Power Outage


Note: This story is purely adult entertainment; it's also my National Nude Day contest entry. It has explicit descriptions of masturbation and lesbian sex. Please don't read it if you aren't old enough to legally. The story is fiction; any resemblance of this character to anyone is coincidental.


My alarm clock beeped loudly. I slapped the switch, sat up, and turned on the light.

Except I didn't, because the light didn't come on. I listened for my fan, the compressor of my fridge, anything that needed electricity. Steady rainfall was the only sound to be heard. For the third time this year, I had no power.

I was displeased. I had 45 minutes to get ready for work and I was going to have to do without electricity. What really irritated me about this blackout was that this storm only had heavy rain. There were no high winds and no lightning. The utility company just didn't feel like using the money we paid them to update the failing infrastructure. My town had about 4500 residents. I guessed we would have to complain louder if we wanted reliable service.

I had candles and flashlights. What I didn't have was a working stove, microwave, or well pump. (Our town doesn't provide water; dwellings and businesses have wells.) In other words, I had no food or water.

I wanted breakfast, but I could probably get that at a convenience store. However, there was no way I was going to work without a shower.

Using one of my small LED flashlights, I found the matches and lit a couple of candles. I looked in my closet and dresser and picked out clothes for the day.

I opened my top drawer and picked out my lingerie.

Okay, I could get ready for work. All I needed was for the power to come on again. Right now would be good....

How long could I wait for it? What options were there? Without electricity, I was about as paralyzed as any modern American citizen would be. My supervisor wouldn't like me being late, but there was nothing to be done.

...While I sat in my most comfortable chair and listened to the rain, my brain turned over the problem again and again. What was in the lowest drawer of my dresser? Old shirts, old shorts, old pants--all ready to be used as clothing for dirty, messy jobs. Next to the worn, stained, or threadbare clothes were my three swimsuits.

...Still I sat, listening to the rain. It was particularly loud toward the rear of the house, right outside the porch. The west half of the porch roof met the north half of the main roof there, making a valley. The south half of the roof had gutters. The north half didn't. Water that funneled to the northwest roof junction poured in a torrent along that valley every time it rained.

...It was unorthodox, but I had a shower!

As I gathered my shampoo, conditioner, and towels from the bathroom, I thought about the idea. It wouldn't be too cold; this was early summer. I wouldn't be too exposed; I sunbathed in my backyard pretty often and I would wear one of the swimsuits I wore when I was tanning. There was no reason not to try using the spout that formed in the rain. It would be like a beach shower.

I got into my smallest bikini, picked up my bundle of shower supplies, and went to the back porch.

The neighborhood looked pretty deserted. Rainwater was rushing from the roof valley and splashing forcefully on the square slab of concrete that stood under the step that led to the wooden decking of the porch. I pulled one of the little wicker tables over to the porch's screen door and piled my stuff on the table.

I opened the screen door and stepped into the rain.

The water was cool, but not cold. The power of the rainwater was amazing; it was much more forceful than my shower. The water crashed onto my hair and body like it was trying to give me a deep tissue massage.

--Exhilarating! In a word, it felt wonderful.

Not just my hair, my entire body was soaking wet in moments. I stepped out of the stream of water and lathered my light brown hair--then most of my body--with shampoo. The suds didn't seem to get as thick as usual: was that because of the rainwater? I stepped eagerly back under the flow.

Rinsing had never gone so quickly! The soapy bubbles washed away immediately. I ran my hands through my hair, enjoying the feeling of the rushing stream on my scalp and hands. I ran my fingers along my arms, then down my torso, finally along each leg. The rain felt great splashing freely against my back.

I felt completely alive. Turning toward the house, I furtively slipped my fingers under the little cups of my swimsuit--to make sure my breasts were really rinsed, I told myself. Thrills of bliss shot through my core while I massaged my large breasts and swollen, throbbing nipples.

(Too bad the utility company didn't have wires hooked up to me; I was producing surges of electrical energy!)

My right hand wandered lower of its own accord. The storm of sensations was carrying my consciousness with it. My fingers got busy under the stretchy cloth of my spandex-and-nylon swimsuit bottom. I teased my sensitive spots for a few long, delicious seconds.

Remembering what I was supposed to be doing, I got my conditioner and put it in my short, thick chestnut brown hair. I let the cool water splash all over my back for a couple of minutes. I stroked my exposed skin lightly and infrequently, not wanting to be too naughty, in case someone was watching. But the better it felt, the bolder my caresses grew.

I turned my back to the porch door and stepped back under the stream of collected rain. I rinsed the conditioner out of my shoulder-length hair.

My eyes darted to and fro across the small expanse of lawns and buildings in the neighborhood. I'm slightly myopic--and I don't wear my glasses while I shower, of course--but I was pretty confident that there was no one around. It was me and nature, me and the rushing water. I glanced around again. Not a soul could be seen.

