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The rain had continued all day. Standing at his office window, he looked at the street below. It was already flooded. This could easily get worse, he thought. He was the last one left at the office. As the director, he never left before all his employees had already left. Deciding to call it a day, he shut down the office and hurried to his parked car, holding his office bag and newspaper over his head. Still, in the few seconds he’d been exposed, he got uncomfortably wet. Sitting inside his car, he wiped his face, hair and glasses.
Then he started the car and slowly pulled out onto the street. Absently he studied his fellow beings on the street, caught in the rain and trying to find shelter in vain. Was that Sudha standing at the bus stop? He couldn’t tell for sure. The rain, the umbrella the woman held, partly hid her from his view. He thought it would be embarrassing if he called her and it turned out to be someone else.
Then he slowed down again. The woman was wearing the same colour sari, more or less, that Sudha had worn at the office today. It would look doubly embarrassing if it was Sudha and he didn’t stop, he thought. Making up his mind, he stopped at the bus stop and rolled down the passenger window and peered out at her. She obviously had no clue who he was and only looked at him somewhat curiously.
It wasn’t Sudha after all. “I’m sorry”, he said, embarrassed as he’d expected, “I thought you were an employee of mine and I was going to offer you–I mean her–a ride.” How to get out of this situation, he wondered. Should he now offer her a ride? It was only the polite thing to do. On the other hand, if he did so, would she perhaps get suspicious and offended? In the end, his sense of politeness prevailed. Stammering a bit with embarrassment, he said, “Well, since I’m here, if you’re going anywhere in my direction, can I offer you a ride?”
The woman hesitated. He studied her face, which showed some indecision. The rain was coming down, after all. And traffic was crawling. No telling when her bus would show up, probably. And when it did, it would be super-crowded. Would she even be able to get on it? No autos were running either, as the streets were already under water. Haltingly, she named her location and then trailed off, as if doubtful of imposing too much on a stranger. Relieved to hear her reply, he said, “Sure, sure, please get in!”. Her place was only a couple of kms beyond his house. And what’s a car for if not for transportation? He saw her sense of relief show in the immediate relaxing of her posture.
He unlocked the passenger door, and threw his office bag from the passenger seat to the rear. She folded her umbrella and got in, automatically shaking the umbrella outside, which the pouring rain immediately rendered futile. Then she hurriedly closed the door while he raised the automatic window. The sound of the drenching rain was subdued immediately. In the relative quiet, they looked at each other directly in the face, and then turned away, self-conscious. He held his hand out for her umbrella. Their fingers touched. “Sorry,” he mumbled almost to himself. “That’s all right,” she replied automatically and as softly. She blushed at herself, which she was thankful he couldn’t see.
Slowly he drove through the sluggish traffic and the flooded roads. Here and there were some stranded autos and scooters. Automatically, he stole a quick look at his new companion. Curiosity, naturally. The bottom half of her sari was drenched, as was to be expected. She sat quite still, looking out of her window, her fingers twined together in her lap. He looked straight ahead again. Driving was demanding enough of his attention at normal times, not to mention in this kind of weather. His thoughts wandered. Was his wife back at home from work?
Automatically his eyes strayed again and rested briefly on her. Catching himself, he shook his head and frowned, straightening his eyes once more. But not before he’d seen the goose-pimples on her arms, the fingers clenched together more tightly. She was probably shivering in the cold. “Excuse me,” he said, and reached over to turn on the heat in the car. “It’s getting rather cold,” he said. “Thank you,” she acknowledged.
His phone rang. He looked around. It was in his bag, in the rear seat. He momentarily twisted around to get it, but the bag was out of his reach. “Can I get it for you?” she asked. Without waiting, she twisted and stretched back, reaching for the bag. He stopped the car. Suddenly he was very aware of her nearness. Her pallu brushed against his shoulder. Her blouse was momentarily uncovered on her left side, near him. Its entire left side was soaking, too. He saw the bra clearly outlined underneath the clinging blouse. The lacy bra, his mind noted irrelevantly. The ringing stopped.
She half turned back, but then reached back again, saying “It will probably ring again.” Swiftly, his eyes took in the full curve of her ass, outlined against the stretched tightness of her sari as she strained to reach his bag. He frowned at himself again, trying to control his thoughts. But it was rather late. Somehow, with her pallu resting on his shoulder and arm, his lund was filling up. Uneasily he shifted in his seat. Then she had got his bag and sat back, handing it to him.
He tried to remain still. He got the phone out and looked at it. It was his wife, as expected. He was aware of his companion looking at him expectantly. “It is my wife,” he said, and she nodded. He called his wife, listening and explaining his own situation. But for some reason that he couldn’t explain to himself, he left out any mention of his passenger. After the call, he explained, “My wife has left work, too, and is on her way.” He put away the phone and they started driving again.
The going had become noticeably harder. The rain had intensified. There was no conversation. There was no chance for any. The windshield wipers were barely coping with the deluge. It took all his concentration to drive. A number of times he had to come to a complete stop, to figure out where he was and where he should turn. The sound of the rain hitting the roof of the car was now surprisingly deafening, even through the so-called sound-proof car.
“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly.
“Why?” he asked, surprised.
“I’m putting you through much trouble,” she replied. He wanted to protest, but she continued. “Am I taking you out of your way too much? Maybe you should let me out and I’ll just walk home. Driving in this is just too tense for you,” she said.
