by Curt Aldrich
There were several compact log cabins scattered along the lake shore, as well as one considerably larger cabin that Marilyn assumed to be both the office of the resort and the home of Eddy and his wife. (Eddy had joked, on the short trek overland to the resort, that it was really his wife Trudy who was “in charge of everything, because she has all the brains.”) But it was chiefly the romantic look of the lake that claimed Marilyn's attention.
“Mighty pretty, isn't it?”
Marilyn turned to face the speaker, and she smiled at him and nodded.
The man was Harry Carmody—whose bride was a Junoesque brunette named Joan. Harry wasn't as tall as Bill or Peter, and he was a stocky man, easily the heaviest of the three, but not fat. He was the oldest of the three as well—Marilyn judged that he was at least four or five years older than Bill—and he'd been going prematurely bald for several years, as was made clear by his high forehead. Still, the hair he had left—it was brown—was thick, even bushy, and that included his eyebrows, which were so full they helped to give him a primitive, vaguely menacing look. He was handsome in his way, and Marilyn realized that his look of immense strength attracted her to him, even though she tried to suppress that knowledge. He seemed well mannered enough, yet there was something oddly brutish about his overall look that stirred her senses in a disturbing but unquestionably positive way.
“Like to take a walk down to the lake shore with me... get a little closer look?” Harry asked.
“Well, I don't know...”
Harry laughed. “Don't tell me you think I'm propositioning you, Marilyn.”
“No, no, that's not what I mean,” Marilyn said quickly, her face reddening. “It's just that... well, my husband—”
“I'd just kind of like to talk with you for a few minutes. You don't see anything wrong in people getting to know each other, do you?”
“But my husband—” Marilyn tried again.
“Oh, it'll do him good to be away from you for a short while,” Harry interrupted, laughing that easy laugh of his again. “He'll learn to appreciate you more. And besides, if you'll just take a look to your left you'll see that your husband's helping to lead the mules into the corral. And it looks to me like that old fellow Johnson is in the midst of talking his ear off, so he'll probably be occupied longer than we'll be gone.”
“Well...”
“I thought you'd see the light after I gave you a little encouragement,” Harry said, grabbing Marilyn's hand and tugging her along with him toward the lake shore.
“I don't know if Bill's going to appreciate me running off like this.”
“Don't be silly. I'm sure he won't mind a bit. You know, Marilyn, I think you're too dependent on that boy of yours for your own good. You've got to have your own head on your shoulders, you know.”
Marilyn was about to protest his insinuation that she was perhaps a little childish when she heard someone trotting toward them from behind.
“Hey, slow down, you two.” It was Peter's voice. “Where you off to? A lovers' tryst? That sort of thing's not allowed around here.”
Despite the fact that his tone was playful, Marilyn found herself blushing again. The shame of what she and Peter had done came back into her consciousness in a rush.
What did he want? she wondered, more than a little suspiciously.
“We're just going down to get a closer look at the lake and to have us a nice, friendly little conversation for a minute or two,” Harry called over his shoulder.
“Mind if I join you?” Peter asked, coming abreast. “Barbara says she wants to check out the cabin she and I are going to be assigned, but I'd like to get a closer look at the lake myself, same as you two.”
“Sure, come on with us if you want,” Harry said without hesitation. “You don't mind, do you, Marilyn?”
Marilyn was staring at her feet, trying to bring her embarrassment under control. She didn't look up when she murmured, “No. It's okay.”
Actually, of course, she wished Peter hadn't decided to join her and Harry. It wasn't that she had any particular desire to be alone with Harry—in fact, the prospect had made her feel distinctly uneasy, for reasons she didn't care to think about. It was simply that she could no longer feel really at ease around Peter. His presence inevitably reminded her of what he and she had done, and he'd acquired a habit of looking at her with a suggestive leer that made her embarrassingly aware of the train of his thoughts about her.
