit. And her breast liked it, liked it so much that the nipple swelled and hardened immediately, and Angie knew that the brown circle of nubby flesh surrounding the nipple would be puffing, swelling, taken on a deeper color.
"Oh, Mrs. Kenny," she whispered, "please let us stay here!"
"Why not, baby?" the woman whispered, and squeezed hard and with a roving hand on the soft titty. Her voice was husky. "Are you crying? Don't be silly! I knew someone had stayed here the minute I looked at the pile of blankets in the tack room – I know every dime's worth of equipment we have. And I figured Jud collected rent the minute I saw that cum on the bunk. What the fuck! We've been married nearly twenty-five years – he's a good husband and a good man. But he was lucky to get someone so sweet!"
She stretched out her leg – Angela felt the change without knowing what it was for – and kicked the trailer door shut. Simultaneously, she tipped up Angela's face and smiled reassuringly at the tearful girl. Without saying anything; she bent her head, and chuckled as Angela's lips and teeth parted to take in her tongue. Girls nowadays – they were so much more open! The older woman sucked long and lovingly at the girl's tongue, enjoying the sweetness of her mouth, the strong, ready play by which the two tongues communicated.
When she drew away, Angela's head seemed to fall naturally to the soft breasts of the woman who held her firmly but loosely, and Rhoda, her heart thumping, quickly opened two buttons on her satin blouse.
"They're beautiful!" she heard Angela whisper, and then, wonder of wonders, a soft hand shaped her full breast to a pouting, begging point, and Rhoda leaped with the sensation of having her tit sucked with a suction that seemed to bring blood through her skin and milk from her long-dry nipple. Convulsively, she pulled the girl's head against her, flattening her breast in the pain that creates such deep pleasure. As the girl sucked, so hard, so deeply, Rhoda felt warmth shoot through her belly to heat the hidden slit of her cunt, to bring the itch of blood racing to swell her inner lips, to make every part of her pussy glow with the creeping heat.
As naturally as if they were old lovers, she put her left hand down, under the brief skirt; into a hot little pudding of gloriously wet flesh surrounded by thick, hairy, soft lips. And Angela, her eyes closed, made a contented sound and inched her craving cunt over the groping fingers.
Rhoda broke the clench. Her own eyes were closed, her face strained with need, and she was breathing noisily. She got her breathing under control, opened her eyes, which seemed dazed, and smiled in a silly way at the shining slickness on her fingers.
While the flushed girl was looking, tears still on her cheeks, Rhoda put the fingers into her mouth, sucked them as she looked at Angela, and then reached to kiss the girl again.
"Baby, you're wonderful! Just wonderful!" The older woman's voice was low and trembling. "Where did you learn these things? You fuck men; I couldn't be wrong. I know it was you with Jud last night. Lucky old Jud! But you've got a streak of woman-love, too. More than a streak! A deep, lovely well!"
Angela smiled. "I guess I – we – like anything about sex. You remember when they had that craze for buttons, years ago?"
It was all of four years back, but Rhoda didn't smile; four years in a girl's life was a long time. She nodded.
"Well, Corrie – that's my sister, Coralee, the blonde one – got this crazy button that said: 'If it feels good, I'll do it', and we just took that for our motto. We couldn't get out with boys very much – our folks are so strict. But we sure found we could have a lot of fun with each other!" She laughed softly, her eyes on a pleasant piece of the past.
"But you did find boys? Both of you? Even Corrie?"
"Well, sure. Of course, it's sort of a new thing to Corrie. But she does all right. She's hot!" It was obvious that Angela was proud of her sister's heat.
"You're a hot one, yourself," Rhoda laughed, putting her left hand between Angie's legs again, fingering with delight the sweetness of the inner lips pressed against the seat. "I wish I didn't have these Goddamned jeans on; I'd love to have your hand on my cunt." She shook her head. "I'm out of my nut! This is Saturday. Okay, you get out there and work; I'll see you later!"
She held the girl's hand and smiled at her, a secret smile that said: I want you, you doll, and I know you want me!
Angie looked at the broad, clear patch of her vaginal flow on the green plastic, seat and blushed, but Rhoda said: "Don't worry; if it weren't for the fact that it's cooled off, I'd lick it up, every drop. Where are your clothes?"
"In Mister Kenny's car."
"Well, if you girls are going to bunk in the tack room – although, if it were me, I think I'd choose the feed barn, if only for the hay – take your bags in there. Change in there, too – just latch the door and make it snappy. If you changed in here, I don't think I could stand it!"
The blonde woman laughed. "You really, truly know something about horses? Do you know how to make a five-gaited horse flat-foot? Can you saddle that bay gelding out there at the hitching rack? Did you ever get a green ribbon for second place in jumping?"
