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                                  Casual/nitestrm.mf
                                      Wet Ink
                                   Midnight Storm
                    Darkness.  Punctuated occasionally by the flashes from a distant 
               thunderstorm, it is folded over your eyes like a heavy layer of black 
             velvet.  The humid night air caresses your face like a lover's hand, and 
                             you can smell the storm as it approaches.
                     You stand out on the porch in front of your remote farmhouse, 
              wondering how long it will be before the lights are restored, banishing 
              the night again for a bit.  A quick breeze toys with your hair and your 
               skirt.  You shiver slightly at the chill running down your spine, and 
                                 cross your arms over your breasts.
                   Off in the distance, now, you see the headlights of an approaching 
               car.  You feel the tension creep over you as the driver picks his way 
               down the poorly-maintained road that leads nowhere but to you.  Alone 
               tonight, your retired parents in town for dinner with friends, where 
                they will spend the night, and you are aware of your vulnerability.
                   A low roll of thunder distracts you, as it crawls over you slowly, 
               reminding you of the incredible power of nature's display, making its 
                           way across the flat countryside in the night.
                   You can hear the car's engine now.  It purrs quietly, revealing a 
             pent-up power that provides a counterpoint to the uncontrolled energy of 
             the storm on the horizon.  A flash of lightning illuminates the vehicle, 
              and you note that it is a fine European make, black as the night, with 
               nobody within but the driver, whose features you cannot yet make out.
                  Turning the final corner, the car stops in front of you, the engine 
             goes silent, and the lights go dark.  You hear the door open and another 
              flash of lightning lets you at last see the stranger's face.  Something 
             inside you cries out, and you feel your knees go to jelly at the sight.  
                He is everything that has ever attracted you -- finely-styled black 
              hair, a proud but not arrogant face, piercing grey eyes.  Eyes that are 
               directed straight at you, and which you can feel boring through you, 
                                even in that scant instant of light.
                   Footsteps in the gravel.  A rich, low voice, "Hello, miss.  Could 
              you help me, please?"  You feel a fluttering in your gut at the sound, 
                        and your throat seems constricted as hard as a rock.
                  "Sure, uhm, what do you need?" you finally force out.  You feel the 
             porch move slightly as he pulls himself up the stairs by the hand rail.  
              His footsteps on the plain decking of the porch are hard, rapping, and 
                                you want them to come closer to you.
                    "I am lost.  Between the storm and the map that I have, I took a 
                bad turn a while back and now have no idea at all where I am."  His 
                speech carries a faint, aristocratic accent.  Still the fluttering 
               inside you continues, and you can see his shadowy outline against the 
                                    blackness beyond the house.
                   "Oh, okay... Come on inside.  I've got a map."  You turn and open 
             the door, going into the house.  It is even darker in here, if that were 
                             possible, and he hesitates at the doorway.
                                       "Can you turn on a light?"
                   "Oh -- sorry.  The storm knocked out the lights.  I think I've got 
                            a flashlight around here someplace.  Okay?"
                       "Sure.  I'll wait here.  Don't want to trip over a lamp or 
                     whatever, you know."  You can practically hear his smile.
                      "Yeah, uhm, I'll be right back."  You make your way into the 
              kitchen, where the flashlight is kept in a drawer.  Turning it on, you 
             retrace your steps, squinting slightly in the relative brightness of the 
                                               beam.
                    As you return to the front room, he advances into the house and 
             closes the door behind him.  "Much better," he says approvingly.  "Now I 
                can see."  His eyes are drinking you in, and you feel a quiver pass 
                      through you, wondering at the true meaning of his words.
                   Setting the flashlight down on the coffee table, you pull open the 
               drawer in the end table to retrieve the promised map.  "Here, have a 
               seat," you say, motioning at the sofa.  You sit beside him and spread 
                                       the map before you.  
                   This close to him, you can smell the sharp tang of his aftershave 
             and feel the warmth emanating from him.  You point out some landmarks to 
                                          him on the map.
                   "Ah, yes, I see now.  I went wrong here," he says, and points at a 
                                  highway intersection miles away.
                   "And you're here, now," you say.  A startlingly brilliant flash of 
             lightning makes you jump, and the instant reply of thunder booms between 
             your ears with a voice of unstoppable strength.  You hear sheets of rain 
                                 hit the house almost immediately.
                   Recovering, you point out the place on the map to him again.  Your 
                 finger is trembling, and you look at him.  He is smiling at your 
              reaction to the storm.  "Caught me by surprise," you say, returning the 
                                               smile.
                   "Same here.  Well, I suppose I should be off now.  Thank you very 
                                              much..."
                     Looking outside at the storm breaking over the house now, you 
              quickly interrupt, "Why don't you stay at least until the rain stops?"  
              Your heart is in your throat now, and you feel sure that he can hear it 
                                              beating.
                   "I suppose that might be wise," he said, smiling again.  "Allow me 
              to introduce myself.  I am James Morris, from Colchester, England.  And 
                                              you...?"
                   "Oh, uhm, Tammi Gardner.  I've lived here forever, you know?"  He 
               offers you a handshake, and you accept.  His grip is firm and gentle, 
                 and you flush as you realize that you are still holding his hand.
                       As you release his hand, he smiles, "Pleased to make your 
                                    acquaintance, Miss Gardner."
                    "Oh, please call me Tammi," you say quickly, wondering what you 
                                             are doing.

