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The Perfect Spy

By: balboa_rain



That's odd. Teresa said she was going to Deborah's for an acupuncture treatment. Then why did I see her turning left at the corner and circling back into our development from the other side? She certainly wasn't coming home so where was she going? Curious, I jumped on my bike and pedaled in the direction she had gone. Peculiarly, I spotted her car parked outside a home not a quarter mile from our place. It backed onto the green belt, so I was able to go around the outside and look in the back. A hillside slanted up away from the green belt, so leaving the bike near the path, I made my way up the hill to a point that allowed me to see into the person's back yard. From there I could clearly see the patio, part of the kitchen and living room, and most importantly, the master bedroom.

Which was where Teresa was at the moment, in the arms of another man! Her top was already pushed up over her breasts, allowing him to manipulate them as they kissed fervently. They broke apart, allowing my wife to go to her knees to take the cock she had just freed into her mouth. I now recognized the man; his name was Cristo, and he worked as an interpreter for various businesses and on occasional government contracts. We'd bumped into him several times in the neighborhood, and he seemed to be an interesting guy; well traveled, amusing, and conversant in five languages. Of course, at the moment, it was my sexy wife who was displaying her oral skills.

Watching Teresa's head bobbing up and down enthusiastically, I found myself wondering how long this had been going on. We had only moved into the neighborhood some five months ago; with our son finally launched (sort of) we decided to downsize in order to save some money as my wife was now cutting back to half-time employment until retirement. Now as I watched her take a much younger man's much larger cock repeatedly into her mouth, I realized two things: Teresa had found a way to fill those two extra free days a week she now had, and she didn't plan on downsizing everything in her life.

Cristo had finished undressing as he enjoyed the blowjob, and now he helped my wife shed the rest of her clothing. Jumping onto the bed, they got into a 69 position, feasting on each other's groins in a manner that made it clear this was not the first time they had tasted one another. It was Teresa that pushed the matter further by flipping herself around so she could take his rock-hard cock deep into her pussy as she rode him; her hands pushed down on his muscled chest to raise herself up before crashing down on his dick with an abandon that amazed me. The only thing that stopped me from taking out my dick and jerking off to the sight of my sexy hot wife was the fact I was sitting on a fairly open hillside in broad daylight. All I could do was rub the front of my shorts as I enjoyed one of the wildest acts of lovemaking I had ever seen.

Teresa actually kept up her cowgirl ride for almost ten minutes, leading me to believe she had been getting this kind of 'work out' often enough that her endurance was much improved. Maybe this was what she meant by 'acupuncture'. Tired as she seemed to be, my wife was having no difficulty taking him on doggy-style. Indeed, from what I could see, she seemed to still be doing a great deal of the work; pushing back into him lustily while circling her butt rapidly enough to give her core muscles one hell of a working over. I had noticed she had been looking fitter since she'd gone half time; I just wished I had seen a lot more of her weight loss program before now. I'd been encouraging her for years to take a lover or two. At first she thought I was trying to open up our marriage so I could also sleep with women, but I assured her I just wanted to watch her make love to other men. This appealed to her as a fantasy, but she had always insisted she wasn't interested in making it a reality and that she didn't have the time. Apparently, having the time has created a huge interest.

Cristo made the fuck last another 15 or so minutes, sometimes slowing down and teasing my wife with shallow, circular movements or staying deep inside her while crouching down on top of her so he was able to grab her full breasts with both hands. These would be alternated with a slamming, frantic thrusting that sent her boobs flying frantically in all directions while her face flashed from grimace to wide-open, full mouth screams. Sometimes I could even hear them through the closed windows. Finally, during one of those fast-fucking sessions, he must have cum because Teresa collapsed on the bed exhausted, leaving him the freedom to buckle right on top of her. 

They lay like that for five minutes, dead to the world, before Teresa began to squirm. Cristo got off her, but neither got up right away. Instead, they kissed for several minutes before Teresa got up and began to slip into her clothes. I didn't think she'd head home right away, but I couldn't take any chances, so I slid down the hill, grabbed my bike, and retreated to our house, thinking how lucky I was to have seen all I had seen (and especially to have no one walk by)!

My wife didn't return home right away that day, allowing me the chance to jerk off with my recent visions of her getting royally fucked fresh in my mind. Over the next month or so, I had lots of great jerk-off sessions picturing the two of them together. Even better, I was able to catch them several times in the act. Once I was aware of the affair, it became easier to figure out when my wife was heading over to Cristo's place. Her lust for him was such that she became more and more sloppy about covering her trial. Her excuses, especially the ones she came up with at night, were unconvincing, and she often came home directly from him still smelling of sex. She was secure enough in the habits of our sex lives that she didn't think I would ever question her fidelity. Part of me wished she was secure enough to tell me about her young lover, but a six-inch part of me loved the secret voyeurism. Spying on them was even hotter since they were unaware they were being observed.

I was able to watch them four other times during the next month, so the images were constantly being refreshed. The best times were the two at night, for a couple of reasons. First of all, they had the windows open both times, so I was able to hear the sound of their lovemaking. (I guess they figured there was no harm in letting neighbors hear them at night, since no one could see Teresa arrive. She would pull into his garage for their nighttime assignations.) Secondly, the extra time they had allowed Cristo to show off not only his stamina, but also his recuperative powers. Both times he came in my wife twice and they spent over an hour making love. The third, and most important, reason was I could jerk off uninterrupted on the hillside as they went at each other like horny teenagers. It wasn't very comfortable, but it was dark enough that I couldn't be seen from the path, so I whacked off like . . . well, like a horny teenager, I guess.

It was the next month while I was watching them make love at night that everything changed. I was up on the hillside in my normal perch watching Teresa riding Cristo reverse cowgirl style. This positioned her so she was facing right at me, allowing me to enjoy the sight of my sexy wife's breasts bouncing erotically each time she slid down on his throbbing cock. The windows were open again, letting me hear not only her erotic moans and groans, but also the slapping sound of flesh against flesh. She was getting a hell of a workout when all of a sudden the skies opened up; the rain they had been calling for all day finally came down with a vengeance. Pants around my ankles, I scooted over to a nearby tree in the hopes of avoiding a complete drenching. Cursing, I struggled to pull up my pants while ducking beneath the branches, forgetting all about my cheating wife down below.

"Derek, come on in here! You're going to get soaked if you keep watching us from up there!" Shocked, I looked down to see Teresa yelling out the window up the hill. How long had she known?

"Come on, honey . . . we'll let you watch us from inside from now on. Hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much. Hurry up, the door's unlocked." With that, my super-sexy wife climbed back onto the bed, leaving me scrambling down the hillside, perplexed, excited, and happy I had married such a delightfully sneaky woman.

The Perfect Storm



"Okay, I guess there's nothing we can do about it," she said worriedly into her cell phone. "Yeah, well, we kind of predicted this might happen. Yeah, I love you too baby." She hit the end button on her cell phone. "Well, it looks like they're stuck." 

Craig looked up from the magazine that he was reading and gave a smirk and returned, "Yeah, well, we thought that might happen."

"Yeah, well, it still sucks," she said.

The storm that was predicted in northern Ohio hit like a ton of concrete. It was ironic considering Denise and Craig were in a cabin in Colorado awaiting their spouses ands so that they could enjoy a week-long ski vacation. Denise' husband Roger and Craig's wife Jennifer had to make an unexpected detour prior to the vacation to visit their very sick grandmother in Cleveland. Denise and Craig had gone ahead to the cabin, considering that the reservation had already been paid and the two siblings Roger and Jennifer along with their parents would soon arrive. After the visit to Grandma, the others would catch a flight out to Denver where Denise and Craig would pick them up to start what they had planned and expected to be a fun week with family. Now, it looked like the start of the fun would have to wait at least another day.

Craig looked at the clock. "Well, it's 5:20. You hungry," he asked Denise.

Denise looked at him as if he was speaking another language. "What," she asked. Then the concern seemed to drain from her face. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just that Roger and I don't get too many chances to spend quality time together and I was really looking forward to spending this week making up for the lost time. He's just been so busy at work. It's like we've become strangers lately."

Craig gave his sister a sympathetic look. "Hey, they'll be here tomorrow. Don't worry anymore about it. It's not like worrying will get them here any faster." He walked over to the couch she was sitting at and put his hand on her shoulder. "Just because they're stuck in the snow in Cleveland doesn't mean we can't have some fun. Go upstairs and get dressed. We're going out to a nice restaurant and, if you're up to it, we'll go dancing at the club I saw on the shuttle drive in. Sound good?"

A smile slowly spread across her face. "Okay. I guess there's really no use sitting around here." Denise got up and passed in front of him and picked up a light jog as she trotted up the stairs to her and Roger's room. He turned his head and watched the key areas of her body bounce as she moved up the stairs. The truth is he and Jennifer hadn't spent a lot of time with Roger and Denise. Roger got a job in Tampa right before they got married two years ago and they lived there since. He and Jennifer lived in Nashville where he worked as an event promoter and she as a nurse. Denise's statements earlier really hit home. He and Jennifer had spent very little time together lately as well. He was really looking forward to getting reacquainted with his wife this trip; in so many ways. 

"Oh well," he thought to himself, "at least now I'll have an opportunity to get to know Denise." To say he didn't know his sister was an understatement. She met his brother-in-law Roger while they were in grad school together earning their MBAs. He had seen her at the wedding, of course, but they had never had the opportunity to talk, just the two of them. Now, they were stuck together. His brother-in-law Roger was what Craig liked to call "a piece of work". He was eight years younger than he and Jennifer. That alone caused a little tension between the three of them, but Roger's playboy ways really made him and Jennifer cringe every time they saw him. Roger was confident, and since he got his MBA, he really played up the successful businessman image. His 6'2", handsome face, and muscular body only accentuated his cocky demeanor. Frankly, Craig thought he was a tool, but kept his tongue around Jennifer. The worst part about it all is they were both sure that he was being unfaithful to his wonderful wife Denise, only two years into their marriage.

Craig thought about Denise now. Craig was nine years older than her, at 33 years of age. He'd never really taken time to look at her as anything more than a sister of sorts. Until only a couple of minutes earlier as she trotted up the stairs, he hadn't noticed how attractive she was. He estimated her height at 5'4". She had an ass that definitely filled a pair of jeans, but her relative youth meant that there wasn't much jiggle in her step. It rested above some solid legs, built as a college swimmer, and below a 23-inch waist. Her breasts were also easy on the eyes. She probably wore a 33 to 34 C bra he guessed. The best part was how pert they seemed. When she wore a t-shirt, it was very clear that her breasts were solid and her nipples rested high on each breast. Craig allowed himself to think it finally—Denise was a knockout. 

Craig tilted the glass of water toward his lips as he decided what the plan was for the night. He was dressed in some nice slacks and a button-up shirt. They'd go to the lodge restaurant and have some drinks and good Italian meal. Then they'd walk down to the club and do some dancing. At best, it would calm Denise's nerves and at worst, at least they'd get out of the cabin.

Then, there she was. Denise walked down the stairs slowly, especially with the three-inch heels she was wearing. She was wearing a one-piece silk black dress and besides the ankle bracelet that she wore on her right ankle, it didn't look like much else. She wore her brown hair up, exposing a beautiful neck, gorgeous tanned shoulders, and a very, very sexy cleavage exposed by the very low hanging cut of the silk dress that clung to her braless torso. Denise's smile was worth a million bucks. She knew she looked good tonight.

"Wow, what's the occasion? You look gorgeous." Craig looked at her stunned. He looked stunned and a little more than self-conscious. Though staring at her, he started to think about how he'd look beside this prize. He thought about his 5'9" frame with his small pooch belly. He had been an athlete in high school and had worked out to keep himself fit, but had laid off as he moved into his thirties. Now, he'd be standing next to one of the most gorgeous women that he'd ever met. And since he had never really looked at her in a sexual way and had never spent that much time with her, it was like he was meeting her for the first time.

"Thank you. I wanted to wear this the first night just to get Roger, uh, going." The statement with the huge hint of sexual innuendo made her blush a bit.

"Well, I guess I'm the lucky one," he responded.

Dinner was wonderful. Craig noticed the many looks that she was getting from around the room. She put her arm in his as they walked to their seats and Craig was the proudest guy in Colorado. He said as much to her and felt the pleasure of her giggling coyly and pushing her left breast into his upper right arm. Denise daintily ate her pasta as she talked about her job and her and Roger's new house.

"Well, it's too bad that Roger couldn't see you tonight. I'm sure that he'd have no problem getting going," Craig said, alluding to the comment that had made her blush earlier.

Denise smiled and said, "Thank you Craig. It's really nice to hear that." She then looked down and took a more serious tone. "Do you and Jennifer ever lose that, you know, spark?"

