Message-ID: <48835asstr$1092539408@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <juanwildone@yahoo.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <20040814201411.91028.qmail@web52707.mail.yahoo.com> From: juanwildone <juanwildone@yahoo.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 14 Aug 2004 13:14:11 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} Hurricane Lines: 328 Date: Sat, 14 Aug 2004 23:10:08 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48835> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, hoisingr In Center of the Storm by juanwildone The wind and rain were increasing steadily as I screwed the last sheet of plywood into place. I walked quickly around the house to make sure all the windows were adequately covered. Satisfied I entered the house to ride out hurricane Charley. I had plenty of food and water, a portable generator with lots of fuel, first aid kit, candles, flashlights, electric lantern, batteries - I was prepared. I was just settling into a good book when the pounding on my back door caught me completely by surprise. I picked up a heavy metal flashlight and walked slowly through house. Since I had covered over the backdoor window I couldn't see who was there. I leaned against the wall (No need to get knock over by someone barging in), reached out and unlocked the door. The door opened to the roar of the wind. "Mr. Wilmer, are you there? It's me, Gretchen. Gretchen Hallstead." I quickly pulled the soaked to the skin 19 year old inside. "Gretchen, what are you doing here? The evacuation was this morning." I was trying to be adult, even paternal - after all I've know Gretchen since she was a little girl. I was trying, and failing, because the white t-shirt Gretchen wore was soaked to transparency. The absence of a bra revealed the undeniable perfection of her breasts. "I'm sorry to bother you Mr. Wilmer, but I was worried about Scout." Scout was her hugely fat cat. "Gretchen, your mom took Scout with her after we secured your house." I was almost successful at not looking at her erect nipples. The roar of the wind increased. "Well, you can't leave now, the storm is too intense, and you'll have to..." That was the exact moment that the electricity went off and the house was instantly dark. Odd beams of daylight found there way through the seams of plywood. Gretchen immediately embraced me and cried out in real fear, "OHMIGOD!" "It's okay Gretchen, I have candles and flashlights. Come on, and while were at it, let's get you out of this wet stuff. I'm afraid I've given all of my wife's things away." My wife had died just over a year ago after a long illness, and I had finally started clearing things out. Fortunately. the bedroom has a large skylight and was fairly well illuminated. "Will a t-shirt and sweats do? Any particular color preference?" "Any t-shirt will be fine." I no sooner handed her the shirt then she turned her back to me and peeled her soaked shirt off. I simply looked over her shoulder to the mirror opposite on my dresser. Her breasts were better then perfect. The dry shirt was shimmied into and just as quickly her shorts and a tiny tangle of red thong were pushed down her legs and removed. "Actually, I think the shirt will be enough." "Where can I hang these?" She knelt done to pick up her clothes and the mirror flash her hidden charms. I motioned into the bathroom with my flashlight. Clothes hung she reattached herself to my side. "Now what do we do?" "We can't stay in here with that skylight glass overhead. Are you hungry?" My mind stopped for a moment, then thoughts I hadn't thought in a very long time rose into view. Soft breasts pushed into your side will do that you know. My body followed the direction of my thoughts and I felt an erection begin to form. With one hand holding the flashlight and the other holding Gretchen I had no chance to cover or adjust myself. I hoped the Gretchen wouldn't notice as I walked us to the kitchen. I almost made it; until at the kitchen table I moved left as Gretchen moved right. My erection, in its fullness, pressed into her stomach. "Mr. Wilmer," Gretchen thickened her accent to honey-like consistency. It was very effective. "Whatever are you thinking? Are you planning on taking advantage of me?" I stood numbly as Gretchen loosened my shorts and pushed them down my legs. The simultaneous touch or her cold hand on my shaft and her hot, wet mouth on my glans startled me into the present. I shivered and my cock gave a tremendous lurch as I inadvertently pushed it down her throat. Gretchen coughed and gagged as I apologized repeatedly. "Whoa. I guess you weren't ready for that. Do you eat pussy?" My mind was a storm of confusion. There were some very loud calls from my conscience about taking advantage of a young girl. They were being effectively drowned out by much deeper needs. I stepped out of my shorts and led Gretchen to the living room. I sat her in an oversized chair, pulling her forward to the edge. The t-shirt rode up and over her hips exposing her cunt. There was just enough light in the room to see that she had little if any tan lines. I dove right into the junction of her inner thighs. She tasted heavenly as I licked her wet lips. A softly utter "higher" encouraged me to her clitoris. I sucked and licked it as Gretchen's hands rubbed my bald head. As her hips began to move and stomach muscles fluttered I pushed a finger inside her and curled it up. "No...no...it's too distracting, I can't come that way." I reluctantly withdrew, and instead reached up to fondle her breasts. I was surprised to feel two very long and very hard nipples. I was able to rub them with two fingers side-by-side - incredible. And judging by the change in Gretchen's vocal response - very stimulating too. "Yes...yessssss. Harder, harder, oh God." Gretchen's body tensed to rigidity, her thighs clamping hard to