It started as a sunny, beautiful day. We decide to head to one of my favorite places, a place I have been coming back to my entire life, usually solo. There’s only a handful of people I've ever been here with. And you are one of them. The sun started playing hide and seek behind the clouds on the long bumpy drive out here. We were hopeful of beating the weather and definitely not deterred by it.

We park next to the river. A lot has changed here in the years that I have visited. They put in man-made docks and picnic benches, signs explaining how the site was formed, and the Indian legend passed down from my mom to me. Hanging Rock. It has interested me and captivated me forever. A young Indian girl, in love with two men, forced to choose only one. She climbed to the top of the large rock and flung herself into the rocky river below. Death rather than choosing.

Sometimes, when I come here, I make the decision to climb the rock and contemplate throwing myself free, like she did. Or just taking in the view from the staggering height. Other times, I decide that I would rather risk being crushed by falling rocks down by the river. Watching the river flow swiftly by, not a care for who lies beneath.

We get out of the car and start up the path. We come to the fork: we must make a decision. Be crushed or make a splash. I want to go down below, but you want the sky. We begin our ascent. I huff and puff as I am not as fit as you. You make it look so easy. Not dangerous in the least; maybe only in my mind. I keep pausing to admire your body working.

We make it to the top and hear our first claps of thunder. Standing at the top of the rock, facing death is usually breathtaking. Today, it is more so, watching the added storm clouds and lightning crack across the dark sky. Something about thunderstorms just shake me to the core. With each roar of thunder, I press myself closer to you. I am not terrified, just want to race the storm to see who can make more electricity.

The rain starts. Slowly. Cold on our skin, making us wet on the outside like I am on the inside. I turn you to face me and lean up to kiss you passionately, pressing my wet body hard against yours. The wind kicks up and you bite my lip. We need to head down. Standing on the tallest point in the area in a lightning storm is not the best idea in the world. We head down the rock, part way climbing, part way sliding on the slippery limestone.

We head down by the large chunks of rock that have fallen off the rock in past times. Hanging Rock stays true to its name and hangs above our heads, protecting us from the full force of mother nature's storm. The rain is really pouring now, small streams drip from the rock. We stand under the cliff and hold hands.

We watch in awe at the amazing storm, our own storm only beginning to brew. I start to turn towards you and you take my hands and press me back against the rocks. Our wet clothes cling to our bodies and stick to each other. You press my hands up over my head and lick my collarbone. You leave kisses from my wrists along my arms. You stop and smell my hair; it smells like nicotine and rain. You groan into my ear.

I lean forward and press my cold wet breasts against you, creating friction with my hips against your rising manhood  You release my hands and I instantly reach for your chest. Another clap of thunder, flashes of lightning. We both know we wont' last long together. I slowly take my shirt off. I reach around to unfasten my bra and remove it, releasing my breasts into the chilly weather. My nipples are harder than the limestone around us.

You unfasten your shorts and let them fall to the ground. I press myself onto you. Our clothing still causes the best kind of wet friction. Your hand glides easily into the front of my shorts. You growl when you realize there is no underwear to worry about removing. Your long fingers find my clitoris and begin making small circles. Another clap of thunder. I shiver and move my hips to your rhythm. Your mouth finds my nipples and your other hand grasps my ass, hard.

You have me pinned against the hard rocks when all I can think about is being pinned against your hardness. I bite your neck and lose myself on your fingers. Another clap of thunder. You bite my nipple and I grab your ass. I want you so bad. Hard. Fast. Let’s race mother nature, love.

I let you turn me around. I shove my ass onto you, more of a plea of desperation. You groan and tear my shorts down just far enough for you to reach me from behind. You start with your fingers again. My bare chest rubs against the roughness of the rocks in front of me. I scream in pleasure. Now, please, now.

Your fingers move out of me and both hands grip my shoulders. Another clap of thunder hides my moan as you enter me, filling me deeply. You growl low next to my ear. Your body is filled with need and hot wet desire. The rain comes down harder and the wind blows it onto us. Flashes of lightning match the tempo of our sex with thunder accentuating each deep thrust. The rain is cold, but our bodies are creating so much heat it doesn’t bother us.

You growl and bury yourself deep inside of me as you climax. I scream and dig my nails into your thighs and release myself back onto you. Our climax pleases mother nature and she responds with more thunder and lightning. I turn around and face you, lightning flashing across your face. We kiss passionately. We raced the storm and I think we won.

We get dressed and relax on the stones, watching the rest of the storm pass. Me leaning on you, your arm around my shoulders, completely in love and at peace as nature rages around us. But we are untouchable.