Message-ID: <39986asstr$1040476205@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <000501c2a8a6$c6846c80$84ada50c@ray1031> From: "Ray" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 20 Dec 2002 23:09:35 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} Vision Quest by Ray1031 (MF, Con, Fant?) Date: Sat, 21 Dec 2002 08:10:05 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw Vision Quest by Ray1031 (MF, Cons, Fant?) Thanks to Denny for the editing. This is my story ..... copyrighted and belonging to me. Want to use it .... ask! Check the codes before reading .... don't like them, don't read further. Like the codes .... enjoy the story. Ray Vision Quest by Ray1031 (MF Cons, fant?) I pulled the old Yamaha behind the tree and turned off the motor, immediately missing the thrum and vibration under my legs. Dropping the kick stand I allowed the cycle to lean over as I slid my leg across the tank and dismounted. Slapping my helmet down on the point of the sissy-bar backrest and stretching I took a deep breath of the early- morning mountain air. I unbuttoned my denim jacket and allowed it to hang open, I wore no shirt and the cool air felt good on my bare skin. Dropping the key in my pocket I began my walk. It had rained yesterday and most of the night and as I trod the narrow path the clean morning air was laced with the smell of wet pine and moist soil, it refreshed and invigorated me. Trees and bushes quickly closed in, cutting off the world around me as I began hearing the voices of sparrows and jays in the surrounding wood as a bend in the path brought me in sight of a dense raspberry bush. This late in the summer the fruit was fully ripened and is one of the reasons I always make this fifty-five mile trip. The clean air, the smells, sights and sounds of the mountain along with the small slice of solitude are the others, allowing me to relax from the daily hustle and never ending cacophony of city life. Stopping by the bush I removed a linen pouch from my jacket pocket and began filling it with ripened berries. Resisting the temptation to taste the fruit as I did so, knowing from experience that should I do so none of the fruit would be going home with me. In my minds eye I was already tasting them mixed in a fresh dinner salad and over pancakes or on cereal in the morning. A hawk screamed out over the valley I knew was ahead and at its call I stopped my gathering, choosing to leave some for others to enjoy. Tucking the drawstrings of the pouch through my belt, I allowed the bag to hang at my hip as I continued my walk. A few further twists in the path and my favorite part of this walk came into view. The trail let out atop a wide bluff here, a long grassy field stretching southward for almost half a mile. This narrow glade is bordered on the left by dense obscuring woods and on the right by a steep almost cliff-like slope into a valley below. Stepping near the edge I simply stood for a long moment as I looked out over the expanse of the valley below. Half a mile distant the far slope of this blind valley is a mass of oaks, elms, walnuts, a willow or two and a sprinkling of evergreens. A rolling wall of green with shadows of browns and grays and blacks interspersed here and there with clusters of wildflowers and the scar of the winding road by which I'd arrived. The valley wore its summer carpet, wide expanses of waving grasses with clumps of brightness where dozens of varieties of wildflowers grow. A gentle brook emerged from the hillside at the blind end of the valley, cut down through its center and left through its open end. There I knew it joined a stream, which in turn emptied into a river where the narrow mountain road meets the access road for Interstate Five. I turned to walk through the upper meadow, finally, enjoying the air, the view, the walk. A Squirrel rose up before me and ran off towards the wooded area to my left. Sparrows and Jays creating a fuss near the far end of the glade announced the arrival of the other person as they stepped from the dark mass of trees at the southern end of the glade. There I know another path will return me to the road and my motorcycle. The person paused, looking out over the valley, as I had, before beginning to walk up the gentle slope of the glade, just as I was now walking down it. I assumed it is a girl or woman, as I'd seen long tresses billow for a moment in a light breeze blowing from the valley below. At the distance separating us it was hard to tell though, especially when the sun had yet to crest the trees to the east and the area was dim with shadows. I kept looking out over the valley as I walked and saw a Hawk dive on a rabbit and miss. The rabbit disappeared quickly down a hole before Mr. Hawk could rise high enough for a second attempt. It was this walk, this view of the valley and this peacefulness of surroundings which drew me back four times each year. Once each season I make the drive to this place and make this walk, marveling always at the differences which came with the changing of the seasons. It is Mid-Summer alive in rich forest greens, waving grasses and the colors of summer flowers. I always time my summer arrival so the blackberries are in bloom. Preferring a day such as this, after a night's rain, when the smells of pine and earth will be most noticeable. She was closer now, and was most definitely a she. Long dark, wavy hair hung almost to her hips and was being blown gently to one side as she walked, the vagaries of the gentle winds would first raise her hair like dark pennants, away from the valley below, then release it to cascade around and about her arm as it swung while she walked. I could not yet make out her features, though she was wearing some type of white blouse gathered