10 comments/ 43512 views/ 1 favorites Cliffhanger By: sirhugs Barry Harper had worked at WGC for nine months, having graduated college the previous spring with his diploma in computer network administration. A more worldly classmate had convinced Barry to do a European backpacking expedition as a graduation celebration. The experience of sharing hotel rooms, hostels, and occasionally barns with Emilio and the conquest of the moment- including more than once the proverbial farmer's daughter-had soured Barry on the charms of the Old World, and driven him even further into his shell. Not once had the farmer's daughter had a sister for Barry. Well, one had a sister, but Emilio had ended up with both of them, leaving Barry huddled in the rough straw trying to resist stroking his throbbing cock as first one, then the other, beautiful blonde had kissed his swarthy pal. Once the kissing proceeded down Emilio's chest, Barry had rolled over, all the better to resist watching, to avoid the awful emptiness of not enjoying. But Barry could not help but here the older bigger sister – Helga- say to her sibling, "Ilsa...you get first licks on this one, since you've never had one this large before." As Ilsa cooed, "Oh, it IS big, much bigger than Pappa's...." Slurping sounds followed. Barry had been unable to resist further. He had snaked his rigid phallus out of his pants, the cool night air of the barn no deterrent. The occasional brush of straw against tender skin only heightened Barry's arousal. "That's it, Helga, suck my balls while Ilsa licks me like a Popsicle," Emilio had cooed, causing the girls to peel in laughter, temporarily interrupting their work. "Popsicle...that's funny..." said Ilsa, " since it was our Pappa who caught me watching the barn cats fuck, and asked me if he could teach me how not to get pregnant, but still please the guests. That's how I learned how to swallow." "And who taught Helga?" asked Emilio. "Well, she's older," Ilsa explained, "so some of the village boys got to her first, but after I told Pappa what I saw her doing for Hans Kluge on his eighteen birthday, Pappa and I showed her how to really blow out der birthday candle." All three laughed heartily, so much so that Barry wondered whether or not he could plausibly still pretend to be asleep. "And ever since then, Ilsa and I have shared," Helga said as she recovered her composure. "Ya, that's why we like the oral sex better, because it's easier to share that way than when I have to get my share out of Helga's pussy." "But I thought the oral was instead of sex," Emilio managed to sputter, his words punctuated by pauses as two tongues bathed his shaft. More girlish giggling. "Well, Helga cheats. A lot." "Ilsa only cheats a little. So she's still tight like a virgin. I think Pappa wants to fuck her, and I think she will, and let him think he is the first." This banter, was interrupted by the sound effects associated with slurping and sucking, and squeals which Barry imagined must be Emilio reaching down to pull on the sisters' nipples. Barry came quickly but quietly, his spunk spilling into the vast blanket of straw. What seemed like an eternity later, he heard Emilio sigh in satisfaction. "No fair swallowing it all, Ilsa," he heard Helga whisper; "I want more than just the scum off of your tongue. I want a mouthful too." "Take it all in your mouth," Emilio had instructed, "and then stick your tongue out so that I can see it. Then Helga, you lick every drop off of Ilsa." Barry listened a while longer, pretending to be asleep, and eventually, he was sleeping. When he woke up in the morning, a grinning Emilio had fresh warm bread and coffee "courtesy of the farmer's daughters", who were no where to be seen. Emilio continued to fuck his way through Europe, though no other night had been as exasperating for Barry. Still, when Barry got home, he had dumped his packsack in the back of his closet at his parent's house, and had not thought about it since. So, Barry was not happy when he had seen the notices posted at World Global Chemicals promoting the Earth Day celebration. When his supervisor had informed him that the nature hike was not really voluntary, Barry had grudgingly gone to retrieve his packsack. Earth Day morning, as he slung his pack onto his back for the first time since that frustrating journey, Barry tried to concentrate on the fresh air and singing birds rather than sour memories. Having found petrified unopened condoms tucked optimistically in the bottom of the pack had not helped. The group from WGC was lead by the founder of the company, Rex Beaumont. Rex was not your typical nerdy business type. He tried too hard in fact to get people to compare him to Richard Branson, the adventurer founder of the Virgin companies. Of course, airlines, records and resorts were a lot sexier than industrial solvents. The annual WCG Celebrates