Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition Page 6

  My head tosses from side to side as the fury of passion is held in check. I will not come without Liz's permission. Liz teases me for what seems forever before removing her leg. She replaces her lush thigh with her hand. Without preamble, she thrusts her fingers inside of me. My breath leaves me at this moment. Spirals of light dance behind my eyes, joining nature's fireworks in an awesome display.

  My ragged breathing and pathetic cries do something to Liz. She is determined to make me wait. With a subtle nod of her head, I know I have permission to come, and I throw open that gate of unadulterated bliss and fly. Heat blazes through me to settle in my belly before shooting over every nerve ending. I am lost to all sights and sounds around me as I hover in senseless euphoria. My pussy grips at Liz's fingers, my body shudders and tenses, and my wailing emotions spring from my lips in the form of a guttural cry of release. My knees buckle and I can no longer support my own weight.

  We fall to the sand in slow motion, our bodies lit by the brilliant flashes of lightning and its strobe-like effect. I slide myself beneath Liz, needing to feel her weight over me. My sandy hands glide down her sides, scratching her. She kneels up and looks down on my face, her own a masterpiece of proportions that the finest artist would not be able to replicate.

  I can tell by her harsh breathing that she is far from done with me tonight. I can see nothing but her, and her beauty makes my heart thud with a disconnected rhythm. She inches her way up my torso, dragging her wetness over my skin, clearly showing me her excitement. She stops just as her pussy is over my mouth and the sky illuminates her gorgeous body as she leans over me.

  I am ravenous for her. My tongue seeks her clit, flicking it none too softly before sliding down over her lips and pushing inside her wet warmth. The feel of my tongue inside her makes her arch backwards. Her thighs tremble as my mouth devours her, taking all she has to offer and more. Her nectar fills my mouth. I ache to thrust my fingers inside her and feel her muscles contract about them but instead my nails rake down her back, leaving red marks in their wake. My hands are everywhere but finally rest on Liz's inner thighs, kneading them roughly. She leans back; her hands fondle her breasts, pinching her nipples, her nails scraping over her creamy skin. Her breath catches and her hands pull at my hair, yanking my face even closer to her drenched pussy.

  The rain becomes torrential and each stinging drop that falls over us lends itself to our seemingly perpetual rapture. Each gyration, her every undulation serves to make my body shudder with delight. I love how she moves over me, how her body is wildly greedy for release. I can sense when she will breech the gap between the peak of pleasure and its ultimate tempest. Suddenly, she screams a keening cry of delight, falling forward and riding the shocks of electric heat; her body trembling, her thighs squeezing tightly about my face.

  Silence is met with the crash of thunder, and I can tell that Liz has passed out. How stunning she is, I think to myself as I try to catch my breath. Her body spasms every now and again with aftershocks and I smile as the rain begins to turn to lazy drizzle. I whisper words of love against her skin that only I can hear; those words that come straight from the heart.

  Liz begins to stir and return to me, slowly moving down my body to place a soft kiss to my lips. We linger a moment, wrapped in one another's arms, sharing a tender kiss. She looks into my eyes and I can feel the love she has for me; the same love that is reflected by my own gaze.

  I smile as my fingers reach into Liz's hair and a moment later a full on rumble of laughter erupts from me. I just can't help it, her hair is wild and out of control, filled with sand.

  "What's so funny?" Liz asks with a smile, pulling back to look into my face.

  "Your hair."

  The look on Liz's face said it all, because a deep belly laugh rolled out of me, tickling the woman on top of me into a fit of laughter as well.

  "I'm glad you find this mop so humorous, blondie. Yours is looking pretty ragged too, ya know?"

  "I've just the thing." I replied.

  I gingerly gain my feet and hold out my hand to Liz, helping her to her feet as well. The gentle rain is nearly gone and though I would love to shower in the rain, I know there isn't enough power behind it to rinse away the soap. We will have to settle for a midnight swim to the sail boat to rinse away the sand from the beach.

