A Few Stolen Days Ch. 05: The Night
Travis could have sat in the luxury of the fog of their great sex for an eternity, but as he wiped Brandi's brow he thought of the champagne and the refreshment that would sure give her.
He went in to get the bottle, even as Brandi, little more than an exhausted lump on the deck, could only watch after his action. He filled the glasses afresh and returned to hold it to her lips, since her hands were still trembling from the intense sexual exertion. As he tried to hold the glass up to drink, Travis spilled a little which dropped down on her breasts.
They both watched the golden droplets drip down over the crest of her breasts and break over the precipice near her nipple. The drops hit her stomach with audible "splats" and ran down in quick succession across her lower belly and between her legs.
Travis knew when the droplets had reach the crevice which was reddened, raw, and tender between her legs even though it was hidden from his view. The stringent alcohol caused Brandi to suck in her breath as it set fire to those inflamed regions.
Brandi turned toward Travis and buried her head in the hollow of his shoulder and he heard her softly sobbing and then the torrent of white hot wet tears burst forth and flowed down his chest. He held her close and soothed her with his hands on her back and shoulders, and his voice, not knowing exactly what well her tears had been drawn from. She sobbed, and he rocked her like he had done for his daughter to make things "OK" for her when she had cried. Quiet, gentle "shushing" sounds crooned from his mouth.
He never handled women's tears very well. He was defenseless in their presence. He finally pulled her naked form from his chest so he could look Brandi in the face and with a hand brushing her hair away from her eyes, he asked, "What wrong baby?"
At first Brandi could only shake her head, but she knew he needed more from her to make sense of what was happening. Through sniffles and the last gentle sobs, she looked at Travis and said, "Nothing... Nothing is wrong... I'm so happy and so absolutely contented!" And the tears started to flow again.
It was full dark, Brandi was a mess, and Travis wondered again at the great chemistry of a woman. "Then it's OK? You're OK? Sweetheart?"
Brandi nodded "Yes". Her eyes were red and she had wetness from her eyes and nose, but she sat cuddled with Travis on the deck as she turned her head and laid it against his broad hairy chest. He held her in a very sheltering way, still rocking her and stroking her hair in the way that every mammal does to comfort one distressed and he kissed her head on top and marveled at the complexity of a feminine psyche. He thought to himself, "that much sexual tension has left her unwound a bit.
It took a few minutes of comforting her thus to let the storm in her soul pass and she lay against him for the warm comfort of his presence. It felt good to have her bare skin glued to him and as he adjusted to give her greater contact which seemed to please her, he also enjoyed the touch of her breasts against his chest.
In fact, he had pretty much become a shelter for all of her... with his arms draped around her and turning his long legs sheltered her hips as they sat on the deck in the dark. Her legs were pressed against his soft manhood but he was not excited by their contact. He rejoiced that in their nudity they were as close as physically possible.
Quiet moments passed as Travis whispered to her, first questions of concern for her, and then satisfied that she in deed was OK, his words teased her to coax a smile from her and bring back the sunshine that broke forth from her voice and face so readily.
Finally, she quietly whispered, "I have to pee, but I don't want to move!"
Travis' response sounded flippant, but it was perfectly logical to him. "Don't move then!"
Her squabble began, but he touched her lips... "Hear me out!"
In a very orderly argument be began noting that they were on an outside deck with separations in the two-by-four decking lumber to allow water to drain. The deck was at least 20 feet above the hillside and well away from the cabin. He observed that should he wish to pee, he would have had no compunction about peeing off the side of the deck and asked her if she agreed.
"Well, yessss, but I can't pee off the side of the deck." Was her response.
Travis said, "Well, I don't see the difference in peeing through the slats as over against the edge of the deck!"
Brandi knew that his logic was sound, but she knew two important things... (1) first that she had never tried to pee sitting down, only squatting and (2) second that the slots between the boards, though surely wide enough to allow a stream to pass through were beyond her comprehension for "targeting."
"You can aim yourself." Brandi responded, "I can only aim my butt in a general direction."
"Not true." Travis responded, and then explained that while a woman's fixture for making water didn't offer the same flexibility and range of motion that a man's penis provided, she did have control to a pretty significant degree.
She reached out and grabbed his flaccid tube and with mock dexterity she pointed it wherever she would. She finished by dropping his fixture with a wave of her hand that in her mind had just settled all her arguments.