“Nuh…no,” Carol said, still buzzed from all the alcohol. She lay back on her elbows.
“Doesn’t take long. Goes straight to the brain…”
Sheree was gazing up at the stars, smiling and breathing in the crisp, clean air. But then she momentarily flinched at an abrupt sensation.
Carol’s bare foot was rubbing up and down over the crotch of Sheree’s cut-offs.
Sheree sighed.
“One thing I forgot to tell you about Bebo,” Carol commented. “It makes you horny.”
Ordinarily, considering all the sexual activity the day had brought, even Sheree would’ve objected. But…
Sheree sighed again. Sensations slithered up to her breasts like warm phantom hands.
Soon the stars turned into fine white lines whenever she moved her head. She was trailing already. She moved her hand from right to left in front of her face, and saw a thousand fluttering duplicates like some surreal card trick.
The moon gazed back at her, an animate face.
All the while Carol’s foot kept pressing against her crotch.
It wasn’t long before the night and its moonlight was caressing them, and it wasn’t long, either, before each of them had stripped off their meager garments like dropping handkerchiefs to the boat’s floor. Sheree’s skin felt coolly ablaze. They embraced, kissing and sucking tongues. Sheree cradled the warm sac of Carol’s balls which felt big as starfruit. Carol’s finger went right up Sheree’s ass.
Dimensions seemed to stray, sound seemed to echo. Now the gentle lap of the water against the boat’s hull sounded like hands clapping, and the distant moonlight beamed on them like fluorescent tubes. They lay nude in the bottom of the boat. Sheree on top, in the position often referred to as A69.” Carol’s tongue delved deep into Sheree’s pussy, while Sheree jerked the abundant foreskin of Carol’s cock back and forth over the gorged shaft. Eventually she stuck it all down her throat like a South Beach coed in a Kielbasa swallowing contest.
Sheree was winning the contest.
Carol sucked the tender pink meat of Sheree’s sex like warm taffy. Sheree came in her friend’s face twice, her legs widely spread as if sitting on the seat of a Harley panhead. When the sensations of sheer sucking became too painful, Sheree moved her rump off, concentrating on Carol’s long, night-stick-thick cock.
“Jerk it,” came her friend’s feminine plea. “Jerk it right off!”
By now, Sheree’s mouth tinged with the salt-taste of pre-ejaculatory ooze. Her woman’s intuition told her just the right time to slip off her mouth, and then she jerked the fleshy pole back and forth. Carol’s legs vised and she moaned like a low horn.
Sheree watched the loops of semen shot high into the air, but on acid, each plume looked like jettisons of white, liquid phosphorous. Fluid flares which blew out of the swelled piss-slit, flew over the boat’s side, and landed in the lake water.
“Fuck,” Carol softly gasped.
Sheree gleefully played with the deflating dick as it slowly gave up its turgidity. The great foreskin fascinated her. She squeezed the softening meat, watched a final pearl of sperm appear at the slit, and licked it off.
When Sheree glanced up the slope of Carol’s perfect female body—perfect save for the cock she was still licking—it looked like Carol’s eyes and open mouth were bright flashlight beams.
“God, that was good,” Carol slurred.
When Sheree raised back up, her mouth drooped. The lake, now, looked kaleidoscopic, the moon a long white bar smeared across the sky. She could see silver-orange waves of heat waft off of Carol’s taut body. Then, squatting, she glanced at her own vagina and saw something that looked like eggshell-white light beaming from a bald, wet tart.
“Christ,” she remarked. “This is good acid.”
Next she was standing upright in the wobbly boat, vising each nipple between thumb and forefinger. The most minute magenta sparks seemed to shoot out.
“Yeah,
“Be careful!” Carol warned. The boat began to rock as Sheree continued to stand, maintaining her footing.
Sheree heard a flitting sound, like baseball card running through the sprockets of a bicycle wheel, as she roved her gaze ahead of her. A great bulk seemed to stand before her. “What’s that?” she half shrieked.
Carol looked behind her. “How do you like that? While we were fucking around, the boat drifted all the way over to the island.”
Sheree saw traces of sparkles seem to crawl up the old wood pilings. The dock shimmered as if made of dark gold.
They both put their clothes back on, then Carol took Sheree’s hand and helped her off the boat. “Come on,” she said through a glowing grin. “Let’s check this place out…”
««—»»
Ashton’s head throbbed like a beating heart on the verge of infarction. When his eyes pried open, at first, all he saw was black.
Then the black was pierced with pinpricks of light: stars.
“Bobby, Bobby!” he shouted, stumbling across the deck to jostle hid brother. One thing he stumbled over was the high white bucket full of several dozen empty Holsten bottles. “We passed out! Bobby! Wake up!”
Eventually, Bobby did. His eyes spread on the sky. “Aw, man. It’s nighttime.”
“Damn right it is!” Ashton bellowed. “Come on! Shag ass! We gotta get back to the Winnebago! The girls’ll be pissed!”
At least they’d dropped anchor, they hadn’t drifted far. Ashton hauled it up and turned on the deck lights. Bob staggered rearward, started the big Evinrude motor.
“Head on back,” Ashton advised.
“Wait a minute,” Bob reminded. “We still have traps in the water, don’t we?”
Ashton thought about it. “Yeah, but—shit we haven’t caught anything all day. Fuck the traps. Let’s get back to the girls.”
Bob sucked on his cottonmouth. He spat, then emptied the bucket of beer bottles over the side. “What’s five minutes? We might as well check the traps.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Ashton snapped on a flashlight, roved its bright beam across the water. They’d used empty gallon milk bottles for buoys, and there one bobbed just over the side of the boat.
Ashton grabbed it, pulled up the long wet rope. Feels heavy,” he said.
“Don’t say that!” Bob declared. “It’s bad luck!”
Ashton hoisted the dripping trap out of the water, slammed it on deck.
Bob flicked his own flashlight down.
“Jesus Christ in a whorehouse,” Ashton muttered.
The boxlike wire trap was
— | — | —
Chapter Nine
“Come on,” Carol urged. Once on the island, they ran away from the pier toward the bait shop, two sprites in the night.
No lights on in the bait shop. Before them the darkness stood, blocked with shapes that were more buildings beyond. The moon continued to hover over them, a limed face.
“What are we
“Just snooping around,” Carol replied. “What the fuck?”
