There are hotter and wetter places than Houston in August- it's just that most of them are found inside the human body.
They were sprawled out on the sofa too tired to move. On the TV a local reporter screamed about "Slime in the Ice Machine" or some such thing and they couldn't have cared less. It was too hot to get up and change the channel- hell it was too hot to get up and get the remote, which some idiot had put on top of the TV, so the news and the slimy ice machine were it for distraction.
He wore gray drawstring shorts and a pained expression. Her tube top was two shades of blue- the color it was intended to be and the darker arc around her neck where the sweat had soaked through. Her denim cutoffs left a red line where it met her white, white skin. Summer was definitely not her time of year.
Her head lolled on the back of the sofa and she turned to look at him. God she found him sexy. Actually, the heat had that effect on her-made her nuttier than squirrel poop. Anyone would do right now and a naughty impulse came on her. She lightly traced a bright red fingernail up his hairy thigh. "Whatcha thinking Shug?" Shug was short for Sugar-a nickname that stuck as soon as she found out that it sounded perfect with her Texas drawl- he'd been down here from Boston just long enough to still find the accent exotic and she wasn't above using that to its utmost.
"I'm thinking a cold beer would be good". Oh yeah, last of the romantics this one.
"It's too far away" The kitchen may as well have been Guam. She looked around to spy the half bottle of tequila on the liquor cabinet. She leaned over, spun the cap off with her thumb and extended it to him, daring him.
His nose wrinkled, "oh man that's nasty". She shrugged and took a pull on the bottle. She loved shocking him, playing up the white trash angle. "Ugh, no salt even?"
She grinned- "oh there's plenty of salt..." and leaned over to run her thick pink tongue along his neck. He tasted sweaty and salty and very very manly. The tequila burned in her stomach, and the heat radiated out, settling mostly between her thighs.
A giggle escaped her as he quickly rubbed it off.
"Try some". Her eyes danced daringly. She quickly threw one damp leg over his, loving the friction between her clammy slick skin and his hairy thigh. She held his gaze and lifted the bottle up to his lips, tilting it so the pale golden fire washed over his lips. He tried to turn his head and a little spilled on his cheek and hung in a drop off his chin.
Her tongue snaked out and saved the hanging drop, then slithered noisily up his chin and cheek. He threw his head back to avoid the tongue-bath and she put her nose against his neck. The scent of good clean sweat made her tingle.
She threw her right leg over his left, sitting astride them both now, her thighs wide apart. The thin viscous film of sweat between them allowed her to rock gently back and forth now, her hips moving of their own accord like pistons powered by the steam building between her legs.
She gripped the sofa on either side of his head. She wasn't going to let him get away despite his protests.
"It's too hot to fuck"
"Never," she responded and with a moan leaned against him. Her nipples grew to near bursting as his perspiration soaked through her thin top. She ground them against his slimy, hairless chest and her mouth sought his. He tried to avoid her lips, but she persisted until she pinned his head against the back of the couch and pushed his lips open with an insistent, probing tongue. Their teeth clinked together painfully for a moment and he groaned in protest, then she felt him sag backwards against the cushions and she knew he was hers.
He kissed her back now. Their lips tried to crush each other to jelly, parting only to allow a panting breath. Even the sound of their breathing was primal, sexual and needy. Her pussy throbbed gently, her hips pumped harder, desperate to grind against him- make some kind of contact with some part of her man before she lost her god damned mind. Fingers, mouth, thigh, cock it didn't matter any more.
The woman pulled away just long enough to pull her tube top over her head and throw it across the room where it landed on her dog Bubba, breaking his rather intent concentration on the proceedings. With a grin that was part smile and part grimace, she rubbed her swollen brown nipples against his chest. The warm sheen of sweat and the complete lack of hair let her rub back and forth across his pectorals, building up speed and friction until she was convinced the damn things would burst into flame.
He finally showed some initiative, grasping her shoulder blades and crushing her against him. Roughly he rocked her side to side, letting her nipples brush against his. A huge drop of sweat- his or hers she didn't know and cared even less- dropped between them and splashed against her stomach. The sensation made her moan in a voice she didn't recognize as her own- the moan of a woman in such need her own desire betrayed her.
No longer was she in control. When she started she'd had visions of languorously teasing him into submission, but those ideas had fled her brain, chased out by the pagan thoughts that took their place. Her hand pried itself loose from the back of the sofa and reached up his thigh to the leg of his shorts. She ached to feel him- to know his need was as great as hers for there was no way it would be greater.
It strained to reach her hand. She felt the velvety head, slick with preliminary juices and grasped it hard, stroking it insistently. He moaned half in pain but it was drowned out by the high-pitched whine she let tear from her throat as she threw her head back. She needed it- him, whatever- deep inside her never to pull out again.
Somehow she pulled away from him with a slurping sound where the suction between them was broken. A gust of relatively cool air blew over her stomach and chest, making her shiver. Her fingers clawed at the button of her cutoffs, her hips rocking back and forth, desperate for even the contact of the cotton material damp and discolored as it was.
