Buster , Holly Ch. 02

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Holly and I sat naked on the front porch swing until the full force of the fast moving front drove us back into the house. The white-blonde hair on her arms bristled at the sharp temperature change as did two very punctiliar nipples. Strange, as George Costanza had once commented to Jerry, how it had exactly the opposite effect on the male body!

Twilight had quickly been captured by a black-as-coal sky. Foreboding storm clouds forced their way across the fields of violently swaying corn. This far out of town, there were no other lights to be seen other than the one observed in the barnyard behind the house hanging at the end of a serpentine conduit pipe stapled to an old weathered telephone pole. It had one of those old corrugated tin top hats and it and it alone was the sole lighted sentinel for miles.

“This doesn’t look good, Buster. Grab the storm lantern sitting on top of the drier while I grab a few things from upstairs and I’ll meet you at the back door.”

While I waited for Miss Nude Universe to return, I grabbed what was left of the lemonade out the fridge, drinking half of it, pouring the rest of it into the green aluminum glass as Holly raced back into the room.

“Come on! Just leave the house open. It can’t harm anything.”

The driving rain had begun to clink. The sheet metal roof of the house and both rust wagons sitting just outside the storm cellar were voicing their displeasure as pea sized hail began to intermingle with the driving rain.

There was a sort of reverse Wizard of Oz coloration morph thing going on after Holly sealed the door behind us and struck a match to light the old oil burning storm lantern. As Holly had earlier described, the storm cellar was big. In point of fact, it was a lot bigger than Holly had led me to imagine. I let out a slow whistle.

“You stay down here in the winter?” I asked, astonished by the consideration.


“Well, I mean. . .” I hesitated to tell my hostess my true thoughts of her underground bungalow.

“Ya? Go ahead say it.”

And I might have if a large and heavy crashing sound hadn’t suddenly startled both of us. Whatever it was, it had landed on the metal door, seemingly sealing our doom.

“Wait!” she shouted as I moved to try to open the door. “Wait until the storm passes!”

I had heard of babies being ripped out of their mother’s arms and passengers sucked out of their cars as tornados passed over head. I gave weight to her alarm, turning back to her.

“I just hope we can get out at all,” I shouted as the storm raged outside.

“I just hope my house is still there!” she cried in sudden alarm.

“Is there another way out of here?” I continued to shout above the storm, peering into the black recesses of the cave like cellar.

“Wouldn’t be much of a storm cellar if there was. Duh!”

Holly’s normal levity had temporarily abated as I saw real concern in her face.

“I suppose if we had to, we could try and dig around the stove pipe -if it ever came to that. I have a shovel down here as I got scared last winter when we had that heavy snow warning. And I probably would have gotten stuck down here if the winds hadn’t blown most of it away. So yes, I’ve thought about it. And no, there aren’t any quick ways out of here other than that door.”

As fast and all consuming as the roar of the storm had been, it’s passing equaled it in silence. I turned back to the door!”

“NO!” Holly screamed. “Sometimes there is a calm before the real storm hits. Where have you been all your life, Buster?”

Though I had spent the last twenty years in Whosville, I personally had never had the pleasure of encountering a tornado close up. For whatever reasons, the one or two a year visitors had always struck south of town, damaging crop but not home -at least to my knowledge.

“Oh,” replied the Tin Man without a brain.

Eventually it dawned on me that Holly was still naked. She had white breasts with an equally white panty line, though I doubted she worn them that often.

“What?” she again enquired as I stood staring at her. “Whaaaat?” she demanded, hands now on hips, leaning forward a bit to give her demand bite.


“My ass!”

“Exactly,” I countered, smiling as the maneuver set her breasts asway.

Turning only her shoulders, Holly did a quick inventory of her behind, asking, “Do I have something on me?”

“No. I was just looking at your tan lines. I like tan lines. The more pronounced the better. . . . and you’ve got really great one’s.

“You think?” she asked, taken aback by my assessment. “Wait a minute, are you referring to tan lines or these?” she winked, pointing to her breasts.

“Oh ya, those too!”

