Three naughty girls
"Wow, I'll bet he's got a nice big cock!" Angela Hart whispered excitedly to her two companions as the muscular young man walked past them on the narrow sidewalk.
Angela, her sister, Coralee, and the pair's best friend, Reina Escorial, were on the make for the first time in their lives, and it was obvious by the husky tone of Angela's voice that she was not about to waste much time in fixing the three of them up.
She was cool! The minute that Mr. and Mrs. Hart had decided to accept Mr. and Mrs. Escorial's invitation to cruise down to La Paz, Angie had called the other two girls to her room for meetings about what they'd do in their parents' absence. Somehow, they'd make it down to the beaches of Santa Vaca County, find some boys, have a ball. Even if their folks had hired that tough, smart Miss Thatcher to watchdog them.
And then, no more than an hour after the two sets of parents had departed, with Miss Hart looking anxiously at her watch, and Mr. Hart looking impatiently at his, and with Miss Hart saying: "You girls will be all right; I'm sure Miss Thatcher has just been delayed!" Well, that was when the miracle had happened. A phone call from Miss Thatcher. A pained and panicky phone call. Angie had taken the telephone call. And when she cradled the phone and turned to the others, her face was a study in triumph and purpose.
"She's broken an ankle – or maybe it's just a bad sprain. But she's got to stay in bed. Wow! Oh, wow! There's no way she can reach the folks, no way she can get here! We've got two weeks! Oh, wow!" Angela did a little war dance.
The two girls looked eager but confused. "What are we going to do, Angie?" Coralee asked. "Get some boys over here?"
"And have all the neighbors taking notes for a report to Mom?" Angela's sarcasm was kind and sisterly. "Hell, no, baby! We go where nobody knows us, and where the action is!"
Well, that had been about four hours ago on the dock, and a hundred miles north on the map. And here the three of them were, in the pleasant little city of Apple Tree, one of the many pleasant resorts strung along the shoreline of Santa Vaca County. And this was where the action was, all right. Teens by the hundred, running and walking and sitting in cars and slouching against buildings. Boys in surfer trunks, girls in bikinis.
Coralee, as tall as Angela with the same gray eyes and ash-blonde hair, hugged herself and tried to keep from jumping up and down. Her sweet breasts, soft mounds of tenderness, tingled as her arms pressed them. And Reina, so slim and dark, but with the spirit of love and adventure shining in her large brown eyes, hugged Angie and said: "Oh, Angie! How soon can we get started?"
The resourceful Angela gave the eager pair a sisterly smile. "First," she said, "we've got to decide where to stay. Then, we get our bikinis on and start cruising." She looked at the crowds streaming along Apple Tree's main street, old Highway 101, and turning to head west toward the beaches. What she saw was just a bit discouraging about twice as many girls as boys. "Come on, now, and stick close to me – I want to ask that lady at the bus depot for some information."