my head. I bit down on her clit. With her legs over my ears, I felt her scream more than heard it. She spasmed and twitched like nothing I had ever experienced before. When she relaxed she seemed to pour out of the chair onto the carpet - a little puddle of Gretchen. She answered my inquires as to her well-being with a throaty affirmation and a request for something to drink - alcoholic if available. When I returned with a couple of beers, she had rolled onto her back. I sat beside her, our hips just touching. I wasn't sure what was going to happen next. She lifted her head to drink, so we just enjoyed our silence listening to the wind and rain lash the house. I was lost is a reverie of times now gone when the touch of her hand on my thigh startled me. She sat up slowly and finishing her beer, asked me if I was okay with what had just happened. Talk about turning the tables. I should have been the one concerned about her. I told I was okay and she asked me if I wanted to finish. I thought she meant that she was okay if I needed to masturbate. She laughed at my misunderstanding and made things perfectly clear by crawling into my lap and straddling my cock. Oh my. I hadn't had sex since my wife got sick three, no four years ago. I hadn't been inside a nineteen-year old girl since my college days many, many decades hence. I didn't last 30 seconds - but it was one of the most intense long-lasting orgasms I'd ever experienced. I continued to shake and spasmed long after I'd finished ejaculating. We sat like that - cum dripping down out of her, my limp cock finally slipping out - until my legs began to protest. We stood, or at least I tried to; my legs were very wobbly. I ended up in the over sized chair, flexing my legs until they worked again. I heard a giggle in the dark. I joined in with a chuckle. We both began to laugh. We cleaned up, ate, and just hung out. We spent the rest of the day and into the evening talking about marriage (the idea), divorce (her parents mostly), fidelity (her dad was a happy philanderer and never saw the harm in it), relationships (she felt she'd yet to have one), and love (I said love was self-giving, she thought love was unconditional acceptance.) Interlaced throughout these topics was the subject of sex. I asked her if what we had just done was an act of love, or an act of sex. She said it was love, by both definitions. We have given of our bodies and energies freely and fully, and we'd accepted the offering of the other without judgment. I agreed with her. The storm abated through the evening, the radio said that Charley had turned southward and that we would not bear the burnt of it. I decided it was safe to sleep in my bed, so we cuddled one another into a deep sleep. I wasn't surprised to find my arms empty in the morning. A note simply said, "You'll never know how much I needed last night...thank you." The words were surrounded by a huge stylized "G." I got up, ate and began the process of removing the plywood panels from my house and the Hallstead place next door. I was placing the last piece of plywood in the garage when Gretchen's mother drove up. Donna ran up to me and gave me a tremendous hug. We released and stepped back from each other. I looked at Donna Hallstead and maybe I finally saw her for the first-time. She wasn't just Gretchen's mother, a divorcee, my wife's best friend, or even my neighbor - she was a woman; a beautiful, vibrant woman. "Thank God you're safe. I was so worried. I couldn't stop thinking about you here all alone. I should have stayed, I shouldn't have left." She embraced me again. The soft fullness of her breasts was delightfully comforting. "I'm fine Donna. Better then fine." It was the truth too. I hadn't felt this alive in many years. I felt great. The clouds were thinning and a shaft of Florida sunshine illuminated us. "Actually, I do have a problem inside. Would you help me with it?" Donna said she was happy to help, that she really owed me. I walked us through the house and into my bedroom. "Well, there it is. What do you think?" Donna looked around the room and then at me. "I don't see anything wrong?" I walked to the bed and pointed at it. "Here. The problem is right here. It's empty. I realized last night that it needs a beautiful woman to fill it." Donna looked at me with confusion. Then her face softened and she smiled. "Oh really, and you think I'm the one to fill it?" I nodded, which led to her smiling as she began to unbutton her shirt. "Is this a one time request?" "I hope not. You know, I check this bed everyday at noon. It's always empty." I began to undress. "Of course, I wouldn't want to impose..." "Ha!" Donna pulled back the covers. "You have no idea the trouble your in for, buster. If you're not taking vitamins - you better start. And don't worry about the first time; I know it's been awhile. I'm just happy to share this with you, and yes, I want to share this with you." I slide in beside her until our warms bodies molded together. I kissed her softly as my hands brushed over her breasts and belly. I pushed her legs apart. "So tell me Donna. Just how much of the kinky side of our sex life did my wife share with you?" I plunged my fingers into her soaking wet cunt as a hurricane of desire and lust swept across her face. I felt her cunt clench around my fingers, her body shivered despite our heat and in a very trembling voice she squeaked, "Kinky?" I was surprisingly calm. -------------------------------- Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Mail Address AutoComplete - You start. We finish. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to inadequate formatting. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ <1st attachment begin> <HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy> <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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