Chapter 5

Veronica imagined what it would be like shoving off down the rapid river upstate, far from civilization, with their two young guides, one a nineteen-year-old young male, with a wild look in his eye, who called himself Buck, the other, an eighteen year-old girl calling herself Maggie, an odd name for someone so attractive and sensual.

Veronica could almost feel the wind on the river and see the frothy rapids which energetically, dangerously took them whisking downstream. She turned and looked at Buck and could see that he had a full crotch area which hinted to her that he probably had a nice cock hanging between those wild legs. For that matter, his friend Maggie was a nice stacked girl, all blond, tan and healthy, a buxom country lass who'd probably gotten her first experience in some barn or after a country square dance. But that was fine and gave the entire scene a certain romantic atmosphere, a difference from her office, with its sterile, urbanized sexuality. These kids were so much more straight forward, she thought, no nonsense, none of the beating around the bush, but probably just straight, hard action when they got down to business.

"Watch it," Veronica imagined Buck ejaculating. She moved about her bed, pretending to be amidst the dangerous rapids, their narrow canoe shuffled helplessly between the white peaks, Buck yelling orders about which way to paddle.

Buck then doffed his shirt in order to get a better handle on his paddle, and displayed a sinuous muscular build which immediately turned her on, a reaction which Maggie didn't miss, rapids and all.

In a few minutes they were past the real danger, and united in their mutual survival; there was something to having gone through the same thing with several people which draws a group together, and when the scene is created in the mind of one nympho, aided by her electric dildo, then the potentialities are all the more intense (the perfect setting for some really intimate dangers).

Veronica imagined how they'd have dinner with some fresh trout stick roasted over a wood fire. She could picture in her mind the handsome, rugged good looks of Buck, who would ravenously devour the fish, pieces of the fresh meat, stuck on the sides of his mouth, the buttery juice carelessly gliding off his lips and onto his chin. He would observe Veronica doing her own watching, and give her knowing kinds of glances. Veronica could swear that he crossed his legs in a manner which thrust his cock against the inside of his jeans, daringly outlining the stem against the material, outlining it proudly so that Vern could get an idea of its true proportions.

The group would go to sleep all in their mutual sleeping bags, but then, late at night, Buck would come over and silently get into Vern's bag, his body making the material of the bag stretch in order to accommodate her form. Vern had never made it in a bag before, and in order to simulate the experience, she wrapped herself in blankets in her bedroom, feeling the pressure against her breasts, the way her legs were pressed together such that every move had to be economized. Buck whispered in her ear, "If you never made it in a bag before, I think you'll find it quite a unique experience. You see, there's no room to move, so you have to move your room. Know what I mean?" Vern had no idea but she went along with the boy.

In a few minutes, he somehow managed to wrap his legs around her own and envelope her in his loins. She could tell that he had an uncommonly huge cock, not just a big cock, but a HUGE COCK, a cock so giant as to dominate his center, so titan as to make her almost cry out in amazement and wonder how on earth she could accommodate the stud.

Would such a specimen put her into a comatose, an impalpable state of unfeeling, or would it be a brand new high? In order to approximate the sensation, Vern took the largest carrot from the table and brought it into the bedroom. She realized it was of incredible proportion, but by the same token, it was possible that some well endowed young lad could have such a token; it was conceivable though, no doubt, most unusual.

A cock? A rammer? A mere pecker?--or more than that, the epitome of masculine power and wildness, prepared and ready for her under the stars: THE BIGGEST FUCKING PECKER SHE'D EVER EXPERIENCE!

Veronica prepared herself to luxuriate in that cock, to ease her way into some new ultimate form of sensuality, to render her senses euphoric and completely satiated yet yearning for more under the onslaught of mere foreplay. Could such a stem be truly harmonious with her more modest pussy, or would it be an undue strain, beyond the point of diminishing returns.

Vern looked at the carrot, imagining it to be the man's fantastic endowments. The fat stem and the way it tapered ever so slightly toward the tip, its firmness and sinuous contour, its determined penetrating look. She feared it might create convulsion, a stitch in her sensations, or some other torment as she would be racked by the huge member; but on the other hand, the other possibility was enough to keep her going. It could mean untold pleasures, new, enticing sensations of even greater intensity than those of which she was accustomed (and given her recent experience, that was really saying something). She could feel the stud moving his hands against her thighs as he struggled to move in on her pussy. Such was the difficulty, and he be came kind of stuck just as he made his way below her abdomen. She wanted to help him, but found that the bed was just too snug for her to make any kind of move.

There was one dividend, though, in that she could feel her loins become plastered against his, his cock proudly erecting to its nearly full size, surfacing above her pubics and reaching almost all the way up to her belly button.

