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Six

By: FamiliarEnough



I woke in the middle of the night in a hot sweat. I was laying on my right side with Lover curled up behind me. I felt his right hand resting underneath the pillow cradling my head, while his left lay nestled between my breasts. I was afraid if I shifted too much I'd wake him, so I slowly peeled myself from his hot skin and headed to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. 

We were staying at a small cottage that opened onto a private lake. An occasional vacationer would go by in a canoe or kayak, but motorized boats were strictly prohibited for ecological reasons. 

The cottage was covered in various pine and fir trees, and I loved it, like I love most places that we venture to together. For being "out" in the woods, we had a lot of amenities including inside plumbing with enough water to fill an old cast iron tub in the bathroom, a stove, refrigerator, phone and the owner of the cottage was very proud that he'd just put in Dish TV. We didn't have the heart to tell him it probably wouldn't get used the whole time we were there. 

I stood in the kitchen drinking my water and looking out the large picture window in what should have been the breakfast nook. Instead, two large recliner chairs fit comfortably at the window. They were great for both reading on a rainy day, or, as I found out earlier, making love with me straddling Lover. We were laughing and talking during sex, which is something you do when you finally become comfortable with one another. The lust is still there, but it becomes playful and knowing and no longer exploratory. 

We were laughing and kissing and yammering on and on, when Lover looked over my shoulder and saw another couple in a canoe on the lake. He twirled halfway around in the chair so that I was facing the window. I could see there was no way they could make out what we were doing, but the idea of them seeing my breasts bounce up and down while we fucked brought me to orgasm immediately. 

When the rain finally left the area around dinnertime, it left behind a humidity that was unbearable. We both took cold showers and crawled into bed naked. It was too hot for sex. Too hot to think of anything but getting to the morning, when hopefully, the weather would improve.

But here I was at 3 a.m., standing in the kitchen reminiscing. And it was still too damn hot. 

I put my cup down on the counter and walked naked out onto the porch. The air wasn't moving outside either. I walked down the four porch steps and made my way to the dock. 

There were no clouds in the sky, so every star in the universe was out and the moon lit up the water to the point where I could make out a rowboat tied to a dock at a cabin across the lake.

My naked skin felt bloated from all the sweating. So I did what any normal person would do; I dove into the water. The water rolled over me. It was refreshing and sexy, and even better it was a very cool 70 degrees. I rolled over onto my back and floated for a while. I could feel my breasts bob peacefully and the water move through my pubic hair in tiny waves. I stared up at the moon and listened to the bubbles from under the water. I was so distracted that I didn't hear Lover approaching.

"How is it?" he asked. 

I pulled my head out of the water and started treading. It was a good 10 feet deep just 15 feet from the shoreline. "It's a lot better than sweating all night in that bed," I said.

"Hey, we sweated in that bed last night just fine," he said putting his toe in the water to test it. "I didn't hear you complain about it then — and that went on for h-o-u-r-s."

The corners of my mouth turned up in a half smile. He was being charming and fishing for gratitude for helping me discover and master the world of multiple orgasms and female ejaculation with a partner. But I'm a pain in the ass, so I ignored his hook. He'd have to seek compliments some other time.

"The water is pretty cool," he said lifting his foot out of the water. He was staring at my breasts with great appreciation. I leaned back and went into my float again, so he could have a better view. "Your nipples look happy in the moonlight," he said. Then he dove into the water to join me. 

When he surfaced, he approached me, so I started treading again. "Let's move closer to shore," he requested. He swam until he could touch the bottom and keep his head out of the water from the shoulders up. If I touched the bottom, it was still over my head, so I put my arms around his shoulders, kissed him and wrapped my legs around his back. 

"This is nice," I said in between playful openmouthed kisses. 

"I agree," he replied. 

One of his hands was on my ass, while the other toyed with my nipples. Even in the cool water, I could tell he was turned on. "Is there a time you're not in the mood?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I'm not in the mood—" he said. "Whenever you're not in the mood. And I've never known you NOT to be in the mood, ma biche. You get worked up just about everywhere: airports, cottages, bedrooms, public restrooms, cars, botanical gardens, kitchens, rooftops, weddings, restaurants, docks, forests, dining room tables..."

I rolled my eyes and put my hand over his mouth to stop the list of places we'd fornicated. "So what will happen when you tire of me and my ambitious libido?" I asked.

"I've been asking myself about you tiring of me since day one," he said kissing me up my jaw line. "That was almost a decade ago," he whispered rubbing his left thumb over my right nipple. I tightened my legs around his waist to a death grip in response. He backed off slightly but traced the fingers of his right hand down my neck as he spoke. "Want to know the first time I knew I wanted to make love with you?" he asked. 

It was unusual for Lover was offer personal insight, unless he was trying to goad me into trying something new and sexually deviant, so I nodded eagerly. 

"It was that time we met up in California. You were there for a conference. It was maybe the second or third time we saw each other in person—"

"I remember," I said. 

"You had on these tight jeans and a revealing shirt," he said. "We met at that little restaurant for a drink. I walked in and saw you sitting alone because I was terribly late. You had grown out your beautiful, blonde hair and were sipping on a martini and nibbling off of a cheese plate. The restaurant was small and quaint — romantic, really. The lights were dimmed with candles on the table and mellow white party lights on the wall," he said. "When I walked up to the table, you tried to leap out of your seat to give me a kiss and a hug. But you didn't have that kind of coordination left, because I was an ass and was so late that you were on your third martini."

"Yeah, I remember being a sloppy drunk," I responded. 

"It was good. You so rarely let go of your proper self early on. It was one of the few times that you let everything come out of your mouth. I got to see a lot of things through your eyes. I saw how you looked at me. And although you were feeling quite overwhelmed as a new parent and not knowing where you fit into your own life, you seemed so confident to me. Like if someone had given you a list of either/or choices, you'd know exactly which ones you needed to make for yourself. As I walked you back to your hotel, all I could think about was pulling you into one of the side alleys and taking you right then and there. Instead, I gave you a chaste kiss on the lips and dropped you off at the door to the hotel.

"Yeah," I said. "I wanted to kill you for it, too."

"Really?" He was more than a little surprised.

