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  • Christine in the Rain

Christine in the Rain

12

The lightning illuminates the night sky followed by cracks of thunder so close and unnerving that the hair on your arms is raised. It's 10:45 and your shift is about to end, the diner closing at 11. It's been a long day and your white sneakers are stained with coffee and dirt; they have made your feet sore and you're ready to shake your apron and skirt off. It's a uniform you don't hate, but it doesn't highlight your hips the way you would like.

This storm has been raging since 8pm, the water in the parking lot a little too high; you know you'll get your feet and shoes wet walking to your car. You look out the window, the reflection of the red open sign blinking almost outside your field of vision, to look at your car. A red Pontiac, not flashy, but reliable. I have to replace the rear tires soon, you thought to yourself. As you turn to begin cashing out and closing the register down, headlights become visible and a black sedan pulls into the parking lot, splashing water onto the front window of the building. As the water falls and your sight no longer obscured, you see it's a black BMW, the big one. "What do they call that one? Seven series?" You wonder out loud.

The driver side door flies open and I hop out, slam the door and run toward the entrance of the diner. Trying and failing to prevent the rain from soaking me. As I enter the door, the bell rings. It startles me a bit and as I look up, we make eye contact. It is obvious to me you are upset someone came in so close to closing time. You just bought a new vibrator the week before and have loved it ever since, you planned a date with it tonight after work. And you think to yourself "this guy better not keep me here much later" as you welcome me. "Hi, welcome to Shelly's diner. Would you like to sit at the counter or a booth?"

"Booth Please" I reply. "I am sorry it's so late, I've been on the road all day and I've just had enough of this rain. I don't need anything fancy. Do you have chicken noodle soup and maybe a BLT sandwich?" I try to wipe the rain away from my face and hair. But in just the few seconds I was in the rain, I'm soaked. My dark suit jacket is sticking to my body like a second-skin. I take off my jacket, revealing the starched, white dress shirt encapsulating my thick muscled arms. My collar is undone a bit, a loose tie.

I'm walking toward and sitting down the booth when you first notice: the bulging muscles of my arms and the tight, rain soaked shirt on my chest and back. "It's too late to turn the grill back on, but we do have some soup left. I'll bring a bowl over in a minute. Would you like some coffee?" You ask as your eyes drift up and down my body. "mmmm, he's a strapping young man, very handsome." you think to yourself.

"Yes, black" I reply. You turn to head back behind the counter and brew a fresh pot. As you walk I catch your backside out of the corner of my eye and am drawn to it. The light blue skirt, the one that waitresses in diners seem to have been wearing since the 1950's flows down your hips and drapes around your ass and thighs without showing off your figure, but teasing me with what lies beneath. The skirt sways back and forth as you walk, hiking up just an inch or two with each step, tantalizing me. I didn't notice before, but I notice now. This waitress is gorgeous, a MILF, attractive with nice hips, what look like big d-cup breasts, full luscious lips with cherry red lipstick and legs for days.

You come back with my coffee and soup a few minutes later. I try to grab my coffee mug from you and our hands touch. It lasted for less than a second but we lock eyes, and it felt like forever. A lonely, rain-filled, lighting-struck night with two strangers looking for something more, something raw, passionate and animalistic. That skin-to-skin contact, however brief, lit a fuse. This night, for the both of us felt electric. Independent of each other, we both have decided to submit to these passions that the world, the weather, the circumstances of life has placed upon us tonight.

I break eye contact, slowly moving my eyes down toward my coffee mug. But I stop. Your top has one too many buttons undone and more than a hint of cleavage is visible. I don't think I've ever been in a situation where this much sexual tension is hanging in the air with so few words said. "It seems pretty dead in here, why don't you join me?" I say to you. "Given that we are the only two in the diner, at 11PM at night in the middle of a thunderstorm, yes, I'd say it's pretty dead in here" is your reply as you slide into the booth opposite me.

As I'm eating, we start to chat. We start learning quite a bit about each other. Family, are we each married, what are we doing out on a night like this. I learn that you moved here to raise your children in a nice quite town with low crime. You were living in New York City, a professor at Columbia before you took some time off to raise your kids...and never went back to work. Your husband never believed you should be working anyway. But you had to take this job at the diner for two reasons: 1. There wasn't a college within 100 miles for you to teach at and 2. If you didn't get out of the house every so often, even for a menial job such as this, you would go insane. After a long pause in the conversation and a few spoonfuls' of my soup, I ask "Looks like this rain isn't going to stop any time soon. I would rather not continue driving in it, do you know if there is a hotel nearby?"

