Coming Together: Special Hurricane Relief Edition (13 page)

As if on
cue, the skies opened up. No wind accompanied the steady downpour.
Thoughts of Starbucks Charlie popped into her mind, as did an
immediate desire to touch and be touched—to feel warm, wet skin
against her skin. She felt way overdressed, even though she wore only
khaki shorts, a sleeveless top, and sandals.

With a pang
of regret, Stormy noticed Charlie duck into a taxi, which immediately
sped away. She would've welcomed his company right about then, to say
the least. She had convinced herself, after all, that the man
possessed an extraordinarily talented tongue, and she would have now
jumped at the chance to verify her assessment.

The splash
of warm rain from the pavement wet Stormy's bare legs, yet she felt
completely comfortable remaining outdoors beneath the café
awning. So, apparently, did the couple at the next table. They sat
side-by-side, rather than opposite one another, facing the street,
and they appeared to be having a casual conversation. From her
vantage, however, Stormy saw their hands suddenly dart beneath the
table.

The mature
couple, perhaps in their mid-forties, seemed as if they'd been
together for a long time. Stormy struggled to put her finger on the
reason for this assumption when the woman caught her eye. Winking at
Stormy, she brazenly slid her hand up the leg of her companion's
baggy shorts. Although Stormy forced herself to look elsewhere, she
could've sworn she saw an invitation in the woman's gaze.

The ache for
physical contact intensified, and Stormy found her eyes returning to
the couple just as a van pulled up. The driver polled the bystanders,
"
¿Arenal? ¿La Fortuna?
"
The amorous couple rose and collected their bags. In her halting
Spanish, Stormy managed to confirm that it was, indeed, her tour.

An
interesting mix of travelers boarded the van. The groping couple took
the bench in the far back and wasted no time getting back to
business. Stormy slid into the middle row along with a striking woman
who did not have the aura of a tourist at all. Stormy guessed that
she was a local resident catching a ride on the under-booked tour
van.

Two
pleasant-looking young men whose luggage consisted of backpacks and
duffle bags occupied the foremost bench. Mid-twenties with fair hair
and skin, they looked enough alike to be brothers, although Stormy
was somehow sure they were not. Another four passengers could have
easily fit into the van if they employed the roof rack for their
luggage. Once again, Stormy vowed that next year the van and all the
others like it would be full.

The driver
and his helper hopped in the front seats, and the van set off toward
La Fortuna
. The rain continued steadily as
they drove into the night. To pass the time, the travelers introduced
themselves and traded some basic information. The couple, Bruce and
Shelly, hailed from Canada. They'd been married for almost eighteen
years and had won the trip in a raffle.

Shelly
rather sheepishly apologized for their preoccupation. "I don't
know what's come over us," she admitted, "but we can't keep
our hands off each other! It's been like that since the rain
started." With that confession, she and Bruce resumed their
activities.

The
backpackers, Rob and Max, studied ecology at an upstate New York
university. Stormy grew even more certain that they were partners,
although they didn't volunteer that information. They mostly kept to
themselves, but responded cordially when addressed. Stormy sensed in
them a yearning to simply be invisible, bordering on fear.

The woman to
Stormy's right, Mia, lived in La Fortuna and was returning home from
a weekend of visiting relatives in the capital. The driver of the
van—her cousin, if Stormy understood her correctly—and
his sister had just been blessed with their first baby. Mia intrigued
her and Stormy would have liked to get to know her better, but the
language barrier inhibited their conversation.

That didn't
prevent Stormy from admiring Mia's features. Rather tall, perhaps
three or four inches over Stormy's petite frame, Mia's smooth skin
looked like coffee lightened by cream. Her extraordinarily short,
dark hair offset high cheekbones and full lips, and her eyes sparkled
a rich golden brown. Mia's demeanor seemed to purr, "Wouldn't
you just love to know what I'm thinking?"

In many
ways, Stormy's appearance was totally opposite, yet equally enticing.
They did have one thing in common, however: deliciously lush figures.
She would never be mistaken for a runway model, and that was just
fine with Stormy. Women, she believed, were meant to be curvy.

