Deluge

My clit throbs as I listen to the patter of raindrops hitting the window. The southern coast is notorious for these summer thunderstorms: wild, imposing, torrential downpours the likes of which you simply do not see in other parts of the country. These storms appear out of nowhere, and can last anywhere from a minute to several days. Rain falls in huge drops, with enough force to cause pain like needles pummeling bare skin.

The combination of the negative ions from the rain, and the positive ions from the wind that delivers it, creates an eerie, restless, feral energy that can be unsettling for some people. The feminine forces of Nature and the Moon collaborate with an imposing force that supersedes everything else; roads get washed out, entire neighborhoods get flooded in the course of a few minutes, because the rain falls so fast and hard, the ground cannot absorb it fast enough. I love this energy; I thrive on it and find it intoxicating and a stimulant for creative inspiration. It also makes me unbearably horny, and I wish more than anything that you were here with me now.

Alone in my house, with only the storm and my own thoughts for company, I sit by the window and let the deluge wash over my mind. A storm of this caliber teases each of my senses, coaxing all that restless energy from a hum to a roar; building and expanding inside me with a single-minded insistence that penetrates my cerebral barriers with the ease of cracking an egg. The tender yoke of desire within, so delicate yet surprisingly malleable, is squeezed until it bursts, saturating me with undiluted, unpasteurized need, so raw and slippery it cannot be contained. I can feel it seeping out of me, and I yearn for you with a painful intensity that rivals the torrential force of the rain itself.

I need you. I need you so fucking badly at this moment, and the knowledge that I can't have you does nothing to quell the lust that courses through me like an electric current. I am pulled into a trance-like state, much as I am when I am in your clutches; the hypnotic effect of the rain finds and flips the same switch that you control, each time your eyes burn into mine as you are reclaiming my body, feeding my soul.

But without access to your ministrations, the trance that usually feels like a sacred rite, a celestial blessing, becomes instead an exercise in torment and deprivation. My entire body quivers like a single exposed nerve, a tightly-coiled rope ready to snap at the slightest pressure.

A lightning bolt slashes through the oblivion, illuminating the sky just outside the window. The accompanying thunderclap explodes into being a moment later, with an amplified force that I feel in every cell in my body. Although I anticipated the inevitable thunder, its arrival still makes me jump out of my skin. Goosebumps cover me, raising the tiny hairs on my arms and hardening my nipples into tight little buds.

I caress them through the flimsy, slippery fabric of my robe, then slide my hands inside so I can pinch and squeeze. My nipples pucker even more, and I wish fervently that you were here to kiss them. My own fingers are poor substitutes for yours, and not even worthy of comparison to your mouth; that diabolical vessel of dark magic comprised of lips and tongue and teeth, with which you assault me with such precision and skill that I surrender completely to your will. Spellbound, happily incarcerated in a cell of joyful, sensual insanity.

It is only when you are unavailable to me that this curse of being possessed by lust truly feels like a prison. I know better than to allow myself to need you, and I am careful to ensure that my occasional lapses in adherence are strictly of a sexual nature. In reality, while you are gratified to know how badly I need to be fucked by you, we both know that you are not mine to need.

Our arrangement has always been one of feast or famine, and I certainly do not belittle or take for granted the portions I am served. Each and every morsel is savored and swallowed with gratitude for a generous benefactor. My insatiability is neither your fault nor your responsibility, after all, yet we both know you and you alone keep me from starving.

The next One-Two Punch of Lightning and Thunder hits, this time indiscernibly close; I am right in the eye of the storm now. The sharp crack of noise sends my hand sliding down reflexively to cup my pussy. My clit is rock-hard and feels swollen, the closest I can experience to having an erection. Squeezing and rubbing would provide some relief, but I am too wet and slippery to get a good enough grip. So instead, I straighten my fingers and administer a hard smack to my aching, throbbing clit, then another for good measure.

My need for you is so potent now, magnified by desperation and deprivation, that if you appeared right this moment, it would no longer be enough. I would need 3 of you now, or at least would require your cock in triplicate. I need to feel your hands gripping my head, holding me in place while you fuck my mouth. I need to feel you pushing my thighs further apart while you pound my juicy pussy. I need to feel you squeezing my ass cheeks while you slide deep into my tight-yet-greedy asshole. I need to feel your cum pouring into me, bathing me as the rain bathes the world outside. God, how I need you.

I rest my forehead against the window, my feverish skin cooled by the contact with the half inch of glass which separates me from the tumultuous display of Nature which rages on. Leaning against the glass, I slide two fingers into my hungry, swollen pussy. Fueled by the storm and the images of you fucking me, which flicker through my mind on a loop, I stroke my pussy harder and faster, fucking myself with wild abandon until spasms overtake me in an explosion of light.

As I catch my breath and wait for my legs to stop shaking, I notice the rain is starting to subside. The sun is already poking through in laser-bright pinpricks, and in a moment it will all be over...for now. I lament the shameful waste of a glorious summer storm weathered alone, but console myself with the reminder that, this time of year, there is always another storm approaching. Perhaps we can chase the next one together.