Without a thought for your turtleneck fashion.
So both caught short, you hastened on in,
To the pub where I was drinking my tonic and gin.
A massive log fire, protruded her heat,
To all of the patrons who were having a seat.
You both sat down gratefully and ordered your round
As the first rumbles of thunder started to sound.
You turned then your head, your eyes meeting mine.
You glanced away quickly and put down your wine.
Then you stared once again, pretending to see,
All other patrons......all others but me.
But you knew in that moment that our souls, they did touch,
As you played with your hair just a little too much.
And your look was too slow to be anything other,
than the thoughts you were trying your hardest to cover.
Your interest was sparked and was so plain in sight,
That your friend made excuses and left in the night.
I made my way over and offered a drink.
On assent, pulled out the chair on which I did sink.
Through volumes of small talk, both of us knowing,
The passion inside was growing and growing.
We could blame the storm, the gods playing a game,
But I swear that I quivered when you told me your name.
The lust too unsubtle, transferring through touch
From meeting of hands and growing of crotch.
A kiss finally stolen, a promise to come.
A knowledge of boundaries that will be undone.
We stood up and entered, the terrible storm,
Our hand clasped together, Our lust getting warm.
The rain was torrential, we ran for some trees,
I kissed you once quickly, and sunk to my knees.
You stepped back supporting yourself on the bark,
As my kisses had finally reached to their mark.
Your panties all sodden, but not from the rain.
My tongue licked your lips again and again.
I ripped them off quickly, the desire too much to bear,
My kisses more ardent, more passionate there.
My fingers then opened your glorious fold,
Your bud was exposed, a pearl to behold.
I lapped and I nibbled, you started to moan,
With fingers then rubbing, it turned to a groan.
Your hands roughly begging to get to my feet.
Lips locking in combat, a carnalist's treat.
A wanton tearing of fabric took place,
As the rain poured down on your breasts and your face.
The thunder and lightning exciting the lust
As we fell in the puddle that was hours ago dust.
The mud sloshing over our bodies so hot,
Entering spaces that it really should not.
But we were so lost in passion , it was quickly forgotten,
Our bodies awash in the remnants of cotton.
I entered you easily, the rain lubricating.
I quickly gained speed to hasten the mating.
I was thrusting so hard, your hips rose up to meet
Each pump, and withdrawal.
