Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition (3 page)

The
sound of our wet bodies meeting, hard and fast, was a charm against
danger. Martin threw back his head, letting the rain wash his face,
and I felt him get larger inside me. He slammed his cock into me,
over and over, until he felt me start to tighten around him again in
another impending climax. With a shout, he came deep inside me, and I
went with him, a sweet release.

I
pulled him back down to me and kissed him, slowly and sweetly, and
then wrapped my arms around him, his weight familiar and comforting
on me. He put his head next to mine on the ground, and said, "I
love you, baby."

"I
love you, too," I answered. Then I felt the gentle benediction
of the rain on my face and knew the chaos had been pushed back—and
kept away from me—once again.

~
~ ~ ~

Thunder
Beach

©
Dranoel

A
tear rolled down her cheek. She stared for a long moment. Another
tear fell, then another. Then it was like rain. She remained silent.

I
was at a loss; unable to discern her emotions. I began to think I
had, once again, said the wrong thing at the wrong time. All through
my life, I seemed to have had a knack for it: an inappropriate joke
when I should have been serious or serious when I should have just
laughed and let it go. I began to feel that familiar pain—that
pain that accompanies the heart being torn apart.

*
* * *

It
was our first real vacation together. We had been seeing each other
for nearly a year and while we had spent many nights together—and
a weekend here and there, this was the first time we had a chance to
be together for an extended period of time.

I
was nervous at first. Could we spend that much time in constant
contact without hating each other? Would I get on her nerves? For
weeks before I wracked my brain searching for bad habits, studying
everything I did, trying to find the slightest thing that would turn
her away. Finally I realized, if she loved me those things would mean
nothing, and if she had flaws they were already lost to me.

Our
week together had been perfect. We flew to St. Thomas, where I had
booked a condo on the north side of the island overlooking Magen's
Bay. Between the beach, snorkeling, tours to Blackbeard's Castle, and
all the resorts amenities, we stayed pretty busy—never leaving
each other's side and making love anywhere and anytime we could get
away with it.

Now,
on our last night here, I knew it was time to make that final
commitment. We went to dinner at The Petite Pump Room in Charlotte
Amalie, where I requested a quiet booth in the corner. During dinner
she snuck her hand into the pocket of my slacks, caressing and
squeezing my excited manhood through the cloth of my pocket. I looked
her in the eyes and whispered, "What you are looking for is not
in there."

She
looked confused, "Oh, I'm pretty sure I want this."

"I'm
sure you do, but I think there is something more you want, and it is
not in my pants."

She
continued her ministrations while looking even more confused. I
repeated, "What you are looking for is not in there. You might
try looking in my shirt pocket."

She
tugged her hand out of my pants and sat for a moment, simply staring
at me. Her hand went to my left breast pocket and slipped inside, her
curious stare transformed into an expression of genuine shock. Her
jaw dropped, mouth agape, she slowly retrieved the ring from my
pocket and sat staring at it. That's when the tears began to fall.

She
raised her head, looking me straight in the eyes and whispered a
single word.

My
heart seemed to register it before my brain could process her answer.
The self-induced damage to my heart disappeared, and I felt
absolutely blissful. There was applause from all around me—other
patrons signaling their approval. Patricia threw herself at me,
wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me deeply. Her cheek
slid over mine and I felt another tear fall where our cheeks pressed
together. I am unsure if it was hers or mine, perhaps both. I know my
own tears began to fall when she repeated her answer in my ear.

"Yes."

There
was no sense attempting to finish our meal. We were both too
overwhelmed to eat. I paid the bill, left a generous tip, and we left
to another round of applause.

Taking
my hand in hers, she led me through the lot, past the rental car, and
onto the beach. The late fall sunset was always spectacular. That
night the overcast sky amplified the color ten fold. We kicked off
our shoes and began walking along the cool wet sand at the edge of
the surf's reach. She put her arm around my back and held me tight as
we walked. I returned in kind, and she laid her head on my shoulder
as we strolled.

It
was nearly dark when we reached the point at the mouth of the harbor.
Crabs, chased by the surf, skittered up the beach. As we turned back,
she stopped me. Looking deeply into my eyes, she was silent. I opened
my mouth to speak but she quickly covered it. She gazed at the ring
on her finger. I kissed her palm, and she replaced her hand with her
lips.

I
felt a drop of something wet on my cheek. Not a tear, it was cold.
Then there was another, and the shower began. Thunder rolled in the
distance, and a jagged steak split the darkness far out over the
water. Patricia looked up at the sky and laughed. She loved the rain
and a thunderstorm was heaven.

She
kissed me again; a wry smile curled her lips.

Taking
my hands, she danced around me in a circle, giggling, her wet dress
clinging to her skin as the rain came down harder. Dizzy, we both
fell on the wet sand, kissing and laughing.

Straddling
me, she looked down into my eyes, her face drawn with desperate
longing. She began quickly unbuttoning my shirt. I started to
protest, but she again covered my mouth.

"No.
No more words tonight. You have already said all I ever needed to
know."

