Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition Page 9

  The driver and his helper hopped in the front seats, and the van set off toward La Fortuna. The rain continued steadily as they drove into the night. To pass the time, the travelers introduced themselves and traded some basic information. The couple, Bruce and Shelly, hailed from Canada. They'd been married for almost eighteen years and had won the trip in a raffle.

  Shelly rather sheepishly apologized for their preoccupation. "I don't know what's come over us," she admitted, "but we can't keep our hands off each other! It's been like that since the rain started." With that confession, she and Bruce resumed their activities.

  The backpackers, Rob and Max, studied ecology at an upstate New York university. Stormy grew even more certain that they were partners, although they didn't volunteer that information. They mostly kept to themselves, but responded cordially when addressed. Stormy sensed in them a yearning to simply be invisible, bordering on fear.

  The woman to Stormy's right, Mia, lived in La Fortuna and was returning home from a weekend of visiting relatives in the capital. The driver of the van—her cousin, if Stormy understood her correctly—and his sister had just been blessed with their first baby. Mia intrigued her and Stormy would have liked to get to know her better, but the language barrier inhibited their conversation.

  That didn't prevent Stormy from admiring Mia's features. Rather tall, perhaps three or four inches over Stormy's petite frame, Mia's smooth skin looked like coffee lightened by cream. Her extraordinarily short, dark hair offset high cheekbones and full lips, and her eyes sparkled a rich golden brown. Mia's demeanor seemed to purr, "Wouldn't you just love to know what I'm thinking?"

  In many ways, Stormy's appearance was totally opposite, yet equally enticing. They did have one thing in common, however: deliciously lush figures. She would never be mistaken for a runway model, and that was just fine with Stormy. Women, she believed, were meant to be curvy.

  Mia sat much closer to her than Stormy was accustomed, especially given the available space. Must be a cultural thing, she surmised. Personal space varied a great deal from place to place. Stormy admitted to herself that she was thoroughly enjoying the prolonged contact with such a captivating woman. Their shoulders touched, as did their thighs, and Stormy wondered how Mia's hands would feel in her hair.

  The van made only one pit stop at a small roadside diner, called a soda, for dinner. The rain tapered off, and as it did, the mood shifted as well. The overwhelming need for physical contact eased. Shelly and Bruce once again became aware of the world around them, and Stormy finally felt able to focus on her mission.

  From what she'd seen thus far: the Costa Rican people were very pleasant; the countryside was simply gorgeous; and life moved at a very different pace. Pura vida—the local catch phrase—literally meant "the pure life." The rain, while an inconvenience, didn't seem to be hampering anyone's enjoyment. In fact, its undeniably aphrodisiac qualities were unexpected and remarkably tantalizing. A hook, perhaps? Stormy pondered.

  By the time they arrived in La Fortuna, it was past midnight. The van dropped Mia off near a residential section of the small town, and Stormy watched her walk away until she was no longer visible. The guides had called ahead from the soda to ensure their rooms were ready, and everyone retired immediately. Stormy fell into bed after removing only her shoes and slipped immediately into sleep. Erotic images danced through her mind. In the fragmented nature of such dreams, Charlie morphed into Mia who, in turn, morphed into Shelly and Bruce. Even Rob and Max made an appearance.

  * * * *

  A sharp rap on her door woke Stormy on Tuesday morning, the low-tech equivalent of a wake up call. "Okay! I'm up!" she responded, struggling to get her bearings. They had all agreed to start early in order to make the most of what was likely to be the driest portion of the day, and by the time they breakfasted, the van had arrived. Their destination: la catarata—the waterfall.

  The steep hike to the base consisted mostly of rough stairs carved into the hillside, but the stunning view of the narrow 700-meter cascade made them forget the struggle and gasp in appreciation. Dense foliage bordered the small clearing at the base of path, and the rich scents of moss and fern hung in the air. After a brief rest, Shelly and Bruce decided to take a dip in the inviting pool formed by the falls. Max and Rob sat on a nearby bench, talking quietly and taking an occasional photograph. Their small group currently had the place all to themselves.

