Usual disclaimer:  This story involves sexual subject matter.  If you aren't
old enough to read this, go home!  Don't blame me if you have problems
which result from reading further.

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  Please don't
distribute in an altered form, or with any charges for acquisition.

This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to real persons is
unintentional and strictly coincidental. Any real people, places, or things
mentioned in this story do not appear with permission, and any
representations of them should not be interpreted as being in any way based
on reality.

If reception of this work is illegal due to your age or other repressive local
regulations, liability for downloading it is your problem, not mine. 



Picking Berries in the Rain - by Jeff Zephyr -- Part 1 of 4
(jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  All Commercial Rights Reserved.

"Picking Berries in the Rain" (MF cons, M solo, MF oral rom)

(Or, "Picking Berries, Naked in the Summer Rain")

Picking Berries in the Rain (MF cons, M solo, MF oral rom) 1/4 {Jeff Zephyr}

This story was inspired by "Summer Fun Ideas," a post on {assd} by Baird
Allen in Summer 2000.  It had other inspirations, including another story
about a different situation involving a girl walking in the rain on a country
road I read in a magazine (don't remember more about that), and another
experience involving picking berries.

===


My place is a lonely farmhouse on a country road, with nothing around it
for miles, except farmland and trees.  My name's Aaron, and I lived there
alone, except for my pets. I'm not exactly old, in my mid-thirties.  It feels
older than that, though it doesn't show on my body.  I wanted to be alone,
after a severely painful divorce, which had left me without wife or child. 
This place suited me, for how I felt.  Plenty of fresh air and solitude.  Fields
and forest to explore, a small garden to tend, two cats and a dog for
companions.

I'm an artist, sometimes, a photographer, writer, and when necessary, a
computer web designer, though I prefer to stick to things where I feel I'm
using my creativity.  I can afford this lonely life, and don't need to disturb it
by going in to work for anyone, or meet with clients or crap like that. I
didn't need company for days at a time, and I had no nosy neighbors to
intrude.  My closest neighbor, a real farmer, wasn't too nosy, and would
even come past my house and be polite enough not to stop, unless I walked
out to meet him or said something.  I wasn't unhappy with this situation.  It
was comfortable, and safe, and even if it was a bit lonely, at least it wasn't
filled with pain and shame.


It was a warm, summer Friday.  It had rained a little in the morning, and
thunderstorms were predicted for that weekend.  I had no pressing
business, and had been working on my computer all morning, so I decided
to relax a bit by lunch time.  After lunch, I decided to read some sexy
stories in the free newsgroups, such as alt-sex-stories-moderated, and was
enjoying myself, imagining romance and love, as well as sex. In real life, I
avoided looking for romance since my divorce, preferring to imagine it
rather than risk the dangers in real relationships. The thunderstorms came,
and I decided to trust in the UPSs and power protectors, and just kept on
reading and relaxing, curled up with a cup of tea and crackers, and some
stories.    


The doorbell rang Bong! Bong! Not a quiet chime, but electric gongs, loud
enough that you could hear it a block from the house, if there were city
blocks here.

"Not expecting anyone, Roy?" I told my brown tabby cat.  "Either of you
invite anyone over?" I asked my other cat, Dale, and my dog, Tex. I wasn't
expecting an answer, but I talked to them a lot when I was thinking about
doing something other than sitting still at the computer, taking pictures, or
making music.

The visitor turned out to be a young woman in her early twenties.  She was
very pretty and totally wet.  Wearing a thin white blouse, blue shorts, with
no bra under her top, she looked like a wet cat with her hair sticking to her
head, but the rest was a delightful female vision of sensuality, or a
teenager's wet dream -- a wet T-shirt contest winner stopped for a visit. 
Her top didn't conceal anything, showing her lovely breasts and hard
nipples. She was standing on my porch, and the rain was blowing in, as it
was not enclosed.  

"I need help," she told me. "My car's broken down a bit down the road,"
she said, pointing away from the direction to the nearest town.  "If you
could let me use your phone for a minute, I could call a garage and get
help."

