Games SOME People Play! Ch. 12

George came up off the sand like roused water buffalo, but then staggered, bending over, hands grabbing his balls, with a sharp cry. "Jesus!" he wheezed. More tentatively, he hobbled toward the ocean, but he did allow his man-sized package to swing free. A man with dignity, but he winced at each step.

"Is he going to drown her, now?" asked Sandra. "I never related to men the way Stephanie does. I thought you kicked a guy in the balls if he punched you in the face and was tearing off your blouse. Not just one, both."

She added, "Shouldn't you just walk down there, Tommy? In case?"

I rose immediately. But I said, "You are the one who decked Butch, you know. This guy would be a cream puff for you."

I was squinting at the scintillating brilliance of the water, shading my eyes against it. "She's above water. I don't know what he's doing to her. She shrieking, but laughing..."

"Tommy, we see all that," said Susan.

"I'm ready to race into combat," I said.

"Well, protect your nuts, if you do. Obvious target."

"Why does she do this?" asked Susan.

"Are you asking?"

"Yes, Not rhetorical."

"Then, number one, I don't know. And number two, did you ever have a man crazed for your body, like that—gone mad with lust for you?"

"I'm not a cock teaser."

"Tommy?"

"Well, when a woman gets your dick insanely aroused and can keep it there... Yeah, it's crazy-making, but it's also exciting. I mean, you get peak and you go one and on..."

"Cock teasing," Susan repeated.

"I think she knew exactly what she was doing," said Sandra. "She provoked George till he attacked her."

"And then, she made him hit her, too." Said Susan.

"Wow!" I began, and all eyes focused on the ocean. Naked Stephanie seemed to stagger toward shore, arms thrown forward as though reaching for land. Behind her, George had his hands on her hips and seemed to stagger in step with her.

"What are they doing, now?" asked Sandra.

Then, attaining the beach, where the waves stretched thin far up the sand, Stephanie fell forward, catching herself on her elbows, laughing, but also loudly protesting. "No, no! Easy, now!"

George had fallen with her, landing atop her wet body, pressed against her butt, and his hips were thrusting, jerking hard against her. He kept slamming her, as she tried to squirm away across the wet sand, her laughter high pitched. "You're killing my ass," she shrieked, so loudly that I looked around. Did we have an audience, here? Nope, the beach to ourselves.

"Stop! Stop! Ow!" Each cry an exhalation jolted from her.

"This is George's second come," explained Susan pedantically. "He's lasting much longer. And he's got that monster prick up Stephanie's tight ass. She's really getting reamed out!"

I saw Stephanie, face bent low to the sand, violently shaking her head. She wailed: "Noooo, George! Oh, shit, my asshole!"

Sandra began, "Do you think?"

"No one ever succumbed to butt fucking, Mom," said Susan smugly, obviously relishing the scene.

Sandra watched for another moment, frowning. "Wow, she's getting it, but good. I never wanted your Dad to do it. I let him, of course. But with lots of grease—and slowly!"

Stephanie was squealing, almost incoherent, now, panting and struggling, and George merciless, keeping her firmly nailed to the wet sand. "Well," said Sandra, uncertainly. "She's a big girl, I guess..."

For a moment, Stephanie broke free, and crawled up the beach on her elbows and knees, kicking at George behind her. But George had risen and lunged after her, landing with all his weight on her back, slamming her to the sand.

Then, in a moment, George was back in her ass, again, the thrusting relentlessly. I saw Stephanie's face fall, defeated, and her shoulders shaking. She made no further attempt to escape.

"Oh, my God!" she crying, said Sandra. She was scrambling to her feet.

Susan reached up and grabbed her. "Mom! You are bursting into your daughter's bedroom. She plotted all this!"

I could hear George's grunting moan; he raised himself up on straight arms and battered Stephanie's white, shining wet ass with the final few shuddering thrusts. Then, his body collapsed on hers.

"Thank God," said Sandra, with a sigh. "That was awful!"

I almost could see Stephanie's slender body summon its strength. She gave a thrash in the shallow water and grunted, "Get off me, George!"

Unsteadily rising to his feet, George reached down and picked up Stephanie, hands under her arms. Her whole front was coated with we sand like a skin. When she had her feet, she whirled on him. He jumped back; no more surprises! I heard Stephanie demand, "Do you see any blood?" And she bent far forward, legs spread, hands reaching back to open herself so he could see.

I couldn't hear the answer, but Stephanie slowly straightened up, a hand still exploring behind her. Then, she turned, took a few steps, and dived into the ocean. When she came up, clean, she slowly walked toward us. George followed her, looking expressively humbled—or embarrassed.

Sandra looked up. "Are you all right, dear?"

Stephanie lifted her face, frowning. "Sure, why?"

"I thought you might be crying..."

"What? Of course! Did you ever have a nightstick shoved up your ass? He wouldn't come! I was hoping I'd pass out."

"What can we do?"

"Well, nothing for my asshole! But I'm dying for drink, Mom! George's dad's place is just three houses down, right on the beach! Let's go, okay?"

"I'd love to have you," volunteered George from behind her. He hung his head, not looking at us.

Sandra looked up at him; I can't say her expression was exactly a smile. She said, "You already have had her, George, twice, but not with a great deal of love, I would say."

"Mom! That's so snotty!"

"Just articulating a mother's perspective, Stephanie. I'm not singling out George."

She looked at George, again, this time with a polite smile, "George, would you excuse us a moment? I am calling a family council."

"Sure," said George, under his breath. He turned and strolled toward the ocean. For a moment, Sandra and Susan gazed at his dreamy butt.