“No, no, no,” he said automatically. Though, to be honest, it was indeed quite nerve-wracking. “I’m not going out of my way at all. Actually, that is my street not too far away,” he said.
“In that case, you’ve reached home,” she replied. “Please do let me out now. I cannot possibly ask you to drive any more,” He thought it over. It was indeed tough driving. As if to underscore her point, the rain got even harder as they reached his home. Sighing, he stopped the car in front of his gate and parked it. Then he looked at her. “Thank you very much for driving me this far,” she said, “I’m very very grateful.”
Uncertainly, he retrieved her umbrella and handed it to her. Once again, their fingers touched. He released his grip on the umbrella just a fraction later than he should have. His touch on her fingers lingered just that bit longer. Blushing to herself, once again, she collected herself, and looked out of her window. It was daunting. She reached to open the door.
“Would you prefer to wait inside until the rain reduces?” he asked suddenly. She didn’t answer immediately. The rain.
“No,” she said finally, “I should try to get home. My husband will be worried.”
Trying to steel herself, she opened the door and put her left foot outside. It was immediately upto her ankle in flowing water. Gathering her determination, she put both her legs out, got the umbrella outside and opened it, then slowly stepped out. She had to hold on to the car to steady herself. The force of the rain pushing against her umbrella, and the swirling waters around her feet kept her from taking even one step. And when she did try after several seconds, at the very first step she overbalanced and flailed her hands, trying to stay steady. Exposed to the downpour, he saw her get nicely drenched.
“Get in! Get back in the car!” he shouted to her automatically. Meekly, she did, getting even more drenched, and sat there, breathing hard from the exertion. “Please,” he said, “come inside and wait for the rain to slow down. We can call your husband from inside. My wife will be home soon, too,” he added reassuringly. She nodded silently, looking down at her wet hands. She was a little shaken, thinking what might have happened if he had indeed let her walk away in this storm.
It was his turn to get out of the car, this time to open his gate. He drove the car into the parking space. A sense of intense relief flowed through her when she found herself under a sheltering roof, and the roar of the hard rain hammering on the car roof ceased. Then he went out again and closed the gate. By the time he returned, his pants were soaked as well.
She stood respectfully, a few feet away behind him as he opened the door of his house, waiting for his “Please come in,” before venturing inside. Her wet clothes dripped on the floor. “I’m so sorry, I’m messing up your floor,” she said, embarrassed. But she was done with trying to brave the weather outside. The safety and warmth of the house was just too inviting.
“Never mind,” he said. “First things first. Let me take you to the bathroom and you can towel yourself dry.” Wordlessly she followed him, looking around as she walked. There was furniture scattered around haphazardly, boxes all over the floor.
“Please don’t mind the mess,” he said, noticing her surprise. “The rooms are all being painted, and this is the result. We had to move all the furniture from the other rooms.”
As they entered the bathroom, he turned around to face her. In the bright light, he clearly saw the state of her clothes. Her drenched sari and blouse were clinging to her skin. His eyes developed a mind of their own, lingering a little too long over her wet blouse. She lowered her face and blushed deeply as she felt his eyes on her. He controlled himself and looked away, only to find her reflection in the mirror. Seen in her clinging outfit in the mirror, she seemed almost naked.
He caught her eyes in the mirror. They locked briefly before separating. Covering his confusion, he tried to talk cheerily, “Let me bring you that towel. And, I’ll tell you what. I’ll get you some of my wife’s clothes. No, no, you must let me!” he added when she seemed about to protest. “Otherwise my wife will kill me for letting you catch cold in this.” He pointed to her dress.
She looked down at her sorry looking sari. He looked at her, taking in her breasts, her bare waist, the shape of her thighs in her clinging sari in a rapid, fleeting glance while she wasn’t looking at him. His lund was coming alive. Ashamed, he turned and left the bathroom, saying “I’ll be right back,” over is shoulder.
He soon returned, and deposited a pair of his wife’s pajama top and bottom, a warm-looking bathrobe, and a couple of towels. “Change into these and I’ll drop your wet clothes into the clothes dryer,” he said and left the room. She locked the door. Unable to help himself, he waited just outside, listening to the sounds from within. By now she must have divested herself of her sari. His mind raced, despite himself, mentally undressing her. He scolded himself, but didn’t stop undressing her until she was completely naked! He had drunk in enough of her in the clinging wet sari to complete the task. His lund was painfully erect now inside his wet trousers.
The door opened. “Where can I hang these?” her question brought him around.
She was nicely wrapped in the pajamas and bathrobe, and holding her wet clothes, now wrung out of excess water, in front of her. He led her to the dryer. “You can dry them here,” he said.
She stood uncertainly, and it dawned on him that maybe she hadn’t used one before. At least, not this model. “Here, let me,” he said, and took the wet bundle from her hand. She briefly resisted handing it to him, but relinquished it in the end when he looked at her questioningly. The reason for her initial reluctance dawned on him soon enough as he separated the bundle. Her bra, and then her panties were the first to get untangled from the bundle. He held each one in his hand, examining them just a fraction too long as if reluctant to let go, before dropping it into the dryer. She saw him, holding her most intimate pieces of clothing, and a hot flush spread through her cheeks and neck.