"That night I was alone in my hotel bed tossing and turning and crying about it. I was so conflicted. I wanted to invite you up. I wanted to give you a real kiss. I wanted so many things. I ached for them, but the next day I took my cab to the airport and flew back home," I said.

"I had no idea."

"Of course not," I said. "I wasn't ready for it then. It was frustrating, but it was better to wait."

"So when did you know?"

"It wasn't just a big decision; it took a lot of baby steps. The first was when I stopped kissing your cheeks when we met and just gave you a quick small kiss on the lips. The second was when we went to dessert that night and we got really heated and intimate while talking across the table. I was so ready to walk over and straddle your lap that I had to look away from you blushing at every conversation topic."

"Yeah, I was still clueless at this point," Lover commented.

"I think the first time I really kissed you, I knew it was going to happen sooner or later," I said sighing. "I don't just kiss people." 

"You did warn me that you weren't a casual girl at least a million times."

"It's true."

We talked in the water for an hour and then we wrapped our naked body together in giant beach towels and sat on the dock chatting in the moonlight until sunlight broke.

I was extremely tired. I rested my head on Lover's shoulder as we sat in silence.

"I propose I cook you a big breakfast and then we take a long morning nap," he said. 

"Mmm, pancakes?" I asked sweetly. 

"I could do crepes," he said. He knows I'm not crazy about crepes.

"Please, pretty please, with sugar on top, may we please have pancakes?"

"Humph."

The couple in the canoe from yesterday paddled by on the far side of the lake, and I got an idea. I slid out of the towel exposing my naked body to the morning light. I sat between Lover's legs and looked him straight in the eyes. 

"I'll make you a deal," I said.

His eyebrows raised slightly. "I think I'm going to like where this is going."

I took his hand and put it between my legs. I was wet just thinking about my proposition.

"I'll give you a blow job right here, right now, in front of those people, if afterwards you make me pancakes," I offered.

Lover looked over my shoulder at the canoe. I had no idea if they were watching, and I didn't care. "You do know the way to a man's heart, don't you?" he asked.

And with that, I smiled at him and lowered my face to his penis. I slowly kissed the underside from base to tip. I kissed gently around the head before licking it across the top and around the sides in slow circles. Finally, my mouth wrapped around his penis and I moved it up and down while I massaged his testicles. 

Lover leaned back on his arms and threw his head back, so his face was looking up at the sky. "You're really very good at these," he said in a half groan. "Sometimes I think you're a little too good."

"Shush," I said, "Just enjoy." 

I went up and down at a decent pace. It wasn't rushed, but I changed my routine up a bit so as not to get boring. After 20 minutes, my mouth tired a bit, so I started using my hands to help out. 

"No cheating," he said. He was such a hard ass.

So I went back to work with my mouth. My tongue rolled over the tip several times causing him to babble. "Oh, right there. That feels good," he'd moan. 

I put a lot of spit on my right index finger and gently spread his ass cheeks, inserted my finger and began to massage his prostate while I moved my warm mouth up and down on his shaft.

Nothing that came out of his mouth made any sense in any language at that point, but what did make sense to me was his cum hitting the back of my mouth as I stroked him through his orgasm and watched his body twitch and shake in bliss.

I licked all of the semen from him and swallowed before I sat up again. His eyes were barely open, but he looked sated. 

"What's that look for?" I asked sweetly.

"As if you don't fucking know," he replied pushing a piece of my hair behind my ear. "I'm changing our deal a little."

I frowned in response. He stood up and then pulled me up to a standing position. The canoers who'd gone by earlier were on their way back to their cottage. 

He spread out the beach towels and lay down on his back. His head pointed out to the water and his feet pointed to the cottage. 

"Lover, I want my pancakes," I whined.

"And I'll make them for you, as soon as I get to eat something."

"Really?" I asked all chipper reading through the innuendo.

"Yes, yes, yes."

"What if I ejaculate?"

"I'm counting on it," he said. "So get over here."

I sat down over his face. My vagina was already dripping from giving him a blow job. His lips found mine without any problem. He moved his head from side to side and rubbed his nose against my clit. I bent forward a little and gave him more access with his hands should his tongue get tired. It also allowed me to look over the water. 

The man in the bow of the canoe suddenly lost his paddle when he looked in my direction. He saw me naked, bending forward, clearly atop my lover with my breasts swinging back and forth as I jolted and rocked from the euphoria that is oral sex. The woman in the stern laughed and retrieved the paddle for her partner. Then she splashed him with her own paddle when he was unable to avert his eyes.

"They see us, Lover," I said to him as he started to manipulate me with his long fingers. 

He stopped licking long enough to say, "Use it."

I didn't break his gaze, as I normally would to fantasize. Instead, I kept looking at him, half of his face underneath me. Suddenly I wanted his penis, but it was too early. His fingers moved in and out of me trying to take their place. 

"Talk to me, Lover," I said. 

"You're naked—"

"No, talk to me in French," I said. 

I saw enough of his left cheek turn up in a grin to know he'd been waiting for this. Part of my attraction for Lover has always been his experience, open mind and the variety of sexual encounters we'd had. But another large part of my attraction is all about his culture. I am probably the only Quebecophile in the United States. 

I love Montreal. I love Quebecois film. I love their dialect of French. I love that they have wine in a can, passion for the Habs and full frontal nudity on TV. I love the Dépanneur, the plateau, the Tom Toms. I love milk in a plastic bag, Loonies, not turning right on red on the island and frigid winters. But mostly, I love that my older, more experienced Lover knew how to woo me in not one, but two languages. I also loved that no matter what he said, it always sounded so much more romantic and so much dirtier in French than in English.

I moved off of his face and sat back a bit so I was over his chest. His right hand inserted three fingers into my pussy, while his left made slow circles on my clit. I played with my nipples listening to him taunt me. 

I couldn't look away from him. I was so distracted that I didn't notice that the little canoe was getting closer and closer until they were only 30 yards away. It wasn't until I threw my head back and my hips forward in pleasure and ejaculated all over Lover's chest, neck and beard that I realized the woman in the canoe was taking photos of us with her telephoto lens. I could just see the vacation slide show. "Interesting pine tree. Crazy expensive rental cabin. Loons. More Loons. Oh, yeah, female ejaculation at first light."

