Petrichor

Author's Note: For the 750 Word Project 2022.

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Petrichor. The earthy smell that follows the rain.

It was my favourite scent when I was young. I used to stand out on the verandah, listening to the rain on top of the iron sheeting as the wind threatened to tear it away. My eyes closed, smelling the drought parched soil drink it in.

The endless fields of grain are gone now. The old family place is torn down. Yet, when the rains finally come, you still find me standing outside, listening to the fury of the skies cascade down, and smelling the hungry soil drinking it in.

That's where I lost my virginity. You and me, lying on the verandah, in the cold, with not a damned idea what we were doing. You, too excited to stay firm in my hand. My mouth too clumsy to know how to give you the right encouragement.

You, trying to push down on top and follow through with my lustful demands. Trying to appear the confident man and not the nervous virgin, too embarrassed to admit they didn't know what to do. Too scared to ask for advice and what might feel better than pushing a rope down a dry hallway.

It hurt, we kissed. We tried things until we were sweaty and lying there on the creaking wood. Nestled in each other's arms and dreaming about trying it again. And again. And again.

I still remember the smell. Petrichor, cum and sweat. There's no more nostalgic a scent, to me.

Now, when the rain comes rolling in over the town... I look over at you, with whatever you're doing. Sitting on the couch playing a game, working in your office, or cooking us dinner. The clock stops.

You see my smile.

The glass verandah door slides open, as we walk out into the cold and wet. Clothes abandoned, or underwear tossed, as I saunter over. Leaning against a chair or a post, angling up and waiting for you to feel the thunder like I do.

"Fuck." I gasp, feeling you run along me. My wetness coating your hardness, in a way ourselves of yesteryear couldn't have imagined. You tease me, preparing me, before I feel myself spread to let you inside. Stretching out and over my first, my last.

I reach down to warm my frozen snatch, as you nestle your way into your second home. Grinning naughtily as I lift my fingers to taste, looking back over my shoulder at you, and flicking out my tongue.

Sometimes you groan for me, sometimes you roll your eyes. Always, you kiss me. Your tongue entering my mouth. Playing first with my teeth, teasing me, before trying to intertwine with mine. You flex inside me, trying to make me moan into you.

What's a girl to do, with a stud like you?

Shivers down my spine as you begin to thrust into me. Whether your hands are on my hips, or toying with my breasts, I find myself gasping into the wind and rain, begging you for more. Using your name, asking you to fuck me harder.

You bite my shoulder. Teeth gently sinking into me. It isn't pain, but pleasure, that floods my senses. Makes me cry out into the opened skies, making me want to cum onto the cock thrusting in and out of me roughly, pounding against me.

It becomes a competition.

You trying to make me cum for you, to cum all over you. Teasing my clit, twisting my nipples. Moaning into my ear, or growling as you bite me again. "Cum. Cum for me."

I want to do it, I want to cum all over you. Flood down you until your cock is as dripping as our bodies from the storm. Yet, I'm a stubborn bitch. I don't want to give in. I want to cum, but I want to cum with you. I want to feel you inside me, before my own personal triumph.

Hard and fast we fuck. I beg you to finish, feeling friction and cold overcoming lust and need. Telling you I can't take much more of it, until your thrusting slows and I feel you swell. I scream your name, as I feel you coat my insides.

I slide down onto the ground, your cum spilling out of me. A smile etched onto my face as I look up at you, as you squat to kiss me. Our tongues intertwine, as the smell of dirt fills my nostrils.

"I love you." I whisper.