KOI 04: Camping at Silver Mines

"It was cool, watching you two get into it this morning," Loie said lazily, finally broaching the subject.

"We tried to be discreet!"

"Hah." Loie kicked her soft round heels back out of the water. Her sneakers lay on the rock above her. The effect of her kick out of the light-dappled river was momentarily strobelike.

"Is that stuff really true about you and those guys over in Belleville?" Loie asked.

"Yeah," replied Becca, sounding a little defensive. " 'Swinging's' fun, even though Rich and I love one another." Becca tongued the word "swinging" with a sort of unfamiliarity. It never really sounded right to either of us.

"Damn!" I said. Dave was trying to get to the woods at the top of the cliff by taking an under-ledge approach without benefit of climbing rope. For a moment, it looked like he was falling.

Loie turned and slipped back into the water, watching unconcernedly as Dave reasserted his grip and pulled himself halfway around the ledge.

"Well," she said. "All I know is, I really liked watching this morning."

"Watching's cool," I said.

Then a little fugue started kicking in for the three of us. At least for the three of us.

"Screwing's even cooler," said Loie with a sort of contained hilarity.

"I like to watch," said Becca, picking up our line of thought.

"Watching's cool," said Loie, crouching in the four feet of water and slipping off her shoulder straps.

"Screwing's even cooler," I said. Our movements and placement felt robotic, swirling in the sparkling water. Someone was pulling off my trunks. Maybe I was doing it.

"I'll watch," said Becca, holding my trunks.

My cock was stiffened and heavy, but cold and without feeling. Loie had removed her suit and found a fold between the smooth boulders, and was leaning back into the depression with just her head and shoulders out of the water. Her fine hands were pulling my body toward hers. They slipped around my waist, around my butt, scoring me lightly with their fingernails. Loie's cute mouth was set crookedly with a housewifely determination.

I pressed fully against her slight body, taking her mouth and feeling Loie's cold nipples hard against my chest. I worked my hands around her thin shoulders. Our mouths melded, and we were inside each other's crazy heads. Our bodies were almost vertical in the supporting river. Loie's hands slipped from around me to tug my dick at her chill vag. Dick's feeling was reawakened a bit, rolling in the smooth brown hair of Loie's muff. Her fingertips tickled, poking my prodding organ in the right directions. Loie grunted a chuckle, low in her throat, as I pushed around and between her surprisingly plump, water-slick outer lips. Her hands moved back around me, to grip my buttocks firmly, fingertips inside my cleft, while her lean legs opened further, and curled around mine.

My bulb had found entry into Loie's sexhole, as cold and tight as a virgin asshole. The bulb rolled through a rubbery sphincter-ring into the stiff socket, which seemed to roll as well in counter-motion. Loie's warm oil mixed with the cool water there, leaking a little into the river. The long muscles of Loie's legs gripped my thighs tighter; the fine fingers of her slim hands gripped my butt tighter; the muscular effort seemed to tighten her vaginal tube, when I finally shoved dick high up into her.

"Uh." It was warm, there, and close. And I was cold as a...

"It feels like a fucking fish," murmured Loie - not without a strange relish.

"Hold on to that fish!" smiled Becca. She was sitting on a rock a little above us. Watchful for anyone who might be wading their way upriver. Watchful of Dave.

My fish squirmed alive in Loie's warm grasp. It twisted and turned.

I was the fish. Loie was the fish. We spawned together, flashing naked and upright in the water.

"I got it, I got it!" went Loie's low squeal, fuguing hilariously.

"We're two fucking fish!"

"Lookin' good," encouraged Becca.

I felt some cold-blooded seminal fluid sliding through my loins. My mouth moved toward Loie's shoulders and breasts, my face splashing against the surface of the water, and her smooth arms snaked a new grip up my back. She was more amphibian than fish, I thought. A lean tan mudpuppy squirming in dumb mating frenzy.

"Salamanders," I said, biting through water to her round low boob.

"Ohh, yeah," groaned Loie, excitement quickened by the idea.

Her legs loosened their grip and we bounced weightlessly in the river. Loie's vagina tightened still more, but I could remove myself from her amphibian clutch, and jab, jab crazily into the tight now-hot, now-cold cunt-hole between her legs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," grunted Loie with each jab. Wiggle. Wrestle.

Then "Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!"

Loie's legs kicked smooth feet almost out of the water again, as my arms between her back and the rock scraped down from her struggling shoulders and I took a lower hold of her and I slammed my cold penis into her cervix and we both came together, spewing slimy jelly wriggling deep into the puppy's tube and we were both underwater, thrashing, scarcely feeling the effects of the orgasm but strangely, almost perversely satisfied.

