Hurricane Force

I looked out at the thrashing seas. It was really starting to churn out there, and the skies were darkening ominously. Any good riding waves were long gone. Maybe it would have been better to evacuate, I thought. There was no one else on the beach, and maybe no one on the whole peninsula, for all I knew. Then I saw the lone car coming toward me, its shape almost obscured by the blowing sand. I thought I knew who it was.

Sure enough, it was the police. The loudspeaker blared unreasonably loud. "You, there," it said. "You have been ordered to evacuate. Please exit the beach immediately, and head for the mainland."

I squinted at the windows, but I couldn't make out whether there was one officer in the car, or twenty. The salt spray had made them semi-obscure. I waved at the car and turned toward the approach, fighting to keep my surfboard from being blown out of my hands. As I glanced back, I saw the car slowly following me up the beach ramp. I walked back to it, and waited for the window to come down. It dropped an inch.

"I'm having a little trouble with the wind," I said to the officer, whose eyes peered at me from the tiny opening he had created. He looked at me like he didn't believe me. Suddenly, the wind reversed, and my board smacked the patrol car just behind his door.

"Get in," was all he said. I opened the rear door and fought to get the surfboard lined up to go in.

"HEY!"

I felt the nose of my board contact something, and a girl leaned across the seat toward me. "You trying to kill me with this thing?" she yelled, then took hold of the rails and pulled it in across her lap. I jumped in, and the wind slammed the door shut behind me.

"Sorry," I offered, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and I couldn't help but notice how cute she was. She was young, probably about 20, and had long sun-streaked blonde hair, loosely tied with a half dozen little scrunchies of various colors. Freckles on her cheeks, green eyes, and the whitest teeth I had ever seen completed the picture. My smile immediately increased. "What's your name?" I asked.

Before she could answer, the police officer in the front seat said, "Non-evacuee, just like yours." I rolled my eyes upward, and she giggled.

"Yep," she said. "That's me. Ol' Non-evacuee. Your parents run out of normal names, too?"

I liked her immediately. "No, my mom worked for FEMA," I deadpanned, "and that was the only name approved by the agency. That, and Catastrophic."

She giggled again, a child-like and yet somehow sexy little laugh. Then, seemingly embarrassed, she turned and looked pensively out her side window. I took the moment to look more closely at her.

She wasn't the snappiest dresser. She wore a pair of sweat- pants and a baggy military-style jacket. Not exactly the Hilfiger or ENYCE I would have expected someone of her age to be dressed in, but somehow it worked for her. Well, I had on just a pair of baggies and a torn long-sleeve t-shirt, so who was I to criticize?

"Where are you taking us?" she suddenly asked of our driver. He gave no immediate answer, and I realized he was listening to his police radio. The call was giving out information about some other people who apparently hadn't evacuated as ordered, but they were in the next community up the coast.

"The local hospital," he said, satisfied that he wouldn't have to take the call. "They're the designated shelter for this area. You ever think about listening to the radio when there's a hurricane approaching?"

"Cumberland, or Holy Trinity?" I asked. I hoped it wasn't Trinity. My mother had taken me there once when I broke my arm, years ago, and I had a bad reaction to the tetanus shot they had given me. I hadn't been back there in over 40 years. Superstitious, I guess.

"It'll be Cumberland," he informed us. "Trinity's evacuated." I thought about this for a moment. It must be a bad one, I realized, to evacuate a 150-bed hospital! Guess I should pay more attention to the news from now on. I glanced over at the girl, and she was looking at me, with a worried look in her eyes.

"Stacy," she said.

We were let out at the entrance to the hospital, and ordered to register at the front desk, in order to be given a place to sleep. As we entered, I was amazed at the sheer number of people inside. They lined both sides of the main corridor, most clutching pillows and bags of food and belongings. I was asked to leave my surfboard in a room behind the desk, which I reluctantly did. We registered, were shown into some kind of conference room with the chairs stacked against one wall, and chose a section of the floor upon which to sleep. Then we got these thin mattresses from a stack and laid them down.

"Well, I guess this is home," I said to Stacy, propping myself up on one arm on the mattress. It actually wasn't too bad; not as lumpy as the bed in my apartment.

