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Summer Stock

By: Gary Chambers



I’ve written this story in my journal many times. Each time I tell this tale to myself, I remember another half forgotten detail about the wonderful woman who taught me how to make wild, passionate love. I know I will never tire of repeating this story.

Arlene Calvin was the love of my life. Yes, that’s right, Arlene Calvin; the famous actress you see on late night talk shows and the covers of supermarket tabloids. These days she’s best known for her TV appearances as a zap-gun toting, science fiction sex symbol. In each show she glides across the small screen, living fast and loving even faster. I read the other day that she gets about two million dollars per movie now and even more for her TV series, but when I met her she was doing summer stock theatre for a thousand dollars a week.

I wasn’t a virgin when Arlene Calvin took me to her bed, but I may as well have been. One fumbling fornication in the back of the family mini van on senior prom night, and that was it: the sum total of my experience with women. That girl’s name was Olga Praski, and she was no more experienced than I was. We were just two young people eager to celebrate our high school graduation. Olga and I would probably have gone immediately onto bigger things, including marriage and a family, if it hadn’t been for my summer job. Taking that job was how I met Arlene.

I’d signed up for a government subsidised employment program which provided summer jobs for college bound students. The pay was terrible, but the jobs were often interesting adventures. Eager to experience something different, I applied for a position as a stagehand at a theatre in San Francisco. I knew even less about theatre than I did about sex, but being unskilled worked in my favour. The theatre could say it was training an unemployable, which was a requirement to qualify for other federal arts grants. That’s why I left a teary eyed Olga Praski waving goodbye to me at the Greyhound depot, and headed off to meet the love of my life in California.

The Rex was an old vaudeville hall, saved from the wrecking ball and partially refurbished by a small group of influential theatre lovers. It managed to stay solvent with its annual government grants plus box office revenues from a string of silly but popular comedies. The show staged that summer was called The Sorcerer’s Sex Life. It was a corny story about a Victorian magician who couldn’t get anywhere with women, because his truly magical assistant would always get jealous and mess up his relationships. It was a bit like that old TV show, I Dream of Jeannie. Arlene Calvin played the naughty assistant, but I was the only one who knew how incredibly naughty she really was.

Each time the magician was about to accomplish a seduction, Arlene’s character would enter, invisible to the lovers, and do something wicked to extinguish the couple’s passion. Then she’d vanish in a cloud of smoke leaving the audience roaring with laughter. There were four trap doors in the floor of the old stage, and each time Arlene had to vanish, she’d drop through one of these openings. Arlene would stand over a trap door, with her feet on taped marks to the sides of the hinged panels. Her Victorian costume hid the trap door from view, so someone could open it from below as she delivered her exit lines. When the puff of smoke appeared, Arlene would spring up a few inches and snap her heels together, plunging through the floor.  Growing up on a farm in North Dakota, there had always been lots of heavy chores to do, which left me with a sturdy physique, so I was chosen as the stagehand to open the spring loaded trap door, set its automatic closing device, and catch Arlene Calvin as she fell. If I had known this task was to be mine all summer long, I’d have gladly taken the job without pay.

There were only two ways to access the room below the stage. One was to enter from a door in the orchestra pit. This was impossible during a show, because there was no room to move around the musicians, and it would have been too distracting for the audience anyway. The other access was a door at the back of the stage cellar, which opened at the bottom of a winding metal staircase. The stairs led up to a landing one floor above the stage. From that landing one could take a fire access out of the building, or another door into the stairway to the dressing rooms, but there was no direct access to backstage. As a result, the stage manager didn’t expect me back in a hurry after Arlene’s exits, and there was no easy way for him to make sure I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation. Catching Arlene four times a night, therefore, meant four lengthy breaks from more mundane backstage duties. That was a bonus in itself, but it wasn’t the greatest benefit of the job.

We began with a week of intensive rehearsals. Arlene usually dressed in slacks, and a sweater or blouse for the rehearsals. Like most actresses she’s an athletic woman, but the bright floodlights would leave her partially blinded and disoriented when she fell into the darkness under the stage. She relied totally on me to catch her or help her keep her balance, before she landed on the huge bean bag under the trap door. The director was terrified Arlene would twist an ankle landing on that bean bag, so he asked me to catch her every time, and I was happy to oblige. Before the rehearsal week was over, there was scarcely an inch of Arlene Calvin’s voluptuous body that had not slid into my waiting grasp.

The last few rehearsals were performed in full dress. When she fell through in full Victorian costume, her long skirt would flare and envelope me. The tight Victorian waist of the costume was actually made of loose elastic and fastened with Velcro, so there wasn’t much chance of me getting a neck injury. I was concerned, however, that if I remained upright her skirt would become entangled with my head and shoulders, and prevent her from descending all the way to the bean bag. That would have resulted in her receiving a bang on the head from the trap door as it sprang shut. To evade that possibility we agreed that I should fall with her into the bean bag, with my head and torso still under her skirt. This wasn’t as exciting as it sounds, because underneath the costume she wore a two piece flesh coloured Spandex body leotard, and as soon as we landed she would pause briefly to retrieve her hem, recover her eyesight, then dash off to prepare for her next entry. The playwright had written the scenes so she had plenty of time after each of these difficult exits before making her next entry, but with opening night angst rising steadily, Arlene’s nerves would not allow her to relax for a moment during rehearsals.

Opening night was even more frantic. I was as jittery as the rest of the cast and crew; anxious to get everything right, and worried that I would be the one to make the blunder that would ruin the entire show. When Arlene fell into my arms that night I noticed immediately that she was drenched with perspiration. It was soaking right through the Spandex.

“Arlene you’re wringing wet. How can you act properly when you’re soaked like this?” I asked as we sat on the bean bag after her smokey exit. Naive little me was genuinely concerned that she might overheat and collapse on stage.

She stared at me, her eyes glazing as they adjusted to the darkness.

“Does my sweaty body bother you?” she quipped coldly. I was glad it was so dark under the stage, because I felt myself blushing like a ten-year-old.

“Of course not. It’s very...”

The words still in my head tied my tongue in a knot. I almost told Arlene Calvin, who had already appeared on both the Oprah Winfrey and Letterman shows, that I enjoyed the feel of her sweaty body. My stoic prairie upbringing, however, prevented me from completing the brazen sentence. Arlene obviously understood my discomfort. She smiled warmly, leaned toward me and gave me a peck on the cheek.

“You’re sweet,” she said, “and you’re right. It’s far too hot up there.”

She gathered up her hem and dashed off to her dressing room as she had during the dress rehearsals. Arlene had three more exits like that on opening night, and they all went much the same way. A saturated actress would drop into my arms, my hands sliding over the Spandex until I could grip her somewhere in the vicinity of her ribcage. Then we would fall together onto the bean bag, my face pressed against the wet fabric. Neither of us mentioned her obvious discomfort again that night. We both continued with our work like seasoned professionals.

Opening night of The Sorcerer’s Sex Life was a success. The reviewers in the next day’s papers and TV news shows all made glowing remarks about the show and Arlene’s performance. Suitably encouraged by these kudos, we all settled into a more relaxed routine, and for Arlene this meant a slight change to her costume on the second night. She still wore the top half of the Spandex body suit, but the leggings were replaced by tights of a lighter and cooler fabric. The only difference the tights made was that now my fingers caught on the finer fabric.

“Did that feel better?’ she asked mischievously as soon as I had extricated myself from beneath her dress.

I managed a polite answer. “I hope it’s cooler for you, but you’ll have to excuse my fingers getting caught in the tights,” I warned.

“Hmm,” she murmured thoughtfully, “we’ll have to work on that problem.”

On the third night, as I heard Arlene delivering the cue line for her first plunging exit, I opened the trap door and glanced up. To my surprise, and utter delight, both the Spandex and lighter nylon leotards were absent. Above her Victorian shoes and black calf length stockings Arlene’s legs were bare. With her feet spread apart, I had a clear view up her inner thighs all the way to her silk panties.

When she dropped through the trap door and my hands grabbed for her legs, the silky smoothness of her moist skin slithered through my fingers a little too quickly. I had to tighten my grip to break her fall, and even then my left hand ended up clutching her right breast. After we collapsed onto the bean bag, she waited for me to untangle herself from her costume. When I came out from beneath the hem of her dress she was sitting up and grinning at me like a naughty elf.

“That was the best yet,” she remarked, “although I hope the feel of my sweaty legs doesn’t disgust you too badly.”

I was becoming used to her game by this time. Not only did I manage to avoid blushing, but I also came up with a more appropriate answer to her suggestive comment.

“Nothing about you disgusts me, Arlene. I’m only concerned that you might melt under those hot lights.”

“It’s all for art, darling,” she said, affecting a stereotypical thespian’s manner. “That’s a risk I have to run, but it’s nice to know you’re always down here ready to catch my dehydrated remains,” she chuckled before vanishing again into the darkness.

I was sharing a room near the theatre with two other members of the crew, and I spent a difficult night in my bunk after that third performance. Arlene Calvin was consuming my mind; causing me to imagine all kinds of improbable relationships between us. It took me hours to get to sleep. My johnson remained stiff no matter how hard I tried to drive her from my mind. When I awoke in the next morning my bed sheet was sticky with cum.

As I waited for Arlene’s first exit on the fourth night, my head was filled with anticipation at what might greet me when I pulled the rope to open the trap door. As I had been in bed the night before, I was as hard as iron below my belt. Then she started the cue line, and I pulled the rope to swing the hatch open.

For a split second I thought she’d done away with her briefs entirely, because her beautiful round buttocks were as bare as her thighs. Then I noticed the deep red fabric of her g-string covering her vagina. My fascination with her backside was half torture and half rapture. I secured the automatic closing device, then reached my arms over my head and aimed my outstretched hands at her prize Hollywood heinie. Seconds later she was dropping into my arms again. Hands slid over damp legs as I pulled her tighter to me than on any previous occasion. Then her soft rump was clutched in my hands. I squeezed and pulled her tighter still, so my hands rubbed more slowly over her buttocks as we fell into the bean bag. Arlene snapped the hem of her dress back to get me out from under the fabric, only to grab my hair and plant a hard kiss on my lips.

“You’re getting very good at this,” she panted. “These exits could become my favourite part of this show.”

“They’re already my favourite part,” I assured her.

By the fifth night I was having no problem convincing myself that Arlene Calvin was taking over Olga Praski’s role in my life. As soon as she started her first exit cue line, I again opened the hatch and gazed up. Things looked exactly the same as the night before: bare legs and buns and the tiny g-string covering only her carnal chalice. Arlene dropped through the hole and I repeated my performance of the previous evening, ending with a firm grip on her plush buttocks. She giggled as we landed on the bean bag.

“I’m safe now, thank you,” she said. “You can let go of my bum if you like.”

I did let go, of course, but warned her not offer me a choice in the future, in case I decided to hang on for a while.

“Oh, you think so, do you?” Arlene admonished playfully. “You’re getting a little too naughty. I’ll have to fix that. I can’t spend the entire second act with a stagehand attached to my backside.”

Her second exit that night started out exactly the same way, when she fell into my grip she felt different, and with my head under her dress as usual, I also detected a new aroma. I’d already learned to hold my breath before she dropped, so I could inhale more deeply the sweet scent of her sizzling womanhood. This time, however,  Arlene had rubbed a thin coat of baby oil over her legs and torso, so she slid through my hands like a wet bar of soap, and we landed on the bean bag in the most erotic position yet.

My arms slid all the way through the elastic waist of her costume. My head was still beneath her clouts, and had dragged the dress almost entirely above her hips, but my grip was now on her ribs and tits. I slid out from underneath the fabric, brushing my fingertips over her firm nipples as I extracted myself. Arlene didn’t move. She remained stretched out on the bean bag, her legs and abdomen uncovered except for the g-string. There was only one red light bulb shining under the stage, and it bathed her oiled flesh in it’s soft rays. Her beautiful legs shimmered like red chrome. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

Arlene lifted her left foot to my neck and ran the toe of her Victorian boot slowly down the front of my shirt, across my belt buckle to my groin, where she pressed her sole against my concrete boner. Then she uttered a very theatrical sigh, lifted herself off the bean bag and scurried away into the darkness. If all this seems like an erotic adventure in itself, it was nothing compared to night number six beneath the stage of The Rex theatre. Everything up to that point had been games; games for adults, yes, but games nevertheless. On the sixth night those games ended. Arlene Calvin and I became serious lovers.

