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Lando and I are enjoying a walk through the wildflower meadows, soaking in the sight of the blooms swaying gently in the breeze, the bees and butterflies fluttering from one to the next, gathering up the sweet nectar, when the English weather does what it does best—changes. One moment we are appreciating the natural world while bathing in the sun’s delicious rays, the warmth caressing our exposed skin, and the next, clouds roll in, dousing the heat instantly, like someone flipped a switch. We exchange a look, then glance up. The clouds crowding towards us, carried on an increasingly powerful breeze, are thick ominous.

“Come on,” Lando says, with a doubtful peek at my creamy-white stilettos, “let’s head inside, before it starts to rain.”

We move from a stroll into a purposeful walk, but to no avail. We haven’t even made it to the edge of the field before the heavens open. The heavy, steel-grey clouds unleash their load, pelt it at us as if deliberately wanting to force us indoors.There’s nowhere to hide, not really. The torrent is so ferocious that we’d get wet under even the densest of tree canopies, the seemingly endless droplets finding their way through every gap and tumbling onto us. So we keep going, scurrying along as fast as my heels will allow, Lando gripping my hand tightly to steady me should I stumble. Caring for me, as he always does.

Despite the lashing I’m getting from the rain, I find I’m not actually that bothered. I’m not carrying anything on me that could be damaged or ruined—no phone, eReader, smut read books. I have only the clothes on my back and the shoes on my feet.They, and I, will dry—no harm done. Lando’s the same. The whole point of our walk was to switch off from the world for a while, to bask in the raw, peaceful beauty of nature and enjoy each other’s company with no interruptions.

Apparently, Mother Nature had other ideas.

We keep going, smiling and laughing, putting on a final burst of speed as the ground levels off at the side of the house, the entrance within reach. Our haste seems almost pointless now, we’re so drenched. Our hair and clothes utterly saturated,they can take no more and water drips from them, and us, to the ground. So when Lando, instead of continuing on inside,into the shelter we’d been aiming for, stops and pulls me to him, I go willingly and without hesitation. Why not? A little rain never killed anyone. What’s the worst that could happen?

He looks sexy, his white shirt plastered to his finely-muscled body, a la Mr Darcy—only hotter. I imagine he thinks I look rather appealing, too, a white dress, sans bra, clinging to every peak and contour. My nipples, already straining against the sodden material, stiffen further as he lifts me into his arms and our lips meet. I’m cold and hot all at once, and I feel wild, abandoned, as we kiss in the rain, the droplets still hammering onto us, pummelling us, producing a rhythmic pattering as gravity draws them onto each and every surface around us. The scent of ozone and damp earth mix with Lando’s cologne and invades my senses, a delectable combination that ramps my arousal higher. This is crazy—and I love it.

Whatever magic is being conjured up, Lando’s clearly feeling it, too, as his kisses are every bit as needy, as hungry as mine, and we devour each other with gusto, sharing smiles and saucy eye contact whenever we break away to catch a breath. I can’t get enough of his luscious lips, his hot tongue, his big hands gripping my bum cheeks, squeezing and caressing them. He kneads my flesh so thoroughly, it becomes blatantly obvious where the phrase ‘like putty in his hands’ comes from.

The rain falls on, running in rivulets from our skin, our clothes. It’s so base, so primal, and I’m here for it. Two of the most rudimentary things on the planet—weather and passion, and we’re combining them in a sensual dance I wish could last forever.

After a while Lando moves us under the portico, presses my back against one of the enormous stone pillars supporting the roof. It’s unyielding, rough against my flesh, easily felt through the thin material of my dress, and the sensation simplyadds a little more frisson to what I’m already experiencing. Wet, cold, hard, soft, warm—all meld together in a maelstromand I allow it to carry me away on a torrent of lust.

Lando lowers my feet to the ground, but I’m still sandwiched between him and the pillar—a rock and the most delicious hard place I’ve ever known—as he grasps my breasts, then roams his hands up and down my body as we continue kissing. I explore him, too, the firmness of his muscles beneath the taut, wet material of his shirt, his pert ass and solid thighs beneath the clinging denim of his jeans. Is it any wonder I can’t get enough of him?

I’m barely aware of the faintest rumble of thunder in the distance as he eases my head to one side, brushes my hair off my neck to expose my skin, and covers it with kisses, his scorching mouth a foil to my rain-chilled skin. There’s more than a little heat elsewhere, too—my pussy is molten, already more than prepared for what might come, and it’s not only rainwater that’s soaked the material of my knickers.

We hold hands and hurry inside, unspoken yet obvious need zinging between us in invisible arcs. Lando heaves me up against a wooden door, and we resume our kissing. Under cover now, out of the rain, science does its thing and I glimpse vapour rising from Lando’s hair and body. He’s already gorgeous, but weirdly this enhances his beauty, making him appear almost ethereal. Dream-like. We kiss harder, faster, grab and caress and gasp and groan as our lust spirals higher.