"Jeez!" exclaimed Becca as Loie and I clambered naked onto the rocks. "Lookit Dave making a rainbow!"

Dave had made it to the top of the cliff. A yellow stream was coursing from the brown rod in his hands as he pissed proudly onto the rocks below. The golden arc glittered in the sun, breaking into a thousand diamond jewels as it splattered off the jagged granite. Dave glowed. It almost looked like he was coming.

*****

Dinner preparation was conventionally dull. There was a low hum in the air. Cicadas and river, I guessed. It could have been an oppressive sound, but instead it was almost heavenly. Time seemed to have stood still.

Jim hadn't really drunk anything that day, but mixed half his pony of bourbon with lemonade after getting back to camp. Now he hazarded a small solo joint as he cleaned his fish, carefully deboning and filleting the panfish and small cats he'd kept for eating. Dave and Loie re-dosed themselves while rolling the bratwursts on the campstove grill. Mescaline dreams were good, they said. Becca and I were still feeling the effects of our morning drug. All of us sipped beer around the campfire. The girls were in long teeshirts, their panties showing out at the bottoms, their legs occasionally flashing, disturbing the men. Loie's afternoon-browned legs grew more incredible as twilight fell. Sheer, soft, long rounded lively muscled invitation.

Brats. Fish. Chips. Beer. I flipped at my Vampirella comic in the twilight. Dave dreamed on his sleeping bag. Jim engaged in woodsman tasks. Becca had been irritating Dave with her flirting since he'd returned from the cliffside, and she sat next to him, seeing whether she could irritate him some more. We thought Loie was washing the cookware down by the river.

"You'll pay for that," growled Dave as Becca woke him with a tickle to his belly. "It's needle time." He sat up and reached for his insulin kit.

"Yuk," said Becca.

Dave prepared his dose, drawing the medicine into the disposable plastic syringe. Then he handed the syringe to Becca.

"Stick me," he told her.

"Oh, God," said Becca. She took the needle from him.

Dave indicated the spot on his inner thigh where the injection was to be given. He circled the smooth target area with his fingers, tightening the patch of skin to be pricked as Becca nervously huddled closer to him.

"That's it. Just press it in." Becca's brown hands did as they were instructed, not too anxiously. "Squeeze it in slowly and evenly."

"Guuuy."

"There."

"Poor baby." Becca kissed Dave at the base of his jaw. Strangely, he displayed no objection. He took the syringe from her, broke the needle clean off the plastic tube, and dropped both pieces onto his medicine bag.

"Oh, gross." Jim's voice. Sprightly Loie had reappeared, dropping off the clean cookware and then dropping to her knees on the bed between Dave and his kit. Something was peeking from between her legs, and it wasn't her panties.

"Watch me, Jim," said Loie, and she spread her legs wider.

"That was supposed to be for the raccoons!" I remonstrated.

Just the tip of the leftover sausage peeked out of Loie's cunt. With gleeful concentration, Loie pushed the brownwhite thing halfway out again. Then, without touching it, she sucked it back through wavering vaglips. We watched in silence as she repeated her trick. Why was this so entertaining?

The cicadas re-upped their chirping. The sound seemed to come lower from out of the forest, almost rumbling.

"Can you do this, Becca?" asked Loie, ingenuously.

"Yeah. Sure. But I've got Rich, instead."

"She just called you a hotdog," Dave said to me. It was a macho taunt.

"Disgusting," muttered Jim, highly entertained. He reached over to his fish cooler, and pulled out one of his larger catfish, skinned and filleted.

"Yeah. Sure." Becca's eyes narrowed at Loie. Suddenly we were all in Hell's Angels territory.

Jim flipped the fish over to Becca. She contemptuously let the shiny white meat fall onto Loie's sleeping bag as she removed her panties. Then, splaying her legs from her seat, knees high, she took the fillet and rolled it into a semblance of its original shape.

Becca willed her hole open before our entranced gazes. Loie quit working her trick. Becca's cunt was glistening.

"Mine is bigger than yours," she told Loie. Her belly worked as she pushed the firm, oily fish into herself.

"Yum, yum, good," Becca said dryly, with mock satisfaction. Then something about her expression changed. Her hole choked some of the fish back out.

"I had a fish earlier today," Loie said brightly.

Becca seemed to be trying to draw the fish back inside herself, Loie-fashion. She fell back onto her elbows, raising her butt and opening her crotch even more fully to all of us. Something in her red face was... amazed. Open and amazed.