"You can just come on in and use the phone," I told her.  "I'll get some
blankets and towels, so you can dry off.  You'll catch your death, soaked
like that," I told her.  I had noticed her body, and her breasts were
especially attractive, beautiful and wet, erect nipples pointing up at me. 
But I was able to divert my eyes from staring, and I didn't want to
embarrass her more than she already was.  It was quite a few miles to the
next nearest phone, and the nearest house was empty that day, my
neighbors off on a trip for a few days.  She wasn't young enough to be my
daughter, if I had one.  Neither was she old enough to act with experience,
and she looked distraught, letting me see her as she was now.  

She tried to cover her chest with her hands, but the wind and rain started to
pull at her blouse, pushing it up.  She had to keep one hand on it, to stop it
from flying off, making it impossible for her to conceal her breasts.

"I'll just stay out here, if you don't mind, if you can just get the phone, and
something to cover me with."

"I'll do that, just wait a minute."

It didn't take long to find a spare blanket and a towel, and my phone was
cordless, so I could drag it out there.  As I handed her the blanket, the
thunder started to roll and crash again, and the wind howled.  The rain
came down hard, and little pellets of hail started to follow.

"That's OK, thanks, just let me in out of this?" she asked me.  I did that,
letting her wrap the blanket around her.

"You can dry off in my room, the one at the end of the hall there," I
pointed.  "There are towels on the dresser or in the bathroom. The door
has a lock, so you'll be safe.  You can use any of the clothes from the left
closet, whatever you need, don't worry about it.  Get dried off, and I'll
make a pot of tea. That will be good to warm you up.  You can get your
things dried using my electric dryer, it won't take long."

She went off, down the hall.  I went to make tea, got some biscuits and
pastry out, and waited in the kitchen.

She came out wearing a thick, white knee-length robe.  I couldn't see what
she had put on under it, not right away.  She had a small bundle of clothes,
her wet ones, which she handed to me.  I gave her the cup of tea, told her
the number to call for our local gas station and garage, and took her
clothes off to dry.

I knew she wasn't wearing much, but along with a blouse, shorts, and a
pair of socks, I found wet, lacy black panties.  I knew there were no
women's panties in my closet, even if I wasn't sure about other kinds of
clothing.  There were pants, perhaps, but no shorts.  She was attractive,
and I had been alone for a while.  And my recent reading had not done
much to distract my physical nature, either. I put her clothes in the washer
for a quick rinse before drying, and waited a bit, breathing slowly, and
relaxed, trying not to think about how sexy she was.  She was a woman,
alone in the country, in a house with a man she doesn't know.  The Rule I
live by, the Golden Rule which my Dad taught me and much more, meant
that I couldn't do anything about this attraction.  I had to help her, that was
just being neighborly.  If she were a young man, I'd have no trouble
ignoring her attractions.  At least, I thought I wouldn't   living alone
makes you wonder about such things.  Anyway, I didn't want to act like a
fool, or hurt this young woman, so I went back, thinking of things like how
the rain was going to mess up the harvest, and what work I'd need to be
doing next week.  It didn't work completely, but at least I didn't stare at
her body, and didn't show any major signs of my reaction to her.  I could
see what she was wearing under the robe, though, and that did provoke a
slight reaction.  It was a long, thick cotton night shirt, not exactly a night
gown, just a long shirt.  I was able to resist thinking too much about what
was underneath that, especially given how much I had seen out there, in the
rain.

We hadn't yet been introduced, what with her getting dried off, and me
making tea, and such.  So I decided to do that.

"My name's Aaron," I told her, putting my hand out.  She took it, and
shook it gently.

"Don't laugh, but I'm called Ursula."

"Why would I laugh?  That seems like a nice name."

"Maybe, but I get teased about it.  You could call me Sulie, my friends call
me that," she answered.  Then, she pointed to her robe and asked, "Are
these your wife's clothes?"

"No, my ex-wife.  We've been divorced for quite a while, a couple of 
years now or so.  I haven't cleared her closet out, or even opened it much
since then.  Foolish to do that, maybe, but . . ."

"Didn't she want them?"

"No, she had all new high-fashion clothes, a new wardrobe, bought when
she left me.  Said I could keep her trash, or throw it out, she didn't care.  I
just never wanted to look at it or worry about it, that's all." My ex's robe
looked good on her, and there was something enticing about her wet hair,
or maybe, about any woman soaked, wearing a soft robe. "You can keep
any clothes that fit, I don't need them.  I could have tossed them out,
before, but I never needed the space for my own things.  They'll just go to
waste otherwise, and it seems to fit on you just fine."

