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Message-ID: <48578asstr$1090656605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Jeff Zephyr <jeffzeph@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Picking Berries in the Rain 1/4 (MF cons, M solo, MF oral rom)  {Jeff Zephyr} 
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Date: Sat, 24 Jul 2004 04:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Usual disclaimer:  This story involves sexual subject matter.  If you
aren't old enough to read this, go home!  Don't blame me if you have
problems which result from reading further.

Usual disclaimer:  This story involves sexual subject matter.  If you
aren't old enough to read this, go home!  Don't blame me if you have
problems which result from reading further.

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  Please don't
distribute in an altered form, or with any charges for acquisition.

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons is
unintentional and strictly coincidental. Any real people, places, or
things mentioned in this story do not appear with permission, and any
representations of them should not be interpreted as being in any way
based on reality.

If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other
repressive local regulations, liability for downloading it is your
problem, not mine.



Picking Berries in the Rain - by Jeff Zephyr -- Part 1 of 4
(jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  All Commercial Rights Reserved.

"Picking Berries in the Rain" (MF cons, M solo, MF oral rom)

(Or, "Picking Berries, Naked in the Summer Rain")

Picking Berries in the Rain (MF cons, M solo, MF oral rom) 1/4 {Jeff
Zephyr}

This story was inspired by "Summer Fun Ideas," a post on {assd} by
Baird Allen in Summer 2000.  It had other inspirations, including
another story about a different situation involving a girl walking in
the rain on a country road I read in a magazine (don't remember more
about that), and another experience involving picking berries.

===


My place is a lonely farmhouse on a country road, with nothing around
it for miles, except farmland and trees.  My name's Aaron, and I lived
there alone, except for my pets. I'm not exactly old, in my
mid-thirties.  It feels older than that, though it doesn't show on my
body.  I wanted to be alone, after a severely painful divorce, which
had left me without wife or child. This place suited me, for how I
felt.  Plenty of fresh air and solitude.  Fields and forest to
explore, a small garden to tend, two cats and a dog for companions.

I'm an artist, sometimes, a photographer, writer, and when necessary,
a computer web designer, though I prefer to stick to things where I
feel I'm using my creativity.  I can afford this lonely life, and
don't need to disturb it by going in to work for anyone, or meet with
clients or crap like that. I didn't need company for days at a time,
and I had no nosy neighbors to intrude.  My closest neighbor, a real
farmer, wasn't too nosy, and would even come past my house and be
polite enough not to stop, unless I walked out to meet him or said
something.  I wasn't unhappy with this situation.  It was comfortable,
and safe, and even if it was a bit lonely, at least it wasn't filled
with pain and shame.


It was a warm, summer Friday.  It had rained a little in the morning,
and thunderstorms were predicted for that weekend.  I had no pressing
business, and had been working on my computer all morning, so I
decided to relax a bit by lunch time.  After lunch, I decided to read
some sexy stories in the free newsgroups, such as
alt-sex-stories-moderated, and was enjoying myself, imagining romance
and love, as well as sex. In real life, I avoided looking for romance
since my divorce, preferring to imagine it rather than risk the
dangers in real relationships. The thunderstorms came, and I decided
to trust in the UPSs and power protectors, and just kept on reading
and relaxing, curled up with a cup of tea and crackers, and some
stories.  


The doorbell rang Bong! Bong! Not a quiet chime, but electric gongs,
loud enough that you could hear it a block from the house, if there
were city blocks here.

"Not expecting anyone, Roy?" I asked my brown tabby cat.  "Either of
you invite anyone over?" I asked my other cat, Dale, and my dog, Tex.
I wasn't expecting an answer, but I talked to them a lot when I was
thinking about doing something other than sitting still at the
computer, taking pictures, or making music.

The visitor turned out to be a young woman in her early twenties.  She
was very pretty and totally wet.  Wearing a thin white blouse, blue
shorts, with no bra under her top, she looked like a wet cat with her
hair sticking to her head, but the rest was a delightful female vision
of sensuality, or a teenager's wet dream -- a wet T-shirt contest
winner stopped for a visit. Her top didn't conceal anything, showing
her lovely breasts and hard nipples. She was standing on my porch, and
the rain was blowing in, as it was not enclosed.

