Late in the Season

It was late in the season and the mountain blizzard had come upon them unexpectedly. They had got to the cabin just in time and once inside the blizzard seemed to rise to its full fury as if angered at being denied its victims.

The door closed they looked at the familiar sight. They had been there many times in every season of the year; it had been a favourite holiday venue, but they had never known such weather before.

Some logs and kindling was stacked beside the pot bellied stove and Steve set about starting the fire while Flower went to the kitchen - an obviously later addition to the cabin -- to get the wood range going ready for an evening meal.

The fire in the pot bellied stove started and Steve braved the elements and went to the car parked a few metres from the cabin and began to bring in their clothing and supplies, the supplies intended to last for the fortnight of their stay.

Finishing the task Steve entered the cabin and shook the snow from his anorak and stood for a while watching Flower as she unpacked the supplies. It had been she who had suggested they go to the cabin, but he had not been very enthusiastic since he'd had other plans for the vacation, but he'd finally agreed because otherwise Flower would have been on her own at the cabin.

Originally she was supposed to come with Jim, but at the last minute Jim had to cancel out for what he called "business reasons;" it was then Flower had almost begged Steve to come with her.

It was early spring and the intention had been to engage in some bush walking and climbing. Steve wondered how she was feeling now that the unseasonable snow storm had come raging in and what they would do if they got completely snowed in.

He joined Flower in the cramped kitchen and got the kerosene refrigerator started, then leaving Flower to load the perishables into the refrigerator, and realising they were in for a bitterly cold night, he made another sally outside to get more logs for the fire and cooking stove. He silently blessed Jim for having cut up a big supply of logs during the last time he had been there.

Having made several trips to the wood heap Steve once more shook the snow off and warmed himself by the stove.

He could see into the kitchen and he watched Flower stirring something in a large saucepan. As so often in the past he was captivated by her movements that even when engaged in such a mundane task as stirring something in a saucepan, were graceful and almost dance-like.

She opened the fire door of the oven to replenish the fuel and as she bent her long auburn hair hung down glowing golden in the light of the fire, and to Steve it seemed in danger of catching fire. He went to her and said, "For God's sake Flower tie your hair back when you're working over that oven or it'll catch alight."

She stood up straight, smiled at him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, and said, "I put out some things on the bed, there should be a hair ribbon among them, get it for me, will you."

He left her to hunt among the items of clothing she had not yet stowed away. There were delicate panties, bras and a couple of flimsy looking nightdresses which he thought singularly inappropriate given the weather outside. Nevertheless, seeing these tantalizing items of female clothing caused a tingling sensation in his groin.

She'd frequently had that affect on him ever since he had entered those teen years of raging hormones, often leaving him frustrated and angry that she could so easily arouse him.

He was thankful it was not summertime when in past years he had often dutifully accompanied her and Jim to the beach and Flower wore what he understood was called a "Mini Micro Bikini." He had sometimes wondered if she wore this for Jim's benefit or simply to tease him, Steve. Perhaps she knew how easily she could arouse him and enjoyed his discomfiture.

He found the ribbon and returned to Flower. Instead of taking it from him she said, "You put it on for me."

He stood behind her gathering her long silken hair and with hands trembling slightly he tied the ribbon. Even dressed as she was in corduroy trousers, strong hiking boots, a padded jacket and a shirt, her superb figure could not be completely obscured. In Steve's eyes even this rough garb made her almost as sexy as when she wore the bikini, but then, his were the eyes of one who had long been in love with her despite the anger and frustration she could inspire in him.

It was there now, the desire for her, his penis grown long and hard. As he tied the ribbon her back was to him and when he finished tying it she bent forward to attend to something on the stove and pressed back against him. He wanted to pull her to him and press his manhood against her firm high buttocks, but as on many similar occasions in the past he dared not.

He turned away as Flower said, "Get out the cutlery and bring me a couple of plates, Steve."

What is it?" he asked, glancing into the saucepan.

"Irish stew," Flower replied. He knew she had prepared a number of dishes in advance to save too much meal preparation at the cabin and had brought them in the foam freezer boxes.