"We could give them the full show," Lover offered. His penis was showing signs of erection again.

I looked down at his dripping body and swished some cum off of it with my hand. I kissed him gently on the lips as I maneuvered to sit on his penis. I could hear the camera clicking.

"Mmm," I said looking straight at the woman. "Don't laugh at me, since we talked about my insatiable, voracious sexual appetite earlier, but I think I'm too hungry and too tired."

Lover sat up and hugged me. "We can't have you passing out from low blood sugar, ma biche." So we got up, collected our towels and walked back into the cottage, where 15 minutes later, Lover served me pancakes with melted butter and syrup, as promised.

Six and One is Heaven



Gravel crunched under my truck's wheels as I pulled into the driveway of a Victorian-style home— a sorority house. The girls had called looking for a handyman to take care of half dozen or so odd jobs. I stepped out of my truck and grabbed my bag of tools.

The doorbell had an old fashion ding-dong ring to it. Before it had completed its announcement, a petite woman with a blue streak of hair, perky breasts, and dimples opened the door. "C'mon in we've been expecting you. But I didn't know you'd be so, so cute."

A bit startled I said, "Hi Miss, thank you. I don't often receive such nice compliments, you flatter me. By the way, my name is ay...Doug." 

She said, "Oh and modest too," then she winked at me. "Well Doug, you can get started in the upstairs bathroom; a leaky faucet needs repair," she pointed up the stairway, "Then eventually the ceiling below needs work too from the water damage."

"Yes Miss, I'll get right on it." 

She alerted a couple of other girls that I had arrived and a small group gathered outside the bathroom doorway. I guess my plumbers crack was showing because one of the girls asked, "Are you going to play hard to get or are you showing your butt crack like a mail-call to get our attention?" I blushed red and pulled up my jeans. I was glad they couldn't see my face. 

Before long there were five or six sorority sisters standing in the doorway. One, a blonde with long hair that rested at the small of her back said out of nowhere, "We like to give head." Then a brunette with a southern accent wearing a see-through blouse that revealed the firmest boobs and hardest nipples I'd ever seen asked, "Do you have any objections to us giving you some?"

Another girl with auburn hair and a milky white complexion extended her arm. I grabbed her hand. She was strong and pulled me to my feet effortlessly, "Come with me." We went down the hallway to a room with two couches and several plush arum chairs. "Sit here." She commanded. "Now unzip it, so we can get to work."

She licked the head of my dick all around the top, back and forth, at least three times. She then slowly brought me into her mouth with a gentle but unmistakable suckling motion sliding me in and out slowly in her wet mouth. 

All the other girls began to giggle. "Don't hog him, leave some for us!"

One by one they got on their knees and took turns. Each had her own little twist on how to give a great blow job. It was like they were giving a clinic and I was the lucky subject they were using to demonstrate their techniques.

One ran her mouth up and down my shaft with her lips and then used her tongue to do the same; another took in all of me and just sucked hard without choking. I nearly exploded. But another girl could see I was straining to hold on to my erection and yelled, "Stop! He'll come and the rest of won't get a chance!"

You won't believe what happened next. A set of red haired twins knelt on either side of me and stroked me with their lips, kissing as they moved their mouths and tongues up my harder than ever before shaft. They giggled as they took turns and gently sucked me. Their moans were intoxicating. When one was sucking my hard as stone penis, the other gently fondled my testicles in her mouth. Their skin was smooth, winter white, with a just a few freckles dotting their noses. Each had full round breast with nipples high on each mound of silky skin. They pulled off their pants and exposed a light blush of soft red hair outlining their pussies which had a wet drip ready to slide off into my mouth. The twin to my right climbed up so I could put her pink love box in my face. The other twin slid her wetness over my cock and within a few seconds I was doing them both. 

The twins slipped off me and by the time the sixth girl had put my now oak-hard penis in her mouth, I was ready to come at a single lick. However, she held back long enough to let all the girls form a semicircle around me. Some kissed me, others rubbed my chest, and two held my dick firmly in their hands while a third girl licked the tip of my pulsing hardness. She licked and licked until a burst of come flowed out in the most voluminous ejaculation of my life. 

Giggles and smiles filled the room. All the girls tried their best to get a little on them or in their mouths. I was transported to an orgasmic place I had never been too before... 

Buz, buz, buz... I slapped my hand down hard on the alarm clock. Startled, I leapt from the bed my underwear jism soaked. My wife looked at me like I had just come home from an orgy or, perhaps, I was simply projecting. 

"Are you all right? You look like you just saw a ghost."

"I'm fine dear, I just need to get to work early and I thought I had over-slept. I'm going to take a shower." I maneuvered carefully to avoid detection and headed for the bathroom. 

The door was closed, but I heard her say, "Oh my, did you have a wet dream? The sheets are all soaked!"

I decided to own-up, sort-of, "Yes Hon, I dreamt of you, but I wish it had been the real thing."

"Well you won't have to wish for long. I'll be waiting for you tonight, and I have a special surprise too, but don't ask any fool questions. Like I said, it's a surprise."

I went about the business of getting ready for work, more relieved than intrigued by her response. The images of my wet dream still flashed in my head. My penis found its second wind and I had to turn the shower cold to get things under control. 

When I got home that night the house seemed especially quite. I called out to Rachel, "Hi Hon, I'm home." Then I heard the shower turn on. The sound was faint, but unmistakable. My curiosity rose as did the package between my legs; a reaction I had had before when fantasizing about my wife's beautiful naked body in the shower. "Down boy, we don't know what's going on yet."

With guarded anticipation, I went up to our bedroom. The door to the bathroom was closed, but not shut tight. I could hear the sound of the shower change, it was clear that she had stepped under the water. "C'mon in, don't be shy," she said.

Hurriedly I took off my clothes and slid the shower door open. She put out her hand in a gesture that signaled 'stop'. "Don't come into the shower just yet, take your time."

She wanted me to have a full view of her before getting into the shower. Dressed in just a white T-shirt and silky white panties, she lifted her right leg slightly and gave me a porn movie pose. Her T-shirt was soaked through; the curves of her breasts were magnified magnificently. 

