Vintage Erotica – “Winding Roads” by Kay Carroll
Meet Tom and Lucy – 1934 September Issue Of SPICY STORIES
Listen to Dyann read “Winding Roads” where we meet Tom & Lucy below
OR read the script below the video…
Vintage Erotica – “Winding Roads” by Kay Carroll
Meet Tom and Lucy – 1934 September Issue Of SPICY STORIES
Another episode of vintage erotica!
In this section, we have Winding Roads by Kay Carol from the September 1934 issue of Spicy Stories.
Let’s Meet Tom and Lucy!
The mists of a warm summer evening were beginning to shroud the countryside. The scent of new mown hay was in the air and the lowing of cows at milking time, accentuated the bucolic atmosphere.
On a white ribbon of road threading the Shenandoah Valley an automobile meandered at a less accelerated, but noisier pace than an ancient snail.
“Listen to the crickets and katy-dids,” she said, Lucy Matthews, who is lounging beside her husband in the front seat.
“That means another hot day tomorrow,” replied Tom Matthews, keeping a firm grip on the wheel.
Lucy turned to toss the little jacket, of her knitted silk and wool sports suit onto the rear cushions of the car already crowded by a litany of bags and blankets and packages.
“If it’s as hard as today, pass out,” she remarked plucking at the blouse that lined her lushly full figure.
“Did you say that an auto tour was a nice, cool way to spend the vacation?”
“Sure it is,” he laughed. Just loping leisurely through a strange country, happy go lucky without a care, watching the changing scenery as the winding road unravels before you beckoning on and on it goes. Time means nothing because tomorrow is another day.
“Oh yes,” Lucy’s tone was sarcastic, “a day of dust and heat and perspiration, and a night of mosquitoes humming and stinging, so you can’t sleep!”
“I think it’s romantic,” retorted Tom stubbornly.
“And I think it’s a crazy idea,” Lucy studied her complexion in a hand mirror, “I’m getting freckles on my nose, and the wind is drying my skin to the stiffest of parchment paper.”
“You brought plenty of cold cream!” he muttered.
Lucy ignored the jibe. Her big brown eyes flecked with onyx tints seemed weary as she continued, “I haven’t slept in a comfortable bed or had a decent bath since we left home three days ago.”
“That’s the fun of it. Staying out in the country and keeping away from the big towns,” asserted Tom.
“It might be fun for you, but it’s a pain to me,” she lighted one of his cigarettes and settled back in her seat.
“I don’t see why you should be so unfortunately uncomfortable riding along like this,” he glanced at her, “if I remember correctly, you’re not wearing anything but a smile underneath that pretty dress.”
“Not even a smile,” she said.
It wasn’t difficult to believe the truth of her statement. She had crossed her knees revealing stockings, rolled below bare knee caps and a glimpse of creamy skin at the beginning of softly contour thighs. Her hips were etched with the astonishing clarity and the jutting roundness of her breasts had a faintly perceptible droop which added piquancy to their voluptuous prominence and gave away the secret that no brassiere was now hugging or lifting them.
Tom grasped the wheel with one hand and laid his palm on a smooth knee cap.
“Cheer up honey,” he said, “I’ll give you a break tonight and stop at the next town. There ought to be a good hotel there with hot water and private bathtubs and down beds and all the trimmings of home.”
“Don’t kid me,” she murmured, the vehemence of her sign distended and raising her breasts, “If I ever get into such a hotel, you’ll never get me out.”
“Cheerio!”, grinned Tom.
“How far away is this imaginary town and mythical hotel?”
“A few miles.”
“Thank heaven,” Lucy sighed again.
It looked as though the knitted silk could never stand the strain of the upward heave of that bosom.
Chugging down the main street of the town, the car halted in front of a four-story building which bore the single word “hotel”.
“It doesn’t look very encouraging to me,” commented, Lucy, “If they have a private bath in that place, I eat it for supper.”
Tom smiled, “You sit there and I’ll go in and make arrangements, he said, “Or would you like to come in with me?”