"All right, Mom, what?" demanded Stephanie.

"We do not know who is at George's house. After what happened out here, almost anything they did to us, there, would be dismissed as just a continuing a game three slutty women."

"What would be there?" Stephanie had not sat down; she stood over us, hands on hips. "George can't have planned a gang bang! He didn't know he would meet anyone—much less us."

"Plus," continued Sandra. "I live in this town. So do Susan and Tommy. We have reputations as reasonably normal people. Except with George, now—and whomever he decides to regale with what happened, today. At least it was on the beach. And with you. Who soon, I suppose, will resume your wanderings."

"All right!" snapped Stephanie. "I'll go."

"No, I don't think so."

"What?"

"I told you, 'too risky.' This family is returning from the twilight zone to the comfort zone. My comfort zone does not include my daughter going off alone with the town's 18-year-old lifeguard who is violent in sex even in front of her mother."

"And if I do go? Then?"

"You are asking how unconditional my love is, Stephanie," said Sandra crisply. "Frankly, I don't want to find out. I never have poked a stick down into that hole."

"Well, get ready for the big black snake to pop out because I'm going with George."

"Hold onto her until I get up," Sandra ordered. I assumed she meant me. I close my hand on Stephanie's slender arm.

"Get off!' she demanded. She tried to jerk away, and then yelled, "Get off, Tommy!"

George was headed our way. By now, Sandra had risen. She got a grip on Stephanie's other bicep.

"What up?" asked George, halting a few yards away to assess the situation.

"We' have to say, 'No thanks' to drinks at your place, George," said Sandra. "Taking a little family time for ourselves."

Stephanie announced, "Well, I want to go with you, George, but they're literally holding me."

"Well," George began, eying the situation again, "I'll say goodbye, then, Steph. Want to give me your cell?"

"That's it?" Stephanie demanded. "They just haul me off and you just say, 'goodbye.'?"

After a few moments, during which I wondered if George might test our resolution, he said: "Yeah, that's it." He was bending to pick up his bathing suit. "It was great to meet you. Again, if you want to exchange..."

"Like I might ever!" snapped Stephanie. "You're awfully tough when you're fucking my butt, but not when I'm in trouble!"

"Oh, shut up, Stephanie," said Susan with a sigh. She added, wearily, "You're always in trouble. Because that's what you need."

I had glanced at Sandra as she spoke, and we both were ready when Stephanie gave a sudden violent twist, trying to wrench herself free. "Let go of me, you morons! I'll do what I want!"

George had slipped on his bathing suit and without glancing back was walking away.

Susan asked, gesturing at Stephanie's naked body, "Make her put on her shorts and top or take her naked in the car?"

"What do you think, Stephanie?" I asked.

"Naked," she said. "Let's go."

"Naked, it is," said Sandra.

"Too bad you don't have a chain to attach to my nipples so you could drag me by them," said Stephanie.

"They're pretty delicate," said Susan. "We wouldn't want to tear them."

"I'd chain you both together by your big nipples and let you dance together while I whipped your fat asses off," snarled Stephanie.

But she came along, docile, as we escorted her to the car. We passed only a middle-aged couple, arriving as we left. Both took in all of Stephanie, but then the woman whispered something and they looked away. Stephanie strode passed them, chest out, head back, like a defiant slave girl.

In the backseat, she sat up upright, toward the middle of the seat, face straight ahead. Susan sat next to her. As I expected, the driver of the first pick-up truck that passed us going the other way saw her bare shoulders, glanced down at her breasts, and—I'm not sure—probably could see right down to her shaggy lap dog.

Suddenly, Sandra pulled into the parking lot of the Seafood Shoppe, pulling to a stop between two cars, and announced, "I'll pick up dinner for all of us, and swung open her door."

As she entered, a guy exited and sure enough walked between our car and his, stopped to open his door, and spotted Stephanie. One of those older married men, I guessed, who love to catch women's eyes, smile, then deliberately check out their breasts. He stood, head turned, and took in the whole Stephanie Lorraine. She held his stare, a smile on her face; I was glad she was cheering up. A little more trouble for her, at last.

The guy then checked out Susan, still in a two-piece, nodded, and went right back to Stephanie. She zipped down her window, but the guy turned away, probably expecting a sarcastic sally. "Already tired of me?" asked Stephanie.

She said it playfully and got back her man. He stepped over to the window, took a searching look at her lap, and said, "Not in about two years—and I'm not that young, either!"

"Aw, that's sweet," said Stephanie. She added, "I'm a prisoner, you know. They won't let me out and won't let me get dressed."

She added, with a wide smile, "If you reached in and copped a feel, I couldn't do a thing about it."

"If I had a white charger, I'd reach down and scoop you up and carry you to safety in my castle," said the guy. "But all I've got is a Chevy that needs servicing."

"I appreciate the thought," said Stephanie. "I am abandoned to be used as they wish." She let her head fall back against the seat and closed her eyes.

The guy glanced at Susan, and said, uncertainly, "Well, have fun. Don't be too hard on her."

"Assuming anyone around here can get 'hard on,' said Stephanie, and heaved her chest in a big sigh. The guy shook his head, rather ruefully, I thought, and turned back to his car door. As an afterthought, I suppose, he turned and asked: "Did anyone ever reach in and squeeze your breast?"

"Hundreds, men and women, have pawed me," said Stephanie. "Since I became a captive, my body has not been my own. I am merely used by any who lust for me."

Coming out of the store, Sandra interrupted this unproductive dialogue. The man quickly opened his car door and slipped in, but, as Sandra approached in her bathing suit, he watched her with a world of yearning.