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 Archive name: tahoe.txt (MF)
 Authors name: Kristen (kristen078@hotmail.com)
 Story title : Lake Tahoe
 Last Edited 03/22/00 by Ian

 ------------------------------------------------------
 -= This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 2000. =-
 Please do not remove the author information or make
 any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
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 ------------------------------------------------------
 

 Lake Tahoe (MF)
 By Kristen Kathleen Becker
 

 "It is now safe to turn your computer off."

 I had just finished answering my last e-mail. It
 was to Bronwen, one of the fearless leaders of the
 Erotic Writers' Guild (of which I am a proud junior
 member).

 I'd posted to our Internet newsgroup that I was
 going to Lake Tahoe for a week, and she asked me
 if going to Lake Tahoe was a good thing. I thought
 it was; even if I had to work, I'd get some skiing
 in. I replied: "I'll let you know when I get back."

 Punching the off button on the computer, then looked
 up at the clock on my bedroom wall and saw that I'd
 been messing around a little too long. If I was
 going to make my 4:30 flight I'd have to get my
 butt in gear.

 As I pulled out of the long driveway to my apartment
 house and headed toward Portland up Highway 20, I
 made a mental list of the stuff I was taking with
 me.

 The whole trip was kind of weird.  My boss had
 called me only the day before to tell me that we
 were to have a "Corporate Retreat" in a little town
 called Stateline, just north of Lake Tahoe. He said
 that meetings would be held on Wednesday, Thursday
 and Friday. On Saturday we'd take the day off and
 go skiing on Mount Rose.

 I think the idea was to make us more like a team.
 Well, so long as I have my skis on my roof rack,
 I'm up for anything. It would be like a vacation
 for me.

 I love to travel. Any excuse for it is a good one
 as far as I'm concerned. I'd fly to Buffalo, New
 York, just for the fun of flying there. (You get
 the picture?) I don't get to travel much, and,
 being twenty, don't have loads of cash.

 Basically, I live in three rooms in a huge old
 farmhouse/mansion off Highway 20, on the edge of
 Deschutes National Forest. It's a neat old house,
 but my space in it is small and only costs me
 $350 a month.

 Since I own my 1977 Jeep (built a year before I
 was born) and my computer belongs to the company
 I work for, my actual expenses are pretty low.
 Somehow, though, I always manage to live just a
 little above my income.

 Contact with the outside world  is pretty limited
 when the biggest city near you is a place called
 Bend (It's OK if you've never heard of Bend. It's
 sort of in the middle of Oregon, and there's not
 much reason for anyone to know it even exists.)

 At any rate, I was stoked, and heading up the
 fog-shrouded highway to fun and adventure, with
 only a slight guilt pang that my boyfriend Jeff
 couldn't come with me. But this was business and
 I'd be working for three days (sort of - wink,
 wink!).

 Jeff, who's a structural engineer, was in the
 middle of a project anyway, and had been up in
 Seattle for almost a week when my boss called.

 I made Portland just fine. Got parked and through
 the construction-wracked terminal just in time to
 be one of the blessed first thirty passengers on
 Southwest Flight 1709 to Sacramento. (They don't
 have assigned seats, and even though I like
 people I hate having to sit in a middle seat.)

 We boarded, and left right on time. My plan was
 to catch up on reading several of my friends'
 Internet stories via the old laptop during the
 hour-and-a-half flight to Sacramento.

 I was sitting next to an older man (forty-ish)
 and made a special effort to introduce myself
 to him, and get to know him a little. He turned
 out to be a salesman, and also a reverend. He
 had his own church; his little congregation
 met at his house each Sunday.

 I usually draw my neighbor into reading my
 stories during a flight, unless I'm traveling
 with Jeff, when we keep each other busy. I
 like to get their reaction; it's fun to let
 them know that I write erotic stories for the
 Internet. It's also fun to see if they get
 aroused sitting next to me while we read a
 story together. (I've had several interesting
 encounters doing this on a  flight, which I
 probably ought to write about some time.)

 However, I didn't think my salesman/preacher
 would appreciate what I did, so I positioned
 the computer screen to face the window so that
 he couldn't read it. I was determined to read
 without giving any outward signs that might
 indicate what I was doing. Luckily I'd already
 read Woodsmoke's story (It really makes me
 crazy when someone uses my name in their story;
 it turns me on to imagine myself into one).