and tied below her breasts as a bare expanse of skin marked her stomach and upper chest. Long bare legs rose from the grasses of the glade and disappeared into either shorts or a very short skirt. She had something in her right hand as she walked on. October will see my next visit, the trees across the valley will become a bright mural of golds, oranges and reds with only a few splashes of green intermingled. I will stop on the far side of the valley during that visit and gather walnuts for cookies, pies and ice salads. It was definitely a skirt she wore. A blue denim mini which ride low on her hips and high on her thighs. Her plain white blouse opened down the front, pulled up and tied beneath breasts which it seemed strained to hold. In her right hand she holds a pair of white sandals, and so must be barefoot in the long grasses of the glade as her long slim legs scissored with her approach, her hips swaying side to side making the short skirt appear to flounce as she walked. Her hips narrowed to a trim waist before flaring out into those breasts straining against the blouse for release. The impression was there of a high arching brow and firm chin atop a graceful neck, but the distance was yet too great for final details. Winters in the glade are magic. Broad carpets of snow will blanket the entire scene with the far hill becoming an almost skeletal mass of stark whites and blacks of the trees snow laced branches against a winter grey sky. The brook down valley center will be crystalline with areas and clumps of ice seeming to grow along its banks as it sheets any protruding stones or branches with delicate coatings of purest crystal. Individual drops of moisture combining on larger branches to form jagged teeth like bunches of icicle forests over the flowing water. At the right time of day, it is like looking into a narrow road made of diamonds glistening and sparkling in the bright sunshine as it cut its way through the valley below. The long sleeves of her blouse were buttoned at the cuffs, covering slender arms which swung gently as she walked. Her brows were as high and gracefully arched as I'd earlier thought they would be, topping a small and slightly upturned nose above full slightly parted lips. Those lush lips drawn up slightly at the corners as she walked framing an unconscious smile of white even teeth. Her belly had a soft barely perceptible swell to it, rising from her skirt and holding thin tracery of fine hairs leading upwards to her navel. My jeans were getting a little confining as I watched her approach and my mind began to think of things other than the quiet view of the valley below. I looked away again. Spring here is my favorite time though. The brook will become a narrow stream with the melting of winter snows in the mountains to the east and the spring rains arrival. The valley floor will be a smooth carpet of short green grasses, the yellows of dandelions adding random splashes of brightness and an odd type of pattern to the view. The far slope will be a dazzling combination of early leaves and blossoms as the tree filled slopes prepare themselves for the new growing season, though it will be the odors and colors lower on those self-same slopes that I really love. My spring visits are always planned for the week of Mother's Day, when lilacs are in bloom and the entire lower slopes will be alive with the colors of lilacs and the air will be intoxicating with their scent. I love the smell of lilac in the spring. Turning back to the woman, I found I could now see the depth of color in her eyes as there were no more than ten paces separating us. They were fathomless depths of brown that seem to devour my form even as mine own ice grey eyes devoured hers. She was scanning down my form as I was scanning up hers and I watched as, slowly, her eyes rose up once more until they locked with mine. The communication there felt so real to me as those eyes seemed to deliver messages directly into my mind. Just as we passed one another she would raise her hand to her hair, brushing it back from her face and there would be the slightest of contacts as her elbow brushes my upper arm. Her sandals would fall to the ground unnoticed as we stopped and turned to face one another, apologies upon our lips as our eyes met once again. I would reach out pulling her nearer to my chest while she lowered her eyes from mine. My hands would slide to the knot which held her blouse in place undoing it, slipping it from her shoulders and releasing her newly bared breasts into view. The blouse would slide down her arms as she arched her back slightly raising her breasts even further for my viewing. I would have stripped the blouse from her arms and let it fall to the ground behind her before dropping my hands to her hips as I gazed upon her still lowered face. In a single fluid motion, she had raised her head and arms, her hands sliding upwards across my trim stomach, over my chest and beneath my jacket at the shoulders. Sliding her hands outward she will have pushed it from my shoulders, down my back as her arms encircled me. Dropping my arms to my sides the denim fabric had slid easily down my arms and fell to the ground behind me. I raised my arms then and they began to encircle her waist, even as her face continued to rise and she rose to her toes, her mouth seeking mine. Time will have become a momentary blur as her skirt and panties, my jeans, boots and socks joined the other clothing on the ground about us. We were to be together in the heavens then, a dizzying array of sensation, movement, touch and exploration all seeming to overlap and become one perfect and eternal symphony of oneness. I had studied the language of her breasts, reading the brail of the Goosebumps surrounding