"I need help," she told me. "My car's broken down a bit down the
road," she said, pointing away from the direction to the nearest town.
"If you could let me use your phone for a minute, I could call a
garage and get help."

"You can just come on in and use the phone," I told her.  "I'll get
some blankets and towels, so you can dry off.  You'll catch your
death, soaked like that," I told her.  I had noticed her body, and her
breasts were especially attractive, beautiful and wet, erect nipples
pointing up at me. But I was able to divert my eyes from staring, and
I didn't want to embarrass her more than she already was.  It was
quite a few miles to the next nearest phone, and the nearest house was
empty that day, my neighbors off on a trip for a few days.  She wasn't
young enough to be my daughter, if I had one.  Neither was she old
enough to act with experience, and she looked distraught, letting me
see her as she was now.

She tried to cover her chest with her hands, but the wind and rain
started to pull at her blouse, pushing it up.  She had to keep one
hand on it, to stop it from flying off, making it impossible for her
to conceal her breasts.

"I'll just stay out here, if you don't mind, if you can just get the
phone, and something to cover me with."

"I'll do that, just wait a minute."

It didn't take long to find a spare blanket and a towel, and my phone
was cordless, so I could drag it out there.  As I handed her the
blanket, the thunder started to roll and crash again, and the wind
howled.  The rain came down hard, and little pellets of hail started
to follow.

"That's OK, thanks, just let me in out of this?" she asked me.  I did
that, letting her wrap the blanket around her.

"You can dry off in my room, the one at the end of the hall there," I
pointed.  "There are towels on the dresser or in the bathroom. The
door has a lock, so you'll be safe.  You can use any of the clothes
from the left closet, whatever you need, don't worry about it.  Get
dried off, and I'll make a pot of tea. That will be good to warm you
up.  You can get your things dried using my electric dryer, it won't
take long."

She went off, down the hall.  I went to make tea, got some biscuits
and pastry out, and waited in the kitchen.

She came out wearing a thick, white knee-length robe.  I couldn't see
what she had put on under it, not right away.  She had a small bundle
of clothes, her wet ones, which she handed to me.  I gave her the cup
of tea, told her the number to call for our local gas station and
garage, and took her clothes off to dry.

I knew she wasn't wearing much, but along with a blouse, shorts, and a
pair of socks, I found wet, lacy black panties.  I knew there were no
women's panties in my closet, even if I wasn't sure about other kinds
of clothing.  There were pants, perhaps, but no shorts.  She was
attractive, and I had been alone for a while.  And my recent reading
had not done much to distract my physical nature, either. I put her
clothes in the washer for a quick rinse before drying, and waited a
bit, breathing slowly, and relaxed, trying not to think about how sexy
she was.  She was a woman, alone in the country, in a house with a man
she doesn't know.  The Rule I live by, the Golden Rule which my Dad
taught me and much more, meant that I couldn't do anything about this
attraction.  I had to help her, that was just being neighborly.  If
she were a young man, I'd have no trouble ignoring her attractions. 
At least, I thought I wouldn't   living alone makes you wonder about
such things.  Anyway, I didn't want to act like a fool, or hurt this
young woman, so I went back, thinking of things like how the rain was
going to mess up the harvest, and what work I'd need to be doing next
week.  It didn't work completely, but at least I didn't stare at her
body, and didn't show any major signs of my reaction to her.  I could
see what she was wearing under the robe, though, and that did provoke
a slight reaction.  It was a long, thick cotton night shirt, not
exactly a night gown, just a long shirt.  I was able to resist
thinking too much about what was underneath that, especially given how
much I had seen out there, in the rain.

We hadn't yet been introduced, what with her getting dried off, and me
making tea, and such.  So I decided to do that.

"My name's Aaron," I told her, putting my hand out.  She took it, and
shook it gently.

"Don't laugh, but I'm called Ursula."

"Why would I laugh?  That seems like a nice name."

"Maybe, but I get teased about it.  You could call me Sulie, my
friends call me that," she answered.  Then, she pointed to her robe
and asked, "Are these your wife's clothes?"

"No, my ex-wife.  We've been divorced for quite a while, a couple of
years now or so.  I haven't cleared her closet out, or even opened it
much since then.  Foolish to do that, maybe, but . . ."

"Didn't she want them?"