Stacy settled onto her pallet with a skeptical look on her face. "I'd rather be home," she said, and she looked suddenly very young and scared. I asked her where home was, and she told me, "A long way from here." Then, after some gentle prompting, she began to talk, softly.

Over the course of the next hour, she told me about how she came to leave home, how she met up with some other girls, and how together they shared an apartment. The others had fled back to their homes and their parents when the evacuation order came out, but Stacy had burned that bridge, so she decided to ride the storm out.

"Then that cop saw me outside, and ordered me into the car," she said. "I knew I shouldn't have gone out, but I wanted to watch the ocean."

I told her I had wanted to ride the storm surf, so I hid out in the dunes until all the traffic had gone. Then I snuck down the beach a ways, looking for a good place to go out, but the waves kept getting more and more angry, and I began to realize I was too old to do battle with that kind of ocean.

"In fact, I think I aged a couple of years, just looking at those waves," I laughed. "I never was a big-wave rider."

I noticed she was studying my face thoughtfully. "How old are you?" she asked. "And by the way, just what is your name?"

"Oh, sorry, it's Brad," I answered. "And I'm old enough to be your father." Damn, I thought, that was a stupid thing to say!"

She smiled, however, and said, "I doubt that."

This girl knew just what to say! And suddenly I felt younger again, just as I did when out riding the waves. Young girls, I thought, and the sea: Now, that was a formula that could keep you young forever!

We talked into the evening, me telling her about my breakup with my former wife and my subsequent life as a nomadic carpenter, making just enough money to live, and living to surf; she telling me about her own life since leaving home, how she had been living with two card-carrying lesbians and one religious fanatic, and more. As she talked, it seemed to me that she was really struggling with her sexuality as of late. She haltingly told me about having become sexually intimate with each of the two lesbians. They had at first fought over her, until she decided she was in love with each of them, and convinced them of the fact that they could share her. It had progressed from there, until she had become something that they used now, more than loved. She admitted that she still actually kind of enjoyed it, and yet she had the same old sexual urges she had always had, and wished for a steady boyfriend.

"But you're so cute," I offered. "You must have guys standing in line outside your door." I know I would have gladly stood in that line!

"Yeah, guys," she said slowly. "But, decent guys, guys you want to spend more than one night with…" She seemed lost in thought. Finally she said, "Guys like you, who will listen, and who seem to care about what I think, those are hard to find."

I cracked a smile. "Hey," I joked, "I just want to hear more about what those girls have been doing to you!"

She laughed out loud at that, and shook her head. "I may tell you one day, but for now I prefer to let you use your imagination." I didn't tell her, but my mind had been quite active, lately! I had already imagined her in half a dozen different scenarios. Nothing like the thought of two women going at it, to fire up a man's lust! Well, her mood had brightened considerably lately, as if she were glad to have that particular burden off her shoulders. We talked until mealtime.

After we ate, they told us were free to use the resident's showers, and gave us towels. I joined the men in the west wing, and Stacy traipsed off with a bunch of the females to the showers at the far end of the main building. I was clean, shaven, and feeling alive again when she got back. As she entered the conference room, though, every eye went to her.

She had evidently been wearing only a tiny blue bikini under those baggy sweats and camo jacket, and that was all she wore when she returned, cradling her other clothes in her arms. Her long blonde hair had been shampooed, and was now loose. It fell in wild damp waves across her shoulders and down her back. She looked at me and smiled, and those teeth shone like pearls against her tanned face. All conversation had stopped, and someone at the far end of the room whistled softly.

"Oh my god," she gushed, dropping her clothes onto her bedding and lowering herself to her knees on the mattress. "I feel so much better!"

I tried to keep my eyes off her lean, tanned body, but it was no use. "You certainly look great," I said, stating the obvious. I was once again imagining her with her two lesbian roommates. In my mind at the moment, she was caught in a tug-of-war between two expertly-wielded strap-on cocks, the blue bikini top rolled up over those perky breasts, the bottoms stretched tightly between her knees. I could see her face, contorted in pleasure.

Whoa, I told myself. Let's keep some control, here!

We immediately renewed our conversation from before, this time focusing on my younger days, and we talked until someone came and turned off the lights.

"Well, goodnight," I said, as she pulled a sheet up over her shoulders, and she smiled over at me.