"I can't..." she gasped. "Jeez!" The fish slipped halfway out, and both Becca's hands dropped to her twat to play it back inside. She dropped flat to the sleeping bag, twitching, and began playing with herself and her fish. Dave and I were marvelously distracted.

Less so Jim and Loie. Jim had crossed over to Loie's side of the bags to better view the show, but now he and she were cuddling. At Loie's instigation, I suspected, but Jim was in a... all of us were in a... were in a... "weird" isn't the word for the mood we were in, is it?

"Eat it out of me, Jim." Loie's urging came out gutteral. An inch or so of fat brownwhite sausage shown sticking out of greasy vaglips. Dave only glanced solemnly over at the pair, then turned back to huffing Becca. Dave whispered something into her ear and reached down to help her play her fish. Jim bent over, on his knees next to backleaning Loie, and then his head obstructed my view of Loie's display.

"Yeh," grunted happy Loie. "Eat it all basted." Jim's jaws began to work, and Loie was almost on her back, pulling at his shorts.

"God! I'm coming from a FISH!" Becca laughed with that half-contained hysteria I had heard often that day.

I felt the craziness myself. The forest was rumbling. The cliff seemed to be echoing a passing train. I shook my empty beer can, then crawled on the quaking ground to grab Jim's pony decanter of bourbon. Jim was crawling awkwardly atop gibbering Loie when I turned around from my swig. Dave was covering Becca. We never saw the big catfish again.

*****

God, it was ugly enough. Atop Dave and Loie's sleeping bags the sex turned angry, almost "hate-fuck." But we were inside the train, rumbling down the river valley, and we couldn't have jumped off... if we had wanted to. The air was hot, close, with just an occasional wisp of cooler vegetable perfume entering the small wide-open compartment the five of us occupied. The bed would not stop shaking. Beneath my face as I lay alongside her and steadied her shoulders, Becca's face was fierce, struggling, semiconscious as Dave's sweat ran down all three of us. Dave had been going on at the same rough pace for twenty minutes. Jim and Loie were doing something to each other in whatever spaces they found between the other three of us. I didn't pay attention to what they were doing. I was rummaging through the pockets of Dave's discarded pants, after using them to wipe Becca's face and mine.

Mescaline dreams are good, they said. I found the bottle in one of Dave's pockets, and keeping my elbows to Becca's heaving shoulders I swallowed a brown tab.

I took a second tab between thumb and forefinger and stuck it into Becca's mouth.

"UHMmmph!" Becca protested, struggling to spit it out. I held her jaws shut like a vet administering worm medicine to a recalcitrant setter. Becca jerked angrily at the two men holding her down. I fumbled to bring the bourbon flask to her mouth, stick it in, make her take the liquor and the drug. It worked. Becca gagged once, then swallowed.

"God-DAMmit, I can't finish her!" snarled Dave. He sounded like some yardworker unable to budge a stuck switch. His slick, smooth torso fell heavily on top of me and Becca, his chest heaving, his arms moving to find some angle of relaxation.

"Here. Damn." The train would never stop at this rate. Like a pup, I kicked Jim and Loie below us, away out of our nest. I squeezed from between Dave and Becca, keeping a hard hold of Becca's arm toward me, her hand flexing in and out of a fist, grasping for sexual release, grasping air. Dave took a new hold around Becca's shoulders, and his mouth fell to her frustrated, sex-charged face. Jim and Loie's intervening bodies out of the sweaty way, I slid my hips toward the place where Dave and Becca were joined. Dave had quit pumping for the time being. Becca had turned her hips away from me, showing one big, dirty sweat-streaked asscheek and a strong brown thigh lifted to kick her leg between Dave's. The region of their sex-merger was plainly exposed. Dave's black-brown balls were at once hard and loose, sprouting from between the two crotches. Becca's vaglips and perineum, up to the almost invisible asshole, were raw, punished... and still working to bring off their intruder. Grey, greasy smegma - catfish, campdirt, Dave, and Becca - lubed thick as vaseline the pair's darkly gleaming loins. One hand to scout and guide my dick, one arm newly-thrust between Dave's warm grasp and the back of Becca's strained shoulders, I went ahead.

"OW!" My hand was tangled in knitted crotchhair, my fingers tucked into Dave's wobbling hard scrotum. My thumb pulled Becca's opening wider, and I slipped my cockhead into the already-occupied cunt.

"GODDAM YOU BOTH!" shouted Becca. Her fists pounded up at us, ineffectually. The train's rumble blotted out her screams.

