Message-ID: <16806eli$9810280600@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Little Devil" Subject: [Little Devil] Coming Home Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: "Little Devil" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <001601be0254$dd2d6240$1284a6c3@default> --------------- Coming Home --------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- You know the stuff for disclaimers, so I don't know why everyone bothers putting it in. Still, although this is pretty mild it isn't exactly a kiddies story, so if you are under 18 you know what you are supposed to do (like you'll pay attention to me!). This is the first part of a story that is already planned out in my head, it's just getting it down onto paper that's the problem. For that reason, I need your feedback! Tell me what you think, and if you think I should keep going, or go back to murdering things running round the Phobos lab. I'm a new author, so be nice to me! Why be nice? Naughty is much more fun! - Little Devil --------------------------------------------------------------------------- He'd only been up for three hours, and already today was up working its way into the top ten worst days he'd had. He'd already put up with a mechanic with more hair on his chin than his head looking at his car and sucking air in between his teeth He'd watched with growing irritation at the sight of his beautiful Toyota sports car being winched onto the back of the bright orange recovery truck. With no car and no chance of cadging a lift from friends, Nick was stuck and had been forced to over ride his fear of buses to catch the airport coach. Within ten minutes his fears had been proved well founded, as his private hell was accentuated with every junction the driver approached and every old granny that was tailgated by this huge green and white monster. Mile after mile of staring at the muddy green of the English countryside flying past at 70 mph partially calmed his nerves, followed by another half hour of staring at the back of the seat in front. Finally the coach pulled up to a harsh stop, and let every one of the slightly shell shocked passengers pile out of the doors, straight into the airport lounge. Yet another of Nick's personal hells - hundreds of screaming kids and cranky business men in crumpled suits filled just about every foot of floor space, some looking for exits, some for loved ones, and most of the rest were generally looking lost. Nick was supposed to fit into the second of those groups, but right now the third was a pretty good contender too. There's only one reason he'd even think about going through this. And the arrivals board said she'd be another 45 minutes. Fun. Making the most of a bad situation, Nick grabbed a coffee from the tired looking girl behind the counter of the coffee bar, and settled down to watch the seething mass of people filling the main concourse. Despite everything, looking down on everyone was somehow relaxing - the apparently random movement of people had an obvious pattern. People were going in two general directions. The first group were heading from the entrance to the funnel of empty floor that always formed around the arrivals doors. Every one of those people were waiting for someone to come through that funnel, to welcome them home or to drag them off to some meeting or other. The second (and significantly larger) group was working it's way back from the funnel to the buses or the car park. It was down there that Claire would appear, and Nick was going to get to see this woman that he loved for the first time in over a month. All too often her job would drag her to foreign shores, leaving him alone while she interpreted a speech on Mineral Recovery or whatever the hell it was she was doing now. A month were his only company was made up of brief phone calls, his right hand, and an active imagination. Still, her month of work would be rewarded with another two weeks of paid vacation. At least, it would if he ever found her in this place. How somewhere so uncluttered could be so disorienting was anyone's guess. He was just draining the slightly syrupy sludge from the bottom of the cup when a hand snaked its way round his waist and a voice by his shoulder somehow managed to sound seductive over the roar of noise. "Hi babe... I managed to get an earlier flight!" Nick grinned as the sound twisted his day into something he had waited 4 weeks for. "You know, I can talk to your shoulder if you want, but I'd rather see your face." He turned, and looked down into the smiling face and the deep brown eyes that had first attracted him to this girl. A history of flying had taken its toll on her, replacing her normal jeans or short skirts for just about the most unflattering pair of sweat pants anyone could ever wear. No matter how often he'd flown he still wore jeans that ended up cutting into his legs after the first hour of any flight. After a second they were kissing, tongues instantly probing each other deeply without a thought of the masses charging around them. "Hell it's great to have you back. I've missed you. Good flight?" "Yeah, it was okay I guess - the flight was okay, but just look what I had to look forward to!" Claire instincts made her flinch away just as hands went to grab her and she headed off into the crowd. Luggage in hand (and how the hell did women need so much luggage?) Nick caught her up, and wrapped a free hand around her waist in time to aim the two of them away from the car park, and toward the buses with only a mumble of "Long story" as explanation. Back on the bus again, but at least this time he had something other than the verge to keep his mind from the suicide driving style of that he had to look forward to. Claire wriggled into the window seat, and wrapped her arm around his as they sat waiting for things to start. It was another 90 minute trip back out to the small town they called home and Claire was all too aware of the comfort she was going to have to give to keep Nick's mind off the way the coach was being driven. Slightly sleepily she cuddled up, and rested her head on his shoulder. All she managed was a brief "I love you hon" before she started drifting off into the world of jetlag. 'Great. Just bloody wonderful.' went the voice in Nick's head. 