0 comments/ 206480 views/ 51 favorites Cock Crazy By: Cal Y. Pygia "How will you ever manage to last two whole weeks?" Karen Adams asked. "She won't," Myra Meeker asserted. "Not unless she's into bestiality." "Ha ha," Amanda Jones said. "I should have known better than to confide in you guys." "Mandy, two weeks in a mountain cabin, surrounded by forest, with a lake nearby--that hardly sounds like 'hell on earth,'" Karen said. That was how Amanda had characterized her parents' choice of Big Woods Mountain Resort as this year's family vacation destination. "There's swimming, sunbathing, reading, boating, hiking, even fishing, if you like hooking helpless fish for 'sport,' Myra agreed with Karen. "There are worse places to spend a couple of weeks of leisure." Amanda sighed, shaking her head. Some girls just didn't understand, she thought. Maybe they couldn't understand. Maybe a girl had to be cock crazy to comprehend the obsessive-compulsive nature of her condition. Even now, the subject broached, Amanda couldn't help but to visualize cocks, flaccid, short, long, thin, thick, erect, circumcised, uncircumcised, and otherwise, each of which was wonderful, magnificent, beautiful, in its own way. She'd seen a lot of dicks in her time, and she'd handled most of them. Like most people, though, Amanda remembered best what she'd seen--and handled--last, which was Charles Dean's prick. Long, even when flaccid, she liked it limp and soft, like a log of Play-Doh. She'd even rolled it between her flattened palms, the way a child rolls a column of the limp, soft clay-like substance. It was fun to watch the flaccid organ flop and turn in her hands, and its smooth, soft texture felt good as she rolled it back and forth. She liked to watch the organ stiffen and swell, too, as she pumped its loose flesh back and forth, up and down, upon the lengthening shaft. Charles' balls would rise inside his scrotum as the baggy, wrinkled pouch of flesh lifted, becoming high and tight. It was fun--and exciting--to watch his cock bloom, its pale flesh deepening to pink, and to observe the glans as it ripened to a deep purple as it, like the rest of the organ, became engorged with blood, swelling to several times its normal size. If she continued to rub and squeeze, to pump and stroke, to knead and jiggle the genitals, they responded even more ardently, stiffening more, bulging more, throbbing more. It felt good to know that she controlled them, that she could manipulate a guy's passions so easily, that she could transform cock, balls, and mind with but a few, practiced actions; it made her feel powerful and in command. Depending upon her mood, she might continue to masturbate a boy until he reached the point of no return, thighs scissoring, buttocks clamping and unclamping, belly heaving, cock convulsing, until the white lava of his semen erupted from his loins, a fountain of thick, warm, viscid passion given tangible form as creamy, fecundating fluid that she could wear upon her hand or her chest as a bracelet or a necklace of liquid pearls, and her trembling partner sat or lay gasping beside her. For her, a beautiful cock and a matching set of lovely balls, not mere diamonds, were a girl's best friend. Amanda supposed she was, as her friends insisted, "cock crazy." What surprised--what astonished--her is that all girls weren't. And, now, tomorrow, she was going away, with her mother, father, and geeky younger brother to a cabin atop a mountain, surrounded by a deep forest, with no cocks and balls available to enjoy. How would she ever survive for the two weeks she'd be away from Charles and the many other guys who allowed her such free and continuous access to their splendid organs? It wasn't fair! She shrugged. She'd have to rely on the dildos she would pack along with her clothing and the rest of her gear. Although she liked the artificial cocks, they were a poor substitute for the real thing. Karen nudged Amanda. "Why so quiet?" "She's thinking," Myra said. "What are you thinking so hard about, Mandy?" Myra answered for Amanda: "Cocks," she said. "What else?" "Ha ha," Amanda replied, rolling her eyes. The other girls giggled. "Mandy, you really are cock crazy." The cabin was actually pretty decent, Amanda thought. Although rustic-looking from the outside, in a sophisticated manner that indicated the use of high-tech tools and a factory-specific design, it was lavishly and comfortably furnished and equipped inside. There was a large stone fireplace, and the cabin even boasted a front porch unlike any frontiersman's family was likely ever to have seen. The setting was beautiful, too, from the majestic purple mountains and evergreen forest to the clear, placid lake that reflected the blue sky and fleecy white clouds tinged with gold. A wooden pier led from the shore into the lake, making the water accessible to boaters as well as to swimmers and fishers. She could have liked the place well enough, had there been some boys (or, more specifically, their