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tidal wave


This is an adult story for adults, with adult themes and
adult graphic sexual situations. Please do not read it if
you are under 18 years of age.

(c)2002 by Sara H. Do not post elsewhere than the ASSTR,
ASSM, or Nifty Archive without written permission.

All rights reserved.


Tidal Wave

by Sara H

Categories: FF, Rom, Oral, Cons, Slow


I have to tell you right off... I had nothing to complain
about, really. My life was fine. I had finally made it to
where I'd always dreamed I'd be. I was married, lived in a
nicer-than-average house in a much nicer-than-average
neighborhood, drove a Mercedes, and had a reasonable sex

The real problem was that after two years in Pitchford, I
still didn't have anyone I could call a friend. Richard and
I had come here thinking it would be another in a long
series of happy adventures. Maybe it was for him. He didn't
seem to mind the fact that he was now traveling forty-five
weeks a year, with every other weekend home.

I didn't think I minded, either. After all, I had a home
to put together. Room after room challenged me, I did a
pretty nice job, and it kept me busy. The house was large
enough to be a full-time occupation - six bedrooms, three
full baths, four floors if you counted the finished
basement, and on and on. It was quite a way from the small
two-bedroom apartment where we began, just out of school
and newly married.

Those times seemed much more distant than the five years
we had shared.

It took me awhile to realize that as I filled the rooms, I
was becoming more and more empty. The closer I got to
finishing my vision of a happy home, the more I turned to
soap operas and mind-numbing talk shows. Why? Because. Just

I was getting to be a lonely hermit, and I didn't know how
to stop.

Shopping didn't seem to help, and the corporate wife scene
was a little beyond my ability or desire. Church was out of
the question, and although I tried aerobics classes and
craft workshops, the Martha Stewart brand of self-amusement
mixed with fashionable steely-buns didn't really do
anything for me, either.

And although I suppose my descent into loneliness was a
long process, it didn't feel that way. What I mean is...
well, I'm not sure how to explain it. All I know is that
one night I went to bed a satisfied wife, and woke up the
next morning a despondent, miserable woman.

For months, I told myself that I was just tired, and that
things would get better. That's what I told Richard, too,
when he started to notice my withdrawal. He would give me a
concerned look, kiss my forehead, and then go off to work
on budget forecasts, or proposals, or whatever he was doing
that day.

Something was always coming up to take him away from home,
and it kept us from having to figure out what was wrong. By
the time I would decide to open up to him, he was already
on a plane, taking off for Canada, or New York, or
California - anywhere he needed to go for a few weeks. And
I was alone. Again.

I know, it sounds pretty whiny. After all, I had
everything people say they want.

For the sake of my sanity, I started venturing out into
the town, going to open houses, interior design shops and
art galleries. It was hard at first. It wasn't like I never
went out, but I'd always had something to accomplish
before. To go out with nothing particular in mind was
uncomfortable, which showed just how much I'd changed.
Once, I had been able to walk the malls all day for no
reason at all. Now, all I could think was that a small,
picturesque community in the foothills of the Rockies was
not a place to find much adventure.

Then again, it was better than staying home.


Sometimes the circumstances that change our lives seem so
mundane as to be laughable and only gain profound
proportions in retrospect. That's how it was with Mason.
She was in front of me at the Pipe Dream Deli and Sandwich
Shop, waiting for a Reuben sandwich.

I was fishing around in my purse for some cash, which had
lost itself in the bottomless abyss I carried over my
shoulder. I bumped her with my elbow. It was a freak thing -
- she lost her balance and fell forward, catching herself
on the counter. She turned around, eyes flashing in anger.

"I -- I'm sorry," I stammered, embarrassed. "I just was
trying to..."

"Yeah, yeah, look it's okay." Her face told me it was
anything but. My own face turned red and my lips fell to
silence. She opened her mouth to say something that would
match her withering look, but the girl called out the
number for her sandwich before she had the chance.

