Archive-name: School/stormwin.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Winter Storm


   Joanna is a shy, young student at the junior college. She signed up
for one of my classes this past Fall and I have come to know her rather
well. Earlier today, I found a message on the department answering
machine. "Dr. Storm, could you drop by tonight? I am having difficulty
with one of the problems you assigned, and maybe you could help me with
it." Well, she lives on The Rez, and her house is on the route I take to
my place. I'll stop by and see what I can do.

   It is cold. A winter storm threatens to invade the house. I knock,
but there is no answer. I try the door. As are most doors on The Rez, it
is unlocked. I open it and enter the warmth of her parents' frame house.

   "Joanna?" No answer. I hang up my hat and coat and enter the living
room to find her curled up on the couch, feet tucked under her. She is
wearing a white cashmere sweater and a pleated, woolen skirt of dark
blue. The sweater is unbuttoned at the throat and calls my attention to
the sensuous swell of her breasts. I sit beside her, gently. She stirs,
but does not quite awaken. She murmurs sleepily, "Storm?" I smile, and
ease her feet from under her. She shifts slightly, and lays back on the
couch. I tuck her feet firmly under my shirt, against my chest to warm
them, and rub them gently. She awakens, then, and smiles at me. My hands
bring warmth to her feet. I barely manage to confine my ministrations to
feet and ankles. My eyes, however, caress the smooth curves of legs and
hips.

   I help her to a sitting position, as she again tucks her feet under
her. "Now, Joanna, what is this ferocious problem that threatens you?"

   "It isn't important, now. I managed to fix it -- I think -- while you
were driving out here. So, I had a glass of wine to celebrate, and then
I fell asleep. Thanks for stopping, but I'm afraid I've wasted your
time." She smiles sheepishly and negligently places a hand on my thigh.

   I stare at this young beauty. She is all of 18, maybe even 19 -
almost twenty years younger than I, but she has the quiet beauty of a
woman much older. "No problem, Joanna. That's what they pay me for --
aiding young damsels in distress."

   "Yeah! You're a regular Indian knight on a rusting sports car, you
are." Her laughter is infectious, and I soon join in.

   Her eyes are bright and I can see her pink tongue when she laughs. It
darts out and gently licks her lips, causing them to glisten in the
light from the fireplace. She sighs, and looks up at me. I bend closer
to her, and she moves her face to mine. Inches, then fractions of
inches, separate our lips. Again, the tip of her tongue dances around
her full lips. Her eyes close. I close the distance, and kiss her.

   We hold the kiss for many seconds. "Damn! I thought you'd never do
that," she whispers. "I have wanted to kiss you since I enrolled in your
class."

   "We shouldn't be doing this, Joanna. It's not quite proper for an
instructor and student . . ." She cuts off my protestations with
another, longer kiss. Her tongue moves on the offensive.

   I disengage from her passionate attack. "Besides, what about your
parents? If they . . ." and again she silences me in the most effective
way possible.

   "They like you, Storm. Especially my mom. And thay are visiting
friends in Kansas City. Won't be back before tomorrow night. Now, hush,
and kiss me again!"

   I shift closer to her. My left arm bands her shoulders. My right hand
wondrously traces the curve of her jaw. Down from ear to chin, up to her
lips. I lightly trace her lips. My fingers trail from her lower lip,
down her throat, to rest lightly at the base of her throat. My head
lowers. I kiss her, fully and deeply. For several minutes we content
ourselves with slow, deep and moist kisses. Two sighs intermingle. I
move her head gently away from me and look into her eyes. She relaxes,
lays her head against my chest, and delightedly falls asleep. I sit with
my arm about her for some time, happy and warm.

