Clambake

They were the typical December-May RV couple. Paul was older. 60-something I'd guess. Bailey was cute. I mean really cute. Also young for the RV world, maybe 25-26 if she was lucky. A blonde, pageboy hair cut, pink lipstick, and a pert beach body, sporting a belly button ring, which she had on display wearing shorts and a bikini top, her nipples occasionally poking through when the ocean breeze came through.

They were in a large, luxurious 44' A-class. A gigantic bus that was about 1,500 sq. ft. of glamorous home costing north of $2 million dollars.

To the right of us were Patti and Mike in a class-C. A much larger than us 38' footer that could sleep six comfortably. Our tiny rig was nestled cozily in between its big brothers.

We met our neighbors and I am happy to say we liked them.

That's a good thing. When you are RVing, like life, you have no control of who your neighbors are. Sometimes they are dicks and assholes. Not these four.

Patti and Mike were both seniors. More the RV demographic. I'd say mid-to late-60s, even though he obviously worked out every day and was fitter than me, and Patti was pretty, but aging. She dyed her hair a bit too brown to seem real, but who cared. She also had a nice smile and gigantic breasts. I mean huge breasts. Grand Canyon sized breasts. I had a feeling that Mike had been a lucky man for many years motorboating rather than RVing.

We were saying hello while hooking up hoses and stuff and I said, "So everyone going to the clambake?"

We all said it couldn't be missed and agreed to meet up again down at the beach.

I thought, "Oh! The party has started."

Marijuana is not my drug of choice. I have no problem with it, and I am glad that it is becoming legal, but confession time, in my teens and 20s I smoked enough for a lifetime.

However, Amber likes it, and since it is legal in California, based off of the smell around the campsites, it was also the choice of many including, apparently, our older friends Patti and Mike. Why not? They were probably hippies back in the day.

Me? I'm a Maker's Mark man, I grabbed my drink in a beach sippy cup of all things and the bottle for later in the night, Amber grabbed a doobie and a glass of wine, and we headed out to the clambake.

I was in my sand-colored Land's End shorts with a rock band logo T-shirt.

Amber, I'm happy to say, was in tight short shorts that framed her thonged ass, and an adorable tank top.

SCRAM, I love that name, had arranged for a local seafood chef, Antonio Antionelli, to cook the evenings clambake digging a pit into the sand, filling it with coals, lining it with seaweed, and loading it with clams, mussels brought in from Oregon, fish, sausage, veggies like onions, potatoes, and corn, and then finally, flown in from Maine, lobster.

Yumbo!

We dug in and ended up sharing our feast with Paul and Bailey, Patty and Mike, a fun gay couple Eduardo and his husband Bob.

The clambake was amazing. I was waiting for someone to make the joke and it was, of course, Paul the oldest of us to wave at all of the women on the beach and mention all of the clams on the beach and having a clambake.

Everyone agreed, Eduardo and husband in social discomfort, but not my Amber who said, "Yes! A clambake! What a great idea."

I don't know if everyone heard it, but I noticed that Paul and surprisingly older Patti did.

I have never met a woman with such an over-revved sex drive as Amber before. All she wanted to do was pursue her career and fuck. I mean seriously, and this is not some kind of an exaggeration for a hot, erotic story, all Amber wanted to do was fuck.

Well, play tennis too on the weekends, but then a hot and sweaty fuck.

I think her libido was making up for lost time. Maybe it was the years in an abusive, sexless marriage, playing catch up. More likely it was her upbringing and personal history.

Raised in a very strict Catholic family, her mother was pulled from the entrance to the nunnery by her father, she followed her faith, and her mother's screaming preaching, through high school and all the way through college graduating a virgin. Her mother had actually put her hand on the bible and made her take a chastity vow!

Probably the only one in her entire Texas college. Maybe in the entire state of Texas!

At the age of 24, she lost her virginity to her husband on their wedding night. It turned out that he was actually gay and married her for social cover and was nasty and abusive in resentment over the situation.

After a few horrible, years, she finally achieved her divorce. He came out of the closet and seemed to find happiness with a husband in New York.

A few dates and bedtime romps happened after, but nothing of note. I was the first real relationship and in her 30s, I was nominated as the guide, mentor, and sexual safe harbor.

Maybe it was the history, maybe the sexless marriage, but I was the beneficiary.

On the other hand, my life was the opposite.