She turned back around, but not before rolling her eyes
and whispering an exasperated, "Ugh! Stupid..." that I
wasn't supposed to hear -- or maybe I was. Either way, I
found myself wondering what the unspoken word might be.

When my own sandwich came, I made sure to sit facing away
from her, and in a place she wouldn't see me. It wasn't
fear, really -- it was habit held over from a childhood of
avoiding confrontation.

I guess she didn't see it that way. At least, that was my
first thought as she rounded my table and sat down across
from me.

"Sorry about that back there. It's been a bad day," she

"No, it was my fault." I didn't really think that, but I
also didn't want to deal with this. It was one of those
little annoyances that happened every day, and she was
threatening to turn it into a grand drama.

She surprised me by saying, "You look like you've been
having a bad day, too. I don't want to make this into
something big, but I like keeping my conscience clean.
So... I'm sorry."

"Me, too," I said. After all, it *was* kind of nice to
have it out of the way. I looked down and concentrated on
adjusting my sandwich, which was falling apart.

"Cool," she said, standing and walking back to her table.

I nibbled on my sandwich in silence, staring out the window
at the cloudy day. It started to rain, and I watched the
street get slick and shiny without seeing it at all.

A bad day? This woman - this stranger - had hit a nerve. I
was having a bad *year*. I hadn't realized it was so
obvious. I managed to shake away the stinging in my eyes
before it turned into tears.

I didn't finish my sandwich. As usual, I'd been served
something far too large for a normal human to eat. I walked
outside and stood under the entrance awning, waiting for
the rain to slow down.

It didn't.

I heard the door open, and turned around. It was her.
Thinking back, her face had a kind of angular
determination. It was just on the soft side of grim. She
looked at the rain, and looked at me, and smiled.

It was like the sun breaking through for just a second,
and I couldn't stop myself from smiling back.

"When I was little, I used to love getting wet in the
rain," she said. "Doesn't feel the same today, though. I
guess it's because I don't have a choice." She sighed and
started off.

Something inside me blurted out, "Do you need a ride or
something?" I kicked myself. My car was a mess, and
besides, I really didn't want to be a Good Samaritan. I
wanted to go home and lose myself in a room or a tv show
again. Coming out here had been a bad idea.

"Well," she answered, pausing. She looked at me with a
kind of quizzical face -- there was something odd about it,
like she was sizing me up. With the tiniest of jolts, I
realized that I liked it. "Okay."

I'm not sure it made much difference. By the time we
reached my car, we were both soaked.


"I'm Traci," I said as I made a right turn out of the
parking lot.

"Mason," she offered. "This is really kind of you."

She paused, seeming to let her thoughts go elsewhere, then

"Look," she said, "I'm really sorry about blowing up back
there. I've been a real snot lately. I know I sound like a
broken record. It's just that, well, I feel like a stranger
to myself, anymore."

"No you don't sound like a broken record. Record. Record.
Record. Record. Record," I said, risking the kind of joke
usually reserved for... well, friends. What the fuck... I
didn't *have* any close friends in Pitchford. There was
nothing to lose.

It must have been the right thing to do, because she
looked at me and smiled again. The sun. Again. My world lit
up. What was going on with me? For Chrissakes, I was
blushing. "Maybe you should tell me where you live."

"Alone," she said.

"Huh?" Her answer confused me a little. I didn't really
think what it could mean... it just wasn't what I expected.

"Oh. Sorry. I thought..." she said, her voice fading. "I
should have noticed your ring."

"Well..." I said, fumbling. I had no idea what to say.

She saved the moment by returning to normal. "You see
where that white car is turning left? The street after

I saw it, kept my eyes peeled, and turned when the time
came. I lost track after that, following her directions
through the winding, tree-lined streets of old-money houses.

It turned out that she lived back on Bonaventure Avenue, a
little out-of-the-way dead end street that was lined with
dogwoods and ran smack into the side of Clancey Park. It
was an odd coincidence... Richard and I had looked at a
house there before moving. It was part of an estate sale,
and I fell in love with it, but it was taken out of the
sale before we were able to build.

