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Subject: Sue's 22nd: Lucy in the Sky 1/2 (mff, outdoors)
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NOTE: This story is, of course, for adults only --  so don't read it if you
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life separate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to let
me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is something
that I REALLY like), you can reach me at SueNewHamp@AOL.com ... but I can't
promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in my real
life! 
**********************************

LUCY IN THE SKY     part 1 of 2
     by Sue

As I write this, it is the beginning of a harsh winter here in New England.
Already, snow covers the ground and vicious winds cut into my face as I go to
the mail box to get the old-fashioned snail-mail. On the top of the pile is a
letter with a return address that instantly ignites inner flames . I am
transported back to summer, to a time that was warm, for more than one reason.
I run back to the house, sit in front of my wood stove, and contemplate the
envelope. Before even opening it, I want to enjoy the clear and palpable
recollections of that day in August.

Lucy is a friend who I don’t get to see very often. She’s a tiny woman, maybe 
just five foot tall and 95 pounds, bright red hair, very pretty with unusually
large breasts for her small frame. We were roommates and great buddies in
college, but now she lives in New York City, and my business rarely takes me to
her vicinity; in fact, I do my best to avoid going into the Big City. When we
do get together, it is usually for only an hour or two over lunch. So it was,
with both anticipation and trepidation, that I accepted when she invited me to
spend a long weekend at her parents’ camp in the Poconos. A lot of family would
be there, and I wasn’t sure if I would fit in. I wasn’t even sure if Lucy and I
would really hit it off like we did so many years ago. Having a lunch date is
not the same as being together for several days!

I drove my cute little Miata down to pick her up, and then we headed west on
I-80. It’s amazing how quickly the urban, domesticated sprawl turns into the
untamed forests and hills of northwestern New Jersey. As we tooted along with
the top down and the wind mussing our hair, I asked Lucy what had led her to
invite me on this trip, when we hadn’t done anything like this before. She kind
of danced around the question, talking  about how we really should have done
this years ago. But I could tell she was being evasive. So I pinned her down
with a direct question: “Lucy, something is going on, isn’t it? Are you trying
to match me up with someone? ‘Cause if you are, I think you should let me in on
the game plan. I don’t like surprises.” 

OK, I admit that this isn’t always true. In fact, I usually do like a surprise.
It gives me a tingle. But I guess I was trying to keep some amount of blustery
equanimity as we headed into her family’s pressure-cooker (or so I pictured
it). I didn’t want the awkwardness of a blind date to be piled on top of
everything else. I guess I was a bit fragile, so I wanted to forbid her from
playing the matchmaker.

It’s kind of in my nature to think that I have things like this figured out, so
I was most surprised by Lucy’s response to my somewhat confrontational remarks.
“Oh Sue, that’s not it at all. I can see how you might have thought that, and
you’re are right that there is something going on. But it is not about matching
you up, it’s about matching me up. There is going to be someone else there, and
the idea of seeing him has me going crazy. I invited you to be with me so that
you can help me through this thing. I was being selfish about it, and I should
have told you what was happening.”

It took me while to get Lucy to tell me all about this guy, but I think I can
summarize it by telling you that Lucy has three siblings. The oldest is a
brother, and he has a best friend named Chet. To hear Lucy tell it, he must be
a clone of Robert Redford. She has had a gigantic secret crush on Chet since
childhood, but instead, he had flings with both of Lucy’s older sisters. Those
relationships simmered down many years ago, and Chet has remained a close
family friend, almost a second brother to all the girls. Because of the
pseudo-familial role that he has, Lucy has never told anyone how much she
desires Chet -- it seemed almost incestuous to her. Plus, he has been married
for many of the intervening years. Since the whole thing makes her nervous, she
has tried to avoid being around him as much as possible. His family has their
camp next to Lucy’s family’s place, and when she knew he would be in residence,
Lucy would find an excuse to stay away.