cocks and balls) to keep her company. As it was, other than a pot-bellied, balding neighbor to whom Amanda referred privately as "Mr. Repulso," she was alone with her parents, Fred and Francine, and her stupid kid brother, Porter. Her family members were okay, in their way, but her mother was a woman and, of course, even if she'd been perverted enough to have a sexual interest in her father or her brother (gag!), they were off limits to her, as their daughter and sister, respectively. "Why are you hanging around the cabin?" Fred asked his daughter. "Where else am I going to go?" she asked. "How about the lake? You could go boating or swimming. That's where your brother went." "No thanks." The last place Amanda wanted to be was around Porter. "How about a hike, then?" "No thanks." "Well," Francine chimed in, "if you're going to hang around here all day, I could use a hand." "I thought we were on vacation," Amanda complained. "Even on vacation, chores need to be done." "I think maybe I will take a hike, like Daddy suggests," she replied. "Now you're talking," her father said. "Yeah, maybe I'll encounter some poison ivy," Amanda returned, "or a rattlesnake." As she followed a winding trail that led up the mountainside, through the dense forest, ignoring the signs that identified various plants, trees, and wildflowers, Amanda was hoping against hope that she'd encounter a boy her own age. She'd been in this godforsaken wilderness for less than a single day, and, already, she missed seeing, fondling, kissing, and sucking a stiff, thick penis. She missed wrapping her fingers around its firm, sleek shaft and pumping hard and fast. She missed seeing the organ stiffen, swell, and change color, blossoming in her hand (or mouth or cunt or ass). There was nothing on earth even remotely as beautiful, in her mind, as a prick, whether it was flaccid or erect, white, black, brown, or yellow. Her only preferences were that they be circumcised and not more than a few years older than she was. Unfortunately, there were no penises in Big Woods Mountain Resort that fit these restrictions except her kid brother's, and, even if, at a year younger than she was, having just turned eighteen, he was, therefore, an "adult" by legal definition and a handsome enough guy, for a brother, she wasn't into incest. A girl had to draw the line somewhere, after all, even when it came to something as wonderful and lovely as a guy's genitals. Bored with the nature trail before she'd hiked more than a quarter of a mile, she retraced her steps and started for the cabin (she did not, would not, think of the place as "home"). She'd rather help her mother do chores, she'd decided, than walk a stupid trail up the side of a mountain where, as far as she knew, there might be cougars and bears. She was about to step out of the forest, into the clearing in which their cabin and their neighbor's cabin were situated, when she heard a man's voice. She stopped, not wanting to be seen or to give away her presence, for she'd recognized the speaker as Mr. Repulso, the fat, bald fucker who'd rented the cabin next door to theirs. Both cross-eyed and bug-eyed, he was truly repulsive, reminding her of a cross between Mr. Toad and Jar Jar Binks, but with a gross, grizzled beard instead of the latter's long ears. "Yes, sir," Mr. Repulso was saying to her dad, "I hated to do it, but there was nothing else I could do." "Well, you know what they say," her father replied, a note of consolation in his voice, "any port in a storm." "Yes, sir, that's the truth of it," Mr. Repulso said. "Desperate situations call for desperate measures." My God, Amanda thought, couldn't adults talk without their every sentence being a recycled cliché? "Why don't you and the missus come over to our cabin tomorrow for dinner," Mr. Repulso invited Fred. "We can have a barbecue. Bring the kids." "Maybe we'll do that," Amanda's father said, in what Amanda hoped was meant to be a non-committal response. She's rather die than go anywhere near Mr. Repulso, and she certainly didn't plan to eat anything he might have touched. Mr. Repulso brought up a new topic, and it didn't seem that they'd finish jawboning any time too soon, Amanda decided, so she turned, careful not to step on a dry leaf or a stray twig and give her presence away, and crept back up the nature trail. She'd walked a little farther than she had last time before she came to a wooden sign, shaped like an arrow, that, pointing west, read, "Lake, 1 mile." Maybe she'd sneak in a quick swim. She'd left her bikini in her bedroom in the cabin, but they were here during the off season, and there was no one around. She could slip in naked. The water would feel good on her bare flesh. The trail was well maintained, and, although it was steep, she was able to climb it fairly easily. Within fifteen minutes, she came to another sign that indicated that the lake was directly ahead and, sure enough, as she crested the top of the rise up which the trail