Then she beckoned with a crooked finger for me to join her. I was titillated to excess as the water ran over her perfectly formed breasts. Her big nipples were hard, one of the features I loved most about her body. She pulled me in by my steely-rod and we started making out. It was like living out the dream of bagging a wet T-shirt contest winner. We playfully explored for a long time. Then Rachel said, "There's more to come." 

When we had dried off she told me, "Go get in bed I'll be there in less than a minute, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer than necessary."

I did as she commanded. As promised, she emerged from the bathroom in about forty seconds, but she wasn't naked. She had on a lacy pair of black panties, but not like anything she had ever worn before. This pair of underwear said kinky loud and clear, they were crotchless! 

The black lace accented her just slightly olive skin, which glistened from the aftermath of our shower. Her long flowing hair fell just shy of her full breast, they seemed plumper than usual. Her hips swayed as she approached me and although I could not see her ass from the bed, I knew how firm and high it was it was always a turn on. I was anticipating putting my hands on each bun and giving her a firm squeeze.

As she moved closer I could see that the panties were not just crotchless, they had a tight elastic frame that exposed her vulva. She had shaved herself close and with the pressure the panties put on the outer lips of her vagina she had the look of a goddess. She whispered, "They make the area more sensitive to your touch." 

I could hardly breathe I was so excited. Then she said, "But before you touch me I want a good spanking; not hard, just enough to make me wetter than I already am. Can you do that for me?"

I couldn't speak, so I shook my head affirmatively. 

As she climbed into bed she said, "So have I surprised you with my erotic approach? Are you ready for me?"

Again all I could muster was a couple of head nods, which made her smile pleased to see how the evening she planned had thrilled me. 

A spank or two or five, if done appropriately at the right time, and especially if requested is one of the sexier things a woman can do with her partner, but for my money nothing beats crotchless panties.

She positioned herself on top and after I applied a few painless slaps she inched up to my face. She put her exposed vulva plumped up by the elastic pressure on the outer lips of her vagina close to my mouth. The panties pushed her labia minora out to meet me. Wet and smelling like peaches from the edible lubricant she applied, she pushed up harder against my lips. "Oh Doug, I love you so."

I responded by parting her vaginal lips, gently lifting the hood of her clitoris, and pleasuring her with abandonment. First, I gently licked her button and she responded with an encouraging moan. Her clit was pulsing and my lips and tongue went to work, my saliva dribbled down her slit. When I let my tongue go lower it brought up the most delicious feminine juices - she was coming and I loved it.

It wasn't long before her hips, which had started pulsing slowly at first gyrated ever more violently. She bent backwards and I reached up cupping both of her breasts. A few minutes later she collapsed forward and pulled away from me panting, the pleasure had become too intense.

Then she flipped over and put us into a sixty-nine position. At first she lay with her head next to my bulging mass of meat while I gazed at her beautiful love hole. She put her hand on me and rubbed my penis along the side of her face then moved her mouth in position to lick my stiffness. I twitched and she repositioned herself to put all of me in her mouth while slipping her buttocks toward me. 

Naturally, I took the bait and put my arms around her legs grabbed her cheeks and spread her open. Her whole pussy was in my mouth, she dripped her deliciousness into me and I drank it like a fine wine. 

In the meanwhile she sucked me so hard I convulsed. My semen rushed into her mouth and she swallowed continuing to play with me using her tongue and cheeks. I moved my still-erect penis slowly in and out of her mouth. She used her tongue to titillate me in between sucking motions and licked up any jism that might have otherwise escaped.

We rolled into a more traditional position. We kissed. Our tongues thrust into the hollows of one another's mouths tasting each other's salty come. Several minutes later she felt me starting to harden again. 

Without saying a word she climbed on top and expertly guided me into her wet pussy. Then with a sea-wave action, she slowly and rhythmically made love to me. Her full breasts touched my face bouncing on me like pillows, nipples hard and firm. I sucked one and then the other. She let out a decadent moan. My hands moved to her hips to help keep the rhythm. 

The waves became more and more forceful. The trusts were deep and hard; they became faster until the rhythm was gone and we burst into chaos! We screamed in unison, "Oh God!"

"Where are you going Hon?"

"Need to use the throne room, be right back."

"You know the night is young do you want to do something?"

"Yeah eat, I'm starved."

"We can go to that place called Legit Fish and Steaks maybe get us some raw oysters and rib eye steaks?"

"Sounds perfect and when we get back..."

"Sure we can startup all over again."

Ding dong, ding dong. "Wonder who that could be?" said Rachel.

"Don't worry I'll get it." Ding dong. "Okay, okay I'm coming."

When I opened the door a chorus of voices sang out. "Hi we're from delta tau delta sorority collecting for Head Start."

Five beautiful young coeds stood there in scant clothing. Their skin was smooth full of color. One had a lollipop, she licked her lips seductively. Another looked down at my manhood. Two were redheaded twins, another two had blonde hair and the fifth girl was a brunette; her hair shined in the moonlight She looked as if she had come directly from a photo shoot for a shampoo company. Five sets of breast filled my line of sight. It was mesmerizing, I was spellbound and then I hit the floor. 

I vaguely heard one of them say, "Look he's fainted."

At that moment my wife came down the stairs, "What happened?" she ran to my side. "Doug are you alright? Someone get a wet cold towel from the kitchen."

Rachel looked up, "Who are you all?"

"We're collecting donations for the Head Start program. When your husband answered the door we told him why we were here and few seconds later he dropped the floor."

Rachel patted my hands and tried to make me come around by squeezing the cold water from the towel on my face. "Help me get him on the couch."

It took four of them to move me. When I awoke everything was blurry. My eyes first focused on Rachel who was kneeling next to me. When I looked upward I saw the five girls all crowed around behind Rachel. I asked, "What are you doing here?"

They giggled and I fainted again.



Six Bells



The fire warning bell mounted high on the station wall rang. One, two, three, four, five, six times it rang. There was a pause. It rang again, six times. In every station throughout the city, firefighters stiffened and fell silent. The bell rang six times for the third time. Prayers went skyward, but the bell rang a final six times.

