From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Sun Nov 24 18:13:59 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: SEASONS 1/4
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Nov 1996 02:13:59 GMT
Hazy Shade of Winter
(Seasons part 1)
컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴컴�
컴컴컴
This is the first part of a longer story. I may or may not write
the rest of it, depending on the reaction to this (if any), and on my
time schedule. I don't think any warnings are in order; anyone who
is offended by this probably just needs to get out of the house more
often.
hope you enjoy it,
Hawkeye
_______________________________________________________________________
__
_
Do me a favor, and only redistribute this with the following notices
attached.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the
characters herein, and any real people living or dead, is purely
because I draw from many sources, real and imaginary. Chew on that.
(c) 1993 Pure Blue Enterprises. All rights reserved. Explicit
permission
granted for electronic re-distribution, without changes.
Hazy Shade of Winter
by Hawkeye
It's been 18 months since I've seen her now. I may very well never
see her again, so I feel it's appropriate that I get my thoughts and
memories of her in order. Who knows, maybe it will help...
She first flipped her way into my life 6 years ago. Yes, flipped.
I spotted her in the meal line at Hudson, about 10 feet in front of me.
She was just a little thing, maybe 5' 1" or 2", with platinum colored
hair, cropped at the shoulders. God, she was cute. Anyway, her hair
had this way of falling across her face whenever she leaned forward
to put something on her tray. She kept flipping it out of her way,
with a little toss of her head. Unreal.
So there I was, staring at her, dizzily thrilled at watching her hair
swing, and I smashed my tray into the woman in front of me. It was
spectacular. I sent a cascade of porcelain and glass onto the tiled
floor. I was lucky--only about half the lunchroom looked up at me, to
see what idiot was responsible. I put on my best sheepish grin, and
tried to get my ears to stop glowing red. I didn't see whether she
looked at me or not.
So, that was the first time I saw her.
+++
Almost a month after that, I signed up for the "movie crew", a sort
of entertainment committee for the dorms. It wasn't just movies, in
fact it was mostly parties and bands and all kinds of ("socially
stimulating", read the charter) activities, which we had a sizable
budget for.
So, as if you couldn't guess--the new guy gets the shit jobs. I
ended up cleaning up after a loud, riotous party that shook the
building's foundations until 2 am. I really had all day Sunday to do
it, but I was still wide awake and nursing a ringing in my ears that
would keep me up for hours, so I figured I'd get a head start on it.
Anyway, I was picking up the "No Underaged Drinking" notices that
had been torn down and stamped into the beery mud on the floor, when I
heard the front door slam.
Nobody was supposed to be let into "Ground Zero" after the party.
Except me, Joe Cleanup, because I had the keys. But since this was
my first mission, I made a rookie error, and left the front door
unlocked. I just prayed it wasn't drunken partiers, come to scrounge
the last beer. I'd be here all night. As it got closer, I could tell
it was just one set of footsteps. Good; I could deal with that.
Hopefully.
As my midnight prowler rounded the corner, I shouted: "Hey,
you're--". It was a pretty good start, I thought. But I came up
short on the rest of it. Choke. I'd never be the big game player.
It was -her-, and I couldn't finish my sentence, because her hair was
doing that bounce thing again. Oh, god.
"Hey, you're--", she mimicked cheerfully. And gave me an elfin
grin. So, I knew this was the time for me to get a hold of myself,
say something engaging, and show her how fascinating, mature, and
confident I was. Yeah.
"Well... you're not supposed to be in here. It's after hours." Oh,
that was good. Throw her out quick, before she clues in that she's
alone in a half-dark room with a moron.
"Oh. Do you want me to leave?" She stuck out her lower lip, in a
cute spoof of a little girl pout. Did I say that I choked before? I
didn't know the meaning of the word. I almost swallowed my own tongue
this time.
"No!", I got that part out, well enough. Maybe I was improving.
"No--I just... uh. Hmm. Why are you here?" No, I obviously wasn't
improving.
"Well, you *are* Sam, right?" Without waiting for me to somehow
screw up saying "yes", she added "I'm Lisa Bradley. I'm supposed to
help you clean up."
Oh, no way. Things like that just don't happen. But they did that
time. I found out, as I went about the most delightful evening of
mopping rancid beer that I ever hope to experience, that she had
joined the "movie crew" several months ago, but hadn't been active in
it because of "other" time commitments. So, she was just now starting
out at the same newbie level as myself.
We had a great time slopping around and making inane jokes. She had
a pixie sense of humor, and an easy way about her that actually made
me feel comfortable, despite my ongoing awareness that she was very,
very attractive. I watched her all night as we cleaned up... the way
her breasts moved under the cotton blouse she was wearing. The way
her jeans stretched nicely around her bottom when she bent over to
pick something up. The way her hair bounced as she walked.
She was the cutest little package you could ever imagine. She must
have weighed only 110 or 120 lb, and she came up to about my chin.
Her breasts would have seemed small, and her hips narrow if she had
been a tall woman--but on her frame, they made her look well-endowed.
I couldn't take my eyes off her; not to say that I really tried.
I went to bed that night, dreaming about how her platinum hair
bounced around as she moved. And how she had to keep shaking her head
to flip it out of her face. I had that little flip memorized, and my
dreams were full of tossing hair.
That was the second time I met her.
+++
That semester, we got to know each other pretty well. We used to go
out of our way to hang out together. All her friends were guys, it
seemed. She was friendly and attractive and fun to be around, and
guys got pulled in like moths to the flame. The only thing that kept
them from hitting on her constantly was the fact that she already had
a steady boyfriend.
Yup. That was why she was late getting involved in the movie crew.
She had met this guy at the beginning of the semester (about the time
I had my lunchroom "scene"), and she had become very involved with him,
to the extent of not doing much else besides seeing him.
He was actually a pretty cool guy--the couple of times I met him, I
thought that if he wasn't dating Lisa I'd probably like to hang out
with him. In fact, I probably wouldn't have minded anyway, despite my
sort of silly jealousy of him, but Lisa kept him apart from us. She
never brought him along when she went out with her male cronies. I
didn't ask why.
So things rocked along pretty nicely like that for the rest of the
semester. We were the "cleaners" for the movie crew, so we got to
spend time together every weekend. And it was usually just the two
of us, since for some reason nobody else volunteered to work with us.
Go figure.
Anyway, winter came down hard on us, and the end of the semester
came crawling through the snow, sneaking up until it caught us
completely unawares. Before I knew it, she was gone for Christmas
break, and I hadn't even had a chance to really say goodbye. Hell,
I didn't know if she was even coming back next semester.
Christmas was the longest holiday I've ever experienced.
+++
Needless to say, she did come back the next semester. I shoved a
birthday card under her door, saying, "Welcome back. I don't know
when your birthday is, so I thought now would be a good time to take a
wild shot at it." She laughed when she called me on the phone, and
she told me I was weird. "Only when I'm around you", I said.
Within a couple of weeks, we were almost back to our old routine,
except that this semester, the movie crew had a couple other newbies
to do the cleaning up. We found other reasons to spend time alone
together.
It was the middle of February, and we couldn't escape the fact that
we were obviously spending far too much time together for it to be
just casual anymore. She made references to her boyfriend
occasionally, when it seemed like the atmosphere between us had
gotten too thick to breathe. That hurt, but I didn't say anything
about it.
Despite the tension, we continued to see each other. We went to
late night films, and stayed up all night in her room, listening to
her stereo. Sometimes we would end up falling asleep leaning against
each other, or snuggling under a comforter as the February gales
roared against the window. I tried tentatively to kiss her a couple
of times, but she turned her head away. Her "boyfriend" was never
around anymore.
+++
February gave way to the warmest March I've ever seen. The weather
turned bright and cheerful overnight. I had a snowball fight with
some friends of mine, and we almost hurt each other by packing the
wet, heavy snow so hard that it left bruises.
I came back to the dorm with my hair dripping half melted snow. I
stopped by Lisa's door, and kicked it with my sneaker. As she opened
the door, I smacked her with a handful of loose slush that I had
hidden in my pocket. She burst into tears.
I stood there completely dumbfounded. I hadn't hit her hard, and
the snow was just soft and slushy. The script read that she was
supposed to wrestle me for control of the other handful that I had at
the ready, and we were supposed to shriek dire threats at each other
until one of us got it rubbed in our face.
"Lisa...?" I stepped into the room, jamming the other handful of
snow back into my coat pocket. She had seated herself on her bed,
her face buried in her hands. I pushed the door closed behind me.
