Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2014 09:45:05 -0700
From: ben albrecht <orpfynmakyr@yahoo.com>
Subject: New lesbian and masturbation story

"Power outage"
by GrandMoff

Note: This story is purely adult entertainment. It has explicit
descriptions of masturbation and lesbian sex. Please don't read it if you
aren't old enough to legally. The story is fiction; any resemblance of this
character to anyone is coincidental.

OOoOO

My alarm clock beeped loudly.  I slapped the switch, sat up, and turned on
the light.

Except I didn't, because the light didn't come on.  I listened for my fan,
the compressor of my fridge, anything that needed electricity.  Steady
rainfall was the only sound to be heard.  For the third time this year, I
had no power.

I was displeased.  I had 45 minutes to get ready for work and I was going
to have to do without electricity.  What really irritated me about this
blackout was that this storm only had heavy rain.  There were no high winds
and no lightning.  The utility company just didn't feel like using the
money we paid them to update the failing infrastructure.  My town had about
4500 residents.  I guessed we would have to complain louder if we wanted
reliable service.

I had candles and flashlights.  What I didn't have was a working stove,
microwave, or well pump.  (Our town doesn't provide water; dwellings and
businesses have wells.)  In other words, I had no food or water.

I wanted breakfast, but I could probably get that at a convenience store.
However, there was no way I was going to work without a shower.

Using one of my small LED flashlights, I found the matches and lit a couple
of candles.  I looked in my closet and dresser and picked out clothes for
the day.

I opened my top drawer and picked out my lingerie.

Okay, I could get ready for work.  All I needed was for the power to come
on again.  Right now would be good....

How long could I wait for it?  What options were there?  Without
electricity, I was about as paralyzed as any modern American citizen would
be.  My supervisor wouldn't like me being late, but there was nothing to be
done.

...While I sat in my most comfortable chair and listened to the rain, my
brain turned over the problem again and again.  What was in the lowest
drawer of my dresser?  Old shirts, old shorts, old pants--all ready to be
used as clothing for dirty, messy jobs.  Next to the worn, stained, or
threadbare clothes were my three swimsuits.

...Still I sat, listening to the rain.  It was particularly loud toward the
rear of the house, right outside the porch.  The west half of the porch
roof met the north half of the main roof there, making a valley.  The south
half of the roof had gutters.  The north half didn't.  Water that funneled
to the northwest roof junction poured in a torrent along that valley every
time it rained.

...It was unorthodox, but I had a shower!

As I gathered my shampoo, conditioner, and towels from the bathroom, I
thought about the idea.  It wouldn't be too cold; this was early summer.  I
wouldn't be too exposed; I sunbathed in my backyard pretty often and I
would wear one of the swimsuits I wore when I was tanning.  There was no
reason not to try using the spout that formed in the rain.  It would be
like a beach shower.

I got into my smallest bikini, picked up my bundle of shower supplies, and
went to the back porch.

The neighborhood looked pretty deserted.  Rainwater was rushing from the
roof valley and splashing forcefully on the square slab of concrete that
stood under the step that led to the wooden decking of the porch.  I pulled
one of the little wicker tables over to the porch's screen door and piled
my stuff on the table.

I opened the screen door and stepped into the rain.

The water was cool, but not cold.  The power of the rainwater was amazing;
it was much more forceful than my shower.  The water crashed onto my hair
and body like it was trying to give me a deep tissue massage.

--Exhilarating!  In a word, it felt wonderful.

Not just my hair, my entire body was soaking wet in moments.  I stepped out
of the stream of water and lathered my light brown hair--then most of my
body--with shampoo.  The suds didn't seem to get as thick as usual: was
that because of the rainwater?  I stepped eagerly back under the flow.

Rinsing had never gone so quickly!  The soapy bubbles washed away
immediately.  I ran my hands through my hair, enjoying the feeling of the
rushing stream on my scalp and hands.  I ran my fingers along my arms, then
down my torso, finally along each leg.  The rain felt great splashing
freely against my back.

