Please read the earlier chapters of this series to understand the characters. It'll make it much less complicated to see who's being fucked by whom..and who may about to be......
Late Saturday morning......
John had already procured his rental car at the Savannah airport, and was heading north along the country back roads for the hour or so drive to Hilton Head. He eschewed using I-95 in favor of the back roads, the Spanish Moss trees dipping over the roads to provide natural shade, the cotton fields lining the sides of the road for miles. He had allotted extra time for himself, anticipating one air-traffic-related delay or another which always seemed inevitable when flying on U.S. Scare, as the airline was known in Philadelphia, its hub. However, today, miracle of miracles, the flights were right on schedule. He could take his time and soak in the ambiance and beauty of Hilton Head Island for a few hours before his two o'clock appointment with Sarah Olson.
For her part, Sarah was still in front of her full-length bedroom mirror, trying to decide between the flowery off-white sundress that went down almost to mid-calf, or the shorter, sexier, pale pink chiffon dress that rose a few inches above the knee, and exposed her ample chest more than she would usually wear into her office. But, it was Saturday, and even though it was the busiest day for a real estate agent, most agents attired themselves in more casual fashion on Saturdays, especially when the temperature still promised to reach the low 80's with the Low Country's ever present humidity.
She ultimately decided on pink and short, no bra, and the sheerest of a matching pink thong. She rolled her light brown hair up into a tight bun, and put on her horn-rimmed librarian-like glasses instead of her contacts. Her sparkling green eyes were a bit bloodshot, she hadn't slept well last evening, having an unusually keen intuition that this mysterious visitor coming down from the north was not here only for real estate pursuits. She heard something enticing in his voice, deep, confident, alluring. It excited her.
Her intuition was accurate.
Back in the Philadelphia area, Maggie was already well into her day at the store. Her own wardrobe today was a bit more risque than she had normally allowed herself to wear, but since the intense sexual aerobics with John on Thursday, she had been nearly insatiably horny. Still. She had on a very tight, mid-thigh tan skirt that hugged her hips and ass, and was especially revealing whenever she bent down to help a customer with shoes. Most of the men in the store, mostly husbands grumpily tagging along with their wives, became suddenly very interested in the happenings in the women's shoes department this morning, craning their necks to get an extended peak, and one man even walked directly into a cosmetic display, knocking it noisily to the floor, Estee Lauder products flying everywhere.
Maggie was unable to procure a sitter for her pre-teen daughter for the evening, which meant she should be home no later than eight.
Yet, that hadn't altered her plan, she craved some cock, her new-found sexual appetite ravenous for young, steel-hard dick. She promised herself again that she wouldn't succumb to the temptations of getting fucked tonight. She knew her holes would need to be completely ready fro Sunday evening activities at the "Charlotte Olson Invitational Fuckfest', but dammit, she was going to suck a cock this evening. Some unsuspecting stud would find Happy Hour an apt moniker by seven-thirty or so. She had about ninety minutes from the time she left work until the time she tasted warm cum before departing to play mom.. All the time required, Maggie decided. In the mean time, about every thirty minutes she would find a secluded corner of her stock room, and, assuring herself that no one else was around, she kept pulling the thin fabric of her g-string tighter into her twat, sending small pulsations of self-gratification coursing through her body.
Speaking of self-gratification, Charlotte Olson was still lounging in her master bedroom, one hand holding a vibrator deeply imbedded in her well-used cunt, two fingers of her other hand digitally probing and exploring her own rectum, a remote control for the DVD player lying next to her. She was watching the recording of her savage anal pounding by her personal trainer yesterday afternoon in her gym room, matching her numerous electronically-recorded orgasms from yesterday with real-life self-induced orgasms this morning. Charlotte needed no such respite from sexual exercise prior to tomorrow's private party with John and Maggie. In fact, she had a basketball game to attend tonight, and it was her intent to play 'jump ball' with that yummy seven-foot-tall rookie power forward after the game.
John had enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the Salty Dog cafe, flirting with the overly attentive, tall, dark-haired Latina waitress in her tight little white miniskirt who gave him her number in case he was free that evening. "Hey," he told her while leaving a generous tip. "Ya never know." He hadn't yet made a hotel reservation, because depending on how the meeting went with Sarah, he hadn't yet ruled out driving back to Savannah and lodging there for the evening before catching his flight back tomorrow. River Street in Savannah was not the worst place to spend a Saturday evening when by yourself. Yet, fate had other plans for him.
He entered the cozy real estate office of Low Country Realty at two p.m. sharp, and the only person he saw in the outer office was a very shapely young lady of perhaps in her early twenties resembling a younger Jennifer Love Hewitt in a tastefully revealing pink dress, her hair up in bun, tugging at the glasses on her nose. She looked up and let her gaze linger up and down this visitor for a few seconds longer than she needed to. Khaki shorts, navy blue Polo shirt, jet black hair. Green or hazel eyes, she wondered, hmmm.
"Oh, my, CUTE!", she thought to herself, her face flushing instantly, which did not go unnoticed by the customer. She smiled widely at the young man, and asked cordially, "How may I help you?"
Only one word came to John's mind as he took in the vision of innocent, fresh, nubile loveliness in front of him. "Wow!" There was that word again. Sarah was a spitting image of her mom facially, but more petite, more slender, and even more naturally pretty, not a hint of make-up adorned on her cover-model-like face. She exuded a clean, athletic sexiness, and her body was honed from her days as a field hockey player and track star at Coastal Carolina College. She did not have her mother's voluptuous boobs (and John should know since his own cock was buried between her mother's huge tits less than twenty-four hours before), but they were perfectly proportioned, and protruded perkily within the shoulder straps of her tastefully daring summer dress.
He composed himself, feeling his own face flush. "Yes, I have an appointment with Sarah Olson. I'm John Davis from Philadelphia."
She rose from her chair, the tight dress rising up to above mid-thigh, and she was pleased that Mr. Davis was taking visual inventory. She took off her glasses, and extended her hand to shake in welcome, but not in the Marie Antoinette-like manner utilized by her haughty mother. "Well, you've found her, Mr. Davis. Welcome to Hilton Head Island." The instant mutual chemistry was palpable as the pair shook hands warmly, each reluctant to let go of the grasp of the other. Sarah finally let go. "So, are we ready to go explore? I've freed my calendar for as long as you need me today"
"And tonight, too, and the morning, and the rest of my life," Sarah thought to herself. She looked deeply into John's eyes, they were light green, cat-like, almost the hue of her own fetching eyes. "Well, I guess our children will have green eyes, too," she daydreamed, smiling unwittingly.
John caught her grin. "Is something humorous, Miss Olson? It IS Miss, isn't it?"