"No, she had all new high-fashion clothes, a new wardrobe, bought when
she left me.  Said I could keep her trash, or throw it out, she didn't
care.  I just never wanted to look at it or worry about it, that's
all." My ex's robe looked good on her, and there was something
enticing about her wet hair, or maybe, about any woman soaked, wearing
a soft robe. "You can keep any clothes that fit, I don't need them.  I
could have tossed them out, before, but I never needed the space for
my own things.  They'll just go to waste otherwise, and it seems to
fit on you just fine."

Well, we got tea and cookies, and I made the phone call for her, to
get help for her car.  There's only one towing garage in the area, and
it's closed most Fridays with a "Gone Fishing" sign on the door.

"There's no answer.  Dan says he goes fishing, but he's not likely to
be out in this weather.  He doesn't stay open for weekends, and
there's no one else I can think of close enough to come right away. 
I'll call up his house, maybe he or his wife is around."

I got the answering machine at Dan's, saying that they were out, leave
a message.  I did that, explaining that there was a woman's car broken
down on my road, and he should call right away about it.  Ursula was
listening, and said "Will he be back soon?"

"I can't say.  If he hasn't gone off somewhere for whatever reason,
yes, and if he calls back, it might not be 'til tomorrow."  She
frowned at that. "How'd you manage to get stuck here, on my road to
nowhere?"

"I took a wrong turn after I went off the interstate to avoid some
construction.  I stopped at a little cafe to rest and get a bite, then
decided to wander around the countryside, as long as I was here.  I'm
not from this state, but I figured that I'd just keep going, hit the
main highway again, and find my way."  She laughed, and with a grin,
said, "This reminds me of that movie, "Doc Hollywood."  Here I am,
crossing the country for the opportunity of my life, and I manage to
get lost with my car broken down."

"There was a girl in that movie who got wet like you, soaked.  She
wasn't lost, though."

I continued, distracted by thoughts of a naked skinny dipper,
comparing her to the very lovely girl who'd accidently revealed her
bare breasts under her shirt to me. "OK, it will be a while, maybe,
before you can find someone else to fix your car.  Or else, Dan will
get around to calling back. It could cost an arm and a leg for a
weekend tow out of the county.  Dan's good, he might even fix it
without towing."

"You got a phone book?  I could check out some places, maybe there is
someplace reasonable?"

"Sure. Go ahead, the phone's right there.  Don't worry about it if it
says long distance, either   everywhere is long distance from here."

I didn't interrupt her as she made a few calls, but no luck.  She
asked me if I'd mind her making a real long distance call. "Fine,
don't worry about it."

After she left a message on someone's answering machine, she started
to ask about me.  I was a bit short, and said "I don't want to talk
about myself, if you don't mind."

She didn't seem to mind much, and talked some about her situation. 
She had a good job waiting, and a boyfriend who loved her.  "Usually,
though, men say something nice about how I look.  You saw a bit more
of me than most men do, for a first appearance, you know?"

"You look nice, if you're looking for a compliment.  It's hard to
explain, how I've been."  I leaned back in my chair, thinking.  I
hadn't talked much to anyone about my feelings for a long time."

I went on, a feeling of old pain entering me, "I've been alone here
for a while now, since the divorce.  You're attractive enough, but I
didn't want to change my life, do anything about it, not even for a
pretty naked-looking girl at my door.  Besides, it'd be impolite to
stare at you, or impose on you, in your trouble."

"I'm used to a little bit of flirting, I don't mind it.  I was worried
that you didn't like me or something, that my tits were too small,
maybe, I dunno, you just didn't like women   except that you were
married." Sulie frowned, adding "Sorry, I didn't mean that exactly.  I
haven't seen my fiance in months, just talked on the phone.  I'd
expect a warm reaction from him if I showed up looking like this, and
was just surprised that you were so polite, such a gentleman about my
predicament."

"It's a long story, a sad one, I don't want to bother you with.  It's
not just the divorce, or the way you look.  It's 'The Rule.'  The way
you looked, soaked and scared like a wet cat, the last thing I wanted
to do was to scare you more.  It's against 'The Rule' to impose
yourself on someone else, especially when they're in a bad situation."

"What is 'The Rule'?"           "That's a bit hard to explain too.
It's something my dad taught me, about living right.  It isn't just
one thing, but doing everything to be kind to your neighbor.  It
starts off with the old 'Do unto others' thing, and goes on."

