"Right now," Denise said, rolling over on her belly and pulling herself toward him, "I'm just plain cock-hungry. Let me suck that prick of your, Dur!"
"You'll have quite an audience," he observed, looking out over the satin curve of her shoulders, back and butt, at the lake. "The West Shore people are at the dock, getting a boat ready to come over here."
"I don't care," Denise replied, taking his cock in her hand. She had not so much as turned to look back over her shoulder at the lake. "I'll get what I want before they can beach their boat and break up the party!"
She engulfed the entire length of his cock in a single movement. He felt saliva flowing around it, and the tip throbbed as it swelled with excitement against the back of her throat. She began nodding on it, letting the sensitive underside slide over the velvet moisture of her tongue.
"Jesus, Denise!" Durward groaned. "You keep that up very long and I'll come so hard it'll take me a week to recover!"
She merely grunted and gurgled around the meaty feast. Her hands sought his butt, and her fingers teased at the taut skin as his muscles tensed with excitement. The cheeks of his ass bunched up in the sand, and he could feel the gritty granules in the contracted wrinkles of his asshole, itching, teasing, driving his excitement upward swiftly.
She brought one hand around to cup the hairy baggage of his balls; her nails scratched gently behind the scrotum, and she began to apply a powerful suction at each lift of her head. Durward had to groan with the voluptuously ecstatic sensations that boiled up in his groin, balls and pecker.
"God, baby!" he muttered. "I thought the well had… gone dry when I… flooded your cunt! Now I… Oh, shit, baby!" He grunted and let out an animal growl as his groin bubbled and ached and tingled. His sperm boiled up out of its hidden caves and gushed in pulsating splashes from the tenderized head of his cock.
Denise gulped at the copious load, working valiantly to contain the surprising reserves that had appeared from somewhere since he had shot his wad into her cunt. When she had sucked the tightly spasmed channel of its last dregs, she let his cock go and sat back on her heels to lick her lips and smile like a canary-stuffed cat. With the intuitive perception of womanhood, she had the inspired thought that he had been tremendously stimulated by the recent nearness of her sexually exciting daughter. Tit for tat, she thought. Tom had surely increased her lust, making her more voracious than usual as she milked Dur's prick of his last drop!
"Bravo!" Ross Ordwell's cheer came from behind her. He was holding his clasped hands over his head in the battle symbol of victory as he stood on the nearby dock. Rhoda, Shelley and Jack were getting out of the boat that was tied to a piling.
"Was that feat as effective as it appeared to be from here?" Rhoda asked loudly.
"You'd better make book on it!" Durward moaned without lifting his head. He waited until the four newcomers had surrounded them, then exaggerated his condition. "She sucked that thing so damned efficiently that my asshole pumped up at least three pounds of sand. What kind of an enema do you take to get rid of that?"
"Speaking as a construction man," Jack Cartwright offered, "I've never mixed anything with sand except water and Portland cement. But I don't think I'd advise that in this case!"
"Thanks a bunch!" Durward told him. "But if you're really feeling helpful, come over here and use that smart mouth of yours to suck the sand out of my ass."
"No, thanks," Jack said, chuckling. "I've had my grit for the day. Just consumed some Chesapeake Bay sand. Ross and Shelley fed us oysters a while ago."
"Oysters!" Durward got to his feet and began brushing sand out of the crease between his asscheeks. "Do you West Shore cocksmen need seafood so you can challenge us to an endurance contest?"
"If we did challenge you," Ross said, "I think you'd have to send in that substitute you've got warming up on the bench. Tom appears to have joined the team, and Sandy, too."
"When that boy gets over his first cherry-picking infatuation," Durward warned them in a bit of parental boasting, "you'll wish I hadn't sent him in to take my place."
"And what about Sandy?" Jack inquired, looking at Denise.
"If you can get it, more power to you," she answered. "Lots o' luck. Right now, the way she sticks to Tom, you'd think she was hoping to con him into stuffing that maidenhead back into her."
"If she gives up, I'll be glad to try my hand at stuffing," Jack volunteered.
"The line forms right behind me," Durward joked. Denise laughed.
"For now, you dirty old men," she said, "eat your hearts out!"
CHAPTER FIVE
The West Shore couples had not intended to assault the East Shore group in a sexual sense. They had crossed the lake for socializing, and the community of ten spent the late afternoon and most of the evening comparing notes on various subjects.
In the manner of a progressive dinner, though without any preplanned order, schedule or preparation, they managed to spend some time in every one of the four cottages before they finished their discussions. Drinks and snacks always seemed to be in evidence, and each helped himself as appetite or mood required.
Tom and Sandy were in attendance after the first hour, always together or near each other, even though they participated in conversations separately, when they were addressed by one of the older members of the group.
Shortly after ten, presumably by mutual agreement, Tom and Sandy excused themselves and announced their intention to call it a night. They left the Cartwright cottage, where the rambling party had come to an almost-standstill, and swam across the lake. After seeing Cassandra safely inside the Lafayette cottage, Tom went to his own bed and flaked out.
The departure of the "novice members" lifted a cloud of restraint from the others. In rapid succession, they paired off and disappeared until Rhoda and Andy remained at the Cartwright bar by themselves.
Rhoda had installed the cotton summer covers on the leatherette bar stools, so they were comfortable sitting in the buff. Andy had to lean back frequently and admire the way Rhoda's gypsy-tan butt cheeks contrasted so excitingly with the bright fabric of the cover on which she sat.
"Damn, Rhoda!" he had to say finally. "I've admired your sweet ass from the first time I saw it, but… right now it's about to drive me off my nut!" He slipped from his stool and squatted behind her, then delivered a series of passionate kisses on her curvaceous butt.
When he began to thrust his tongue down into the crease that separated the attractive cheeks, she wiggled backward until her asshole was fully accessible, nestled amidst the curls of black hair that crept from her crotch.
Andy slithered the tip of his tongue into the soft warmth of her bung, teasing the tender wrinkles expertly. It was so tantalizing that she could not sit still. Her ass writhed on the fabric as she whimpered and giggled happily. And her asshole kept winking as she tried to open to his tongue against the reflexive nerve block that contracted it.
She leaned forward, resting her forearms on the bar and lifting her quivering butt from the stool. Andy grunted eagerly and pursued the target, now so much more accessible to him. He got the tip of his tongue wedged past the winking ring of muscle, and the hot wetness of his vibrating flesh excited her fantastically.
"Oh, Jesus!" she whispered. "I'm creaming all over the place!"
Andy felt her juice trickling in around his tongue. The female scent of it was driving him wild. He tried to fuck her asshole with his tongue, but the claspings of her anal muscle were too strong. He finally tired and had to pull his aching tongue out of her ass.
He slithered it into her dripping cunt and she almost jumped off the stool, where her feet were bracing her on opposite side rungs. He sucked at the runny coating and licked off all he could reach. Then he seized her by the waist and picked her up; he set her down beside him, then took her hand in his.