Angela came back from the door and put her arms around her new friend. "I really know, Mrs. Kenny," she said. "You don't make a five-gaiter flat-foot – that's for a Tennessee walking horse. And that's not a bay gelding – that's a roan mare. And no, ma'am, I never got a green ribbon for being second at anything. I got several greens for being fifth. I'm not lying. I really can help around here; I really do know about horses."
"All right, Angela," the older woman laughed. "Forgive me far trying to trip you up. And please, don't call me Mrs. Kenny, heat? I'm Rhoda. Go on and get changed and find Jud – he'll tell you what to do." She gave the girl a pat on her ass and turned back to the table, picking up the phone.
"Yes," she said after dialing information, "I want a number in Citrus City. Name's Hart; I'm not sure of the first name, but they live in a good part of town."
Angela thought about what Rhoda had said and decided she would, after all, opt for the feed barn. As she dragged her bag out of the wagon, Coralee and Reina rushed at her, their faces anxious.
"Are we okay?" Corrie asked, and both the girls heaved sighs of relief at Angie's answer.
As soon as she had changed into jeans and a blue shirt, with heavy sandals on her feet and a piece of yellow wool yarn to hold her hair, Angie went into the tack room.
She had seen Jud out of the corner of her eye and knew he had seen her. He made no attempt to dodge his wife or her eye, and came directly into the dark cubicle, rich with the scent of leather and saddle soap, of animal and human sweat, of dank wool and pine.
In spite of her feeling of friendship and closeness to Rhoda, it was impossible for Angela to be anything but receptive to the masterful old man. The jeans, almost perfect armor for a girl who doesn't want to screw, were not even impediments – she was boldly opening the top of them, her eyes closed… her face turned up, when the lean, muscular arms went around her.
"I've had a hard-on for you ever since I woke you up this morning," he whispered. "Here. Feel it!" He had it out, pressing into her naked belly, and she lowered her body a little, holding the hard bar of meat wrapped in its soft skin between her breasts.
The flame started in her cunt by Rhoda's kissing, by the richness of her breasts, by her probing fingers, had not subsided. Now, with the scent of Jud's crotch so strong in her nostrils, with the satiny heat of his cock forced between her tits, the girl was picked up by a rage for sex, for any action, no matter how far out.
Her sandals were lost at once, and the jeans slipped off as she blindly pulled and pushed toward a pile of blankets, her breath sounding like gasping moans, her cuntlips turned out by heat and desire and the itch that only a cock can cure.
"Hey, hold it," Jud laughed. "Rhoda might…" But he allowed himself to be pulled down with the girl under him, and felt her jerk his shirt up so that she could feel his hard, hairy chest oil the tender insides of her thighs.
He leaped as he felt her mouth close, slick and hot, on his cock, felt a tremendous suck, a pulling that seemed to get clear into his balls, and then her mouth came away and she laughed.
"Oh, boy, Mister Kenny," she said. "Last night I wanted this so bad! It feels so soft and hard! Oh I love it!" She shot her head down again, and he felt his cockhead grind softly into the back wall of her throat. An amazing girl! Not too many women ever learned to suck a cock as well as this. He writhed in heat and pleasure, feeling his ass respond to the cool air as Angela forced his jeans down, and he felt new pleasure as she took his wrinkled scrotum in one hand, cradling his big balls tenderly.
There was a shift of her body, and he opened his mouth, ready with spit and hard tongue as her cunt opened its red gash right under his nose. The opening her vagina was making slight, convulsive movements, seeming to open and close like a baby's mouth seeing something to suck on. It was incredibly inviting, and Jud got both arms around Angela's loins, pressing her to him with a need he could hardly believe. The sweetness from inside her body was pouring out a slick and steady flow, and he gulped happily, feeling all of it – the cunt hair tickling his chin and cheeks, the thick and blood-warmed inner lips, their slick surfaces so tender and sensitive, the hint of tension in the rut of soft flesh where her girlish clit strained in blind desire for release.
The sucking on his cock was becoming almost more than he could stand, an overnight restoration in his balls putting nervous pressure on every inch of his system. To move his mind from the urge to shoot his sperm, he shot his hands under the warm, strong body and grasped those amazing tits which were, he knew, so delicately fired with sex power.
Just as she had last night, she went tense as his hands squeezed on the fullness and sensitivity of her breasts, the aureole puffy and tender, the nipples hard and crammed with fire that tore through her belly and back to her flowing, twisting cunt. She shook her body from side to side, just for the sheer delight in rubbing flesh on flesh, nerve on nerve, and enjoyed each tiny contact inside her cheeks and throat, anticipating the hard flow, the heat of sperm jets, that would wash into her mouth and throat.
Her long hair, seeming to have a life of its on, hung between Jud's thighs, and she made a nest of it to wrap around his balls, reaching for this last symbolic action of giving herself to this older man, of using everything she owned to give him pleasure to force a delight beyond description on and around him. Her sucking was less demanding, more tender, and she was fascinated by her skills in an art she scarcely knew.