 Fortunately no other authors had used my name,
 and I was able to get through all the stories
 without making a spectacle of myself, though
 some of them did make me feel kind of crazy.

 Anyway, everything went all right, and we
 landed at Sacramento International at 6:45pm.
 I was walking through the rather seedy-looking
 terminal when an announcement came over the
 loudspeaker: "Kristen Becker, please pick up
 a white courtesy phone."

 I'd never had that happen before. As a matter
 of fact, I wasn't sure what a white courtesy
 phone was. But, being smarter than your
 average blonde, I soon figured out that the
 white phones on the wall must be what was
 meant.

 It turned out that Andreaus (the big boss)
 had a son who was also attending our little
 retreat, and he wanted me to meet him at the
 Southwest Baggage Claim and bring him along
 with me to the meeting.

 I have to admit I was a little put off by
 this. Apparently Antonio (seems like all the
 men in my boss's family have "An" names)
 wouldn't be 18 for two more months, and
 therefore couldn't rent a car on his own. So
 I was stuck.

 You know what I mean; it's hard to say no to
 the boss when he's covering your expenses for
 a day on the slopes.

 I was wearing my black cold-weather outfit,
 and when I walked into the baggage claim I
 got a good response from the men there. (I
 like wearing tight outfits. It's fun to watch
 the lengths to which some men will go to to
 look at some leg. It's not that I'm a tease;
 I just know I look good in tight pants.)

 There was Antonio, standing by the carousel
 and undressing me with his eyes. I was a
 little taken aback by the unrelenting stare
 he was giving my body. And I do mean my body;
 I don't think he looked at my face until I
 was standing right in front of him, offering
 him a hand to shake.

 Looking back, it was kind of funny, because
 his hand was real sweaty, and he was super
 embarrassed, realizing that he'd been staring
 like an idiot.

 His dad is around 50 and has gray hair, so
 I didn't know what color it had been when
 he was younger. Apart from his sweaty hand-
 shake, Antonio's outstanding feature was his
 lovely, wavy, auburn-red hair, the kind that
 seems to fall into place without doing any-
 thing to it. (I suspected it was an expensive
 haircut.)

 He was also quite handsome, but, then, I find
 most men handsome, in one way or another.

 When the introduction was over we grabbed a
 luggage-cart and filled it with our baggage
 and skis, then headed toward the buses that
 take you to the rental cars.

 Going out of the terminal doors I saw that
 the weather had turned ugly; you could
 actually see the clouds moving overhead.
 The wind is something else in Sacramento;
 it cuts right through you, even in cold
 weather clothing. But I didn't mind; I
 just walked faster and made Antonio run
 after me to keep up.

 Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a little
 bit pushy. It's not that I'm at all rude or
 mean; I just find it hard to be around slow
 people. I'm very athletic, and feel that men
 have a big advantage over women, strength-
 wise, and I've little patience with men who
 complain, or can't keep up with me.

 I gave little Antonio a hard time when he
 began whining about the pace I was setting;
 I just walked faster...

 I also said something that apparently
 offended his masculinity, and he was
 pretty morose for a time. Things livened
 up, though, when we got into our 1998
 Blazer and it wouldn't start.

 I had to get an attendant to take a look
 at the vehicle for me, and he kind of
 pissed me off when he took the attitude
 that I was just another dumb blonde who
 knew nothing about cars.

 Well... anyway, it was  a bad fuse, and it
 took him awhile to figure it out.  I was
 ready for another car, but they had no
 more 4WDs on the lot, and I thought, what
 with the crummy weather, it would be wise
 to stick with the one we had since we would
 be doing some mountain driving.

 We finally left the Sacramento airport about
 7:30pm, heading south on Interstate 5. I had
 no trouble finding the junction to Hwy 50,
 and then pushed the pedal to the metal.

 South Tahoe is a little over two hours from
 Sacramento, and I wanted to reach the hotel
 long before 10pm, so I was hurrying things
 a bit.

