A walk in the rain

After a workday, the hustle and bustle and noise of the city around, it was finally quiet. The trees in fresh May greenery rustled their crowns peacefully, underfoot instead of asphalt—soft soil of the paths, birdsong sounded from all sides. Only occasionally, a reminder of city life, the noise of the subway echoed from afar.

getting caught in the rain or freezing in the forest—no scarier than a walk in a fresh breeze...

It was time to return—to slowly climb the steep paths to the car left up above. I didn't want to hurry back to everyday life at all; the rain was another adventure and a chance to touch real, natural life. When the first heavy drops fell, I laughed and lifted my face to the sky. Just as calmly, I continued walking upward, and around me, stormy darkness thickened, all the people around disappeared somewhere, and alone with the rain, I continued my walk.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning tore through the gloom, and in the instant light, I noticed something white ahead, the outline of a person on a bench. I approached closer—a female figure, long wheat-colored hair, a white sundress soaked through—everything was only guessed in the dim light and veil of rain. On one foot—a white sandal, the other—barefoot. The girl had curled up on the bench into a ball—whether from fright or from the cold. I walked over and placed my hand on her shoulder:

—Hey! How are you? Is everything okay?

Probably, these phrases sounded foolish through the noise of the streams pouring from the heavens and the distant rolls of thunder. The girl turned her face to me, previously hidden by strands of hair—it seemed flat and expressionless, as if the rain had washed away all colors, erased the lines. In her dark eyes, I saw fear, confusion. My hand felt a shiver—a futile attempt to warm up under the downpour. The bench, as if to spite, stood right under the open sky, exposed to wind and water.

—Get up, let's go—we'll hide under a tree, you'll get less wet and warm up.

It's unlikely she understood the words, but the sound of my voice, the help of my hands, the direction of my gaze—and we trudged toward the trunk of the nearest giant linden tree, whose foliage already provided enough shelter from the rain. The stranger limped on her bare foot, leaning her right hand on my shoulder, I supported her by the waist. A few meters—and we leaned against the meter-diameter trunk.

Finally, the kiss broke, I placed my right hand on her chest, pressing her buttocks with my left hand, not breaking contact in the lower abdomen. Her breast—full and firm—softly filled my palm with a sensation of perfection. There were no thoughts in my head, no emotions—only desire. I desperately wanted to see her breast, to feel it without the intermediate layers of the sundress and bra. I began hurriedly unbuttoning the buttons, and she was already kneading my buttocks, pressing my erect member against herself. Finally, after endless seconds, I freed her left breast and again filled my palm with it, feeling the taut nipple, the rise of the areola, the heat of her blood, and the beating of her heart. Her lips parted, a moan sounded, and immediately I covered them with a new kiss. Now her hands slid to my crotch, seeking buttons, opening clothing, releasing and then immediately enclosing the shaft of my member.

I reached down, continuing the kiss, grabbed the skirts of the sundress and, squeezing her hips, lifted the soaked fabric to her waist. My fingers found the elastic of her panties, hooked it, and pulled down—and they fell to her knees on their own. A slight movement of her legs—and her panties lay on the ground, she was free, my member pressed against her pubis, my palms held her buttocks, her half-exposed breast pressed against mine, and our kiss still did not cease. I slightly crouched, moved my pelvis forward, and felt the heat and moisture of her flesh around my member, plunging into her to the base. Her hands pulled my T-shirt off, I slipped the straps of her sundress down and completely freed her breasts, pressed against every accessible centimeter of her body. Her hot vagina pulsed around me, my member throbbed in the ecstasy of perfect union, she moaned through the kisses, wrapping her legs around me and drawing me deeper into herself.

It was impossible to say how long it lasted, everything merged into movement, heat, tightness, kiss. The sensation of orgasm gathered in the lower abdomen with a sweet force and, finally, shot inside her in an instant and endless stream. In a spasm of pleasure, she squeezed me in the embrace of her arms and legs, deep within her body. (Specially for .org — ) Everything froze—and then the world reemerged around us with the rustle of wind in the foliage, the babbling of streams, the warmth and firmness of the body pressing against me. The rain had stopped, it was already dark, in the west beyond the river bend, the last glimmers of sunset were fading, the moon shone in the sky and the first stars were lighting up. I withdrew from her, she stood up, straightened her dress and buttoned the buttons, I put my pants in order, picked up my T-shirt. By the bench, five meters from us, her lost sandal gleamed white.

I walked over, picked it up, returned and, crouching, placed the girl's foot into the sandal, fastened the strap. Embraced her by the waist, she leaned on my shoulder and we slowly walked down—toward the subway station. Not a word was spoken between us—they seemed superfluous, what could I say to her? The memory of the union of our bodies, complete oblivion in the ecstasy of love—it could not be expressed in words, could not be reclaimed. It was warm, calm, joyful, and a little sad.

Thus, in silence, we reached the entrance to the subway station. In the light of the lanterns, the vestibule, she lifted her face to me—now clear, finely outlined, glowing with an inner fire, framed by the gold of her strands. I lightly touched her lips with mine, embracing her shoulders, saying a silent farewell to her. My wishes for happiness, my love and tenderness were all in that kiss. A moment passed, she lowered her head, turned away, and slipped through the transparent door.

I watched her go—as she descended into the depths of the station, disappearing from sight and from my life. I never saw her again, never learned her name, who she was, what she was, why she lives. But every time, walking again along the paths of the grove, passing by the old tree and the bench standing nearby, I smile, remembering that walk in the rain, and a feeling of joy envelops me once more.