I had played in a rock and roll band in my late teens, early 20s and pussy -- and even the occasional cock -- was throw at me in every way possible. Rock and roll has claimed a lot of victims from Janice to Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain, but it also provides a free pass to a LOT of pussy. A Disneyland of pussy. It was a great life.

But I realized that we were never going to be the next Beatles, and playing in a backup band for some stripper in a club was not for me in middle life, so I went back to school, got a couple of degrees, and found success which ultimately led to my RV and Amber in my arms.

I was thinking about all of this as we sat around our campfire on Pismo Beach -- one of around 60 -- with our new friends and my arm around Amber.

The campfire roared, the lobster arrived, and as we all dug in feeding our mates by hand with the tasty, sweet meat from the lobster, dipping it into the melted butter and dripping it all over our faces.

The sexiest, most sensual dinner of my life. And it was on a beach!

I look around at the group because I knew Amber was too.

She had stated when we were talking about the RSVP that she wouldn't do it without a three-way, and she wanted to go down on another woman. I nodded at the time, knowing it was not an empty air statement.

Amber was bound and determined that we were going to fuck another couple this weekend, and she was not going to leave without experiencing going down and eating another woman. She had never done it, and wanted to try it, and was adamant.

I said, "No problem. Give me a show?"

"Count on it motherfucker."

Alrighty then. And who knows, maybe others. As I said, making up for lost time.

Amber and her hungry pussy were demanding it.

The wine was flowing as was the conversation and laughter. Like most jovial, slightly drunk campfires the talk began to become sex jokes, double entendres, and the implications.

"So, what does everybody think is the hottest sex?" Bob asked. "Hotel sex or RV sex."

"I don't know," I said. "I have had a lot of really hot hotel sex. There is something about doing it on a strange bed with sheets that aren't yours."

"I agree," said Mike. He looked at Patti to get her OK. She gave him a nod. "We've had some really good times in our rig, but a suite in the London NYC in Times Square is hard to beat for a romp in the hay."

More lobster, alcohol, and weed were consumed as Eduardo chimed in.

"Vegas! That's the hottest sex. You know, what happens there, stays there," and Bob gave him a knowing look.

I had a hunch that the boys had given the sexual boundaries of Vegas, and "what happens there, stays there" a serious stretching.

I thought, "Shit let's throw it out there and see if anybody bites."

"Well, this is what I know," I chimed in. "I played in a band for years and the hottest sex was a bunch of groupies, totally high on music, drugs, and booze, wanting to devour me in my hotel suite. But since I've bought The Enterprise, the hottest sex is rig sex, and RV resort sex."

Shy little Bailey giggled. I could see her fantasies churning, maybe she was someone's groupie in her day. Paul's hand was already in between hers legs trying not to be obvious.

Amber wasn't as subtle. She put her hand right on my cock and said, "I like to fuck in the rig. It always gives me the hottest orgasm ever."

Well! That blew the lid off of the whole thing.

The conversation got hotter as did the slightly subtle caressing and couple play.

The wine and booze kept pouring and doobies started to be passed around like the '60s.

"So Eduardo," Paul, the older newbie said. "I've never chatted with a gay guy about sex before. We have the gays at work, and I like them, but never chatted about sex."

I could see and hear the heat in Eduardo's response understanding that he was moderating it knowing Paul's age and generational prejudices. "You 'have the gays at work?'" Do you understand that when you say "the gays" you are both homophobic, insulting, and frequently racist?"

I thought trouble was brewing and sat back to watch what developed

"Gosh, I'm sorry. I meant nothing by it. Really. I didn't. Excuse me. I've insulted you and I feel like shit. Damn. I was trying to understand."

Bob put his hand on his husband's shoulder. A cooler head. "Paul. Where are you from.?"

"Bakersfield."

"Right. Word to the wise. In the future stop saying 'the gays, the blacks, the Jews, the Mexicans, etc. Okay? That is racist, anti-Semitic, homophobic coding. You get a pass this time. Please learn better. I have a hunch you want to."

Paul nodded yes, and I watched him shrink into the sand as far as he could.

I secretly slid the bottle of Maker's to Eduardo who thanked me with a quiet nod.

I jumped in to lighten the mood and cut him a break, "So do the gays, and the blacks, the Jews, the crackers, and the old fogies, the horny motherfuckers like myself up and down this beach actually fuck in their rigs?"

That helped to cool Eduardo down. He smiled. "Hell yes. Besides the freedom to go where you want to, why else do we have a rig?"

"Fuck yeah!" I exclaimed. "That is exactly my thought. Freedom and sexual freedom. That is what our RVs provide."

