Elements of Truth

Eileen was perhaps five-foot six-inches tall, a brunette with short, tightly curled hair and a rather masculine, chiseled face with brown eyes and thin lips. Not unattractive, she smiled and chatted easily, skipping with ease from topic to topic without missing a beat. She spoke rapidly, her words on occasion running into each other. She was undoubtedly both intelligent and quick-witted. She wore a pair of Vibram sports shoes, loose-fitting shorts and a boldly striped cotton t-shirt with a nondescript logo on the left shoulder.

Grace, for all her more reserved bearing and presentation, wore decidedly form-flattering apparel that wrapped and clung tightly to her slight, taller-than-average frame.

A worn pair of Nike runners and ankle-length bobby socks invited the eye to explore exceptionally long, athletically curvaceous legs. At her waist, tight-fitting polyester white shorts hugged her ample ass, the cheeks descending just below the pant line. The soft material stretched smoothly over her inner thighs and crotch, offering the promise of a clean-shaven pussy and displaying a pronounced camel toe nestled snugly in a white thong, made suggestively more visible by the damp and now somewhat transparent fabric.

Her large breasts rested seductively in what could be no more than an undersized sports bra. Her dark areolae pressed against the thin material, accenting plump nipples that periodically hardened against the cold or as her emotions dictated during the evening's animated discourses.

Her long red hair hung loosely down the entire length of her back and over her shoulders, beautifully framing her gray-green eyes. She had a thick head of hair, the kind you usually only see in shampoo commercials. Yet it only partly drew attention away from the movement of her heavy breasts as she constantly ran her fingers through the fine strands to untangle the trestles and occasionally usher them off her chest with a flick of the hand.

Inevitably the vodka and tequila coolers relaxed the inhibitions of the friends now keeping company with strangers.

"We're part of a summer camp group for women," explained Grace. "Or should I say at least we were. We struck out on our own this morning. Camping with a bunch of other women is so... well, like so boring. All this chin-wagging about fashions, food, dieting, dead-beat spouses, unruly kids. Yuck. Eileen and I just thought we'd be better off finding our own adventures."

"And there you were," snickered Eileen. "Right on time. Knights to the rescue."

"So you won't be missed tonight," ventured George turning towards her and smiling.

"What does that mean, you old lecher?" asked Eileen returning his grin.

"Hey, not so much of the 'old'," complained Bobby. "Geez, you'd think a guy in his early 40's was already over the hill or something."

"Sorry. Didn't mean it that way. My bad," apologized Eileen in the modern vernacular of the younger generation. "Actually, I rather like an older man. Someone a bit more mature. Able to hold a conversation. Someone with experience in things worldly, if you know what I mean."

Grace offered her friend support. "Me too. Fact is, most guys of our age are so juvenile. I can't stand it. They're just into head games all the time. You can't believe anything they say half the time."

"So you can believe everything they say some of the time then," suggested Bobby.

"Oh sure," she replied. "When they're talking sports. Or their jobs, those who have them. Or the length of their dicks. Actually, no. I take that back. You can never believe them when they're talking about the length of their dicks. I had one guy once tell me he was huge. I made him pull it out and I played with it until he was hard. I could no more gag on it than... than, well I don't know what. I had to pull his pants down just to be able to see it properly."

George couldn't resist a comeback. "Does that make a difference to you, the size of a man's cock?" he asked.

"Not for me," rejoined Eileen. "It's about what he can do with it. And what he does before it even comes into play. That's what a woman wants most. The attention before the act. Then what follows, follows."

"I'll admit I'm surprised Eileen," ventured Bobby. "That's a pretty cool way to think about sex. You know, maybe it's just us guys for the most part but to judge men by the size of their cocks is no different than if we look at a woman and say wow, look at those tits. Anything smaller and I wouldn't be interested. I wonder why it's okay, more than okay for many guys, that a woman has smaller tits but it's never okay it seems if a guy has a small dick."

"Does that mean you have a small one," she probed, turning to look Bobby in the eyes.

"Average, I would say. Only average."

"Geez, don't apologize! I don't have a problem with that," said Grace. "I only meant to say I hate the bullshit that goes around about a man's cock. Seriously, I think it's mostly male talk. I don't think women care that much as long as you know what to do with it."