She could sense very fine hot perspiration break out on her forehead. She turned away to hide her hot face. He took the opportunity to hold her panties in his hand just a bit longer, crushing it inside his palm, and then dropping it in. His out-of-control mind raged: If I slip my hand under her pajama top, I would find… her naked breasts! It would be so easy! And more! If I slipped my hand inside the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and slid it down, down, … down… her cunt! His wanton mind lingered on the word.
His lund was rampant at the imagery his mind conjured up: His left arm wrapping around her from behind, around her waist and up inside her pajama top; the hand clamped fully over her breast, feeling the nipple hard against his palm. His right hand slipping inside her pajama bottom, feeling its way down her belly, down toward her most cherished possession. He imagined her two hands grappling with his hands, trying to remove them, half-heardtedly, and inevitably not succeeding…
“I’ll wait outside,” she spoke and left the cramped little laundry space, breaking his daydreams. He finished dropping her clothes in and started the dryer.
“Let me change, too, and then we can call your husband,” he said.
In a few minutes he returned, wearing a robe as well. He offered her his cell phone. She took it very gingerly from his hand, avoiding touching his fingers. He was disappointed. But the phone was a model she wasn’t familiar with.
“How do I enter the number…?” she asked, feeling silly.
His left hand reached out and cupped the back of hers, as if to steady the phone. He showed her how to bring up the dial system. In the process there were several inevitable little touches of his fingers on hers. She stayed quite still while he finished. “Why had she allowed her hand to remain in his?” she asked herself. Shouldn’t she have withdrawn it, or tried to? But she hadn’t. Shockingly, her hand remembered his compelling masculine touch. Even worse, it missed the touch when he released her hand! His hands were so large! Hers had looked tiny, cradled inside his palm.
She dialled her husband and explained the situation. “He wants a word with you,” she said in the end, handing him the phone.
He reassured her husband. “My wife and I will take care of her, until this rain stops,” he assured him. He waved away the husband’s thanks, saying
“Hope this rain stops soon!” She had a few more words and they hung up.
He then dialled his wife, debating exactly what he should say about the unexpected guest. But his debate was preempted. “There’s no way I can get home tonight..” he heard his wife say over the phone. He glanced swiftly at his guest and saw her narrowed eyes. She had heard her too.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I’m going to stay with my friend,” his wife replied. “Her house is not far from here.”
I guess I will see you tomorrow, he replied. “Let’s hope the rain stops by then and the roads clear! Call me before you leave!” He ended the call. He never got around to mentioning the guest. She, too, noticed that he had never mentioned her. Irrelevantly, the sense of his touch on her hand came back to her. She frowned mentally.
“I suppose we should think about dinner,” he said and went to the kitchen. She followed hesitantly. “There is left-over food in the fridge. Or would you rather we make something fresh?” he asked.
“Oh, please don’t worry about me. Even some curd-rice will be enough,” she said. He warmed up some food and cleared some space on the cluttered dining table
She looked on, feeling embarrassed. “Let me help,” she said when he started bringing the food from the kitchen to the table, thinking that at least she should make herself useful. He offered her the pot he was carrying, to take to the dining table. His left hand was holding the bottom of the pot, using a pad to protect his hand from the heated pot. His right hand held the handle of the pot, steadying it. She hesitated. But she had offered to help, after all.
She tentatively reached out to take the pot from him. For a few seconds they were both supporting the weight of the pot, her hand covering his at the bottom. Then the full weight of the pot was in her hand, with his hand caught between hers and the protective pad underneath the pot. He extricated his hand with some difficulty. His lund enthusiastically savoured the pressure of her palm on the back of his hand.
Three more pots followed, in similar fashion. It seemed foolish to both of them to try to find a different way of exchanging the pots that would avoid their hands touching. Not only that, knowing that his wife was going to be away all night somehow seemed to give them legitimacy. All of a sudden the touches of flesh upon flesh seemed perfectly all right and normal.
By the time the last pot was exchanged, he made a great show of making sure that she had a good grip on it. By the time she took the pot from his hand, his lund was rampantly twitching and jerking inside his bathrobe. They sat across from each other and started eating, watching the TV report on the stormy weather. He asked her for a ladle. When she handed it to him, he went out of his way to let his hand graze over hers. Their eyes met and separated. Not guiltily, but with a faint promise of more touches to come.
As promised, the touches continued. It seemed silly, and almost rude, to avoid them. It was almost as if they were husband and wife. After all, they were alone, and were going to be alone for the entire night, together. That gave them the right. The rain poured, unabated and as hard as ever.
It was past 11 o’clock when they finished.
While they were cleaning in the kitchen, his phone rang. It was her husband, wanting to know if there was any chance she would be back tonight. Obviously, he had no hope of that, but didn’t wish to openly impose on the stranger. Finally, he was assured that it was no imposition at all. There was enough spare room for her and she would be home first thing tomorrow after everything cleared. The husband was clearly relieved, and thanked him several times. They wished good night all around. Then he called his wife and wished her good night. Now they were truly alone and set for the night.
They settled down on the sofa, watching TV for a few minutes.
“I suppose we should think about bedtime,” he said, eyeing her doubtfully.
And then the lights went out.
