The Clouds Brea

Humbled mountain lay silent in the morning mist, kneeling before her, their backs were scarred with the angry lashes of strip mining.

The ding of the coffeemaker broke the quiet. And a slow sip warmed her like the cold landscape could not. She took comfort in it on this bleak dawn. The boxes before her, still more to be done. The house was imploding, methodically, and so, she felt, the last remaining memories of those who had lived here. She hadn't wanted to return -- especially not like this. She'd been 19 when she practically fled to New York, swearing not to come back.

She never would again. The dwindling value of sentiment she felt toward this place was cruelly outweighed by the cost of keeping it. An empty home would not make her lonely life any fuller. Especially not at the price they were offering. The mine wanted this land, badly, and presented her with more cash than she had a right to. But now that her mother was gone, she was it. She couldn't shake the urge to run away from the responsibility, just as she'd run away from here so many years ago.

It had been raining for hours when she finally finished the living room. A nap beckoned, and then the door. She rose and gently pulled it open, "Hello?" Her property was back from the road, hidden in the hollow; it was a solace that both waried and emboldened her. He filled the door frame, shining in a cheap rain poncho, "Sorry to bother you," he said, slightly breathless, his eyes (she was ashamed to notice) perhaps the only green on this gray day. "I meant to come up earlier. I hope I'm not intruding?" he seemed to revoke that question as he looked past her into the empty room. "My Jeep got stuck in the flat, so I had to make a run for it."

"Well," it seemed she had no other option, "Come in." Leaving his galoshes outside, he closed the door behind him and the sounds of rain disappeared. "I'm sorry," she said, "why did you say you were coming here?" She knew she should feel uncomfortable being alone here with him this far back in the woods, but his presence felt strangely familiar. "Sorry," he pulled the poncho over his head, deliciously slowly, "I had heard that Mrs. Calhoun passed away. She was a friend of mine, and I wanted to pay my respects."

"You knew my moth -- Mrs. Calhoun?"

"Of course, she was the rock in our group. Such an incredible woman. And you are her daughter, I assume? She spoke of you often," he was shifting, his piercing eyes settled on the floor, "I'm truly sorry for your loss."

"It's OK, we had grown apart," she realized how cold that sounded, and elaborated, "She was a fine mother. We had our differences is all. What group did you say?"

"I didn't say. Mountain Rescue."

"Like an ambulance crew?"

"No, not quite so benevolent... well, depending on your views. We're a group of local biologists, in your mother's case, former biologists, and activists too. We're trying to protect the southern Appalachians from mountaintop removal," he had set his poncho on the chair and went on, "I'm assuming you aren't from around here, but even you can see the destruction it's causing on our forests and mountains. It's been a losing battle."

She imagined her 72 year-old mother, strapped to a tree in protest, somehow it didn't surprise her. He used her silence as a cue to continue, "Your mother lived here her whole life. She remembered fishing in the White River. It's crazy, I won't even go near there today, the runoff from the mines has ruined it." He strode to the window and looked out at the east valley, "Her views here must have been so grand, before," there was such a sadness in his voice; it stirred her like the photographs and pieces of her past never could.

"They were," she replied, breaking her silence and meeting his eyes when he turned.

"Then may I ask what you are doing with this place?" She sank into the threadbare couch behind her. "I haven't been here in ages," she sighed, "It's hard, I," her throat tightened, "I thought I would never come here again." Her emotion thickened the air between them. When a tear appeared on her cheek, he felt compelled to her side, "I'm sorry," he said, his hand reaching to her shoulder, "I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business. It's your place now."

"I hadn't," she turned to face him, "expected it to affect me like this." His hand slipped down her back and their eyes met, his emotionless, hers glossy with tears. "Come with me," he said suddenly. Pulling her from the couch, they pushed through the door out into the rain. It was coming down harder now, and he pulled her urgently along the hillside, darting through the hard wood forest that edged the property. His strong embrace guided her, a warm compass in the wet.

"Maybe you don't remember," he said, as the trees broke: the western valley, before them, in striking contrast to the eastern out of her window. Thickly robed in blue and purple, the mountains moved majestic against the bone white sky. "Your property was an important part of our efforts. They take this land, and Blue Valley is next," he gestured toward it, and she stood speechless still, "It doesn't stop, you can see that." When he looked back at her, the tears and rain had mixed, her eyes rose to his -- sharp, confident, but asking.

A beat passed, one heartbeat, and then he closed the distance between them and pulled her against him. She knew, finally, what she wanted. With her face in his hands, he kissed her. Deep, strong, a kiss made of the mountains themselves.

They rushed back to the house. There was no more need for conversation. So much had been said in the silence. He pulled off her wet clothes first, then his, standing in her underwear, she felt him appraise her body. Damp and glowing from the sprint down the slope, she was radiant. Her scooped her into his arms and stretched her across the couch. "I must have you," he said, and held her down as he kissed her harder, along her neck, down her chest and stomach, tiny sweet kissed along the inside of her legs. He slid her panties down and kissed her soft, bare vagina, parting the pink with his tongue. She melted, breaking her silence with a moan. "Take me," she pleaded, "please." He rubbed her clit gently before entering her with his fingers, circling her insides and sending waves of pleasure through her body. "I want you, now," she felt down to his boxers, and watched as he pulled them off, his thick shaft already hard with anticipation. "Take me with it," she moaned, sliding her fingers along the length.

"Not yet," he straddled her face and forced his cock down her throat. She rounded her lips around the head and attempted to inhale his cock. Moving methodically from his dicks to his balls, she massaged them with her tongue while she stroked his shaft. He shuddered, "Good girl," he said, "Now get on top of me."

She climbed up on him, she was slick and tight and he filled her fully, but there bodies fit together as if they were made at once. She moaned with satisfaction as he thrust into her, his cock filing her with each motion, "Make me cum," she pleaded. He pumped harder and she bounced into him, the façade of tenderness abandoned in passion.

He could feel her pussy gripping his long shaft and he knew she was getting close, "I'm going to finish you from behind," he said in her ear, and flipped her up so her ass was swaying in front of him tantalizingly. He gripped her hips and slid between her ass cheeks, taking one thumb and rubbing it around her red hole. His thrusts were longer now, and she felt his cock run along her belly, the orgasm building each time.

Like the sun burning up the rain outside, she felt it coming on, the heat grower until it took over. Waves of pleasure broke free and she came like never before, rocking so hard against his dick that it sent him over the edge too. His semen pushed into her, sending her climax into another realm. When she finally came back down to earth, she collapsed, completely spent. The nap she'd wanted started to take over her consciousness. He fell next to her and they panted in silence until their breathing slowed into sleep.

It was nearly an hour before they roused again, tangled in each other, tightly fitting as one on the couch. Her mind had cleared, and when she looked outside, the sun was shining.