The Storm

His fingers tracing up and down my spine like a light rain flowing over my skin.

The gentle whoosh of his breath in my ear.

The twinkle in his eyes

So like the sky.

If he is the sky, I am the earth, and I am desperate to be flooded.

The weight of his body on top of me feels like the heaviness of clouds before a storm

The lightning running across our skin

As he explores the earth while I stargaze.

The teasing.

The buildup of atmospheric pressure as the moment of anticipation grows.

His fingers reach down and the feeling of his fingertip brushing my clit

Gently

So gently

Like a breeze, building to a gust, building to a strong wind.

I wonder if, when the earth trembles, she is quaking from pleasure?

When she opens herself up, I wonder if it’s for the same reason I am opening my legs to my own night sky.

Finally, the breaking of the tension is announced by the rumbling of thunder as he growls

“You want to be filled with Daddy’s cock, don’t you?”

I wonder if

When the crashing of an earthquake echoes through the mountains

When the earth loses control of herself

When the rivers rush and the boulders fall

Maybe that’s how she screams

Yes

And I let the storm overpower me.