This tension, this attraction that has filled the air inside the diner as heavily as the rain outside is coming to a head in your mind. You know that if we just had a bit more time, perhaps away from the diner, you could take what has become a tedious conversation wrought with silent curiosity into a proper conversation over wine, perhaps with a more intimate ending...I wonder how those arms really look under that shirt... alas, there's not a hotel anywhere near here.

"The closest hotel is 3 towns over, 25 miles or so. But, I have an extra bedroom at my house. There's plenty of room, and my husband should be asleep by now-" WHAT?! Why did I say that out loud? What else could that possibly mean? I hope he doesn't run off...

"You know, that'll save me $100 at a hotel. Thank you. I'm Eric, by the way." "Christine, nice to meet you Eric...You can just follow me home. It's only 5-10 minutes" hmmm...He seemed oblivious to my comment, odd. I didn't mean to say it, but I hope he understood what I meant, you thought to yourself.

By this time it was raining so hard that in the few seconds it took for us to run to our respective cars, we were drenched, as if we had jumped into a pool. With that much water on the road, you had to be careful driving home. Those tires needed to be replaced sooner than you thought. You slid off the road, hydroplaning into a small ditch. Luckily you didn't seem to be hurt. A little panicked, I pull off the road and stop. Getting out of my car, I yell to you "Are you ok? Are you hurt?", barely audible over the rain. You yell back that you're fine but the car isn't moving until the rain stops, probably by morning.

Out of the ditch and into the front passenger seat you climb. Mmmmmm, tan leather. The seat warmer function on, to keep you nice and toasty. As we begin driving you turn to me and say "You know Eric, I'm sorry about that back there. My husband was supposed to change the rear tires on my car last week, but he's been in a foul mood the last year or so." "It's alright, I'm just glad you're safe and aren't hurt." I reply. "You know, he and I haven't been intimate in almost a year. He just rolls over in bed and doesn't even touch me. We barely talk when we are awake and when we do, all he does is ask me to make him dinner...more like tell me to make him dinner."... I look over and smile; I absent-mindedly pat your thigh just above your knee. My fingers linger...and you take my hand in yours. "My knight in shining armor".

This set off a wave of electric attraction between the two of us. This touch, this physical connection by the hand was all that was needed. Before I knew it, I was pulling into your driveway. I put my car in park and we sit there for several minutes. Silent. Only our breath and the pounding rain on the hood and roof of the car. We look at each other, break the contact our hands have made, open our doors and make a mad dash for the house.

Finally in, we laugh just a little bit, an uncomfortable and nervous laugh. We both know where this was going. After attempting in vein to dry myself off in the bathroom, I come out to the living room. You're standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom, where I'll be sleeping tonight. I walk towards you, get to the doorway and you don't move. You stop me in my tracks, our faces inches apart. Being this close, I finally notice the milky smooth tone of your skin. My first instinct is to caress it; the back of my hand comes up to run it down your cheek. You demure and reflexively pull back. As you do, you stagger and stumble in the shoes you've not yet taken off. Before your fall backwards ends at the floor, I catch you and pull you in close. Our clothes, still wet, cling to each other. Your arms reach around and feel the muscles in my arms and shoulders. You're turned on. My biceps flex as your hands glide down them, you steady yourself and I let go. But a second passes until I pull you back in for a passionate kiss, a kiss not of first time lovers, but of experience, as though you and I have been practicing this kiss for years.

We ravage each other's mouths, moving towards the bed. The fury of our embrace matched only by the fury of the rain lightning and thunder outside. I throw you on the bed and finally slip you out of that blue skirt. You naughty girl, you're not wearing any underwear. My left hand runs up and down your thigh as we continue to entwine our lips and tongues together in a torrent of spit, sweat and rain.

