Journey to the Center (Sex Story)
It is raining. This is a land where it is always raining. The only variable is what sort of rain it is. Right now it isn’t a gentle Spring or Summer shower that cleanses and revitalizes everything it touches. Right now it isn’t a mist that barely even counts as rain and only forms drops as it accumulates on objects. Right now the rain comes down in buckets, in sheets. The force of it cuts rivulets in the soil as the water seeks the lowest ground. Standing in this is a woman.
It is hard to tell whether she is beautiful or not. It is dark out. Only brief flashes of lightning illuminate her occasionally. Her hair is all matted around her face, but she doesn’t take her hand to brush it back. Water runs down the chestnut strands and across her face beginning its futile journey to the center of the earth. The salmon t-shirt she put on this morning is drenched and clings to her like a second skin. Same with the short denim shorts she paired with it. No shoes hinder her toes’ desire to feel the mud between them.
The expression on her face is a motley congregation of joy and freedom and confusion and fear. She looks at the ground near her feet, squinting against the darkness. Her head traces an arc as she looks from the outside of the left foot, around the front of her toes to the outside of her right foot. She looks over her shoulders, first right and then left. She dares not move. She gently bites her lip as she thinks about what to do next.
She uses the lightning to scan her environment further away. In the distance she makes out a blurry figure. She tries to call to it for help, but every time she does, the thunder drowns her out. After several such attempts, her face feels a new sensation to compete with the cold rain. Her tears aren’t cold. They are warm. She keeps looking near her feet. Her head tracing the same arc over and over again, first one way and then the other. It gets faster and faster and starts to be a little jagged as silent tears turn to sobs.
The woman doesn’t notice the figure move closer to her. It is a man. He wonders what she is doing. What is she looking for so intently? He looks where she is looking. In a flash of lightning, slightly behind her he sees something shiny. The light makes it practically glow. The woman has dropped her glasses. She dares not move for fear of stepping on them, but if she doesn’t move she will not find them.
The man uses the lightning to find his way safely to the woman’s treasure. She still doesn’t notice him. He bends down to pick them up. They are all muddy. The rain quickly washes them clean. He taps the woman on the shoulder. She is startled, but turns around slowly. When she does, he puts the gold frames back where they belong. Her face is wet and they slide down a bit. She smiles as he adjusts them for her. He returns the smile.
He notices she is shivering. Her attention no longer consumed with her task, she feels the cold. Her hands rub her arms to generate some heat. He has plenty to spare. He opens his arms and makes the slightest motion with his head during the next flash of lightning. She does not refuse his invitation.
She is a perfect fit, not too big or too small. Her head is just the right height and size to rest comfortably on his shoulder. As her head finds the appropriate place, his arms find theirs as he closes his embrace to shield out the cold. A sigh of contentment can be felt, even if not heard over the rain, coming from both the man and the woman. His embrace tightens a bit. Then it is broken. The woman looks at him, her eyes wide with confusion.
That confusion melts as she does when his right hand comes up to caress her left check. Her eyes close and another sigh escapes her.
“Please don’t,” the man says.
The woman pulls away slightly as her confusion returns.
“I want to look at your eyes,” he lets her know. “They are very beautiful. The color the sky much be behind all those clouds.”
She can no longer feel the cold of the rain. His words warm her more than any physical embrace could. She looks into his eyes as he looks into hers. To smile would take away from what they are both absorbed by. Even smiling with those eyes would be distracting. His are the color of the life giving earth at her feet. Earth and sky. Gaea and Uranus. Geb and Nut. Nammu and An. The sacred union from which all life springs.
He is content to just soar in those eyes, climbing higher and higher to reach the sun that is blocked by the clouds. His fingertips trace the line of her jaw connecting him to her. This is not enough for the woman. She wants to feel the mud between her toes. She wants to reach down and pick up clumps of it and smear it all over her body.
She waits for a flash of lightning to make her move, but it doesn’t come quick enough for her. She doesn’t need the light to find what she wants. Her mouth covers his in an instant. This startles the man. Her arms go around his neck so she can pull herself closer to him. She loses her footing in the wet mud and begins to slip. His arm goes around her waist to help her steady herself. She starts to say thank you, but her mouth is unable to form the words. It has more important things to do. It is already doing them. One taste of her sweetness and the man needs more.