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but the silence outside the green door continued. With guarded permission I tried the door. It took both of us plus a bit of leverage from Holly’s shovel, before the door opened enough for me to work myself out. A large tree limb had, indeed, as I suspected, eryaman genç escort fallen across the door. Calling back down to Holly for advice, she told me to be careful but she thought there was an old logging saw in the shed next to the pump house. Asking me to wait a minute, she returned with an old extruded aluminum flashlight. It seemed everything about Holly’s heaven (except for those magnificent breasts) were either old or weathered -or both.

“WAIT!” I heard her shout as she tossed me my old blue-jean shorts.

“Wouldn’t want you to injure anything important!” Her mischievous grin was becoming endearing to me.

It took me a good five minutes to rummage through the shed to find the old five foot two-man hand saw. Though rusted, the teeth looked straight and sharp. Another fifteen minutes was needed before I had enough of the heavy branch cut off to where I could actually push the rest of it off to one side. Holly swung the cellar door open, laughing at me as she held the storm lantern aloft.

“Aren’t you the sight?”

Covered with sawdust, dirt and a few stick-to-your-naked-skin leaves, I grimaced, asking if there was an outside hose or something to rinse off with.

“Turn your light over on the house.”

Holly grabbed hold of the flashlight, directing toward the house surveying for damage. The tree limb had come from old man willow that sat ten, maybe fifteen feet to the left of the cellar door. The trucks remained where they had been parked though there was a crack in my windshield -of course- and multiple hail marks on both cabs and hoods. One good thing about driving rambling wrecks, one didn’t have to give second thought to minor things like dents. All it gained was a little more character and yet another story to be told.

It seemed that the house was another matter. There were only three windows in the westward facing side of the house. All three were missing glass. The screen door had nearly been ripped from its hinges. However, from initial inventorying, at least the sheet metal roof looked in tack.

“I’ve got some cardboard stored away in the house,” she offered, “I suppose we could cut it to size and stuff them in the windows for now. The door was in need of new hinges anyway. I’ve got some in the shed. We can work on that in morning. I don’t see much else. Do you? When I heard that limb hit the door, honestly, I was scared that it was one of the trucks.” I watched as the lithe blonde bomb shell of a woman grow all stiff before a shiver rattled her shoulders and her head give a brief shake. “I don’t get scared easy. But then, I’m not ready to die a long slow death being buried alive in my own storm cellar.”

Holly disappeared back down into the cellar. Throwing out my still soaked t-shirt and underpants, she stepped out still pulling up the elastic bodice of a dingy yellow sundress, struggling to get it up over her boobs.

“The hose is over there if we haven’t lost electricity. But,” she held up a finger, “let me run some water into a pan first -AND BE CAREFUL OF THE GLASS!!”

Reaching inside the kitchen door, Holly tried the light switch to no avail.

“Just as I suspected. No power. Just a minute then you can rinse off.”

I didn’t want to remind her about the cistern filled with water down in the storm cellar. Sometimes you just have to allow a woman to be busy.

Before I sought out the hose that had supposedly been snaked through the white limestone foundation of the house only to hide somewhere in the unshaven grass, I retrieved a dry t-shirt and pair of old stop-by-the-riverside-to-fish tennis shoes stuffed behind the seat of my truck.

“That’s a pretty handy device,” I commented about the cut glass, crystal chimney storm lantern as I looked in the back door to see if she had finished her task.

“It was my grandmothers. She had two of them. Don’t ask where the other one went. Ya, I’ve had to use it more than once when we lose power way out here. Hopefully it’ll be back on before sunrise. They’re pretty good about taking care of the old farms especially ones as big as fourth generation Thompson’s state recognized heritage farm. Have you ever been back there?”

I confessed I had not which didn’t surprise her. She whistled a slow whistle.

“I’ll have to drive you back over there tomorrow. Quite the place. They know my truck but the dogs still chase it all the way up to the house. I suppose it would only be right to check in on them anyway. I’ll introduce you. Fred, once you get past his gruff side, is a pretty decent guy. Hallelujah!” Holly prayed as the kitchen light flickered on.

I had begun to accept the fact that I was going to spend a miserable evening coated in unwashed sweat and grim, thinking how it would taint any hoped for after-intermission activities. Silently I rejoiced along with my hostess that the favor of electricity had been so quickly restored to us.

