A Wal in the Rain

You and I are taking an afternoon walk down a country road in early summer when we're caught in an unexpected rain shower.

We run, hand in hand, through the curtains of rain towards the nearest shelter – a willow tree growing by the side of a stream. It's leaves trail to the ground all around it and it must be drier under its canopy. As we part the curtain of leaves, I gasp to see violets carpeting the ground beneath the tree. The rain-washed air carries their delicate scent to us. It's a private wonderland.

As we go deeper beneath the canopy, I let go of your hand to try and push the sodden strands of hair from my face. While my arms stretch above my head, I can feel your eyes upon me. Looking down, I notice the light summer dress I'm wearing clinging to me like a second skin. Your eyes are devouring the sight of my nipples, their color showing faintly through the translucent fabric. A cool breeze blows through the leaves, sending a shiver down my spine and hardening my nipples under the wet cloth.

You step closer to me, staring into my eyes, your hand cupping my breast and your thumb running lightly over the tip. I can feel you caressing me through my dress – my arms still raised, hands in my hair to encourage your touch. You lean forward and kiss me; I can taste the rain on your lips, on your tongue.

A sudden crash of thunder startles us and you instinctively pull me towards you, cradling my head on your chest. I lean back, gazing into your face, my fingers tracing the path of the raindrops across your cheek, your lips, and your neck. My hands continue down your arms and trail over your chest, molding the wet fabric of your shirt to you. Down your belly, my fingers pause to undo your pants as I free your penis from the folds of your briefs, sliding further down to briefly cup your balls. Feeling your growing hardness, my own excitement grows.

I sink down and take you in my mouth, circling your head with my tongue, flicking underneath from root to tip, then slowly sliding all the way down… and up…and down…going deeper with each stroke. I can feel you twitch inside my mouth, your breath quickening as your hands guide my head to pleasure you.

Just as I'm sure you're going to come, you gently raise my head and help me up from my knees. You kiss my lips and reach beneath my dress, sliding my panties to the ground. As I step out of them, you suddenly bend down and lift me into your arms. My hands around your neck, I arch backwards and catch my breath as your head dips to suckle my nipple. I can feel the tip of your erect penis brushing the bottom of my thigh. You walk towards the willow and seat me in the wide fork of its trunk.

Now you kneel before me, peeling the wet dress from my thighs and draping my legs over your shoulders. You lean forward, and slowly lick around my clitoris. A shiver runs down my spine from the many different sensations – the roughness of the bark beneath my buttocks, the cold rainwater tickling my anus and your warm, wet tongue between my legs. Your mouth trails lower and you slide your tongue into me, tasting the rain mixed with my own juices. Feeling you inside me, I begin to buck against your mouth, my hands in your hair pushing you deeper into me, coming on your tongue.

When you're satisfied, you raise your head and my legs, as they rest on your upper arms. You kiss me while your penis slides into me. I can taste myself in your mouth. Your strokes are slow, lingering in my depths then gliding out till only your head remains, then sliding deep into me again. I massage you with the walls of my vagina, tightening on you with each thrust as if to never let you go.

Soon your strokes aren't so lingering…you begin to pummel me, faster and faster, deeper and deeper. I moan with each thrust, calling your name, my fingers entwined in your hair, the thunderstorm vibrating through both of us. The storm echoes our passion, wind whipping the branches, rain lashing the stream to a white froth.

Just as an especially loud clap of thunder shakes us, I feel you come inside of me, filling me with your own froth. I lose all control and cry your name into the storm as waves of passion crash over us, locking us in the most intimate embrace.

I raise my head from your shoulder and cover your lips with soft kisses and whispered thank you's as you slowly slip out of me. You lift me down from the tree and hold me tightly in your arms.

Distant rumbles of thunder sound – the storm is ending for now.

"The rain's letting up," I say, "we can leave any time now."

"I don't think so," you whisper, pulling me down into the bed of violets. "I think the storm's just beginning..."