Paul came back to life. "That's why I bought mine. Freedom and the chance to play. And look who it brought into my life!" and he smiled lovingly at Bailey.

Crisis averted, I moved over and gave Paul a big hug. And whispered, "Maybe later in the rally the four of us could play together?" I glanced at Bailey and gave a slight nod in Amber's direction.

He looked at me surprised. Totally unexpected, but I thought considering it.

Patti looked at Amber, "Hey will you come with me and help pick out the next couple of wines?"

The two women left and even though our little clambake stayed intact, many others on the beach started to split off. Either to their rigs or private campfires, blankets, and their own clambake.

Amber had been thoughtful enough to bring another bottle of Maker's for me since I had slid mine to Eduardo. I was refilling my cup when I noticed Bailey stealing a glimpse at my package.

Hey, I'm no porn star, I've got a nice 7" cock. Okay, a bit under 7", okay, maybe actually 6 & 1/2" but close enough to claim it. My calling card is I'm thick. Three inches wide. That's true. It makes most women very happy, but occasionally makes the backdoor dicey. Luckily, that was not Amber.

Anyway, my natural girth does fill a pair of shorts well, and I noticed Bailey sneaking that peek. But all is fair. Her loose fitting shorts proved she also had no panties and I had been sneaking my share of peeks at her shaved pussy winking in the gap of her shorts and thigh.

A sweet looking pussy it was too!

The night was breaking up. Patti looked at us and said, "Want to join us in a nightcap?" and looked knowingly at Amber.

I can take a hint. "Sure."

Their rig was nice. A 38' class-C, but an upscale one. Not one of those cheap Winnebago things. The living area was spacious and well designed. I admired the kitchen since I am the cook and our little rig has a small one.

Built to sleep six, it had two separate bedrooms including for a Class-C motorhome a luxurious master bedroom with a large slide-out giving it more floor space.

Mike uncorked a Justin Isosceles Reserve -- one of Paso Roble's finest wines from one of the crown jewel wineries -- as Patti reached into a cabinet, pulled out fresh glasses for all of us, made sure everyone had a healthy pour, finishing the fresh bottle with four glasses of wine. Mike pushed his glass forward and toasted, "To new friends."

"To new friends!" we all exclaimed, clinked glasses, and took a sip of the wine.

Oh my, it was scrumptious. A beautifully balanced blend of cabernet sauvignon, franc, malbec, and merlot. I swirled mine around in the glass. No wonder it has won so many awards.

Looking at it in the glass, it had a deep ruby, nearly purple color. As I twirled it and the light hit there was a true cherry red hue. I put my nose deep into the glass and inhaled. The wine's aroma was complex -- indicative of its exceptional quality and character. I'm no wine expert, but I could smell the black cherry and oak with a hit of spices.

As I swirled it some more I noticed how it clung to the glass and some slowly seeped down the inside. I knew enough to know that was called "legs."

Mike, who obviously was a wine expert was doing the same thing.

"Do you smell the blackcurrant, autumn leaves, licorice, the jazzy, oak, and the long finish?" He took a sip. "My oh my, That is a mighty fine wine, and worthy of belonging to their Wine Club, which is why we do."

I swirled mine around again and looking at it said, "Well, I don't know about any of that. But I know this: I like my wine the same way I like my women, with long legs."

Mike started howling, and everybody else joined in.

"Me too buddy, me too," and he laughed some more.

We chitchatted and drank a little more. I can't speak for Amber, but I could feel the sexual tension descending upon the rig.

Patti looked at us and slurring a little said, "This might seem a bit forward, but we swing. Any chance that you do too?"

And they both smiled like spiders looking at their prey in the web.

I looked at Amber to see the reaction. I could tell the answer was going to be yes by how she was slowly grinding in her seat.

"No," she said, "But I'm opening to learning, I think."

"Oh!" said Patti and we all drank a bit more wine.

She continued, "I know Andy is an experienced RVer, but you are sort of new at it. Right?"

"Yes, We met at a rally but yes, this is only my second time in a motorhome because we were quarantined like everyone else thanks to COVID."

"Well, lesson one, we don't' call them motorhomes. We call them rigs or RVs. Hey! I have an idea. Let me show you a few things you need to know about RV life. Want to come to the back with me? There's a lot of stuff about RVing you should know back there."

"OK, sure."

And Patti grabbed Amber's hand and led her into the back half of their rig closing the door.