  Bruce stripped down to his boxers, and Shelly began shedding her clothes. He had a very nice chest sprinkled with sandy brown hair and, it startled Stormy to discover, one nipple pierced with a tiny silver hoop. Beneath her oxford shirt and Capri jeans, Shelly wore a snug white tank top and white thong panties. These things, she left on. She had an athletic build, as did Bruce, and it was obvious that fitness was important to them—not so much from a perspective of vanity, Stormy surmised, but for the vitality it brought.

  Stormy watched as they eased themselves into the water, its temperature evident by their startled reactions. No sooner were they both waist-deep in the water than a soft and steady rain began to fall. Familiar feelings immediately flooded Stormy, and she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Rob and Max slipping away to a more secluded spot. When she turned back around, Stormy was not at all surprised to find Bruce and Shelly again fondling one another.

  Shelly's breasts looked inviting in her clingy white, and now wet, tank top. Not huge, and no doubt not as perky as in her youth, but very aesthetically pleasing with a roundness that just begged to be squeezed and dark nipples in contrast to the surrounding skin. Bruce began showering them with the attention they so obviously craved, and Stormy reacted with a burning desire to be on both the giving and the receiving ends of that attention.

  She was jolted from her admiring reverie when Shelly suddenly motioned for her to join them. Even knowing that they were alone, Stormy reflexively looked behind her in a questioning "Who? Me?" gesture. Receiving enthusiastic nods from both, she hesitated only momentarily before beginning to undress. She'd considered wearing her swimsuit beneath her clothes, but had decided against it at the last minute. Thus, it was bra and panties or nothing at all.

  Nearly blinded by the ferocious, rain-induced appetite for skin, Stormy hurriedly piled all her clothes—undergarments, too—on the split log bench and covered them with the nylon windbreaker she'd had tied around her waist. While not particularly comfortable parading around naked, preferring her trysts to be by candlelight, Stormy felt gloriously liberated by the Costa Rican rain.

  Taking Shelly's hand with her left and Bruce's with her right, she entered the water and their welcoming embrace. Sandwiched between this passionate couple, Stormy could feel Bruce's rigid cock against her belly. In contrast to the frigid water, it felt delightfully hot. So, too, did Shelly's hands as they reached around from behind to cup Stormy's bare breasts. With strong fingers pinching and rolling her nipples, Stormy lifted her head and met Bruce's mouth with all the fervor of the previous day's unfulfilled desire.

  Moving her hands, which had been glued to Bruce's tight ass, Stormy found the waistband of his boxers and slipped both inside to encircle his cock. She lowered her mouth to his nipple ring which, given the difference in their heights, didn't require much of a dip. Not quite sure about its sensitivity, Stormy tentatively flicked it with her tongue and delighted to the sound of Bruce wonderfully erotic moan. Stormy found the soft, involuntary sounds of passion electrifying, and as she intensified her efforts, Bruce rewarded her with many more. Her hands, wrists nearly together, formed a tight orifice, which he fucked with increasing vigor, while her fingers massaged the sensitive areas on balls and beyond at the apex of each thrust.

  Meanwhile, Shelly dropped to her knees and delicately kissed Stormy's lower back, just above the water line. The backs of her hands, starting at the ankles, traveled with tormenting slowness up the insides of Stormy's legs. The sharp contrast between Bruce's animalistic lunges and Shelly's teasing caresses drove Stormy wild.

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p; As Shelly's hands reached the juncture of her thighs, Stormy spread her legs and bent forward a bit. Bruce took a small step backwards to support her, which gave Stormy a greater ability to hold her ground against his increasingly insistent pumping. With her hands side-by-side, Shelly ran both thumbs together down the crack of Stormy's ass as her fingers traced the rounded outer contours causing Stormy to add her voice in harmonious descant to Bruce's.

  Bringing her hands together, prayer style, Shelly slid both thumbs into Stormy's pussy and captured her aching clit between the index and middle fingers on each hand. The dual motion of Shelly's circling thumbs and fingers caused Stormy's world to quickly collapse into one dense point of kinetic energy that, after a breathtaking pause, radiated outward in an explosion of pleasure that nearly knocked her off her feet. If Bruce hadn't been holding on to her, she would have undoubtedly fallen.