I felt completely alive.  Turning toward the house, I furtively slipped my
fingers under the little cups of my swimsuit--to make sure my breasts were
really rinsed, I told myself.  Thrills of bliss shot through my core while
I massaged my large breasts and swollen, throbbing nipples.

(Too bad the utility company didn't have wires hooked up to me; I was
producing surges of electrical energy!)

My right hand wandered lower of its own accord.  The storm of sensations
was carrying my consciousness with it.  My fingers got busy under the
stretchy cloth of my spandex-and-nylon swimsuit bottom.  I teased my
sensitive spots for a few long, delicious seconds.

Remembering what I was supposed to be doing, I got my conditioner and put
it in my short, thick chestnut brown hair.  I let the cool water splash all
over my back for a couple of minutes.  I stroked my exposed skin lightly
and infrequently, not wanting to be too naughty, in case someone was
watching.  But the better it felt, the bolder my caresses grew.

I turned my back to the porch door and stepped back under the stream of
collected rain.  I rinsed the conditioner out of my shoulder-length hair.

My eyes darted to and fro across the small expanse of lawns and buildings
in the neighborhood.  I'm slightly myopic--and I don't wear my glasses
while I shower, of course--but I was pretty confident that there was no one
around.  It was me and nature, me and the rushing water.  I glanced around
again.  Not a soul could be seen.

Two simple bow knots (one behind my neck, the other in the center of my
back) fastened my string bikini top.  I tugged the trailing ends of the
lower knot.  I felt the strings slowly go slack.  Leaving the other knot, I
pulled the bathing suit top over my head.

My nerve endings approved of the change; I shivered with delight.
Dreamily, I put my forefingers and thumbs under the sides of my tiny
swimsuit bottoms.  My body wanted this.  I wasn't going to deny it.

The last article of clothing I was wearing slid along my slightly parted
legs and fell onto the concrete surface beneath it.  The skimpy bottom
landed softly.  I moved my feet to make sure I wouldn't trip on it.

Now this was a shower!  My hands glided on my rain-slicked skin, exciting
all of my body's nerves.  The long, lazy motions grew gradually shorter and
faster as my fingertips began to take spiral routes to my breasts and my
pussy.

Damn, this was glorious--but what if someone saw?  My eyes reluctantly
opened again.  Nothing; I was in the middle of downpour in a deserted
landscape.

Pet me, my clit silently screamed!

Well, this shower had been so fast that I did have some extra time.  Why
not indulge my naughty little button?

Using hardly any pressure, I set my fingers on my mound and circled gently.
My eyelids closed again, prompting me to concentrate on the sensations I
felt on my skin.

The pink nub between my lower lips buzzed happily.  It bulged to full size,
so that it poked from under its thin hood.  My slippery middle finger
strummed my clitoris, making direct contact.

I don't know what noise I made: it seemed like a gurgling groan from deep
in my throat.  My knees knocked into each other, but fortunately they
didn't buckle.  I sucked my lower lip into my mouth.  I heard my blood
pounding through my arteries.  The primal energy of the body's instinctive
desire surged in my chest and exploded through my loins.

Orgasm shook me to the marrow.  I threw back my head and howled like a
she-wolf.  (That's probably not true, actually; the sound was probably much
quieter and less penetrating--but in that moment, it seemed like the
perfect expression of the wild beast within.)  The rain beat on my
up-turned brow, adding more sensation to my earth-moving climax.

For several seconds, I stood in the deluge, face toward the sky, gingerly
using my fingers to extend the ecstasy of my sated pussy.  At last, I
lowered my face and opened my eyes.

There was movement!  Behind the plexiglass patio door of the house
kitty-corner to mine, the drawn blinds jiggled.  I'd been seen.

On any other morning, I would have panicked and fled the scene.  But on any
other morning, I wouldn't have stripped butt-naked and jilled off in the
driving rain.

Instead of being frightened or ashamed, I responded with an overwhelming
sexual hunger.

