Copyright (c) 2019,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Monday, June 10, 2019

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: wendri20.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com


story_codes: b/g(12/11) cons

story_intro: Amelia and Wy each have a crush on each other that has never amounted to more than kissing. But when they must seek shelter from a storm, they are left alone with each other and the feeli9ngs they have not yet fully expressed.


story_language: English






Wendria: Story 20 - Warm Shelter

Written by madvlad

	As the gust blew into him, Wy banked his craft with more instinct than thought, never veering from his course. Now twelve nearing the halfway point of his thirteenth year, he had been piloting small courier craft for two years. Puberty was still a few years off - the norm for male and female alike on Wendria - but his family was pretty wiry in build and Wy hoped he would be a cloud skipper for years to come; even when his dark hair became shot with gray.

	When in the sky, Wy was anyone's equal - not dismissed as just a kid or a filthy Kengrell. Up here, his freedom was limited only by the mechanical abilities of his craft. The isolation at altitude also set his imagination free.

	But today he was not flying alone.

	People who weren't cloud skippers would not have noticed the sound until it was closer. But Wy could hear the distinctive buzz-whine of a light azurine electric motor belonging to another skipper craft. Glancing at the chronometer built into the frame of the handlebars, he saw it was nearing the bottom of the hour and nodded,

	The sound grew louder and Wy turned his head to the right to see another slim figure crouched low over a skipper craft as it passed. As the other pilot turned to him, Wy could see the golden eyes through the goggles as they exchanged nods. Then the other skipper pulled ahead of him, giving Wy a view of the blonde hair barely jutting out from the bottom of his companion's leather helmet.

	By happy chance, another cloud skipper was scheduled to leave near his own departure time from the Mildenhall aerodrome to fly south back to his home port, Heathrow, in Yorkton. That the other courier was Amelia made Wy's heart flutter.

	She was a year younger than him and had grown up the hard way in one of the capital city's orphanages. When she had obtained her cloud skipper's license less than six months ago, Amelia had naturally gravitated to one of the few pilots her own age. Wy knew she had been subjected to all kinds of abuse in the orphanage but they had both enjoyed some time together kissing.

	It was heady stuff for Wy but he had managed to keep his tongue reined in. For reasons no one could yet explain, those who had settled in the Kengrell Mountains had developed a few mutations in the two centuries including glowing eyes and slightly elongated tongues. They weren't as long as some salacious fiction had it but Wy hadn't wanted to choke her. He wouldn't have minded doing more than kissing but he was afraid he would drive her away.

	Even after Amelia became a cloud skipper, her trouble with some men continued. Some at Heathrow, like Barney in shipping and Elliott, who ran the night maintenance crew, were top-notch guys. Wy, having moved from the Kengrells to the city to earn money for his family back home, looked up to those as surrogate fathers. But some of the others were trouble.

	One day, he overheard two mechanics, Benno and Roth, discussing Amelia's leather clad body after Wy had managed a brief conversation with her without humiliating himself. Amelia never seemed to mind his habit of repeating some of his words but Wy was having issues with the words the two men were having that day. In a blaze of foolhardy bravado, he tried to stop them before Amelia noticed and only got punched and stomped for his efforts.

	Humiliated, he crawled into a hangar through an open bay door only to watch helplessly as the two men raped Amelia on the tarmac. She had tried to resist but was quickly forced to service one of her attackers with her mouth while the other one held her hips and cruelly drove into her from behind.

	Help did arrive in the form of some young women; cloud skippers of the Opalline Guild who drove off the mechanics when they returned with some friends to further abuse Amelia who was now lying limply on the ground. Among Amelia's rescuers was Dor, a most intimidating Kengrell woman with a graft-droog's metal implants in her face. Dor was from a different clan and Wy had no clue of Dor's background. Her implants were skillfully done; an oddity since the notorious graft-droog gangs who thrived on any violent criminal enterprise normally detested Kengrells. Had she been part of one of their gangs?