He had been divorced for several years, and Lucy decided that she couldn't let
this infatuation fester anymore. This was the weekend that she
wanted to act on her long-suppressed passion. At the very least, she needed to
tell him what had been going on for her. Who knew what would happen after that.
My role was to be there for her to confide in, to support her and to egg her on
if her determination flagged.

“Why me?” I asked, and she answered, “When we were in college, I could talk to
you about these kinds of things, about crushes and desires and ..... even sex.
Since then, I really haven’t had someone that I could open up to like that. I’m
sure that you remember some of that. You know, it was the Sexual Revolution,
and we were kind of wild and crazy.”

“Oh yeah,” I responded “gaawwdd, I’ll bet anything that you remember that night
when your date and mine switched beds in the middle of the night. They thought
we never even knew the difference,... that they were surreptitiously getting to
put another notch on their pistols by fucking an extra girl that night. They
assumed we were just a couple of dumb bimbos. But we knew all along, and it was
probably more fun for us than them. They were scared silly that they would get
caught.”

“Yea, my guy was so jittery he couldn’t get it up ‘til I gave him a 20 minute
blow job.”

Well, the rest of our drive was full of reminiscences that were even more bawdy
than that one. We hadn’t been prim and proper ladies back then, and I had done
my best to keep up that tradition in the 20 years since. It turns out that Lucy
hadn’t done the same. Her infatuation with Chet started to get in the way of
her other relationships with men, and many of those courtships had ended
quickly and badly. In a way, she had been saving herself for Chet, even though
he had been “verboten” because of his marriage and his role in Lucy’s family.
There was a lot of importance riding on  what was to happen this weekend. I
could see why she was excited and terrified. It was no accident that our
conversation had drifted inexorably into the theme of the wild sexual
experiences of our youth. This lady was charged up with unrequited passion.
Whatever happened this weekend, I knew it would lead to the unleashing of these
pent-up emotions, and then Lucy could finally go on with her life. I was
grateful that she had included me in her plans, such as they were. For in fact,
she really didn’t know what exactly she was going to do, just that she was
going to do SOMETHING.

If you’ve read any of my other stories, you know that I can be easily aroused
by the thought of uninhibited sex. And so our conversation in the car about the
“Real-Life Sexual Adventures of Lucy and Sue -- Coeds on a Mission,” had me
kind of fired up, and I could feel the sticky secretions moistening the crotch
of my panties. But now I knew that there was to be no hunky blind date for me
on this trip ( I know, I know, before I was ragging on Lucy for being a
matchmaker, and now I’m complaining that she hadn’t gotten someone for me to
play with.... there is no satisfying me, is there?).

My lustful mood was interrupted when we drove into the area surrounding the
so-called “camp.” Jeez, talk about an understatement. I had somehow pictured a
little cabin on a lake, with bare-bones facilities, maybe even an outhouse,
Coleman Stove and Aladdin Lamps. Since I figured we were roughing it, I had
even packed my sleeping bag (which took up almost half the trunk of my Miata).
Well, was I wrong. The road going into the place had big signs saying “members
only,” and then we had to go through a guarded gate, where Lucy showed a
membership card. Eventually, a mile of narrow (but well-paved) road took us
through a verdant golf course, and then up to the “lodge,” as Lucy called it.
It was really a magnificent white clapboard building which reminded me of a
smaller version of the Grand Resort hotels that have all-but-disappeared in New
England. In front of the hotel was a large square of perfect grass, where Lucy
said they held bowling games. This was not the picture that lept to mind when I
thought of bowling, but Lucy insisted. As we drove past the Lodge, a series of
clay-surfaced tennis courts were on our right, and the lake was on the
left...., then a series of beautiful old homes that bordered the lake. None of
these could have been less than 15 rooms, and they were impeccably maintained.
I would have called them small mansions, but Lucy insisted that they were known
to all as “camps.” This was a protected enclave for the old-money rich, and
while it all was tasteful and restrained, I could not help but visualize that
even the branches of the trees were dripping with the uncountable wealth. When
Lucy told me the names of some of the home-owners, I found that many of them
were easily recognizable -- governors, socialites, robber barons of the past
and present. The kind of names that are etched in marble slabs on the sides of
university buildings. Now I was intimidated about this weekend for another
reason; the idea of meeting famous people scares the dickens out of me.....