In the sudden darkness, and the stillness with the TV switching off, the sound of the pounding rain intensified. Automatically, her hand reached out for his, seeking reassurance. It was met by his hand. For a second or so, the two hands searched each other and then her hand settled into his. He peered this way and that, trying to see through the blackness, still holding her hand.
He saw nothing. The power cut seemed total. It must be city wide, or at least a large area around. He didn’t even know where the candles were, or a torchlight. Then a thought occurred and he said, “I’ll find my cellphone. That should provide some light.”
His cellphone was lying somewhere in the kitchen. Slowly and gingerly he made his way past her on the sofa, holding his hands in front of him. As soon as he cleared the sofa, he tripped on some box or furniture, he couldn’t tell which, on the floor. He nearly fell, causing a commotion.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing. It’s all these boxes,” he replied. Straightening himself, he was now thoroughly disoriented. Which way to go? He took two or three tentative steps and tripped again.
“Why don’t you come back and just sit for a while, and see if the power comes back?” she said. “The floor is covered with boxes and furniture. You will probably fall next time you trip,” she finished.
True enough. He agreed and carefully stepped back. “Where are you?” he asked.
“Here,” she guided him.
Slowly, using her voice, he retraced his way back to the sofa. On the way, his searching hand rested briefly on her thigh. She caught his wrist in his arm. He then took her hand, and found his place on the sofa next to her. Her hand remained in his, seeking his reassurance in the strange environment. They stayed still and quiet.
Then they heard his cellphone beeping. “Oh no!” he said.
“What is it?” she asked.
“The cellphone battery is dying,” he said.
“Ohhh!” she exclaimed. Did he sense Her hand trembling a little in his? At any rate, he squeezed it gently, reassuringly, and held it a little tighter. Should he make another go for it? Even if he did get to it, so what? The phone would die soon anyway and be useless. And so he stayed. In two minutes the phone fell silent.
They waited, hand in hand, and sleepless. For two hours he fought the impulse to reach out and kiss her. Two hours during which her hand remained in his, during which it slowly, slowly went from a simple, innocent grip to the object of his attention. Conversation was limited. But every time they spoke, it seemed to give him a chance to change his grip on her hand, and caress it in the process. As if hypnotized by the rain, by the darkness, by the circumstances of their togetherness, she allowed him those caresses.
After two hours it seemed to both of them entirely natural and inevitable when he finally raised her hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, several times. When he was quite sure that she was going to allow that, he began kissing his way up her arm. It took him one more hour to kiss her cheek. Another hour during which his lund ached with lust, and she fell under the influence of his attentions, and became pliable. When she felt his lips graze her cheek at last, she felt her body quivering in anticipation, and was lost.
He kept up the maddeningly slow pace. Another half an hour of soft kisses all over her face. She fully expected to be kissed on the lips but it didn’t materialize. Her entire body wound up tightly, expectant in anticipation.
Ohhhhhhhh! The kiss that finally landed on her lips was full. There was absolutely nothing tentative or uncertain about it. After the snails-paced advance of his attentions, she was caught completely unprepared and breathless. His mouth demanded her mouth. His lips crushed hers bruisingly. Pressed them to open, open, open up! She melted, and at that moment she became his wife for the night. He didn’t know this at that time, of course. And so he wooed her very slowly and carefully. The caresses that started then would take more than two hours to develop into a full-fledged session. A full-fledged fuck session.
But, first, the kiss. Her lips parted, and softened, under his. His mouth sensed the softening, the yielding of her unbelievably soft and feminine lips. His lund strained inside his robe. Would her other lips also be so yielding? So yielding when his hot lund prepared to penetrate, shaft, slide inside her slick cunt? He moaned without being aware of it. She heard his moan, and answered with a sigh, automatically. He heard it. His tongue slid out and tentatively slid over the inside of her parted lips. It encountered her teeth.
Slowly his tongue slid along her teeth, from left to right, from right to left. Then again, and again and again. His heart hammered inside his chest. Pounding. Fearing that it would end too soon; she would stop it. And every second that passed and she didn’t stop him, he grew wildly hopeful. He groaned again in his throat. It echoed through her body.
A deep sigh escaped from her. Her mouth opened, inviting his tongue inside. He stilled, as his exploring tongue discovered this new, uncharted territory. It discovered its companion that waited warm and soft and wet, and, above all, his. Slowly his tongue slithered over hers, slithered and slipped and slid, over and over and over, making love to her tongue. Slowly, slowly, she joined the dance. Their lips were tightly locked, mouths parted wide open and air-tight. Inside, their tongues wickedly played, drawing moans from both of them, muffled moans that echoed inside their lip-locked mouths. Moans that fed each other’s desires, each other’s lust.
The tongues moved rhythmically, licking each other, lick, pause, lick, pause, lick, pause, lick… Moans accompanying each lick. Mouths opening wider as the tongues went out seeking each other, then closing slightly as the tongues retracted. But remaining lip-locked, air-tight. The mouths filling with hot saliva, heating their already hot tongues. His mouth was the first to break off.