 About Plaserville the fog and snow started.
 The snow began falling like we were in the
 middle of a  blizzard. I had to slow down
 to fifty just to see twenty feet in front
 of me (so much for 10pm!).

 I started getting worried when I saw the fog
 thickening, and, slowing the Blazer down to
 twenty-five, we began creeping up the two-
 lane road. I knew we were in trouble just
 after we passed Kyburz when the side of the
 hill to the right of us slid down into the
 river that ran along the side of the road.

 There had been a forest fire sometime in the
 past year or two and the soil erosion was
 obvious, even in the dark. I stopped the
 truck in the middle of the snow-covered road
 and we watched soil and tree stumps tumbling
 into the rushing river. It was pitch dark,
 and the only reason we'd seen the hill go
 was that the area had been framed in the
 Blazer's headlights at the moment it let
 loose.

 Realizing that the weather was turning even
 worse, I pushed on, hoping to cover the
 remaining twenty-nine miles to Lake Tahoe
 before anything else nasty happened.

About ten miles farther on we had the big
 nasty, when the truck stopped. I mean,
 everything about it stopped. The headlights
 went out, the engine cut out, and we just
 sat there in the middle of the road.

 I kept trying  to re-start the engine, but
 after turning the key fifty times with no
 result I finally gave up.

 Antonio, in his helpful, male, adolescent
 way suggested that the problem might be a
 fuse.

 I knew that! - it's just that it hadn't
 yet occurred to me. So I scrunched down to
 look at the area the rental guy had been
 working on, and started picking at the panel
 that covered it.

 Well... I couldn't get it off. Antonio
 eventually got tired of me hitting the
 dashboard and swearing at the  plastic
 covering, so he got out of the passenger
 seat and trudged round the Blazer.

 Opening my door, he leaned in and flipped
 the hatch open. He flicked a Bic lighter
 to help him see what he was doing and
 soon found the bad fuse. He kept changing
 the fuses around as if he knew what he
 was doing, and eventually the headlights
 flashed on. I turned the ignition and the
 engine started up immediately - to stop
 once again as soon as Antonio had
 reclaimed the passenger seat.

 Cursing, he went to open his door again, but
 I grabbed his arm and said: "Just climb over
 me and I'll move to your side. The snow's
 getting too deep, and it's colder than the
 North Pole out there."

 Little Antonio hesitated, then did what I'd
 suggested.

 I hadn't planned on him rubbing his face
 across my chest, but I gave him the benefit
 of the doubt, and didn't punch him in the
 nuts to wipe the dumb grin off his face.

 Anyway, we couldn't get the Blazer to start
 again; Antonio reckoned that the lower-rated
 fuses were just popping their little filament
 thingies whenever we turned on the ignition.
 So there we were, stuck!

 The snow was coming down in bucketfuls, and
 the wind was whistling through a crack I'd
 left open in the driver's side window and
 then couldn't close because they were power
 windows (and we had no power).

 I suppose it took about ten minutes for all
 residual heat to be sucked out of the truck.
 It was about this time I realized that no
 cars had gone by us for almost a half-hour.
 I could barely see any tire tracks, since
 they had mostly filled up with snow.

 We learned later that when that hill slid
 down into the river it had made a kind of dam,
 bringing the water level up far enough to
 overflow the pavement. The authorities had
 caught on to the situation and stopped both
 the uphill traffic and the traffic from the
 top of the mountain until morning, making
 everyone go a different way.

 It really PO'ed me, though, that no-one
 checked the road to make sure it was empty.
 I guess they figured that everyone on it
 would keep traveling, and the people at the
 slide couldn't see us because we were miles
 up the road.

 I figured right away that something must be
 wrong, because Hwy 50 is quite an important
 artery between Lake Tahoe and the outside
 world.

 We waited another hour before I decided to
 put on the rest of my ski clothes over what
 I was already wearing. This is when I found
 out that sweet little Antonio only had a
 shaving kit and his laptop in his carry-on.

 He said his dad had everything, and that he
 was supposed to pick his stuff up at the
 consignor when we arrived (Oh great!).

 It wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't found
 ourselves stuck in a fog-blown snowstorm in
 sub-zero weather.

 I'm 5'4", and at my heaviest have never
 weighed more than 115 lbs (well, maybe 120,
 for six months, back in eighth grade).

