Grass Lake: The Storm

The two of us drive north of the city almost wordlessly. Considering how much we have spoken to each other online, so many times a week, it’s a little unsettling that we are so quiet now, watching the road and the surprisingly light traffic go by, but is no surprise. This is the first time we have actually seen each other, really been in the presence of each other. Our embrace at the airport was the first physical contact we have ever had, although we have known each other for months, seen each other naked, watched each other in the most intimate of moments.

With that in mind, I sneak a quick glance at Luna, at her legs, bare under her dark blue skirt, left leg crossed over her right. Her sandal has slipped onto the floor and her bare foot is bouncing to the music -Jay and the Americans on the 60s channel — and her skirt has slipped her thigh, revealing flawless caramel skin.

She is absent mindedly covering her leg tattoo, the star, with her hand, but I can see the short Portuguese phrase on her arm. I am not the biggest fan of tattoos, probably a reflection of my age, but on her they just seem right and enhance her beauty. I notice that her eyes have fallen on me.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Why?”

“I am pretty sure I look older than you thought.” I try to focus on the traffic.

From the corner of my eye I see Luna’s face break into the familiar smile that I look forward to every time I see her online. “No, actually, I think you look a little younger. You still have a baby face. And your eyes are young.”

Actually, I’ve heard that before, from women my own age, so I know she’s just not being patronizing.

I look directly into her face; the deep, lovely dark eyes, full red lips, soft dark hair swept over her right shoulder. “Thank you.” I take a breath. “Are you sure you want to do this? There’s still time to get a hotel in the city.”

She turns and watches the highway. I wonder how different this looks from her native Brazil, although she’s from a fairly large city, Porto Alegre; it’s not exactly like she’s from some remote village.

“No, I want to see the cabin,” she says. “And the woods.”

I take advantage of the momentary silence to reach over and take her hand. She holds it a little more tightly than I had anticipated, and a warm glow begins to form inside me.

“Well, we’ll have a good weekend.”

Today is Friday. Luna, who I first met on the chat site as “Moongirl95,” has come in for a personal job interview on Monday morning. With some trepidation I had offered to let her stay at my house for a few days, or to pay at least part of the cost of a hotel room. As well as I know her and as legitimate as the cam site might be, personal meetings can be tricky at best and dangerous at worst. Further complicating the situation is that I am in my fifties and she is twenty-six; all of this can be a recipe for disaster.

With four kids, three older than Luna, and an ex-wife, I’m in really new territory here. I’ve been trying very hard, and probably failing, to not look like a lovesick teenager.

We ended up with a compromise of sorts. A friend of mine — actually, his widow, now — has a cabin north of the city that our circle of friends uses throughout the year. She was happy to have me go up there this weekend to start closing it up for the season. The plan is to stay there until Sunday, get a hotel in the city Sunday and Monday, with Luna flying back on Tuesday.

I guess sometimes it happens, I think, but I’m filled with doubt. I think I’ve done everything to satisfy myself that this isn’t an elaborate con job; I have heard borderline horror stories about people in my position on podcasts and seen them on “Dateline.”

We’ve spoken to each other online since January, for over half a year, now. We’ve revealed more and more about ourselves — both of us — little by little over that time. She’s paid for the flight herself, helping me relieve my anxiety over some sort of a financial con. She’s technically an American citizen, although her parents moved back to Brazil with her when she was a toddler, so there is no scam marriage on the horizon. I seem to have everything covered.

But still —

“I can’t believe this,” I say, mostly to myself.

Luna’s reply is soft and, unexpectedly, goes a long way toward consoling me. “I know.”

# # # # #

Although it is still the middle of the afternoon, the autumn skies begin to darken an hour later, just after I have turned off the highway onto the long two-lane road that leads to Grass Lake. Trees rise on both sides of the road; we are walled in by an explosion of gold and burnt orange foliage that begins to lose some of its color as the storm clouds roll in and deposit large drops of rain on the windshield.

Lightning cracks through the sky suddenly enough to make her jump. The highest branches of the woods around us begin to sway and bow before the wind. Instinctively she moves away from the window and a little closer to me. I touch her thigh with my right hand. It is cold and soft to the touch.

“Not too much farther,” I reassure her.