Green event was really just a PR stunt to balance that. Beaumont paid a struggling Hollywood filmmaker enough money to finance several indie films in return for a crew to shoot a complimentary documentary linking Rex and WCG to various environmental initiatives. In every case, Rex has donated only modestly to the green project, and almost randomly, with no real understanding of the impact of the projects, or whether they related to his company's harmful products. Rex was really only interested in getting on television, and hoped that a massive hike would get PBS interested in running the subsidized documentary. He had coerced over 2,000 employees into participating. The smartest, or most reluctant, were rewarded with matching days off. Barry of course had not been that clever. He showed up on what should have been a day of rest, shivering in the early morning spring air. The event began where it would end, with a rally at the local stadium. Rex was on stage, bragging about the great tailgate party they would throw after the hike "featuring only organic hot dogs." It was a beautiful day for a nature appreciation hike, and as Barry listened to the speeches, he tried to cheer up. More than a few hikers, Barry had noticed, had already started the tailgating before entering the stadium, fortifying themselves from flasks or wineskins. This gave them a pleasant glow. Barry also noted that the cold made most of the women's nipples poke rigidly against their T-shirts, as Rex insisted everyone display the giveaway apparel for the cameras. "What does any of this have to do with the environment?" a woman standing beside Barry muttered. He turned to see a beautiful raven haired woman that he did not recognize. She was short slim, with small perky breasts. Barry instantly registered that she was braless beneath the shirt, her nipples accentuating the Grand Canyon and Africa on the Dadaist globe logo. "He's so full of shit," she continued, since Barry was too busy drooling slack jawed to respond. "Are you talking to me?" he finally stammered, still not quite believing that such an angel existed, let alone was prepared to speak to a wretch like him. What a stupid thing to say, he immediately realized. Except instead of cutting him with a sharp rebuke and walking away, she blushed. If anything, this made her seems more beautiful to Barry and he felt the blood draining out of his brain and flowing to his groin. He still was thinking enough however to be conscious of the strange reaction by which embarrassment seemed to make her breasts swell firmer, her nipples hardening and seeming, in Barry's overheated imagination, to be trying to tear through the thin T-shirt fabric. "This is all just such an act of theatre to pretend he's interested in the environment while his plants spew more poison into our lakes and rivers." "Not to mention the worsening world wide drought," Barry replied, recalling a headline from a magazine. "What's that got to do with World Global Chemicals?" she replied, looking puzzled by Barry's strained effort at conversation. Before he could recover, she wheeled and walked away. Despite his distress at once again dropping the conversational ball, Barry could not help noticing that her legs were long for her height, perfectly formed tanned stems disappearing into short shorts which stretched taut over an ass that would serve a dancer proud. His cock throbbed hard inside his shorts. He flushed with his own embarrassment as he realized that anyone looking would see his arousal plainly. Then he decided that no one would be looking at him anyway, and turned his attention back to the speeches. Beaumont was blessedly brief, leaving Barry contemplating the woman's remarks. "I guess he hasn't got much to say about the environment after all," he muttered, perhaps unaware that he said it aloud. The documentary crew however noticed, one of their handheld video units having been assigned to roam the crowd picking up just this sort of dissent. Beaumont would likely refuse to pay the fee, and maybe sue over copyright, but the film makers secretly planned their own expose of WGC's hypocrisy. Barry was now about to be a star. To them, the fact this might leave Barry unemployed was irrelevant. They knew that everyone was prepared to do almost anything for fifteen seconds of fame. Next up after Rex was Lola Lotsa, a faded Hollywood glamour gal of the previous decade, now reduced to cameo roles and bad reality shows. Lola was available for hire to dress up almost any corporate event, and still, through the miracle of plastic surgery, filled out her T-shirt firmly. Barry, and every other guy in the crowd, played little attention to what Lola had to say, mostly focussing on how he chest jiggled as she giggled at canned scripted lines like "I'm glad to be here with all my friends at WGC, because the animals are our friends." "Freaking