Does it always have to rain?
This thought crosses my mind as I make a mad dash for my front door, getting soaked in the process. Just another night in Seattle. Then, wiping the wet hair out of my eyes, I throw myself through the door, slamming it shut loudly. The house is dim, and quiet, but then I hear the faint sounds of someone upstairs. Well, it's Izzie's day off, maybe she is up in her bedroom listening to the radio, I muse, as I step out of my wet shoes.
Then the sounds intensify, along with the unmistakable whump! of the headboard against the wall. Then I hear Izzie yelling, asking for it harder and faster, as the banging increases. I shake my head, smiling, definitely NOT the radio. Izzie must be having fun -- wonder who is giving it to her. Nope, not going there -- I am not going to be snoopy and peek in on them. I'm sure they aren't expecting me home so soon, but there was nothing going on at Joe's, so here I am. The sound of the vigorous fucking turns me on a bit, though -- it's been too long without a little fun like that.
Thunder booms outside, and I shake from the unexpected sound. Damn I hate big storms -- they always make me nervous. I need a drink and to get out of these wet clothes, in that order. I head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring a healthy shot of tequila into it. Lightening illuminates the kitchen then, and I shiver. Jose to the rescue, I giggle, as I down the shot, feeling the warmth spread through me immediately. I toss back one more, feeling a little better. Still wet, though -- gotta get out of these clothes, and find something dry. The bottle in my hand, I head to the laundry room, unbuttoning my shirt with my free hand as I go.
I strip completely, and stuff the clothes into the washer, adding them to everything else already in there. Adding the detergent, I turn on the machine, and search for something to throw on, until I can get to my bedroom. There's usually something here, and I bend over the basket on the floor, setting the bottle down beside my feet.
"Well, well, isn't this a pretty sight. I like seeing that tight little ass wiggling at me in the moonlight, Mer."
"Shit! Alex!"
I whirl around at the voice behind me, nearly knocking the tequila bottle over in my haste to stand up. My heart is pounding like mad; I'm so totally thrown by the sight of him lounging at the door. He props himself up with one hand, his other at his hip, and a lazy grin on his face. He is shirtless, his unzipped jeans hanging low on his hips, and I can see the dark shadow of his hair as it disappears into his pants.
Taking a deep breath, I lick my lip suggestively. "So, you and Izzie?" I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the upstairs bedroom.
He nods, not taking his eyes off me, and the exhibitionist part of me gets turned on again, and I bend down to pick up the tequila, not bothering to look for something to cover up with. I take a shot from the bottle, feeling the burn of tequila down my throat, igniting the burn of lust at the same time. I hold the bottle out to him. "Drink, Alex?"
Grinning evilly, he walks over to me, and takes it from my hand, letting his fingers brush mine as he does so. It's like an electric shock, and the contact makes me gasp. As he raises the bottle to his lips, his other hand shoots out to grab mine. He swallows, and then crashes his mouth to mine, so that the tequila burns on my lips as our tongues meet and thrust. I moan in the back of my throat, pushing against his body. I shouldn't be doing this, he's just been with Izzie, he probably still has her wetness all over his cock. But it only makes me hornier. I know -- I'm weak, what can I say?
"You get to me every time, babe," he mutters roughly, as he sets the bottle aside, and then picks me up. I squeal in surprise, as he sets me down on the washer, which is chugging away beneath me. The vibration of the machine surprises me, and I giggle a little at the unexpected cool metal beneath my ass.
My hands slide along his ribcage, and down into his jeans, impatiently shoving the material out of the way. An involuntary little sigh of contentment escapes me as my hand closes around his big, thick cock. And he is hard already, just the way he always is. "I do like the way you are so fucking hard, Alex," I purr, playing with him until he growls, burying his face against my chest. 'And I do mean... ..fucking...hard..." I add, as his mouth closes around my nipple. His teeth and tongue assault one, and then the other, and I surrender to the mindless need of the moment.
The washer hums and vibrates against my ass, setting off little ripples of pleasure through me. Oooh, this is nice, I think, as the combination of his mouth and the shaking machine soon has me jolting wantonly. I let go of his cock, reluctantly I must say, and fall back against the machine. Letting my legs go wide, I push his head lower. "God, lick me, Alex, lick my pussy...." I whimper, shaking along with the spinning beneath me.