"No kiss?"

I didn't know if she was joking or not, but I leaned over her, and she opened her mouth as I placed mine over hers. Her tongue lightly touched my lips, and she sighed. Then she rolled over, saying, "Don't let the bedbugs bite." I drifted off, smiling smugly to myself. Of course, I dreamed about her.

I awoke with a major hard-on, and I was very pleasantly surprised to feel her arm across my waist, and her hand on my cock. She had worked it halfway out the top of my baggies, and was stroking the head slowly. "What time is it?" I asked, struggling to read the Indiglo of my watch in the semi-darkness.

"Shhhh," she whispered. "Everyone else is asleep. I've decided it's time for you to get lucky." Then she began to tug down on the waistband of my suit, and I raised my hips to help her lower it. I rolled over on my back, and she pulled it down almost to my knees. "Uh, huh," was all she said, as she began to slide down my body.

I watched her intently as she moved toward my cock, finally encircling the base of it with her tiny hand. She gave the head a quick lick before settling her body in between my legs. Looking around quickly, she lowered her mouth onto me and began to suck.

It was a terrific blowjob. She had evidently learned to deep-throat by practicing with her roommates' tools, because once she had my cock sufficiently lubricated with her saliva, she slid me deep into her throat with hardly a pause. Then her tongue began to swab the base of my shaft as she rested her nose against my belly. She looked up at me with her beautiful face impaled on my manhood, and winked.

"Mmmmmm," I muttered, smiling down at her, careful not to awaken my sleeping neighbors, but anxious to show her my appreciation of her cocksucking skills. She responded with a little moan of her own, and began to work her mouth back up the length of my throbbing fuckstick. It was deliciously slow, pausing at the top to encircle the helmet with her tongue a few times. A quick couple of sucks, and then she eased her face slowly back down again. After five minutes of this, I was ready to blow my load right down her throat.

She sensed the tightening of my balls, and took a new tack, licking up and down the sides of my cock shaft as she fondled my nutsack. While it was pleasurable, it was a whole new set of sensations, and took the edge off my intense desire to orgasm. Once she had me under control again, she began to repeat her deep-throating technique, still watching my face the whole time. She was in no hurry, bringing me near release a half-dozen times, then slowing things back down each time. At one point I looked toward the middle of the room, and saw a woman lying on her side, her elbow on the floor supporting her head as she watched us. She smiled at me.

Stacy worshipped my dick for nearly half an hour, never departing from her slow teasing routine of bringing me to the breaking point, and then backing me back down. My balls ached for release. I knew that if she tried to mount me now, I wouldn't last three strokes, and I didn't want to waste the precious time I might get in her pussy. I wanted to fill her pretty face with my cum! As I tried to buck up into her mouth one last time, though, she drew her head back, and began to crawl back up to me.

"Let's go someplace," she whispered, and kissed me deeply. I returned her kiss, my tongue probing her magical mouth, and I tasted my pre-cum on her teeth. Reluctantly, I pulled my baggies back up my legs, tucked my still-throbbing cock into the front of them, and followed her from the room.

Taking my hand, she led me down one hall and then another, up stairs and around corners, trying doors as we went. At last we found an unlocked office, and cautiously entered, straining in the darkness to see whether it was occupied. It seemed empty, and best of all, it had a large window that allowed us to hear and see the ferocious gusts that were pummeling the side of the building. I knew the hurricane must be almost upon us.

Indeed, the winds were howling and the rain beat like a drum against the glass as we cleared the desktop of all the personal and business items. Papers, a computer keyboard, a picture of someone's husband and children, a stapler and lots of paper clips; all went onto the floor. I watched Stacy's ass in the half-light as she bent over the desk, clad in the tiny blue bikini bottom. It was smooth and muscular, her pussy hanging like a juicy plum between those lean thighs. I was instantly hard again.

"What do you think?" she asked, turning to me with an expectant look, and I leered at her.

"I think if I was any hornier, I'd be banging this file cabinet!" I said. I moved toward her, and she melted into my arms. After a long, lingering kiss, she looked up at me and asked a question.

"Hey! Want to play a little game?"

I slowly agreed, and asked what the game would entail. I mostly wanted to get my throbbing cock inside those pussy walls, to feel her young tightness gripping me the way I had imagined it would. She had pretty much the same idea, but with an interesting twist.