It was her first trap door exit of the night and I had no idea what to expect. If Arlene stayed true to her established form, there would be some new and interesting little treat in store, but I could only imagine what would come next. I knew what I wanted to find. I’d even dreamed about it the night before, but this was still a game and Arlene Calvin was still in total control. There was no way to tell whether she would offer the gift I craved, but as she began her cue line and I pulled the trap door open, the sight waiting for me above was more than I had hoped for.

I looked up into the tent of her dress. It’s thin cloth was no match for the powerful floodlights. Although her hem reached almost to the stage floor, light shone through the fabric illuminating her lower body. As before her legs were bare from just below her knees upward and her heavenly hams were as naked as nature intended. This time, however, Arlene’s nudity did not end there. The g-string was gone, revealing the full length of the hedonist’s highway, stretching from the crevice of her butt to the mound of hair at her front end. My heart pounded with excitement as I stared with anticipatory glee at Arlene Calvin’s venerable vent.

Breaking her fall my arms once again forced their way beneath the elastic waist band so dropped to the bean bag fondling her breasts. Once again her hem rose to a glorious new height just above her belly-button. My face landed inches from her tuft of pussy wool. I wanted to stay there beneath her dress all night, inhaling her natural perfume, before exploring her with my fingers and tongue, but Arlene was tugging at me. Before I could get free of her costume she had her legs wrapped around me, and moments later we were embracing and kissing like a pair of sex starved wood nymphs.

I kneaded her breasts and rubbed her nipples between my fingers, as Arlene ground her privates against my pussy heater, smearing her aromatic juices onto my stagehand’s black jeans. My hand eagerly reached for my belt to unhitch myself ready for a quickie, but she pulled it back to her breast.

“Not this time. Have patience my dear. I have three more exits in this performance, just enough for oral sex both ways and a damned good fuck.”

I can vouch that the screen star, Arlene Calvin, is a woman of her word, as well as a star of outstanding talent and beauty. In her second fall from the stage she held my head down at her abdomen as she raised her dress for a clearer view. Without hesitation I gave her exactly what she wanted. My mouth covered most of her vagina as my tongue slopped happily over her labia and clitoris. Arlene rolled her weight back onto her shoulders enabling me to lift her abdomen into the air, where I could lick the full length of her business end from her pink bud to her back entrance. Musky juices overflowed from her and mixed with my profuse saliva, as she spread her legs wide in the air and moaned with pleasure. We could hear the other actors going through lines and stage blocking above, so with typical professional courtesy, Arlene kept her lips pressed tightly together as she reached her climax, breathing a sigh of orgasmic proportion only through her nostrils.

When she had regained her composure Arlene sat up and kissed me quickly.

“Next time why don’t you take your jeans off before my exit?” she suggested, “and make sure your cock is ready, because I want to suck it until you beg for mercy.”

“No problem there. I’ve had a permanent hard-on ever since you took off the Spandex.”

She laughed mischievously. One last kiss and again she darted off to her dressing room.

For her second exit I was ready as we’d planned, and I couldn’t believe her agility as she slid through my arms. Half blinded by the sudden change from light to dark, she still managed to swallow my luncheon meat even before we were collapsed on the bean bag. Olga had given me a few blow jobs back in North Dakota, but they were nothing like the Arlene Calvin version. From the moment she took my dick into her mouth, I was in a pleasant state of mild shock. I couldn’t believe that anyone’s mouth could operate like Arlene’s. It was a pleasure appliance. Palate; teeth; inner cheeks and lips, not a square millimeter of her mouth was left uninvolved in the quest to bring me pleasure. Her head bobbed up and down, sometimes taking the tip of my penis so deep inside I thought it must surely be blocking her throat.

As I began to climax she moved one hand to my face and placed her forefinger over my lips to remind me to cum quietly. As she had demonstrated earlier, I kept my lips pursed allowing grunts and moans only through my nose. I wanted to shout with delight when my hot load spurted, but Arlene was not letting up. She sucked harder and faster, taking every drop of cum should could plumb from me. The pork soldier shriveled to less than a dried up breakfast sausage, yet still she would not let go. That feminine mouth that spoke theatrical lines with such artistic excellence now fought to distinguish itself as a world class manufacturer of male rapture. My cock felt like a ripe tomatoe that had been crushed for Bolognese sauce. In desperation I grabbed for her hair and pulled her off me, and she came up laughing like a tickled schoolgirl.


Summer Stock



It took a few minutes for both of us to regain some energy and composure. She stood up ready to leave for her dressing room. I was still too enthralled to move. Arlene didn’t dash away. She gazed at my limp pecker and grinned.

“It doesn’t look very well. I hope you can get it working again for the second act,” she said. “I think I deserve a good fuck with a healthy dick.”

“You deserve a lot more than that. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“I think it would be fun to get totally naked. How about you?”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“See you later,” she said, and sauntered off to the back stairway.

Arlene’s final trap door exit was about twenty minutes into the second act. We seldom saw each other during the intermission, because stage hands were always too busy setting the stage for the next act. There was a gap of about thirty minutes between our third and fourth encounters beneath the stage each evening. On that sixth evening I spent the entire time obsessed with planning every detail of my seduction of Arlene Calvin. Most of all I was determined to pound her pussy with such skill that she would never forget the orgasm as long as she lived.

By the time Arlene dropped through the stage floor for the fourth time that night, I was a single minded mass of masculine sex drive, bent only on the complete satisfaction of my lover. I waited naked for her below the hatch as she had requested, and as I peered up at Arlene’s juicy scabbard above me, I gave my pecker a squeeze to check its hardness. It felt long and very stiff, and I hoped it would feel the same to her. It was difficult to tell for sure with her usual perspiration from the floodlights and athletics on stage, but it seemed to me the wetness shining on her flange was something more than simple sweat. Arlene appeared as ready for love as I was. When the smoke bomb exploded and she fell toward me, she did not grab for my shoulders as usual. She placed total trust in my ability to keep her from harm, and used the time instead to reach behind her back and begin tearing open the Velcro closures of her costume. When we landed and the trap door sprang shut above us, it took only seconds for Arlene to remove her dress and lay back naked on the bean bag. I kneeled and looked down for a moment, savouring the sight before me: the actress, Arlene Calvin, already something of a Hollywood sex symbol, and destined to become a love goddess of both the big and small screens, with a face and body that could stop traffic in any city centre, was sprawled before me like a buffet lunch, naked from her Victorian footwear to her exotic stage makeup.

“Ten minutes max,” she stated as she lifted her legs in the air, “after that I’m in danger of missing my next cue.”

I brushed my hand over her labia as I prepared to mount her. As I’d suspected her love pumps were well primed. As I pressed myself inside her she gasped once, then smiled and cooed with satisfaction. Her abdomen was in motion immediately and I quickly found her rhythm. We began in a full embrace until we had built up speed, then I pressed my fists into the bean bag, and suspended my torso above her for greater leverage. Arlene clenched my buttocks, digging her nails in a little with each thrust.

“More, more...deeper, go deeper,” she implored.

She could ask anything of me, this magnificent woman, and I would have moved mountains to fill her every desire. I used my knees to bunch the bean bag up beneath her delicious buns, raising her abdomen higher and higher for the deeper penetration she craved. Not a moment passed during our intercourse, when I allowed my mind to wander from the task of bringing her ultimate pleasure. Then the magic started to happen. A few times her anxious murmurs and dreamy expression made it clear she was experiencing minor orgasms, while I also felt the pressure building in my crotch. As we approached the big one we encouraged each other, communicating our approaching bliss. I was giving her everything I had, panting like a racehorse, and she must have been doing exactly the same, because I exploded and she imploded together, causing both of us to see the gates of Nirvana flinging themselves open for us to fly as one into physical paradise.

How we managed to stop ourselves from screaming and shouting to announce our appreciation of each other remains a mystery to me. Missiles of cum rocketed into the depths of her vagina. Arlene’s internal organ tightened in spasms around my fast shrinking penis, coaxing out the last drops of seed. With our teeth clenched we exhaled loudly but with restraint so as not to be heard by the performers on stage above us. I collapsed atop her, the job done to both our satisfaction, and her arms squeezed me so hard it was like being in the grip of a professional wrestler. She was kissing me and licking my chin and cheeks like an adoring hound. My erection was entirely spent, and I slid out of her. She moaned with disappointment at the loss of my cock.

“I’m sorry.”

Arlene laughed softly and cupped my head in her hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re an awesome hunk of a man. I’ve never had a bigger orgasm.”

I noticed her facial perspiration was obscuring some of her makeup, and I reminded her to check it before her next entrance.

“Oh no, I hadn’t thought of that,” she burst, then she struggled to her knees and grabbed her dress. “I’ve got to go.” She bent over and landed one more kiss on my lips then loped off into the darkness, with a noticeable stagger in her gait.

After the show that night Arlene and I went to a late night Italian restaurant for a pasta feast, and we discussed the relationship that had grown between us. She explained that she had almost missed her next cue after our furtive fuck beneath The Rex’s historic old boards, and she didn’t want to take that risk a second time. The theatre company had rented its leading lady a small apartment, and we agreed that I should share it with her for the rest of the show’s run.

For seven glorious weeks after that, Arlene and I filled our nights and most of our afternoons with every pleasure healthy human flesh can afford. After every performance, we’d eat a hearty meal, then head back to the apartment to frolic until we fell asleep in each other’s embrace. We’d awake around noon and start again. As I sit now, six years later in my bungalow in Fargo, North Dakota, with this journal on my knee and my pen in hand, I can still recall the taste and smell of every succulent and pungent inch of Arlene Calvin. Olga sits nearby, and we’re watching Arlene’s latest video release. Olga likes Arlene’s science fiction movies. She thinks I like them the same way, but she’s wrong. What I like most are the sex scenes, where the actresses’ perfect body unwraps for the cameras, and drives millions of men the world over wild with desire, especially those like myself who have had the privilege of sharing her bed in reality.

I was disappointed when Arlene ended our affair the day after The Magician’s Sex Life closed. I pleaded with her to give our relationship a chance, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Arlene’s sexuality is not meant for one man. It is a gift from God to all men, and must be shared among them. She was too fine a person to say that to me. I doubt whether she fully believes it herself, but as I rode home to the prairies on the Greyhound, I realised she was right to end our affair when she did. Our lives are too different to blend into one, and there isn’t a stud alive who could hold Arlene’s exclusive interest for a life time. That’s part of her incredible attraction. 

Olga turned out to be a fine woman too. After my return from San Francisco she was clearly a little surprised at some of the sexual challenges I placed upon her, but she rose to the call every time, and now even surpasses me in her sexual appetite. That’s the lesson I learned as a young man from the Hollywood love goddess, Arlene Calvin. I know for certain what some men only suspect, and others can’t even imagine: that a woman’s lust is boundless, and the happiest men alive are those who devote themselves to the futile task of giving some woman all the pleasure she can take. They’ll never succeed, because a woman is a bottomless receptacle of pleasure. But men who try to fill that chasm day after day make themselves and their lover very happy indeed.

My love for my wife, Olga, goes far beyond a love for one woman. She might not understand that if I told her, so it remains a secret I share only with this journal. Olga, is my personal gateway into the mysterious world of womankind. When I make love with her, I’m fucking every glorious one of them, and I am carrying on the quest for physical Nirvana that I began six years ago with Arlene Calvin, in the dim and dusty space below the boards of an old vaudeville stage near Fisherman’s Wharf.

END



Summer Stopover



Rebecca wasn't used to sleeping naked. She had done it once at home, perhaps, but never on the road. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a choice. She hadn't meant to stop over. The conference took longer to wrap up than expected. The highway was blocked by a truck accident. It was already getting dark by the time she reached the small town and checked into the motel. Fortunately, she was able to get in touch with her manager and get the room billed to the company account.