  Hand in hand, we wade into the Sound, still giddy with our storm riding antics. We dive into the black waters and lazily swim until the sand is rinsed from our bodies. As we emerge, we hold one another's hand and walk to our hammock. It's cool enough now to return to our bed inside but the cozy hammock is more inviting.

  I lie upon the mesh and open my arms to Liz.

  "Come home, my love."

  And she does.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  it's raining

  © Jamison Landry

  I imagine you and I

  in the pouring rain

  lip locked

  tongues collide

  Against this kiss

  your name's

  whispered into mine

  I breathe you

  to release me

  I've been waiting

  all my life

  ~ and finally

  it's raining

  Encore : Passadumkeag Waltz

  © Dave Edgar

  A sharp rattle overhead woke her. It felt airy, and it was utterly dark. Karen oriented herself; she was in a tent, camping on the Passadumkeag. She'd left Eric in town to go on a canoe trip with close friends: Gene and Justine Dill and the newlyweds, Justin and Sarah. "It must be the middle of the night," she thought groggily.

  The rattle repeated itself and settled to a steady roll of rain on the nylon tent fly. Rain! But she had the tent to herself, this trip; all her gear was in the tent with her; it would stay dry. Except for one thing.

  "Oh, no, the laundry!" The party had washed their things in the bottom of Gene's canoe, and rinsed in the stream. It had gotten almost dry on the line. Karen got her gumption up and shed her sleeping bag.

  "Flashlight!" Naked but for her panties, she felt around for it.

  It was suddenly cool in the tent. The rain brought a downrush of cold air with it, which felt delicious. "Two a.m.," she mumbled. The flashlight showed her the pile of slick yellow. "I'll just throw on the poncho and my sandals, it's starting to get serious," she said to herself.

  She heard Gene's tent zipper go just as she was reaching for hers. She doused the light and came through the opening carefully.

  "Karen?" Gene's soft inquiry was followed by a beam from his light, but she felt sure she was covered all right.

  "Hi," she whispered.

  "I'm just getting the laundry," he told her.

  "Me, too." The two of them moved along the ropes unpinning and gathering clothes and towels, meeting in the middle. "I'll take these in with me," Karen proposed. "There's lots of room still."

  "Oh, good. Take mine, too?"

  She agreed and he loaded her with all of it. "Thanks."

  His helpful beam of light guided her to her tent, but the poncho was caught in the armload of towels and clothes. Gene watched her trim hips appreciatively as she worked everything through the zippered tent doorway and crawled through. The little white panties hardly concealed a thing. The image of her body stayed in his mind's eye after he'd shut the beam off.

  "Justine's sleeping," he said to himself.

  Now, just what did that have to do with anything? Was he considering joining Karen in that tent? Another zipper noise came to his ears.

  It was Justin, his wife's twin, poking his head and shoulders out of the blue nylon shell. "The laundry?" he inquired.

  "We got it; Karen has all of it in her tent." Gene accepted Justin's thanks and circled the campsite to make sure everything was sheltered. Justin settled in again. He could hear the two newlyweds turn over and speak for a little while, then silence. Karen was still arranging things, he heard the rustling. It recalled the vision of her panties and sturdy legs. She would hav
e taken the poncho off, now, he imagined. The rain drummed on his slicker's hood; his head was in a noisy, isolated space and he debated with himself under his breath as he walked.

  Karen was a hot number. He'd dated her for a few months at Bowdoin before she'd transferred; they'd hit it off very nicely indeed. Gene had never met any woman with the sheer enthusiasm for sex that Karen had. The memories had remained fresh in his mind for all these years; he fantasized about them still.

  "Karen loved to fuck!" he said to himself. Justine was smart, organized, and practical; she was also a real beauty, by conventional standards much more so than Karen. His wife was a good complement to his improvisational and intuitive nature. But she lacked the verve and spice; Karen had been an innovative and fervent lover. "She just doesn't compare," he summed up, again aloud. He walked to the water's edge.

  Clouds, low and complete, covered the sky. There was just enough light from that sky to make out the pale splashes of the rain on the dark stream, flickers of lighter gray all over the surface like the television when the station goes off the air. He stood and watched their pattern but he was seeing images of Karen from the past—Karen stroking him with mink gloves, sucking him in the men's room at Thistles, bent over the hood of the old Volvo to be sodomized.