"Baby," she whispered hotly, "that's one tool you have there."

"I'm known for it around these parts."

She liked that, hearing him proud of his endowments, rather than sporting some mock modesty or worse yet, the vestiges of shame.

"Push," she whispered.

He managed to position himself lower in the bag--or so Vern imagined it--until he was just about a foot below her head, his chin digging decisively into her tits. He liked that too (and who wouldn't like getting a chin full of such magnificent, womanly, flesh) so he kept pushing against her, perhaps pretending that there was no other way to move, more likely intentionally taking advantage of a good situation. They both began their gyrations, their sexual pyrotechnics.

He finally managed to push his cock just up her thighs and into her slit. "Oh, baby," she cooed, "that's the way to do it." She pushed her bazoo against his and could feel his hot breath cover her lips with passion. "Come on, fuck me. Stick that giant inside of me all the way."

"You sure you can take it," he said by way of a challenge, partially just to get her wrath up a bit, and bring the feverish pitch to a nice climax."

"Fuck me, FUCK ME!" she whispered but with incredible intensity as her teeth were clenched and her shoulders pushed upward in desperation.

She looked at a certain glow over his face, created by the moon, and the wind, and the general quality of the air, which gave him a sort of eerie quality, but still highly sexual.

She heard some rustling over by John, and kept quiet, because the way Vern imagined it, she couldn't be sure if the stud would take it the wrong way. After all, he was fitting them with gear, footing the bill, and certainly didn't go to all the trouble to be kept out of the hot action he all but anticipated. But Veronica wanted this young buck for herself the first time, to have nothing divert her attention from his huge cock, the sensation of having it slide into her, first slowly, and then very, very quickly.

"COME ON, STICK IT IN ME NOW, STICK IT IN ALL THE WAY."

"YOU'LL GET YOURS."

"I WANT IT NOW."

"YOU WANT IT NOW, DO YOU? YOU WANT MY COCK, OKAY BITCH, you got it," he said, whispering the last words for emphasis.

"Quick, stick it in."

With that encouragement, Buck was able to slide his cock in, first slowly, and then with a violent thrust until he was all the way in.

"Oooh," she moaned out. She could not believe how full she felt. In actuality, Veronica had pushed that carrot inside her womanhood all the way, and was experiencing very close to the sensation she imagined would be created by Buck's cock. The situation was intensified somehow by being surrounded and tightly bundled by the covers, her body kept prisoner by the material, yet her mind not wishing for freedom in any sense of the word.

"You mother fucker," she said.

"I know you like my cock, don't you."

"I like it okay, but more than that, I want you to come inside and then make me come at the same time."

Ordinarily, the excitement of having anything so huge inside would have made her come too soon, thus mitigating the possibility of simultaneous coming, but there was something about Buck which aided her self control, and allowed her to maximize the experience. Sure, he was such a figment of the imagination, but his mere specter was enough, the mere concept of the man, could keep her at a feverish pitch.

Whence came such feelings? From what pool of passion could such endless desires spring? From an overactive clit, a veritable unconscious filled with latent incestuous desires or a sense of impending doom which dictates epicurean delight, before the deluge, like some antediluvian impulse to self- preservation?

It mattered not, and such thoughts did not even pass through Veronica's mind. For she was too filled with more immediate concerns--the sensation of that thick cock, the concept of a pair of balls almost splitting from the pressure of their hot heavy contents, the physical sensations created by being bundled so tightly, like two sardines in a can, ready to be temptingly tasted.

She could smell Buck all the more poignantly, that mixture of sperm, tobacco, and sweat which characterized the most manly of men; he had it all.

She even felt the thick, incarnation of his flesh and blood pulsing against her own, and the coarse texture of his pubic hairs. Veronica imagined desperately trying to get down and feel his pubics, all scratch along his belly, or feel his upper legs, hips, and most of all balls, but she could not even move her arms without first splitting the bag (she would have gladly done this, but for the strength required and the possibility of wakening the others).

Buck started to really get down to pumping, somehow turning on top of Veronica and pushing his hips up and down. The scene must have looked odd to anyone looking down from one of the trees: four sleeping bags in the camp, one empty, inconspicuously pulled away from the fire, two filled, occupied by innocent sleeping types, one a girl, the other an older man; and finally the sight of this big, thick bag with the movement of a live worm, squirming, turning and twisting, quietly pumping away, far from the glowing fire, yet visible in the moonlight.

Impending disaster? Violence from a jealous boy, a mean man, liberated under a refreshing uninhibited natural setting? Not at all. Veronica was the director of this scene, and she wouldn't knock anyone off if she didn't want to, that is. Sure, if she found one of the studs talking a little mean, there was nothing to stop her from getting a little heavy, without fear of consequences: another dividend of the vivid masturbator.