I had once gone to the "adult parties" section of Mardi Gras in New
Orleans.  The atmosphere had been frantic, almost desperate.  The need to
belong, the need to feel and be felt, to see and be seen--I had been
self-conscious and drunk and I know I was not the only one.  I'd made
choice after choice after choice based on how I thought the people with me
would perceive me.  Superficial...artificial....

This morning was totally different.  Not only was I not self-conscious, I
was not thinking at all.  Submerged animal impulses had possessed me.  I
was driven by the raw sensual power of the storm and the amazing
satisfaction of my body.  I wanted to share this revelation with my
watcher.

I dashed through my backyard and through the Janis' backyard, up the steps
to their patio, right to their door.  I rapped on the synthetic glass.

There was no answer, so I rapped again.  Then I tried the handle.

The door slid open with squeak of rubber on rubber.  At that instant, the
blinds rose quickly.  I found myself face-to-face with a short, wide-eyed
Indian woman, the cord of the blinds still clasped in her hand.  She had
been about to open the door for me.  She was caught in my eyes, frozen
where she stood.

Naked and dripping, I took one decisive step forward.  I put my hands on
her shoulders.

The young woman was trembling in my arms.  She said something quietly, but
I don't speak anything but English, and I guessed she didn't speak anything
but Hindi.  (Or was it Gujarati she was speaking?  My neighborhood is about
half German-descended American and half Indian-descended American, so I
know a bit about western India.)

I grinned ravenously at the little woman with the deep brown eyes.  I bent
forward, kissing her magenta-painted lips.  I tangled my fingers in the
soft yellow, orange, and red clothing she wore.

The cloth that covered her head fell to her waist, revealing a mass of
long, thick, wavy black hair.  I was surprised that it was not a separate
cloth, but a drape like a hood made from one end of her exceptionally long
garment.  (It seemed that she was wearing a modern sari.  We have plenty of
stores that sell clothing for Indian women; that's why I know what some of
it's called.)

The petite woman stared into my eyes, like a frog staring at a snake.

That wouldn't do!  I took her wrists and placed her hands on my waist, just
above my hips.  I pulled back from our kiss and smiled a much warmer, more
inviting smile.

After untucking the folded part of her brightly-colored sari, I unwound the
cloth slowly.  I let the sari fall to the tiled floor.  I hugged the
smaller woman to me and began kissing her again.  This time, I kissed not
only her mouth, but her cheeks, her neck, her pierced nose, and her pierced
ears.

She shyly kissed me back: infrequently and lightly at first....

Her delicate hands began to stroke my flanks very lightly.

She was clad now only in her chaniya (a thin, slip-like petticoat) and her
choli (a tight, cropped, blouse-like undergarment).  I stood back and
looked at her body.  She was voluptuously lovely: probably 10 to 15
lbs. (4.5 to 7 kg) overweight, and she wore it very well.  Her cutely plump
abdomen sported a teardrop-shaped piercing; in its center was a sapphire,
outlined with tiny white diamonds.  Her hips were wide and curvaceous.  The
bottoms of the generous globes of her breasts peeked from under her short
choli.

I looked back at her face and saw that she'd been studying my body in
return.  She blushed a little when she looked into my eyes again.

Taking her dainty hands, I led her to the still-open patio door.  She
hesitated for a moment.

I bent and reverently kissed the knuckles of each hand.  She was wearing
five rings; one on each finger of her right hand and one on the ring finger
of her left hand.  I made sure to press my lips to the spots just above and
below all her rings.  As I straightened up again, I gazed into her eyes,
willing her to trust me.

Tugging her gently with me, I stepped back onto the patio.  She gasped,
feeling the cool rain pummeling her.  My arms were around her again in a
moment, embracing her with warmth.  I moved my mouth to her neck, then to
her ear, kissing and nibbling.  At one point, I could feel her pulse racing
under my tongue.

The small Indian woman tilted her head and closed her eyes.  She was giving
me permission.

