Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/T/TRAVELER.TXT

Text File | 1989-09-06 | 8.0 KB | 150 lines

     Let me tell you what happened when I rode my bicycle up the path by
the river.  It was one of those rare perfect days of late summer,
remember?

     Well, I'd ridden for about an hour and gotten pretty far out of
town.  I'd been going up a long slight hill, the sort of hill you don't
even notice when you're in a car, but on a bicycle you notice.  It wasn't
exhausting, or anything, but up at the top was a grassy meadow running
down to the river, and it seemed like a good place to take a break.  So
I walked my bike down off the path, and laid it and myself out in the
grass.

     Summertime, and the livin' is easy.  No hurry.  No place to get to
any time soon.  I could see the river sparkling through the trees.  A
quiet place.  I reached in my bag and got out that joint I'd brought
along.  Homegrown, from Hawaiian seeds.  Very nice herb.

     After a couple of tokes I put it out and put it away, and sat back.
Ah yes, that's why I like to smoke this stuff!  The sunlight on those
yellow flowers down there, lovely before, was glowing now.  All the
creatures in the meadow were so cheery - they'd been cheery all along,
but I'd just now noticed it.  Sounds became distinct - like the breeze
shimmering through that aspen tree over there - and - hmmm - someone on
a bicycle coming up the hill.

     I turned and I could see her from where I lay in the grass.  She
didn't see me.  She stopped at the top, and wiped her face with a cloth.
Mmmmm, pretty woman.  Nice legs.  She was wearing loose shorts and a
little white cotton shirt, with the shirt tails tied beneath her breasts.
She still didn't see me.

     After standing there for a moment, she swung one of those legs over
the saddle and walked her bike down into my meadow.  She sat about twenty
feet from me, down the hill towards the river.  I lay there watching her
from the tall grass, enjoying her movement.  She brushed a blonde hair
out of her eyes with a flip of her head, and leaned back on her arms,
enjoying the sun.

     The sun was at just the right angle behind her.  I could see a free
nipple pushing against the light fabric.  Ooooh.

     She turned and saw me.  I smiled.  She smiled.  Maybe she'd seen me
before and wanted me to watch her.  I wanted to do more than watch her,
but you don't just go grab a woman and gobble her up, or at least I
don't.  So we sat, she enjoying the sun, and me enjoying the outline of
that nipple and those splendid legs, and she enjoying my enjoyment.

     She opened up a little bag and got something out, glancing another
smile over at me.  It was a chillum, a straight pipe like they use to
smoke hashish in Nepal, and in Europe.  Europe gets its smoking
traditions from the East.  They mix their hash with tobacco.  It's not
really to my taste, but that's the way they do it.  She must not be from
around here.

     Also, if she were from around here she'd be more paranoid than this.
The U.S. has gone nuts about "Drugs."  They don't distinguish nasty stuff
like PCP and crack from sweet gentle Mary Jane.  It's all "Drugs," whiff
of the Devil.  It's like heresy in medieval times, a frenzy, burn 'em at
the stake.  You don't talk about it anymore.  You grow your own stash and
stay discreet.  And you don't pull out a chillum in front of a stranger,
not if you're from around here.

     She held up the chillum to me and grinned this mischievous grin.
So refreshing!  I couldn't help grinning back.  She got up and walked
over to me, her breasts bobbling just enough to reveal their full form,
and still grinning that grin of hers.  Without speaking she gestured that she
needed a match for the chillum.  I had a match.  We shared that bowl, and
she got out some more hashish.  This time we'd mix it with some of my
Hawaiian homegrown instead of tobacco.  Tastes better.  Tastes good.

     Now the meadow really begins to throb with sparkles of color and
life.  The aspen trees are pulsating, breathing, grinning back at us old
friends.  In a little while she and I are both grinning so much that our
faces ache.  Oh yesss!

     And the meadow isn't all that's throbbing and pulsating.  My penis
has crawled out the leg of my shorts and is lying hot on my leg.

     And she notices it, too, of course.

     She dangles her hair onto my penis, and moves her head slowly.  I
feel each hair individually, exquisitely, senses elevated by the
cannabis.  With her tongue she touches the crystal droplet that has
formed on the end, and raises her head so slowly.  The droplet extends
to a slender strand, refracting colors in the sunlight.  With a fingertip
she takes the strand down and returns it to the end of my penis.  She
traces the slick droplet along the edge of the cliff with her fingertip,
slipping back and forth.  Now a kiss there. (Ohhh, those lips.)

     Well, I unfasten my shorts and kick them off, and lie back, feeling
the sun.  And she bends toward me, and I smell the sun in her hair, like
warm straw.  Her shirt has fallen open, and I feel both her breasts in
my hands, the drag of her nipples across my palms, between my fingers.
I cup them beneath, and feel their heft, those fine tits I admired before
when I thought she hadn't seen me, now my tongue strokes one, pointed
delight.  Over the fine golden hairs on her buttery skin, my hand roams
her waist to the small of her back.  So delicate.  Strong.  Warm in the sun.

     Now she's touching my penis with her lips.  And her tongue.  Moist,
slippery.  Her hand kneads the slippery helmet, strokes back.  She drags
a breast across it.  I take both her breasts in my hands and hold it warm
prisoner there, moving slightly, on the edge now, hanging there, by a
strand of her hair, by a crystal strand.  I feel her wet cavern, hot
through her shorts, on my knee.

     She shudders.  I explode.  Gallons of hot semen spew onto her
breasts, drip off her nipples.  She leans back and with her hands rubs
my semen all over those oh so succulent fine breasts, loving it,
head thrown back, her hair brushing the hair on my legs in the sunshine.

     We lay together there in the grass, watching a hawk soaring in the
warm updraft.  Our legs were touching, our hands entwined.  This is what
the Beatles had in mind for 'wanna hold your hand.'  A yellow flower by
her nose, her eyes are green like the meadow, and her full moist lips in
that little grin, like this is just what she had in mind, a blessing from
God if anything ever was.

     I ran my finger down her silken belly, dallying at her belly button,
moving south.  Her shorts had a simple button, which had come undone.
I slid them down her thighs when she lifted her rump to help me.  And
there was the garden, open to the sun.

     Her eyes followed the soaring hawk, knowing where my eyes were.  A
feast.  I looked at her glowing body, my eyes dallying here and there.
We have all the time in the world.  She smiled wider, knowing.

     I rose to my knees and rested back on my heels, imagining the feel
of each part of her.  A feast.  A blessing.  My penis strong again.

     I parted her legs, and knelt before her altar.  I placed the
head of my penis upon her pink gates, and held perfectly still, touching
her only there.  I could feel the pumping of my heart and hers, touching.
My crystal droplets merged into her ooze.

     I bent forward and licked each nipple with the tip of my tongue.
Each stood straighter in turn.  Her eyes were closed now.  My movement
had pressed my penis just slightly deeper.

     Then I dropped like the hawk, powered deep into her warm waiting cavern,
down down for miles, down her firm smooth rippled passage, down into the fire
of heaven; my mouth devouring a breast, mine now!  Her tit in my teeth, lips
sucking, tongue caressing, hand pressing her other breast, trembling.
She surged up to me.  The world vanished; there was only the one flashing
passion of creation, planets strewn about the void forever.

     And then we slept.

     She was gone when I awoke.  I look for her.