* * * * * * * *

He held out the plates to her and she ladled stew onto them and then they went into the main cabin to eat at the old deal table.

The pot bellied stove had done its job effectively; the cabin was warm, a trifle too warm, and Flower removed her jacket. The swell of her breasts was clearly visible against the cloth of her shirt.

Steve removed his own coat and felt the familiar jolt in the pit of his stomach as he looked at her. She was gazing back at him, with her long lidded green eyes, an enigmatic smile on her lips and seemed about to say something, but instead she sighed, sat down and began to eat.

They ate in silence for a while. Had Jim been with them there would be a constant stream of chatter from him always related to what he called, "the bottom line." For all of his conscious life Steve seemed to have heard about the bottom line, the triumphal trumpeting of profits made and profits yet to come.

Sometimes Steve had wondered if there was anything in Jim's life other than the bottom line. For example, did he make love with Flower when they went to bed?

Steve had often lain awake listening for the sounds that would indicate they were "doing it," but had heard nothing. Here in the cabin there was every chance of detecting any coitus taking place. The room that he had always slept in was another tacked on afterthought, along with the shower recess, both screened off by curtains.

Apart from these additions there was only the main room with at one end the matrimonial double bed. Any snore, grunt, moan, whimper or expression of love and desire lovers are wont to use during sexual intercourse would have been instantly audible to Steve in his alcove. All he had ever detected were Jim's stentorian snores that erupted occasionally.

Was it possible that Jim could resist, or even did not desire, beautiful Flower? Of course it was equally possible that Flower had no desire for Jim and had rejected him to the point where he had given up trying. If that was the case, why did they still sleep together, or remain married to each other for that matter? This was a mystery Steve had never been able to plumb.

"If she were mine..." Steve would think, but what was the use, she wasn't his and never could be.

For Steve Jim's absence was a relief, but the silence between him and Flower became oppressive and he struggled to find something to say. When he did speak it was about the obvious.

"The weather..." he began.

"Didn't expect this," Flower interrupted. "Do you think we'll be snowed in?"

"Could be," Steve replied, and as if to confirm this the wind seemed to take on new energy as it hurled itself against the cabin.

"Well, at least we can be comfortable in here," Flower said cheerfully. "We won't be able to do much hiking, but when the storm dies down we might drive up to the ski slopes and do some skiing."

One of the advantages of the cabin was its proximity to the ski slopes that were only a few kilometres farther into the mountains and they had frequently gone to the slopes when they paid a winter visit to the cabin.

"Perhaps," Steve said morosely, as he listened to the raging wind.

"What shall we do this evening?" Flower asked brightly.

Choice was somewhat limited. There was a television set, but the surrounding mountains made reception uncertain, and the only clear station was a local commercial that specialised in inanities. There was a small battery radio but this too was given to fading in and out. Apart from that there were only a few board and card games.

Steve didn't answer her question but rising from the table said, "Why don't I do the washing up while you take a shower?"

"Thanks darling," I think I will," Flower said brightly, and then as if answering her own question went on, "we can spend a quiet evening just enjoying each other's company."

* * * * * * * *

Steve cleared away and washed up and then as it was growing dark he lit a couple of candles. Since there was no gas or electricity candles and a kerosene pressure lamp were the only means of illumination. Jim had always talked about getting gas and electricity laid on, but had never got around to it.

"Probably doesn't fit in with his bottom line," Steve thought cynically.

Carrying one of the candles he went to his room and tucked away the things he had previously left strewn over the single bed. Apart from the need to put these things away if he was to use the bed for sleeping, he felt that he needed to give Flower the privacy in which she could undress or dress.

He listened to the dull hiss of the water tank supplied shower, the hot water being provided by a back boiler in the kitchen stove. When the sound of running water ceased he gave it a few more minutes and re-entered the main room. Flower, wrapped in a woolen dressing gown was curled up in one of the three battered armchairs, relics from the early days of her first home with Jim some twenty years ago.