Holly shut off the kitchen water which had steadily increased in power. Somewhere out in the dark ankara escort bayan I could hear an old pump (because everything was old in Holly’s heaven) laboring to catch up. Flipping the second light switch next to the kitchen light, Holly swore before it ever had a chance to energize the line. “Shit! I’ll have to get the ladder out to change the bulb. Oh well, guess we’ll have to wait till morning light to see what the damage is out there.”

‘Shove the wood in the whole.’ I followed Holly’s commanded, closing the five panel wooden door while turning out the kitchen light. I wondered if whether or not that had been the first time this summer it had been closed. Almost by habit, I went to lock it when I realize there wasn’t any. “Ya gotta love country live’n” I quipped to myself. Quickly I turned back to the light that had just then disappeared up the stairs after closing the front door.

Though it had been little more than three hours since Holly and I raced naked into the storm cellar, it almost seemed an eternity. That sexual animal was slumbering now as I traipsed up the stairs, trying to keep up with the fading light. It had been an emotionally packed day. Suddenly all I could think about was laying in my own bed, with my own pillow, rolling over and slipping deep into dreamsville.

I stopped near the top step when everything went dark. I could hear water running. As my eyes adjusted, I spied a darker than amber slit beneath what I reasoned to be the upstairs bathroom door which at that moment sprung open as Holly asked, “What are you standing there for?” before slipping across the hallway with her storm lantern yet in hand, disappearing from my sight once again.

This time she had not closed the door to the room she had disappeared into. There was enough light now for me make it down the hallway without stumbling into something. Holly suddenly stepped back into the hall, once again standing in front me naked asking, “Wanna take a bath?” Without waiting for my answer, the smoking lantern led us together into the room sounding of running water.

Peeking in the bathroom door as unintrusively as I had her bedroom door, I found the sole treasure of the house. Coupled with a large and of course old, square pedestal sink with a wide rim standing to my right, a toilet to its left, I whistled at the sight of the large claw-footed tub spread end-to-end across the far wall. I’d never seen its like before.

“Come on! Get those dirty shorts off and get in here with me,” she beckoned as she toe tested the water before stepping in, sitting down and sliding beneath the water, re- emerging a second later, pasting her hair back off her face with both hands, sputtering off the water that ran down her face.

The tub had its faucets and drain handles stationed above it and centered on the back wall, allowing two people to slide in comfortably opposite of one another. Stepping in behind her and slowly sliding down and leaning back myself, the water level still had a good three inches before cresting.

Holly had rested the smoking chimney lamp atop a dual pedestal flower stand at her end of the tub. Of course it was no longer needed with the power restored yet its yellowish light maneuvered everything into a mystical world. A small multiband transistor radio sat beneath it. At my end of the tub was a small brass tubed affair with two towels, two face cloths and one soap dish. It almost looked homemade.

“This is my sanctuary,” Holly’s voice reverberated in the otherwise empty room.

White-washed bead board lined the room with a small blue fuzzy rug in front of the toilet and a five by three rag braided rug in front of the tub.

“This is where I sit and sing or just enjoy the quiet of the countryside.”

The outer wall faced south. In the center of it between tub and toilet was a four by eight, double hung wooden window that had been spared the pounding its brothers had fallen victim of in the room just next door. It was thankfully screened, half open at the bottom, half open at the top.

“You’re the first, Buster!”

“The first what?”

“The first man I let in here. The first man I let upstairs. Does that surprise you?”

I had to be honest with her, “Ya, a little.”

“My reputation always precedes me,” she sighed. “Oh well, I guess it’s just my lot in life. But it’s true. I’ve never brought anyone home after stay’n out all night. ‘Bout the only time anyone has been here at the house is when my parents died and my sister came to sit a spell after the funeral. Her husband was all itchy. They didn’t stay long. She didn’t say much of anything but then she didn’t have to. Her eyes said it for her, looking all about the house with a sad look on her face as if she couldn’t fathom how her big sister had failed so miserably in life, feeling sorry for me and all. We’re sort of opposite books ends that way. I was the run around tramp while she floated above everything and out of sight. She paid her way through junior college sincan escort where she met Ty, a middle line backer who got wooed by SU, making first string his second year there. I think he said he was a red something or other senior.”

