Storm Connection

I fired up one of the battery-operated lanterns and set that on the dining room table; I'd save the others in case the storm outlasted the first one. Then I brought the laptop over to the small circle of light and started tapping my missal of love and concern to far-away Sean. I worked for thirty minutes, so focused on pouring my heart and yearnings out to Sean that I was lost to the leading edge of the hurricane that had hit the Marco Island coast with a vengeance. The electricity was still hanging in there when I had finished and went to hit the send button on the message service—but the Internet service was out already. Annoyed and disappointed, I copied my message to disk. And then I went over and hard copied it. I came back to the dining table and placed the copy of Sean's message beside mine and read each one a hundred times or more.

I hardly noticed when the electricity went out and then I also nearly missed the eye of the storm when it went over the house. My house had proven to be as tight as I had paid for, and although I could hear some howling of the wind and the rolling thunder from inside the house when the leading edge of the storm went over, the house had held solidly.

What I did hear eventually, though, was the banging on the door at the foot of the center staircase of the house. And I only heard that, really, because of the contrast with the sudden eerie silence while the eye of Lloyd drifted over the house.

I had no idea what it was. And I certainly hoped it wasn't the Jaguar XKE floating around and hitting the door. The thought of that sent me down the stairs. I opened the door, and, thankfully I wasn't hit by either floodwaters or an extremely expensive chrome bumper.

But what did hit my eye was almost as shocking as that. Two solidly built guys in black leather, looking like they had been at the bottom of a swimming pool. One of the guys was young and lanky and twitchy. The other, older guy obviously was the "in charge" type. He was built like a professional wrestler and had curly black hair peeking out from everywhere. Both were tattooed to the hilt.

"God, it took you long enough," the older dude snarled. "We nearly drowned out here."

"How long have you been here?" I asked dumbly. "And what do you want? You shouldn't be out in a storm like this."

"My, that's brilliant," the older guy said. "Ain't that just brilliant, Snake?"

The younger guy twitched and wagged his head in agreement. He had a sloppy grin on his face. I was sure he always felt it safer to laugh at the bigger guy's jokes.

"We've been down here almost since the storm started. We tried to get back to the causeway, but that road was already flooded. You looked like you had the best harbor in a storm like this. We've been under here for some time. Have been beating on your door for some time too."

"Sorry," I said lamely. "I only heard you when the wind stopped. But it's only half over us now, and the back edge should be worse than the front. You guys need to get under better shelter than this."

"That's what we thought too," the big guy said. "That's why we've been banging on your door."

"You want to come in here?" I asked.

"Yeah, we want come in there. Brilliant. This guy's just brilliant, ain't he, Snake?"

Snake waggled his head. And I must say I almost waggled mine too. Of course they had to come in. There wasn't anyplace else to go now. I had looked around. Although the pylons had held, chunks of concrete at the edges of the carport area were already gone, and the house was nearly in the Gulf. The next couple of hours were going to be really hairy. I looked wistfully at the Jaguar. I'd done the best I could for it. I'd put a cover over it. But I realized now that this might just be the last time I saw my Christmas gift to myself.

"OK, yes, of course, you have to come up into the house. Sorry I was so slow. Come on up. This way up. And you'll need to get into something dry. Excuse me, what are you . . .?"

"This here Harley is about as expensive as that Jag of yours," the big guy said, as he started manhandling his motorcycle up the stairs with me backpedaling just in front of the onslaught. "Pity you can't get the Jag up there, but we certainly can get our rides up there."

There wasn't anything really I could do about that, and so they muscled their motorcycles up the stairs and into the center of the living room, and I sent them off to the showers.

They came back with just towels around them, although Snake incongruously had put his leather vest back on, and I'm not sure his visored leather cap had ever left his head.

The back edge of the storm was upon us now, announcing itself with a clap of thunder and a surge of howling wind.

"I've got a bottled gas stove back here in the kitchen," I said. "I'll get us some coffee and then I'll get you some clothes."

"And you? Will you get yourself some clothes too?" the big guy was asking with a smirk in his face.

Only then did I notice that I was still only in my briefs.

"Lookin' good, dude," the big guy, and then he winked at me. "The guy's been working out, ain't he, Snake?"

Snake waggled his head and gave a little giggle.

I almost dropped the coffee pot when I reentered the dining room. The big guy was standing, reading the copy of Sean's message and the one I intended to send him. Snake was standing and looking at them over his shoulder. They both seemed fascinated.

"So, our host wants to be fucked rough and deep, does he Snake?" the big guy said, a sloppy grin on his face.

Snake mimicked the grin. Both were staring at me hard, and they both were licking their lips.

"You can have firsties, Snake," the big guy muttered. "After I'd been in there and reamed him, you wouldn't be able to hit the walls with that cock of yours."

He dropped his towel, and I saw what he meant. His tool was enormous, thick as a sausage.

I made a mad dash for the back of the house but was slowed by the surprise and the shock. The big guy reached me first and held me in a half Nelson while Snake scurried around and found what they need to bind me. And then they had me on my back on the seat of the Harley, and they bound my wrists to the handlebars.

Snake straddled the bike below me and between my legs, holding my legs up and out, and his mouth and hands played my cock, balls, and hole, while the older of the two, standing on my coffee table above me, pushed my head down and started stuffing my mouth with that enormous piece of his.

