She’d never held a real gun before. Cradled against her palm she marveled at the weapon’s heat. If she’d not known better she would have thought the gun had been recently fired. It was a heat which spoke of defiance.The air was cool and moist. They’d been exploring the woods behind his house for hours and had only just come across a clearing. The sun had just set and the overcast sky was the color of oyster shells. The clouds had gathered to form a mass. A throbbing, ash-colored mob that would descend upon their heads with or without provocation. She could see that it rained in the distance. The air smelled of pheromones and petrichor. She suggested that they take shelter. He laughed and sealed her fingers more firmly around the barrel. He wanted her to touch it. She did as he insisted. She could feel his pulse against her hand, like a song heard from faraway. He was all bass and bravado. She knelt down, careful not to catch the hem of her dress beneath her knees. The ground was soft and forgiving. There were flowers as far as the eye could see. Delicate, quivering, blue flowers in imitation of a Spring sky. It was as if the world had been turned upside down. Blue and vibrant below and grey and lifeless above. She pressed her cheek against him and listened quietly and without breathing to the sound of the blood filling his shaft.
Even in stillness his sex seemed to move, to pulsate, to struggle mutely. He gathered her hair into his hands, his fingers digging into the scalp. Her scalp tightened. She could feel him flowing into her like a current. Her thoughts dissipated. Her lips parted with a shaky inhale. His chest tightened, his rib cage suddenly too small for enormity. Her mouth watered. He swallowed. The hand not holding onto him disappeared underneath her dress. She touched herself through her panties. She was wet, a wetness which should have rendered the delicate fabric nearly transparent. Why had she chosen to wear something so simple, so childish? Plain, white cotton panties, bikini cut. She wanted to show him her pussy. To press his face against her. The muscles in her thighs clenched so hard that she visibly trembled.
The crown of his cock glistened, like moonlight reflected through water. She stroked him. First slow, then faster, working up a rhythm but not letting him cum. He pressed himself into her fist. He became impatient with her and her grip tightened a fraction. He moaned. She worked his foreskin over the glans. He bit his lip and she choked up on the head. He squirmed and she blew across the crown. Clear droplets gathered at the slit, she collected them on her needy tongue. Held onto them for a moment, like stars suspended in dew. She ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, along the demarcations where the head met the shaft, and along the cleft in the center of the crown. She liked the silky texture of his cockhead best so she focused her efforts there for a time. Tasting, drawing shapes against him with her tongue, stroking him off, kissing him. She couldn’t see his balls but she knew they were tight and heavy.
When the rain came and it did. It came hard pinning her dress against her body and her hair to her shoulders and back. There he stood in the middle of an open field like some sort of spastic scarecrow, hair matted to his face, goading and praising her underneath his breath. His voice was hardly human at all, it was more of a growl. She felt it in her cunt. She kept him warm by swallowing him. First just the crown. His hips shook. His fingers gripped harder. Goosebumps rose up on her skin. He held onto her but he didn’t start to fuck her until he had his cock half way inside of her. He started out slow and easy, nudging her, giving her time to adjust. When he got impatient she’d pull away. A gentle nibble. A playful flick. The tip of her tongue ghosting under his foreskin. The warm caress of her breath. Rain dripped down her face. He tasted like rain. He tasted like heaven. She drank him by the centimeter. Deeper and deeper until he was in her throat filling her up. She let him fuck her face. She felt like she was drowning and suffocating all at once. She filled his cock up with her moans. She accelerated her pace. She surrendered to his selfishness, to his impatience. She played with her clit clumsily through her panties. She couldn’t really concentrate on herself but she didn’t need to. She could feel his pleasure, his pleasure was her pleasure. She kept his spasming shaft trapped inside of her soft, wet, accommodating mouth. Permission to cum inside. Some of his orgasm slid down the back of her throat without her tasting it. Vicious white jets like compressed moonlight and she felt in that moment as if his whole being was spilling into him. She pulled back and let him empty himself onto her tongue.