tree hugger," Barry heard a rugged looking production foreman standing nearby mumble. "Don't you mean you'd freaking like tie her to a tree and fuck her?" teased the big man's fat winger. "At least I've got a dick big enough to reach past my belly," the first idiot retorted, seemingly agreeing with his chum's anti female sentiments. Despite his earlier arousal, and Lola's abundant attributes, Barry felt ashamed for the male gender. His swollen member relaxed. "She's probably just fucking Rex as part of the package deal anyhow," the buddy suggested. Both Neanderthals convulsed with belly jiggling laughter, drowning out the end of Lola's brief remarks. A band of old long hairs who appeared to be herbal druggies from the sixties struck up "Blowing in the Wind". After one chorus, Rex strode back to center stage and said "I'm pleased to announce that Lola will be our walk leader this morning. And which of us would not want to follow Lola's behind?" He paused professionally to appreciate the laughter and then said, "I'm sorry, I meant 'follow behind Lola'." Even from the middle of the crowd, Barry could see Rex's insincerity displayed in the form of a dramatic winking leer, and that Lola's professional mask slipped just for a moment to prove that even masses of plastic surgery did not prevent a disgusted frown when one was called for. She recovered her composure quickly, however, and was grinning as stupidly as she had on the sit com which had made her almost famous – Playboy had finished the job- and then bounded down the stairs, her bountiful assets bouncing bravely. Still playing for laughs, Rex grabbed at her ass as he followed too closely behind. She turned and swatted his hands. Rex, again overacting, leering comically, turned to the film's director and said "when you cut that from the finished film, save a copy for my private reel." Barry noticed that the director also looked disgusted, and grinned, thinking that perhaps Rex might get his comeuppance. As he fell in with the pack of hikers, Barry started contemplating his own future with WGC. To this point, he had felt disconnected from the company's larger issues. As a computer techie, he had never considered himself responsible for the pollutants spilling out of the facilities which his systems operated. Although the sexist behaviour was in some ways distinct from Rex's phoney environmentalism, Barry was smart enough to recognize that both reflected twentieth century mindsets that were inappropriate in the new world. "If I wasn't such a total loser, I'd quit and find a real job," Barry observed, "but I can't even get a date, so how could I expect anyone to like me enough to hire me? I'm stuck with dead end jobs where no one needs to see how ugly I am or hear how stupid I sound." As Barry trudged past the film crew, his backpack suddenly feeling as if it was loaded with bricks, the director turned to the person standing next to him, who was a secret agent provocateur for the film crew. "That guy might be a perfect center piece to show that not all modern tech types are isolated from the environment." "But he's so nerdy," the woman replied. The director laughed. "He just needs to get laid, and then he could be a star." "How can you say that?" "Because I only became a director for the casting couch." "But you are so cool; I can't believe you ever were short of women." "First I had to discover that being a film maker made me so cool that I didn't need to beg for sex. Women throw themselves at me, and I'm not rich like Steven Spielberg. It took a while for me to figure out that nothing about me had really changed, except my confidence. Give that guy a dose of confidence and he could be perfect." "If you say so. But you better get going; your paycheque and his Playmate are vanishing around the corner. If you don't catch up, how will you know whether they climb over the hill or grab a quick copter ride?" "I'd love to film that," the Spielberg wannabe replied, dashing off with his crew. In the process, he almost bowled Barry right over, the concept of showing the documentary through the eyes of an average WGC employee forgotten in the passion for scandal. The walk itself was well organized, WGC being a land of engineers and accountants. Each group of thirty to forty hikers was led by an experienced guide, with another volunteer assigned to act as "sweeper", keeping the straggles tight to the group. Several paths with various degrees of difficulty wound around or over the rugged terrain, all ending on the other side of the hill, where lunch would be served, tailgate party style, before the hikers would be bussed back to their vehicles, or to the plant. Along the way, the guides would educate the hikers. Several prizes were being awarded for a scavenger hunt, a quiz during lunch based on flora and fauna observed, and a simple contest as to who spotted the