I love the summer heat and what the winds bring on this late June afternoon. A mighty wall of clouds, black and heavy with impending rain, moves in. Intermittent bursts, the silent pulse of lightning, illuminates the advancing mantle. I go to the window and close my eyes. I draw a breath and savor the verdant perfume of summer, while the sky grumbles at no one in particular.
A knock at the door thrusts me back to the present. I search around for something to put on. And, while covering myself, you step in. Tall and slim, dark and handsome, you smile at me and close the door behind you. The sky complains again; a little louder this time. A cool, rain-tinged breeze blows around me, and I shudder.
You look at me, and I look at you. We say nothing. Words aren't needed between us. Instead, my eyes meet with your flinty gaze, and I can't look away. Your confidence and the rough masculinity of your appearance hold me in thrall. You are smiling because you know this and always have.
Thunder rumbles again while the rain begins to fall, softly at first, before beating a tattoo against the window. I rush over to close it, clutching at the large towel I put around me. I draw the drapes and the towel slips, almost exposing my breasts to your lustful gaze.
After all this time together, I'm still a little nervous. As much as I love and want you, I don't know if I'll submit willingly to your advances. You approach me and stop, raising one strong hand to my cheek, gently caressing, as you gaze patiently back at me, waiting for my reaction. You're as butch as they come--as close to a man as I ever dare to get--but you're attentive and gentle with your touch.
And as I begin to let my guard down, to yield, you pull me to the floor. At a drop, I am there beside you. The towel is yanked roughly away and I'm exposed on the ornate rug underneath. In seconds, you've got me pinned. You unleash a squall of passionate kisses, matching the intensity of the rain outside. My lips part, feeling the flick of your tongue against them, wanting in. I admit you and only you to enter the temple of my mouth.
I relax, melting into your embrace, surrendering. Your hand moves, closing over my breast. Your touch is soft at first, almost tentative. My breathing slows, becoming shallow, while I concentrate on the sensation of your palm making contact with my willing flesh. Your hand closes a little, squeezing my left breast. Your fingers begin to knead the swell, while my nipple is trapped between your thumb and forefinger...teasing.
But you're still dressed. I need to do something about that, don't I?
I managed to free your shirt from the waistband of your pants. I start to lift it, but you gently push me away. You aren't ready. Not yet. It's me you want and you intend to have me beneath you, submissive and vulnerable. You straddle me, leering. I can feel the weight of your body grinding salaciously against me. The fabric of your pants brushing against my skin feels damp and hot as the tropics. That same heat feeds into mine, beading the flesh between my breasts with sweat. The earthy smell of arousal rises, blending with the sweet ichor of rain and Mother Earth. Another flash of light fills the room. It's followed instantly by the crack of thunder. You've awakened something inside me, like thunder and rain, permeating the air, while you trace along the curve of my body and hips with your divine touch. My eyelids flutter, closing, while I relish what was sure to come next.