The storm is at its peak about twenty minutes later when we turn off the road and follow the gravel path to the cabin. Halfway up the path, when we can see, through curtains of rain, the cabin and the lake beyond, the car is stopped by a limb that has fallen in front of us.

We wait in the car a few minutes, listening to the Temptations on the radio, waiting for the plummeting rain to ease up. When it doesn’t, I turn to her and shake my head.

“We might as well go,” my voice is loud over the storm. “We can get the luggage later!”

We open our doors at almost the same time and begin running the 70 or so yards from the car towards the cabin. The temperature has nose-dived; the rain is nearly ice cold and the wind is whipping it into our faces. Luna loses a sandal and begins begin to slip on the grass; fortunately, I am right beside her and I wrap my arm around her waist to hold her up as we dash toward the door. She kicks off the other one as she moves.

The trees around us groan in the gale; the sky has turned as dark as midnight, the only light provided by the constant flashes of lightning. As we reach the door, soaked to the skin, we can hear hail bouncing off the roof.

Shaking, I reach into my pocket, produce a key, and unlock the door. In a few seconds we are inside and out of the tempest.

“How do you like America so far?” I reach into my back pocket, pull out my phone, and turn on the flashlight.

Luna is soaked, shivering, white from the cold, but smiling. “Wet.”

Her blouse and skirt are plastered to her skin. She stamps her bare feet on the hardwood floor. Without sandals the top of her head comes to my chin. Even with this difference in height, she is actually taller than I had anticipated.

While I use the flashlight to find a light switch, she starts searching her pockets for her phone. “No carro!” she says with a little anger in her voice.

I find the switch on the wall and flick it. There is no response.

“What?”

“My phone. I left it in the car.

“We can get it later. Stay here for a minute.” I walk to the corner of the cabin, my clothes dripping all he way, find the stove, and twist the handle. The burner on the range flames up and bathes the kitchen area in an orange glow.

I pull on the refrigerator door. In the light from the stove, I can see that it is stocked with beer, soda, and water. The four of us who use the cabin are required to stock it before we leave. Between that and the groceries in the car we should be able to survive. In addition, I assume there is red wine in the pantry, at the insistence of Annie, Jim’s widow, who actually holds the deed to the place.

I close the refrigerator. “Well, we have no electricity for now, but we do have gas. I’ll light a fire -” I stop when I see Luna standing by the door, shivering. Gray light is beginning to come in through the windows, replacing the blackness of a few minutes before, although the rain and hail are incessant and the walls are still being battered by the wind.

I glance out the window as I step over to her. The storm may have subsided, but it is nowhere near over. There is another jet-black cloud approaching over the trees.

I put my arm around her and hold my body close to hers for warmth as I guide her to the back of the cabin. The cabin basically has three rooms; one main room and two smaller ones. In the back left corner of the main room is the kitchen area – stove, refrigerator, small table, two chairs, and a cupboard. In a small room behind it is the pantry. In the opposite corner, to our right as we walk, is a queen-sized bed covered by a brown quilt. Next to the bed, in the center of the back wall is a door leading to the washroom. Behind us, in the corner, is a stone fireplace.

As we step into the bathroom I reach up and take a folded towel from a shelf. “Here.” I hand Luna the towel. “I’ll start a fire. You get out of those clothes and dry yourself off. Then throw the quilt around yourself and come out. By that time, I’ll have the room warm.”

Instinctively I lean over and kiss her; her lips are soft against mine. My fears about how she might react to this impulse are relieved when the kiss is returned warmly.

Wood and kindling are already stacked next to the fireplace, an unstated but always followed rule whenever one of us uses the place. As I approach it and lay some kindling, then a few logs, then a little more kindling to the hearth, I hear her wet blouse and skirt drop onto the floor. I don’t turn to look — first, I don’t know what her desire for privacy is in this position, and, second, I am more focused on the fire.

My own clothes, still soaked, are clinging to my body as I stand up, find a match on the mantle, and light it against the stones. I touch it to the kindling and watch the blaze catch on.

Behind me I can hear her bra unsnap and can make out the soft plop as it hits the floor. In the silence that follows I know that she is shimmying out of her panties. I hear the soft padding of her bare feet on the floor as she comes up behind me. I am tempted to turn and watch her approach – I want to see her naked body so badly right now – but I hesitate.