His arms hold her tightly against him. She is grateful for this because she probably couldn’t stand otherwise. Her body starts to tremble.
“Are you cold?” he asks looking at her with concern.
She shakes her head.
“You’re shaking,” he says rubbing his hands along her arms to warm her up.
“Excited,” she says taking one of his hands in both of hers.
She brings is up to her mouth. Her tongue traces a very light circle on his inner wrist. Then it travels across his palm to the tip of his longest finger. She opens her mouth and brings it into her mouth up to the top knuckle. Her tongue dances around it. This sends shivers through the man that he’s not sure he wants. He pulls out his finger, but the woman is having too much fun to notice his discomfort. She sucks to bring the finger in more. He pulls it out again. This time she lightly scrapes her teeth along it. Just before it reaches the end, she increases her suction. It’s a game. He lets her play.
The taste and texture of this small appendage is thoroughly explored. When she is finished, a slight push of the tongue lets him know she wants another. Then another when she has finished with that one. Each finger receives the same devoted attention. Lips, teeth, tongue all take their turn in the dance aided by just the right about of suction to keep things moving in the direction she wants.
The rain is still pouring down. They both can barely feel it. With his free hand he pries the back of her t-shirt away from her lower back. The shirt clings to her and he can feel the contours of her back through it, but he wants more. Skin to skin contact. He finds it under her shirt. Her back is so smooth and soft. Everything a woman should be. There is no bra to hinder the path his hand makes as he counts her vertebrae. Again, just as a woman should be.
He wants both hands for his exploration, so he takes her plaything away. She doesn’t object as it joins his other hand. Her narrow shoulders, the ribs that jut out from the well counted vertebrae, the small of her back, all of it receives the same attention she had shown him earlier. Her eyes are closed. Her head tries to stay upright, but waves of pleasure keep rolling it around. Finally she just gives into them. He watches her chest rise and fall as her sighs turn to moans.
One finger traces the bottom of her ribs around to the front. It is met with no resistance. On the contrary. Her eyes open. With lips slightly parted and breath she is having trouble catching, she lets him know what she wants. Their mouths meet once more. Her graceful fingers glide along his wet arms. Her touch grows more firm as she feels his strong muscles move under his skin. Her hands encircle his arm. They are too small to reach all the way around, but that isn’t required here. Just touch is. Tactile sensation. The more the better.
Clothes are a hindrance to this. His hands keep moving under her shirt, on her back, on her stomach, occasionally even lightly brushing the edge of her breasts. Her small t-shirt clings to his hands as he does this. It makes things more difficult, but he dare not remove it. She fumbles to find her way under his shirt. His mouth gently probes the sensitive spot where neck meets body.
Her eyes open once again. An unasked question passes between them. It is answered with a slight nod from her head. The return to kissing again. His hands come outside of her shirt. They hold the bottom hem, one hand at each side. Slowly he lifts them to reveal her ivory flesh. She goes to do the same to him, but he lets her know not yet. It is too much of an interruption for him to bear right now.
He bends slightly to examine her breasts more closely. He looks at them both before deciding which one he wants to start with. The left one wins, but the right will not be forlorn long. She can feel his breath on her breast. His tongue deftly flicks her pert nipple making it even harder. The right reacts similarly as it is rolled between his finger and thumb. He takes the left into his mouth. His suction is as strong as hers was earlier. Moans turn to near screams. He brings her closer and closer to the edge.
The right breast is left alone as his hand has other things it must do. He unbuttons her shorts and they fall to the ground. She steps out of them. His hand finds a new kind of wetness. It isn’t cold, but warm. It is warm and soft. His hand probes her delicate folds until he finds what he wants. She practically explodes as soon as he touches it. She does scream. She can’t hold it back any more. The rain and even the thunder cannot drown her out. When she stops screaming, he removes both his mouth and his hand from their respective locations. He brings his finger to his mouth to taste her sweetness. He licks off every drop. The sight of this turns her on even more.