Mia sat much
closer to her than Stormy was accustomed, especially given the
available space. Must be a cultural thing, she surmised. Personal
space varied a great deal from place to place. Stormy admitted to
herself that she was thoroughly enjoying the prolonged contact with
such a captivating woman. Their shoulders touched, as did their
thighs, and Stormy wondered how Mia's hands would feel in her hair.

The van made
only one pit stop at a small roadside diner, called a
soda
,
for dinner. The rain tapered off, and as it did, the mood shifted as
well. The overwhelming need for physical contact eased. Shelly and
Bruce once again became aware of the world around them, and Stormy
finally felt able to focus on her mission.

From what
she'd seen thus far: the Costa Rican people were very pleasant; the
countryside was simply gorgeous; and life moved at a very different
pace.
Pura vida
—the local
catch phrase—literally meant "the pure life." The
rain, while an inconvenience, didn't seem to be hampering anyone's
enjoyment. In fact, its undeniably aphrodisiac qualities were
unexpected and remarkably tantalizing.
A hook, perhaps?
Stormy
pondered.

By the time
they arrived in
La Fortuna
, it was past
midnight. The van dropped Mia off near a residential section of the
small town, and Stormy watched her walk away until she was no longer
visible. The guides had called ahead from the
soda
to ensure
their rooms were ready, and everyone retired immediately. Stormy fell
into bed after removing only her shoes and slipped immediately into
sleep. Erotic images danced through her mind. In the fragmented
nature of such dreams, Charlie morphed into Mia who, in turn, morphed
into Shelly and Bruce. Even Rob and Max made an appearance.

* * * *

A sharp rap
on her door woke Stormy on Tuesday morning, the low-tech equivalent
of a wake up call. "Okay! I'm up!" she responded,
struggling to get her bearings. They had all agreed to start early in
order to make the most of what was likely to be the driest portion of
the day, and by the time they breakfasted, the van had arrived. Their
destination:
la catarata
—
the
waterfall.

The steep
hike to the base consisted mostly of rough stairs carved into the
hillside, but the stunning view of the narrow 700-meter cascade made
them forget the struggle and gasp in appreciation. Dense foliage
bordered the small clearing at the base of path, and the rich scents
of moss and fern hung in the air. After a brief rest, Shelly and
Bruce decided to take a dip in the inviting pool formed by the falls.
Max and Rob sat on a nearby bench, talking quietly and taking an
occasional photograph. Their small group currently had the place all
to themselves.

Bruce
stripped down to his boxers, and Shelly began shedding her clothes.
He had a very nice chest sprinkled with sandy brown hair and, it
startled Stormy to discover, one nipple pierced with a tiny silver
hoop. Beneath her oxford shirt and Capri jeans, Shelly wore a snug
white tank top and white thong panties. These things, she left on.
She had an athletic build, as did Bruce, and it was obvious that
fitness was important to them—not so much from a perspective of
vanity, Stormy surmised, but for the vitality it brought.

Stormy
watched as they eased themselves into the water, its temperature
evident by their startled reactions. No sooner were they both
waist-deep in the water than a soft and steady rain began to fall.
Familiar feelings immediately flooded Stormy, and she glanced over
her shoulder just in time to see Rob and Max slipping away to a more
secluded spot. When she turned back around, Stormy was not at all
surprised to find Bruce and Shelly again fondling one another.

Shelly's
breasts looked inviting in her clingy white, and now wet, tank top.
Not huge, and no doubt not as perky as in her youth, but very
aesthetically pleasing with a roundness that just begged to be
squeezed and dark nipples in contrast to the surrounding skin. Bruce
began showering them with the attention they so obviously craved, and
Stormy reacted with a burning desire to be on both the giving and the
receiving ends of that attention.

She was
jolted from her admiring reverie when Shelly suddenly motioned for
her to join them. Even knowing that they were alone, Stormy
reflexively looked behind her in a questioning "Who? Me?"
gesture. Receiving enthusiastic nods from both, she hesitated only
momentarily before beginning to undress. She'd considered wearing her
swimsuit beneath her clothes, but had decided against it at the last
minute. Thus, it was bra and panties or nothing at all.

