Lemonade and White Melons Ch. 02

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

Yet the next morning he awakened with a redwood in his shorts, and only remembrance of touching her white melons gave him release. After purging his lust, he was able to continue working on his story.

It was Thursday when he sent the final draft to his mentor. He made the changes she asked for, and cut a hot sex scene he'd planned for chapter 8. The new co-worker was a dream to work with after the nightmare of working with Jessica, and he spent a great deal of slow time on the shift thinking about the story and how he wanted to end it. There were enough ideas for a second story with his hero, and he compiled his sketches into a file where he could start the next tale. When he got home Friday, Frau Pearson invited him over to discuss the story.

She wore an unbuttoned, filmy pink blouse over a white tube top, dark slacks and sandals as she greeted him at the front door. She ushered him to her study, where he found two glasses of fresh lemonade on the sideboard. His file was on the computer, and she held a printout of his work.

"Liebling, you've done an excellent job. I'm very proud of what you've done, this is an excellent story, charming, witty, and inventive. Both Hrinling the Bard and Queen Maat are characters I like, and the villain, Lord Procopus, is someone I love to hate. There's only one thing I'd like you to consider before you send it to my Angela."

"What's that?" he said, looking at her eyes and struggling not to look elsewhere.

"The last battle scene, where Hrinling is fighting off the werewolves while Maat is racing to claim theÜberringthat defeats Procopus. How many werewolves are chasing them?"

"99 of them."

"And an untrained fighter is able to hold them all off?"

"He's in a restricted place."

"Doesn't he get tired?" Chris thought a few moments. "I guess he does. But he's a fighter."

"Does he spend his time in physical training like calisthenics or practicing his musical instruments?"

"Oh. Well, maybe he has a magic belt that gives him strength?"

"Why doesn't he wear it all the time? He doesn't act like Superman."

"All right, but he needs to hold them off long enough for her to get the ring."

"Why doesn't he shut the door behind them?"

"No door."

Frau Pearson walked back and forth, thinking. Chris watched her closely, wondering what she was up to. She bounced slightly as she walked, and it distracted him. "Does he have a horn?"

"Yes."

"Would a blast from the horn bring a rockslide to close the gap?"

"I guess so. How does she get out?"

"There's a hole in the ceiling you've already got there. Very high up, surrounded by impenetrable mountains. The Überringgives her the power of flight, as you said. All right, let's think this through: Hrinling is fighting the werewolves, the rocks have blocked the door, but if he's not resisting them they'll turn human and move them. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

She sat in front of the computer, and looked at him anxiously. Chris stood up and went to the window, watching the breeze shake the trees. It seemed to take an eternity, but it dawned on him what she wanted.

"You want me to kill off Hrinling?"

"I think it would be better if Hrinling made a last stand at the blocked doorway and giving Maat enough time to get the ring." She put her hand on his and he did not resist. A gust thrashed the greenery, and high wispy clouds processed above. He shook his head. "He would give his life for her, would he not?" her dulcet tones suggested.

"Yes." he said softly.

"His sacrifice would assure their mission, wouldn't it?"

"Yes." The ticking of the grandfather clock downstairs arose to his consciousness. "The part of your story that doesn't really work is after Procopus is destroyed. Yes, a victory parade is nice, but it takes the plot nowhere. She can't marry him because they're from different social classes, and he wants to wander off to new lands. You probably want to do a series with Hrinling, don't you?"

"Yes. Already had some ideas for another tale."

"With Maat?"

"No."

"But he's enough of a hero he would do this, wouldn't he? Give his life for her?"

A long moment came before the answer. "Yes. He would. Without thinking."

Her hand reached up to his shoulder. "It's good you love your characters, Chris. You'll write other stories, with different characters. His death will make your tale compelling. There's a lot of stories where the heros survive in spite of impossible odds. This twist will make your story more human, and that's what fantasy storytelling is about, isn't it? Exploring how to be human in ways an ordinary tale can't?"

He stood there motionless as he thought. "It would make the more sense," he said at last. "Hrinling is a good follower, loyal, and devoted, but he's not a hero. Maat is the main character, I realize that now."

"You're right. You wrote a story about Maat's journey to overcome evil, and Hrinling is the sidekick. And if you want to write more about Hrinling, you put it earlier in his life."

"I can end it just after Procopus dies, when Maat returns to find Hrinling's body broken at the entrance of the cave." A tear crept from his eye down his cheek as his brain surged to spin out a new story thread. "She holds him in her arms for a long, long time, silently without weeping, then uses the last power of the ring to incinerate his corpse."

"How come? Doesn't he deserve a hero's burial?"

"So he doesn't return as a werewolf. Besides, their culture practices public immolation of corpses."

"Right. Why doesn't she cry?"

"The struggle with Procopus has worn her out. She's still in combat mode. When she gets home, she'll weep."

"Makes sense to me."

"Can I fix it here on your computer, Frau Pearson? It's coming now and I don't want to lose it."

"Of course,Schatzi" She got up and allowed him to take her place. A few strokes, and he'd deleted the last chapter, and began rewriting after Maat's triumph. Looking over his shoulder, she laid her hand on him softly, squeezing his shoulder in encouragement.

