(I was reminded recently of a well-received story I wrote one year ago, posted on another blog. With the new spring rains, comes a call for revisiting. ‘Tis long for some, yes, but here is Part 1 of 3. Let me know if and when you care to read Acts 2 and 3)
RAIN DANCE - ACT 1
The Unintentional Voyeur
She waited for him like this every day now. It only seemed to happen in the rain. Until it didn’t.
His front path always flooded, getting worse each time, so on stormier days, he began to walk up the rise, and ‘round to the back, passing right by this window, one he never before had reason to peer into. It must have been the light that day, that odd bit of sun, cracking through the dampened shadows, that caught his eye and drew it to the primal motion within.
He was the married man from next door, young, offbeat good-looking, awkwardly dressed in a decent suit, but carrying it off somehow. Quiet, masculine but with a kind face, and shamed, but hungry eyes when first he caught her hand movements through his preoccupation.
Rachel was a relatively recent addition to the neighboring home, an exchange student from the UK, and unabashedly hornier than the day was long. She loved reading sensual stories to the sound of rainfall, but it always made her body’s baser hungers swirl, and eventually her naked core was sending whispered missives to her gathering libido’s fury: “You need to be fucked in the rain…noooowwwww.”
This continually led to dropped books, lowered knickers, and sopping wet, digging fingers. Then, there was a fist in her mouth as she came, as no doubt someone from the host family might hear, if she didn’t muffle her filthy moans.
The two had never formally met, but they had seen one another in passing, nodded, smiled perhaps, in undistracted moments. Imprints were made, but nothing of note was exchanged, as of yet.
After their first drive-by lustfest, Rachel decided she didn’t want to know his situation, or even his name. It sufficed that her lithe form and rampant sexual vibrations were enough to pull this handsome joe away from his homestead reality, which lie only a mere paces away. As for Michael, the moment she unintentionally invaded his consciousness, the honey of her aura seeped into every dusky corner of his being, and the wet bees buzzed inside him incessantly, begging him to taste more and more of it.
The Accidental Incursion
The first time he wandered by the tall, un-shuttered panes, and had his life’s frail framework hijacked by the vision of her, she was in mid-masturbation, half-dressed, panties to her thighs, two fingers circling her slickened clit, then dipping deep and deeper into her levitating cunt’s nest bottom. He watched, mesmerized, and in no time started unconsciously rubbing himself through his trousers, unaware of anything around him, even his own rising heat and flesh.
When Rachel’s tongue lapped at her own mouth, and her teeth imprinted themselves on her bottom lip, she began to tug at the bottom of her shirt to pull it up. He was panting, huffing a circle of fog onto the pane between them, anxiously awaiting the new reveal…. when her eyes popped open. The two froze, locked in disbelief, deer in headlights, not one breath was taken on either side of the barrier… until she recognized his face, and almost half-smiled, unwittingly baring a secret little fantasy she kept about him, never imagining any reality ever to materialize. She’d certainly never envisioned this.
She stayed honed in on his drooling gaze, then, ever so slowly, she began to seductively move her shirt upwards again, letting her petite unharnessed breasts, play peek-a-boo at first, then perk into full view, spiking the electricity already hovering in the damp air. This time, as her rigid nipples emerged, it was he who was chewing at his own lip. The daring partitioned game was now shamelessly afoot.
She watched his every eye flutter and hand move, as she pulled at her nipples on fire, and intently fucked herself with an ever-rising fervor. She had already been close to the edge before he appeared, but now, with his rapt attentions on her every obscene, writhing thrust and tug, his hands’ rhythms soon synched to match hers, as he continued to half-consciously rub the growing bulge through his trousers.
She couldn’t tell if it was rain or precum, but it looked to her like the latter, as a dark spot grew in a widening circle under his belt line. The mere thought of making a man’s cached cockhead so wet, that he would soak right through his wollen suit pants, as she exposed her dirty self-pleasuring self, shot her right over the orgasmic edge. She nearly forgot to stuff her hand in her mouth, as she let out a raw fuck-me moan, that he could hear though the echoing glass.
When her eyes fluttered opened again, and her heart began to ease its pace down from her cum-rocket ride, he was still there. His mouth was open as wide as his raincoat. the stain under his belt had grown even bigger. He hadn’t cum, but his cock must have been soaked in slippery, promising pre-syrup. God, how she wanted to reach through the glass, unzip him and lick him clean.