most endangered species, and environmental degradations, from a list handed out as the group started out. Barry noticed that the dark haired woman was no where to be seen, but the foul mouthed rednecks were loudly within his vicinity. The guide for Barry's group was an enthusiastic Australian, the sweeper a tall buxom redhead. Her tits filled out her T-shirt much better than the earlier brunette had, but with equal braless exuberance. Perhaps to emphasize that point, or those points, she had tied the shirt above her navel, not only making it form fitting but displaying well tanned well toned abs, which disappeared into shorts so tiny they could have substituted for a string bikini, if they were not khaki twill. Barry wondered whether he out to stray behind to see just how tender her care might be. "We'll do the Over the Peak Challenge route," the guide announced. "In addition to the exercise, it has a great view from the top, more species to spot and will get us all into a draw for an all expenses paid white-water rafting weekend." This drew groans and muttering from the crowd, and several people peeled away in search of easier routes, but Barry remained. To his surprise, so did the rednecks. Within a few minutes, Barr's group was enclosed in dense brush, separated from the rest of the hikers. The group was strung out due to the narrow trail, clumping together only in the odd clearing, where the guide would expound on. Barry overheard them chatting. "I'd like to go rafting with that cunt," one said. "She'd look really fine all wet. And maybe I'd half drown so she'd hafta give me mouth to mouth." "The sweeper? Yeah, she's sweet. But I think she's Rex's personal assistant. Very personal if you know what I mean. I think he just put her with the common folk so that she's not in Lola's way." "Or in his way with Lola." Just then, a helicopter zipped overhead. One of the rednecks chuckled. "I bet that's our Rex getting a mile high hummer right now." "I wonder if she titfucks first?" "You'll never find out." Both guys found each other so funny that they convulsed with more belly wobbling laughter. Disgusted, Barry dropped back to avoid overhearing more of their conversation. The group stretched out more as the trail climbed more steeply and the guide paused less often. Although the beer bellied pair were huffing for breath, Barry purposely trailed even further back. Eventually, they were barely in sight ahead of him, and only the sweeper was behind him. In order to make his distancing appear natural, Barry made a point of stopping every few hundred yards to admire a plant, or to simply turn and take in the exquisite view over the valley. Though Barry had seldom ventured far from his computer in recent years, it struck him how much greener and more lush the land was the further away it was from the WGC complex. The sweeper came up to Barry several times. Although she was polite, after two or three attempts to urge Barry to go faster, she was clearly exasperated with his slow pace. Perhaps her suggestion that Barry ought to have set out with the 'newbie road side flatland march' would have been more convincing if Barry had been paying attention to her words, rather than staring at how her sweat stained T-Shirt was melted to her braless breasts. With each word, she breathed and her nipples rose beneath Barry's gaze. "Look, I really think you should go back, but I'll get in trouble letting you go alone. I just don't want to be held back," she said. Her sigh lifted her tits higher, as if they might burst out of the fabric. "You'll really slow us down as we reach the peak," she continued, her eyes now registering the fact that she knew where Barry was staring. She sighed again, her hair glistening in the bright sunshine as she shook her head. "Look, our guide is my boyfriend. But he just found out that I've been giving Rex blow jobs, so I'm afraid if he gets to the rendezvous before me, he might do something awful." "Like confront Rex?" She laughed, entertaining Barry's eyes with how her nipples bounced, barely contained in her shirt, seemingly rotating in opposite directions. 'Is that even possible?' Barry wondered, making a mental note to do field studies, but admitting to himself instantly that he lacked study subjects, so would just have to Google the question. "Not likely. Despite the Crocodile Dundee look, Gareth is a big sissy. I'm more afraid that he'll go and revenge fuck Sally Green from HR. That slut was all over him at the Christmas Party. I wouldn't really mind that much, but I'd hate him fucking her without me, plus she's such a slut, I bet he'd bring home some exotic STD that drugs won't cure." That last comment sent a shiver through Barry's spine, reminding him of one of the many reasons he was still a virgin. "Look," he said to the Amazon, "the trail back is easy. I could just go back by myself. Then