Her squirming, fiery bowels churning feverishly on his huge rod, Dan couldn't have held back, his load at gunpoint. He clutched her madly bouncing ass and began to spurt his load in violent torrents, stinging and boiling deep in her shuddering ass, bringing wild screams from her throat.
"oooooo! Ah! I'm – unnnf! – Coming too, Danny! Hotjism so good big prick in my ass so wiiiiiiild! – Yessss, love it, honey, eeeeeeeee!Coming too!"
Her burning asshole sucked fiercely at his bursting rod, draining every thick drop of his come. Even then Jenny refused to release his limp rod, her thrilled tunnel clamping obscenely, her deep moans filling the camper.
After Dan slipped his dick out, his little sister kept undulating her ass in a plea for more. Her golden tits heaved with her lingering climax for another few minutes before Jenny rolled over on her back, sighing lustfully.
"It hurt," she whimpered. "But I dug it too. Even though my ass feels like raw liver now."
They smoked one more reefer, then slipped their baffling suits on and headed for home. Jenny toyed with his cock all the way back, lewd fingers stroking, groping, caressing, her newly fired glands humming deliriously in her body.
"I want to do it in the shower next," she said suddenly. "I want to do it everywhere, brother."
"Better cool it, Sis, until the folks aren't home or are sleeping." Jesus, from the contorted look of raw hunger on her smooth face, Danny began to wonder if he hadn't overdone it. From a sweet little virgin into a wild eyed, insatiable swinger in a singe hour. They said the bigger the saint the bigger the sinner. She'd flung her coy, wholesome act to the winds and was seething with hot, driving lust now, her face flushed and her eyes glazed, her beautiful tits still panting with torrid excitement, her fingers rubbing her moist inner thighs in a small frenzy.
"Listen," she said suddenly. "Let's go to the drive-in tonight. Bring plenty of beer and grass. We're going to have a guest, brother. And when we get there I want you to go find some of your buddies to talk to for an hour or twos. By the time you get back, I'll have a pussy so hot for you it'll be smoking."
He looked at her, startled. She was charged with sex-electricity, chafing at the bit like a racehorse. Could he recoup from all the sudden frenzied fucking by tonight so he could enjoy a wangle to the hilt? Hell, yes, if it was the redhead. Jenny confirmed it would be.
Dinner at the Moore house that night seemed perfectly normal on the surface. John Moore ate silently and methodically. His wife Donna seemed absorbed with some inner secret excitement, her eyes glowing curiously on her handsome son and lovely daughter. Dan and Jenny kept up a running innocent conversation as they usually did, brother and sister wholesome bantering. Beneath the table, Jenny's leg brushed and rubbed and played with her brother's lasciviously while her blood sang with rising excitement.
Dan and Jenny casually announced they were going to the drive-in that night, along with Jenny's friend Ann.
John Moore announced, wearily, that he had to attend a sales meeting at the auto agency where he was manager and probably wouldn't be home until midnight.
That left Donna alone in the house. She also mentioned casually that she might have guests, a couple named Langley. She hadn't called Georgia Langley yet about her mis-delivered package, but since she'd be alone and hotly aroused tonight, she would settle her profound curiosity about the woman once and for all, and about her husband – if he knew about his wife's bizarre tastes in erotica.
She fervently wished either her rugged son or luscious young daughter would stay home tonight, but she knew she didn't quite have the nerve needed for that sort of action just yet. The children were so lovely and innocent she wondered if she'd ever have the nerve. The idea of corrupting her own wholesome children stung her with deep shame. And irresistible lust.
After dinner, Dan and Jenny left immediately. John Moore kissed his wife an affectionate goodbye. Donna Moore, her heart racing with wild excitement, reached for the phone.
Georgia Langley's voice was young and sultry. "Yes?"
"My name is Mrs. Moore, Mrs. Langley. You don't know me, but I've got something of yours. A package. From Secret Fashions in Hollywood."
"Oh yes," the voice said, perfectly casual. "Mail mix-up, I'm sure. It's an evening dress I ordered weeks ago. Why don't you just give it to the mailman in the morning, Mrs. Moore? He'll see that I get it."
Donna took a deep breath, her pussy throbbing passionately, her mind whirling with intense curiosity about the face and body that matched that compelling voice. "I'm afraid I've already opened the package, Mrs. Langley. By mistake, of course. And I… tried your evening gown on. I found it fascinating, Mrs. Langley. Absolutely fascinating."
A very long pause. Then, a throaty amused laugh. "I wonder, Mrs. Moore, if I've found a kindred soul in this hick town? Suppose I pick my package up tonight? No one else knows about my… evening dress, do they?"
"Of course not," Donna assured her. "I think I ought to bring it by your place instead." Their place would be safer. "Will you and your husband be home tonight?"
"For you, of course. I'm dying to meet you, Mrs. Moore. We must be the same size, for one thing." Her voice grew lower, huskier. "If my underthings fit you, you must have a hell of a figure, Mrs. Moore. Are you stacked? Big breasts, long legs, well-developed buttocks?"
Donna felt a thrill, of lewd excitement. Christ, she was being propositioned on the phone! "I think I'm stacked enough, Mrs. Langley. How about eight o'clock?"
"We'll be ready, Mrs. Moore. And feel free to wear anything in the package. I can't wait to meet you."
"The feeling is mutual," Donna told her, and hung up the phone with trembling fingers. Like an obscene blind date, she thought as she rushed to dress. She suddenly felt twenty years younger, Jenny's age, madly excited about a wild forthcoming party.
Only this promised to be an orgy, not a party. And it would be so wild and shattering, the fiercely aroused housewife wouldn't forget it as long as she lived…
Especially the vicious whip and the gigantic, nerve racking prick.
CHAPTER THREE
Georgia and Al Langley were not particularly friendly with their neighbors and for this reason were considered strange and "stuck up" by all of them. They were city bred, and did not conceal the fact that they found life in a small town a crashing bore. The handsome young couple in their mid-twenties had been transferred from the swinging, open atmosphere of San Francisco to this peaceful, screamingly dull place by Al's company, a computer manufacturer.
Because the transfer meant a promotion and a healthy raise in pay, Al didn't protest too much.
They stayed mostly to themselves during the week and spent every weekend in either San Francisco or Los Angeles, seeking out their own. Their own in this case signified other healthy, open minded young couples – and single attractive girls – who liked to exchange bodies and strike out in new sexual directions.
In a word, they were swappers.
But the Langleys were more adventurous than most. Anyone could swap sex partners for an evening of freewheeling fucking, but how many swingers could devise intricate, bizarre sex games and program their partners like a computer? Al was a computer programmer and the infinite number of possible sensations in the human nervous system fascinated him. You could, he discovered after experimenting on live victims like frustrated housewives and overeager secretaries, push their buttons to get almost any desired reaction in seconds. The reactions ranged from horrifying shock to unendurable torment to maddening bliss to insatiable greed, with hundreds of minor variations.
Al gradually found that the most effective method for programming lust in people was pure fear. The pain/pleasure principle was hardly new, but by stressing terror enough, he discovered that the subsequent relief from terror was practically ecstasy in itself. By balancing pain with pleasure in the proper amounts, he could program almost anyone like a dumb animal, regardless of their so called intelligence. Pushing people's buttons had almost nothing to do with brains, but everything to do with emotions. It was his personal observation that most geniuses couldn't lead a dying horse to water, while certain dimwits could make out in ten minutes flat with a complete stranger by instilling the proper emotions in their chosen victims. Not that they did it consciously, of course, but instinctively, prodded by raw desire and primitive cunning.