My eyes are closed, the water feels like hot rain caressing my neck. I lean into the stream, eyes closed, bracing as I rinse my week away. And what a week it had been; early starts, late finishes, all concept of a body clock, shot.
The cycle home today, and every other day, had consisted of car horns, engine growls and exhaust fumes, yuk. More than just removing the physical grime, I feel the need to cleanse my mind and soul too.
He said he may be home this weekend, depending on work, depending on flights, depending on too many things. So, I planned to just chill solo tonight, Netflix and knit, with a glass of wine.
The shower bomb, fizzing away by my feet, fills the air with the scents of banana, coconut, pineapple and a hint of rum; this might just do it.
I begin to relax.…
The rainforest sounds, I’ve had playing while I shower clean, must have masked the sound of his arrival, as the first I know that I am not alone is cold hands sliding around me to cup my breasts. He’s here; he made it. He squeezes a firm hello, and I moan a return greeting.
I think I intended words, but as usual, his presence renders speech unreliable. I turn my head to catch his eye, nod and blink hard once. Our silent language for times when words don’t work.
Yes, I want you. I need you, always.
I can feel all of him now, the cascading water of the shower covering us both in a shimmering veil, his skin warming up to match mine as we melt into one another. Gentle at first, he sighs as he nudges his way inside. We both breathe deep as he starts a slow rhythm.
His hands rove across me, as if running an inventory check; one comes to a stop at my mound applying a firm pressure, driving me back onto him. The other hand pauses briefly at my throat then carries on up tracing the line of my braced arm; our fingers interlace, his hand covering mine. A clear line of contrast is created by the juxtaposition; we are a thing of beauty.
I turn to my head again, and our lips meet. It is like the water becomes charged. My skin prickles as I feel his rhythm change, more insistent. I gasp, throwing my head back, as I feel his need rising, matching mine. He recognizes my open mouth for the invitation it is and, releasing my hand, slips one then two fingers into my mouth. I play with them on my tongue, rolling, licking, sucking hard. His breath comes hard on my neck, in my ear. I think I hear low rumble beginning, a growl like thunder in some distant rainforest.
I breathe him. His usual sea spray scent is intertwined with something luscious and verdant. The smell of the color green, life, fertile soil… His hand moves down and deeper. His fingers nestle between my twin folds, slipping, slick but sure, over and over me, over and over. I feel rather than hear a new sound growing to join our forest symphony, a howl, like wind rushing between trees, building before a storm.
It is me.
I shudder with the force of my orgasm, my hips bucking while my knees buckle. For a moment, I think I could crumble into a heap on the shower floor, but he holds me firmly in place on his cock, hands sure; I am safe.
My skin thrums full of that potential for life one feels in the air after a storm. His movements and hands have taken on a rolling languid feel, riding my last waves of pleasure out with me. His warm lips are on my neck, soft, in contrast with the graze of his beard. A shiver starts at the base of my spine, and I know he feels it too; there are teeth in those kisses now. I close my eyes and lean into them.
He pushes me forward. I resist, anticipating the shower’s tiles feeling cold against my still glowing skin. Rather than ice, what I feel is fire; I am set alight, every inch of my flesh burning for him. He has me pinned, and he is, very much, the hard place. The sound of his skin slapping mine fills my mind. Now it is I who am riding the wave of his desire. I hear that distant thunder looming again; I feel it, as he presses all of his being up against mine.
‘No, not like this.’
His words come out with a rushed, ragged breath as he withdraws from me. For a moment, the wall is the only warmth I know, alone. Then his hand returns, gently turning me, pulling me back into the water, to join him. Our eyes meet.
He holds my gaze as I feel his muscles tense. He lifts me onto him, taking up his rightful position inside again. We both exhale with the relief of his return, like two opposing magnetic poles, having strained against being held apart, suddenly released.
I want to keep watching him; I try to, but with every stroke, he rubs against me, and I feel that wind rising again. I look down along the line where our bodies meet, water showering down between us in shared rivulets. I look back up and see him watching me intently.
My eyes flicker shut, my last sight that intense stare as he reads my emotions from my face, like an open book. He sees what he already knows. I am simultaneously flying and falling, and I know he is there, always ready to catch me.
I let go, releasing myself to the tempest we have made. I hear him growl at my submission, feel his rumble in my chest. His thrusts come harder and faster, a pressure of pleasure builds, radiating from where we are connected. All my limbs tingle and tense, every part of me, from the hand holding my leg, while the other clutches his back, right down to my toes. All I hear now are the rumble and the rain.
The command is in the thunder; I listen and obey, releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It comes out with a rush, and, with it, that last bit of tension I carry is released. I am unmade.
The sounds of the rain, wind and thunder suddenly fill my ears; he has joined me in the midst of this tempest of our making. Where I have surrendered myself to the waves of pleasure rolling through me, subject to the force of our climax, he is its master. He is in every moment, present and potent. I cling to him, a kind of refuge, the eye of our storm.
Wind, thunder, rain, I no longer can distinguish between their sources as we ride out our tropical squall, the warm water washing over us.…
This time gentler, whispered in my ear. I inhale and come back to myself. He lifts my chin, and my eyes are met by such a look of compassion that I am nearly lost again. My hands trace up his strong back. I feel his soft panting and look askance.
‘I’m fine, more than.’
He smiles. I nod, smiling too. I cup his jaw in both my hands, bringing his face down to mine. I kiss those lips, tasting the memory of thunder.
We pause for a time, holding each other, inhaling our reunion. My eyes are still closed when I feel his weight shift and feel the shower stop. He inhales to speak:
‘So, what are we doing tonight, beautiful?’
‘Hmmm, Netflix and knit?’
Forty, and currently identifying as pansexual, sapiosexual, demisexual, a little kinky & polyamorous, Ana of PolyAna Says is just a happy hippy hedonist who enjoys celebrating the pleasures of life. Sex positivity and self-love are her JAM! By day Ana is also a freelancer and solo parent. Follow her on Instagram @anaeidherself