Waiting Out the Storm

Waiting Out the Storm

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


How could Liv not help her neighbors when the power went out in the middle of a blizzard?


How could Liv not help her neighbors when the power went out in the middle of a blizzard?


Submitted: November 07, 2012

A A A | A A A


Submitted: November 07, 2012



The wind still moaned through the downstairs patio doors. The power had been out for almost eight hours now and the temperature continued to fall. I worried about those who weren’t as well prepared as I was. My room was comfortable and lit by half a dozen candles. When the propane heater was heating, its element buzzed. When it shut off, the casing complained once or twice as it cooled. When it was cool, as it was now, the only sound was my blood pumping in my ears. I wondered if things would become dire enough for Mac and Curtis to take me up on my invitation. They thought they had offended me when they joked about a threesome, so they might not. Too bad. I wish I'd reacted differently. Now that I'd had time to think about the suggestion, it seemed like it might not be such a bad idea after all.

Lying in bed, on top of the covers, propped up by three pillows. The fragrance of fabric softener wafted out of the fresh linens when the room was warm and faded as the temperature dropped. I was reading a legal thriller by the light of a battery-powered LED reading light. I was wearing sweat pants, a sweat shirt and thick socks: and something special underneath. I had long ago lost track of time; all I knew was that I had been waiting a long time, I was waiting still and I was prepared to wait all night.

Finally the front door opened. My heartbeat increased so quickly that my hand flew to my breast in some atavistic reaction, as if to keep my heart from bursting out of my chest.

“Liv?” Curtis called up from the foyer.

I swung my feet to the floor and called back, “Up here.”

The front door closed and rustling and soft thuds sounded. I pictured Mac and Curtis, lit by flashlights, getting out of snowy outerwear and taking off boots with soles caked pure white. I picked up a snifter of Benedictine from my night table and drained two fingers worth. It helped calm me not in the least. I set the snifter down and picked up a bottle of spring water. I downed it as I had the liqueur, and to better effect.

Footsteps mounted the stairs. I opened my bedroom door. Ominous flashlight beams threw bouncing shadows against the far end of the hallway as they mounted the stairs. Curtis’s silhouette came into view, then Mac’s. They reached the top landing, turned 180 degrees and trained their beams down the hallway. I shielded my eyes against the glare and said, “Do come in.”

Once they were inside my bedroom and the door was closed, I got a look at them and all I could say was, “You idiots.”

They were dead white and their lips were tinged with a blush of blue. They began to shiver, their bodies reacting to the change in temperature. I turned up the thermostat on the heater. The element began to buzz. I put my hand on Curtis’s arm. His clothes were stiff. I asked if they had been doing calisthenics to keep warm. They said yes: lots. I shook my head.

“You know how I’ve been trying to get you guys to come cross-country skiing with me?” I scolded. “One of the things you learn is the danger of sweating into your clothes. If you have an accident on the trail and can’t move, your body starts to cool. Once the perspiration your clothes have absorbed freezes, you have worse than no insulation. Your clothes actually suck the heat out of you. ”

Through chattering teeth, Mac said, “If you’re telling us we have to get naked, it’s not a joke that’s as funny the second time.”

I regretted my earlier wisecrack about hypothermia. “I’m not joking,” I assured him. “Right now your frozen clothes are keeping the heat from getting where it needs to be – on your skin. Soap opera cliché or not, you need to get out of those clothes and sit by the heater.”

I opened my closet and took two quilts down from a high shelf. The boys started undressing. Curtis pulled a hooded sweat shirt over his head. The sleeves were stiff tubes that retained their shape when empty. His arms remained covered by the top half of a pair of long underwear. I wondered where he’d gotten such a thing and then remembered he was a farm boy by birth. He took off an Iowa State t-shirt he wore over the long underwear and then went to work on his pants. He shed those, the process made awkward by the frozen denim, and reached for a quilt. Instead of handing him one, I took a step back. His hand dropped to his side.

