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In one month, shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I would join the Navy and I could not wait to go, to pack a few personal things and blast away from this place. Until then I was still living with my parents in Idaho Falls. My father, a carpenter, a forest fire fighter and too often a drunk slapping my mother around before passing out lived for dry fly angling. Wading in one of the forks of the Snake River, he whipped the rod of his Diamondback reel with such an economy of motion, a purity of effort, it never failed to dazzle onlookers. I hated fly-fishing as much as he loved it. Fuck fly-fishing.
My mother, raising three children, worked part time in a dry cleaning store downtown, always looked distracted, as though she could not concentrate until she found what she was looking for. My father’s abuse, verbal rather then physical, still had the effect of making her act like a whipped pup, a figure waiting for the other shoe to drop.
When I was ten years old, my maternal grandfather willed three vacation rental properties on the banks of the Snake River to my mother. Not one penny of the income from these properties went to my father in accordance with my grandfather’s wishes. Sitting in Bank of Idaho, I think my mother viewed this money as her lifeboat if things got too bad. If she found it necessary to flee, the money was her refuge from a sinking ship.
I completed minor repair work on these properties. I mowed the grass, painted, and cleaned, all the things necessary to keep the places in a good state of repair. Mom paid me for my efforts, I got to work outside quite a bit and I would go to boot camp tanned and fit.
One summer evening as the sun dissolved behind the mountains to the west, I was sitting on the metal glider on our front porch. I was looking at Life magazine. Raquel Welch in a silver bikini smiled from the magazine cover. The photograph a work of art in my opinion. Raquel, the bikini bra barely containing her tits, showed lots of cleavage. Bending slightly, looking at the camera, her olive skin and silver lame beckoned me to amble off to the bathroom for a little stroke action.
My mother came to the screen door, her nose almost touching the wire mesh.
“Honey, the new tenant is having problems with her bathroom. Can you check it out and see if you can fix the problem so I don’t have to call a plumber. They are so expensive. She says water is backing up and she wants to take a bath.”
“Sure Mom. I think I know what the problem is anyway. It shouldn’t take but a minute to fix.”
I dropped the magazine on the table next to glider, jumped off the porch and headed to my Chevy Nova.
All I knew about the new tenant was that she was married and that she was the advance party readying the place for her husband’s arrival.
Ten minutes later, I arrived at the place, a rustic looking cabin near the river, and turned off the ignition. The 308 under the hood, already hot from the short drive, immediately started making crackling noises as it cooled. I walked to the front door, carrying a small satchel of tools, knocked. The yellow porch light burned even though it was not yet dark.
I heard movement in the house then saw her. Standing at door, drinking a tall glass of lemonade, she appeared to about 35 to 40, a sexy, gorgeous woman who nearly knocked my socks off. Auburn hair flowed down to her bare shoulders, covering a smattering of freckles. The beige colored blouse she wore, a peasant blouse, I think they call it exposed her shoulders. Under the fabric, thicker then one of my t-shirts, thinner then a burlap bag, I could tell she was quite busty, exceptionally busty and at my tender age I was a dyed in the wool bust man. The pile casino şirketleri of “Big Busts”, “Tit” and “Busty” magazines hidden in my room attested to that fact.
“I understand you are having a slight flooding problem.” I said.
“Yes and I want to take a bath,” she said.
“I think I know what the problem is.”
“That would so wonderful if you could fix it.”
She pushed open the screen door wide enough for me to slide through. Wearing a pale blue skirt cut above her knees, her bare legs scissored across the wood planking of the living room and I followed in her wake toward the house’s single bathroom. Her bare feet with red painted toenails made the most pleasant sound as she padded across the wood-planked floor. Her hips rolled about under the skirt as she swayed across the room smelling of pine oil and Pledge furniture polish.
In the bathroom, two inches of water covered the white tile floor. I pried open the floor drain with a flat head screw driver, removed a wench from the bag, and used it to twist out the plug my father had failed to remove. The water immediately started gurgling down the drain.
“Do you have a swab?”
“A what?” She looked at me quizzically.
“I am sorry. I mean a mop. Next month I am joining the Navy and that is what they call a mop.”
