One Stormy Night

It’s a stormy November night. The first real storm of the year with wind and rain and thunder off in the distance. The wipers beating back and forth trying in vain to keep up with the rain pelting the windshield.

The road is dark and winding along the Santiam River. I glance over at you sitting next to me. You look fearful as the car kicks up gravel alongside the road as the car slews into the next curve.

A truck and trailer pass us throwing up sheets of water from the pavement further obscuring the roadway ahead. There is no way of knowing how much farther or how much long it will be before we reach the cabin.

Further on we see lights ahead along side the road. Lights that are unexpected out here. As they draw closer we make out the lighted sign: “Mountain Inn”. “Let’s stop for a while”, you say.

I pull off the road and park in front of the four wooden steps going up to the wide veranda the runs across the front of the Inn. The log cabin façade of the Inn is dripping wet. The rain running from the roof overflowing the gutters allowing the water to create a showery waterfall blocking entrance to the doorway. We get out and run for the steps, but the rain and wind beats at our clothes. The final torrent from the gutters finish the job leaving our heads wet and our clothes soaked.

At the top of the stairs is a momentary respite from the torrent as I work the latch on the two wood, glass paned entry doors. For a moment, they seem stuck, unopenable. Then they burst open into the warm lobby. We go in and walk to the bell desk. No one is here. The two of us stand there for a moment shivering.

There is music coming from the room to the left of us – the restaurant/bar. We follow the music and find a dimly lite room. A long bar along one side is flanked by doors that read “Men” and “Women”. Four tables are scattered in some haphazard fashion around the main floor. Three cheap, black nagahyde booths sit along the wall under the window facing the rod opposite the bar.

There is a small dance floor at the far end with an old Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner. The record playing is All Night Train by the Allman Brothers. You walk towards the bar looking for someone – anyone. I walk to the jukebox and read the type written songs under the glass.

I turn at the sound of a voice. I see a thin older woman coming into the restaurant. At smile on her face she says, “Hi folks. I’m Jenny. This is my place. What the hell are you doing here on a night like this?” We wonder the same thing.

You smile at the greeting and say, “We were on our way over to Stillford and, uh…. Could we get some coffee?” “Best coffee for forty miles around. In fact, the only coffee for forty miles around”, Jenny says with a laugh.

“We’re in kind of a hurry”, I say.

“Ain’t no reason to be”, Jenny said, “slide took out about 20 feet of the road about 5 miles up the way. You ain’t going no where. Least not ‘til the boys from the road de-partment get it open again. But don’t you worry none. Happens all the time this time a year”.

You glance at me apprehensively. “Well, I suppose we’re going to stay for a while then. It’s 120 miles back and around the other road. How long do you think?”

Jenny shook her head. “Don’t really know. Ol’ Charlie come in an hour ago and got a thermos full of coffee for the crew. He didn’t think they were going to get it cleaned up ‘till morning. I guess they’re wait’n for equipment or something. He didn’t really say. But I guess it’s still slidin’ up there. Trees, rocks, mud… everything.”

I glance at my watch. 8:30. “Well. It’s gonna be a long night then, I guess”.

“Don’t you worry yourself at all. I’ll get you each some coffee and fix ya something real nice to eat. And if you want, I got empty rooms upstairs. Ain’t many people out here this time of year. Fisherman and tourists in the summer, but not now.”

I sit in one of the booths, staring out the window at the storm. You slide in beside me, clutch my arm and rest your head on my shoulder. “I’m kinda glad really. The road is so bad and you just can’t really see”. I turn my head, kiss your forehead. “I know. Maybe just as well.”

In time the coffee and the food arrive. We eat and drink slowly. Then I notice Jenny watching us. She comes over and slides into the booth opposite us. “You two ain’t been together too long have you?”

“No” we answer, “Not too long”.

“Well I got just the thing for you then. Something I save just for special people”

“Oh?” we say in unison as Jenny slides out of the booth and walks behind the bar. We see her moving about, picking up bottles and rattling glasses. Then she returns with two tall glasses of a blue liquid. “Here. Just the thing for two young people in love.”

We both look dubiously at the blue drink. “Well, since you ain’t going nowhere, I’ll go upstairs and make up a bed for ya”. We watch Jenny as she crosses the room and passes out into the lobby. We look at the drinks again. I take a hesitant sip. It is wonderful. A spice taste or…? Something unrecognizable. “Try it. It’s good.” You take a sip. I see you smile. You take a larger sip. Your smile widens. You move even closer to me.

As time goes on, we sip our drinks and chat. I touch your face. You hug me. I caress you neck. You move your hand inside my jacket and message my side. I kiss your lips. You moan. My hand brushes your breast. Yours slides to my leg. I kiss you deeply. Your body melts against mine.

My body is tingling all over. Every touch of your fingers like fire. And I know you are feeling it too. Your touch, the silkiness of your skin is so intense.

Two more drinks appear, as if by magic on the table in front of us. We drink. We talk. I touch your skin. I feel your warmth. I feel you shiver from my touch. My hand slide under your short skirt and I feel you tense for a moment. Then your legs open for my hand. I stroke you and feel your wetness. You moan. Your lips close to mine. Your hand rubbing my crotch through my pants, my cock growing harder and harder.

I take you by the hand and lead you out of the room and up the stairs where we find one room lit. On the night stand next to the bed are two glasses of blue liquid. We enter the room and close the door.

Fumbling at each others clothes, finally tearing them to get them off. My mouth on your hard nipples. My hands on butt. Pushing you back towards the bed. My mouth on your sweet, hot pussy, licking your wetness. Toying with your clit. Your mouth on my cock, sucking, licking, stroking.

I feel your hot cum building in my mouth as your body arches and spasms in pleasure. You scream. Your legs squeeze my head as I continue to lick. Your breath in gasps.

I pull you up on all fours and enter you from behind, my cock sliding deep inside you. Stroking, fucking forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you.

The next morning. We sit across from each other at a table in the restaurant. Jenny gaily serving breakfast. A steady stream of chatter. You eyes are dreamy. We both just pick at our food. Finally, after coffee, we depart.

The morning is overcast but the storm is over. You sit close to me, much too close for any safe driving, but I don’t object. We drive about ten miles. And find no sign of a mud slide. No workers, no equipment. Nothing.

I stop the car on the shoulder of the road. We look at each other. I turn the car around and drive back 12 miles. Then 13. Then 14. Then 15. Nowhere can we find the Mountain Inn.