Adult text of a sexual nature (MF, romance). Minors grow-up first. (c) Copyright VicSwriter@aol.com 1996. May be posted, but only in its entirety including author's note at end, and if not for profit.
Re: Where's the wildest, most unusual place you've ever made love?
On a gravel bar of the Missouri Ozark's Current River, under an upside-down canoe, during a hail storm, with boat cushions and life jackets as our 'bed' . . .
The color of the clouds told me it was coming fast and was going to be a downpour even if a short one. Peggy saw it too. She knew the river as well as I. We both knew how fast it could rise after a thunderstorm, and it didn't have to be right here; anyplace in the watershed above could produce a foot or two rise in the water level in less than 30 minutes and over several hours we'd seen up to a 4, even 6 foot increase.
One morning, on another trip, we woke to water lapping at our sleeping bags after a star filled night... There had been lightning in the sky over the horizon upstream from us, but we didn't think much about it because we were clear up into the trees on the highest part of the gravel bar. We lost some gear and food; almost lost our canoe, but had tied it even though it was on 'dry gravel' when we turned in. We had just learned not to make camp on the gravel bars during the spring and early summer months.
This storm was building fast as Missouri storms can do in spring through early summer. It wasn't getting wet that concerned us; you don't float if you're scared of that. Lighting and aluminum boats in water, and hail were our concern. That this storm had lightning was obvious; it's color said it probably had hail too. We looked at each other and immediately started looking for a place to seek shelter.
About 15 miles further down stream and we could have waited this storm out, as we had on an earlier trip, in Cave Spring. You can paddle right into the cave spring pool from the river with many tens of feet of protective limestone above. Very safe really, as long as no one got rambunctious: there was a 90 foot deep shaft of raising cold spring water under you. If you tried, you could squeeze maybe 25 canoes into the natural shelter. We pushed the limit that day as it was a busy weekend. Meet lots of interesting people that afternoon. Passed around beer, soda, and snacks, told stories, jokes, even sang some songs waiting for the storm to pass.
This storm wasn't waiting for us to reach Cave Spring, besides, it was late afternoon and we intended to make camp soon anyway. We passed one gravel bar as it could be cut off from high ground too easily. Around the next bend, as the first gusts of the squall made the distant trees dance, we put in on a nice bar that connected with some higher ground at one end. We scrambled out, dragging the loaded canoe on the gravel some 30 horizontal and 3 vertical feet clear of the river, the first of the pea size ice pellets providing the extra adrenaline rush to get it done. Peg and I hastily started unloading and I threw a couple of half hitches with the bow line around a forked scrub tree that marked the tree line high on the bar. We unloaded the last item together: the heavy cooler, placing it at the end of the gear Peg had arranged next to the canoe. The rain and hail were beginning to get more than annoying as we flipped the canoe upside-down over the arranged gear. I had the bow stuck right into the low forked tree trunk; Peg rested one side of the stern on the ice chest. The effect was to provide a little more room under the canoe than had it just been on the ground. Yes, the team had done this drill before. We scrambled under our emergency shelter. Peg immediately set out rearranging the gear and cushions to provide reasonable room and comfort for us humans.
Have you ever been under a canoe --or a metal roofed carport or utility shed-- in a hail storm? You can't even hear yourself think, yet alone talk.
With the work all done, both of us wet, and the cooling air of the storm front, we were left cuddling for warmth. Peggy was already starting to shiver. I moved quickly to get her out of the wet standard floating attire: her tee-shirt and cut-off jeans short- shorts over bikini swimsuit. We left her in her bikini... for now. I located a beach towel packed in a vacuum bag and got it around her. Next order of business: get me out of my wet stuff. There wasn't much maneuvering room, but with Peg's help, I was soon spooning her to me under the beach towel.
The hail just kept getting bigger and more plentiful, and the noise more deafening by the second. Now, hail is usually a short lived part of a storm; when it continues for awhile, it's indicative of a large, powerful storm. As the hail actually began to cover the ground it was apparent this storm was going to be with us for awhile.
So what do you do to pass the time under a canoe in a hail storm? Well, when you're with the sexiest gal in the world --IMHO-- and she's hunching her bikini clad ass back into your groin, something's bound to come-up! Couple of things about the shivers... you often get goose bumps and extremely hard nipples too! And you like to be rubbed and to rub. Rubbing creates friction which heat things up. One of the things that was heating up was pushing steadily between my love's legs.
Peggy's bikini top was interfering with proper rubbing of certain parts so it was disposed of quickly. Peg hung it with her other wet clothes over one of the canoe braces that now interfered with our headroom. Several minutes later her bikini bottom joined the top. There we laid on our sides, spooned together, hunching; her back into me, me into her. A shift of angle, a lifting of supple leg, a helping hand from my love, and I eased home. The warmth enveloped and spread through out my being, and I think back into Peggy's too, for she no longer seemed concerned with the beach towel. The crescendo of the storm was matched by our own, but it was as if we were along for the ride; the power of the storm carried us. We felt no need for a rapid, forceful rhythm that so often marked our love making. The storm, its pelting of hail and sheets of rain provided the energy and tempo.
