[DRYH] Cabin (21)

edited July 2014 in DRYH
The drive up to the cabin was shorter than you remembered. You and Eileen both spent time doing the normal cabin stuff - airing the place out, placing food in the fridge or the cabinets, putting up clothes. All routine things that seem different now. It's almost like you're living together.

The layout of the cabin is pretty simple. There's a great room right when you walk in, with this ancient wagon wheel suspended from a stout beam with lights strung around it. No TV, just a fireplace and couches. The great room is attaches to the dining area, with a homemade table and nice chairs, a kitchen counter and the stove, fridge, all the "regular" amenities. Bathroom off to the side of the kitchen.

There's a loft above the kitchen with a huge king-size bed, looks over to the great room and has a nice wide window looking into the forest, a view of a slice of the lake. Of course, there is a guest bedroom and the master bathroom downstairs, too. So here's decision one - do you sleep in the loft with the bathroom a whole floor away? Or take the small, cozier guest room right beside the master bathroom and the nice garden tub?


  • Every time I have spent the night here, it's either been on a sleeping bag on the floor or under a blanket on one of the overstuffed couches. I look at Eileen and grin after we've done all the "upon arriving" chores, nod my head toward the loft. "Upwards?"
  • She nods, suddenly nervous as the two of you head up the steep stairs to the loft, It's too narrow for you to walk side-by-side, so I assume you let her go first. You reach the top, and it's barely light outside. You can see the sliver of the lake out of the big window.

    Eileen slides onto the bed on her belly, climbing quickly ahead so you have room near her. She's looking out the window, waiting for you. The bed is crazy soft, the kind of soft a mattress gets after years of use without falling apart. It wasn't a cheap mattress when your mom and dad bought it a number of years ago.

    "This is crazy weird, isn't it?" Eileen says in a hushed tone. "I don't want to freak you out, but it feels kinda like we're. I dunno, playing house."
  • "Weird, yeah. But cool? I mean, you're okay with this?" My phone is uncomfortable in my front pocket, so I pull it out, put it on the nightstand, checking for signal and battery instinctively. I put my head on my left hand, looking out the window, while my right hand moves to rest lightly on Eileen's lower back.

    I want to say she could never freak me out, then I remember my wig-flip over "Killing Me Softly" earlier, so I keep my mouth shut. I look at the last rays of sun glinting on the lake, then turn my head to look at Eileen. Just look.
  • "It's cool." Eileen says, glancing over at you. When you put your hand on her back, she scoots a little closer. "This is better than okay."
  • We lie there together, close and comfortable, with the little touches of new intimacy. Hair, hands, backs, cheeks, a thumb rubbed across the lips, the occasional sweet kiss. I discover she's not wearing a bra, but don't do anything about it at the moment aside from making a mental note.

    We watch twilight turn to night and I ask, "Dinner? Lights? Night hike? Skinny dipping?"
  • "I could eat. You?" She scoots back off the bed, starts making her way down to the kitchen. Following her down, I assume?

    She grabs a few sandwiches out of her bag, "PB and J or ham and Swiss?" She'll hand whatever you want, takes the other. She pulls out a plastic jug of Ocean Spray, grabs some mugs from the cabinet and pours some drinks.

    You have a candlelight sandwich dinner together. Talk about anything in particular?
  • "I'll take the P, the B, AND the J, babe." I grab a bag of chips, pour some in a bowl. I also grab two of the plastic wineglasses and pour the Cranapple from mugs into the glasses. "We, my darling, are not the hoi palloi, whatever they are. We are fancy." I rinse the mugs, then sit and raise my glass in a toast. "To fancy."
  • Eileen giggles, which for her is super rare, when you whip out wineglasses. She points a pinky up as she imbibes the Cranapple. "To fancy."

    After the toast, she takes a drink, then says, "I think you're more interested in the B and the J." Then she snickers again, finishes the cup.

    When your sandwich dinner ends, she says, "You still up for a night hike? Skinny dipping, too maybe?"
  • "Of course! It's awfully chilly for skinny dipping, I was kinda joking about that, but I'm game. Just remember to account for shrinkage." I grab our jackets, the big flashlight and a second for Eileen. "Should I put on boots? Planning on running me ragged?"
  • The "shrinkage" comment makes Eileen chuckle. "Ice," she says, just so you know she got the quote from the X-Files episode.

    She thinks for a moment longer, frowns a bit, "It is kinda cold. Hmmmn... would I be a weeny if we just stayed in tonight, laid down on the fuzzy rug in front of the fire?" She wiggles her eyebrows in a mix of suggestive and Groucho Marx.
  • I don't even have to say anything. I put the jackets back in the closet and the flashlights (they're scattered throughout the house, just in case) back on the shelf by the door. I sweep a bow, since we're being fancy, and immediately set to building a fire in the grate. I'm trying to think ahead... do I send Eileen up for the condoms? Would that be a buzzkill? I don't know.

