by Frederic Gutierrez ©
It was one of those things that 'just happens'. There is no way to plan for it, and- after you reach a certain point- there is no way you can avoid it. It just happens, for whatever reason. And it happens a lot more frequently than some of the more prudish elements in society would care to imagine- which, when you think about it carefully, is really wonderful. At least for those involved, and they are the only ones that matter, right? Of course I'm right. You wouldn't be reading this if I wasn't, would you now?
I could take a few paragraphs and set up the story, I suppose, but there really isn't a need, is there? The setting- time, place and all of that- is really quite simple. And perhaps a little cliche, really. A mountain range, some snow, and a nice little cabin with an equally nice little fireplace that was supposed to be the setting for a friendly weekend get away with friends but ended up being a singularly interesting adventure between my little old self and the only other person to show up. Just why no one else showed up at the cabin I don't know nor do I care. They didn't, but she did and things took their natural course as they sometimes do. So, fate or providence had a hand in bringing us together, alone, in that cabin- either one doesn't matter, but I am grateful.
Oh- did I mention the storm? There has to be a storm, of course. A storm strong enough to knock out the power and plunge my little cabin into darkness that is relieved only by the light coming from the fireplace. Cozy, isn't it? No- wait. I have to introduce our heroine yet. Can't be cozy without her now, can we? Nope. Without her, this would be a rather disgusting tale of self-love, and that's not very erotic. Unless you like that kind of thing. To each his or her own, I suppose.
Now, this is the part of the story where, in those letters sent to certain magazines, the young lady is introduced with a description that doesn't seem to vary that often from the 'norm'. She usually is blonde, with breasts somewhere in the DD range and an equally lush body elsewhere. Now, I ask you- just how many women do you see on a daily basis with breasts that big, huh? Is there a closet where they're kept and only allowed out to participate in situations that lead to letters in dirty little magazines decent people deny having ever seen, much less read? I don't think so, and when I read stories about big-breasted women I have to laugh- fantasies, surely. Big breasted women don't just hang out waiting for the chance to become fodder for a story or letter in a magazine. Sorry, it just doesn't happen as often as those magazines would have you believe.
Daniella was (is) not big breasted, or 'lush'. The word best used to describe her is 'petite'. Five feet tall, maybe a little taller, with slender hips and small breasts. Mid-night black hair long enough to reach her waist when loose, pale complexion with just a hint of a tan, and delicate, attractive features of face. 'Elfin' you would think if you saw her, seriously. At least that's how I think of her- and probably always will.
We met at the cabin one afternoon towards the end of a particularly wimpy winter. There was snow on the ground, barely, and the air was chill. There were also messages waiting for us on the answering machine once we got inside- joy of joys, no one else was coming up. A big disappointment, really. I had been looking forward to that weekend, looking forward to catching up with people I had not seen in a while. Instead, I was left with Daniella, who, while nice enough, was not exactly what I had been looking forward to that weekend. We were friends of a sort- as long as the others were there. We'd just never socialised outside of our little group before, and we were tempted to forgo the chance to do so then and just leave. For some reason, though, I offered to fix dinner for her before we left, and she agreed to stay long enough to eat.
Do you really want to know what we ate? Some people find the little details interesting and 'vital' to a story, erotic or otherwise, but I don't. Not really- details are nice, but they can clog up the narrative. Oh fine- hamburgers. With fried mushrooms and onions. Good enough for you detail-obsessed readers? Well, it will have to be. Anyway, once we'd finished eating, the storm hit. It wasn't too bad at first- a little wind, a little snow. But she wasn't too eager to drive back down the mountain in even a light snow, and neither was I. So, stuck for a while from what it looked like outside, I decided to build a fire. Central heating in the cabin, but that didn't seem right somehow with snow falling outside, so I kindled a fire and sat down in front of it with a magazine (no, not that kind of magazine) and started to read. Daniella sat down close to me, seeming to be a little scared now, and chose her own magazine to read, both of us ready to wait out the snowfall and then leave once it was over.
Silly us. California weather has a disgusting sense of humor, you see. A little rain or snow can become a lot real quick like, regardless of what the weathermen say on television. Before an hour had passed, the wind was blowing harder than I had ever seen it in the mountains and the snow was coming down rather thickly. Still not a problem- at least not until the lights went out. When that happened, Daniella squealed in fright and jumped into my lap.
"A blizzard!" she cried, clutching at me fearfully. Her eyes were wide, and her face was even more pale than usual.
"Not in California," I said, though I wasn't too sure, to be completely honest. I usually spend my winters near the coast, and have a limited experience with snowstorms. I couldn't tell you if a blizzard was starting to save my life. I wasn't about to admit that, though- or my own fear that was just beginning to quiver.
"We're going to die, Eric!"
"I doubt it," I told her. "Look, we have enough wood to last for a couple of days, and food too. We'll be warm enough, and fed. Besides, this'll blow over before long anyway. Then we just wait until they clear the roads, and then go home."
"Are you sure about that?"
I nodded. "Of course I'm sure," I said soothingly. "Even if it doesn't, I can think of worse ways to spend the evening."
