The rain came down. The water’s drum against the window reminding her of childhood camping trips and the tin can rattle of long car journeys. The downpour outside always made her glad to be in. Emily shrugged her cardigan closer around her body and looked out of the attic window at the estuary. The flat expanse of water shimmered under the force of the storm and flashed as lighting rocketed into it.
Pip draped himself over her, one arm around her waist the other passing her a mug of hot chocolate. Thick and glutenous, the rich dry smell of cocoa beans and vanilla took her back to the arid days of a summer spent in Spain. So different from the grey dark of an English winter.
She sipped the chocolate, it clung to her lip and coated her tongue. Warmed her from the first sniff to the last sip. She pressed back into Pip closed her eyes and tried to convey all her thoughts through her body. An osmosis of lust and longing.
His chin on her shoulder Pip responded, tightened his arm around her belly, pulling her closer to him than she could push.
“I love the rain”
“Mmm me too” she replied.
“It makes me think of shelter and safety in the midst of passion. It makes me think of you.”
Emily closed her eyes. How could he always know the words to say? The words to shift her heart in her chest and hot wire it to her cunt? Biting her wind chapped lips blood mingled with chocolate and she dropped her head forward against the cold window, willingly lost to a maelstrom of thoughts with no centre other than her lover.
Her voice no more than a whisper, almost drowned out by the percussion of rain on glass she gave her permission to him just as she always did.
Pip’s fingers found the hem of her skirt and lifted. The soft drape of wool against the back of her thighs adding texture and warmth to his caresses. Finding and lingering on the tops of her thigh highs. He never quite understood why a woman so sensitive to the cold refused tights for old fashioned stockings. Not that Pip minded, the transition from fabric to flesh always moved him. The unexpected playfulness of the garments, as if the ring of skin from stocking top to knicker was a prelude the introduction to flesh’s pleasures.
He felt her shift in his hands, many years of companionship taking over the courtship of flesh. And still every time was like new. His hand reached up and cupped a breast through the fabric of her dress. Was her nipple hard from the chill of winter or the warmth of lust? It didn’t matter as his hand scooped Emily’s flesh she moaned against him, pushed and twisted under his palms.
Emily sighed and the warm blush of chocolate and lust spread from her cheeks, rivulets of pink running down, striping her arching body, snaking around hips and belly to pink her mound. They both felt her labia swell, plump and redden. Her pussy wet and open as she shifted back under Pip’s stroke.
His lips on her neck, whispering words of familiar lust, comfort and sex the thrum of the water flooding on glass as his fingers and words drew the matching response from Emily.
Safe, home, together. Contentment’s flood.