"Remember when you said you were old enough to be my father?" she said with a coy look on her face. "Well, it got me to fantasizing…"

I picked up on her thoughts immediately, and backed away from her. I had been fantasizing about just such a thing as I fell asleep. Now I stood with my arms crossed, a stern look on my face.

"Stacy!" I said loudly, and she flinched at the sound of my voice. It seemed unnaturally loud in the half-light of the room, and the winds outside served as an exclamation point.

"Yes, daddy?"

I advanced on her again, this time keeping my arms crossed. "Just what have you been doing here, little girl?" I asked accusingly.

She stammered, "I, I haven't…I didn't do anything." She looked genuinely scared, as if maybe she thought I was getting into this a little too much.

I reached for her hand, and held it tightly by the wrist. "Have you been playing with yourself, perhaps?" I asked. "Because I distinctly smell the scent of an aroused pussy in here." I drew her hand to my nose, and sniffed her fingers, one by one.

"That's not the one, daddy," she said, dipping her other hand into the front of her bikini bottom. She looked at me and smiled. "This is the one that I use."

She slowly withdrew her hand, and I saw her middle finger leave a slippery trail across her belly as she raised it to show me. I could already smell her sex. She brought the lucky finger to her mouth and pursed her lips. Then she began to lick it like an ice cream cone.

"Mmmm, daddy, this is good," she said wickedly. "You should try this."

"Oh, I will," I said, "but first I think you need a good spanking." I grabbed her by the hair and spun her around. "Now, bend over that desk!"

She did as I asked, bracing herself with her hands on the far side of the desktop. I rolled the bikini bottom down over her hips. Her ass stuck out so invitingly that I wanted to take her right there, but this game had me intrigued. She wiggled her legs, and the suit fell to the floor, where she stepped out of it.

"Is this…okay?" she asked, looking expectantly at me. Her eyes were full of lust and her breathing came quickly, as if she couldn't wait for me to begin her punishment. I rubbed my hand in circles over the hardness of her muscular butt as she spread her legs expectantly.

"Not much fat here," I observed. "You think you can take this?" I popped her a quick one with the flat of my hand on her left cheek.

"Ow!"

She jumped with the surprise of my slap, though I knew it didn't hurt that much. Well, the first few wouldn't…

Smack!

Smack-smack!

I evened up my assault with a couple of open-handed smacks to her right cheek. Already I could see the flush my blows had brought to her skin. This time she didn't cry out, but stood tightly gripping the desk edge, her head down, long hair hiding her face. I ran my hand up her back and around, slipping inside the cup of her bikini top. Her breast was warm and smooth, and just filled my hand. She pulled the cups of her top up over her breasts herself, giving me free access. I tweaked the nipple, and she flinched under my touch. Then I slid my hand back down her back and between her ass cheeks, letting my middle finger slide smoothly down into her boiling cunt.

"Ohhhh, yes," she sighed. Her young pussy instantly gripped my finger and held it tightly. I worked it in and out a couple of times, slowly.

"Like that?" I asked, and she moaned, her legs already shaking. Her head came up, and she gasped once.

"God, yeah!" She began to move forward and back, trying to impale herself further on my intruding digit, but I kept just the fingertip in now, teasing her glistening lips and stroking her already engorged clitoris.

"Oooh, put it in me," she begged. "I want it deep inside me."

Instead, I palmed her pussy and stroked her throbbing clit with my fingertips for a bit, then patted it with the flat of my hand a half-dozen times. She threw her head back and breathed deeply. I penetrated her again, this time with two fingers, all the way to the last knuckle.

"Oh, GOD!" she yelled. She spread her legs even wider, wanting more. I wasn't through teasing her, though.

I withdrew my fingers and rained a pair of blows on her rosy ass again, making sure to hit each cheek evenly. My hand was now covered with her juices, and it smacked wetly on the tight skin of her ass.

Smack!

Smack!

"Ah, Godddddd!" she breathed, and I knew that the pain was turning into pleasure for her. I dipped my fingers into her again. She was drenched. I could see the juices running down the inside of each thigh in long shiny trails. She held her ass high, waiting for whatever I might decide to do next. Her legs shook wildly.