The Rain Storm

It’s a long way from anywhere. Not a house, not a shop, not a hut, not a fence. Not even a tree. The size of Britain. Six Million people. Bound to be a lot of open space. No people. No people except you and I. You and I and heat. We’ve walked for an hour and now we’re on a grassy meadow filled with wild flowers and warmth. The sun was out but clouds are rolling in. That’s a huge understatement. Gigantic, towering storm clouds are gathering from all sides and seem to be converging on us.

You ask whether we should make a run for it. I look at you with one eyebrow cocked and ask just where you’re intending to run to. We can’t outrun a storm like this and there isn’t a building for five miles nor even a tree. Even if there were a tree we know better than to stand under it in a thunderstorm. No, we have no choice but to weather it out (ha ha). To make the best of it.

We don’t even have an umbrella. The clouds are thickening and the world is dying into darkness and light and sound. The darkness is surprisingly real and thick, the light of the lightning jumping and popping on the horizon surprisingly bright and jagged, the thunder is loud as bombs. The earth is setting up for an almighty battle, we are to be caught in no-man’s-land with nothing but our bodies, the clothes we stand up in and a large waterproof bag full of sandwich boxes and Thermos’.

‘We’re going to get drenched.’ You looked worried. We’re supposed to visit your mother later and we don’t want to have to go home and change. But an idea occurs to me. A wonderful, excellent, entirely practical idea.

It is so muggy that to lose all our clothes is a relief.

The waterproof bag is just zipped up as I feel the first big, fat, incredibly warm drop of rain hit my shoulder. The heavens are going insane, flash, flash, crash.

The first drip is just a taster. Drip, drip, downpour.

You look at me. Naked and already slick with rain, your hair clinging about you, rivulets running down your shoulders to drip, drip, drip from your erect nipples. Rain running down your belly to lose itself in the hair there and to disappear between your legs.

My body is as yours, water runs down me, over my chest and belly and off the end of my twitching penis.

I must have you. And your erect nipples tell me you’re feeling the same.

And so, in a downpour I’ve never experienced before, with thunder almost continuous, with a weird daytime darkness enveloping us and accentuated by the almost continuous flashes of lightning we come together.

I take you in my arms and feel your warm, slick body against mine. I kiss you hungrily, my tongue searching out the innermost warmth and wetness of your mouth. My penis is pressing into that delicious pubic triangle, that heaven I want to taste. I lean you backwards and you allow me you lay you down in the wet grass and I kneel between your legs and gently raise your knees and with the slightest, gentlest pressure, push them apart. Lying back you stare at the sky, watching the almost textureless clouds dropping wave after wave of warm water, the freshest, most natural water onto your body; watching the lightning flash and preparing yourself for a new and equally marvellous sensation.

You can see heaven and so can I. For me that heaven is between your parted thighs. Slowly I lower my face, rain running off the end of my nose, from my eyebrows, from my chin, from my hair-slowly I lower my face to that heaven. My tongue comes out and I lap at you, at that dewy warm wetness with the flavour of heaven. You buck and you throw your arm across your face, cutting out the visuals, enjoying only the sound of the thunder, the downpour on your skin and the shrieking of every nerve ending in that exquisite vagina, that home for me. I lick faster, hunting out your clitoris and you twist and turn in ecstasy. But my cock is so hard and so ready that this cannot go on. I lift my head and lie atop you, taking you and kissing you so deeply, so deeply. You respond, you cling to me, a couple of happy drowned rats. The head of my penis finds you and I enter. You dig your fingernails into my back. The pain and pleasure mixed, the pain outweighed and accentuating the pleasure and we fuck. Yes we fuck. We fuck with love, we fuck with passion but we fuck, we fuck like animals in the field. We fuck like what we are.

You surround me. I try to go deeper, I want to find your core. You shriek, I groan and the world roars back at us in thunder. I raise myself up on my hands and push into you, pushing, thrusting. Your knees are right up, thrown as far apart as you can get them and I am pushing, pushing. And speeding up. Faster, I know what is coming and I am ready. You moan and you moan again. You know what is coming for yourself. Unbelievably the storm seems to intensify, the grass is lashing about us and the thunder is shrieking.

I am about to explode and so are you and so, it seems, is the world. I pound into you again and again, me, you and nature in unison and harmony and we cum together in time to the loudest clap of thunder yet. You throw your legs around me and draw me to you and I fill you up. You lift your hips from the grass to receive me and to draw every drop from my body.

And we slow. We come together and embrace.

Unbelievably nature takes this cue and the rain eases. The thunder ceases. In ten minutes the sun peeps through a breaking cloud. We relax naked in the grass. Lying on our backs replete and happy, my arm under your neck as a pillow and we watch as nature drives away the clouds.

We’ll be dry in time to make it to your mums for tea.