"Twenty-three-oh-three, on the right," she said.

My eyes felt like they bulged out to the steering wheel.
You know what they say about the truth being stranger than
fiction? Well, that was the house.

She must have noticed, because she said, "Something wrong?"

"No, no. It's just that I've been here before," I said.

"In another lifetime?" she asked.

I gave her a mocking, disdainful look. "*No,*" I said. "My
husband and I were thinking of buying this house a few
years ago, when it was on the market. The people who lived
there died, and we were going to..." My words trailed off
as I connected the dots.

"Not everyone who lived there died," she said, so quiet
that I could barely hear. I didn't need to hear them,
really. I already knew.

"Oh, umm, well..." I stammered. Well, tell me. What *do*
you say when you jam your foot into your mouth and all the
way down to your stomach?

"It's okay," she said. "I didn't exist for a lot of
people. I guess that was my first official act as a grown-
up, taking back the house. Before that, I was only Bradford
and Marcella Livingston's odd little girl. A lot of people
thought I was crazy keeping a mansion like that. No one
knew I'd want to come back to this house to live, including
my parents. Sometimes even *I* wonder why I did."

It didn't sound bitter. It sounded like reality.

"I'm still sorry. I don't have any friends here, and I
guess it's no wonder. I'm pretty stupid, sometimes."

"No, you're sweet," she said, as I pulled into the long
driveway that led back to the house. "And it would have
been a long walk. Thanks for the ride. Maybe I'll see you
around, Traci."

"Sure," I said. Like that was going to happen. In another
two years.

I watched her walk up the sidewalk to the front door,
waiting to make sure she was able to get in okay. About
half way to the house she stopped, and then came back to my
window. I let it down, and she said, "Look, it's stopped
raining. Would you like to come in and dry out? You look
pretty disheveled, and I'd like to return your favor."

"No, no," I said. "That's okay. I have things I need to
get done."

She gave me a look that told me she knew it was bullshit.

"Traci, come on. Even if you have somewhere you have to
go, you can't go looking like that. Worst case, I'm saving
you a trip home to change. And if you didn't have anything
to do, I'm sure I can think of something. You know, I don't
have many friends, either. Let me do this. Get *in* the
*fuck*-ing *house*."

The sing-song sound of the her last words hit me so funny
that I started laughing hard -- and so did she. Before I
knew it I was crying from laughing so hard, bent over the
steering wheel and holding my tummy.

It felt wonderful.


"Here's a robe. I'll throw your clothes in the dryer, and
in the meantime, we can watch a movie or something. You can
use the bathroom -- it's the door at the end of the hall,"
she told me.

"Thanks, Mason," I said, and I meant it. I walked down the
nicely appointed hallway to the bathroom and sure enough,
there it was. The inside of the house was pretty much as
I'd remembered it -- elegant and dark, but it had a new
flavor. It wasn't old and blue-haired anymore, but had a
kind of youthful ambience I found very comfortable.

As I closed the door and peeled off my soggy, rain-
drenched clothes, I was more grateful than I thought I
would be. My feet were all wrinkled and white, and my skin
felt cold and clammy. I shivered a little as the chill of
air on wet skin moved over me.

This had been a pretty good day, after all.

I put on the robe and considered being assuming enough to
take a shower. I pulled back the shower curtain, and
decided against it -- not because I thought Mason would
mind, but because I didn't know how to work it. It was one
of those environmental shower things... water jets pointing
in all directions. I'd always thought they looked
wonderful, but I'd never tried one, and had no idea how to
operate it.

I looked down at the front controls and my jaw must have
dropped three inches. There on the ledge was a dildo, and I
don't mean just a dildo. This thing was a DILDO. It was odd
looking, too. It looked like a regular penis, and had a
base, and then another smaller penis curved upward in the
opposite direction. Its purpose was obvious.