Well, we got tea and cookies, and I made the phone call for her, to get help
for her car.  There's only one towing garage in the area, and it's closed
most Fridays with a "Gone Fishing" sign on the door.  

"There's no answer.  Dan says he goes fishing, but he's not likely to be out
in this weather.  He doesn't stay open for weekends, and there's no one
else I can think of close enough to come right away.  I'll call up his house,
maybe he or his wife is around."

I got the answering machine at Dan's, saying that they were out, leave a
message.  I did that, explaining that there was a woman's car broken down
on my road, and he should call right away about it.  Ursula was listening,
and said "Will he be back soon?"

"I can't say.  If he hasn't gone off somewhere for whatever reason, yes,
and if he calls back, it might not be 'til tomorrow."  She frowned at that.
"How'd you manage to get stuck here, on my road to nowhere?"

"I took a wrong turn after I went off the interstate to avoid some
construction.  I stopped at a little cafe to rest and get a bite, then decided
to wander around the countryside, as long as I was here.  I'm not from this
state, but I figured that I'd just keep going, hit the main highway again, and
find my way."  She laughed, and with a grin, said, "This reminds me of that
movie, "Doc Hollywood."  Here I am, crossing the country for the
opportunity of my life, and I manage to get lost with my car broken down."

"There was a girl in that movie who got wet like you, soaked.  She wasn't
lost, though."

I continued, distracted by thoughts of a naked skinny dipper, comparing
her to the very lovely girl who'd accidently revealed her bare breasts under
her shirt to me. "OK, it will be a while, maybe, before you can find
someone else to fix your car.  Or else, Dan will get around to calling back. 
It could cost an arm and a leg for a weekend tow out of the county.  Dan's
good, he might even fix it without towing."

"You got a phone book?  I could check out some places, maybe there is
someplace reasonable?"

"Sure. Go ahead, the phone's right there.  Don't worry about it if it says
long distance, either   everywhere is long distance from here."

I didn't interrupt her as she made a few calls, but no luck.  She asked me if
I'd mind her making a real long distance call. "Fine, don't worry about it."

After she left a message on someone's answering machine, she started to
ask about me.  I was a bit short, and said "I don't want to talk about
myself, if you don't mind."

She didn't seem to mind much, and talked some about her situation.  She
had a good job waiting, and a boyfriend who loved her.  "Usually, though,
men say something nice about how I look.  You saw a bit more of me than
most men do, for a first appearance, you know?"

"You look nice, if you're looking for a compliment.  It's hard to explain,
how I've been."  I leaned back in my chair, thinking.  I hadn't talked much
to anyone about my feelings for a long time."

I went on, a feeling of old pain entering me, "I've been alone here for a
while now, since the divorce.  You're attractive enough, but I didn't want
to change my life, do anything about it, not even for a pretty naked-looking
girl at my door.  Besides, it'd be impolite to stare at you, or impose on you,
in your trouble."

"I'm used to a little bit of flirting, I don't mind it.  I was worried that you
didn't like me or something, that my tits were too small, maybe, I dunno,
you just didn't like women   except that you were married." Sulie frowned,
adding "Sorry, I didn't mean that exactly.  I haven't seen my fiance in
months, just talked on the phone.  I'd expect a warm reaction from him if I
showed up looking like this, and was just surprised that you were so polite,
such a gentleman about my predicament."

"It's a long story, a sad one, I don't want to bother you with.  It's not just
the divorce, or the way you look.  It's 'The Rule.'  The way you looked,
soaked and scared like a wet cat, the last thing I wanted to do was to scare
you more.  It's against 'The Rule' to impose yourself on someone else,
especially when they're in a bad situation."

"What is 'The Rule'?"
          
"That's a bit hard to explain too. It's something my dad taught me, about
living right.  It isn't just one thing, but doing everything to be kind to your
neighbor.  It starts off with the old 'Do unto others' thing, and goes on."

We talked some more, nothing deep, about the rain and when it might stop,
about her trip.  She asked to make another long distance call, and I let her. 
She left another message.  When she asked about finding someplace to
stay, while she waited, I told her "You can stay here.  Besides, you'll need
to get to your car, wherever you go, and Dan will be trying to call back."

