Hunting Party

Chapter One-3

“We don’t want you all dry on us, Barbie,” Stan murmured into her ear. “No fun for us and no fun for you. Just relax. Relax. You’re already getting’ a little wet, ain’tcha?”

All she could do was moan again. I could feel that she wasn’t trying quite so hard to clamp her legs together now. She sagged back against Stan. Her head lolled back on his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was slack, open, and she kept huffing and grunting as Stan worked her p***y with his fingers. She probably thought that he was just going to tease her along until she was wet enough for us. It wasn’t that simple.

“You’re kinda likin’ this, ain’tcha, Barbie?” Stan purred into her ear. “Getting’ ya all aroused, ain’t it?”

Her eyes opened, no more than slits, and she clenched her teeth. “Yesss…” she hissed through them. There was no point in her denying it. We could all see and hear and smell it now. Stan spread her outer lips with two fingers, showing the softer, lighter pink, more sensitive flesh behind them. He pushed one finger up into her and wriggled it. Her back arched, lifting her ass up off of the sleeping bag. Jack and I had to keep a tight grip on her ankles to keep her from sliding back down and Stan had to brace himself. She moaned again. Stan kept teasing her with his finger. He had a talent for it, knew just where to go and what to do to drive a woman half out of her mind and make her forget everything but that primitive, animal hunger gnawing at her.

She moaned again, and her breath started coming in hot little puffs. Her ass was still up in the air, and she started grinding her hips around Stan’s fingers.

“I’m…ready…” she gasped. “I’m ready…” If she was going to say anything else, we never found out what it was. Stan did something with the finger he had up inside of her and her whole body froze up for a moment. She raised herself up so that only her feet on the sleeping bag and her head on Stan’s shoulder supported her. Her breath came in quick, shallow, high-pitched pants through her clenched teeth. Stan kept working away, and all of a sudden all of the air went out of her with a series of long, deep grunts. Then she shrieked. She dropped back onto the sleeping bag, landing heavily. I could feel her leg muscles quivering. Her hips kept grinding weakly against Stan’s hand. Her face had gone slack. She took one long breath, held it, and then let it out in a long, soft sigh. Her mouth was half-open now, and she kept licking her lips between breaths. She looked flushed.

“I think she’s really ready now,” Stan chuckled. “Mike, you won the toss earlier, so you get her first. How d’you want her?”

“The usual,” I told him. “Get her face down and her ass up while I get ready.”