'Here I am, stuck on another damned coach, and she has to bloody fall asleep.' The voice had a touch of annoyance to it, but the look of her against his side was enough to calm it, and soothe his nerves at the same time. It had been a long flight, and she was entitled to feel sleepy. Still, if the car hadn't given up on him, they could have been parked in a quiet country lane getting reacquainted by now. Right here there wasn't even a chance of a crafty grope of her gorgeous chest without being seen. Or was there...? Claire woke as a hand slowly edged it's way past the waistband of her sweat pants and headed for the crotch of her underwear. She gasped as the hand ran along the top edge of her knickers and started to walk its way down towards her crotch. It felt great, but there were people all around them. She reached out and lightly gripped Nicks arm. "Hey... what are you doing! We'll get caught!" The words came out as more of a lip reading exercise than words, but Nick got the idea. Even without looking he could have made a pretty good guess at the message. "No we won't because no-one is playing attention!" Nick whispered in her ear as his hand kept edging it's way down her body to her crotch. The crotch of her pants was being held to her panties by the dampness already down there. "Hell you're hot! Pleased to be back are you?" Claire giggled. She'd spent the last hour of the flight in a dream world, fantasising about being alone with the bulge in those jeans. She was just about to head off to the tiny toilet to finish herself off when the stewardesses started telling people to put their belts on. No matter how nicely she asked, the stewardess had forced her to stay put and suffer in silence. All the way down she'd been getting progressively more turned on, and by the time she'd got out of the plane she was convinced the man next to her was able to smell the scent of her arousal. Even by her standards she was soaking, and the wetness on her skin was making her feel uncomfortable. Right now, those thoughts were shoved out of the way by thoughts of the fun they could have at home. Nick's hand was on the move again, and she stifled a gasp as he ran a finger along the leg of her panties and the back up across the fabric, briefly brushing a single finger across her clit. His touch was moulding the wet fabric of her panties to her crotch, smoothing them across her pussy lips and her pubic mound. And, fuck, it was turning her on as well... In the 4 years they'd been together they had played about in public before, but not this close to any possible audience, and especially not with no way to escape if they were caught! Right here and now though, she didn't care. The lightness of his touch was mixing with the vibration of the engine was sending delicious shocks from her crotch up her spine, and straight into her brain. Nick smiled as his probing fingers lifted the wet fabric from his goal, and ran his fingers through the fine hair that covered her sex, and ran slowly down towards source of all her excitement. "Excuse me, my dear" Both jumped as the voice interrupted their world, followed with a gasp as their movement forced a stray finger against Claire's already erect clit. The two of them looked up into the apologetic face that had appeared between the seats in front of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you start. I was just wondered if you can help. I've got a really nasty feeling that this isn't my bus. Do what number this is?" Nick laughed. "Yeah... it's the A320. We're over to the Motorway, and then up toward Nottingham." The A320... it was sad really, but all the bus runs seemed to be named after different types of planes. Some wit had decided to name this one after an Airbus A320. Hell, if this was a plane it looked more like it was flown by the Wright brothers! Claire shuffled slightly to make sure the hand invading her crotch was unseen by their new friend, and sighed as Nick started talking to this old lady instead of doing what he was good at. 'Leave us alone,' thought Claire. Oh great, so the old dear was on the right bus. Better still, she lived in the same town. Well that was the end of finger sex then. Claire wriggled up against Nick's shoulder, and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. It was one of the few times the height difference between them never mattered. The foot or more difference in their heights meant that even wearing heals it was more comfortable to rest her head on his chest than it was to kiss when they were dancing. Oh gods those two were getting worse. Nick was the spitting image of her grandson. Joy... The question was, did her grandson have his hand in a girls underwear? This was silly. Why didn't the old dear get herself sat back down and leave the two of them alone. What she really wanted was... Claire's gasped out loud. Shit, that was exactly what she wanted. She froze as Nick's fingers resumed their light wanderings over her pubic mound, and started tracing down the sides of her sex. Surely he wasn't going to try and make her come while this old dear watched? The idea was disgusting. Old people didn't have sex (despite the fact that her parents had kept her awake many a night while she was growing up). And yet, in a way, she was more upset with herself as she realised that the idea was turning her on. Nick was still chatting easily with the old dear in front as Claire tried to pull his fingers into her body. As if reading her mind, he dipped a fingertip into her body, and slowly brought his cum soaked finger up to the hood of her clit, the moisture letting his finger slide across the swollen nub more easily. The searching fingers played across her, and dipping into her body just enough to massage the flesh of her cunt. Every touch made her hotter and wetter, the presence of this mad old lady somehow making every touch a hundred times more exciting. The simplest of touches were bringing her closer to that peak that she wanted, but there was no way that she could come with this lady watching her every move. Using every trick that she knew, Claire tried to ignore the attention, but it was almost as if Nick was trying to keep the old girl talking. With a sudden move, Nick pressed three fingers into her sex, and was trying to move them deeper inside her. The intrusion was more than enough to get things going, and she had to turn and bury her head in his shoulder to try to stifle a groan as orgasm hit. Although he couldn't get his fingers properly inside Claire's body, his fingers reacted against the pulsing of her vaginal muscles, and forced her on through each wave. "You're joking... I work there as well. What's his name?" "Well my eldest is John, and the younger is Simon. He's more into the art side of things though." "John...? Oh yeah... I know him" Nick muttered. "works with the database lot?" How the hell could he be doing this? Three fingers were working in and out of her pussy while talking about this woman's grandsons. With her head still buried in his shoulder, Claire tried to regain her composure. Nick carefully used her panties to clean her girlcum from his fingers, tickling her pubes as he did it. Claire lifted her head, and peered bleary eyed at the woman still talking to her boyfriend. "You back with us again my love?" asked Nick, and gently kissed her cheek. God was he going to pay for this later. Do I bother making him pay for it, or shall I just bin this 'ere story? You're the audience, so you tell me... -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----