The loudspeaker came on. "The department regrets to announce..."

A firefighter had died.

* * * * *

Tim Bernard gasped for breath. He strove to keep his legs churning, his eyes fixed on the staircase in front of him. His partner ran beside him, panting with exertion. Laden as both were with full equipment, the six stories of the practice tower seemed to stretch straight up for at least for a mile. 

If neither could spare breath for encouragement, other members of Rescue Squad 32 were vocal in their support. Cheers and demands and loud yells rang through the tower. Over all was the voice of the Battalion Chief, counting the seconds.

"One minute, fifty, fifty-one, fifty two..."

They had to break two minutes and fifteen seconds to win, to become the number one Rescue team in the entire district. They represented their Squad, their station, their Battalion. Tim hooked one hand on the banister, swinging himself around to the final flight of stair. His partner's hand grabbed his harness, using his momentum to catapult up several steps ahead. He shifted his gear and two free hands gripped and pulled each other along.

"Nine, ten, eleven...

With one last lunge they dove through the doorway to the top. The voice cut off with a loud yell of "Two minutes, thirteen!" and the waiting firefighters mobbed them.

As hands pounded him on the back and relieved him of his gear he felt a hand grasp his ear. The fingers pulled him around. He turned and a pair of lips met his, giving him one full blown kiss and then several others on his cheeks.

"Woooohoooooo!" screamed his partner, Firefighter First Class Carrie Southward. She flung her arms around him and bounced up and down. "we did it, we did it, we did it! We're Number One!"

Tim hugged Carrie back, dancing up and down with her. Reluctantly he broke the embrace as Chief Taylor stepped up to them, his face beaming.

"Good job you two!" He surveyed the pair with pride. "Now all you have to do is get ready for the city wide competition. Cut another seven seconds off that time and you'll stand a chance of winning. Judging by all the yelling you're doing there Carrie, you have plenty of spare breath to drag Tim up those stairs a bit faster." He started away and then turned back, a twinkle in his eyes.

"By the way, Tim, you've got lipstick all over your face."

The assembled firefighters laughed. Carrie winked at Tim and surveyed the crowd. "Just marking my partner," she mock growled. "Any one seeing that shade of lipstick had better back off."

The whoops, whistles and yells redoubled. Carrie's best friend Traci Bell's voice rang through the clamor. "Is that a threat or a promise, Carrie?"

"Maybe both," Carrie responded as she and Tim gathered their equipment. She groaned as she surveyed the stairs. "I guess I can't get any brave, sweet firefighter to carry this down for me?" She batted her eyes at the assembled crowd.

Three of the guys offered, two rather eagerly. Tim couldn't blame them. Carrie was attractive, even in the shapeless uniform. She wasn't classically beautiful, but her snub nose and the riot of short, red curls peeking from the brim of her helmet matched her full lips and the impish grin that always seemed to be present. Tim knew well from seeing her around the station that her body was shapely, the muscles that the job demanded making her somehow even more feminine rather than less so.

"Okay you all," Tim pretended to grumble. "To paraphrase someone who was just speaking, 'That's MY partner'. All you starry-eyed guys back off. Besides, Carrie," his eyes twinkled, "How about you show some of that liberated self-sufficient woman you are supposed to be and carry your own gear?"

"Why, Timothy," Carrie batted her eyelashes at her partner as she hoisted her load to her shoulder. "Are you jealous?"

Tim opened his mouth for an indignant denial. Then he grinned sheepishly. "Maybe I am," he admitted. 

"Well," she suddenly surprised him as her expression grew serious. "Maybe it's about darn time you are."

Tim was rocked. He wondered if Carrie had guessed the feelings that had been growing inside him for the past few months. They had been partners for almost a year now. He had been a bit surprised to get a female partner, but knew that she had to meet the same physical, mental and emotional standards as any male firefighter in order to be assigned to a Rescue Squad

For her part, Carrie had also felt the attraction between them. That attraction seemed to be building every day that they worked together, every hour that they spent in station and every minute they spent in their truck. As she suspected Tim had, Carrie had fought it at first, reminding herself that partners should never get involved, be it romantically or even simply physically.

Fighting it hadn't helped. It was too darn easy to be attracted to Tim. He was tall, well, taller than her anyway. He had an easy grin and great, friendly nature to go along with his good looks. He had that "Jimmy Stewart awww shucks" attitude that made him friends everywhere, including quite a few members of the opposite sex, most of whom she firmly believed were much better looking than she. She figured one advantage she had was that Tim's attitude was no put-on; he really was as modest and unassuming as he appeared and didn't realize how those other females hung on him.

Carrie blushed to herself about one other thing. One day she had darted into the guys' sleeping area to get a book that one of the other firefighters had borrowed and had forgotten to return. As she scampered out she had heard the door to the men's shower close. Unable to resist she had looked back to see Tim crossing the room to his bunk, clad only in a towel. She had drunk in his lean, muscular build. Then the towel had gapped at his leg and she had seen his cock. While she was hardly a virgin, nor someone who was impressed by size alone, she had decided he was very nicely equipped there.

She would have been relieved, as well as probably quite amused, had she known that Tim was in a similar quandary. He had been drawn to Carrie first as a partner, someone he had found he could trust and depend on in any situation. He enjoyed her continual sense of humor, her ability to relax those around her in the tightest situation with a wisecrack. She also had tremendous compassion and the willingness to use it regardless of the situation. 

Tim had really begun to appreciate that side of Carrie the day that he and another team struggled to extract two children from the back seat of an overturned car lying in a ditch. While the three men fought with the jaws of life, Carrie had managed to wiggle through a small gap in the shattered back window. For what seemed like hours she had hung upside down, holding the children's hands, talking and singing to them, and keeping their minds occupied until Tim and the others had freed them. Then she rode in the ambulance with them to the hospital and stayed with them while they were treated. and then waited with them until their father arrived and their mother was out of surgery.

Tim, to his regret, had never seen Carrie in a towel. However, during a Fire/Police Department competition for charity he had the opportunity to watch Carrie participate in a couple of races. Since it was a very warm summer afternoon, she had been wearing only running shoes, a loose tank top and VERY short nylon shorts. In fact, Tim's only problem had been his desire to watch Carrie's supple, strong legs and at the same time keep his eyes on her top, where her nipples were quite apparent through the sweat soaked material.