“Oh sure.” She left me standing in the doorway. The knees of my jeans damp from bending over to remove the drain plug, I waited a few minutes, she returned with a brand new mop, a yellow stamp sized price label still sticking to the handle and a green plastic bucket.
She left while I took care of business and within ten minutes, I had swabbed the deck. As I dumped the half bucket of water in the toilet, she returned. During my labors, she had pinned her hair up with bobby pins, I could smell her fragrant skin lotion, I caught the scent of perfume and she had dabbed bright red lipstick on her lips, the same rich red color as the paint on her toes and her long fingernails.
“How about a glass of lemonade? It’s out of a carton but its cold and it tastes like lemonade.”
“Sure,” I said. I followed her into a kitchen filled with open cardboard boxes, watched her pour me a glass of lemonade from the carton. Standing at the counter she placed the sole of her left foot on the instep of her right foot. We then walked into the living room, filled with more cardboard boxes. She motioned for me to sit in a chair, a black leather wing backed chair. She shuffled a mound of clothes on the sofa across from me to free a spot for her to sit down. She dropped her legs on the surface of the coffee table, pushed some stuff out of her way with her feet and then crossed one leg over the other.
“I have been here only three days and I am about to go out of my mind. You are the first person I have had a conversation with since I got here, at least a face to face conversation”. she said.
“Is anyone joining you, “I said? Instantly regretting the comment.
“I am sorry, that sounds nosey,” I said.
“No it isn’t,” My husband was supposed to be here the day after tomorrow but now I do not know. We had an argument on the phone last night. I drove to store down the road and got him on the pay phone after three tries.
“Pardon my French but Eric can be such a fucking bastard. Eric is my husband and sometimes I cannot tell if he loves me or his auto supply business more.”
“I bet you have a sexy little girlfriend that you don’t take for granted. You are a good-looking guy, a little Blondie and I love blondes.
“No steady girlfriend right now. Next month I am joining the Navy,” I said.
“Yes, you mentioned that. I love seafood. When I was dancing, I used casino firmaları to have Sailors in all the time to see my act. I called the Sailors in their little white hats seafood. I was the Tassel Tornado by the way. I attach these little tassels to my nipples and I can spin them in opposite directions at the same time. The crowd loves it.”
“I love seafood,” she said and laughed softly. “I bet your girlfriends do too. I bet they let you go all the way.”
I blushed, my face feeling hot under the skin.”That’s so cute, the way you blush.”
Her comment made me blush that much more.
“You were a dancer?”
Quickly, in the blink of eye, she pulled her blouse down over her breasts and there they were the biggest juggs I had seen outside of one of my stroke books. They were huge; mountains of pink flesh capped with cookie sized brown disks with erect nipples at their centers seemed to fill the room as well as filling my eyes.
“48DD baby. These puppies earned the bacon until Eric came into my life and made me give up show business. Do you like them?”
My cock tented the front of pants.
She saw my erection. She grinned. “Yep, you like them alright”.
I was no virgin but my experience in the erotic arts was limited. It had taken me a good six months to get a glimpse at Sharon Johansson’s meager tits and this woman had hers in my face 15 minutes after I entered the cabin.
She uncrossed her legs and at that moment, I could see she was not wearing any panties under the blue skirt.
Her tits still unfettered by the blouse she slowly started drawing her skirt back toward her waist, the cloth sliding back across the flesh of her thighs, then I could see the small auburn bush between her legs, the slit of her pussy that looked inflamed in the gathering dusk.
“This is my other moneymaker. I made a couple of pornos before Eric came along. Do you like?”
My cock, not drained of semen in several days, was so hard it felt like it might burst through the fabric of my jeans.
“Unzip your pants, take your cock out and stroke it.”
Perspiration covered my forehead, broke out above my upper lip. The room felt incredibly warm as though the cold fireplace across the room had suddenly on its own accord decided to explode into an inferno capable of consuming every forest in Idaho. I felt like I was inside a torch it was so hot.
Using the middle and index finger of her left hand, she gently stroked the petals of her pussy.
“Come on; let me see you beating off.”
Unzipping my pants, I extricated my cock and using my left hand, since I was a southpaw, I started stroking my cock.
