CHAPTER TWO
'Isn't this great, Dad? Isn't it just super?' Shelly Marshal's smile looked bright as the sun beaming through the thin, incredibly clear high mountain air. Soft waves of gleaming raven hair framed her pretty young face. The vivid blackness of her tumbling hair contrasted sharply with her flawless, creamy-white skin and flashing pale-blue eyes.
Will Marshal, her father, said. 'Oh, yeah…' He stopped and huffed for breath, sagging under the heavy weight of his new backpack. Will was thinking. Shit, I haven't had so much fun since the fucking IRS decided to audit my income tax!
The faint trail slanted up steeply ahead, winding toward distant granite peaks as sharp and forbidding as shark's teeth. Will Marshal had been an athlete in college, an All-Conference fullback just not quite good enough to make it in the pro game. Working at a desk drawing plans for office buildings and shopping centers for twenty years since had widened his ass and flabbed his gut more than he cared to admit.
'Come on, dear… you can make it!' His wife Roxanne came up the trail behind him and playfully pinched him on the ass. It protruded temptingly the way he slumped under his fifty-pound pack. Then Roxanne passed on by, giggling like a school girl, not a bit out of breath.
'Damn,' Will muttered, still gasping in the thin air. 'I don't know how you do it!' Her bulging pack weighed nearly the same as his, but she carried it as easily as she would her purse. And she looked more luscious and sexy now than when they were married almost twenty years ago.
Her coal-black hair had shimmering streaks of silver shot through it now, but that was about the only visible sign that Roxanne would turn forty on her next birthday. Her ripe, well-rounded ass had the same firm jiggle as it did when they met.
Roxanne's large tits had swelled and coned more softly since Shelly was born, but they still stood out proudly and with minimum support when most full-figured women her age bought bras built strong as a suspension bridge just to keep their nipples from hitting their knees.
Will Marshal took another gulp of air and trudged on up the trail, shifting his pack and grunting angrily when the binding shoulder straps cut deeper into his soft flesh. He cursed himself now for letting the pressures of his job serve as an excuse for getting out of shape.
Far ahead, perhaps a hundred yards off the thread-thin trail, Will noticed a brilliant flash of yellow-gold. That would be the sun streaking off of Babs Hunter's long blonde hair. That slinky little bitch was the biggest insult and aggravation of all.
Babs had been Shelly's best and closest friend since first grade. Shelly had begged him to let Babs come on their summer backpacking trip. In fact, Will thought now the two teenaged girls had conspired and hatched the whole plan. He could think of a hundred better ways to spend his vacation than lugging a heavy pack up a steep, rocky trail.
Will kept thinking. I could be playing golf, or fucking my beautiful wife on the balcony of a beachfront hotel suite. What do I need with this shit in sleeping bags and a little nylon tent so crowded those two damn girls can hear us breathe?
They had not been on the trail an hour when Will decided that Babs was half antelope and half mountain sheep. She went bounding ahead of the rest of them only to zip off the marked path and scale barehanded to the point of a needle of granite rock. She waved, snapped a picture and then scampered down in time to meet him plodding up the trail.
Three days now they'd been out, and she'd done the same sort of thing at least a dozen times. Babs beamed an infectious, ivory-toothed grin every time and said. 'Gee, Mr. Marshal… don't you just love backpacking?'
If she did it again, Will had decided to reply.
'Babs… fuck you!' Because he had also decided that fucking the lithe, willowy blonde would be the only thing that could possibly make all of this grueling torture worthwhile.
That thought started the first night in their small tent. Roxanne was sleeping on one side of him, Babs on the other, pressed so close that he could feel both of their warm bodies stir.
Roxanne fell sound asleep almost at once, and Will was about ready to, but not Babs. That little bitch was lying bright-eyed with a finger buried in her cunt, teasing herself to an orgasm of sorts.
Will must have listened for half an hour, his eyes drooping. That was the one time that Babs could not quite reach the peak – the shivering, self induced climax she enjoyed seemed far less than it should have been. He wanted so much to zip her sleeping bag open and help shoot her over the top with a cock that by then was hard as an oak limb.
But a respected businessman of forty would never fuck a young teenaged girl who lived next door – his own daughter's best friend. Such an impulsive act might shatter his career and family life as well. He could imagine how Roxanne would rage at him before filing for divorce and damn near everything they owned. Tempting as it was, Will forced the thought from his mind.
Shelly turned back and shouted. 'Come on, Dad… you're falling behind again!'
'FUCK YOU!' he roared without thinking.
Shelly's normal, cream-colored complexion turned milk-white with shock. Her jaw dropped, and her pale- blue eyes widened.
Roxanne wheeled around and said. 'Will!' in a pinched voice.
'Shit, I'm sorry. I'm tired, that's all.' He looked ready to collapse, and because of that, the incident was quickly forgotten.
Babs Hunter saw the meadow and the lake long before any of the others. She topped the ridge and stood breathless, not from fatigue, but from the sheer splendor of the panorama laid before her eyes.
Heading down, she increased her stride and seemed to move without effort. Babs was small and fine- boned, with subtle but perfect features that gave her the delicate look of a china figurine. But she was agile and deceptively strong. She carried Will's pack as though it contained nothing at all, and at the time she reached the meadow, she was almost running.
Her slender, smoothly tapered legs carded her through the long grass, as she bounded with almost the same grace as the deer. On the lakeshore, she stopped and slid free of her pack, breathing deep and gazing in wonder at the clearness and the sparkle of the water.
She wore a thin, short-sleeved blouse open well down from the top. Her deeply tanned tits showed at the point of the narrow V. Like the rest of her, her tits were small, but perfectly formed.
Babs took another deep breath and unbuttoned her blouse. Her firm, elegantly tapered tits had been tanned right up to the nipple. She loved to feel the warming rays of the sun all over her body, and so did all of her sunbathing in the nude.
Her boots came off next, heavy looking with thick, knobby soles. Then her socks, and finally, she pulled down her hiking shorts to show a gleaming spread of yellow-gold cunt hair that looked all the more brilliant because of her deep tan all around it.
Long waves of the same lustrous gold ran down her back like a cascading mountain stream. The silky tresses swayed on the firm, tight domes of her little ass, and they broke into a golden flurry when she bounded toward the lake.
Babs ran up the steep sloping face of a boulder and dove head first into the deep, vividly blue watery beyond. The dive was so perfect, her slender body hardly made a splash. Ripples spread outward from a trail of rising bubbles and lapped gently on the shore.
Silas Sharp stood watching, his mammoth body almost hidden in a jumble of craggy rocks. He used a long brass spyglass, a telescoping tube with lenses strong enough to almost bring the girl's golden pussy curls to his lips.
'Huuugh!' he groaned, compressing the tube and slipping it into the packet of his grimy buckskin jacket. She was still swimming underwater – now a distant shadow with fleeting glimmers of yellow-gold.
Silas made his way around the lake, moving silently in. He carried the flintlock rifle in his right hand. A
