Summer Storm
By John Yager

Summer has come and with it a burst of the romantic in me.

This is a fantasy, not meant to draw on any specific person or persons, so make it your own. If you enjoy it, please let me know.

Andrew, thank you again for so much help, for good advice, for proofing and editing and, most of all, for making me look so much better than I am.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission from the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

jvoyager@hotmail.com

I rose from bed, throwing back the sheet, stepping naked to the window, open to the dark night.

Should I close it against the coming rain or leave it open for the cooling air? I chose to leave it open and returned to bed.

Your body, dark against the whiteness of the sheet, beckoning, pulsing with your life and vibrant with the coming storm, was like a beacon guiding me.

I moved against you, felt your soft response, heard the murmur in your breath, knew that even sleeping, you were mine and loving me. I moved my arm around you, felt your warmth, ran my fingers down the firmness of your chest as you moved back to me.

We hardened with the pressure of your buttocks on my crotch, feeling little thrusts and parries as you rearranged yourself, corrected the alignment of our bodies, then moved again, pressing back against me.

My hand is on your pulsing cock as your ass presses back to me. My wetness is all the lubricant we need, accustomed to each other as we are. I slide in slowly, feeling each familiar part of you, knowing the path, anticipating the hard knot which causes you to moan.

"Yes," you whisper as you press against me, impaled on my rigid masculinity and wanting more.
The air is trembling now and trees are groaning with the violence of the wind. Rain begins to fall but wide eaves protect the window and keep our bedroom dry.

We move together now, the rhythm known, well practised, easy now. The ritual of our mating is a well known rite, the progress recognized, the ending sure.

"Yes," you moan again and I reply.

"I love you so."

The storm is on us now, the bolts of lightning near, our room electric with its nearness and the bed aglow.

"Oh yes, oh yes," you chant and I reply.

"Forever, love, I love you, lover, know."

And you reply, "I know."

The climax breaks and we are as one, no longer separate, but so joined now that our souls must merge.

The storm has passed us by, moved on to other valleys, other couples lying arm in arm.

The air is cooler now. You roll to face me and we kiss, my arms around you and the tempest gone.

The end.