She quickly removes his shirt. His shorts offer a bit more difficulty. He helps her unbutton them and get them over his now throbbing erection. She wants a taste, but so does he. He wraps his arms around her and brings her tightly against him. Their mouths probe each other. Their chests meet. They can feel each other’s heartbeats which start to beat in unison, even skipping a beat together. Arms wrap around backs and continue moving up and down, necks to buttocks. Feet explore lower regions. Pure tactile sensation has been achieved.
Almost. Their eyes open and meet once more. Another unspoken question passes before them. No nod is required. Her eyes say it all. With a few adjustments of the hips, pure tactile sensation, outside and inside is achieved. Her internal warm is in direct contrast to the cold rain that covers them both. Covers all of them, but those parts that are pressed against their counterpart, protected from the rain, both sharing the other’s warmth and generating more of it. The man will add more of his own warmth to everything in a little while.
They continue to kiss. Their hands continue to roam. Everything is in perfect synchronization, a complex dance that both know in their souls. The movement of his hips are reflected in the movement of her hips. Neither leads or is lead by anything other than the tiniest signals that would be unperceptible to anyone who watched. The tightening of walls of her vagina, the hardening of his cock. These let them know what was going on and what was about to happen. As spasms are felt throughout her entire body, originating inside and spreading outward, he lets his own join them.
She clings to him, barely able to breathe, let alone move. She opens her eyes and looks at him. She doesn’t have the energy for a full smile, but the one she attempts means even more. His hand cups her face as he brings his lips to hers very gently. He brushes the wet hair away from her face and tucks it behind her ears.
They stay like that, the rain streaming down their naked bodies for a while, neither wanting to move or break the silence. The woman doesn’t even sigh now. She just regains the strength to be able to give him a real smile. He kisses that smile. First it is very lightly. It grows in intensity as he picks her up.
He carries her to a cabin she didn’t know was even there. He lays her down in front of a fire. He notices that the fire causes her skin to glisten. His finger traces the beads of water on her skin like it’s some big connect-the-dot game. This sends shivers through her. He looks around. Then he stands up and goes over to a nearby chair. Sitting on it is a towel. He comes back and brings the towel. Then he sits next to her recumbent form. He goes to erase his imaginary lines. Her hand comes up to stop him.
“But, you’re all wet still,” he says. “I don’t want you to catch a cold.”
“The fire will dry us,” she says stretching like a kitty cat. To complete the picture, she begins to purr. “I don’t want anything between us. Not even a towel.”
The man takes her glasses and dries them with the towel. Then he replaces them on her face. He tosses the towel in the direction of the chair. It falls short of its mark, but no matter. It isn’t important. He has what is important right next to him. He returns his attention to her and notices she isn’t wearing her glasses. His puzzled look asks the question before his mouth can.
“Don’t need them now,” she tells him. “Not like they were doing much good outside anyway. Hard enough to see through that rain without glasses. With them, pretty much impossible.”
He has to agree with her as he takes off his own. He can see well enough without them. He can tell the fire is doing a nice job drying her off. She isn’t glistening so much now. The amber flames dance across her body making her glow. He looks at her. The fire isn’t the only thing making her glow. He’s never seen someone so beautiful before.
He lies down next to her. She rolls over so that her body can cover his as well as her slender physique will allow without her being actually on top of him. Her head finds its place again. Her hand rests on his chest. She can feel the beating of his heart. Her fingers lightly tap out its rhythm. The sound of life.
Her eyes close. He doesn’t mind this time. The rise and fall of her chest let him know that she is relaxed and drifting off to sleep. He gently kisses her forehead. Then he reaches behind him. There is a couch there with a blanket on it. It is barely within reach. Barely. He has to stretch, but he does retrieve the desired object. He spreads it over them both. It isn’t between them, but between them and the world.
The rain still falls outside. Thunder is heard and lightning is seen. Rivulets are carved into the earth attempting their futile journey. Inside a new journey begins. This one is not futile. Body to body. Heart to heart. Soul to soul. Nothing is more important or productive than the journey to the center of another human being. They both fall asleep to meet again in their dreams where the journey to the center can continue.
