Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition Read online

  The oak that had cracked in front of us looked like something from a war zone. Half of it was still standing exactly like it had been, the other half had been twisted from it, turned upside down, and slammed back into the ground. It had taken part of the barbed wire fence with it, and wire stuck out at weird angles from the tree itself. There were pine trees down in the pasture, looking almost like dominos in the uniform way they had fallen, one right after the other, and the shed where we had kept the riding lawn mower and yard tools was completely gone. The wood from it was probably two counties away. The rain had faded to a slow drizzle now that the wind wasn't flinging it this way and that.

  Martin was gazing around at our reconfigured yard, amazed we had escaped with just a few scratches. He finally looked at me and asked, "Are you okay?"

  I nodded, my mouth too dry from the terror-fueled adrenaline rush to speak. He brushed my hair back from my face, and looked directly into my eyes, "You sure?"

  I coughed and finally found my voice. "Yeah, I'm okay, just scared, that's all."

  He pulled me roughly to him, leaned his chin on my shoulder, and I heard him say, very quietly, "I was scared, too, babe."

  Martin kissed my cheek, then moved his lips to mine. He kissed me very gently—as if afraid I would bruise—and then his kiss deepened, and I kissed him back with a passion and urgency that surprised me. The adrenaline in my body came surging back, not in reaction to danger this time, but riding tandem with an overwhelming urge to feel his body over mine.

  I leaned back onto the mud of the creek bank, pulling him with me. His lips never lost contact with mine, and he groaned into my mouth with a need that matched my own. I could feel his cock even through all the clothing, hard against my belly. Martin raised up long enough to undo my jeans, and then my hands were with his on my hips, pushing my jeans down and off my legs. The mud underneath me was infinitely more welcome than my soaking clothes had been. Then, my hands met his again at the waist of his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in our haste to reassure ourselves we were alive.

  Again, he was on me—his weight a blessing—and his lips on mine. Martin pushed my t-shirt up and fastened his lips around my nipple. The contrast of the chill drizzle of rain and the heat of his mouth brought chill bumps to my skin. I reached between us and held his cock in my hand, heavy and familiar, and then guided him to me. It was my turn to groan when I felt him push into me.

  He pulled back briefly and whispered, "Babe, I don't think I can go slow..."

  I hushed him with a finger over his lips and whispered back, "I don't want you to go slow." I arched my back, trying to draw his cock deeper into me, and his body answered mine. He sat back and hooked his arms under my knees, lifting my ass up to him, and started driving his cock into me—hard. I held on to his upper arms, trying to find leverage to fuck him back, needing him so badly it was frightening.

  He released my legs, and brought one of his hands around to my pussy, seeking, and then finding, my clit. His touch was all it took to send me sliding over the edge of an orgasm, screaming my pleasure to the clouds. He fucked me through my orgasm, and I could feel my pussy clenching tightly around his cock.

  I heard him groan, "Oh, damn...babe..." and then he put his arms back in place behind my legs and lifted me up to meet his thrusts.

  "C'mon, baby," I gasped, "fuck me. Give it to me."

  The sound of our wet bodies meeting, hard and fast, was a charm against danger. Martin threw back his head, letting the rain wash his face, and I felt him get larger inside me. He slammed his cock into me, over and over, until he felt me start to tighten around him again in another impending climax. With a shout, he came deep inside me, and I went with him, a sweet release.

  I pulled him back down to me and kissed him, slowly and sweetly, and then wrapped my arms around him, his weight familiar and comforting on me. He put his head next to mine on the ground, and said, "I love you, baby."

  "I love you, too," I answered. Then I felt the gentle benediction of the rain on my face and knew the chaos had been pushed back—and kept away from me—once again.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Thunder Beach

  © Dranoel

  A tear rolled down her cheek. She stared for a long moment. Another tear fell, then another. Then it was like rain. She remained silent.

  I was at a loss; unable to discern her emotions. I began to think I had, once again, said the wrong thing at the wrong time. All through my life, I seemed to have had a knack for it: an inappropriate joke when I should have been serious or serious when I should have just laughed and let it go. I began to feel that familiar pain—that pain that accompanies the heart being torn apart.

  * * * *

  It was our first real vacation together. We had been seeing each other for nearly a year and while we had spent many nights together—and a weekend here and there, this was the first time we had a chance to be together for an extended period of time.

  I was nervous at first. Could we spend that much time in constant contact without hating each other? Would I get on her nerves? For weeks before I wracked my brain searching for bad habits, studying everything I did, trying to find the slightest thing that would turn her away. Finally I realized, if she loved me those things would mean nothing, and if she had flaws they were already lost to me.

  Our week together had been perfect. We flew to St. Thomas, where I had booked a condo on the north side of the island overlooking Magen's Bay. Between the beach, snorkeling, tours to Blackbeard's Castle, and all the resorts amenities, we stayed pretty busy—never leaving each other's side and making love anywhere and anytime we could get away with it.

  Now, on our last night here, I knew it was time to make that final commitment. We went to dinner at The Petite Pump Room in Charlotte Amalie, where I requested a quiet booth in the corner. During dinner she snuck her hand into the pocket of my slacks, caressing and squeezing my excited manhood through the cloth of my pocket. I looked her in the eyes and whispered, "What you are looking for is not in there."

