by Lee Posner
(03/14/01)

The first few drops of rain spattered the pavement just as she rounded the corner of her block. The clouds, and the radio, had been promising a summer thunderstorm.

"Wait!" she said aloud, scanning the sky anxiously. No response.

She had her keys out of her purse before she was halfway up the building steps, and her work clothes and underwear fell like confetti in the hall. She was beginning to hear the consistent sound of raindrops on the windows, but no thunder. Not yet. "I'm almost ready!" she said breathlessly to the empty house, as she glanced both ways out the sliding glass door. The coast was clear, and she slipped naked and unseen onto her patio. For the hundredth time, she whispered a quiet "thank you" to the trees that screened her private space. The air had the crackly ozone smell that means thunderstorm, a surer promise than the radio or the clouds.

She stretched out gratefully on the half-sheltered deck chair and raised her body to the rain. The soft plastic covering the chair was faintly clammy against her skin, refreshing after a day in constraining clothes. She stretched out, opening her naked body to the sky, feeling each drop of rain find its place on her skin.

Like an eager suitor, lightning flashed briefly, far away. With the flash, she shivered in anticipation. Her hands moved out of their stretch, back to touch her face as she started the count.

"One...two...three...four...five...six...seven...eight...nine...ten." The muted rumble of the thunder, brief and tantalizing, coincided with the end of her hands' first exploratory journey: from her face, across her belly, down her outer thighs. "Don't hurry," she whispered. "I can wait. I've got all the time you need."

The warm rain was starting to moisten her skin, providing a different texture to her hands as they moved back up toward her face. Her nipples quivered slightly, but she knew how to fit herself to her partner's timing: not yet, not yet.

The next flash was a touch longer and a touch brighter, heralding more to come. As the light faded, her hands found her rain-damp thighs and slid slowly inwards, timing their upward caress to the trailing sound.

As the flashes and rumbles built in frequency and energy, so did her caresses: armpits, navel, nipples, anus, labia. Each caress began with a flash, timed to reach a key spot on a rumble.

"We're so good together," she thought in a quiet moment. As she had come to expect, the storm's rhythms fit her own, the build-up outside matched by her internal pressures. As she slid her fingers toward her clit, her sky-lover was right there with her.

Press, on the flash. Rub, until the silence returned. Release, breathe, and begin again. Her whole body was soaking wet from the rain, her hair plastered to her cheeks. The wetness in her cunt was a warmer, smoother feeling: the slippery texture of her own excitement. Press, on the flash. Rub through the rumble. Release.

Most of the time her eyes were half-open, watching the skies through the rain. She could feel her lover returning her gaze, moving closer. Now the lightning was not just flashes but distinct forks, each one lighting up the whole sky. The thunder was less of a rumble, more of a boom. Her hands moved faster, one on her clit, one squeezing a nipple. She licked fresh rainwater off her lips. Press, rub, release.

"Not too fast," she moaned. Press, rub, release. No time to count the seconds: only the briefest break between the end of one release and the beginning of the next cycle. As the lightning flashed and the thunder roared, her body arched eagerly to the sky. Press, release. Press, release.

The storm drew still closer. Lightning and thunder began to melt into one continuous stream of sensation. Press, release...press, release...press.

She was breathing hard now, muscles taut. The lightning was brighter and nearer, the thunder louder and longer, her body hungry and ready, the moment ever closer.

When the lightning forked directly over her, she could feel the familiar electricity entering her body, suffusing not just her clit but her whole self with a crackling, shivery shock. With not even an instant's gap the thunder roared. The sound, like the light, filled her. Somehow, it was larger than her body and yet she encompassed all its power.

Exactly as her lover orgasmed overhead, her body spasmed, her laugh melding with the thunderclap, both fading away together, leaving her sodden and shaking.

She lay in a wet, trembling, thoroughly satisfied heap on the lawn chair as her sky-lover moved on eastward, flashing and rumbling now with a tone of farewell. The fading rhythmic fork of the lightning and sound of the thunder sent ripples of memory and completion through her. She was done, for now, but not ready to move. No hurry.

"Come again soon, lover," she said quietly to the receding storm. "I'll be in the same place."

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