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                              "Certainly, Tammi.  So, what do you do here?"
                  "Oh, just help out my folks.  Odd jobs in town, that sort of thing.  
                                      Nothing much, actually."
                  "Well, you help out visitors in the night, and to me, my dear, that 
              is far more than nothing."  He smiles warmly, and the last vestiges of 
                               restraint leave you at that instant.  
                    You lean toward him and kiss his lips without warning.  After a 
              moment of surprise, he begins to respond, and you loose yourself in the 
              warmth of his mouth.  As you break from him at last, you find that you 
                                            are shaking.
                  "I- I don't know what's come over me," you say quietly, "But I have 
                                           to have you."
                    He says nothing, and draws you to him for another kiss. When you 
              emerge from this one, the flashlight is dying, and he reaches over and 
                 shuts it off.  "I don't think that we need that, Tammi," he says 
               quietly.  You nod agreement into the darkness, and sag against him.  
                    He holds you in his arms, and you feel his hands on the buttons 
               down your back, releasing you from the confines of the simple dress.  
                You kiss him, stroking his face and inhaling the clean scent of him.
                  As he slips the dress from your shoulders, exposing your breasts to 
              him, you lean back and start on the buttons of his shirt, seeking them 
                                    blindly with his fingers.  
                    He caresses your neck, gliding down past your collarbone, to the 
                hollow between your breasts.  His fingers glide around to cup your 
               breast lightly, and you feel the nipple stiffening in response.  His 
                           thumb finds it, and you gasp at the sensation.
                  You feel him moving, and his mouth suddenly finds the other breast.  
              As he strokes the nipple with his toungue, you abandon yourself to the 
              feelings.  He finishes removing his shirt, working slowly, his toungue 
               awakening parts of you that have slumbered your whole life, awaiting 
                                            this moment.
                    Your hands run over the firmly muscled surface of his back, and 
              your breath is ragged in the night air.  Nothing before this moment has 
                           prepared you for what you are experiencing.  
                   An explosion overtakes you, and your body stiffens.  You are dimly 
                aware of thrashing wildly under his mouth, and of his sudden nudity 
              beside you.  Your remaining clothes follow his onto the floor, and your 
                      bodies meld together in an endless moment of pleasure.  
                   His lips find yours again, and he holds you to him tightly, moving 
                slowly within you, leaving a trail of fire between your legs.  You 
             clutch at him desperately, seeking something stable to hold onto as your 
                                          life is changed.
                    The storm reaches its height now, with lightning flashing is all 
             directions, thunderclaps assailing your isolated house, and rain pouring 
               over everything in a nearly-solid wave.  Inside, also, the storm has 
                   reached its height, and you feel another explosion building.  
                    You are lost in a swirl of emotion, sensation, and ecstasy.  The 
              storm's strobe light effect gives an air of surrealism to everything.  
             Familiar surroundings, picked out in preternatural clarity, combine with 
               unfamiliar sounds and feelings to create an experience that you will 
                                           never forget.
                    As you both undergo the transformation of orgasm, you notice the 
              sweat between your bodies and the texture of the sofa beneath you.  The 
              hair of his chest is soft, and you kiss it gently as you return slowly 
                                   to the reality of the night.  
                    Finding his nipple, you experiment, kissing it and returning the 
              treatment he gave yours.  His response is gratifying, and you continue, 
              encouraged.  He strokes your hair, murmuring quietly to you, urging you 
                                               on.  
                      Your kisses continue down his torso, until you face his cock 
              directly.  It is a thing of beauty, and, impulsively, you kiss it.  His 
              response is so tremendous that you go on to explore the possiblities of 
                                       this more thoroughly.
                    You taste yourself and the strange saltiness of his semen as you 
               draw the head into your mouth.  The whole thing jumps as you run your 
               toungue over the ridge and onto the shaft.  He shifts himself around, 
                      and you feel his breath tickling the hair of your pussy.
                     The joy that you feel at returning some of the pleasure he has 
             given you is beyond description.  The look on his face is rapturous, and 
               you allow yourself to sink back into the bottomless bliss of the raw, 
                                 undiluted pleasure that you share.
                  Your hear yourself squeal in surprise as his lips touch your pussy.  
              His toungue darts out, finding the hard nub of your clit, and waves of 
             pleasure course over you.  The sensation distracts you for a moment from 
               the attentions you had been lavishing on his cock, but the lingering 
                                  taste in your mouth reminds you.
                   Your mouth engulfing him, his toungue bathing you, the feeling is 
              incredible.  It feels as though you are in some sort of endless circle, 
              spinning around some unseen point of passion, approaching the top of a 
                                        vortex of pleasure.
                   The storm has abated outside, but the battle between the elements 
                 continues on the sofa.  A throbbing, pulsing cyclone is let loose 
             between your legs, and you taste a salty torrent in your throat.  As you 
                both return to earth, you crawl up beside him, relaxing is his warm 
                                              embrace.
                  When you awake, it is quiet outside, and the skies are beginning to 
             clear.  Stars twinkle faintly through thin, high clouds, and he squeezes 
                               you for a moment, and then sits up.  
                                "I'm sorry, Tammi, but I must be going."
                           "I understand, James.  Thank you.  For everything."
                    You pull your dress back on, and as his dark car pulls away, you 
            watch again from the porch, a sense of peace overcoming you.  As you return 
              to the house, the lights come back on.  The storm of this night may be 
                      past now, but its effects will remain with you forever.
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