Finally, we pulled into the driveway of Lucy’s camp. Perhaps it wasn’t the
largest camp in the resort, but it was impressive and tastefully appointed,
inside and out. I had my own room on the second floor, looking out over the
lake. The view was incredible, with a range of rugged-looking peaks rising
above the expanse of unbroken forest. A few hours from New York City, and it
seemed as if we were ensconced in the outbacks of Montana or Alaska.

Shortly after we arrived, dinner was served..., and I mean that literally, as
the family had brought along their cook and maid, who brought us our impeccably
prepared meals at the broad dining room table. Within the formal atmosphere
created by this setting, I became acquainted with all the family members --
Lucy’s parents, and her siblings, all of whom had brought along their
“significant others” (none of them were currently married). After dinner, we
all adjourned to the screened-in porch, where we feasted on the glorious sunset
and made plans for the next day.

Apparently, it was customary to spend the morning partaking of the various
athletic opportunities, and so, before I had a chance to think about it, I was
assigned to compete in a little tennis tournament, playing doubles with Lucy.
I’m not very good, but everyone said not to worry, and there was extra tennis
clothes and a racquet that I could use. So much for free will. I was now a cog
in the family vacation machine.

As we rocked in the comfortable chairs watching the last tendrils of orange and
purple disappear form the clear sky, a newcomer was welcomed onto the porch.
Even before I was introduced, I could tell that he was very much at home with
the entire group, so it was no surprise to discover that this was the famous
Chet. And although Lucy may have glamorized him a bit, he was much as
advertised -- tall, blond, handsome, articulate, and charming. Lucy started to
get giggly, but I kicked her lightly and gave her a stern look, and she made an
effort to be more of a grown-up. When Chet and Jock (that’s Lucy’s brother...,
what a yuppy name..., in fact her sisters are named Amber and Ashley!)
announced that they were planning to hike up to Pinnacle Rocks the next
afternoon, I instantly sensed an opportunity, and chirped in that I’d love to
go for a walk too, that’s what I came to the wilderness to do. I gave a
meaningful look toward Lucy, and she agreed to join the group. The boys
muttered something about it not being a “walk,” that it was a difficult climb,
but I wasn’t going to be put off. Eventually it was decided that Jock’s
girlfriend, Dawn, would come too. When the gathering broke up to head to bed,
Lucy pulled me aside and let me now that she was not certain she was in good
enough shape for the hike, but I took her meaning to be that she was nervous
about being with Chet, so I wouldn’t let her off the hook.

The next morning, we started in early with the tennis tournament. It was very
warm, and within minutes, I was perspiring heavily. Since I really was not
playing up to the standards of the rest of the competitors, I spent a lot of
time chasing balls. After a while, I noticed that our match had attracted a
large and growing audience..., certainly more than it deserved. During a
changeover between games, I whispered to Lucy “How come there are so many
people watching us play? Hardly any of the other matches have any spectators at
all.”

“You’re amazing,” she answered, “you really have no idea that you are the
reason for our crowd! Did you notice that almost all of the people watching are
men? Now look down at your chest.”