It was made for two women, to be worn in a way to make
regular sex possible for both. I'd never seen anything
like it, but how to use it was instinctive. *User
friendly,* I thought, giggling a little bit. So Mason was
bi. Or a lesbian. I should have known, but it had never
occurred to me.

I had a fleeting thought, wondering if she were in the
process of seducing me. I got a spark of surprising arousal
at the thought... I mean, what woman hasn't wondered what
it would be like? But reality came back faster than the
thought had come to me. I was married, and I was straight.
And there was no *way* that she'd be attracted to me.

I started shivering again, but not from the cold. I was
nervous, like a girl in school. Why was this affecting me
this way? I was lonely, and having a hard time with
Richard, but what a stereotype... the misunderstood woman
seduced by the all-knowing lesbian predator.

My head cocked to the side a bit as I realized that buried
in my attempt to disarm my thoughts was the tiniest pool of

I shook myself back to reality and pulled the robe tight
as I tied the belt. It was huge and made from thick terrycloth, and I hugged myself in the luxury of it before
heading out of the bathroom and down the stairs. She was
already waiting for me in the living room, dressed in a
white silk robe. Her hair was still wet and tangled just a

"What took you so long?" she asked. "I was afraid you got

"I was trying to decide if I could take a shower," I said,
trying not to blush.

"Oh, that shower is the best. It's made for two, though,
and you'd have to ask me to join you." She looked at me for
some sign of something, like maybe that I'd seen her toy,
but I was determined to be as cool as a cucumber. The
thought of a cucumber returned my mind to the rude silicone
sculpture in the bath.

"So are you a... lesbian?" I asked. Nothing like talking
about things rationally to get rid of awkwardness and
disarm the situation. Nothing beats down the libido like a
little analysis and thoughtful examination.

"I prefer dyke," she said. "Lesbian doesn't scare away the
men... they want to watch. dyke makes them kind of clutch
at their bellies and go all pale."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was so true. Even Richard
would talk in almost hushed tones about "lesbians," but he
would spit out the word "dyke" as if it tasted bad.

Mason smiled. "How about you... are you... straight?"

"I prefer heterosexually bent," I said, and we both
laughed. Again. This day was becoming more wonderful by
the minute. It seemed like lifetimes since I'd been able to
just relax and laugh in anyone's company.

"Touche," she said. "But bent does sound kind of... fun.
Listen, would you like some wine?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Actually, that sounds
really good."

"What kind do you like? I have a very nice wine cellar,
courtesy of the estate."

"Pinot Noir?" I asked.

"Ah, a woman of good taste," she said. "Be right back."

I wondered if she meant that as a double-entendre and
decided to let it go. She hadn't made any moves, wasn't
coming up with any lines, and I was getting what seemed to
be a new friend after two years of being alone. I hugged
myself again and sat down on the edge of the couch while I

I looked around and started to notice little things I
hadn't seen before. There was quite a bit of feminist
literature spread around, and books on sexuality,
lesbianism and erotic fantasy. Her artwork was mostly
Georgia O'Keefe, and the raw sexuality of the paintings
seemed to leap from the prints. In the corner was a double
edged axe with a short handle and feathers.

The whole effect was quite striking. I wondered what she
kept in her more private areas. I wasn't sure I really
wanted to know.

And underneath, I felt a bit of surprise in feeling like I
did. My case of schoolgirl nerves had returned, as if I had
heard about kissing but had never felt how magical they
could be. But it was all so silly. I was just getting dry
so I could go home.

By the time Mason returned, wine glasses full, I was so
deep in my reverie that I didn't even notice her arrival.
"Nectar of the Gods," she said.

I shook myself aware and stood to take a glass from her.
To this day I don't know if it was intention or fate that
caused the next series of events. As she handed me the
glass, her other hand dipped forward and doused the belly
of my white robe with dark red wine.

"Oh, shit!" she cried out, and ran off to the kitchen to
get something for cleaning it up. She returned just as fast
with paper towels and pressed them to my belly.

