tagSci-Fi & FantasyNovember Third

November Third


The VR attendant - it's Karen today instead of Lila - stares at me from her booth. I hope there is nothing wrong with Lila. She barely said five words to me yesterday, and she looked a little pale.

Karen, she's the newest attendant, and she still looks at me as if I were an abandoned puppy about to be put to sleep. I think Karen will ask me out for coffee soon. Most of the new ones do. It's hard to understand why they bother, though. You would think the word would get around.

I hop up into my regular chair and adjust the seat back and arm rests. For the past couple weeks, Lila had been adjusting the seat for me before I got in. No attendant has ever done something like that for me before. Lila is definitely a sweet one. Not that adjusting the seat really matters that much, but still, it's a nice gesture. I think maybe I should do something for Lila, buy her a present or something. She has been very kind to me.

I settle back into the steel and foam chair, and just like always, I clip myself into the terminals. The newer model chairs don't need clips, you just sit there, but I like the old style chairs better. I suppose I'm a bit set in my ways.

I sit, and just like always, I clench my right hand tight until I feel the edges of the photograph press into my palm. And, just like always, I pull the visor down over my eyes. It is dark behind the visor. Dark and quiet.

Darkness. The attendant - Karen - her voice, the barest whisper, fills my ears. "Are you ready, Mr. Rice?"

I wave my hand for her to start. I inhale and hold.

The scene gradually brightens. A cold, blue sky. And our home perched up on the slight rise of the hill. A door slamming shut, and Rachel shuffling out.

Ah. November third. I exhale.

November third has sex in it. It's a good one.

* * *

The first hard freeze of the winter had hit the night before. The ground was covered with brown and orange maple leaves, and the shady areas under the trees sparkled with frost. Rachel's breath formed short, pretty puffs.

Rachel was bundled in a stocking cap and scarf and mittens, her thick gray coat pulled tight around her. Her cheeks shone pink, and her lips glowed a lusty red. She shaded her eyes against the bright autumn sun. "Where'd you put the rake?" she asked.

The icy air grabbed at my lungs. I liked cold weather. I felt limber and coltish. And I liked doing things for Rachel - all she had to do was ask, and I would happily serve. The rake was all the way around in the front yard, where I had left it the day before, leaned up against the old maple tree. "I'll get it," I said. "Be back in a flash."

As I walked along the side of the house, I thought back to Rachel getting dressed that morning. When we were younger, Rachel had never been shy. She would dress, undress, pee, bathe ... she'd do almost anything in front of me.

But she had recently started dressing behind a locked bathroom door. I used to see her naked all the time, but apparently those days were over. I completely understood her need for more privacy, of course, but it made me sad that she felt she needed to hide from me.

That morning of November third had been a treat, though. As we rose from bed to meet the day, she reverted to her old self. She dressed standing in front of the bedroom mirror again, just like before. And, just like before, I thrilled at the sight of her pulling her panties up over her white bottom, and of her fastening her bra. Since we would be working outside, she pulled on thermal underwear. Soft, long underwear, cream-colored, a layer of dimpled cloth that hugged her entire body, covering everything but her feet and hands and head.

She noticed me looking at her in the mirror. I smiled, trying to let her know that I loved her. Rachel's mouth went slack and she lowered her eyes.

I reached the tree and grabbed the rake. I leaned against the tree for a moment. I sighed. Rachel lowering her eyes. I didn't like that. In fact, I hated it. I understood it, but I still hated it.

With the rake dragging behind me, I walked back towards the backyard. As I rounded the corner of the house, Rachel was there, by herself, kicking through the loose leaves. She stared at the ground around her feet and didn't see me coming. I stopped at the corner and watched for a moment. I didn't often get a chance to observe her without her knowing.

She danced around in the leaves, sometimes sweeping kicks, sometimes little back and forth shuffles, sometimes skipping. She took several big kicks, and the leaves puffed up off the ground and floated back down.

She bent over and gathered up a big handful of leaves and tossed them into the air. She looked up into the sky as they showered down on her face, her smile wide. I had not seen her smile like that since ... since ...

She was still smiling when her eyes lowered from the sky. Her eyes lowered, and she caught me watching.

Her expression shifted. Just a subtle shift. Still smiling, her eyes still shining. Beautiful. But the tiniest change in the shape of her eyes and in the curve of her lips. She placed her gloved hand on her hip.

Could this be the same woman who would not return my smile earlier that day in the bedroom? The blood rushed to my groin.

I dropped the rake. Rachel swept her cap back, letting loose her hair. Her eyes opened up wide and dark.

I walked towards her. She took a few hesitant steps forward. If we had been further apart, maybe we would have run. We stopped just a few feet apart.

And there we stood for a few heartbeats. Looking at one another.

We stood and stared, our combined breath forming a wispy fog. It felt like gravity was pulling us towards one another. We reached out at the same time, and our hands touched. For another beat, we just held each other's gloved hands. And then the gravity overwhelmed us, and we melted together.

Her hands came up under my arms to my shoulders, and I pulled her against me by the small of her back. Her body molded up close and our mouths met. We squeezed and kissed. Lippy kisses, alternating upper and lower lips.