"Hey--what's wrong?" I felt like 150 lbs of stupid asshole.
She didn't answer me, she just shook her head a little. I dumped my
wet coat on the floor, and sat down beside her. Tentatively, careful
of a violently negative reaction, I slipped my arm around her. I
smoothed her hair back (had I ever seen it rumpled before?), and
squeezed her shoulder in what I sincerely hoped was a reassuring
manner.
"What is it? Do you want to talk about it?" I paused. "Or should I
shut up?" She stopped crying then, and just sort of trembled, dryly
gasping. She lifted her face from her hands and tried to say
something, but she couldn't get it out. It sounded like "He..."
I wasn't so sure I wanted to hear this. I've heard women cry before
over guys, and I'm pretty good at the awkward business of "just being
there" for them. But with Lisa, it wasn't like I had no personal
interest in this. I didn't want to listen to a tale of how she just
couldn't live without X, and her life was meaningless now that he's
gone, but she's so glad she has a friend like me that she can talk
to... My head would probably just explode into a million tiny glowing
fragments if she said anything like that.
I waited while she got her breathing under control. She managed to
gasp out between fits of shaking:
"He...", she started. I winced. "He tried to... tried to..."
I suddenly felt as cold as the arctic sea. "Oh, my god... are you
ok?", I demanded. A second later, I grabbed her by both shoulders,
"ARE..YOU..OH..KAY?" I was maybe a little harsh with her, but I felt
a rising tide of panic that was going to make me burst at the seams in
a minute.
She nodded, and brushed at her eyes.
I stayed with her all night. It turned out that her "boyfriend"
hadn't
taken so kindly to being slowly excluded from her life, and had showed
up with a heavy load of alcohol weighing on his brain. She had argued
with him, then told him to leave. He decided not to. She shouted at
him. He attacked her.
She was tougher than she looked. At 5'2" and maybe 120 lbs, you
don't get the feeling that she's a world class fighter or anything.
But she's not weak, and she's not timid. She grabbed the ceramic
pencil-cup from her desk, and smashed him in the face with it. He's
lucky it didn't break and cut his eye open. As it is, it sounded like
he was going to be sporting a shiner and a major headache the next
day. He had stumbled out the door, presumably because she had knocked
some sense into him.
We didn't talk that much about it. Mostly, I just stayed with her,
and respected her silence. We ordered out for food, and skipped all
our classes. I held her a couple of times when she started bawling
again.
I stayed with her for two days. I slept on the floor, because even
though she wanted me in the room with her, she didn't really want to
be touched. I felt horrible, partly for what had happened to her, and
partly, selfishly, because I felt like extra baggage in something that
obviously didn't include me.
When she felt ready to cope on her own again (and also the need
for her to keep up with her classes started to become pressing),
she went back to her normal routine. I went home, still a little
dazed from the events of the past couple of days. More dazed than
her, I think. She bounced back--I was still gushing anger and
disbelief.
Like I said, she was tougher than she looked.
+++
Two weeks went by, and I scarcely heard form her. I saw her light
on at all hours of the night, because I went for lots of walks in the
damp March air. Walks that took me through the courtyard - under her
window, coincidentally. Yeah.
The third week after, I got a phone call from her.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi... What's up?" I paused. "How are you?"
"I'm ok." She actually sounded like she meant it. She wasn't good
at faking moods. If she was depressed or cranky, she always sounded
depressed or cranky.
I waited again, feeling frustrated about not knowing what to say.
"Look," she said. "Why don't you come over tonight? It's my
birthday,
did you know?"
"No, I didn't know! How old are you?"
"I'm 20. You don't have to get me a card, since you gave me one back
in February." I could almost hear her grinning through the phone line.
"Great. What time?"
"How about 7?"
That couldn't have sounded any better to me.
+++
I considered what to get her for a present. She's one of those
people who's hard to buy for. Not that she's unappreciative, though
she does tent to mock you in a friendly way for making "silly"
purchases. And I never quite got a handle on what she considered
silly and not-silly. She had such a curious and humorous attitude
toward everything that serious and silly got kind of mixed up.
So, what did I do? I bought her a squirt gun. I knew it would get
used on me, probably at embarrassing moments like in lecture or
something, but I would live. As requested, I didn't get her a card.
I showed up at her door at 7.
She opened it when I knocked. She looked beyond beautiful. She was
so radiant she was almost glowing white. She had on a dress, which is
unusual in itself, her being a bluejeans kind of girl. And she had
tied
up her hair, which is also out of character - she always lets it hang
loose.
I kept my composure, though. I said "Uhhh, wow. Hi," just as smooth
as ever, and didn't even trip stepping into the room.
She took the package that I held out to her. She made as if to
tear the wrapping open, then looked up and asked "Should I?". I
thought about it for a second, then said, "Better not." I smiled.
"Hmmm." She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, as if trying
to catch me smirking, then put the package on her desk.
In the meanwhile, I was beginning to experience a small discomfort.
Her white dress was form-hugging, and cut fairly low across her bosom.
I could see the cleft between her breasts, and it was distracting me,
badly. The room began to seem too warm, and I was getting a lump in
my throat.
"Sit down," she said, "you look like you haven't slept." I sat on
the end of her bed. I said, "Well, I've been kind of busy lately." I
didn't tell her I'd been busy walking around campus all night thinking
about her.
She sat down on a chair facing me, and said, "Well, what do you say
to Chinese food and ice cream? I've got them warming in the kitchen
microwave." She added with a grin, "No--not the ice cream! That's in
the freezer."
Since that sounded good to me, we went to the kitchen (actually a
sort of "shared kitchenette"), and fetched the food and plates she had
left warming. We ate in her room, balancing the plates on our knees,
and listening to the radio.
Then we broke out the ice cream. I mean that somewhat literally.
We didn't bother with cones, we just broke open the carton, put it in
a bowl on the chair, and ate it with spoons. She sat on the bed next
to me. I grinned at her between mouthfuls. She grinned back. I
dabbed a bit of ice cream onto her nose. She wiped it off and ate it.
Then she spoon-flicked a piece of it, and hit me just above the eye.
I wiped my forehead, and then came at her with a giant spoonful,
though I wasn't entirely certain what I was going to do with it when I
caught her. She grabbed my arm and we wrestled backwards. I trapped
one of her arms under me, and pinned the other with my free hand.
Then I dabbed her on the nose again. Laughing and spluttering, and
tried to blow it up into my face. Suddenly, I put my mouth over hers,
and kissed her ice-cream cold lips. She went tense like a loaded
spring--so that I was about to let go of her, when her lips began to
move against mine.
The tension drained out of her arms and body. I let go of her
wrist, and shifted my weight off of her, all thoughts of our wrestling
match dissolved in a haze of warmth. "Put the spoon down," she
whispered between kisses. I turned and dropped it into the bowl, then
turned my attention back to her. When I kissed her again, her mouth
opened, and she offered her tongue, which I sucked on with a giddy
tenderness.
I kissed her eyes, her lips, her throat, the tip of her nose. I
breathed hot into her ear, and then sucked on her tender earlobes. I
tasted the faint perfume of her flesh, and the sweetness of her breath
against me. We made out like giddy teenagers for probably half an
hour, softly kissing and caressing each other, until warmth began to
slowly give way to arousal. I was still enthralled with the
tenderness of her mouth, but I was beginning to have a desire for the
rest of her as well.
I turned my attention downwards, then, to the softness of her
breasts, which were pushing enticingly against my chest. I undid one
button on the front of her dress, and kissed the notch of her
collarbone. I undid another button, and kissed her bare sternum. I
undid another, and kissed the swell of her breasts. I undid the
buttons all the way to her waist then, and peeled the front of the
dress back from her bosom.
I could see the dark pinkness of her nipples through the cotton bra
she was wearing. More, I could see the hard tips of them poking up
the fabric. I whispered to her, "Sit up?" She sat up on the edge of
the bed, then stood, and peeled the dress completely off. It dropped
at her feet.
So there she was, standing there in her undergarments. She reached
behind her back with her hand, but I stopped her. "Turn around," I
said, "I'd like to do that." So she turned, and I unhooked her bra.
She turned back to me, and I pulled it slowly down, until I was
looking eye-to-nipple with her bare breasts. I nuzzled between them
and kissed them, inhaling the scent of her skin. I loved the way
they moved at my touch.
