The Honeymoon Couple

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LLP-300 The Honeymoon Couple by Winston McElroy
Chapter 1
Lifting a steaming mug of welcome black coffee to his lips, Frank Paynter smiled across the rustic table
at the voluptuous brunette, his clear, brown eyes lingering, liking what he saw, as he lied glibly.
"My horse went lame on me."
"Had you run Toby in the snow?" Charlotte Harding asked. She knew that the roan gelding wasn't lame.
Having just helped her hunting lodge guest to unsaddle the big red horse, she would have noticed
anything wrong with Toby when she had put him in his stall.
"No," he answered then offered another excuse. "It's a lousy day for hunting. Too much snow ..."
"It's easier to track the game ... elk especially."
"The fact is that I wanted to come back," Frank admitted.
Charlotte looked at him quizzically, an eyebrow going up slightly above grey-green eyes, kindling with
interest at this new gambit, as she asked, "Oh ...?"
Running a nervous hand through his jet-black hair, which had just begun to show a few silvery strands at
the temples, he laughed, "I didn't feel like shooting defenseless animals." Then, he was plucking a
cigarette from the package in his heavy wool shirt pocket and lighting it in the silence. "Actually," he went
on, after a moment, "I'm more inclined to indoor sports!"
"Not so risky ...?" she smiled, guessing already what he was thinking.
"... And, a lot cozier!" he told her, his grin changing to a frankly lewd appraisal of the full voluptuous
contours of her breasts straining at her sweater, adding, "It's also a hell of a lot more fun!"
Playfully, Charlotte cocked her head to one side, her own lustrous blue-black hair cascading down over
the side of her face, as she asked facetiously, "What's your favorite indoor game? Chess? Bridge?"
"Try strip poker!" he suggested, sipping more of his hot, black coffee.
"... But, let's not bother with a deck of cards!"
"Are you suggesting something?" Her look was archly naive.
"I am!"
"Like what?"
"Like fun and games in the sack!" He said it bluntly.
"Oh ...? What about that cute little wife of yours?"
"We're going to get a divorce! This little trip up here was her idea.
She wanted us to get together again, alone ... and away from the kids
..."
"... A reconciliation?"
 "Yeah, but there's not much possibility of that ... really!"
"That sounds like a line to me, Frank!" Charlotte said, getting up from the bench and draining her coffee
cup.
"Well ... if I read things right," Frank grated, "you and your husband have got a pretty good thing going
here with this hunting lodge!" He, too, stood to his feet and came around the table to face her. "I heard
him making it with Nancy Barber ... and I'm just guessing, but I suppose Gene Barber was laying you at
the same time!"
"You guessed wrong, Frank." She said it without rancor, as she played him like a trout.
"Hell, Charlotte, I know why the Goodwins wanted to leave! They didn't want to put up with all the wife
swapping that's been going on! So, your husband promised them a refund and flew them out!"
"We call it swinging!" Charlotte said it softly.
"... And, you're wrong about Gene Barber! Jim and I both made it with Nancy!"
Frank was thoughtful for a moment. "That's different! I suppose you've got your eye on my wife, Cheryl,
then ...?"
"That depends ..."
"On what?"
"On you, mostly," she smiled.
"How's that?"
"Well ... Jim likes Cheryl, and he'd like nothing better than to take her to bed ... and ..."
Frank interrupted her. "And you? I'd guess you're interested in her, too!"
"Sure! I swing both ways! You guessed that didn't you?" Charlotte's eyes were bright, as she told him
levelly, "... but, I was trying to tell you ... If you're making a play for me you'll have to let Jim make it
with Cheryl, too! That's the catch!"
His laugh was bitter. "Damn! That's a good one! You're both welcome to her, if you think you can thaw
her out!"
"Is she frigid?"
"About like that snow out there!" he answered. "Ever since our second child was born a little more than
three years ago, she's been like an iceberg! Hell! I might as well be living in a monastery!"
"Is it really that bad, Frank?" Charlotte asked, moving in close to him, her hips thrusting out slightly, her
voice going soft along with her eyes, as she lifted her moist sensuous lips for his kiss. "... Or, is that part
of the line?"
"No line! No bullshit!" he grunted. "Just the whole truth ... and nothing but the truth!"
"So help me ..." she chorused with him, the last word, God!, smothered in her mouth, as his lips came
down on hers, his arms going around her to crush her hard and tight against his still trim athletic body.
