X-post from /r/EroticLiterature: The Storm [solo]

It was late. The sun had gone down hours ago even though it stayed light until almost 9:30 in the middle of summer. Outside the walls of the empty house, the city slept. The sounds of cars on the street, dogs barking at people walking by, chirping of birds, even the wind in the trees – they had all died down to near total silence.

This was her time of day, well past midnight, past one, nearly two. Sleep no longer came easily and was still far off. While the rest of the world slept, she would lay awake in bed or sit at her computer in the dark. Her only company now in the dead of night was that cruel, mocking companion called memory.

Her inbox stubbornly refused to receive the emails she was longing for. Games and porn likewise disappointed, so her computer was dark. She lay awake in bed, staring at her ceiling, desperately trying to clear her mind of the memories and thoughts she couldn’t seem to escape.

The sudden gust of wind through the trees caught her attention. She looked out the window at the still swaying tree branches as a second, stronger gust rustled through the leaves. A long, low, gentle roll of thunder seemed to call to her. Slipping out from under the covers, she padded barefoot to the window looking out towards the mountain behind her house. Unseen clouds blotted out the stars, and the only dim light came from far off street lights. Even had they been awake, no one could have seen her naked form looking out the window.

The summer had been dry and hot, and the grass and the trees were thirsty. They could sense the coming moisture, and like a lover welcoming the long-absent object of her desire, they opened their pores to the coming storm. Through the open window, she could smell the arousal of the earth and thirsty plants – the familiar, sensual smell of rain.

Somewhere she had heard it was simple physics and biology – the response of plants to dropping air pressure from an approaching storm. A biologist would say physical arousal was the same sort of physiological reaction to external stimuli. But mere biology didn’t explain the intoxication of love she had felt or the painful longing for it when it’s gone. Physiology didn’t make it any less magical when her lover had filled her with indescribable joy and made her body tingle all over.

The first drops of rain started to fall with a soft pitter-patter, pitter-patter. Each little raindrop fell gently to earth as if not wanting to disturb the slumber of the people and animals below. Doubtless, they would rise in the morning not knowing it had rained at all. No, this rain was for the living things that never sleep – the grass, the trees, the flowers, and seemingly for her.

Memories suddenly came unbidden to her mind. Memories of being a young girl. Memories at first without words or pictures, but the feeling of being young and small, but no longer innocent. The remembered sense that there was something wrong with the world, that the magic had gone out of it, and that she was inexplicably out of place.

But as the memories came into focus, she remembered one time when the world had seemed magical, and innocent, and clean, and good again. She had been out for a solitary walk when a summer storm just like this one had suddenly swept up against the mountains that had been her companions all her life. Before she could seek shelter, her hair and clothes were soaked with rain. She had been worried she would get cold, but it was so warm it had felt like a warm, cleansing shower. She had stopped and looked upwards to the sky with arms stretched wide, just letting that warm rain fall on her skin.

She never told anyone of that afternoon. She hadn’t even thought of that afternoon in years, but she still remembered how good that cleansing rain had felt on her skin and on her soul. She wanted to feel that way again.

Pulling the curtains wide and lifting the window sash to let herself out, she stepped out onto the nearly flat roof outside her window. The wet shingles were rough against her bare skin, but she hardly noticed as she lay down naked under the dark sky. With eyes closed, she focused on the sound and the smell and the feel of the raindrops, mentally opening herself up to the sensations. She cleared her mind of all her worries and cares, and just let it wash over her. In that moment, she could seemingly hear every drop, smell every tree and every blade of grass that was grateful for the moisture, feel every wet impact against her skin. It was as if for the first time in her life, she was truly awake and alive and feeling.

This wasn’t how it had felt when she was a child. Now she was a grown woman lying naked on her roof. She had a woman’s body, with supple, sensual curves as well as a woman’s desires. She knew what it was to fully be a woman, to have her body treated as a woman’s body should be treated and to enjoy all the erotic pleasures of which she was capable. The sensations took on new meaning for her.

The gently blowing breeze felt like the warm, humid breath of her lover whispering in her ear. It seemed to be telling her how beautiful she was, how she needed to forget where and who she was and simply give herself to him. It held the promise of such great pleasure and bliss. The wordless whispers reassured her even as it reminded her of what it had felt like to be kissed and touched and licked all over.

Each drop as it fell was a passionate kiss on her skin as her lover explored her body with his mouth, pleasuring her and delighting in her worship. Warm rivulets of rain alternately formed and ran tantalizingly down the curves of her body. Each felt like the warm, light flick of a tongue teasingly tracing paths across her abdomen, her breasts, her thighs, and between her legs.

She stretched her arms above her, arching her back and spreading her legs slightly. The warm night air and the rain felt delicious on her exposed lips and out-thrust breasts. Instead of feeling cold, she was hot and she was so very wet. There on the roof, lying naked in the storm, exposed to nature, she felt confident and sexy, desirable and wantonly naughty. Her whole body yearned for fulfillment, for more and greater sensations. She embraced the storm, willing it to take her, her anxious anticipation rising and rising towards some unknown climax.

She was at the peak of her desire, every nerve singing with joy yet wanting more. But suddenly and all too soon the storm faltered. “NO!!!” she silently screamed in her head. She focused even harder on the raindrops, trying to get every last bit of pleasure from them even as they slowed to a stop.

And then it was gone. Suddenly aware of the tension holding her body taught, she relaxed against the roof. Far off, she heard the distant roll of thunder as the storm slid over the mountains. She felt exhilarated, but the passion the storm had stoked inside her was still unfulfilled. It was amazing foreplay, it the storm had led to nothing but frustration.

It was only when she opened her eyes that she realized the rain running down her face, wasn’t rain any more, but her tears. Her heart ached with wordless longing, not for a someone, but for a something she couldn’t explain. With teary eyes she watched as the clouds slinked away to reveal the starry, moonless sky.

The storm had been hers and it had thrilled her inside and out. She wanted it back. She wanted that storm to thrill her again and again, and to fulfill her desires, but all she could do was watch it go. She couldn’t hold onto her storm any more than she could bottle the clouds in the sky.

As she climbed back through her window and slipped between the sheets of her bed, she knew she would never be the same. She would never forget the night she exposed herself to the world and let a storm take her on her roof. And as the tears started anew, she knew there would never be another night like tonight. There would never be another storm like the one she had just loved so briefly and passionately. She would always wish she had had just a little while longer with her stormy lover.

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/20t29r/xpost_from_reroticliterature_the_storm_solo

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