  She looked confused, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I want this."

  "I'm sure you do, but I think there is something more you want, and it is not in my pants."

  She continued her ministrations while looking even more confused. I repeated, "What you are looking for is not in there. You might try looking in my shirt pocket."

  She tugged her hand out of my pants and sat for a moment, simply staring at me. Her hand went to my left breast pocket and slipped inside, her curious stare transformed into an expression of genuine shock. Her jaw dropped, mouth agape, she slowly retrieved the ring from my pocket and sat staring at it. That's when the tears began to fall.

  She raised her head, looking me straight in the eyes and whispered a single word.

  My heart seemed to register it before my brain could process her answer. The self-induced damage to my heart disappeared, and I felt absolutely blissful. There was applause from all around me—other patrons signaling their approval. Patricia threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me deeply. Her cheek slid over mine and I felt another tear fall where our cheeks pressed together. I am unsure if it was hers or mine, perhaps both. I know my own tears began to fall when she repeated her answer in my ear.

  "Yes."

  There was no sense attempting to finish our meal. We were both too overwhelmed to eat. I paid the bill, left a generous tip, and we left to another round of applause.

  Taking my hand in hers, she led me through the lot, past the rental car, and onto the beach. The late fall sunset was always spectacular. That night the overcast sky amplified the color ten fold. We kicked off our shoes and began walking along the cool wet sand at the edge of the surf's reach. She put her arm around my back and held me tight as we walked. I returned in kind, and she laid her head on my shoulder as we strolled.

  It was nearly dark when we reached the point at the mouth of the harbor. Crabs, chased by the surf, skittered up the beach. As we turned back, she stopped
me. Looking deeply into my eyes, she was silent. I opened my mouth to speak but she quickly covered it. She gazed at the ring on her finger. I kissed her palm, and she replaced her hand with her lips.

  I felt a drop of something wet on my cheek. Not a tear, it was cold. Then there was another, and the shower began. Thunder rolled in the distance, and a jagged steak split the darkness far out over the water. Patricia looked up at the sky and laughed. She loved the rain and a thunderstorm was heaven.

  She kissed me again; a wry smile curled her lips.

  Taking my hands, she danced around me in a circle, giggling, her wet dress clinging to her skin as the rain came down harder. Dizzy, we both fell on the wet sand, kissing and laughing.

  Straddling me, she looked down into my eyes, her face drawn with desperate longing. She began quickly unbuttoning my shirt. I started to protest, but she again covered my mouth.

  "No. No more words tonight. You have already said all I ever needed to know."

  She leaned down kissing me lightly on the lips. I caught her as she started to sit up, pulling her back down and kissing her deeply. She pulled away slightly and smiled, and I knew there was no arguing.

  Lightning flashed again, closer, the wind driving the chilly rain hard against our skin. She pulled her dress over her head, shaking out her long dark hair as she dropped the wet garment on the ground. Cold rain poured down her bare breasts, dripping off her aroused nipples. I couldn't resist taking a drink.

  Sitting up, I cupped her breasts in my hands and teased her nipples with my tongue. My hands, covered in wet sand, dragged down the smooth skin leaving a gritty trail that the rain slowly washed away.

  She slid back, grinding her crotch on my still covered erection, sending chills up my spine. I fell back as she moved farther down my legs, reaching for the buckle on my belt. Deftly opening my jeans she reached inside as another flash of lightning lit the sky. Thunder rumbled, and I felt a tingling throughout my body, whether from her touch or the reaching electricity of the storm I did not know. Nor did I care.

  She slipped down to my ankles, pulling my jeans and briefs with her. I pulled my feet back and she removed them, tossing them carelessly to the side. Even the cold drops of rain pouring down on me could not deter my desire—nor hers. It seemed, in fact, to drive us on. She bowed forward at the hips, again taking my manhood in her hands. I shivered and rolled my head back on the sand as the heat of her mouth encompassed me. Her tongue licked back and forth along the underside of my glans, causing me to tense at the sensations coursing through me. She pulled away momentarily; her long, wet tresses dragging across my skin, allowing me to relax slightly before engulfing me again. I could feel her throat contracting around the head as she gulped.

  Another flash of lightning split the air, the tingling stronger this time, as she crawled back to my lips, dragging her hardened nipples up my belly. She sucked at my lips as I rolled, taking her onto her back. Kneeling between her open thighs, I rubbed my hand over her belly and down to her steaming sex. Her body jerked as my thumb brushed over her swollen clit, the pouring rain splashed on her skin as her throaty cry coerced my yearning. Her hips rocked upwards, imploring me to fill her. I obliged, lifting her hips to me, I rubbed the head at her slit, teasing as she begged me.

  A small jolt of electricity from anther bolt of lightning surged through us, our bodies crashed together as our muscles tightened from the shock. Now adrenaline took over. Our hips quickly found a common rhythm, gaining power and speed to a ferocious song of wind and thunder. I bent down kissing at her breasts as her hips gyrated against me. Her hands dug into the sand, screaming her pleasure above the din of the storm. My legs kicked out straight as another bolt of lightning wracked our bodies. Falling heavily on her, my hips impacted hers again, shaking her.

