

The following work of fiction contains sexual activities between
consenting adults. If you are too young, too uptight, or your
local government is too oppressive, you should stop reading now.



This story is in the public domain. While you are legally free
to do anything you like with it, out of courtesy to the author,
I humbly request that you leave my name and contact information
with this story.


November Third
By Poison Ivan



By Poison Ivan

_Warning! The following work of fiction contains 
sexual activities between consenting adults. You must be at least 18 
years old to read it._

The attendant--it's Karen today instead of Lila--stares at me from
her booth.  I hope Lila is all right.  She barely said five words to
me yesterday, and she looked a little pale.

Karen, she's the newest attendant, and she still looks at me as if
I were an abandoned puppy about to be put to sleep.  I think Karen
will ask me out for coffee soon.  Most of the new ones do.  It's hard
to understand why they bother, though.  You would think the word would
get around.

I hop up into my regular chair and adjust the seat back and arm
rests.  For the past couple weeks, Lila had been adjusting the seat
for me before I got in.  No attendant has ever done something like
that for me before.  Lila is definitely a sweet one.  Not that
adjusting the seat really matters that much, but still, it's a nice
gesture.  I think maybe I should do something for Lila, buy her a
present or something.  She has been very kind to me.

I settle back into the steel and foam chair and, just like always,
I clip myself into the terminals.  The newer model chairs don't need
clips, you just sit there, but I like the old style chairs better.  I
suppose I'm a bit set in my ways.

I sit, and just like always, I clench my right hand tight until I
feel the edges of the photograph press into my palm.  And, just like
always, I pull the visor down over my eyes.  It is dark behind the
visor.  Dark and quiet.

Darkness.  Karen's voice, the barest whisper, fills my ears.  "Are
you ready, Mr. Rice?"

I wave my hand for her to start.  I inhale and hold.

The scene gradually brightens.  A cold, blue sky.  Our house
perched up on the slight rise of the hill.  A door slamming shut, and
Rachel shuffling out.

Ah.  November third.  I exhale.

November third has sex in it.  It's a good one.

             * * *


The first hard freeze of the winter had hit the night before.  The
ground was covered with brown and orange maple leaves, and the shady
areas under the trees sparkled with frost.  Rachel's breath formed
short, pretty puffs.

Rachel was bundled up in a stocking cap and scarf and mittens, her
thick gray coat pulled tight around her.  Her cheeks shone pink, and
her lips glowed a lusty red.  She shaded her eyes against the bright
autumn sun.  "Where'd you put the rake?" she asked.

The icy air grabbed at my lungs.  I liked cold weather.  I felt
limber and coltish.  And I liked doing things for Rachel--all she had
to do was ask, and I would happily serve.  The rake was all the way
around in the front yard, where I had left it the day before, leaned
up against the old maple tree.  "I'll get it," I said.  "Be back in a
flash."

As I walked along the side of the house, I thought back to Rachel
getting dressed that morning.  When we were younger, Rachel had never
been shy.  She would dress, undress, pee, bathe ... she'd do almost
anything in front of me.  But she had recently started dressing behind
a locked bathroom door.  I used to see her naked all the time, but
apparently those days were over.  I completely understood her need for
more privacy, of course, but it made me sad that she felt she needed
to hide from me.

That morning had been a treat, though.  As we rose from bed to meet
the day, she reverted to her old self.  She dressed standing in front
of the bedroom mirror again, just like before.  And, just like before,
I thrilled at the sight of her pulling her panties up over her white
bottom, and of her fastening her bra.  Since we would be working
outside, she pulled on thermal underwear.  Soft, long underwear, cream-
colored, a layer of dimpled cloth that hugged her entire body,
covering everything but her feet and hands and head.

She noticed me looking at her in the mirror.  I smiled, trying to
let her know that I loved her.  Rachel's mouth went slack and she
lowered her eyes.

I reached the tree and grabbed the rake.  I leaned against the tree
for a moment.  I sighed.  Rachel lowering her eyes.  I didn't like
that.  In fact, I hated it.  I understood it, but I still hated it.

With the rake dragging behind me, I walked back towards the
backyard.  As I rounded the corner of the house, Rachel was there, by
herself, kicking through the loose leaves.  She stared at the ground
around her feet and didn't see me coming.  I stopped at the corner and
watched for a moment.  I didn't often get a chance to observe her
without her knowing.

She danced around in the leaves, sometimes sweeping kicks,
sometimes little back and forth shuffles, sometimes skipping.  She
took several big kicks, and the leaves puffed up off the ground and
floated back down.

She bent over and gathered up a big handful of leaves and tossed
them into the air.  She looked up into the sky as they showered down
on her face, her smile wide.  I had not seen her smile like that since
... since ...

She was still smiling when her eyes lowered from the sky.  Her eyes
lowered, and she caught me watching.

Her expression shifted.  Just a subtle shift.  Still smiling, her
eyes still shining.  Beautiful.  But the tiniest change in the shape
of her eyes and in the curve of her lips.  She placed her gloved hand
on her hip.

Could this be the same woman who wouldn't return my smile in the
bedroom?  The blood rushed to my groin.

I dropped the rake.  Rachel swept her cap back, letting loose her
hair.  Her eyes opened up wide and dark.

I walked towards her.  She took a few hesitant steps forward.  If
we had been further apart, maybe we would have run.  We stopped just a
few feet apart.

And there we stood for a few heartbeats.  Looking at one another.

We stood and stared, our combined breath forming a wispy fog.  It
felt like gravity was pulling us towards one another.  We reached out
at the same time, and our hands touched.  For another beat, we just
held each other's gloved hands.  And then the gravity overwhelmed us,
and we melted together.

