"Forecast" {Pendragon} (MF rom wl)
FORECAST
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.
This material is Copyright, 1996, Uther Pendragon. All
rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous
permission.
All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.
# # # #
FORECAST
by Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
The sunset on her left was gorgeous as Jeanette Brennan hiked
along the trail with Bob, but she looked to her right more often.
The little radio had forecast rain before morning. Now, although
the radio was not packed where she could reach it, she could make
her own forecast. The rain would start sooner than morning.
They wanted a campsite upslope from the trail.
They reached one that had been used before but was empty
now. They didn't change their pace as they turned off the trail,
but they set up camp with greater care than usual. She pulled
the radio out and turned to a local station. She hammered the
pegs in a little bit harder than the night before. Bob dug a
much deeper trench around the edge of the tent. They hung their
pack frames from a tree but got everything that they wanted to
keep dry into the tent. It was perfectly waterproof as long as
nothing touched the cloth from inside. They very carefully
stowed their belongings so that nothing touched the canvas.
She cooked dinner with determined speed. The radio didn't
give the weather forecast until they were eating. The rain was
predicted to hit a town southwest of them near midnight. She
could see Bob relax at the same time she did. They had plenty of
time.
She took the spade into the woods a short distance. She
handed it to Bob as she came back. Her last task was to get a
condom out of the zip pocket of her hanging packframe. They were
foil-wrapped; the others wouldn't be bothered by rain.
She took off her boots outside the tent and got undressed
the rest of the way in the sleeping bag. She stowed those
clothes carefully away from the tent walls. Bob stripped outside
and climbed in the bag after her. As he handed her his clothes,
she stowed them with the same care. They listened to another
weather report and shut off the radio. After a little
discussion, Bob closed the flap of the tent. The world was
excluded. They talked and petted and talked.
She found herself paying more attention to Bob's hands than
to his words. She turned to face him, and they kissed deeply.
When his tongue entered her mouth she welcomed both reality and
metaphor. Bob abandoned her mouth for her breasts, and she lay
back.
Bob's hand ran down her right thigh and then up the inside.
She parted her thighs slightly to give it passage and squeezed
them together to hug the hand when it reached the junction.
"Hello, hand," she said.
Bob lost the nipple when he laughed. She spread her legs to
give him room to work, and his mouth returned to her breast.
This was the eleventh night of their marriage, the eleventh night
of her sexual activity; but a pattern had already been set. He
would leave that to return to her mouth, he would be on
the other when she climaxed. The pattern was reassuring.
For one thing, she *would* climax. This tension -- half
pleasure, half irritation -- would come to an end, and a lovely
end it would be.
She lay on the slightly padded ground. She floated on the
sea of sensation. Everything happened as forecast. As her
climax began, Bob abandoned the nipple momentarily to say, "I
love you." That confirmed the climax as much as it confirmed the
love. She tossed on the sea of sensation for a moment, or an
eternity. Then she fell back to the ground. The hand and lips
went from arousing to intrusive, but they stopped almost
immediately. The hand clasped her delta for a moment longer.
The lips moved to her forehead in a gentle, very protective,
kiss.
"I do love you," Bob said, very emphatically.
"Love you too," she gasped. His attention turned to the
Trojan she had set out. It was, as always, at his side of the
tent flap.
When her energy returned it was awfully warm in the tent.
She threw off the top of the sleeping bag. Bob read the sign and
kissed her. He started at her arm and sought her mouth, via her
neck, her ear, and her chin. The game was enough to have
stopped being very funny, but the kisses were still sexy. His
tongue was in her mouth again, reawakening desire, reminding of
love. He acted more directly this time, his hand soon between
her legs, his fingers soon between her labia. She welcomed this.
Desire bloomed, and she tugged at his arm.
"Oh love," he said as he climbed between her legs.
"Yes, dearest," she said as he placed himself.
To Bob, she knew, what entered her was Junior, wrapped in
latex. To her, it was Bob himself. Bob's fingers spread the
labia apart, but Bob nudged into the entrance. Bob slid through
her and filled her up. When she was absolutely full, it was Bob
she hugged with her arms, but it was also Bob she hugged with a
muscle that she was just learning to use.
Bob gasped and started to move. Intercourse might not
always give her a climax, but it always gave her evidence of
Bob's passion for her. She abandoned her hug to caress his back
as he rose a little and got into a rhythm. The rhythm took her
up, moving her in time with it. Her hands slid down to Bob's
butt, where she felt the tautness as he drove into her. Proud to
be the athlete of the couple, she often forgot Bob's sheer
strength. Beneath her hands, however, he was now pure muscle,
hard as rock.
