The coed's wild ass

CHAPTER ONE

Lydia Merrick hurried along the uneven dirt path winding through the dense grove of elms. A warm breeze made the bright orange and red leaves rustle above the young blonde's head as she walked quickly toward the covered bridge. A good number of people still were wandering through Sturbridge Village even though it was only thirty minutes before closing time.

Shading her eyes with her hand, Lydia stopped some twenty feet from the bridge and scanned the moving throng of people for her friend Tina. She was so absorbed in the problem of finding her friend that Lydia was unaware of the lustful glances she was getting from many passing men.

"How'd you like to slip something hot into her?" one tall, fat dark-haired man said softly to his buddy as the two of them stood in front of the Mill Pond.

"Spread them legs apart, peel back them labes and start fuckin'," the other man said obscenely.

Lydia jerked with a start having heard the last few words. Only now was she aware of the two men standing close by. The young blonde dropped her hand and started walking toward the bridge. She couldn't deny that her silky flaxen hair tumbling over her slender shoulders, her soft blue eyes, her full pouting and sensuous lips and unblemished pink complexion were distractions for most males. But what was she to do? Splash acid on her face and eat Twinkies until she was stretch mark queen? Most men made their advances less crudely. But occasionally Lydia found herself contending with a Neanderthal as she was this time. The best defense, she had learned, from experience, was simply to ignore the comment and pass on by.

"Mmmm, hot pussy," the first man said sucking in his fat lower lip and biting down hard in frustration. His small black eyes glittered and danced like those of a hungry rat as Lydia brushed past the men and stepped onto the wood floor of the large covered bridge. She felt her skin crawl when she heard the first man moan. The blonde knew well what was on his mind.

I shouldn't have worn this sweater, Lydia thought to herself as she moved toward the middle of the darkened bridge. For the first time she was conscious of her full figure revealingly displayed by her outfit. The blonde's full, high-riding titties jiggled teasingly back and forth with every step she took. The hard, dark red nipples poked against the soft white cotton material, inviting stares from the curious and the lustful. Unconsciously Lydia knew she was displaying her womanhood, telling other women to beware of her alluring femininity, while advertising to all men her desperate physical needs and availability. Consciously, however, the story was something different.

Having recently turned twenty, Lydia Merrick was a junior at Amherst College in north central Massachusetts. Serious about her study of French medieval art, Lydia had little time for boys – or so she thought. She rarely went on dates, and even more rarely did she ever allow a boy to score a home run in her pussy. Although a child born in the sexual revolution, Lydia had managed her sexual experiences down.

"Hey baby, lemme suck your cunt!"

Lydia felt her face flush hot with shame and indignation. Her slender fingers clenched the blonde stopped and wheeled around, her eyes flashing with outrage. But the two men had fled after shouting out the obscene insult. The few people around her either sniggered or looked the other way as Lydia continued standing in middle of the bridge.

"Lydia, Lydia," the blonde heard a voice calling out faintly from the other side of the Mill Pond.

"Tina!" Lydia shouted back, sighing with relief and breaking into a run. Finally she'd be able to leave and get back to her dorm room. It was getting late and she had several hours of studying left to do yet.

"Isn't this fascinating?" Tina asked, lifting her chin and looking around at the thick forest of elms and maples surrounding them. Already long shadows, stretched across the path, announced the end of the day.

"Let's go," Lydia said. The more she thought of those two men and the more she considered her opened books sitting on the table in her room the more Lydia wanted to leave Sturbridge quickly.

"Just think! All this shows us how people lived back in 1720 or so," Tina bubbled out, turning and running behind her friend.

"I've had a good time, Tina, but I want to go back."

Lydia and Tina had decided to visit Sturbridge Village, a recreated New England town of the early eighteenth century. It was two days before the beginning of the fall semester and their last fling before settling down to their studies. Tina didn't notice Lydia's gloomy attitude as she strolled behind her friend and peered up at the tall, arching elms on either side of the path.

Nestled in the woods were restoration school houses, elegant town homes, taverns, copper smiths, general stores, and even a complete New England farm stretching out to a winding brook at the far end of the compound.

"Oh, let's stop here," Tina said, reaching forward and grabbing hold of Lydia's arm. They were in front of the shoemaker's shop. A young man in his early twenties squatted on an uneven wooden stool and carved a pattern on a sheet of leather.

"Tina…" Lydia was about to protest. But her dark-haired friend had already disappeared into the small shop and was chatting busily with the artisan. Lydia sighed, then turned around and found herself staring across a neatly manicured square. Across the tiny well-kept gardens and paths the blonde spotted a small home next to the church.