She
leaned down kissing me lightly on the lips. I caught her as she
started to sit up, pulling her back down and kissing her deeply. She
pulled away slightly and smiled, and I knew there was no arguing.

Lightning
flashed again, closer, the wind driving the chilly rain hard against
our skin. She pulled her dress over her head, shaking out her long
dark hair as she dropped the wet garment on the ground. Cold rain
poured down her bare breasts, dripping off her aroused nipples. I
couldn't resist taking a drink.

Sitting
up, I cupped her breasts in my hands and teased her nipples with my
tongue. My hands, covered in wet sand, dragged down the smooth skin
leaving a gritty trail that the rain slowly washed away.

She
slid back, grinding her crotch on my still covered erection, sending
chills up my spine. I fell back as she moved farther down my legs,
reaching for the buckle on my belt. Deftly opening my jeans she
reached inside as another flash of lightning lit the sky. Thunder
rumbled, and I felt a tingling throughout my body, whether from her
touch or the reaching electricity of the storm I did not know. Nor
did I care.

She
slipped down to my ankles, pulling my jeans and briefs with her. I
pulled my feet back and she removed them, tossing them carelessly to
the side. Even the cold drops of rain pouring down on me could not
deter my desire—nor hers. It seemed, in fact, to drive us on.
She bowed forward at the hips, again taking my manhood in her hands.
I shivered and rolled my head back on the sand as the heat of her
mouth encompassed me. Her tongue licked back and forth along the
underside of my glans, causing me to tense at the sensations coursing
through me. She pulled away momentarily; her long, wet tresses
dragging across my skin, allowing me to relax slightly before
engulfing me again. I could feel her throat contracting around the
head as she gulped.

Another
flash of lightning split the air, the tingling stronger this time, as
she crawled back to my lips, dragging her hardened nipples up my
belly. She sucked at my lips as I rolled, taking her onto her back.
Kneeling between her open thighs, I rubbed my hand over her belly and
down to her steaming sex. Her body jerked as my thumb brushed over
her swollen clit, the pouring rain splashed on her skin as her
throaty cry coerced my yearning. Her hips rocked upwards, imploring
me to fill her. I obliged, lifting her hips to me, I rubbed the head
at her slit, teasing as she begged me.

A
small jolt of electricity from anther bolt of lightning surged
through us, our bodies crashed together as our muscles tightened from
the shock. Now adrenaline took over. Our hips quickly found a common
rhythm, gaining power and speed to a ferocious song of wind and
thunder. I bent down kissing at her breasts as her hips gyrated
against me. Her hands dug into the sand, screaming her pleasure above
the din of the storm. My legs kicked out straight as another bolt of
lightning wracked our bodies. Falling heavily on her, my hips
impacted hers again, shaking her.

Her
arms wrapped around my neck, rubbing sand across my shoulders, our
bodies continued, increasing the tempo. I kissed hotly on the nape of
her neck, feeling the contrast of cold rain on my back and her warm
flesh under me. She gasped, her body twitching as she wrapped her
legs around me, pulling me hard into her. Wind driven waves lapped
coldly at our feet. My legs tensed as I felt the rush of my orgasm,
her telltale shudders giving announcement of her own.

She
cried out as another blast of lightning ripped through us, our bodies
tensed and frozen as nerves jangled from the mix of electricity from
rapture and nature.

Lying
tangled and senseless, our hearts pounding and breathing ragged, the
storm quickly blew over. It was some time before either of us had the
strength to move. The clouds parted and the stars lit the beach as we
gathered ourselves and walked—exhausted—to the car.

*
* * *

Our
friends often comment that they are surprised by our loving, blissful
relationship. Telling us often that they don't see the storms in our
marriage that others seem to endure.

We
simply smile at them.

~
~ ~ ~

Identity

©
Liar

Who
are you?

What
is this mockery

of
Venice that I see?

Surrealism
and sound-bytes on a screen?

Still
not the real deal, still not me,

still
just a pixel storm, fictional flurry on TV.

This
is not where I coughed

on
the linger of my first Havana

under
a purple balcony, not where I kissed

the
sun and her neck equally, leaned against

cast
iron and raised rock in Louie Park shade.

This
is not where I chased laughter through alleys,

across
a busy Canal, cornered a giggle in a gateway.

Not
she and me on a blanket,

listening
to freestyling in Lafayette,

sharing
stolen moments of softness

where
all eyes could see.

Not
black rum on cane sugar beds,

not
turning heads, defying clichés,

not
implausible hands on impeccable

skin
in impossible heat, day fading

to
distant blues, her chests rhythm

in
a street light glittering sheen,

by
pulled aside, too damp sheets.

You
share a silhouette

with
a piece of me.

But
New Orleans you are not.

How
could you be?

~
~ ~

Wet
Panties?

©
Will Belegon

I
put down my book with a shrug and a sigh. If I don't get through this
tonight, there will be hell to pay in class tomorrow. So everyone in
the dorms feels the need to drop by and chat, of course. This is the
last time I answer this door tonight.

"Susan?
Honey, what's wrong?" My attitude changes immediately when I see
her face. She has obviously been crying. I don't think she's finished
either, if I judge that look correctly.