The Girl from the Ouachita, Ch. 7
No sex among those under 18 in this work. I edit my own work, and I provide too many details for a lot of readers. This is a long one, and the MC is going to be too violent for some. If you choose to continue, remember that you were forewarned.
If you haven't read the previous stories in the series, please do before you read this one; I don't reintroduce. Chapter 6 ended with Jo and Chris at the lake.
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"Chris brought a ground tarp and several blankets. Laid over the thick grass on the hilltop, they made a wonderful bed for a naked sprite and her lover. Chris had seen her unclothed enough to know what he was unwrapping, but he'd never seen her lying nude in the sunshine on a warm day on blankets surrounded by greenery.
He scrambled to his pants, grabbed his phone, and took dozens of pictures in dozens of poses, "To keep me warm on those cold Colorado nights." Jo enthusiastically obliged him, but she was beginning to doubt he should be all alone on those cold Colorado nights.
How, she wondered, as she looked back over her shoulder at the cameraman while laying on her belly and lazily kicking her little feet in the air, could she convince TCU to let her go to school at CU for a year and regain her scholarships upon her return?
She pondered that thought on and off until they were making love for the third time, under the stars, with the moonshine illuminating her heavenly body.
****
Instead of heading back to Fort Worth, Jo and Chris drove to a nearby B&B he had found online. He was expecting 'no vacancy' due to the busy Memorial Day holiday, but Lakehaven had an unlikely vacancy. The owners were glad to have them, their accommodations were immaculate, the mattress was comfortable, and the bed was well and strongly made. They were unusually restrained due to the proximity of other guests, but still stress tested the bed.
They almost missed breakfast because a higher priority called when they awoke, but they made it down for the family-style spread with six other guests. After visiting with the owners and guests about fishing and recreational opportunities on the lake, they made their way back to Nanny and Grampa Clark's home bearing homemade cinnamon rolls sent by the owners of the B&B to their "very good friends, Ethyl and Ed."
After sharing the cinnamon rolls and fresh-brewed coffee, they visited for a while and then went over to the property they already considered 'theirs'. The Clarks said they would drop by in an hour and provide information about the lake in that area.
Jo and Chris wandered the shoreline looking for the best sites for the floating wharf, boat ramp, and swimming beach. He spotted what he thought might be good options, but the arrival of the Clarks changed all that.
Chris showed them their preferred house site, and the sites for the boat ramp, boathouse, and floating wharf.
Ed knew everything about the lake in front of their ranch, including the topography. He pointed out an underwater ledge near the shoreline that would make a good place to anchor a floating wharf, a rapidly sloping area for a boat ramp, and a gently sloping area in a cove for swimming, assuming someday little kids would be frolicking there.
Ed suggested a better site for the boathouse, given the best places for the wharf and ramp, but agreed the site for the house was perfect. "It offers 180 degree lake view plus a view of Steele Creek to the north and west, and you can watch sunrise from the front porch and sunset from the back porch.
"You'll be looking down at the swimming area to the southeast, and can walk straight down to the wharf to fish or get in your boat or wave runner. Most importantly, Lake Whitney is a flood control lake, so when the Brazos floods, it can get way out of its bank. This point is high enough that you'll never have water in your house, regardless of flood size, and you can pull the wharf over into the cove to keep it out of the current. I agree that this is the best place you could build!
"The more we're around you two, the more we're looking forward to talking to your dad next week!"
The Clarks returned home to prepare lunch; they invited Jo and Chris, but they declined, saying they would be leaving for Fort Worth soon. Chris meant it, but as soon as the Clarks were out of sight, Jo pulled the tarp and blankets out, laid them on the grass, gave Chris a devilish grin, and unceremoniously stripped off every stitch of clothing.
She stood there on the blankets with her feet wide apart, the sun turning her hair into a golden glow around her lovely face, and Chris knew he had never seen anyone who came close to comparing, live, in movies, on TV, or on the Internet: to him, Jo was perfection incarnate.
He dropped his eyes to her pretty feet with brightly painted toenails, and then raised them to her slender ankles, shapely calves, cute knees, and long, well-formed thighs. Her stance -- legs apart, hips thrust forward -- exposed her vulva and the light blonde down around it.