  Before she'd fully recovered her equilibrium, Shelly rose and spun her around, forcing Stormy to let go of Bruce. Temporarily suspended on his own edge, Bruce grabbed his cock and stroked himself slowly as he watched the ladies share a sensual kiss. Shelly's tongue danced against Stormy's parted lips as Stormy's hands finally reached Shelly's exceptional breasts. Replacing her hands with her mouth, Stormy gently bit each nipple through the fabric of Shelly's top as she slid her hands between Shelly's legs and removed her panties. Bruce clearly enjoyed the show, as his breathing again became ragged and his hand picked up speed.

  Shelly whispered into Stormy's ear, and Stormy immediately nodded. Moving to the edge of the water, Stormy seated herself on a narrow rocky outcrop, feet dangling into the water as Shelly stood between her spread legs. With a devilish glance over her shoulder at Bruce, Shelly leaned forward and planted her face between Stormy's legs.

  Stormy surmised, by Bruce's enthusiastic reaction, that he'd long fantasized about his wife in this very scenario. More than happy to oblige, she leaned back on her hands and rode Shelly's talented tongue. Each drop of rain landing on her bare skin pushed her higher, until all sensation seemed to feed the wet fire between her legs.

  Even with her head thrown back and eyes closed, Stormy knew the very moment Bruce entered Shelly from the rear. Shelly's primal groan reverberated through Stormy's sex, stoking the smoldering embers of her earlier climax. Rocking with each thrust, Shelly's mouth traveled from Stormy's opening to her clit, punctuated by a low grunt that, against her swollen clit, felt much like a vibrator.

  As Bruce pulled back for the next drive, Shelly sucked Stormy's clit, as if trying to hold herself in place with just her mouth, before releasing it to begin the cycle anew. Stormy felt another climax rapidly building, and she lay back, freeing her hands to relieve the ache in her own breasts.

  Shelly shuddered and whipped her head from side to side, losing the rhythm as her orgasm blasted through her. The shift in motion was all it took to detonate Stormy again and her limbs shook uncontrollably with each exquisite shock wave. Hard on the heels of her climax, and with Shelly's cunt still contracting around his cock, Bruce let out a roar and exploded himself.

  The rain stopped, almost on cue and as suddenly as it had started, leaving the trio lying spent against the bank like toppled dominoes, resting on one another. Bruce disengaged first and climbed out of the water. Shelly went next, pausing to give Stormy a slippery kiss in closing. It was every bit as titillating as the first, only this time Stormy could taste herself on Shelly's incredible tongue.

  Bruce extended his hand to help Stormy rise. She carefully tested her still quivering legs—not quite sure they were yet ready to bear her weight. They finished dressing just as Rob and Max returned and, without a word, all began the rigorous climb back to the van where their guides waited.

  * * * *

  After a brief rest, Stormy enjoyed souvenir shopping throughout the quiet town with Shelly and two other women from their hotel. The sun shone most of the afternoon, interrupted only once by a very brief downpour which they passed in a coffee shop, fidgeting. The conversation centered on, of course, the delightfully erotic effects of the rain. Each shared plenty of amazement, but no regrets. Stormy grew convinced that the rain would have to be the primary focus of her ad campaign. Finding a reason to visit Costa Rica in spite of the rain became instead a quest to attract tourism because of it.

  In the early evening, their group set out for the Baldi Termae hot springs for a buffet dinner and postprandial dip. A deep tissue massage was also part of the package. Their aches and pains provided a wonderful reminder of the morning's activities, but relief would be most welcomed—especially since the rain would soon fall again and those muscles would have even more demands placed upon them.

  They found the dinner light but delicious and the succulent array of fresh fruits for dessert quite refreshing. Afterward, pleasantly sated but not stuffed, Stormy and the others made their way to the changing rooms to don their swimsuits. Each was given a small waterproof pager that would light and vibrate when the time came for their massage. Clipping hers to the strap of her suit, Stormy headed for the relaxation of the therapeutic waters.