We lay down together on the bed. I worshipfully traced the curves
of her with my hands. She trembled as I brushed my fingers over her
engorged nipples. I laid her back flat on the bed, and took gentle
hold of one of her breasts. It filled my hands to overflowing. I
kissed the nipple, ran my tongue around it, and kissed it again. Then
I began to nibble and suck on it in earnest. When I paused, she
gasped and begged me, "Don't stop! Do that more." I pinched and
rolled her other nipple, rather roughly, with my fingers. She arched
her back and moaned. I switched to give them each equal treatment.
Finally, I lifted my mouth from her slicked nipples. She gazed up
at me, now looking dazed with arousal. That excited me more than I
would have believed possible. Suddenly, I began to feel a hot aching
inside me, and I desperately wanted to kiss her again. I slid up even
with her again, and laid my mouth over hers, while I continued to
pinch and caress her with my hands.
After a long while of deeply and passionately exploring each other's
mouths, she broke our kiss, and breathed into my ear, "Touch me. I
want your hands on me." I moved one hand slowly down, across her taut
belly, and slipped it between her legs. I said, "Is this what you
wanted?" as I stroked her through the fabric of her panties. "This?"
She nodded vigorously, her breath sounding harsh in her throat. She
whimpered as I rubbed harder, and I felt the heat of her soaking into
my fingers. She sought my mouth again, and we began to devour each
other with a ferocious hunger.
I rolled myself half on top of her then, mostly because I wanted to
feel her breasts against my chest again. I felt their soft pressure
against me, shifting fluidly with every movement. I slipped my hand
under her panties, and pressed my finger through the wet curls of
hair, into her body. I slid it up and down the length of her slit,
exploring the heat and wetness of her arousal. My cock was straining
frantically against my pants, now, to the point that it was starting
to be painful. I pulled my hand from her, and reached down to
unfasten my belt. I stopped. "Is this ok with you?" I asked, my
voice thick in my throat.
By way of answer, she reached down, and tugged at my belt. I
swallowed hard as she fumbled with it, watching her breasts jiggle
with the play of her efforts. I reached down to do it myself, but she
pushed my hand away. "You wanted to do the bra, I want to do this".
She did get it on the third or fourth try, and my belt came loose. I
undid the button before she could object, and I stood up and undid my
zipper. She took hold of my pants and pulled them down. Then she
took hold of the elastic band of my undershorts, and slipped it down
over my engorged cock. She put her fingers around me, and stroked
them up and down the length of my cock.
"Oh, yeaaaah... that's nice," I breathed softly, half fainting from
pleasure. She took a better grip just under the head, and began to
move her hand firmly up and down. I felt a slow heat rising through
my loins. I wasn't in danger of coming quite yet, but if she kept
doing that... I closed my eyes as she slowly worked me closer and
closer to orgasm. When I knew I was approaching the point of no
return, I put my hand over hers, and stopped her. I shook my head.
"I'll come if you keep that up."
She released me and lay back on the bed, then. I dropped my shorts
on the floor, and climbed beside her. I rolled her onto her side,
against my torso, and slipped my arm around her waist. My hand went
under the fabric of her panties, and I began to squeeze her bottom.
We kissed, and I stroked and kneaded her buttocks with my hand. She
breathed hotly into my mouth, and sucked on my ears. I held her
shoulders with my other hand, stroking the curls of hair that escaped
down the back of her neck.
Eventually, she said to me "Lay back.." I lowered myself flat onto
my back, with just my calves dangling off the bed. She threw one
shapely leg over me, and straddled me at the waist. Then she lowered
herself onto me, so that her hips were resting directly on mine. She
began to slide herself forward and backward, the damp silk of her
panties rubbing against my bare cock. I arched my hips, and ground
myself into into the heat of her groin as she slid back and forth.
I reached up to grab her swinging breasts, as I kneaded them hard
with my fingers as we dry-fucked each other almost to the point of
physical pain.
I was so hot by then that I could hardly breath. I felt like I was
on fire--my cock was throbbing relentlessly and trickling a steady
stream of precum. I gasped out "Now. I've got to have you. Now."
She looked me in the eyes and leaned forward on her hands and knees to
kiss me. As she lifted her hips, I slid her panties down. She lay
down beside me, and rolled onto her back, lifting her legs in the air
to take her panties off.
We stared hard at each other, and I lay my torso partly across hers.
I leaned down to kiss her mouth, and as we did that, I put my weight
on my elbows, and shifted my body until I was laying on top of her. I
reached a hand down between our bodies, and used my fingers to stroke
her. Her lips were hot and slick in my hand. I kneaded them, and
rubbed her clitoris with my fingers. She moaned and writhed under me,
pressing herself into my hand.
I masturbated her until she bit her lip to keep from crying out--all
the while whispering into her ear, "I want to see you come. I want to
feel you around me, I want to feel the heat of you. I want to fuck
you and fuck you and fuck you..." I didn't have to urge the passion
in my voice, I was so stimulated by the heat of her under me that my
voice was shaking. Her cheeks were flushed crimson, and her breath
was sobbing in her throat.
Finally, I used my fingers to spread her sex, and guide my cock to
her. I pushed gently. There was resistance, but she was very wet,
and the head of my cock was already slick. I pushed firmly, and
penetrated her. In a few moments, her slowly yielding cunt took me
completely into her. Then I began to move inside her. She threw back
her head, and gave a groan from deep inside her chest. The hot drag
and pull of our joining drove me to distraction, also, and my eyes
shifted in and out of focus as I slowly fucked her. Her hips moved in
synch with mine, as I worked her with a steady rhythm.
Then the mercury heat in my groin began to rise, and I began to lose
our steady rhythm. I thrust harder, jabbing myself into her heat,
driven half frantic by the smell of her, and the wet animal sounds of
our coupling. She bucked her hips under me, threatening to shake me
loose from her.
Finally, our passion peaked in a white-hot burst of pleasure. I
emptied my seed into her, in the four most powerful strokes of orgasm
I have ever experienced. With a half-suppressed scream, she thrust
herself frantically against me, even as I was coming down from my
own peak. I continued thrusting into her, in blind response to her
drawn-out orgasm, long after the shock of my ejaculation had ended.
Finally, we lay there together, gasping and exhausted beyond words.
+++
After a while of laying there, I regained enough presence of mind to
realize that I was still laying on her, and making it hard for her to
breathe. I rolled my weight off of her, and lay on my back, using my
little remaining strength to pull her against my side. Her hair had
come unbound, and it was damp with sweat. I ran my fingers tiredly
through it, and stroked her cheek.
"Hey...," I said, softly. "How'd we do?" She said, "Good." She
swallowed. "We did good." I saw a tear leaking out of the corner of
her eye. I wiped it away with a finger. "I love you, you know." She
answered, "I know."
That was good enough for me.
--
From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Sun Nov 24 18:14:25 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: SEASONS 2/4
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Nov 1996 02:14:25 GMT
_______________________________________________________________________
___
Do me a favor, and only redistribute this with the following notices
attached.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the
characters herein, and any real people living or dead, is purely
because I draw from many sources, real and imaginary. Chew on that.
(c) 1993 Pure Blue Enterprises. All rights reserved. Explicit
permission
granted for electronic re-distribution, without changes.
Summertime Blues
(Part 2 of 'Seasons')
by Hawkeye
Lisa was what you might call _the_ love of my life. Not the first
or the only, but by far the greatest. After we had our 'climactic'
encounter in February, we continued to see each other regularly.
Which meant "as often as before", with the difference being that we
were now seeing each other romantically.
Although it was clearly an 'exclusive' relationship on both our
parts, we were somehow hesitant to actually declare it as such. I
remembered all too well the incident with her previous boyfriend, and
so I didn't press the issue. The months went by much too quickly.
In May, the weather had turned balmy, and the school year was
rapidly winding down. Lisa and I had begun to seriously consider the
long-postponed question of what we were going to do that summer, and
it was making for no small amount of friction between us.
I wanted her to live on campus and work somewhere locally, which is
what I was planning to do. However, her father was a big Wall Street
commodities trader, and he could get her a 'gofer' job on the trading
floor that would pay 4 times what she could make by staying. I was
upset with her that she seemed to be placing "money" ahead of her
interest in me.
Things between us got tense, and then openly snarling. Before you
knew it, we weren't really spending time together at all. We had
exams to study for, and it became easy to find excuses not to. I
finally did stop by her room on the Sunday night before finals week,
but we ended up having an explosive argument, and she slammed the door
behind me when I left. I went back to my room and glared sullenly out
the window until the wee hours of the morning.