Marilyn was glad, though, at least in one respect, that Harry had so readily assented to Peter's coming along. She felt she could now be sure that Harry had no intention of trying to seduce her, which she'd not been altogether sure of before.
Harry laughed and said to Peter, “I guess you can tell by her tone of voice that she'd rather you go peddle your papers. She's being polite, of course, but if you're any kind of gentleman you'll obey her real wish.”
“I never meant...” Marilyn spoke up uncertainly. “I don't mind at all if he comes along, and you had no reason—”
“Oh, I was just ribbing him a little, Marilyn,” Harry said as he led Marilyn through thick clumps of high shrubbery between two trees.
After Peter had followed them through the shrubbery, Marilyn glanced back and saw that nothing could be seen beyond the clumps of shrubbery, which had closed back against each other: corral, mules, her husband and the others left behind had all disappeared.
Marilyn turned back around and gazed out over the purple-black lake surface, which sparkled brilliantly and beautifully under the light of the nearly full moon.
Marilyn was truly awed by the panoramic sight, but it didn't please her as much as it might have. She tried to persuade herself that it was only silliness on her part, but she just couldn't seem to talk herself out of the quiet sense of fear that had stolen over her when, looking back, she'd realized how isolated she, Peter, and Harry were by the lake.
The fear wasn't strong, but its presence nagged at her anyway. She didn't really think Peter and Harry would rape her, but she knew there was a good chance that their talk might get a little more “friendly", a little more personal than she would find comfortable.
The worst thing about the fear, though, she knew without thinking about it, was that it was largely a fear of herself...
Harry took Marilyn by the elbow and turned her toward him. “Do you know why I really wanted you to come down here with me, Marilyn?” he asked, his eyes boring relentlessly into hers.
Marilyn had to look down, and she flushed once more, feeling ashamed of her shyness.
“To look at the lake,” she said softly.
“That's not the real reason. It's that I want some of what you gave Peter.”
Marilyn's head shot up and she whirled and glared at Peter. “You told!” she yelped.
“He didn't have to tell me anything, Marilyn,” Harry said. “We were all gathered together in the yacht's common room, if you'll remember. It so happens I saw you two fucking away like mad.”
“Don't say that!” Marilyn shrieked, whirling back around to face Harry. “Please don't say that! I don't want to hear about it! I'm ashamed that it happened, and I—”
It was lust that Harry's eyes revealed as he interrupted Marilyn. “You did nothing to be ashamed of,” he said sharply, as if he'd been personally offended by her words.
All of a sudden he rushed forward and swept Marilyn up into his irresistibly powerful arms.
“Just because you've been taught what you did was dirty—”
“Put me down!” Marilyn shouted. “Now, Marilyn, you don't want to be like that, do you? I mean, it was obvious from what I saw—”
“Peter, aren't you going to lift a finger to make him put me down?” Marilyn snarled, her eyes flashing fire at Peter.
“Why? He's not hurting you, as far as I can see.”
“And I don't intend to hurt you,” Harry put in, holding Marilyn more tightly against his chest. “I just—”
“You're just going to stand there like a statue
and let him... let him molest me?” Marilyn demanded of Peter.
“Is that what he plans on doing?” Peter retorted, leering at her. “Is that your idea, Harry?”
“I just want to screw you the way Peter did, Marilyn,” Harry said, as nonchalantly as if he were commenting on the weather. “I know you're a really hot girl from seeing you going to town with Peter, so why don't you just forget about your silly inhibitions—”
“You'd do it to me right in front of Peter... right here... now? This is our first night at the resort for all of us, for heaven's sake! Don't you have—either of you—don't you have any feelings of loyalty toward your wives?”
“1 can't speak for Peter, but as for me: sure, I have feelings of loyalty for Joan. Joan's a good woman, and I love her. But I don't think a person should be a fanatic about anything.”
“That's just about how I feel,” Peter said.
“You both must be out of your heads!” Marilyn shouted, finding it hard to believe that what was happening was really happening.
