by Lana Hartley
“It’s all that testosterone,” she says.
“Yeah…”
“And your lack of being able to express yourself,” she giggles. “You keep it all in; it starts to smell!”
“Well, I bet Nathan’s a stinky little pisser!” I say.
She leans into me as I wrap my arm around her, and she looks up at me and I kiss her. Then she lays across my lap, just splaying out like so. The back of her head rests against my crotch. My cock senses action and starts to get restless. I’m sure she feels it, too, pressing against my jogging pants. These pants offer a lot of room too for my cock and balls to swing freely as I jog, but right now that room is depleting, and I’m so hard I want to pull my pants down and let my cock out into the free night air.
And into her.
She sits up, and her hair is an elegant mess, all over her face, and she slips my jogging pants down so the tip of my happy ready-to-go cock is out.
She looks down at it. “It’s so cute.” She touches the tip and it responds, wondering why its buddies—The Balls—are still in my pants. She obviously wants to play, so take the whole team out.
She draws near so she’s in my crotch, and she glides her tongue over me like a snake would.
“Tease,” I say.
“I’m not done yet.” I wonder what she’s thinking. The musty scent has probably washed out the gentle sweet smell of the roses.
She takes me back into her mouth and glides her sweet lips over my cock tight as a rubber.
“Oh…” My head falls back and my hand gets lost in her hair.
“You smell beastly,” she says.
Do I? Is that good or bad? She sounds as if it’s good. And she is sucking harder.
“Mmm…” My body shifts on the hard bench. If she’s not careful this could be a too much of a load for her to handle.
I was planning to make love to her here, but this is a sweet surprise. Of course, we do have all night.
“Oh…” She takes me down under another wave of pleasure. I pull on her hair. I try to not think about her blowing Nathan like this, although I’m sure she does.
She has the smallest mouth, the tightest lips, and I suddenly lose myself, and a stream of hot cum spurts into her mouth.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, because it just goes everywhere, like a soda can that’s been shaken.
“Why?” she asks.
I reach around for a hankie and offer it to her, but she doesn’t need it. She’s licked me clean off of her.
“Because I made a mess.”
“No,” she leans into me, this naughty smirk on her face, “I made a mess,” she corrects.
“Okay.” I look up at the stars and put myself back in my jogging pants. There’s a dark stain there where some cum hasn’t dried yet.
“Do you feel bare? Like your insides are on the outside?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s what love is.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” she giggles. “You feel all gooey and vulnerable, like the slightest thing, like a raindrop, can puncture you.”
“Sounds scary,” I say.
“Oh no, it’s wonderful.” She gets close to me, and I wrap my arms around her. We’re quiet and happy in the moment, just lingering there and breathing, and it actually starts to rain a little.
“Do you want to go in?” I ask her. “I can’t have the princess catching a cold.”
“No,” she says. Then she stands up and kicks her little shoes off and her bare feet touch the moist, hard cobblestones. “I want to stay. I want to have sex in the rain.”
I watch as the rain falls harder, at a steady rate, to clean everything and make it new. Tomorrow, when the sun touches everything it will all have a brand-new shine.
The rain soaks her white dress, making it cling to her soft little body. She strips it from her body, revealing her soft, creamy skin. Her skin is moist and soft, and I can smell the rain on her.
I stand up and pull her close to me. My cock wants to enjoy the rain and the girl, too.
My fingers explore her. Her skin is so soft and wet and radiant. I kiss her hard and place my hands on her bottom and handle her the way I know she wants me to. She moans as she presses her body against me, and the rain loves us both at the same time. It feels so good on me, washing away the long, hot sticky day from my skin.
We find a spot over in the grass and lie down, our bodies pressing against the wet soil. We fall into each other the way the rain is falling over the garden.
“Oh, Vincent…” she coos, reaching down and sliding my jogging pants further down to my ankles. The rain washes that cum stain away, and it all flows into the dirt and the flowers.
I roll on my back and Isadora gets on top of me.
“I want your strong manhood inside of me,” she says. Her hair is wet and plastered to her pretty face, and the rain has washed her makeup off. She’s so naturally pretty it’s almost agonizing how much I want her. She places me inside of her, and I feel the velvet rush of her heat all over me. We kiss really hard, and I sink my fingertips into the soft, moist ground as she starts riding me. Her tits glisten with drops of rain, and I lift my hands, my fingers covered in mud, and smear mud over her tits, tweaking her nipples as I do. She laughs adorably at all of this.
Her hips move in a slow rhythm as I trail mud up her creamy flesh, our lips consuming each other’s. We’re soaked to the bone by the time I come inside of her. She slips to her side, and I hold her so we’re spooning, my arms around her as the rain softly taps our bodies. I kiss her shoulders, and her wet blonde strands are strewn along my face.
We actually drift to sleep until I feel something crawling along my back, and I’m reminded that even the prettiest places still have creatures.
Snakes. Spiders. Nathan.
I roll around on my back and look at her. There’s nothing prettier than the sight of a peacefully sleeping woman.