He thought for a second and then answered, "Sure Denise. It happens to the best of couples. Jennifer and I go through spells where we just get busy and forget what's important." He didn't want to take it any further, but he wanted to at the same time. He felt strange.

"Well, Roger and I are going through a 'spell'. Sometimes I wonder if he even notices me," she said as her bottom lip started to quiver. Craig instantly thought about the suspicions he and Jennifer had about Roger.

"I wouldn't worry about it. If he were here, he'd say what everybody else in this place knows: you are the hottest woman here." He couldn't believe he said what he just said. There was an uncomfortable silence and tension between them.

She broke it. "You are so good to me Craig. Jennifer is so lucky to have you. It looks like for tonight though, I'm the lucky one." She paused and then said, "Let's forget about my issues tonight. We're going to have some fun. And I have the check!" 

Despite his protests, she paid for their meals and drinks. Before they left, Denise swallowed her entire refilled glass of red wine and once again locked her arm in his as they walked out of the restaurant and toward the club.

They got to the club early. There were a few couples dancing to a piano that was being played by a stereotypical lounge player. Despite looking his part, he played really well. Instantly, Denise went to the bar and bought them both some mixed drinks. Her margarita was a double and it was very apparent that it was having an effect on her. As time went on and more drinks flowed, Denise's mood started to lighten even more. She was laughing at most everything that Craig was saying and slowly but surely, any tension between the two totally dissipated. "Let's go dance brother."

As the piano player played soft jazz, Denise threw her arms around Craig's neck and swayed as his hands rested on her hips. Craig checked his earlier suspicions about her underwear and feeling small strings wrapped around her waist, guessed that Denise was wearing a thong under the dress that clung to her every curve. He definitely hadn't noticed a panty line. Craig was more than a little caught off-guard when Denise turned around and leaned back into his chest. He was staring down the front of his sister's dress, surprised at the fantastic view of her cleavage. Despite the straps over her shoulders, it seemed that only Denise's small, extended nipples were holding her dress up. Then, he felt her right hand go to his right hip and pull him towards her very inviting ass as she pushed back against his crotch. Her swaying was intoxicating to him as the back of her head rested on his right shoulder with her eyes squinted.

The song ended and they clapped along with the few other couples there and headed back to their seat. On the way there, Craig felt his phone vibrate. "I'm going to take this," he said to her and she acknowledged.

Jennifer was on the other end. "Hey baby. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there tonight."

"It's alright. I'm getting to know Denise. We went out to dinner and now we're trying to relax," he told her.

"Oh yeah, where are you at," she asked.

"At a little jazz club near the lodge," he answered as he stepped out of the club for a second and motioned to the bouncer that he'd be right back in after the call.

"That's good. I have to tell you something that might not shock you. Roger and I were talking when visiting Grandma Sara and he hinted to me that he's been screwing around. I pushed and he admitted it. I actually think he was a little proud because he hadn't been caught yet. The bastard. I asked him if he was going to tell Denise and he said 'hell no.' Anyway, I feel so bad for the girl. She seems like such a sweet girl."

"Yeah, well, that sucks. I don't know what to say. I guess he'll have to carry that around with him," he tried to make conversation.

"Well, show her a good time. Show her how a real gentleman acts. I'll be in tomorrow to reward you," she said.

"Alright baby. I'll wait for you guys to call before we leave for the airport. I love you. Be safe," he ended the call and went back into the club.

Replacing the soft piano music was the sound of thumping club music as the night had reached the point that a DJ would play the tunes. He was shocked when he found Denise. 

She was on the club's dance floor with her hands rubbing the midsection of a tall young man who was obviously enjoying the attention. Craig glanced down and saw that he had inserted his right thigh between her legs. The young man with short black hair then pulled her close to him by putting his right hand to the small of her back. She put her left arm around his waist and rhythmically started to grind her crotch against his leg. Occasionally, she would throw her head back with her eyes closed. Denise was biting her lower lip and occasionally parted them obviously exhaling hard, bringing her nipples very near the cusp of the top of her dress as the bottom pulled between her legs. The song pumped for what seemed like forever. Then, she reached up with her right hand and let down her brown shoulder-length hair.

As the song changed, she seemed a bit exasperated as he leaned forward and whispered something in her ear as they stood close together. She had a huge smile on her face as she looked down toward the ground and his lips moved against her ear. She had her right hand on his upper chest during his one-sided conversation. Her left hand alternated between resting on the thigh between her legs or behind his back. Then, the young man took his right hand and began to rub the back of Denise's left thigh. He let the hand drift up and despite the dim lighting, Craig could now see Denise's exposed left ass cheek. Occasionally, the bottom of the dress would cover her ass again, but would always move back up to show her beautiful left ass cheek. Suddenly, she threw her head back in a large laugh and pushed back on the young man with her right hand. With that, their dance was over. He smiled as she held her hand over her laughing mouth and waved back behind her and walked toward Craig who was sitting at a nearby table.

"Whew! Craig, this was a great idea. I am hot," she spoke loudly trying to be heard over the music.

"Yes, you are," Craig exclaimed.

"No, I mean 'hot' as in temperature." Despite the black silk, Craig could see a small sweat stain had appeared at the small of Denise's back. In addition, Craig noticed a small wet stain at the spot on her dress that had been between her legs. In her inebriated state, though, Denise didn't notice. Denise stood behind her chair and leaned against it catching her breath. Craig had bought her another drink that had gone warm during her dancing, so he bought another one. She drank the new gin and tonic, but surprised him when she picked up the older warm one and drank it down too.

"So boy, are you going to take me for a spin," she yelled the request at Craig. Craig wanted nothing more than to dance with this beauty. The only problem was Craig had to piss.

"Go dance. I'll be out there after I use the bathroom," he told her.

The urinals were all occupied, so Craig went into one of the stalls. As he took out his cock and started to take a leak, he heard the conversation occurring outside.

"Good God. Did you see the hottie Larry was dancing with? She was so fucking hot. Larry said she was pretty quiet, but she started breathing pretty hard when he was rubbing her ass," the anonymous guy said.

"Dude, I know. I almost creamed when I saw her ass. He said that he was laying some dirty talk on her and she seemed to like it. He said when he told her that he wanted her to come back to our table so his friends could get a feel, she started laughing and went back to her table. If she's with that dude, he doesn't seem to mind the show she's putting on," another guy said.

"Well, no matter what, that chick is getting fucked tonight," the first guy said as the conversation ended.

Craig looked down at his cock. It was swollen and pre-cum had developed at its tip. "Damn, you need to go get that girl out of here," he thought to himself. 

Quickly, Craig came out of the bathroom and he was frantically looked for Denise. He was only half relieved to find her. Once again, Denise was dancing with the same guy from before, but now behind her was one of his buddies. As the rap music was playing and the bass was thumping, the buddy was now rubbing his bulging crotch against her ass as he alternated having his hands on her hips and blatantly putting a palm on each ass cheek. Craig looked through the flashing lights at Denise's face. Her eyes were shut and her face was almost a grimace as she seemed to be catching her breath. Occasionally, she looked back behind her at the young man now holding her ass. As she turned and put her hands on the chest of the guy in front of her, the guy behind her took the opportunity to push her silk dress above her waist and held it there. Seemingly unbeknownst to Denise, her fine ass was exposed to all that watched her.

Craig moved to where he could see the scene a little better, surprised that he didn't jump to his sister's rescue. He was in as much of a trance as he thought she was in. As she stood up, she pushed her breasts into the chest of the guy in front of her. Behind her, the guy kept the skirt above her waist and he moved the bulge in his pants against Denise's naked ass. Again, Denise straddled the right thigh of her earlier dance partner, the difference was this time, the lacy front of her thong panties were exposed as he ran his hands up her hips and held the front of her dress up. As the music transitioned to a club beat, the guy behind Denise ran his left hand into the front of her panties. With that, Denise inhaled deeply and threw her head back onto the right shoulder of the guy behind her as he began sucking on her left earlobe.

The scene was intoxicating as the threesome monopolized a small, dark corner of the now-crowded dance floor. It couldn't have gotten worse. Or better. Or so Craig thought. He barely noticed that he was rubbing his own cock through his pants. Then, the guy in front of Denise leaned down and started to kiss the top of her chest. Craig saw that Denise was now completely off the ground as she vigorously grinded her pussy against the thigh of her forward partner as the guy behind her ran his hand into the front of her black lace thong panties. Denise pushed her upper back into the chest of the guy behind and rolled her ass onto the thigh under her. Her movement thrust her pussy forward. Craig opened his mouth in awe. The panties were now pulled to the side and he could see her wet pussy with its trimmed hair now matted with fluids totally exposed to anyone who was watching the scene. This gave the guy behind her the opportunity to stroke her swollen clit. Craig moved closer to get an even better look and now heard Denise's audible excitement, barely heard over the thumping club beat. She was moaning and grunting through her gritted teeth, occasionally gasping in a breath loudly.

Her forward partner ran his hand right hand up to her left shoulder and in one quick movement slipped the spaghetti strap off. Left exposed to the air was Denise's beautiful left breast. Craig quickly looked around the crowded club and only saw a few faces and particularly, three of the guys' buddies pointing and laughing at the scene while congratulating each other. When Craig returned to the dancing threesome, the forward partner was sucking on her nipple as the partner behind was pumping her with two glistening fingers while rubbing her clit with the other hand. Craig heard Denise get out something that sounded like,"Uhgud," before her whole body began to shake uncontrollably while she alternately thrust her hips forward and back in a quick successive motion. Denise slipped off the thigh and stepped backward, pushing the guy behind back. As she did, Craig saw that her right hand was grasping her forward dance partner's rock-hard, eight inch cock now pulled out of his slacks and pointing upward.

In a daze, Denise stumbled away from the two men, oblivious to their calls. She went towards the bathroom, stopped at a railing before she looked down at her exposed left breast. Without so much as a startle, she slipped the strap back onto her shoulder and went through the bathroom door. For five minutes, Denise was in the bathroom as Craig stood outside it like a sentinel, occasionally eying the guys that looked toward the women's bathroom. When she finally stumbled out, she seemed relieved to see Craig standing there to catch her. Her face was pretty wet from apparently splashing it. She fell into his open arms and put her head against his chest. She looked up at him and said, "Take me back to the cabin. I don't feel so good." There was a small scent of vomit on her breath and Craig took a second to wipe something, he didn't know what, from the left side of her mouth.




The Perfect Storm



"Had enough fun yet," Craig mocked her.

"Yes. I just don't feel too good. I need to get back," she whimpered.

"Okay." Craig walked his beautiful sister out to the evening air against the light-hearted protests of the five guys that had both danced with and watched Denise all night. Craig just waived at them and smiled. A bouncer whistled and a taxi drove up to them.

The ten minute drive would be so much easier than practically carrying Denise home. Craig wasn't sure if this qualified as showing Denise a good time, but he enjoyed the show and she definitely seemed to enjoy the night out dancing. Craig gave the driver the address as he and Denise both climbed into the cab's backseat. While Craig was behind the driver, Denise first sat beside him and then flopped over on her right side. She balled herself up, pulling her knees to her chest while whimpering, "I don't feel good at all, Craig." Her feet were now on his right knee; she had kicked off her heels. 

Craig looked over at her lying on her side. The well-lit streets gave off enough light to illuminate Denise's exposure. Her new position, with her legs pulled to her chest on the narrow seat, allowed her ass to come out from under her silk dress, pointing directly at him. He looked at the small thread of material that stretched down the crack of her ass, covering her anus, but was surprised to see it twisted as it approached her pussy and lay on the side of her pussy lips, now puffed out. Craig's heart started beating faster as he acted like he was leaning against the window, but turned his head back to stare at Denise's wet, exposed slit, only half a foot from his right hip. 

Craig fought all his urges to reach out and touch her cunt and settled for putting his right hand on her naked left thigh, occasionally squeezing it, and put his left hand on Denise's left foot, squeezing that as well, massaging them both. "Mmm, that feels so good Craig," she said as she sucked in air through clenched teeth. Craig noticed the wonderful musty scent of Denise's aroused cunt. Denise then rolled over onto her back and extended her legs in a stretch putting the bottom half of them on his lap, her head propped against the opposite door and looking at his face with a sultry stare. The move, unfortunately, covered Denise's pussy again, but Craig just let his right hand slide in place and it ended up just below the silk skirt's hem, his fingertips dangling between her slightly parted thighs. Craig's right hand continued to rub her left thigh, occasionally daring to slip between her thighs and kneading the skin of her inner thigh above her knee. Craig then daringly moved his left hand from massaging the calf on Denise's left leg onto the top of her right thigh.