“Go ahead, I’ll wait. I think you’re too optimistic anyway.”
She returned his smile, however, as pleasantly she could under the circumstances that were irritating to her. Tom wasn’t absent long and when he faced Lucy again, his face was frowning.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “There isn’t a vacant room left in the hotel, but there’s a good auto tourist camp about a mile out of town, so the clerk said.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Lucy laughed sardonically.
“I thought you were wasting your time,” she exclaimed kickng the dashboard with the point of her toe. Come on Tommy darling, let’s be on our way to the tourist camp. We’re tourists though aren’t we?”
Tom grumpily resumed his seat behind the wheel.
“There’ll be a well and a pump and we’ll draw a bucket a cold water for cold water for ourselves,” she went on, “That’ll be lots of fun, won’t it?”
He shifted gears savagely.
“It’ll be the third time I’ve bathed in a bucket,” she said, “I’m wondering if I’ll ever see a bathtub again.”
“Your sarcasm doesn’t help matters any,” he stated acidly.
Lucy pinched his leg laughing, “Oh forgive me dear,” she murmured, “I know it’s not your fault, but there ought to be good hotel accommodations everywhere. At least I thought so when I consented to take this trip with you, but we’ll make the best of things.”
“That sounds more sporty,” smiled Tom.
On the outskirts of town, the car swerved off the main road obeying a sign that pointed to a grove trees through which the glint of the setting sun could be seen on the waters of the tiny lake.
“Pretty spot.” said Tom.
“Lovely,” agreed Lucy.
The banks of the lake were dotted by one room cabins. A larger one bearing the appearance of a general store, and on its facade was a sign ‘Bungalows To Let.’
“We’re here because we’re here,” jumping out of the car.
Tom had already disappeared inside the store, emerging with the key and a grin.
“Cabin number 9,” he announced.
“Show me the way to go home!”
Lucy switched into another song as she fell in with Tom’s stride. He unlocked the cabin door and ushered her inside.
“Not bad,” he commented.
“Just like a rest,” she retorted, “Where is the pump? I simply must have my bucket of water, darling.”
He put his arms around her, kissing her moistened lips.
“Are you really having such an uncomfortable trip?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve enjoyed better vacations,” she said, returning his kiss.
“But run long now and bring me that bucket of water.”
He soon returned with it.
“There,” he said, “You’ll be a real camper one of these days.”
His arm went around her. His fingers steering around the softness of the breast that had been taunting him all day,
Lucy’s mouth hotly responded to the foraging of his lips, and then she playfully pushed him away.
“Go on outside and listen to the birdies and the trees while I take my bucket bath.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Tom laughed, “Go to it honey. I’m gonna leave you for a while anyway, my breaks need tightening and I’ll run this car into the town garage and have it looked over before supper,” he glanced at his watch. “We’ll eat in that restaurant over at the general store. I’ve ordered fried chicken and potatoes and hot biscuits and apple pie.”
“Oooo, that’s a hungry man’s meal,” he smiled.
“Does it suit you?” he asked.
“Perfectly sweetheart. Especially, when I don’t have to cook it,” she kicked off her shoes, “leave some cigarettes will you?… and don’t be longer that you can help because my tummy is empty and your talk of fried chicken makes it feel emptier.”
“Flat as a pancake,” he murmured, passing his hand intimately, “But this isn’t flat,” one palm traversed the swelling of her hips and the other cupped the outstanding beauty of a breast.
“Oh, freshie!” she whispered, “Your as full of inspiration this evening as an egg is full of meat! Was it the sight of that blonde we passed this afternoon that gave you the ambition?”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Nice wasn’t she?”
“Ah, she was alright,” Tom’s hands were extremely busy while Lucy was questioning him.
She bit her lower lip, batted her eyelashes and whispered, “I thought said your breaks were slipping? You’d better get them fixed and I’ll pretend that bucket is a bathtub.”
Tom tossed a packet of cigarettes on the cabin’s bed, “Okay, he said, “And when I come back from the garage, I’ll draw another bucket for myself.”
