Message-ID: <46742asstr$1077181918@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: by_jane@literotica.org (jane) X-Original-Message-ID: <80045de.0402182001.71a5d39@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2004 04:01:10 +0000 (UTC) X-Spamscanner: mailbox4.ucsd.edu (v1.4 Oct 30 2003 22:20:52, 0.0/5.0 2.63) X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.8 52289 i1J41B9g091316 mailbox4.ucsd.edu) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 18 Feb 2004 20:01:09 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Glimpses 14/94 by jane Lines: 243 Date: Thu, 19 Feb 2004 04:11:58 -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: hoisingr, dennyw Author: jane Title: Glimpses 14/94 Summary: While driving to the park, Mai and Tina pretend to take a nap. Keywords: none Length: 1492 words Copyright: c. 2004 *2 November 1996, Saturday - part one* _five oclock a m? ... just to see some silly leaves and white-haired eagles? ... drive all that way? ... i asked them twice if that was true ... i wasnt sure that youd believe me ... most times ive seen the sun come up, im on my way to bed ... but mai decreed an early start and so the others followed ... the friends were likely half asleep, high on lust or dread or just anticipation ... the four were human after all ... just travellers ... the kind that tried to figure mileage, kept an eye for cheaper gas, hoped for rest stops when theyre needed ... yet smart enough to realize the highway they had chosen bore no signs to mark its perils, wore no metal rails to keep them on its curves ... chicago ..._ *§* Tina didn't love the Saab; she liked it. Peter, on the other hand, invested large amounts of time and cash and ego in the aging two-stroke engine. It needed triage on an almost daily basis: the rear door handle first or plugs and points, the mirror or the running lights. It kept him out from underfoot, she thought; it made him manly. Peter didn't hunt. He'd never been a jock. He simply didn't like those things. So grease beneath his fingernails and talk of universal joints, impressed and bonded him with peers. Tina's overall assessment? Undependable, but cute and _Svenska_. Its steel, once, glowed in Göteborg crucibles; she adored the way gas jockeys scratched their heads while adding oil directly to the fuel. She believed in public transit, but without a Saab they'd only see their precious eagles in cages at the zoo. The grey sedan pulled up outside the new apartment, rosy dawn reflected on its roof and hood. Doug and Mai were ready at the curb. They knew the drill; they'd camped before together. While Douglas grappled with the packs and cooler, Peter supervised the trunk, and Tina wedged Mai's pepper sauce where it could weather potholes. He gave a quickie tour of their new digs. Peter took a moment with the map. The women climbed into the back, while Doug arranged the visor. From between two distant buildings, the sun observed them: busy Earthlings, headed to some outcome, funnelled to a freeway through strangely silent streets. "You've got tons of room there," Peter offered minutes later. Tina added, "...after the little bandbox that you had in Niles." "Don't know how our stuff fit in that place," said Douglas. "I didn't realize we had so much." A blur of asphalt. Ribcage arches marked their exit from the city. Mai skipped her turn. "Your cupboard space! And closets!" Tina marvelled. "That big mirror in the living room? Makes it even bigger," Peter said. Doug turned to Tina in the back, "Maybe too big. Now there's choices. Just to get it all crammed in was good enough before." Mai hadn't spoken. Tina caught her eye and smiled and sensed there was some problem with the move. She changed the subject, "How 'bout some heat back here?" "It's on. Thermostat's kaput. I fixed the radio instead." "It's cold," she worried. "We'll freeze tonight outside." "Frost will bring the colours out," soothed Mai. "Use the afghan. Right behind you." Peter free-wheeled down a steep incline. It was blended yarn in broad, soft panels, cable knit and pop-corn stitched, a tag sewn in the corner: "Created by Christina." The women draped themselves in ecru warmth. The early morning tone had been light-hearted, devoid of evil grins. There'd been no playful propositions nor bravado let alone a mention of the tent. _It's like last weekend didn't happen,_ Tina thought. _Everyone is cautious._ Or was, until the afghan, like a tropic surf, washed over them: tepid, tempting, taciturn. Mai asked the men, "Where will we stop for breakfast?" Beneath the throw, her hand bumped Tina's, held, then squeezed it. Tina smiled. The hand relaxed, but didn't drift away. Curled in her palm like it might grasp a favourite mug. _For comfort. For warmth. For friendship, I