Two simple bow knots (one behind my neck, the other in the center of my back) fastened my string bikini top. I tugged the trailing ends of the lower knot. I felt the strings slowly go slack. Leaving the other knot, I pulled the bathing suit top over my head.

My nerve endings approved of the change; I shivered with delight. Dreamily, I put my forefingers and thumbs under the sides of my tiny swimsuit bottoms. My body wanted this. I wasn't going to deny it.

The last article of clothing I was wearing slid along my slightly parted legs and fell onto the concrete surface beneath it. The skimpy bottom landed softly. I moved my feet to make sure I wouldn't trip on it.

Now this was a shower! My hands glided on my rain-slicked skin, exciting all of my body's nerves. The long, lazy motions grew gradually shorter and faster as my fingertips began to take spiral routes to my breasts and my pussy.

Damn, this was glorious--but what if someone saw? My eyes reluctantly opened again. Nothing; I was in the middle of downpour in a deserted landscape.

Pet me, my clit silently screamed!

Well, this shower had been so fast that I did have some extra time. Why not indulge my naughty little button?

Using hardly any pressure, I set my fingers on my mound and circled gently. My eyelids closed again, prompting me to concentrate on the sensations I felt on my skin.

The pink nub between my lower lips buzzed happily. It bulged to full size, so that it poked from under its thin hood. My slippery middle finger strummed my clitoris, making direct contact.

I don't know what noise I made: it seemed like a gurgling groan from deep in my throat. My knees knocked into each other, but fortunately they didn't buckle. I sucked my lower lip into my mouth. I heard my blood pounding through my arteries. The primal energy of the body's instinctive desire surged in my chest and exploded through my loins.

Orgasm shook me to the marrow. I threw back my head and howled like a she-wolf. (That's probably not true, actually; the sound was probably much quieter and less penetrating--but in that moment, it seemed like the perfect expression of the wild beast within.) The rain beat on my up-turned brow, adding more sensation to my earth-moving climax.

For several seconds, I stood in the deluge, face toward the sky, gingerly using my fingers to extend the ecstasy of my sated pussy. At last, I lowered my face and opened my eyes.

There was movement! Behind the plexiglass patio door of the house kitty-corner to mine, the drawn blinds jiggled. I'd been seen.

On any other morning, I would have panicked and fled the scene. But on any other morning, I wouldn't have stripped butt-naked and jilled off in the driving rain.

Instead of being frightened or ashamed, I responded with an overwhelming sexual hunger.

I had once gone to the "adult parties" section of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. The atmosphere had been frantic, almost desperate. The need to belong, the need to feel and be felt, to see and be seen--I had been self-conscious and drunk and I know I was not the only one. I'd made choice after choice after choice based on how I thought the people with me would perceive me. Superficial...artificial....

This morning was totally different. Not only was I not self-conscious, I was not thinking at all. Submerged animal impulses had possessed me. I was driven by the raw sensual power of the storm and the amazing satisfaction of my body. I wanted to share this revelation with my watcher.

I dashed through my backyard and through the Janis' backyard, up the steps to their patio, right to their door. I rapped on the synthetic glass.

There was no answer, so I rapped again. Then I tried the handle.

The door slid open with squeak of rubber on rubber. At that instant, the blinds rose quickly. I found myself face-to-face with a short, wide-eyed Indian woman, the cord of the blinds still clasped in her hand. She had been about to open the door for me. She was caught in my eyes, frozen where she stood.

Naked and dripping, I took one decisive step forward. I put my hands on her shoulders.

The young woman was trembling in my arms. She said something quietly, but I don't speak anything but English, and I guessed she didn't speak anything but Hindi. (Or was it Gujarati she was speaking? My neighborhood is about half German-descended American and half Indian-descended American, so I know a bit about western India.)

I grinned ravenously at the little woman with the deep brown eyes. I bent forward, kissing her magenta-painted lips. I tangled my fingers in the soft yellow, orange, and red clothing she wore.

The cloth that covered her head fell to her waist, revealing a mass of long, thick, wavy black hair. I was surprised that it was not a separate cloth, but a drape like a hood made from one end of her exceptionally long garment. (It seemed that she was wearing a modern sari. We have plenty of stores that sell clothing for Indian women; that's why I know what some of it's called.)

The petite woman stared into my eyes, like a frog staring at a snake.

That wouldn't do! I took her wrists and placed her hands on my waist, just above my hips. I pulled back from our kiss and smiled a much warmer, more inviting smile.

After untucking the folded part of her brightly-colored sari, I unwound the cloth slowly. I let the sari fall to the tiled floor. I hugged the smaller woman to me and began kissing her again. This time, I kissed not only her mouth, but her cheeks, her neck, her pierced nose, and her pierced ears.

She shyly kissed me back: infrequently and lightly at first....

Her delicate hands began to stroke my flanks very lightly.