Mac stepped out of his jeans and the two of them stood before me, both wearing gray woolen socks and two-piece sets of white long underwear. I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Even if you guys are the most unsexy night visitors this bedroom has ever seen, the underwear still has to go.”

Mac, his muscular arms wrapped arund himself, shook his head. I waited them out. Finally Curtis said, “The first look you get of us isn’t going to be now. Shrinkage, you know?”

I laughed. “And they say women are vain.”

I dropped one quilt on the bed and unfolded the other one. I took a corner in each hand and opened it up. Stepping over to Curtis, I held the blanket at shoulder height, looked away and waited. He reluctantly turned his back to me and pulled the shirt over his head.

I peeked. Like clockwork made of muscle and tendons and bones, his smooth, hairless back rippled under taunt, unblemished skin. He shook his curls back into place with a practiced snap of the head and shucked off the bottoms of his long underwear, revealing a pair of briefs underneath. He looked over his shoulder and held my peeking eye as he dropped those to the floor. I looked down deliberately, took a mental picture of his butt and then draped the quilt over his shoulders. I kissed his neck, patted his bum and nudged him toward the heater.

I picked the second quilt up off the bed, unfolded it and turned toward Mac. He pulled his shirt off and dropped the pants without pausing; leaving him wearing nothing but a pair of Calvin Klein cotton stretch briefs. His abs and triceps tensed. Not hard, the way a body builder does. It was more subtle than that, less conscious: a male animal readying for sex. He turned his back to me and slipped the briefs off. I stared at his perfect build, anticipating rubbing his ass with my hands and lips and nipples. I draped the quilt over his shoulders and sent him to the heater with a peck and a pat.

An hour later we were sprawled in a semi-circle in front of the heater. It was off, the room warm to the point of being stuffy. The pillows from my bed cushioned us and the boys’ quilts only covered their bodies from the waist down. A platter laid on the floor between us, a few crumbs all that remained of the cheese and bread and pitted green olives and hard Mennonite salami I’d had waiting. Our bellies full, we were working on a bottle of white wine. This was the first time I could look at my neighbors without hiding my lust and I was drinking them down as well.

“We have a treat, if you’re interested,” Curtis said.

“I like treats,” I said.

He got to his feet, leaving his quilt on the floor beside me, and my world changed. The candlelight lent his winter-pale flesh a golden glow. Nude, he stepped over to the pile of clothes on the floor by the door and retrieved something small from the pocket of his pants. I say this as a logical extrapolation of what must have happened. The reason I don’t have a true memory of the activity is because all of my attention was fixated on his cock. He was huge: soft, he was as long and thick as any hard cock I’d ever handled.

He walked back to his quilt and pillow and sat cross-legged beside me.

“You are beautiful,” I told him.

“Thank you,” he murmured and held out a closed fist. He opened it, showing me the joint in his palm. “An old friend came to visit over the holidays,” he said. “It’s homegrown and not very strong.”

I let him hold his hand out while I studied his beautiful cock. The head was small, with a wide circumcision collar. It would slip inside me easily, for the first inch or so: but then, what?

I glanced over at Mac. He was lying on his side, propped up on an elbow, a knee raised under his quilt, watching Curtis and me. I took in his solid, muscular presence; the symmetry of his well defined abs, his chest full and, with his pecs relaxed, as suck-able as a woman’s. I glanced pointedly at his crotch. He took a corner of the quilt and flipped it open, exposing himself. He was fully erect; not as spectacularly endowed as Curtis, but not at all disappointing. Without taking my eyes off his manhood, I puckered my lips and kissed the air between us. He gave himself a light, sensuous stroke in reply.

I returned my attention to Curtis. He was hardening: an amazing sight, something out of an erotic dream.

