Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Innocent Days (FMF, threesome)
Date: 16 Oct 1995 21:44:47 GMT

			    Innocent Days

	I wasn't really a slut. My husband was in Viet Nam, fighting
for the American Way. But it seemed to have changed during his
absence. All this sexual revolution stuff. It touched me in an unusual
manner.

	We had rented an ancient trailer in one of those older trailer
parks that were not mobile home communities. It sat out on a little
creek in southern Mississippi. I'd barely gotten to know my neighbors
before my husband, Lance was called up. Those were lonely days for me.
It was fall and there was a chill in the air, cold as my bed was at
night. I was only nineteen, and my teenage juices were running like
the sap in spring. One afternoon, after I'd been alone about a month,
a man who lived further back into the park asked me if I would like
to pick pecans with him. I was hanging clothes on the community line
and he introduced himself as Earl. I shook hands with him and told him
mine was Elizabeth. "My wife's got a busted leg," he'd said. "But she
can make a damn fine pecan pie. `Preciate your help."

	Without too much thought about it, I agreed. Earl seemed like
a nice-enough man; in his thirties, square-jawed and handsome in a
rugged way. His sandy hair was too long for my taste, but his eyes
were warm and brown. He looked like an aging hippie, except that he
wore khaki pants and a red flannel shirt, was clean and neatly
dressed. There was a beery smell about him however, a masculine musk.
"I'll just change out of this dress," I said.

	"No need, Elizabeth," Earl said. "You won't get dirty."

	I followed Earl through what he referred to as the south
meadow, really a collection of pokeberry weeds and Queen Ann's lace
bushes. By the time we reached the pecan grove, my yellow dress was
stained with the dark red juices of the pokeberries.

	"We have to shake the pecans loose," Earl said. "You're small,
can you climb the tree?" I felt a warmth spreading in my lower belly,
a heat between my legs. We were all alone and his smile was soft and
easy. He appeared slightly drunk.

	The pecans clattered like dried castanets in the chill wind as
he lifted me into the fork of one giant old pecan tree. His hands
around my waist felt big and the strength in his arms was amazing.
Then he stabilized my footing by holding my ankles to each side of the
forked branches. I was painfully conscious of my underwear being
visible to him below. I hadn't worn a slip, just my bra and panties.

	I felt his grip tighten as I attempted to scale the rough bark
of the limb on my right. Then of his hand moving higher, to my calf. A
gentle pressure, an upward bunching of my muscle. My foot slipped. His
hand did not hold me upright, rather, it slid further up my leg to
just above the knee.

	Was it me?

	Did I truly not know what was happening, what I was doing as I
lowered myself to his sliding palm? Earl's hands felt rough and
calloused as they slid up my legs to the fork of my own body, inverted
branches like the pecan tree's. I honestly don't know. I don't
remember or don't wish to remember how much resistance I put up as his
large, warm hand cupped my mound.

	But I do remember the feeling of helplessness to control what
was happening to my body. And therein lay the key to my sense of
wantonness. Because my body reacted willfully on its own, a
traitorous desire against my mind, betraying my expressed fidelity.

	"Ah, Bethy," he whispered. "So beautiful."

	Caressing. Touching. Feeling. My young juices sloshed about in
my budding vulva of their own volition. I was powerless to stop the
need. Not a word was spoken as I lowered my bottom onto his waiting
hand. My vagina was wet, palpitating with animal need.

	He slipped my underpants to one side and his finger slid into
me easily. My legs trembled and my feet slipped further down the
branches of the tree. He was in me all the way and he slipped a second
finger into my slickened pussy.

	I looked down. Growing from his khaki clad groin, his erection
appeared immense. He stroked himself as he worked his finger in me. My
juices soiled his hand when he withdrew and a spreading patch of
moisture wet his groin. He lifted me and lay me flat on my back.

	I was speechless and crossed my arms over my heaving breasts
protectively. I had never encountered such apparent male rutting lust
as he exuded. "No!" I exclaimed as firmly as I could muster.

	Earl used his eyes like weapons, like staccato gun fire, a
bursting fusillade of meanings, literally filling the air between us
as he uttered the single word,"Yes." And then they softened, drew me
in. I fell tumbling headlong into those warm eyes which replaced the
blazing contrails of his lust. Something like an ensheathing glove of
soft flesh crept up my body, setting every raw red nerve on edge. I
teetered on some brink of myself for only a moment longer. It seemed
as though a numbness overcame me, a blurring in my eyes and a deep
thrumming in my head. I sighed.

	Earl knelt down on the ground beside me and put his hands on
his hips like a marine drill sergeant. "Take my cock out and suck it
for me," he ordered in the manner of that same simile, although a
little slurred.

	In my own defense, I was terrified. I'm a slight person,
weighing between one-twenty and one-twenty five all my life. My
husband had referred to me as "wren-like", and I can't argue with that
description. My long blond hair was what he'd said had made him fall
in love with me.