suppose._ "Rockford?" Douglas answered without turning to the back. "Two hours." Mai yawned. She pulled the cover up around her chin with her free hand. "Two hours sleep will be divine." "Yeah, Rockford. Someplace nice. Naptime till then. It's Saturday." Tina slumped beneath the blanket. Peter chided, "Wimps. I knew you couldn't take it." He found an FM station playing Mahler and turned the volume low enough to blend it with the engine's hum. Doug poured them both hot chocolate. Tina closed her eyes. Her body warmed beneath the throw. The front seat whispers melted in the engine's drone. _Don't think about tonight. Don't worry. Now that Peter's finished school and has a job, I ought to finish mine. Go back in January or next fall. Promise. And for now? That little shop on State was offering a course in pottery. For fun. A dream. Why not? What the ..._ Her eyes stayed shut; she didn't move, but as she felt a finger's first slow movement on her arm, her brain sat bolt upright. It rubbed the thin, fall jacket on her skin, a trail that traced her inner arm and found her shoulder, found the zipper. _God! What's going on? Everyone is sober. This isn't right. Peter's back is turned. It's cheating. What to do? This is really, real._ The zipper slowly opened, its purr absorbed in breathing. Deft fingers slipped the buttons of her blouse. _I thought about those fingers all this week._ She twisted slightly in pretended sleep to make more space for Mai. Mai found the clasp of Tina's bra. Tina found herself complicit. _Find me!_ Doug turned his head to check the back. "They're wiped. They're fast asleep already." "Great. We'll keep 'em up tonight," said Peter quietly. Doug's wry reply, "Other way 'round, let's hope." He gestured with a finger. "It's wild. Last Friday, Doug." Peter shook his head. "Yeah." Endless corn and soybeans now. "I didn't think we'd go. It's crazy with this move. I left it up to her." "It was on my mind all week." "More chocolate, Pete?" "No, thanks. Change the station if you want? Maybe get some football?" "Uh. It's six a. m. Don't think they're playin' now." Mai didn't fondle or manipulate. _It's like she's bathing in my flesh. Like her whole body's rubbing on my tits. She's playing me. God!_ A thumbnail sniffed the tiny sheen of sweat that formed along the skin. A finger's pad took nurture from a nipple. Tina moaned as softly as she could. "Aurora? We're flying." Douglas checked his watch. "We'll have everything all set by lunch." "A hike this afternoon." Doug's voice was eager. "No clouds. It's warming up." "You ever fish? We should. A Mississippi cat. Super eating." "Maybe. I never tried it, Doug." "A case of beer. No worries. Just us." "Yeah. Maybe. Doug? You scared about tonight?" "Scared of what?" "Nothing. I'm starved. How far to Rockford?" Tina clenched her teeth and pressed her thighs together, pictured Peter's nearness and was amazed at how deceiving him could thrill her. She willed her eyelids open just enough to see Mai's mask of sleep. She heard Mai's sigh, as if she'd lapsed in slumber. _Let me touch you in return._ She reached. Mai's smaller hand reached first, settled on her thigh and took control. Fingers found the waistband of her jeans, demanded Tina hold her breath to make the access easy. They shifted in the seat, a restlessness perhaps. Tina turned to give the hand a better angle as it snaked along her belly, searching out her centre. Tina felt the pressure on the snap. _God, not that. They'll hear for sure._ She strained to arch her back, strained to keep from moving, strained to spread her thighs, to make no sound, to keep the snap intact. The hand slid deeper, found her trough of moisture, fed upon the swelling nub of clit. It lapped each oozing fold, each slippery crevice of the labia. It nibbled, nails against the firm clitoris. _Oh God, this is delicious. I'm ready to explode! No sounds. No movement! No. Yesss. Oh, Yes. Oh, more._ Then, sleep. Then, waking to the sudden quiet in the car, the brightness of the sun. The men, with friendly put- downs, opened doors and led them to a diner, thick with waitress shouts and heavy china clatter. Their conversation praised the air outside the city, previewed the hiking trails. They crossed their fingers that the car was sound and talked about their times and distances. Tina yawned. Mai rested one hand on her cheek and stirred her tea. She laughed at Peter's jokes. Tina watched her carefully, saw her nostrils flare out slightly. Tina wondered. _Is it me?_ Was there a scent that lingered in between the smell of maple syrup and the wintergreen of soap? _It is; it's me. Delicious._ This story cannot be reposted or published without the author's permission. 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