	Amelia had been taken in by the  Opalline Guild and Wy hadn't seen her for nearly two months during which time she had done some courier work from a long-range strato-cruiser; a top of the line airship of the Anglian navy. When they met again shortly after her return, she was tight-lipped about what she had done on the brief voyage and seemed somewhat distracted or distant. Wy feared she knew about his futile attempt to save her and now disregarded him as weak and useless.

	But Wy still felt light-headed and oddly flushed when he was near her. And she had been friendlier when they met in the "Cloud Skipper's Lounge" at Mildenhall. The "lounge" was a poorly-lit room with a motley collection of second-hand (or perhaps tenth-hand) of mismatched chairs and tables. As Mildenhall was not directly near any city (Northumberland Park being some five kilos away), food and other items were ghastly high in price.

	Both Wy and Amelia had passed on paying seven pounds for a bowl of some dubious concoction the canteen manager referred to a "stew" while never mentioning an ingredient. Instead, they laughed together about the potential contents inside the bubbling pot while sitting at a table with one leg shorter than the other three.

	They decided to fly together with each one taking turns to fly in front while the other one drafted the first; somewhat shielding themselves from air streams that the lead rider pushed through and spread apart for a short distance. This would make the six-hour flight far less fatiguing.

	Amelia shifted on her skipper craft in front of Wy, raising and lowering herself a bit to compensate for a momentary buffet of stronger wind. Wy looked worriedly to the clouds thickening above the Eaton Cauldron to the south. The "cauldron" was made of two high but narrow mountain ranges that came together fifty kilos inland from the sea to the west. Because of the ocean trade winds and the land's topography, short but fierce and sudden storms developed in the bowl between the two ranges before spilling outward.

	Then his attention turned as Amelia lifted herself again, giving him a full view of the roundness of the girl's petite rump snugly ensconced in tan leather riding pants. While many of his other feelings for her were more emotional, the glimpse of Amelia's enticing little rear elicited more primal feelings. A few months earlier, Wy had summoned up the courage to rent himself a prostitute so that he could discover the oft-overheard pleasures of the flesh. He had recently begun to produce a pre-pubertal semen; nothing that contained any sperm at his stage of development, but it had enhanced his masturbation.

	Emboldened enough, he had paid a woman and the first time went just fine. And then the trouble began and fifteen minutes later, Wy fled from the room above a seedy tavern with the woman shrieking about the freak he was. He later confirmed it wasn't a Kengrell thing - it was merely him. In fevered moments since then, alone and in the dark, he would use his hand on his penis while thinking of Amelia being with him, wanting him in her.

	After he came, there were the things he could not resist. He tried not to think about Amelia during that time for fear of despoiling her if only in his imagination. But he was not always successful and afterwards would weep at his weakness and freakishness.

	A check of the clouds, now closer as they flew toward the cauldron, showed them as a single dense mass and darkening. Amelia put out her right hand and swiveled it while lowering her arm. Wy understood; this was no storm to toy with and the system would rise too high for their skipper craft to safely glide above.

	To the left, he could see the tall red and white tower with its blue azurine lamp now brighter against the heavy clouds. At the base of a tower was a cave that had been converted to a shelter for the couriers who had to take refuge from the frequent storms. The rain began to whip now, reaching through air that had been sunlit just one minute earlier.

	Amelia had begun a series of gradual spirals in her descent; a good sign. Some cloud skippers might try to dive hard to get out of the storm but a sudden shear could send them tumbling in mid-air or slam then to the ground. Wy followed, keeping his loops 180 degrees apart from Amelia's in case something went wrong - he didn't want to strike her on the way down.

	On the ground were four miniature versions of railroad tracks, each with a flat car on them. Amelia and Wyatt landed their craft on two of them and dismounted to move them by using hand levers. The cars were small and well-lubricated and it was easy to work them into the cave until the tracks stopped.