    Deciding against, I toss out, "Does milady have any requests for particular activities upon the rug?"
  • Eileen daintily walks over to sit on the rug, fancily. You ask her about activities and she holds up a hand, "Okay, total gross-out time... I'm still having my period. It's seriously almost over, I swear. But, like," she hesitates, then admits, "I'm, you know, spotting. So.... you know?"
  • I think for a second. "Listen, I've never had this conversation before but... y'know, I make a mess every time I have sex, right? Is it not safe or something? Because it seems to me a dark towel and a condom take care of most of the potential problems, as long as it's okay with you..." I realize I sound like what I am, a teenage boy that wants to have sex. I guess that's okay. "It's totally your call."
  • Your reasoning (aka pleading) seems to have an effect. Eileen's hesitation evaporates, and she nods softly. "Alright. Just, no jokes about red wings or any of that shit, okay?" She looks at you for a moment, making a decision. "Go get a towel and a condom. I'll get the fire started."

    After the dash upstairs and back, you come around the couch to find the fire crackling and Eileen's sitting up, her back against the bottom of the couch, facing the fire, the light dancing in her eyes. "This is pretty awesome, right?"
  • "It's brilliant. Would it be sappy to say that you're beautiful in the firelight?" I lay the big dark maroon beach blanket on the soft rug, pull a condom out of the box and put it next to the towel. Then I sit down next to Eileen, up against the sofa. We've got all night, all weekend. I'm content.
  • "Uhm... no." Eileen says, her eyes searching yours when you sit beside her. She puts a hand on your knee, then slowly starts inching it towards your thigh.
  • As Eileen's hand reaches my crotch and she gives a little growl at what it finds, it occurs to me that there's no particular reason for us to be patient. "Eileen. We've been finding our way so far, and doing it damn well. Here's the thing, though. We don't have to be quiet tonight. We don't have to hide or listen for my Mom at the top of the stairs. What can I do, what won't I guess, that will get you to be loud?"
  • Eileen's eyes grow larger as she looks at you, considering your offer. Her hands are busy working at your jeans, pulling at them while she answers, "Oh, I have some ideas, Benny." She leans in for a very deep kiss. When she comes up for air, "First off... I want you to ravish me. Just rip off my clothes and take me like you're on fire. Just. Take. Me." She scoots away from the couch and turns towards you while still sitting.
  • I grin wolfishly. "I... can... do... that." I jump to my feet and pull her to hers, then do as requested (although I don't actually rip her clothes. I can't quite bring myself to). Her clothes off, then mine and I'm ripping (finally get to rip something) the condom foil open and putting it to use. Once all the pseudo-ripping and actual ripping is done, I scoop Eileen up, lay her down on the beach blanket, and complete the other part of the request. No preamble, no foreplay. None needed. And yes, she is loud. Positively hollering. Sometimes cheering me on like a star quarterback and sometimes just riding the rollercoaster, but loud.

    Finally, I roll over on my back, strip off the slightly bloody condom without thinking about it too much, and toss it in the trashcan (remember to empty the trashcan). "Can't wait for 'second off'. Well, I'll have to wait, but you know what I mean." I grab her hand.
  • Eileen's face has a sheen of sweat, her hair is damp. She nods, this odd little permagrin on her face. "Oh... oh God, Benny. That was so great." Even her voice is a little drained. "You're a really good boy." She chuckles, and lazily pats at your thigh.

    She rolls onto her side on the towel, facing the fire. It's quite dark out, and quiet inside, except for the occasional crackle of the logs. She reaches for you, hoping you'll crawl up behind her.

    "Don't fall asleep." She says this a bit more sharply. "And let me know when you're done waiting."
  • I snuggle up behind her. Oh how I wish I could just fall asleep like this.

    My arm is draped over her side, fingers splayed across her belly. The position is both intimate and protective. We're skin to skin. "You'll know."
  • "Benny," Eileen says softly, "This is probably the best night of my life. So far." She puts a hand over the one over her belly. "It's weird. I'm so happy we're here right now, and still, I'm a little pissed that we wasted so much time. You know?"
  • "I do know. Gotta face forward though, right? Look at it like this - all those years we spent together without being together? That was practice. For this. We know all the things most people have to fuss and worry over. We can just relax and be us." I idly move my hand, my thumb tracing her old scar.
  • Eileen shifts her shoulder back and tilts her head to look up at you, "Yeah. You're right." She kisses your face, right under your eye, on the cheekbone, a little peck. "If we'd gotten together last year, I'd probably hate your guts by now." She kisses your cheek a second time, lingering, "Probably."

