Throughout the day as he hiked alone through a sparsely populated foothills of north-eastern Italy's Dolomites, Kyle Stockwell had watched the storm clouds building. They'd bring only rain and wind fortunately, because it was midsummer although not the baking midsummer he was used to.
Well he could shelter in a forest thicket or under a rock overhang facing away from the direction of the advancing storm clouds.
Kyle was tossing up which option when he saw a lightening flash and a distant rumble of thunder. He figured the third option was the one to take and that was to head down out of the forest and seek shelter with a kind farming family. The Italians he'd met so far had been cheerful and pleasant.
The clouds collided with the mountains, or at least rose on an up draught and began dumping rain. By the time Kyle stumbled to a farmhouse door he was drenched and the wind was beginning to howl.
He knocked.
Damn no answer.
He knocked and yelled and the door rattled and opened slightly.
The female addressed him in Italian and he replied in English that he was a lone tramper seeking shelter.
"My husband, hees not 'ere."
"I don't need help, I just want coffee and a blanket to be wrapped in while my clothes dry. I can sleep in the barn."
"Our cows not worry but our pigs maybe worry and geese very angry."
"Well I'll sleep in the woodshed."
"What ees a woodshed?"
Kyle signed. They had difficulty enough with communication so it would not be wise to try to explain what was a woodshed.
She opened the door wide and he had an impression of long flowing black hair, a pretty face and the thick cape being pushed forward quite some way by what lay beneath.
He was about to crack she was good enough to eat but thought with her nervousness because her husband wasn't home attempted humor might not be a good idea. Instead his sniffed loudly and said, "Coffee?"
"Yes coffee," she smiled and reached out and hauled him in and said. "You be wet, very wet. I don't want you sick."
Oh really, then what did she have planned for him? The American architectural student yawned, allowing her to pull him forward and failed to notice the low beam across the door until his forehead was about to crash into it. She was yelling something that probably was Italian for please mind your head, but too late.
Kyle regained consciousness and found himself on the kitchen floor in front of an open fire. She must have dragged him there.
Jesus and undressed him. He could see his clothes drying on a rack beside the fireplace.
She lay beside him on a rug, dressed and with no blanket over her, very much asleep.
He reached up and pulled her cape apart to get a more unrestricted view of her breasts. Her long skirt was up around her knees. He ignored his headache and attempted to lift the skirt but her legs had it pinned to the floor.
Kyle looked back at her to find her staring at him.
"You awake. Should you look at me like that?"
"No," he said and smiled.
"So why do you take... take um liberties?"
"Because you are very attractive."
She obviously knew what he was on about because she blushed.
"How ees the 'ed?"
"It hurts. It needs some kisses."
Initially she looked disbelievingly and then looked at him primly.
Kyle tried to tempt her. "Come on I won't bite."
She hesitated and said, "What part of me do you wanta bite?"
Nothing tried, nothing gained. He pointed to her groin.
"Eets too early for that. You play here," she said, unbuttoned the front button of her cape to expose a loose bra. She freed a sizeable breast and leaned forward to kiss his bruised forehead, dragging the freed breast across until all Kyle had to do was to lift the heavy breast and the nipple was right at his mouth. He falling unconscious apparently hadn't distressed her. Perhaps her husband was a heavy drinker?
Kyle eyed the plump breast in the dim light. So exquisite, so sexy. He didn't rush thinking she'd already shown she was taking it slowly although willing to move incrementally forward. A fuck could be on offer. He wanted to ask would her husband come home soon but then thought it best not to remind her she had a husband. It's possible in moments like this that her focus would not be on family.
Her kisses rained lightly on his forehead and he sucked the nipple and felt it swell in his mouth and she did nothing to inhibit her groan.
He lip teased the nipple and then felt her take his hand and pulled it between the tops of her thighs.
Eh? So where was the coffee and food? He'd like to eat. But when you are at least 3000 ft up in sub-alpine terrain in a storm, feeling warm and wanted and with no where else to go, the best thing to do was to please the hostess.
"Pull eet off," he said pulling out the front of her substantial panties and attempting her version of English. It worked like a charm. She lifted and pushed and hooked a foot into the flannel garment and it was disregarded.