led, she spotted the serene body of water stretching languidly below the sky, a distant range of mountains beyond, as if they were part of a matte painting designed to showcase the lake and the sylvan countryside in which it was located. She also saw another body: her brother, Porter, was standing upon the end of the pier, completely naked, his hair wet and water running in bright streams down his muscular back, his firm, compact buttocks, and his sinewy thighs. Obviously, he'd come here with the same idea as she'd had, to skinny dip, thinking no one would be around to see him, least of all his sister, who'd vowed to hole up in the cabin every day, all day, until it was time to return to "civilization." This was the first time she'd ever seen her brother nude, except, perhaps--she couldn't remember for certain--when they'd been toddlers. Brother or not, Porter was quite the stud, she thought. He was handsome as hell, and he had an all-over tan that showed he sunbathed in the nude--somewhere other than their yard, obviously. Had she not seen the evidence with her own eyes, Amanda would never have believed her brother would be so daring. The lack of tan lines didn't lie, though, and they proved that he was bold enough to lie around naked somewhere--probably at the unofficial "clothing optional" portion of Blake's Beach, a stretch of the Pacific only ten miles or so from their San Diego neighborhood. Rumor had it that the guys who sunbathed there were more interested in other men than they were in women--or, for that matter, catching rays. She sure hoped her brother wasn't gay. With a build like his, his being homosexual would be a waste of glorious manhood. Unfortunately, standing, as he was, with his back toward her, he didn't offer Amanda a view of his cock and balls, but, she suspected, they'd be as beautiful as the rest of him. She'd never wanted to see her brother naked before--well, not much, and not very often, anyway--but she wanted to see him naked now, and not just his backside, but all of him, his cock and balls included. She was, after all, cock crazy, as her friends at school were constantly reminding her, and she'd bet anything that her younger brother had a lovely prick and some beautiful balls to match. All she had to do was to bide her time, she realized. Hopefully, he'd jump or dive back into the lake. If he did, he'd have to get out of the water again before long, and, when he did, she'd be rewarded with a glimpse of his sex organs. Her nipples stiffened at the thought of seeing her brother's genitals, and she unzipped the fly to her jeans, tugged the front of her panties aside, and slipped a forefinger between her labia. She was already moist, and she began to stroke the hard nub of her clitoris while she willed her brother to jump or dive so she'd be able to see his cock and balls as he climbed out of the lake and back onto the pier. As she watched from her hiding place among the trees, fingering her clit, Amanda saw Porter's knees bend. His calves swelled, and his thighs and buttocks flexed. He stretched his arms above his head, hands together as if in prayer, and sprang from the end of the pier. She watched him as her brother's naked body stretched itself over the water. He arched forward, penetrating the surface of the lake cleanly, a small splash spraying around his entry point, and she heard the sound clearly across the fifty or sixty feet that intervened between her brother and herself. The last image she had of him, before he broke the water, was of his legs stretched behind him and the twin moon of his perfect buttocks, his upper body lost to view below the surface of the water. Her finger moved fast and hard against her firm clitoris, and a rush of pleasure flooded her groin as her cunt flooded with lubricating juices. Her nipples were hard as chips of granite. She felt slightly ashamed at the lust she felt toward her brother, but the ignominy was overwhelmed by the sexual passion. He's your brother! she admonished herself, but part of her didn't care. Although he remained in the lake for only a few minutes, it seemed like forever to Amanda. Even masturbating did not take her mind off her desire to see the rest of her brother's nakedness. She was obsessed with cocks and balls in general, but she was infatuated with the idea of seeing Porter's genitals. Another wave of pleasure crested within her loins, and she shivered, repressing the moan that welled within her soul. It wouldn't do--not yet--to let Porter know she'd seen him naked--seen him and desired him--the way that no woman should see or desire her brother. After what seemed an eternity, she was rewarded with the sight she longed to see, as Porter swam to the dock, grasped its edge, lifted his upper body out of the lake, and scrambled into the pier. For one magnificent moment, he'd stood, facing her, and she'd seen his beautiful, glorious cock and balls, sparkling with dripping water, like the rest of him. Even flaccid, his penis was