"Here. Hand me a couple... I can feel it on my skin," I
said, and untied my robe so that I could blot the spreading
stain from the inside. I reached in, and so did she, her
hand covering mine. I hadn't been thinking. I couldn't
twist my hand the right way and I ended up with my palm
against my belly. My unattended robe fell open, and my
nipples stiffened from the slight and sudden chill.

"You elbow me, and I soak you with wine," she said.
"Paybacks are hell, I guess."

"I guess." My voice was barely a whisper. Something was
happening, and I couldn't tell what it was. It was like
that silent moment you get asked a question whose answer
will change your life forever. There's no awkwardness, no
hesitation, but no going forward either. Complete silence,
inside and out.

I could hear the mantel clock ticking as we stood there,
eyes locked.

Maybe I should have been thinking of Richard. Of my life.
Of what I would lose if I faced the desire that was rolling
over me from out of nowhere. But Richard, just like in real
life, was on leave, traveling somewhere outside any
thought. He didn't exist. In that moment, he had never

It seemed to last an eternity. And then the world was
rushing back, along with tears. I'd just experienced a
glimpse into bliss, and I was as much afraid it would pass
me by as I was that it would consume me.

I was shaking as her arms moved inside my robe and around
me. I wanted to say something... anything... that we
shouldn't... that I was not that way... but I *was* that
way, and I couldn't stop her.

I didn't *want* to stop her. I wanted her to go on. Shit,
I just wanted her.

Somewhere inside, I think she was listening.

I let my eyes close for just a second, basking in the
feeling of intimacy I'd almost forgotten. I felt like I was
going someplace else, rushing through streets that should
have been familiar but were new and strange and wonderful.
And then I was falling, melting as sensation bled its way
through my body.

God, it was powerful.

And then, oh God, her lips were on mine, her breath gently
filling my mouth. Warmth filled my belly as her tongue,
warm and wet, came searching for mine. I was in the throes
of something much bigger than myself, and it was already
too late for second thoughts.

I returned her kiss as my arms, as if on their own, found
her body and wrapped it, pulling her into me. My head was
in the clouds and my feet were buried and immobile as wave
after wave of longing stretched me. My tongue found hers
and tasted - exploring, desperate, hungry for more and more
of this stranger, this woman who had awakened my sleeping

It would be kind of me to say that I thought of Richard,
that I fought what was happening to me. But it was so good,
so unexpected - so perfect that when he came into my
thoughts, I was too far gone to care. "Fuck that shit," was
the only phrase that rang through my head.

And then he was gone.

We were dancing on a higher plane; a place where old rules
no longer applied. She released her kiss and left me
swaying there, afraid to do anything that might break the
spell. I felt her gentle hand take mine and opened my eyes.
She was looking at me, large brown eyes full of glistening
desire. There was no question in them.

She knew we had already flown past any reason to stop. We
were making love just by the touch of her fingers to mine.
We couldn't have stopped it any more than we could stop the
sun from going down.

I followed her up the stairs, hand in hand, marveling at
how graceful we seemed. It was like something out of a
movie fantasy, all gauzy and ethereal, except it was real.
I felt the floor under my feet, the smooth grain of the
wood telling me that my life had just turned a corner, and
there would be no going back.

She turned around, pulling me into the bedroom with both
hands, smiling as she drew me close and kissed me,
pushing the robe from my shoulders. It was so natural that
I let it fall without thinking, barely noticing the cool
air on my back. We sank to the bed, lips still touching,
then parting as our tongues remained in a dance of lust.

Her own robe followed mine, and I took in a sharp breath
as I felt her skin against mine for the first time. I let
it back out as I moaned into her, and still the kiss went
on, a soft, breathy sliding of tender flesh, transforming
motion into heat.

My lips slid to her neck and down to her shoulder and I
snuggled her closer as we fell over, our moans moving back
and forth between us. It was like a kind of rapture, where
time stopped and there was only us, and what we were

Mason slid her body further up mine, and I felt my nipples
harden again, stiff and more sensitive than I'd ever
known. Something was happening to me, like a flower
opening. It was something that had always been there, but
had never found expression. It was lust and joy and
reckless passion and desire all mixed with a hunger that
had waited years for the promised feast. It wasn't changing
my past... it was making it more and more irrelevant with
each passing moment, with each chill of lustful pleasure
that worked its way up my spine.