"I wouldn't be imposing on you, would I?"

"No, I'm not too busy."

"What were you doing, when I interrupted?"

"Using my computer.  For work, partly, other things too."  I'd forgotten
exactly what I'd been using the machine for, and what was on the screen.  I
didn't think about it at the moment, but it had interesting repercussions.

"Your wife had big tits, didn't she?  Bigger than my little ones?"

"Yah, she did.  How d'ya know that?"

"There was a bikini top in the closet, buried in the corner.  I was hoping
that there might be matching bottoms, but no luck.  The top was so loose
when I tried it on, it just fell off, no point in even using it. My tits are just
tiny things, I hardly need anything to cover them, they're just too small."

"They looked fine to me.  'Sides, it wasn't my ex's tit size that made me
fall in love with her.  You look very fine, beautiful.  On the porch, you
were a literal wet dream come true."

"So, that isn't coming on to me?"
                                   
"I don't think so; It's just stating facts."  Too much of the facts, I realized. 
"I'm sorry, maybe it is, but when you showed up at my door looking like
that I couldn't avoid feeling something from it.  I don't want to suggest
that we do anything about it, especially when you have a man that you love
waiting for you."

A pensive, thoughtful look crossed her face. "I was wondering if I could
ask a favor.  If your computer can go on the Internet?"  

"Yes, it is, cable system makes that always work."

"I'd like to check my email.  I'm expecting an important message from
someone."

"I suppose, it doesn't cost anything extra.  It's one of the advantages of
having cable TV come through this wilderness."

My reader screen was minimized, and she wasn't looking at it yet.  I could
see the group title in it, though, and started to worry what Sulie would
think.  She didn't look at it, though, starting the web browser, and going to
her email site.  At least, I thought she didn't.

"Alt Sex Stories Moderated . . . hmmm," she mused, and clicked on it. 
There was a tale of hot, romantic sex up.  "I guess you aren't completely
ignoring sex, are you?"

I didn't say anything, but I flushed with embarrassment.  She went to her
email screen, which was ready for her to check.  I was going to leave, but
she started reading the names off to me, and talking, so I figured it would
be impolite.

"There's nothing here from my 'special friend.'  He may check his email
before his phone messages, so I'll just tell him what's happened, and why I
may be late."

"OK, that's a good idea."

"Now, about those stories.  I've read them too.  I think it's cool that there
are all those wonderful, sexy words, free for everyone to read. Especially,
when I'm alone, my man far away."

"Not too surprising, I suppose.  They can be a lot of fun."

"What happened with you and your ex-wife?"

"Might talk about it more later, maybe.  It wasn't a happy split, tons of
trouble.  It has been a long time, it seems, but it still bugs the hell out of
me.  I've gotten used to being alone.  And stories are much safer."

"Not as satisfying, though."

"No.  Still, I've got to live my life, and I'm pretty comfortable with the way
things are.  It isn't easy to meet someone nice.  I couldn't handle it if I
found another bad relationship, not like what happened."

"That's no reason not to look.  You're not that old, and you don't look 
bad.  Not that I'm trying to flirt, but you look very nice to me!" Sulie said,
grinning widely.

Changing the subject, I asked her "Would you like something to drink.  I
mean, something warm and spirited?  We've got brandy, some wines,
whiskey . . . "

"Brandy with soda would be nice."

"I'll get it, and be right back."

When I came back with the glasses, drinks mixed on a tray, and the bottles,
she was looking through my CD collection.  I have a lot, all kinds of music. 
Part of that is for work, most of it is because I love it all.

"Do you really like all this stuff?  I mean, here are top hits, mixed in with
Bach, Beethoven, Mozart, lots of classical stuff.  Glenn Miller, Charlie
Parker, Elvis, Buddy Holly, every Beatles album I ever heard of, yet then,
here's Led Zeppelin, Kid Rock, Devo, Dr Dre, Britney, Smashmouth."

She looked around some more, then asked "What should I play?"

"Anything you like.  I like all of it."

She picked a mix of pop stuff and jazz, and went back by the computer.  I
thought she'd check her email again, or something like that.  Instead, she
went to the stories, and asked me, "Maybe, we could read them together? 
It would sure keep me from worrying."