Craig could feel the heat on his hands coming from between Denise's slightly parted thighs. His cock was hard as stone as the back of Denise's left leg perhaps inadvertently pressed against it. Craig slightly turned his body toward her. It had grown darker as they left the resort town's main streets, but was she staring at him while biting her bottom lip? Now, both of his hands were resting on an opposite inner thigh of Denise's. All he had to do was part them like the covers of a huge book and he would see Denise's treasure and he would move to take it. His heart was beating so hard he thought it would explode. "Let's do it," he thought confidently to himself.

"Sir, we're here," the cab driver informed him. Craig looked up startled. "You want some help with her," the older man asked.

"Uh, no. I have her. She's just had a little too much to drink," Craig answered as he looked down at Denise, her head turned to the right, now slightly snoring. He paid the driver and shook his sister trying to wake her to no avail. "Oh well, it's probably for the best," he thought as he grabbed her listless body around the waist and pulled her out. He held her in the classic newlywed threshold-crossing position and took her into the cabin.

As he laid her on the living room couch, he caught his reflection in a cross-room mirror. He stared at himself hard and then smiled. He said to his reflection, "You, my friend, are a better man than you deserve to be." He looked over at the microwave clock. It showed 1:22. He walked toward the stairs. He knew he had to get some sleep for arrival day tomorrow.

Suddenly, he was startled. "You forgot to finish my massage," he heard her voice from across the room.



The Perfect Storm



Jake sat at the bar sipping a beer, surveying his surroundings and trying to decide if there was anything remotely interesting happening when he spotted two women playing a game of pool. He watched the two girls playing for a while, bantering back and forth and giggling. He rolled his eyes. Why did the hot girls always have to travel in packs that made them as irritating as possible? He spent a few minutes studying their features. A tall blonde with blue eyes and thin face wore a low-cut top but really didn't have enough cleavage to be showing it off, but she did have nice long legs. The other was shorter, also blonde, but obviously not a natural blonde, with brown eyes and slightly more curvy, a little on the heavy side. Jake watched them play for a few more minutes, deciding neither of them had any real skill at the game and then went back to his beer and people watching, ignoring the two girls for the most part. 

He had perused the rest of the bar when a third woman at the pool table caught his attention. This one different than the other two, as she was obviously there to play a game of pool, declining to partake in the other two women's banter. She was about as tall as the taller of the two blondes, long tan legs, more muscular than the tallest blonde, muscles flexing as she went on tiptoe to make a shot, short black skirt riding up her thigh a bit. Jake licked his lips, intently watching her every move. He watched her lean over the pool table to make a shot, voluptuous breasts straining at the tight halter-top she was wearing. 

Jake ordered another beer and made some small talk with another man watching the game as well. He glanced over to the pool table, she was now leaning on a bar table, beer in hand, legs crossed as she waited for her turn. He blinked as she lifted her arms to the back of her head pulling long rich chocolate brown hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Her arms lifted exposed a beautiful stomach as flat and lean as could be. She was stunning. He watched her sink her last ball without making a real effort and then casually sink the eight ball. She smiled sweetly as she shook the other woman's hand, thanking both of them for allowing her to play, then grabbed her beer and turned to the bar, hips swinging as she walked. 

She sat at the opposite end of the bar, crossing her legs and polishing off her beer. Jake smiled and thought a pool-playing, beer-drinking hottie a rarity indeed. He grinned to himself thinking he had to get to know her better. Jake paused for a minute, worried he had lost his chance when a man walked up to her and made small talk. She seemed receptive to the chitchat. Jake sighed as he watched her, smiling and talking with the other man politely but not really giving him any cues she was interested in anything else. He quickly lost interest in her and took a seat near the two blondes still playing pool. Jake ordered another beer and took a few sips before deciding to approach her.

He paused as he watched her get up to use the restroom. Perfect, he thought. He made his way to the restroom after her, but waited outside the hallway until she came out of the restroom. When he noticed her come out of the door he started down the hallway, bumping into her.

"I am so sorry," he apologized. 

She paused and looked at him, eyes narrowing. 

"Oh come on, that was lame," she teased.

He was taken aback, surprised she called his bluff and not quite sure what to do next. Jake took a deep breath and decided to come clean; she was obviously not going to play that game. 

"A little bit," he admitted, "but can you blame me?"

"No I can't," she agreed, smiling warmly.

"I'm Jake." He extended his hand.

"Nikki," she said as she shook his hand. 

"So Jake, do you normally chase women to the bathroom to hit on them?" 

"Only the hot ones," he said with a smile.

A warm blush bloomed across her cheeks "Thank you." Jake nodded and asked if he could get her a drink. She accepted his offer and followed him to a booth in the corner of the bar.

As they made small talk for the majority of the evening, Jake noticed how truly beautiful she was. She had a pretty face and long brown hair just covering hard nipples staring blindly at him through the tight shirt. She had wonderfully deep hazel eyes and perfectly manicured nails. He found her warm, inviting, and interesting. He sighed as they talked.

She paused mid-sentence. "Is there something wrong?" she inquired, concern in her voice. "I hope I'm not boring you."

"Not all. You're a lot different then most of the women I speak with." 

"Oh I see, normally your tits don't have brains," she said flatly. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I normally don't get a chance to find out. Women find me irresistible," he teased. She groaned and rolled her eyes. 

"I can't see how that could possibly be," she ribbed him, but thinking he was indeed totally irresistible. He had dark brown hair and an easy smile and wore a pair of slacks and a dress shirt that had obviously been pressed and from what she could tell was covering an unbelievable body. She took a deep breath as she looked into his dark brown eyes, hoping he would take that as a joke and not be offended. She normally allowed a man to run a little more game on her, but for some reason she wasn't letting him get away with it. She knew instinctively he could do better.

He winked at her and flashed her a charming smile. She winked back and scooted around the booth closer to him. He smiled as he put his hand on her thigh. 

"I'm wearing you down aren't I?" he whispered into her ear. Nikki smiled and kissed his cheek.

"I think you are," she agreed and polished off her beer. He swallowed hard and inhaled sharply, deciding this was his chance. He kissed the side of her neck softly just under her ear and slowly withdrew. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as goose bumps erupted over her smooth skin. 

She closed her eyes and turned her head, lips meeting his before he pulled away. His lips felt perfect against hers, fingers brushing her cheek as he moved his hand to the back of her head to gently play with her hair. 

He didn't want to let her go, as her perfect lips felt extraordinary against his. He knew instantly he had to have more of her. He would chase this one if she were going to play hard to get. He felt soft round breasts press into his chest, nipples like little thorns digging into him, reminding him how painfully badly he wanted her. He gently pulled away from her, wanting to see her face and look into her striking eyes and get lost in her. 

She looked deeply into his eyes as he stared at her. Jake watched a hurricane of lust brew in her eyes and knew she had to feel the same way he did. He was on fire and only the turbulent waves of lust beginning to crash in her could put it out. 

"Lets get out of here." He suggested. She didn't say anything, just nodded her approval and followed him out of the bar to his car. He opened the door for her, hardly daring to think she was going to go home with him. Nikki could barely believe she was getting into a stranger's car and letting him take her to his house. 

"I never do this," she blurted.

"Never do what?" he asked, knowing the answer but happy to have the small talk to ease his nerves.

"Go home with strange men I don't know." He nodded in understanding, assuring her it didn't really make a difference in what he thought about her.

"Sometimes you just have to do what feels right," she continued cautiously. 

"I know baby. That kiss felt pretty right."

"Yes, it did," she agreed, beaming. 

He put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze. She smiled and slid her hand into his lap, running her long nails over the inside of his thigh. He shuttered under her touch. His reaction urged her on, giving her more confidence. She inched her way up his thigh, giving the swelling bulge in his pants a firm rub. He groaned and shifted in his seat as she ran her nails up and down his stiffening penis. 

Jake was dying to be home by the time they pulled into his driveway. He opened her door for her and took her hand as she got out. She giggled at his chivalry as she followed him to the door. He put his lips against hers and wrapped an arm around her skinny waist as he unlocked the door. He slowly opened the door then pulled her inside as he flipped on the light. She looked around and took a seat on a leather sofa. 

"Nice place."

"Thanks, can I get you anything?" He watched as a wicked smile crept across her lips slowly. 

She winked. "Just you." It was his turn to blush a bit as he walked to the sofa, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the couch next to her, her lips meeting his again as he sunk beside her. This time her kiss was different, hungrier. He parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, fingers digging into her lower back, pulling her as close to him as he could get her.

She moaned softly into his mouth and ran her tongue across his bottom lip and then against his tongue, hands pulling at his shirt, untucking it and then running her hands up inside it. Her soft hands against his hard well-muscled stomach felt amazing to him. He took the hint and finished unbuttoning his shirt. She smiled at him as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders. She took a deep breath thinking he was gorgeous. Nikki leaned closer to him and kissed his chest softly, sending a hot streak of desire down his stomach to his waistband. Jake loved the way her lips felt on him and the confidence she had to explore his body. He could tell she was going to be an outstanding lover. 

He watched intently when she paused at the waistband of his pants, hoping she wasn't going to stop kissing him. She looked up at him, eyes flashing. Jake put his hand in her hair and nodded at her, holding his breath. She winked at him and then pressed her face into the front of his slacks. He groaned with anticipation as Nikki unbuttoned his pants and slowly slid the zipper downward. Jake stood slowly in front of her as she pulled his pants and boxers down over his hips, running her nails across the backs of his legs. She looked up at Jake as she stuck out a pink tongue and ever so gently licked the drop of precum on the tip of his cock. She showed it to him before swallowing. 

Jake shook his head, "You're a sexy woman." 

She didn't say a word and continued on, loving his manhood. Nikki pulled the head of his cock into her mouth and sucked on it noisily. Jake's hands went to the back of her head, wanting so badly to push her head down on his cock. She looked up at him again as she slid his large cock into her mouth, pressing it to the roof of her mouth with her tongue and sucking hard. He thrust his hips toward her a few times, pumping his cock in and out of her warm velvety mouth.

Jake could barely stand it, feeling the passion she had built up in him. He pulled away from her and lifted her off the floor, kissing her deeply. He put his hands under her rear and lifted her up as he kissed her, her strong thighs wrapping around his waist pulling him close to her. He loved it when a woman wrapped around him, and she seemed to fit perfectly, her heel resting in the small of his back as her fingernails gently dug into his shoulders. 

Jake carried her down a hallway to his bedroom and placed her on his bed. He sat next to her, laying her back on the bed as he kissed the palm of her hand and gently sucked on each finger. Nikki watched him and giggled softly at his kisses. He kissed the undersides of her wrists and worked his way down her arm, licking the bend of her elbow and lightly blowing air over her wet skin. 

Nikki let out a long slow breath, surprised at the time he was taking with her and intending to enjoy every minute of it. The backs of his finger stroked her upper arms and caressed her shoulders. His lips barely brushed her shoulders and neck until he reached the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck, then kissed gently in the sweet web of skin. She tipped her head to the side, extending her long neck as he slowly worked his way up it and across her jawline, taking her ear in his mouth and giving it a tender nibble. 

His hands played at the bottom of her shirt, sliding under it and stroking her stomach. She sighed deeply, eyes closed, the feeling of his hands and lips incredibly satisfying. Slowly he kissed tiny little pecks across her collarbone and then down the front of her chest. His breath on the flesh between her breasts was warm as he snaked his tongue into the sweet canyon of her bosom. He lifted her shirt off and ran fingers over the tops of her breasts, the soft pads of his finger massaging the sides of her breasts as he cupped them in his hands. Jake stared at the beautiful woman lying half-naked in his bed and just enjoyed the sight of her. 

He watched her lips move into a small pout and gently licked her pink hard nipples. He couldn't help himself as they were almost begging for his attention. When Jake sucked hard on her nipples she let out a low moan that only egged him on. Arms wrapped around her, hands on her back holding him close to her, his lips, teeth, and tongue worked mercilessly on her nipples. Nikki shuddered underneath him, never being a big fan of what she called "breast action," but he was changing that. 

"Jake, that feels so good," she moaned, head tipped back. Jake was dying to taste more of her. He slowly unzipped the back of her skirt and slipped it down her thighs. He kissed the undersides of her breasts as he let his hands glide down her body and rest under her ass, giving it a little squeeze. She propped herself up on her elbows watching him fixedly. Jake teased his tongue over her stomach, playing with her dangling belly button piercing and then sliding his tongue under the tiny G-string she was wearing. 

She pressed her lips into an "O" as she felt his warm tongue against her milky skin. She slid her thumbs under her panties and slithered her panties down over her hips and then to her thighs. Jake nodded approvingly as she lay under him wearing only a pair of high heels and thigh-high stockings. He stroked the soft skin of her upper inner thigh, fingers skimming the perfectly shaved lips of her sex. 