She blinked at me then, and blushed as she noticed just where she was. She blushed very prettily, I noticed with a detached sort of calm. She was also very nice to hold- and just how and why my arms were around her I did not know. Or care. She was small, fit into my arms perfectly, and warm in a nice way. A very nice way.
"I hope you don't mind," she said, her voice soft. "But I'll feel safer if you hold me for a while. Childish, I know, but I don't like the sound of that wind."
"It's alright," I said, holding her a little more tightly. The male protective instincts were kicking in, you see. Young, frightened woman, big strong man- happens all the time. And I didn't expect it to go any further than that, seriously. I was just going to hold her, let her fear run its course, and then wait with her until the storm ended. Didn't happen that way, though- of course it didn't, or you wouldn't be reading about it, would you? Nope.
I don't remember exactly when things took a more interesting turn. We were sitting there, me holding her comfortably, listening to the storm and watching the fire one moment and then the next she was kissing me. It was a light, gentle kiss at first, but that changed quickly as we both leaned into it. Our mouths opened, and our tongues danced together for a while before we pulled back away from each other.
"What was that for?" I asked her, just a little taken aback by her forwardness. She wasn't the type to do something like that, at least not from what I'd seen of her over the last three years that we'd known each other. Not a prude, exactly, but she did seem somewhat mousy- shy, almost timid. Definitely not the type to just kiss you out of the blue.
She shrugged. "Staci is always telling me what a great kisser you are," she said. "I wanted to find out if she was telling the truth or lying to me."
Stacy, for those that care, is a member of our little group of friends- and my occasional lover. "So, your opinion?" I asked, grinning slightly.
"She wasn't lying," she said, and kissed me again. It didn't end so quickly that time, but by the time it did we were lying in front of the fire together, holding each other.
"I know you're just being nice to me," she said softly, her voice quivering with her fear as the wind continued to howl outside, harder than it had been a few minutes before. "We're going to die here, I know we are, Eric. I've read about people freezing to death in blizzards, and-"
"It's not a blizzard, and we are not going to die, Daniella," I said.
"Can you give me a one hundred percent garauntee of that?" she asked.
"Well, no- no one could," I told her. "But the chances-"
"I think we're going to die," she said, cutting me off. "And I am afraid of dying, Eric. It terrifies me!"
"Alright- I'll promise you this," I said to calm her. "I'll do everything I can to keep us from dying."
She was silent for a long time, and then looked at me with slightly fearful eyes. "There is something you can do for me, right now," she said, her voice soft. "You can make love to me, Eric. I'm...I'm a virgin, and I don't want to be when I die."
"You're not going to die," I said, although a part of me was screaming for me to shut the hell up at that point. Virgins offering themselves to me is not something that happens on a daily basis.
"You keep saying that, but I don't believe it," she said with a shake of her head. She moved closer to me. "Make love to me, please. Before we freeze to death."
"And if we don't?"
"Then we can just...you know," she said, sounding a little embarassed. "Do whatever we think is right afterwards. But there won't be an afterwards, since we'll be ice cubes by morning, and I want you to make love to me." She was silent for a moment. "I'd rather it was you than just anyone, Eric. I've...I've had a thing for you for a while now."
That was news to me. She was pretty enough, beautiful even, but I had never thought of her in that way. She was just 'Daniella', an intelligent, shy young woman I sometimes hung out with in the company of others.
"Don't you...want me?" she asked when I was silent for a while. I looked at her for a moment, and the answered her with a kiss. A very passionate kiss that made her moan softly. She moaned again when I ran my hand up her torso and cupped her breast through the fabric of the sweater she wore. Her sweater came off, and I kissed my way along her throat and one shoulder and then back to her lips again while she sighed softly and ran her hands over my arms.
"Wait," she said when my hands moved to remove her bra.
"We don't have to do this," I told her, pulling back from her slightly. I wanted her- of course I did- but I would have stopped if she wanted me to.
"It's not that," she said, shaking her head and smiling at me. She went up on her knees, reached behind herself. "This bra is a little difficult to get off, that's all."
The bra came off and went to join her sweater somewhere out beyond the light of the fire. She sat there on her heels then, looking at me nervously with one arm held across her torso below her breasts.
"They're small, I know," she said, sounding just a little self-conscious of the fact. She smiled thinly, reached up and undid her hair, letting it fall down about her shoulders and down her back.
"Still beautiful, though," I said, and meant it. Her breasts were indeed small, barely lare enough to fill the hand I set around one gently. Small, nearly perfectly round, and firm without any sagging at all. Soft too, and warm to my touch. My thumb brushed over a stiffening nipple, and she let out a little gasp. I held myself up with one arm, moved my head towards her to lightly kiss the flesh of her stomach and then the rounded sides of each breast before closing my lips around one stiff nipple. I sucked at it gently, flicking my tongue against it.