you can keep pace." The Amazon mused for about a millisecond, then glanced ahead, where her boyfriend was just rounding a bend, making some scantily dressed blonde from sales giggle as he made plant names sound sexual. "Okay," she said, already brushing past Barry, "just don't get lost or hurt, or I might get fired." Cliffhanger She hurried to catch up with the group. Barry got a sudden rush from the sense of her hard nipples scraping his scrawny bicep, and enjoyed the view of her well rounded ass bouncing up the trail. Once again, he felt that familiar thickness in his groin and sighed. He did not turn to walk back until she had disappeared around the corner, and then he waited until he saw her bounce through the clearing where she had spotted her boyfriend. As she rushed to catch the group, her chest heaved majestically, and the twin bunnies in her shorts wrestled intensely as Barry got a good rear view. Finally, she passed out of sight and Barry was alone with nature. He tried to recall what the guide had been saying about the plants on this slope – delicate flowering shrubs, endangered by WGC's emissions, and old growth pines once too high too harvest, now attractive for their plentiful fibre. And had the guide said that this was a frog habitat, or close to a beaver pond? Barry knew he should worry about these things, but the word 'beaver' returned his attention to the lump in his shorts. Barry cupped his semi turgid mass through the fabric as he wandered down the path. He was tempted to unzip his fly so that he could caress that tender stiffness which comforted him so. He found that images of the dark haired gal, Lola Lotsa and the sweeper were all tumbling through is brain randomly, gaining intensity, and miraculously shedding the few clothes they had worn in his real exposure to them. Barry began looking for a likely spot to turn off the trail for a bit of privacy, in case any other group of hikers came by. Barry's distraction was his undoing. A basic rule of hiking was to always observe the ground immediately ahead, and to watch for bad footing. Looking for hideouts while stroking your cock does not fit within that concept. It was not shocking then, except to Barry, when he turned his right ankle on a loose rock lying in the path. Before Barry could regain his balance, he found himself tumbling down a loose slope of shale and granite. As he slid, he reflected from his university geology elective that the gravel was likely the result of ancient glacial activity, the same powerful Earth mechanics which had carved out these hills. "And here humankind is trying to fight Mother Nature," he reflected. "We'll never win, but the cost of losing is enormous" After that thought, Barry realized that if he didn't stop sliding downward, he might eventually fall over a cliff, and personally pay the ultimate price. He dug in his heels, but this sent a lightening bolt of pain through his injured ankle, so he decided to use only his left foot as a brake. This slowed Barry's descent, but spun him into a thicket of scrub brush growing stubbornly out of the rock, depending on a modest pocket of soil to hold the water and nutrients essential to survival. Once he came to rest, Barry reflected on the symbolism of the plants thriving in such adversity. Barry wished he could be more like them, and resolved to make changes in his life once he got back to safety. He would quit WGC and join the fight for the environment. But first, Barry had to get out of the thicket. He knew that his tender ankle might mean he would have to scream for help. As he twisted around, intending to test his walking ability, Barry discovered that his left shoulder was awkwardly pinned between a rock and a branch. If Barry had the power to force the branch loose, he might lose his balance, and start a rockslide, which would tear the entire clump of brush loose, and send Barry over the cliff He was glad he had read up on hiking safety on the internet, and that he had matches in his packsack. He could start a signal fire, and perhaps Rex's chopper would spot him if no one else came along. But then Barry realized that he and his packsack had become separated in the tumble. After shouting sporadically for help, Barry tired in the midday sun. His balls were still heavy, throbbing with semen and he found himself thinking again of the braless babes along for the hike. He wondered what it would be like to be rescued by one of them. As he dozed off, Barry finally unzipped his cock and began stroking it. What seemed like hours later, Barry felt soft lips descend over the tender tip of his exposed shaft. He started to open his eyes, but a warm hand pressed a cool damp cloth over his face. "Just relax and enjoy this", an angelic voice said. Barry thought he recognized the voice, but could not tell whether it was Lola, the dark haired woman, or the sweeper. Or