 Antonio, on the other hand, was an inch over
 6 feet and probably weighed 175 lbs (yes, he
 is big for his age, isn't he?).

 I hated doing it, but I told Antonio to put
 my parka on (it would probably never be the
 same again), and since there was absolutely
 no hope of him fitting into my pants (Damn
 those tight pants, anyway!) I had him wrap as
 much spare clothing as we had around his legs.

 Our one remaining problem was that we were
 still freezing. We talked for what seemed like
 days. I found out that Andy (he preferred that
 to Antonio) was a musician, and that his dad
 didn't like that one bit. I also found out that
 he thought of himself as a square peg being
 forced into a round hole (His words, not mine),
 and that he wanted nothing more than his
 father's approval for what he was, not for
 what he wanted him to be.

 I could identify with that. Not that my folks
 harassed me or anything; they had my older
 sister Amy for that. I was an angelic fair-
 haired child compared to her. Amy did things
 like sending naked pictures of herself out on
 the Internet, getting then caught when a friend
 of the family told dad about it.)

 The point is that Andy and I were connecting;
 I was starting to think there was a person
 behind those handsome blank eyes. Inevitably,
 though, being a teenage boy, Andy brought the
 subject around to sex. We were talking about
 the Internet, and where the company's future
 might be heading, when little Andy said: "You
 know, I probably have the world's largest
 collection of pornography on my computer."

 I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of porno-
 graphy are we talking about, little man?"

 "Nude pictures and dirty sex stories." He
 looked me in the eye, waiting for me to be
 shocked and horrified.

 I just smiled my most innocent smile and
 asked him: "Do you have any on your
 lap-top?" I think he was shocked that a
 female would respond with a question like
 that instead of being indignant.

 "Uh, yah, I do. You want to see some?" he
 asked, a little worried now.

 I asked how many pictures and how many
 stories he had in his collection, and he
 replied proudly that he had hundreds.

 He had piqued my curiosity; it's not every
 day you meet a fellow collector of erotica.

 Andy pulled out his laptop and turned it on,
 then began, smiling coyly, and brought up
 picture after picture. I was surprised by the
 screen quality. (My laptop has a liquid
 crystal screen, and pictures don't look that
 great on it.)

 It was soon obvious that little Andy was a
 "doggy-style" man. Just about all his pictures
 were of couples having sex doggy-style. (It
 amazes me that people can get caught up in
 one thing to the exclusion of all the other
 good stuff in the world.)

 After I'd gone through just a part of his
 picture collection, I could tell he was
 becoming aroused. This I didn't need. However,
 his computer was sitting on my lap, and its
 warmth was heavenly. I couldn't believe he
 didn't know I was getting all this great heat.
 If I said I'd had enough of his pictures he'd
 probably turn the computer off, and I defi-
 nitely didn't want him to do that.

 So we continued looking at his adolescent
 dream-scapes for another hour or so, when the
 computer started to beep a 'low battery'
 warning.

 Disappointed, but now reasonably warm, I
 watched him turn it off and stow it in his
 carry-on.

 Andy had surprised me with a "guy" collection
 just before the battery warning went off. He
 had a nice collection of men, and I have to
 admit that looking at them had made me a little
 warmer than I would have been otherwise. I've
 always loved to look at naked men - not that
 I've had all that many chances to do it.

 It took Jeff a little while to get used to me
 always asking him to take his clothes off.

 As far as I'm concerned, if the heat's up in
 the apartment there's no reason for him to wear
 clothes. And he looks so nice naked.

 We sat for another hour in the cold, when I
 felt that I had to pee, and it soon became an
 urgent problem for me. If I'd been alone I
 might have just used the Burger King coke cup
 that was sitting in its holder, but with Andy
 in the car that was out of the question.

 At last I said: "I gotta pee. I'll  be right
 back." I'd been gone no more than a couple of
 minutes, taking care of my urgent business,
 before I was back in the driver's seat.

 I immediately felt like knocking little Andy
 Pascoe's block off, even though his dad was my
 boss. The little shit had dug my computer out
 of my carry-on and was running it, warming his
 lap.

 "HEY! BOZO! What the hell do you think you're
 doing?" I yelled in my most commanding tone.