I look up at the sky. The stars are out now, those clouds that broke that delicious rain upon us have moved on. I bet tomorrow will be nice, maybe a little sweltering after the hard rain has left everything in a bit of condensation. As I think about wine, I start obsessing over the vineyards. I obsess over how everything helps it grow—every bit of weather, no matter how bad, temperamental or calm— it all comes together and helps things grow. I think the same about relationships. There has to be a mix.
I look at Isadora as she starts to wake up. She opens her eyes and looks up at the sky.
“Which do you prefer?” she asks me. “Day or night?”
“Oh…” I have to think about this. “I like my mornings,” I decide. “Everything feels like a new beginning, you know? I like to get up and look out the window and just, I don’t know, breathe the new days in—as cheesy as that sounds.
“That’s not cheesy,” she says. I appreciate her saying that, but I feel like it is. She shuts her eyes again.
“I bet Nathan likes night,” she says. How dare she bring him up? But this is Isadora, she doesn’t hide anything. I bet she’s never told a lie her whole life.
I look at her perfect little feet and for some reason, I compare her perfect feet to the fact that she doesn’t lie.
“What about you?” I say, steering the talk away from Nathan, dear god, because I’d rather talk about anything right now than that boy. Cockroaches, the wars, anything.
“Me?”
“Yes, which do you prefer? Day or night?”
She must think about this.
“Well, it’s definitely not the afternoon…” she trails off, considering her answer. I see the bottle of French wine by the bench and partake in a sip. It’s sweet and light, nothing too overbearing. “In the afternoon, you know how certain things sneak up on you? Like I don’t know, sad thoughts. You know how you said mornings are like a new beginning? That’s true, and at night is when you can relax and, well, do other things if you feel so inclined. I like the mystery of night. I like fireflies. I like the things
you can see in the dark.”
“Oh, Isadora, that was great,” I appraise, taking another sip of wine. “I like you. And you clearly like night.”
Nathan is like night, I realize. This scares me. Nathan is mysterious. Nathan is playful and sexy and all those things. Women like bad boys, this is just a fact.
She touches the side of my face like she always does, with those gentle slim fingers of hers, and I shut my eyes. It’s no longer raining, but the fresh scent clings to the air, offering a sweet hug around us.
“Do you think if we’re quite enough, we can hear things growing from the ground after the rain?”
“You can probably hear insects crawling,” I say.
I don’t know if this scares her or what, but she stands up and walks back to the bench. I watch her as she puts her dress back on, but it’s wrinkled and has a mud stain.
“Oh, your dress,” I say.
“It’s fine. It’s honestly nice to get messy,” she smiles. “I really like what we did.” She’s struggling with the zipper so I go over to help her. I zip it up, careful of her hair, holding it up so it falls graciously around her face. I zip it all the way up, and there’s something disappointing about putting clothes on her instead of taking them off—no matter how pretty she looks.
She turns around after I let of her hair go and it falls down over her breasts, and she laughs.
“What?” I ask. “Do I have something on my face?” I wipe at whatever might be there off.
“Yes,” she says. “Your hand.”
“Ah.”
I drop my hand and look at her.
“I’m a mess,” she says. “That’s why I was laughing.”
“I could give you a bath.”
“Okay.”
I start walking toward the castle when she tugs on my arm.
“No, no.” She points to the outside bath, in the middle of the garden over by the gazebo.
“What?” I’m amazed and very excited all at the same time.
“Why not?”
She walks over to the old porcelain bathtub, and I go over to the where the hose is hooked up to the golden faucet and turn it on; it drips around the hose onto the ground, lovely cool water hitting my palm.
I drag the hose over to the tub, and it snakes along in the tall grass to where she is once again taking off that dress.
“Here, sweetheart,” I say, offering my hand. I take her dress and carefully place it on the bench so it doesn’t get any messier than it is. I look at her, and I’m offered the gorgeous view of her backside. The moonlight hits her skin just right. I pick up the hose and douse her with it, and she cackles out loud and covers her breasts.
“It’s cold,” she says.
“What did you expect?”
“Maybe if we both got in, we could warm it up with our body temperatures,” she suggests innocently.
“That’s a thought,” I say, already taking off my jogging pants. “And we all know I do need a bath.”
“Yes, you’re disgusting,” she laughs. She picks up the hose and starts to fill the tub. I can feel the cool mist coming up from the water as it starts to fill to the rum. I get the bottle of wine and place it by the tub, considering what’s missing that could perfect this glorious night.
“We only need candles,” I suggest.
“We don’t need candles, Vincent,” she says. “We have the fireflies and the stars.” She lifts her little foot and places it in the tub, and I get in with her. The tub is small; it’s nothing fancy, but there’s just room enough for the both of us to squeeze in to it.
I laugh as she wriggles her ass between my thighs, the swell of her cheek brushing against my cock.
“Now, now behave yourself, princess,” I say. “Mind your manners.”
“You mind your manners,” she says. “You know what? We don’t have any soap.”
“It’s okay.”
“What will we use to get clean?” she asks.
I reach down for the wine bottle and watch her face explode with surprise as I douse some wine into the tub.
“VINNY!” she says, watching a red cloud form in the clean, crisp, cold water.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she cackles.
