Just as she had last night, she went tense as his hands squeezed on the fullness and sensitivity of her breasts, the aureole puffy and tender, the nipples hard and crammed with fire that tore through her belly and back to her flowing, twisting cunt. She shook her body from side to side, just for the sheer delight in rubbing flesh on flesh, nerve on nerve, and enjoyed each tiny contact inside her cheeks and throat, anticipating the hard flow, the heat of sperm jets, that would wash into her mouth and throat.
Her long hair, seeming to have a life of its on, hung between Jud's thighs, and she made a nest of it to wrap around his balls, reaching for this last symbolic action of giving herself to this older man, of using everything she owned to give him pleasure to force a delight beyond description on and around him. Her sucking was less demanding, more tender, and she was fascinated by her skills in an art she scarcely knew.
She felt his mouth close over her cunt. It seemed to burn deep into hem, and she thought she knew what was happening, that he was exerting a suction on her hidden vagina as powerful as she had been putting on his cock. All her cunt walls were in a state of rich, warm heat, each little nerve end alive with joy, and it felt as if his suction had pulled those tight walk together, where sensitivity could rub on sensitivity.
Her belly was now flat on his chest, her thighs alongside his shoulders while his suction held her. Her buttocks were spread wide, her asshole feeling gloriously exposed, stretched. The pleasure along her flanks, in her tits, under her armpits, was so intense as to be painful.
There was a warmth all around them both, a warmth of sun on ancient pine boards, of human flesh joyfully sweating on a pile of horse blankets and straw, of inner heat so intense that it was trying to leak out of every straining pore to join the corresponding heat from the companion body.
In a queerly quiet moment, Jud felt the girl's cunt-juice trickle down his cheeks at the same time the space between his balls and his thighs was tickling from fresh sweat. And, at that moment, Angela moved in a frenzy that said she was coming.
In that stretched-out second when she felt the knot of heat and need burst in her guts, in her clitoris, in her cunt, she remembered that she had cried out "Daddy!" in the hysteria of her come last night. It was a hard, weird thought in her mind. And she knew it actually meant a hidden need for a father's mastery, whether expressed by a conquering prick, a hard, lascivious, incestuous fucking, or the power of love.
She could not cry "Daddy!" now; the big, virile cock was jerking into strangling size with each throb, and the jism was enough to drown her – so rich, so plentiful. She let it shoot into her throat, then fought the pull, of gravity as she sucked it and licked it back over her taste buds, to swallow it at each momentary retreat of the cock.
It was as slick and rich and zesty as her dreams of life; it was a promise of strength in her belly, in her body, the same strength that made a man a man, that made his cock a king's scepter. She was losing only a drop or two that ran down the hairy base of his cock, into the sweat-rank bush of hair which still held the scent of her cunt-juice from last night. Now that the dried fluids were warmed and moistened by their loving struggles, she knew them for what they were, and their presence increased the massive, hard twists of orgasms that tore her body with tender savagery.
She had never known such completeness, so much feeling, such a draining intensity to burn and flow and expend in her cunt and all around it.
She wanted to collapse with her head between Jud's hard thighs, to doze with the powerful maleness of his scent all about her. But she held her head away to look for the escaping drops of his seed, and found them, milky opaque globule of salty slickness, rich to feel and taste, and she heard the man under her sigh, felt him move, each time her tongue moved around his shining cock to pick up these droplets.
Her body felt almost boneless, so completely had it been drained of its hungers.
Now she thought of Rhoda, and yearned for the kisses, the warmth and understanding of the big-breasted woman.
She fell off on her back as Jud pushed at her, and he looked with amazement at her sweet face, now calm again.
Angela's shirt was above her breasts, leaving them seeming more exposed than if she were totally naked. The powerful orgasm had left them swollen, the wide circles around the nipples puffed out like small, separate tits, the nipples dark and creased, with red highlights in their dark-brown glow.
"Baby, you're wonderful!" he said, rolling to kin her sweet pussy, so open, so red-streaked with blood vessels recently bulging in orgasmic wildness.
She smiled at the top of his graying head, pumping ever so gently as his lips moved lightly in her. She was, for the moment, tapped out, but the fire was still close to the surface. He sucked at the source, getting the last of her juices out.
"Kiss my mouth, Mister Kenny," she whispered. "Feel my tongue. Oh, Mister Kenny, I love it so! I love you so!"
He felt the tremor of soft, strong muscles in her inner thighs as he kept his face pressed into her warm cunt, and he knew that this girl would never again be as abandoned, as wanton as she was during this seeking, loving period of her life. Once they had really thrown themselves into sex as deep as they could, once they began to learn the craziness they inspired in men, they became calculating. Not deliberately; it was something to do with nature's plot to secure a continuation of new life.
"You take the Pill, baby?" he asked. And then he laughed. "That's a fool question," he said. "Forget it!"
He moved to kiss her mouth as she had asked, finding her beautiful face dreamy and smiling.
"Can you taste your own cum?" she asked. "I can taste mine on your lips. It hasn't got as much flavor as yours." She pulled his face down to kiss again.
"My tongue loves your tongue," she whispered. "I'd like to stick it right between your – between… well, do you know what I mean?" She giggled, drunk on sex.
"The cheeks of my ass," dud answered, shivering slightly. This heat, this wonder, this giving – it was too much!
He shoved his hand roughly between her legs, down past her wet cunt, between her buttocks, and raised her body in the air as he pressed so hard against her asshole that it seemed to open. "We'll have it all, baby," he promised.
CHAPTER FIVE
Once she got started on the work, Angie really shone. She was adept at saddling, equally skilled at slipping on a bridle, which frightens beginners because of the horse teeth and their curiosity. She helped smaller kids up and shortened or lengthened stirrups like an expert.
Rhoda, watching through the slitted windows of the trailer, murmured: "Jud hit a gold mine!" and smiled. "Maybe he hit one for me, too," she said softly.
Angela was making judicious use of Corrie and Reina, too; not giving them work beyond their ability, but using them as messengers, sending them to meet returning riders and seeing that they came up to the hitch rack in single file.
Burt Rasco, over his indignation when he had been returned a crack at the older girl, stopped to commend her, once or twice to help her, and he realized she did not even recall anything that had happened in the feed barn.
"She didn't even know it when I stayed there fucking the Mexican," Sid told him. "She was out of it! Old Jud must have given hot his hundred-dollar special! But man, ain't she a pretty!"
Burt managed to rub against Angela more than once as they worked to cinch girths and adjust stirrups. To Burt's mounting interest, Angie smiled at each contact, pressing against him as often as he pressed against her. And finally, when he had a hard-on that could no longer be ignored, she bent down, ostensibly to pull a burr off the horse's fetlock, and managed to rub against the hidden prick twice, going down and rising up.