Prologue

For years, my friends had tried to talk me into jogging, which had no appeal, whatsoever, for me. Walking, now, is an entirely different kettle of fish. I love to walk. Sure, it isn’t as aerobic as jogging, unless you walk in hilly terrain, so I try to do that. Aerobic exercise I can get any time I can sweet talk one or more partners onto my king sized playground, to play with my king sized toy.

There’s nothing like an all night marathon of ‘stinky finger’ and ‘hide the sausage’ to get the old hemoglobin zinging through my not yet hardened arteries. At my age, I don’t rely entirely on hardened devices to share pleasure, so as long as my largest sexual organ remains active, I’m good to go. If a hard dick were mandatory for good sex, Lesbians, Inc., might go out of business. Not gonna happen, folks.

This attitude led me to where I was at the moment, strolling through a magnificent stand of old growth timber that wound through the foothills of the Sierras. I had expected to run across another path or a road of some kind that might lead back to the lodge, but none had appeared so far and the shadows were lengthening. Of course I could have brought a map or asked for directions or even used the GPS on my phone, but what is the fun with that? ‘Exploring’ means taking off the training wheels.

After a couple of uncomfortable prior experiences, I now hiked with a minimal overnight capability. I would be able to stay warm, dry, reasonably well fed and hydrated for one or more nights unless something really dreadful happened, then it might become another learning experience that would better qualify me for future jaunts into the unknown.

As the darkness descended which it managed to do rather quickly, owing to the dense tree growth, I began casting about for acceptable overnight accommodations. Total darkness is not one of my top choices for exploring good places to camp, so I resolved to stop at the next good spot after rounding the bend at the bottom of the hill.

The cottage sat at the end of a long, lonely path. It was growing fully dark as I approached. Cheery beams of light shone from its windows. In answer to my knock, the door was thrown open and I was welcomed into a comfortable, well lit room full of warmth and cheer by the most beautiful and desirable woman I had ever hoped to meet. She was a statuesque blonde, dressed in a long, flowing white gown of some translucent silken material. The gown did nothing to conceal her magnificent body. It allowed the flickering firelight to flash glimpses of titillating silhouettes. It seemed designed more to emphasize than hide her astonishing attributes, which held my entire attention. My body was reacting in ways that it did not know it remembered.

The master of the house was a friendly giant of a man, who, besides his beautiful wife, had three lovely daughters. “We are just sitting down to dinner, won’t you join us?” he asked.

I had never tasted such food! The flavors, the textures, the spices--they combined to create taste experiences such as I had never known. Each dish seemed to outdo the other. I looked around, but saw no servants, neither did the wife appear to have spent much time in the kitchen.

For some reason, it did not seem appropriate to ask about the food or its preparation. I simply ate, and ate, and ate. My stomach was bursting when the dessert was brought. Ordinarily, I would have passed, but the aroma and appearance of the several desserts made it impossible.

Somehow, I managed to try two or three different ones and settled back with a cup of rich coffee to relax and let my stomach adjust to the strain.

During the meal, I had been so busy eating that I had not paid much attention to my hosts, except to note that I was eating with a very lucky man. His wife was one of the most beautiful and desirable women I have ever seen.

I leaned back to relax and recover from the incredible meal and began my survey of his three amazing daughters. It was difficult to determine their ages, but from the degree of maturity of their bodies, I would guess them all to be in their teens.

On my left sat a dazzling blonde, perhaps 16. Her body was at that stage where it seemed to be bursting with youth. Her high, proud, tits pushed against her blouse, threatening to break through at any moment. The taut nipples were plainly visible through the thin cloth and it was also plain that she needed, and wore, no support underneath. Her long, golden hair hung to her waist and sometimes made it difficult to see all that I wanted to.

The daughter on my right was a chestnut-haired brunette who might have been 15. She had that particular blush that seems to color young girls who are in the process of becoming women. While her tits did not lack in shape, they were not yet quite as large as her sister’s. What she gave up in size, however, she more than made up for in firmness. When she giggled, which was often, her nipples barely moved under the thin cloth of her blouse.

The last daughter was a redhead. I guessed her to be around 14. For some reason, I have never found most redheads to be that sexy. This one was so sexy, it made me weak in the knees to imagine the delights she might be capable of giving.

They were all bursting with youth, all with perfect teeth and beautiful smiles which they directed quite often in my direction.

During the meal, I had not paid any attention to the conversation between themselves. Now that I thought about it, I could not remember a word they had said, nor could I have told if they had spoken English or some other language.

When I seemed to be coming out of my food lust haze, the father leaned toward me and asked, “Do you care for my wife?”

In my shock, I’m not sure whether I actually said anything. I have encountered a number of different cultures, but never had the pleasure of one before where the host asked such a question. It was obvious that this situation demanded some sort of response, but I was at a loss to give one.

“Perhaps my oldest daughter?” She stood and came to my chair and knelt in front of me to open her blouse and show me her fabulous tits.

When I still gave no response, he continued to raise the offer. “Perhaps my younger daughter?”

She came close to me and lifted her skirt to show her thinly veiled, auburn hued slit. Now I was in a complete state of shock. No response was possible. I just sat there, too stunned to move anything but my eyes which were very busy. As a last resort, he offered me his only other alternative. “I’m afraid my youngest daughter has not yet finished her training. She sometimes allows her teeth to cut when handling larger cocks such as yours probably is, and she is still a trifle small in the cunt.”

Chapter 1 »