I remember finals week only as an undifferentiated haze of hot exam
rooms, filled with the constant sound of buzzing flies and flipping
papers. I hated the whole thing passionately.
I went home for a week, and spent some time with my hometown
friends, which cheered me considerably. I suddenly wished that I
didn't have to go back for the summer. But, I had already signed a
summer lease on a dorm room, because I had felt sure that Lisa
would change her mind. I knew it was going to be a long summer;
every building on campus contained some memory of the time we
had spent together.
+++
I got myself a job in the records office that summer. It was
unimaginative work, and left my mind free to wander. I began to
regret that I hadn't signed up for something like landscaping, so I
could work myself to exhaustion every day, and sleep like the dead.
Instead I was up half of every night, indulging myself in futile
fantasizing.
The weeks crawled past. I wondered if I shouldn't start trying to
do something with my life, rather than brooding in my room every night.
But what? I didn't really _want_ to do anything else. I wondered if
I would make a good alcoholic.
Then, on a Saturday morning in the beginning of July--almost 2 months
after my last big fight with Lisa--I got a phone call.
"Hi... Sam?"
"Hi Lisa." What to say? "Ummm. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine. How are you?"
Well, I couldn't very well say 'dying by inches'. So I said, "I'm
alright. I miss you like a sonuvabitch, though."
"I'm sorry. Really I am. I miss you too."
"Uhhh, I don't suppose you could afford to come out and visit me?"
"Well, actually, I can. In fact, I'm at the airport right now. I'm
getting a cab, and I'll be staying at the Horizon Inn. I'll call you
when I get there, ok?"
After I got off the phone, I went dancing around the room like a nut
case, jumping on the bed and punching the walls. I ended up knocking
a hole in the plaster that Maintenance charged me $40 to fix. Heh.
+++
We decided to meet at _Charlie's_, a nice homey little restaurant
that we both liked. She looked a little worn when she came in, as if
life in the big city didn't agree with her as well as it used to. She
still looked delicious in her shorts and tank-top, though. I suppose
I looked like a wolf that hadn't had its dinner, because the minute I
saw her, I wanted to take a huge bite out of her.
She came over to the table by the window that I had occupied. She
stopped beside me, hesitantly, as if she wasn't sure what kind of a
greeting was called for.
I stood up and asked her, "Well, do I get a kiss?"
She smiled, and gave me one. Then she put her arms around my neck,
and gave me a better one. A _much_ better one. If we hadn't been in
a busy restaurant, I would have pulled her onto the table with me. We
managed to sit down without such an incident, though. Sigh.
We talked about "stuff" as we ate lunch. Meaning that we carefully
avoided discussing our 'disagreement'. Things seemed like old times;
we made silly jokes, and played footsie under the table like a couple
of kids. When the waitress brought our check, we thumb wrestled to
see who got to pick up the tab. I did, but it wasn't as much of a
given as you might expect.
Standing outside the restaurant, under the shade of the awning,
I asked her "So, what now? Do you have any particular plans?" She
said, "Well, there should be fireworks in Shaeffer Park tonight,
right?"
"Oh, my god. I _forgot_ it was the fourth!" I smacked my forehead
theatrically.
"I think you're too dumb for me," she said, "I'm going to have to
shoot you, and find someone else." She pulled out a squirt gun--the
one I bought her for her her last birthday--and nailed me squarely in
the face. I caught her by the time she got to the street corner
though, and wrestled the offending Blast-O-Matic from her. She put
her hands in the air, and I marched her down the street like the
criminal she was.
I half expected somebody to call the real cops.
+++
We took in the zoo that afternoon, then went for ice cream and hot
dogs in the park, just as the sun was going down. We strolled around
the lake, and quacked back at the ducks. Then we went down to the
bandstand, where they were warming up the PA system.
We sat down under a big old oak tree that marked the edge of the
clearing. I put my back to the trunk of it, and she sat down between
my knees, and leaned against my chest. A few other people were there
already, mostly families with kids, to get seats near the fireworks
launching pad.
After about half an hour, during which time we chatted quietly and I
nuzzled her neck, we noticed that the bandstand clearing had filled up
considerably. There were lots of families and older couples, as well
as a few moon-struck teens together. I didn't feel condescending
towards them, I knew just how they felt.
Finally, the place settled down a bit, and the band concert started.
The music was patriotic, rather than romantic, but it got Lisa to
imitating the conductor, which made her wiggle pleasantly against me.
I slipped my arms around her waist, and squeezed her.
As it was fairly dark by then, and we were a fair distance from the
lights of the bandstand, I wondered if I couldn't get away with a
little horseplay. I slipped my hands under her tank-top, and rubbed
her belly. She stopped conducting the band, but they carried on
nicely without her. I pushed my hands upwards, until they cupped her
breasts through the cotton fabric of her bra. I kneaded them gently,
and I felt the nipples slowly harden.
I intended for this to be just a bit of friendly teasing--maybe, if
things went well, leading up to her spending the night in my room or
something. But as I caressed the familiar shape of her body, I
suddenly felt just how _long_ it had been since I had touched her.
The scent of her skin was making me feel light headed, as I recalled
some of the more hotly intimate situations when I had had smelled it
before.
I put my lips to the smooth skin of her neck, and began to suck
gently. I began to knead her breasts more firmly, pinching and
pulling at the nipples to draw them out harder. She inhaled sharply,
and made as if to pull my hands away, but perhaps changed her mind,
and began to stroke my arms instead.
All this while, the nearest people were about 20 feet away from us,
but we had the combined darkness of nighttime and the shadow of the
big tree to hide us. But still, this situation was getting a bit
risque, to say the least. If it wasn't for the music, we'd probably
have been detected already, between her occasional gasps and the
rustling of clothing.
Meanwhile, I was getting more than a little aroused, myself. I was
breathing hotly on her neck, and sucking at her earlobes, as I felt an
erection slowly rising in my pants. It wasn't uncomfortable, yet, but
it was making my thinking pleasantly hazy, as desire began to subdue
logic.
What I really wanted to do then, was take her off into some secluded
area of the park, and screw her until neither of us could walk. But a
flaky and impractical part of my brain wanted to do it right here
under the oak tree, within shouting distance of the bandstand and about
2000 spectators.
I put a hand down between her legs, and tried to slide it down the
front of her shorts. The waistband wasn't elasticized, though, which
made it all but impossible to do. So I put both my hands down there,
and undid a button. "Sam!" she whispered, turning to look over her
shoulder at me. "Who's going to see?" I whispered back. She continued
to look at me uncertainly for a moment, but didn't stop me as I undid
the other button. She then settled back against me, as I slid a hand
down into her panties, and began to caress her.
The hair between her legs was somehow more downy than on most women
I have known. Like the platinum hair on her head, its light texture
made it seem silky and unreasonably smooth. I ran my hand luxuriously
through it, delighting in the sensation of it. She stroked my thigh
absently as I drew little circles around her nether mound with the
tips of my fingers, and then traced the crease of her lips up and down
until they parted, wetly.
I pressed a finger into her, and stroked her softly, in a way that I
knew would leave her aroused but unsatisfied. She turned her head and
said over her shoulder, "Teasing me?" I nodded, and kissed her neck.
She relaxed against me, again. I stroked her with feather lightness,
not nearly enough to really get her going, but just enough to keep her
interested.
As I stroked her, I whispered into her ear, so close that my lips
touched her earlobe, "I want to have you. Right here." She shook her
head and whispered back, "No, I don't think so." I thought about my
line of argument for a minute. And I began to work a little harder
with my fingers. I said, "C'mon, nobody can see us here - you can't
see from light into dark". She said, "I don't uhhh...," My fingers
were quite practiced at this, and I shamelessly manipulated her to
interrupt her train of thought.
"You're cruel," she said. "And wicked and nasty," I added, as I
took her earlobe in my mouth. She groaned as my hand did things to
her that made her dizzy with lust. I knew, because she had showed me
how to do them. She laid her head back against my chest, and said,
"What do you want to do?"
Funny, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Up until then, the whole
idea had been to convince her to go along with this crazy idea. Now
that she was at least ready to hear me out, I didn't know what quite
what I wanted to do. Obviously, we couldn't shift our positions too
much--most of what concealed us was the fact that we were backed up
against the trunk of the tree.
