It was the perfect moment to open the windows: rain was beginning to din on the balcony, gently splashing all three of my plants. Soon, the rain flooded the streets with hundreds of small tin-tinn sounds, soaking and cooling the ground, the building, and my tiny balcony. The drain pipe echoed the sound of rushing water. You were having fun. Your window must have also been open because I heard the small lights around your window panes rattle against the wall, I heard music, and then I heard you. Moaning. Through the frenzy of guitars and rain, the sound of two bodies in love cut cleanly against the tintinnabulation of this monsoon shower. And I heard you exclaiming to the beat, “More, more…. I will have all of it….”
Abandoning my three plants, I hopped on to my bed and listened. I laid in bed imagining you in yours. A feeling of heat like the spice of cinnamon grew and spread across my body, down to the bottom of my feet. A shiver ran through me. It sharpened my awareness of the softness of my comforter, its cleanness, the press of clothes on my skin, their fit, and the sweet heat between my thighs.
I wonder if you got what you wanted.
My pants came off. I sank into the tin-tinn of the rain. Hearing and sensing your pleasure, I closed my eyes as you purred, “yes… yes….” The sound of your two bodies mingled with the rain, but never got lost. Then, you commanded, “Faster, faster… that’s it… ” The tattoo of your bodies at work grew slower, but not slow. “Oh, fuck…. There… there… there… “ The tattoo followed your beat. I started touching myself. First, running my hands across the lines of my body: strong and warm, curved there, just so, then clean lines. Soon, I got to the dangerous parts. My hands began to move in the way they know so well, but this time following that beat–your beat. There was a slap. “Oh, yeah,” you spoke. My body grew hotter, delighting in the movement. I nibbled my lower lip, savoring the gentle pain. “I love it. Take me,” you choked. My breathing deepened, grounding me in the middle of this rain.
“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.” I caught a bit of well-hidden desperation there. The desperation of a hungry thing, just like me right now. Now following their own beat, my hands continued their work and my sense of pleasure grew. A pulse of gratification rippled across my body. I brought my hand to my mouth, tasting myself–also adding a bit of lubrication. My hand rejoined its partner, adding to the drip of pleasure, expanding it to a downpour then to an ocean. My pleasure built until it was beyond anything a person could hold. I braced myself. And I heard, the faintest whisper: “Oh, I’m cumming… fuck…” A feeling like the shock of cold water rushed across my body, a wave of heat and warmth followed it, and the wave crashed. My body spasmed and quivered, then laid still.
I took a deep breath. The air, sweeter for the rain. I breathed again. The tin-tinn of the rain came back into focus. I smiled. Lying in bed, drunk on myself, thinking of you, and imagining others like us. An enraptured sense of connection swelled over me. I thought of all of us in this rain finding the simple pleasures within easy reach. I laughed, burying myself under the blanket, imagining future of rainy afternoons.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/kl60mx/listening_solo_fiction