Then, we read for a while.  Stories about all kinds of sex, hot ones, kinky
ones, and talked about it a bit.  I explained about how I just couldn't, ever,
force a woman.  Rape stories just aren't fun. "Maybe little bit as a fantasy,
but not real."

Sulie found one marked as a rape story, and we read it.  She asked me,
"Did that turn you on, even a little?"

"Ok, but it wouldn't if it were real.  No, the sex part was OK, but the rest
was - ugh!"

"It doesn't for me, either, not as real. I wouldn't expect a nice guy to do
something like that."

"I suppose that's true."

"Aaron, still, you won't get far with it if you don't at least try."

"I wouldn't be sure about that.  If a man doesn't let a woman know he's
interested, she can always drop a hint or two of her own.  Or just come out
directly."

"Guess that's true."  Sulie took a drink, then added, "I suppose I should
check my email again."

There was a letter from her friend, which she'd been waiting for.  I moved
away to let her read it in private, but she didn't look happy.  She made
gasping, sighing sound, almost like she's going to cry.

I turned back and asked, "What's wrong?"

"I guess  . . .  I can show you, just read it, it's easier."

I did that.  It started out with "Sulie, I'm sorry," and it went downhill.  I
read, "perhaps it's not a good idea for you to come all this way and move
in, after all.  I've thought about you often and still love you.  It seems best
that we keep some distance between us.  Since you aren't that far along,
you should just go back home, and we can talk later."

Sulie sobbed, "But I can't go home!  I've packed up everything, cut my
lease, sold off stuff.  I don't have anywhere to go."

She leaned against me, sobbing, and I let her stay there.  "I'm sorry, I don't
want to be a bother or anything.  I just don't know what to do."

"Rest here a bit, relax.  I'll make dinner.  Maybe we can think of
something."

I left her in the living room as I went into the kitchen. "I was going to cook
up some lasagna, does that sound good?" I asked from the kitchen.

"Fine," she said back loudly.

I came back and found her with my three pets laying by her, watching Roy
get petted on her lap.  "I see you've met the rest of my family."  I
introduced them, and she laughed at the names.
"I guess you aren't totally alone, not with them around."

"No, I can do without people, sometimes, but not them."

Dinner gave us a chance to relax, and her tears were gone.  I hadn't
listened, or tried not to listen, when she was sobbing earlier.  I felt she
needed to do that, to let her pain out without my disturbing her.  I didn't
know exactly what her relationship was like, but it didn't seem like a nice
way for it to end.
                                        
After dinner, I said, "We should go into the parlor, and relax."

"Parlor?  Like the spider and the fly?"

"No, like an old-style country house.  It's got a piano, and I can play it OK. 
It's a nice way to relax, and I think you might need that."

My parlor has an old upright piano in it, an acoustic guitar hung up next to
that, some antique wooden end tables, and a big, stuffed leather couch. I
went over to the piano and started playing, a bit of this and that.  She
started singing along, and laughing.  It seemed to be helping.

"Maybe, your boyfriend still wants you.  You could call him, or email him,
and find out what he really wants.  Even if not, you're still a nice, young,
attractive girl, and I'm sure you can figure out something."

That got her attention, and she brightened right up.  She moved away
quickly, going to my living room, with the computer.  She checked her
email again   no news.  She wrote a quick message to her friend, used the
phone, but there was no one home, again.  After she hung up, she asked
"Perhaps we could read some more stories?"

We listened to music, and read some interesting tales, drinking wine this
time.  I was too tired, though, to feel like reading for that long.  She was
too, after a long walk in the rain and a stressful day.  Her clothes were dry,
so I told her that. 

"No point in changing into them, if I'm just going to go
to sleep soon," she replied.

***

===

Copyright by Jeff Zephyr (jeffzeph@hotmail.com) 2001.  Please don't
distribute in an altered form, with removal of any part of the story or
author credit and copyright info.  Do not distribute it, or place it on a
website, CDROM, or other location or publication, with any charges for
acquisition, either to access the site or archive, or any other charges
specifically for the story, without permission.

If you liked this story, want to put it in a free collection, want to tell me
how I could write better, or just would like to say hello, write to me at my
email address shown above.

You can find more of my stories and other things at my website:

http://www.asstr.org/~jeffzephyr/

or via FTP:

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/jeffzephyr/