 He felt her soft womanliness warm against him, and while his hand slid exploringly up under her sweater,
he felt her loins grind in against the warm hardened bulge of his penis coming to full, pulsing erection
inside his pants. He exulted to himself: Damn it! I knew it!
Deep into her mouth his tongue probed lashingly, as she returned his open-mouthed kiss, and her arms
snaked around him, her hands rubbing the hardness of his back muscles through his shirt. Charlotte was
glad that Frank Paynter had decided to ride back to the lodge, while the others continued their hunting
foray with the guide, Jonothan Longwalk. She knew that Jonothan wouldn't have been fooled by Frank's
story about the big roan's going lame, and she wondered how her guest had extricated himself.
Leaning back away from Paynter after a few moments of sensual communion, Charlotte looked up at
him and gave her hips an extra little gyration against him, feeling the heat of his loins through their clothing
and knowing by the involuntary lurching of his cock that he was now fully aroused.
"Tell me something, Frank. How did you get away from your wife and Jonothan?"
"Oh, I just said I wasn't feeling very well ... had a fever coming on," he laughed.
"You've got a fever all right ... but it isn't in your head!"
"Yeah, I know ... It's in the head of my cock!"
"... And, you want to put out the fire?"
"That's the idea! That's what I came back for ... while there's no one around."
"Then, why don't you quit beating around the bush ... and ask me?" Her gray-green eyes bored
challengingly into his.
Frank, who thought he was being bold and forthright, was momentarily
taken aback by her bluntness. "All r-right ..." he faltered, "Will you
...?"
"Will I what?" she urged.
"Will you go to bed with me ... a-and make love ...?"
Stepping away from him, then, exasperated, Charlotte stood with hands on hips, head cocked to the
side. She looked him up and down with burning eyes and said, "That's the trouble with Baby Swingers!
They get love and sex all mixed up! I'm all hot for you already ... and I'll go to bed with you ... fuck with,
any way you want to go! ... But, that's not love. It's sex! Sex! Pure and simple! Understand?"
He understood very well, then. There was to be no involvement, no emotion ... no love in the ordinary
understanding of the word. She was laying down the rules for fornication and adultery ... without guilt,
and he was more than willing to play by those rules. "Damn! You're laying it on just like it is, aren't you?"
"That's right!" she snapped, then softened as she asked, "Well ... do you want to play by those rules ...
or not ...?"
"Damned right, I do!"
"Well ...?"
 "Well, what?"
"Tell me you want to fuck me!"
Gaspingly, he choked out, "Damn it, Charlotte, I want to ... fuck you!"
With a fluid motion, she glided into his arms, and lifting her lips for his kiss, again, murmured, "Frank, I
thought you'd never get around to actually saying it!"
This time, it was her tongue which she used to probe, experimentally, erotically, thrusting it deep into his
mouth then moving it back and forth suggestive of copulation, while below her hips moved with sensuous
knowledge, undulating up against his hardened cock which pulsated wildly inside his pants. Then her tiny
hand slipped between their tightly pressed bodies to caress the lewd bulge at his crotch, at the same time
she was trying to estimate its quality ... as well as its quantity.
After a few moments, Charlotte broke the tongue-twining kiss and murmured breathlessly, "I think it's
time we found a bed!"
Between his legs, Frank's testicles were drawn up tight to his body by the contracting strength of his
desire, and his cock ached soundingly. Moisture oozed excitedly from its tiny slitted head, wetting the
inside of his shorts. He was ready ... too ready, and that worried him. Christ, I feel like I'm ready to
blast off right now! He was worried, because after making his bumbling play for Jim Harding's
voluptuous brunette wife, only to discover that all of his roundabout maneuverings weren't necessary
after all, he felt like a damned fool. Now, if I get her in the sack and shoot my wad too soon ... what'll
she think?
On weak-kneed legs, Frank followed her from the kitchen across the rough-hewn floor of the living
room, strewn with thick warm rugs, to the steep rustic stairs that led upward to the rooms on the second
floor, which were only little more than sleeping cubicles. As he followed the owner's wife up the stairs,
his gaze was on a level with her full-rounded buttocks, sheathed in a too-tight pair of men's jeans, which
she wore for their warmth. The weather was quite cold in northern Montana in November! Impulsively,
he reached out to caress the full-fleshed moons swaying provocatively before him. She felt his eager
hands and smiled back over her shoulder at him, showing her pleasure and giving her buttocks an extra
little swing for his benefit.