  "God," he murmured. Anal sex had always been hot and intense with Karen. He pulled his hands inside the poncho and rearranged his pajamas a little to accommodate his expanding organ. The light rain rattled on the poncho hood and the world was dark.

  "Ah, Karen," he muttered. It was cool and isolated by the streamside. By midday they had stopped hearing any kind of motor; the trip had taken them through many miles of beaver flowage, forest, and heath. The party was cut off from the world at large; the rain and darkness cut Gene off from the rest of the party. Gently and then more firmly he stroked himself, calling forth memories of Karen before either of them had married other people.

  "Oh, fuck! Take it up the ass, baby. Yes." His hands moved with greater urgency. "Right into that beautiful fuckin' ass." He reared back and closed his eyes; the rain caught him on the chin; he recalled vividly her upturned hips and her lascivious smile the time he'd slid his cock into her in the resource room at the Fogler Library.

  "Who's getting it up the ass, Gene?" The whisper was startlingly close by his ear. He leapt like a stag seeing the wolf.

  "Karen!" he hissed, for it was she, not an arm's length away, just behind his shoulder.

  "Me?" Karen was quite amused. Men were such carnal creatures, so simple—and so easy. There was a reason she'd left her husband behind, the asshole. She hadn't consciously imagined striking up an affair with Gene, but he'd been silhouetted against the stream. When she had come sneaking up, she had heard clearly the rapid rhythmic slipping of his knuckles on the cloth; unmistakably she knew what he was doing. She remembered her college days every bit as well as he did.

  "What the hell! You scared the shit out of me!"

  "I thought you said I was taking cock up the butt?" Karen snaked a hand inside and took a grip on Gene's hard cock. "Wow," she murmured. It was huge and hard. She'd forgotten how fine a cock Gene had.

  "And I thought you had gone back in the tent!" he whispered, accusingly. Her cool hand felt incredibly good. Gene squirmed and blushed strongly, but no one could see the blush and he didn't turn enough to make her lose contact.

  "I'm going up by the trench; wanna come?"

  "Christ!" Gene was torn, but he knew the answer was no. It had to be no.

  "Please, Gene. I want it. No strings, no trouble, I promise. It'll help me sleep. Come on up the hill and just fuck me."

  "God, Karen."

  She squeezed him gently and jacked the skin three strokes, then released him. "Your call. But I meant it." She turned away and moved across the silent pine needles. Gene said nothing. The rain's noise closed in once more around his head, leaving him more alone than ever.

  Karen slipped through between her tent and Justin's and Sarah's and then climbed the hillside toward the latrine. She wondered if he'd come, if he'd follow her. She was beginning, now, to feel guilty about having made the offer.

  "I never should have grabbed it," she thought. "That was so unfair." But what if he didn't? She'd be so ashamed to face him if he didn't. She kicked an inoffensive pine cone off the trail.

  "Oh, fuck! What a slut I am!" she lamented aloud.

  "Me, too."

  "Gene! Thank goodness!" His arms slid in through the sides of the poncho; his warm hands slid over her belly from behind her. One cupped a breast, and the other—

  "Oh, Gene!" she breathed. "Now you have to!"

  His fingers pushed in and out of her hot cunt. Her juices flowed, her nipple rose under his thumb, her head leant back on his collarbone. As she held his invading hand hard against her mound their wedding rings clacked together. Delicious sensations spread along the line from the breast to her hardening clit.

  "I want to eat it," he said.

  "Yes!" She lifted up the slick yellow front by lifting her arms. Under he went, avid to taste her. "Oh, yes." There was a metallic click. He had shifted his hand to grab the panties, and then another pull could be felt. "What...?"

  "Hold right still!" Another pull and she was naked.

  "My God! You cut them off!" His mouth was on her now. His tongue had barely touched her when her come took her breath away.

  She made a noise that he recognized at once. "Gotcha," he said.