  Her arms wrapped around my neck, rubbing sand across my shoulders, our bodies continued, increasing the tempo. I kissed hotly on the nape of her neck, feeling the contrast of cold rain on my back and her warm flesh under me. She gasped, her body twitching as she wrapped her legs around me, pulling me hard into her. Wind driven waves lapped coldly at our feet. My legs tensed as I felt the rush of my orgasm, her telltale shudders giving announcement of her own.

  She cried out as another blast of lightning ripped through us, our bodies tensed and frozen as nerves jangled from the mix of electricity from rapture and nature.

  Lying tangled and senseless, our hearts pounding and breathing ragged, the storm quickly blew over. It was some time before either of us had the strength to move. The clouds parted and the stars lit the beach as we gathered ourselves and walked—exhausted—to the car.

  * * * *

  Our friends often comment that they are surprised by our loving, blissful relationship. Telling us often that they don't see the storms in our marriage that others seem to endure.

  We simply smile at them.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Identity

  © Liar

  Who are you?

  What is this mockery

  of Venice that I see?

  Surrealism and sound-bytes on a screen?

  Still not the real deal, still not me,

  still just a pixel storm, fictional flurry on TV.

  This is not where I coughed

  on the linger of my first Havana

  under a purple balcony, not where I kissed

  the sun and her neck equally, leaned against

  cast iron and raised rock in Louie Park shade.

  This is not where I chased laughter through alleys,

  across a busy Canal, cornered a giggle in a gateway.

  Not she and me on a blanket,

  listening to freestyling in Lafayette,

  sharing stolen moments of softness

  where all eyes could see.

  Not black rum on cane sugar beds,

  not turning heads, defying clichés,

  not implausible hands on impeccable

  skin in impossible heat, day fading

  to distant blues, her chests rhythm

  in a street light glittering sheen,

  by pulled aside, too damp sheets.

  You share a silhouette

  with a piece of me.

  But New Orleans you are not.

  How could you be?

  ~ ~ ~

  Wet Panties?

  © Will Belegon

  I put down my book with a shrug and a sigh. If I don't get through this tonight, there will be hell to pay in class tomorrow. So everyone in the dorms feels the need to drop by and chat, of course. This is the last time I answer this door tonight.

  "Susan? Honey, what's wrong?" My attitude changes immediately when I see her face. She has obviously been crying. I don't think she's finished either, if I judge that look correctly.

  "It's…oh, Scott, I don't want to talk about it here. Can we go for one of our walks?"

  "Absolutely, sweetie. Just let me grab my keys. No need for a jacket tonight." I pop back over to the desk and grab my keys. I think I know what's up. Susan and I have not gone for one of 'our walks' since Derek came on the scene. So he must be why we are going on one now.

  I've known Susan since freshman year, and we hit it off right away. We did "The Crucible" together, and doing a play like that always forms friendships. That was when we started the walks, too. We were both away from friends and family for the first time, and reaching out to each other helped. Back then we both had significant others that we were trying to hold on to back home. So we became friends instead of lovers. It was probably pushed along by the fact that it took her a few weeks to figure out that the "Reggie" I talked about was a girl. I can understand it. She thought I was just playing the pronoun game. I mean, I was in drama and I was from California, so she just thought…

  Anyway, the walks became a tradition with us. I helped her through her long distance heartbreak, and she helped me through mine. We both went through various ups and downs over the next two and a half years, but nothing and no one ever came between us. W
e held hands and occasionally we would kiss goodnight, but it was never more than that. Then Derek entered her life.

  We hit the edge of campus in the warm night air and turn north toward the public park like we always do. She has not said anything yet, so I just keep my mouth shut. As we turn the corner and are completely out of sight of the campus, I realize what it is that I am seeing.

  "Susan, I've seen you wear that dress before. It does not have a slit in the side..."

  "No, it doesn't. Or at least, it didn't. We had a fight."

  "Yeah, I figured that out already. Sue, you haven't come over to go for a walk in almost six months. When you showed up tonight I knew it meant something happened with him."

  "My God, Scott, where did that come from? You sound like you're speaking of the devil! Do you really mean that?"

  "You know I do. I have never hidden from you how I feel about anything, least of all about Derek. Can you really have been so blind? We have talked a little in the last six months, you know, and I've told you everything. It is not my fault you can't see the forest for the trees. He talks trash about you. He plays around. Jesus fucking Christ, after the bullshit he pulled with Cindy Mann, and you still didn't see through it?"

  "Oh not you, too! God damn you, Scott! I don't need this from you, too…"

  The tears are starting again, only this time it is my fault. I reach out gently just as she begins to turn away.

  "I'm sorry. I'm just very frustrated. Every time we get a chance to talk, he appears out of nowhere and acts like a nun making sure we aren't dancing too close or holding hands! Susan, you know I don't like him, and I never have. The fact that he tells you not to see me is only part of it. You deserve better." In my mind and under my breath I add, "Someone like me."