“Excuse me, Miss Grant. Can you recommend a place to dine?”
She looked me over from hairline to the tips of my loafers. Had she paused briefly to inspect my mid-section? I couldn't be positive. Carla spoke sweetly. “I would suggest the cafeteria at the Salvation Army.”
Is that a way to speak to a hotel guest? You'll be sorry, Miss Grant. When I set you on fire and withhold the extinguisher, you'll be fucking sorry. I lifted an imaginary hat and bowed as she swished past me.
I had time for a short chat with Ernie before Matt drove up. The kid had dressed for a social engagement, razor-sharp slacks, white shirt, tie and jacket. Christ! The day I lost my cherry I wore a lousy pair of jersey bathing trunks-around my ankles. But then, of course, Ernie had never prowled under the boardwalk at Coney Island.
Now that his big moment was approaching, the kid got slightly skittish. “I-is she young?” he had the goddamned crust to ask me. Christ! The first time I ever nudged nookie, I didn't ask if she was over-age, sober, or even if she was conscious!
Maybe at seventeen Ernie would find the blonde nympho too old for him. But then there was always Debbie. Or in a pinch, Matt Hammond.
My bearded buddy didn't seem too enthusiastic as we drove toward the cabin. He peered at Ernie doubtfully.
“You ever lay a broad, kid?”
Obviously cowed by the giant's sheer bulk, Ernie stammered, “N- n-not exactly. Jeannie let me see it.”
“Who's Jeannie?”
“A girl who lives in my neighborhood. We went to her basement last winter, the day of the big storm just before Christmas.”
“An' she gave you a present?”
Somewhat emboldened, Ernie recounted the thrilling details of his one boy-girl encounter. The usual one thing led to the usual other. “It was kind dark in the basement. When Jeannie let me pull her panties down, there was just enough light to see her. She has such a pretty pussy. It's all furry down there, but the slit sorta winked at me.”
Optical illusions didn't interest Matt. “Didja fuck 'er?”
“She wouldn't lemme,” Ernie admitted. “She's saving it up till she's engaged.”
“Why the fuck didn'cha get engaged to the muff?”
“Jeannie's only fourteen,” Ernie declared, virtuously.
Matt smacked his lips; and we damn near skidded off the road as he took his hand off the wheel to apply it to his fly. “Fourteen! I'd give my left ball to be in a basement with fourteen-year-old quim! An' what did you do? Say, 'Thanks for letting me look?'”
“I went all the way-almost. I put my lips to it. I stuck my finger in. Gee! Up to the knuckles! I rested my cock right up against it.”
“An' then?”
“An' then I got my rocks off. I couldn't help it,” Ernie sounded apologetic. “I came.”
“Fa Chrissake!” Matt had been jerking his pole, half in and half out of his fly. He was about to stow it away in disgust when he asked hopefully, “Did she have a good pair of knockers? Big tits?”
Ernie reverted to stammering. “I d-didn't get to s-see them. Jeannie k-kept her b-blouse on.”
Matt drove in injured silence.
Beth awaited her “company” outside the cabin. She'd put on a fresh dress; her hair was neatly combed. I tried to see her through young Ernie's eyes. A pretty blonde lady who was going to raise her skirt, spread her legs, and allow him to do what he wanted to do since his balls started to hang right. A very kind, willing lady. Ernie must have been feeling good. I know I developed a bone.
If the boy was tongue-tied, the lady didn't provide much conversation either. Smiling nervously, she carried the sleeping Debbie out to Matt's car. That would give us more scope in the bedroom quarters.
Matt produced a bottle of cheap liquor. Ernie gulped his, choked, sputtered, and valiantly tried another gulp. While we drank, Beth entered the cabin and slipped through the partition to the bedroom.
Matt pushed the kid toward the curtain. “G'head, never keep a lady waitin'.”
“Whaddo I do?” Ernie sounded younger than Debbie.
The bearded man grinned. “Get your rocks off. Fuck 'er dizzy. If ya have any doubts, ask the lady.”
Ernie disappeared behind the partition. Matt hoisted himself up on one of the rough kitchen chairs. He dropped his pants, kicked them aside, and pulled his cock out of his Jockeys.
Ernie stuck his head through the opening of the partition. He seemed to be fully dressed except for his jacket.
“Excuse me. One of you guys got a rubber?” As he enunciated the second “b” in “rubber", Ernie spied the imposing owner of the cabin. His quest for a condom forgotten, Ernie scurried back behind the partition.
“What are they doing?” I asked Matt, in the balcony.
“Beth's peeling her dress off. He's looking. Must be somethin' wrong with 'im. He's just looking. She's holding her tits out. He's givin' them a feel. He's suckin' her boobies. Jeez! Look at her legs go! She wants prick in there. Why the fuck don't he fuck her?”
His massive erection wagging before him, Matt charged into the bedroom. I followed. Ernie looked up, startled, like a guy caught raping his mother. Christ!
Nude, legs churning, Beth screamed, “Fuck me! For God's sake, fuck me!”
“When ya see a cunt creaming, give it to 'em,” he cautioned the bellhop. “If ya don't fuck 'em, their boobs'll bite ya back, some day!”
Matt pushed his poker deep into the honeypot, screwing the blonde in a fast flurry of lunges. He enjoyed having an audience. He grinned up at Ernie. “Give 'em a nice slow ride. Beth's yellin' her fuckin' head off to show how she likes it. Aincha, cunt!” He pressed into the balls, lifting her up, molding her body to fit his rampaging prick.
Ernie wasn't listening. He was watching the rigid foot of flesh sink into the overheated cleft, emerge shiny and slimy, submerge again. Without a trace of self-consciousness, bemused, he exposed his own hard-on and started to beat it. He towered over the rutting couple, groaning louder than Matt.
Gee, that brought back my childhood. First time I saw a man and woman in action, I jerked off too. I didn't have a ringside seat like Ernie; I had to watch from the doorway. And all through the performance I was worried. Ma looked so funny. I thought dad was hurting her. That didn't stop me from making a sticky mess on the floor outside their bedroom. I came too suddenly to catch my goo in a handkerchief.
Ernie didn't use his handkerchief. He sprayed hot boy cream haphazardly over the rutting bodies.
“You son of a bitch!” Matt thundered. His beefy thigh was splattered with Ernie's effusion. “You son of a bitch!” He vented his anger on the brimming box under him. It doesn't pay to show anger in the saddle. The angrier you are, the quicker you'll be dismounting. Within ten seconds, Matt was giving Beth up the snatch what Ernie had given him on the thigh. Only more so.
Two down and I was ready to go. I didn't insult the kid by giving a blow-by-blow demonstration. I merely warned him, “If you feel you're gonna come, please direct your stream elsewhere.”
Simultaneously, Beth and Ernie ordered, “Shut up and start screwing!”
The blonde's cunt was richly cream-lubricated. I sank in up to the pelvis and began banging. Beth had reached the point where a pinkie tautly extended would set off the fireworks. She gushed like a faucet. My cock came out lacy-white with her love froth.
Ernie wasn't as dumb as he looked. He knew-or maybe Matt told him-that an embrace is better without hampering layers of clothing. The boy had stripped naked. Without a glance at his well-wishers, he blotted his hot body against the blonde's battered flesh. Reverently, he fingered her furry gash, probing between the lips. By hook or crook or sheer cussedness, he located Beth's clit and refused to let go of it. He seemed fascinated by the way the little soldier stiffened. His pinching drove Beth to a frenzy. Panting between clitoral spasms, she whispered, “I can't take more of that. Fuck me, you bastard!”