St. Chester Ch. 04

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Sun and fun.
4.4k words
4.58
19.9k
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Part 4 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/30/2022
Created 09/25/2004
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Don’t under estimate the amount of enjoyment one can find in creating a really sweet honey in one’s mind and then working on making her better and better. I hope the reader will find Molly as attractive and alluring as I have. The fact that she doesn’t have a real body to bring to my bed hardly matters. I still enjoy being with her. I hope Fred is as attractive to my female, bi, and gay readers as Molly is to me. Fortunately, all the characters are over 18; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to bring them to you. Enjoy. Feedback is always welcome as long as it is presented in the spirit of friendship.

It was Middle Fall. Midterms would be in two weeks and then we’d have a week off for Thanksgiving. Man, I thought, I’ve got to get over Molly. Molly had matriculated at the University of Hawaii Medical School in Honolulu, leaving me to my own devices at St. Chester, which seemed gray and lonely without her. Self-service of the kind that had been bearable before Molly and I hooked up, just didn’t get it any more. Sure, there were lots of other girls at St. Chester—Darcy had even made a couple of awkward moves on me, but my heart was so in thrall to Molly that I couldn’t get up the energy to enter the competition for any of the good pussy around campus.

I was studying in my room. Yes, studying. All that studying together with Molly had sort of instilled the habit in me and I was developing the unrealistic hope that if I studied, I could transfer to UH. So, I was studying in my room when someone knocked on the door and shouted, “Phone call, Freddy.”

I jumped up, my heart filled with the irrational hope that it would be Molly. We had talked a couple times, but not lately. My elation quickly dissipated as I walked down the hallway to the pay phone. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Fred. Guess who?”

My heart leapt. “I don’t have to guess. I’d recognize your voice anywhere, Molly.”

“How are you?”

“Is it really you?”

“No, it’s someone else.”

“Yeah, right. ‘Sup?”

“Look, I just qualified for the national tour and we’re training at San Luis Reservoir over Thanksgiving. Can you get away and meet me there?”

“Sure. Ah, where is San Luis?”

“California.”

“Oh, sure. I can do that. When.”

“Details by letter. No point paying long distance.”

We talked and talked and then Molly had to ring off.

The sun on the water was dazzling after the pale sun on campus. I drove over the hill that overlooked the reservoir in my rental car and felt a moment of the greatest satisfaction just run through my body like a freight train. Though I’d told Molly I’d make it, I really had no idea how hard it would be. When I told my mother I was going to use some of grandma’s money for air tickets and a rent-a-car, she was furious. But I had control of the money (thank you Grammy) so in the end she had to agree. It helped that I could cite my good grades and high academic standing at St. Chester, something in which I’d exceeded her wildest expectations. She had to reluctantly gave in. But she made me promise to earn it back with a summer job. Something I hadn’t had to do previous summers. I didn’t even have to think about it. Well worth the price.

From the hilltop, looking down, it was obvious where it was happening. A tent city occupied a plain of rolling hills, dotted with mesquite, surprisingly brown considering the close proximity to the water. The brightly colored sails of windsurfers dotted the reservoir, seemingly connected by the white wakes that trailed behind them.

I drove into the area slowly only by force of will; I was panting to be there yet at the same time I was just soaking the scene in like a gator sunning on a log. I didn’t know where to go. I finally found a sign pointing to ‘Event HQ” and found a nice lady whose skin was so sunburned that it crackled. She looked up Molly’s name. “She’s camped in aisle # 4, but she won’t be there now; she’s up for a preliminary run at 2:00.”

“Ah, where will that be?” She pointed the way.

After finding a parking place I struggled through the crowd to find my way to the water’s edge. I followed sometimes contradictory instructions looking for Molly who would be taking off momentarily, I’d been told. I hoped to at least be able to say hello before she sailed out on the course. Then I saw her, siding astride her board, with four other women waiting their turns. It was hard not to stare, impossible, really. Beavers with their legs splayed on either side of the board. I pulled my eyes away.

“MOLLY!”

