Free Story: For The Rain
THIS STORY CONTAINS SEXUAL CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READERS ONLY.
FOR THE RAIN
We’re huddled together on the sofa, watching Spartacus and enjoying being in each other’s space when I think I hear something. I don’t want to get up and out from under the blanket because I’m enjoying your feminine softness pressed against me, and the luscious heft of your breast cupped in my hand under your Clippers jersey. And I’m definitely enjoying your hand nestled comfortably down inside the front of my sweatpants. But if what I think I’m hearing is accurate, I figure we might end up enjoying being in each other’s space even more. So I get up.
You give me a questioning look as I step across the living room. I don’t say anything to you. I want to see what’s what first. When I open the door that exits onto my balcony I see that what I thought I heard was correct. Beyond my balcony I see a nighttime spring rain shower. It was the rain I heard.
I look back at you and tell you that it’s raining.
You flash me your beautiful smile. From across the room I see a new light in your eyes. Excitement maybe? You get up and come to join me, and we step out onto the balcony.
It’s coming down heavier than a drizzle, but not too hard. And, the night is warm. I think it’ll be perfect – that is, if you’re game. This is your fantasy. I’m more than willing to come along for the sweet ride. That is, if you’re really game.
Sometimes our fantasies only ever exist in our imaginations, where we can play them out safe from the reality of the actual world. We think about doing a thing because it takes us past the boundaries of what is society’s definition of accepted behavior, and past what is safe. In our fantasies we’re breaking the rules. We’re putting ourselves in danger. That’s what makes them exciting. That’s what inflames our passion. It gets us hard. It makes us wet.
But sometimes when faced with the opportunity in reality, we can’t cross that line. We can’t break the rules. We can’t take the risk. Then fear overrules our excitement. Too much fear can douse the flames of passion. I wonder if you’re really ready or if you’d rather play by the rules and play it safe.
I’m standing just behind you, watching you as you stand grasping the rail at the top of the balcony wall and gazing out at the night rain. For the zillionth time I appreciate the way your jersey hugs your sexy Rubenesque figure, the way the material seems to caress the swell of your hips and bottom with your every breath. I look down at your healthy thighs, and at the way they taper down in beautiful symmetry to the curve of your calves. Your white ankle socks provide an enticing contrast to your complexion. It makes me think of something sweet, like caramel and cream.
You stand there with your back to me, maybe just enjoying the rain or maybe contemplating living out your fantasy. Without seeing your face I think that I know what you’re thinking, because I know you, and because we think alike. You’re wondering if I’m going to ask the question.
What I’m wondering is if right now your excitement is stronger than your fear. There’s only one way to find out. I ask, “Do you want to go for a ride?”
A few heartbeats pass and you haven’t answered my question. Just as I start to think that your fear is greater than your excitement, you turn from the balcony wall.
There’s that beautiful smile again. And that light is still in your eyes. Now I know that your excitement is winning.
You say, “Let me go change.”
A new part of your fantasy: You don’t want me to see you change out of your basketball jersey, so you go into the bathroom. I get it. Even though you’ve told me your fantasy and what you visualize yourself wearing in it, you still want me anticipating the moment. So I get it. I like the way you think.
You come out of the bathroom wearing a simple tube dress that falls almost to your knees. I watch you as you tug off your socks and slip your feet into a pair of wedge-heeled sandals. Watching that simple act makes me think about you naked. I like you naked. My excitement – among other things – grows as I think about you au naturel. I tear myself away from looking at you and go to the linen closet to grab some towels.
When I return to the bedroom I see that you’re ready to go. You’ve got your Clippers jersey in your hand; something to change into after the fact. That excitement is still in your eyes. So are many questions.
“We’re not going too far,” I say. This is true. I’ve had the spot picked out since the minute you told me about this fantasy months ago. I slip on a pair of sneakers. On our way out I grab a CD compilation I’ve made for just such an occasion. We’re ready to roll.
