Summer Storms
©  shadowJewel 2000

Today was one of those Midwest summer days that contain very little differences from Southern days.  By 9 AM I was feeling like damp flour.  The baby powder, so lovingly applied at the end of the bath was caked in all the wrong places and moistures seeped from every pore.  Clothing stuck and revealed nothing erotic.  It was just plain hot, humid, and there was no relief in sight.  And it was another eight hours until relief of any kind was possible.

You know, my old Southern aunt had it right.  An early afternoon nap during the heat of the day.  A long, lingering, cooling bath in the late afternoon when all hint of air movement disappeared.  Late dinners, another bath and, only when the evenings promised a cooling, did the passions heat.

The evening started blandly enough.  The oppressive heat of the day drifted into the stale humidity of the evening.  Only the insects flitted in the twilight.  My movements had slowed to hardly noticeable shifts in position, trying to not get warmer in the summer night.  The overhead fan lugged behind me in the kitchen as the first of the fireflies darted in the evening grass.  It’s amazing how they have such energy on such a night. 

The clouds rolled in from the north and the first hits of breeze fluttered through the house.  I moved into the bedroom to take advantage of the cross drafts available there.  

Far in the distance the rumbling started.  At first it was barely perceptible.  Deep within the subconscious the sounds rose and rolled through my body.  Cooling breezes slipped across naked breasts and slid into heating valleys.  More insistent tattoes of thunder rolled across the horizon, bringing with it cooling winds that allowed for the heating of internal fires.  Fingers slipped between wet thighs.  

As the fury of the storm rose, so too did the need for release.  Roll after roll of thunder urged on the need.  Deep within the confines of the body, that release surged, boiled, fought to erupt.  A gunshot of thunder rocked the old house, rattled the windows as the body rose to shed the volcanic eruption.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  Yet a fourth.  Each echoing the sound that rocked the body to climax.

Return to ShadowJewel's Dungeon Send e-Mail to ShadowJewel

Designed by