“Why not?” I say. Our bodies have been soaked by rain, the purest cold water from the hose, and now wine.
I splash it on my face.
“Is wine good for your pores?” she wonders.
“Oh, it’s heavenly for them,” I say. I don’t really know, I’m just talking nonsense. But what an amazing night, and I really don’t want it to end.
I look at Isadora and her breasts have a pink tint about them from the wine. I stretch out my long legs and put my feet around her on the rim of the tub. I wonder if I have big toes.
“Do I have nice feet?” I ask.
She turns and looks at them.
“They seem so big right now,” I say.
“Monstrous.”
“No really,” I say. “Do you like them?” I know Nathan has nice feet, she’s said this before. I mean, I’ve never really thought about feet before that much, let along my own.
“I think they’re great. Feet are funny. I feel like we take them for granted. We use them all the time.”
“Do they smell?” I wonder, sticking a foot in her face. She laughs and gets up on her hands and knees.
“Oh, you are going to get it,” she says, with a mean gleam of a smile.
“I should hope so,” I chuckle. She has the bottle of wine in her hand, mischief flaring in her eyes.
“Hey, don’t…” before I can finish the sentence—don’t waste the wine—she pours it on my head. I shut my eyes as the precious liquid runs down my face and into the water. We’re now a sticky mess, and sort of smell like wet bread.
My foot drops into the water, and I place my toes between her legs. She shuts her eyes and moans, and I can’t even believe what I’m about to do. She moves against me, and I push my big toe inside of her.
“Vincent,” she mewls.
“You like my feet now?” I ask.
“Yes…” She shuts her eyes tight and I run my foot around her inner thighs.
She giggles and turns, straddling my lap. My cock makes an appearance out of the greyish/pinkish water and she looks at it awe.
“Uh oh, seems to be a rubber ducky in the water or something,” she laughs.
“That’s not a rubber ducky,” I say.
“What is it then?” She plays dumb. “What’s in this tub with me?” she gasps, a full-on act of a damsel in distress.
“It’s a swamp monster maybe,” I say, “and it’s going to get you.”
She plays like she wants to escape as she hangs over the edge of the tub, and I get behind her. Her skin has a nice glow to it because of the wine and bathwater and also because she is just so naturally pretty. My hands rove over her ass, and my cock is against her lower backside and she pushes back against it.
“Are you having a lovely night, Isadora?” I kiss her neck and inhale her sweet scent.
“Vincent, I always have…a nice time…” she sighs, unable to get all the words out before I place myself inside of her. I find her perfect spot and she hangs over the tub, her long blonde hair touching the wet grass. The moon illuminates the night sky, finally making its appearance from under the clouds. I study everything as if it’s all on the big screen—as if this night is a movie playing at the drive-in—and I push my way inside of her. She reaches back to bring me closer to her, and we move in sync as she pulls at my hair. I continue to thrust, and I realize that this is the best night of my life. Hungry for more of Isadora, my hips thrust faster, my momentum building as the excitement courses through me faster and faster. I normally don’t fuck this fast, it’s not my style, but I think this is how she likes it. I manage to keep a solid traction against the porcelain tub as Isadora’s ass meets my thighs, her pussy clenching my cock with a starving need for release.
“Ahhh…” she lets out this amazing si
gh that travels over the garden like the rainy smell has, and I look up at the sky and I swear I see a shooting star just as I’m shooting up into her.
* * *
After the bath, we go for a long walk around the garden—her hand in mine.
We’re talking about our favorite childhood memories, and I tell her about the first time I went to the car wash.
“Your favorite memory is about a car wash?”
"Just listen,” I say, squeezing her hand. “You know how guys are about cars, right?”
“Sure, what did you have some kind of muscle car?” she wonders.
“No, I bet Nathan did. No, no, I had a classic car; it was very appealing, so nice to look at it—not as nice as it is to look at you, but close. I got immense pleasure from driving this car. You know how if you adore something then you want to take care of it, right?”
“Sure,” she says, walking along, her tiny feet touching down on the moist ground. Everything seems so pleasant right then.
“Well, anyway, I took this car to the car wash, and there was a hot dog stand there and I just ended up spending the day there, with my best friend, and just washing this car.”
She’s quiet, and I wonder if I’m boring her. I guess some stories, when told out loud, just aren’t that riveting. But in my head, it just seemed like this amazing thing.
“Anyway, I just drove it around town afterwards,” I keep going anyway. “And I was like yeah, look at my car. And I picked up…” I stop.
“Picked up what?” She responds to let me know she’s been listening.
“I picked up…a girl.”
“Oh, you had a girlfriend?”
“Yes…” I don’t know if I should keep talking about her. Isn’t it not nice to talk about your ex-girlfriend? Don’t’ girls hate that or something?
“Savannah.” There, I said her name. I get it out there, and I honestly feel better now. “I picked up Savannah, and do you know what the funny thing about all of this was?”
“What?”
“She didn’t even know that was my car, because that’s how dirty it was this whole time. She thought I got a new car!”
Isadora laughs, but I think there’s something forced about it. I think it’s horrible I just told a story about a car and this ex-girlfriend of mine.