We dash out to my car trying not to get wet, as if in a few minutes that will even matter. I open the passenger door for you and as you slide in I take note of our surroundings. The rain is heavy enough now that in the darkness and from a minimal distance visibility is very limited. Anyone outdoors will be squinting too hard against the downpour to notice anything more than a few yards away from them. And where we’re going we’ll be so far from any residence windows that anyone looking out might not even see my car, much less us.
As I back out of the parking space you ask, “Where are we going?” For the first time I sense a little nervousness in you. I hope that it’s just enough to heighten your excitement, rather than lessen it.
“Not far. We’re not even leaving this complex.”
I drive slowly through the parking lot, looking ahead. I’m imagining the distance we’ll be from the closest residence building and any parked cars, and judging the visibility. I’m still pretty sure no one will be able to see us.
From the corner of my eye I see someone running out of the building next door, heading for their vehicle. They’re too busy trying not to get wet to even look around. That makes me feel better about the risk.
Okay, I’m a little tense, too. We’ve talked about the freakiest sexual experiences in our lives and the most unusual places we’ve done it. We’ve made a commitment to make our all-time high scores for experiences and locations things we’ll do together. This will be one of those things.
I cruise to a different section of the complex, the one with the largest parking lot. This parking lot runs perpendicular to the residence building and extends away from it for about eighty yards. At the far end of the lot sits the maintenance utility building, a brick structure about the size of a two-car garage. That building is empty at night. Residents prefer to park as close to where they live as possible, so no vehicles are parked near the building. When we get close to it I turn off the headlights. Now besides the rain, the area is further masked by the deep shadows of the trees bordering this end of the parking area.
So that I can easily see anyone approaching from the direction of the residence building I back into a space in front of the utility building. This position will also allow us to see the headlights of any vehicle approaching the parking lot from the single entry at the opposite end. Parked, I kill the engine and turn the key to accessory.
You’re looking around, at the mostly empty expanse of asphalt in front of us, and at the trees on either side, and then around the headrest and through the back window, toward the utility building. I ask you if you’re okay, and you say that you are. It’s hard for me to read your expression because this end of the parking lot is dark. The only illumination comes from the light of the car stereo head unit. It casts your beautiful face in a soft blue glow. It also illuminates your eyes, and I see that that excitement still glows in them.
“We have two choices,” I say. “We can go behind the utility building, or stay close to the car. If we stand at the back of the car it’ll block us from anybody looking or coming. But they probably won’t see us in the rain anyway.” I realize that I’m making my argument for us doing this – for living out your fantasy – even though you’ve already agreed to come here. Maybe I’m worried that now that the moment is at hand, your fear will override your excitement.
“What’s behind the building?” you ask.
“I don’t know; trees, and maybe bushes.”
You’re a city girl so you’re not having anything to do with trees in the dark. You shake your head and say, “Behind the car.”
Just jumping out into the rain feels too abrupt. I suggest we get in the back seat for a little while. I let you go first, and you maneuver your way over my car’s center console and between the front seats. Watching you, I think about what you’re wearing – and not wearing. I can’t resist slipping my hand up your thigh and under your dress. Just as my fingers contact the smooth warm flesh of your bottom you’re through the seats and out of reach in the back. The fleeting contact with your derrière is a tease that makes me throb in my sweatpants. I slip my homemade CD into the head unit and join you in the back seat.
I have the sound system’s volume low – loud enough for us to enjoy but not loud enough to attract attention. As the sound of Enigma’s The Principles of Lust fills the car we kiss.
Your lips are so soft. Your tongue is electrifying. I feel that I can’t kiss you deeply enough; can’t get close enough to you. I want to crush you in my arms and lose myself in your sweetness. Instead, with one hand I caress you through the material of your dress like we’re teenagers. My other hand is busy caressing the soft, smooth skin of your inner thigh. I don’t intend to leave it there for long.
You hand is busy, too. Just like back on my sofa it’s inside my sweatpants. I’m not wearing underwear, so you have easy access as you grasp and gently stroke me. Your hand is soft and warm. The contact and the motion are teasing, tantalizing. It primes the pump, making my precum flow. You use it for lubrication, and now the slick friction of your hand moving on me drives me to a point of desire for you so strong that I contemplate shoving you down on the seat so that I can have my way with you, games be damned. When it comes to you my dick has no conscience. It wants what it wants. It wants you, my beautiful baby. What stops me is that I want you to be able to experience your longtime fantasy.