I am making such a tremendous effort to pretend to be focused on the fire that I nearly jump when I feel her cool hands touch my waist, peeling up the bottom of my soaked polo shirt and pulling it up over my head.

Luna’s voice is soft, barely discernable over the competing sounds of the thunder, the rain falling on the roof, and the crackling of the fire. “Suas roupas também estão molhadas.”

“What?” My voice is barely a whisper. My shirt falls to the floor.

She wraps her arms around me from behind, caressing my chest, and lays her head between my shoulder blades. “Your clothes are wet, too,” she says. Her hands dip to my waist and I can’t delay any longer. I turn to face her as she begins to loosen my belt.

And in the firelight, with a loud roll of thunder heralding the moment, I see Luna, naked and in my presence, for the first time. After all the times I have seen her online, undressed, beautiful, and nude, this is truly the first time I have been able to get a full sense of her beauty: her lovely and loving brown eyes; her full, smiling, red lips; her lovely, smooth shoulders; her full, tear-shaped breasts; her mildly thick waist, her round, perfect hips, her trimmed but unshaven pussy still somewhat shadowed, even in the firelight – I am seeing these now for the first time, and there as no comparison with the two-dimensional figure I have seen on the computer.

Luna tugs my soaking wet jeans down to my ankles. I can only imagine how she feels as her eyes fall on my hardening penis.

“Luna, I -”

She looks up at me with a pleased, somewhat mischievous smile, and whispers “Quieto.”

Silently she moves to her knees and slides my pants out of the way as I step out of them. The wind and rain batter the walls of the cabin. She looks up into my eyes, her face bathed in the fire’s red glow, smiles beatifically, looks at my cock, and takes me into her mouth.

The feeling of her soft, warm lips around me is almost too much and my knees begin to shake. “Luna,” I repeat quietly.

“Sh.”

She continues wordlessly for a few moments, feeling my cock, hard and warm in her mouth as she strokes it between her lips. Her right hand gently tickles my balls and I begin to gently thrust into her mouth. I wait until the last possible moment before I reach down with both hands, take her by your shoulders, and lift her up to her feet.

I kiss her, hard, on her lips, something I have longed to do for months. She lets out a quiet moan as her tongue touches mine. Her hand goes back to gently caressing my balls. I let her play for a moment, enjoying the teasing. Then I take it into my own hand and lead her away from the warmth of the fire and to the bed. A harsh flash of lightning fills the sky outside, followed by another urgent downpour of rain.

We sit on the edge of the bed, kissing, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths. My hands massage Luna’s shoulders, still chilled from the cold air. I feel her hands against my bare chest.

I lower my head a little and start kissing her neck. I can still taste droplets of rainwater, She sighs in my ear as she feels my warm lips teasing her cool neck and throat. Her hands drop from my chest and I feel their coolness between my thighs, finding their way to my rigid cock. As she begins to stroke me slowly, I kiss her throat, her chest, and the cleavage between her breasts.

We lie back on the bed. She breathes deeply as she feels my lips on her breasts, kissing first in wide circles around her soft skin, the circles slowly getting smaller, centering on her large areola. Her body shudders as her nipple finds its way into my mouth. Very gently my teeth begin to close upon it until I hear her breath catch; then I begin to kiss it and tease it to ease any unintended pain. As my fingers slide down Luna’s belly and discover her soft, warm, waiting pussy, I kiss her other breast and do the same; biting, kissing, sucking.

As I kiss and touch her, feeling the softness of her body, she is still stroking me, my cock a little slick from the precum that has dripped into her palm. My fingertip begins to tease her already damp, warm slit. Her muscles tighten as my finger penetrates her and begins to massage her hard clit. A moan issues from her, a low, loving sound, and she parts her legs slightly to give me more room to play.

“Richard,” she whispers. She has never called me by my given name before.

I pick my head up from her breast. Her nipple is hard and wet with my saliva. “Luna,” I whisper back. There is no need for any other words to be exchanged.

I kiss her lips, hard and full, again feeling our tongues probing hungrily. Outside, a crash of thunder is so low and loud it shakes the cabin. The logs in the fireplace shudder, sending orange firefly sparks up the chimney.

