The Adult Story Hub

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By Storysman (storysman@aol.com)

The first thoughts entering Tom's mind on regaining consciousness were hazy and almost completely dark. His mind struggled to regain its strength against the numbing, disorienting sensations currently dominating him. He didn't know if he was dreaming, or where he was. Only gradually did he realize that his open eyes were detecting some light.
It was a dim light, coming from above. But where was he? He shook his head, then suddenly remembered. He was in an elevator. Panic surged through him with the recollection.
He had stepped into an elevator, happy to see the woman already inside it. The woman... Melissa... yes, he remembered. Sweet Melissa, who worked in the high-rise office and whom he had grown to worship.
He had memorized her routine, and had often been 'lucky' enough to be in the elevator at the same time as she was. On this occasion they hadn't been in the lift more than a few seconds when... an earthquake! Yes, the memory was clearer now!
The building had begun to shake, and the elevator had started to fall. He remembered the terror that had leapt into him and the helplessness he'd felt. He couldn't recall every detail of the event, only Melissa's panicked screams, and that he'd feared for his life. And then...
Tom looked around him, and figured out what must have happened. The elevator had dropped all the way, or was stuck. The building had collapsed on top of them, knocking out all power other than the emergency light. But he was alive! He'd survived!
He didn't know if it was safe to move, but knew he had to get out somehow. He felt his body jump with urgency. Who knew whether or not the building would collapse any further? Who knew if, or when, a rescue crew might find him? He started to get up, but fell back down clumsily.
He shook his head again, hoping to regain some mobility, and he now realized there was something soft underneath him. Something human. Could it be Melissa?
Tom looked down at the unconscious body while his brain continued to clear. It WAS Melissa!
They'd never exchanged more than an artificial, uncomfortable "hello," but Tom knew her very well. He had long memorized her features: her thick, flowing, black hair and greenish eyes; her slim, well-developed frame, accentuated by elegant business attire. She always dressed professionally, and sometimes that was more maddeningly arousing than if she'd strolled into work in a bikini.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as he looked at, and felt, the unconscious female body. None had anything to do with the rational, survival-oriented nature that had been uppermost a minute before.
They were all of her, of Melissa, of the wonderful body pressed tightly between the elevator floor and Tom's own flesh. Her body... his body... trapped, and alone together. But was she alive?
A shock of dread raced through him at the thought. She had to be! She just had to be! A mixture of relief and excitement overwhelmed him on feeling her breast flutter against his. She was alive!
He moved to give her a little more room. This allowed her lungs to take in more air, and soon she was breathing regularly, creating the incredible sensation, for him, of her full, soft breasts rhythmically pressing against his chest.
He attempted to sit up, to examine her more fully in the dim emergency light. "Ahh!" His head banged against something hard after moving just a few inches.
Tom ducked his head, and looked around carefully. The elevator hadn't fared well in the fall. The ceiling was split open by a series of beams that ran across the elevator space close to the floor, leaving about two-and-a-half feet of headroom, insufficient either to sit up in or to maneuver in an attempt to escape. For the moment, however, it was enough for Tom to look at Melissa...
She was strikingly beautiful, even now. Her lips were red with lipstick, and slightly parted as her body drew breath. There were several smudges on her cheeks, but they only added to the sweet- ness of her face.
When she was in the elevator with him, Tom had wanted to spend all his time looking at her. Of course he couldn't; it wouldn't have been appropriate. She would have noticed him absorbing her charms, and might not have reacted well.
But now her eyes were closed and her mind unconscious, as if pleasantly sleeping at home in bed. He looked at her chest. She was wearing a dark jacket, the color hard to tell in the dim light. A silver, satiny blouse was partly visible under- neath, with a few buttons undone to hint at exciting cleavage. He looked at her waist area, where the dark fabric of her skirt merged into the cloth of his own shirt.
He suddenly smiled at his situation. He was poised above Melissa, supported by his arms, which were propped on either side of her body. His legs were pressed against hers, but between them, and spreading them apart, so that his full weight didn't press on her.
Now that his thoughts were clear, he realized the opportunities inherent in the situation. His heart began to pound with excitement as he looked at the limp body. He could stare now as long as he liked; she wouldn't know. He could kiss her; she wouldn't know.
He trembled at the thought. He could touch her breasts, and she wouldn't know. Did he dare? Did he dare work open the buttons of that satiny blouse? Did he dare unclasp her sure-to- be-enticing bra and expose those incredible round breasts?
What if she woke up? He stared at Melissa's chest, his body aching to see her as he had longed to do ever since he had first laid eyes on her. Yet he still hesitated.
He yearned to see her unclothed, but he would have liked her to be a willing party. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was sexy. But those brief moments of meeting they'd shared in the past had suggested to him that she was someone he could really care for.
How could he abuse her trust, especially when she might come to and catch him in the act?!
Tom's eyes darted quickly up and down her body. This might be the only chance he ever had to enjoy her. He wasn't going to rape her; he could never do that. But if he could just see her, experience her, so that he'd have some- thing to remember her by...
He lifted the flap of Melissa's jacket, feeling his penis stir at the sight of her chest. The satin was pulled tight against her curves, allowing the lacy pattern of her bra to show clearly.
Moreover, if he wasn't mistaken, the contours of protuberant nipples were also visible. But he wouldn't unbutton her blouse; at least, not yet. He had to test her awareness first.
He slid off her body into the tiny amount of space beside her. He eyed her skirt, the whole of which he couldn't see because the confined space gave him only enough room to take his head back a couple of inches. He looked along her body and cautiously put his hand on her thigh.
If she stirred now he could let go and feign innocence. However, she didn't move. He cautiously lifted the hem of Melissa's skirt, revealing smooth, creamy skin and shiny pink panties which barely covered the essentials. His hand trembled, and he gulped at the sight.
He returned his eyes to Melissa's still face, staring at her full red lips while cautiously moving his hand on to her leg. Her skin was so smooth, so perfect and firm.
He slipped his hand in between her thighs, watching intently for any reaction. He had to touch her. He had no choice.
When he was certain that she was unconscious it took all his willpower to keep from ripping off her clothes and rutting like an animal. However, it couldn't stop him touching her. He pressed his fingers against the pink satin gusset, right between her legs and directly against her pussy. His fingertip seemed to have a mind of its own, moving up and down, and from side to side, in her crotch.
Tom was deafened by the sound of his own breathing as he nervously glanced down at the joyful liberties his hand was taking.
He cupped it between her legs, letting each finger experience the silky, intoxicating touch.
Meanwhile his left hand fidgeted from lack of use, demanding that it, too, be placed somewhere on Melissa's voluptuous body. Her breast, for instance...
Tom knew he'd never forgive himself if he failed to take such a golden opportunity to touch her breasts, even if only through her shirt. Still closely watching her face, he rested gingerly on his side and pressed his left palm gently against her right breast. It jiggled slightly, and the excitement of it momentarily blurred his vision.
After a slight pause, he took the breast more firmly into his hand, lifting it and moving it here and there with slow rubs and soft squeezes. What an incredible woman! he thought. Incredible!
His belief in her unconsciousness had strengthened, and he instinctively pressed harder against the soft flesh. He felt the rigid bra beneath her shirt, and, more exciting, the shape and texture of her pussy and its satin covering. God, he wanted her! He wanted more than anything to pull off her clothes and thrust his penis deep inside her.
Tom momentarily closed his eyes as his hands probed more roughly, realizing that he was losing control of himself. He needed to touch her naked flesh, to unbutton her blouse, unclasp her bra, and take her nipples into his mouth. He needed to smell her flesh scent, and feel her breasts against his cheeks. He needed to slip his hand inside her panties, and probe her soft, delicate cunt with hungry fingers...
Melissa stirred, and Tom froze, his hands still clasping her body, as her lips twitched and her eyelids fluttered. He swiftly smoothed her skirt as best he could, and took his hands away.
He considered pretending to be asleep. Surely she would suspect nothing if she found him unconscious, when she realized where they were.
Melissa slowly opened her eyes, and saw... nothing. Her first thought was that she must have been asleep in her dark bedroom. However, it didn't take her long to realize that she was lying extremely uncomfortably on the floor.
Then she thought: why is it so dark and silent? Everything was so still. No busy hum of a workday office building, no sounds at all. Her memory suddenly jumped into focus, and she knew where she was.
The last thing she remembered was the elevator doors closing - then everything went black.
Enough of this, she thought. I'd better get out of here. She was starting to rise, when a hand touched her shoulder.
A momentary shock went through her body, fright giving her an instant adrenaline rush. Then a voice spoke in the dim light.
"Melissa, are you all right?" She instantly recognized the voice as belonging to Tom. Yes, she remembered entering the elevator with Tom. Fear turned to relief. Someone was with her; she wasn't alone.
Tom explained that there had been some kind of disaster, and that they were trapped.
They both began to explore their situation, moving around gingerly on hands and knees. Melissa was acutely aware of her companion.
She'd long admired him from afar, for his muscular body and graceful walk. She thought: I'm attracted to too many men; that's my problem.'
While they continued to explore the twisted wreckage of their temporary prison, thoughts of her past ran through Melissa's mind.
She'd been an inquisitive child, and had always liked boys. She liked their wildness, and thought they had more fun than she and her female friends did. Her mother used to nag her about her free-and-easy attitude to boys and her friendships with them, and this had made her self-conscious about showing her feelings.
Sometimes she wondered how her mother had managed to conceive her, because she couldn't visualize her mother fucking her father; her mother would never have unbent sufficiently to let her dad touch her.
Her mother's constant assaults on her had made Melissa turn toward quiet denial, in the form of always keeping her own counsel, never allowing friends or acquaintances to know what she was really thinking, or how she really felt.

