There hung in the air the thick blue smell of ozone, and peals of thunder rolled off the horizon, heavy, threatening. It was neither the breeze nor the anticipation alone that raised the down on her forearms and the back of her neck. Beneath the low branches of a centurion oak, she waited for them, her heart racing the storm, or time, or the pulse of her own hot desire through every channel in her body. Her skin was as alive as the flashing lightning. She thought the fear might suffocate her. She thought if she did not wait here for them, the death awaiting her at home was far worse than anything met inside these crawling woods.
Another peal of thunder, and her nipples pushed against the thin knit weave of her dress. She wore nothing beneath it. Mama would call her a whore. Mama would call her worse than that if she knew why she waited. For whom she waited.
The crack of a twig beneath a crepe-soled work boot. She imagined that part, as one breaking twig sounded like another. But she knew it was him. He was tall, thick through the trunk, rounded ass hugged by ragged denim. He had a beard, cut close and shaved low on his cheeks. He wore a red cap, faded and soiled to the color of brick.
The muffled crunch of leaves to her left. The other, smaller, with blue eyes possessed of a cool, piercing quality. He had crooked teeth and pock-marked cheeks, and large, big-knuckled hands she wanted to feel on her body.
Her breath caught, and she fought the urge to turn, to speak. She stood still, rigid, until hands came around from behind and the beard brushed her neck. She smiled, leaned back and moaned her acceptance, and he kissed her skin and clasped her large, loose tit, thumbing roughly back and forth. Hands caressed her calves, running up the considerable length of her legs, taking the skirt with them. The tall one spoke against her neck, exciting goose flesh along her limbs. “You go around, Eddie. Put your mouth on her.”
What an odd feeling to be handled, to be spoken of as though she weren’t there.
He was speaking again, this time to her. “I don’t think we were formally introduced,” he breathed over her skin. “I’m Joe. This is Ed. And the only reason we’re here is to make you come harder than you’ve come in your life.”
She thought that was fucking arrogant. But Eddie was working her skirt over her thighs, and those big hands were coaxing her feet apart as she leaned against Joe’s barrel chest. He was getting so close to her cunt, he was about to find out just what a whore she was.
“What would you like to be called?” Joe whispered. He was sucking her earlobe into his hot mouth, then releasing and allowing his breath to cool it.
“Call me beautiful,” she whispered, hoarse already.
“That’s no stretch, Beautiful,” he whispered. He’d moved her hair and was working the nape of her neck while pushing his hips into her ass. “My cock thinks you’re beautiful, too, you feel it?”
She nodded and gasped as Ed’s fingers found her heat and wet, and a guttural sound rumbled from his throat.
“You want him to eat you out, Beautiful? He’d love to do that for you.”
God, yes, her mind screamed as Joe’s hands worked her breasts with just the right amount of pressure and teasing.
And he was pulling her back and down, cradling her body with his, opening her up and laying her bare, and before her eyes wandered into the canopy of the old oak, she caught the flash of Ed’s eyes, dilated with desire as his mouth found and consumed her.
Her mind drifted while her body writhed, while she listened to the clap of thunder and Joe’s baritone murmuring how beautiful she was, and when she felt his skin, his massive cock throbbing beneath her, reaching and wanting, she accommodated him. He filled her while Ed continued his ministrations. There were a thousand hands on her, on every hot spot, on every pressure point, and the waves were tsunamic, engulfing, lethal. Her gasps escalated until Joe clapped his hand over her mouth and pumped against her ass.
The two of them rocked and coaxed and fucked her into a place of mindless abandon. She vaguely remembered being flipped over, and being offered a cock which she took, savoring its salt and silk on her tongue as the other pushed into her ass and into another uncounted climax. She recalled being left, the thick shaft being taken from her mouth, and in a flash of purple electricity, saw Joe taking it in his, his hands still on her, guiding her touch him, to stroke him… she was insatiable. When the first drops hit her upturned face, she couldn’t be sure what, or whose, they were.
A crash, glassware, or cutlery, and the murmur of voices and laughter and country music. The salt on her tongue was from the tequila, as was the warmth crawling between her thighs. Faces swam into focus, and she was looking into a pair of piercing blue eyes. He nudged his friend, and Joe turned, and smiled a small smile. “Buy you another, Beautiful?”