I feel so lucky. I have a cabin in the woods; a log cabin. It's very small, with a loft for a bedroom that overlooks the living room and only a ladder to get to it -- no stairs. The kitchen is hardly more than an alcove off the living room. And, there's a great stone fireplace that covers one whole wall of the living space -- it's so nice in winter to snuggle up next to the fire with a good glass of wine ... and a man too, if ya have one. The cabin has a porch and the porch has a rustic old wooden swing suspended on chains from the rafters which just I love to sit on most every evening so I can watch the world turn dark. I love to hear the crickets sing to me - there's a hoot owl, too, that nests in a tree nearby who joins in the chorus most nights, as well. And the swing creaks rhythmically adding to the evenin' melody as I gently swing back and forth and relish the sounds of the woods; my woods.
My cabin is in a southern pine forest and one o' the best things is that it's a fairly short walk through the woods down to the beach. There's a wide stretch of saw grass beyond the woods and then there's the great big ol' sand dunes covered with sea oats before ya get to a beautiful wide flat beach and the surf. I'm on a barrier island on the east coast -- one that hasn't been discovered by too many mainlanders ... yet.
The ground all around my cabin is sandy and it's surrounded by a thick canopy of tall pine trees interspersed with the occasional great ol' southern spreading oak which are draped with great masses of gray Spanish moss hanging from their branches; it looks like long flowing old men's beards t' me. There are some scrub oaks here and there, too, as well as, lots of palmetto in the underbrush. With all the trees surrounding my cabin it's like a perpetual twilight back here deep in the woods, even on the brightest of sunny days. There is a thick bed of long pine needles all 'round the cabin and a large cistern on the south side of the cabin to capture rain water from the roof -- fresh water was once scarce and precious on these islands, but today, with city water pipes runnin' all over, the cistern is pretty much obsolete. But I do love the rain water it captures for washin' my hair.
It's pretty isolated here, too. I own over a hundred acres -- my grandpa bought the plot years ago when everyone back then thought this place was a forsaken pile of sand in the middle of nowhere -- I'll bet he got it cheap! And I know I could sell it for a whole lot today -- become a millionaire, I bet - but I could never do that. My uncle built the cabin about twenty years ago after grandpa died and left the land to Uncle Harold. I'm the only one in the family left now, so I inherited the whole spread a few years back. I just love the smell of the woods -- the pine sap and salt air all mixed up makin' everything so fresh and pure. I hate it when I have to leave and go back to city asphalt and concrete and garbage smells and smoke stacks -- yuck! Anymore, I don't go back to the mainland unless I have to, which isn't very often. But every time I drive over the bridge when I'm comin' back home and I cross the Sound and hit the island, the fresh clean sea air fills me and it's almost orgasmic.
It's a rainy day, today.
We get 'em every so often in summer, and pretty often in winter. Rain, that is -- all day. Sometimes for two or three days, even. In summer, it's usually the remnants from some tropical storm -- in the winter, its cold fronts moving through; and then, it's a cold chillin' rain we get. But in the summer it's usually a fine warm rain - like today.
When I was a little girl, I remember my momma would let me go out and play in the rain when it was real warm like it is today, as long as there wasn't any lightenin' or thunder. I'd go out in just my panties or even naked -- of course, when you're just five or six years old it doesn't make any difference. I remember how I loved to dance around and I'd try an' catch rain drops on my tongue -- you know ... the big fat ones that go splat on the ground when it first starts rainin'.
I have to confess - sometimes on days like today, you know, warm days, rainy days, I still go out and stand in it ... and turn my face up to the sky and just feel it ... the big ol' fat drops slapping my face and arms. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out and lap up the drops and taste the sweetness of them. My dress gets all soaked and clings to my body and I get all tingly when I see my reflection in the big picture window of my cabin -- I look naked and it's like I've got flowers painted all over my body. My nipples get all hard and pointy and stick out through the thin wet cloth. Sometimes it gets me so tingly that I press my fingers between my thighs and rub my little button until I can't stand it and the rain pours down all over me and I can taste it drippin' from the end of my nose while I rub myself. Usually I end up fallin' to my knees 'cause my legs won't hold me, and I kneel there in the wet sand and pine needles and I shout my joy at the clouds and the rain falling down all over me 'cause it feels so good ... and rubbing myself feels even better ... and then I cum in a shuddering wave of bliss that gives me goose bumps all over ... I shiver in the warm rain ... and I feel the hot warmth spreading from my groin ... and its just ... so ... damn ... good!
