"Oh God woman, grind that ass of yours… I'm… going… to…cuuummmmm…!!! Ahhhhhhhhh…!"
Sam was gyrating like a whiplash, his pelvis crashing and battering Sandra with renewed strength as he felt the rumble of his hot boiling sperm deep in the darkness of his balls and then he felt the headlong rush of the fomenting seed as it gushed along the pipe of his bulging prick and rushed out in a frothy waterfall into the desperately sucking cavern of Sandra's wildly writhing cunt. From the deep daze of his cumming, he heard Sandra cry out in an agonized, delighted tone.
"Ummmmmmmmm… I'm cumming! I'm cumming! I'm… aaaaggghhhhhhhhh…" And her body, too, was tossing like a gyroscope, a bottle adrift at sea, the only lifeline being the relentless pole of Sam's battering prick which continued to shoot incredible spurts of creamy hotness into her hungrily contracting pussy. She continued to moan as the rising tide of her orgasm swept over her like a tidal wave and finally engulfed her, only it wasn't fearsome as she supposed, only sweet and heavenly and gentle, bobbing her along on its crest like a complacent gull, and she was riding the beautiful white surf, pleased and relaxed in her new found proficiency, forgetting the reality of being fucked up against the wall, remembering only the unbelievable sheets of pleasure which billowed over her, bathing her with an ecstasy she had never experienced before. It was Sam, the hired man, who had initiated her into the wonderful realm of sun-drencbed pleasure, and as she felt his limp, spent penis slip exhausted from her, and felt at last the quieting of her own internal earthquakes, she slithered down onto the softness of the hay, allowing herself, legs still spread wide, to drift off into a blissful euphoria, into which Sam, and only Sam, had given her a ticket of admission.
CHAPTER SIX
"Yes, I have to admit I belong to the 'Ban DDT' camp," Jeff McLean drawled as he sipped the Scotch and soda Sandra had fixed for him. He leaned back comfortably in the wing chair, and Sandra found herself thinking how attractive the veterinarian looked, his handsome face boyish under his mop of dark brown hair.
"I admit it has its drawbacks," Sandra replied thoughtfully, "but surely its usefulness outweighs any disadvantages."
She felt curiously elated, a girlish thrill surging through her as she talked with McLean. He had lingered in the kitchen after attending to the cows, giving them their annual Tuberculosis test, and had accepted with alacrity her offer of a drink. She felt like a new woman as she talked with him, his comparative urbanity infusing her with liveliness, and his intelligent conversation starting the wheels of her own brain turning slowly.
"Its usefulness!" McLean laughed sardonically, getting his drink down. "Do you call polluting the land and sea useful? Not only does DDT destroy fish life, it is also beginning to poison the phytoplankton in the ocean. Do you realize what that means?"
"Not exactly," Sandra had to admit, secretly enjoying his indignation.
"It's from phytoplankton that we get almost 50 per cent of oxygen replenishment," he explained. "We are on our way to suffocating ourselves with that damn DDT!"
Sandra took another sip on her drink.
"But what about the wonders DDT has worked with malaria in Ceylon, for example," she suggested, remembering an article she had read recently.
"Modern technology is one of the casual factors of the world's troubles. The universe is a hard task master and only the fittest should survive. Merely keeping millions alive so they can live another day with a pain in their bellies from hunger is doing them no favor!"
"But almost a billion people have been saved from malaria over the last twenty-five years or so," Sandra exclaimed. "Should they have been left to die or waste away, for the sake of a few fish and water plants?"
"Of course not," McLean answered indignantly, "but a little foresight should have been used. Merely spraying the Anopheles mosquito isn't the answer; provision in the way of family planning, agricultural instruction and so on should have been made to take care of the extra millions. Instead we are bent on ruining what we have!" He finished his drink in a long swallow. "You can see that the subject is really one of my beefs!" he laughed.
"People should care!" Sandra said carefully. "Living in the countryside, we tend to forget the problems of the world because we are so insulated and free from them all."
"Besides," McLean interrupted, "a beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to worry about such things!"
Sandra flushed pink with pleasure under his frank compliment. She did look very attractive, she knew, and was pleased that the veterinarian had noticed it. She felt a rush of gratitude to him for being interested in her mind, also, and felt that even her thoughts and opinions were beginning to reflect the freedom and lucidity she was experiencing through her body. Ever since that morning last week, when Sam had taken her so harshly in the stable, her life had undergone a change. The rough workman had unleashed a torrent of sensual desire in her, which could only be dammed by his urgent, passionate lovemaking. She had adapted herself thoroughly to a new regime of wild, unusual sex out in the barn with Sam, tinged always with a sense of urgency and illicitness, and she could hardly remember what it was like before. Her body never seemed to get enough of him, and he always succeeded in arousing her to fever pitch, making her more frenzied, more demanding, more willing each time. Yes, I'm really a new woman now, she mused as she rose to fix new drinks. Her hips had a new provocative swing to them, she knew and she was aware of the vet's eyes on her enticing buttocks. She was revitalized by Sam's attentions, his body, his hands, and she had begun to take a new interest in herself, discarding her country casuals, and wearing new slinky type dresses, low cut blouses, curve clinging pants outfits. She had even begun to pin her hair up occasionally, even though it wasn't really long enough, and letting little tendrils fall down becomingly over her smooth cheeks. She had someone who cared how she looked now, she reasoned, feeling younger, more attractive, more wanted than she had for years. Mike didn't seem to notice the change in her, or if he did, he didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't seem to say much at all lately, and Sandra had felt pronounced relief when he said curtly that he'd be away for a few days, buying new stock for the farm. That was two days ago, and she had enjoyed hours in her husband's bed of unworried abandon in Sam's arms. Already her brow darkened at the thought that her husband would be back the following day.
But her smile brightened again when she brought the drinks in and handed one to McLean.
"You've certainly changed since I saw you last!" Jeff smiled, running his eyes admiringly over her pale pink silk dress, which she had artlessly left unopened to reveal the tops of her translucent ivory breasts. His last visit was three months ago, and Sandra remembered how dowdy and unhappy she'd been.
"For better, or worse?" she quipped brightly.
"Better, of course, much better!" Jeff laughed, "Mike must be really taking care of you!"
Sandra blushed, and to hide her confusion, enjoined: "Country air must be good for me!"
"Yep," McLean agreed, "a spell in the country works wonders for anyone! People change their views on a lot of things after a rural sojourn."
Sandra took a long swallow on her drink, hoping Jeff wouldn't notice her discomfiture. Guilt about her liaison with the farm worker came so suddenly and abruptly to the fore that she was sure he must suspect something.
"But you're still a city girl at heart, aren't you, Sandra?" McLean said, a new note in his voice. Before Sandra realized, he was leaning over her, her forearms grabbed tightly in his hands. His breath was warm on her face and his mouth was looming closer.
"No, stop!" she gasped, struggling to escape his over-powering grip.