Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette

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Gloria loved to kneel on her padded bench and lean out the window of their alpine cabin after all the chores were done. Their cabin was built into a gentle slope, overlooking the expansive meadow where they spent the summer months surrounded by majestic mountains, an ancient glacier flowing down one of the slopes. The cows were peacefully grazing, their bells ringing in the quiet evening air, the two herd dogs circling them leisurely, attentively, making sure none of them strayed. 

This was her favorite part of the day, between supper and the deep darkness of the alpine night, when there was nothing else to be done. It was then that she could truly be herself. She could just look out of the window at her summer world, pursue her own quiet thoughts, reflect on the beautiful simplicity of her life and her special role in it, her love of the mountains, for her husband, herself. 

She heard Jacob enter the cabin after having finished his own evening chores and come up behind her. Turning her head slightly, she smiled at him over her shoulder. He had a determined look on his face and she knew immediately what was going to come. She couldn’t wait. She looked out of the window again while Jacob lifted her wide skirt over her rump and peeled her panties off over her hips. 

Gloria shivered with anticipation. Jacob reached around her and took her breasts into his hands. He rubbed his penis up and down between her buttocks for a while, then slid it into her invitingly moist vagina. She gasped when she felt him penetrating her, expanding her, taking possession of her, sending shivers up and down her spine. It was always a special feeling, to be taken like that. No words were necessary between them because the act itself was enough, their bond strong and vibrant in their intimacy. She reveled in the luxury of having him inside her, being filled, being desired, her pussy quivering with the pleasure of the stimulation. 

There was something very special about those moments, something spiritual and deeply emotional, their coupling underneath the snow-capped mountains primordial, mystifyingly archetypal. She felt they were an integral part of the entire tableau, fused together as they were. They belonged to the meadow spread out below, to the mountains piercing the sky. Their union was part of all that, of all of nature, of the mountains themselves. It was as if they were being watched, and watched over at the same time, making them feel secure and intimately connected to the land that provided them with their livelihood. 

Jacob was moving slowly in and out of her, holding on to her, looking out of the window over her head, and she moaned with intense delight. She felt totally absorbed in the delicious sensations flooding her body, her breasts tingling, her clit getting harder with every measured thrust. Below her, some of the cattle were lowing, one of the dogs barking at something, a rock eagle swooping from peak to peak, but she was only peripherally aware of the familiar sounds and sights. 

Then she could feel him thrusting deeper, gripping her hips with his strong hands, trembling with the onset of his orgasm. Everything was standing still. There was no time in the mountains, only change, days changing into nights, nights into days, summer into fall, the sun arcing across the sky, the eagle. It was all that was necessary, their coupling by the window a charged moment in a sea of moments. Their solitude among the towering peaks was a constant inspiration, their isolation on the summer meadow a steady flood of deep feelings and emotions. 

She tightened her muscles and nudged her buttocks against him. They moaned delightedly, he penetrating her as far as he could, she arching her back in ecstasy. Her whole body trembled from the delicious plunges into her aching vagina. She grabbed the window sill to brace herself against the final, forceful thrusts. Then he gushed into her, and she shuddered through her own orgasm. She screamed her exuberance into her mountains over the tinkling of the bells, reaffirming her connections, renewing her pact. 

The sun was disappearing behind the peaks, and the alpine darkness slowly began to fall, enveloping them in the hush of the descending night.

The End

Peter Baltensperger is a Canadian writer of Swiss origin and the author of ten books of various genres. His work has appeared in several hundred publications around the world. His erotic stories, poems, and essays have been widely published in print as well as on-line, including The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, Sex in the City – Paris, Clean Sheets, The Erotic Woman, Oysters and Chocolate, and Black Heart Magazine.