I tuck her feet firmly under my shirt, against my chest to warm them, and rub them gently. She awake
Joanna is a shy, young student at the junior college. She signed up for one of my classes this past Fall and I have come to know her rather well. Earlier today, I found a message on the department answering machine. "Dr. Storm, could you drop by tonight? I am having difficulty with one of the problems you assigned, and maybe you could help me with it." Well, she lives on The Rez, and her house is on the route I take to my place. I'll stop by and see what I can do.
It is cold. A winter storm threatens to invade the house. I knock, but there is no answer. I try the door. As are most doors on The Rez, it is unlocked. I open it and enter the warmth of her parents' frame house. "Joanna?" No answer. I hang up my hat and coat and enter the living room to find her curled up on the couch, feet tucked under her. She is wearing a white cashmere sweater and a pleated, woolen skirt of dark blue. The sweater is unbuttoned at the throat and calls my attention to the sensuous swell of her breasts. I sit beside her, gently. She stirs, but does not quite awaken. She murmurs sleepily, "Storm?" I smile, and ease her feet from under her. She shifts slightly, and lays back on the couch. I tuck her feet firmly under my shirt, against my chest to warm them, and rub them gently. She awakens, then, and smiles at me. My hands bring warmth to her feet. I barely manage to confine my ministrations to feet and ankles. My eyes, however, caress the smooth curves of legs and hips. I help her to a sitting position, as she again tucks her feet under her. "Now, Joanna, what is this ferocious problem that threatens you?" "It isn't important, now. I managed to fix it -- I think -- while you were driving out here. So, I had a glass of wine to celebrate, and then I fell asleep. Thanks for stopping, but I'm afraid I've wasted your time." She smiles sheepishly and negligently places a hand on my thigh. I stare at this young beauty. She is all of 18, maybe even 19 - almost twenty years younger than I, but she has the quiet beauty of a woman much older. "No problem, Joanna. That's what they pay me for -- aiding young damsels in distress." "Yeah! You're a regular Indian knight on a rusting sports car, you are." Her laughter is infectious, and I soon join in. Her eyes are bright and I can see her pink tongue when she laughs. It darts out and gently licks her lips, causing them to glisten in the light from the fireplace. She sighs, and looks up at me. I bend closer to her, and she moves her face to mine. Inches, then fractions of inches, separate our lips. Again, the tip of her tongue dances around her full lips. Her eyes close. I close the distance, and kiss her. We hold the kiss for many seconds. "Damn! I thought you'd never do that," she whispers. "I have wanted to kiss you since I enrolled in your class." "We shouldn't be doing this, Joanna. It's not quite proper for an instructor and student…" She cuts off my protestations with another, longer kiss. Her tongue moves on the offensive. I disengage from her passionate attack. "Besides, what about your parents? If they…" and again she silences me in the most effective way possible. "They like you, Storm. Especially my mom. And thay are visiting friends in Kansas City. Won't be back before tomorrow night. Now, hush, and kiss me again!" I shift closer to her. My left arm bands her shoulders. My right hand wondrously traces the curve of her jaw. Down from ear to chin, up to her lips. I lightly trace her lips. My fingers trail from her lower lip, down her throat, to rest lightly at the base of her throat. My head lowers. I kiss her, fully and deeply. For several minutes we content ourselves with slow, deep and moist kisses. Two sighs intermingle. I move her head gently away from me and look into her eyes. She relaxes, lays her head against my chest, and delightedly falls asleep. I sit with my arm about her for some time, happy and warm. The storm continues unabated. I ignore it. Her loveliness demands my full attention as she sleeps in my arms. So loving, so beautiful. So trusting. I gently move my hand to her thigh. Grasping a fold of her skirt, I begin pulling the hem up and over her knees. Slowly the hem rises -- up, over her knees, across and up her rounded thighs, above the panties hugging her charms. She is wearing Navy blue silk stockings, with an eleastic lace embroidered hem that indents her lush