We talked some more, nothing deep, about the rain and when it might
stop, about her trip.  She asked to make another long distance call,
and I let her. She left another message.  When she asked about finding
someplace to stay, while she waited, I told her "You can stay here. 
Besides, you'll need to get to your car, wherever you go, and Dan will
be trying to call back."

"I wouldn't be imposing on you, would I?"

"No, I'm not too busy."

"What were you doing, when I interrupted?"

"Using my computer.  For work, partly, other things too."  I'd
forgotten exactly what I'd been using the machine for, and what was on
the screen.  I didn't think about it at the moment, but it had
interesting repercussions.

"Your wife had big tits, didn't she?  Bigger than my little ones?"

"Yah, she did.  How d'ya know that?"

"There was a bikini top in the closet, buried in the corner.  I was
hoping that there might be matching bottoms, but no luck.  The top was
so loose when I tried it on, it just fell off, no point in even using
it. My tits are just tiny things, I hardly need anything to cover
them, they're just too small."

"They looked fine to me.  'Sides, it wasn't my ex's tit size that made
me fall in love with her.  You look very fine, beautiful.  On the
porch, you were a literal wet dream come true."

"So, that isn't coming on to me?"                                   
"I don't think so; It's just stating facts."  Too much of the facts, I
realized. "I'm sorry, maybe it is, but when you showed up at my door
looking like that I couldn't avoid feeling something from it.  I don't
want to suggest that we do anything about it, especially when you have
a man that you love waiting for you."

A pensive, thoughtful look crossed her face. "I was wondering if I
could ask a favor.  If your computer can go on the Internet?"

"Yes, it is, cable system makes that always work."

"I'd like to check my email.  I'm expecting an important message from
someone."

"I suppose, it doesn't cost anything extra.  It's one of the
advantages of having cable TV come through this wilderness."

My reader screen was minimized, and she wasn't looking at it yet.  I
could see the group title in it, though, and started to worry what
Sulie would think.  She didn't look at it, though, starting the web
browser, and going to her email site.  At least, I thought she didn't.

"Alt Sex Stories Moderated . . . hmmm," she mused, and clicked on it.
There was a tale of hot, romantic sex up.  "I guess you aren't
completely ignoring sex, are you?"

I didn't say anything, but I flushed with embarrassment.  She went to
her email screen, which was ready for her to check.  I was going to
leave, but she started reading the names off to me, and talking, so I
figured it would be impolite.

"There's nothing here from my 'special friend.'  He may check his
email before his phone messages, so I'll just tell him what's
happened, and why I may be late."

"OK, that's a good idea."

"Now, about those stories.  I've read them too.  I think it's cool
that there are all those wonderful, sexy words, free for everyone to
read. Especially, when I'm alone, my man far away."

"Not too surprising, I suppose.  They can be a lot of fun."

"What happened with you and your ex-wife?"

"Might talk about it more later, maybe.  It wasn't a happy split, tons
of trouble.  It has been a long time, it seems, but it still bugs the
hell out of me.  I've gotten used to being alone.  And stories are
much safer."

"Not as satisfying, though."

"No.  Still, I've got to live my life, and I'm pretty comfortable with
the way things are.  It isn't easy to meet someone nice.  I couldn't
handle it if I found another bad relationship, not like what
happened."

"That's no reason not to look.  You're not that old, and you don't
look bad.  Not that I'm trying to flirt, but you look very nice to
me!" Sulie said, grinning widely.

Changing the subject, I asked her "Would you like something to drink. 
I mean, something warm and spirited?  We've got brandy, some wines,
whiskey . . . "

"Brandy with soda would be nice."

"I'll get it, and be right back."

When I came back with the glasses, drinks mixed on a tray, and the
bottles, she was looking through my CD collection.  I have a lot, all
kinds of music. Part of that is for work, most of it is because I love
it all.

"Do you really like all this stuff?  I mean, here are top hits, mixed
in with Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, lots of classical stuff.  Glenn
Miller, Charlie Parker, Elvis, Buddy Holly, every Beatles album I ever
heard of, yet then, here's Led Zeppelin, Kid Rock, Devo, Dr Dre,
Britney, Smashmouth."

She looked around some more, then asked "What should I play?"

"Anything you like.  I like all of it."