Checking behind her once more and seeing Tina was going to be tied up with the shoemaker for a while, Lydia brushed her hair back and quickly crossed the square to the home. Might as well do something until she's through Lydia thought, glancing down at her wristwatch and seeing Tina had only twenty more minutes before the compound closed.

"Hello?" Lydia called out as she stepped into the small building. Immediately the stale odor that always hung in the air in these buildings assaulted her nostrils. No one was in sight as she stepped cautiously into the dark interior.

The low ceiling, large wall fireplace in the living room, hard wood creaking floors, austere high-backed chairs surrounding a plain oaken table suggested this home was once owned by a middle class merchant hundreds of years ago. Lydia walked slowly through the living room, trailing her fingertips softly across the blue flower wallpaper barely visible in the growing darkness. Passing round one corner of the fireplace, the blonde reached a narrow winding stairway leading, she supposed, to the upstairs bedroom. Suddenly finding herself enjoying this excursion, Lydia mounted the stairs, holding on to a creaking railing with one hand.

She reached the top and turned to the right, poking her head into what she guessed was the master bedroom. A small fireplace seemed carved into the wall nearest her with a bed warmer leaning against one side. Two Bentwood rockers stood at either end of the room, while in the middle a canopied bed occupied most of the space. But what Lydia found startling was some shape sprawled across the puffy mattress.

"Oh!" she cried out involuntarily, realizing only now it was a man. Her little cry woke the young man from his dozing. Her jerked up, rubbed his eyes and stared blankly at the blonde.

"I'm sorry," Lydia giggled nervously. She felt she should turn around and leave the house. Yet there was something in her that told her to stand still and wait for… for what she wondered.

"No, I should be apologizing," the young man said, throwing his legs over the right side of the bed. He was dressed in the blue knickers and high white socks most of the attendants of the official exhibits wore. He had taken off his white powdered wig, revealing a full head of black curly hair. His drawstring white cotton shirt was fully opened to the waist, allowing Lydia to view his muscular hairy chest. "I thought nobody else would be coming in. It's almost closing time isn't it?"

"Yes," Lydia said, feeling her skin crawl with strange excitement as the young man started walking over to her. She glanced down at her watch, realized she couldn't see the hands in the dim light, then moved forward a little toward a small window to the right for more light.

At the same time the guide walked in the same direction. The result was a collision that nearly knocked Lydia to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching out quickly and grabbing Lydia tightly around the waist to prevent her from falling.

"That's all right," she panted, surprised at the sudden low tone of her voice. She was shaking all over, beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead. Her cunny was tingling, puckering and trembling. A strange, delightful itch began centering around her stretching clitty while her nipples stiffened and poked teasingly against the soft white cotton material of her tight sweater. And all this happening because someone had just prevented her from crashing to the floor.

Lydia raised her right hand and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She had to get a grip on herself. Tina was probably out in the square looking for her. "I'd better go," Lydia found herself whispering like a conspirator as she broke gently away from the guide's grip and backed toward the stairway. Her breathing became shallow and labored as she kept her eyes fastened on his. Lydia thanked God it was dark in the room and he couldn't fully see the effect his touch had on her.

"While you're here I can show you around the house," he said, his voice catching at the end of the sentence. Lydia felt her heart pounding so hard she thought it could rip through her rib cage. She could tell he was as excited as she. The air between them grew thick and hot. She would never forget the young man's appearance as he stood in front of her. He was the most handsome and masculine young man she had ever seen. Dressed in eighteenth century costume with a worn brown leather belt and jackboots he was severely good-looking.

"I-I have a friend," Lydia stammered. She wanted to stay, to close the door behind her and stay with this man. The confused girl couldn't avoid the strange thought of giving herself completely to him – a strange thought considering the number of men and boys she had fought off in the back seats of many cars.

"She can wait," he said, stretching his powerful arm over her left shoulder and shutting the door softly. Lydia felt her throat constrict and her mouth grow dry as cotton. She could still turn around and leave. Nothing had happened yet. He had barely touched her. There would be no hurt feelings on either side. Yet one look at his incredibly handsome face told her leaving now was impossible.

"Come here," he said in a thick voice, sliding his hand down her shoulder to her elbow. That strange, throbbing tingle came again as his calloused hands scraped over her flesh. It was insistent, that feeling. It began along the insides of her thighs like a tiny electric shock, building until her cunt-lips, asscheeks and belly felt heavy and flushed. She moved past the window as if in a trance, her legs seeming to belong to someone else.