Tim couldn't understand why Carrie seemed to feel that she was a "Plain-Jane". Often when they went out for a beer or to eat after their shift, guys would hit on her. Good-looking guys, much more so than Tim considered himself to be. She always seemed to brush them off. It drove him crazy that she couldn't seem to see just how lovely she really was.

Finally the day came that their hidden feelings would bubble to the surface. It occurred when returning from a false alarm one day. Automatically monitoring the radio traffic while chatting, both of them recognized the address for a fire call involving trapped civilians.

"That call is practically right around the corner," exclaimed Tim. "Report us in on it."

Carrie nodded and grabbed the mike as Tim flipped the red lights and siren on. "Dispatch, this is Rescue 15. We're two minutes out." Tim stomped on the gas and Carrie corrected, "Make that one minute, Dispatch."

The truck squealed around a corner. The column of smoke was obvious from blocks away. They roared up to the wooden two story house, already furiously on fire. As they jumped out a woman ran up to them screaming.

"My children! My children! Oh God, please!"

As Tim grabbed the breathing gear from the side locker, Carrie swiftly gathered the information on the two children, more from a neighbor than the understandably hysterical woman. The pair of firefighters ran towards the house as Carrie filled Tim on the situation.

"Two girls. Their bedroom is at the top of the stairs on the left. They were taking a nap."

Tim nodded as they rushed through the front door, already smoldering. They both took the situation in with one quick glance. The lower floor was almost fully engulfed and the stairs felt shaky as they mounted them. 

"No time to wait for a ladder truck," Tim yelled.

The house lurched. Both firefighters ignored the warning sign. Carrie placed the flat of her hand against the panels of the first closed door they came to at the top of the stairs. Finding it cool she flung it open.

Tim had snapped the end of the line to the banister. Crouching right behind Carrie, he followed her into the room.

"Counter-clockwise sweep," he told her, as he let the line out from the reel attached to his belt. Carrie nodded and the search began. She opened a closet door and checked it as Tim's hand touched the edge of a bed through the smoke.

"No one," she reported as she continued along the wall. 

Tim didn't find anyone on the bed or under that side of it. Continuing their sweep, Tim ran his hand under the bed as they crawled rapidly along the quivering floor.

"I found another door, probably a bathroom" Carrie's voice came through the thick smoke. Just as Tim made to follow the barely visible luminous strip on the back of her helmet, his hand bumped into something.

"Wait a sec, I've got something." Burrowing under the bed he felt a limp hand. Grasping it he gave a heave a small form slid from the bed and into his arms.

"One down."

Clutching the little girl, Tim remained right behind Carrie as they neared the bathroom. Carrie's ears picked up a cough. She grabbed the handle she found.

"Locked. Shit." She rattled the door furiously. They galvanized as the coughing stopped. Carrie rose from her crouch and slammed her body shoulder first into the door. She bounced back, the door quivering but remaining closed. She drove against it again, feeling the lock beginning to give way.

"Carrie!" Tim's shout brought her head around as the doorway they had entered burst into flames. Tim felt the reel slacken and realized the safety line had been burned through.

"I hope that bathroom's got a window!" She yelled as she threw herself one more time against the door.

There was a crash and the door lock burst. The two firefighters stumbled into the tiled floor room. Carrie scooped up the second little girl as Tim kicked the door closed behind them.

"THERE." Tim snatched a short handled tool from his belt. Swinging it like a hammer he smashed the window while shielding the child in his arms as best as he could. He cleared the frame of glass and then knocked the frame itself out while Carrie reached back to touch the doorknob behind them.

"Shit," she mumbled. The building shook and the two fought to regain their balance as the floor beneath them began to tilt. "Holy shit. It's going."

There was a slamming noise as the tip of a ladder hit the broken window sill. A pair of arms reached out. Carrie passed her burden to the firefighter on the ladder, who squirmed back out of sight. She swung out of the window and turned to take the child from Tim's arms. 

Carrie screamed as the floor started to collapse under Tim's feet. He staggered and threw the child to Carrie. As the tiles fell away from his feet he leaped and caught the last rung of the ladder with one hand. He clung there as the motor on the truck below engaged and began to swing them to safety.

Carrie locked one arm around her precious cargo, pinning the little girl against the ladder with her own body. She made a frantic grab with the other hand as Tim was lifted out of the window, still clinging with just one hand. The other arm hung limply from the blow of a falling beam.

Stretching as far as she dared, Carrie caught the collar of Tim's coat. She clung to him, yelling at him. "Don't you let go, damn you. Hold on." Tim seemed dazed and she could see marks on his helmet indicating he had been struck by falling debris there as well as on the arm. She shouted louder, forgetting the radio was on and transmitting all her words. "Tim, TIM, hold on. Don't let go, please, don't. Hold on darling. Don't fall, damn it. Tim! I love you, please God, make him hold on." She herself refused to let go of his coat. Even when the ladder had swung around and lowered she continued to grasp Tim.

"Carrie, Carrie, I'm okay." Tim's voice finally penetrated. Her fingers uncurled and she blinked. As though it weighed a ton, she managed to doff her helmet and breathing gear. "I just took a rap or two, kinda stunned me."

A rush of bodies surrounded them. The first little girl had already been carried to a waiting ambulance where she was sitting up, breathing through an oxygen mask. As the firefighters watched, the second child was brought to her sister's side and both were nearly smothered by the happily weeping mother.

The EMT who had hustled over to them pulled off Tim's gear and quickly but carefully examined him. "No broken bones,' she said briskly, although you're going to be sore for a few days." She checked his pupils with her light. "No signs of a concussion."

"My head's too hard." Tim grinned.

Carrie snorted, "More like there's nothing in there to be damaged."

"Well, you're going to be fine." He nodded towards the ambulance, where another EMT smiled and flipped them a "thumbs up". "And it looks like both girls will be fine." 

"Thank God," smiled Tim.

"Thank God indeed," Carrie responded. Only Tim realized that her eyes were not on the ambulance, but on him.