"Let's get your pants down. I'll lift you," I said. She hesitated.
"You _really_ want to do this?" she asked. I blew into her ear. She
sighed at me. "Ok," she said, "Lift." I put my arms around her waist,
and hoisted her off the ground. She only weighed about 120 or so.
She slid her shorts and panties down around her knees.
I put her down, bare ass on the grass, as they say. Then she asked,
"How are we going to do yours?" I said, "They don't have to come down,
I'll just undo the front." So after a little fumbling, I got my jeans
undone, then pushed my undershorts down and out of the way, exposing
my rigid cock. It stood out at a slight angle from my stomach, and
pressed against the warm skin of Lisa's back.
I said, "Are you ready? Or do you need to borrow my hand for a
while longer?" I grinned against her shoulder and she shook her head
in exasperation. "I can't believe we're doing this," she said, "I
must be out of my mind." I said, "Well, not your mind, exactly." The
ridiculousness of the whole situation just seemed to come upon us
suddenly, and we both started to snigger helplessly, shuddering with
the effort of trying to suppress it. She fell over sideways, laughing
and shaking as she lay on her side across my thigh. The harder I
tried not to laugh, the funnier it seemed, until I had tears coming
out of the corners of my eyes.
Somehow...eventually...we stopped laughing. We were both out of
breath, and my stomach hurt from clenching it so long. It seemed that
we had still somehow escaped notice, or at least I hoped that we had.
The band was still blasting out its marching music, and there were no
obvious signs of a SWAT team closing in on us. I felt vaguely
surprised that we had gotten this far without trouble.
But what I was really surprised to find out, was that after all
that, I was still hungry for Lisa. As she sat up against me again,
still wiping at her eyes, I asked her, "Are you still game?" She
paused a moment, then said "I guess so... Yeah, I am." I said, "Ok,
then, let's go." I put my arms around her waist.
I lifted her, then, and drew my legs together under her, so I'd have
something to rest her weight on when I let her down. I felt her reach
down, take hold of my cock, and angle it outward from my body. She
said, "OK, now down. Slow." I lowered her inch by inch, and felt my
cock slide into her body. When she was down as far as she could go, I
slid my hands up onto her flat stomach, and held her in place.
I had only penetrated her a few inches--the position just wouldn't
allow for full entry while I was sitting up. But it was still a
wildly erotic feeling, after a month of abstinence. I couldn't really
move my hips much with the tree against my back, so I began to move
her instead, by lifting her a little bit, and letting her down again.
It took a bit of effort to keep it up for any length of time, and by
the time I started to get really hot and bothered, I was also aching
in my back and shoulders. I kept it up, though, and the glow of
approaching orgasm gave me an incentive to tough it out. Lisa helped
me by wriggling her hips back and forth, and in an outrageously sexy
little circular movement.
After a while, gasping and sweating, I reached climax. I ejaculated
into her in painfully pleasurable strokes. When I had finished, I all
but collapsed. Lisa lifted her hips up and off of my cock, and I let
her slide to the ground between my legs. I discovered at this point
that my incomplete penetration of her had caused a small problem.
Most of my seed had spilled right back out of her, and into my lap.
The front of my jeans were soaked. Oh well. For some reason, I found
it hard to feel really perturbed at the moment. I just hoped that I
wouldn't have to walk through any crowded, brightly lit areas on the
way home.
While I was taking stock of this, Lisa was wriggling back into her
shorts. When she had done that, I said, "That probably wasn't very
good for you, was it?" She said, "It's always good with you."
"Liar," I said. "I love you."
"Besides," she added, "you can make it up to me tonight."
"Ohhh, _twist_ my arm!" I said. And we grinned at each other like
a couple of idiots.
We skipped the fireworks.
From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Sun Nov 24 18:14:59 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: SEASONS 3/4
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Nov 1996 02:14:59 GMT
This story is part of a series that I've entitled 'Seasons'. The
series as it stands so far:
1. Hazy Shade of Winter
2. Summertime Blues
3. Season of the Witch
4. April Showers
5. The Cruelest Month <still in the works>
All stories have recently been posted to this newsgroup.
Comments are always appreciated.
Hawkeye
_______________________________________________________________________
Do me a favor, and only redistribute this with the following notices
attached.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the
characters herein, and any real people living or dead, is purely
because I draw from many sources, real and imaginary. Chew on that.
(c) 1993 Pure Blue Enterprises. All rights reserved. Explicit
permission
granted for electronic re-distribution, without changes.
Season of the Witch
(Part 3 of 'Seasons')
by Hawkeye
Summer turned out to be long and tiresome like I had expected, but
it was pleasantly broken up by a few weekend visits from Lisa. We
seemed to do pretty well at that long distance commuter relationship.
At one point I suggested that maybe we should keep it that way,
because she cost me a lot less money when she was only around once a
month. She laughed at me and said that it wouldn't be such a problem
if I'd gotten myself a real job. I glared at her.
In September, she came back for the start of classes. We thought
about finding another couple to do a 'room swap' with: the 2 men and
the 2 women would each put in roommate request cards--if it worked,
that would net us a pair of doubles, one for each couple. We decided
to pass on that idea, though, in favor of keeping our singles. We
made a lot of excuses about why, but we both knew perfectly well that
we were afraid to try living together.
Despite our reservations, we got through September and October with
frightening ease. I had the not altogether pleasing impression that
we were getting like an old married couple, each knowing what the
other was going to say before they said it. I thought that was fine
if you _were_ an old married couple, but it was a bit too early for us
to stop surprising each other.
+++
Our sunny October turned cold at the last minute, just in time for
Halloween. Lisa had a plastic pumpkin in her window that she called
"Sam". I had a cardboard witch on my door that I named "Lisa". The
movie crew was active again, and we were helping plan the "Friday
Night Bloodbath" party.
Outside, it looked just like what you would expect. The trees were
looking stark and bare, and a chill wind made the leaves blow rattling
along the streets. I was walking home from an 8pm recitation, and I
was whistling my tuneless imitation a song I'd heard on the radio that
morning.
There was a big eerie looking moon overhead. It cast a cold white
light over everything, and turned the trees into giants with taloned
hands. I started to imagine cold voices on the wind, calling me to
come visit them in their shallow graves--there was plenty of room for
me...
I stopped by a big pile of leaves, heaped high as a burial mound, by
the side of the walkway. I was suddenly not so sure that I was
imagining those voices...
I said "Whoooooooo's there?" Suddenly a pair of hands reached out
from under the pile, and grabbed me by the ankles. I fell into the
leaves, thrashing my legs to get free. As I crashed around, I
uncovered a platinum blonde head, with leaves stuck in the hair. It
was the witch!
I quickly grabbed her, and began stuffing leaves down the back of
her jacket. She squealed, and tossed armloads of them in my face,
until we both fell down, and disappeared. Eventually, after much
kicking and screaming, we each emerged from the pile. We called the
battle a draw.
As I brushed the leaves off her back, and rubbed at some peculiar
marks on my fingers, I reminded her that biting was a heathen act, and
severely punishable. She cackled evilly.
We went back to the dorm, and combed the rest of the dirt and leaves
out of our hair.
+++
Friday afternoon, we were still prepping for the 'Bloodbath'. The
people in charge of music and refreshments had done their work, but
the decorating crew had run off on us, for a week's vacation in
Florida. So Lisa and I took upon ourselves to finish the decorating.
All the walls of _Ground Zero_ were covered with thick layers of
construction paper, and we were pretty much free to go crazy with
paints and markers.
Lisa could could draw passable human and animal figures, and I'm a
genius at making things look like a gory mess. So she went around
drawing people in Halloween costume, and I went around cutting their
throats and giving them hideous bodily deformities. She said I was
sick, and I goosed her with a wet paint brush. She had a set of
markers in her hand, and before you knew it we both looked as bad as
my paintings.
At last, we had the place ready. It was almost 8, so we hurriedly
ate dinner and got into our own costumes. Lisa was a cat; she had
dressed in a fuzzy grey body suit, and pasted on straw whiskers and a
black button nose. I was a barbarian, with a plastic sword I had
bought at the toy store. I borrowed a leather miniskirt from a (very
tall) girl in the dorm, which I insisted upon referring to as a 'kilt'.
Everyone was calling me She-Ra, though, and asking me where I'd left
my bronze brassiere. I shook my sword threatening at them.
At 9, we headed down to Ground Zero. The place was still empty,
except for some movie crew people who were hanging out and admiring
the fruits of their labors. The place looked like a disco from hell.