thighs. I drop my hand to the top of her stocking, and begin sliding it up and down her leg. The feel of warm flesh through the silk is exciting. My fingers lightly trace the stocking top around her thigh, down to the inside of her thigh. It takes very little pressure to move her legs apart and permit my fingers to brush the front of her satin panties. I stroke her soft lips through the defending garment. She sighs, and moves her hips. Her vulva presses into my questing hand. I shift my arm around her shoulders permitting me to caress the soft cashmere covering her young, firm breast. I massage the sweet mound, and my fingers find her nipple. I stroke it into prominence, and play with breast and nipple for several minutes. Finding I can stand it no longer, I capture her lips with mine and kiss her awake. I stand and extend my hand. She grasps it and stands facing me. I pull her close. I finish unbuttoning her sweater. I smooth the sides of the sweater away from her shoulders. Bending slightly, I kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder - my most favorite spot. I shudder, sigh, and lower my face to the swell of breast above the lace top of her slip. I bury my face between her white breasts and inhale the perfume she has placed there. I kiss both breasts through brassiere and slip. My lips rise to her neck, and to her lips. Pressing my lips to hers, I kiss her passionately. I hold her close, she presses her hips against me, moving them slightly in a grinding motion. My left hand is at her neck, the right slowly descends to the wondrous swell of hip and soft curve of buttock. I pull her hips to me. I look into her eyes, already glistening with tears and desire. "My Princess of the Winter! Command me, my Princess. And your wish shall be my desire, my reason for being." I kiss each eyelid, and gently wipe the tears away. Joanna steps slightly away from me. She takes my hands and places them at her breasts. She glances down at her sweater, then into my eyes. A shy, trembling smile graces her face. Her attention is focused on my eyes. I move my fingers to the remaining buttons. One by one I slip them hrough the holes, and expose her charms. Her eyes never leave mine. As I pull the sweater from her skirt, she drops her arms and permits me to slide it from her. She kisses me. The cashmere sweater lies on the floor, forgotten now. My warm hands hold her shoulders lightly. She smiles, sighs. She presses her breasts against my chest as she leans forward to receive my kisses. My hand cups the back of her head. She whispers against my lips, "I am your woman." My hands drop to her waist, seeking the buttons of her skirt. Two buttons pose no barrier; the zipper opens noiselessly. She steps back and permits the woolen skirt to puddle at her ankles. She is a study in contrasts. Lusty and wanton in sheer stockings and high heels, and shy and innocent in a white satin slip. She is both virgin and temptress, cool beauty and smoldering passion. I feel as I have never felt before. I am young, again, and proud. Strong and daring. And strangely hesitant. "Joanna, am I moving too fast?" She briefly lowers her eyes. "No," she whispers. I gather her to me. Slipping an arm behind her knees and another about her shoulders, I lift her and carry her to her bedroom. I place her on the bed, and stand looking down at her. I turn down the light, and lower myself to the bed beside her. She sighs happily, and turns to face me. Her arms pull me close. "Be gentle, my lover." I slide the hem of the slip up her thighs to her hips. She lifts her hips from the bed giving me free access to remove the restrictive garment. She is clad now only in lace panties and bra and long, sheer nylons. I bend and gently nip at the panty-covered mound of her mons veneris. A gasp escapes from Joanna's throat. She presses against my hungry mouth. "Oh, God! No one has ever done that for me. Don't ever stop. And, don't make me wait, my Warrior. Not tonight!" Her panties vanish as if by magic. Neither is aware of who has removed, or is removing, what articles of clothing. But in a matter of seconds, I am naked and she wears only the stockings. She stretches wantonly, a blindingly sensual image in the dim lamplight. She raises her hips to meet my gentle attack, and I enter her tight warmth fully and deeply. Her nipples are distended. I minister to each with fingers, teeth and tongue. I bring her to the first of several climaxes. She is aware that my pleasure