Under the cover of darkness, her mouth stayed open. Her tongue hung far outside, searching. It was met by his open lips. Then his tongue slid up hers and his lips closed over her tongue. She moaned at his assault and trembled. He sensed the trembling. They licked each other, hungrily. The tongue, the lips, cheek, chin.. And moaned and moaned. The roaring rain only partly hid their lustful mmmmmmmmmm’s and ohhhhhhhhhhh’s. He began lustfully licking her mouth and lips, as he would lick her other pair of lips, the even hotter pair down between her legs. His tongue slid from one corner of her mouth to the other corner, as he would do to the hot slit of her cunt. He nibbled on her lips, then mashed his lips against her mouth. His tongue slid in, fucking her mouth, thrusting in and out and in and out. He was unaware of his solidly erect lund pressing into her hip.
Under cover of the heated kissing, his hand slowly crept inside her pajama top. He didn’t even intentionally do it. Neither was she aware of its invasion. Furtively, his hand sneaked inside, rested on her naked abdomen. As they kissed wetly and moaned heatedly, his hand slowly crept up her abdomen. Both were only dimly aware of this progression and they paid scant attention. His fingertips touched the underside of the swell of her breast, and paused. As if by mutual consent, their kissing and moans intensified even further, providing cover for his fingertips, for her breast to get familiar with them. He became aware of his grip when her chest arched, pushing her round breast into his palm.
Her body reacted this way instinctively when her breast felt his large, masculine hand closing on it. His hand tightened its grip. The size of his hand was equal to the fullness of her breast. She opened her eyes wide as she felt his hot hand on her naked breast. She saw only complete darkness. Nothing to distract her senses. She closed her eyes again.
Her chest was already arched, offering the hot peak to his bold assault. She arched it further, and felt his answer as his hand tightened, squeezing her breast fully now. His forefinger and thumb sought out the hard peak, then closed on it. Her mouth broke away from his to let out a plantive sssssssssssssssss of breath, feeling his fingers working that tormented peak.
Then, swiftly, his other hand was also under her pajama top, now openly seeking out her other breast. In the darkness, and in her heated situation, she was unaware that her legs were up on the sofa, wide apart, and that he was kneeling on the floor between her legs. He loomed over her in the dark, kissing and licking her mouth wetly, fondling her breasts freely. Slowly, slowly, she slid from a sitting position to lying down lengthwise on the sofa. Her robe lay open and trailed on the floor under his knees.
Now he was kneeling near her head, face bent down over hers, smooching and kissing her hungrily. Once again he ate her mouth, as he would eat her cunt, tongue-fucking her mouth, as he would her cunt, while his left hand had its sweet way with her naked breasts underneath her pajama top. She freely allowed him to feel them to his heart’s content. She had never ever been kissed and caressed and mauled for this long, ever. Not even close. The new sensations tensed her body and it stretched and arched this way and that, her legs flailing slowly here and there, searching for something. The ceaseless writhing of her body drew his hand away from her breasts.
First it caressed her abdomen, stroking it just below her breasts. Sometimes returning to the peaks of her globes as if to make sure they were still offered for his, and her, pleasure. But gradually his left hand strayed further.
You know very well where that hand was headed. However, it took him a good half an hour to get to that destination, by which time her cunt would become freely his for the taking. His searching hand encountered her pajama bottom. Then it strayed lower, slowly creeping along and down her left thigh. Then it stopped, just inches from her cunt. Her leg tensed, and then her entire body. Her chest arched up in deep desire. Her tongue snaked out and waved in the air, seeking his tongue. Then his tongue found hers. They snaked over each other wetly and lustfully. Just the tongues. Her dancing tongue promised him — everything. He could have slid his hand over and covered her cunt.
But for some reason his hand resumed creeping down her thigh. He was caught in wonder at the situation, his hand openly caressing a strange woman’s thighs. He wanted to prolong it as far as he could. His hand caressed its way down to her knee, then slid underneath the knee. He lifted her thigh, and she submitted, allowing her leg to bend at the knee and give him full access. His hand started climbing up the underside of her thigh, still clad in her pajama trousers. His hand crept up and then paused, again within a couple of inches of her heated wet cunt. Her leg stiffened. Her toes curled in hot anticipation of what might come. His hand kneaded that inside of her thigh, slowly and methodically.
Her legs slowly and longingly fell wider apart. He felt the flesh of her thigh quivering in tortured need. With all her attention on that hand, his right hand searched for her breasts, and caressed them avidly through the pajama top. Her breasts were mauled in every way, sometimes grazed lightly over, but all over, sometimes gripped and squeezed quite thoroughly, sometimes the peaks held through the pajama fabric and tugged and twisted and tortured lovingly. In between, he found her buttons, and undid them.
All the while his left hand kneaded the inside of her upper thigh, caressed that thigh up and down, sometimes lewdly coming and resting at the very top of her thigh, his fingers within millimeters of her outer lip if not actually grazing there. Then her pajama top was open. His mouth swooped down and clamped down over her naked left breast while his right hand claimed the other breast.
He sucked hard, and she mewled in want. His right hand rhythmically squeezed and squeezed and squeezed her other breast.His fingers were fully spread out over that quivering globe, gripping it and making it his. Then he stopped the assault on her breasts. She felt his hot breath travel over her chest, felt his tongue lick her chin, lick her lips, her own tongue answering eagerly. Then his mouth clamped over hers, totally smothering her.
Then she felt his left hand move under and up the inside of her thigh. Quickly his hand rode up her thigh. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, totally muffling and smothering her hot moan that arose from deep inside her throat when his hand came to rest, his palm pressed squarely and flat on her steamy cunt.