She arched up from her lying down position, just enough to place her open palm on the glass. But as he reached to match hers on the other side, someone apparently called to him. His head jerked sideways, he yelled something back. When he turned back, his face was beet red, and he was stuttering, trying to speak to the half-clad, encased siren before him, but unable to form the thoughts or the words.
He gestured that he had to go, then his head swiveled away again, to be sure no one saw just where he was. Before he looked one more time at his sultry exhibitionist, she knocked on the glass. He spun back to her gaze, to find her one finger pointing to his belt. He looked down to see the tell-tale pre-cum circle on his suit pants, nodded, smiled as if to thank her, closed his coat securely, and scurried off, craning his neck back, as if to memorize her entirety in the nano-second he had left.
Rachel was deeply grateful that it was forecast to rain all the week long. She waited for him. This time, it would happen on purpose.
He, the good husband, tried to pass by the window without looking, but he heard the raven’s knock once more, and his heart did a triple backflip, half in caught fear, and half in a “I fucking thank the lord” prayer. They stared at one another for a brief eternity. Then, as time began again, she slowly peeled her panties off, as he watched through the glass. Rachel fingered herself, gazing endlessly into the dirty corners of his sexual soul. As she lifted her top to pull at her swollen nipples, she ran her fingers down the glass, begging for him to join her. He looked around, and unzipped himself. He was hard as a jousting pole, and thick and cut and beautiful. And in a wicked heartbeat, once again, he was already dripping in arousal, from the very thought of her.
Oh, how she longed to push her tongue through the glass, then catch his mushroomed head in her teeth… and never let go.
And yes, the window could open, but she knew it was too soon. The desire and the mutual show was enough… for now.
They locked eyes, and willfully bared their filthy, masturbatory trade secrets to each other, as they ferociously steered themselves toward voyuer’d mutual explosions. When she erupted, it made him cum unexpectedly, in jerking, grunting rockabye motions, spraying his seedlust all over her window, the carnal cream sending wafts of musky steam into the cool air.
He was shaken by his own misdeeds, but mostly by the fact that he had never cum so hard in his life before this. And he kew what that meant. He was fucking hooked with no cure in sight. He kept a wary eye out as he lingered, almost too long. But it was just long enough to see her lick her cunt-dipped fingers clean, and gesture to him to taste his own carnal flotsam. He scanned his surroundings first, then mirrored her, tasting himself for another to see, for the first time in his sexually sheltered life.
When he finally zipped up and sidled off slow as molasses, she cracked the window, reached out and stole some of his seed cream from the blushing glass, just to sample the flavor of his sex. Once she had, she knew that she would definitely need more of that; much more.
Third Time’s the Charm
The next day it poured so badly that, even though, in an effort to break the spell and regain his orientation, he’d promised himself he would not go near her window, his front path was a sheer disaster, and left him no choice. He was led back to temptation’s trail, past the siren’s song that oozed from the weeping panes, and dared him not to look as he hurried by.
Never mind that he’d half-consciously left work a little earlier, to make time for today’s ambrosial, peepshow play date. It was his own shuddering guilt that made him want to pretend it had never really happened. With his home in one eye, whipping up his denial, and her window in the other, fondling his crotch like an aggressive street whore, he might have stood in the street for hours unable to move. The rain’s fallout guided him gently to his own blissful ruin.
She was stretched out on the rug, naked but for her white knee socks, reading her book, like a naughty schoolgirl, nonchalantly waiting for her daily disciplinarian’s paddle to her misbehaving rump. And without ever touching herself, the sheer anticipation of his arrival, had droplets from her weeping folds seeping into the carpet. Had he been awaiting behind her, he could have slipped oh, so effortlessly, halfway to her back wall’s paradise, with nary a catch.
She, too, had prepared herself early. It was all she could think of today, because she had plans for them, beyond mere “show and tell and cum”. The taste of his seeded cream, that he left on her sopping surface yesterday, stirred the next level of wanton behavior in her, and she would no longer settle for less.
He tried to rush past, but once again, the ‘nevermore’ knocking rapped at his libido’s consciousness, and his already half-risen cock’s will, spurred on by his own burning denial, made him swivel and gasp to himself. How could she have known about his schoolgirl fetish (‘or did every man have one?’, he wondered). Never mind that. There she was, a Lolita come of age, her perfect little bottom begging to be spanked and breached and ridden. His face was also more than willing to be its perfect settee cushion, if she so desired.