She picked a mix of pop stuff and jazz, and went back by the computer.
I thought she'd check her email again, or something like that. 
Instead, she went to the stories, and asked me, "Maybe, we could read
them together? It would sure keep me from worrying."

Then, we read for a while.  Stories about all kinds of sex, hot ones,
kinky ones, and talked about it a bit.  I explained about how I just
couldn't, ever, force a woman.  Rape stories just aren't fun. "Maybe
little bit as a fantasy, but not real."

Sulie found one marked as a rape story, and we read it.  She asked me,
"Did that turn you on, even a little?"

"Ok, but it wouldn't if it were real.  No, the sex part was OK, but
the rest was - ugh!"

"It doesn't for me, either, not as real. I wouldn't expect a nice guy
to do something like that."

"I suppose that's true."

"Aaron, still, you won't get far with it if you don't at least try."

"I wouldn't be sure about that.  If a man doesn't let a woman know
he's interested, she can always drop a hint or two of her own.  Or
just come out directly."

"Guess that's true."  Sulie took a drink, then added, "I suppose I
should check my email again."

There was a letter from her friend, which she'd been waiting for.  I
moved away to let her read it in private, but she didn't look happy. 
She made gasping, sighing sound, almost like she's going to cry.

I turned back and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I guess  . . .  I can show you, just read it, it's easier."

I did that.  It started out with "Sulie, I'm sorry," and it went
downhill.  I read, "perhaps it's not a good idea for you to come all
this way and move in, after all.  I've thought about you often and
still love you.  It seems best that we keep some distance between us. 
Since you aren't that far along, you should just go back home, and we
can talk later."

Sulie sobbed, "But I can't go home!  I've packed up everything, cut my
lease, sold off stuff.  I don't have anywhere to go."

She leaned against me, sobbing, and I let her stay there.  "I'm sorry,
I don't want to be a bother or anything.  I just don't know what to
do."

"Rest here a bit, relax.  I'll make dinner.  Maybe we can think of
something."

I left her in the living room as I went into the kitchen. "I was going
to cook up some lasagna, does that sound good?" I asked from the
kitchen.

"Fine," she said back loudly.

I came back and found her with my three pets laying by her, watching
Roy get petted on her lap.  "I see you've met the rest of my family." 
I introduced them, and she laughed at the names. "I guess you aren't
totally alone, not with them around."

"No, I can do without people, sometimes, but not them."

Dinner gave us a chance to relax, and her tears were gone.  I hadn't
listened, or tried not to listen, when she was sobbing earlier.  I
felt she needed to do that, to let her pain out without my disturbing
her.  I didn't know exactly what her relationship was like, but it
didn't seem like a nice way for it to end.
After dinner, I said, "We should go into the parlor, and relax."

"Parlor?  Like the spider and the fly?"

"No, like an old-style country house.  It's got a piano, and I can
play it OK. It's a nice way to relax, and I think you might need
that."

My parlor has an old upright piano in it, an acoustic guitar hung up
next to that, some antique wooden end tables, and a big, stuffed
leather couch. I went over to the piano and started playing, a bit of
this and that.  She started singing along, and laughing.  It seemed to
be helping.

"Maybe, your boyfriend still wants you.  You could call him, or email
him, and find out what he really wants.  Even if not, you're still a
nice, young, attractive girl, and I'm sure you can figure out
something."

That got her attention, and she brightened right up.  She moved away
quickly, going to my living room, with the computer.  She checked her
email again   no news.  She wrote a quick message to her friend, used
the phone, but there was no one home, again.  After she hung up, she
asked "Perhaps we could read some more stories?"

We listened to music, and read some interesting tales, drinking wine
this time.  I was too tired, though, to feel like reading for that
long.  She was too, after a long walk in the rain and a stressful day.
Her clothes were dry, so I told her that.

"No point in changing into them, if I'm just going to go to sleep
soon," she replied.

***

===

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  Please don't
distribute in an altered form, with removal of any part of the story
or author credit and copyright info.  Do not distribute it, or place
it on a website, CDROM, or other location or publication, with any
charges for acquisition, either to access the site or archive, or any
other charges specifically for the story, without permission.

If you liked this story, want to put it in a free collection, want to
tell me how I could write better, or just would like to say hello,
write to me at my email address shown above.

You can find more of my stories and other things at my website:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/jeffzephyr/www/

or via FTP:

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/jeffzephyr/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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