She had managed to get some sleep, but woke up in the middle of the night. At some point, the power had cut out, meaning the air conditioner was no longer functioning. The room was like a sauna. She didn't want to sleep in her business clothes, and she was glad to be out of the uncomfortable constraints of her underwear after the long, hot day. She lay sprawled over the bed, rolling around to find the coolest patch. It was incredibly risqué. But even that wasn't enough to be comfortable. The room was too stuffy. She needed some fresh air. She walked over to the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She slipped on her silk blouse and skirt, sans underwear – the feeling of damp, sweaty lingerie against her skin made her feel icky. Her blouse clung onto her sweaty frame, but fortunately the dark-green fabric didn't turn transparent, though her cleavage and jiggle made it obvious that she wasn't wearing anything else.

Upon opening the door, she breathed in relief. There was a cool change. A gentle breeze blew across the veranda. To Rebecca, it was like an angel's wing brushing over her warm body. The building had retained the heat, making the outside temperature much more appealing. Finding herself refreshed, Rebecca felt the urge to go for a walk. The motel was on the edge of town. There was a small picnic area past the parking lot, and beyond that was the forest and creek. There were no trails, and only a small fence marking the edge of the property. Yes – it was time to explore.

One thing that stuck out to Rebecca was how dark the place was. It took some time for her eyes to adjust. Being used to the city, the lack of light pollution was alien to her. The stars and the Milky Way was a sight she had never appreciated in her urban environment. The night air carried mysterious smells – plants she had never heard of, the wild scent of animals she would never see in the city, and just the freshness of the rural breeze. It fed her desire to find out more. Hours spent in meetings and on the phone had pushed her to the brink of burnout, and here was a chance to escape it, if only for one night.

Through the sound of crickets, she heard the trickle of water. She followed it. Her eyes could just make out the faint reflection of running water. Her eagerness was stalled by nasty brush with some branches. She was lucky to get away with light scratches, though she may have ruined her blouse. She pushed on, carefully treading through the vegetation until she reached the small creek. It was only a few feet across, but to her imagination, it looked like the Amazon. Her heels were hardly suitable for navigating the dense undergrowth and slippery rocks, so she slipped them off and carried them in her hand. She dipped her toes in the water, warmed by the summer heat to a comfortable, relaxing temperature. Tossing her heels onto the bank, she stepped into the gently flowing water, wading knee-deep in the warm, inviting creek. She felt mesmerised by the current passing between her legs. Without thinking, she waded closer to the middle, where the water was up to her hips. Her skirt became soaked as she stood with her legs spread apart, allowing her to feel the warm water pass against her womanhood. Her body jolted at the sensation. She breathed deeply, allowing the feeling to sink in. It was naughty. It was arousing. It was a tease.

Rebecca took another step forward, but found a sudden drop beneath her foot. Losing balance, she slipped and fell into the creek. Spitting out a mouthful of creek water, she stood back up, drenched from head to toe. Her blouse, now transparent, clung to her delectable body with her nipples now clearly visible. She let out a sigh and a smile. If the water was deeper, she'd go for a swim. At least she felt refreshed. 

After wading around for a bit longer, it was time to head back. She stepped onto the bank, feeling the slippery warm sediment part beneath her feet, making it difficult for her to keep her footing. The fine grains of sand felt ticklish and surprised her with its light suction. She could see the shiny film of moisture move over the surface – though she didn't notice the sediment closing over her footprints behind her. She reached for her heels, only to find them half-buried in the sediment. She heard a quiet gurgle. Curiously, her heels began to sink into the sand. Rebecca watched with fascination as they were swallowed by the undulating sediment. She realised that they weren't the only things that were sinking. Her feet had disappeared into the soft sand, which was now up to her ankles. She got up and stepped back in surprise. She nearly fell over, jutting her leg back and driving it calf-deep in to the unsteady, wet sand. Awkwardly posed with her legs spread, she lifted her other foot, breaking the suction and balancing on one leg, which was sinking deeper. Losing her balance, she stepped forward, again feeling the sediment move from under her feet and swallowing her calves.

Rebecca took a breath. Okay, she thought. This was a little different. The sand felt smooth and inviting, something she'd probably spend more time playing with, if she had time. Not wanting to be stuck out here for the entire night, she began to focus on getting out. She twisted towards where the bank sloped upwards to higher ground. She pulled her back leg free, feeling the gloopy sand drag her feet down. Her next step forward made her sink to her knees. One more step, and the sand was up to her lower thighs. She began to feel nervous at the warm, sucking sand around her legs. The surface rippled and her descent slowed, though she was still noticeably sinking.

Rebecca took a moment to catch her breath. The sand shifted beneath the surface. Each time she thought she had settled, the sand would move, causing her to slip deeper. The fine grains brushed against her inner thighs, teasing her with microscopic caresses. She felt her body becoming warmer, but not from the summer night. She took in deeper breaths. She thought about her predicament. It can't be that deep.

The sand oozed under her skirt, lifting it as she sank further. Then, with an eerie eagerness, it pulled her down to her waist, encapsulating her buttocks and finding its way between her legs. Rebecca's eyes widened. The cool sand felt like a hungry tongue licking against her bare womanhood. She squirmed, pulling away but the sand held her down. Instead, her movement agitated the sand, causing more intense sensations to surge through her body. She let out a high-pitched moan. The sand was relentless, attacking her most vulnerable parts. She twisted her hips back and forth to fight against the quicksand's grip. When the feeling became too intense, she relaxed, but was driven into another fit of ecstasy by the sand's gentle stroking.

She was up to her navel. Her descent had slowed, but she was firmly trapped. She could loosen the sand with some movement, but it would only drive her deeper, not to mention the spasm of pleasure that would radiate from her nether region. The buttons on her blouse had popped loose during her struggles, and her breasts were now openly revealed. She gritted at the prospect of being found like this, but the swirling sands seeped through her blouse, brushing over her abdomen. This sent a shiver of excitement through her. She wondered what would happen if her bare breasts succumbed to the sand.

Not wanting to remain trapped, she fought off the arousal thoughts. She reached to her right and found nothing but silt. The solid ground looked out of reach, but there was a chance to her left. Barely visible, the wiry roots of a tree jutted out from the bank. She could reach it if she lunged for it, but she considered her options. Waist-deep in quicksand, her movements were restricted. If she missed her grab, she would plant her face in the quicksand, possibly trapping her upper body. The other option seemed unthinkable, but sensible. She removed her blouse. The quicksand sensed her nakedness and slurped at her waist. She snagged the roots and began to pull, but the fabric began to rip. She hadn't managed to make any headway. She retrieved the blouse and snagged it again, this time getting a more solid hold onto her lifeline. She had to be careful not to pull too hard. She kicked her legs, loosening the suction around her lower body. Her renewed energy allowed her to push the sand's caressing temptation out of her mind, but the sand was keen to overwhelm the young woman. Her breasts swayed over the sand, brushing against the rippling surface. In this moment of distraction, the sand pulsated against her labia. Suddenly taken by the hungry sand, the arousal she had been repressing swept through her. In those seconds she was helpless to resist, her strength barely enough to hand onto the fragile lifeline. Her control gave way, and she felt a sudden release. Her body spent from the orgasm, she gasped for air. She was slipping back into the quicksand. The sand continued its onslaught, pressuring against every submerged part of her body. She grabbed a handful of roots, ignoring the sharp pain. Slowly, she hauled herself free of the deadly trap. Her hips emerged, followed by her buttocks and her legs. Her skirt had long since been pulled off; her blouse now a tattered rag. She abandoned the scraps of her clothing and clambered up the slope, away from the sucking sand.

She was giddy. She might have even fallen into a brief sleep, or maybe she had been struggling for hours. The sky began to lighten. It was dawn. Wearied by her adventure, she began to make her way back to the motel, hoping to slip back into her room without anyone noticing her sand-covered naked body. She then pondered over the prospect of driving back in only her underwear. At least it would be refreshing.



Summer Storm



A long drum roll of thunder boomed across the landscape, shaking the house and making the windows rattle in their frames.

Leaves rustled loudly in the sudden wind as the rapidly advancing clouds swept across the early summer sky, displacing the bright sunshine. 

As the electricity built in the air, Kathy felt her nipples tightening beneath the fabric of her T-shirt. She moved to the living room window and looked out at the street. Thin, almost invisible lines of water were falling from the sky, sending up tiny puffs of steam as they struck the heated pavement. 

Her hands were trembling slightly as she picked up the remote and switched on the weather radar channel. The bottom of the screen was all red. A gigantic storm was sweeping up from the gulf. The light outside faded rapidly to gray, then to almost nighttime black. The gentle patter of raindrops on the roof became an intense rattle. 

Kathy went through the kitchen and stepped out onto the covered back porch. The sound and smell of the rain as it battered the trees was overpowering. She could feel the heat and moisture between her legs increasing with every passing second. 

The rain was coming down in sheets and the almost-constant thunder was as loud and violent as cannon fire. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark landscape. Almost unconsciously, she kicked her sneakers off, stepped out of the shelter of the porch roof and walked to the big open area in the middle of the back yard. The rain lashed at her body, instantly soaking her hair and clothes. 

Arching her back and extending her arms, she exposed her face and upper body to the stinging rain. The water filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She closed her eyes and brought her hands inward to her breasts, kneading them roughly. Her nipples were swollen beneath the clinging water-heavy fabric, tighter than any man had ever made them. 

It was hard to breathe, only partially because of the water striking her mouth and nose. She clawed at her T-shirt, pulling the sodden garment over her head and throwing it to the ground. Her soaked shorts followed it an instant later. 

She fell to her knees and drove two fingers into her open pussy. Her other hand found her swollen clitoris. She finger-fucked herself viciously as the punishing rain thrashed her body. A long rolling thunderclap shook the ground as she climaxed. 

Kathy looked up dizzily. Half-hidden by the driving rain, her neighbor Jeff was standing naked a few yards away, staring at her. His penis, longer and thicker than she'd imagined, was magnificently erect. 

Jeff was saying something, but she didn't understand the words. "Come!" she cried. "Now!" 

Wordlessly, he stepped forward and took her in his arms. He pressed his body against hers and kissed her passionately. 

"Take me!" she commanded, breaking away and falling onto her back, pulling him down onto her. 

He fumbled for an instant, positioning his cock head between her open folds, then drove his entire length up her eager snatch. 

Jeff fucked her brutally, ramming his swollen cock into her cunt. This was pure primitive sex, Neanderthal sex. He wasn't concerned about the woman beneath him or the future. Satisfying his lust was all that mattered. 

Kathy had never been so turned on. Jeff's head and body were protecting her from the cruel whipping of the rain, but nothing was defending her from his brutal assault. The warm humanity had vanished from his features and she was gazing into an animal's face inches above hers. 

Lightning crashed above their struggling bodies. She was cumming again, more strongly than before. Jeff held her trapped in place, squeezing her breasts tightly enough to leave bruises. He plowed her even harder and faster, rolling her into another orgasm as his throbbing cock splashed wave after wave of hot cum against her pussy walls. 

Finally spent, they collapsed together with the rain continuing to pound their bodies. 

Jeff finally came to his senses. He rose to his knees and reached out to Kathy. "Did I hurt you?" he began anxiously. "I'm sor . . ."

She silenced him with a kiss, a long burning kiss which said more than words.

* * * * * * * * * *

This story was inspired by the Literotica story "Seduction of the Storm" by bigbarebottom and by the following post by KaramelSundae in "Literotica Story Feedback - The most sensual music?"

"...just rain, baby."

"The sweet sound of raindrops pounding against the roof and the window make me hot...I love walking around my house naked and when it rains, I walk out onto the back patio. My backyard is covered with foliage, so I have plenty of privacy." 

"...when it's wet outside, I'm wet inside."

Thanks, ladies.

* * * * * * * * * *

Copyright (c) 2004 by Ken James

All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people is coincidental.