In the first moments, she could see his fixation with her luscious rump, so she arched and wriggled it just enough to make him drop his satchel, and not remember the important papers within. She made one more lethal gesture, tucking her knees close to her hips, head to the pile while facing him, and the wide vee of her thighs, rising in a ‘fuck me now’ arch, as if it were headed for the dripping sky.
He was gone, surrendering to ever base desire he’d ever had, his other existence a mere mist in the thunder, as if he’d stepped into a parallel universe with a different name and life. She rose to kneeling, and faced him, pressed her heated breasts against the cold glass, and kissed the pane at his cock’s level.
She drew a rudimentary penis in her breath’s fog, then licked it. He shook visibly, then looked about like a spy being followed. He unzipped and unleashed. He was full and yes, again with glistening tear-dropped tip. She began to rip at her nipples and spank her own clit, and the lightning fire that ran up and down her flesh made her hips rock and beg for that cockpole, that whispered lewd promises through the forbidden barrier.
He was stroking and dribbling, his eyes fluttering now and then, when he wasn’t making sure that he, the masturbating watcher, was also being watched. The nearness of his other life, and the deeply dangerous game he was playing here, sent his soul into carnal overdrive. He couldn’t believe how much he was obscenely revved up from this act, living a new, dreadfully filthy scenario for real, soon to be blasting a college girl’s portal anew, with his shamelful depravity.
And just as that thought hit him, her hand reached to the floor and unlatched the window. He watched it as if it were occurring in slow motion, and before his mind conceived what was indeed in motion, she leaned out slightly, then her feline fingers slipped under his hand and flicked it away, as they wrapped around the girth of his luscious meat. She began painting her lips with his precum, using his shaft and head like a lip gloss applicator, with a wicked upward gaze.
She doe-eyed him from her naked kneeling place, and he could swear she mouthed the words “I want.” Her lips captured his swollen head, then popped it out again, then she insistently licked into his drooling slit. She began a rhythm, wrap-pop-lick, wrap-pop-lick. He steadied himself on the window’s frame, and once or twice forced himself to look around, though he was too lost in sensation to comprehend anything he saw.
She cupped his balls with an angel’s touch, then suddenly pushed her face into his pubic bone. When his umbrella’d tip punched past her throat’s welcome mat, he let out a long audible “Ohhhhhhhhhhh”. She hummed back in retort, and wiggled her face on him. There would be no turning back now, no matter who might be viewing. He might as well have been a mating dog, knotting and fully locked into his bitch’s nethers. Nothing could remove him from her angelwhore’s assault now.
She took him to the edge of the creamy White Cliffs of Dover and back, over and over, and when he began to mutter obscenities under his breath, she smiled to herself with her mouth full of him. Then she intently pushed her throat to lock onto his mushroom cap, gurgled and wiggled, then shoved a honey-dipped index finger past his boxers, driving it in hard, and wriggling deep into his unsuspecting ass’s tight grip.
He growled much louder then he meant to, and his whole body shook as he emptied a quart of spurting betrayal into his lewd schoolgirl’s gullet. She moaned as she milked every wanton gush from him, letting his cum dribble from the sides of her catnipped grin. He held onto the window’s borders to keep from buckling into the wet pavement below, though how he would do that with the girl’s finger digging into his ass, he hadn’t quite conceived yet.
When she finished, she took his still jumpy cockflesh, and smeared it all over her face, then deftly cleaned his rod off with her tongue, before tucking him back into his shorts, petting his thick meat, then zipping it away…. until another day, she thought.
She smiled up at him, with a face bathed in his sticky syrup, and purred at the sight of him still holding on for dear life. She stood slowly, their eyes whispering secrets to each other in the breathless silence. His gaze strayed for a moment, but only to drink in the visual before him: the face and torso of this ravenous sexual womanchild, soaked in his willful, wanton sperm. He dare not think of more than that in the moment.
She wiped her sticky hands on her luscious bottom, then feathered his hair and pushed his face to her breasts, as if to say, “At least clean those up for me. I’m keeping the face cream.” He suckled her nipples, and licked his spoils from her body’s petite curvatures. She moved him up to her lips and kissed him, then wiped the tell-tale sex gloss from his mouth. For the first time, words were spoken. Only three, slipping like whispering snakes from her cum-washed tongue: “You owe me.”
Once more she smiled and nodded, knowing better than he what he needed in this moment. She buttoned his coat, and turned him in the direction he needed to go, to get back to that reality he lived in without her, next door. He’d almost forgotten how to walk, so she gave him a gentle push, and off he went.
She had no doubt she would be paid back tenfold.
To Be Continued….