    The second kiss follows into a third. She rotates a bit to press her chest against yours, hand roaming up to your hair, tongue teasing you. She pulls back, eyes questioning,

    "Second off?" she asks sweetly.
  • "I'll admit, I'm intrigued. What's second off?"

    I have never felt more lucky. Also, I'm very interested in the answer.
  • Eileen drops the teasing kiss routine and sits up, a wicked grin on her face. "So, the thing you did with your face that one time? You said you could, you know, make movies and make people do things with your... your big magic brain." She taps your temple playfully.

    "I've always wanted to do it in front of people, like, you know, a big stage play or a porn or something." She's practically giggling as she admits this, barely able to hold your gaze, "But then, well, aftermath. And of course, under age, and all that. But, could you like, make an audience or something?" Her eyes flash when she finally gets to the asking part of her rambling proposal.
  • Hmm. Good to know that there's something kinky back there in Eileen's sexy, sexy hindbrain. I wonder what kind of risk this is going to be, but know that I'm going to do it, regardless.

    I concentrate, fix the scene in my head before trying to bring it to Eileen's eyes. The stage of the Opera House, gold-trimmed, red velvet curtains swagged to the side of the proscenium. The house is full, each seat holding a tuxedoed man or evening-gowned woman, those truly visible from the stage unique, diminishing to the impression of a crowd in the distance. The elaborate gold-and-crystal chandelier is just dimming, and the crowd audibly settles in for the show. Apparently, we're being simulcast, as there are two boom mounted cameras at the stage, and the red "filming" lights of three more in the balconies are like jewels in the growing darkness.

    Gradually, the stage lighting comes up, and a spotlight focuses on the center of the stage, the giant bed where Eileen and I are laying, gloriously nude, on soft red sheets that show off both her dark skin and my paleness. The crowd gasps.

    That is the scene I'm setting. The action is up to Eileen.
  • I think pulling that off with panache isn't terribly hard. Pain Two, but it requires at least two Madness.

    Let's see how this goes!
  • Discipline: (Rolled: 3d6. Rolls: 5, 1, 2. Total: 8)
    Exhaustion: (Rolled: 5d6. Rolls: 3, 4, 5, 5, 5. Total: 22)
    Madness: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 4, 2. Total: 6)
  • Pain: (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 1, 3. Total: 4)
  • You pull it off, but man, does it drain you. How does that happen?
  • Man, I should've just gone with my first instinct and given Eileen a camera crew and a warehouse studio. That's a lot of people, a lot of reactions, and so many individuals... As the spotlight comes up, I have a moment of light-headedness and grab Eileen's hand for strength. The moment passes, but I know I'm right on the edge of crashing. Stupid Benny.

    Still and all, the stage is set and we've got a performance to give.
  • Eileen senses your weakness, and she sits up, easing you onto your back. She seems uneasy at first, until you assure her you're alright, and she accepts you at your word.

    Assured that you are okay, she looks around at the audience. Her nostrils flare and she takes deep breaths, finally sighing out one with the single word, "Ohhhh." A smile splits her face, and Eileen looks down at you, lying there. You pull off a good act of being alert, but you've never felt this tired before, ever in your life.

    Moments stretch, and then you miss seconds, maybe minutes of time. You never fall asleep, not exactly, but the use of your Madness, the power of this moment, the raw sexual urge in your lover, even the smell of her blood, it's a concoction that sends you to and from wakefulness and... something else.

    Images of Eileen's hair as she trails kisses down your stomach. The feeling of her wet lips as she engulfs you. The slight scratch of her nails along the inside of your thighs. The feeling of her humming something with you inside her mouth.

    Another flash and she's above you now, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. Eileen reaches down between her legs to guide you into her, sitting back, looking at the crowd as they gasp and chatter nervously.

    The rhythm, the power of her on top of you, pulling your hands to her hips, her breasts. She's calling your name, performing for the crowd, for you. She's panting, gasping, for all of you. She's never been this animated, in the few times you've been together, she's never wanted it this much.

    How does it end for you, Benny? What's the last moment before the stage show ends?
  • edited July 2014
    My head is at the foot of the bed, toward the audience as she rides me, facing the crowd. In that last forever moment, as I feel her ultimate, crowning orgasm approach, just as I can no longer hold mine in, my director's instinct remembers that this scene is for her, not the audience. Suddenly her eyes see an orgy, men and women tearing at each other's clothes and taking each other in improbable positions and combinations. All riding her energy, just as I am. When the wave crests for us, it crests for these thousand solid illusions, cries echoing and transforming our own.

    As we pant and hold each other, the lights dim.
  • That. Was a great finish.

    --END SCENE--
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