This story depicts a world in which AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases are non-existent. In the real world, please practice safe sex.

Please contact me. I love getting feedback and reply to every message.

Many thanks to Wayde for his constant love and support.



Summer Storm



It's a beautiful hot summer day and I'm in the front garden admiring my hard work. Weed free beds, blooming flowers soaking up the water I have given them, bees and butterflies dancing to natures tune. 

"Hey Mrs B, how are ya?" 

I'm startled, shaken from my reverie. I see Robbie's friend Dean on the pavement, looking young and fresh in shorts, jogging on the spot. I smile my automatic welcoming 'Mummy' smile.

"Dean! I'm fine and you?" 

He jogs up the drive and I sigh at the intrusion. 

"Yeah, I'm good. This weather is amazing isn't it? We're having a great summer." 

He is all sunshine and smiles and I feel old and grey. Then I realise that he shouldn't be here at all. 

"Dean why aren't you with Robbie and the boys in Mexico?" 

He stops jogging and grabs the hem of his singlet, taking it off in one quick movement, wiping the sweat from his face and chest, casually tucking it in the back of his pants. 

Dean is one of Robbie's best friends and has been in our lives for most of his. He has grown into a fine looking young man. He is tall and lean, with broad shoulders, long athletic legs, strong arms and a killer smile. I watch him, my eyes drifting from his flexing pecs, his hard flat stomach and the line of dark hair that eventually draws my gaze to the waistband of his shorts. My heart is pounding and I swallow, trying to wet my dry mouth. 

For middle-aged women everywhere young men in their 20's are so very good looking, so very young and so very tempting. It makes for lovely fantasies when you are bored at night but you are left feeling old and lonely in the morning. You're in your sexual prime and the offering of old men with sagging willies and bellies doesn't make your heart race. I try to swallow again and I'm at once horrified and disgusted that I'm being so attentive to the physical delights of a boy who I used to give cookies and milk to after school. It's awful to realise that you've finally become the woman you used to make fun of, the same woman who chases boys her son's age. I shudder with the horror of it and feel the hot flush of shame crawl across my face. 

Dean says, "Yeah, I couldn't afford it in the end, Varsity debts to pay and all that. I've got a summer job at the local building depot." 

I feel for him. I know Robbie borrowed the money from my ex, his father, for his holiday. Poor Dean having to give up a sex-fest in Mexico to work, it shakes me from my lustful thoughts and I am once again a Mummy. 

"Ah Dean, I'm sorry about that. What a crappy way to spend the summer." 

He nods and grins at me. 

"It isn't all bad Mrs B, I'm getting a great work out each day," he laughingly flexes his arm for me and the muscle bulges admirably, "and the pay is really good." 

He's sexy and carefree and my knees go weak. The young have no idea how they make the world feel. 

Impulsively I say, "Hey Dean, if you want, you're welcome to use the pool while you're home. There isn't anyone else using it." 

Dean looks thrilled, "Thanks Mrs B, that's great. You won't mind having me 'round here? 'Cos I can guarantee that I will use it most days." 

I hesitate. Dean here, nearly every day in his swimming trunks, doing lengths in my pool, the water running over his long hard torso. 

I stammer, "N..not a problem. You can come round whenever you want. Even if I'm not here, it's fine."

Dean nods his head, "Thanks so much for that. I'll be back for sure. And you should let me know if there is anything I can do for you in return. Mow the lawns? Do any odd jobs? I'm good with my hands." 

Oh, good grief child, please stop talking, I think to myself, imagining just how good he could be with his large hands and long thick fingers. 

"Well Dean thanks for the offer," I manage to say, "if I think of anything I'll let you know." 

He smiles broadly and leans in close to me. I freeze and catch my breath as his face comes closer to mine. I can see the stubble on his chin, the sweat on his neck and I can smell his insanely young salty skin. He kisses me on the cheek with warm soft lips, lingering a little longer than usual and then backs away. 

"I'll see ya then. Thanks Mrs B, 'bye." 

And he's off, down the driveway and back onto the pavement, turning and waving at me as he effortlessly jogs down the street. I wave back, giddy from the encounter. I must be menopausal.

I wake up confused. I'm hot and the sheets are tangled around me. I'm naked except for the sheen of perspiration that covers me from head to toe, the heat of the night making it impossible to sleep with any covers or clothes. I groan and reach beside the bed for the glass of water I brought up with me. Gulping it down I hear the noise that must have woken me, splashing water. I stumble from my bed and go to the open window to see Dean swimming across the pool. He's wearing trunks that sit low across his hips revealing a white band where his tan ends, his long legs kicking strongly, the muscles along his back are tensed as his arms cut through the water. 

I glance at the clock and see it's still very early and I yawn, feeling old and tired. I get into the shower, turning the tap to a cool setting to wake me up. The water pours over my body, washing away the salty slick from my skin. I soap myself slowly, the suds are creamy and my skin feels smooth beneath my hands. I have kept myself in good condition with weekly golf and tennis games at the club with my friends. I love to wile away the hours in my garden and it's these activities that have kept me toned. I know that I look good and not just because others tell me so. I can see it in the faces of men who turn to look at me and I see it in the mirror too. 

Still, I feel my age and recognise my discrepancies when I imagine myself in the company of a man. I've been separated from Robbie's Dad for nearly 6 months and haven't yet taken the plunge to date anyone. Harry left me for another woman who wasn't all that younger than me. I had very little reason to hate him and the separation wasn't a surprise to anyone. We'd drifted apart and lacked the will to try to make it work. The alimony he paid more than supported me while I find my feet and I have started to look for a job, my first in nearly 20 years. 

I turn off the shower and wrap myself in a towel. It's unbearably hot now and there are storm clouds brewing in the distance, the air is thick with the promise of rain. Dean is still in the pool and without looking I see him in my minds eye. The firm muscles, the sun kissed skin, his young face, his sexy smile and his large hands. I shiver and ignore the swirl within my belly and the hardening of my nipples. I put on a singlet dress that's cool and comfortable and some high-cut cotton briefs. I don't bother with a bra, I've always had smallish breasts and they are still firm and round topped with peach-coloured nipples. I grab my breasts and give them a soft squeeze, tugging on the hard little nubs, sending a flare of fire into my groin. Harry used to love my breasts nuzzling them constantly when we made love and I loved having him bite and pull on them. I can feel my pussy twitch and moisten as my mind drifts to more romantic times and sighing with a small twinge of melancholy I go downstairs to make coffee.

I'm in the kitchen when I hear a light tap on the sliding door in the lounge. I look around the corner and see Dean standing on the terrace drying off with a towel. He's a picture of health and vitality and I'm reminded again of the age difference between us. I bury the lust I feel and put it down to my own mid-life crisis. If I were a man I would buy a fast car and leave my wife. I smile as I realise that is exactly what my own husband has done. I briefly wonder what it is that middle-age women do in this situation and make a mental note to check in with my friends to find out. I signal for Dean to come in. 

"Morning Mrs B. How are ya?" he says heartily, his youth and energy are explosive in my quiet little house. 

"Good thanks Dean. Please call me Eva, you're too old call me Mrs B. How's the swim?" 

He walks inside and stands on the doormat as the water runs down his legs and chest. 

"Fantastic thanks...um...Eva. I hope you don't mind me coming over so soon. I couldn't resist having a swim it's so hot. I hardly got any sleep last night." 

I reassure him that he is welcome and ask if he wants coffee. 

I make myself busy in the kitchen while he continues to dry himself. I avoid looking at him and yet I am aware of every move he makes. The ruffle of the towel on his wet hair, the rasping of the cotton against his skin, the sound of his wet trunks against his legs as he walks towards the kitchen. My skin flushes as he sits at the breakfast bar watching me move around the room. We keep the conversation light and chat about the weather, the news from the other boys in Mexico. It's torture but I keep my gaze from him. I can smell the pool water on his young skin from where I am, it makes my belly tighten and my hands shake. 

I don't move to sit near him so I keep the bench between us as we sip our coffee. Lightning flashes and we both jump and then laugh out loud to cover our embarrassment. Thunder booms overhead and I squeal, like a child, as the noise reverberates through the house. He reaches across and puts his hand over mine, reassuring me. I blush and pull my hand away.

"Wow, that storm is going to be a big one." 

Dean looks down at his coffee cup, both hands now wrapped tightly around it. The room darkens, the sun has gone and storm clouds have settled in the sky. Rain starts to fall in big fat drops onto the hard dry ground outside and instinctively I glance at my beautiful garden wondering how much damage it will do to my flowers.

Dean follows my gaze and we both watch quietly as it gets steadily heavier. The temperature inside the house has plunged and I shiver in my thin dress. I realise with a start that his car isn't in the drive.

"How did you get here?" 

Dean looks at me, "I jogged over. The swim was to cool down afterwards." 

I offer to drive him home and he shrugs. 

"Would you mind if I hung out here for a bit, til the rain stops?" 

I feel nervous at the prospect of having him here so close and nearly naked and take a sip of my now cold drink. 

"Sure that's fine. What about work?" 

"It's my day off," he says softly. 

His tan stands out in the starkly white kitchen and I notice that he must be feeling cold as his nipples have tightened and there are goose bumps across his chest and arms.

I take his cup and rinse it under the tap. I glance at him and see him watching me with a frown marring his brow. The poor kid is probably wondering why I'm being so strange. My earlier reminiscing had stirred within me the realisation that a good fucking is not to be underestimated. The sooner I got back into the dating game and found a man to satiate myself with the better. I notice Dean shiver.

"You're cold. Would you like to see if Robbie has a t-shirt in his room?" 

Dean blushes and nods following me as I lead the way upstairs to my son's room. Of course he knows the way, he's stayed here a hundred times or more. We go in together and I open a drawer and rummage for a shirt that will fit. Dean sits on the bed and I hear the springs of the mattress sag under his weight. 

I hand him a shirt with a rock band emblazoned on it. 

He holds it up, smiling, "I remember this concert," he says. 

I stand there awkwardly as he puts it on, covering up his wonderful chest. 

"Yes I think I do too. Isn't that the night you guys got arrested for drunk and disorderly?" 

He laughs aloud and the sound is soothing and joyful. 

I smile with him and jokingly say, "Hey! It's nothing to laugh at bucko. We were really mad at Robbie." 

He's still smiling.

"I know. We were so drunk it didn't sink in 'til the next day. Tell you what though, that night was fantastic." 

The rain is lashing the side of the house, hitting the window so hard it seems like it could shatter the glass. The noise is intrusive and we both turn to watch the rivulets of water stream down the window. 

I gasp and say, "Oh God my window is open!" 

I run from the room and down the hall. The window in my room is wide open, rainwater is pooling on the floor and windowsill and the curtains are billowing in the strong wind, sodden, flinging droplets of water everywhere.

Dean and I get to the window at the same time, struggling to pull it shut before finally latching it. We are both breathless and wet. Panting we face each other, my hair is hanging on either side of my face dripping onto my dress. The front of it is soaked and it's clinging to me, the cold fabric puckering my nipples. He's wet again too and he stands there with his arms by his sides, water dripping from his fingers, his eyes glued to me. I glance down and realise that the water has rendered my dress a second skin and my body is outlined in vivid detail. I turn and go to the bathroom to get a towel. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I leave the room. I hand him a soft warm towel to dry himself. I am consciously trying to cover the front of myself but he's still looking at me. 

"I'll have to change," I say.

"Eva...don't," he says huskily, "you look beautiful." 

I freeze and glance back at him. Nervously I laugh.

"Ah thanks but this is nearly see-through. Not very appropriate." 

He shrugs and blushes. 

"I like it." he mutters. 

I bite my lip and hold the towel closer to me, like a shield from his gaze. Dean looks out the window and then at the floor. I can see he is trying to think of something to say and I feel sorry for him. There is a change in the atmosphere and I'm suddenly conscious that my daydreaming and fantasising may not have been one sided. I'm instantly frightened at the thought of my becoming a Mrs Robinson to this boy. 

Eventually he says, "Eva, when Harry left you I thought he was an idiot." 