"Mmmm..." she moaned softly, putting her arms about my head and and running her fingers through my hair. She jumped slightly when I bit down ever so gently, and then sighed as I lowered her to her back. The slacks she wore came off easily as I continued to kiss and lick at her breasts and throat, my hands running over the smooth expanse of her stomach and thighs, her sighs and soft moaning filling my ears. A sharp gasp escaped her lips when I drew my hand up to where her thighs came together and stroked her through her panties. Then they came off as easily as the rest of her clothing, and I probed her lightly with a finger, making her jump.
I removed my own sweater and shirt and held her close to me for a moment, kissing her gently but firmly before she stretched herself out with her arms above her head and I went back to kissing her breasts and caressing her small, perfectly formed body. Slowly, I worked my way down her torso in a series of little sucking kisses until I reached her pubis mound. Her pubic hair was shaved into a thin little strip, and I kissed and sucked at the soft, fatty flesh to either side for a moment before moving lower. She stiffened, drawing in her breath, when I set my tongue against the outer flesh of her vagina and drew it upwards slowly.
"Oh, Eric! Oh!" she cried out softly, setting her hands on my head and drawing her legs up. I spread her open with two fingers, probed her with my tongue for a moment before sucking some of the flesh about her opening into my mouth. That sent her into a quivering little spasm and drew more sighs and moans from her. She continued to quiver and moan as I circled my tongue about her clitoris and then closed my lips about it in a sucking kiss.
"Oh! Oh! Yesss!" she nearly screamed as her orgasm swept through her. Her thighs closed about my head briefly, and her fingers spread out atop my head as she stiffened and moaned. "Oh! Oh!"
I removed my pants and undershorts and then knelt between her raised legs, running my hands from her knees down along her inner thighs and then back up, looking down at her. Her hair was spread out about her head and beneath her shoulders, her eyes were dark with lust, and she had a smile on her lips. Without a word, she sat up and reached for me, taking hold of my stiff penis and stroking it with both of her small, gentle hands.
"I've...I've never done this," she said softly as she continued stroking me and lowered her head to lick at the tip of my penis.
"You don't have to, you know," I told her. My penis jumped, as if in disagreement.
"Oh, but I want to," she said, licking at me and closing her lips around the head of my penis. She was a little hesitant and awkward, but determined and that's all that mattered, really. She licked at my shaft even as she moved her mouth back and forth along it's length, sucking lightly. I put my hands on her head, guiding her gently, and closed my eyes to savor the moist warmth of her lips and mouth and the flicking movements of her tongue. It didn't last very long, and she was pulling back long before I came anywhere near an orgasm and lay back down.
"Take me," she said, lightly, smiling. Cliche, I know, but she did say it.
I leaned over her, one hand going to the side of her head to hold me up and the other guiding my penis to her. She jumped when the very tip touched her, and then let out a soft, soft little sigh as I forced it past her outer flesh slowly. I put my other hand opposite the first beside her head, and gently moved my hips forward, sliding my penis into her. She was soft as velvet, warmly moist, and tight. Very tight- enough that I almost had to move slowly as I entered her, giving her inner flesh time to loosen about me and accept me.
"Oh, Eric...mmmm...." she moaned out in a bare whisper, her eyes closed and her hands on my chest. Her fingers dug into my flesh and she stiffened, her hips rising slightly from the floor when I came up against a slight resistance and pushed past it with a gentle but steady thrust. She gasped. "Oh! Ahhh!"
I lowered myself onto her, set one arm beneath her shoulders to hold her and covered her mouth with my own as I continued to move into her. When I was completely within her, I stopped and just held her, kissing her gently.
"It's...it's not what I expected," she said softly after a few moments passed with the two of us just laying there, coupled together.
"I didn't think you would...that you would fill me so much," she said, letting out a little sigh and kissing me again. She moved her hips beneath me, and I felt her inner muscles tighten slightly about me. "It's nice, really."
We lay there like that for a time, kissing and caressing each other, and then I moved out of her part of the way and then back into her slowly. And then again while she sighed and moaned beneath me. I kept my pace steady and slow, moving in and out of her gently as she moved with me. Our pace quickened eventually, but never reached a frenzied thrusting, remaining steady and even as the tension built within us.
"Oh-Ah! Ah!" she groaned out suddenly, stiffening beneath me as her second orgasm took her, shaking her. "Mmmm-oh!!"
I thrust into her harder than I had yet then- once, and then again, my body stiffening as my penis spasmed deep within her, releasing its little gift. I could feel the cum spurting out of me, and continued to thrust in and out of her, my pace slowing considerably until I finally stopped and held her against myself tightly, maybe even a little possessively, and she cried gently.
We didn't talk much after that- we just lay together in front of the fire, holding each other and occasionally kissing. We made love again twice that night before finally falling asleep in each others arms while the storm blew itself out.
We stayed in the cabin for the weekend, exploring the new, interesting turn our relationship had taken and getting to know each other in many, many ways. Not exactly the weekend I had been looking for, but I'm not complaining.
This is not the end of our story, of course. Daniella is an interesting woman, and definitely not the mousy, timid woman I thought she was. She eventually moved in with me, and the two of us have explored the limits of our sexuality in interesting ways- but that, dear reader, is for another day...
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