  Her hands clutched his head and she moaned, helpless with sudden lust. His lips drew her into his mouth and his tongue flicked the flesh. He'd made her come so quickly—her knees were water.

  "Oh God, Gene...!" He could feel her holding onto his head for support. "You bastard!"

  "Lean on the tree, baby; there you are," he spoke soothingly and went back to his tongue work once she had braced herself. She could feel the rough bark against her back through the slicker; her pussy gave her little sparks and thrills against his hot mouth. The rain pelted down. It was gorgeous.

  Under the poncho it was not quite dark, but the parts he wanted most to see were completely blotted out. She tasted fabulous and she was so ardent he felt flattered. The wet beech leaves soaked through the knees of the light cotton instantly, and a rivulet was streaming, tickling madly, from the back of his head down his neck and along his ribs. Her chest heaved and her nipples were springy-hard—she would shudder if he brushed them roughly enough along his palm. The rain made a crisp continuous rattle that echoed and distorted oddly as the space enclosed changed its shape.

  The rain smell, the wet leaf smell, the sweet-musky woodsy pungence all mixed with the sharp tang of pussy in the close air. Then a breath of cool was drawn in, followed by complete openness. She'd thrown the poncho off entirely. The rain struck in as she shook her head and, he thought, grinned down at him. He could see the pale masses of her breasts, but no detail. "Gene!"

  "Mmm?"

  She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled upwards. "Fuck me! Take that thing off!" Gene arose clumsily, stepping on the poncho, hastily removing pajama and poncho at once. Her hand scooped down, she drove her fingers into her hungry cunt, urging him to hurry. She had already knelt when he emerged, and she turned her ass to him, a pale mass, unmistakable. The rain felt cold at first, but once he'd entered her he stopped noticing. Her wet ass flattened against his hips, she called his name.

  "Karen, this is so fuckin' nice!" Wet slaps of hip on hip set the beat for their cries of encouragement and appreciation.

  Karen had been too many weeks without this feeling—cock! Sweet cock slamming in, deep in her cunt as God intended. The rain made it more thrilling, as the sensation involved her whole skin in heat and cold, friction, chill and the ancient rhythm of sex. She pushed up higher into him—it was too deep, but she wanted it that way a little while. She was close to a big one. Water ran down her face, she slurped it in.

  "Too deep, Gene," she said. The note in her voice tipped him off that she was very close; he knew her
so well. He hadn't realized he was so familiar with the sounds of her. They almost never had made love in the darkness in all that time at school.

  "Just a second! Get on top, baby!" he sat, legs braced wide, and she straddled him. In he slipped again with a joyful grin. His arms held her upright. Her breasts slapped his arms and chest as she worked with a will, stroking her hips forward and back as she rode him. It was warmer this way, too, even though her hair was wet now. He could smell her, the distinctive smell of his Karen.

  She took control and fucked him. The rain made them slippery and joyous and a little giddy. Then she came, yowling and then quickly biting her lower lip to stifle the sound, but it was a very long spasm of sweetness, dizzying. Her clutching fingers dug at his naked shoulders, her heavy breasts came forward onto his chest. She was almost sobbing and her toes curled in the twigs and leaves. He licked rain off her ear and she slid on him a few seconds more for a second strong come.

  "Christ, Karen!" said Gene, and this time it was she who knew by his voice what was about to happen. She slapped his arms and he released her, and when her mouth closed over him he clamped his mouth closed. The tents were too close; they had to be quiet, but here it came! He repeated "Christ, Karen" in a tight whisper and then sobbed as his come slammed through.

  Eyes shut tight, rain in her face and on her back, Karen trembled in her excitement. Pulses of warm liquid jetted at the roof of her mouth; his balls slapped her under the chin as he bucked upward.

  "God, I love this," thought she, exulting. They lay in the rain and breathed together in silence a moment, then guilt drove Gene to his feet to dress.

  She put up a hand, and he took it to help her up. Her yellow poncho was easy to find and quick to get into, but the remnants of her panties, white though they were, did not show themselves. In whispers, they discussed what was done with them at the time. Both flashlights scoured the ground, fruitlessly.