“Then we’ll eat fried chicken,” she chuckled pushing him toward the door.
Alone, Lucy peeled off her stockings and with a single movement of her hand, drew offer knitted blouse and skirt. The accuracy of Tom’s earlier remark was verified. There wasn’t a bit to lingerie underneath her outer costume.
Creamy skin, softly fleshed contours, the richness of silky brown curls and brown eyes, gorgeously cherry-tipped breasts, a kiss-expectant mouth, all of her charms blended into a composite of loveliness that was pulsing with the passionate yearning of ripe maturity.
She threw herself down on the bed and struck a match for a cigarette, which she extracted from the package that Tom had left her.
“Bathing in a bucket,” she smiled, “That’s supposed to be a lot of fun. Well, maybe it would be if somebody nice was bathing you, but I prefer a bathtub or shower, she ran her hands over her hips and waist and breasts.
I’ve never been so hot in my life as I was today, she thought, And now I’ve got to bathe in a bucket.
She threw out a limbsom leg and dipped a toe in the water. “Nice and cool,” she murmured, gliding off the bed.
A small window draped with a white linen curtain, attracted her attention. She parted the curtains and gazed out. Through the trees, the lake basked in the last rays of the setting sun.
“I haven’t gone for a swim in ages,” she said, “If I only brought along a swimming suit.”
The cigarette bobbed from her crimson mouth.
“But it would be fun to swim without a suit. Let the water lap all around me. All over. Cool and sweet. It would be the first thrill I’ve had on this crazy trip that Tom suggested.”
There was a wooded hillock within range of her vision, and the lake is stretched beyond.
“Nobody could see me if I strolled down there and slid into the water,” she looked disdainfully at the bucket of water.
“Oh, Tom can use that if he wants to be a camper. I’m going to take a swim.”
Hurriedly she slipped into her knitted dress. Through the door of the cabin, she sauntered walking nonchalantly in the direction of the lake and humming a song,
I love to feel the water in my bathtub on my bare breasts, she thought, but I’ve never felt lake water caressing me. I’d love it.
She crossed the hillock and glanced backward. The countryside was bare of human occupancy. It was if she was on a desert island alone with her beauty and the enticing water.
Under an overhanging tree, she took off her shoes and slid her dress downward. The evening breeze caressed her bare skin and its comforting zephyrs made her gasp.
“Ah, there’s something to this auto touring after all.” she signed, sinking her fingers into the voluptuous extravagance of her twin mounds.
She walked toward the water, her bare feet touched its cool edge. Onward she moved. The water crept upward along her legs, past her knees, inch by inch, along her thighs, until it enveloped her hips, lapping about her waist and finally reached the rounded eminence of her breasts.
“Heavenly,” whispered Lucy.
Slowly, she sank into the water and struck out with graceful strokes, swimming a dozen yards, floating peacefully, swimming again, exhilarating by the wavelets aroused by her thrashing arms, but the hunger of a healthy tummy called her shoreward.
Fried chicken, she thought.
She was on the point of arising from the water when her eyes caught a glimpse of something that made her pause. A young man was sitting on the embankment of the lake, evidently enjoying the view, and he was not more than three feet away from the spot where her dress lay. Lucy paddled around, flustered with embarrassment.
“Ah, hello,” said the young man, “You don’t mind a gentleman here…”
“If you were a gentleman, you wouldn’t be sitting there,” she stated emphatically.
“Gentlemen are partial the beauty,” he retorted, “And if I know what constitutes beauty, then I am indeed a lucky individual.”
“Oh! Go away!” said Lucy, “You’re a fresh boy.”
“No, you’re wrong,” he grinned, “I’m not fresh, but appreciative of all the good things in life.”
“Go away,” she stated again.
“I’d like to come out of this lake. It was swell at first, but it’s getting very cold now, and fried chicken awaits me with my husband.”
“Fried chicken?” he echoed, “Ah, that’s something, isn’t it?”
“Beat it!” said Lucy becoming exasperated.