The hail finally stopped, leaving small drifts of several inches in places. The rain settled in for a torrential downpour. Just after I flooded Peggy and she snuggled back into me in a contended welcoming, relaxed way, I began thinking about another kind of flooding. I raised up on an elbow to where I could assess the river level, comparing it to a mark I noted as we put ashore. It was already up about a foot. I glanced at the southwestern sky; it was not nearly as mad. The rain was even waning in its intensity. I decided we could afford to wait for the rain to stop or nearly so before making a move to higher ground and hopefully our campsite for the night.
So where were we? Well, though now soft, spent, I was still enveloped by my love's tight, bald, sweet pussy. She held my arms tightly to her, one hand on the swell of breast, the other to her check. With the cacophony of the storm we still communicated non- verbally, her gentle suckling on my knuckle telling me she didn't achieve release with the tension of the storm earlier. I backed my chest away enough I could roll Peg to her back. I slid down and eased gentle from her, getting to where I could suckle. After an unmeasured time I moved down further, picking my way in our confines, encouraging her up a little, scooting on the boat cushions that provide some, if not uniform comfort. The beach towel was once again arranged for warmth over her arms and chest. My breath would warm her loins. The canoe brace over my shoulders now served a new purpose: Peg's legs pulled up and out, she easily rested her feet on each end of the brace at the canoe's gunnel. Her use of the canoe brace gave her leverage that was definitely a new twist to the position. I found myself following her sweetness more than usual, but that didn't matter. For the next moments, the storm, the wet gravel under my legs, the entire uniqueness of the setting, faded in importance as I, with mouth and tongue, made love to my love. Nothing else mattered until I felt the twitching of her release under my chin.
With the telling relaxation of her entire being, I helped her untangle from the canoe above us and scooted up once again to cuddle and kiss and smile into one anothers eyes. Without words we agreed, "Yes, we had outdone ourselves... again!" ... ****************** Not the end ...
The above is an excerpt from our private story, PDL, Chapter 18: Peggy's First Gang Bang. Sorry, it will never appear in a public post, it's too long, too personal. Send an email to learn how you can acquire it.
VicSwriter@aol.com
Re: Where's the wildest, most unusual place you've ever made love?
On a gravel bar of the Missouri Ozark's Current River, under an upside-down canoe, during a hail storm, with boat cushions and life jackets as our 'bed' . . .
The color of the clouds told me it was coming fast and was going to be a downpour even if a short one. Peggy saw it too. She knew the river as well as I. We both knew how fast it could rise after a thunderstorm, and it didn't have to be right here; anyplace in the watershed above could produce a foot or two rise in the water level in less than 30 minutes and over several hours we'd seen up to a 4, even 6 foot increase.
One morning, on another trip, we woke to water lapping at our sleeping bags after a star filled night... There had been lightning in the sky over the horizon upstream from us, but we didn't think much about it because we were clear up into the trees on the highest part of the gravel bar. We lost some gear and food; almost lost our canoe, but had tied it even though it was on 'dry gravel' when we turned in. We had just learned not to make camp on the gravel bars during the spring and early summer months.
This storm was building fast as Missouri storms can do in spring through early summer. It wasn't getting wet that concerned us; you don't float if you're scared of that. Lighting and aluminum boats in water, and hail were our concern. That this storm had lightning was obvious; it's color said it probably had hail too. We looked at each other and immediately started looking for a place to seek shelter.
About 15 miles further down stream and we could have waited this storm out, as we had on an earlier trip, in Cave Spring. You can paddle right into the cave spring pool from the river with many tens of feet of protective limestone above. Very safe really, as long as no one got rambunctious: there was a 90 foot deep shaft of raising cold spring water under you. If you tried, you could squeeze maybe 25 canoes into the natural shelter. We pushed the limit that day as it was a busy weekend. Meet lots of interesting people that afternoon. Passed around beer, soda, and snacks, told stories, jokes, even sang some songs waiting for the storm to pass.
