Last year on the afternoon of October seventeenth, I’d just awakened from a day’s slumber, having spent the previous twenty-four hours profitably playing in one of the Bay Area’s many legal poker parlors. I settled myself on the couch on my back porch, cold beer in hand, and turned on the pre-game show for game three of the Athletics-Giants World Series. Through the window behind the television set, I could see the supine curves of the Sleeping Lady, Mount Tamalpais, guardian spirit of Marin since the days when the Miwok Indians ruled the lush landscape.
Then, at four minutes past five o’clock, the nightmare with which one must deal in return for living amidst such natural beauty became a reality. The quake began with the customary rattling no more bothersome than the vibrations my downstairs neighbor makes running down the wooden steps to his deck. But then I heard the unmistakable, eerie, groaning noise caused by the shifting of rocks as large as the one upon which my hillside house is built. I was on my way to the front door as the walls and floor started moving. Walking through an earthquake is like working your way forward on a small sailboat, accompanied by the sound of a freight train rattling through the room.
I made it down the outside stairway and joined the small knot of people huddled in the middle of the street all of us quietly watching our homes shake and vibrate, knowing this was a big one, if not the big one. Fifteen seconds later it ended, leaving our neighborhood miraculously intact. Only the still-pulsating windows of our houses were evidence of nature’s awesome power.
I was about to go back inside, when I heard a soft sobbing at my shoulder.
I’d often seen the petite brunette on the street in the year since she’d moved into the building next door. Her penchant for leaving her bountiful, firm breasts free to wander under loose-fitting men’s shirts, had made her a recurring object of my fantasy life, even though we’d never met. In this earth-shattered moment, however, her voluptuous charms were covered only by a terry cloth robe, midthigh length, open at the neck just enough to display a hint of deep, tantalizing cleavage. Her short hair was damp and matted flat against her skull, giving her the appearance of a bobbed, twenties flapper. She’d evidently been caught in the shower when the quake hit.
“Are you all right?” I asked, looking down into her dark eyes, blurred with tears. She gulped and nodded, then reached out and grabbed my forearm.
“I hate to ask you this,” she said, “but I’m afraid to go back into my apartment alone. Would you come in with me? I’m from Ohio, and I’ve never been through anything like this before.”
I certainly had no problem agreeing to help this young beauty check out her place. She told me her name was Monica. As I followed her up the stairs to her second-floor apartment, my eyes were riveted to the rise and fall of her perfect ass-cheeks, barely covered by her robe.
The door was wide open, testimony to her haste in exiting. We walked through the living room, her hand clutching mine. A few books had been knocked off the shelves and one framed print had fallen from the wall, scattering broken glass over the carpet. But that was all.
She pulled me by the hand into the adjacent bedroom. “It was horrible,” she whispered. “The shower walls were shaking so hard I thought the whole stall was going to collapse on me!” Suddenly, she seemed to lose the last of her self-control, throwing her arms around me and burying her head in my chest. Her robe opened and I could feel the softness of her full, naked breasts, the hard nipples pressing through my shirt.
I moved my hands up and down her back in a soothing motion, then reached down to cup her buttocks, firm but pliant as I kneaded them with my eager fingers. She raised her head, her wet lips parted for a kiss. I obliged, snaking my tongue into her warm mouth. My heart leapt as she sucked at my probing tongue.
With a sudden push backward she had me sprawled across her bed, covering me with her warm body as her fingers clawed at my belt buckle. I was glad to help her, pushing my jeans and shorts down over my hips and groaning as my freed, rock-hard cock pressed against her thighs.
I started to roll her over onto her back, but she resisted. “I want to be on top,” she murmured. “I don’t want anything pressing down on me right now.”
With a low moan she got on her knees, astride my hips, and began to slowly lower herself onto my straining erection. She was wet and warm and incredibly tight. I groaned in ecstasy as she took inch after inch of my manhood into her pulsing cunt. She began to grind her pelvis against mine, sliding up and down in short thrusts, emitting a chorus of sighs from deep within. I fondled her swaying breasts, tweaking the nipples and eliciting a loud groan of pleasure. My eyes were closed as I savored the joy of being tightly sheathed within her sex.
Suddenly she began to rock violently from side to side. The sensation was exquisite and, I thought, the signal to the onset of her orgasm. Then I realized it wasn’t just her that was moving: it was the bed. I opened my eyes as I heard the rattle of the headboard, tapping wildly against the wall.
Monica was coming, but her orgasm was so intense that she didn’t even realize we were fucking in time to a powerful aftershock! I pumped a massive load of jism into her quivering pussy, peaking with her and shouting aloud in joy.
Over the next few hours we became aware of just how lucky we’d been in the North Bay, spared from the large-scale destruction that had wracked other parts of the city as a result of the quake. We began to feel a little guilty about our lusty reaction to the disaster as the early death counts came to us via television.
But in the weeks that followed, I ran across several articles on the subject of post-earthquake trauma. It seems that a sexual reaction to the cataclysm was not unusual, particularly in those large areas left without power, water, or any form of diversion. This information eased our guilt, and indeed my relationship with Monica has blossomed. Still, although neither of us is complaining, only that one time has the earth moved for us both!