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From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2004 04:01:10 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 14/94 by jane
Lines: 243
Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2004 04:11:58 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Author: jane
Title: Glimpses 14/94
Summary: While driving to the park, Mai and Tina pretend to 
take a nap.
Keywords: none
Length: 1492 words
Copyright: c. 2004


     *2 November 1996, Saturday  - part one*

_five oclock a m? ... just to see some silly leaves and 
white-haired eagles? ... drive all that way? ... i asked 
them twice if that was true ...  i wasnt sure that youd 
believe me ...  most times ive seen the sun come up, im on 
my way to bed ... but mai decreed an early start and so the 
others followed ... the friends were likely half asleep, 
high on lust or dread or just anticipation ... the four 
were human after all ... just travellers ... the kind that 
tried to figure mileage, kept an eye for cheaper gas, hoped 
for rest stops when theyre needed ... yet smart enough to 
realize the highway they had chosen bore no signs to mark 
its perils, wore no metal rails to keep them on its curves 
...

chicago ..._

                       *§*

Tina didn't love the Saab; she liked it.  Peter, on the 
other hand, invested large amounts of time and cash and ego 
in the aging two-stroke engine.  It needed triage on an 
almost daily basis: the rear door handle first or plugs and 
points, the mirror or the running lights.  It kept him out 
from underfoot, she thought; it made him manly.  Peter 
didn't hunt.  He'd never been a jock.  He simply didn't 
like those things.  So grease beneath his fingernails and 
talk of universal joints, impressed and bonded him with 
peers.  Tina's overall assessment?  Undependable, but cute 
and _Svenska_.  Its steel, once, glowed in Göteborg 
crucibles; she adored the way gas jockeys scratched their 
heads while adding oil directly to the fuel.  She believed 
in public transit, but without a Saab they'd only see their 
precious eagles in cages at the zoo.

The grey sedan pulled up outside the new apartment, rosy 
dawn reflected on its roof and hood.  Doug and Mai were 
ready at the curb.  They knew the drill; they'd camped 
before together.  While Douglas grappled with the packs and 
cooler, Peter supervised the trunk, and Tina wedged Mai's 
pepper sauce where it could weather potholes.  He gave a 
quickie tour of their new digs.  Peter took a moment with 
the map.  The women climbed into the back, while Doug 
arranged the visor.  From between two distant buildings, 
the sun observed them: busy Earthlings, headed to some 
outcome, funnelled to a freeway through strangely silent 
streets.

"You've got tons of room there," Peter offered minutes 
later.

Tina added, "...after the little bandbox that you had in 
Niles."

"Don't know how our stuff fit in that place," said Douglas.  
"I didn't realize we had so much."

A blur of asphalt.  Ribcage arches marked their exit from 
the city.  Mai skipped her turn.

"Your cupboard space!  And closets!"  Tina marvelled.

"That big mirror in the living room?   Makes it even 
bigger," Peter said.

Doug turned to Tina in the back, "Maybe too big.  Now 
there's choices.  Just to get it all crammed in was good 
enough before."

Mai hadn't spoken.  Tina caught her eye and smiled and 
sensed there was some problem with the move.  She changed 
the subject, "How 'bout some heat back here?"

"It's on.  Thermostat's kaput.  I fixed the radio instead."

"It's cold," she worried.  "We'll freeze tonight outside."

"Frost will bring the colours out," soothed Mai.

"Use the afghan.  Right behind you."  Peter free-wheeled 
down a steep incline.

It was blended yarn in broad, soft panels, cable knit and 
pop-corn stitched, a tag sewn in the corner: "Created by 
Christina."  The women draped themselves in ecru warmth.  
The early morning tone had been light-hearted, devoid of 
evil grins.  There'd been no playful propositions nor 
bravado let alone a mention of the tent.  _It's like last 
weekend didn't happen,_ Tina thought.  _Everyone is 
cautious._  Or was, until the afghan, like a tropic 
surf, washed over them: tepid, tempting, taciturn.

Mai asked the men, "Where will we stop for breakfast?"  
Beneath the throw, her hand bumped Tina's, held, then 
squeezed it.  Tina smiled.  The hand relaxed, but didn't 
drift away.  Curled in her palm like it might grasp a 
favourite mug.  _For comfort.  For warmth.  For 
friendship, I suppose._

"Rockford?" Douglas answered without turning to the back.  
"Two hours."

Mai yawned.  She pulled the cover up around her chin with 
her free hand.  "Two hours sleep will be divine."

"Yeah, Rockford.  Someplace nice.  Naptime till then.  It's 
Saturday."  Tina slumped beneath the blanket.

Peter chided, "Wimps.  I knew you couldn't take it."  He 
found an FM station playing Mahler and turned the volume 
low enough to blend it with the engine's hum.  Doug poured 
them both hot chocolate.