For a good ten minutes, she sat on the sofa playing with herself and I sat in the black winged back chair stroking my cock, the circle of my fingers flying up and down over my shaft.
“Honey, you are a pro at beating off. I am too for that matter. Tell you what though why are we sitting here playing with ourselves when you could be fucking me instead? Wouldn’t my moist pussy be so much nicer then your hand?”
“If I don’t get fucked on a regular basis, I start getting these really wicked headaches. Actually, I have a headache right now.” she said. My shit heel of a hubby is not going to fuck me when he gets here. I am available, so are you, so why don’t we fuck? Drop those pants and fuck me, fuck me hard.”
Without saying a word, I removed my sneakers, left my white socks on, stood, unbuckled my pants and stepped out of them and my black briefs.
She clapped her fingers together as though applauding a neat magic trick. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s it.”
The sun was setting, behind the mesh of the screen door. The windows güvenilir casino were wide open. I stood, crossed the few feet between us and plugged my cock into her pussy.
“Oh yes, that feels wonderful,” she said as I moved in and out of her. “Fuck that pussy baby. I can already feel my headache going away.”
Her skirt formed a narrow band around her hips, the beige blouse now compressed around her waist, her feet firmly planted on the floor, I moved in and out of her, my hard cock, a ram jabbing into her wet center.
She lifted her legs, wrapped them around my ass and her pussy tightened markedly.
“Fuck me. I love being such a slut.”
My balls slammed against her, I could feel moisture seeping out of her.
My cock pounded into her, making a straight line of attack. Occasionally I drew back and made another frontal assault. Then while still pushing forward I tried wiggling about in her. Her moans seemed to mean I was hitting her clit.
What an incredible fuck, I thought.
She pushed her hips toward me. Never in the history of humanity had a boy, a man enjoyed fucking so much. Not one. I noticed a small dark mark on her inner left thigh. It resembled something. A tulip, yes that is what it looked like, a black tulip. It looked sexy. Maybe it was so sexy was because the only way to see it was though such intimacy.
This woman fucked as though she had not had a cock in her for years. Occasionally, I found it difficult to hold on while she bucked. She clawed at my back with her long nails. I wanted to have her suck me off, to feel her white teeth raking across my cock, to finish with her lipstick painted across my shaft.
She moved her tongue into my mouth. My tongue floated about in her mouth.
Her tits, huge balloons covering her chest pushed against my chest. Nipples, bulging nipples tickled my chest. Taking my tongue from her mouth, moving my mouth from hers, I started sucking her nipples while I continued to fuck her. I sucked her bazooms until my jaw ached. I blew on them. She moaned, pushed toward my salivating mouth.
“God, what a big, healthy, hot cock you have.”
Somewhere outside a bird sang, a breeze blew at the curtains, we continued to fuck.
I felt like a bull, a stud. The most delicious sensations rumbled through my cock. Her velvety insides, how she felt around my cock, friction, her radiant heat seeping into me, saying such things as “fuck me” or “I want to suck you” all added together pushed me to the very edge of orgasm. If I did not erupt soon I feared bursting into flames from all the lust we generated.
She was a minx, a fucking minx. Her husband was a fucking nut for not fucking her constantly. She seemed to require lots of attention and the best defense for hubby in maintaining her fidelity: a constantly charged cock at the ready. Not to do so was to risk what was happening now in this log cabin near the Snake River in the dusk of a summer day.
She gripped my ass, pulled at me. “I am coming motherfucker, I am coming”, she roared. Arching her back, she continued to scream, to moan. Joe Erbe, an old codger living ten miles away in a run down shack surrounded by all manner of junk could probably hear her screams.
As she squealed, she tightened herself around my cock. She scratched at my back and then my semen burst out of my cock and flooded her vault.
She pushed me off her, stood, my sperm dribbling from her, pulled up her blouse, pushed down her skirt, kissed me.
For the next 30 days, almost until the moment, my Dad took me to the bus station for the trip to Boise and beyond, we fucked, she sucked me, I ate her. I nearly smothered myself in her tits. Her husband never showed up that summer. She returned every summer for five years and except for one summer while I deployed on an aircraft carrier to the Mediterranean, I took leave while she was there and our last fuck was just as explosive as the first.
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