	My hands shook as I fumbled with his zipper. When I succeeded
in dragging Earl's dick out, I thought my heart would burst out of my
chest. He had an uncut fire hose for a penis and as much foreskin as
I've ever seen on any man. His uncircumcised skin formed a huge nozzle
over the flaring knob and lubricating drool oozed out in copious
amounts. His penis was veiny and the shaft was like a road map of
bluish worms.

	"Skin me back," Earl mumbled. His sweetish breath was hot in
my face. His penis felt feverish in my hand. I clutched the shaft and
pulled back his skin, feeling like thick rubber and slippery on the
bone. I felt his flesh skimming over the veins as I drew back his
foreskin and unhooded his bright red knob. He was lubricating as much
as some men come, drooling strands of clear oil actually dripping from
his maleness.

	"Lick on it, open your pretty lips and suck me," he whispered.
My husband had asked me to suck him off one time, and I'd tried, not
really wanting to. But I found myself actually craving to taste this
man's cock. So I sank my mouth down onto his penis and held my fist
against my lips, stroking up and down as I sucked slowly on the
blood-engorged shank of his incredible maleness. His lubricating juice
was mellow on my tongue. He sighed contentedly.

	Then he reached over and caressed my breasts through the the
thin material of my yellow dress which had fallen slightly open. My
nipples stiffened inside my brassier, and he pinched and twisted them
gently between his fingers. He held his oversized penis in his fist
and growled, "I want to fuck you, Elizabeth."

	I could only bite my lips and quiver.

	He pulled open the buttons of my dress and dug his calloused
palms into my cleavage, began to chew his way to my breasts. His
breath assaulted my senses as I thrashed in his grasp. I was no match
for his absolute insistence and though I attempted to stop myself, I
felt my body trembling under his heated mouth. He removed my bra and
roughly pushed my panties down to my ankles. I was the one who kicked
them off.

	As if under a spell, I slumped in his embrace and allowed him
to caress my belly, my breasts, down, down between my legs, his hand
gently sought my warmth, my juices flowing. I was powerless. I must
continue to reaffirm that, I must say it again and again. If only for
myself. I was powerless.

	I allowed my legs to be stretched open on the ground where he
tenderly licked between my thighs, up and down, nibbling on the
insides, his tongue a heated organ. In all honesty, I was wet for him.
I splayed my legs as wide as they would go and pulled his head to my
center. His darting tongue was like a squirming fish at my hole,
feasting inside my vaginal lips. I arched my spine and gave myself to
him.

	He came off me and his lips were moist and hot as he kissed me
and I tasted the juices of myself. I sucked out his tongue. He
grappled with his pants and pushed them down below his ass. He
penetrated my clitoris like a succulent clam, his penis moist and
dripping juices, near liquefying my vagina. And I likened his gentle
coupling to the sea, a wash of soft foamy waves, cresting and breaking
over me. The very air was suffused with such humidity, it was as if I
drowned in him, his vastness like the ocean's, tossing and rolling on
the heaving body of water I had become.

	Indeed his body seemed of the sea, his gonads, growing like
treasures from the sea; oysters, scallops, the yielding firmness of
unshelled mussels. He smelled and tasted eternal like the sea, liquid
and saline, moist juices in unexpected places, faintly sea-weedish,
salty shoreline smells wafting from every pore. He had clam-like
buttocks of dewy assflesh, smooth as the skin of an eel's as I pulled
him into me.

	And it. That. That which penetrated me relentlessly, which
rode me like a wanton hag, seared my nether depths with a burning
intensity unlike any I'd experienced in my life. Sheathed inside my
trembling body like a great ship mooring to harbor, skillfully docking
with a precision as though this man knew the deepest pits of my being
and played them like a mighty orchestra. Then a single willing
instrument.

	Earl played my body like a guitar and my heart like a violin.
His round ass-globes, flexing, alternately taut and relaxed, driving
me, driving himself, driving us, over the precipice of simple sex and
down into a veritable pit of lust. His rough, calloused hands stroked
my heaving breasts, the scabbed flesh of their palms, drawing my
nipples to ever greater sensitivity. I felt every scabrous inch of his
tongue, a darting snake into the deepest pit of my sex-pocket. Earls'
white briefs strained from his groin as the thin material sheathed his
growing erection. Judy clutched at the hardening mass and freed the
cockhead from his waistband. Earl stripped them off impatiently. Then,
still feeding in my vagina, she blindly sought my trembling hand and
directed it onto his hard cock. Her hand covered mine as we stroked
him in a languid pumping motion.

	Earl held my face to his. He stuck out his tongue and wagged
it lewdly from side to side, wetting his lips and slobbering a bit.
"Do you wanna suck my cock?" he asked lasciviously.