 He looked up at me, a cherubic smile on his
 face, and said two words that stopped me in
 my tracks: "Kristen's Collection."

 I was speechless. I'd never thought about the
 consequences of having someone actually find
 out my other identity. I thought about being
 fired from my job; about this little jerk
 telling the whole world who I was. I mean,
 he had access to my home address, my home
 phone.

 Then he said: "Guess I didn't know what I was
 talking about, did I?  So you're Kristen, huh?
 Who'da guessed?"

 He looked at me when the computer battery
 started beeping. "You ought to keep it charged
 better," he said, as he shut it down.

 "I was using it on the plane. Now give it
 here! If you say anything to anyone I'll
 have to have you murdered. I hope you know
 that!"

 Andy just smiled and said: "I hadn't thought
 about it before, but this gives me a little
 power in our relationship, doesn't it?"

 "Relationship? We don't have a relationship.
 You're just a twerpy snoop who should have his
 legs broken at the knees." I knew I probably
 sounded pretty stupid, but I was flustered,
 and didn't know what else to say.

 "God, it's cold in here!" he said. "Don't worry
 about me saying anything. We're going to freeze
 to death tonight, anyway. I'm starting to wonder
 if we're going to make it." His teeth had
 started to chatter from the 

 I was worried too. Not so much about dying, but
 frostbite was a real threat. "Come on," I said
 "let's get in the back of the truck. If we lie
 down next to each other and cover ourselves
 with everything we have, maybe our combined
 body heat will give us some warmth."

 It was all I could suggest. Ever since I'd been
 outside to pee, I hadn't been able to get warm.
 I was starting to lose feeling in my toes, and
 the last thing I wanted was frozen toes.

 We climbed into the back of the Blazer and
 threw all my spare clothes on top of us. I
 rolled over on to my side and told Andy to
 spoon me. I thought I'd better throw in a
 warning. "But don't get any stupid adolescent
 ideas!"

 After what felt like weeks I looked at my
 lady's Swiss Army watch. It glowed back at me,
 almost mockingly. We'd lain there for less than
 twenty minutes. My toes were completely numb,
 and the cold was creeping up my legs. In fact,
 I was so cold by then that I knew I wouldn't be
 able to walk, even if there'd been some place
 to walk to.

 I asked Andy: "How do you feel?"

 "I'm really cold; what's worse, I'm horny. Have
 you any idea what lying like this is doing to
 me?" His voice cracked on "this".

 Normally I'd have good-naturedly teased him
 about his voice, but at that moment I was in
 pain.
 
 Slowly I came to the realization that we were
 in terrible trouble. If someone didn't come
 down the road soon, we might both be damaged
 for life. I pictured my feet with no toes, and
 me hobbling around on stumps for the rest of
 my life. The vision sparked me into action.

 The same thought kept running through my head.
 It was a saying that a girlfriend of mine used
 a lot. "Have you ever noticed that having sex
 will make a head-cold or an allergy go away.
 It's as if, while you're 'doing it', your body
 corrects any malfunction, or your mind regulates
 the body to make it feel better."

 She thought that this proved that mind always
 won over matter.

 A little hesitantly, I asked Andy: "How do your
 feet feel?"

 His response was muffled. "Like needles are
 being stuck in them. I'm so cold I don't think
 I can take it much longer."

 With a resigned sigh, I reached out my hand
 behind me and cupped his crotch. "How does this
 feel?" I asked.

 "Hey!" he yelped, his voice breaking again in
 his surprise.

 I felt his body jump when my fingers gripped
 him through his pants.

 Many thoughts ran through my mind right then.
 I listed the reasons why I shouldn't be doing
 this, and almost as quickly answered myself.

 I said to myself: 'I shouldn't do this because
 it would be cheating on Jeff.' I answered that
 objection with the argument that he would under-
 stand that the situation called for drastic
 action.'

 Then I thought: 'I don't have any condoms',
 and just as quickly my brain manufactured the
 obvious answer: 'Andy's obviously a virgin,
 so I won't catch anything from him'.

 Boom, another problem: 'You'll get fired if
 his dad finds out you fucked his little pride
 and joy'. Of course, the choice between death
 and dismissal was easy to make.

