It was a dark and stormy night as he lay in his bed. Outside the window, drops of rain the size of peas hit the glass in a torrent making a soft drumming sound. Lightening split the sky in two and illuminated the world in a strange glow. All too soon the menacing rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, attempting to outdo its electrical brother. For a minute, maybe two, only the sound of the pelting rain could be heard. Then the gods of light and sound clashed once again fighting for dominance within the heavens.
He looked forward to nights like this. Outside the storm ruled the sky, inside his tumultuous emotions roiled as he lay alone and lonely in his bed. A bed he rarely shared with another, even if he had the inclination or opportunity. Life just didn’t work that way for the commander of a secret military force. He needed to keep his focus. But tonight, he’d allow himself to become lost in pleasure.
Tonight she’d come, his dream lover, his phantom woman. She’d first approached him on a night just like this, almost a year ago. As he felt the mattress dip, then the soft friction of bare skin sliding over his, he’d taken in a sharp breath. Wondering what occurred, it didn’t take long for his body, deprived of the feminine form, to realise she came to pleasure him. Now, just the anticipation had him awaiting her feathery touch and wanting the response only she could bring.
Like an apparition, she appeared, not in physical form but ethereal. She never made a sound and he lay perfectly still, naked and waiting with expectation. The first indication of her presence occurred as a slight indentation, a pressure point as she hovered over him. Wisps of hair grazed his face before soft butterfly kisses started at his temple. Eyes, nose, corners of his mouth came next. He dare not attempt to touch her, to actively participate. He’d tried before only to have her vanish into thin air, leaving him wanting in a way he’d ever experienced before.
She neither wanted nor needed his participation in this ritual dance bring them both pleasures beyond compare. Opening his mouth under the gentle exploration, she took the invitation, sweeping her tongue into the offered nirvana. Duelling in a rhythm as old as time, their lips mated, initiating what would follow. Yet she never wanted to rush this first act, instead taking her time to drink in his essential essence. Only once she’d taken her fill did she move on.
That amazing mouth continued to his chin, teeth grazing a nipple along the way. Softness of her cheek resting for a moment on his exposed abdomen as though worshiping him in all his male glory. It made him feel more masculine than he’d ever experienced. The entire time her small, supple hand continued their reverent adoration. They’d found the most exquisite method of removing blood from the rest of his body, to pool in his groin. Touch so tender, strokes so mild as to drive him crazy with want.
She knew the moment he couldn’t take it anymore, the moment she’s stimulated him to his limit. Then, and only then, she’d move to position herself over his engorged groin. Hand going to his stiff shaft, he hold it, ready while she cloaked him in a warm wetness. Never with haste or a waisted movement, she took her time and pleasure from the slow downward thrust.
Once they’d completed the initial joining, she’s trail the very ends of her hair long his chest, seeking and finding his lips. Then like the lightening outside the room, she strike. Hard and fast, her tongue demanded entry, a duel as old as time. That’s when she’d begin to move off him, until only the very tip still joined them in this amazing dance. The return stroke, fast and furious, created friction which pleased both of them. They repeated the steps until he couldn’t take it anymore. He found the growls of pleasure mounted like the rolling thunder.
She’d become the lightening to his thunder. She’d only come to him on nights like this. When the storm broke, and the moonlight shone through, she’d be gone.