	Wy went to a small desk and tapped out a series of short and long signals that the tower outside would transfer to the closest aerodromes if the wireless transmissions were not disrupted by the lightning in the storm. It was standard protocol to report that they were here so there would be no need for a later search.

	The Courier Service routinely maintained the rail cars and stocked provisions. As these shelters were in largely desolate areas, it was rare for anyone else to wander into the cave and take its supply of food and equipment.

	Amelia started two azurine heaters and strung some rope across from which she hung her wet helmet, leather jacket, and scarf. Muttering a curse, she explained that she had not properly secured the top flap of her jacket the sudden rain had wicked through the scarf and soaked the thin, sleeveless chemise that was tucked into her pants so not to risk exposing more bare skin at high altitudes. Wind burns were no fun in delicate places.

	Wy opened some ration meals from a locker - nothing exotic but it was solid food and tasted decently. And, he thought as he grinned, it was not recycled from the restrooms like that stew at Mildenhall may have been. Amelia had loved his joke about that.

	He turned to mention that joke again to find Amelia pulling up her chemise. She was standing in profile to him and her bare chest was flat as she pulled the wet garment off. After hanging it over the rope, she turned to see him gawking at her and laughed.

	"What?" she giggled as she rubbed her hands over her lean upper torso. "It's not like there's anything there - not for another five years or so. For now, it's just like yours."

	She was right, of course, but Wy was achingly aware that she was female and she was half naked and so close...

	Amelia unfolded a couple of blankets and set them on the wooden boards that had been built to make a floor inside the cave. Sitting on one of them, she patted the space in front of her in invitation.

	"Bring the rations by the heaters - it's nice and warm here. Oh, your shirt's wet, too."

	Wy nodded vaguely. His jacket was open and the front of his light blue shirt was now darker.  He set the rations down and began to sit when Amelia shook her head.

	"Silly," she gently chided as she pulled on his jacket. Wy sighed and shrugged out of it as she tugged. He hesitated before peeling off his shirt.

	"See, you don't have any boobs, yet either," she joked at his shyness.

	They sat together and ate in amiable silence except for the protests of the storm outside that could not reach them. The cave floor and the rail tracks at the entrance were wet but nothing could reach them this far in and they felt wonderfully cozy.

	Then Amelia stood and held out a hand to help Wy to his feet. Now she swallowed hard and when she spoke, her voice had a dry crackle to it.

	"There's something we haven't done for months," she whispered.

	Wy's tongue brushed against the inside of his lips and he remembered the feel of her lips and tongue.

	"Uh, maybe we'd better get our shirts on first," he suggested hoarsely.

	"They're still wet," she quickly insisted without checking them.

	They came together, mouth to mouth at first. After a nervous minute, they relaxed their lips and their tongues slow-danced. Neither could say who inched closer first but each of the gasped when their bare chests made contact. And neither moved to break contact as their arms came around each other instead.

	Wy was afraid that too much of his tongue was in Amelia's mouth but the girl let him stroke hers at will. Their torsos grew warm from the pressing of boyish and girlish chests and bellies. It was if their lack of physical development demanded they touch this way and Wy wondered if she could feel his heart hammering. His hands rubbed her back, sliding up and down and venturing further to the small of her back before he pulled her a little tighter.

	The firm curves of her back to the indentation of her spine in the middle were strangely arousing and he hardened in his pants. Feeling his reaction, Amelia rolled her pelvis to stimulate them both. Wy was fighting the urge to proceed with caution from past experience. He wondered if Amelia could sense what was wrong with him - or that something was horribly wrong and when she suddenly drew away from him, he thought it would be the end of it all.

	But Amelia unbuttoned her pants instead.

	"I think my panties are wet, too," she shyly explained as she untied her boots before removing her pants and undies.

	Her panties were wet - not from the rain but still damp in the crotch. The vibrations of skipper craft engines had that effect on most female pilots. Amelia pitied those who couldn't react from that. Looking over at Wy, she saw him standing there uncomfortably with a small but noticeable lump beneath the buttons of his fly.