 Soon I'd reconciled myself to what I was going
 to do. I began to massage Andy through the
 material of his pants. He quieted down for a
 bit and just lay there, letting me fiddle with
 him.

 Very soon, however, he began writhing around
 behind me. It occurred to me that it wasn't
 good enough just to get him off. We needed to
 generate some serious body heat, and for both
 of us. At the same time I realized that Andy
 wouldn't last very long the first time. So I
 rolled over to face him and started kissing
 him. (I love kissing guys. It's even better
 than dancing with them, and I LOVE to dance.)

 It never fails to get me going when I kiss a
 guy, even Andy, and I badly needed to get
 myself in the mood for what I knew had to be
 done.

 He was kissing me back now. I could barely
 make out his face in the dark as we kissed.
 His eyes were closed tight and he had this
 desperate look on his face. I could tell he
 was lost in the sensations of the moment; it
 was touching to see his urgency. I kept my
 eyes open and watched him responding to me.

 After a short while I steeled myself to take
 the next step. Andy needed to get that first
 orgasm out of the way, and I didn't want to
 have to lie in his wet spots the rest of the
 night.

 That left me with a decision: which way to
 take him. I decided quickly, and used both
 hands to unfasten his pants. I figured he'd
 last about ten seconds, and I didn't want
 him spurting all over everything.

 Pants unfastened, boner out and waving. I
 shut my eyes and kissed it. I was worried
 that if I played around he'd make that
 mess I didn't want over me, so I gave him
 one of my Jeff specials.

 Jeff likes it best when I give him lots of
 lip friction in fast, deep dives, at each
 withdrawal swirling my tongue on the under-
 side and at the little flange round the head.
 I do that ten or twelve times, then take him
 in my hands and slowly jack his long wang,
 then make the dives again. I repeat that
 till he can't hold back any more, and I
 either take him internally or let him shoot
 all over the place. I only do it, though,
 when I want to reward him for something
 really  nice he's done for me; otherwise
 I'm a little more selfish about sex.

 With little Andy it took just three dives
 before he was groaning and jerking around
 under me. I was enjoying myself until an
 uncomfortable thought popped into my mind
 while Andy was pumping his sperm down my
 throat.

 I was 'cheating' on Jeff. Next moment I was
 mad at Jeff for making me feel guilty. Didn't
 he want me to stay alive and in one piece?
 It's not as if I was going to run away with
 this kid or anything. (Isn't it funny how we
 can turn blame around for anything if we need
 to?)

 I continued swallowing Andy's sperm, though
 I was beginning to find it heavy going. By
 the time he had his last spasm in my mouth
 I was feeling a little bloated.

 Although though I was a little queasy from
 taking so much of a strange guy's spunk, I
 preferred that to having it freeze on our
 skin, or on the carpet underneath us.

 Andy's eyes were still closed, and my hand
 was still on his nice looking cock. I took
 the opportunity to examine it as it stuck out
 of his pants fly. It had the nicest shape.
 I've only seen a few guys' cocks in real
 life, but his was one of the nicest weenies
 I'd ever seen. It was kind of thick, and
 probably about five inches long; it looked
 like a sculpture.

 I'm not making a lot of sense, am I? I guess
 you had to be there to know what I'm talking
 about.

 Although I felt a little better, blood
 circulation-wise, my toes were still numb,
 and I knew that I needed some real exertion,
 and also what I had to do to get it.

 So I unzipped my black ski pants and pulled
 one leg off. Andy was lying on his back
 watching me struggle with my pants. He looked
 amused, the little crud.

 I knew I'd lose body heat by taking my pants
 off, but couldn't figure out any other way to
 do what I had in mind. I also knew I needed
 to be on top if I really wanted to get my
 circulation to flow properly.

 When I'd taken my pants off one leg, I put on
 one leg of another outfit on my other leg,
 leaving the essential area bare while at the
 same time protecting my legs from the cold. I
 mustn't lie; I was dripping with anticipation.

 My sex life had focused on Jeff for the past 18
 months, and before that, sporadically, on two
 other guys. So this was new and exciting to me,
 no matter how much I wanted to pretend it was a
 life-saving exercise.