Then sensations banished her thoughts. Sensations of his
driving within her, of his chest rubbing across her throbbing
nipples, of his hips nudging her legs more open with each thrust,
of her own hips rising to meet his, of tension somewhere within
her. Then there was only the tension, all her body into
one knot, with her spirit bound somewhere within. The knot
tightened almost to pain. Then it broke into joy.
She rode the joy. As it pulsed around her she pulsed, too.
The joy was pulsing around her, and Bob thrust deep within her
and throbbed there.
There was shouting in the tent. It had to be her voice,
because Bob was only grunting. Then he fell on her, and the
touch was wonderful, even if it was hard to breathe. They rolled
to the side.
The next thing she noticed was loud thunder. Bob was now
lying apart from her, and they were covered again. She hugged
him as the rain began.
Somehow, Bob was cold and damp and shaking her. "Let-up,"
he said.
"Huh?"
"The rain has let up. If you need to piss, do it now."
She went out in only her boots and poncho. This was not
what she considered a let-up. And she wished he would find a
better word than "piss," though "going to the bathroom" didn't
quite make sense.
Back at the tent, Bob had one of his undershirts ready for a
towel. Soon the downpour resumed. Outside there had been the
grayness that hinted that the sun had risen. Inside, she could
barely see Bob's shape against the canvas. The radio suggested
that the storm would pass the town by 10:00. Certainly it would
pass them by noon. They had a morning to spend.
"We could," she suggested, "play twenty questions. We could
try to figure out what town we will stop at on Sunday with this
delay. We could nerve ourselves up to take advantage of the
shower bath out there. I can find the soap."
"I have something else in mind."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Surprise I had not expected. A second for the motion, I
had."
"Moi? I am an innocent maiden, well a recent maiden, and I
never second such motions."
"Never?"
"Hardly ever!"
Taken with their joint cleverness, they congratulated each
other with a kiss. (W. S Gilbert didn't get a kiss; but he
wasn't there, after all.) The laughing kiss led to deeper
kisses, and those to hugs. Hugs left a lot of skin untouched
which called for caresses to restore equity.
As Bob was kissing his way from her to her belly
button in *very* slow stages, Jeanette heard the downpour
redouble. That reminded her of a detail. "Bob?"
"Hmm?" He sounded preoccupied. Come to that, her stomach
felt as if he were preoccupied.
"Guess where the contraceptive is?"
"They take almost no room. No-one would have left the
rubbers out in that."
"I carry them in the zipper thing that doesn't come off the
packframe. They are wrapped in foil."
"Well, there is a second box. It is in here. Would you
like to take possession of that?"
"You told me that I was in control. Then you ..."
"To be terribly technical, I asked if you wanted to be in
control. You took it under advisement. The next morning, you
took the box. What was I supposed to do with the second box?
It's not as if I attacked you when you were sleeping, you know.
When the time came that they were needed, I offered them to you."
"But still."
"I'd think that it would have come to you that twelve
rubbers was a remarkably tight provision for a fifteen night
honeymoon."
"I did think of that at the motel, but someone distracted
me."
"Yah, shuure. It was all my fault."
"Of course. Everything is. Do you think that you could dig
out those contraceptives *now*?"
He could and did. By now, there was a dim light in the
tent. He solemnly handed the box to her, and she tore one off
and handed it to him with equal solemnity.
Bob kissed her again. As their tongues played, his hand
caressed her side and then her breast. He seemed to be starting
all over at the beginning. She was tempted to put his hand back
where it had been, but that seemed awfully immodest. She did
break the kiss and push his face toward her breast.
Bob kissed her there. He licked her areola and started
sucking on her nipple. His hand went where it was needed. She
was really beginning to turn on. Then he rolled over on his back
and scooted down to the bottom of the sleeping bag. If it were
not for Junior sticking nearly straight up, she would have
thought Bob uninterested in sex.
"You've finally decided that twenty questions is a better
idea?" she asked.
"If you come on top, I have two hands free."
Avoiding the wet canvass at her head and Junior at the other
end, she straddled Bob. Moving a little lower, he pulled her
down so he could kiss her breasts. He did use both his hands.
First, he petted her all over but especially on her thighs and
butt. Then he let one hand take care of back and sides and
breast. The other stroked between her legs. Soon it parted her
labia, already somewhat open in this position.