Tina closed her eyes.  Her body warmed beneath the throw.  
The front seat whispers melted in the engine's drone.  
_Don't think about tonight.  Don't worry.  Now that 
Peter's finished school and has a job, I ought to finish 
mine.  Go back in January or next fall.  Promise.  And for 
now?  That little shop on State was offering a course in 
pottery.  For fun.  A dream.  Why not?   What the ..._   
Her eyes stayed shut; she didn't move, but as she felt a 
finger's first slow movement on her arm, her brain sat bolt 
upright.  It rubbed the thin, fall jacket on her skin, a 
trail that traced her inner arm and found her shoulder, 
found the zipper.  _God!  What's going on?  Everyone is 
sober.  This isn't right.  Peter's back is turned.  It's 
cheating.  What to do?  This is really, real._  The 
zipper slowly opened, its purr absorbed in breathing.  Deft 
fingers slipped the buttons of her blouse.  _I thought 
about those fingers all this week._  She twisted 
slightly in pretended sleep to make more space for Mai.  
Mai found the clasp of Tina's bra.  Tina found herself 
complicit.  _Find me!_

Doug turned his head to check the back.  "They're wiped.  
They're fast asleep already."

"Great.  We'll keep 'em up tonight," said Peter quietly.

Doug's wry reply, "Other way 'round, let's hope."  He 
gestured with a finger.

"It's wild.  Last Friday, Doug."  Peter shook his head.

"Yeah."  Endless corn and soybeans now.  "I didn't think 
we'd go.  It's crazy with this move.  I left it up to her."

"It was on my mind all week."

"More chocolate, Pete?"

"No, thanks.  Change the station if you want?  Maybe get 
some football?"

"Uh.  It's six a. m.  Don't think they're playin' now."

Mai didn't fondle or manipulate.  _It's like she's 
bathing in my flesh.  Like her whole body's rubbing on my 
tits.  She's playing me.  God!_  A thumbnail sniffed the 
tiny sheen of sweat that formed along the skin.  A finger's 
pad took nurture from a nipple.

Tina moaned as softly as she could.

"Aurora?  We're flying."  Douglas checked his watch.

"We'll have everything all set by lunch."

"A hike this afternoon."  Doug's voice was eager.

"No clouds.  It's warming up."

"You ever fish?  We should.  A Mississippi cat.  Super 
eating."

"Maybe.  I never tried it, Doug."

"A case of beer.  No worries.  Just us."

"Yeah.  Maybe.  Doug?  You scared about tonight?"

"Scared of what?"

"Nothing.  I'm starved.  How far to Rockford?"

Tina clenched her teeth and pressed her thighs together, 
pictured Peter's nearness and was amazed at how deceiving 
him could thrill her.  She willed her eyelids open just 
enough to see Mai's mask of sleep.  She heard Mai's sigh, 
as if she'd lapsed in slumber.  _Let me touch you in 
return._  She reached.  Mai's smaller hand reached 
first, settled on her thigh and took control.  Fingers 
found the waistband of her jeans, demanded Tina hold her 
breath to make the access easy.  They shifted in the seat, 
a restlessness perhaps.  Tina turned to give the hand a 
better angle as it snaked along her belly, searching out 
her centre.  Tina felt the pressure on the snap.  _God, 
not that.  They'll hear for sure._  She strained to arch 
her back, strained to keep from moving, strained to spread 
her thighs, to make no sound, to keep the snap intact.  The 
hand slid deeper, found her trough of moisture, fed upon 
the swelling nub of clit.  It lapped each oozing fold, each 
slippery crevice of the labia.  It nibbled, nails against 
the firm clitoris.  _Oh God, this is delicious.  I'm 
ready to explode!  No sounds.  No movement!  No.  Yesss.  
Oh, Yes.  Oh, more._

Then, sleep.  Then, waking to the sudden quiet in the car, 
the brightness of the sun.  The men, with friendly put-
downs, opened doors and led them to a diner, thick with 
waitress shouts and heavy china clatter.  Their 
conversation praised the air outside the city, previewed 
the hiking trails.  They crossed their fingers that the car 
was sound and talked about their times and distances.  Tina 
yawned.  Mai rested one hand on her cheek and stirred her 
tea.  She laughed at Peter's jokes.  Tina watched her 
carefully, saw her nostrils flare out slightly.  Tina 
wondered.  _Is it me?_  Was there a scent that 
lingered in between the smell of maple syrup and the 
wintergreen of soap?  _It is; it's me.  Delicious._









This story cannot be reposted or published without the 
author's permission.  All comments and queries can be 
addressed to by_janeNO@SPAMliterotica.org by deleting the 
capital letters before sending.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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