The sound and lighting people had done an awesome job--the huge stereo
system was mostly deep bass, which gave you a heavy beat without
hurting your ears or making it hard to talk. The lights were red and
black fluorescents, synched in with the music, so that the place
seemed to throb with life. I loved it.
Lisa and I hung out and did a little dancing out on the empty floor,
then sat on one of the perimeter couches and watched the crazy lights
until about 10. By then, the place was actually filling up. We had
signed up to help out with refreshments until midnight, so we did that
for a couple of hours; pretending to check IDs under flashing black-
lights, and occasionally offering the campus cop a glass of punch that
we knew he couldn't accept.
We got a good crowd. Some of the lame-o's showed up out of costume,
but after looking in on our Monster Mash, they turned and ran off to
see if they could still dig one up at this time of night. I had the
drink station staked out for myself, since that meant I got to talk to
just about everybody in the place. I was just waiting for Elvira or
Catwoman to get thirsty.
Let's talk about Elvira. Her real name was Gabriella Lansing. Gabe
was a tall, 'well proportioned' girl with beautiful honey blonde hair.
That night, it was hidden under a shoulder length black wig, which
made for a rather striking contrast with her milky complexion. Add
that to the fact that she was wearing black eye shadow, blood red
lipstick, and a painted-on dress that didn't quite close in the front,
and it was small wonder that I found myself absent mindedly staring
at her.
Gabe 'glided' her way up to my table, forced into taking tiny steps
by the narrow ankle length skirt she was wearing. I don't think the
dress forced her to move her hips that way, though.
By the time she got to me, I was feeling cocky enough to ask her the
question that had been plaguing me. "Are you wearing a bra?" I asked.
"I'm sorry, I've just gotta know."
I grinned. Good thing I had a couple of drinks in me already. Ok,
more than a couple.
She smiled wickedly at me. "Would you like to see?" she asked.
Oops. Well, time to put or shut up.
"Err, no," I said, with a sidelong glance at Lisa to see if she was
listening. "Ummm, I was just--curious..."
Gabe took hold of one of the front panels of her dress, and peeled
it off of her skin. It made an audible rasping, as the tape or
whatever came loose. She rolled the breast-cup back a few inches, to
show that the material wasn't reinforced or anything. And that there
was nothing under it. I swallowed nervously, and glanced at Lisa, to
see if she had been taking note of our little game of show and tell.
She looked preoccupied with handing out cups of coke and apple cider.
Gabe pasted the dress back down and smiled broadly at me with those
blood red lips. "Well," she asked, "satisfied?"
I gulped and said, "Oh, definitely!" to forestall her doing anything
else that might get me in trouble with my little blonde witch.
Gabe held out her hand, "C'mon Conan, you need to get out and
dance." I looked around. Lisa looked back. I was about to decline,
when Gabe added, "Lisa, you don't mind if I borrow this big lug for a
minute, do you?" Lisa smiled. "No, of course not!"
Trapped. I followed Gabe out to dance floor, and we did that modern
dance thing for a while. I was buzzed enough to think I was looking
subtly at the way her lovely breasts moved. So when she said, "You
really like those, don't you?", it took me a moment to realize what
she was talking about. Once I did, I turned a bright, hot shade of
crimson. I also stopped dancing. "Nonono... don't stop dancing," she
said. "You wouldn't want Lisa to see you standing there all red like
that."
I didn't know about the logic of that, but I was feeling sufficiently
cowed at the moment that I just did as she asked. Then the music
changed, and a slow dance started. Gabe took my hand, and I just sort
of reflexively slid an arm around her waist. And then I just sort of
habitually pulled her up real close against me. And it just seemed
natural that I would get an erection, as I felt those amazing and
wonderful tits moving softly against me, and the warmth of her breath
on my bare chest.
"Sammmm," she mumbled against my chest. "Yeah?" I asked, feeling a
little dreamy as the alcohol played tag with my brain. She said, "Is
that your sword I feel poking me?"
"Uhh...," I said, fishing desperately for the perfect save. There
wasn't one.
"Yeah, I thought so. It's ok. Just don't think this means we're
married, ok?"
Whew. "Thanks, Gabe." It took a really great effort of will not
to give her a friendly little kiss. I settled for just giving her
a friendly little squeeze of my arm, which was a much safer and more
sensible thing to do. She squeezed me back.
So, I escaped from the dance floor with my life, which I probably
didn't deserve.
+++
I went back to my drink stand, to find that my replacement and
Lisa's had arrived. I was free! And damned hungry for something.
I looked around. There she was, the little witch, making time with
Chewbacca. I sneaked up behind her, and picked her up by the waist.
She squeaked, and told me to put her down. I gave her a little half
spin, and threw her over my shoulder. I grinned at Chewy, and waved
goodbye to him.
"Hey! Sam, put me down! This is embarrassing!" She sounded so cute
when she was embarrassed. I knew she looked cute too, even though I
couldn't see her face right then. She always turned cherry red from
her jaw up to her temples.
I carried her right out of Ground Zero, across the courtyard, and
into the dorm. She protested all the way, "oh my god im so embarrassed
i cant believe youre doing this how am i going to face everyone
tomorrow im going to get you for this i feel like an idiot oh god sam
please put me down" etc etc etc.
When we got to her room, I opened the door with my free hand. I
carried her into the room, and kicked the door closed behind me. Then
I let her down off my shoulder, ready to block with my arm, in case
she tried to clock me one.
She didn't clock me.
She put her arms around my neck and dragged my mouth down to hers.
Her breath was hot on my lips, as she sucked my tongue out of my
mouth. God, that felt good. I pulled her against me and squeezed
her hard as we kissed.
I reached a hand behind her shoulders, and yanked down the zipper of
her catsuit. I stepped a pace back from her, pulled it off her
shoulders, and she slid her arms out of the sleeves. I ignored the
bra for the moment, and I got on my knees, and pulled the suit down
her thighs. When it was bunched at her knees, she stepped out of it.
I stood up and removed my own costume, what little of it there was.
I stood back a little, then, and surveyed what I had in front of me.
A gorgeous little platinum-blonde witch, with a propensity for biting.
Dressed in a bra, panties, button nose, and straw whiskers. Well, a
few straw whiskers. 3 or 4 had fallen off when we kissed. I pulled
the rest off, took her head in my hands and kissed her again. I took
the black button nose in my teeth, pulled it off, and spat it on the
floor. She licked at my neck, and bit my shoulder.
I reached around her torso, and undid the clasp of her bra. She let
it fall forward onto the floor. I looked down at her. Her face was
upturned, watching me. Below that, her lovely breasts were swaying
slightly with her breathing.
The sight made me dizzy with desire.
I whispered to her, "You know what used to happen, back in the old
days, to little blonde biting witches?"
"What...?"
"They got eaten alive. By hungry wolves."
Her eyes suddenly looked dazed and smoky. She swallowed visibly, and
licked her lips. "Really?"
"Really." I added, "You should lie down... you might be safer if you
don't make any sudden movements."
She swallowed again. "Maybe you're right."
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her breasts swaying a little as
she moved. I loved that sight, I could watch it all day. Then she
lay out full length, her head on her pillow.
I climbed onto the bed beside her, and leaned over to whisper in her
ear. "At first," I said, "the wolves are friendly."
I kissed her ear, and slid my tongue behind the earlobe. Then I
worked my way wetly, inch by inch toward her mouth. I kissed softly
and repeatedly at her lips, until she parted them and offered me her
tongue. I sucked her tongue, and kissed all around her mouth, her
throat, and her collarbone, and left a trail of wet kisses down her
chest.
I put a hand to the underside of one soft tit, and moved it gently,
testing the weight of it. Her nipples visibly engorged as I touched
her. I flipped my thumb back and forth across one partly aroused
nipple, and felt it harden and swell underneath. I took the breast in
my hand, and began to gently knead it like dough. She closed her eyes
in concentration, reacting with gasps and small moans of pleasure to
what I was doing.
"Then," I said, "the wolves start to get hungry."
I attacked her with my teeth then, licking and kissing her softly
wherever I nipped her, until her skin was slick, and her nipples were
red and inflamed. We were both hot and perspiring.
I kissed my way down her trembling belly then, until I reached her
hips. She jumped slightly when I touched her.
I pulled her panties down her legs and off of her ankles. Then I
crawled slowly up the length of the bed, between her thighs.
