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The sky must have heard him because later, I opened my curtains to see blue-gray clouds in the distance. I was in a tizz of anticipation all day. The clouds swelled, increasingly menacing, and the air was swampy with humidity. Was it really going to rain? Was I really going to remember what it felt like to climax?
When I walked to Ray’s that evening, the light held a dark glint of pewter. My skin was clammy. Sweat slid on the back of my neck. I was bloated between my thighs, my cunt a burden of tissue rubbing and slipping with every stride I took. My juices spilled from me. The birds were noisy and gulls circled, unsettled as if they sensed imminent danger. Sounds were muffled, my sandals thudding dully on the ground. I thought I heard a distant rumble of thunder.
“Let’s get you out of these wet things,” said Ray when I arrived. I was damp with perspiration, but I knew he was referring specifically to my underwear. As if to back up his comment, he reached under my skirt and stroked the sodden pouch of my gusset. His touch sparked a bolt of need fierce enough to make me weak at the knees.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” I breathed, lifting my arms so he could remove my top.
He tugged off his own tee, baring his honey-bronze torso. I stroked his sweat-moist skin as he unclasped my bra and scattered kisses over my breasts. I felt woozy. When we were naked, I was instructed to sit in the armchair, legs wide apart.
Ray looked down at me, big, brown eyes roaming over my body before focusing on the glossy slit at the juncture of my thighs. His gaze was like a touch, inciting my flesh to arousal. He dropped to his knees and printed kisses along my legs, moving higher toward my inner thighs.
“How long has it been?” Gently, he toyed with my flushed, tender lips, watching my expression as he opened me with a single finger. He slid along my wet seam, nudging at my entrance then edging toward my clit.
I groaned and wriggled. “Too fucking long.”
He kept stroking me. “Four weeks and two days,” he said, full of pride. “Well done.”
I groaned again, pained to hear how long I’d gone without.
For several more minutes, Ray teased me while I writhed and whimpered. Finally, he slid two fingers into my wetness. The room grew suddenly darker, shadows cast by cloud not dusk. Ray rubbed me inside, leaning over me to smear kisses against my lips, his buried fingers picking up speed, his erection nudging at my body. Before long, he was giving me a curled-finger fuck, half-thrusting, half-tugging while his thumb bumped my clit.
“Yes, there, there. I’m going to—”
Instantly, he eased off. “No, you don’t. Not yet.”
“No!” I protested. “You said I could. You said tonight—”
“Shhh!” He dropped back to kneel between my spread legs again. Looking up at my face, he rolled my clit with excruciating slowness. “When I’m ready,” he said.
I should have known he would spin out my torment, building me up again to that mad pitch where I imagined I could do serious criminal damage if only it meant I got to come. Strung out on the crazy back and forth of being indulged and denied, I never knew if this time, if this moment when the delicate tremors tightened in my thighs, would be the one when I’d be allowed to let go and ride the orgasmic wave.
In the end, Ray told me. His fingers were inside me and he raised his head, lips glistening with my fluids, to say, “Any time. Any time you want to come.” He lowered his mouth to my clit again. The touch of his tongue felt like something I could finally trust. No more games. A huge pressure was lifted from me, that psychological release urging on my fast-approaching sexual release.
I gasped as Ray’s tongue danced, my pleasure rising steeply until I was there, poised on the brink of no return. For a moment, the world stopped spinning, the universe held its breath and then I was crying out as my orgasm poured through me, gripping and tumbling, over and over. My body jerked and quivered, racked by an intensity I’d never known before. I floated outside myself, became formless and vast, as big as the sky. Lost to ecstasy, my senses scattered and I melted into Ray’s mouth, clutching his hair, my back arching as my cunt liquefied.
Right on cue, rain crackled beyond the window. Lightning lashed the gloomy room. The sky gave a low, rolling groan as if returning a distorted echo of my bliss. I bumped gently back to earth and sank into floppiness. Ray sat back on his heels, his cock angled high. Outside, the rain kept on clattering and roaring, flashes of lightning chased by booming thunder as a storm of biblical proportions moved closer.
“Wow,” murmured Ray, gazing at the half-raised window.
I said nothing. I barely had strength to breathe. The noise of the downpour was immense, the rain bringing a welcome, earth-scented freshness into the room.
After a while, Ray said, “If I’d known you wanted to come this badly, I’d have built an ark.”
I laughed softly. “Good for the gardens.”
The room exploded with a nanosecond of light.
“And the reservoirs,” said Ray.
“And umbrella sales.”
Thunder ripped the sky apart. The building trembled.
Ray kissed me between my thighs. “Looks like we’re in for a wet spell.”
THE CUSTOMER’S WAITING
Giselle Renarde
