Chapter 2 – The Touch of Rain
Scarlet lifted the spoon to her mouth, chewed on the cereal, and listened to her heartbeat in her head. The dawn had broken to no great effect, the light outside had gone merely from non-existent to a hard grey. Scarlet had awoken, to her dismay and surprise, as horny as the night before; despite having slept in a bed thoroughly wet with the juices from from her plethora of masturbation during the night.
Now she was restless, trying to calm herself down with normal activities and deep breathing. Attempts to get into carving had simply led to her thinking how phallic the big handled hammer looked. Every time she went to breathe deeply, her massive breasts would rock up and down, and she would simply end up imagining a cock between them. It was a totally ridiculous situation, Scarlet had never felt anywhere near this aroused. She was simply sitting still and trying to eat, hoping to calm herself. She cursed the semi-darkness, and as if on cue, she heard a soft hum as the power clicked back into life, and the lights blinked on around her.
She heaved out a long sigh. The light seemed to bring some sense of normality back to her, and as the gloom dispersed, she felt her sex somewhat calm. Her breasts, only a moment ago having seemed lusciously enormous, seemed their normal size again. Scarlet shook her head and reached for the remote and flicked the TV back on.
The weather channel flashed onto the screen. Scarlet didn't know whether to be happy or aggrieved, as the screen showed an announcer pointing gravely to thunderclouds and warning signs across the map. The storm looked like a real rarity, and the weatherman gravely predicted that the storm was set to last, on and off, for a week. There were some flood warnings, but a respite from the rain. If not, the wind was predicted sometime tomorrow. Face passive, the mare looked at the glass, as the water swirled and danced, the storm pressed at the walls of her house, like a living presence. The surface of the horse's mind was turbulent, and disturbed.
She stood up and carried her bowl to the sink; steeling her emotions as she moved, keeping her motions smooth and neat. She washed the dishes, losing herself in the repetition of scrubbing and rinsing. Her thoughts wandered oddly to the farmer, who certainly wouldn't be getting the slates for his Granary today. His barn would be awash already with last nights rain. She stacked the last bowl on the draining board and turned to lean back against the sink and wish hard that there could be some activity to take her mind off things. The phone lines were, unlike the power were still down. It had been a falling telegraph pole landing on the substation at the end of the island's bridge that had killed the power in the first place. John had headed out early to take a look, and evidently had manged to get it going again.
As she thought of John again, Scarlet chewed her lip in consternation. He'd be back before long but she was surprised he hadn't already arrived. Unless he had some other thing to fix. She stepped forward, dismissing the thought with a frown. Now, she felt yet again, drawn by the power of the weather.
Water drew shifting spirals across the glass, but she could barely see. She pulled back the glass, and stepped out. Water poured down on her, and the wind was a welcome slap in the face after the tensions of the kitchen. She looked towards the bridge, and saw John, setting up some sort of rigging to pull the telegraph pole off of the substation with the Shogun. She stared for a moment, the water drawing false tears down her cheeks as she stepped down to the stone way and walked out into the cover of the Arboretum.
She wandered into the recesses of the lake-side garden, as the weather roared at her, and tugging at her shirt. She looked down, and her eyes widened as she realised she was totally soaked. The white shirt did nothing to hide her hard nipples, the lounge pants clung to her, see-through. She hastily looked about, eager to remain unseen, but there was no way John would spot her from here; and anyway, he would be busy with the pole.
Walking through the willows and oaks, she ran her hand across their slick, yet rough, trunks, and marvelled at the lack of cover they offered against rainfall this immense. Soaked through, she reached the centre of the Arboretum, which consisted of a small circle of grass, surrounded by a low wall. Scarlet walked in through the picket gate. The grass was slick beneath her nude feet, and she sat on the low wall, watching the rain that slashed the sky around her. The Arboretum waved in the wind. '
What am I doing out here... This is insane. I'm sitting outside, in a gale, dressed like a whore.'
She was wet, but not cold, the air of the storm was warm, and she could feel her passions rising. She imagined John's tool and dropped to her knees from the wall to the ground, lying back in the grass.
Lying there, she ripped away her shirt, hair across her breast slick with rain. She then pulled off her loungers to lay completely naked in the storm, writhing in the grass and digging channels of mud. The sensation was so free, so liberating. She thrust her fingers into her throbbing sex, and massaged her clit and walls. She brayed out loud, roaring her pleasure to the winds, and arched her back as she thrust more fingers inside herself. Mud slopped round her round arse and back, as she revelled in the sheer carnal pleasure of the storm, filling her brain with filth, wishing for a mate.
She pulled one hand from herself, jerking in joy, and switched to the other, stuffing the first, honey-laden fist into her mouth and licking it clean, tongue flicking across her digits. She thrust her new hand into her cunt, deeper, bunching it inside, her body squirming like a snake, in pure ecstasy. Her mind raced with images of cock, and as she pictured being filled, she came, spraying her dew across the grass. With eyes wild, she jumped to the pool and licked the grass clean, licking her hands and swallowing her honey. Done, she laid back. She couldn't believe the ferocity her sexuality had shown, and her body was already tired. Grinning widely, her eyes closed.
Above in the clouds, the presence moved again, feeling the mind below. It descended, riding on the rain that soaked the creature's body, and like a finger tracing the curves of a lover, it caressed her brain, feeding her mind.
She stood on an island, looking down. Far away, so far, the green hills played out, masked by the eternally falling rain. The surface upon which she stood was of cloud, and ice. Gently, a lattice of frozen liquid was tracing it's way up her hooves, but she felt no cold. Her vision seemed odd, as if she were looking through a hundred pairs of eyes, and she could feel the squall and pull of the storm. She stepped forward off of her clouded throne, and fell through the air, like hail, the rain touching her skin as she dropped. Above the stone bridge, awash with rain, she halted her descent. It seemed to take no effort, as the wind buoyed her up, holding her in a loving embrace against the storm's immense power. The surface of the air was like some giant's hand, and all about her she felt the immensity of the storm, soaking through her pores like liquid flame, lighting her mind even as it drenched her short hair.
With eyes gazing, she looked out through the sweeping curtains of rain, at the bull labouring on the stone ramp, pulling at ropes and hooks, struggling to encircle the windswept frame of the shattered tree; he took no notice of the airborne horse. With outstretched hand, the horse whinnied softly, and a blast of wind buffeted the bull, nearly knocking him down. She hovered, considering blowing him off his feet; yet suddenly a thunderclap sounded behind her, and the wind turned her about, facing across the lake.