Yeah, well, it's a good thing my little cabin is so isolated and no one ever comes back here 'cause I sure would be mortified if anyone ever saw me do that!
Whew. Don't know why I got into all that. I don't do that too often ... you know, in the rain -- honest.
Until a year ago I was virgin -- imagine, in this day and age a girl still bein' a virgin 'til she was twenty-seven. I've had experience with guys -- it's not like I'm a prude. I've dated and had guys feel my titties and I even let a couple special guys rub my pussy through my panties 'til I was all slippery and wet. And I confess ... I even took a guy in my mouth once and, well, you know ... until he squirted. I surely did enjoy the way he moaned and groaned right before he got off and I really loved the way his juice tasted too. We did that a few times, but it was just with him 'cause he was one of the real special ones. But, I was saving myself for 'mister right' - until last summer.
The rain today reminds me of that day a year ago; it was rainin' that day too, all day, just like it is today.
On that day last summer, I decided to wash my hair in the rain -- I wanted to let nature's shower wet me all over and then I was goin' to shampoo my hair. I was planning to use the cistern water to rinse it all off. I had some real expensive shampoo I'd bought at a department store on the mainland, but never used. The thought of being naked outside and washin' my hair in the rain made me all giddy with excitement.
So I got my shampoo, and a bar of soap, and I filled a bucket from the cistern for rinsin'. I pulled my dress over my head while I was standing on the porch, and then I took my panties off, and set them both on the swing - I almost never wear a bra when I'm at home - so that made me completely naked. It felt so good standin' naked on the porch -- I love the feeling when you're naked and the wind blows over your body and you feel so cool on a hot muggy day. I stepped out into the pourin' rain and my nipples jumped up like they'd been hit with ice cubes. My boobies aren't real big, but I have what some might call puffy nipples and they are incredibly sensitive. The dark circles 'round my nipples swell up almost like a little breast on top of my breast; and with my hard little nipples on top, it's like a cherry on top of a two scoop sundae.
The rain came down hard and warm and delicious and it cooled me off and my hair was soaked in no time flat. I went back to the porch and squeezed shampoo in my hand and lathered up my long auburn tresses and stepped back out into the falling rain as I worked my fingers through my hair; my hair comes down to about the middle of my back. I keep thinkin' I ought to get it cut short, but most guys I know really seem to like long hair; so I never do. But it makes it hard to shampoo since there's so much of it -- and it takes a lot of shampoo, too. So there I was, standing on the stone walkway in front of my little cabin in the woods - drenched to the bone, eyes closed and a pile of wet soapy hair on top of my head that I had worked into a real good lather when I heard something rustling in the woods behind me, off towards the beach.
There's a narrow trail at the end of my stone walkway that runs down to the beach from my place -- it runs through the thick underbrush and down to the dunes before it gets to the beach. You can't see it from the beach and nobody has ever come back this way. So there I was, blinded with my eyes tight shut because of the shampoo and bubbles running down my face and I hear something coming through the woods heading towards my cabin. A little stab of fear sent a chill though me and raised goose bumps on my arms and legs.
Well, I quick groped my way back toward the porch and the bucket of cistern water I'd left on the steps, and as I quick as I could I scooped up a double handful of that sweet rain water and splashed it on my face to rinse off the shampoo. I knew it would sting like crazy if I didn't get the soap off first. Then I stood up and opened my eyes and listened. The sounds I had heard from the woods were gone by then. There was just the steady drumming of the rain on the tin roof and the sounds of it splattering in puddles here and there and dripping off the trees all around. I breathed a sigh of relief - I decided it must o' been deer runnin' though the woods; we still have quite a few of 'em back here in these woods. I picked up the bar of soap and started to soap up my body all over before rinsin' the shampoo out o' my hair.