   The storm continues unabated. I ignore it. Her loveliness demands my
full attention as she sleeps in my arms. So loving, so beautiful. So
trusting. I gently move my hand to her thigh. Grasping a fold of her
skirt, I begin pulling the hem up and over her knees. Slowly the hem
rises -- up, over her knees, across and up her rounded thighs, above the
panties hugging her charms. She is wearing Navy blue silk stockings,
with an eleastic lace embroidered hem that indents her lush thighs. I
drop my hand to the top of her stocking, and begin sliding it up and
down her leg. The feel of warm flesh through the silk is exciting. My
fingers lightly trace the stocking top around her thigh, down to the
inside of her thigh. It takes very little pressure to move her legs
apart and permit my fingers to brush the front of her satin panties. I
stroke her soft lips through the defending garment. She sighs, and moves
her hips. Her vulva presses into my questing hand. I shift my arm around
her shoulders permitting me to caress the soft cashmere covering her
young, firm breast. I massage the sweet mound, and my fingers find her
nipple. I stroke it into prominence, and play with breast and nipple for
several minutes. Finding I can stand it no longer, I capture her lips
with mine and kiss her awake.

   I stand and extend my hand. She grasps it and stands facing me. I
pull her close. I finish unbuttoning her sweater. I smooth the sides of
the sweater away from her shoulders. Bending slightly, I kiss the
juncture of neck and shoulder - my most favorite spot. I shudder, sigh,
and lower my face to the swell of breast above the lace top of her slip.
I bury my face between her white breasts and inhale the perfume she has
placed there. I kiss both breasts through brassiere and slip. My lips
rise to her neck, and to her lips. Pressing my lips to hers, I kiss her
passionately. I hold her close, she presses her hips against me, moving
them slightly in a grinding motion. My left hand is at her neck, the
right slowly descends to the wondrous swell of hip and soft curve of
buttock. I pull her hips to me. I look into her eyes, already glistening
with tears and desire. "My Princess of the Winter! Command me, my Princess.
And your wish shall be my desire, my reason for being." I kiss each
eyelid, and gently wipe the tears away.

   Joanna steps slightly away from me. She takes my hands and places
them at her breasts. She glances down at her sweater, then into my eyes.
A shy, trembling smile graces her face. Her attention is focused on my
eyes.

   I move my fingers to the remaining buttons. One by one I slip them
hrough the holes, and expose her charms. Her eyes never leave mine. As I
pull the sweater from her skirt, she drops her arms and permits me to
slide it from her.

   She kisses me. The cashmere sweater lies on the floor, forgotten now.
My warm hands hold her shoulders lightly. She smiles, sighs. She presses
her breasts against my chest as she leans forward to receive my kisses.
My hand cups the back of her head. She whispers against my lips, "I am
your woman."

   My hands drop to her waist, seeking the buttons of her skirt. Two
buttons pose no barrier; the zipper opens noiselessly. She steps back
and permits the woolen skirt to puddle at her ankles.

   She is a study in contrasts. Lusty and wanton in sheer stockings and
high heels, and shy and innocent in a white satin slip. She is both
virgin and temptress, cool beauty and smoldering passion. I feel as I
have never felt before. I am young, again, and proud. Strong and daring.
And strangely hesitant.

   "Joanna, am I moving too fast?"

   She briefly lowers her eyes. "No," she whispers.

   I gather her to me. Slipping an arm behind her knees and another
about her shoulders, I lift her and carry her to her bedroom. I place
her on the bed, and stand looking down at her. I turn down the light,
and lower myself to the bed beside her. She sighs happily, and turns to
face me. Her arms pull me close.

   "Be gentle, my lover."

   I slide the hem of the slip up her thighs to her hips. She lifts her
hips from the bed giving me free access to remove the restrictive
garment.

   She is clad now only in lace panties and bra and long, sheer nylons.
I bend and gently nip at the panty-covered mound of her mons veneris. A
gasp escapes from Joanna's throat. She presses against my hungry mouth.

   "Oh, God! No one has ever done that for me. Don't ever stop. And,
don't make me wait, my Warrior. Not tonight!"

   Her panties vanish as if by magic. Neither is aware of who has
removed, or is removing, what articles of clothing. But in a matter of
seconds, I am naked and she wears only the stockings.

   She stretches wantonly, a blindingly sensual image in the dim
lamplight. She raises her hips to meet my gentle attack, and I enter her
tight warmth fully and deeply. Her nipples are distended. I minister to
each with fingers, teeth and tongue. I bring her to the first of several
climaxes. She is aware that my pleasure is fed by bringing pleasure to
her.