I am gaping like a fool at his outburst. 

"Dean? Thank you, I think. I'm not sure what to say." 

He steps a little closer to me dropping his towel on the floor. My eyes follow it then drift slowly back to him. His face is a mixture of heat and confusion. I feel faint and my face is buzzing and I realise that I'm holding my breath. I gasp as he steps closer to me and I feel my face and chest get very hot. All of a sudden he seems very imposing. His presence in my bedroom is overwhelming. I panic and bend to collect the towel he dropped. He's too quick and grabs my arm, pulling me up against his hard tight body, his arm pinning me to him. 

"Dean?" 

He looks down at me. 

"Tell me you don't want me to kiss you," he replies. 

Oh dear God, here is where the fantasy meets the reality and it all falls over. 

"Dean please, this is crazy..." 

"Tell me," he growls dangerously. 

All of a sudden he is no longer a boy, but a very large, very demanding man.

I can't speak. I know I should say that he is like my son to me, that I had never thought of him that way. It would be a lie. So instead I bite my lip and look away. He slides his other hand into my wet hair, gripping my neck with his long fingers, tipping my head back he inches his face closer to mine.

"Tell me you don't want me to kiss you," he whispers against my mouth. 

I'm jelly. My legs are buckling under me and I am pressing myself against the full length of his leg. My hands have nowhere to go but on him and I move them to rest on his narrow hips. My body is tingling and I can hear nothing but the rain pelting the window and my own heart beating out of my chest.

He loosens his grip on me and his hand falls lightly on my ass, he squeezes it playfully, drawing my groin tighter into his leg. My legs open, spreading around his thigh. He drops his mouth to my lips, gently pressing onto mine, testing me. I should push him away, slap his face or struggle to free myself. Instead I push back against his mouth, teasing him with my tongue, I thrust it into his mouth and he groans, meeting me with his own probing tongue. I can feel my pussy throbbing and I tilt my pelvis against his leg. It's been almost two years since Harry and I were intimate, the only action my pussy has had was from me, satisfying to a point.

He pulls away from my mouth and leans down to gently bite my shoulder. He trails small kisses up the side of my neck and my nipples immediately harden. I gasp at the reality of what I am doing and push myself off him. My vanity at being seen naked by this young man is stronger than my desire to realise a fantasy. Dean looks confused and nervous. A second ago he had me dry humping his leg after just one kiss, and now I am running away. 

"Dean, I'm 40 years old! I'm old enough to be your Mother and I'm definitely old enough to know better. You don't want to do this, believe me. We should stop now." 

I am desperately trying to convince us both that we should stop. I've gone too far and I know it. 

"Dean. I'm sorry for what just happened. I shouldn't have let you kiss me and I really shouldn't have kissed you either. I don't want you feel bad. I'm just not the right person you should be with." 

I'm stammering, desperately trying to find the words that will get him to leave. Instead he falls back onto the bed and reclines on his elbows, eyeing me intently as I make my case. I glance down and see his hardened cock in his trunk and my mouth instinctively opens. He sees where I am looking and grins at me.

"It's not so crazy that I want you," he says. 

I blush and turn away from him. 

"Dean I mean it, this isn't going to happen." 

I hear him sit up and I turn back to find he's looking at me with a hard stare. 

"Give me one good reason why not Eva," he demands. 

"Dean it's clear why not. I'm older than you. Considerably older and you're my son's friend. This is insane. Good grief." 

Dean is still frowning at me and I'm feeling uncomfortable. 

"That's bullshit. You kissed me back!" 

I blush hotly and I'm conscious I'm still in my wet dress. The reality of what's going on is too intense and my wet clothes are cooling me and I'm shivering. 

Dean sees me and says "Eva, take your dress off you'll catch a chill."

"No," I reply firmly. 

"Eva, take off your dress now." 

I'd like to say that he's being petulant and spoiled but he's not. It's very sexy to hear him go from a boy to a man. And a demanding self assured man at that. My resolve to continue to refuse him is wavering and I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. 

"Dean, I am not going to do that. I don't think that this a good idea, I'm not taking my clothes off and that's the end of it." I say indignantly. 

"I disagree Eva. I think it's a great idea." 

He's intuitive I'll give him that! I swallow nervously and I'm feeling panicked and trapped. I try reasoning with him again but he's insistent. 

"Eva you kissed me like you wanted me. Are you saying you didn't want me? That you don't want to do it again?" 

I can hardly blame him for being confused. In the blink of an eye, before I've had a chance to say another word he's before me, holding me tightly against him, his lips on mine, his hands all over me. I'm caught off guard and I'm instantly aroused as he awakens in me the dormant passions that I've buried and forgotten. I break away, breathless.

"Dean, I'm too old to be doing this with someone so young. You need to leave...please go." 

He strips Robbie's shirt off and drops it to the floor. I inhale sharply as I take in his body again. The delicious young skin, the soft hair, the hard firm body. I bite my bottom lip unconsciously.

"I knew it! I knew it wasn't just me. You do want me I can see it! I'm not leaving Eva. I'm not asking you to marry me or go out with me. It's just sex. We'll have had a good time in bed. That much I do know." 




Summer Storm



He cautiously slips the straps of my dress from my shoulders and I stand there helplessly as he strips me. I've given up trying to prevent the inevitable. He leads me to the bed and sits me down on the edge. So this is it, I think to myself the end of my prolonged hiatus from sex, the end of my dignity and possibly the end of a good friendship between two boys who've known each other for years. I would be responsible. 

Dean kneels before me and strokes my face and neck and I close my eyes. 

"Open your eyes Eva. I want you to watch me." 

He pushes my legs apart gently and then there's only my panties and his trunks between us. He leans forward and takes one of my nipples in his mouth and tugs it between his teeth. I cry out and hold his head. He continues to bite and suck on me and uses his other hand to knead my other breast. I'm in heaven. It's been too long since I'd been turned on and seduced and the feelings it was arousing within me were reassuring and comfortable. We don't know each other like this and the danger of what we are doing makes it much more exciting. 

He leaves my breasts, squeezing them tightly and kisses his way down my belly. I know what is coming but I can't believe that I am letting him do it. He reaches the edge of my panties and quickly pulls at the elastic. It snaps sharply against my skin, I gasp and he looks up at me, grinning playfully. While our eyes are locked he slips his finger inside the crotch of my panties and brushes my labia. I can feel myself getting wet and my pussy is aching to be touched. I am dizzy with desire and any other thoughts I have about how wrong this is, disappear in a mist of desire.

I lay down and he slips my panties over my hips and off my ankles. 

"God, Claire you have a beautiful pussy." 

I'm embarrassed and cover myself with my hand. He laughs and l lifts my hand off me and I feel his face between my legs. He dips his warm wet tongue it into my hole and then slides it up to my clit where he closes his lips and sucks the hard round nub into his mouth. He swirls his tongue over my clit again and again, then returns his attention to my hole. I feel him slide a finger into me and he pushes it in deeply, probing around inside of me. I tip my pelvis and push against his hand in response. He slides in another finger, planting his mouth over my clit again. In goes another finger and he pulls away from my clit. I look down and see him watching his three fingers filling my pussy, stretching me, sliding in and out.

My feet are resting on the bed base and I have good support so I can use my legs and hips to push against him. He is jabbing his fingers into me now, increasing the rhythm. I can feel myself coming so I reach down and start to frantically stroke my clit. Dean is happy to watch and gives me a commentary on how good it looks, how wet I am and how he can't wait to fuck me over and over. He leans in to lick up the juice that is coming from my pussy and I haven't ever felt so wet and luscious. My climax is building and I tell him I am coming. He pushes my finger away and uses his thumb and I pull at my nipples as my hips tense and my climax rolls through my belly and thighs.

I cry out, clasping my thighs together to stop him rubbing my now over stimulated clit. He does but he continues his 3-fingered assault on my pussy and pushes my legs up against my belly so he can keep jabbing his fingers in and out of me, without me stopping him. He is biting my thighs gently with his teeth and his little finger has slipped down between my butt cheeks and with every thrust into my pussy his finger brushes my arse hole. As I quiver and shake through my orgasm, he is relentless and it is only a matter of minutes and I am coming again. This time I am screaming out his name and grabbing the sheets, tearing at them.

He finally stops when I have finished, sliding his fingers from inside of me and licking them clean. He licks my pussy too, but it is too sensitive for that and I push his head away. I sit up, my hair is messy and my breasts are reddened from my rough handling. 

"Where did you learn to do that?" I murmur. 

He reaches for me and kisses me on the mouth, long and deep. I taste my own musky cum and lick all around his mouth to get every last bit. 

He pulls away and says, "In my dreams. I have been practising on you in my dreams." 

I don't believe him. He has had a few girlfriends in the past and having spent two years in college he must have had a few one-night stands and relationships. I shake my head at his little story and reach for the front of his trunks. Now it is my turn to suck and lick him. My ex has always said I was useless at blowjobs so I am nervous that I'll not do as good a job as Dean did for me. 

I undo the lacing on the front of his pants and let them fall to the floor. His cock springs out to meet me and I'm surprised. He's long and thick, fully erect with a big head that's already dripping with pre-cum. I wrap my hand around it and swallow, wondering just how I am going to manage. 

He senses my hesitation, "If you don't want to that's ok." 

I'm humbled by how generous he is as a lover. 

"I want to but I'm not very good at it," I say hesitantly feeling the blush of humiliation crawl over me. 

"Show me. I'll tell you what to do." he replies. 

I lean forward with my mouth open. I can feel his eyes on me. He rests his hands on either side of my head and he guides me towards him. I take in the head and concentrate on sucking it. It is the size of a chicken egg and my lips are straining. I scrape my teeth on the underside of the head and run my tongue the length of his cock. He is making little noises that I think are encouraging. His hips are thrusting a little so I try to match his rhythm. I swallow a bit more of him, sucking and licking as I go. I lick the palm of my hand and use it to masterbate him.

I finally reach the base of his penis, the engorged glans is bumping the back of my throat as he thrusts his hips into me. I can taste his cum and know that he is nearly ready. I pull back holding only the head of his cock in my hot mouth. I suck furiously on it while I use my hand like a piston to fuck him. He's shaking now and says he is coming. I don't stop sucking on him but I do stop fucking him and use both my hands to squeeze him, to milk him. He's gasping for air and breathing heavily as he shoots hot wads of salty jism into my eager mouth. As I feel his cock soften, I lick at it gently, cleaning him up.

He collapses on the bed and pulls me down next to him, nestling my head on his chest while he strokes my arm. 

"That was a great blow job." 

I am glowing with the praise. It's ridiculous to be proud of giving a 20 year old a blow-job but I was pleased. He squeezes me against him and I hear his breathing change and soon he is asleep. I pull the sheet over us and close my eyes too. 

I can hear the rain still lashing the house and I can feel persistent fingers probing my pussy. I am instantly awake and know it's Dean behind me. I was sleeping on my side with my back to him. I hear him lick his fingers and murmur how good I taste. I stick my arse out a bit higher and he slides his dripping finger into my hole, but only to the first knuckle. He stops and swirls it around, teasing out the wet juices, so he can rub them on the sensitive skin around my arse hole. I love the new sensation and accidentally moan aloud. 

"You're awake!" he exclaims. 

I feel him shift behind me and then the head of his cock is rubbing against my pussy lips and bumping against my arse hole. 

"I've been waiting for you...I wanna fuck you Eva. I've been waiting so long." 

I push back onto his cock and he takes advantage of my willingness. 

His cock is big and my pussy is moistening. I can feel him struggling to slip the enormous head into my tight hole. I lift my leg to give him a better chance of getting all his cock inside of me. The angle is better and he is able to push a little more inside of me but not all of it. I look back over my shoulder and I can see his frustration. 

I pull away from him and he's reaching for me, his complaints are uttered in fear that this will end but I'm only getting into a better position. I'm kneeling on my hands and knees beckoning him to me, my arse in the air and my wet tight hole calling him. He scrambles to his knees and kisses my lower back. Holding my hip in one hand he pushes his cock into me, rubbing it against my lips to open me up. I push back onto him when I feel him at my entrance and we cry out as his cock plunges deep into my hot wet pussy. We are both still, enjoying the moment of him being inside of me.