"Interesting. Maybe you're right. That's a very mature outlook you two have. How old are you ladies anyway?" asked George.

"Old enough to know what we like," said Eileen. "I'm 27. Grace is 25. We look younger but that's our real age."

"Hard to tell by the firelight," suggested George. "Anyone for another drink? Maybe something to eat?"

"That's an open question," said Grace smiling. "Could get you into trouble. But for right now I'll settle for another el Jimador. I presume you guys are married. I am. Eileen's not. Not yet anyway."

"Yeah. Both of us. Not to each other," quaffed Bobby. "I mean we have spouses. Wives, to be clear. Yeah, you could say we're married. Really, really married. Does that bother you?"

"No. Does it bother you?" asked Grace quickly.

Each member of the group took a moment to contemplate the import of the question. When the conversation started up again it was as if the question had never been asked.

Gradually the fire died down and the foursome pulled the log closer to the warmth of the embers and huddled together more tightly. Hands strayed to explore and delight while the conversation, now more sporadic, became intense and ever more sexually charged.

Eileen was the first to break the spell. Wordlessly she took George by both hands, lifted him to his feet and led him to the tent. Bending to follow him through the entrance flap she looked over her shoulder at the two remaining fireside companions and said: "I called it. No idea where you two are ... well, you know. See ya." With that she slipped into the tent, removing her top as she went.

"I guess that was clear enough," mumbled Bobby.

"What? You disappointed? No foursome tonight?" asked Grace.

"Hell no. Kinda what I was hoping for actually. How about you?"

Grace carefully edged her hand down the front of Bobby's shorts to fondle the head of his erection. "I'd say there's a small beach close by that has a reserved sign on it. Should we go find it?" Reaching for a flashlight, she jumped to her feet and began walking towards the lake. Bobby was delighted to follow her lead.

Surprisingly the sand still retained some of the day's warmth although the water had cooled significantly despite the mid-summer night temperature. As Bobby scooped a depression in the sand to accommodate the towel he had brought along, Grace mimicked her name as she walked sedately to the water's edge, hips swaying in the tight shorts.

Bobby watched wordlessly, training the circle of torch light as she sat on her haunches facing him and scooped water with a cupped hand, first wetting her breasts and then slowly, ever so slowly, applying the cool liquid repeatedly up and across her crotch. Her fingers lingered over the camel toe plainly visible inside her shorts, touching herself gently.

"You're fucking gorgeous, you know that," breathed Bobby. "What am I saying. Of course you do."

Grace smiled easily. "Thank you. It's nice to be appreciated. I like being watched. It's one of my favorite things." She deliberately moved a hand into her bra and began tweaking the nipples, first one and then the other. Both areolae puckered tightly, pressing their erect flesh against the fabric. Grace was clearly enjoying the attention as she cupped her breasts, massaging them with practiced and precise movements of her hands.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," she said after a short time of self-pleasure.

"You don't have to ask me twice," stammered Bobby. Eagerly he pulled aside his pant leg and reached in to take his cock in his hand, tugging it urgently to bring it free of the material so that it could stand fully erect and visible. "Will this do?" he asked lamely.

"It's too dark to see much. I guess I'll have to come over for a closer inspection," offered Grace. "But first....." and with that she reached up to her chest again and lifted both breasts out of the bra.

Bobby looked on transfixed, amazed at the size and perfectly rounded shape of Grace's tits. He'd never seen a nicer rack, he thought. Not even on the porn sites. They were magnificent and he told her so.

Grace moved out of the water and towards him, her breasts fully mobile as they swayed in synchronized movement with her approach, crawling on all fours as a dog might advance towards its owner, crouched playfully. As soon as she was close enough Bobby's hands reached for her, pulling her down on top of him.

"Shit, I could cum just holding you like this," he whispered as he bowed his head to take a nipple in his mouth, working its firmness gently between his lips and teeth.

"I like, I like. Keep doing that," she returned. "Just like that."

Bobby had no intention of refusing her. In fact he knew he was mere putty in her hands at this point. She could mold and shape him any way she wanted this night. He was totally unable to resist. Already her hands were on his cock, stroking the shaft and gently cradling his balls. She was breathing heavily too now, licking his ear and probing it with her tongue, her warm saliva running down his cheek.