Before you can unbutton your top, I rip it off, exposing your bra, which comes off just as effortlessly. Slowly, I move down from your mouth, licking your neck from your chin all the way past your collarbone, groping and fondling your breasts with my hands. I take your right breast and cup it, taking the nipple in my mouth and sucking, playing with it between my teeth and my tongue. I can feel it getting erect. The little bumps in your areola hardening. I play with your other nipple with my fingers. You gasp and say harder, obliging I start sucking harder and apply more pressure with my teeth. Your left nipple twisted in a pleasing pain. I can tell you like it rough and I'm going to make sure it is an experience your husband, asleep upstairs, can never give you.

I pause long enough to get up in front of you, take my belt off and let my slacks hit the ground. My belt...my belt? What should I do with my belt? I've got it. "Lay on your back and put your arms up." You do as you're told. I secure your right arm to the bed post with my shirt, your left arm to the other bed post with my your shirt. "You went all this time talking to me and you didn't tell me you weren't wearing panties? Bad girl, BAD GIRL." I lift up both your legs by the ankles with one hand. Raise my belt and gently give you a rap on the ass. Hard enough to feel a little bite, but not too hard to leave a mark. I want you to take pleasure in the pain. Not actually get injured. Two more spanks and you've received your punishment.

Through all this you never break eye contact with me. Your eyes turn me and your attentiveness gets me hard. I slide up and straddle you at about your chest. My rock hard cock staring you in the face. A little dab of pre-cum glistening with every bolt of lightning. "Receive it," I command to you. Your mouth opens and insert my manhood. The pressure and motion you exert tells me you've done this many times before, though probably not under such restrained circumstances. You increase in speed and I begin thrusting myself. Not long after my cock is hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. GACK GACK GACK, it's so fucking hot. I want to blow my load, but not this soon.

Before you make me cum, I pull away and move down the bed toward your pussy. "Aren't we a little horny?" as I glide two fingers along your lips, feeling the juices flowing. Deciding its time for your own oral pleasure, I scoot down and lay on my stomach. My mouth planted in your pussy, your pubic hair gently tickling the area between my nose and upper lip. I slowly start in circles, hitting your clit once every revolution. 18, 19, 20, 21 arches of your back as I lick it and move on. I slip two fingers in as I start concentrating on making you cum. My tongue presses down on your clit, the pressure between your hip bone and my tongue driving you wild, while my two fingers arch up and gently caress your g-spot. Inexplicably you're getting even wetter. And as your G-spot can't take it anymore, you squirt and scream, the screams covered by the thunder. Don't want to wake up your husband.

I pull away from your crotch, the bed underneath is soaked and my chest is covered in your hot pussy juice. Before we go any further, I raise myself and command you to lick these juices clean off my chest. "You like the taste of your own pussy don't you?" "Mmmhmmm" you say as you're licking and gently biting my nipples.

When I'm all cleaned up, I slightly loosen the binding on your right hand, but just enough to reach down and secure your right ankle with the same binding. The duplicate procedure occurring with your left side. Your legs are back over your head, secured to your wrists and the bedposts. You are nothing but my fuck puppet, my sex toy, and I will treat you right.

Your ass and pussy are nicely presented in this position. I cradle up in front of it, crouch down and insert my cock into your pussy. It's so wet, it slides right in and I start pumping away, my balls slapping you with every push. Deeper and deeper you can feel it. It feels amazing and your screams grow louder in the ecstasy. My cock is ravaging your pussy, swollen with blood rushing to it, aroused beyond comprehension. The steam and sweat and intensity of this moment are taking you to another world. It's euphoric, you didn't even notice that I've pulled my cock out and started rubbing the head on your clit. That euphoria was multiple orgasms, waves of intense pleasure pulsing through your body. Every inch of you quivering with this feeling you've not felt before. Your nipples are hard; your breath is short, muscles tensing.

You've snapped. Like an animal, you've broken free of your bondage. A crazed look in your eye...not crazed like a murderer, more like a woman who's on the hunt, seeking her own prey. Before I know what is happening, you've pounced and are on top of me, with my back on the bed, head hanging over the foot of the bed. You're dangling your supple breasts in my face. Your hard nipples gliding along my lips. Without a bit of hesitation, and without breaking eye contact, you fumble around and find my belt..."his belt...his belt?" you think to yourself. The idea quickly comes and you begin gagging me, encircling the belt in my mouth and around my neck. When I try to pull it away you grab me by the wrists and dig your nails in. It hurts, I try to yelp but I can't. This belt stifles all noise. Still holding my wrists, you position yourself so that you're sitting on my stomach. "Well, well well Eric. Looks like the animal you've kept in a cage has escaped. It's out for revenge. It's time I return the favor."