is fed by bringing pleasure to her. She does not attempt to hold back the sweet noises of passion. She knows that it excites me, and increases both my pleasure and my determination to bring her to fulfillment. Our love making this evening is free, and uninhibited. A sense of wonder, a sense of newness, pervades. We finish within seconds of one another. I lie beside her, drawing out the after play until she drowses off to sleep in my arms. * * * It is early in the morning and my bladder is making its presence known. Naked, I pad down the hall to the bathroom and relieve myself. I sponge off with a warm cloth and drink several glasses of cold water. Refreshed, I wander downstairs to peruse the contents of Joanna's refrigerator. Finding a pitcher of orange juice, I remove it and close the door. The sound of the front door opening startles me. Before I can react, the kitchen is bathed in brilliance. I turn. A gasp, and a woman's voice says, "Shit! Now I know why my daughter signed up for your class!" I am embarrassed. Here I am, nude in someone else's kitchen, caught by the mother of the teenage girl I have just bedded. I quickly cross to the table and sit down -- on the opposite side from the woman standing in the doorway. My modesty is somewhat preserved by the intervening table. "Er…Ah…" I manage intelligently. "You are Dr. Storm. I am Joanna's mother, Rachel," she laughs. "And, obviously, you have just come from my daughter's bed!" "Ah…Er, you see…" "Strange. Joanna never mentioned you had a speech impediment," and again she surprises me with her deep, throaty laugh. "So, aren't you going to offer me some of that orange juice?" She walks to the cabinet, removes two glasses, and places them in front of me as she seats herself opposite me. I pour. What else can I do? "Well, Mrs. Combs . . ." "Please, call me 'Rachel,'" again the laughter. "Under the present circumstances, I think 'Mrs. Combs' is a bit too formal!" "Well, I was just helping Joanna with a problem," a raised eyebrow causes me to reconsider my unfortunate choice of words, "and one thing sorta led to another." Her brown eyes washed over my face. "Yes. Joanna can be most demanding at times. Go on." "Well, I made love with your daughter. That's the short of it." "Hmm. No dissembling. I like that. And, do you love my daughter?" "No. Call it a strong attraction. But not 'love.'" "That's good, because Joanna has to finish her education first." "I suppose you will report this. I'll offer my resignation first thing Monday morning." "No need, Doctor. May I call you 'Storm?' I think this incident can be resolved between us to my satisfaction. Don't you?" Rachel's hand during this exchange is at her throat. As she asks the question, she slowly moves her hand under her pearls and into the scooped neck of the black cocktail dress. It moves lazily over her breast. She continues, "By the way, if you're wondering why I am here, and not at the party: My husband walked out on me tonight. We had an argument, and he stormed out of the place. I got even: I took the car and came home." She looks me straight in the eyes and continues, "He's done this before. He won't be back before Monday night." She rises and crosses to my side of the table. She looks down at me and remarks, "Maybe we'd better take this into the living room?" She turns and leaves the kitchen, turning off the light on her way out. * * * I rise and follow her to the living room. The fire has died down to a soft glow that still manages to warm and illuminate. Rachel is seated on the couch. "Come, Storm. Sit by me." I do. She places a hand on my naked thigh. I jump involuntarily, then settle an arm around her shoulders. My hand rests just under her chin. I turn her face towards me and lower my lips to hers. Her lips are warm and soft, and strangely hesitant. She kisses me lightly. I move my hand from her chin to her cheek. As I kiss her, she relaxes. Her lips part and I can feel her breath in my mouth. My tongue tastes her lips and moves across her teeth. Her lips part further, and my tongue darts past her final defenses and engages hers. Our tongues wrestle. I suck hers deep into my mouth and taste her saliva. She relaxes completely and surrenders her mouth to mine. Her hand moves on my thigh, back and forth. Stroking. Caressing. She becomes bolder and moves her hand to my penis. She wraps warm fingers about its length and moves her hand back and forth slowly and deliberately. Still holding our kiss, I