Slowly he starts to thrust in and out of me gathering his momentum until at last he is fucking me hard, his thighs and balls slapping up against me. He's holding on tight to my hips and grunting quietly. 

He is saying, "Yes, yes, yes," over and over like a mantra and I am mesmerised by it. 

I can feel myself coming without having to rub my clit. In all my sexual life this has never happened. I breathlessly say I am coming again and he picks up the pace saying that he wants us to come together. I'm doubtful because I'm not waiting for him. I can feel my pussy tighten, the slurping of his cock as it goes in and out of me is delicious and I only wish I could see it. 

My nipples harden, my thighs start to shake and my orgasm rolls through my body and finishes in my pussy, I am squeezing his cock for all I'm worth, throwing my head back and shouting his name. He is holding onto me as if he is going to fly away in a breeze and I can feel his cock throbbing as he climaxes too. We were close.

He collapses over my back, his hands reaching for my breasts. He cups them gently, rolling my nipples in his fingers. He is breathing hard and kissing my shoulder. I turn my face to him and we kiss gently and then he slowly slides his cock from my now drenched pussy. I feel empty without him in me and the sensation is unpleasant. We both fall onto the bed, sated for now. He lays there quietly the back of his hand rubbing my belly.

"Can I stay the night Eva? There are some other things I dreamed of doing with you that I haven't done yet?" 

My eyes flash open and my pussy starts to twitch and tighten. This is going to be a great summer.



Summer Storm



Standing at the window watching the summer storm, I catch the scent of rain on the breeze that blows in through the screen. The clouds are dark, rolling across the sky. The deep rumble of distant thunder sends low level vibrations through the house. I can feel them on the bare wood of the window sill. As they fade, I hear your footsteps on the hard wood floor of the dining room. I sense you coming up behind me. The citrusy scent of your masculine cologne lightly teases my senses. As another flash of lightning pierces the sky, I lean back against you. Your chin rests in my hair, your breath quietly brushes my ear, warm and soft. I feel a growing heaviness in my eyelids and the thought of snuggling and dozing with you blossoms in my mind. I close my eyes as the rain drops begin to beat a steady rhythm on the roof. 

Just as I open my mouth to suggest a nice nap, you grab my hand and steer me out the front door onto the porch. The protection of the porch does not stop me from catching my breath in a gasp as a cool storm gust grazes my middle where my short shirt has left my belly bare. Propelling me to the railing, you position yourself behind me once again to watch the wonder of the weather. The warmth of your arms around me, your breath on my neck is soothing yet stimulating at the same time. A bright flash of lightning, this one closer than the others, assaults my eyes. I brace myself for the thunder, and it comes quickly, a loud clap. I can feel your chest, your hips pressed against me as I seek the imagined protection of your strong, lean body. Your hands rest on my shoulders. 

The next flash and clap make my heart skip erratically in my chest as your soothing warm breath envelops my ear. I feel your full lips tugging on the fleshy lobe, then the gentle pressure and sharp bite of your teeth. I sigh and close my eyes once again.  

The next flash flickers through my closed lids, and it is followed immediately by a crack so loud it makes me tremble. You pull even closer to me, your hands dropping from my shoulders. I feel the brush of your large palms on my breasts, then the dig of your strong fingertips in the fleshy hollows just past my pelvic bones. Your cock grows bone hard and begins to press against me. That familiar urgency, a warm rush radiates from my core. The rush of blood to my head all but blocks out the next roll of thunder.

You begin to sway with the thunder, and we continue like that, dancing to unheard rhythms of nature. I turn my head and look into your eyes, their summer blue clearly visible with the next lightning strike, revealing varying shades of sky and shrinking pupils.

I reach for your head, burying my fingers in your dirty blond hair, gripping you and pulling you to me for a lingering kiss. Your lips press down on mine. I shiver with the electric touch of your tongue on my own lips as it purposefully slides over them. You gently suck my lower lip and then release me. I feel the heat of our passion burning in those stormy blue eyes. 

"Fuck me, please," I whisper, barely able to pronounce the words. I lean my head back against your shoulder and reach behind to clasp my hands around your waist. Your hands deftly undo the button and zipper of my jeans. One hand slides up into my tiny tee shirt while the other pushes the pants down, slides them over the curve of my hips. I flinch from the chilly splash of raindrops on my stomach. Shivering slightly, I lift my feet, one at a time, and step out of the denim puddle of fabric. I feel your hands working now on your own pants, knuckles pressing into my ass as you release your cock.

I feel the warm head of your manhood dancing on my backside as your hand pushes my shirt up. I lift my arms and you scrunch the tee over my head. Now your hands roam over my bare back, over my buttocks, down the backs of my legs. My knees involuntarily move apart, willing one of your hands to travel to my nether regions, to dip into my wetness and make me melt. With the slam of thunder, I feel one powerful hand on my shoulder pushing me down, bending me over the railing, the other hand pulling my hips backward toward you. 

I lift my face and feel the rain on my forehead, my cheeks. My tongue licks raindrops from my lips. You grab a handful of hair and pull my head back, your lips planting a hard kiss on my shoulder, then your teeth following with an urgent nip... I whimper as I feel my wetness grow... 

I try to reach back to pull you toward me when I hear you command me to hold the railing. I obey, my knees shaking. I only want to feel you inside me. Instead I feel the head of your cock tracing my crack, teasing my wet slit, then sliding up and down my dark valley. I lift onto tiptoes, push back in a desperate attempt to get you inside. You begin to press the tip into me, and I freeze in anticipation. 

Each bolt of lightning illuminates the porch and shadows flicker across my naked body bent over in front of you. I feel you press into me, excruciatingly slow. I'm gasping now, begging you with my mind, my body. With the next flash, you push in hard, deep, taking me by sweet surprise. I feel myself contract around you and flood you with juices. I can't stop myself now and I begin to slam back against you. Your balls smack my inner thighs as we build up a rhythm, a quickening pace. The rain is dripping down my face; my wet hair is plastered in auburn curls on my forehead and cheeks. A rivulet runs down my neck and back. I feel your fingers trace its path in reverse as you grab my hair again, planting one hand on my shoulder to pull me back even harder onto you. 

With the next lightning and thunder spectacular, I rock my hips downward, bucking against you as I cum. You keep pumping until I am scarcely able to stand, one hand roaming across my tits, down to my clit, and stroking me mercilessly as my knees shake and I feel a weakness spreading from my core. When you are satisfied with my orgasm, you withdraw and begin stroking yourself, your mind racing with images of our coupling. I hear you begin to lose control, one hand grasping my hip as you cum, your hot semen mixing with the rain water streaming down my back...God, I love summer storms...



Summer Storm



Smiling sexily at him in the semi darkness, she lay back across the table and watched as he slid both hands slowly up her legs. Up over her black silk stockings as he stood between her wide-open legs, now slightly trembling at his touch. She felt very excited to be the object of a young mans desires.

She watched the intense expression of pleasure on his face as he felt that softest of soft bare flesh at the top of her legs. That cool feel of skin that was even softer than her silk stockings themselves. He stroked it gently with both his thumbs as he lingered and longed to drag his tongue lovingly up the inside of each thigh in turn and to make her moan for him. Make her run wild with desire, if only they had the time to play some lovers games. 

And then on upward moving his hands to those few pubic whisks of dark hair that curled out from the sides of her damp silk underwear. This was too thick a bush to hide under such a flimsy patch of silk. This bush was a positive thicket. It was a place to loose oneself in, a place of hot sweet damp with the heady scent of wantonness in the air. This was a place to thrill and pleasure a young man like himself to the full. This was a place to suck him in and blow him out in bubbles of delicious cummy cum.

John slowly pulled her midnight blue panties down as she obligingly lifted her backside off the table. Holding him tightly in her arms she whispered urgently, "Please do me quickly, before someone finds us in here!"

With her panties down around ankles she rolled over and lay prostrate across the kitchen table with her feet firmly on the floor and her outstretched hands holding onto the far edge of the tabletop.

John thrust a finger up that beautiful hairy pussy as it pouted at him from between the top of her legs. She gasped loudly, urging him to take her quickly. He positioned himself behind her and dropping his pants sank his aching cock all the way into her hole and wallowed in its wet warmth. 

"God you feel so good!" John managed to say as he fucked her slowly at first, relishing her soft silky womanhood. It felt so open and willing, and begging him to use it for both their mutual pleasures. He had no idea how old she was, only that she was at least a good ten or fifteen years older than himself. Could even have been more, it was difficult to know in the semi darkness of that small kitchen, at a party where he didn't know anyone to even ask about her.

She was going to cum. She kept telling him so in desperate pleadings as he tightened his grip on her hips, and rode her every stroke of that wonderful way to a photo finish and a perfect 'dead heat climax.'

Finally her throaty cry of 'Yes,' brought him off in a great shower of sperm that made them both shudder with each renewed jet of the precious seed being sprayed it into her thirsty cunt, till all was spent and they could at last disentangled themselves.

"I must see you again." John said, hoping to get to know her better, kissing her desperately, trying to win her over.

"It's not possible I'm afraid." she insisted. "I live with my partner and we never go anywhere but together."

"Well you must go out shopping on your own sometimes, maybe we could...?"

"No!" she insisted. "Look, I don't even know who you are? I don't think I can ever remember being had by someone I didn't even know his or her name." She now felt quite angry with herself.

"John ... John Kilner."

"Well John Kilner, I'm called Pat. Patricia Webster." She now laughed rather shyly, thinking it was all a bit too late in the day for introductions at this conclusive stage of the evening. She pulled up her panties and tried to make herself respectable. "Look I must get back to my partner before he comes to find me."

"Can I ring you then?" John asked hopefully.

She paused for a second then asked, "Only if you promise to play by my rules?"

"Yes of course, anything you want."

She walked over to the kitchen dresser and found an old mug with several pens and pencils in it. A small tare off note pad lay beside the mug and she wrote a number down. "Here you are, but you can only ring me at work on my mobile during the lunch break from twelve to one. Can you promise to do that?"

John told her she need have no worries and without even asking where she lived or worked they left the kitchen and went their own ways.

It was a week later that he rang the mobile phone number she had given him at the allotted hour of twelve. He had wanted to ring her long before this but thought she may not be too keen to hear from him so soon after filling her up with his hot sauce over that kitchen table. Better, he thought, to give her time to maybe want a little more of the same. He knew he was desperate to have her again, but she may not be so keen to be had by him.

Patricia Webster pretended to have forgotten who he was, and John painfully had to try and remind her of when they had met. 

"Oh yes, I remember now!" she said coolly, sounding not at all enthusiastic at hearing from him again.

"I wondered if we might meet" John asked, crossing his fingers in hope. "I'd love to see you again."

She paused for a long time and then asked, "Do you know where the cinema is, going out of town?" John said he did.

"Well on the opposite side of the road about fifty yards along are some large Victorian houses. I live on the top floor of number ninety-eight. If you left your car in the cinema car park you could cross over the road and call on me tonight sometime after eight."

"Wonderful!" John told her as she hurriedly hung up her phone.

Dead on the stroke of eight o'clock he walked up the tree lined road under an umbrella as the heavens opened and it poured with rain. Lightening lit the dark stormy sky and thunder roared overhead, as he passed the first of the Victorian houses. At number ninety-eight he climbed the front stone steps of the old house and rang the bell for the top flat. There was a loud buzz and the front door lock was opened and he made his way up the wide stairs to the top floor. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell, the door opened, and there she was. Standing in the doorway, waiting for him, totally naked.

"Hello John." She smiled at him, as he stood there rigid, quite taken aback. "You look soaked, it's a hell of a night out side." She held her arms open and invited him into the hallway. "Here let me take your jacket. I'll hang it up in the hall to dry off a bit."