I put my hands on her hips and lowered my head until my nose was
just brushing the damp curls of her hair. I inhaled the deep, musky
odor of her body, and I felt her muscles tense under my hands.
"At last," I said, "the wolves are ravenous, and they eat you
alive."
I lowered my mouth through the wet thatch of hair, and ran my tongue
gently over the crease of her lips. I slid the tip of my tongue
slowly up and down the length of the crease, until it opened and my
tongue traced the slickness of her inner flesh. My senses were
overpowered by the raw, musky smell of her womanhood.
I used my thumbs to pull back the lips of her cunt, to better reach
the sensitive flesh inside. I ate her with a mixture of tenderness
and violence, as I licked and lapped gently at her, and then attacked
her vigorously with my tongue and fingers.
She began to tremble, her thigh muscles twitching as I drove her
crazy with my hands and mouth. I penetrated her with my fingers,
then, and massaged the walls of her vagina as I licked and rubbed and
sucked her clit.
Finally, her breath rushing in and out in a panic, she started to
moan loudly, and then to scream. She grabbed a pillow and bit down
hard on it, using it to muffle her shrieks. Her hips bucked under me,
as she tried to thrust herself harder into my mouth, rubbing her flesh
wantonly against me. I pinned her legs under the weight of my body,
and held her down until I was done with her.
When we finished, it was hard to say which of us was more exhausted.
The wolves were pretty much run ragged.
+++
After I had cleaned myself up with a towel, I went to lay beside
her. She was laying there with sleepy, self-satisfied look that made
made me immediately recall her discarded cat costume. So, as we lay
there, I pulled her against me, and kissed her mouth, to remind her
that this wolf was still hungry. She kissed me back, and her tongue
reawakened the taste of her body that still lingered in my mouth.
I put my arm around her, then, and felt my way down the length of
her spine, until I got to her soft backside. I caressed her, and
squeezed her flesh in my hand, kneading her and spreading her cheeks
with my fingers. She moaned and rubbed her hips against mine.
I whispered in her ear, "You know what else they used to do with
witches, don't you? If they survived the wolves?" I squeezed her ass,
and slid a hand between her cheeks. I traced the crack of her ass
with my finger.
She licked and kissed my throat. She asked, in a subdued whisper,
"What?"
I found the little puckered indentation of her asshole, and I moved
it in a slow circle with my fingertip. I spoke right beside her ear,
so close that her hair tickled my lip, "They impaled them." I pushed
my fingertip against her closed rear entry, and repeated in a softer
voice, "...they impaled them."
Lisa looked at me. She saw the desire smoldering in my eyes and
glanced away quickly. She put her mouth to mine in a hard, quick
kiss. She whispered against my throat, "Be gentle. Ok? Be gentle."
And she rolled away from me, and lay down on her stomach, with her
head pillowed on her arms.
I went over to her dresser, and got out a tube of lubricant gel that
we had occasionally had reason to use. I sat on the edge of the bed,
and gazed up and down the curving white length of her body, and
especially at the soft swell of her backside. I squeezed a good
amount of gel onto my hands, and worked it between the cheeks of her
ass, and onto the length of my cock.
I pinched her bottom then, and said, "On your knees, witch." She got
up onto her knees on the bed, with her hands gripping the front of the
iron bedframe. I kneeled behind her. I tapped the insides of her
ankles with my fingers, and she obligingly moved them farther apart.
She bent over then, until her head was down close to her knees.
That pulled her bottom tight, and exposed her. I reached down with
one hand, still slick with gel, and rubbed her asshole with my
fingers. I used my other hand to guide my cock there. I pushed
gently against her.
Nothing happened. She was sealed tight. I put my hands on her
hips, and pulled her back towards me. Still nothing. I was
questioning whether she was just too nervous, and if it wouldn't
be better to forego it for another time, when she began to move
against me.
She rolled her hips in a small circular motion that rotated the head
of my cock against her sphincter. It was pleasurable enough that I
felt myself losing my concentration as she did it, but I retained
enough presence of mind to help her with what she was trying to do. I
leaned in against her, alternately hard and gentle, until I felt her
stiff resistance begin to yield.
She groaned from deep in her chest, as her body opened to admit me.
I slowly pushed my way past her defenses, until I had a couple inches
of my cock seated inside of her. Then I stopped for a moment, both of
us panting and sweating. I rubbed her back softly, and asked her,
"How are we doing?"
"I'm ok," she replied, slightly out of breath. "Keep doing what
you're doing."
I pushed into her again. Her initial barrier having been breached,
she pretty easily took the rest of my cock into her. When I had
seated myself fully, so that my loins pressed her buttocks flat
against her body, I began to move slowly back and forth inside her.
I had intended to work gradually up to this; starting out with a
slow, almost imperceptible in and out movement, and working my way up
to what would hopefully be a vigorous back-slapping fuck. But I
hadn't counted on the heat of her inner body, or the muscles that were
pulling and squeezing at my cock. I was already deeply aroused by the
sight of my cock buried to the hilt in her ass, and when she began to
flex the muscles in her lower torso, it was like being squeezed
repeatedly by a hot fist--too pleasurable to bear.
I swiftly began to lose control of my state of arousal. I pulled
and pushed against her a couple of times, as I tried to get into the
rhythm of the stimulation she was giving me, but it was fruitless. I
gasped, and seized hold of her hips as my orgasm peaked. My loins
squeezed, and I shot my come into her body.
I rocked back and forth a little as I came, unable to move with the
violent in-and-out fucking motions that I wanted to. I let my breath
slowly escape from my lungs as my orgasm subsided into a pleasant
afterglow. I edged back from her, then, and slowly withdrew my cock
from her.
I lay down next to her then, exhausted but immensely satisfied. She
said to me, "You know, I heard they had another solution for witches
that survived the wolves *and* the impalement." I looked over at her.
"What would that be?"
"Water." She smiled languidly, but with a hint of pixie-ish
mischief.
One of the neighbors bitched at us the next day about making so much
noise in the bathroom at 2 am. Lisa put a hex on her, and she failed
a test the next week.
--
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From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Sun Nov 24 18:15:20 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: SEASONS 4/4
From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Date: 25 Nov 1996 02:15:20 GMT
Do me a favor, and only redistribute this with the following notices
attached.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the
characters herein, and any real people living or dead, is purely
because I draw from many sources, real and imaginary. Chew on that.
(c) 1993 Pure Blue Enterprises. All rights reserved. Explicit
permission
granted for electronic re-distribution, without changes.
April Showers
(part 4 of 'Seasons')
by Hawkeye
Remembering the near disaster that we had last spring, Lisa and I
worked out in advance what we were planning to do with our summers.
We had long since decided not to be 'possessive' about each other
during times when circumstances dictated that we be apart.
Lisa had a co-op research job waiting for her down south, and I was
going home to work a friend of my father's, whose company needed
someone with mechanical drawing skills. So we knew, as April came
around, that we wouldn't have much longer together. We were
determined to make the most of it.
It wasn't going to be quite what we expected, though.
+++
I came in from the rain looking like a wet bear. I'm a medium sized
guy, 5'11'' and about 180lbs, but what really made the image work was
my shaggy brown hair and the beard that hadn't quite grown in yet.
The beard had been a major source of friction between us in more ways
than one, but Lisa was being pretty good humored about it so far.
I went back to my room, stripped to the waist, and towelled myself
dry. When it hangs straight, my hair goes right down to my shoulder
blades. That's never an issue, though, because my hair could no more
hang straight than I could flap my arms and fly. Straight or rumpled,
though, it holds a lot of water.
A few minutes later, feeling much drier, but now looking like a
bare-chested reject caveman, I strolled down the hallway to the
washroom, to get combed and presentable again.
In the hallway was Julie Brauer. She was dating Greg (Woody) Woods,
the guy who lived across the hall from me. She went to an all-women's
college about 20 miles away, and she often stayed with him on weekends.
She was wearing her bathrobe, and walking towards the bathroom just
ahead of me. She had long brown hair and nice, slender legs.
The bathroom was shaped like a hallway. Facing me, there was a
giant mirror covering one wall--from hip level, up to a height of
about 7 feet. It had a row of sinks in front of it, and the shower
stalls were recessed in the opposite wall. Julie went into one of
the shower stall, and pulled the plastic curtain closed.