Maat floated down, blasting the retreating werewolves from the rockface until all were destroyed. Heaps of steaming flesh surrounded the opening, blocked by an avalanche. She heard Hrinling's horn blowing in the distance as she made the final leg of the journey to the Treasury, and the rumble, wondering what happened to him in passing as she focused on controlling theÜberring.

His body lay on the rubble, cold and white, his lips turning blue. The landslide did not kill him; he'd managed to avoid the falling rocks. A score of shaggy bodies lay rent next to him, his pale skin scored with a multitude of fresh slashes, blood pooled at his feet. The sword in his hand was dripping with ichor and chipped in many places.

A bird sang and the grey clouds began to break in the East. Maat sat on the rough ground next to Hrinling, cradling him and holding his head in her lap. She took off her helmet and her russet hair became a pennant of defiance. The clouds rolled back, revealing the noonday sun high over the Valley of Desolation. Her hollow eyes blinked in the sunlight, bloodshot and dull, as she looked at the changes coming over the land.

The sun marched to the West and sank redly behind the hills. In the fading light, she laid her companion out with hands crossed on his chest. Taking up his sword and his horn, she walked up the trail to the hilltop, pausing to wring the last magic from theÜberring, setting the corpses ablaze, purifying the land. Turning, she started the long journey home, a tear stealing from her left eye, as night fell and the flames of cleansing did their work.

Chris hit the key to save his work and Frau Pearson rubbed his shoulders. The hands felt good on his tense muscles, and he leaned back to savor their touch. "I think this calls for a celebration," she said, and he nodded in response.

She left the room and he heard her footsteps trotting downstairs. He looked around the room, at the bookshelves, and wondered how many of them had sad endings, his eye catching a German edition ofDon Quixote. She returned with a tray holding two glasses and a bottle. "Do you like Schnapps?"

"Don't know. Never tried it."

"I think you'll like it." She poured, and he watched as she sipped the clear liquid. Tasting it himself, he was taken by the crisp, tingling sensation the liqueur made in his mouth, and savored it. They sat and sipped as she looked deep into his eyes as he returned her look. "Why did you leave me that day?" she asked at last.

"I don't know. Scared, I guess. Didn't seem right."

"Because I'm old enough to be your grandmother?"

"Because you were my teacher, and even though it was fifteen years ago, some things don't change. Because I'm getting older and I'm lonely and frustrated. Maybe a bit ashamed. My life hasn't gone like I thought it would. Nowhere near."

"That's true for a lot of us. I never thought I'd leave Germany. Never thought I'd be raising children alone in a strange country. Never thought I'd be teaching a room full of anxious teenagers how to speak my native language."

They sipped their drink until they were gone, and she refilled their glasses. "Today is the start of something new," she said quietly.

"Is it the first day of the rest of my life?"

She shook her head. Raising her hands, she slipped her diaphanous pink blouse from her shoulders, the white tube top barely containing her breasts. The white tops of them peeked out at him, and he willed the horizon lower. Smiling, she pulled it down, bit by bit, until two little brown circles began to appear.

He rolled his office chair closer and took her into his arms. They looked at each other in the eyes for a long moment at close range, then their lips met. There was no slow build up: they devoured each other hungrily as though they'd fasted for days before a feast. His hands pushed her tube top down and caressed the luscious white melons that haunted him since his first encounter with him.

They kissed for what seemed an eternity. Her perfume dominated his senses, the taste of Schnapps was all he knew. He felt her hands fumbling down and spread his legs to give her better access. They broke their kiss and her mouth was at his ear. "Tell me what you want,Schatzi. Anything, anything. I'll do anything for you."

He clasped her hand in his and brought it to her mouth. Taking her index finger, he began to suck on it, licking around the nail and cuticle. She sighed and found his bulge, unzipping his shorts and pulling him out. "I've heard of this, but I've never done it before. My cousin Magda said she did this to keep her virginity from the Russians. What do I need to be careful about?"

"Teeth are dangerous," he whispered in her ear. "Cover them as you do it."

Her other hand went into her mouth, and with a soft plop it was toothless. She bent down and began licking all around before taking him in her toothless mouth. He leaned back and surrendered to the sensations. His hands guided her, and soon she found what she sought from him. A strong, heldentenor blast came from his throat as he ascended the mountain, and the clouds parted from his mind revealing a series of new tomorrows with endless possibilities.

To be continued

12
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
1 Comments
txcoatl1970txcoatl1970over 15 years ago
Too True to be Funny.

I loved the first chapter as set-up as well as the sense of generation gap with the younger D&D set. If playing D&D is improv theater, DM'ing is directing it. I love the way you've described the power of fantasy to make the humdrum bearable, yet as a palliative, it can lead one to a certain complacency about the unpleasant realities. This second chapter takes the whole situation another step and wait with bated breath for the next installment.

Share this Story

Similar Stories

A Student's Potential A student and his teacher simultaneously fulfill a fantasy.in Mature
Rich Bitch Pt. 01 I become rich and start my journey to becoming a cougar.in Mature
The Lost Boy This town holds far more than just answers to Ian's past...in Transgender & Crossdressers
Bad Walls Make for Good Neighbours Derek and his fiancée are unprepared for the MILF next door.in Mature
Mommy 01: Drunken Sex Mommy calls me over after a late night out drinking.in Transgender & Crossdressers
More Stories