	"Your clothes might be wet there, too," she suggested huskily.

	Wy was transfixed by the sight of the girl he had longed for now naked and offering before him. Her legs were slender but curved with firm muscle beneath her smooth pale skin from her time as a cloud skipper. At their apex was the smooth mound; soft and fleshy surrounded by her compact belly and throng thighs. His worries did nothing to weaken his erection which was soon subjected the golden gaze of the girl as he lowered his pants.

	When Wy had disrobed, Amelia lay back on the blanket. The boards beneath were hard but she hardly noticed as she beckoned the boy to come to her.

	Taking one last stand against what was likely inevitable, Wy shook his head.

	"Those men who hurt you, hurt you, hurt you..." he choked out, repeating words as he always did.

	"Men at the aerodrome," Amelia spat. "And at the orphanage - and boys there, too. Older ones. But you're not them. Please, I want to know what it's like when it's not forced and I...I want to know that with you."

	It was her entreaty and not his lust that finally convinced him to lower himself down to her. Amelia opened her legs for him and, unlike what they had both read in fascination in tawdry books of cheap pulp often found in workers' quarters at the aerodromes, they fumbled for another minute, each muttering apologies until Wy found the right angle and eased himself between the hairless folds of the girl's pussy.

	Amelia moaned softly as she was penetrated by hard maleness. It felt right - not like the brusque shoves of unwanted cocks that had pillaged her there and in other places. The fingers of the other Opalline women had been gentle and welcome but they could not completely substitute what this boy had to give.

	There had also been aravine roots - arousing in their own way and allowing to females to connect. But they were not of the same flesh. And Dor, who had anointed herself Amelia's protector used the vine and her fingers and all manners of toys in a randy and rapid fashion. The young Kengrell woman liked to play rough but, aside from the occasional bite mark that could have been worse had Dor intended any real harm, never left the girl feeling damaged or ill-used. Amelia loved Dor (and felt Dor did the same in her own peculiar way) but not like she did this strange boy who somehow had a spell on her.

	Wy was the perfect size - not making her hurtfully expand but filling her well. Amelia put her arms around Wy's back, feeling his chest on hers and she sighed as his stiff member stroked inside of her clutching little tunnel.

	The woman prostitute had been damp from something she used there and Wy's first foray had been a thing of wonder. But Amelia felt meant for him, snug and getting juicier as they copulated. She had been warm at first but now felt feverish where her prepubescent cunny wetly enveloped him. Her nipples sprang to life, hardening against the boy as he drove his cock into her luscious young quim. The eleven year-old was panting raggedly as both of their needs grew more urgent and her slightly older lover made his thrusts stronger.

	In a way he couldn't explain but only now was discovering, he could somehow sense where she was and he subconsciously altered his movements to match her. He knew how close he was and wanted to only get there when she did. Fear of what would happen after was shunted aside and he threw himself into this moment only as the preteens writhed and humped together.

	Their climaxes arrived together, making the boy's cock pulse his immature semen into the younger girl's accepting body. Amelia wept, cherishing the hot liquid cloud slightly expanding inside of her. It was so different than the forced finishes of earlier rapes. She held him on top of her as they lay together and when she felt him tensing in preparation to get off, she hugged him tighter. Wy remained tense and Amelia suddenly worried that she was being too demanding.

	And there was something else. In the past, she could feel the men and boys soften in her slightly when they were done - often just a brief respite before another prick was crammed into her. But not Wy.

	"Mmm...," she purred. "You're still really hard."

	"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he gurgled.

	"Why? You were great and you're ready to do it again. Don't you want to?"

	Wy stared at her, opening his mouth and closing it before trying to speak.

	"But it's not right that way, that way, that way. I'm supposed to be done, done, done. But I'm a monster, a freak, freak, freak."

	It was the most he had ever said to her in one turn and Amelia ached for him in his pain.