   She does not attempt to hold back the sweet noises of passion. She
knows that it excites me, and increases both my pleasure and my
determination to bring her to fulfillment.

   Our love making this evening is free, and uninhibited. A sense of
wonder, a sense of newness, pervades. We finish within seconds of one
another. I lie beside her, drawing out the afterplay until she drowses
off to sleep in my arms.

                                 * * *

   It is early in the morning and my bladder is making its presence
known. Naked, I pad down the hall to the bathroom and relieve myself. I
sponge off with a warm cloth and drink several glasses of cold water.
Refreshed, I wander downstairs to peruse the contents of Joanna's
refrigerator. Finding a pitcher of orange juice, I remove it and close
the door.

   The sound of the front door opening startles me. Before I can react,
the kitchen is bathed in brilliance. I turn. A gasp, and a woman's voice
says, "Shit! Now I know why my daughter signed up for your class!"

   I am embarrassed. Here I am, nude in someone else's kitchen, caught
by the mother of the teenage girl I have just bedded.

   I quickly cross to the table and sit down -- on the opposite side
from the woman standing in the doorway. My modesty is somewhat preserved
by the intervening table.

   "Er . . .  Ah . . ." I manage intelligently.

   "You are Dr. Storm. I am Joanna's mother, Rachel," she laughs. "And,
obviously, you have just come from my daughter's bed!"

   "Ah . . . Er, you see . . ."

   "Strange. Joanna never mentioned you had a speech impediment," and
again she surprises me with her deep, throaty laugh. "So, aren't you
going to offer me some of that orange juice?" She walks to the cabinet,
removes two glasses, and places them in front of me as she seats herself
opposite me.

   I pour. What else can I do? "Well, Mrs. Combs . . ."

   "Please, call me 'Rachel,'" again the laughter. "Under the present
circumstances, I think 'Mrs. Combs' is a bit too formal!"

   "Well, I was just helping Joanna with a problem," a raised eyebrow
causes me to reconsider my unfortunate choice of words, "and one thing
sorta led to another."

   Her brown eyes washed over my face. "Yes. Joanna can be most
demanding at times. Go on."

   "Well, I made love with your daughter. That's the short of it."

   "Hmm. No dissembling. I like that. And, do you love my daughter?"

   "No. Call it a strong attraction. But not 'love.'"

   "That's good, because Joanna has to finish her education first."

   "I suppose you will report this. I'll offer my resignation first
thing Monday morning."

   "No need, Doctor. May I call you 'Storm?' I think this incident can
be resolved between us to my satisfaction. Don't you?" Rachel's hand
during this exchange is at her throat. As she asks the question, she
slowly moves her hand under her pearls and into the scooped neck of the
black cocktail dress. It moves lazily over her breast. She continues,
"By the way, if you're wondering why I am here, and not at the party: My
husband walked out on me tonight. We had an argument, and he stormed out
of the place. I got even: I took the car and came home." She looks me
straight in the eyes and continues, "He's done this before. He won't be
back before Monday night."

   She rises and crosses to my side of the table. She looks down at me
and remarks, "Maybe we'd better take this into the living room?" She
turns and leaves the kitchen, turning off the light on her way out.

                                 * * *

   I rise and follow her to the living room. The fire has died down to a
soft glow that still manages to warm and illuminate. Rachel is seated on
the couch.

   "Come, Storm. Sit by me."

   I do. She places a hand on my naked thigh. I jump involuntarily, then
settle an arm around her shoulders. My hand rests just under her chin.

   I turn her face towards me and lower my lips to hers. Her lips are
warm and soft, and strangely hesitant. She kisses me lightly. I move my
hand from her chin to her cheek. As I kiss her, she relaxes. Her lips
part and I can feel her breath in my mouth. My tongue tastes her lips
and moves across her teeth. Her lips part further, and my tongue darts
past her final defenses and engages hers. Our tongues wrestle. I suck
hers deep into my mouth and taste her saliva. She relaxes completely and
surrenders her mouth to mine.