Her hands came up under my arms to my shoulders, and I pulled her
against me by the small of her back.  Her body molded up close and our
mouths met.  We squeezed and kissed.  Lippy kisses, alternating upper
and lower lips.

Rachel's mittened fingers struggled with my belt buckle.  I grabbed
her breasts through thick layers of clothing.  I felt a shock of cold
on my butt as she yanked my pants down.  My penis popped up stiff.
Her wool-covered hands wrapped around my shaft.

We toppled over into a pile of dry leaves.

I struggled with Rachel's slacks, got them down to her feet.  Her
long underwear was soon tangled around her shoes.  I rolled on top of
her, worked my way between her bowed-open legs.

Rachel panted and I kissed her, a short, desperate kiss.  My penis
slapped between her bare thighs.

I grabbed hold of myself and aimed towards Rachel's warm core.  I
pressed the head of my penis into her wonderfully warm pussy.  Rachel
hummed.  I shimmied, then moved shallowly in and out, then rocked
deeper until my entire cock was buried in her cunt.

I began to pump.  Rachel grabbed my ass.  Her wool mittens felt
scratchy.  "Uh huh," she gasped.

And we fucked.  We fucked, grunting and gasping.

Rachel hooked her arm around my neck and pulled me down.  We kissed
hungrily.  Rachel's bare knees rose up to my bare hips.  She even gave
me a weak squeeze.

Incredibly, she found the strength to push me off her.  We tumbled
around in the leaves.  I rolled around until I was lying in the
leaves, and Rachel got up on top, straddling me.  I had fallen out of
her pussy during the roll, and the freezing cold was a sudden shock to
my wet cock.  I quickly held it straight up, eager to feel the warmth
and comfort of Rachel's cunt again.  And she settled down over me,
slowly lowering, my penis entering her vagina, engulfing me with her
slippery heat, until she sat firmly on my hips.

She sat above me and smiled.  She picked up a couple leaves that
brushed up against my face and tossed them away.  She stroked my cheek
with her mitten.

And then she settled down purposefully.  I was way up inside her.
She lifted up and down, faster, until she was humping vigorously.  I
rubbed her bare thigh with one hand and prodded the area around her
clit with the other.  Her breath steamed from her mouth and nose.

It didn't take long, however, before she grimaced.  And then she
stumbled and stopped.  She tried to resume, but pain lined her face.

I ran my hand across the crest of her hip.  "Let me now," I said.
Rachel nodded, her smile strained.

She sat still a moment, not moving.  I reached up to her hips, and
gave her a gentle push to the side.  She rolled stiffly back into the
leaves.  Her legs slowly opened and I got up between them and stabbed
between her legs with my penis.  I found her opening and sunk all the
way in until our pubic hair pressed together.

The cold air on my butt and thighs was invigorating.  I caught
Rachel's eyes.  "Hey, lover," I said.

And she tipped her head back and laughed.  It was an old pet name.
I hadn't called her that in a long time.

I pumped solidly, my body filled with youthful energy.  Rachel
sighed and smiled.  I loved her smile.  It had been too long.  Her
eyes opened.  "Come on," Rachel said.  Her eyes sparkled with the old
lust.  She laughed.  "Harder.  Harder."

It had been so long.  I joyously stroked in her cunt.  I laughed
and kissed her.  "Fuck me deep," she grunted as we broke the kiss.

My butt and legs began to burn with the strain.  My body tensed.
Rachel's breath blossomed up in quick clouds, one after the other.  I
fucked her as hard and fast as I could move.  She rocked her hips up a
little, and I felt a sudden surge.

I yelled out, "Oh, Rachel!"  The pulsing seemed to source from my
belly and my entire lower body spasmed.  My semen spurted into her
slick hole.  Over and over again.  It seemed like my orgasm would go
on forever.

But eventually, of course, it ended.  Finally drained, I slumped.
And then I shivered, as if I were freezing.

Rachel's brow was shiny with perspiration.  I stared at her, and
she opened her eyes.  She smiled weakly.  I leaned down to kiss her.

But Rachel coughed, several short, deep coughs.  A frown marred her
face for a moment, but she cleared her throat with just a little
difficulty.  She looked at me, licked her dry lips, and she smiled.

I tried again to kiss her ...

             * * *


A low metallic buzzing, and Rachel's face fades to gray.

I am breathing hard, as if I just finished running a two-mile race.
I flip up the visor.  The walls and ceiling are stark white, and I
blink to accustom myself to their stinging brightness.  I force myself
to breathe slower.  An involuntary tear trickles down my face.

The attendant, Karen, stares at me from behind the window.  I wish
she would look away.  Lila, she never looks at me afterwards.  I wish
Lila were working instead of Karen.  Lila knows the right way to act.

I swallow hard.  I pull myself up into a sitting position, fighting
against gravity.  I let my feet dangle off the side of the chair.

Just like always, I open my fist, and Rachel's creased photograph
unfurls in my hand.  Her smile is faded and her eyes are dulled by
time, but still, Rachel's beauty has not diminished one iota.  I
flatten the picture and look at Rachel's face.  I feel the familiar
sinking in my chest.  I touch her photograph with my fingers, and I
imagine that I touch her.

I remember.  November third.  Yes, November third is a good one.
One of the last good ones.

I look up at Karen, at her angled eyebrows, her liquid eyes.  And
then back down to Rachel.  Rachel.  My lover.

I wish Karen wouldn't watch.  I hate it when they watch.  I cover
my eyes with my hand, trying to hide.  My throat feels swollen.  I try
to inhale, but the air comes in ragged.

And, just like always, I sob.




              

Comments? Good or bad, I'd love to hear them. Email me at
poisoniv1@hotmail.com. Or you can find mor estories like this on
my website, http://bounce.to/poisoniv1.