"Come on, give me all you've got."

Buck didn't need much encouragement, for he knew they were minutes, perhaps seconds away from the big moment.

It all started to come together for her now--the great lay with John in the car, the fantastic young high school stud in the shed and in her parents bed, John and the party, with Monty and with Bernice and Lu, and now this, Buck and Maggie, waiting in her own bed. She'd had a taste of everything, young and old, straight and kinky, hetero and bi, the best of all worlds, pulling together, making her come like mad, and all thanks to that one little electric dildo and a stimulated imagination.

Come on Buck, she thought, make me come like mad. Make me want to pull this fucking sack apart, go wild on me like a wild animal. He was weighty, yet possessing a marvelous buoyancy, and a volatility which preserved her own relatively delicate form. She could feel their hips melt together as he pushed, pumped and grinded his way to ecstasy. Faster and harder he pushed, then in one great effort, he pushed his hands on her big boobs, which were almost cemented in place from the pressure of the straining material of the bag.

"Oh, that's it, squeeze those tits."

"You like that, I know you like to have Your big, fat tits squeezed."

She liked to hear him talking dirty like that, especially enjoyed his abandonment of all the civilities he courted during his working day when he watched for their safety and guided them to whatever part of the wilderness they wanted to enter.

Now he was as wild as that wilderness, as uninhibited and ruthless anything in the environment.

Harder and faster he pumped, until he could see it was a little painful for Vern, but she didn't mind, and neither did he. They began to be ruthless, hardly caring if they woke the others, for nothing must stand in the way of their obsessional cravings. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, the stud's body tightened, and he paused as if frozen in space. His eyes rolled back a little into his head, his face became dangerously flushed, and every muscle in his body seemed to freeze simultaneously, waiting, imperiously, with a frozen, steely posture, as he gathered every ounce of energistic resource. Then it came (he came) in a wild, incredible moment, his body spewing forth, unloading the heavy contents from his balls right into the womanly receptacle, filling her with the pleasure of his syrupy sacks. "Ooh," he moaned out, almost crazy with satisfied desire.

Veronica went through the same sensations--or at least the female counterpart--as her body went into spasms of delight, each one more intensive than the last, more lasting and melting and fabulous. "Aggghh," she ejaculated, tightening her cute little buns, feeling her nipples getting even harder under the onslaught of the pleasure.

When it was over, they felt locked into each other, and only able to recover by breathing deeply and letting their minds go completely blank. Actually, they had covered some ground. Their movements alone had taken their sleeping bags the full ten feet between the fire and the edge of the wood, so that when they looked up, they saw they were nestled against the side of a mighty oak, its own shaft rising proudly for scores of feet above them. The rest of the trees were pine so that the ground was filled with a matting of needles, browned and decayed just enough to ensure slight softness, perfect for nature fucking.

Feeling wild abandon, Veronica imagined getting out of the bag, totally in the buff, and running through the woods, only lit by the moonlight. She was chased, of course, by Buck, whose huge cock was once again limpid, but filled enough to be remarkably large as he went prancing after her. She felt that he was gaining on her and was a little surprised that she could not muster greater speed--was it the weight of her large breasts bobbing up and down, creating a true wind resistant factor, or the fact that her great hips twisted sideways as she ran?--whatever, she was soon overtaken.

Buck said, "I must say, you've got a lot of energy for someone who was just run down."

"Run down, maybe, but not run out."

"You're one girl, do you know that?"

"I'm aware that I have a few talents of my own thank you, but I have to admit this nature stuff is all new to me." She looked down and admired his cock. "Tell me, do all of you country boys sport such big ones, or are you just well endowed?"

"Well, that's tough since I haven't seen all the cocks around here."

"Tell me," she said, diplomatically changing the subject, "have you always lived up here?"

"To tell you the truth, no. I saw some action in the war--I know I look young, but it was a young war."

"Funny, a guy like John, with his age and all, was behind a desk."

"I could believe that."

"I didn't like the way he handled himself in the raft."

"I wouldn't come down so hard on him. After all, he taught me how to swing, took me to some real parties, and was doing all sorts of things I didn't have the guts for at first."

"Like what?"

"Well, parties, for example. He brought me down to some orgies, and I got cold feet, but he brought me back, and I was okay."

"Not bad. You know, you do have quite a body."

"Why, thank you. I could tell you were turned on to me right away."

With a sudden motion, the lad turned and walked away, down a kind of path. "Where are you going?" Veronica imagined asking.

"Hear that?"

Veronica couldn't hear a thing.

"That's the sound of water, and where's a better place for round two than some water."