She turned and looked at me. “Freddy. Good to see you.” The sight of her legs where they came together, straddling the board reminded me vividly the times I’d looked down at that same spot with its light covering of blond hair that did nothing to shield her vulva from view. She blinked at me and ran her hand up her knee to her bikini patch, stuck her finger under the cloth and lifted it up. Suddenly the other four gals pushed their boards down and took up positions in the water beside their boards, one leg half over, the wish-bone in hands, waiting. Molly quickly waived and then joined them. It was really stirring watching the five girls as they raised the edges of their sails to catch the wind and pull themselves up and out of the water. They were on short boards which don’t have enough buoyancy to float a rider until they have started planing. The last things out of the water were the girls’ rear ends, their beautiful asses, beautiful hourglass shaped derrieres mooning us momentarily until they suddenly turned themselves into sea birds taking off. They were quickly up to thirty-five to forty mph.

They tacked back and forth a few times, warming up and then they sailed the course for recorded times. Everyone on shore had a stopwatch except me, but I had my new camera (Grandma’s money, again) with its seven power telephoto lens, so I could bring the surfers in like they were just in front of me.

There are times when the grace and beauty of the human in motion is inspiring. This was one of them. All of these women were doing things with their boards that looked to be completely impossible. And they looked real sexy doing it. Later I noticed that the guys looked sexy too. The same way an erect cock looks sexy to me. All the contestants were so taut, they looked erect, like sex machines in their skimpy bathing suits, tanned skin, oxyded noses, and muscles.

After the timed heat, they practiced on the slalom course, but that wasn’t done for record, just practice. Then, after about an hour and a half on the course a flag was raised on shore to bring them in and they all sailed away from us to the other side of the lake and then began the long reach home, bringing their speed up to a point where a fall would be like landing concrete.

Molly was last in line, a rare happening from what I’ve seen. We were on a lee shore with the wind blowing right at us but at and angle to the shore. During the afternoon huge waves had risen driving the spectators back from shore. Under these conditions you can see why I was apprehensive when Molly showed no sign of slowing as she approached the shore where we were waiting. Then, just when she should have been dumping air, she pushed the boom down and suddenly the tip of the board came straight up off a wave and into the air. The crowd let out with a yell, “EEEEEHAAAAA, Molly,” as the board continued up and around into a complete circle, landing with a smack and a swerve as she brought it under control and headed out for another pass. “EEEEEEEHAAAAAA, Molly,” they yelled. The guy I’d been sitting by and talking to during the trials turned to me. That Molly, she’s something.”

“She sure is.”

At that moment in time she was Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Mme de Pompadour, or any of the great paramours of human history, her beauty stunning.

Molly refused my offer to take the board from her before climbing up the beach. Then I followed behind her as she carried the board over to a cyclone fence, with me carrying the sail and mast. She secured everything to the fence with a padlock, then she gave me a big kiss, carelessly brushing against my crotch with her hand in the process. I just accidentally brushed against her breast and then we settled in for a long hug.

I was kneading her ass cheeks with my hands by the time we broke for air and Molly turned and walked down toward the shore. She turned toward me to say, “I want to introduce you to some guys,” but not before I noticed that her bikini bottom had knotted up into her ass crack, looking just like a throng. I wondered if her friends would appreciate being introduced to a guy with a hard-on. The way Molly reached into her crack to pull the material out and smooth it down did nothing to help.

“Freddy, this is my posse. Hey, you guys, this is Fred; he’s the guy I told you about. Fred, this is Mike, Shawn, Jodi, and Sara.”

“Glad to meet you.”

“Hey, been looking forward to it,” said Mike. “You’ll be sharing our RV tonight. Hope you don’t mind close quarters.”

“As long as it’s close quarters with Molly, I don’t care,” I said.

Jody said, “You’re just as cute as Molly said.”

“We’re bout done for the day. I hope you’re ready to party,” said Mike.

“Me? Party? Where?”

We walked up to the surfers’ ghetto and got a bunch of stuff out of the RV: chips, ice, beer, almost thawed hamburger patties and the rest of the makings for a barbecue. By the time we got back to the beach where the boards were chained to the fence, the coals in two oil-drum barbecues were in the process of being lit and people were sucking beers as they watched. Molly grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a volleyball court where we quickly rotated into the game opposite to each other. Fortunately we were playing the game seriously enough (with malice) that my cock decided to protect itself instead of reacting to all the hard bodies moving with graceful abandon. We kept score but I don’t really remember, or care, who won. I don’t know how I was able to concentrate at all, because several of the girls were following a California fashion of playing topless.