Through the thin cloth of your dress I feel your nipples harden, seeking more attention. My thought is that I’m going to give them all the attention they require. My plan is to pull the top of your tube dress down off your luscious breasts. Just the thought of your ripe caramel fruit exposed to open air has my mouth watering.
I move my hand up and grasp the top of your dress, intending to tug it down. But you realize my intent, and grasp my hand with your free one. Then I remember how your description of your fantasy plays out. To lift your dress now isn’t a part of the script. It would spoil your planned ending. Still, the best intimacy isn’t always scripted. There are things we can do that won’t send your planned finale off course. So rather than lift your dress over your chest, I tell you to lie down.
The patter of rain on the car roof is an underlying soundtrack for the music from the stereo – now Earth, Wind & Fire’s Reasons. An additional track comes courtesy of your soft, sexy moans.
You’re lying on the back seat, your dress high on your hips and your legs apart. I’m on my knees in the leg space. You’re grinding your bottom around and up and down as if you’re taking an invisible lover. What you’re taking are my fingers inside you. You’re not wearing panties. That’s a part of your rain fantasy, that you’re wearing a dress with nothing on underneath.
My fingers are exploring the soft folds of your pussy while I suck your nipples through your dress. This is one of your favorite ways to get off, and a way that brings you to orgasm quickly. That means that it’s one of my favorite things to do to you.
You’re so wet. Wetter than usual. Your treasure is so tight that usually one finger is enough, and two can feel like they’re stretching you to the point of discomfort. But this time passion’s nectar flows so freely that you easily accommodate three. I’m thinking that it’s because of the excitement of the moment. I’m thinking that your anticipation of your fantasy about to become reality has your juices rising and overflowing like a river whose banks can’t contain a heavy falling rain.
Rain. That’s what got us here tonight.
As Prince croons Do Me Baby, the aroma of your arousal hits me. It’s like the blast of a pheromone grenade to my senses. Once again I feel the mad urge to forget about your fantasy and jump you and fuck the shit out of you in the back seat. I can almost see myself over you, gripping your ankles and holding your legs open wide as I take your pussy. The beast growls that it’s my pussy and that I can have her any time I want her, any way I want her. I manage to keep the beast on its leash by telling myself that you are going to be so worth the wait.
I move my fingers slowly in and out of your silken heat. You push back at my hand, wanting more, needing it. I need it too. I need you to come for me. I touch the pad of my thumb against your clit.
When I make contact with your sensitive little nub you let out a gasp. You grasp at my wrist, simultaneously pushing my hand away from your pussy and scooting away along the seat. I lift my face from your chest and look at you, questioning. You breathe, “No baby, I want to save it for the rain.”
The night is pleasantly warm. So is the rain. It feels nice, but it’s coming down harder now. By the time we reach the back of my car our clothes are drenched.
To start things off I press you back against the trunk of the car and take another kiss. I taste the rain on your lips. It’s nice. Erotic. Nature’s liquid on nature’s beauty.
Your hands are at my sweatpants again. But this time instead of slipping them inside to grasp and play with me, you push the front of the waistband down until I spring free.
Exposed like this, now it’s my turn to look around to see who might be seeing us. For a moment my excitement and apprehension go at it blow-for-blow. It screws with my logic and makes me forget that if I can barely see the distant apartment building through the night and the rain, then whoever might be looking out can’t see us.
Then you turn around. You lift your soaked dress and hold it bunched around your waist and bend over the trunk of the car. Rain drops patter on the twin globes of your lovely ass. It makes them glisten like new copper.
Looking at you out here in nature, the rain slicking your bare cheeks, a thin rivulet disappearing into the deep cleft of your nether valley, I feel something inside of me, something raw and hungry, something primal; something savage. I more than want you. I want to possess you, to devour you, to consume you.
