“Ooh! That tickles!” Glory writhed under her touch and became aware that she was pressing her belly into the warm earth and that it felt quite good.
“Relax.” Wilma slapped the tense buttocks lightly and the muscles loosened. She finished rubbing the oil there and over Glory’s legs and then told her to turn over.
“I can do the front myself,” Glory told her.
“Well, if you’d rather --” Wilma didn’t make a point of it. She could wait.
They lay in the sun for about an hour. Then Wilma got up and went over to her clothes, ostensibly for a cigarette, actually to check the time with the wristwatch she’d left in her dress pocket. Yes, it was time.
“Oh, damn,” she said. “I’ll have to go back to the house.”
“What for?” Glory asked.
“I’m out of cigarettes. And if I don’t get a cigarette when I want one, I’m one very unhappy girl.”
“Take one of mine.”
“You smoke those filtered things. I can’t stand them. No, I’ll just hop back and get my own. It won’t take long.”
“I’ll go with you.” Glory started to get up.
“No. Don’t bother. You look so comfortable lying there. Stay and enjoy the sunshine.” As she was speaking, Wilma was quickly pulling her dress over her head. She slipped her feet into her sandals. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and started down the trail quickly to forestall any more suggestions from Glory that she accompany her.
A few moments later Wilma mounted a small hillock and gazed back down at the shore of the pond. She squinted her eyes and nodded to herself with satisfaction as she saw that Glory was still lying there naked. The sun was speckling her voluptuous young body, and from this distance she looked like some sort of pagan offering, a virgin beauty staked out to appease the wrath of the gods.
Staked out. That accurately described Glory’s position as far as Wilma was concerned. She was staked out just like a bait in a trap. Succulent, irresistible bait!
And Wilma was about to spring the trap. . .
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wilma had arranged for the trap ingeniously during her afternoon off on the previous day. It had been a busy afternoon. And it had been an afternoon which offered at least one surprise.
“You want to do that?” she’d asked Rafe, startled by his request.
“Yup. I allus had a hankerin’ to try it.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!”
“Aw, come on now, Wilma, you’re not goin’ to get all shocked an’ like that, are you?”
“Baby, you couldn’t in a million years think up anything to do with sex that would shock me.”
“Good. Tell the truth, Wilma honey, I sorta got the idea watchin’ them Henshaws that night.”
“Why, Rafe,” she teased him, '“There’s no telling what you’ll be wanting to do next. Little boys I expect, or something just as queer.”
“Ain’t nothin’ queer ’bout what I’m askin’!”
“Isn’t there? A good psychoanalyst might find it very revealing.”
“I don’ hold with them head shrinkers. But if you don’ wanna do it, Wilma, why you jus’ say so. I sure ain’t gonna beg it.”
“Will you do what I asked you anyway?”
“Nope. Why should I? You wanna favor from me, well, one good turn deserves another.” He giggled. “Hey, you catch that, Wilma? One good turn derseves another. Ain’t that a real knee-slapper?”
“High comedy,” she observed dryly. ”All right, Rafe. I’ll do it your way. But if I do, you’ll do whatever I want. Is that understood?”
“Now wait a minute! Jus’ what’re you gettin’ me into, Wilma? I ain’t gonna break no laws, or nothin’. Maybe you better tell me what it is you want afore we call it a deal.”
“All right.” Wilma told him then.
When she was through, Rafe scratched his head. “Gee, I dunno. It could be risky.”
“Not if you do just what I say. Only be sure you don’t get carried away. She’s a good-looking girl.”
“Yeah. I seen her roun’ town.” Rafe licked his lips. “But suppose she hollers ‘rape’ or somethin’?”
“There won’t be anybody to hear her. And you’re not going to rape her or hurt her. Once it’s over, she’ll just forget about it.”
“Suppose she don’?”
“She will.”
“I dunno, Wilma. It still sounds risky to me.”
“Rafe.” She sidled up to him and pressed his hand to her breasts. “Do it for me.”
“Gosh, I’m not—”
She kissed him on the lips, shutting off his objections. “Please, Rafe,” she murmured when the kiss was over.
“An’ you’ll do it the way I want?”
“Just as soon as you do me this favor.”
“No!” Rafe pulled away. “I ain’t trustin’ you nohow, Wilma. You do it first, or it ain’t no deal.”
“All right,” she said. “And then you promise you’ll do it?”
“I promise.”
“You do it just right, Rafe,” she cooed in his hear, “and maybe I’ll give you a little bonus after it’s over, too.”
Rafe gulped. His hands were greedy, grasping at Wilma’s blouse. “When?” he asked. “When are we a-gonna do it?”
“No time like the present,” Wilma crooned “Come on out in the barn and we’ll do it in the hayloft right now.”
Rafe followed her eagerly. She led him to one of the stalls in the barn and started to take off her clothes. “You get undressed, too,” she told him.
Both naked, they scrambled up the hayloft. Rafe reached for her hungrily and fastened his mouth over one breast. In his eagerness he slobbered over it and Wilma had to conceal her disgust. But she had the experience to do this successfully and Rafe never guessed that her skin was all but crawling at the drops of drool his hungry mouth had deposited on it.
A sudden sound made them both sit up quickly. “What was that?” Wilma whispered.
The sound came again. “Aww, that ain’t nothin’ but the hogs oinkin’,” Rafe explained.
“How fitting,” Wilma murmured.
“How’s ’at?”
“Nothing.” She leaned back in the hay. “Come on, lover, back to your trough,”
It went over Rafe’s head. He fell on top of Wilma again and resumed what he’d been doing. “This is s’posed to really excite a woman,” he said after a while, pausing for breath.
“Oh, it does,” Wilma assured him, carefully keeping the boredom out of her voice. “It just makes me hot all over.”
“Yeah. I’m one feller what knows how to satisfy a woman. I allus allow as how she’s gotta get her kicks, too. Know what I mean?” He snapped his teeth at Wilma’s other breast.
“I certainly do,” she sighed, wishing he’d hurry up and get it over with so she’d have enough time to do everything that had to be done that afternoon.
Rafe did speed things up. His activity may not have been having much effect on Wilma’s 1ibido, but it was exciting him. “Turn over,” he told her, becoming more anxious to get on with it.
Wilma turned over. She felt Rafe’s tongue sliding over the backs of her legs and then his lips were all over her buttocks. He licked the length of the cleft, dipped his tongue deeply into the anal cavity, sucked hard at her narrow rear hole. Despite herself, she started to squirm under his nibbling and kissing and licking. He played with her for a long time there, using both his hands and mouth. Then—“Ready, baby?” he asked hoarsely.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned falsely. She rose on her knees, thrusting out her haunches to make things easier.
She felt his hands exploring and then clawing to force her buttocks wider apart so that he could ram his blunt, stiff penis up her bunghole. Then his hands slid around in front of her, squeezing her breasts. The discomfort eased for a moment, only to be replaced by a sudden, sharp pain as Rafe thrust violently for the target. “I’m gonna shove my pecker right on up yer tush-twat ’til you bust plumb apart!” He panted. He, was deliberately brutal, laughing loudly at the genuine moan of anguish which escaped Wilma’s lips as he forced his way.