She bit her lip, dying to have him. The teasing was driving her crazy. Jake gently inched his finger between her wet pouting lips, dipping the tip of his finger into her sweet honey pot and then withdrawing it. He stared at her face, watching her reaction and waiting until he hit just the right spot. As he stroked the tight little bud of her clit she let out a deep moan. He stroked it again, changing the firmness of his touch, just a little rougher this time. Her eyes flashed as she grabbed him rolling him to his back.

Nikki straddled him and placed her hands on his chest, the ends of her long hair dancing across his skin. Her pink nipples so tight and erect pointed at him as she pressed her hips to his. He groaned as he felt her hot sweet pussy rub his aching manhood. She smiled at him and winked as he put his hand on her hip and urged her to slide onto his cock. She obliged him without a word, just an intense look as he watched the sea of lust break through her inhibitions as he slid into her. 

She took a sharp breath and let it out slowly. "Ohhhh fuuuckkk, baby." 

Jake grabbed her hips with both hands as she sat up on him, guiding her and watching her bounce up and down on him, her beautiful large breasts swaying with the rhythm of her hips, full lips partially open, and her striking eyes wide and staring at him. Nikki smiled as she moved her hips in a circular motion, strong muscles wrapping around his throbbing cock as she closed the hot velvety walls of her pussy around him.

He grabbed her hands and pulled her to him, wanting to feel the length of her body against him.

"Nikki you're a goddess," he whispered in her ear. 

She smiled and pressed her lips to his, tongue sliding inside his mouth. Jake moaned into her mouth as he ran his hands down the length of her back. She whimpered into his ear and clung to him as she felt the storm within her escalate to the breaking point and her orgasm strike her. Jake held her tight as he felt her body tense, caressing her as she weathered the storm. 

She took a deep breath, hips still grinding against his. Jake looked into her eyes, the hurricane of lust gone, her eyes relaxed as she smiled affectionately at him. He rolled her back onto her back as he pulled her thighs across the tops of his. He placed his hands under her ass, lifting her as he pumped deep inside her. She took a sharp breath as she felt his commanding cock bury itself into her, pumping in and out with yearning. 

Her hands behind her head, Nikki was stretched out so strikingly in front of him, watching his face and seeing the look of pleasure cross it.

"Cum for me," she pleaded with him. 

The sound of her low voice was all he needed, and Jake gave out a low animalistic groan and delivered a hot shower of his seed deep into her. She let out a moan as she felt the fire splash far inside her like the final flood to her storm.

Jake collapsed onto the bed next to her, their thighs still tangled together, his cock firmly planted in her. Breathing hard they stared at each other for a few minutes. He reached out and held her hand watching her face. She just smiled and gave him the thumbs up as she curled up next to him, closing her eyes and drifting to sleep, head on his chest. He smiled as he ran his fingers through her hair, his head on hers, just watching her, intent on waiting for tomorrow's weather forecast, hoping to God there was another storm on the horizon.



The Perfect Storm



The rain outside her dorm window was getting harder and harder. The wind howled so loud that it sounded as though it was tearing out the trees on the front lawn by the roots. Ivy did not like bad weather; it always made her nervous and scared. She hated being so far from home, if only she decided to go to a college closer to her small hometown. All of a sudden she heard the loud crashes of thunder and her room lit up with the flash of lightening.

"That's it," Ivy thought, "I am not staying here by myself," She got our of her bed and ran across her room and out the door. She lived in a co-ed dorm and was lucky that her best friend just happened to be on the second floor and his name was Pete. Pete was a sweet guy and would let her stay with him for the night with no questions asked. She didn't even have to worry about him coming on to her because Pete had a boyfriend named Trey.

When Ivy got to Pete's room she did not even bother to knock.

"Pete, it's me Ivy, let me stay here with you, the storm is scaring me"

"Pete's not here, Ivy. He is staying at Trey's tonight, but you can stay with me." Pete's roommate Chris held up a side of his blanket looking at this roommate's friend. Oh yeah, he could protect her from the big bad storm. Ivy was a goddess and did not even know it. She was blond with beautiful blue eyes, plump lips, huge tits that hardily fit into the t-shirt that she was wearing and legs that went right up to that cute tight ass that swayed everywhere she went. Chris even bet that her pussy was blonde. 

"I don't know Chris. I hardly know you. I will just stay in Pete's bed." Ivy was not sure what to do. One part of her wanted to go back to her room and the other just wanted to jump into the bed . Chris was a nice example of the male student body. He was very toned in all the right areas and his boxers had the biggest bulge she had ever seen.

"That's fine, " Chris said "Enjoy the story." He wrapped the blanket around him and rolled over.

"Okay, let me in. I don't want to be alone and if Pete is not here, I guess you will do" Ivy made it sound as though she couldn't care less.

Once Ivy was in bed with Chris and comfortable again, she finally started to relax and started to fall back to sleep again.

"This is actually pretty nice," Ivy thought as she drifted to sleep.

About an hour later Ivy was jolted awake by the sound of thunder crashing again. Chris rolled over to her and put his arm around her and whispered into her ear that everything was okay. Ivy started to relax again.. A minute later, Chris' hand was running up and down her thigh.

"Chris, what are you doing?" Ivy could not believe what was happening.

"I am protecting you from the storm, just relax and I will take care of you." And take care of her he did.

Chris moved over a little bit so that Ivy was lying on her back. He continued to slowly run his hand up and down her thigh, sending chills all over her. He then moved on to her large tits squeezing them from the outside of her t-shirt. Her nipples became like pebbles poking through the material. Wasting no time he started pulling on the little nubs making them stiffer and stiffer. Ivy was softly moaning for more, she wanted to feel his hands on her flesh. Chris started to lick her nipples through the cloth of her t-shirt.

"Do you like that?" 

"Oh yes, it feels great, please don't stop." Ivy was feeling pleasure that she had never felt before.

Just when she thought it couldn't get any better, Chris ripped the shirt right off of her and devoured her nipple in his mouth in one swift movement. Ivy arched her back in extreme pleasure. While he was sucking and biting on the one nipple, Chris was pulling and pinching the other. Every once and a while he would switch. Ivy could feel the dampness between her legs and knew that her total undoing was just moment away. Her nipples felt so good in Chris' hot mouth that she did not want him to stop.

Chris released himself from her glorious globes and kissed Ivy's mouth hard and unrelenting. She opened her mouth to him and their tongues played back and forth, tangling with desire. Chris' hand found its way down Ivy's flat stomach to the center of Ivy's pleasure zone. Even through her panties he could feel how wet and hot she was. He put his hand inside her panties and inserted one finger inside her pussy, man was she hot. Ivy moaned. She couldn't believe the pleasure she was feeling. Chris pulled his hand away and brought his finger up between them and they both licked off her juices as they were kissing.

"Oh, wow you taste so good. I think I am going to have to have some more, " Chris broke off their kiss and kneed up on the bed. Iv y could see that the bulge in his boxers had gotten larger. She reached out and started to rub the hard rod, now it was Chris' turn to moan. He got off the bed and threw off his boxers. Getting back on the bed he positioned himself so that they could both taste one another at the same time.

Ivy could not believe the size of Chris' shaft, her hand just fit around it. She started to pump it just a little and played with his balls. The tip of his dick was so smooth that she just had to get her tongue on it. She swirled her tongue on the tip of his dick and down the side of his shaft. She could feel him shudder. She could wait no more; she took all of him in her mouth giving him the best tongue licking of his life. When she got back to his head she sucked hard and nibbled around the head of his cock while playing with his balls. Chris was going out of his mind. No girl had ever done this before. Just when he thought she was done, she started to suck on his balls and then she stuck a finger in his ass. Chris just about to shot his load than and there.

While this was going on, Chris was working on the beautiful blonde pussy staring at him. Ivy was so wet that it was easy to stick not just one or two fingers in her pussy, but three and he finger fucked her while he vigorously sucked on her clit. When he knew that she was close to climax he removed his mouth from her clit ands started to lick her swollen pussy lips. He licked her from ass to clit, over and over again.  Man she tasted good.  He started to play with her ass and she really liked that. Making sure she was good and ready he slowly slipped a finger into her ass.

"How do you like that? Do you like my finger in your ass? I bet you do?" 

"Yes, it feels so good, please don't stop. I want more," Ivy had never felt this way before and she was enjoying every minute of it. 

With a finger up her ass and two in her hole, Chris went to town sucking an nipping again at her clit, bringing her to one of her hardest orgasms ever. Ivy was steel reeling from the pleasure. She could not believe that she had never felt that before. She almost fainted from the sheer pleasure, but was brought back to reality when Chris told her that it was not over.

"Get on your stomach and stick up that beautiful ass of your so that I can fuck you from behind." Ivy wasted no time in doing what she was told. She got on all fours and stuck up her ass in the air.

Chris wanted to see her ass when he filled her pussy with his hard cock. She could hardly wait she wanted to be fucked by that beautiful cock since the first time she took it in her mouth. Chris kissed her ass and pussy a couple of time before grabbing his cock and diving it into her waiting pussy. He spanked her ass a couple of times turning it a nice shade of red. 

"Oh yeah, spank me, I have been so naughty" Ivy had never been spanked before but it felt good.

He only had to thrust a few times before he felt his load getting ready to shoot. He quickly turned Ivy over and shot his load into her mouth just a loud crash of thunder shook the room. Ivy took every drop and kissed her way up to Chris's mouth where thy kissed each other until all the juices were gone.

Chris lay back down in the bed. Ivy was getting dressed with what was left of her clothes. 

"Are you getting back into bed, Ivy?" Chris asked "It is still storming outside?"

"Thanks Chris, but I think I just got over my fear of storms. Maybe next time." Ivy winked at Chris, blew him a kiss and went back to her room.



The Perfect Storm



The day is drawing to a close; the sun, seeping below the horizon, casts an eerie glow upon the undersides of the gathering clouds. He thinks to himself, "Looks like the weatherman was a little off in his prediction. That storm will be here a few hours earlier than originally thought. I wish I had a job where even if I was wrong 50% of the time, I'd still have a job."

His house is nestled in the middle of a quiet, densely wooded lot. The majority of his neighbors are good, honest upstanding citizens. There homes, like his are surrounded by forest: red oaks, poplar, sweet gum, and birch trees. There's the college counselor to the west, the over-the-road trucker and his civil service wife across the street, the gay couple to the west of the trucker, the city sewer manager and his stay-at-home wife to his east and the divorcee directly behind his house, the only neighbor whose house he could actually see..

The divorcee, Mary, had lived there with her husband for almost as long as he had. He maintained a friendly relationship with all his neighbors and they helped one another out, just like it ought to be. As he observed the weather outside, he noticed something not quite right with the clouds; the color didn't look right. The approaching cold front also had an up sweeping warm front travelling perpendicular to the cold front's path. This was squeezing the moist humid air ahead of the cold front. Even though it is only March on the east coast, a severe thunderstorm and even the occasional twister are not unheard of. The weather man had warned of the chance of thunder snow and a possible low forming off the coast of NC that could turn into a nor'easter. The announcement of the winter storm warning on the TV snapped him back from his thoughts.

He's glad he had that storm room built in the basement two years ago. It's fully stocked shelves included: long shelf-life milk, water, food, queen size bed, blankets, those boot warmers filled with some sort of iron filings that produced heat when exposed to air, everything one needed to remain warm, and safe until help could arrive. It was expensive, but the insurance policy took care of that, though he really missed her. His wife had passed away due to breast cancer that had metastasized to her brain and liver. By the time she was diagnosed with the aggressive breast cancer, it was already too late.

Now, two years later, months of therapy and pouring himself into his work, he was finally feeling comfortable asking women out. He'd even dated the divorcee several times in the last month. She was close in age, nearly 40, and kept herself neatly. Though she kept a busy schedule, she still took time to work-out. She was trying to rid herself of the last 20 pounds, but they were the stubborn type, not willing to budge. He didn't care though; she was attractive, had a great sense of humor and was very intelligent. She had her engineering degree and that gave them a lot in common to talk about.

The storm had him concerned. It had all the makings of the perfect storm. Thunder, lightning, wind, followed up by copious amounts of snow, were forecast for the peninsula. That basement room was looking better all the time. He called Mary to see if she had heard about the storm warning yet, "Mary, you hear about the winter storm warning yet?"

Her reply, "Yes I did. I just got back from WalMart and I have all I need."

His concern showing through, "The part that worries me, is the approaching wild weather first and then the snow; they've even hinted at the possibility of high straight line winds or a tornado before the snow."

"I didn't hear that part; that worries me some."

Ever the gentleman, "Would you like me to come over there with you?"

"Actually, would it be ok if I came over to your place? I'd feel safer knowing we could always retreat to your storm room."

Elated, he said, "Sure, no problem; I was going to ask you that but didn't want to appear to be too forward."

Reassuring him she said, "You have never been forward with me; always the perfect gentleman. I feel safe around you and, well, something more. But we can talk about that when I get over there."