Then you thrust your rain-slicked ass out at me. You move your hips around in a slow grind, inviting me. I don’t care anymore who might see us.
The intent was to do this quickly, to fuck out in the rain in a hurry and then get back in the car and go back inside where we’d be out of the rain and safe from potentially curious eyes. But then a feeling comes over me, and instead of stepping to you and pushing myself into your sweetness from behind I hesitate.
I’m thinking that we’re out here now, and that this is a moment – one of those moments. I’m thinking that we shouldn’t waste the moment hurrying, that we should take the time to really enjoy it. It’s like that commercial says: Celebrate the moments of your life.
When I hesitate, you turn around and look at me. I see that glow in your eyes again, that excitement. We think alike so often, and in this moment I see in your eyes that you’re feeling what I’m feeling. All the fear is gone. We’re outside. We’re in the rain. It’s possible that we might be seen. Maybe someone with extra keen vision is at their apartment window, watching us at this very moment. If they are it doesn’t matter, because the fear is gone. It’s time to celebrate us being us.
You’re standing in the rain, looking so lovely. My beautiful baby. You’re still holding your dress up, so I reach down between your legs and touch you there.
The short curly hairs over your pussy are damp. I wonder how much of it is the rain, and how much is your excitement. I think about how you might taste mingled with the rain. I lift you up onto the trunk so that I can find out.
Sitting on my car, now you pull down the front of your dress. My heart gasps as your luscious breasts are exposed to the night. Then you lean back and brace your hands behind you and let the rain pelt your chest. It must feel nice to you – the rain teasing your plump titties – because you mutter a soft, “Ooh, shit!”
With your soaked dress bunched around your waist you almost look naked. It makes me wish that I had my camera, so that I could capture you like this, almost nude in the rain. Since I can’t take a picture I stare at you, drinking up your wet loveliness with my eyes, trying to etch the memory of this vision of you into my memory. You look back at me, smiling. That excitement in your eyes is now burning hot.
The rain flows down over your golden breasts; I can even see mini-streams dripping off your rigid nipples, which look extra hard. They look like they’re straining out to feel the rain. They look delicious. I step between your thighs and lean to taste you and find out.
You moan and shudder when I lick and suck the rain from your left nipple. You taste so good wet like this. I want to devour you. I grasp both of your luscious mounds in my hands and squeeze them together so that I can feast on both nipples simultaneously. You moan again because you like this.
I like it too. Down below I’m throbbing for you. As I feed on your titties I inch closer, trying to guide the head of me to you, to the entry to paradise. I think about how good your tight pussy is going to feel clutched around me. I can see myself clutching your ass and holding you close as at the last I explode deep inside your sweetness. The beast is hungry; ravenous. It growls and strains against its leash for you.
Oftentimes we think alike, especially when it comes to our sexuality. But this isn’t one of those times. I’m thinking about how good it’s going to feel being inside you, grinding in your sweetness when you whisper, “Baby, taste me.”
I force my mouth away from your nipples and look at you. You are so fucking sexy. For the umpteenth time I think that you’re living, breathing art, and that you should always be naked – at least when we’re alone.
From inside the car the stereo speakers thump the bass line from Curtis Mayfield’s Give Me Your Love. Watching me watching you, you move your hips around in time to the beat, in a slow motion belly dancer grind. Then you open your legs wider.
I step back so that I can bend and place my mouth between your thighs. You scoot forward so that your bottom rests at the edge of the trunk. Rain splatters on and washes over your full thighs. I kiss the wetness there, starting at the inside of your knee and working my way up. As I kiss closer to your treasure, I notice from the corner of my eye the way your breasts rise and fall in your excitement.
The raw fragrance of your femininity mingles with the earthy scent of new rain, and I feel like a starving man inhaling the aroma of a simmering stew. I start off feeding my hunger by licking nature’s droplets from the hair decorating your sex. As I lick rain from your pussy, I press my tongue against your slit and drag from your flowing entry and up. When the flat of my tongue passes over the hood of your clitoris you let out an “Mmm” and shudder harder. My baby wants to come. I want you to come. The hungry beast throbs for you and strains harder against its tether, reminding me that orgasms are required all around.