This storm wasn't waiting for us to reach Cave Spring, besides, it was late afternoon and we intended to make camp soon anyway. We passed one gravel bar as it could be cut off from high ground too easily. Around the next bend, as the first gusts of the squall made the distant trees dance, we put in on a nice bar that connected with some higher ground at one end. We scrambled out, dragging the loaded canoe on the gravel some 30 horizontal and 3 vertical feet clear of the river, the first of the pea size ice pellets providing the extra adrenaline rush to get it done. Peg and I hastily started unloading and I threw a couple of half hitches with the bow line around a forked scrub tree that marked the tree line high on the bar. We unloaded the last item together: the heavy cooler, placing it at the end of the gear Peg had arranged next to the canoe. The rain and hail were beginning to get more than annoying as we flipped the canoe upside-down over the arranged gear. I had the bow stuck right into the low forked tree trunk; Peg rested one side of the stern on the ice chest. The effect was to provide a little more room under the canoe than had it just been on the ground. Yes, the team had done this drill before. We scrambled under our emergency shelter. Peg immediately set out rearranging the gear and cushions to provide reasonable room and comfort for us humans.
Have you ever been under a canoe --or a metal roofed carport or utility shed-- in a hail storm? You can't even hear yourself think, yet alone talk.
With the work all done, both of us wet, and the cooling air of the storm front, we were left cuddling for warmth. Peggy was already starting to shiver. I moved quickly to get her out of the wet standard floating attire: her tee-shirt and cut-off jeans short- shorts over bikini swimsuit. We left her in her bikini... for now. I located a beach towel packed in a vacuum bag and got it around her. Next order of business: get me out of my wet stuff. There wasn't much maneuvering room, but with Peg's help, I was soon spooning her to me under the beach towel.
The hail just kept getting bigger and more plentiful, and the noise more deafening by the second. Now, hail is usually a short lived part of a storm; when it continues for awhile, it's indicative of a large, powerful storm. As the hail actually began to cover the ground it was apparent this storm was going to be with us for awhile.
So what do you do to pass the time under a canoe in a hail storm? Well, when you're with the sexiest gal in the world --IMHO-- and she's hunching her bikini clad ass back into your groin, something's bound to come-up! Couple of things about the shivers... you often get goose bumps and extremely hard nipples too! And you like to be rubbed and to rub. Rubbing creates friction which heat things up. One of the things that was heating up was pushing steadily between my love's legs.
Peggy's bikini top was interfering with proper rubbing of certain parts so it was disposed of quickly. Peg hung it with her other wet clothes over one of the canoe braces that now interfered with our headroom. Several minutes later her bikini bottom joined the top. There we laid on our sides, spooned together, hunching; her back into me, me into her. A shift of angle, a lifting of supple leg, a helping hand from my love, and I eased home. The warmth enveloped and spread through out my being, and I think back into Peggy's too, for she no longer seemed concerned with the beach towel. The crescendo of the storm was matched by our own, but it was as if we were along for the ride; the power of the storm carried us. We felt no need for a rapid, forceful rhythm that so often marked our love making. The storm, its pelting of hail and sheets of rain provided the energy and tempo.
The hail finally stopped, leaving small drifts of several inches in places. The rain settled in for a torrential downpour. Just after I flooded Peggy and she snuggled back into me in a contended welcoming, relaxed way, I began thinking about another kind of flooding. I raised up on an elbow to where I could assess the river level, comparing it to a mark I noted as we put ashore. It was already up about a foot. I glanced at the southwestern sky; it was not nearly as mad. The rain was even waning in its intensity. I decided we could afford to wait for the rain to stop or nearly so before making a move to higher ground and hopefully our campsite for the night.
So where were we? Well, though now soft, spent, I was still enveloped by my love's tight, bald, sweet pussy. She held my arms tightly to her, one hand on the swell of breast, the other to her check. With the cacophony of the storm we still communicated non- verbally, her gentle suckling on my knuckle telling me she didn't achieve release with the tension of the storm earlier. I backed my chest away enough I could roll Peg to her back. I slid down and eased gentle from her, getting to where I could suckle. After an unmeasured time I moved down further, picking my way in our confines, encouraging her up a little, scooting on the boat cushions that provide some, if not uniform comfort. The beach towel was once again arranged for warmth over her arms and chest. My breath would warm her loins. The canoe brace over my shoulders now served a new purpose: Peg's legs pulled up and out, she easily rested her feet on each end of the brace at the canoe's gunnel. Her use of the canoe brace gave her leverage that was definitely a new twist to the position. I found myself following her sweetness more than usual, but that didn't matter. For the next moments, the storm, the wet gravel under my legs, the entire uniqueness of the setting, faded in importance as I, with mouth and tongue, made love to my love. Nothing else mattered until I felt the twitching of her release under my chin.
With the telling relaxation of her entire being, I helped her untangle from the canoe above us and scooted up once again to cuddle and kiss and smile into one anothers eyes. Without words we agreed, "Yes, we had outdone ourselves... again!" ... ****************** Not the end ...
The above is an excerpt from our private story, PDL, Chapter 18: Peggy's First Gang Bang. Sorry, it will never appear in a public post, it's too long, too personal. Send an email to learn how you can acquire it.
VicSwriter@aol.com