By the time they had returned to the station and cleaned and stored their equipment and cleaned themselves up also, their shift was long over.

"DO you want to go for a beer?" Tim asked his partner.

Carrie smiled tiredly. "I think I'm just going to go home and stretch out in a hot tub for about twelve hours."

Tim started his car and looked over at Carrie. She was sitting in her truck behind the steering wheel but had not started the engine. Concern flared as she just continued to sit there. Finally he turned his car off and got out. He walked quickly to her.

Carrie was staring out of the windshield, her eyes not focused on anything. She was shaking.

"Carrie," he said quietly. She looked at him. He opened the door. "Slide over." When she did he climbed in behind the wheel. "Fasten your seatbelt." As she complied mechanically, he started the truck and drove to her apartment. Once there he waited patiently as she unlocked the door and followed her inside.

"Maybe we better have that beer after all," she managed to smile jerkily over her shoulder at him.

"I think that would be a good idea."

Tim had been in Carrie's apartment quite often over the last year. Sometimes they had hosted other firefighters, their wives, husbands and dates at parties. Sometimes they used Tim's house, sometimes this apartment. Since the apartment was closer to the station, Tim had often picked Carrie up on the way. He had even spent the night more than once, sleeping on the couch.

This time was different though. There was a tension between them that had never been present before, even when they were first partnered. The apartment was silent as they sat on the couch and sipped on the beer that Carrie had brought.

Carrie's mind was a whirl. Thoughts of Tim barely holding on to the ladder mixed with imaginary scenes of him falling into the collapsing house. She shivered.

"What's wrong, Carrie?" Tim asked. Seeing she was shaking he scooped up a knitted afghan from the back of the couch and draped it over her shoulders. She shook her head. The touch of his hand on hers made her look up and into his dark brown eyes.

"Carrie." She was surprised at the quiet passion in his voice, and how that passion was reflected in his eyes. "Carrie, I heard what you said on the ladder."

"Oh God," her hand flew to her mouth and she turned as red as her flaming hair. The afghan fell from her shoulders to the floor as she suddenly stood, preparing to bolt.

As fast as she was, Tim was on his feet just as fast. He grasped Carrie's hand, stopping her. She stood still. She was shaking again, but this time from a different cause. Slowly, she turned and looked at him. 

"I thought I was going to lose you." She whispered. She drew closer to him, placing her hands on his chest and looking up at him. "I can't accept the idea of you leaving me alone."

He brushed at her curls with one hand. "Never," he said softly. He drew her to him, wrapping her in his arms, as he had wanted for so long. He bent his head and his lips searched for hers.

Carrie stood on her toes and her mouth met his, the lips already parted. They kissed, gently and softly. Lips pulled on lips, savoring the long awaited feeling. Then Carrie's tongue slipped into Tim's mouth and the kiss became deeper and demanding.

At the same time, hands that had brushed over sides and slid along backs began to pull at clothing and work their way to the other's skin. Carrie unbuttoned Tim's shirt, pushing it over his shoulders until her fingers could touch his chest. Tim moaned slightly as those fingers pulled his shirt-tail out and slid around and up to rub the tight muscles of his shoulders. Carrie's hands were not the smooth, silky hands of lotion commercials and fashion models. They were work-hardened, and Tim thought their touch was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.

Carrie finally managed to pull Tim's shirt off. Tim touched Carrie's face with his fingertips before following the line of her jaw and then dropping to the open vee of her blouse. One by one his fingers undid the buttons. His fingers traced the top of the cups of her bra and she shivered, her own hands running up and down his body.

Tim dipped his head and his tongue replaced his fingers at the top of Carrie's bra. He pressed his tongue down into the valley of her breasts, then slipped to one side and began to gently nibble her nipple through the bra. Carrie moaned softly, her nipple hard against the now wet cotton.

"You like that don't you," Tim mock growled before shifting to tease the other nipple.

Carrie giggled and grasped Tim by his ears. "Yes, and I'll like it even better if you get that damn bra out of the way, big boy."

Tim's hands were already fumbling at the catches. "Your wish, my love, is my command." He growled in frustration as his one-handed attempt to free her breasts failed and he had to circle her with both arms to get her bra loose. Not that Carrie minded his arms around her. But as she shook her bra down her arms and flipped it across the room she proceeded to pull Tim's face back to her and almost yelled in pleasure as his mouth fully engulfed her now exposed breast.




Six Bells



Carrie released Tim's ears and simply began to run her fingers through his close cropped hair as he continued to suckle first one breast and then the other. One hand remained on her back, slipping lower until his fingertips slid under the top of her jeans and under her panties to stroke the top of her bottom. She felt his other hand creep down over her flat tummy to the top button of her jeans.

Carrie managed to pry off the running shoes that she wore just as Tim's hands freed her jeans and pushed them down her legs. She tried and failed to reach Tim's jeans and whined in frustration. Those whines ceased with an audible gasp as Tim's knees began to give way and his lips traveled down over her belly. All she could do was grasp his shoulders as his kisses trailed over her quivering belly and down to the dampness that was fast soaking her panties.

Tim's head reeled at the scent of arousal he detected from Carrie. He kissed the center of her panties, then his fingers gripped the hem and in one swift movement he pushed them down to her ankles, where her jeans still trapped her feet. His hands slid slowly back up her legs, stroking and caressing them as they went until they gripped her ass.

Carrie balanced on first one foot and then the other as she struggled out of the remainder of her clothing. She gasped loudly again as Tim's tongue slipped into her. His mouth covered her and she pulled on the back of his head, her legs parted, urging him on. His fingers tightened on her ass, splayed across the firm cheeks. His right index finger crept into her cleft and she ground herself against his face as it scraped back and forth over her puckered hole.

Carrie's world narrowed down to nothing more than Tim. His finger did no more than tease her backdoor entry while his tongue penetrated her. He rubbed his face in between her legs. His tongue slipped up along her pussy to touch her clitoris and that first touch made electricity shoot throughout her body. Rising onto her toes again, she ground herself against his face, her fingers locked in his hair as she gasped and murmured his name over and over, her voice growing higher and louder.

"Tim, please, Tim. Oh God Tim, Tim, Timmmm," her words trailed off as he brought her to the edge, and pushed her over."