maybe he was just imagining it. The woman's tongue rolled around the base of Barry's cock, sending spikes of electricity up his spine. "You have a nice fat cock, I bet your girlfriend loves fucking it," she said. "Don't have a girlfriend," Barry stammered. "Never had one." "I'll have to tell everyone at the tailgate party about how well hung you are. Then you'll be in demand." She slurped all around his organ, licking it like a Popsicle, and then pressing the flat of her tongue around the underside of Barry's bulging mushroom, as if she was packing the edge of an ice cream cone. Her fingers teased Barry's balls, which curled up into his groin, in anticipation of exploding. "I think I'm almost ready. It feels like there is a brick ready to burst up my shaft," Barry warned. "That's okay, come fast and hard the first time in my mouth. I have a radio and will call for help, but first I think after I swallow your first load, we'll nap and I'll fuck you before more help arrives." Her mouth stretched to cover Barry's cockhead and then she slowly lowered her lips down his shaft, expertly taking his entire length. Her tongue stayed active, first creating more shivers by touching the flap of skin under the head, and then caressing the underside of his rod. As slowly as she descended, she rapidly pulled up the length, clamping her lips tightly, truly sucking now, her teeth lightly scratching the sensitive skin. She allowed the air to cool Barry off just briefly as she stuck the tip of her tongue in Barry's already gaping pee slit. "Your precum tastes sweet. I can't wait to swallow more of your goo." Barry started to reach with his free hand to remove the cloth over his eyes, but the woman grabbed him and said "no, I like you to imagine what I'm doing, not see me." Then she lowered her head, her lips dropping quickly, not over the shaft as Barry expected, but rather licking the underside and stabbing the tip against the wrinkled flesh of his scrotum. She pumped him with her hand, like priming a pump. "I think we're both ready," she finally said as her tongue circled his head, licking more seepage off his swollen member. Without further fuss, she swallowed his cockhead and released her grip on his root. She slid a finger under Barry, expertly piercing his anal ring without warning and tickled his prostate. His seed hurtled upwards, flooding her mouth so fully that excess strings seeped out and down his shaft. "You know that's my first time with a woman?" Barry asked. Silently, she slid up Barry's body, her own flesh pressed tight to his. He realized that she had removed her top, as her breasts rubbed his shrinking shaft. Her diamond hard nipples scratched his skin. She firmly pushed her lips against Barry how only had a second to enjoy their softness before he found that her tongue was forcing his mouth open, and she was suddenly sharing his seed with him. "See, it is sweet, and you need the fluids," his angel whispered. "Now sleep, and when you awake, we'll fuck." Despite the joy Barry felt, or perhaps because the joy relieved the stress of his predicament, Barry slept. He did not know how long he was out. It seemed like minutes but it might have been hours. As he awoke, he realized that it was caused by hips sliding against his cock, and that he was quickly stiffening again. Within seconds, he was fully erect. The cloth was still over his eyes. It was dry so he started to remove it. " No leave it, the sun might hurt your eyes," the angel said, taking his hand into hers and gently sucking one of his fingers into her mouth, rolling it one her tongue as if she was sucking his cock. Barry felt her stop momentarily, and heard the zipper in her shorts opening. Cloth scraped against his thighs and then her felt the warmth of her belly pressing into his abdomen. Once again, Barry wondered who this might be – the dark haired gal, Lola, the sweeper, or someone different? "I lost my condoms in my packsack," Barry said, worried about disease. "Oh, I guarantee that you don't need to worry about that." Barry decided he was really in no position to argue, as the woman nuzzled his neck, her groin rolling against his erection. "I love woman on top" she said, "and it's great for your first time. Plus, you found a great location. Majestic tees, a beaver pond, birds singing, frogs croaking...." She used this litany to distract Barry as she slipped her already moist pussy down his groin, allowing the tip of his cock to gently enter her labia, penetration signifying that he was no longer a virgin occurring almost before he knew what was happening. As his shaft pushed deeper into her, she slowly pushed herself back upright, her experienced pussy walls clenching him tightly. "Since you already came in my mouth, you should last longer this time," she said as she slowly raised herself so that his organ felt the mountain air, only the head