harrisbj@ingr.com (Bill Harris) (07/31/90)
It was hot that day, like dog's breath in your ear. The sun sat squarely above us as we walked hand in hand down the dirt road that bordered Hank's field. Off to the west came the distant rumblings of an approaching storm. "How much further is it?" I panted. We'd been walking for nearly an hour and I was ready to drop. "We're almost there shooga," she replied. This girl was something else, country born and country bred. Her yellow halter top and cutoff shorts did everything but hide the luscious body under them. I had to have her, I was hopelessly in love. She stopped beneath the overhanging limbs of an old live oak and sat on one of the drooping branches. I sat next to her and felt her slide ever so slightly in my direction. Sherry was her name and she was truly fine. Beautiful through and through with a gorgeous personality to match that incredible figure. I watched her pull up her hair and fan her neck. A little drop of sweat tiptoed down her neck and stood just above that first hint of cleavage. Another joined it and then another until together they ran into that moist valley beneath her top. She saw me staring and giggled, goosebumps rising from her flawless skin. "It's just around the corner shooga, why the fuss?" "I'm so hot," I spat, "let's get the hell outta here and go swimmin', O.K.?" She stood up and stretched, then pulled the denim shorts away from her thighs. Without a word she walked on without me. Where she got this energy I'll never know but all it did was make me love her more. The storm rumbled again closer now. Maybe it would cool things off. I followed her down that dusty road toward a distant grove of trees. I'd been seeing her now for about a month. We had a lot of things in common and our sex life was coming along nicely although we hadn't yet gone all the way. She was a paradox. So eager to get things going, so passionate and warm at first and then suddenly cold like the cold wind before a storm. My hands knew her every curve and my lips knew her secret places. I could only hope that I wouldn't have to wait much longer. As it came nearer, so it faded away. She reached the trees long before I did and by the time I stumbled into the shadows she was undressed. Her skin was fiery red with the heat, her long hair stuck to her skin in the wettest places. I tossed of my shirt and collapsed to the ground, exhausted. You see, I'm from the mountain states and have never learned to deal with the heat. She knelt down beside me and asked,"Are you O.K.?" Was I O.K.? I guess you could say it was possible. I mean I'm alone out in the country with this centerfold come to life. She's sitting beside me buck naked ready and willing to go. But how far? If this is another replay of my last flame I don't know if I can stand it. Kim was just a bitch but it took time to find it out. I did everything I could think of to please her but the harder I tried the more apathetic she became until we just missed the mark somehow. I guess I shouldn't say she was a bitch. That comes from a part of me I'm trying to improve but missing with her hurt me so bad that I'm still full of anger. Sorry, Kim. "Are you O.K.?" she asked again. I closed my eyes and leaned back on my elbows. "Yeah, better now." A sudden breeze ran through the branches above us. She touched my shoulder lightly and traced a path out across my chest giggling with childish excitement. "Is that all you're going to take off?" she asked. Before I could reply, her fingers drifted downward to the buttons on my jeans. With a quick tug the first came free. I began to harden as the remaining buttons fell open. She took me in her hand and sighed. "You're really hard! Can I do something for you?" she asked in that little country girl voice that she uses for me at times like this. Somehow the fatigue and exhaustion I was feeling just moments ago evaporated into thin air. A sudden flash of light and we both jumped. The dark underside of the storm cloud sent another cooling breeze. Her nipples suddenly hardened and her breath came in short little pants. "We don't have much time, Bill. The forecast is for a coming storm." 88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888 I have to stop for now. Lunchbreak....... -- Mail rec.arts.erotica submissions to erotica@telly.on.ca. Most software will automatically mail your postings to that address.