Finally, Lando pulls back and fixes me with a devilish grin before lowering me to the floor. He reaches for the tie at my waist, undoes it slowly, teasingly, before letting the ends slip from his long fingers. Then he eases my dress up my thighs, gradually unwrapping me as though I’m the most precious gift he’s ever been given. The anticipation is both agonisingand deeply arousing, and by the time he reveals my breasts I’m already arching my back, offering myself to him, silently begging for him to touch me. Taste me. Take me.

Thankfully he does, bending his dark head to my left breast and covering my nipple and its surrounds with his hot, wet mouth. Arrows of lust shoot out from the point of contact and ping through my entire body. I palm his cock through his jeans, luxuriate in its hardness, its throb and heft in my hand as he suckles me tenderly. Then he peels my dress from my body and lets it drop to the floor with a wet, heavy slap. Rainwater now runs from my hair directly onto my neck, shoulders and back. I shiver, and goosebumps erupt across my skin as my brain registers that I’m mostly naked, and wet through, though drying pretty rapidly, to be fair, thanks to the fire burning inside me.

We spring together like opposing magnets, powerless to resist—not that we’d want to. Lando’s hand is at the juncture of my thighs, cupping and stroking my swollen vulva through the material of my underwear. He drops to his knees, kisses my tummy, then moves lower still, presses his mouth to my pussy—still through my undies. The sensation of his hot breath diffused through the fabric is supremely sensual, and I gasp, dizzy with lust as he mouths me, the broad, indistinct strokes stimulating me everywhere and sending a gush of juices into the gusset of my panties. Oh, how I want his mouth against me there, with no barrier, his talented tongue, his smooth lips, his gently abrading beard. Teasing me, titillating me, making me come all over his handsome face. He breaks away, strokes me with his thumb, then returns, before working his way back up my body and capturing my lips in another scorching kiss. Such a tease. He knows how to bring me to the edge and keep me teetering there.

We kiss, grasp, grope and grapple, revelling in each other as steam continues to rise from our entwined bodies. I undo hisshirt, and between us we wrestle the sodden linen away from his skin, baring his delicious abdomen to my eager gaze. He yanks the cuffs over his hands and discards the shirt behind him. I dip my hand into his jeans, grab his cock, then begin to stroke his thick length. God, it feels good. It’s hot and straining in my fist, and my breath hitches at the mere thought of what it’s going to feel like inside me—when we eventually get there. Because we’re in no rush. We’re luxuriating in the kissing and the foreplay, and I just know that the payoff is going to be all the better for it.

I undo his jeans and release his cock. It stands proud from the trimmed hair of his pubis, looking every bit as good as it feels. His jeans around his thighs, Lando and I pleasure each other as we kiss and moan, until he ups the ante, zeroes in on my clit through my knickers and goes for it. My focus ripped from me in the most delicious way, I release his shaft and grip onto his shoulders as he skilfully brings me to a toe-curling climax. Waves of bliss crash powerfully over me, and I’m glad I have his strong body to cling onto as my legs tremble beneath me, and it takes a considerable amount of willpower on my part to stop my knees buckling.

Ever the considerate lover, he gives me a moment or two to catch my breath before taking my hand and moving backwards over to the sofa, his jeans still at half-mast. He sits, pulls me on top of him, and our mouths meet once more. He grips my thighs as I reach for his length and continue stroking him. Juices pool in my pussy as his eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a gasp. He’s not very demonstrative, usually, so when I do manage to eke a verbal reaction out of him, it’s powerful and really gets me going. So much so, in fact, that I sit up, ease my knickers to the side, then reach between my legs, grab his shaft and feed it into me.

My natural lubrication easing the way, I lower myself until he’s balls deep and I’m stretched around him. His hands are on my backside now, holding tight, his fingertips digging almost bruisingly into my flesh as I begin to bounce on him. I love it. Filled to perfection, sparks of pleasure dancing over every inch of my skin, I fling my arms around Lando’s neck and mash my lips to his as the pace of our lovemaking picks up. We rock and grind and bounce, gasps and moans spilling forth from me as the pleasure builds and builds. Him inside me, his hands on my bum, the intense eye contact we make when we break our kiss to catch our breath—it all melds together in a melting pot of almost indescribable bliss. We’re so connected, mentally and emotionally as well as physically, which elevates the whole experience to a whole other level. I don’t know, maybe he is from out of this world.

I climax again, my internal muscles spasming around his shaft as lights flash behind my eyelids and I cry out in ecstasy. We slow the pace momentarily, allowing me to recover, then pick it up again, over and over, each time faster, more furious than the last. I can’t get enough. He’s already deep inside me but still I want more. I’m greedy, utterly lost to lust, chasing sensation, wanting it to last forever.