trapped inside of her. "I love outdoor fucking," she shouted, pounding herself hard onto his cock, and then rising again. She did this over and over, perhaps a dozen strokes in total, as Barry got used to the wetness of a woman, learning to enjoy the scent. Then, she grasped his free hand again and brought it to her body. He tried raising it towards her chest, but she restrained him. "If you feel my tits, you might guess who I am" she said softly, as if she had meant to think it rather than speak out loud. Instead, she dragged his hand down her taut belly to the tiny strip of hair above her cunt. Barry instinctively ran the down through his fingers. The angel giggled. "Not so softly. It tickles like that." "Why so little hair?" Barry asked. "It's called a landing strip," she explained. This time, she took advantage of the distraction of conversation to guide Barry's fingers to her clit. "I bet I know what that is," Barry said. "Gold star for you," she sighed, even Barry's inexpert touch sending shivers up her spine as she revelled in the glorious fucking. "Just don't stop moving those fingers." She had stopped bouncing up and down, and now was just using her muscles to milk Barry's cock as he played with her. He experimented, twirling her nub between two fingers, and then trying flipping it up and down with his middle finger. Once again, she gripped his hand, and steered his ring finger to the side wall of her pussy. Barry thought he felt a little bump there and caressed it. "Is that the g-spot?" he asked. "Someone's been reading porn," she giggled, the words coming out in pants as she gasped for air. "Arggggh," Barry's angel screamed, her shout echoing off the hillside. As she climaxed, her muscles clamped even harder around Barry's root, and as they relaxed, another load of come spurted upwards, this time filling her pussy. She slumped onto his chest with a sigh and lay there for a few minutes as miniature orgasms ran through her body like a chain of aftershocks. "I think I've died and gone to heaven," Barry whispered. "No, you won't really know Heaven until you taste what we are like together," his angel said, suddenly sliding up along his body, her wetness reducing the friction. Without further warning, she planted her wet pussy on Barry's mouth. The cloth covering his eyes gradually was pushed away as she rubbed her clit over Barry's lips. The combined taste was as wonderful as she had promised and Barry took to his task with passion. A virgin no longer, Barry was a fast learner, opening wide and thrusting his tongue deep into the soft flesh, capturing the button lightly with his teeth. The mixed flavour was a surprise, since Barry had never tasted a woman before, but at the same time, seemed familiar due to having smelt the scent in the spring air earlier. Barry enjoyed the texture of his own cream diluted with the woman's fluids, and busily applied his tongue, exploring each fold of her pussy walls, prodding her lips wider, and occasionally stabbing into her as if his tongue was a cock. Only after Barry no longer tasted himself did he focus in on her clit, sucking the juices down his throat and trapping her pearl in his teeth, twisting and nibbling. He then backed off, not needing to be told that pain must always be followed by pleasure. Barry felt her reach acrobatically behind herself, and grab his cock, which had quickly become engorged again. As Barry bobbled the clit on the tip of his tongue, making it dance in the air, he propelled her to another orgasm. At the same time as his lover shuddered with pleasure, Barry orgasmed for the third time that day. This time, his hips thrust up from there ground with more fervour. Suddenly, the root holding Barry's arm pulled loose and Barry felt like he was falling. When Barry came to, everything seemed grey and foggy, and he was alone. Whatever he was lying on was soft, like a pillow rather than the ground. Barry wondered whether he had dreamed the entire experience, and then suddenly felt very cold. Was he alive, or had he died and gone to Heaven, he wondered. Eventually, others noticed Barry's absence. Because he was new to WGC, and a loner, at first he was not missed. However, many hours later, at the tailgate site, the film maker turned to his secret agent. "What ever happened to that nerd we wanted to film more?" "Funny thing. He never showed up here. One of the sweepers finally admitted that she let him turn back on his own. They sent a search party looking for him a few hours ago." "It's a cold dark night to be lost." "Well, I just heard a rumour that they've spotted a body on the north face. Climbers are going there now to see if it is him, and whether he is alive or dead." "A real shame if the poor guy died a virgin." "Somehow even if he's dead, I think he had a little slice of Heaven first." "Oh, I hope he isn't dead. I could have made him a star."