	"Who said that?" she demanded.

	Wy's cheeks colored and he admitted his folly to her.

	"This woman I paid, paid, paid so I could know, know, know...," he began. "When I was ready for more after one time, time, time, like always she asked how many more and I told her and she got mad, mad, mad."

	"How many times?" Amelia asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

	"Six or seven, six or seven, six or seven," he confessed. "Maybe more, more, more. How she hollered to the roof, roof, roof."

	Wy closed his eyes in shame, only to open them when he heard Amelia giggling.

	"Maybe she was mad because she'd have to let you do it for free until you were really done," she chortled.

	As Amelia laughed, her body squirmed and the lining of her cum-warmed socket shifted over his thin young cock. Wy could not deny his urge.

	"So we can do more, more, more?" he whispered as he started to hump the girl in short motions.

	Amelia stretched her limbs languidly before wrapping her legs around his waist.

	"I'll even help you keep count," she offered.

	They had coupled in several positions; always keeping their bodies joined as the rotated or went vertical or horizontal. The eighth time found Wy sitting upright with Amelia in his lap facing him as she rode his still turgid cock.

	With her hands clasped behind his neck, she leaned back slightly to let him bend his head forward and use his mouth on her immature but stiff nipples. Despite the gooiness of their intermixed fluids, her pussy still grabbed at him as it slid with an achingly tight hold on his rod.

	With her left nipple being sucked, Amelia bit her tongue as another climactic wave began to crash/ When his ejaculations once more poured into the eleven year-old's orgasmically quivering cunny, Amelia peeped softly. Then she felt him finally going limp and she kissed him before she tried to lean farther back.

	Wy understood her intent and helped lower the girl to her back. His now drooping penis popped out and Amelia sighed as she put her fingers where he had been for the past few hours. Devoid of sperm, the boy's issue was somewhat clear but slightly opaque as it oozed from between the girl's bald lips. With one finger, she used the stuff as massage oil as she stroked inside her slit.
And with her other hand, she rubbed her tummy right about where her womb was inside.

	"You sure put a lot in me," she crooned.

	"I'm not old enough to make you pregnant, make you pregnant, make you pregnant," he hurriedly explained.

	"And I'm not old enough to get pregnant," Amelia agreed before pausing.

	She remembered that little girl, Angelita, a month ago in the Mithlands. She was two years younger than Amelia and had been naked with a bloated belly from the creatures who had held her captive and treated her like Amelia had been used. But it was worse as they had somehow forced her to carry their offspring.

	All Amelia had seen of those monsters were the huge red tentacles but that was enough as she had barely escaped with Dor's help. The smaller girl clutched her from behind as Amelia coaxed her overloaded craft into the sky and to the safety of the naval airship a few kilos away. Whatever Angelita had inside of her had been born on the ship where Amelia mercifully could not witness it. Amelia and Dor clearly understood what they were never to speak to others about. Amelia, who had often dreamed about exploring the mysterious Mithlands was now perfectly happy to keep her experience out of the forefront of her thoughts.

	Now she had a happier thought - something else she had thought of once or twice since meeting Wy.

	"But when I'm old enough," she continued. "I hope you'll help make a baby inside me."

	Feeling melty inside, Wy grinned stupidly and didn't care how he looked. Amelia looked radiant lying there with the sun reflecting from their skipper craft and lightening her blonde locks.

	The sun.

	"Oh!" he exclaimed as he looked out into the brightness beyond the cave mouth. "When did that happen?"

	Amelia stifled a curse. Work was work and with the storm gone, they had better get moving. They hurriedly cleaned themselves as best as they could and got dressed before rolling their craft outside.

	After they were in the air, Wy let Amelia take the lead for the first leg. Every now and then, she would look back at him and he felt lighter when he saw the flash of gold in her goggles. They were both doing what they loved again but the mere thirty meters of distance between them seemed much longer now.


Copyright (c) 2019 madvlad
madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm
























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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