Nonchalantly, I selected the sink almost directly opposite her
shower stall, so I watch the mirror for any interesting action. I
didn't know why I did stuff like that. If she were to throw the
curtain open, and expose her entire naked body, I'd probably hide
my eyes, and scream for her to cover herself. But from some reason,
this voyeuristic nonsense, hoping for a glimpse of a bare thigh,
turned me on with its silly kink.
Inside the stall, I heard her slide out of her bathrobe, and I saw a
slender arm reach up to hang it on a hook in the stall's changing
area. Then there was the sound of another sliding plastic curtain,
and the water started.
Meanwhile, I trimmed my beard with a pair of tiny scissors I had
bought for that purpose. I knew that if I was going to see anything
interesting at all, it wouldn't be until she came back out of the
inner cubicle. Sometimes women left the curtains open a little. I
wondered if they didn't know about the mirror trick, and were just
deliberately taunting us.
Suddenly I head a wet thump in the shower stall, and then a loud and
repeated coughing, choking noise. I put down my scissors. "Julie?" I
asked, in a mid-tone between "concerned" and "no-I'm-not-being-nosy".
Then there was a fairly loud noise, like someone vomiting. "Julie?!"
I called, much louder and less-worried-about-being-nosy. There were
more choking sounds and a wet thrashing on the floor of the stall.
Ok, so this is where normal, socially polite behaviors get dropped--
you can't hesitate about saving a drowning victim because he's skinny
dipping, and you want to respect his privacy. I ran into the shower
stall, on fire with "rescue fever". I tore open the inner curtain to
see what was happening, and... there was Julie.
Well, of course, there was Julie. I knew that before I went
crashing into the stall. The trouble was, she didn't really look all
that distressed or anything. In fact, she was kneeling on the floor
of the stall, with her legs tucked under her, swishing her hands and
thumping the floor to simulate the thrashing sounds I had heard. And
she was -grinning- at me.
"Well," she said, "this is what you wanted to see, right?"
Oh shit.
I made a little choking sound of my own then, as I tried to make up
about 5 different lies at once, but couldn't choose one quickly enough.
"What are you *doing*?" I managed to get out at last, "Are you
crazy?"
She looked like a water nymph, there, with her brown hair soaked and
laying on her shoulders, and small rivulets of water running down
her olive skin.
"I was just playing a little joke on you * Mr. Peeping Tom *." That
grin still didn't quit. _One_ of us obviously thought this situation
was amusing.
"I can't...I just...I..." that was about as coherent as I was going
to get, apparently. I'm sometimes fluent when I'm angry, but never
when I'm embarrassed.
She said, "Oh, don't take it so hard," and smiled winsomely.
I wish she hadn't used the word 'hard'. Her flat little breasts,
and tight brown nipples, were starting to get me 'interested' in an
altogether unacceptable manner.
She held her hand out to me, "Help me up?" Despite the unlikeliness
of her needing any assistance, I took her hand and helped her to
regain her feet. Even though the shower stall was built down about
three inches from the changing area where I stood, she still came
almost up to my nose. The steaming water was still pouring onto her,
and she brushed her wet hair back behind her ears. Then she tilted
her head up towards me, eyes closed and lips parted invitingly.
I stepped back. "You've got to be kidding me."
She opened her eyes. "What?"
"What was all this about? Where's Greg, anyway? Is this some kind
of practical joke?" I sound pretty authoritative when I squeak like
that.
"Greg's at marching band practice. He won't be back until 8."
"It's raining out! They'll cancel it!"
"Silly. They practice in the dome. What's the matter, don't you
like the way I look?" She looked a little downcast.
"Well, of COURSE I like the way you look--," I stopped then, because
she was looking really amused at having suckered me with the sad look.
I was beginning to feel completely outmaneuvered, and a little panicky.
She stepped out of the stall, then, and backed me into the clothes
alcove, tracing a line down my chest with her fingernail. She was
leaving a dripping trail on the floor. I don't know why I noticed
that.
"You watch me every time I get in the shower. There must be
something
you like." She bit her lip. "Something you want."
I swallowed. I was sweating uncomfortably, because I knew exactly
what I wanted, and if I got it, it would lead to no end of trouble.
She leaned in towards me, and my back was up against the cold tiled
wall. Her small, flat breasts pressed against my bare chest, and I
could feel the hard tips of her nipples pressing into my skin. Once
again, she tilted her head up towards me, her eyes closed, and her lips
slightly parted. This time, I lowered my mouth onto hers.
She had a sweet tasting mouth. She was a gentle kisser, she lapped
softly at your lips, rather than trying to devour you. But she was
thorough, too, and her tongue intruded gently into every part of your
mouth. As I kissed her, I fantasized about how exquisite her gentle
kissing would be, if she were to kiss me somewhere else.
We made out softly for a long time. She didn't put her arms around
my neck like a lot of women do. Instead, she caressed my shoulders and
chest, and played with my nipples. I did the same to her. She had
wonderful nipples, taut brown circles with hard nubs like little
pencil erasers. I rolled them in my fingers, and squeezed her small
breasts in my hands.
I took a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and asked her
between kisses, "Do you like pinches?" She breathed the answer into my
mouth, so softly that I could barely hear her, "yes..." So I pinched
her, maybe a little harder than I normally would have, because she
had me so riled with emotion. She moaned into my mouth as we made
out, and her face winced with pain, but she pressed herself harder
against me, and began to rub her thigh against mine.
I was drenched, and furiously, passionately aroused by then. The
shower was still thundering in the background, filling the changing
stall with steam, and our bodies were lobster red and sweating. She
licked the beads of sweat from my chest, and my stomach, and then
worked her way slowly downwards, until she was kneeling in front of
me, her face towards the waist button of my jeans.
She undid the button and the zipper with her slender fingers, and
pulled my jeans down to my thighs. Then she pulled the waistband of
my undershorts down, and exposed me. She put a fingertip on the head
of my cock, and swept up a bit of the clear fluid that was squeezing
out of the tip. She put her finger in her mouth and tasted it. "It's
sweeter than Greg's," she said.
I wish she hadn't said that. It pained me to look down at her, but
I did. And she was beautiful and almost innocent looking, which I
already knew. She said, "_You're_ sweeter than Greg." Oh, kill me.
Just stick a knife in me, and leave me for dead. I should never be
around women, I don't have the guts for it.
She kissed me then, on the stomach. Then she kissed me right where
my brain was begging her to kiss me, and my breath caught in my lungs.
I made a small, agonized sound in my throat as her wet, gentle lips
caressed me. She licked and lapped at me in small motions - starting
at the head, and caressing her way slowly, warmly, gently downwards.
I thought I was going to die. She kissed me and sucked me, softly.
She licked and nibbled, yet more softly. I whimpered like a hurt
animal. Then she began to engulf me, inch by softly agonizing inch.
I was getting weak in the knees by this time--if I hadn't been
leaning against a wall, I probably would have fallen down. My
legs trembled and I gritted my teeth in desperate concentration.
Then she began to bob her head.
I knew I couldn't hold out long; I could feel a lava heat rising
fast through my loins. I had to stop her, then, so I wouldn't come in
her mouth. "Julie," I gasped, "Stop it. Stop! I'm gonna come." She
put her hands on my thighs, then, and began to bob her head and suck
me hard. I breathed in sharply, and then lost it. Oh boy, did I lose
it. I shot out my seed so hard that it hurt me. I blasted 4, 5,
maybe 6 times... My loins kept on contracting violently--and she kept
on sucking me, and milking me with her hands, until long after I had
run dry.
The inside of my cock burned from the force of my ejaculations. I
slumped down to the floor, then, my legs no longer able to hold me
up. I ended up sitting on the floor with my back to the wall. She
crawled up against me, and tucked herself under my arm.
"How do you feel?" she asked, running her hands through my hair,
where it fell on my shoulders. I looked at her as if I'd been
sentenced to be shot at dawn. She kissed my shoulder. "Oh, it
can't be that bad, can it?" she asked. "I've always liked you, Sam."
I closed my eyes, and tried to think of something to say. My head
was still swimming, and I couldn't seem to line up even half of a
coherent thought. I just kept seeing visions of Lisa. I shook my
head, but _that_ thought wouldn't go away. I kept seeing Lisa telling
me not to come back. Not to call her. Not to see her. Ever.
I started to shake. Julie put her arms around my neck. Even though
she might be the key to the unraveling of my whole life, I needed
somebody to hold onto at that moment; so I pulled her against me and
squeezed her hard.
I held on to her, and listened as the water ran down the drain.