By the time the Barbie was ready and dinner cooked and eaten, it was dusk, and then as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned deep orange, suddenly a flurry of fire crackers popped into the night followed by a whosh as the bonfire lit, with the help, apparently, of a bunch of gasoline. The pyre consisted of dry shipping pallets and the fire took off with abandon, sparks rocketing into the air.

The fire area was up next to the same fence that had boards chained to it and sails were drooped over it to act as a windbreak. Fortunately, the wind went down with the sun. A mob soon formed in a semi-circle around the fire.

Suddenly a boom box cut in and the fire was encircled with whirling dancers just kicking out with total abandonment, facilitated by beer and lots of high grade dope.

A bunch of people started throwing a giggling girl up into the air with a blanket. Soon all the girls wanted to fly and they guys with the blanket yelled, “Take your tops off. Show us your tits/” The first girl out of her bra was immediately seized up onto the blanket and thrown screaming up into the air. Before long she became accustomed to the motion and started to perform as if on a trampoline. This means she spread her legs and touched her toes—in a bikini. I don’t know if she knows or not just what she revealed.

The competition to go ballistic was fierce and it wasn’t long before the girls chosen to rise above the rest traveled topless and bottomless. Some girls have no shame. It turns out I don’t mind the sight of flying naked pussies at all.

After a while this activity wore down and people started to dance. After the third or fourth tune, one of the girls jumped into the middle of the crowd and started to dance to the crowd who quickly faced the middle where she was. I don’t know what kind of dancing it was, but it was very skillful and very sensual.

“Show us your tits Lucille,” someone yelled. “Yeah, show us, show us,” voices from all around the circle shouted. Lucille did show her tits, but in little glimpses, just peaking out under her halter, just peaking above it, then totally liberated as she whipped it off. Nice breasts, I thought. Lucille grabbed each end of her halter in a different hand and started to twirl it up into a tube; then she looped in under her butt and mooned me as she pulled the cloth back and forth over her buttocks, turning slowly to show everyone around her, the swelling of her sex being ruffled by the friction of the rope. Then some how the rolled up halter was between her legs and she was skillful at parting the waves as she drew it back and forth through her groove. She danced around and around the circle showing her pussy to anyone who cared to look—to everyone. She suddenly pulled it out and held it up. Then she pushed it up to my nose so I could sniff it—a strong pungent compelling odor. She marched around the fire and holding it to any guy who wanted a sniff.

“Yep, it smells just like pussy,” one said.

“Take it off,” someone yelled. She looked up,

“What?”

“Take it off.” She winked and pulled the top of her panties out as if to look in. “This?”

“Off. Off, off, off,” the crowd roared.

She slowly stepped out of her bottoms. Then she leaped into the crowd and they grabbed her and lifted her up, up and overhead and started to pass her around and around the circle while the amps screamed in competition with the crowd.

Someone yelled, Molly.”

The crowd took it up, “Molly, Molly, Molly.”

Molly moved to the center and started to dance. First she moved directly in front of me and bent over so her ass was in my face. She waved her wonderful butt at me, thrust it toward me. I reached out to hold it. She moved away. I dropped my hands. She reached up and untied her halter, letting it hang loose. She came back to me, facing me, thrusting her breasts at me. I grabbed the halter, She pulled back slowly, bowing her head until the halter was dangling in my hand. Then she reached out and started to pull my shirt off.

“Off, take it off, take it off,” yelled the crowd. What could I do?

Molly bent over and looked up at the faces around us, lit by the fire in the night. She slowly stood straight and rolled the waist of her suit down. Down to where the hair showed over the top, down to where the hair was all above the suit, down to her knees and off. Then she reached over and rolled my suit down. Yes, my cock sprung out as if the main spring of a clock getting loose.. Then I felt the hands of the mob lifting me up and then I was on a trip that can’t be described, except to say that if any one missed tweeking my cock or squeezing my butt, then it wasn’t because they didn’t have the opportunity.

Then Molly and I were on firm ground again, across the circle from each other more engaged in passing other naked bodies around the circle overhead than in each other. The amazing thing was that we all pressed our naked flesh together into one throbbing emotional blob of protoplasm.