"Damn it, but you look ready for anything." John laughed, handing her his damp jacket before kissing her long and passionately. He felt her body all over, loving its firm mature feel, and trying not to get his cold damp clothes on her silky pale skin. Her breasts were big, proud, and beautiful, with nipples so hard as he nipped them between a nervous finger and thumb, they made him think of Chapel hat pegs stood to attention along a wall.

Her cunt was covered in a mass of thick black hair and already moisture hung from her pubes as she let him sink his fingers into her hot horny hole. She groaned loudly, turning to face him as he worked his long middle finger up onto her g-spot. She started to tremble in anticipation of an approaching orgasm. One that had been wanting to cum for the past hour or so, all pent up as she had patiently waited for him. Now she couldn't hold it back a second longer, and simply had to let go.

"Yes ... go on Pat, give it to me ... let it all go!" John urged her on as he finger fucked her cunt harder to make her climax in a wild explosive cry, with her eyes wild and wanton lust written all over her face.

Now she broke free from him and literally tore his wet cloths off. She muttered things to herself in appraisal of his body and the size of his throbbing penis. She was like a mare eyeing up her stallion before letting him mount her, reassuring herself she was going to get a really good fucking. When he was standing naked amid a pile of discarded clothes all but his socks, which he had kept on, she grabbed him and lovingly fondled him all over. Holding his cock in both hands she wanked it gently pulling back its soft foreskin to show off that engorged purple knob that positively glistened with a desire to pleasure her again.

"One hour only." She said as she led him into the sitting room of the flat by his long cock. "Not a second longer or we may be caught." John nodded his head in acceptance, as he had no wish to be caught in another man's flat let alone in another man's woman, and simply followed his cock.

Patricia Webster threw herself back onto the sofa and undid her long black hair to let it fall freely over her shoulders. She opened her lovely legs wide and wickedly stroked her pubes and teased her cunt with the tip of a finger before sucking on it dirtily, watching John all the time.

Falling to his knees, John buried his face in her thick bush and drank in the heady scent of sex that filled his mind with thoughts of fucking her legless. She purred as he ran his tongue up and into her sweet damp and rubbed his nose hard against her aching clitty, lapping up her drooling juices.

She had him firmly in her grip as she now ground her pussy onto his face and felt the tension starting to ratchet up notch by notch making her say wonderfully dirty things to him. John reached for a breast and grabbing one, held on tightly as she started to cum again but this time all over his face in a huge gush of out pouring silky woman's juice. So hot and so sticky.

He licked at her cunt and tried to clean up what he could of this huge ejaculation of pent up lust all in his face.

"Here, let me help you." She offered, getting him to sit by her on the sofa as she kissed his slippery face smacking her lips in enjoyment at her own tasty cum. Lighting flashed across the sky and filled the darkened room. A huge crash of thunder almost deafened them and made them both jump and clutch each other tightly.

"I think the storm is doing things to me, I've not cum twice so quickly for years," she said sliding to the floor and yanking opening his legs wide to suck on his cock noisily.

"Do you get a lot of that?" John asked her as he watched her taking his cock ever so deep into her mouth.

Patricia Webster muttered and shook her head as she started to bob on it up and down, while tickling his balls at the same time. It made him groan, and tell her how he wanted to fuck all her holes for her. She stopped abruptly and looking up at him with smoldering eyes asked, "Would you really ... fuck all my holes for me?" 

Before he had time to say, "Yes please!" she was sucking his cock again and this time ran a finger up over his tight bum hole. Around and around she rimmed him with her fingertip, wanting to state her case for totally being his. She was every man's dream of the perfect fuck, John thought. Very few women ever tell you, "All my holes are yours to do with as you please with!" Here was such a dream come true. 

Not wanting to cum right there and then, he pulled his cock from her mouth and forced her back onto the floor and rammed his twitching tool hard into her gaping cunt as she lay with her legs open wide clawing at his body, saying "Fuck me, yes, fuck me!" 

This could not be a long lingering fuck. Both of them wanted to orgasm almost the second they felt the grand union of cock in cunt. Both wanted to spew out their juices as soon as her cunt closed tightly around his cock and he had rammed it home all the way so that his balls slapped against her bum.

"Oh yes, fuck my bloody brains out you gorgeous fucker," she almost screamed as he pumped her cunt hard and fast with her legs now up over his shoulders and her face twisted up with a look of almost pain as she felt yet another on cumming climax. John's cock spat his heavy load into her with a cry and a massive shudder. On and on it went diminishing in force till most of his spunk had been spent, and they both lay still and panting happily in each other's arms.

"Gosh you cum so heavily." Patricia laughed looking down at herself dripping onto the carpet as she sat up on the floor. "I noticed that the other night when you fucked me at the party. God I had gallons of it running down my legs all night long." 

"Did your man notice?"

"No, mores the pity. He's always in some kind of training or other. He's playing squash tonight, practicing for a tournament."

"So you don't get a lot of sex then?" John asked thinking he might be onto a regular winner here.

"I can always do with more!" she laughed dirtily, before kissing him warmly and grabbing his cock to rub it. John slid a couple of fingers into her saturated cunt and made her groan her approval as she signified she definitely wanted more from him. Then slipping out of her, he moved his dripping fingers upwards and started to rim her tight little arse hole this time.

"Oh you dirty boy" she gasped, rolling onto her back and pulling her knees up to her big breasts to allow him free access to her arse. Now he took her sticky juices and smeared her puckered hole liberally before working a finger into her. She started to relax her sphincter for him and allowed him to slip his finger ever deeper right up to his knuckles.

"It's been a while since I got stretched up there so please be careful, I feel very tight." She almost whispered trembling with anticipation and her eyes flashing with excitement.

He laid her on her side and spat on a hand to rub over the knob of his cock to lubricate it, which was now almost rock hard again. Just the thought of slipping into her arse had made him feel so horny and hard, but not too hard as to hurt her. He just wanted her to completely love it all.

She was holding her breath as he placed his slippery knob at her back door while letting her feel it press gently against her tight ring. She breathed out and he felt her edge backwards nervously onto him while he just held his cock firmly in place. After a couple of seconds she gasped loudly and he felt himself entering her arse hole. It felt hot and tight and oh so wonderfully dirty to be taking her like this. She was trusting him with her most intimate place possible. Letting him fuck her so that she was totally his, and now he wanted her to love him for it. Do her to absolute perfection.

"Nice?" he asked. "I'm not hurting you am I?" 

"No, but just give me a minute." 

She was trembling slightly as he lay very still, not moving a muscle. "God you feel so big in there, you know?"

"Feels wonderful for me." John reassured her.

"I'm really stuffed full of you ... God it feels so good ... I'd forgotten how good." Patricia rocked a little back and forth and purred with pleasure at the feeling of his cock's head just inside her tight hole.

"Oh yes, I'm starting to relax now." she purred with excitement. "Give me more ... that's it, a bit more. Now slowly.... Oh yes, I want you all the way in... God that feels so good!"

John gave her more, and soon he had his whole length firmly up inside her arse so that she was starting to talk dirty again to him and begging him to let his spunk go into her bowls.

"I want to feel you cum up me. I want your spunk in there!"

"Soon!" John grunted, getting blown away by this wonderful mature woman and her letting him take her like this. "Are you ready for it?"

"Yes, yes, oh yes!" she pleaded.

He was lunging now at her and was at the point of no return. She grasped his hand and as she squeezed it hard he shot every last drop of his spunky load into her making them both cry out and convulse into one united quivering mass. Cumming like that felt so very different for John. It was a complete killer, a complete mind blowing, shattering experience. This orgasm was so very different from fucking pussy. This was tight and somehow hotter and the ejaculation almost painful. Spunk did not fly free in two or three jets of carefree orgasmic abandonment to splash and run down vagina walls. This was a restrained forcing out of the seed into a tight restricted orifice. There was hardly any place for it to go and it made his cock pump extra hard to get his seed out and to obtain that mind blowing climaxing release. 

It was just as he kissed her for the third time, and told her how wonderful she was, that they both heard it. Someone was climbing the stairs! Someone was coming up the top flat where they were fucking on the floor.

"Quiet!" Patricia whispered not daring to move. The door was being tried, and then there was a bang and a voice boomed out. "Pat ... Pat, I know you are in there, open this damned door!"

John didn't have to ask who it was out there on the landing; he was up in a flash and in a total blind panic. Visions of his own blood running everywhere flashed before his eyes.

"Oh bloody hell!"

"He'll kill you!"

"I've gathered that, for Christ's sake!"

Racing into the hallway of the flat, with only a couple of inches of door separating him from a most likely death, John grabbed his clothes off the floor, and hurriedly tucked them under his arm.

"The fire escape, quickly out the window." Patricia shouted.

She had the bedroom window open and John didn't bother with any polite goodbyes, but dived out onto a wet metal platform and started off down the stairs to the next platform on the second floor with his clothes still firmly under his arm. He did glance up to shout something to his host as she hung out of the window watching him flee but then noticed a huge hulk of a man through the window on the staircase. He was already coming down the internal stairs waving what looked like a squash racket above his head and to say he had murder in his eyes would be no word of a lie.

John jumped the last flight of stairs and landed on a very wet lawn in the back garden of the flats. Up in a flash, he ran for a passageway between the houses that took him back onto the main road. For a split second he had lost his pursuer but no sooner had he sped off down the tree-lined footpath in the direction of the cinema, a front door flew open and a hail of abuse filled the night air.

It was still raining but the sun now setting low in the sky, shone under the dark storm clouds and lit up everywhere with a brilliant fiery glow. Almost blinding in its intensity it illuminated the cinema and the crowds of people both coming and leaving and also one naked young man fleeing for his life chased by a mad crazed squash player.

John had no idea what was being shown at the cinema but he was in no doubt as to the bemused amusement of the spectators watching the drama being shown outside. Cars tooted their horns and people shouted with laughter pointing at him as he dashed across the road. In sheer flight he narrowly dodged cars and wondered if he could ever manage to get his car keys out of his trouser pocket in time to escape the ever-closing mad maniac.

Jumping the low wall that surrounded the cinema car park John managed to feel his car keys in his trousers and blindly prodded at the key fob trying to activate the remote door locks. He saw his car now and time after time squeezed the keys furiously as he raced for safety. Suddenly the car taillights flashed and the car was open. With only seconds to spare he dived into the driving seat and slammed the door shut and pushed the button down on the dashboard to lock the car doors just as a squash racket was smashed down on the roof of his car.

Again there was a smash and then this huge brute of a man trying to wrench off his car door, shouting all manner of terrible things he was going to do to John when he got his hands on him. The car keys were now out of his trousers and in the car ignition springing it into life as John rammed the gear stick home and with in a cloud of vaporized rubber from the tires, flew out of the car park.

Ten minutes later he was still shaking like a leaf as he pulled his clothes on while hidden down a side street. His feet were in a terrible state and he dared not think what they would have been like if he hadn't at least had his socks still on. Suddenly he realized he'd left his jacket.




Summer Storm



"Oh my God, it's got my wallet in it, my credit cards and my driving license too." His heart sank to rock bottom as he vowed never to dabble with older women again, whatever they promised.

It was on the fourth day that it arrived, after his narrow escape from the clutches of the fanatic squash player. Wrapped in brown paper and in a cardboard box, neatly addressed and all securely packaged. He opened the parcel with trepidation at first but then his fear turned to joy as he found his long lost jacket inside the box together with his wallet and a hand written note.

"Dear John," it read. " Sorry about the other night. It was very wicked of me to lure you into my lair like that. I do apologize for scaring you in such a cruel manner but I had to agree to David (my man) having his bit of fun too. Surprising us, was just one of his conditions, that was if I wanted to fuck with you. I know you will hate me for doing what we did to you, but God it was so funny, you running for your life only in your socks. We are still laughing like hell here! I do hope you will see the funny side of it one day. Love Pat.

PS. you were a wonderful lover by the way, and David says you're one hell of a sprinter too!"



Summer Storm



My thanks to Drew for his editing and encouragement. 

*

It was one of those sultry British August evenings, the sun lazily sinking in a cloudless sky, the air so heavy it seemed to blanket the countryside in stillness, stifling out any sounds.