"Ok, I'll see you soon."

He was beginning to feel a tingling in his loins as he mulled over her last statement, "...and, well, something more." Though in his mid 40's, he wasn't dead yet. He had imagined himself in a serious relationship with Mary and could see it happening. It would just take time, as they both had suffered a great loss. The only reason she was able to keep her home after the divorce was because he had gone to prison for underage rape and she had a very good government job as a bridge engineer.

The slight knock on the door announced her arrival as she walked in. He greeted her with a hug and they settled together on the couch entranced by the radar on the weather channel. The two fronts and the forming low were all beginning to form an ominous scene. Already the lightning was beginning to flash and the low rumble of thunder could be felt more than heard. The next rumble made her move a little closer to him. He placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, displaying his protective side.

They began to discuss the possibilities, and scenarios; when they might have to use the shelter and what to expect. In the midst of their discussion, the fire whistle blew, and an immediate message flashed on the TV. A tornado warning had been issued and his quiet neighborhoods lie directly in its path. It was being described as an F2 tornado already and forecast to strengthen to at least an F3 if not more. Turning the TV off, they retreated to the storm room.

He remarked, "An F3, here? This is usually an F!/F2 area, not F3. I hope it misses us, but better safe than sorry. At least we'll be safe down here."

Her frightened reply, "I'm so glad I came over hear. I really wouldn't know what I'd do at home, alone."

Down to the basement and into the room they went. It would remind you of the movie "Panic Room". The sliding door, thick walls, everything one would need to survive nearly any attack; foreign, domestic, or natural. He tuned the radio into the NOAA station and turned the volume down so that they could monitor it, yet still converse.

The constant updates informed them of the tornado's path and the fact that it was still going to threaten their years of hard work and toil. Their only solace was that they were safe, and with each other. They could hear the roar, like a freight train. The low rumble wasn't thunder, but rather the storm's destructive howl. Holding tightly on to each other as the sounds of ripping lumber, exploding glass, and shrieking, howling winds surrounded them, they found comfort in the safety the room offered them.

As the roar subsided, he cautiously opened the door, and saw more light than what should have been available. The floor above was gone, as was the roof, but the east wall remained and so did the north and south walls. Just then a bolt of lightning crashed into his western neighbor's electric box, sending sparks and shrapnel everywhere, and snow began falling. Retreating back into the safe room, he remarked, "It's going to be a long stay here until help can arrive. You know the county, our back roads are always the last to be plowed and with all the destruction and now the falling snow, well, I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

It might not be the right time, but what did you mean by, "I feel safe around you and, well, something more."

Blushing, wishing she hadn't tipped her hand, she began to explain herself, "I remember I moved in here and I saw how you treated your wife. I wished to myself that my husband would treat me like that. You honestly, selflessly loved her and her, you. Then life cruelly took her from you and I watched as you worked through your grief. During that time, I had my own battles and betrayals. Now, with both of us on the other side of our woes, we have come together both as neighbors and friends to encourage one another. I want more. I want to go a little further with you, but didn't know if it would be considered forward to say so."

Overwhelmed by her honesty and straightforwardness he quietly began his reply, "I too, want more. Not out of pity, or consolation, but out of growing love for you. Not that I rejoice in this storm, but I am glad you are here. I'm glad I get to share this time of tragedy with you, of all the people in my life, it's you I thought of when the storm was announced."

Just then, the radio blurted out, "The winter storm warning has been upgraded to a blizzard warning. The tornado threat has passed, and crews have been dispatched to assist the survivors, but the falling snow is impeding their progress. If you have safe shelter, please denote this on your property by displaying a black cloth on your front door. Rescue crews will note this and return to you last after all others have been helped."

He tells her, "I'll be right back. I'm going to mark my door, if that's ok with you."

The glow in her eyes tells him, without words, that she is fine with this, "please do."

His return in 4 minutes and the story he has to tell is heart rending, "My house is a shell; the trucker's place is gone, as is the gay couple's. Your house looks like mine, a shelled out ghost of its former self. I'm so sorry. I know you worked hard on that place and it was beautiful."

The façade began to crumble as reality set it. Her frame began to shake as the sobs started. He sat beside her and held her, until the sobbing subsided. Misunderstanding her crying he said, "It's ok, it's just a house, and the property can be rebuilt."

Correcting him she said, "...no, it's not that. I'm just touched by your empathy, by the love you just showed me in both your body language and words. I don't deserve a man of your caliber, and yet here you are, in the midst of your own loss, comforting me and seeing to my safety."

He didn't mean it to happen, but it did, his lips meeting hers as they turned to face each other. The hunger in the kiss, the searching tongues, the tight embrace, all escalating quickly into an all out free for all. Clothing removed and strewn about the safe room, saliva trails down her neck, on her breasts, over her navel and finally ending between her legs. The shrieks of ecstasy as he brought her to orgasm time and again; their impassioned love-making after the maelstrom of the foreplay, all were a portrayal of the storm outside, though they didn't see it. The hours ticked by as made love and shared themselves. Two days later, after rescue workers arrived to assist them, they were still locked in their embrace, not wanting to be disturbed, yet knowing they must leave and begin their new lives, together.



The Perfect Storm



Somehow, we slipped through a veil of time unraveling the vine of space between us. There I found myself lounging on the crags next to the vodka clear lake watching his pectoral muscles stretch with every stroke he sliced through the crystal water. Edging closer, my lips were silent allowing my gaze to be my secret agent. My body slackened and my eyes widened as his naked form glided through the cool waters.

A thunderous hammer cracked the sky wide open. The Gods smiled upon my parched body by sending the pelting flow to smother my fire. My whole being seized up not sure whether to make a break at the risk of blowing my cover. Another rolling thunder clap sent me into a panicked streak across the boulders and scurrying into the forest.

In the distance, his voice trailed. "Hey you, come back. Don't run!"

My feet barely touched the sodden earth. My hands tore through the cobwebs and pushed through the vines. The clearing in the distance signaled my senses and I drew a deep breath. The golden fields were taking a beating from the hail storm and now so was I. My thin white cotton dress was soaked through. My hair, a shiny ebony, spiraled down my neck like fronds of seaweed. My sandals became wedged in the red clay.

Blindly, I pushed forward mumbling under my breath. A loud snort and then hoofs came crashing down before me. His hand thrust forward and his calm voice, "Take my hand. We must find shelter. Trust me, come on."

He felt my nipples like razors against his bare back. I poured myself in the saddle of his long-legged onyx beast. His hands gripped the reins of the stallion with skill. My arms slipped around his waist. I felt a sudden peace fall over my soaked essence.

He reached a cabin and dismounted. He helped me from the saddle and tugged my hand as he ran. Inside, he toed out of his boots and fumbled in his knapsack. He pulled out a crumpled white silk shirt wrapping my shoulder and arms. He smelled the rain's musk as it clung to my skin.

I shivered with cold as his eyes fell to the curve of my heaving breasts. He longed to have my tawny nipple between his lips growing even larger as he rolled it about his tongue. He looked into my eyes, to find my gaze wild with a refined sparkle. 

His throat now baked and athirst like a man with a ravenous hunger. He thought to himself: "Her lips so full of crimson softness beckons to me."

I stood to let his shirt fall over my rounded shoulders and slid my dress down. All of his body heat now gathered in his swollen globes at the sight of my lush hills and bare mound. My voice like honey, "Dark Stranger, I want you deep inside me."

His lips closed on mine. I pulled away, "Not yet. No kissing the lips! Just tongues exploring bodies."

His large hands splayed across my satiny back drawing me into him. My ripe peaks pressed his chest sending tremors through his manhood. He rolled unto the bear skin rug pulling me on top him. I shifted my hips brushing his shaft with slight movements. My pussy cradled his cock. His fleshy tower of obelisk dug into my gentle folds.

I balanced on my knees allowing a slight area between us. He slid his palm across my hip to my nether region. His hand delved between my thighs. A smile crept over his face when his deft fingers rolled in the warm cream coating my swollen lips. He gathered the sticky nectar and dropped his fingers against my clit like a pat of butter.

His massage sent shock waves through my pink walls. I tried to hold back my thrill. Instead, I let forth a long moan of girlish fever. His tongue lashed against the circumference of my satiny areola. My nipples slowly peaked to become his prisoners as he bit one dusky tip and then the other. He soothed the sting by bathing them in pools of saliva.

His thumb and middle finger grasped the hood of my button to expose my pink pearl. He flicked across the creamy center with his forefinger. He squeezed the hood as my hips drove to meet his hand's strokes. My body rippled like a dark velvet lake under the moonlight. His touch so powerful, I was almost in a choke hold.

His teeth clenched around my brazenly exposed tender nipple with his tongue skimming the ripe tip in a tantalizing tease. His touch pulled at me like a taut string from my creamy center to my wanting mouth. I felt his silky throbbing manhood rub against my belly. My eyes widened. The room grew dim.

His eyes seared into my silence. I could almost hear his thoughts pumping ship inside my serene surrender. My moans flooded my windpipe. My mouth oozed the perfect "Oh-h-h." 

My heart-shaped box became his bursting delectable cream puff. His fingers kneaded my love knot. His taste buds clung to my offering of proffered fruits. A satin vibration covered us like a dark cloak. He basked in the waves of my afterglow.

His feverish hand now on my shivering wrist pulled me against him. His other hand caught hold of my cheeks to draw my mouth to his. His tongue split my lips to claim his prize. How exquisite he tasted in that moment. His kiss melted and glimmered all the way to my toes. His tongue pushed me into orbit like a swing sending me to my high.

The veil lifted as time and space began to crash. My body flinched in a tail spin tumbling to the cold wood flooring. My fists clutched my thin gauzy dress from the floorboards and wrestled it up my curves.

I muttered, "I told you no kissing! How could you?"

My fingers fumbled with the doorknob. The afternoon now shimmered across the golden fields where I sprinted to an escape route. 

His voice rang out, "Come back! Come back, I don't even have your name!"

The stranger closed the door. He leaned his nude body against the chilly cabin wood. His Predator's blood drained cool from his active member. His tower of obelisk withered in anguish. He thought, "Why didn't I drag her back and make her stay?"

Her smell still filled his lungs with sweet remembrance. He whiffed his honey-stained fingers and grunted. He realized his penetration would have defiled the tranquil virginal lifeline he now felt towards her. She wasn't like Jessie, Dawn, or the others.

He lit a cigar to disguise her perfume left in the shadows. He would keep her unsullied as his tempting little "cream puff" until the next swim. He knew she would be at the vodka-clear lake to watch once again.



The Perfect Storm



AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story was blatantly inspired by Kate Chopin's "The Storm," a classic work of erotica and a great Earth Day story before its time.

This is being submitted to the Earth Day contest, so votes are greatly appreciated.

Many thanks to LadyVer for her early feedback, and to dream_operator for his editing and comments. You guys rock! 

---

"Karen, I need you."

Karen Martin heard her boss's voice, quiet and soft and sexy, come across the intercom, and grabbed her phone, a pen and notepad and headed into his office. She walked across thick carpets in high black pumps, past the expensive glass and chrome fixtures of a luxury office building, and opened his door. His vast office was entirely surrounded with windows, high up on the 75th floor overlooking the glittering, twinkling skyscrapers of midtown Manhattan, and she stood for a minute loving the view.

"Yes?"

Patrick O'Connor turned around in his chair, looked up at her over his glasses, file in hand, with that split second hesitation she had come to know—lingering for just a second longer than he should, flicking his eyes from her face to her breasts and back before opening his mouth to speak. 

"So is everything set for tomorrow?"

"Yes. The flight leaves at 10:00. I'll be at your place with the car at 8:00 sharp."

"Ok, now, here's what I need . . . "

He gave her a long list of things to do, files to download, calls to make, appointments to set up. She was used to it; they had to travel together often, and she had the routine down pat. 

Patrick was 45 and single, with classic American good looks, dark brown hair and intense blue eyes. He was a rather famous lawyer specializing in environmental issues, and Karen his . . . "personal assistant." She did PR, secretarial work, and anything else he needed. She'd handled all the details of his schedule, media presence, and personal life for the past two years, and they were constantly together.

She'd started out working for him as a paralegal, doing mundane filing and research. All that had changed, however, when the Big Case came along and made Patrick O'Connor a household name. It was an infamous scandal, something involving government oil drilling contracts—Karen had never been able to get all the details straight. It had turned Patrick into the go-to national expert on global warming law and he was in constant demand for television interviews. 

He was gorgeous, charismatic and telegenic, so before long she was fielding calls from magazines wanting to profile the hot young lawyer and wanting to know everything about his personal life. He was even featured in some magazine's "Most Eligible Bachelors" issue, which Karen thought hilarious, saying to herself "If they only knew." 

She said, in a business-like tone, "Don't forget, you have Anderson Cooper tonight at 9:00."