Her legs tried to close. But with her left leg trapped in his left arm, she struggled. Her trapped leg writhed in his grasp, making her thigh rub hard against his entire arm. He held his palm firmly where it was. He could feel the heat from her cunt on his palm, right through the pajamas. His torrid lund quivered with a rampant desire to taste it. An instant later he felt her hand clasp his wrist.
He could feel her trying to push his hand away. The lustful longing in his ramrod lund blinded him to her efforts. Instead, he groaned into her mouth repeatedly, mmmmhh mmmhhh mmmhhhh… as if to subdue her struggles. Gradually she fell under the spell of those demanding groans, and his tongue thrusting powerfully into her open mouth. She slowed and then ceased her struggles. She forgot that she was holding his wrist. Slowly, he began caressing her captured cunt. Slowly. Up and down, up and down. Her soft and warm hand now held his wrist gently, as though guiding it. This was her first such touch on him and he relished it. His lund relished it, throbbing riotously.
As he rubbed and caressed, he became aware of small undulations of her hips. Seduced by his caressing hand on her cunt, her hips were answering him. Seduced by him, and at the same time seductively urging him on. His right hand stole over her bare stomach, searched for the rope holding the pajama bottoms waistband and slowly slowly tugged at one end. She felt the slipknot of the rope being undone with excrutiating slowness, while his left hand slowly caressed her cunt up and down. She panted in lust, unaware that she was doing it. She felt a sudden loosening at her waist as the knot gave. He pressed his mouth over hers harder, hotly savouring the taste of her tongue.
She felt his left hand releasing her cunt. Swiftly it slid back. releasing her thigh. Her hand holding his wrist loosened, the fingers trailing over the back of his retreating hand. Then he was forcing her left leg off the sofa and down to the floor. His left hand continued up her hips, over her waist, slid over her belly and then under her now loosened pajama trousers. He groaned repeatedly, and she, too, moaned again and again in heated response, their mouths devouring each other’s tongue with loud lustful smacks. And his hand crept along on its stealthy downward journey. Over her bare flesh. Her lower belly trembled and heaved hugely, convulsing under the rudely invading hand.
Her moans turned into loud muffled gasps, mhhhhhhhhhh mhhhhhhhhh mhhhhhhhhhmmm.. echoing the violent convulsions of her assaulted belly. Her gasps fell on his lust-drunk ears. He groaned long and low into her mouth. Suddenly, her chest arched up in ache. He had just raked his fingernails across her belly. His right hand sought and captured that seductively offered naked breast. His fingers spread out and curled over that sultry mound. It squeezed, and his fingernails raked torturously over her belly once more. Suddenly he couldn’t understand why he was waiting. He squeezed her captured breast thoroughly with his right hand, and his lusting left hand arrived, at last, at her fevered cunt.
This time she fell quiet. Her tongue froze inside his mouth, waiting, waiting, while his palm captured and covered her cunt. Both her legs quivered uncontrollably in high tension. His hand felt that quivering, and, emboldened, it began exploring the sweet cunt. His fingertips traced around the outside of her cunt, tracing a complete circle just outside the puffed-up swollen lips. Then his fingertips were brushing lightly over her soaking cunt lips. Up and down the two lips. He longed to see them, to feast his eyes on her beautiful, beautiful cunt. He imagined the two lips, so swollen and glistening wetly for him. He imagined the tip of his lund probing them, pushing them apart, finding the fuckhole, slowly entering…
He imagined the cunt lips pushed up on either side of his invading lund. He imagined them pushed up a little at first, then more and more, as the invading lund thickened in its girth and stretched her cunt wider and wider as it entered deeper and deeper. He imagined his lund penetrating to the hilt into her cunt. He longed to see that. He longed to feast his eyes on that, to trace her slick cunt lips with his fingers, with his lund buried inside her. He longed for her to see it. He longed to pull out his lund just a few millimeters, so she could see the heavy and solid hardness of his lund, the size and thickness of it, coated with the cream from her cunt. He wanted to fuck her, to make her watch her own cunt getting fucked by his lund, by his cock. He wanted her to see that, unable to tear her eyes away from that lewd, yet irresistibly beautiful sight.
Ssssssssssss.. ahhhhhhh.. she drew in her breath sharply. His middle finger had found her slit, worked down that cunt, dragging his finger over her throbbing clit. The tip of his middle finger arrived at her hole. He knew it from the intense wetness that immediately surrounded his fingertip, by the way his fingertip inevitably slid inward, from her sudden SSSSSS… She waited, quivering in anticipation, utterly powerless to stop him, to stop herself, giving up her most private cunt to him, freely. His fingertip, having found her cunthole, pressed in, gently. Her cunt instinctively resisted his probing finger. He eased his assault, allowing her cunt to get familiar with his loving finger. Quite suddenly, his gently probing finger felt her cunt giving way, opening for his finger, and it entered. Sssssssss.. she hissed.
He sensed her legs parting wider open, and he slid his finger further and further inside her cunt. He couldn’t quite believe it. His head swam giddily. “Oh God! My finger.. it’s INSIDER HER CUNT..!!” his brain told him silently. “Wow! I only met her a few hours ago, and here she is..” Words failed him. His lund reacted wildly to the heat enveloping his buried finger. He imagined that white heat wrapped lovingly around his shaft.