As Eddie stretched back on the recliner, he felt he could barely summon the energy to lift his ice cold drink up to his lips. Damn it was horribly humid. As he negotiated with himself to get up and take a shower, he noticed a movement in the garden next door. It was his neighbour, Bev, trying to drag a large bag of gravel down the path. He watched her through half closed eyes, taking in her curves, her full breasts filling out a white vest nicely, and her mid-thigh length shorts showing off her strong legs. He watched her frown with concentration as she half pulled half dragged the bag along. Although not a slender woman she had sexiness to her, blue eyes and a very full mouth that always looked ready to wrap themselves round a cock. He felt a stirring in his shorts at the thought of her sucking his dick and he adjusted himself to feel more comfortable. 

Bev was struggling hard now with the bag, so muttering to himself, Eddie hauled himself out of the chair and walked over to the wall that separated the two properties.

"Hey Bev, wait there I'll give you a hand!"

Bev started, and looked up at Eddie, feeling her stomach flip as she met his eyes. She'd always found him attractive, and she ran her eyes appreciatively over his body, taking in a visible bulge at the front of his shorts. She looked away quickly hoping he had not noticed.

"Thanks Eddie, I don't know why I started doing this on such a hot and humid day, I've got 5 of these stupid things to move. I'd be so grateful I"ll make you dinner , how does that sound?"

Eddie agreed quickly, the chance to spend more time getting to know Bev could not be passed up. Inside Bev glowed with excitement as she thought of spending more hours with Eddie.

Eddie clambered over the wall and lifted the other side of the bag. Before long they had moved all the gravel bags, and stood to catch their breath, wiping the sweat from their brows. Heavy dark clouds had gathered in the sky and the air chilled suddenly. Without any further warning the heavens opened and large heavy droplets of tepid rain teemed down from the skies. Caught unawares Bev and Eddie seemed unable to move for a split second, then laughing, they ran up to Bev's porch. 

The rain was so heavy they were absolutely drenched and as they laughed and shook their soaking hair, a bolt of lightening forked through the sky. Bev and Eddie felt the hairs on their bodies rise up with the static in the air and they turned to face each other. Eddie looked down at Bev, her white vest was now see-through and her nipples were hard and poking through the wet clinging material. Eddie felt his cock harden as he looked at her, her eyes were shining and she shivered as another lightening bolt lit up the dark skies. She turned round to lean on the railings looking up at the skies as torrential summer rain poured down and flashes of lightening illuminated the black clouds. 

"Oh I love storms so much," she said, her voice breathless, "I hope it thunders."

With that a clap of thunder cracked loudly making her and Eddie jump. She laughed loudly at her shock , and as Eddie listened to her husky, throaty laugh he felt lust run through his body. He stepped in closer, and leaned over her, placing his hands either side of hers on the railing. He pressed his body into her back and kissed her wet shoulder, feeling her stop still for a second before gently pushing back into him.

He turned her round to face him, his eyes never leaving hers as he traced his fingers down her chest, rubbing her hard nipples through the wet vest. He caught his breath as she moaned and closed her eyes. He slowly unfastened her buttons as another bolt of lightening lit up the sky and they could feel the static charge in the air. It seemed to engulf them, heightening their arousal and making each touch feel deeper and earthier.

Moving his face close to hers he kissed her full mouth gently, parting her lips as he tentatively flicked his tongue over hers, groaning deeply as he felt her probe back. He pressed his hard body into hers as he pulled down the vest, freeing her full round breasts from her bra, stroking each hard nipple.

Bev felt moisture seep into her knickers as Eddie continued stroking her nipples, and sighing deeply, she brought her hand to the front of his shorts, rubbing along the outline of a hard thick cock. As she heard him catch his breath and groan she kissed him harder, muffling his moan so the only sounds that could be heard was the rumble of thunder, the steady, heavy summer rain that showed no sign of stopping and the quickening breath of the pair as they kissed and stroked each other on the porch.

Breaking apart at the same time they looked into each others eyes, and started slowly removing their drenched clothing. The summer evening was still warm despite the downpour and they felt nothing but the heat of their bodies and the electricity that seemed to dance in the air, around them and in between them.

As Bev stepped out of her shorts, Eddie placed his hands on the waistband of her knickers. "Please, leave them on for me."

Smiling, Bev nodded and helped Eddie to step out of his shorts and boxers, gasping as she saw his full hard cock swing free. It was beautiful, thick, cut and a good 6 1/2 inches. Perfect. She ran her fingers down the shaft, marvelling at the marble hardness and soft velvety skin, and then she knelt in front of him, wanting it in her mouth.

She could see the muscles in his thighs tense as she moved her head to his cock. She slowly ran her tongue from the base of the shaft in one long move right up to the tip, delighting in his reaction as he hissed loudly between his teeth.

"Damn" he moaned.

She slowly slid his cock into her hot mouth, pushing down until her chin was brushing against his trimmed balls. She pulled back until just the tip was clamped in her mouth and danced her tongue quickly over the tip, running along the edge and flicking quickly across the ridge underneath. Eddie felt his balls leaping and his cock twitching and reaching down, pulled Bev up from her knees.

"Any more of that and I'm afraid I'll cum really quickly," he moaned, his breath short and laboured.

As he spoke he pushed her towards the railing, and turned her round so she had her back to him. Reaching his hands round he caressed her breasts, teasing the hard nipples as he lightly nipped and kissed her shoulder. He didn't stop working his fingers on her breasts as he kissed down her back, biting gently, watching her squirm and arch her back in response to his touch.

He reached the band of her silky French panties and brought one hand round to stroke her firm round bottom. Sliding one finger under the hem line, he lifted the material to expose more of her cheek and gently pushed her forward. He knelt behind her and pulled the gusset to one side to look at her smooth swollen pussy lips, glistening and slick with her juices.

With one hard lick Eddie dragged his tongue across her slit, ending at her hard clit making her knees buckle as jolts surged through her body. As he sucked and licked her pussy, Eddie slipped in a finger and swirled it around inside her hot hole, feeling her muscles clamp down hard. Bev was leaning heavily against the railing as her body started twitching and jerking on Eddie's mouth and fingers. Eddie could sense Bev was close to orgasm and wanting to experience her cumming all over his cock. He stood up quickly, pulling her panties harshly to one side and drove his cock into her dripping cunt hard and fast and without warning. Bev let out a scream and Eddie felt her inner walls clenching against his now twitching cock. Grabbing her hips he started pounding into her, building up his pace as he thrust in and out. Bev pushed to meet each thrust, her back arched and her eyes glazed.

"Eddie I'm so close now" she moaned, as the pace grew frantic.

Eddie moaned and rammed into her relentlessly, needing to drive his cock deep into her beautiful, tight twat. He knew he was close as he felt his balls tightening and a charge starting to build deep inside his body.

"Oh Bev I'm going to.. going to.. cum," he yelled as she felt his cock thicken and swell further.

It was all she needed and Bev screamed loudly as wave after wave of electricity charged through her body, intensified by the bolts of lightening still lighting the sky. Her juices gushed down over his cock as it erupted ropes of thick cum hard and fast. They bucked and ground against each other as their orgasms joined them on so many levels. Moaning gutturally they started slowing their pace, Bev's pussy convulsing round Eddie's twitching cock and their legs threatened to buckle with the intensity of it all. 

As the feelings subsided Bev straightened up and slowly eased her slick, cum filled twat off Eddies pulsating cock and moved to kneel in front of him. She gently took the tip of his juice and cum coated dick into her mouth and slowly licked it clean. Sucking softly, savouring the taste of their union, salty musky and sweet. Eddie squeezed his eyes closed tight as he felt Bev's soft tongue lapping over his still hard cock, the head so sensitive to any touch. When all the juices had been swallowed down Bev stood and kissed Eddie deep and hard. He groaned as he tasted their joined flavours and held Bev tight in his arms.

The charge in the air started to evaporate, and the rain started to ease as they stood silently kissing. 



Summer Storm



We are camping in the mountains. It's been a beautiful day of hiking, swimming and a quiet picnic. We returned to camp and decided to take a nap before dinner. I don't know how long we've been asleep... hours? I am awakened by a not-to-distant roll of thunder.

I love storms. They pull at something primal in me. I am excited, but I know that being in a tent on top of a mountain in a storm could be a frightening experience. 

I nudge you, "Babe...Babe, wake up... there's a storm coming."

"What?" you whisper, still half asleep. Another clap of of thunder, closer this time, and you are fully awake. 

"Wow, sounds like we may be in for it." you say as you pull me closer to your side.

I snuggle in, my head on your shoulder, my arm across your chest. Your hand lightly drawing lazy circles on my upper arm. 

"It will be fine, these storms never last very long." you reassure me. 

"You know what storms do to me, but it's still scary being up here in a tent." I reply. 

"Oh yes, I am well aware of what storms do to you." you say softly as you turn on your side and cup my face in your hands. You kiss me deeply, sliding your tongue into my mouth to seek out my own.

Flashes of lightening followed closely by loud bursts of thunder have me shaking, but not just with fear... Oh God... storms make me so aroused. You feel me trembling and kiss me more passionately. Deeper, urgent, ravenous. My hands find your hair and I pull it, raking my fingers across your scalp as I do.

You moan into my mouth, breaking the kiss only long enough to pull my shirt off over my head. I grab the hem of yours and begin pulling, you help me and we are soon skin on skin from the waist up. You pull me tight against your chest, and feel my erect nipples as my soft breasts are crushed against you. 

You release your hold slightly so you can get a hand around one of them and knead it, rolling my nipple between your fingers... first one and then the other.

Sliding your hand lower you dip a finger into my waiting pussy. "Fuck, you're soaked." you growl. Your thumb finds my clit and rubs circles around it... I arch into your hand, "Yes, more, I need more..." I plead.

The thunder and lightening rage directly overhead, and I jump, tensing with each flash and boom. The rain has started coming down in sheets.

Our hands are everywhere now, grasping, clutching at each others flesh. "Pants off, NOW!" you order with a growl. I comply quickly, but you are naked before I get mine all the way off. You grab the ends and rip them the rest of the way off my legs. I raise up and push you onto your back, quickly kneeling between your strong thighs.

You wrap both fists in my hair and pull my face to your crotch. I have a hand on your hard cock and one on your balls. I take you in my mouth and suck you to the back of my throat, swallowing around the head. 

I hear your loud groan even over the thunder. I pump your cock hard in sync with my mouth while pulling on your balls and rolling them and squeezing almost to the point of pain. I feel them draw up tightly, and I know you are close to coming.

You pull me off your cock and I whimper... I love sucking you off. You pull me up and I barely have time to take you in hand and line you up with my wet opening before you slam me down hard onto your waiting, jerking shaft. I cry out, it's heaven, I am filled completely, stretched tightly, my pulsing pussy so hot and wet for you.

I arch by back, tilting my hips to get the right angle, oh yes, right there! I start rocking forward and back, making your cock rub the walls of my pussy so good.Your fingers find my hard, swollen clit, and you rub it almost viciously, hard, unrelenting.

"Oh God, YES!"I scream,"So good... FUCK!"

The storm is at it's peak, lightening non stop, the deafening thunder booming... the wind and rain lashing at the tent. My pussy is clenched around your cock so tight, aching with need. Our moans, growls and shouts intensifying, our bodies glistening with sweat, muscles taught, flesh flushed hot and red. 

"Can't hold back... babe, I'm going to... FUCK YES!" you shout, hands gripping my hips and yanking me hard onto your turgid cock. 

"I'm there! Cumming too!" I scream, my body jerking with the force of the spasms rocketing through my core.

We lay there, spent, gasping for breath... listening to the storm as it moves on. The temperature has dropped, our sweat drenched bodies chill. You pull an open sleeping bag over us and we drift off to sleep, completely sated, boneless.

The next morning we wake up to the sunrise and a cloudless, clear blue sky. "Where do you think the storm went?" I ask with a grin. You give me that smile that is all mine and reply with a wink, "Maybe we can get ahead of it if we hurry."