permit my hand to move down her cheek and across her jaw to her neck. Shifting slightly, to allow her more access and permit my hand to continue its quest, I slip my hand onto the bodice of her velvet dress. I move it down and cup her breast. She arches her back and pushes against my hand. Her hand tightens on me. I squeeze her breast gently, causing her to gasp. My fingers find her nipple through the velvet. "Aw! You are not wearing a bra! How positively erotic," I whisper into her searching mouth. My tongue follows my words and, before she can reply, I am once again attacking the warm interior of her mouth. My hand continues to play with her breast and nipple. She is having trouble breathing now. She responds to my kisses and my searching hands by twisting slightly on the couch. The movement raises the hem of her skirt above her knees. My hand wanders down over her soft, rounded stomach and across one thigh to the edge of her skirt. I rub her leg and thigh through the soft velvet. Fascinated by the feeling of warm, soft flesh under velvet, I continue stroking her through her dress. I caress her thigh, her stomach, and up to her breast. I close my hand on her breast and, thumb against her nipple, I squeeze it. She gasps into my mouth. I toy with her nipple and breast, then move my hand to the juncture of her thighs. I press my hand into her vee. I can feel the material of her dress sliding over her panties. As I cup her vulva, she hunches forward and presses it into my hand. I move my hand to her hem. Slowly I slide the hem of her dress up her legs to her waist. The firelight casts a rosy glow on the panting blonde's white thighs. Her black lace stockings hug and accent her thighs. I look down at her long legs. She parts them to permit my fingers access to the crotch of her black silk panties. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, now. "What are you waiting for, Storm?" She leans forward and catches my lip between her teeth. She bites me and I feel the taste of blood. She licks the blood from my lips and thrusts her tongue into my mouth. "Damn! That hurt!" I pull back and look at her. She licks her lips and smiles. Her fingers tighten on my penis. She looks down at it and back up at me. "Well, if you want it, Rachel, why not?" I put one hand behind her head and, taking her long blonde hair in my fist, I slowly pull her face into my crotch. Her eyes widen and she licks her lips. "I don't know. I've never done anything like this before." Her face is at my crotch. Her lips are inches from the end of my penis. Relentlessly, I bring her face closer. My hand on her back shifts her body so she might have better access to my throbbing member. My hand in her hair brings her closer, closer. The tip of my penis touches her lips. She moves her head from side to side. Instead of avoiding contact, she succeeds in rubbing her lips across my penis. She tries to resist but the combined pressure of my hands is inexorable. She opens her mouth to speak, and I quickly press her head forward. My penis forces her lips open and thrusts past her teeth and into her mouth. She gags but accepts the length of my penis. "Aw, that's better," I sigh. "Now move your tongue over it. Suck on it. Don't be afraid, Rachel." Her reply is muffled by the organ filling her mouth. Her tongue begins to move, tentatively. Then more insistently. I lift my hips slightly, pressing deeper into her warm mouth. Slowly, I remove my hand from her back. She no longer needs the pressure from my hand to keep her head in place as she warms to her sweet task. I gaze down at her. What an erotic sight she makes. Long, sensuous legs encased in black lace nylons. Black velvet dress, hem across her thighs exposing black silk panties. The vee of her panties glistens with the juices of her need. Her pearl necklace dangles across my naked thighs. Her long, blonde hair covers my lap and denies me the vision of her red lips on me. One of her hands grasps the base of my penis, holding it and stroking it in time to the motion of her lips and tongue. The other lies on her thigh. I reach down and take her hand in mine. Slowly and deliberately I move it into her crotch. I straighten her fingers and press them against her pantied mound. I move her fingers in the motion I wish to see. "Feel yourself, Rachel. Pay attention to your needs, too." Again, a muffled reply, but I feel her fingers begin to move. Keeping my hand on hers, I feel her toying with her labia