Tim sprang to his feet as Carrie's shudders began to slow. Sweeping her in his arms he carried her to the bedroom. Their mouths met again and he shared the delicious taste of her. He carefully lowered her to the bed. She stretched out, the red curls on her head matching the soaked curly red curls between her legs where Tim had just been.

Tim feasted his eyes on her. She was all he had wanted for what seemed like so long now, and now she was his. He tore his jeans and shoes off. With a mischievous grin Carrie suddenly reached out and grasped his cock as he balanced on one foot. With a strangled yell, Tim toppled onto the bed as Carrie pulled on him, giggling wildly.

Whether accidentally or on purpose, Tim crashed on top of Carrie. With a fiendish grin, she wiggled from under him and when he rolled onto his back in surprise, she suddenly straddled him. Her hand still gripped his cock, the shaft sticking up right at the junction of her legs. She leaned forward to kiss him and pressed the length of his shaft between them. He could feel the wetness from her pussy on him as she began to slide slightly up and down.

Tim waved his arms helplessly as Carrie continued to ride his cock. Finally he reached around and managed to grip her hips. She shifted her body, her lips never losing touch with his. She raised her hips and then settled back down, engulfing his shaft into her wet warm sheath.

Tim could only lay there as Carrie's strong lithe body slid back and forth on him. Her breasts were tight against his chest, her knees rocking her faster and faster on top of him, each movement sliding his cock inside of her. She became faster and faster and then suddenly rose to bounce wildly on top of him. His hands pulled her down each time and she ground her hips in a circle on him. He cried out as he felt himself throb with his imminent release.

"Carrie!"

"Tim!"

She slammed down on him one more time and fell back on him. He wrapped his arms around her and thrust upwards one time as he came deep inside her. She moaned deeply and added her woman's juices to mingle with the hotness he gave her.

When the quivering had ceased, Carrie rolled onto the bed and snuggled up against him. He cradled her in his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"Minx" He said softly.

There was a soft, sleepy giggle. "You've really got my lipstick all over your face this time."

"Good."

Hours later, the rays of the morning sun crept over them, tangled together among the sheets of the bed. Carrie rested her head on Tim's chest, her arm flung over him. She tilted her head up to see him looking down at her, a smile on his face.

"Morning," she said. She lowered her head to his chest and kissed him there. Tim caught her chin and lifted her face back to his and kissed her.

"Good morning." She enjoyed the kiss for a long, sweet moment before sitting up on the bed beside him.

"Tim," she faltered. "About last night..."

He shook his head and took her hand. "I know we were very emotional yesterday. But I'm going to ask you one simple question." At her hesitant nod he went on, "Did you mean what you said on the ladder yesterday. Yes or no?"

This time Carrie didn't attempt to flee or turn away. She looked Tim right in the eyes and said, "Yes."

"Good." Tim replied. He sat up and cupped her face with his other hand, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "Because I love you too Carrie Southward."

"So, what do we do now, Tim?"

"Well, first of all, I guess we have to find one or the other of us a different job in the department."

"Why is that Tim?"

"The department has regulations, you know. Married couples are not allowed to work in the same company, much less be partners." He scanned her face to see her reaction. 

Looking very thoughtful, Carrie took a moment to reply. "I guess it will have to be me then."

"Why is that?" Tim was confused. He thought she would react much more strongly than she had.

"Silly. They'll transfer me to a desk job anyway as soon as we start having children." She paused. "Unless, of course, YOU are planning on becoming pregnant."

Tim laughed so hard he almost cried. Carrie joined him, making no effort to stem the tears of joy that ran down her face.

"One promise though, Tim."

"Anything, sweetheart."

"I was also serious about something else yesterday. You don't get killed and leave me alone."

Tim drew her down into his arms, kissing her with a fierce passion. "I promise. Together forever."

* * * * *

It was one of the worst fires in the city's history. An ancient hospital that should have been torn down two decades before had burned. The interior was a labyrinth of winding corridors and small rooms, of narrow stairwells and dead end hallways. The first responding Battalion Chief had taken one look and sounded the five alarm call.

Rescue crews had poured into the building, evacuating patients and staff alike. The ladder and engine companies had gone about their duties but the fire was almost impossible to pin down. It hid from them, springing up from unexpected places as though making sneak attacks.

Then the rescue had become personal as one team reported itself cut off and trapped. A head count had showed a nurse missing from the neo-natal section and that team had gone in to search. The radio transmission faltered and then stopped.

The firefighters forced their way through the blinding smoke. They wanted to be frantic, they knew they had to be professional. Halogen hand lights barely scratched the suffocating gloom. Agonizing minutes flew by until they were able to reach the area the team had reported as its last location.

They were still there. The evidence, mute though it was, showed what had happened. A wall had collapsed, pinning one team member under medical equipment and a huge storage locker. The same shower of debris had wrecked the breathing apparatus of the other member.

Cuts and burns on the one member's hands showed the futile attempts to free the other. Indeed, it took five men to shift the locker far enough to pull the pinned one free. The team had been faced with a cruel and impossible dilemma. One couldn't move but had breathable air. The other was mobile but could never have made it out of the smoke without a breathing tank. The pinned one had made an effort to take off the functioning apparatus but had not made it.

They lay face to face, their fingers intertwined as they held hands at the end. The single mask lay between their faces, the soft chiming of the alarm still sounding. They had buddy-breathed until the air ran out and the toxic fumes had overcome them. Which one had been trapped was not important. The rescuers knew that neither one would have left the other.

The rescuers carefully and tenderly freed the bodies. A weeping Captain wiped clean both faces. All who stood there noted that even in the last terrible extremity, a look of peace and even contentment was on both faces. A touch of lipstick showed on Tim's lips, transferred by Carrie's final kiss.

Six Bells.

Six Bells.

Six Bells.

Six Bells.

(The End)

(God bless all Firefighters, Police Officers, EMT's, Search and Rescue Team Members, Lifesavers and all those who daily face the dangers of keeping the rest of us safe. They always make me think of the old unofficial Coast Guard motto. "We have to go out." Nothing is said about having to come back. But they go anyway. And sometimes they don't come back.)