All the cocks were hard, and turned out to be an incredible turn-on for me. When I was a kid, I used to be ashamed of my cock when it got hard. I’d bend over and hold my books over my lap. But when I met Molly, I soon learned that a stiff dick is really powerful looking. Specially looking at a stiff cock, say in Molly’s mouth in the mirror., This evening I learned that it is sexy to see a bunch of other guy’s cocks standing erect—rampant, I think they say.

Molly finally found me again and took my hand and started to drag me away. Ah, I thought. Finally. But she only took me to the fence, where she unchained her board and then I helped her carry it up to the circle of dancing screaming athletes. Immediately a bunch of them sat down with the board in their laps and started to drum on it, a tango beat, and someone yelled, “Lambada!:

After a while I took Molly out and tried to get the hang of it. Then Mike cut in on me and took Molly before I knew what had happened, leaving me with Jodi. It was funny to be rubbing her naked sex with my leg (and vice versa) without even knowing her. It was even stranger to look down and see Molly’s knee stroking Mike’s balls, making his hard cock jump, while imagining her pussy lips, hidden beneath Mike’s leg.

We danced to the wee hours with new shifts taking position under the windsurfer drum to beat out the tattoo of our carousing. By the time people had started to disappear into the night the pace of the music had slowed and around the fire away from the dance area you could see, close to the ground, the rhythmic movements of a different dance.

But that’s not what either Molly or I wanted. All evening, we had been purposefully tormenting each other with the death of a thousand touches. Now we headed home for the coup stroke.

Our bed was the living room couch during the day and pulled down into a queen size playpen which was the biggest bed we’d actually laid out on together. The time between when we entered the trailer and when the bed was pulled down with us sexually connected in it, could be measured in tenths of seconds.

“Don’t worry about foreplay,” Molly said, as she assumed a supine position on her back, her legs spread to allow me in. “I’m so ready I could scream.”

I didn’t, she was and I did and let me tell you, we were up to a speed at least as fast as when Molly lifted her board out of the water for her flip. When I found my position between her knees, precum was dripping off my cock and the end of it glistened. Molly was wet too, and I slid in as if we’d been sexually engaged for hours.

I started on my knees and holding her legs to position her pussy and pull her too me, but we used a whirlwind of positions that night and I couldn’t begin to remember all of them. Of course I came quickly the first time but I didn’t get soft and I didn’t stop and I lasted for a good long time before coming again.

There is no telling when I might have ejaculated that second time. We’d been at it a while and our intimate bodily fluids were dropping down my legs and Molly’s. Some how we’d worked into a position where I was over her holding myself up into the air with outstretched arms and legs. She lay on her shoulders and held her legs and pussy up in the air over her head. The trailer was rocking and the springs were squeaking.

The door opened slowly. We hardly noticed. Somebody said. “Geeze, aren’t you guys ever going to finish? How long do you expect us to wait?”

“You don’t have to wait. Just work on through,” Molly said.

To get to their room, Mike and Jodi had to walk through the living room and bathroom. I was only half conscious of this conversation until Jodi’s hand grasped my balls. But, when she squeezed them lightly I suddenly became alert. In the half light I could see Mike’s hands stroking Molly’s boobs as she rocked back and forth on her back. Meanwhile, Jodi continued stroking my balls—for a while, anyway. Until, that is she started to lick them instead. Wait, Jodi wasn’t licking them. She was kissing Molly. My God, Mike was licking them and I liked it. Wow!

I liked it so much I came and with that, Molly pushed me aside and Mike took my place. “No fair,” I managed to say. Make me come and then take my place.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” said Jodi. Let me make up for it. With that she leaned over and started to suck my cock.

“You like the taste of my come and Molly’s pussy?” I asked.

“I love everything about sex: the smell, the taste, the feeling, all of it! Molly says you stay hard.

“Looks like she’s right.” She pushed me back and crawled up to straddle me. Then she grabbed my cock. “Not a steel bar, but hard enough,” she said. She started to push the head of my cock up and down the gully of her sex. It felt like I was going to fly again. I think I’m actually more sensitive when I’m half hard then when I’m diamond hard. “OH, GOD, That feels so good,” I said.

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