I’m finally forced to stop when my body protests. Much as I’d love to ride Lando’s luscious cock for all eternity, I am only human. Nothing otherworldly about me, I’m afraid. After a parting kiss and a coquettish smile, I slip as graciously as I can from his lap and crouch between his legs. His shaft, slick and shining with our combined juices, is still raring to go. Delicious. I circle its base with my fingers, then sink my mouth onto the swollen head. Flavours explode over my tastebuds, and I luxuriate in them and what they mean as I glance up to see Lando starting to unravel, just a little. He’s leaning back on the seat, propped up on his elbows, his incredible masculine form laid out in front of me, a true feast for my hungry eyes. I admire his arms, shoulders, pecs, and abdomen, drinking in their perfection even as I suck his cock. His lips part, his head lolls back, and I smile to myself as I up my game. Stroking, licking, sucking, titillating his most sensitive nerve endings the best way I know how. The power I have over him, over his pleasure, is truly intoxicating. It spurs me on to drive him as wild as he does me.

His jeans, still stretched between his spread legs, are in the way. I get rid of them as fast as I can, then return quickly, eagerly, to his rigid dick. I lick and suck at him, still revelling in his reactions, until it all becomes too much. Hits me right between the legs, where I need him. Again. I stand, lean over him, my breasts hanging pendulously as I possess his mouth in a kiss I hope tells him just how much this encounter is getting me off.

Then I turn, offering my backside to him. Between us we remove my underwear, while Lando drops hot, wet kisses onto the rounded flesh of my buttocks. He works his way up my spine, sending sparks of pleasure out in his wake, while his hands explore my front. My stomach, my breasts, my hips—all are treated to needy grabs and caresses, like he can’t get enough, either. I feel so sexy, so incredibly desired by him, and damn, do I feel the same.

I flick my knickers off my foot, then lower myself down, before guiding Lando’s cock back into my hot, wet core. The variation in angle means the nerve endings being stimulated are different, but no less heavenly, and I groan as I settle into a position where I can begin riding him again. I lift and drop, lift and drop, the rhythmic sound of our naked flesh slapping together fusing with my ecstatic gasps and moans, until my thighs burn and I’m forced to stop. Instead I rock slowly on his lap, and Lando sits up, his scorching skin, all dampness now gone, pressed against my back as he grinds into me, his hands exploring my front once more as he presses kisses to my shoulders and neck, the side of my face. He grips my breasts, pinches my nipples, sending arcs of pleasure zinging through me. We rock together slowly, sensuously, and I twist my upper body so we can kiss, deep and hard and wet.

I’m soon lost in a blur of frenetic movement and dizzying arousal—scorching lips on my shoulders and neck, strong hands on my breasts and tummy, a thick, thrusting cock inside me. Overwhelming pleasure. No inch of skin is left untouched, no nerve ending unstimulated. He manages to be both considerate and animalistic all at once, and it’s incredible.

We’re soon overtaken by our baser needs, and we pick up speed, the slap of flesh against flesh ringing out once more, punctuated by whatever tumbles from our lips. Gasps, moans, nonsense words—who knows. I’m too far gone to notice or care. I bend over the sofa, taking him deeper, changing the angle. It’s good, so good, stimulating my G-spot with every thrust. The dial of my nervous system is whacked up to eleven, and I soon come again, my body wracked with intense pleasure until it gradually seeps away.

We slow down, my limbs jelly-like as I turn and we kiss, caress, while I bask in the afterglow. Lando urges me to lie on the sofa, and takes position between my legs. Finally, I get what I craved earlier—his mouth on my bare, splayed pussy, eating me as though I’m the most delicious delicacy he’s ever tasted. He adds a finger, treating yet more nerve endings to a thorough stimulation. He’s laser focussed, enjoying what he’s doing just as much as I am. I cling to him, almost crush his head between my thighs as he plays my body like the finest of instruments, drawing yet another orgasm out of me with a moaning, quivering shudder. How does he even do that?

As I giggle languorously, he slowly crawls up my body, covering me like some sort of apex predator, with me as his prey, and I pull him to me eagerly, wrap my arms and legs around him, plant a kiss on his lips. I wonder if there are times when the prey is happy to be captured. I certainly am.

Lando might have treated me to multiple orgasms, but despite my near-exhaustion, we’re not done. Not even close. Not until he’s climaxed, too, taken his ultimate pleasure, come undone. I won’t allow it.

He slips back inside my saturated entrance and begins fucking me, slowly, rhythmically, forging deep. For a while, he alternates this with shallower, quicker strokes, but it soon becomes apparent he’s gone past the point of no return. I cling to him as the pace becomes frantic, our cries melding, growing more abandoned until, with a grunt, he explodes inside me. His cock swells, twitches, as he fills me with his spunk, gasping and groaning as pleasure overtakes him. It zings through me, too, his ecstasy just as arousing to me as my own.

After a beat, the tension leaves his muscles and we sink into blissful afterglow together, with tender kisses and caresses.Our bodies are still joined for now, still gently rocking together, until he eventually softens and slips out of me. We’re happy, beyond content, as we settle into a post-orgasmic doze.

Our walk might have been curtailed, but we certainly switched off from the world for a while and enjoyed each other’s company with no interruptions, at least.

The End.