I was lying on my stomach. I put my hands flat on the floor and pulled close enough to wrap a hand around his shaft. My hand could not encircle him and I was a second hand short of covering his length. I put my weight on my elbows and pulled myself a little closer. I tilted his cock down enough for me to take him in my mouth. I rolled my tongue around the head and then slipped him between my lips. His girth was astounding and I backed off, a tingle of fear buzzing deliciously in my belly.

I released him and took the joint. It was a fatty with a matchbook filter, the rolling paper greasy with oil. I stood up, reached under the waistband of my sweat pants and slipped the joint inside the waist of my panties. Then I crossed my arms and pulled my sweatshirt over my head. Underneath, I wore a sheer, wireless, full coverage, snow-white stretch cotton brassiere with an embroidered leaf motif.

The moment grew intense. For months and months we had been fantasizing: them about me, naked and willing; me about them, seeing me in my glory. My breasts are large and I’ve grown cynical about their effect on men (and some women). But not on this night: on this night, I was grateful for my endowment and proud of what I had to offer. Their eyes devoured me.

I retrieved the joint from the waistband of my panties, stepped over to my vanity and picked up one of the candles. As I lit the joint I turned slowly from the hips, the mirror of the vanity behind me. The boys watched candlelight play upon two of me.

I puffed breezily, stoking the tip. When I had the joint burning the way I wanted, I filled my lungs. I exhaled several seconds later and filled my lungs again before passing the splif to Mac. While the boys shared the half joint that remained, I let my eyes roam over them as theirs had roamed over me.

I smoke rarely and found the pot was plenty strong. A rush of sensual delight radiated through me, warming me to my bones and deeper. Swaying my hips slowly, I slipped my sweat pants over my hips, exposing the rest of my lingerie ensemble: high-cut panties and white stockings of the same sheer, embroidered stretch cotton as my bra. The boys moaned at the sight of my womanly splendor. To weaken strong men with a look: that’s power. I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. I cupped my hands over my breasts and shrugged the straps off my shoulders.

“I have fantasized about this since the day you two drove up in your U-Haul,” I said. I tossed the bra to the side and showed them my big, ripe tits. Their breathing became rapid, shallow. I brushed my nipples with open palms until they were long and stiff.

I kneeled between my neighbors and cupped my breasts, offering myself. “Suck my tits,” I said, more order than request.

They slid over, Mac on my left, Curtis on my right. My nipples ached with a life of their own. My eyes were wide open, not wanting to miss a thing. Mac touched my nipple with the tip of his tongue. He flicked it a time or two, then took it between his lips, nursing gently. Curtis took a full mouthful of me right away. He sucked hard, pulling on my aureole with the velvety insides of his cheeks, his tongue massaging my nipple. It was my turn to moan. Mac filled his mouth with tit and sucked hard, as Curtis was doing.

It was like nothing I’d imagined, despite years of such imaginings. I put my hands on the backs of their heads and matched the pressure of their mouths with the pressure of me feeding them my tits. Here’s the truth about having both of your tits sucked at the same time: the pleasure isn’t doubled – it’s squared.

Slowly, so as not to stop the men from sucking on me, I eased onto my back. Still sucking, they stretched out beside me. Mac laid his rigid member against my stocking-covered left thigh: Curtis pressed up against the right. Their hips began to slowly pump. I arched my back and squeezed my breasts, moaning with desire. They continued sliding their erections against my thighs, the cock-heads touching the bare flesh above my stockings at the top of each stroke.

I released my breasts and reached down to the tops of my stockings. The boys stopped humping long enough for me to roll the stockings below my knees, baring my thighs to the length of their manhood. When I had, my lovers resumed fucking my legs and sucking on my ravenous nipples. The world receded, or was absorbed, and my identity uncoupled from time.

