The Storm
by Sire Jake
The day was dark…heavy with a promise of rain. Rolling clouds loomed in the distance. Inside the mood was almost the same.
This session had been different from any they had. He would not allow her to suck his dick. He would not do anything sexual. They had acted like an old married couple and this worried her to no end. He had spoken of a time like this, but she never thought it would happen.
She had gotten nude and rubbed herself against him. All this managed to do was get her eaten the first couple of times and punished the last few times. She had cooked and done all the things he liked to try to please him. He would play with her, but not make love to her for two days now, something that had never happened before nor did she think ever would.
Was he tiring of her? Was there season, as he called it, coming to a close? She was about to go crazy but still she hesitated to asked the question that she knew would kill her if he answered yes. Life, as she had come to love it, would end. No one before in her entire life had ever just let her be her.
When she said she wanted to make love in a graveyard, two weeks later it had been done. When she told him of the place in Maine she had visited and loved, they had gone. When she said she wanted to be fisted or when she had wanted anal sex, it was done. He never made her feel her desires where strange or kinky. He never made her do the things she wrote stories about that she simply could not do in real life.
He called when things were at there worst and seemed to make them better. He ripped unpleasant things from her mind that she refused to surrender voluntarily. He comforted her through the hardest of times. Though she did not like the mere fact that the others existed, he even made that tolerable.
He would do what she wanted to do. He cared about her needs.
It seemed that he had no needs of his own. Those he did have were really hers. This could not end. She would not allow it. She would do whatever she had to do to hold on to him. She had thought once, a long time ago, of leaving because he refused to make her the only one. When he simply said, “NO.” and offered to release her if she were unhappy she had quickly retracted her statement. She had learned to accept that when he was with her she was his one and only and that she held a special place all her own that no one else could ever fill.
Finally she asked the question…then she held her breath for what seemed like forever as he pondered his answer.
He motioned for her to come and sit on his lap. Softly he began to stroke her as only he could do. This only made it worst. Now she knew that he was tired of her. Then, without warning, he grabbed a handful of her hair and almost dragged her into the bathroom. He kissed her so passionately that she thought she would faint. He ripped the cotton blouse almost to shreds in one motion followed by her bra which refused to give way, but he continued pulling it until it did. Her back and shoulders still felt the pressure as he and the fabric fought. Finally he won.
He cut the spandex pants from her waist, then ripped them the rest of the way off followed by her panties. He kissed her again, then ordered her to sit on the seat of the toilet and not move or speak a word. She obeyed. He had never been this rough…rough was not the word…it was as if he was boiling inside like the storm that was quickly approaching.
He drew her a bath and helped her in without a word. As many times as he had bathed her it had never been this soft…this sensual. He was washing her down to her very soul. His touch went to her core, tender but firm. Her ordered her to lay back as he gazed out the bathroom window at the darkening sky just outside.
Slowly he began to pour water so warm she could barely stand it as he gently spoke, so softly she strained to hear him over the water. “You are more then just a sexual object to me. You don’t have to be sucking my cock every time we are together. I enjoy being with you my sweet one, so worry not.”
A bolt of lighting lit up the dark sky and the clap of thunder frightened her. She jumped.
He got an intense hard on and his eye looked strange. His voice became softer…softer as he gazed out the window. He helped her from the tub and into the shower as the storm began to build and the lighting came more often. As he dried her she could swear every time the lighting lit up the darkening sky she could feel a shock of electricity coming from his body. Following what seemed like three dozen lightning bolts he began to lick her like he had never licked her before. He moaned gently as each lighting bolt and clap of thunder increased his sense of urgency. He was not really with her. He was part of something far grater and distant…not of this world. His tongue was the wind and air; the sea both hot and cold. He had become something nonhuman.
The weather forecasters had declared that the approaching storm was expected to be the worst in recorded history, and she believed them as the driving rain beat against the windows, the roof, the sides of the house. The more violent the storm became, the more passionate he became. Since they left the bathroom he had not said a word…he had dressed her but had made her cum more then he ever had before. The storm was in his eyes, in his tongue. He would not allow her to give him pleasure. He had made her cum in ways that she did not believe were possible.
When the storm seem to be at it worst he grabbed her by the hair dragged her to the door. He threw it open and they went out into the main storm. He tore her gown into a thousand strips of ,silk and satin even though it was his favorite. He wrestled her to the muddy ground and took her both vaginally and analy then came in her mouth his seed was sweeter then usual, and hotter…so much hotter.
After he had cum, he started to lick her at the very top of her head until every inch of her body tingled so she thought she would go mad. Between the rain beating against her body and his tongue and touch she was frightened. He had never been this intense. His face highlighted in the lightning was strange. His eyes seemed to glow. His tongue appeared red hot. She was relieved when he finally stopped, allowing her to catch her breath and her heart to slow down.
He ran towards the house like a man possessed. She tried to get up but could not. Her muscles were like jelly. Her limbs unable to support her weight. Her head felt like a ton on lead.
When he returned he stood over her…looking down at her…burning his emerald green eyes into her…his serpent like tongue darted in and out of his mouth. The lightning gave him have an eerie glow that in anyone else would have scared the shit out of her. Instead, it finally registered to her that he was being recharged, something he was getting from her and from the storm was what he had given to her so many times. Then she noticed the purple flogger. He began to whip her so sensually that she came so hard she thought she would pass out. Before she could recover from the flogger he was on her with his tongue once again.
He threw his head back, and the driving rain beat into his face. He seemed to need it. She had never thought he needed anything or anyone. She had been wrong. This storm had been his, and she had reaped the benefit. She had been allowed to share this with him. She prayed to be with him during every storm. She did want to share this part of him with any of this with any of the others.
It went on for hours. The stronger the storm became, the more intense he became. When the storm crested, he filled her mouth, pussy and asshole with his seed which seemed to burn into her, bonding him to her, making them one.
He helped her into the house and bathed her again. Together they cleaned up the mess they made coming in from the outside. Then…together…they had cuddled up in front of the fire place and blissfully feel off into a deep, deep sleep wrapped in the embrace of each others arms.