   Her hand moves on my thigh, back and forth. Stroking. Caressing. She
becomes bolder and moves her hand to my penis. She wraps warm fingers
about its length and moves her hand back and forth slowly and
deliberately.

   Still holding our kiss, I permit my hand to move down her cheek and
across her jaw to her neck. Shifting slightly, to allow her more access
and permit my hand to continue its quest, I slip my hand onto the bodice
of her velvet dress. I move it down and cup her breast. She arches her
back and pushes against my hand. Her hand tightens on me. I squeeze her
breast gently, causing her to gasp. My fingers find her nipple through
the velvet.

   "Aw! You are not wearing a bra! How positively erotic," I whisper
into her searching mouth. My tongue follows my words and, before she can
reply, I am once again attacking the warm interior of her mouth. My hand
continues to play with her breast and nipple.

   She is having trouble breathing now. She responds to my kisses and my
searching hands by twisting slightly on the couch. The movement raises
the hem of her skirt above her knees. My hand wanders down over her
soft, rounded stomach and across one thigh to the edge of her skirt. I
rub her leg and thigh through the soft velvet. Fascinated by the feeling
of warm, soft flesh under velvet, I continue stroking her through her
dress. I caress her thigh, her stomach, and up to her breast. I close my
hand on her breast and, thumb against her nipple, I squeeze it. She
gasps into my mouth. I toy with her nipple and breast, then move my hand
to the juncture of her thighs.

   I press my hand into her vee. I can feel the material of her dress
sliding over her panties. As I cup her vulva, she hunches forward and
presses it into my hand. I move my hand to her hem. Slowly I slide the
hem of her dress up her legs to her waist.

   The firelight casts a rosy glow on the panting blonde's white thighs.
Her black lace stockings hug and accent her thighs. I look down at her
long legs. She parts them to permit my fingers access to the crotch of
her black silk panties. Her breath comes in shallow gasps, now.

   "What are you waiting for, Storm?" She leans forward and catches my
lip between her teeth. She bites me and I feel the taste of blood. She
licks the blood from my lips and thrusts her tongue into my mouth.

   "Damn! That hurt!" I pull back and look at her. She licks her lips
and smiles. Her fingers tighten on my penis. She looks down at it and
back up at me. "Well, if you want it, Rachel, why not?" I put one hand
behind her head and, taking her long blonde hair in my fist, I slowly
pull her face into my crotch. Her eyes widen and she licks her lips.

   "I don't know. I've never done anything like this before."

   Her face is at my crotch. Her lips are inches from the end of my
penis. Relentlessly, I bring her face closer. My hand on her back shifts
her body so she might have better access to my throbbing member. My hand
in her hair brings her closer, closer. The tip of my penis touches her
lips. She moves her head from side to side. Instead of avoiding contact,
she succeeds in rubbing her lips across my penis. She tries to resist
but the combined pressure of my hands is inexorable. She opens her mouth
to speak, and I quickly press her head forward. My penis forces her lips
open and thrusts past her teeth and into her mouth. She gags but accepts
the length of my penis.

   "Aw, that's better," I sigh. "Now move your tongue over it. Suck on
it. Don't be afraid, Rachel." Her reply is muffled by the organ filling
her mouth. Her tongue begins to move, tentatively. Then more insistently.
I lift my hips slightly, pressing deeper into her warm mouth.

   Slowly, I remove my hand from her back. She no longer needs the
pressure from my hand to keep her head in place as she warms to her
sweet task. I gaze down at her. What an erotic sight she makes. Long,
sensuous legs encased in black lace nylons. Black velvet dress, hem
across her thighs exposing black silk panties. The vee of her panties
glistens with the juices of her need. Her pearl necklace dangles across
my naked thighs. Her long, blonde hair covers my lap and denies me the
vision of her red lips on me. One of her hands grasps the base of my
penis, holding it and stroking it in time to the motion of her lips and
tongue. The other lies on her thigh.