I use two fingers to part the plump lips of your pussy. For a few moments I let the rain mingle with the honey in your candy pink center. Then I spear my tongue and push it into your flowing heat. Like your nipples, your pussy tastes extra delicious seasoned by the rain. It makes me wish my tongue was longer so that I could push it inches into you and taste your deepest, sweetest secrets.
I settle for licking you, up and down your cleft, until your hard, hungry little clit is poking out at me, reaching for my tongue. I give it a quick flick and you shudder again, and beneath the sound of the downpour I hear your soft moans. I wonder what you’re thinking. I wonder how living out your fantasy – of actually being in the moment of your imaginings – is affecting you. Is your passion higher, more intense right now than usual? Is your orgasm going to be so much better as a result? I can’t wait to know. I close my lips over your clit and suck it gently, and simultaneously use my tongue to write my name on it.
Your orgasm hits you in a in a rush, arriving almost before you complete your gasping announcement to the rain that you’re coming. I keep my mouth and tongue working on your clit, and you groan and writhe on the trunk lid as your ecstasy peaks.
I can’t help smiling into your pussy as you come for me. This is what you’re supposed to do. This is what your beautiful body and your sweet pussy were made for: Bliss. Tonight the rain just happens to be an accessory to your pleasure.
As your orgasm subsides I treat your tender pussy like a honeysuckle flower. I close mouth over the entirety of your soft lips and try to suck out all your sweetness. It’s mine, and I don’t want to lose a single drop to the rain.
I want my pussy.
I stand in the rain, my t-shirt and sweats soaked, my erection pointed at the juncture where your thighs meet. The beast is snarling, rearing up on its hind legs, straining harder at its leash for you. Memory mingles with my imagination and I’m already feeling the sensations of the tight, hot, wet walls of your sex clutched around me as I push into you. I can feel your body against mine as I hold you close, with my dick where it’s supposed to be – in the depths of your sweetness. I can already taste your rain-wet kisses. But you have other ideas.
Recovered from your orgasm, you sit up straight, smiling your beautiful smile at me. You pat the trunk next to where you’re sitting and say, “Okay baby, your turn.”
Okay, that works too.
As I help you down off the car the downpour diminishes to a drizzle. It’s as if the rain and I were partners in your pleasure, and now that you’ve come, it’s leaving to attend to other affairs. I wonder where that will leave us playing out the rest of your fantasy.
We look together toward the distant residence building. Now we can make out lights in the windows. We’re at the dark end of the lot. I’m pretty sure that anyone looking out now might see the shape of my car back here. I wonder how much more they might be able to see. And, I wonder if you’re thinking the same thing and if you’re worried about it. I wonder if the potential danger will bring back your fear and kill your excitement.
The beast has stopped straining to break free. It pants and waits to see what will happen next.
You say, “Damn it,” and I wonder if you mean it’s time to pack it up and head back inside. I look at you standing next to me in your sandals with your tube dress bunched in a ring of soaked cloth around your waist, almost naked. Disappointment and an aching longing for you push at my desire. I know that we can finish what we’ve started back inside, but your fantasy has become mine, and I want you here; now.
Then you say, “I wanted to lick rain off your dick.” Does that mean we’re done, or that we just won’t be doing it as you’d fantasized?
I don’t get to ask you the question because the rain comes back suddenly and with a fury, so hard that we gasp and duck on instinct.
You step closer to me, as if you want to seek shelter from the tempest in my arms. But when I reach out to hold you, you push at me and say, “Sweetie, sit up on the car.”
The rain is coming down so hard and loud that as I sit on the trunk lid I can feel the vibrations of my car stereo’s bass speakers under me, but can’t hear the music. The rain is making my t-shirt stick to my skin, so I peel it off. Then I lean to one side and prop myself on one elbow to get comfortable.