Patrick leaned back in his chair, threw off his glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck!"

She laughed. She knew how much he hated this part of his job, but his celebrity was major business for his firm, and he had to do it.

He sighed, "Jesus . . . I'd much rather stay here with you."

"Well it's not going to be much fun. It's going to take me hours to get these files in order." 

He stared at her, with the strange, intense look she'd seen before, as if he wanted to say more, but he never did. 

"Are you sure you don't mind? Are you sure you don't have . . . somewhere to be?" he said, looking over her tight black dress and spiked black heels. 

"No, not at all. We have to get this done tonight." 

"All right . . . God, Karen, what would I do without you?"

+++

Karen was attracted to Patrick—who wouldn't be? But she tried to keep their relationship strictly professional, for several reasons.

He was a bachelor, yes. But "eligible," no. The man was a machine, and a workaholic to end all workaholics. He was at the office every day at 6:00, and left late at night to go straight to the gym. He was brilliant, passionate, devoted, ruthless, and single-minded. The law was literally his religion. As far as she knew he cared about two things: the environment, and taking down big business. His one and only vice, which contradicted both of these things, was his smoking. He tried to hide it, but she knew when he got stressed he would sneak outside for a puff, then work out extra hard for the next day or two.

He had an ex-wife, someone he was married to briefly when he was younger, but she wasn't around and Karen knew very little about that. In fact despite handling his "personal life," she knew very little about it. He was not the open and chatty type. 

In all the time she'd known him, Karen could think of maybe ten times he'd come in late, looking a bit disheveled, or wearing the same clothes from the night before, and she knew he'd been with a woman. She knew because a few days later she'd get a call from a teary, desperate sounding voice, asking to speak to him. These poor women, she would think, he doesn't have time for a relationship. 

She had absolutely no intention of becoming one of those women on the phone, so she kept her attraction well in hand.

Furthermore, she was not ready for any kind of relationship. She was still licking her wounds from a horrible, painful breakup of a few years back. Brian, her ex, looked remarkably like her current boss, and that had not made the transition any easier.

"Ok then, well, call me if you need me. I better get going. And I'll . . . see you tomorrow."

"Ok, good night."

+++

The next day, on the plane headed out of New York to Miami, Karen had a strange feeling about this trip. She'd traveled with Patrick many many times before, but mostly on short little flights to Philadelphia, D.C., occasionally Chicago. This trip was to Florida, and much longer, and as the plane took them away from the city and their routine, everyday world, she was more aware than ever that they were alone together, and would be in a warm, sensual environment. She had summer clothes packed, a bikini and sunscreen, and two days to unwind by the beach, near him. She was aware of it. She was not an idiot. But she was also trying to keep her cool. 

After that late night, she felt very tired, so she leaned her head against the window and watched the sky as it turned from pale blue to lavender and then a menacing gray. Soon she fell fast asleep.

At the same time, Patrick was taking this moment to watch her, and think about her.

He was much more attracted to her than she knew, and he could not stop himself from gazing at her face and her body while he had the chance. He, too, was feeling something strange on this trip, and was finding it difficult to muster his usually perfect powers of concentration. 

He stayed away from her because he was her boss, of course, because he did not want the headache or the distraction, because he had no time for a relationship, but also because, like her, he had a past. His ex-wife. He'd gotten married when he was quite young, and deeply in love. Linda had been very different from him—a writer, a dreamer, and completely impractical. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place. 

But when he finished law school and the demands of real work just slammed into him, those enchanting differences had quickly become impossible obstacles. She objected to how much time he spent working; accused him of neglecting her, of being too driven and obsessed with his job. Then one day, he had come home to find her gone. 

He had never gotten over it. He had sworn he would never go through that again. And so far, he had been quite successful, arranging his life with the least possible entanglements, avoiding that kind of emotion—at least, he told himself, until his career was where he wanted. 

Things had worked out well, from his perspective, until Karen came into his life, this absolute dead ringer for his ex.

She was a constant temptation, one he had to fight against every time he saw her. 

And now here they were, together, right when he needed to concentrate, because these depositions were going to be real bitch. So he counted on the distraction of work, the distance of separate hotel rooms, and his own obsessive nature to keep it under control.

+++

Karen was awoken a few hours later from a deep sleep by the impossibly cheery voice of the captain saying: 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if you look over to the right side of the airplane you will see Atlanta, where it is now a beautiful and balmy 80 degrees . . . "

"Atlanta." Wonderful. She hadn't wanted to hear that.

That's where he was, right down there, right at that moment. Brian, the love of her life. He had moved back to Georgia after their awful breakup and the last she knew, that's where he intended to stay. 

They'd met in school, when they were 21, and had lived together for four years. He was both the love of her life, and the best sex she'd ever had, and she was still haunted by it. She'd had a few lovers since, some who were really great, but none who'd came anywhere near him.

Karen could not help going over, once again, how things had gone so wrong.

They were in love, they were perfect for each other, except for one tiny little thing. Being from the South, Brian was Irish Catholic, as strict as they come. At first, she'd thought his religious beliefs were some kind of joke. She ignored it, never took it seriously. She let him do his thing, not noticing how important it was becoming to him. Eventually, it became a problem, and then more of a problem, until they were fighting about it all the time. 

Brian accused her of being close-minded and inflexible; Karen told him he was a mama's boy who just couldn't deal with a grown up relationship; yelled at him that he wasn't turning back to God, he was just running away from her.

Finally, she had told him he had to make a choice, and he chose that, over her. Simple as that. She came back to their place one day, his bags were packed, and he said that's it. I'm going home. I'm leaving you.

She still couldn't believe it. "Devastated" did not even begin to cover it. She honestly never thought he'd do it, that he could just turn his back on her, their life, that incredible sex. 

Because, as she often told her friends, no one knows about lust better than a tortured Catholic boy. No one. It was a cliché for a reason. For Brian, being with her was an unmitigated sin, and she his constant temptation. He struggled against it every single time. But when he did give in, when he let himself, it was . . . phenomenal. Passionate, violent, and completely pure. It had to be, otherwise he never could have done it.

That was the sad irony of it all, Karen often thought. The very thing that had made it so good was the very thing that had driven him away.

Karen was deep in thought, immersed in these memories, when Patrick spoke in that soft, gentle voice.

"Can you hand me the Jones file?"

"Oh, yes, of course, hang on."

As he looked over the file, she began to flick through her phone.

"Oh, hey, it says there might be a storm tomorrow." She was looking at the weather report. Miami had a forecast of rain, thunderstorms and hurricane strength winds. That did not sound good.

Typically, Patrick said, "Well I hope it won't affect these depositions." He was to spend two days interviewing witnesses in the courthouse, for a lawsuit they'd brought against one of Florida's biggest polluters. And since there were government contracts involved, he was the one his firm sent.

"I don't know, it looks pretty bad." They were getting close to Miami, and she could see black clouds all lined up on the horizon.

"Hmmm? Do you have that file?"

+++

When they got to the hotel, a beautiful place right on the beach, it was a madhouse. But this was not surprising, as they had literally been on the last flight to get in to Miami. The ride had been horrible on the way down, with dark clouds, terrible turbulence, and lightning strike shaking the plane. 

People were running around in the lobby and yelling as Karen made her way to the front desk. 

"Hi, I'm checking in. The last name is Martin."

"Martin?" the clerk asked as he stared at the computer monitor.

"Karen Martin."

"Ah yes, here you are. Karen Martin, one deluxe room with a king sized bed."

"There should be two rooms under that name."

"No, it's only showing one room."

"Well we need to add another one."

"I'm sorry, we're fully booked."

She reached into her purse. "But I have the printout of the reservation right here. It clearly shows . . . Wait. Oh, you're right. I did only book one room. How could that have happened? What about another hotel then?"

"Because of the storm, there's nothing available. I've already tried that for other guests. We can put a cot in the room if you like."

"I'm not paying this kind of money to sleep on a cot."

"I'm sorry. That's the best that we can do."

"Fine," she said, and handed the clerk her credit card. 

"Do you know what's happening with the storm? We're supposed to leave the day after tomorrow."

"The brunt of it is due to hit tomorrow night. I don't know if you'll be making that flight."

He gave her the room card-keys and she walked back over to Patrick, who was busy checking emails on his phone. She noticed, as usual, people looking at him, as though they thought they knew him. He, as usual, was oblivious.

"They screwed up the reservation," she lied. "They booked us into only one room."

He looked up at her for a split second, blinked, said "Oh, well that's inconvenient," and went right back to checking his phone.

It was a nice hotel. His firm paid for it, so Karen always tried to get the best. She knew if it had been up to him, they'd be in a Motel 6. She was looking forward to a little luxury. He'd be gone during the days and she'd have very little to do, so she planned to enjoy herself.

Inside, plush peach carpets, pink flowers, and shimmering gold lighting fixtures lined the corridors. Outside, there was the slightest hint of brilliant orange in the sky. It was very pretty, though you could tell something bad was coming. It was horridly, horribly humid, and there were occasional deep rumbles off in the distance. Unlike the bumpy ride down, things were oddly tense and still. 

The room, as advertised, was beautiful. There was only one bed but it was huge, plus there was a soft comfy couch. 

A big, wide balcony with delicate railings overlooked an inviting walkway right down to the beach, surrounded by palm trees. Karen was drawn to it, and immediately went outside. It smelled amazing. She inhaled the sharp, pungent southern night-blooming jasmine, which permeated the entire city with a cloud of erotic, sexy perfume. It was an unforgettable scent deeply imprinted on her memory, since it immediately evoked her years in California with Brian. 

She sighed, thinking, "I am fated to be drawn back to that time of my life during this trip, I guess."

Patrick lay in the bed, with one eye checking his phone and the other watching her. This situation could not be more . . . ridiculously tempting, but he really, really had to get these things done. Billions of dollars were riding on what happened tomorrow. He saw her there against the sunset, but tried to ignore it.

Karen quietly unpacked their things and hung up their clothes. She'd been on enough trips with him to know he did not like to be bothered while he was preparing. 

It was late and she was tired, already anxious to turn in. 

Now came the awkward part. She absolutely had to take a shower. She detested the smell of airplanes, and it had been so hot and humid before they got in the nice air-conditioned room. She grabbed her little overnight bag and headed into the bathroom. She had assumed she would be in her own room, so she had only brought her own version of "pajamas,"—a single, soft white t-shirt and underwear. Since she'd been a teenager that was all she ever liked to sleep in. 

"Well, I can't control this situation. If it makes him uncomfortable, too bad." 

She stripped down, looking at her nice, toned body in the mirror. It was kind of boyish. She had firm little breasts with tiny red nipples and a taut, small ass. But these were offset by a flat, sexy stomach, wide curving hips, and fantastic legs. She kept her thick hair short, liking the androgynous aspect, but wore a lot of make-up to emphasize her beautiful brown eyes and full lips. 

She got a kick out of imagining what Patrick would do if she just walked out there naked and stood in front of him. "Probably not bat an eye." 

In the luxuriously, expensively tiled shower, she could not help noticing that her nipples were hard and erect through the soapy lather and were aching to be touched. The thought of Brian inevitably did that. She thought of his moans, and the look in his eyes just at the moment he took them into his mouth. She closed her eyes as the water beat down, remembering him, thinking about how she would straddle him while he sat with his arms wrapped tight around her, on the edge of the bed or a chair, so he could suck her nipples and look at her, and they could kiss and watch each other as he throbbed inside. She hadn't forgotten a single second of it. 

As her mind traveled to some of their more intense sessions, when Brian would get more out of control, she suddenly found Patrick's face and Patrick's body swimming up into her fantasy, clear and sharp and defined. She pictured herself on her hands and knees in front of him while he stood behind her, and a sharp, violent ache ripped through her body. But she tried to stop this insistent stream of images, focusing instead on Brian's cock and Brian's voice, to drive those pictures out of her mind.

It was sweet and hot to think about, but she immediately reminded herself: it had all been for shit. He'd been willing to throw it all away.

She toweled off and got into her pajamas. The little white t-shirt came down just over her hips, barely covering her ass. She came back out, stood awkwardly by the bed, smelling and looking fresh and clean.

"Um, Patrick? I'd like to turn in now."

He glanced up and, well, she saw she had been quite wrong. He did bat an eye. He peered over his glasses, looking like a prosecutor, with that quick intense gaze she had seen before, though he seemed even more startled than usual. He tried to stay focused on her eyes but kept darting down to her exposed hips. He was clearly flustered, more than usual. He blushed a bit, cleared his throat, and ruffled his papers. 

"Of course, I'm sorry. Let me . . . uh . . . "

"I'm sorry . . . "

"It's ok. Let me get these . . . papers . . . " he was struggling to clear a space off the bed and could not seem to get it together. She said, "I'll do it."