	I had begun melting inside, my organs loosened and quaking
under the silken ecstasy of Judy's electrifying mouth on my pussy. I
twisted sideways on the couch, one leg draped to the floor, spread-
eagled, with the other leg thrown to the back of the seat, my head
lolling against Earl, and Judy bringing me to the first jolting
climax. I arched my pelvis and almost screamed with delight as the
shuddering tremors ran through my groin. Earl squatted up on the end
of the couch, his legs bent and spread, cock jutting almost to his
knees. I brought my face to his cock. Earl gently wedged the fat head
between my lips.

	Then Earl took both hands off my head and skinned his cock
back and it felt like something being born inside my mouth, a slow
unsheathing of the swollen plum, swelling even further and becoming
smoother, wetter. I felt the tiny nubbles of his excited organ on my
tongue, pebbled flesh causing friction as he wedged more meat inside.
There was no way any woman could have taken much of the shaft, and
Earl seemed to be satisfied for me to hold the head and swab it with
my tongue.

	I pushed his hands aside and put both of mine around his
shank, and tried to suck as much dick as I could. Earl began swaying
his hips from side to side, up and down and around like you would a
screwdriver trying to gouge a larger hole in a wall. The flange of his
knob was wedged in back of my teeth, my lips locked onto it. His
immense balls hung low in their bag, swinging against my chin as he
thrust his loins against my face.

	Judy was finger-fucking herself as she speared her long tongue
deep into my spiraling depths. She suddenly came off my pussy and let
out a long, wavering sigh, shivering with pleasure, her eyes closed,
climaxing and masturbating herself more swiftly. Her mouth opened and
she groaned, "Aahhhh, yes!"

	Earl pulled my mouth off his cock. "Let's get to bed, I'm
getting close to cumming."

	In less time than it takes to set down, we three were plugged
together like serial lights on a Christmas tree. I was on the bed on
my back, legs spread and Earl penetrated my juicy vagina with ease.
His immense cock filled me so deeply, I feared he was pushing his
cockhead into my belly. It was a whole new experience for me, but
they awakened some hidden craving for lust-drugged pleasure. I pulled
Judy on top of me, facing Earl, her pussy at my mouth.

	For the first time in my life, I sucked into the rich yielding
pudding of a cunt. I heard them kissing madly above me, but was
feverishly awash with the drenching ecstasy of eating the sex of
another woman, while being fucked like a bitch in heat by her husband.

	Judy and Earl both fondled and kneaded my fully aroused tits,
and my nipples felt as hard as eraser caps. They unlocked their lips
and went all verbal on me.

	Judy hissed, "Fuck'er! Fuck'er! Suck my cunt!"

	"Ah, yeah!" Earl gasped. "Sweet fucking pussy! So good! Pull
her ass open, Judy."

	Judy bent over me, her tits bobbling against mine and dug up
under my buttocks. She palmed my butt-cheeks apart, and stroked
through the moist cleavage of my ass-trench. She fingered my hole and
I felt her gliding her palm around Earl's root as the thrusting club
sawed in and out of my vagina.

	"Good God!" I panted as I felt another wave of orgasm hit
between my legs like a rip-tide of ecstatic torment. Earl plowed into
me with renewed vigor, hunching his lower back more rapidly, harder
and harder, and undulating his groin, his cock touching every soft
yielding custard of my sex-flesh, battering into my guts with a
demented fury.

	"Fuck that cunt, baby," Judy slurred. "Show'er what a real
man's cock is like. Set that pussy on fire!"

	She turned around to me. "Finger fuck me, sweetie. Make me cum
some more." She spread her legs wide above me and I inserted three
fingers held tightly together. She sank her smooth-fleshed loins all
the way down on my hand and fucked herself like a brood sow, grunting
and groaning as I brought her off time and time again.

	"Pull out when you're ready to shoot!" Judy barked at Earl.
"Wanna get a good look at my man's cream."

	"I don't - I don't - " Earl gasped. " - think I can!" he
yelped, and I felt him start spurting inside me. That was all it took.

	Like the splitting tremors of an earthquake, and the dwindling
aftershocks, my body stuttered and jerked, shuddered and writhed under
the force of an explosive orgasm, which seemed to last an hour, on and
on, it roiled and rippled through my sex, tearing holes through every
shred of my maddened senses.

	Earl managed to haul his spewing cock out of my well-fucked
hole and shot a broad stream of his man-juice across my heaving
breasts. Then a final streaking spit of his milk, popped a rope of
creamy pearls under my neck that would've made Liz Taylor jealous.
Judy was on the white stuff in an instant, licking my tits and sucking
up her husband's spunk like the sweetest honey she'd ever tasted.

	She really could make an absolutely heavenly pecan pie, which
we shared in comfortable nudity around their kitchen table. Our menage
a trois lasted until Lance came home from Nam a few months later with
a shoulder wound. It was serious enough to keep him from being
returned, and I loved him more than ever, glad for his injury, in
fact. But Lance thought he could teach innocent little me some of
the tricks he'd picked up from his Asian whores. We get along famously
with Earl and Judy.