From stbush@iglou.com Thu Feb 13 11:33:23 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: New Bombadil: One Rainy Morning (Romantic Interlude)
From: Bombadil's Agent <stbush@iglou.com>
Date: Thu, 13 Feb 1997 16:33:23 GMT

One Rainy Morning (Romantic Interlude)

Short Story #12
by Tom Bombadil  (c) Jan 1997

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this
text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real
events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my
friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

I give permission for anyone to archive or share this story.

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Diane knelt on the big, overstuffed chair, leaning over the back,
resting her elbows on the window sill, holding her chin in her
hands.  Outside, the rain fell silently and steadily.  She could
still see the beach, still see the walkway and the few pedestrians
foolish enough to be out in such weather, and could still see her
favourite sunning spot.  A sigh escaped, unnoticed, as she mourned
the passing days of their vacation, time lost to the inclement
weather.

The noise and bustle of someone getting ready to head out into
that same rain hardly penetrated her gloom, as did the voice that
came from behind her.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me, dear?  Denise and
Sylvia promised to show us all the sights around town.  They'll be
quite disappointed if you don't come, you know."

Several seconds of silence followed, ending with a small sigh.

"No," Diane said in a flat voice.  "You go ahead without me.  I'd be
nothing but a total drag today.  You'd better hurry, or you'll be
late."  She continued staring out at the leaden sky, the grey sea,
and the dull and lifeless beach.  The mood outside was reflected in
her face.

A light touch, little more than fingertips, rested on her back for a
second before running up to her shoulder and neck, ending with a
caress of her cheek.

"C'mon, Diane.  You've been miserable for days.  Let's go have some
fun.  This is a vacation, remember?  So what if the sun decided to
go on holidays at the same time.  We can still enjoy ourselves.
There has to be more on this tiny island than just one hotel and
a beach."

The only reply was another small sigh.

Two hands began a massage of Diane's shoulders and back, kneading
gently, yet firmly, into all the muscles.  After a few minutes,
those hands had reached her buttocks and thighs.  They slowly worked
the hem of her dress higher and higher, until all of the woman's
panty-clad bottom was exposed, then they started shifting the black,
lacy silk material down her thighs.  A pair of lips joined those
hands, exploring and tasting skin as it slowly became exposed.

Another sigh was heard, ending with a slight catch of breath, as a
warm wet tongue touched her delicate skin.  Parts of her bottom and
legs were soon covered in a latticework of moist coolness.  The rest
was warmed by those same two active hands.

Yet another sigh, sounding suspiciously like a groan, came out.
Diane arched her back, then spread her knees as far as her lowered
panties would allow.  The invitation was clear.

One pair of lips and a few fingers found her moistening centre.
With long practiced ease and sure knowledge they began a journey
completed many times before.  Diane's whimpers and quickening
gasps were the signposts on the path, and her thrusting bottom and
clenching thighs were the landmarks seen along the way.

When those lips, that tongue, and two active fingers finally
invaded, they captured one prisoner and teased it mercilessly.
Faint gasps and mewling cries filled the room.  Diane's panting
breath reached a crescendo, then ceased altogether as her body went
rigid.

Ragged breathing marked the end of one peak, and several gasps, as
that pair of lips and tongue continued their wonderful torture,
mapped the beginning of another.  Soon, all was finished, as a few
final licks, cleaning up the liquid evidence, marked the end of
their brief excursion.

Those hands repaired their mess, pulling up the panties and pulling
down the dress.  All had been returned to as it was.  Almost all.

Warm breath and a pair of nibbling lips touched Diane's ear.  Hands
caressed her shoulders and upper arms.

"Mmmm.  You do feel nice.  Is it all this rain making you so
gloomy?  Or is there something else?"  All was silent for several
more seconds.  "Still not talking?"

There was no answer, as Diane's eyes continued gazing out the
window.  They didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular.

"Just remember why we're on vacation.  This is, after all, our fifth
Valentine's day together.  Five already.  It still seems like
yesterday when we first met in the grocery line.  I can still
picture your face when that carton of milk split open and doused you
from waist to toes.  Remember?  Hey?"

Diane ignored the fingers tickling her ribs.

"Such a sourpuss today.  I hope you're not like this at dinner
tonight.  I've got something special planned.  Then, later, you can
open your present.  You remember that thing, don't you?"

Diane worked hard to control the quivering of her lips.  They were
threatening to break into a smile.

"How silly of me.  How could you forget?  You've been looking at it,
sitting there on the dresser, for almost two weeks.  Don't think I
haven't noticed your staring, because I have.  Later on you get to
open it.  No fair peeking until then!"

One set of fingertips gently traced their way along her cheek and
jaw, then around her lips, setting off tingles that again almost
made Diane's mouth turn up into a grin.

"Are you sure you won't come with me, Diane?"

There was no reply.  Diane felt a pair of lips touch her cheek,
sensed a body moving away, then heard the door open.

There was a final "See you later," and she was alone.


Diane knelt on the big, overstuffed chair, leaning over the back,
resting her elbows on the window sill, holding her chin in her
hands.  Outside, the rain fell silently and steadily.  She could
still see the beach, still see the walkway and the few pedestrians
foolish enough to be out in such weather, and could still see her
favourite sunning spot.  A sigh escaped, unnoticed, as she
recalled many other such mornings over the past two weeks.

This time, the sky was a little less leaden, the sea a little less
grey.  She could almost hear the laughter from the couples walking
along the seafront boulevard, lost to sight under umbrellas of
every rainbow hue.  Even the beach, a patchwork of pastel creams
and tans, was dotted with bits of green, brown, yellow, and grey,
the detritus of the ocean breaking up the otherwise uniform colours
of sand.

A slight smile curled one corner of her mouth as she planned her
payback for the morning's brief interlude.

<Fin>

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