You swing, don't you," Mike said.

"I have. It can be fun with the right folks."

"Hell yes!! I agree with you, buddy! Listen, I'd rather drink a 25 year old cognac than this, as great as it is. How about a shot of a Remy Martin XO 25 year reserve? What do you say?"

"Sounds good to me."

He grabbed it and poured. The Remy was remarkable. Sweet and warm as it rolled down my tongue.

"Oh yeah. This is nice. Thanks."

Mike nodded. So you guys are in the lifestyle?"

"No. Not at all. This is all new for Amber, but I'll gladly play it out as far as she wants as long as you are not looking to cross swords."

"Don't worry. That's not my thing. We are straight. You know how it is. We have been married for over 35 years and just like to fuck other like-minded people. I met you and I thought we had a Vulcan Mind Meld on that. Did I miss guess?"

"Not with me. Amber is the wildcard."

From the back, we heard Amber moan, "Oh fuck. Just like that motherfucker!"

"Well, maybe she's not." I smiled and we toasted again, shot the Remy down and he poured another.

Waking up tomorrow was going to be a challenge. I really needed to drink some water and take an Advil or two before I crashed tonight, I reminded myself.

Mike said, "Shall we join the ladies?"

"Sounds like a plan."

We opened the sliding door and entered their rig's bedroom. And unlike our little 24' RV, this was a bedroom. A king size bed, all the fixing with electric candles flickering, and in the middle of it all, a naked Amber being eaten by a naked Patti.

A 32 year old redhead splayed wide across a king sized bed with an 60-something woman chowing down on her in a very knowing and experienced way.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, Jesus Christing fuck!" Amber shouted as her second orgasm hit.

"Shit honey, slow down!" said Mike. There will be nothing left for us."

Patti rolled over. "Trust me. She has just begun.

I looked at her. Short, about 5'-2" chubby, maybe 170lbs plus, and over 60 years old, but there was something about his woman that was hot. I mean really naturally hot.

More than the gigantic H-cup tits that were spilling all over -- the largest breasts I had ever seen in my life. , Gigantic! She oozed sex. Patti was most definitely not my type, but all I wanted to do was fuck her.

I knew that was what Mike was counting on. So I said, it, "My God, Patti, I want to fuck you. And I want to fuck you now!" And I pulled down my shorts. My goods once again springing towards my six pack.

"Oh, honey. Oh yes, dear. Put that big boy in me!" She looked at Amber, "You're a lucky girl."

That was all that was needed for the starting gun to go off signaling the fun. I looked at Patty and I said, "If that's the case, put that hefty, bodacious booty in the air and dive back down into that pussy."

I gambled that she would hear that as a sexual compliment and not an insult and I was right as Patti did exactly as commanded. Offering that fat, 60 year old ass to me, thick, pock-marked with way too much hair for my tastes, but at that moment, it was the hottest pussy I had ever seen in my life.

Patti was chowing down on Amber who I could tell was getting ready for another climax. I said, "Should I get you ready, or slide it in?"

"Will you just shut up and fuck me!" was the response. So I did.

Shoving my cock balls deep into Patti's dripping cunt.

Eating Amber's pussy, I heard this from Patti, "Oggg, Thatggkkk, is fucgggiick, thieeeek."

I plowed her hard. My balls bouncing on her clit as she continued to eat my girlfriend who was about to come again.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck," shouted Amber until Mike, who had maneuvered his way to the front of the bed shut her up by shoving his cock into her mouth."

"Urrrgh, hmmm, oddddd, mmmerimmgh," was all I heard as Amber came for maybe the fourth time?

I'd lost count.

And we fucked for a while.

Mike came first. I heard him and watched him as he unloaded a gigantic shot into Amber's mouth. For an old guy, he shot a lot since Amber's a swallower and his cum was dripping out of her mouth as she frantically gulped shot after shot down.

Patti was next. I was ramming my thick cock in as vigorously as I could, bouncing off the cushions of her buns, but my finger was getting the job done, and had moved my hand at the beginning to her clit. I tried to time the fireworks to a group orgasm and watched Mike's face knowing he was close and tied to bring Patti to it if not at the same time, close.

She exploded. A squirter! A 60 year old squirter. Well, why not? I suppose once a squirter always a squirter.

The head of my cock was so large and engorged with blood it was hurting. I needed to cum myself. I was trying to decide whether to cum inside Patti or on her when I heard Mike say, "Let's see you shoot over both of these lovely ladies!"