The first night at the honeymoon resort! The very first night! She couldn't betray Bill so horribly! She couldn't let Harry rape her! If she couldn't talk him into putting her down and leaving her alone, she'd have to struggle out of his arms!
Harry had so little trouble holding her struggling body that she looked pathetic and almost comical, jerking and twisting to no purpose.
In fact, Harry was able to keep her pinned securely against his chest with only one arm, and thus he was able to start stripping her even as she continued to fight him. He had her completely naked in two minutes, without even having to put her down.
Oh, golly, he's going to do it! He's going to rape me! she thought, a sense of hopelessness sweeping over her and weakening her will to resist.
Her frantic struggling proved even more deflating, more surely futile than she had already been made to realize. She saw Harry's catcher's-mitt-sized hands, with their hair-covered backs, starting to paw over her flesh even as his bull-strong arms held her securely high on his chest, and she snarled more fiercely than ever and fought him like a rabid ocelot; but it was no use.
Harry ran his rough, leathery fingers over the tips of her breasts, his nails scraping against the sensitive skin of the budlike little nipples.
“Oh, no, stop, don't, don't!” she shouted convulsively.
More interested in other parts of her body than her titties, Harry soon skidded his fingers down across her spasming stomach and began dragging their tips through her slit.
Even though she was frightened, Marilyn couldn't help responding, and she responded more and more wildly as Harry's fierce frigging of her cuntal flesh grew increasingly abandoned.
Her clitoris shot out in a tingling, quivering erection, and Harry's fingers quickly found it and started furiously stroking and squeezing it, making her tremble in his arms, her pussy creaming over his fingers and down the front of his jacket.
“Ooh, don't,” she sighed, pushing her cunt against his ravaging fingers.
Harry gripped her clitoris and began a forceful pistoning motion, spicing the up-and-down frigging with occasional twists of his gripping fingers.
“Oh, please!” Marilyn gasped. “Not so much all of a sudden!”
Already her body was burning with desire, and those maddening fingers of Harry's made her pump her hips in a frenzy of lust for his cock. Her head rolled against his shoulder and his neck, and her nostrils flared as her tongue flopped out of her mouth.
Panting and grunting because of her need, she squeezed her eyes shut and spilled glistening trails of saliva out of her mouth.
Harry lowered her to the moist grass and leaned closely over her. His eyes narrowed as he treated himself to an extended visual examination of her charms.
Marilyn's legs had come to rest quite far apart, with both knees slightly raised. Harry was able to peer right into her open cunt, and he was soon doing precisely that, his mouth watering as his eyes lingered on the near-hypnotic sight.
At last he stirred from his salacious reverie, and he stood and began to undress.
“How long do you figure you'll be taking with her?” Peter asked, his head tipped forward, his eyes burning into the moist red flesh at Marilyn's crotch.
“As long as it takes,” Harry answered.
“Well, just be sure you leave some for me.”
Harry glanced up at Peter and grinned. “Don't worry,” he said, his voice growing hoarse. “There's plenty to go around.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What are you looking at, handsome?” Barbara asked, lightly punching Bill in the arm. “What are you doing still standing here by the corral? I already looked through the cabin old Johnson assigned to Peter and me, and I even got our stuff unpacked and everything. It's real homey.”
Bill turned and saw Barbara, whose woolly red hair was piled neatly atop her head instead of hanging free as it had been.
“Why the long face?” Barbara asked.
Bill tried to smile for her benefit, but he knew the smile looked as phony as it was.
“I've just been looking at the lake,” he said. “The way the moonlight reflects off it makes it look real pretty... almost like a field of diamonds.”
“You've seen lots of fields of diamonds, have you?” Barbara teased, and joined Bill in looking out over the lake. “What's really got you so interested in the lake, Bill?”
“Aw, I'm wondering what the devil that Marilyn of mine is doing down beyond that shrubbery with your husband and Harry. We made a sort of agreement...”
Barbara nodded knowingly. “And you think maybe Marilyn's breaking it right this minute?”