She was keenly aware of his gaze as she picked things up, walked around and put things in order for him. He didn't even bother to hide it. He looked like he had seen a ghost, and he just watched her intently as she moved around. She was aware she was not wearing a bra and her shirt was a bit see-through. He could see her dark little nipples poking through. 

They chatted a bit about his schedule before she said, "Ok, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Karen. And thanks for your help."

It took her a while to fall asleep. There was something very soothing about the clicking of his computer and the sound of his pen writing down notes. She found his concentration comforting. Outside, she heard rumblings and saw occasional flashes of light, and felt the air thickening with the coming storm . . 

Patrick couldn't sleep either, nor could he concentrate on his work. He had seen a ghost.

When he looked up and saw her, young and fresh and beautiful, with that boyish body and short hair, he could only see his ex-wife. He was plunged back in time. He saw himself at 20, lying on their bed waiting for her to get out of the shower, laughing and talking. His body had never forgotten, either, and the sight of Karen's gorgeous, feminine hips, his wife's body, made him instantly hard, instantly awash in a powerful ache to take her in his arms. He pictured his wife on her hands and knees in front of him, lifting her hips while giving him that look over her shoulder . . . the images surged into his head. Swamped with memories, he looked down at his work like it was that of a total stranger. 




The Perfect Storm



He could not focus. He put his work away, and lay there for an hour, watching her slumber beside him. 

+++

The next day, each of them came to a decision, separately and on their own. This situation could not continue. Something had to be done.

For Patrick, it was while he was in his morning shower. 

He'd slept badly. He kept waking up every hour or so, to roll over and look at Karen, and then slowly fall back asleep. His alarm had gotten him up at an ungodly hour, just as the hot sun was peeking pink rays into the cloud-soaked sky. He'd woken up with a raging, painful erection.

In the shower, he felt himself getting pissed off. Enough was enough. He had 12 long hours ahead of him and he must, MUST get his head straight. 

By the time his town car was cruising towards downtown, he thought he had solved the problem.

+++

When Karen woke up, feeling nice and refreshed, he was gone, but she saw a note by the door. It was full of some tasks and calls she needed to make, but at the bottom he'd written:

Please make a reservation for dinner downstairs at 8:00. There's something I'd like to talk to you about.

Have a good day,

Patrick

That was unusual. They always just ordered room service. Had she pissed him off, messed up in some way? 

But, what could she do? These worries were tossed to the side, for the day. 

She spent some time looking over the amenities in the hotel, not sure they were all in service, because when she looked outside, she saw massive, huge cumulous clouds piling up as far as the eye could see. There was not a drop in the sky, it was dry as a bone, which made it all seem that much more menacing. Something was building, all right. 

In the corridors, the hotel was eerily quiet. The hustle and bustle of yesterday was entirely gone. Only a few people were milling about to check the weather reports. She saw stranded travelers, businessmen, families. 

She went up and spoke to the clerk from the day before. "Hi. So will the restaurant be open tonight?"

"Yes, it should be. We're keeping our staff here tonight."

"What about the spa? Can I get time for a massage?"

"Yes, but it will close early, at 2:00. Would you like me to book an appointment for you?"

"Oh, yes." 

After a long, incredible massage, she had nothing to do, so she changed into her black bikini and headed to the beach. 

Giant waves were now beating on the shore, signaling the approach of the hurricane from not far off. Karen sat and listened to them, thinking of California and the days she and Brian would spend surfing and laughing and kissing on the beach, knowing they would soon go back to their apartment and get in bed. She felt a powerful nostalgia and it made her take out her phone and flip through her contacts. She'd never erased Brian's name and number. It was still there, with the Atlanta area code. She traced it with her fingertips, wanting so badly just to hear his voice. 

Then just like that, she pushed "Delete."

She sat there for a long, long time, as the storm built up, until she finally felt huge fat drops of rain. She stood up to go. Her mind was made up. She knew what she wanted. Not just for tonight, but the rest of the foreseeable future. 

+++

It was dusk, and she lay on the bed in their room, waiting for Patrick.

She hadn't heard from him, and was starting to get worried, because it was now raging outside. She heard torrential rains. A monsoon was just drenching everything in sight. 

She'd taken a lot of care getting ready, because tonight, she wanted Patrick to notice her. She was wearing a short, white tank dress, very simple but sexy, with high, strappy sandals that showed off bare feet and long legs. It was perfect for Miami. Her short dark hair was curling around her face and the nape of her neck from the heat, framing her dark brown eyes nicely. She was ready and waiting. 

Finally, she heard the door open, and a whirlwind came in. 

Patrick was absolutely drenched, from head to toe, in his nicest suit. He was angry and swearing. He threw his briefcase on the bed, and kept swearing as he started ripping off his clothes. She could only make out "Jones . . . changed her testimony . . . lied . . . wouldn't answer my questions . . . wasted trip . . . " She had never seen him lose control like this. He was tugging violently at his wet shirt, couldn't get it off, yelling out, "Would you help me with this FUCKING tie?" 

She immediately went over and stood in front of him, and he finally seemed to see her. Heat and raindrops and anger were just pouring out of him. He was looking at her with rage, he was fuming, seething. His eyes burned into hers as she reached out and tugged at his tie, which was all knotted up from the rain. He quieted down, but was still breathing very hard as she struggled with it. His chest was shaking, his hands in tight fists. She was so close to him, soft and dry and warm. Finally she got the damn thing undone, and he just ripped his shirt off, threw it on the floor and stood there glaring at her, noticing how she looked and taking in her body with his eyes. He saw her, she knew he did, but it only seemed to anger him more. He growled out, "Did you make that reservation?" and headed into the bathroom. 

When he came out, he was toweling his hair, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans.

"Karen, I'm sorry. It has been a HORRIBLE day."

She shrugged. "It's ok."

"No, it's not. I apologize."

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," he sighed. "We are so fucked." He lay back on the bed. "Nothing's going on tomorrow. We'll have to come back. This entire city is shutting down." 

She didn't know what to say.

"I need to sleep. I have got to just shut my goddamned eyes for ten minutes. Can you wake me when it's time to go?"

He was asleep in a matter of minutes, flat on his back. 

She lay curled up on the couch, watching him and listening to the storm. It was very pleasant.

She usually kept her attraction to him in check, but not tonight. Sitting on the beach, thinking over her life, she'd made a decision. She was quitting her job, the minute she got back to New York. She was going to move back to California, and pick up her life where she'd left it. 

And knowing that, well, there no longer seemed any reason to hold back. 

She looked at Patrick thinking, "Who the fuck was I kidding? He IS Brian, incarnate. I must have known it from the beginning." 

They were both men with integrity, driven, obsessed and inaccessible, really, in the end. Men for whom women were a vulnerability and a weakness. 

She couldn't help it. Right or wrong, good or bad, this was her "thing"—the conflicted desire and reluctant lust of a brilliant man. It turned her on way more than a guy desperate to have his dick sucked by the first available mouth. 

She stared at him, at his perfect body, made chiseled and hard by all those hours at the gym, and she knew what was going to happen tonight. She was perfectly sure of it. He was going to take her out to dinner, give her some bullshit sob story about how he couldn't sleep with her, he was her boss, it wasn't right. And by the end of the night, they were going to be fucking their brains out on this very bed. 

Well, it didn't happen exactly like that . . . 

+++

"Karen, I need to talk to you about something."

A couple of hours later, they'd had dinner, a long business dinner to go over the details of the case, and were now having coffee. She smiled to herself. Here it comes.

"Well, uh . . . I don't know if you are aware that I was married once."

Oh! She was not expecting this. He had never been this personal with her.

"Yes, I do know that."

"Well, uh, I was very young and I . . . loved my wife very much." He was finding it hard to speak. She saw and felt huge powerful emotions come into his face. "And well, I was just starting out at the firm, I was working constantly."

She could tell it was very hard for him to talk about this.

"And my wife . . . Linda . . . we started fighting about it, about the hours I was putting in."

He looked right at her, directly getting to the point. 

"I can't do both, Karen. I just can't. My work is too important to me. It demands too much of me."

GodDAMN. She heard what he was saying but this glimpse into his emotions was like pouring gasoline onto a smoldering fire—it just exploded her desire for him, enflaming it, making it hard to breathe. She had not expected this part of the story. She had not expected him to have admitted to himself that he wanted her, and she had not expected to see him so vulnerable.

She managed to say, "What happened with your wife, with—Linda?"

He looked down at his plate, crumpled up a napkin with a tense hand, looked up at her with eyes full of pain and resentment. "She left me."

At first she thought, cynically, "Join the fucking club." But then, "He's exactly like me. He's been through exactly the same thing," and it just made her want him more. 

He reached out and held her hand. "You are. . .so beautiful. But I need you. I mean . . . for work. I depend on you. I don't want to lose you."

"So I don't think we should . . . be together. It wouldn't be fair to you."

To HER? This really pissed her off. He was framing it like he was doing her a favor, when he had no clue she had already decided to leave him. He was denying himself his own desire while pushing it all on her. 

It was a different, more plaintive sob story than the one she had been expecting, but it was still a lot of "blah, blah, blah" that interested her for only one reason: he was confessing how bad he wanted her. He was so afraid of it he was already thinking how much it could hurt him and destroy his life, which meant it must be damn fucking powerful, and THAT is what she'd wanted to hear.

She didn't say all of this of course, just "It's ok, Patrick. I understand. Thank you for letting me know." 

He got an enormous look of relief on his face, like Thank God that's over and out of the way.

Karen was sick of it. "Should we go to bed now?"

+++

In the room, they didn't talk. Karen went into the bathroom first, and this time put on a tighter, tinier little white t, which came right below her waist, showing a pair of white, string bikini underwear, almost a thong. She tweaked her nipples, got them hard, put on some amazing smelling cream. Now she was the one who was angry. She was fed up with him, and with men in general. She walked right out, barely glancing at him, and lay down on one side of the bed, propped up on one elbow, so he can see a tiny string wrapping around a smooth, aggressively curving hip. She saw him go and stand at the window, to get away from the sight of her. She said "I'm going to read for a while."

Eventually, she heard him get in bed. She knew he was not tired. She heard him take out his laptop. Her ass was deliberately right in his line of sight, and she made a point of rounding it a little towards him as he worked. 

By this time, the winds were really picking up. At one point the lights were flickering, and still they didn't talk. The rain was beating against the patio window. When Karen got tired, she turned off her light, and said "Patrick, please turn that off." She heard the sound of his computer shutting down, heard him flick off his light, and roll away from her without a word.

+++

A little while later, Patrick was awoken by howling winds. The storm was really here now. He was wide awake, and raging hard—in fact this is what had really woken him up. He immediately rolled over and looked at Karen.

She was sleeping peacefully, facing him on her side, both hands tucked under her cheek. He stared and stared and stared at her, and then, as if in some sort of waking dream, he saw his arm reaching out to touch her and caress her hip. He couldn't stop it. It was as if someone else was doing it.

This man, this stranger—was it him?—slid to the bottom of the bed and he saw the man reach up and tug at the tiny strings of her panties, saw him pull them down, and spread her legs. And then all thought left him completely as he brought her to his mouth.

+++

Some minutes later, it was Karen waking up, disoriented. She heard moans, and knew they were not coming from her. She heard wet, sucking sounds. What was going on? She was so confused, and at the same time she realized she was throbbing, that big waves of pleasure were radiating from her lower body. Suddenly there was a big strike of lightning, and it gave her enough time to see Patrick, at the foot of the bed, one hand on each of her thighs, his face buried between her legs. But she barely had time to register this amazing sight before she felt, coming over her, the crashing wave of a huge orgasm. Oh FUCK!!! This is what had really woken her up—she was about to come! She leaned back on her elbows, arched her back, threw her head back and moaned out loud as her hips bucked against his mouth. The deep pleasure just continued, would not stop, and she knew this had not been the first time. How many times had she already come in her sleep?!

She flicked on a little night light. She had to see him. She had to see what he looked like, what he was doing. She heard wet, muffled, buried moans and grunts as he licked and sucked her like a famished man. Oh GOD! She'd known this was going to happen, somehow, she just hadn't known it would be this. She saw his head moving between her legs, felt his tongue plunging into her, licking, moaning, sucking, kissing and tasting. He didn't seem to notice or care that she was awake. He grasped her thighs tighter, pulled her closer, desperate to get as much of her into his mouth as he could.

She lay back on her elbows again, panting once more, so overwhelmed with the feelings shooting through her body, radiating out from between her legs. God, god, god! She was astounded, stunned, and shocked. THIS was what she had wanted, what she had craved from him, and had truly known only once before—greedy, male, animal lust, absolutely pure and unaffected, and it set her on fire, made her respond like a volcano, unable to stop her hips from grinding back at his insistent mouth, helping him, feeding herself to his lips. She felt his tongue traveling up, felt him use his hands to spread her wider, open her thighs to expose her throbbing, aching clit. He attacked it with his tongue and lips, pulled at it, swirled his tongue around, sucked it into his hot, moaning mouth. 