You tug my sweatpants down. I’m thinking that you just intend to pull them down my thighs, but you grab one leg and tug it all the way off. Then you push at my free leg, indicating that you want it up on the car. I comply, and you step close to me. You’re short enough that you don’t have to bend too far.
The beast is back, going crazy because you’re teasing it with your electric tongue and soft lips. It throbs in your warm hand. The head swells in anticipation as you lick up and down its length and your mouth comes near. I want to be in your mouth, baby. I want you to slay the beast by sucking the need I feel for you out of me.
I’m leaning on one elbow. With my free hand I reach out and fondle your breast, which with you leaning over reminds me of ripe, low-hanging caramel fruit. I gently grip your nipple and roll it between my thumb and forefinger. You groan in response and take me in your mouth, going down on almost half of me in one greedy gulp.
Now it’s my turn to groan.
You’re so beautiful, baby.
The rain has plastered your hair down. It hangs over your eyes in the front, slinging water as you move your perfectly formed, sensuous lips up and down on me. You’re beautiful anyway, but right now is one example of the many ways you can be beautiful. The beauty of your going down on me isn’t about ego, or about submission or dominance. It’s about us being us together. That’s a beautiful thing.
You feel even better than you look. Your mouth is a warm, wet suction along half my length. Your tongue swirling around and flicking over my erection as you suck my dick sets the nerve endings on fire. The beast is loose, running free and feeding. But it’s greedy. I want all of me in your mouth. I want to be down your throat when the explosion I feel drawing near happens.
We think so much alike. As the downpour gathers strength and pelts our bodies so hard it stings you take my hand away from your breast and guide it to your hair. I get what you want. You want us to end with a fury as powerful as the storm.
I grasp your hair and push, but not too hard. You moan around my hardness and I moan into the rain as the head of me presses at the back of your mouth. Then your hand is on mine, gripping and pushing at it, urging me to be more forceful, to take what I want.
I ease back, and then ready myself to thrust forward again, this time a little deeper, into your throat. But then you suck me hard and swirl your tongue against the ultra-sensitive underside of my erection. You make my pleasure peak. I feel it boiling up like lava about to burst from a volcano. My body is out of control, so instead of pushing deeper into your mouth I buck and spasm into your throat. You start to pull back in reflex, but then must realize that it’s not too much. You suck at me again and the eruption happens.
I think that for a minute, I’ve gone blind.
As I drive us back to my building I steal glances at you in the passenger seat. You’re sitting on one towel and drying yourself off with another. The beast should be resting, but as you take off your shoes to dry your feet it raises its head, curious. The vision of you, hell, even the idea of you completely naked makes something inside me stir. It’s not about sex or lust, not completely. It’s just the idea of you as you: My beautiful baby.
I pull into a parking space in front of my building, and as I turn off the engine I flash back to the memory of a vision of you from a couple of minutes ago, when we were still out in the rain.
After my eruption, after you fed the beast, you took off your soaked dress and walked to the car door. Walking behind you and watching you, I’d cursed myself for not bringing my camcorder with us. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more amazing lovely in my life than the vision of you walking nude in the rain. You baby, are living, breathing art.
Now, sitting outside my building, I picture what you’d look like walking up the stairs ahead of me, just as you are. We have to walk up three flights of exterior stairs to my door. Then there’s the well-lit breezeway on my floor, and three other apartments there besides mine.
I consider the danger. If someone enters the parking lot in a car they might see you on the stairs. And though it’s late, it’s possible that someone on my floor could open their door before I unlock and open mine. And someone could always be at a window, looking out to see us as we exit the car. So there’s danger involved. For me, there’s also the excitement of seeing you as your beautiful, natural self.
Even though a few minutes ago it felt like you’d sucked the life out of me, that mental image of you going upstairs nude arouses me a little. I shrug it off. This is too much danger to risk. But it’s a nice fantasy.
I watch as you dry off your lovely body. As you finish, you look around at the parking lot and at my building. You look like you’re checking the residence windows. Then you look at me. I wonder what you’re thinking.
You flash your beautiful smile at me. The excitement in your eyes is still there, still burning hot.