her passions engorged nipples and I understood their message, "Kiss me!" they had said and I did, my hands sliding up and down caressing her sides and upper thighs. My lips had worked their way down her gentle curve of belly to the cavern of her navel where they paused in oral explorations before I temporarily lost myself in the unruly mass of hair above her cleft, reveling in the texture against my cheek and tongue. Sliding lower I lost myself in the taste, the musk, the moist cavern and the exploration of her, even as her hips heaved and tossed beneath my rapidly sliding tongue and dragging teeth. Passion was fully in charge of us both as I kissed my way once more to her breasts and I felt her hands gain hold upon my risen cock. She explored it's entirety with gently grasping fingers and urged me higher until our lips met once more, her hands guided me to her entrance. Passion was firmly in control, yet I strove for some measure of gentleness as I began to slide into the depths of her, yet she was having none of it, and her hands moved to my buttocks and pulled strongly forward, sinking me fully within her waiting sheath. Her legs rose up to either side, her knees widened as her heels gripped my buttocks, and pulled yet again, striving for greater depth and fullness. Our rhythm was fast, jerky at first, yet though it remained fast, we quickly became more fluid as our movements meshed and matched one another's. I slid my hips back and up until only the helmet remained inside her even as her back arched, swiveling herself, her hips down my shaft and away from its invasion. Then came the sudden rushing together, the thrusting of hips, as the contact of my pubic hair slammed home, first against her labia, opening and spreading them, before slipping upwards and abrading against her clitoris as the last inch or so of my penis slides within. It was a hurried, frenzied love-making with little of gentleness about it from either of us. A passion driven joining of pure lust as my hands moved to her shoulders and began jerking her downwards with each thrust of my hips and her hands circling my ribs, her nails digging furrows in my back as she tried to pull me tighter and tighter to her breast, almost as if she is tried to consume me through those now flattened pillows. As if she hoped to dig wells into my chest with her hardened nipples, striving to bore within the center of lust that dwelt within my heart at that moment. It would come to a head quickly, all too quickly for either she or I, I am sure, but such passion and lust as we experienced is not of a lasting variety. It was more of a demand for immediacy and intensity than a quest for intimacy an sensitivity and then it was over, a gushing of seed, a tightening of limbs and a final falling into the depths of one another as our bodies relaxed together. We became one again in our spent forces and were slow in recovery. Our eyes were locked, then slowly slid apart. Neither of us had turned our heads as we approached, not an extra move did we make, not a sound did we utter as finally we stepped abreast of one another for just an instant. Then we were past and moving away. I did not turn around as I continued walking, nor do I believe that she had either. We simply walked on, the distance between us growing and there was a feeling of unpleasantness within my gut as I continued, a feeling that something priceless or potentially priceless had almost entered my life and was now gone. But I had not turned around, I did not go back though my heart was fluttering wildly in my breast and every iota of my being screamed that I should. When I reached the southern end of the glade, I was calm once again. Life had again returned to normal and I paused once again to allow the peacefulness of the valley to take me, though now there was a sad quality to the tranquil scene below. Then I turned into the path that would take me back to the narrow rutted road and my motorcycle, leaving the glade behind. At the head of this path, beside the rutted road, I found a parked jeep. A deep bronzed brown, the same color as her eyes had been and I gazed longingly at it as I passed, trailed my fingertips lightly over the fender as I stepped around it on the narrow path. I began the walk up the twisty little road to my Yamaha. It is between two of these twisty curves that we meet again. She is walking in one rut of the road, and I in the other. Again, as we approach, our eyes meet, lock and gaze deeply, her depths of brown into my icy reaches of grey as we seem to measure the secret longing of one another. Our eyes remain thus locked, entranced in silent communication, until such time as we would have to turn our heads to continue until that point where one of us must violate the moment with a willful act. Again we do not turn our heads and it seems that once again we will continue our separate paths devoid of real human contact. But this time, coming abreast of one another, at the very instant we were about to pass once again, she reaches out a tiny hand and touches my wrist. Nothing sold or definite, but the merest whisper of a touch, the barest breath of contact between us, from one delicate perfectly manicured finger. We stop then as one, turning to face one another our eyes meet again and we each look again, each upon the other. "Hi. I'm Denny" She grins, then smiles, and finally chuckles softly as she replies, "Hi. I'm Dani." I chuckle then too. Glancing back the way I have just come I say, "Good looking Jeep." With a soft smile she glances upslope, "Nice Bike." "I know of a clearing." Her smile widens dazzlingly, her eyes dancing a devilish jig. "Sounds perfect." Taking her hand I lead her between two trees. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+