Afraid I might come too soon, I remove her hand from my dick. I kiss her lips one more time, then kiss her neck. I here a soft “Oh” as she feels my lips softly graze her Adam’s apple and the smooth skin between her breasts. She rests her hand on the back of my head as I tease her belly with my lips, my tongue briefly exploring and tickling her belly button.

I can feel Luna’s eyes on me as I shift my body and crawl down the bed to her feet. She parts her legs for me and my breath catches at the sight of her lovely pussy, open and glistening, even in the semi-darkness of the room.

I have seen her many times through the lens of the camera, but the reality of it, the sight, the softness, the sweet smell cause me to hesitate just to imprint the image in my memory. Aware of my gaze, she smiles – a smile that seemingly brightens up the shadows in the room – and begins to caress herself with her hand.

“You are so beautiful, Moongirl,” I whisper, not sure if she can hear me.

I lower my head and begin to lightly kiss her inner thighs, first her right, then her left, forcing myself to move slowly as my lips move up her leg. I hear her breath quicken over the sound of the rain pouring on the ceiling.

As I reach and begin to caress, with my lips, the dimples between her inner thighs and her pussy, I feel her hand, once again, against the back of my head. I don’t resist as she guides me to her warm, damp slit.

I tease her thick labia with my tongue, just barely touching them, inside and out, tickling them, hearing her moan in frustration and anticipation. Her hips begin to thrust against my face as I touch my lips to her rosebud clit and gently suck it, tasting the sweet saltiness of her juices. I feel her wetness already beginning to drip on my chin. And then I hear Luna moan loudly as she feels my tongue finally penetrate her and move about inside.

She grips my head harder and pushes it against her pussy, grinding against my face as she feels my tongue darting about inside her, circling her pussy walls, licking the underside of her clitoris. She sighs as she begins to feel herself leaking over my face, drowning me in her warm, sweet juices as I begin to explore her more furiously. Her moans grow louder with every probe of my tongue and every corresponding thrust of her hips.

The thunder rolls over us like a passing train.

I pull back a little for air from between her thighs. My face is warm and dripping. I take my forefinger and begin massaging her clit. Her sighs and moans by this point are incessant as Luna feels my fingers slipping inside, stroking her, then slipping out and rubbing her clitoris again, then inside, outside, keeping a perfect back and forth rhythm.

Her sounds, the wilder thrusts of her thighs, the shaking of her hands as she once again grabs the back of my head and tries to pull me to her tell me that she feels the electricity buzzing in her pussy, with increasing strength. Something deep inside her begins to throb. I can feel its vibration on my face as I feast upon her.

“Em breve,” she gasps. I don’t need a translation.

“Go ahead, baby,” I pull back and say. “Let it go.”

I bring my mouth to her pussy again and start fucking it with my tongue while my finger, wet with her excitement, circles and slowly enters her asshole. As Luna’s sphincter closes around my knuckle, she lets out a great moan, louder than the torrent outside, and clenches her thighs hard around my head. I feel her pussy throbbing, pulsing in my face, drowning me in her wetness.

Luna holds me there for a minute, hips still bucking against my face, until her orgasm subsides and her body relaxes and releases me. I give her labia one final kiss, withdraw my finger from her ass, wipe my face and finger with a corner of the comforter, crawl to her side, and collapse. Thunder and lighting flash outside and rain still falls on the roof, but much of the storm’s fury has subsided.

We lay in silence for a few moments. I can feel the fire warming me on one side and the warmth of her body nestled against mine on the other. Her breath on my bare chest is so rhythmic I am beginning to think she has fallen asleep, until I hear her say “Meu amor” in a low whisper.

I feel her fingers as they caress my chest and draw an invisible line from my heart, across my stomach, to my crotch. She lifts her head and begins to kiss my nipples gently, first one, then the other, as her fingertips gently tease my balls. My cock, already at attention, becomes even harder and thicker as she wraps her tiny hand around it and begins once again to gently, tenderly stoke it.

My own nipples become hard and tight as she circles them with your tongue, teases them with her lips, and bites them hard enough that I can feel her teeth. This is something my previous partners have not done.

I get a sense of why women are excited by nipple play. There is a general sense of longing, a sensitivity, a flood of desire that accompanies it. My body is tense from excitement and anticipation.