He pictured her legs lewdly open, allowing his throbbing shaft to invade her fuckhole. He imagined fucking her, pounding her, ramming her. Imagining all this, he stayed still. He wanted to know what she was feeling. He wanted to hear every little breath, moan, gasp, of hers. Her legs began quivering with unfulfilled need. He withdrew his finger, almost completely out, but with the tip keeping her hole open.
He joined his forefinger to the middle finger and thrust them both into her quivering cunt. Smoothly and completetly. OHHHHHHH.. she moaned out loud, her cunt spread open by his fingers. The loud moan tore into his senses. He needed to hear more, he did not want it to end. His fingers slid out and back in, like a thrusting piston. Smooth and slick, thoroughly lubricated. Her chest heaved and thrust up, her legs flew out to accommodate the fingers. His fingers savoured her cunt dripping with lust and desire.
Then he was pumping, fucking her with his two fingers. In and out, in and out, in and out.. he pumped her. Even over the roar of the pouring rain, and over her hissed moans of ahhhhh ahhhhhhh ssssss ahhhhh ssss ahhhhhhh, his ears were filled with the wet, slick sounds of fucking, of a thoroughly dripping pussy being worked. If he wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, here was his answer. Her dripping cunt told him everything, everything he wanted to know.
His right hand closed over her breast, rolling its peak in his fingers. Back and forth and back and forth he rolled it while rhythmically driving his fingers in and out of her cunt. Her hips began bucking under his assault. Her right hand closed over his other hand tormenting her breast. She gripped his wrist hard, choking on her breath. AHHHHHHH.. AHHHHH.. AHHHHHH.. she choked out her breath aloud, as she alternately held her breath and then let it out in gasps. He heard her stop breathing and her hips raised high off the sofa, allowing his fingers to plunge deep into her cunt.
Holding them deep inside, he got his right hand free and swiftly slid her pajama trousers all the way down to her ankles. Then he grabbed her breast once again and began fucking her upraised, naked cunt in short hard thrusts with his fingers held mostly deep insider her. The tension was building up, up, up in her legs, in her thighs, inside her cunt, deep inside..
AHHHHHHHHHH.. she screamed out over the roar of the rain, her cunt exploding in a raging orgasm that shook her body. He felt her hips and thighs quivering hard and he tried to keep pumping her orgasmic cunt. He felt both her hands reach down and grip his left wrist, restraining him. Only then he stopped pumping, but kept his finger totally buried inside her cumming cunt.
All of a sudden her hips dropped down to the sofa, his fingers coming out of her cunt. He even heard a soft plop as his fingers left her hole. Phewwwww, phewwwww, phewwww.. she breathed out hard, trying to regain her breath and relax her trembling legs.
Vaguely she was aware of him shifting her hips on the sofa, her legs being moved around, of her legs and thighs being opened. Utterly spent, her legs languidly obeyed him, allowing them to be positioned as he wished. Then she became aware of him looming darkly over her. His mouth sought her face, found her mouth and devoured it, drinking in her mouth and tongue in the hungriest kiss.
Now she was feeling something familiar, and yet a little unfamiliar. Something hot, hot and hard and unyielding, and yet velvety smooth, sliding over the slit of her cunt. She suddenly realized what it was, just a split second before the head of his lund found her cunt hole. She knew it must have been the underside of his hot shaft, the underside with the thick vein, that he must have guided down the length of her slit, and now the head was poised.
“Noo…,” she started saying. But it turned into a “Nooooammmmmmhhhhh…,” her mouth muffled by his kiss. His lund had found its way home into her cunt. All the way home. His ass cheek muscles flexed and tightened, straining to thrust his lund in as deep as it could go. His mind was racing. “God! I’m IN HER … CUNT! My LUNDDD, it’s INSIDE THIS WOMAN’S CUNT!!” “No…,” she tried to protest, while her tongue yet snaked around his. “No?” he asked hoarsely, under his breath? He saw her hesitate, a long moment. “Yes…” she whispered, almost inaudible, finally.
He grew uncertain what she meant. “Yes, meaning.. this…?” he asked and slowly pulled out his cock until only the tip remained inside. Her freshly cum cunt screamed out to her in protest. “Or did you mean Yes to this..?” he asked and drove his lund back into her cunt. Lewdly her cunt made a clear “pthhhhhhhhh..” sound as his rampant shaft tunneled its way into her dripping hole. As if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening, and wanting to hear that sound again, he drove his lund out and in, out and in, twice, the second time ramming his lund home into her cunt, hard. “Pthhhhhhhhhh.. pthhhhhh..” her cunt responded. That was enough for him, and for her. She didn’t need to answer his question.
The heat from her cunt enveloped his lund and rose all the way. Even his balls, hanging tight and heavy just outside her cunt, felt the heat. He could feel his lund jerking violently inside her cunt. He knew she could feel it too, and he let her. Let her know how her wanton cunt was maddening his lund.
He knew he wouldn’t last long, at all. Groaning loudly, trying to calm his rioting lund, he stayed still, and held her still with his hands gripping her hips.
Held unmoving, her cunt began to focus on the full length of live ramrod flesh that impaled it. It felt the pulsing, the throbbing, the swelling. It fed that lund its own heat, and also felt its heat. Unconsciously, her hips began grinding against his loins. He groaned. His hips awoke and pumped her. Once. His lund felt as if it was driving through a white hot, thick liquid. “Yessss..” he heard her whisper.