  Winding path framed by lush foliage connected the secluded pools. Stormy started at the lowermost, supposedly coolest, pool and eased herself into the water. While quite comfortable, she preferred hotter. Feeling a little bit like Goldilocks, she wound her way to the uppermost pool and discovered its waters just a bit too hot.

  Descending one level, Stormy found a pool that suited her. At first glance, it appeared to be empty, but then she noticed Rob and Max off in a darkened corner. Not wanting to disturb them, she climbed into the opposite end and sat on a stone ledge, immersed to the neck. It felt fantastic, and her sore legs relaxed almost instantly. She recalled the grueling hike back to the van on legs exhausted from the descent and further weakened by the enthusiastic activities in the rain.

  The encounter at la catarata would undoubtedly remain an ever-stimulating memory. Stormy still marveled at her wanton abandon, for while she fantasized about such things quite frequently, she'd not had much opportunity to put thought into practice. She suspected the same was true for Shelly and Bruce. Although now that their ménage cherry had been popped, perhaps they'd become regular swingers. Only time would tell.

  As night fell, so again did the rain. Stormy welcomed the expected rush of sensations that accompanied each rainfall. Leaning her head back against the lip of the pool, she let the rain bathe her face and set her mind free to explore her wildest fantasies.

  Before long, she realized that the guttural sounds of sex were not only a product of her imagination, but also emanated from the corner of the pool occupied by Rob and Max. She could barely see them through the rain and the shadows, but she could hear them quite clearly. The auditory voyeurism only served to heighten her arousal. Their passion was tender, yet driven. Loving, yet undeniably intense.

  As she pictured, based upon the sounds, what transpired in the far corner, Stormy's fingers pinched here and teased there. She found it all quite pleasant but soon reached the conclusion that the needs evoked by the rain were so purely interactive that self stimulation was just not going to cut it. Stormy knew her body quite well, and she knew with absolute certainty that another's touch would be required for satisfaction.

  Stormy seriously considered inviting herself to join Max and Rob, even though they'd given no indication that they desired—or would even tolerate—her company. As she took the first steps in their direction, her pager went off. Desperate to slake her overwhelming thirst for touch, she rushed back to the area indicated earlier. A beautiful dark skinned man with incredibly long eyelashes awaited her. He held in his hands a soft white towel and a selection of scented oils from which he asked Stormy to choose.

  After she selected the cinnamon massage oil, he led her to a small, secluded patio lit by four tiki torches. A padded table stood in the center. At its end sat a small basket containing smooth flat stones from which steam rose as the rain struck it. The attendant instructed Stormy to remove her swim
suit, lie face down on the table, and drape the towel over her backside. He then emptied the small bottle of oil over the stones, filling the air with its pungent aroma, and disappeared without another word.

  Alone, Stormy quickly complied with his instructions and stretched out on the table. It felt cool against her breasts and somewhat slippery. The rain itself delivered its own percussive massage against her bare back—a multitude of pulsing, wet fingertips. Her hands, stretched above her head, hung over the edge of the table, as did her feet at the ankles. As she lay there, eagerly awaiting the massage, she fantasized that she was blindfolded and bound by silk scarves—at the mercy of a mysterious lover.

  The rain baptized Stormy, fueling her fire rather than extinguishing it. It took a monumental effort not to writhe as her towel became soaked and rivulets of rain ran between her slightly parted legs, diluting her own plentiful fluids. If she moved, Stormy now believed, she would break the magnificently tormenting spell and her lover would not appear.

  With her eyes closed, the swish of soft fabric provided the first indication of someone's arrival. She then became aware of a presence, moving slowly around the table like a predatory cat studying its prey. Stormy wanted to scream, "Touch me!" but she was completely immobilized by her own fantasy, unable to even open her eyes. Her nectar anointed the table between her legs.

  A finger lightly traced the channel of her spine. A tongue teased the back of each thigh. Hands hovered, millimeters from her skin. She could feel their divine pressure, their heat. A single soft kiss on the nape of her neck left chills in its wake. Mystical. Magical.