The heat of the day had evaporated and the chill of the lake water was giving her the creepy effect of goose pimples.
“Now, I don’t feel like carrying on a conversation at this minute, this water is getting very cold.”
“If you only knew how beautiful you look, swimming around like one of the mermaids you read about,” he heaved a sigh, “Ah, girly, girly, girly. Where have you been all my life?”
“None of your business, retorted Lucy, “Will you please go away or at least turn your back, so I can get my dress.
“The latter request is reasonable,” he said, “Here is your dress. Tell me when you’re presentable.”
He swung around his back to her. Lucy came out of lake and swiftly grabbed her dress. Over her damp brown curls it went.
“You’re so young, you think your irresistible,” she murmured smoothing the knit silk over her hips, “If my husband were here, he would change the geography of your face for you.”
“Husbands,” he said, “Inconvenient males they are, husbands.”
Lucy shivered. She had stayed in the water a little too long. The sun might have been hot in the day time, but the lake at evening was cold indeed.
“Have a cigarette?” he asked.
Lucy ordinarily would have dared the glance of derision at him and walked away, but her heart was pounding excitedly. Here on the banks of a lake, on the Shenandoah countryside, an uncommonly good-looking young man had seen all of her that was to be seen, and he seemed to be much impressed by what he saw.
She took the cigarette and lighted it from the same match that ignited his own.
“There wasn’t anybody here when I went in swimming,” she said, “I’m wondering where in the world you came from.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, “Sit down on the grass and let’s get thoroughly acquainted.”
The thrill that went through Lucy was acute. In this lonely spot, she had encountered the young man whose personality was more attractive than any other she had met. Not withstanding the country clubs and the dancing and the social entertainments of the city.
A farmer lad, she thought, even though his conversation was not. A college boy, probably. Working his way through the summer through on hillside farm and sitting by the lake in the cool of the evening. She would never see him again.
Lucy sat down on the grass, “Who are you?”
“Who cares?” he whispered, “Who are you?”
“Who knows?” she murmured.
His arm encircled her, reveling in the softness of her waist and the warmth of her protruding breasts. Lucy didn’t protest.
The shadows of the evening were lengthening. Her passionate soul responded to the sweet romance of the occasion. Her face lifted to meet his kiss.
“Oh, heaven’s alive,” she gasped a minute later, “You’re surely not a farm boy are you?”
“Does it matter? He said, slipping the knit dress from her smooth shoulder and pressing his lips to the sweet hollow of her arm.
“We met. We saw. And… we kissed.“
“Was it fate?” Lucy breathed.
“It was a dream that came true,” he muttered.
“What brought you down to the lake, this evening, she asked.
“This is where I wait from my dream girl every evening,” he captured her mouth and drew her back on the grass.
Lucy gasped. The sun dipped below the horizon. The lake gently caressed the shore and all was peaceful, except the amorous merger of two souls.
___________
“Delicious chicken isn’t it?,” said Tom somewhat later.
“Marvelous,” agreed Lucy.
Tom heartily gazed at her, “If you don’t like this auto tour, we’ll turn back and spend the rest of our vacations somewhere else.”
“We won’t,” said Lucy, “There is romance in an auto tour after all, darling.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“Don’t ask questions,” she whispered, “Join me in another piece of chicken. The breast is delicious.”
Vintage Erotica – “Pillow of Green” Meet Vic & Chloe
Meet Genevieve and her crazy shaman husband Daniel….
Listen to Dyann Read this Great Literotica story… with sound effects!
Cov -ID 19 and erotica.. what more could you want? (Another reading by Dyann)
Discover more from Dyann… linktr.ee/bodyhouse1
Contact Dyann at thebodyhouse.biz@gmail.com
Get Jayne Mansfield’s Original 1957 PIN-UP BOOK… FREE!
Get Bettie Page’s Infamous Leopard Skin PIN-UP BOOK FREE! <— Shot by Bunny Yeager
Celebrate Vamps & Varlets & Female Sensuality in Your Inbox!