You raise your ass about 8 inches up, move down just a bit and sit on my cock, still hard. I've never been dominated like this, but I suppose after what I just did to you, turnabout is fair play. You grind your hips in a circular motion, the head of my cock brushing your g-spot. Faster and faster, eventually you're bouncing up and down, facing me. "I'm not here for your pleasure. I'm using you like the piece of meat you are. Now you better keep that cock of yours hard, or there will be a severe punishment." I try to speak to say "yes mistress", but the belt continues to muffle me. I nod my head feverishly.

You get up off my cock and disappear into a walk in closet. It takes several minutes...I'm ashamed when you come back. I've lost my erection. That's the first thing you notice. "WHAT did I tell you?!" you harshly yell at me. "Do you WANT to be a bad little bitch? Do you WANT to be punished?" Its then that I notice what you brought back from the closet. It's a pair of heels with a stiletto heel. But it's unlike any stiletto I've ever seen. It looks like-really? Cocks on the end? These heels had 6-inch dildos for heels.

You sit on the bed, and put these strange shoes on. I think to myself how on earth is she going to walk in these? Apparently I didn't understand the purpose of these. You lift up my legs, insert a bottle of lube and squirt a big dollop right into my ass. Then you cover your cock-heels with the same lube and position yourself on the other end of the bed, ready to push your heels, inexplicably made of dildos, into my ass. Without a warning you jump right in and push in deep. I've not been fucked like that since that weekend I got drunk in San Francisco. Of course, that was a trip for a buddy's bachelor party. He is gay and decided he wanted to see what kind of action he could get in Frisco before he tied the knot to his boyfriend... little did either of us know that after several bottles of tequila we both got some...

Back and forth, in and out, you're ramming my asshole with your shoe. It's THE STRANGEST thing I've ever done in my life, but it brings a great deal of pleasure. "This is your punishment, Eric. This will continue until you're hard again." I almost don't want to get hard, so you keep banging me. I've heard of a strapon, but a heel-do? A dildo-heel? What the fuck is this even called?

I'm finally hard again. You jump back on top and make me do all the work. I play with and tweak your nipples, they are getting sore from all the groping... the more sore they are, the better they feel to you.

You stop, turn around and I start fucking you with your back to me. Same speed, same rhythm as before, just facing the other way. "You are not nearly man enough for me." You take off the one heel that didn't fuck my ass just a few moments before and slide it in next to my cock. They're rubbing against one another and we keep fucking your pussy. When I pull out, you push it in, and vice versa. Eventually we both thrust and retreat at the same time. The tightness drives us both wild. I'm getting ready to cum and you stop me. You stand me up drop down on your knees to my side. "Spread your legs you bitch" I do as I'm told and you shove that dildo-heel in again. Back and forth. Pushing harder and deeper, I can't take it anymore and you can tell I'm about to cum. You start jerking me off. A grip firm but soft. I start to shudder and you cup your hand underneath my cock and catch the cum that streams out of the tip. It's the most earth-shatteringly intense orgasm I've ever felt and you coaxed it out of me with ease. With a pool of my cum still in your hand you order me to undo the belt. I unbuckle it and throw it back on the bed. "On your knees you sissy little fuck puppet" I can't defy you, not after we've gone this far. You take the entire load in your mouth and swirl it around. You love the taste, but you force open my mouth and tilt my head back. "It's time you taste your own medicine" You spit my load into my mouth, dropping down on your knees to kiss me. I transfer it back to you as we continue to make out. With my load back in your mouth, you look into my eyes deeply and sternly...and swallow.

We are both drenched in sex and sweat, cum and pussy juice. It's time for a shower that we take together, caressing and caring for each other. It's a necessary affection after such an intense session of eroticism. After the shower, you accidentally fall asleep naked next to me in the spare bedroom. You wake up the next morning, panicking and hoping your husband doesn't find you. Your run upstairs to the master bathroom; put on your bathrobe...he's not in the bed. "Oh shit." you whisper under your breath. You skip down the stairs; hopeful he went right to the kitchen. He's not there. You peer out the window. His car is gone. "What the hell is going on?" you think to yourself.

12
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