I was lying awake in bed in the middle of the night when I heard it: the distant rumble of thunder. As soon as I heard it, tingles traveled down my body. My cock stiffened.
For the sake of my mind at that hour, I ignored it. Closed my eyes, rolled over to hug the wall, as I tend to do in my sleep.
Another rumble of thunder. My cock, still stiffened, grew further – becoming that dull ache as it formed a tent beneath my blankets. I wanted to roll my submissive over, gently part her legs and wake her up with a kiss between the legs. I wanted to stir her further by trailing kisses on her thighs and up her stomach to the tips of her breast. And when she was fully conscious and accepted my advances, I would take her. Perhaps gently at first then the fiercer the storm gets, the harder my thrusts will become. The lightning will dance around us, the wind will howl and drown out her moans, my loud grunts..
I think of all this but yet I do nothing. Maybe it’s the gentleman in me but I am still as anything. Still and yet, my cock aches for that release. Each rumble of thunder makes me clench those muscles that feel so delicious when I come.
Storms do something to me. They ignite the fire within me. They make me want to fuck. Not make love, fuck. More animalistic, slightly rougher. I don’t know what it is but every time, without fail, I feel the surge within me during a storm. And I want to fuck.
I would gladly take my submissive out into the backyard and undress her slowly, letting that anticipation build. The storm would rage around us as I would direct her out from under the covers, where the hard rain would hit her flesh and sting her nipples. There I would take her, hard and passionate and with every ounce of strength that nature would bring to me. We would be connected with the Earth, raw and muddy. Connected with ourselves.
Storms do something to me. I am not sure what but I am not sure I want to know.