through the silken garment. Her fingers run the length of her slit. She pauses and finds her clitoris. Her fingers flick at it gently. She resumes rubbing herself through her panties. I remove my hand from hers and watch her as she surrenders to her emotions. Totally enveloped in lust, she sucks me into her throat. Her head bobs in my lap. Her hand slides between panties and smooth flesh. She inserts fingers into her moist slit and strokes herself to near climax also. I can hear her moaning as she continues. I near my climax. If she continues, I will not be able to hold back. I place my hands against her shoulders and half push, half lift, her away from me. My moist organ slides from between her grasping lips. She falls backward as I push, sprawling on the couch. Her legs part and she swings one up onto the couch. Her hand continues rubbing her vulva. Her fingers thrust into her moist vagina. "Oh, no. Don't do this. Don't stop now. Take me. Take me now! Please. Oh, please." Her fingers keep working and her head whips from side to side as she gasps for release. I lean forward and grasp her panties. Roughly, I tear them from her. She gasps, but her hand never leaves her slit. Her fingers are buried in her flowing crotch. Her moans are continuous now. I raise my hips above hers, supporting myself on hands on either side of her body. She opens her eyes and stares the length of her body at the broad organ poised above her. Her free hand pulls on my penis and urges it toward her waiting vulva. I lower myself to her. My penis rests against the hand she has buried in herself. I feel it rubbing back and forth as she meets her needs. WIth one hand, I remove her hand from between her thighs and replace the removed fingers with my erect penis. Her hips rise as I thrust home. She opens her mouth to scream, but I quickly cover it with my own and thrust my tongue into its waiting recess. Penis within vagina, tongue within mouth - each matches the motion and intensity of the other. Her lips move beneath mine and her tongue battles mine for supremacy. I lift my upper body from her and rip the bodice of her dress away from her breasts. The sudden roughness and exposure thrusts her nipples into full erection. I lower my head and take a nipple into my mouth. As I suck and bite on her distended nipple, my hips rise and fall, thrusting my penis deep into her tight warmth. Her hips do battle with mine, rising as I thrust into her, and moving away as I withdraw. We continue making love with one another this way until I spend within her. My climax trigers several orgasms within the willing wanton. The mixture of our juices overflow her and cascade down our joined thighs. She lies beneath me, barely breathing. I wait until her breath becomes even. Her eyes are closed, her lips are parted. I gently kiss each eyelid and pass my lips lightly over hers. I withdraw from her. She moans. I slide my body down hers, kissing my way from throat to breasts to stomach to abdomen. Finally, my lips reach the warmth my penis has just vacated. I smell the mixture of our lust. It intoxicates me and I lower my head to her soft swelling mound. She gasps, and moans deep in her throat, as I lick her labia. My tongue finds her clitoris and licks and teases it to erection. My teeth nip gently at clitoris and labia. Her hips move against my face, and I thrust my tongue into her inner recesses. I continue licking and sucking and thrusting my tongue within her. My hands rub and squeeze her breasts. As she gives herself once more to her sensations, I move my fingers up her body to her mouth. I search for her tongue and find it. As I play with her tongue and her lips, my tongue continues to penetrate her vagina. Slowly at first, then faster, I match the attack of tongue on nether lips with fingers on tongue and lips. As she climaxes one final time, she sucks my fingers into her mouth. She lightly bites them, and moves her tongue over them. I match the motion of her tongue with mine. She climaxes, flowing copiously. As she moans around my still moving fingers, I drink her fluids and lick her dry. She collapses onto the cushions. I sit on the floor beside her, and rest my head in her lap. I can still smell her musky odors and the resulting mixture of odors from our lovemaking. I drift off to sleep. But it seems to me that I can hear another woman's voice in my dreams. "Mother! You should have waited for me!"
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