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By Raziel Moore
Invisible Lines (Novella)

The Cabin
by P.  E.  Brink © 2004

Getting the cabin was Annie's idea.  She was borrowing it from a friend at work.  We would have been all alone in the house anyway, since Susie and Clare had been packed off to Annie's parents' house for the weekend..  For what I wanted to do with Annie, being alone in a house with a bed was enough.  I love Susie and Clare, but with one or the other one of them always wanting to climb into bed over some nightmare or other, it put a real cramp in our sex life.

"Trust me," said Annie, in the car, "we'll have sex in the mountains.  Hot sex."

I smiled.  That was good enough for me.

"Strange sex," she said, a couple minutes later.  So I got to drive with a hard-on.  She seemed to be squirming in her seat, too.

Annie waited until we were almost there to speak again. "Kinky sex," she said.  I didn't know what to say.

Annie pulled out the key to the cabin, and unlocked it, while I brought in the luggage.  I had to admit, it was a nice place—not the bare, rustic sort of thing I was expecting.  There was a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom—I think the bedroom was bigger than the living room—and a king-sized, four poster bed with satin sheets.

"The nice thing about this place," Annie said, "is that it locks.  And when it's locked, no one can get in."

I nodded.  Our house has locks, too.  What was she getting at? "And when it's locked, no one can get out, either," she added with a wicked grin. "Not unless they have the key." And with that, she turned the key in the lock, locking us in, and dropped the tiny silver key down her cleavage.

She was wearing a low cut jersey dress, with a Wonderbra beneath, so there was actually quite a bit of cleavage for holding that key.  I made plans.  It would be fun getting the key from her.

"The fire marshal must love this set up," I said.

Annie shrugged. "Well, if we absolutely had to get out, we could always break the window."

There were several windows in this place, but there was only one that could be called "the window." It stretched all the way along one wall, giving a beautiful panoramic view of the valley below and the mountains on the other side.  Tonight the full moon cast shadows down the valley; no doubt during the day, the view would be spectacular.  And best of all, all that scenery was so far away that the huge window didn't much diminish my sense of privacy, either.  I reached for Annie.  I wanted her.  Now.

But she dodged out of the way. "I left something in the car.  A special surprise."

That sounded promising, so I backed off and sat on the couch, looking out over the mountain countryside.  I heard the door click as she unlocked it—heard it click again as she relocked it from the other side.  I didn't think anything of it, really.  Annie always locks the deadbolt when she goes out.  It's a habit; sometimes a good one, sometimes not.

So I looked out the window, and waited.  There were a few lights on in the valley, twinkling like stars on the ground, and I watched one go out.  Bed-time for someone, I thought.  Then Annie was at the window, knocking on the glass.  She was saying something.  I walked over.

"I'm so horny," she said, plaintively.

I grinned. "So come on in," I said to her. "I'll take care of that."

"I can't," she said.


"I dropped the key."

Oh, shit.  It was a half hour to the closest town that I thought was likely to have a locksmith, and it was way too late, anyway.  There was no way she was going to get someone here in any reasonable time, and maybe even not 'til morning.

"Well, look for it," I said.

"I did," she said. "It must have just dropped out."

She tugged on her dress, and fished about in her cleavage for the key.  But then she got distracted, and started caressing her breast through the fabric. "It's just not there, honey," she said, with a slight moan.

"On the ground, maybe? Retrace your steps," I said.  I was getting hard again, watching her hands move on her chest.  I wanted them to be my hands.

"Maybe it dropped down my dress somewhere," she said.  With one easy motion, she lifted the dress off, and was standing there in her lace blue bra and matching thong.  No key fell out, but my jaw dropped.

"Honey, if someone sees—"

"No one's around here," she said. "Besides, we need to find the key, and if it slipped—" she didn't finish the sentence, but her hand slid under her waistband, as if the key might have lodged itself inside her skimpy thong.  But her hand kept sliding, past any reasonable point of search, and she made an unintelligible groan.

"Honey—" I started.

"I want you," she said, looking up at me. "I can't wait." Her left hand was squeezing a breast, and her right hand was rubbing hard inside her panties.

I eyed the glass speculatively.  A window that big would cost a few thousand dollars, I guessed.  It might be worth it.

She pressed her chest against the glass, her breasts squishing against the cold window.  I touched the glass.  Her tits were less than an inch away.

"Do you like the way they look like that?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Should I take my bra off?" she asked.

Again I nodded, mute.  She unsnapped it, let it slide off her shoulders, and flung it away.  Right outside the window, there was flat ground for about five feet, and then it fell of precipitously, and the bra caught a breeze, drifting down towards the valley below.  She pressed her chest against the glass again.

"It's cold," she said, shivering a little.  The shivering made her breasts wiggle.  She didn't move away, though, and my hands pressed against the glass on the other side.  Maybe I could warm it up.

She slid her panties off. "I shaved for you," she said. "Look.  Special.  For our anniversary." And it was true.  She was smooth, all the way down.  Her fingers slid down that smoothness slowly, holding my attention as she moved back from the glass just a little.  My wife was naked out there, and I couldn't get to her.

She spread her legs, and both hands went down.  One slid fingers into her folds, which shone with wet desire.  The other tugged and rubbed her clit.  And her eyes looked straight at me. "I can't wait, honey."

I made a noise, but I don't think I managed words.

"Take your clothes off?" she asked. "I want to make love to you."

"Through the window?" I asked.

"Any way I can," she said.

I pulled my clothes off, never taking my eyes off her.  She was rubbing her breasts now, and then pinching her nipples, hard enough that she winced at her own intensity.  Her eyes were wide, without seeming to look at anything in particular, and her mouth was open slightly. "Ohhhh," I heard, through the glass.

"Honey," she said, "I think I'm going to come soon."

She had never played with herself before.  At least, not in front of me.  And yet she didn't seem even the slightest bit embarrassed about it now, and the movements of her fingers had a practiced expertise.  Her body shuddered in pleasure, and she leaned against the glass again for balance, but her fingers kept moving inside her.  She made a motion with her other hand that I didn't quite understand.

"Stroke yourself," she yelled.  Was there an echo from the valley? "Jerk yourself off! I want to see you do it."

My cock was aching for it.  I'm not sure what had held me back so far; some latent shyness, I suppose.  But now I grabbed my cock and pumped it eagerly in my fist.  She knelt down on the ground, her knees wide apart, so that I could see the pink folds of her cunt as her fingers pistoned inside.  Her full breasts jiggled as her body arched in pleasure.

"I'm gonna come," I warned her.

"Come all over me, baby, all over," she urged.

That was too much, and I spurted.  My come trickled down the window.  She pressed her mouth to the window and licked on the other side, and all off a sudden my knees felt weak.  I stepped back and sat on the couch, gasping for air.  I blinked, and she was gone, though her panties and her dress still lay on the ground just outside.

Then she was standing in the door frame, naked, the tiny silver key in her hand.

"I thought you lost it," I said.  I was still hard, still aching with desire.

She shrugged, her breasts rising and falling with the motion. "I lied."

I blinked.

"Ready for round two?" she asked.  She set the key down on the table, and made her way towards me, hips swinging.  When she reached me, sitting there on the couch, she straddled me and slowly lowered herself onto my cock.

"I've got you all weekend long," she told me, "And I've got all sorts of things planned."

© 2004 P.  E.  Brink. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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