When I did, I realized that my sweat had made the borrowed white tennis blouse
almost transparent. And since I wasn’t wearing a bra (I almost never do, and I
hadn’t even brought on with me on the trip), my breasts  and the blunt pink
shape of my nipples were publicly displayed. I’m sure that when I tried
valiantly to chase down a point, I was getting a lot of bobbing and weaving.
Lucy pointed out that displays like this were not typical of the straight-laced
modus operandi of the resort. But for today, I was an exception to the rule
that was being appreciated by the fans of my pathetic tennis game. A fleeting
moment of embarrassment crossed my mind, but then I took a “what the hell”
attitude about the whole thing, and spent the rest of the match flaunting my
body. Occasionally I rubbed the strings of my racquet over one of my nipples,
or leaned over to pick up a ball, waving my ass in the direction of an admirer.
Interestingly enough, my tennis game improved markedly, perhaps because I saw
the sport as having more than one level of challenge. I started to feel a
familiar tingle of sexual excitement that came from the naughty thrill of
exhibiting to these strangers. Lucy gave me a wink and said “you’re really
enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” I responded, “I’m thinking about all the hard-ons that I’ve provoked,
and the fantasies that are being spun by all these repressed male psyches.” She
slapped her racquet hard (and playfully) on my rear, getting a good laugh from
our audience.

After the tennis, we showered, and I could only wish that there was enough time
for me to fully relieve the heightened sexual tension that had grown inside me.
As it was, I could only tease myself with a few rushed caresses through my
slick labia, with my finger and then with the hard, rounded bar of soap. My
clitoris was hard as a bone, and my lips were puffy, but I would have to wait
until later to take the time I needed to satisfy my persistent hunger, for I
could hear Lucy calling for me to hurry. So I put on some hiking attire, and
the three girls packed a lunch, while the boys studied the maps, packed up
blankets, cameras, and binoculars, and tried to rush us along. Traditional
gender role stereotypes prevailed here. Eventually the five of us set off on a
trail behind the lodge building. 

Now it was midday, and even hotter than before. The trail was very rugged,
showin little signs of regular use. Jock said that this was beyond the capacity
of most of the guests at the resort, so we would certainly see no one else
along the way. Lazing along the beach front was the customary activity for the
afternoons. For us, it was grunting, panting, and sweating, with little breath
left for talking. Eventually, I got my second wind, and achieved a sort of
trance-like rhythm. Most of the time, I followed behind Jock, and the view of
his butt cheeks and thighs clenching and jiggling were adding to my heightened
sense of my libido.

Then, suddenly, Jock’s foot slipped on a patch of greasy moss, and his ankle
turned over. He fell to the side and then backwards, and I blocked his slide.
His ankle was badly sprained. Chet suggested that he drag himself a few more
yards up the trail, to a spot where a large stream crossed the path. There was
a pool of beautiful water nestled amongst the boulders and trees, and Jock sat
with his injured foot dangling in the cool water while Dawn rubbed his
shoulders and fussed over what could be done. Chet and Jock concluded that an
hour or two of cooling the ankle in the stream would help, so we left Jock and
Dawn there with their share of the rations, while Lucy, Chet and I continued
onwards and upwards. For the purposes that I had in mind for the afternoon,
five was a crowd, but three was... well something else.

Lucy was now following Chet, and every once in while she would look back at me
with a kind of glazed look. I guessed that her close-up observation of Chet’s
cute butt was having an effect on her libido. Now I noticed Lucy had copied my
fashion statement from this morning; she had dressed without putting on her
bra. Since her breasts are much larger than mine, they swung around freely as
we scrabbled up the terrain, which was becoming more rocky. Eventually, we
broke though the tree line and emerged onto the bald peak. It was fairly flat
up there, and the stony surfaces were worn smooth by the centuries of harsh
weather. The sun beat down through the windless air, and we were surrounded by
the 360 degree panorama. The lake seemed so many miles away; I couldn’t believe
we had come so far. The surroundings seemed so isolated, so timeless, so
secret... as if we could see the world, but the world had lost track of us. The
feeling of freedom and enchantment filled my soul, and I without willing it, I
found myself bounding around on the low outcroppings of rock, acting out some
improvised pseudo-tribal dance. I began yelping and hollering, hearing the
amplified echoes that reminded me of my enchanted night at Lake Powell (see
Sue’s 20th: “Kachina”). My hair flailed around my head, slapping against my
neck in sweaty ropes. 

.... continued in part 2, .... and you’ll be happy to know that this is where
all the really hot sex takes place!



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