Then his hips pumped again, and again, and again. “Yes.. Yes.. Yessss..,” she moaned out, answering his pumping lund, answering his question at last.
“Fuckkkkkkkk..,” he exclaimed under his breath, fighting to control himself, but feeling that he was going to fail. “Fuckkkkkk…” It was the first time she had heard that word, at least heard it in circumstances anywhere close to this. Certainly not from her husband. It was the first time a man was saying it in her ear, that he was FUCKING her. Not making love, which is what she did with her husband. Not making love, but.. FUCKING! She was being FUCKED.. At last, she thought, now I’m a complete WOMAN, being FUCKED! Unaware that she was doing it, she whispered out aloud, “FUCKKKK, YESSS! I’m BEING.. FUCKEDDDD!!”
He heard her. He froze. Then he lost all control and his hips took over. Bang bang bang bang bang bang bang bang … His hips sent twenty thrusts of his fucking lund ramming into her eagerly waiting cunt. Twenty, thirty, forty pounding hard thrusts that sent her squealing oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh in response. and then she heard him groaning. A very different groan almost as if he was in pain. Suddenly she felt him stop, his cock held halfway inside her cunt. She felt it jerking violently for a second. And then hot cum came spilling out and flooding into her fucked cunt.
He had tried to control himself. Tried to keep his mind off his straining lund. But his lund… Almost in panic, he felt the cum boiling up inside him. He held his breath and strained hard against his lund. Against all his efforts, his cum came flooding out of his balls. He felt the first burst shoot through the centre of his shaft. One long burst that streamed through his lund and sent unbelievable electric sensations through his entire shaft, that spread through his entire body. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH… he groaned out as the hot cum burst out from his swelling cockhead and into her waiting cunt. There was no controlling any more. He was no longer aware of her. Just his lund and his balls, and the need to empty his cum. Simultaneously with that first burst, he rammed his lund in the remaining halfway into the very depths of her fucked cunt.
His ass and thighs strained hard, his hands holding her hips firmly in place for his assault. Then his hips and ass swiftly withdrew halfway and drove in his lund again, ramming it in hard for the second burst of cum, pulling on her hips hard with his hands and straining into her.
AHHHHHHHHHH.. he groaned again. AHHHHHHHHH.. AHHHHHHHH.. AHHHHHHHHH.. AHHHHHHHH.. Again and again his body repeatedly rammed her cunt, emptying his balls with spurt after spurt of hot cum, filling her cunt with HIS cum.
After the final hard thrust, he quieted, his knees and legs shaking and trembling violently. He became slowly aware that so were her thighs and hips, shaking in his grip. He recalled what his brain had failed to register so far. She’d been gasping, “Yes.. fuck.. yesss.. fuck.. yessss.. fuck.. yesss.. yesssssssssssssss..,” under his thrusts, gasping and grinding her hips to match his assault. And exploding a second time as her fucked cunt had received his entire load of cum.
He collapsed on top of her naked body. He hands searched out and held her face and his mouth captured hers. They kissed and kissed and kissed, wantonly, shamelessly. Shamelessly they whispered “Fuck.. fuck.. fuck.. fuck..” over and over and over to each other. He held his lund inside her cunt. Gradually, he felt their hot cum oozing out of her cunt and drip down his balls.
They kissed and kissed and kissed some more. A lot more. His hips gyrated slowly, experimentally, sending his still not entirely soft cock exploring into her cum-laden cunt. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.. she murmured against his open mouth. An appreciative mmmmmmmmmm, or so it seemed to him. More accurately, so it seemed to his cock. Slowly it swelled.
Her cunt felt it. Mmmmmm.. she murmured again, hesitated, and then added a daintily spoken feminine “Fuckkkkkkk..” at the end of it. The swelling of his lund accelerated under her murmurs. The mmmmm’s turned into more heated mmmhhhhh’s.
He disrobed her, completely. Removed her bathrobe, the open pajama tops, her pajama trousers bunched up around her feet. Everything. He made her completely naked for him. Appreciatively his hands roamed over her naked body.
From her face to her breasts, to waist to hip to thighs, and back up. His hands found and closed over her arched, freely offered breasts. He took possession of them slowly, taking his time. This time he would not lose control over his lund quite so easily. Hopefully, it would become dawn before he did. And then he would be able to see! His lund revelled, swelled and tightened inside her pleasurable cunt at the thought. He wanted to see, see her swollen cunt.
With his lund buried inside, with the swollen cunt lips yielding to his invading cock. With these thoughts he pulled out of her. Uncomprehending in the darkness, she waited until she felt him lifting her up off the sofa, turn her around, make her kneel, facing away from him. She felt him mount her from behind, felt his lund find her cunt, unerringly. OHHHHHHHHHHH.. she gasped as his lund drove into her cunt, deeply. He didn’t know it, yet.
But he was the first to fuck her from behind, doggy. She laid her head down and rested on the sofa, concentrating on the new way of being fucked. She blushed as she imagined themselves and the position they were in. But.. she was his wife for the night, a fuck-wife. She relaxed and their mmmmmmmmmmm’s and ohhhhhhhhhh’s drowned out the roar of the still-pouring rain.
Stranger In The Rain