Her hips abruptly tapered to the tiny waist he could almost touch his fingers around, and firm breasts with pink cherries jutted from her chest. Her shoulders and neck were works of art, as if sculpted; and that face -- that beautiful and refined Grace Kelly face with the small straight nose, high cheekbones, pouty lips, and sparkling emerald eyes; eyes that displayed her intentions as clearly as her naked stance!
As if Chris needed further clarification of her intentions, Jo slowly pivoting to the side and then slowly turning to face away provided that clarity. He gaped at the incline of her back above the flare of her incomparable ass, and at the shape of her body from behind. She playfully glanced over her shoulder, saw his gaping mouth and the swell in his jeans, and then knelt down on all fours. She looked over her shoulder, smiled impishly, and asked, "Do you need a formal invitation?"
He kicked his shoes off while yanking his shirt over his head, dropped his shorts and boxers, and strode toward her. She giggled at his white athletic socks, but only until he fell to his knees, grabbed her by the hips, and abruptly inserted his swollen cock into her sodden pussy. She moaned, he groaned, and they began the ancient breeding dance.
Jo writhed, wiggled, and pushed herself back onto his cock until his flat belly was striking her perfect ass. He thrust deeply, held her hips still and wriggled his own, causing his cock to caress the boundaries of her vagina. He thrust, she pushed back; he pinched her nipples with his left hand and rubbed her little love nub with his right.
"Fuck her harder!" she commanded. "Fuck your little girlfriend like the slut you make her want to be! Make her scream and cum all over your big, hard cock! Do it! Fuck her until she cums all over your... ohhhhh yeeessssss! Oh, yes, baby, just like that! She's cuuuummmmminnnngggggg!"
The explosion of semen from his deeply buried cock and her explosion of milky white ejaculate from the Skene glands washed over one another, scalding her insides and his cock! She cried out loudly, and he roared at the sensation! She collapsed forward and he followed, crushing her little body under his in a most wonderful way. They lay there, still connected, panting and weak.
Finally, Chris rolled off and lay beside her, on his back. "Well, damn!" he muttered, "That's another first for me! How do you do things like that?"
She was silent for a few more seconds, then mustered the strength to crawl the few inches to lay her head on his broad, muscular chest. Once settled, head on chest, breast pressing against his ribs, she answered, "I don't know what you mean. I don't do anything but respond to you, My Stallion!
"But something about doing it in that position, and feeling the hot cum blast against my back wall made my insides spasm, and a hot liquid bathed us both! I can't explain it, but it was wonderful!"
With a giggle she stated, "But now I need to get into the lake to let drain out of me, because I feel so full!"
They slipped on their sandals, held hands, and took the trail down to the newly designated swimming area. The water was cool, but pleasant. He helped her wash the juices off her legs and vulva; she helped him with his cock, balls, and thighs. Then, like a bitch in heat, she backed that luscious ass against his cock, wiggled from side to side and up and down, and, in her best Demi Moore voice, said, "Your insatiable little slut wants you to fuck her again; from behind, with my hands on my knees! Can you do that for me, My Stallion?"
He could and he did, and she squealed again and again, until she began to collapse forward into shallow water. He held her by the hips and pummeled her ferociously, until he roared and pumped her full of his seed again.
Satisfied again, he picked her up, carried her to the blanket, and dried her with a towel from the truck. She sleepily pulled the sundress on, and he carried her and her underwear to the truck. The blankets would need washing, so he put them on the back floorboard.
As he drove, he considered the changes he was seeing in his sexy little girlfriend. Perhaps she was merely growing into her sexuality; perhaps she was growing more confident and that enabled her more aggressive approach to sexuality; or perhaps she was simply becoming more sexually oriented. He had been her first, and she had loved sex from that first moment.
There was little doubt that he had uncorked suppressed feelings and desires that had been bubbling just below the surface. The issue he had to face was not whether she was correct is calling herself an "insatiable little slut," but rather if she was honest in saying she was "Your insatiable little slut." He had not reason to doubt her feelings for him, but was her insatiable lust transferrable?
Just the thought made him ache inside.
Jo slept on his shoulder until they were on Chisholm Trail Parkway. She awoke with a start and a small cry; he cuddled her closer and asked if she had a bad dream.
"I did! I was with my mother, and she was telling me I had to take a job as a whore so we could live, because Elwood kicked us out again and she couldn't get a job. She took me to a truck stop and told me to raise $500 by dawn or don't come back to the motel, and then drove off. I saw dirty men eyeing me like candy, and I wanted to die.