Steve placed the candle on the table and for a few moments looked at Flower. "It's true," he thought, "Women do look their best in candlelight," although to his mind Flower needed little enhancement of her beauty.

"I'll have a shower," he said.

"I hope I didn't use too much hot water," Flower said. The supply of hot water from the boiler was inclined to be uncertain.

Unlike Steve, Flower did not hide herself away from him. He went back to his room, undressed, wrapped a towel round his waist and then ran the gauntlet of Flower's frank stare as he went into the shower. He'd noticed for some time that she seemed to take an inordinate interest in his partially clad body. He wondered what she would do if he suddenly appeared before her naked.

The water proved warm enough and under it's relaxing influence his already erect penis grew even firmer and he badly wanted to masturbate, but the curtain divide between him and Flower seemed too fragile to muffle and stifle sounds he might make. It would have to wait until he went to bed.

Finishing his shower Steve once more wrapped the towel round his waist and as he entered the main room he noticed that the heat had become almost stifling. He stopped to close the draught damper on the stove and then went on into his bedroom.

Given that it was growing late and since Flower had obviously dressed for bed he decided to do the same. He dressed in pyjamas and dressing gown and returned to the main room, and seated himself in a second battered armchair and awaited developments. Flower had said they were to enjoy each other's company, although Steve wasn't sure exactly what that meant and at that moment the prospects didn't seem too bright.

The iron of the pot bellied stove had by then started to glow red in some places and Steve made a further adjustment to the damper. Flower seemed to be gazing at the stove lost in thought and it took Steve by surprise when she suddenly said, "You didn't want to come here with me, did you?"

For a few moment Steve was lost for a response and Flower went on, "Don't you like being with me?"

For Steve the answer should have been "yes" and "no," because although he loved being with her, the effect on him when in her presence was painfully frustrating.

Again before he could respond Flower went on, "Why did you come?"

That gave him something he could give a direct answer to.

"Because when Jim said he couldn't come you were determined to come here anyway, and I didn't like the idea of you being alone up here."

"You think I can't look after myself?"

"No...no...not that, it was just that...well...I don't know, but I just didn't like it."

Steve decided to turn the questioning around and said, "Didn't you want me to come with you?"

"Of course I wanted you to come with me, but I've spoilt your vacation, haven't I?"

It was true; Flower had spoilt his plans for the vacation. He'd had images of warm beaches and sparsely clad girls and the possibilities that might arise from this in mind, but he could hardly say that to Flower.

"Not spoilt," he said, "it's just different from what I had planned."

"If I'd asked you to let me be part of your plans, would you have wanted that?" Flower asked.

Steve had a vision of Flower wearing one of her minuscule bikinis, her breasts almost spilling out of the cups and her genitals barely covered. Again his answer, if he was truthful, would have been "yes" and "no." Like that she made him think of a bar of chocolate covered with an immovable wrapping. The thought of the potential pleasure would be there, but it would never go beyond thought.

He answered her, "If you'd wanted to come with me of course you'd have been welcome."

"Would I?" Flower said, smiling quizzically.

Steve did not answer her, instead saying, "I'll go and bank up the fire in the kitchen so we've got hot water in the morning."

He left her for a couple on minutes, putting logs in the oven fire and closing off the damper.

* * * * * * * *

When he returned Flower was once more lost in thought, and there was another silence.

The silence was broken when Flower said slowly, "Why would a twenty year old young man want to spend his vacation with a thirty eight year old woman?"

Steve could think of a number of reasons why a young man, himself specifically, would want to spend time with a thirty eight year old woman, just as long as she was the right woman, and in any other circumstances Flower would have been very definitely the right woman.

"If you mean yourself," he said, "then the only reason I can give is that I love you and want your company." The latter part of that reply was only partially true.

"Do you know Steve," Flower said, "that's the first time in years that you've said you love me."

"Oh...er...is it," Steve said uncertain whether that was true or not. He had often thought of his love for her, but had he failed to say it out loud? Then another thought struck him; he gave a forced laugh and said, "Well you haven't said you love me."