She was clad now only in her chaniya (a thin, slip-like petticoat) and her choli (a tight, cropped, blouse-like undergarment). I stood back and looked at her body. She was voluptuously lovely: probably 10 to 15 lbs. (4.5 to 7 kg) overweight, and she wore it very well. Her cutely plump abdomen sported a teardrop-shaped piercing; in its center was a sapphire, outlined with tiny white diamonds. Her hips were wide and curvaceous. The bottoms of the generous globes of her breasts peeked from under her short choli.

I looked back at her face and saw that she'd been studying my body in return. She blushed a little when she looked into my eyes again.

Taking her dainty hands, I led her to the still-open patio door. She hesitated for a moment.

I bent and reverently kissed the knuckles of each hand. She was wearing five rings; one on each finger of her right hand and one on the ring finger of her left hand. I made sure to press my lips to the spots just above and below all her rings. As I straightened up again, I gazed into her eyes, willing her to trust me.

Tugging her gently with me, I stepped back onto the patio. She gasped, feeling the cool rain pummeling her. My arms were around her again in a moment, embracing her with warmth. I moved my mouth to her neck, then to her ear, kissing and nibbling. At one point, I could feel her pulse racing under my tongue.

The small Indian woman tilted her head and closed her eyes. She was giving me permission.

Sliding my fingers under the hem of her choli, I tugged the soaked and clinging crop-top up past her chest, all the way along her arms--which she extended upward and toward me--and off her body. I folded her into a tighter embrace than before. Her breasts were very large for her height and they felt quite pleasant squishing against mine. Her conical milk-chocolate-colored nipples were hard and felt even harder when contrasted with the soft flesh of her tits.

Something I hadn't expected happened then. She got on her tip-toes and kissed my mouth. She put her arms around my back and held tightly to me.

My hands roamed her curvy sides and back. I reached her chaniya and started undoing the two knots that kept it around her waist.

Then she was as naked as I was.

This pretty little woman kissed me over and over. I pushed firmly yet gently, positioning her in front of a lounge chair. The cool wetness of the rain and the hot wetness of our mouths made my pussy begin yearning for attention again. But I was concerned with my new friend at the moment. I sat her in the chair and slid quickly along her bare skin until my lips reached her ornamented belly button. I ran my tongue around her piercings before kissing and licking the whole area. My hands traveled upward and started fondling her pillowy breasts.

Her fingers, meanwhile, alternated between combing through my shoulder-length hair and massaging my neck and scalp.

I moved upward, locking my lips around one of her huge, tasty-looking nipples. While my fingers toyed with one, I sucked and kissed the other--

--And I got another surprise. At first, I couldn't identify the strange taste; it was kind of tangy, like sour cream, but it was thinner--oh my goodness, it was milk! Her milk!

I hadn't had a taste of breast milk since I was a baby. It felt so...taboo, perhaps? I'd been excited before, but my libido went into overdrive. My right hand flew to my cunt and began diddling my clit. I sucked and gulped, drinking my new lover's milk: I disliked the taste, but nursing felt so unbelievably good! My rational mind considered her lactation while I drank. Was it possible that she hadn't weaned her toddler yet? But the girl was two years old, wasn't she?

This wonderful young woman might well be pregnant with another child.

My pussy quivered at the thought. An intense orgasm crashed through my body.

I'd never known desire this strong. I got down on hands and knees, then sank lower until I was sitting on my heels. I urged the petite woman's thighs apart. I pulled one of her legs around my back and tossed the other one over my shoulder and I slid down to my neighbor's puffy labia. I heard her squeak with surprise and pleasure.

Her soft, dark brown pussy hair was completely matted down thanks to the rain. I caressed her pretty little twat for a minute with two fingers. Then I dove in and began to slurp. I used my lips, my tongue, and--very carefully--even my teeth to make this a cunnilingus performance for the ages. She began to heave and rock under me. The pounding rain diluted her pussy juice, but I could still taste it, tangy and hot and mellow. I piloted her to an orgasm, gave her a minute to relish it, then gave her another one. Her reactions, the sounds she made, the way her hot flesh smelled and tasted--eating her out was marvelous fun.

At last, I got up. Despite the rain making everything slick, I felt solid as a rock. I held out my hands and helped her to stand.

The beautiful Indian-American mother smiled with her eyes as well as her mouth. She kept her gorgeous brown eyes wide open as she tenderly tongue-kissed me. I happily made out with her in the pelting rain. I could see that this sweet little lady was falling in love with me and I didn't mind at all.


She brought me back into the house. We dried each other in her bathroom. She gave me a comfortable sage-green shift to wear. She used a little propane burner to make tea for us both. She did speak a little English after all, which was useful. Her name was Aparajita Jani.

Perhaps half an hour after we came in from the rain, the electricity was restored. Aparajita lent me a rain jacket and went back to my place.


I didn't wait until the next power outage to call on her again.

To this day, we take "showers" in the rain as often as we dare!


The End

End note: Comments, votes, favorites, and other forms of feedback are greatly appreciated!

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