Transients. Visitors. Score one for Prescott. The information Matt gave me meant something. Only I didn't know what. Something. Something good.
“There a hotel in Prescott?”
“Sure.” His eyes lighted with a touch of local pride. “It's called the Iowan. Six stories. All the latest gewgaws. Just like in Des Moines.”
Golly! Six whole frigging stories. The Prescott Hilton.
I digested that tidbit and stuck my hand out.
“Well, Matt, it was great knowing you. Last night's forgotten. Thanks for the breakfast.”
Matt Hammond didn't take my hand. He stood for a minute like a bashful colossus. “Don't go, Doug. Stay aroun' a while. I won't do anything-”
You bet your sweet ass you won't do anything.
I allowed myself to be persuaded to stay a while. Reluctantly. Gleefully. You could bet your mother's adorable asshole-I wasn't going anywhere.
III
In back of the cabin, Matt had a neat plot of land cultivated. Growing tomatoes or broccoli or some shit. He showed it to me proudly and I made the proper noises.
There was something I wanted to see more than tomato plants. I wanted to see it in the even light of morning, out in the open. So I could judge it and make my plans accordingly. It was touchy, though. I couldn't just ask him to show me. What I wanted to see was Matt's boffer.
“Where do you bathe here, Matt?”
He pointed. “Stream jus'past those trees.”
“Feel like bathing?”
“Naw.”
“Well I do.”
“Okay, c'mon, I'll show ya.”
Past the trees, we clambered down a rocky incline. Hammond's private swimming pool flowed along grassy banks. The surrounding trees muffled even the chirruping of the crickets. Wonderful spot to take your girl skinny dipping. I let that fact register as I unbuttoned my shirt.
“Come on, Matt. Join me.”
He shook his head. Courteous and stubborn. “I don' wanna, but you go ahead.”
I didn't wanna either. Louder than I meant to, because I was impatient, I snapped, “Do me a favor, Matt. Take your clothes off.”
I knew, the way he complied instantly, unquestioningly, that Matt had the wrong idea. I didn't give a fuck. When I develop a plan, I cater to it. Plans don't come easy.
Without a word, Matt pulled off his shirt. He dropped his pants, stepped out of them, rolled down his Jockeys. “Shoes, too?”
“No, that's all right. How tall are you, Matt?”
“Bout 6'3”.”
He had enough wiry black bush for three. Enough cock for a pair of active studs. I'd seen stiff rods not nearly as long and as thick as his hang. Balls like grapefruits, swinging restlessly in a coarse sac.
“What do you weigh?”
“Geez, I dunno. About 230. What is all this, Doug?”
“Nothing-I was just thinking.” Planning. With my plans and that oversized hang. But Matt was doing some thinking, too. Where it hurt most. He tried to frame his words discreetly. “Look, fella, if you're queer, I don' mind. You c'n suck it. Is that it, Doug? You wanna kiss it?”
I disenchanted him with a curt “No!”
But a guy with a stiffening prong needs a lot of disenchanting. Matt's tool had begun to rise. I stared openly. That was an integral part of my plan, the fucking nucleus.
His rod reared up rigid, like a red arm jutting taut from under his belly.
“I got the biggest fucker in Mercer County!”
Don't hide your inches under a bushel. “Biggest in the country,” I amended.
Matt grinned. “An' I got the hottest fuckin'juice in the Country. C'mon, suck it!”
He gripped my shoulder, trying to force my head down.
“Sorry, I don't suck.”
Relentlessly gripping my shoulder, Matt grinned without amusement. “Whydja make me take my clothes off? Get me all hot? Suck it!”
Part of my plan was to keep Matt happy. And part of my plan was to keep on living. I compromised. “I never sucked a dick, honest! I couldn't start with that. I'll pull you off if you're horny.”
I put my hand over his velvety-smooth hard-on, jacking it vigorously. Deep in his throat, Matt growled. I could see where my plans needed revision or where I'd need a brand new jaw sooner than I expected. At the last moment, Matt's pisshole jammed tight on my lips and his grin faded. I was saved by the sound of the motor-Matt's car wheezing back from its shopping expedition.
He brushed me aside as easily as he had brushed Beth aside the night before. Through clenched teeth, he ordered, “Bring her here.” I caught my breath and crashed through the trees.
Beth had parked the old sedan and was starting for the cabin, Debbie trailing behind her. “Matt wants you.”
She handed the paper sack of groceries to Debbie, murmuring something. Then she followed me.
Matt was pacing the grassy river bank like an animal. His huge whacker shaking with every movement, eyes wild. He fell on Beth, tumbling her to the ground, clawing at her skirt. In a second, he had her in position, skirt bunched at her waist, panties down, legs high. He couldn't ram that club into a dry cunt. I knew that would be impossible.
I had miscalculated. Beth's legs were wrapped around his bulging shoulders. He was in her already. Now that his cock was soothingly sheathed, Matt's eyes were no longer wild. Beth's were. Wild, distraught, unfocused. Clutching at his bulk blindly to get more of his staff in her.
Brutally, he banged her. I watched the blonde's body shake under his lunges. The full length of his monstrous weapon had disappeared in her. Matt fucked like an animal. I'm libeling the animal. Watch a tomcat rutting some time. He'll pause to give the pussy an instant to enjoy it. Not Matt. He thrust forward in a frenzy of blurred hammer blows. Battering the receptacle under him. Fighting and panting to lose his load into the churning vortex.
He rolled off as soon as he squirted. He was grinning again, regarding Beth without expression. “G'head, Doug. Throw her a fuck. Let's see ya screw her. Otherwise, she'll be finger-fuckin' herself till tomorra.”
Beth thrashed on the grass, moaning. She was jacking herself as Matt had predicted. Between her fingers, rivulets of goo oozed out. Her come intermingled with Matt's.
I poked her. I didn't try to imitate Matt. Instead, I gave her a slow ride. Corkscrewing gently against the walls of her twat. Beth responded by climaxing one time after another. I stuffed her, pulled out most of the way. Then when I zoomed in for my last lunge, I poured out cream to soothe her burning cavern.
I was still in her, soaking my labe in her pungent juices, when the blonde started screaming. Not fuck me screaming-maternal, female screaming. The outraged mother. Matt had dragged little Debbie into the clearing. He was getting the kid to lick his cock.
“Make the toy all nice an' shiny,” he coaxed her.
“You leave her alone, you bastard!”
“She's just lickin' off your fuckin' whore juice,” Matt answered, calmly. “After she does me, she c'n start on Doug. How about that, boy! How about that!” He threw back his head, laughing. Beth took advantage of the diversion to grab her daughter and scurry toward the cabin.
“Isn't that kinda rough,” I said, not minding my own fucking business, as usual. “I mean, making the kid suck in front of her own mother.”
“Lickin' ain't suckin',” Matt mumbled. “Beth don't care a fuck about Debbie. She's jealous. She's jealous if anyone gets my prick. She'd be jealous if I gave it to her friggin' gran'ma.” The bearded man yawned. “Hey! I think I will take a swim after all.”
He took off his shoes and socks and dove into the water. I joined him. The water turned out to be unexpectedly icy, and Matt turned out to be a surprisingly expert swimmer. The narrow river didn't afford him much scope, but his strokes were incisive and graceful. Fast fuckers often make champion swimmers, just as divers are always blue-ribbon cunt lappers. Matt dove under, floated, came up grinning, shaking water out of his beard and his bush.