There we a kind of frenzy in him, a desire to keep all this, to dig it all, in the old fashioned sense of the word.
He turned himself and Reina sideways, keeping his cock in her mouth, his lips holding her wet hole closed she sucked gently.
He pulled at Corrie until she hunched her bore ass over to him, getting up on her elbows and knees so he could suck at her split, so wet and open.
And finally, he kissed Reina for a long time, tonguing her thoroughly, knowing that a part of the richness he tasted in her mouth had poured out of his own balls.
He saw that the girls were nestled alongside the naked form of the girl he hadn't met, and covered them with the soft blankets. He walked out of the barn with his head high.
He was a man, by God!
CHAPTER FOUR
Saturday is the busiest day of the week at a rural riding stable, and work starts early. In the cool of dawn, Jud Kenny came into the darkness of the feed barn to kick a few bales of hay out of the loft.
The thud of the bales caused stirring in the blankets in the corner, and he smiled at the innocent eroticism of the three juvenile bodies, twined together.
The three were stirring as their damply warm bodies felt the chill morning air, and Reina, flopping over on her back; opened her thighs invitingly. Jud could not resist fingering her warm slit, its lips stuck together with the drying flow of cunt-ooze, and he smiled as she pumped her smooth loins up at him in her sleep when he got a finger into the warmth of the tight hole.
After they awakened, all three as unselfconscious as animals in their nudity, he told them what to do.
A half-hour later, after the girls had finished a big breakfast in the dining room of the motel, Jud came in, had coffee, and went out to his station wagon. The girl's came out and went through the motions of a conversation, none of them looking toward the stales, since they might be under observation. When they at last got in the car, Angela sat primly against the door on the passenger side, and was first to jump out when the wagon pulled up beside the trailer.
"You come along with me, Miss – was it Hart?" Jud said casually. "You other girls walk around and look things over."
The trailer looked different to Angie than it had last night – not so cozy, a little shabbier. At the small dining table on built-in bench, there was a woman who looked about the same age as Angie's mother, who smiled at her and Jud.
"This is Angela Hart, Rhoda," the man said with no hint of guile. "Miss Hart, my wife, Rhoda. Miss Hart and a couple of her friends from Citrus City got cheated out of their reservations up in Apple Tree, and slept in a used-car lot last night. Miss Hart says she knows horses, and is willing to work if we'll let her and the two girls bunk in the tack room. We could use an extra hand, especially this weekend." He smiled at them both.
"Sure," the woman said, looking Angela over with unusual thoroughness. "You got any working clothes, dear? Like jeans, or slacks? If you tried working around here in that skirt, bending over and all, the rest of the help wouldn't do much work!"
"Yes, ma'am," the girl said. She felt uncomfortable under the woman's friendly scrutiny. She might be old, but she had once been beautiful, Angie thought, and corrected herself – she was beautiful right now! Those boobs! It was clear that she wore no bra, and didn't need one. And no fat on her – she was in remarkable shape.
The implication in the crack about Angie's skirt made the girl flush. This older lady wasn't afraid to mention sex. The girl somehow felt the kiss of warmer air around her bare bottom, which in some way suddenly felt exposed.
In a moment of confusion, she glanced at the bunk, and what she saw was deeply disconcerting.
There, where she and dud had spent that glorious hour fucking, was a large damp spot, and Angela felt that she could almost see the prints of her bare ass, the depressions made by her heels and Jud's knees. Defensively, she swung her gaze back to Rhoda, and found understanding in the older woman's eyes.
"Miss Hart, is it?" the woman said. "Angela Hart, right? From Citrus City. Did you own a horse, or work around a stable, or do show-riding, or what?"
"All of it, ma'am," Angie answered, still flushed front the frightening knowledge of that damp spot on the bunk. "I've had a horse since I was little, and after I was twelve, Daddy thought I ought to work at the stable for my horse's board. And I worked a horse or two – three-gaited, mostly – at little shows around the county. Nothing important."
"Oh, then you really ought to be useful. It seems funny to put somebody to work without checking them out. But what the hell, it's wily for a place to sleep – isn't that what Jud said?"
Just outside the trailer, Jud's voice arose, pleasant, casual. "That's right, Rhoda."
"So I won't have to bother you for a Social Security number, will I, Angela? It's okay for me to call you Angela, isn't it, dear?" A glance at the damp spot, another glance back to the girl. "You're like, uh, in the family, anyhow, aren't you?"
Angela almost choked on panic and tears. She did not – could not – feel a burden of guilt. What had been done had come naturally; she had been so hot, crazily hot; she would have avidly fucked an orangutan last night. But neither could she feel defensive; certainly not angry.
Through the window, she could see Jud walking toward the feed barn, and she only wished that she, too, could flee, for she feared what might come next. To her surprise, the woman said.
"Come here. Come around here and sit down."
In a daze, still not daring to look up, Angela edged around to the built-in seat that served the tiny dining area, and sat down, finding herself grateful, since her legs had gone weak and trembly. In a warm glow, she felt Rhoda Kenny's arm go around her, a very strong arm, pulling her close, so that the woman's hand closed on her firm tit. And her breast liked it, liked it so much that the nipple swelled and hardened immediately, and Angie knew that the brown circle of nubby flesh surrounding the nipple would be puffing, swelling, taken on a deeper color.
"Oh, Mrs. Kenny," she whispered, "please let us stay here!"
"Why not, baby?" the woman whispered, and squeezed hard and with a roving hand on the soft titty. Her voice was husky. "Are you crying? Don't be silly! I knew someone had stayed here the minute I looked at the pile of blankets in the tack room – I know every dime's worth of equipment we have. And I figured Jud collected rent the minute I saw that cum on the bunk. What the fuck! We've been married nearly twenty-five years – he's a good husband and a good man. But he was lucky to get someone so sweet!"
She stretched out her leg – Angela felt the change without knowing what it was for – and kicked the trailer door shut. Simultaneously, she tipped up Angela's face and smiled reassuringly at the tearful girl. Without saying anything; she bent her head, and chuckled as Angela's lips and teeth parted to take in her tongue. Girls nowadays – they were so much more open! The older woman sucked long and lovingly at the girl's tongue, enjoying the sweetness of her mouth, the strong, ready play by which the two tongues communicated.
When she drew away, Angela's head seemed to fall naturally to the soft breasts of the woman who held her firmly but loosely, and Rhoda, her heart thumping, quickly opened two buttons on her satin blouse.
"They're beautiful!" she heard Angela whisper, and then, wonder of wonders, a soft hand shaped her full breast to a pouting, begging point, and Rhoda leaped with the sensation of having her tit sucked with a suction that seemed to bring blood through her skin and milk from her long-dry nipple. Convulsively, she pulled the girl's head against her, flattening her breast in the pain that creates such deep pleasure. As the girl sucked, so hard, so deeply, Rhoda felt warmth shoot through her belly to heat the hidden slit of her cunt, to bring the itch of blood racing to swell her inner lips, to make every part of her pussy glow with the creeping heat.