Then they were in her and Jim's room, and she was unbuttoning her sweater. Removing it and casting it
to the top of an already cluttered bureau top, Charlotte glanced out the window.
"Damn!" she said with a strength of feeling he didn't understand, at first. "It's snowing!"
Frank shrugged. His shirt was off already, and he was pulling off his undershirt. "So ... it's snowing. Isn't
that what it does most up here?"
"It worries me, that's all."
"Why ... because your guide'll be bringing the others back sooner than you expected?" he asked. His
salacious eyes watching her avidly as she shrugged out of her blouse.
Crossing over to her, he reached around behind her and fumbled the clasps of her brassiere loose, as
she was answering his question. "No, it's not your wife popping in on us that bothers me," she told him,
then added with a mischievous smile. "As a matter of fact, that'd be groovy. Maybe I could go to work
on her and start thawing her out a little ..."
Her brassiere was off now, and her naked breasts were in his hands feeling voluptuously warm and soft
 and pliant as he greedily caressed and massaged their satin smoothness. He reveled in the lust-inciting
fullness of them, pouting out high and proud from her chest and crowding together until there was only a
narrow valley between them. They coned out ripe and firm against the palms of his hands. Her
coral-pink, berry-like nipples seemed to burn holes into his flesh, as he held them like rare jewels.
"Then it's your husband you're worried about?" Frank barely knew what he was saying, and it was kind
of inane, he thought, to be talking about her husband at a time like this, especially when he was just
about to take the man's wife to bed and screw the hell out of her. Below, his cock was jerking
involuntarily with a demanding urgency. Damn! He had to get it into her ... before it was too late!
"Yes," she was saying, "I'm worried about Jim ... because if too much snow builds up on the landing
strip, he can't make a safe landing!"
* * *
About the same time, Jim Harding was becoming somewhat worried, too. He was flying on a visual flight
plan from Butte to his own little landing strip at the lodge just a few miles South of the Canadian border.
Overflying Helena and Great Falls, the weather reports were becoming ominous concerning a
moderately heavy snowfall over the general area east and south of Glacier Park. Critically, he listened to
the tinny voice coming over the speaker, advising him of the adverse weather condition and
recommending an alternate landing west of the park. Rogering out, he kept resolutely on his
Northeasterly course, deciding to take his chances that it hadn't snowed long enough yet to build up a
dangerous cover of wet snow on the strip. Hell! I've landed there before under these conditions ... and
I'll do it some more, I suppose!
He was sure in his own mind that he had done the right thing in refunding Mike and Sarah Goodwin's
money and flying them back to Butte. Christ! I can't win them all, I guess ... but I sized them up as a
couple, who wouldn't mind a swinging party while they were on a hunting vacation! Making a mental
note to remind himself, in the future, to ask a few more questions, to really get at the attitudes of his
clients before the final arrangements were made for a hunting excursion to his lodge, Jim settled down to
fly his course carefully, keeping a watchful eye for possible icing of his wings or carburetor.
Of course, he was in a hurry to get back to the hunting lodge. Only a part of his plans had been ruined
by the sour-grapes griping of the Goodwins about the uninhibited sexual activities that had gone on that
first night at the lodge. Cheryl Paynter and Nancy Barber are still there ... and Charlotte, of course! And,
it's just a matter of time, until I get Cheryl in the sack!
It was cold in the plane's cockpit, even with the heat at maximum delivery, but he managed to keep
warm, as he thought about Cheryl, fantasizing about what he would do ... just how he'd bend her to his
will and fuck her! Goddamn! Women like her really turn me on! They act so damned cold and
uninterested ... and when they begin to come apart and start begging for it, I know I can fuck them any
damned way I want to! Actually, it was like a game to him ... a game with a real challenge, and when he
won, which was most of the time, the reward was out of this world. Unknown to any but a few of their
most intimate friends, Charlotte and Jim Harding kept a secret notebook containing pertinent notes
concerning the couples with whom they had swung, along with polaroid pictures, nudes for the most
part; additionally, in a code known only to them, each couple was rated on a scale ranging from
undesirable, at the bottom, to highly desirable, see again, often, at the top of the scale. It was clever of
them, and they never seemed to want for couples desiring their company to share each other's spouses.
A real stroke of luck for Jim and Charlotte had been their acquisition of the isolated, hunting lodge in
northern Montana. It was right out of a story book, having been bequeathed to Jim by an eccentric great
uncle, who had seldom used the place, preferring to live in the sunnier climes of Southern California. At
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