Eventually Tom and Melissa stopped exploring their little cage and came together. Both realized that they were stuck unless (or, more hopefully, until) someone rescued them.
Melissa looked at her fellow captive (by now their eyes were well-adapted to the weak light) and smiled, wondering if they'd ever get out of this alive. It crossed her mind that Tom was nicer looking than she had really noticed before. It may have been a fear of dying, or the danger they were in, but she seemed to sense his need for her.
She thought guiltily of John, who had been her lover and best friend for over a year now. She wasn't actually dissatisfied with him; he wasn't very exciting to be with. Now she was really feeling guilty.
Tom must have sensed the warmth on her cheek, because he moved closer and touched it, saying: "Are you feeling OK? You seem flushed."
Melissa's mouth opened to say something, but she suddenly held back. She pulled her head away. "I'm fine," she said.
Tom took his hand back. He feared he'd offended her, and at the moment Melissa didn't want to contradict that impression. She laughed to herself, acutely aware of Tom's body beside her and thinking that they were as close as any lovers.
She might be at home, in her bed, with John beside her. She could be nude, fresh from an intense bout of love-making, or perhaps on the verge of sleep. Now that really was funny!
When was the last time she had intense love- making with John? Probably the last time she'd been stuck in an elevator! Strange, that in a situation so life-threatening, she was thinking about sex! Was she insane?
If she told her thoughts to Tom, a man she barely knew, he'd probably laugh at her and secretly wish he was with someone genuinely trying to escape. But what else could she do? She had a man next to her, and the life she'd been living seemed to have been on a crash course equal to this elevator trip.