Nearly
blinded by the ferocious, rain-induced appetite for skin, Stormy
hurriedly piled all her clothes—undergarments, too—on the
split log bench and covered them with the nylon windbreaker she'd had
tied around her waist. While not particularly comfortable parading
around naked, preferring her trysts to be by candlelight, Stormy felt
gloriously liberated by the Costa Rican rain.

Taking
Shelly's hand with her left and Bruce's with her right, she entered
the water and their welcoming embrace. Sandwiched between this
passionate couple, Stormy could feel Bruce's rigid cock against her
belly. In contrast to the frigid water, it felt delightfully hot. So,
too, did Shelly's hands as they reached around from behind to cup
Stormy's bare breasts. With strong fingers pinching and rolling her
nipples, Stormy lifted her head and met Bruce's mouth with all the
fervor of the previous day's unfulfilled desire.

Moving her
hands, which had been glued to Bruce's tight ass, Stormy found the
waistband of his boxers and slipped both inside to encircle his cock.
She lowered her mouth to his nipple ring which, given the difference
in their heights, didn't require much of a dip. Not quite sure about
its sensitivity, Stormy tentatively flicked it with her tongue and
delighted to the sound of Bruce wonderfully erotic moan. Stormy found
the soft, involuntary sounds of passion electrifying, and as she
intensified her efforts, Bruce rewarded her with many more. Her
hands, wrists nearly together, formed a tight orifice, which he
fucked with increasing vigor, while her fingers massaged the
sensitive areas on balls and beyond at the apex of each thrust.

Meanwhile,
Shelly dropped to her knees and delicately kissed Stormy's lower
back, just above the water line. The backs of her hands, starting at
the ankles, traveled with tormenting slowness up the insides of
Stormy's legs. The sharp contrast between Bruce's animalistic lunges
and Shelly's teasing caresses drove Stormy wild.

As Shelly's
hands reached the juncture of her thighs, Stormy spread her legs and
bent forward a bit. Bruce took a small step backwards to support her,
which gave Stormy a greater ability to hold her ground against his
increasingly insistent pumping. With her hands side-by-side, Shelly
ran both thumbs together down the crack of Stormy's ass as her
fingers traced the rounded outer contours causing Stormy to add her
voice in harmonious descant to Bruce's.

Bringing her
hands together, prayer style, Shelly slid both thumbs into Stormy's
pussy and captured her aching clit between the index and middle
fingers on each hand. The dual motion of Shelly's circling thumbs and
fingers caused Stormy's world to quickly collapse into one dense
point of kinetic energy that, after a breathtaking pause, radiated
outward in an explosion of pleasure that nearly knocked her off her
feet. If Bruce hadn't been holding on to her, she would have
undoubtedly fallen.

Before she'd
fully recovered her equilibrium, Shelly rose and spun her around,
forcing Stormy to let go of Bruce. Temporarily suspended on his own
edge, Bruce grabbed his cock and stroked himself slowly as he watched
the ladies share a sensual kiss. Shelly's tongue danced against
Stormy's parted lips as Stormy's hands finally reached Shelly's
exceptional breasts. Replacing her hands with her mouth, Stormy
gently bit each nipple through the fabric of Shelly's top as she slid
her hands between Shelly's legs and removed her panties. Bruce
clearly enjoyed the show, as his breathing again became ragged and
his hand picked up speed.

Shelly
whispered into Stormy's ear, and Stormy immediately nodded. Moving to
the edge of the water, Stormy seated herself on a narrow rocky
outcrop, feet dangling into the water as Shelly stood between her
spread legs. With a devilish glance over her shoulder at Bruce,
Shelly leaned forward and planted her face between Stormy's legs.

Stormy
surmised, by Bruce's enthusiastic reaction, that he'd long fantasized
about his wife in this very scenario. More than happy to oblige, she
leaned back on her hands and rode Shelly's talented tongue. Each drop
of rain landing on her bare skin pushed her higher, until all
sensation seemed to feed the wet fire between her legs.