Sliding my fingers under the hem of her choli, I tugged the soaked and
clinging crop-top up past her chest, all the way along her arms--which she
extended upward and toward me--and off her body.  I folded her into a
tighter embrace than before.  Her breasts were very large for her height
and they felt quite pleasant squishing against mine.  Her conical
milk-chocolate-colored nipples were hard and felt even harder when
contrasted with the soft flesh of her tits.

Something I hadn't expected happened then.  She got on her tip-toes and
kissed my mouth.  She put her arms around my back and held tightly to me.

My hands roamed her curvy sides and back.  I reached her chaniya and
started undoing the two knots that kept it around her waist.

Then she was as naked as I was.

This pretty little woman kissed me over and over.  I pushed firmly yet
gently, positioning her in front of a lounge chair.  The cool wetness of
the rain and the hot wetness of our mouths made my pussy begin yearning for
attention again.  But I was concerned with my new friend at the moment.  I
sat her in the chair and slid quickly along her bare skin until my lips
reached her ornamented belly button.  I ran my tongue around her piercings
before kissing and licking the whole area.  My hands traveled upward and
started fondling her pillowy breasts.

Her fingers, meanwhile, alternated between combing through my
shoulder-length hair and massaging my neck and scalp.

I moved upward, locking my lips around one of her huge, tasty-looking
nipples.  While my fingers toyed with one, I sucked and kissed the other--

--And I got another surprise.  At first, I couldn't identify the strange
taste; it was kind of tangy, like sour cream, but it was thinner--oh my
goodness, it was milk!  Her milk!

I hadn't had a taste of breast milk since I was a baby.  It felt
so...taboo, perhaps?  I'd been excited before, but my libido went into
overdrive.  My right hand flew to my cunt and began diddling my clit.  I
sucked and gulped, drinking my new lover's milk: I disliked the taste, but
nursing felt so unbelievably good!  My rational mind considered her
lactation while I drank.  Was it possible that she hadn't weaned her
toddler yet?  But the girl was two years old, wasn't she?

This wonderful young woman might well be pregnant with another child.

My pussy quivered at the thought.  An intense orgasm crashed through my
body.

I'd never known desire this strong.  I got down on hands and knees, then
sank lower until I was sitting on my heels.  I urged the petite woman's
thighs apart.  I pulled one of her legs around my back and tossed the other
one over my shoulder and I slid down to my neighbor's puffy labia.  I heard
her squeak with surprise and pleasure.

Her soft, dark brown pussy hair was completely matted down thanks to the
rain.  I caressed her pretty little twat for a minute with two fingers.
Then I dove in and began to slurp.  I used my lips, my tongue, and--very
carefully--even my teeth to make this a cunnilingus performance for the
ages.  She began to heave and rock under me.  The pounding rain diluted her
pussy juice, but I could still taste it, tangy and hot and mellow.  I
piloted her to an orgasm, gave her a minute to relish it, then gave her
another one.  Her reactions, the sounds she made, the way her hot flesh
smelled and tasted--eating her out was marvelous fun.

At last, I got up.  Despite the rain making everything slick, I felt solid
as a rock.  I held out my hands and helped her to stand.

The beautiful Indian-American mother smiled with her eyes as well as her
mouth.  She kept her gorgeous brown eyes wide open as she tenderly
tongue-kissed me.  I happily made out with her in the pelting rain.  I
could see that this sweet little lady was falling in love with me and I
didn't mind at all.

OOoOO

She brought me back into the house.  We dried each other in her bathroom.
She gave me a comfortable sage-green shift to wear.  She used a little
propane burner to make tea for us both.  She did speak a little English
after all, which was useful.  Her name was Aparajita Jani.

Perhaps half an hour after we came in from the rain, the electricity was
restored.  Aparajita lent me a rain jacket and went back to my place.

OOoOO

I didn't wait until the next power outage to call on her again.

To this day, we take "showers" in the rain as often as we dare!

OOoOO

The End

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