I existed in a world defined by hunger like satisfaction and its opposite, satisfaction like hunger. My need for cock grew until I could wait no longer. I pulled my tit out of Mac’s mouth. He looked up at me. I told him I wanted to suck his cock. He shifted until his hips were beside my face. While Curtis sucked my tit and humped my thigh with his massive cock, I grabbed the base of Mac’s genitals, making him a bouquet to my lust. I kissed him all over; his balls, his shaft, the head. I took his testicles in my mouth, one after the other, sucking, nuzzling, brushing my fingers along his shaft now and then. Finally I released the bouquet, took his shaft in hand and drew the head to my lips.

Curtis pulled away. I glanced down, my mouth full of cock, and watched him watch me suck his friend’s dick. He kept his eyes on mine as he sat up. His epic cock was as erect as a crane tower. He rolled one of my stockings down my leg and off, then the other. He put his hands on the waistband of my panties and softly said Mac’s name.

Mac opened his eyes and his gently rocking hips fell still. I took him out of my mouth, but kept my hand around his rod. The both of us watched Curtis.

He leaned down and kissed my unshaved pussy through my sheer panties. He pulled the waistband off my hips and pulled my panties down to my thighs, exposing my triangle. Seeing them, two men staring lustfully at my naked womanhood, released within me all the animal rutting instincts women are conditioned to control. I had never had an exhibitionistic urge in my life, but with two men watching I had been presenting and displaying and teasing with every move. This was it – my animal self, a female in heat.

I sat up, surprising them. I pulled my panties the rest of the way off, got to my feet and crossed the room. My bed had no footboard. I sat on the foot of the mattress, my back straight, my feet on the floor, my legs wide.

“Come here,” I said.

The men stood, hard and hungry, and came to me. I grabbed a cock in each hand and for a moment we looked in each other’s eyes as I stroked the shafts, convincing ourselves this was real. I massaged the erections, rolling my palms over the smooth heads, tracing the collars with gentle fingers, cupping their balls.

My inner slut was free. Ohhh…: just remembering that night.

I had Curtis in my mouth, his girth stretching my lips tight around him. He took my head in his hands and pulled out of my mouth. I cupped the head of his cock to my soft cheek. He grunted. I slid my hand down, gripped his shaft and rubbed the head with my face; rubbing cock against my forehead and eyelids and nose and cheeks and lips and chin and neck. When I touched him to my lips again he put his hands on the back of my head, pulled me to him and pushed half his length down my willing throat. He released my head and I bobbed furiously, fucking him with my mouth. With one hand he grabbed my left tit, with the other he reached between my open legs.

I was jerking off Mac all the time I was blowing Curtis. When Curtis grabbed my left breast, Mac pinched my right nipple and reached between my legs, too. I turned to Mac and blew him for a while.

Back and forth I went, sucking off two men at once. Down below, I lost track of whose hand was whose and luxuriated in the feel of ten fingers prodding and caressing and penetrating me. Someone had four fingers up my cunt, stroking my insides from every possible angle. Another hand massaged my clit between thumb and forefinger.

Both of my nipples were being used to shake my heavy breasts. The feel of having my nipples and my clit touched in the same manner made some nervous system connection and it was as if I was my clit and nothing else. My ego abandoned ship and I tumbled, mindless, in the fast, deep river of the carnal.

Without warning, the hands fucking me were withdrawn. Why are they stopping? I took Curtis out of my mouth and opened my hands. Curtis and Mac removed themselves from my embrace. I lay back on the bed, my legs bent at the knees, my toes on the floor.

Mac picked the pillows up off the floor. Curtis stepped between my legs, slipped his hands under my ass and lifted me. Mac stuffed pillows underneath my butt and the small of my back, raising my pussy to the height of Curtis’s cock. He lay down on his side, next to me. He took my hand and I squeezed his.

I pulled my feet up onto the mattress and gripped my legs by the upper ankles. Curtis took himself in hand. With a flick of his wrist he slapped my pussy with his cock. I gasped at the impact. Mac relaxed his grip on my hand and Curtis froze, thinking he’d hurt me.

When I got my breath back I said, “More.”