She felt his mouth close over her cunt. It seemed to burn deep into hem, and she thought she knew what was happening, that he was exerting a suction on her hidden vagina as powerful as she had been putting on his cock. All her cunt walls were in a state of rich, warm heat, each little nerve end alive with joy, and it felt as if his suction had pulled those tight walk together, where sensitivity could rub on sensitivity.
Her belly was now flat on his chest, her thighs alongside his shoulders while his suction held her. Her buttocks were spread wide, her asshole feeling gloriously exposed, stretched. The pleasure along her flanks, in her tits, under her armpits, was so intense as to be painful.
There was a warmth all around them both, a warmth of sun on ancient pine boards, of human flesh joyfully sweating on a pile of horse blankets and straw, of inner heat so intense that it was trying to leak out of every straining pore to join the corresponding heat from the companion body.
In a queerly quiet moment, Jud felt the girl's cunt-juice trickle down his cheeks at the same time the space between his balls and his thighs was tickling from fresh sweat. And, at that moment, Angela moved in a frenzy that said she was coming.
In that stretched-out second when she felt the knot of heat and need burst in her guts, in her clitoris, in her cunt, she remembered that she had cried out "Daddy!" in the hysteria of her come last night. It was a hard, weird thought in her mind. And she knew it actually meant a hidden need for a father's mastery, whether expressed by a conquering prick, a hard, lascivious, incestuous fucking, or the power of love.
She could not cry "Daddy!" now; the big, virile cock was jerking into strangling size with each throb, and the jism was enough to drown her – so rich, so plentiful. She let it shoot into her throat, then fought the pull, of gravity as she sucked it and licked it back over her taste buds, to swallow it at each momentary retreat of the cock.
It was as slick and rich and zesty as her dreams of life; it was a promise of strength in her belly, in her body, the same strength that made a man a man, that made his cock a king's scepter. She was losing only a drop or two that ran down the hairy base of his cock, into the sweat-rank bush of hair which still held the scent of her cunt-juice from last night. Now that the dried fluids were warmed and moistened by their loving struggles, she knew them for what they were, and their presence increased the massive, hard twists of orgasms that tore her body with tender savagery.
She had never known such completeness, so much feeling, such a draining intensity to burn and flow and expend in her cunt and all around it.
She wanted to collapse with her head between Jud's hard thighs, to doze with the powerful maleness of his scent all about her. But she held her head away to look for the escaping drops of his seed, and found them, milky opaque globule of salty slickness, rich to feel and taste, and she heard the man under her sigh, felt him move, each time her tongue moved around his shining cock to pick up these droplets.
Her body felt almost boneless, so completely had it been drained of its hungers.
Now she thought of Rhoda, and yearned for the kisses, the warmth and understanding of the big-breasted woman.
She fell off on her back as Jud pushed at her, and he looked with amazement at her sweet face, now calm again.
Angela's shirt was above her breasts, leaving them seeming more exposed than if she were totally naked. The powerful orgasm had left them swollen, the wide circles around the nipples puffed out like small, separate tits, the nipples dark and creased, with red highlights in their dark-brown glow.
"Baby, you're wonderful!" he said, rolling to kin her sweet pussy, so open, so red-streaked with blood vessels recently bulging in orgasmic wildness.
She smiled at the top of his graying head, pumping ever so gently as his lips moved lightly in her. She was, for the moment, tapped out, but the fire was still close to the surface. He sucked at the source, getting the last of her juices out.
"Kiss my mouth, Mister Kenny," she whispered. "Feel my tongue. Oh, Mister Kenny, I love it so! I love you so!"
He felt the tremor of soft, strong muscles in her inner thighs as he kept his face pressed into her warm cunt, and he knew that this girl would never again be as abandoned, as wanton as she was during this seeking, loving period of her life. Once they had really thrown themselves into sex as deep as they could, once they began to learn the craziness they inspired in men, they became calculating. Not deliberately; it was something to do with nature's plot to secure a continuation of new life.
"You take the Pill, baby?" he asked. And then he laughed. "That's a fool question," he said. "Forget it!"
He moved to kiss her mouth as she had asked, finding her beautiful face dreamy and smiling.
"Can you taste your own cum?" she asked. "I can taste mine on your lips. It hasn't got as much flavor as yours." She pulled his face down to kiss again.
"My tongue loves your tongue," she whispered. "I'd like to stick it right between your – between… well, do you know what I mean?" She giggled, drunk on sex.
"The cheeks of my ass," dud answered, shivering slightly. This heat, this wonder, this giving – it was too much!
He shoved his hand roughly between her legs, down past her wet cunt, between her buttocks, and raised her body in the air as he pressed so hard against her asshole that it seemed to open. "We'll have it all, baby," he promised.