   I reach down and take her hand in mine. Slowly and deliberately I
move it into her crotch. I straighten her fingers and press them against
her pantied mound. I move her fingers in the motion I wish to see. "Feel
yourself, Rachel. Pay attention to your needs, too." Again, a muffled
reply, but I feel her fingers begin to move. Keeping my hand on hers, I
feel her toying with her labia through the silken garment. Her fingers
run the length of her slit. She pauses and finds her clitoris. Her
fingers flick at it gently. She resumes rubbing herself through her
panties.

   I remove my hand from hers and watch her as she surrenders to her
emotions. Totally enveloped in lust, she sucks me into her throat. Her
head bobs in my lap. Her hand slides between panties and smooth flesh.
She inserts fingers into her moist slit and strokes herself to near
climax also. I can hear her moaning as she continues.

   I near my climax. If she continues, I will not be able to hold back.
I place my hands against her shoulders and half push, half lift, her
away from me. My moist organ slides from between her grasping lips. She
falls backward as I push, sprawling on the couch. Her legs part and she
swings one up onto the couch. Her hand continues rubbing her vulva. Her
fingers thrust into her moist vagina.

   "Oh, no. Don't do this. Don't stop now. Take me. Take me now! Please.
Oh, please." Her fingers keep working and her head whips from side to
side as she gasps for release.

   I lean forward and grasp her panties. Roughly, I tear them from her.
She gasps, but her hand never leaves her slit. Her fingers are buried in
her flowing crotch. Her moans are continuous now.

   I raise my hips above hers, supporting myself on hands on either side
of her body. She opens her eyes and stares the length of her body at the
broad organ poised above her. Her free hand pulls on my penis and urges
it toward her waiting vulva. I lower myself to her. My penis rests
against the hand she has buried in herself. I feel it rubbing back and
forth as she meets her needs. WIth one hand, I remove her hand from
between her thighs and replace the removed fingers with my erect penis.
Her hips rise as I thrust home. She opens her mouth to scream, but I
quickly cover it with my own and thrust my tongue into its waiting
recess. Penis within vagina, tongue within mouth - each matches the
motion and intensity of the other.

   Her lips move beneath mine and her tongue battles mine for supremacy.
I lift my upper body from her and rip the bodice of her dress away from
her breasts. The sudden roughness and exposure thrusts her nipples into
full erection. I lower my head and take a nipple into my mouth. As I
suck and bite on her distended nipple, my hips rise and fall, thrusting
my penis deep into her tight warmth. Her hips do battle with mine,
rising as I thrust into her, and moving away as I withdraw. We continue
making love with one another this way until I spend within her. My
climax trigers several orgasms within the willing wanton. The mixture of
our juices overflow her and cascade down our joined thighs.

   She lies beneath me, barely breathing. I wait until her breath
becomes even. Her eyes are closed, her lips are parted. I gently kiss
each eyelid and pass my lips lightly over hers. I withdraw from her. She
moans.

   I slide my body down hers, kissing my way from throat to breasts to
stomach to abdomen. Finally, my lips reach the warmth my penis has just
vacated. I smell the mixture of our lust. It intoxicates me and I lower
my head to her soft swelling mound. She gasps, and moans deep in her
throat, as I lick her labia. My tongue finds her clitoris and licks and
teases it to erection. My teeth nip gently at clitoris and labia. Her
hips move against my face, and I thrust my tongue into her inner
recesses. I continue licking and sucking and thrusting my tongue within
her. My hands rub and squeeze her breasts. As she gives herself once
more to her sensations, I move my fingers up her body to her mouth. I
search for her tongue and find it. As I play with her tongue and her
lips, my tongue continues to penetrate her vagina. Slowly at first, then
faster, I match the attack of tongue on nether lips with fingers on
tongue and lips. As she climaxes one final time, she sucks my fingers
into her mouth. She lightly bites them, and moves her tongue over them.
I match the motion of her tongue with mine. She climaxes, flowing
copiously. As she moans around my still moving fingers, I drink her
fluids and lick her dry.

   She collapses onto the cushions. I sit on the floor beside her, and
rest my head in her lap. I can still smell her musky odors and the
resulting mixture of odors from our lovemaking. I drift off to sleep.
But it seems to me that I can hear another woman's voice in my dreams.

   "Mother! You should have waited for me!"

                                 -end-
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