Your train pulls up to the platform and those butterflies in your stomach, subdued by the inevitable delays, suddenly leap back in to life and begin their merry dance again. Will I be on the platform, waiting with a crass sign in hand, your pseudonym bold black tarnishing the virginity of the white card it’s printed on? Will I be sat outside in a hire car, listening to the radio and only notice you stood there after 5 long minutes? Will I have got tired of waiting for the late train to arrive and headed to the small lochside bungalow alone, leaving you to make your own way, each one of the thousands of butterflies slowly dying as the seconds pass on the long journey?
You grab your overnight case, hurriedly stuffed with a random selection of clothes. I had been purposefully vague when describing our weekend. The weather was unpredictable, the activities varied, the company minimal. All you were sure about was the location, and that we would finally get to touch each other's skin after so very long…
You alight the train and step on to the platform. The air is warm but fresh. This part of the world isn’t known for its sun, but it beats down on the tiny station, the only cloud in the sky threateningly close to it. You walk briskly into what passes as a waiting lounge. It’s full of people but still peaceful. You scan over the faces, disappointed by the lack of recognisable features. You start to let out a long sigh but stop as a pair of strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you in close, pressing up against you so you can feel the contours and shapes behind you. Soft lips brush your exposed neck, sending a shiver down your spine, raising goosebumps on your flesh…
“Hello,” my voice rumbles through you, “…you took your time!”
You slowly spin in my arms, your face turning to mine, mouths almost touching, your breasts squashed against my chest, my crotch pushed against yours…
“I’m here now, aren’t I? I’m sorry I’m late though, there was something on the line, and we stopped for an hour in L…” Your explanation is cut short by a long, deep, overdue kiss. Our lips lock together as we relish the taste of each other, remembering how much this used to happen, and how long it has been since the last time. My arms squeeze you tighter, as you melt into me, our tongues lightly searching for the other.
The taxi ride is long, but beautiful. The scenery stunning, the silence on the back seat bulging with so many unsaid promises, the driver quiet and understanding that the couple in his cab don’t need or want to know about his day. A wry smile creeps across his face, knowing exactly what the weekend holds for the two lovers who can’t take their eyes off each other. He’s taken so many couples up to the loch-house, he even spent a weekend there, but that was a long time ago now.
Bags discarded and wine poured, we settle on the sofa, you laid between my legs, and catch up with each other. Our lives tumble from us, our worries melt away, our stresses evaporating as we talk. The conversation turns to us, to how long it’s been since we saw each other, since we were able to indulge each other…
The rain starts to fall hard and heavy, deceiving the still blazing sun. The pregnant drops pelting the thin windows of the loch-house, drumming against the old wooden ledges. You break from our kiss to see the waterfall against the glass.
“I love the rain,” you exclaim, smiling. “Let’s go outside in it!” You shoot up off the sofa and bolt out of the door, clothes unkempt, skin exposed, rain soaking you through to your underwear. “Come on!” You beckon to me as I stand in the doorway, just my shirt and jockey shorts on, hardly able to contain my modesty. “If you come out, I’ll make it worth it…”
I step into the warm summer rain, squinting as it hits my face. A quick look around tells me that no-one is around (who would be out in this downpour anyway?), and getting soaked would be totally worth anything you’ve got planned. You walk towards me, peeling your wet clothes from your body, releasing your breasts from their expensive cage, the rain almost stinging them as it hits, a river runs down the valley between them. You’re upon me already, your hands in my shorts, your fingers tracing up and down my hard cock as the rainwater trickles over my balls. You push my shorts down over my knees and follow with your body. My eyes meet yours as you smile and slowly take my length between your lips. Inch by inch you swallow me, taking in as much as you can until you have to open your throat to bury my cock deep. You fuck me with your mouth, covering my throbbing, swollen member with thick saliva, sending my eyes into the back of my head as the pleasure of you sucking on me drives me crazy. Out the corner of my eye, I see a table, being lashed with rain.
You move over to the table and lie back on it, kicking your legs in the air as you peel your knickers away from you. Your cunt is wet, a mixture of rain and your lust. You gasp as the hard drops bounce off it. The rain hitting your naked flesh and the sight of me walking towards you, my cock swaying with every step, goads you into touching yourself. You slowly circle your clit from outside its hood. It’s heightened sensitivity telling you that it won’t take much before your back is arching, your pussy quivering, and your face is alive with electricity. You push your fingers inside. It’s warm and tight, throbbing with the expectation of being filled and fucked, extra wet with the thought of all that happening outside, in the open, in the heady mix of sunshine and rain. With your eyes closed, you’re surprised to feel my tongue join in with your fingers, tickling your clit as you finger your pussy from behind, the slap of your palm against your wet skin signalling how hard you want to be taken.
“Fuck me, I want you in me. Make me come.” I push your legs up into the air, pushing your swollen pussy out and I ease myself in, slowly stretching your tight hole open, pushing the boundaries of you, filling you up and making your eyes cross. “Don’t play with me, fuck me hard and fast right now. Please.”
The plea at the end of the sentence sells it for me and I thrust into you, shoving the table a few inches away from me. You gasp as my cock hits the back of you, almost touching your spine. You cry out as I slam my hips against yours, pulling myself nearly all the way out of you before driving it back in as deliberately as I can, one knee up on the table, your legs hooked over my shoulder, the rain beating against your flesh, my breathing heavy and rhythmic, yours short and gasping as the fire in your pussy grows and spreads to your legs and torso, you start to spasm as the orgasm takes control of you, nearly sliding you off the wet table, only staying on due to my hand on your throat. Your face tingles, your legs burn, you can’t feel your fingertips but you know they are there because you are squeezing your nipples, your pussy tightens around my thrusting cock as you explode and scream. Your back arches, your teeth sink into your lip, and your pussy releases come all over my hard length which doesn’t relent. I’m close to coming and you know it. My face is a dead give away. You squeeze your muscles tight, gripping around my shaft, twisting your body so you can fuck me. My body becomes stiff.
“I want to feel you come in me.”
That sends me over the edge and the pressure I’ve been holding back washes over me and pushes me to release. My cock pumps into you and it hits you deep. It takes what feels like an age for me to stop coming. My body still shuddering, still beaten by the rain, you slide off the table and take my twitching cock back into your mouth, not wanting to waste the last few drops of come I can muster. When I can’t take any more, you slide up my body, my shaft nestling briefly between your breasts, and kiss me deep. We can taste each other and know that in a few hours time, we will be able to again.