She loved it, but she had to stop him, she was getting too sensitive. She whispered frantically "Patrick! Patrick! What are you doing?" He ignored her completely. He made a pathetic sounding moan and pulled her thighs and hips even tighter towards his face. But she held them apart, reached down and tried to pull him away. "Patrick, honey, what are you doing?"

Finally he made a painful sound, a moan of unhappiness, pulled away and looked up at her. The look on his face, which was absolutely slathered with her glistening wetness, was almost too much for her to take. It was the hottest thing she had ever seen in her life. His eyes were dazed with lust and pleasure, as if he didn't know who he was or who she was. Above all, they were desperate. They were pleading with her, begging her not to make him stop, not to take this away from him. So she said, "Shh, it's ok, it's ok," and pulled his face back to her, squeezed her thighs together, lay back and let him finish. 

After a while he seemed to finally come back to himself. He pulled himself away, pushed himself up to her, moaning as he grasped her hair tightly and pulled her into him. His entire body was shaking, very violently. He held onto her with his strong, trembling arms. She could tell he was willing himself not to fuck her now, and trying to gain some control back, and yet he could not let her go. He folded her tightly in his arms like she was the most precious thing in the world, folding his arms across her chest, pulling her in, getting one strong leg over her hips. She just let him hold her, as much as he needed, like a child. Soon they both fell asleep.

+++

It was morning, or so Karen thought. It was hard to tell, because it was so dark outside. They were really in the thick of it now. The hurricane was HERE, raging right outside the window. She was alone, or at least, she didn't see him. It took about a minute before she remember what had happened . . . the sheets were all tangled, her hair was a mess, her thighs were all sticky, but none of that bothered her. She was more concerned about the fact that she had called him "honey" than anything else. She prayed he wouldn't remember it.

She get up, stretched. No, he was not here, but she did see a note on the pillow. It said:

Went to get breakfast.

--P.

Oh dear god. Even those few words made her nipples ache and her pussy throb. She headed into the shower. She was in there about ten minutes when she heard the door outside quietly open and close, then someone walking around. 

When she came out, with damp hair, naked and a white towel wrapped around her, the wind was blowing in because he was standing by the balcony, smoking. He had no shirt on, just pajama bottoms with a drawstring, and bare feet. He was leaning back against a desk and he looked stressed. Anguished was more like it. She glanced down and could see that he was hard. His cock was straining up against his thin pants, ready to burst. He was glaring at her with the same look he had had the day before, coming in from the rain.

She walked over and stood in front of him. They did not talk, but as soon as she looked at his face, she knew they were both remembering the last time they had looked into each other's eyes, his face buried between her legs, begging and pleading with her not to make him stop.

So holding his gaze, Karen shrugged out of her towel, let it drop right there on the floor. She just stood there naked, with the wind blowing in, looking at him. He stared, and in seconds he was next to her. She saw him throw his lit cigarette out the window and stride towards her, and just as a wild crack of thunder shattered the space, he was half carrying, half pushing her to the bed. 

+++

He pushed her down, spread her legs, got on top of her and held her face, his eyes burning into hers. He was angry. He did not like to lose control, and he resented her power over him. He grabbed her face, growled as he looked into her eyes, "What are you doing to me?!" She shook her head frantically as if to say "I don't know!" She had no more control over it than he did.

He stared into her eyes, fisted her hair, and just gave in to the violent passion tearing through his body. He leaned down and kissed her, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth, and sucking hers into his own. He let his hands find her breasts, those perfect firm breasts that drove him wild, now panting and arching towards his hands. 

Karen found herself reaching for his pajamas, desperately trying to find that drawstring, tugging at them, finally hissing "Take these off!" He stopped what he was doing and pulled back on his knees, and she reached up to yank at the string. Even these few seconds annoyed them. She reached up and pulled them roughly down, and then he just held himself there for a second—his taut, gym-toned thighs straining, his abs pulled back, every muscle tensing up as he was finally, finally naked before her eyes. He looked down at her as she gazed at the glorious sight of his huge, engorged cock. Years of forbidden, pent-up desire converged on this moment; Patrick watched Karen's face fill with amazement and need, and it pushed him to act.

He grabbed her head, brought her face towards him and held her mouth inches from his cock. He had fantasized about her many times, but he had never let himself go beyond this point. It had not seemed right. But now, he moaned "Oh god, Karen!" and pushed himself into her mouth, desperate to feel her lips on him. He groaned loudly, painfully, and could not stop himself from holding her head roughly as he pushed in hard and deep. 




The Perfect Storm



But the need to be inside her, to really consummate the desire that had been tormenting them, was greater than this sharp and focused pleasure. He did not want to come this way. He did not want just her mouth, or just her pussy. He wanted all of her. He wanted to look in her eyes as he entered her, and feel her arms and legs wrapped around him. He pulled himself out of her mouth. Reaching down to her body to grab her hips, he saw that she was already spreading her legs and reaching for him, drawing him down and towards her.

It was fast, urgent, and unstoppable. Neither of them prepared for the intensity of it and neither of them in control. 

It was the thought of the other, more than their bodies, more than his cock and her pussy—knowing it was this person they had wanted, looked at, imagined, and desired for so long, that spurred them both on, that drove his hips harder and faster and made her meet his violent thrusts. They clutched at each other in a kind of madness, sweating and moaning, swept along by the knowledge that they were giving in, that they were finally fucking.

It was the perfect storm.

+++

A little while later Karen was lying naked, sprawled across the bed, with her head resting on Patrick's stomach. He was sitting up against the headboard with a sheet pulled just to his waist. He was smoking, and stroking her hair. 

There was no longer any pretense that they were not going to stay in bed all day, that they were not going to give in, that they hadn't wanted this for years. Patrick was back to being much more in control of himself, however. He was quiet and thoughtful. 

That fast, furious morning had astounded and surprised them. They were circling around it, not sure what was happening. But the intensity of that violent lust was over; it had given way to a slow, dreamy eroticism. Knowing they had time, that they could and would fuck again, gave them a sense of quiet, anticipatory desire. It filled the room like the rain outside, lulling them into a peaceful mood. 

Karen said, "How long ago did you have thoughts about me? Did you ever think about it?"

"Of course. As long as I've known you."

"I thought so, but I wasn't sure. You hid it well."

"I'm your boss. It wasn't right. It's still not right."

"And yet here we are."

"Yes," he said, "here we are."

"So what made you leave that note? Say something?"

"I would think that would be obvious."

"What?"

He leaned down, ran his hands over her hips. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see you . . . like that, last night? In that little white shirt?"

"Not really."

He kept running his hands over her body, then whispered in her ear, "I could not get it out of my mind, all day. I couldn't concentration on those depositions. All I could see was you. All I could think about was you, back in this room, waiting for me." 

"Ah, so that's what made you so angry."

"Yes . . . "

He was feeling her body now, concentrating on what he saw, framing her hips, letting himself look and touch as much as he wanted. 

"And then your ass, in my face, all night . . . "

He rolled over so that he was propped up on one elbow, and she was lying passively beside him.

He put his cigarette in the ashtray, letting it smolder. He wanted to look at her as if seeing her body now for the first time, as if the past night and morning had not even happened. He was fascinated by it, by all her curves, by all the aspects he had noticed and wanted to touch, but had never let himself until now. He was pouring over her like one of his legal briefs, giving her his entire, focused, concentrated attention. 

His big strong hands, veined and so masculine, spread out to her breasts, cupped them and held them, flicking their thumbs over her nipples. 

"These are so beautiful. Such perfect, tiny little nipples."

He traveled down her hips, reveling in her curves, looking and concentrating, taking a puff from his cig, loving her body. He circled and caressed and massaged her flat, tight stomach, and then his hands moved down to her thighs, first the outside, and then moving into the inside. 

He caressed her mound with his thumbs, and the small little trimmed triangle of hair, taking it all in. He looked at her face, wanting to see her eyes when he reached under and felt her gently, much more gently than he had the night before. 

"And this . . . "

He treated it all with the same calm, undivided attention. He watched, removed almost, with a steady curiosity.

He whispered as he continued, slow and determined, "I've wanted you for so long."

+++

The storm settled in as a long, unrelenting, steady and heavy rain mixed with wind, darkening the skies all day. It wrapped them into a tight little cocoon, encouraging intimacy, and as he continued to just touch her, they started to talk.

+++

"You know I don't think I've ever asked you what you did before you started out with me. Because I know you're too damn smart to have always been a paralegal."

She smiled. "No, you never did ask."

"Well I'm asking now . . . "

She said, "I was in art school, in California."

At this he gave another one of his startled looks, then just smiled to himself. Of course she would be a "creative type," just like his ex.

"Hmmm . . . what kind?"

He found this incredibly attractive. Someone who was so different from him.

Karen did not particularly want to talk about this. It was very painful. She just said, "Photography."

"So why did you stop . . .? How did you end up here?"

Ah . . . that was the point.

"Because of the relationship I was in . . . ," and she could not stop the emotion from showing in her voice.

And from there, he drew out the whole story. She talked and talked as he continued to study her body. She talked quietly and he listened quietly, paying attention. 

At one point he said, "So you made him choose."

"Yes."

"Why did you do that? Why couldn't you live him with the way he was?"

There was much more behind THAT question than she knew.

She thought about it. "Because I couldn't stand that he had made something I could never share in more important than me. If we'd been on the same wavelength, maybe it could have worked, but there was no way. We were too different."

Patrick leaned back and took a long drag from his cigarette, crushed it out, said, "I think I understand that."

"Oh yes?"

"Yes, I do . . . "

He rolled over, lay on his back, one arm over his head, thinking.

Karen turned and got on her elbow, so she could see his face. 

"So are you going to tell me about Linda now?"

"I already did."

She gave him a look. "No, you didn't."

He leaned back on his arm, sat back and spread his legs a little, and started to talk. The white sheet came just to his crotch, and Karen gazed down at his flat, hard stomach. He was so fucking hot lying there, vulnerable and open, as he began telling her his story, starting with how they'd fallen in love. 

At one point she interrupted him, saying "I cannot picture you with an artist. Of any kind. That makes no sense."

"Well, what about you, with a Bible-thumper? Does that make any sense?"

As she listened, surprised, hearing a kind of mirror image of her own life, she had mixed emotions. She pitied him, but identified with the ex-wife. 

She asked him, "Well didn't you see where she was coming from? Don't you get that she felt abandoned?!"

"It was my LIFE, Karen. My WORK. There's a lot you don't know about me, about why I do what I do, a fuck of a lot you don't know!"

He calmed down, leaned back. There was no point. He'd already been through it too many times

before.

They were silent for a long time, until Karen said, "Face it. We're our own worst nightmares."

Patrick laughed, and spread his legs wider, because he felt himself getting hard. He looked down at her, reaching for her hips, wanting her even more.

"Oh, I don't know about that . . . "

He pulled her onto his lap and started kissing her neck as he brought her hand to his cock. 

"It wasn't all a nightmare, was it?"

+++

What could they do? They had reached the eye of the storm, both inside and out. There was nowhere else to go, but to face the impossibilities of life, to realize that it was not perfect, and that love did not always work out. 

Their desire swirled around these impasses like a hurricane, but this time it was both more tender and more violent, because their emotions had caught up with them.

There were four people in their bed, not two. They raged out their lust, hurt, passion, and anger as each embodied the ghosts of the past, as if they could fuck it all out of them, and in doing so, finally move on. 

Karen straddled Patrick on the edge of the bed; they stared into other's eyes as his cock slowly filled her up, each moment making her gasp and moan. She rode him hard, looking into his eyes, letting him see deeply into her, frantically kissing him and grasping his head when she came on his lap, as he watched and told her how beautiful she looked.

He got behind her, pushed her head down, drew her hips up, and told her to turn around and look at him, and Karen knew that this was how he used to like to fuck his wife. She knew because it was in his voice, in the way he moaned, desperate and out of control, "Oh baby, oh fuck baby, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!" 

They exhausted themselves in a fury, then rested until they reached for each other again, saying "I cannot get enough of you."

They went all night, until the storm wore itself out, until there was nothing left, until they fell into a tangled heap and slept, not aware that the sun had finally begun to come out.

+++

When they boarded a plane later the next day, the world looked brand new. It had been washed clean, glittering and clear. The plane bore them away from the rhythms and temporality of nature, back to New York, back to reality, and away from each other.

As soon as they returned, Karen told Patrick about her decision. She was going back to art school, starting over, finishing her life.

He understood. He wanted her to stay, but at the same time, he didn't. 

+++

And so the storm passed, and everyone was happy.