Bob switched breasts. He tongued and her left nipple
now. One hand held her right breast, while his other stroked
between her labia in a maddening dance which managed to just miss
her clitoris. Then he hard just as his finger passed over
the clitoris. That sent lightning through her. She jumped so
that she escaped his mouth.
"Hurt?" he asked immediately.
"No!" She bent forward putting her against his
mouth. Eagerly, he the whole top of her in. "The
opposite of hurt."
Bob one nipple and rubbed the other. He stroked her
center until she was quivering with anticipation. Finally, he
reached for the contraceptive. He tore the packet open and
rolled the condom on, reaching clumsily around her. She started
to move away so she could get onto her back. As she moved her
right leg, he scooted sideways against it. He was nearly to the
center of the sleeping bag.
"You're not leaving me much room," she said.
"Plenty of room. All on top." He pushed her gently toward
his groin.
She didn't know how to move in that position. He was crazy.
"Me on top? I don't think it would work. C'mon Bob."
"Try it. C'mon yourself, Jeanette. It's not as if someone
is scoring us. The worst thing that can happen is that it
doesn't happen. With your program, it doesn't happen anyway."
He pushed a little harder. She moved back. Suddenly he had
to use both hands to feel her opening and to adjust Junior. He
scooted up a little before she settled back. It was a bad angle.
She put her hand back and held Junior for a moment while she
changed her position. Bob still held her labia apart with his
fingers.
She settled back again, and this position worked. She
slowly pressed against him until she was full. She straightened
up a little but had to avoid the top of the tent.
"Oh, Jeanette." Bob put his hand back on her right
and held it while his thumb rubbed across her nipple. She
started to move back and forth, with his hand between her legs
moving in time. "You are the sweetest, sexiest in the
entire world."
She found a motion which excited her, whatever it did for
Bob. She looked at his face and saw concentration. Suddenly, he
raised his eyes, so that they were staring at each other. A tide
was rising in her from her own motion, from his hands, from the
love pouring out from his eyes to hers. She wanted to watch his
face as passion took him. Now there was enough light to see.
She raised and lowered herself while watching the passion
grow in him. Her own passion took her by surprise. At one
moment it was a nice feeling increasing with her deliberate
motions. At the next moment it had mastered her and was speeding
her pace willy-nilly. The friction now came from her hips. They
were swinging back and forth, with the rest of her body nearly
still. Something was gathering in the shadows behind her. The
tent disappeared, and the ground shook under her knees. She flew
through joy.
She found herself grinding down on Bob, with her back rigid.
Her head was pressed against the tent canvass and sopping wet.
Water was running down her neck and back and breasts. She
dropped down.
Bob was throbbing within her, and her move almost pulled him
out. He tugged her down against his groin with his hands and
lifted her with his hips. A moment later he relaxed under her.
He did slip out this time.
They lay there panting and dripping. Bob kept blinking to
avoid drops falling from her face to his. He was grinning at
her.
They were wet in a damp bed. There would be rain for the
next two hours. The clearing was overhung by dripping leaves, as
was most of the trail. God knew when they could get the sleeping
bag dry. And the goofus was blissfully happy because he'd had
another sexual climax. Well, to be fair, because they'd both had
sexual climaxes. He was a goofus, but not a selfish one.
"Can you reach my shirt?" he asked. She reached for his
shirt and handed it to him. He immediately started drying her
back. Okay, make that a thoughtful goofus.
He pulled the sleeping bag back over her. That flap seemed
to be dry. He hugged her. "See, in this position, nobody has to
move afterwards."
"You want to lie here until the rain stops?"
"Forever. But I'll settle for 'until the rain stops.'"
"You are a goofus, you know."
"A goofus who loves you."
"I love you too. But I can't think why."
He pulled her head down and kissed her.
"Now do you remember why?"
"Nope. Try again."
He tried again.
THE END
Forecast
Uther Pendragon
anon584c@nyx.net
1996/10/11
1997/01/04
1997/04/10
2000/02/07
This is one of a series of about the Brennans.
The next in the series is:
forestal.txt
"Forestalling"
The first in the series is:
forever.txt
"Forever"
For another about another couple making love during
another rainstorm, see:
gazebo.txt
"G is for Gazebo"
The list of the entire series is:
brennan.txt
Brennan Directory
The list of all my can be found at:
index.txt
Index to Uther Pendragon's Website
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