“Oh... I don't know. She doesn't have to stay down here so long with 'em... She can't be all that interested in looking at the lake, can she?”
“Or Peter and Harry, either, huh?” Barbara replied, laughing briefly. “Why don't you go down and check on what they're all doing?”
Bill shrugged. “I can't be checking up on my wife all my life, can I? If I can't trust her, then that's just all there is to it.”
“You can trust me, Bill,” Barbara said, smiling hopefully up at him. “Why don't you come with me and let me show you how nice the cabin is that Peter and I got?”
Bill tore his eyes away from the hiding shrubbery down by the lake, and he smiled down at Barbara's pretty, consoling face. The smile was real this time, and so was the tenderness of his hand enfolding hers when, presently, he allowed her to lead him away from the corral.
It wasn't more than six or seven hundred feet to the cabin, and Bill was following Barbara up the low wooden stoop and into the small living room less than five minutes later.
Bill had hardly believed that Barbara really wanted to show off the cabin to him. He was only slightly surprised when she started removing her clothes and tossing the individual garments toward the center of the room as soon as he had pushed the door closed after stepping into the living room after her.
“I don't know about you,” Barbara said through a broad grin, “but I have no intention of letting my spouse cheat on me without doing him the same way and with twice as much spirit.”
Bill smiled at the natural manner in which she undressed. He admired her diminutive figure with growing interest, remembering what a wonderful time her cute, athletic little body had given him as they had watched the erotic movie in the common room of the Wanderlust.
“Surely you're not going to turn down a second helping of me, are you, Billy boy?” Barbara asked him, as she stood in only her snug green underpants.
“I'd have to be crazy to do that, wouldn't I? Why, for your information I might just have a third helping after I get done with the second.”
Barbara stepped up-to him and snuggled her body against his, and she slipped her hand up to his waist and slowly unbuckled his belt and unfastened the catch of his pants.
She managed to grasp the tab of his zipper and ease his fly open; then she slipped two fingers into the flap of his briefs
and took hold of the head of his cock.
“Ooh, you really do have a nice-sized one, honey,” she murmured, peeling his foreskin up off the tingling red head.
She scraped a fingernail over the hardening glans, and Bill couldn't help groaning. Devotion to Marilyn was one thing, but he did have the natural responses of a red-blooded young American male, after all.
He pushed down his pants and kicked them off his ankles. As he began to remove his shirt and T-shirt, he thought, Anyway, why should I be devoted to her? Letting the two garments slip from his hands to fall on top of his pants, he found himself wondering idly why Marilyn had broken their implicit agreement.
Well, if that's the way she wants to do things...
He wrapped his arms around Barbara as she wrapped hers around him and once more snuggled against him, and the two swayed gently against each other for several timeless moments before Barbara drew away from him and scampered into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed.
Bill was beside her on the bed before long, and he immediately grasped her breasts and squeezed them so forcefully that rounded wedges of warm, rubbery titty flesh pooched up between his fingers. With a groan of developing passion, he pressed the creamy mounds together.
Then he got an idea: he would straddle her and fuck her between her titties for a minute or two.
“Ooh,” Barbara moaned presently, finding his idea entirely to her liking, at least for the moment.
Holding her breasts tightly about his stiff cock, he began a slow, teasing rhythm of thrust and withdrawal.
Barbara's eyes seemed to glow with desire as she watched the bulb of his cock peel and unpeel as it was screwed repeatedly toward her face. She snaked her tongue out toward the slick-skinned plum-but she quickly retracted the wet tip before contact so she could urge hoarsely, “Not like this, Bill. I want you to fuck me for real.”
Bill's cock felt tender and puffy. He knew he would cream all over her face and neck if he kept on screwing her between her breasts, so he decided to prepare to heed her urgently given advice. Sliding back quickly until he reached the proper position, he sat up suddenly on his haunches, his knees splayed wide and resting on Barbara's upper thighs, his cock waving about in an achy state of erection.