His cock burst deep in her ass, jism squirting out against tender, pink tissues. The raw spurts of his life stuff so incredibly deep in her body completely blew her away.
"HANK!" she screamed. She, too, froze in sweet orgasm lock.
Spurt, throb. Spurt, throb. Spurt, throb.
They twisted, moaned, grunted and slobbered in the furious heavenly release. Their naked bodies sucked together, shook, spasmed and rocked with involuntary action in their total, spending lust.
Her orgasm was so powerful that the real world receded and she floated in a soft, purple daze, helpless even after her cunt had throbbed its final spasm, and her asshole that had gripped his cock and throbbed in sympathy, went slack. Every part of her glowed in after-delight. She didn't feel him slide his satisfied prick out of her body.
It took Hank a while to recover himself. He pulled her out of the pool and stretched her out face down, staring at the luscious ass he'd just conquered. He'd never had a sex trip like that. Most things in life weren't as much as fun as they looked beforehand. Anal sex with Kay Simpson was the opposite. It was better than he'd imagined.
He patted her naked buttocks, red from his sex fury, and enjoyed the jelly quiver. He parted them and stared at her crack. Her tight sphincter sealed in his magnificent spend, but it bore the signs of his ravishment. It was swollen and tender-looking and there was a slight smear of blood. He had surely taken virgin asshole and she would be plenty sore down there later on.
She seemed dreamy, knocked out, almost in shock. He doubted she could survive the fire in this state. He went into the house to get her some clothes.
Inside he paused at the foyer to the big living room. I'll be damned!" he said. Then quickly found the clothes, dressed her and carried her, despite her protests and squirmings, to the center of town.
The fire was close now. Menacing smoke clouds rushed through the town. The helicopter, the deputies, were partly concealed as if by fog even when he came up to it and them.
He turned the feebly struggling Kay over to Nina. The voluptuous blonde still protested that she didn't want to leave her house in Treeline.
"Drunk?" asked Nina.
"Some kind of drug," said Hank straight-faced. "Some drug she isn't used to."
Like jism from a hot prick in a tight asshole, he thought to himself. Nina gave him a peculiar look as if she almost suspected. But there was no time for polite conversation. The deputies shoved Kay in the helicopter and got in. Nina got in and reached a hand down for Hank.
Hank pulled back. "I won't be going," he called.
The deputies shouted; Nina screamed, but he ran off into the fog of smoke.
"Fuck you, Treeline!" he screamed in wild delight. "You ground me down, but I got some of my own back."
It felt absolutely great to run back towards the smoke and fire, careless of whether he lived or died. All his life he'd been careful. Now he felt crazy-careless-let the fucking fire take his life.
He had to cough a little from the smoke but he kept running towards the ridge. Behind him he heard the beat of the helicopter motors. They could wait no longer. They were gone.
Running, running, back towards the Simpson house. Maybe he'd use the swimming pool and oxygen tanks. Maybe he wouldn't. He stumbled into something soft, white and moving. He went down. He found himself sitting on the sidewalk staring into the smudged fox-like face of the waitress from the Lone Tree Coffee Shop. Linda Sud Walker, that was her name. He knew her slightly.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going, you big ox," she squealed.
Something had spilled from her hands. One object was a bag that merchants carried money in when they did banking. Another was a box filled with jewelry, rings, watches, bracelets.
"Well, well," he grinned.
"So I cleaned out the town," she said defensively. "This town fucked me like you wouldn't believe." She was young, not more than twenty, with a slim, girlish body, short brown hair and brown eyes. Red from the smoke and angry looking now.
"You could go up in smoke."
"Not me. I'm pulling for a cave I know. Behind the Bartlow's barn where they keep the horse. Goes way back in the hill."
"Fire will suck out all the air," he said.
"Like shit it will. It runs clear through to the side where the fire's been yesterday. You can't walk through but the air gets through. It used to be an underground spring before cabins were built and changed it."
Intrigued, Hank said. "So let's go find your cave."
She had a regular treasure trove there, mostly more money and stolen jewelry. She told him she'd worked most of the night and today. All of the time she kept moaning her hatred of the town, telling him her sad story. Sent to work in town as a maid by her ailing mother on a rundown farm. Overworked, underpaid and fucked by the boss. A bar girl for a while, which was worse. Finally the Lone Tree Coffee Shop where she had to suck the cook's cock to keep her job.
"But I'm leaving this shithole rich!" she told him, her narrow ferret face gleaming.
"I've never hear such language from a young girl," he told her. "If you don't stop those dirty words, I'll wash your mouth out with soap." He gestured at the small stream that ran through the cave. She'd made herself quite a nest. Besides her stolen treasure, there was food, drink and blankets.
Outside the fire roared in a frenzy. Inside they were quite comfortable. Good air from the other side of the hill flowed past them as it was drawn out to the inferno beyond the cave.
"Don't push me around," she said. "I'm taking no more shit from guys ever, now that I'm rich."
He slapped her face. The civilized, defeated Hank Farr of yesterday could not have done that. She looked cowed.
"You won't be able to get away with all this stuff."
"Got a fu-got a hot cycle hidden under the Crescent waterfall," she said proudly. "Saddlebags. I'll be long gone before the rest of them come back. I'll be dead in the fire as far as anybody knows. And on to my new life."
"If I don't take this stuff away from you," he told her.
She bared her teeth. "You shit-uh, you bugger, you'd better not." Suddenly her snarl relaxed in a knowing, craftly smile. "Besides, you wouldn't. You're Hank Farr. This town dumped on you, too."
"Maybe I'm an honest guy who'll tell."
But she shook her head in feminine certainty based on instinct. "I don't think so. I think I can talk you into helping me pull this pissing-this gag off. If you can give up that round-heeled wife I've heard about. Hell, I mean, heck, most of this stuff comes from the homes or stores of guys that screwed your wife. They owe it."
"Kathy will be no problem," he said solemnly.
Then he studied her face closer. "You want a partner, don't you, kid? It's turned out bigger than you expected."
"Hell, yes. Even with the fences knocking down on us, we've got better than two hundred thousand here. Maybe lots more. Some young guy catches on, the kind I meet, he'll break my mouth and take it all and spend it on some better-looking chick."
She studied him, drinking from her beer can. "But you, Hank. We could be great together. You would treat me right because you know what the bottom feels like."
He reached out and ruffled her hair. "Could be, Linda Sue."
Outside the fire raged and roared, having its way with Treeline. Inside, quite comfortable, they ate and then tried to get some sleep.
She laid there thinking how lucky she was. This guy could be worth half the stuff she'd picked up. Older. A kind of quiet guy, but with a terrific, hard body. And that cock lump in his pants. She began to get horny. There was one way she could sure nail him down.
"Hank?"
"Wazzit?" His sleepy head peered over at her.
She crawled over to him naked, not too great in the face, perhaps but her young body smooth as velvet, with perky little breasts, a bouncy little ass and the incredible tautless of youth.