long. The cold, she knew, would have shrunk both his cock and his scrotum. Even so, he was obviously well endowed. His prick was smooth, a perfect column, as well conceived and executed as that of any sculptor's most magnificent masterpiece--but it was an obelisk of flesh instead of marble, thank goodness. He was circumcised, as Amanda preferred (thank you, Mom and Dad, she thought), and his glans was a soft, rosy pink, the hue not unlike the blushing color of her nipples' areolas or the velvet flesh of her cunt. His scrotum, shrunken from the cold water of the lake, showed the true size of her brother's balls, which were neither the largest nor the smallest she'd seen or stroked, which was just as she preferred them. She stared intently at his penis and the ovals of his testicles within the taut pouch of their risen scrotum so that she'd have the memory of their appearance to recall tonight as, in her own bed, naked, she stroked herself, as she was doing now, thinking of the beauty of her brother's genitals. Another current of orgasm swept through her, like a risen tide, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, so intense was her passion. As she watched, Porter turned from her, poised upon the brink of the pier once more, sprang into the air, and vanished from her view as he split the water's surface, entering the depths of the lake as she wished he might enter her own liquid depths. Again, the inner voice chastised her for her impure thoughts: He's your brother! A brother could be a lover, too, she told herself. It was the first, but definitely not the last, time the forbidden thought would occur to her. Amanda watched her brother dive, swim back to the pier, and scramble back onto the dock several more times, but she did not see his cock and balls again, as she had the first time he'd left the water after the initial dive she'd seen him execute, so she decided to hike back to the cabin. During the night, as she lie awake in bed, naked, her fingers stroking her clitoris and labia, she recalled the image of him naked on the pier, seeing in her imagination his perfect cock and flawless set of balls. She also conceived a plan by which she might seduce him, her own brother. As she rehearsed her simple scheme, the guilt and shame she felt subsided; soon, she felt neither emotion any longer, having hardened her heart that she might have her way with Porter. She slept fitfully, dreaming of him nude on the pier, oblivious to her hidden presence, her sheet bedewed with the moisture of her drooling sex. After breakfast, Amanda's parents suggested that the family take a ride into the nearest town, where they could take in a movie, do some shopping, and have a late luncheon at the local diner, but neither Amanda nor Porter were interested, which surprised Fred and Francine. "I would have thought you'd leap at the chance to go into town," Francine said. "I like the mountains, the forest, and the lake," Porter said. "Too bad Amanda doesn't seem to share your affections," Fred told his son. "There are some things I'm beginning to enjoy," she told her father. Fred gave his daughter a surprised look. "Oh? Such as?" She thought of her brother's cock and balls. "The scenery," she said, "especially the lake." "Why don't you and your brother go boating or take a swim, then, while your father and I are in town?" Francine suggested. "I'd like a swim," Amanda replied. She turned to Porter. "Wouldn't you?" Porter shrugged. "Sure." "I have something to do first, though," Amanda told him. "You go on ahead, and I'll meet you there in a half hour, okay?" Again, Porter shrugged. "Sure. I'll just put on my trunks and grab a towel." Forget the trunks, Amanda thought. "Okay, bro." She smiled. With her parents conveniently out of town for the day, she'd have plenty of time to seduce her younger brother. She was looking forward to it. As before, there was no one on the lake. Amanda was thankful for her parents' frugality. Because they'd rented the cabin during the off-season, there was no one else around, except Mr. Repulso, who, as far as Amanda could determine, seldom, if ever, left his cabin, except to barbecue out back or to exchange a few words with her father. She felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden, except that the only serpent was the lust in her own mind (unless she could count her brother's cock, with was, in a genuine way, a true tempter). When she arrived at the beach, carrying a towel and wearing sandals and a terrycloth robe that fell to her knees, Porter was already in his trunks. Her eye wandered over his body as she admired his muscular build, his chiseled chest and tight, trim belly; his powerful thighs; his sculpted back; and his compact ass. He was one hell of a hunk, she thought, now that she'd seen him not merely as her brother but also as a man whose nudity the previous evening had awakened her lust. More than anything, she wanted to behold his cock and balls again--to behold and to hold them.