Her cunt felt hot and very wet. As her hips moved from walking the velvet inner pussy surfaces rubbed together and hot juice seeped out to dampen the crotch panel of her panties. This was the worst she had been ever. She was suffering from an attack of horniness, something she had never experienced before.

"But what if someone…" Lydia said, snapping partly out of her red sensual fog and wondering about a stray tourist wandering into the bedroom as she did.

"I locked the door. Besides it's late. And by the way, my name's Tom McLaughlin," he said, smiling broadly and revealing two rows of strong white teeth that flashed brilliantly even in the dark.

"Lydia Merrick," the blonde panted, feeling strange new, highly pleasurable sensations rippling across her tightening cunny. She felt his hand slide down from her elbow to her waist, turning her toward him. Tom leaned forward as she tilted her face, opened her lips slightly and received his kiss. "Ummmmmm," she murmured through the kiss as she curved her body against his chest and belly. Her pussy grew hotter as she felt Tom rub his groin back and forth across her crotch.

What he was doing was obscene, filthy. She would have never let anyone do that to her before. Lydia tried to protest, but found Tom's tongue spearing between her lips, pushing down into her throat, fighting with her own oral organ. Slowly the young girl gave in to the guide's insistence, drawing her hands up to his back and pulling him tightly against her.

She felt her nipples crushing against her sweater as his hands roamed freely around her waist, down to her fleshy rounded ass-mounds and pressing in as that bulging crotch rubbed back and forth. That groin pressure against the slick material of her slacks was making her outer labes rub back and forth against one another. They teased her clitty into full erection.

"Lydia," Tom whispered nestling his mouth in the soft hollows of her neck. The blonde tilted back her head, her mouth open and letting out tight, drowning gasps of passion as the guide kissed her throat. At the same time Tom curled his fingers around the bottom of her tight-fitting sweater, pulling it out from inside her slacks and scraping the soft material along her hot belly flesh. Lydia pulled away for an instant, raising her arms high above her head and letting Tom pull the garment over her head and toss it to the floor. As the soft cotton tickled its way over her sensitive nipples and titty flesh Lydia gasped out with delight. As the sweater was pulled over her jugs, they were lifted by the steady tug until she moaned with pleasure.

"That's better," the guide said. Lydia silently agreed, feeling the heavy weight of her full tits flow down her body. "Jesus!" Tom said, peering through the darkness at the panting blonde's hanging boobs. He pushed his fingers deep into their soft, silky flesh. "Beautiful tits, nipples as hard as my cock," he said, catching the ends between his thumb and right forefinger and starting to squeeze.

"Ohhhh," Lydia moaned, throwing her head further back and arching her body against Tom's grinding thighs. Her titties lifted up high, settling into his hands, begging to be rubbed and felt. Never before had she so lewdly given herself to anyone.

All she could think of now was the pulsing itch throbbing through her cunny, intensified by Tom's manipulations of her boobs. Even his increasingly crude language excited her. As Tom increased the pressure on her nipples, squeezing them almost cruelly, Lydia swayed drunkenly back and forth. She could feel the hard pulsating ends being crushed like nuts until the soft flow of pain started to vibrate through her flesh. Lydia sank lower onto his body as she felt his hands caressing her naked back. Her cheek came to rest on the hairy, hard muscles of his belly.

"Let's get to the bed," Tom said, pulling her toward the large canopied bed behind them. He let her go, reaching down and pulling his shirt over his head, fully revealing his broad, masculine chest. A thick coat of animal-like fur covered his rippling chest, tapering down to a thin line of hair that covered his sunken navel and continued past the beltline of his knickers to his crotch.

Tom sat down on the far edge of the bed, crossing his legs and quickly slipping off his shoes and high white socks. Standing up, he started to open his trousers, then broke into a thin smile. "You take 'em off."

Lydia gasped at this suggestion. To undress a man, and in this place! Yet that command given to her in here, excited her to no end. Driven by some dark strange force rearing its head for the first time in her mind, Lydia reached out and obediently worked on his belt buckle. Lydia pulled his trousers down over his hairy ass. She worked quickly, pulling the knickers all the way down past his jutting hipbones until she saw a large, thick long sausage-shaped object spring free and brush her hand. Her fingers ran over the thick curly mat of hair covering his legs until they found their way to his hot balls.

Lydia was no complete stranger to sex and had one or two enjoyable times when in bed with a few men. But now she felt completely uninhibited, released from all social ties and taboos. And here in God-fearing New England of all places!

"Now for you," Tom said, raising Lydia completely up. The blonde gasped as she felt Tom's fingers reach down and unzip her slacks. As the pants fell and revealed her pink silken panties, the blonde sucked in a ragged breath and waited for what she was sure was to be the experience of her life.