"Yeowwww!" she howled in happy female submission.
"Yahhhhh. Wooooo," went Earl. He felt his female's stiffness and the beginning of her orgasm and he fell off the same cliff, muscles locked in ecstatic joy.
It was too much for Witsy. She bent and used her fingers to scoop up the rich juices of cunt oils and blood on both their thighs. She used one finger on Earl's asshole and the other on Donna's asshole.
"Welcome to the club!" she cried happily and drove her fingers through both sphincters into the tender, pink flesh of their intestines.
The extra thrill in the midst of orgasm drove both of them out of their minds. Earl actually screamed in joy.
"Gaaaoooone!"
His boiling sperm litrally exploded into Donna's cunt, helped by the finger that stroked his emptying prostate. For Donna it was just too much. That extra invasion of her body, setting alive the rich nerves around her asshole, sent her right up into the purple land as she temporarily passed out with an ecstatic gasp.
Witsy, feeling the male empty, reveled in the strange, once-in-a lifetime feel of two sphincters simultaneously clutching her fingers in spasmic joy.
"I now pronounce the both of you forever free of childhood repressions, ready for happy lives," she said tenderly. Then she withdrew her fingers and patted both butts affectionately.
Chapter 3
When the fire comes it is very much like a traveling rainstorm-but much more dangerous to human flesh. First is the electric feel of anticipation, the sound of the far-off roar coming nearer, the first breath of intense heat, and an unnatural stillness in the forest.
Soon red sparkles appear over low hills, gleaming through the trees and shrubbery. It is quite pretty from the distance. Then it mushrooms to fill the ground and sky with red and white curtains, and the awesome roar makes the flesh cringe. Trees explode in magnificent bursts as the inferno races forward. The heat presses like a physical blow. It arrives with full fury, an incredible sound and brightness that is surely the basis for all the legends of hell. Things smoke briefly and then burst into joyful flames, to join the holocaust with eagerness. Raging, ranging at every point, and no human can survive.
Suddenly it lessens, abates, recedes, leaving blacks and browns and rising smoke, the sound retreats, the heat retreats and there are only slow, thoughtful afterfires, smoke, and black and brown desolation. The fire cannot return, or burn again, not for years and years. The lives lost never return and some lives it changes forever.
Nina Piatt, chief reporter for the TREE LINE JOURNAL, drove the newspaper's jeep along Crest Road, on the outskirts of the mountain resort town. Last night when the resort town of Treeline had been evacuated she'd stayed behind to complete her story, certainly the biggest in the history of the place. The town still stood but the outskirts on the west was a different story. Expensive cabins, modest cabins and shacks had all been destroyed. No one she knew about had been hurt-there'd been plenty of warning, but unfortunately there were bound to be a few corpses in a fast-moving forest fire like this. Some people didn't keep up with the news.
She didn't think much about that. The excitement of last night-the evacuation of a whole town-had turned her on like mad. It was a curious and weird feeling, to be covering that story as cars and trucks filled with people and prized belongings rattled and roared through the night. People coming and going… lights everywhere, urgent shouts, crying children, tense faces and excited eyes. 'very much like war', she thought.
Her cunt had remained wet and swollen most of the night. She had to pull her shirt out of her jeans to cover the damp spot between her legs. Changing clothes wouldn't help; she couldn't quiet her vagina. It was both embarrassing and highly erotic to live in such a state.
No one else seemed to feel that. They felt fear. Her nerves translated that same fear into sexual arousal. She found herself staring at lumps of male cocks and male asses, the more fascinated because, for once, no males were thinking about sex.
Chad, her husband, would laugh at that. Nina Piatt was a prude, a married woman of great chastity. Oh, she was attractive enough with a long, lanky body, still firm at thirty, with a sensual face. Plenty of the local beef had made signs at her, but she never succumbed.
Last night she would've fucked almost anyone and once, had hidden out in the John of the newspapers office to get relief with her hand. Leaning against the wall, with the rosy glow of the fire approaching the west side of town, she had a magnificent orgasm. It was better than the delights Chad ever gave her.
The town had weathered the night and so had her chastity. The few remaining males had not noticed her. They were only the local police and firemen, doing their disaster thing. Why should any of them show interest? She'd turned down their propositions often enough.
Now she pulled up her jeep by the smoldering ruin of Hank Farr's place. It was hardly a cabin, more like a shack, but now it was completely gone, with a few blackened upright timbers of fire debris on the cement slab floor.
Hank Farr stood there like a statue, staring at something in the ruins. Poor Hank! He'd come to Treeline full of bounce and hope and ended up a drunken day laborer on the very bottom. Now even his house was gone.
She greeted him, but he turned to her with a dazed face.
"She bought it last night," he said.
She stared where he pointed and felt her heart stop. What she'd thought at first glance was some charred furniture turned out to be two decimated corpses.
"My God, is that Kathy?"
"Kathy-and one of her lovers," said Hank. Two big tears swelled out of his eyes and moved down his cheeks.
There was no doubt about it. The two stick figures intertwined and the woman had to be Kathy.
"I saw her ring," said Hank.
But the man? With a rush Nina realized it could be any one of a half dozen. Or more. Kathy Farr was Treeline's round-heeled wife, and she'd been Hank's downfall. He'd never been able to give her up, no matter how wild she got.
It was impossible to tell who the man had been. Nina gave the figure one close, complete look that was her duty as a reporter and then retreated, pulling Hank away from the scene.
"I'm so sorry," she murmured. Then: "Hank, you've got to get out of here. The danger isn't over. Another part of the fire's coming from the east. It could reach Treeline by afternoon."
She wasn't calloused. Her heart beat faster and she felt sickened by the deaths, but she was a reporter, after all.
"I've got nothing," said Hank.
She bit her tongue to keep from saying that at last he had his freedom from an oversexed wife that had almost destroyed him. His big body bumped against hers, his big hand felt cold. He was a brown bear of a man, quite handsome and powerful from physical labor. The weakness was in his soul.
She got him in the jeep. "A helicopter will be in by one o'clock. It will take out the last of us. There's only a couple of deputies, a fire expert they could spare from the line, and whoever we can pick up. Stragglers. We've got to cover the town and look for them. Make sure nobody is left."
"I've got nowhere to go," said Hank.
"You've got to help," she insisted. "This afternoon Treeline will go up in smoke for sure. Last night the fire break saved the town, except for the western outskirts. There's no fire break on the east."
He merely sighed and got into the jeep with her and they started back to town. Hank's was the last spot to cover on this side.
Chad!
The idea hit Nina like a smoldering bush bursting into flame. Chad had played house with Hank's wife; she'd known about it for some time. Chad never could resist a cute bottom and hungry female thighs.
"That man back there… have you got any idea… who it could be?" she asked, aware that her voice trembled.