I was lost in it all, and I didn't want to be found.

My tongue, pointed and wet, licked her soft belly, my
jealous lips kissing now and then to taste her sweet flesh.
Her breath, short and ragged, whispered secrets to me where
words had no place. My body answered hers, communing with
her beyond thought or motion.

I'd never been with a woman. I never wanted to be without

Her voice spoke to me, almost making me come with satin
seduction. "Lower, love. Lower. Now."

I was unable to resist her demand... I had known it before
it was spoken, felt it in her legs as they stretched wide
in lewd invitation. I lifted and slid down even more, my
hair teasing her skin, smiling as she quaked from its
touch. My lips lowered to her moist cavern, hidden behind
folds of velvet sex.

My God, her scent... it filled me, took me, owned me...
and there was only wonder and a quivering, blessed twitch
in my own cunt... wonder at such beauty, at intimacy that
enveloped us, at how I could never have seen or felt such
desire before.

I bowed my head in something like reverence, letting the
tip of my tongue taste the nectar of her puffed and tender
slit. Her hips rose and I pulled back, making it last,
making it more than sex, more than lust. I could feel it
warping her, craving amplified by teasing denial, and
shuddered as I saw her hands clench in need.

There is a word, so common and usual, that describes what
I felt. And yet, in that moment, it became so profound that
it would never be the same for me again. It was gestalt,
and it was sure. It was perfect...


Of my nature.

It was a nature I would never be able to deny again.

My tongue dove into her, lips pressed tight, wanting to
cover her and take her into me at the same time, sliding on
her slippery wetness created for me and for our wanton
need. My head rocked up and down and in circles, hands
roaming her as her pleasure cascaded into me, making me
feel what she was feeling, want what she was wanting.

Her legs jerked as my tongue flicked across her swollen,
stiff clit, making my body dance to her time, urging me
onward. Her head began to thrash as her cries filled the
air. Her legs flew around my back and pulled me tight to
her as her hands grabbed my head, grinding my face into
her, bruising my lips.

I was a leech, drinking her juices, stuck to her, feeding
from her, her body my only existence, her pleasure, mixed
with mine in ways beyond knowing, my only purpose.

And then, magic happened.

She clenched tight, her entire body rolled into one moment
as she clutched me to her, eyes wide and unseeing, mouth
screaming an unheard song and then, soft and high, letting
out a glorious and mournful wail that seemed so soft that
it was imagination. Down and down it came, louder and
louder, shaking and warbling and striking me deep in my
pussy... and deep in my soul.

I exploded into her, my own scream muffled as my throat
let loose a roar that felt as if I were being torn apart,
waves and waves of expanding and ruthless pleasure ripping
through me and reflecting back on itself, building higher
and higher, taking me beyond the most primitive thought,
where all there was, was Mason. Love. Bliss. Fucking. Cunt.

It was the edge of forever.

I didn't go home that night. I was already there.


Looking back, it's kind of sad. All good things come to an
end eventually, even the things that are magical. I had
known such wonder, such love, and such passion. But even
the best we know can be lost. That's how it was for me. It
was like a swift, beautiful moment that could never come

I have no regrets at all. My life will go on, and there
will be more moments of magic, I'm sure. I know it like I
know that tomorrow is coming.

As a matter of fact, I'm more than sure. Richard was angry
about it at first, but I think that maybe he really did
love me. The magic had gone for him, too, and he did his
best to understand. I saw him last week at the flea market
with a really cute woman hanging on his arm. I hope they
make each other happy.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Mason is pulling me away. See
what I mean? Magic is waiting to happen all the time, with
barely a thought.

And who am I to say no to what comes so naturally?


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(c)2002 by Sara H


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