 I knelt beside Andy and unbuttoned his pants,
 opening his fly completely. Then I tugged at his
 waistband, and pulled his pants part-way down
 his thighs.

 YES! He really looked good to me. What I could
 see of his stomach was really tight. He didn't
 have a lot of hair on his body, reminding me a
 little of a muscular female, except that his
 cock was fully hard and waiting.

 I didn't want to wait any longer myself. I knew
 I was wet enough for him, so I straddled his
 body and took his shiny cock in my hand, then
 sank down on it.

 I've another confession to make: he felt lovely
 inside me, his thick cock completely filling me
 up. I immediately started to ride him; his father
 couldn't have stopped me at that moment if he'd
 shown up and knocked on the window.

 Andy was watching me; I could tell, even with my
 eyes closed. I was thrusting my hips forward
 without rising up, like a lady bronco rider,
 rubbing myself as hard as I could against him,
 luxuriating in the feeling of him inside me.

 It had been a long time since I'd experienced
 the thrill of sex with a stranger. I thought a
 little guiltily about Jeff, and then about how
 it had been with him the first time.

 I'd seduced him on the balcony of my little
 apartment. I remembered how good it had felt
 to have Jeff on top of me that lazy afternoon;
 to have his strong, Nordic cock thrusting deep
 inside me.

 "Ooooohhhh GOD! YES!" I was coming on top of
 Andy in one of the most intense orgasms I think
 I've ever had. Thinking about fucking Jeff while
 I was really doing it to Andy just seemed to
 push me over the edge.

 My body was shivering on top of Andy's, and he
 was gasping as I rammed him as deep as I could
 into me. He felt so good!

 I watched his stomach muscles flex as he thrust
 back rhythmically at me. He suddenly looked as
 if he found it hard to catch his breath, and
 began gasping for air.

 As he raised his upper body to hug me I knew
 he was having his own orgasm deep inside me.
 The thought of a stranger coming inside me
 brought on another, more leisurely, orgasm as
 I continued to rub myself luxuriously against
 him, taking him in as deep as he would go.

 He held on to my neck for almost a full minute
 before falling back to the floor of the Blazer
 with a sigh that told me he was done. I leaned
 forward and kissed him, making sure he stayed
 inside me while we embraced.

 Meanwhile I realized my toes were feeling normal
 again; in fact I felt quite flushed and in rude
 health. I looked up and noticed that the wind-
 shield was completely fogged up, and tried to
 calculate how long we could keep our pleasant
 afterglow.

 I figured we'd be OK for a half-hour or so. I
 looked at my watch and saw that it was 1am.
 Hmmm, at this rate we were going to be awfully
 tired tomorrow.

 Let's see, 1am, half an hour of warm blood
 circulation... say, dawn at 7am, maybe 8 before
 anyone gets down here. Let's see... How often
 do we need to. ..?

 
 Epilogue:

 It was almost 8am before a snowplow came down
 the road, with the highway patrol following
 behind.

 The patrolman was amazed that we were so fit
 after the night we'd endured. He fixed our fuse
 and let us go on our way.

 Andy and I dragged ourselves through the
 Wednesday morning meetings. His father let us
 go after the noon break because we looked so
 tired.

 I let Andy stay with me that afternoon, as a
 special good-bye for both of us. We'll always
 be special friends, and I don't think I need
 to worry about him giving any secrets away.

 He's now on my story list; in fact, he'll be
 getting this. (I tried to encourage him to
 write the same story from his perspective, and
 hope he does; it would be interesting to read.)

 Oh, one more thing. I kicked some butt on the
 slopes on Saturday - though my ski outfit did
 look a little rumpled.


                     *

 Acknowledgments: All my thanks... to Stephen for
 his encouragement and proofing and to Ian for
 doing such a good job editing my little story.

 (c) April 1998 -- Last ed. 03/18/00 - 
 Kristen Kathleen Becker -  Kristen078@Hotmail.com

                     MY STORY PAGE
         http://www.asstr.org/~Kristen/stories
                        = or =
          http://kristenstories.web1000.com/

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
 It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex
 with strangers. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* un-
 protected sex with strangers!!  You only have one
 body per lifetime, so take good care of it.
 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