He whipped my clit the instant the word was out of my mouth, before I had a chance to prepare. I grunted, but before I could react with more than that he cock-slapped my clit again.

I squeezed Mac’s hand as Curtis slapped my clit with his massive cock again and again and again. Mac started slapping my tits. My eyes rolled back in my head. I surrendered and they pummeled me like a storm.

I was somewhere I had never been. My body was crazy with desire – to be touched, feasted upon, penetrated – while at the same time I was being ravished as never before. I was caught on a wave; rising up to pleasure, sliding down into desire, being lifted again into pleasure. The power of the ride ripped through me and in me and I rode it like spark rides current.

When they stopped, I begged them to continue. They made no response. I opened my eyes. It was what Curtis was waiting for. He wrapped his hands around my knees and began his entrance, slowly, gently. All of us watched and watched us watch.

The small head of Curtis’s cock slipped effortlessly inside me. As he pushed deeper, there came resistance. His width stretched my cunt and I felt 360 degrees of cock-on-cunt friction. He kept pushing until he was seven inches inside me and I felt I could take no more. He began to fuck, never penetrating me to the length he might. From my waist to my knees, I could feel him penetrating me over and over and over.

“Kiss me,” I begged Mac. He leaned down and we frenched passionately while Curtis slid in and out and in and out. Mac slapped a tit. I broke the kiss and told him, “More.” He took a breast in each hand and shook me.

“Fuck that pussy,” he told Curtis. “Fuck her hard.” He took my tits by the nipples and shook them some more.

I took up the call. “Fuck me,” I told Curtis. “Deep as you can.”

He withdrew to the edge of my cunt. In one long, slow thrust, he penetrated me till my pussy lips almost kissed the base of his cock. I cried out in pleasure and pain and pride.

“Give me all you’ve got.”

He slid his hands down my thighs to my crotch and grabbed hold of my outer labia. I cried out and drove my pussy into him. We pounded each other, pulling back and slamming forward in perfectly synchronized rhythm. Harder and faster we banged.

“I’m going to cum,” Curtis gasped.

I released my legs, lifted my shoulders off the bed, grabbed his ass and pulled us tight together. “Cum in me,” I told him, grinding into his monster. “Cum. Cum.”

We were no longer in my bedroom. We were deep inside each other. “I love you, Liv,” he moaned as he pounded my insides. “Take me.”

“You’re mine,” I groaned. “Every inch.”

He groaned as the pleasure-pain of orgasm built to climax, and when he came, he roared.

As he collapsed, I rolled him off and out. I wasn’t done yet.

I sat up and pushed Mac onto his back. I straddled him and lowered myself dead center on his raging hard-on. I twisted my hips, swirling my cunt around his shaft. He stared up at my tits and long, fat nipples, stiff as cock. I leaned down, slapped one of my hanging tits, grabbed it and stuck the nipple in his mouth. He grabbed the breast with both hands and squeezed as he sucked. I was growling like an animal, pumping up and down on his cock. Finally my time came. I leaned back and franticly rubbed my clit. Mac fucked my pussy, his eyes on my heaving breasts. I returned the fucking and encouraged him, “Come on baby. Cum with me. Cum in me. Come on, come on.”

Curtis was on his knees, beside me. He took me in his arms, one around the back of my waist, one around the front of my chest, and held me as I came with Mac inside me. My orgasm was like ocean waves crashing upon a beach. Each wave was higher then the last and broke closer to shore. The waves got bigger, more powerful and still I did not peak. I climaxed until I felt I couldn’t go on and still it didn’t stop. And when the final wave crashed upon the shore of me, it blocked out the sun.

I collapsed on top of one of my lovers. The other lay down beside us and rested one hand on my ass. The undertow of orgasm sucked me out to sea and I drifted to sleep like men do after sex, rolling in my sweet babies’ arms.

© Copyright 2021 Janet G. All rights reserved.

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