Whatever new power Mescalito had given me was concentrated in my loins. My phallus cleaved remorselessly into the girl, from over her buttocks, and my guiding hand moved around Dave's hard waist to help him hold himself in and fuck our angry love toy. Becca's body spread open, bucking, kicking, in pain and fiercely forced love.

Briefly, just briefly, I felt Dave's strong lean masculinity. I felt the goodness Becca felt with him inside her. I enjoyed the sense of his mastery, but it was a mastery he had momentarily lost. Then as his balls ground excitingly into mine, his rod surged along mine inside the girl, and we bound ourselves together, two men in a newly shared lordship of the fuck-angry animal between us.

My position let me push myself deeper than Dave into Becca. Our twin dicks slid across one another in her cunt's tortured embrace, two rubbing rods of excited hardrubber, and Dave and I melted together to envelop the loudly moaning female. Dave was soon pumping warm semen, and his pumping along my shaft, the feel of his warm cum, more than the shrill jerks of stretched vagina, called up my own bright screaming burst, past Dave's twitching penetration, through the cul-de-sac of the girl-animal's sexway, up her spine to pierce her brain.

Becca's crazy moans, no longer hurting, fell away. They were replaced by a low rattle in her chest. The rattle was a purr. The purr became a roar. A roar of ecstasy, almost triumphal. Dave and I disappeared in the roar, which merged with the forest-train's diesel thrumm.

Then I was standing above her. Dave was rolled to one side, his body straining for breath. I was rocking with the heavy swing of the braking train. Becca was shaking like some poor creature in the last agony of hydrophobia. It had been my shot that had brought her off. I'd reclaimed my bitch fox.

*****

Becca came out of it like a new mother. Gently she assured me she was okay. For some reason, I felt pleased to see that she pointedly ignored Dave. Tattered and glowing, she gathered sex-shocked Jim from our bags, and herded him, a 6'2" toddler, off to bathe in the river. The camp's glass bottle of bourbon she took in one hand, Jim's hand she took in her other.

"Geez! Gah - Watch it!" Dave's eyes were wild, wide, as he tore at Loie's head buried in his crotch. Loie had finished Jim only to crawl in a reptilian creep to suck up what she could of recumbent Dave's sticky sex, and slobber at it, lick.

Loie's slank body was lying over a duffle roll, her dirty ass beckoning me above her marvelous, spread legs. I fell between the long-muscled haunches and palmed the smooth thighflesh, upward, having her grab my waist between her calves as she wrestled to suck Dave. I stuffed my face into her spermy puss, and chewed into the fetid stink.

The train had stopped but the three of us had not debarked. Something about Loie's attack, her almost impersonal voraciousness, had enraged Dave. His male rage infected me as well.

"Get your face out of my slut and take her ass!" he snarled.

Loie clamped her legs around my head as she shouted, "NO YOU DON'T!"

Dave just shoved her head and shoulders into the bags and I somersaulted backwards away from her angrily kicking, beautifully flashing, legs.

The broken hypo slid with strange easyness into the girl's tightened asshole. Loie had quit struggling as soon as it became obvious that she had no recourse, but Dave still pressed her body hard into the bed. I squeezed the clean cooking oil slowly and evenly into her rectum.

Dave had let Loie turn her head to catch some glimpse of the operation. Her face was frowning, not with hatred, but with something very much like it.

"This is your first time, isn't it?"

"So what?" drawled Loie. "Just give me another shot."

Dave laughed. A hard laugh.

The second hypo popped the gleaming pucker with greater ease. I squeezed it off, and it felt like coming.

"Again. Another. Damn you."

Some of the oil had escaped to run down her swollen lips. I loaded another hypo.

"Get on with it!" ordered Dave.

"Fuck you," said Loie.

I crouched behind Loie's tensed thighs and spread her oily asscheeks wide. The third hypo was inserted, and the injection was slower, meeting internal pressure. But it all got in.

"Yeah. Damn it."

Neither Dave nor I had softened in the interim. I pushed my cockhead into the hot oil that leaked from the girl's nether hole.

"OH!" shouted Loie.

Dave laughed, and pressed her harder into the bed.

Two inches in, the hot squeeze around my dick almost hurt. I got angrier. Loie's fine round buns heaved in response to my dick-punch. Her anal sphincter spread, oil squirted into my sexhair, dripped down my balls, and I was snug inside and rolling into strange new muscle, strange new bone. My body fell to Loie's thin, dirty back, and I fucked the smooth tube, dreaming of unspeakable caverns, filthy mineshafts, oil gushing sperm popping.

"Was that good?" Dave asked her after I rolled off.

"No. So what?"