I got the impression they'd done this often before.

I was gagging on the big one's cock, and barely able to breath, but I didn't miss the moment that Snake slithered his cock up into my canal. He wasn't thick but he certainly was long and I'd never felt a cock move around inside me like that. I had few illusions how he'd gotten the name Snake. It was long and thin and hooked up toward his belly. Once in, its mushroom cap dragging along my walls as it ascended up inside me. And my walls trembled in appreciation, rippled at this exotic touch. Remembering what they hadn't had in a while, but that they craved. And then when it had bottomed and started to move in and out, the cap moved around, touching sections of the walls at random and sending my passage into spasms of electric pleasure.

Snake was giggling and grunting and groaning at the effort and the sounds of his fucking merged with the rhythm of the howling storm outside of my fortress which was built to hold the world at bay but that now was serving to hold me hopelessly inside and at the mercy of these two merciless bikers. I was writhing and moaning under Snake's rapid fire slithering inside me—and sighing from the release of pent up sexual frustration.

The big one was twisting my nipples with his thumb and forefinger and occasionally slapping me on the abs. "Just like what those messages said you wanted to be happening to you, isn't it, dude?" the big guy was saying. "Fucked deep and hard. Taken hard, again and again. Glad to be of service. Like this, don't you?"

And, as a matter of fact, although I wouldn't have admitted it to them, I was enjoying it. I had written what I had for Sean to see because I was deep in heat. I hadn't had any for months. I wanted it so bad. I was already moaning inwardly for the stuffing of that sausage the big guy had between his legs. That was the fuck Sean had promised me in his messages.

And when Snake had shot his load and the big guy was taking his turn, I was indeed getting exactly what I had dreamed of getting from Sean across all those miles.

They had unbound me, but just to turn me on the Harley seat. I was belly to leather seat now and my hands were rebound on the handle bars. The big guy mounted behind me and put his feet into the stirrups of the cycle so he was mostly standing. Then he put his hands under my belly and lifted my pelvis to him and slowly entered my hole with that big sausage of his. He was so much thicker than Snake had been that, although Snake had lubbed me well with his cum, his senior partner had to huff and puff to get inside me. I cried out and Snake came around in front and silenced me with the scepter-like pacifier hanging between his legs. Still I moaned and panted and groaned as the big guy moved up inside me just as far as snake had.

The big guy moved his hands so he was gripping my hips and lifting me to him, and then, after holding deep inside to allow me to stretch to him as best I could, he began to move my pelvis back and forth and up and down on his tool. I was trembling and was just suspended out there in air over the Harley as he set up a rhythm that wasn't as frenetic as Snakes had been but that was so much more filling and satisfying.

Yes, satisfying. Soon after the big guy had started fucking me, I tuned him and Snake and the storm out of my mind. And I concentrated on my cyber lover. I thought of Sean. It was Sean who was fucking me. Fucking me just as thick and deep and hard as I was being taken for a ride on this motorcycle. Sean, only Sean. And I was getting just what I had been in heat for. And when I came, polishing the leather of the seat of the Harley with my semen, I was coming for Sean. And it was Sean who was making me cum.

After they were done with me, they untied me and took me back to my bedroom and told me not to come out. Then, as the storm was still raging outside, I heard them raid the refrigerator, no doubt for the beer I had there, and rummage around in the cupboards.

About an hour later, the big guy came back into the bedroom and fucked me again on the bed in several different positions. This time he was less dominating and a bit more gentle, no doubt because I willingly opened my legs to him—naming him Sean in my mind, happy that he, unlike Snake had never been provided a name of his own—and I didn't fight him, but matched his lust with a passion of my own (even if he didn't know the passion wasn't for him) and met him thrust for thrust and aroused cry for passionate kiss.

When he left the room he locked it behind him, not knowing that I could just as easily open the door from my side, and, the storm finished, I heard them muscle the cycles down the stairs and then all was quiet.

When I was sure they were gone, I left the room. They hadn't been animals beyond their all-out rutting with me. They broke nothing and messed up nothing. They even left the copies of the messages on the dining room table.

I briefly went outside to survey the damage. My house had held and the pylons had even kept the center of concrete pad under the house in place, including, thank God, the Jaguar. But I could see that neighboring cottages were a wreck. Nothing life-threatening, of course. The season hadn't started, and I was the only one in residence on the block. And for this moment at least the Gulf of Mexico ended about twenty yards on the inland side of my house rather than forty yards down the beach.

I had no idea how the big guy and Snake had gotten their bikes out of here or where they had gone. I didn't want them back here, but I can't truthfully say that I hadn't enjoy their visit.

After raising the steel shutters around the house and basking in the sunlight now streaming in in the quiet hour after the storm had hit and the hammering of recovery had not yet started, I returned to the dining room table and picked up the copies of the messages. The electricity came back on almost as if on cue, and when I fired up the laptop I saw that the Internet connection was already back in. At least it was back in at my end. I had no idea how Sean had fared during his storm. I briefly felt sorry that he had probably been huddled all alone in the dark and hadn't had a wild, glorious fuck like I'd had.

I read over the message I had written out to send to Sean, and it seemed all so tame and hollow now. I sat down in front of the laptop and started to tap, started to reweave my connection across the globe—to my Sean. All of my attention now on my Australian cyber lover, telling him how his message had fulfilled my dreams.