"I like a little pain when I fuck, Bobby. Can you hurt me a little? Bite my nipple Bobby. That's it. Some more. Go on. Ow, ow. Fuck yes, do it again. Hurt me you bastard. Bite my tit. Bite it harder."

Bobby did as he was asked and as her excitement grew he no longer worried that he might go too far. The red welts from his bites were quite visible against her alabaster skin but she delighted in the discomfort.

Grace's excitement abated momentarily and as she pulled back, she lifted her bra over her head and discarded it. Now topless she worked quickly to release Bobby's belt and zipper, then with equal urgency tugged his pants and boxer shorts down and free of his ankles and feet.

"Take off your shirt", she commanded. When he had done so she allowed her eyes to slowly scan the full length of his body, beginning with his eyes and moving down from his face to his broad chest, his stomach, waist, hips and finally his cock. Her hair trailed over him as she moved her head over him, taking her time as though she meant to commit every part of him to memory.

Finally she sat back, unfolded her long legs and spread them wide so that he could take in the full view of her crotch. "You like?" she asked innocently.

"God, yes. What's not to like. Can I see?" asked Bobby rather needlessly.

"Umm, I dunno," replied Grace offhandedly. "Not sure you've earned that yet. I think you're being a little presumptuous, by the look of things," she quipped. Leaning forward, she slapped Bobby's cock. Then slapped it again. "Good, it's standing up for itself," she laughed lightly.

Bobby found her actions strangely erotic. If anything, he was harder than ever. "I think he likes it," observed Grace and slapped him once more, this time a little harder. "Fuck yes," she continued. "There's pre-cum all over the place."

"Is that good?" asked Bobby, not sure what else to say.

"That's very good Bobby. Very good," she replied as she bent forward once more to run her tongue over the head of his cock, licking and then savoring the sticky moisture that lined her lips. "Do you want to see my cunt now?" she asked, feigning shyness and putting the end of an index finger into her mouth like a prepubescent girl at play with her first boyfriend, discovering his body and her sexual desires for the first time.

She did not wait for his response. She raised her hips and pulled at her shorts until they came free of her hips and slid down and off her long legs. Her thong stayed on but covered so little of her that Bobby could only stare at the invitation presented by her open thighs. Grace was not yet ready to abandon herself to him however. "Protection, Bobby," she muttered.

"Oh shit Grace. We came up here expecting to meet moose and bear, not women! I don't have anything," he blurted out.

"Never mind," she replied, retrieving her shorts that were lying close by. She reached into an inside pocket and produced a 3-pack of Trojan ribbed and lubricated condoms. "My favs," she winked. "Try one of these on for size."

The talk about protection and the fitting of the condom broke the spell for a short while, but both Grace and Bobby were too far into each other now to let the interruption ruin the perfect night they both wanted with each other. With Bobby's cock sheathed, Grace was quick to resume the game.

"Lean over and grab your belt Bobby," she suggested. "That's it. Now I'm going to tell you something. I think you're a perfect asshole. You know that. I think you're a little shit for thinking you can have me.

Bobby froze in stunned silence. "Now don't you think I'm being very naughty, saying that to your face? I think I deserve to be spanked don't you? Here, spank me. Use your belt on me Daddy." And Grace turned around and thrust her ass up and towards him, her labia clearly visible, aroused and swollen.

Bobby understood what she wanted and the role play came easily to him. Who said the Internet wasn't educational, he thought. "How many times must I tell you not to use foul language, young lady? Show some respect for your elders," he intoned. And with the emphasis on every second word, he laid the belt across her buttocks in not too gentle a manner.

Grace yelled out in exaggerated pain. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I won't ever do it again. I promise."

"That's what you said the last time," Bobby chastised her further. "And I won't tolerate this behavior any more. Simple as that. You have to learn from someone how important it is to mind your manners." And with these words he again used the belt, watching all the while as her cheeks quivered with the impact and the insult.

"Fuck, Daddy. That hurts. Fuck you," yelled Grace.

Paying no attention to her protestations Bobby continued the charade. "No, fuck you little girl. That does it. I'll show you what fucking is all about." Bobby threw down the belt, pulled Grace's thong to one side and thrust his pulsing member into her hot, soaked cunt. "Take that. How does it feel to have Daddy's hard cock thrust up in your cunt, you little bitch?" he grunted. His one hand worked around her slim back to slap her tits aggressively. With his other hand he clasped on to her hair, holding it tightly as he pulled it with authority to raise her head.