"Mmm, yes," Flower said, looking at him, her eyes glittering through narrowed lids. "We have been careful, haven't we?" she added somewhat ambiguously, and then saying, "It's so damned hot in here," she rose and taking off her dressing gown threw it over the back of the chair.

Steve was stunned when he saw she was only wearing one of those extremely delicate nightdresses. In his confusion he stammered, "I-I-I'll...er...cer-close the der-damper der-down a bit more."

"No," Flower said sharply, and sat on his lap. "I think we have been careful long enough Steve," she said softly, her lips close to his ear. "No, don't try to get rid of me because I know you don't want to -- I can feel you don't want to."

Steve knew what she could not help feeling, and believing that she was once more taunting him, only this time more blatantly than ever before, his anger began to mount.

Flower seemed oblivious to his mounting rage and went on, "Another thing we haven't done for a long time is kiss each other."

Her lips touched his, gently at first, but with growing passion as the tip of her tongue slowly caressed his lips.

At last she had gone the step too far; years of the banked up frustration Steve had suffered with Flower exploded.

"You bitch...you bitch," he snarled, "you've goaded me for years, but this is once too often. I'm going to give you what you've been asking for, and it's no use fighting me because I'm a lot stronger than you are and you'll only get hurt."

He picked her up bodily and carrying her to the double bed and dumped her unceremoniously onto it. She lay there unmoving, looking up at him, and anxious look in her eyes.

"No...no...please not..."

Steve ignored her cries, perhaps he didn't even hear them he was so furious. He flung off his dressing gown and removed his pyjamas, and then taking hold of the top of Flower's delicate nightdress he ripped it from her, leaving her naked and cowering.

Somehow her shrinking away from him only seemed to spur him on, and he growled, "I'm going to rape you, and if you want to fight then do so, but it won't change a thing, I'll tie you down if I have to, but there's no escape unless you fancy being naked in the snow."

Flower was still crying out, but for Steve her words were incoherent. He got onto the bed and for a few moments knelt beside her, running his hands over her body, relishing the feel of her warm soft flesh.

He was surprised that although she was crying out she made no physical resistance. He found this disappointing because he wanted to hurt her physically as if to make up for all the emotional torment he had experienced with her.

He pulled her legs apart roughly and came between them, probing with the head of his penis for her vaginal entrance. He found it, and as he penetrated was surprised to find her hot and wet as if she was ready for him. Another disappointment because if she had been dry it would have caused her the pain he wanted to inflict.

He drove in violently and deep, hoping she would at least flinch, but instead she gave an upward thrust with her hips as if to draw him in even deeper. He thrust brutally in and out of her hoping to hear her cry out, but she matched him thrust for thrust.

His anger began to fade and gradually he gave himself up to the sheer pleasure of her sucking, clinging vaginal tunnel. He could hear her now, and it was not cries of pain or for mercy he heard, but those of a woman whose orgasm was approaching.

Oh yes...yes...yes darling...I want you...I need you...of God I'm coming...give it to me...put it into...oh my God..."

Her legs were round his waists, straining to drag him ever deeper into her. She screamed, but it was the scream of a woman enduring the exquisite agony and ecstasy of her orgasm. He unleashed his sperm into her and these drew and even louder cries from her, "Deeper...deeper...harder...oha...oha...oooowaaaa..."

He finished ejaculating into her but her writhing and cries continued as she worked her vagina over his slowly fading erection. She ended with a shaky sobbing sigh and he could see she was weeping. It was then that guilt took over; he loved her, so how could he have given way to anger and a desire to hurt her. He wanted to weep himself.

"Oh God, what have I done?" he groaned, waiting for her to rebuke him, but she was stroking his face and hair saying tearfully, "It's all right darling...it's all right, I wanted it to be different but perhaps it had to be this way. We waited too long, that's all."

"I hurt you," Steve said hoarsely, "I love you and I hurt you..."

"Shush, darling, "Flower said softly, "You didn't really hurt me and you must have felt how much I needed you."