Rachel's mittened fingers struggled with my belt buckle. I grabbed her breasts through thick layers of clothing. I felt a shock of cold on my butt as she yanked my pants down. My penis popped up stiff. Her wool-covered hands wrapped around my shaft.

We toppled over into a pile of dry leaves.

I struggled with Rachel's slacks and got them down to her feet. Her long underwear was soon tangled around her shoes. I rolled on top of her, worked my way between her bowed-open legs.

Rachel panted and I kissed her, a short, desperate kiss. My penis slapped between her bare thighs.

I grabbed hold of my penis and aimed towards Rachel's warm core. I eased the head into her wonderfully warm pussy. Rachel hummed. I shimmied, then moved shallowly in and out, then rocked deeper until my entire cock was buried in her cunt.

I began to pump. Rachel grabbed my ass. Her wool mittens felt scratchy. "Uh huh," she gasped.

And we fucked. We fucked, grunting and gasping.

Rachel hooked her arm around my neck and pulled me down. We kissed hungrily. Rachel's bare knees rose up to my bare hips. She even gave me a weak squeeze.

Incredibly, she found the strength to push me off her. We tumbled around in the leaves. I rolled around until I was lying in the leaves, and Rachel got up on top, straddling me. I had fallen out of her pussy during the roll, and the freezing cold was a sudden shock to my wet cock. I quickly held it straight up, eager to feel the warmth and comfort of Rachel's cunt again. And she settled down over me, slowly lowering, my penis entering her vagina, engulfing me with her slippery heat, until she sat firmly on my hips.

She sat above me and smiled. She picked up a couple leaves that brushed up against my face and tossed them away. She stroked my cheek with her mitten.

And then she settled down purposefully. I was way up inside her. She lifted up and down, faster, until she was humping vigorously. I rubbed her bare thigh with one hand and prodded the area around her clit with the other. Her breath steamed from her mouth and nose.

It didn't take long, however, before she grimaced. And then she stumbled and stopped. She tried to resume, but pain lined her face.

I ran my hand across the crest of her hip. "Let me now," I said. Rachel nodded, her smile strained.

She sat still a moment, not moving. I reached up to her hips and gave her a gentle push to the side. She rolled stiffly back into the leaves. Her legs slowly opened and I got up between them and stabbed between her legs with my penis. I found her opening and sank all the way in until our pubic hair pressed together.

The cold air on my butt and thighs invigorated me. I caught Rachel's eyes. "Hey, lover," I said.

And she tipped her head back and laughed. It was an old pet name. I hadn't called her that in a long time.

I pumped solidly, my body filled with youthful energy. Rachel sighed and smiled. I loved her smile. It had been too long. Her eyes opened. "Come on," Rachel said. Her eyes sparkled with the old lust. She laughed. "Harder. Harder."

It had been so long. I joyously stroked in her cunt. I laughed and kissed her. "Fuck me deep," she grunted as we broke the kiss.

My butt and legs began to burn with the strain. My body tensed. Rachel's breath blossomed up in quick clouds, one after the other. I fucked her as hard and fast as I could move. She rocked her hips up a little, and I felt a sudden surge.

I yelled out, "Oh, Rachel!" The pulsing seemed to source from my belly and my entire lower body spasmed. My semen spurted into her slick hole. Over and over again. It seemed like my orgasm would go on forever.

But eventually, of course, it ended. Finally drained, I slumped. And then I shivered, as if I were freezing.

Rachel's brow was shiny with perspiration. I stared at her, and she opened her eyes. She smiled weakly. I leaned down to kiss her.

But Rachel coughed, several short, deep coughs. A frown marred her face for a moment, but she cleared her throat with just a little difficulty. She looked at me, licked her dry lips, and she smiled.

I tried again to kiss her ...

* * *

A low metallic buzzing, and Rachel's face fades to gray.

I am breathing hard, as if I just finished running a two-mile race. I flip up the visor. The walls and ceiling are stark white, and I blink to accustom myself to their stinging brightness. I force myself to breathe slower. An involuntary tear trickles down my face.

The attendant, Karen, stares at me from behind the window. I wish she would look away. Lila, she never looks at me afterwards. I wish Lila were working instead of Karen. Lila understands. Lila knows the right way to act.

I swallow hard. I pull myself up into a sitting position, fighting against the pull of gravity. I let my feet dangle off the side of the chair.

Just like always, I open my fist, and Rachel's creased photograph unfurls in my hand. Her smile is faded and her eyes are dulled by time, but still, Rachel's beauty has not diminished one iota. I flatten the picture and look at Rachel's face. I feel the familiar sinking in my chest. I touch her photograph with my fingers, and I imagine that I touch her.

I remember. November third. Yes, November third is a good one. One of the last good ones.

I look up at Karen, at her angled eyebrows, her liquid eyes. And then back down to Rachel. Rachel. Lover.

I wish Karen wouldn't watch. I hate it when they watch. I cover my eyes with my hand, trying to hide. My throat feels swollen. I try to inhale, but the air comes in ragged.

And, just like always, I sob.

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