He was riding her hard now, his thighs bumping noisily against her buttocks, but with unexpected determination Grace suddenly twisted free of his grip and scurried a short distance away. Tears flooded her eyes. Bobby looked on with concern, mouth agape. Had he overstepped the line?

Grace sprang forward and punched Bobby in the chest with some force, obliging him to sit back on his haunches, legs akimbo. "There," she said. "I guess now you're gonna tie my hands with that belt so I can't hit back." She was grinning broadly again.

Bobby knew then that they were still playing the game. In fact Grace was getting more into it than he had anticipated. He grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, pulled her arms behind her back and wrapped the belt tightly about her elbows. He inspected his work carefully and, satisfied, swatted her a stinging blow to her ass.

Taking still more control of events he laid down on his back. Holding the base of his cock he said evenly: "You get your little cunt over here and sit on Daddy's cock. Now!" he almost yelled the instruction.

Grace obliged, straddling his thighs until Bobby's shaft once more sank deeply into her. She gasped at the way it filled her now that her weight was pushing her hips against his loins. Unable to hold on to him, Bobby instead held on to her thighs to steady her and soon they were in the throes of a purposeful push and pull that promised an explosive, pulsing orgasm for them both.

As they moved ever-more rhythmically in unison, anticipating and experiencing every sensation each and the other felt, Grace threw back her head and closed her eyes, all the while muttering her pleasures in loud, staccato outbursts. It seemed she might be close to her first orgasm when she stopped moving, looked down at Bobby and said, simply: "I gotta pee."

Bobby didn't miss a beat. "So, what's stopping you?"

"Now?" she asked. "Here?"

"Hell yeah," responded Bobby. "Here and now. Go ahead. Pee on me. I want to feel your warm piss all over me. I want to drink your piss."

It took only a moment for her to begin. As she did so she arched her back and hips, willing her stream to reach higher and further. When that effort proved insufficient, she lifted herself off him and straddled his chest and shoulders to empty herself liberally and freely over him.

Bobby reached for her, lifting his head and sticking out his tongue to catch what he could of the golden liquid, marveling at the earthiness of her taste in his mouth. Grace had mounted him again and their love-making resumed in earnest. Bobby could not hold out much longer.

"I'm cumming, Grace. Fuck, here I cum. Oh fuck, oh fuck," he moaned.

"Yes," thundered Grace in breathy reply. "Yes, cum with me you fucking bastard. Shoot your wad into my cunt, all the way up into me. Fuck yes. Oh God yes. Now. Now. Together. Come on. Yes. Yes." And with that Grace bucked hard, then threw her body in ecstasy from side to side, drawing everything she could from the stranger's cock thrust deep inside her.

When it was over she rolled to the ground and lay alongside him. Gently he removed the belt to free her arms before kissing her deeply. They lay embraced for some time as their breathing subsided, lost in thought and enjoying the warmth of each other and the sand beneath the towel as it enveloped their bodies.

***

The first thing Bobby became aware of the following morning was a thunderous headache and a hangover worse than any he had ever experienced. It was not yet six o'clock when he first opened his eyes but the dim morning light was blinding. He lay quietly for several minutes and then raised himself on to his elbow with difficulty. On the other side of the tent, George remained peacefully asleep, alone, making small gurgling noises in his make-shift bedding.

Bobby lay back down, groaning as he held his forehead in some vain hope that this alone might banish the pain. Moments later he opened his eyes again, trying hard to focus on something. Anything. Then he began to remember. He looked over once more at George.

"Hey, buddy. Wake up, man," he called. Getting no response, he threw a water bottle across the tent, narrowly missing his friend even though he had tried to leave a wide margin for safety. "Hey, George. Come on man, wake up."

George stirred reluctantly. "Fuck, what's up?" he moaned.

"Where are the girls?" asked Bobby simply.

"What girls?"

"What girls? Eileen. Grace. You know, Mystery and Enigma. Where did they go?"

George, still more than half asleep, was clearly disgruntled at having been woken up. "Shit Bobby. Get a grip. Eileen, shmyleen. What the hell are you talking about. What girls?"