“A red shirt senior?” I questioned.

“Ya, I think that’s it. Then he got drafted one hundred fifty-third by one of the teams out in California; played four years before getting hurt. But by then he had made his money. Sis and Ty aren’t hurt’n. She showed me the pictures of their place in San Diego. Never been there. Not my cup of tea to be around all that money. It all just sort of makes me feel small and insignificant. Ty got a job at one of the large housing developers out there. Makes more money now than he did playing football. Anyway, it was all too easy to tell they didn’t much like my house. I haven’t made up my mind whether you do or not.”

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to keep my rising periscope from popping to the surface while taking extreme enjoyment out of watching the wave action caused by Holly’s buoyant breasts rising and falling with each breath stop. “Well, if you want my honest assessment it could do with a little work. But it’s definitely something I could get use to. That is, I mean living in a place way out here and all. But admittedly, not having a handy convenient store nearby might take a little getting use to.”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what?”

“You know.”

Laughing in feign innocence, “No I don’t!”

“I can see you waving those arms under water, making my boobs float up and down.”

“Who me?”

Holly’s big right toe slid to nudge my now fully erect manhood. Reflex popped the periscope above water level briefly before submerging again. Holly sat up, leaned forward while sliding her hands and elbows along the outer edges of the tubs slippery white baked enamel finish, kissing me lightly as I closed my eyes and once again drank in the fantasy.

Raising herself up she promised me, “You never have to just look and hope with me, Buster. If you ever walk in that back door again after tonight, and you see me washing dishing at the sink dressed in that old sundress, you just lift it up and spread my legs! You don’t ever have to worry about me making a fuss or throwing dishes at you.” With that said, Holly leaned forward and offered her creamy white wet breasts for me to feed on.

I was beginning to wonder if we would ever have sex out of the water. Sitting back a bit, Holly nimbly impaled herself on my manly weapon, kissing me as she took all of it after a few up’s and down’s. Offering her breasts for my mouth to feed on, she rose just enough for me to feel myself about to slip out before she impaled herself again over and over till my face told her I was about to come.

“Whoa there big boy!” she smiled as she sat up while remaining firmly seated on bent knees and slowly undulating hips. Reaching back across me to grab a bar of soap and one of those faded pink face cloths, she spoke quietly to me. “Holly’s going to get you all cleaned up and then she’s going to take you in the other room and give you the ride of your life. Think you can handle that cowboy?”

From my experience I had never met two more different people than Martha and Holly. Martha was flat chested, frigid -well at least where I was concerned, a wench who’s eyes and mouth never closed. She had a lipless cunt with only a sheen of hair. Holly on the other hand, actually had lovely and readily accessible 34 double D’s. She closed her eyes when she kissed. Her cunt was long lipped and her pub’s were long, thick and wide. Obviously she hadn’t been to the public pool that summer or I would have read about it in the town paper after hearing everyone else’s ‘I was there’ account of it at the local watering hole after work. Holly just had a way about her, moving her body in feminine ways, that attracted men’s eyes and women’s scorn. Truly, she was a polarizing force. Either you loved her or you hated her. I definitely was not nor ever had been the latter.

First the arms, then the under arms, she soaped and scrubbed me while remaining impaled on my war baton. Then she proceeded to have me sit up as she wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder, lazily wiping off all traces of grime and grit from my back. She sort of went all soft on me there. In a dreamy, far off voice that barely reverberated in that still-of-the-night room, she murmured on about having given up; about having lost all hope of finding someone who would just accept her for the way she was, hoping beyond hope that I wasn’t playing her just for a couple of fucks. The strong self-sufficient woman began to let me see a little of that sad, lonely girl hiding all her life on the inside.

I had never sat in a tub of water with a naked woman before, especially with one who had lathered my chest before letting me lather hers in transfixed fascination, pressing her soft breasts against me as she held on to me as if I were a dream about to shake her awake. The experience was incomparable to any I’d ever had before. With each breath, hers and mine, sometimes together, sometimes purposefully different, I lost myself in the sensation of those slithering mounds of flesh washing across my hairy shore.

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