Wicked Wednesday: Curtains

The storm blowing through is one of those that the rain isn’t constant, the wind is gusty but not obnoxious and the smells of the storm are almost as “loud” as the thunder and rumbling from the storm itself.  It’s a wonderful summery storm and it’s otherwise pitch black outside.  Every now and then the lightning explodes across the sky, lighting everything up.

From my office, I have my french doors mostly closed to the rest of the house, but we have opened windows and doors everywhere we can to let the storm have its way with the house.  My doors have these light, wispy curtains on them, you can see through them in just the right light.

I’m working, but we have lights out so we can enjoy the storm.  I kick back and look up just as a flash blows through the house and I see you out the other room, sideways, but slouched a bit in that leather chair.  Something about that posture…

The thunder rolls through the house again and another flash of lightning.  I can’t look away – you’re relaxed in your chair and I can just see your hands – one on your breast, one lower, moving slowly.  So slowly.

The flashes, the thunder, the glimpses of you through the curtain – it’s this other-worldly scene that just doesn’t seem possible.  It’s like watching you with a random strobe, popping pictures as you start to pick up the pace.

I see your hand has moved your shirt at one flash, and your shorts are around your knees the next one.  It’s a bizarre thing though because I never see things being moved, only the results in the next flash of light that lights up the room, and you.

You’re writhing now.  I’m dying to be able to hear you, but I don’t want this to end, I don’t want to chance sneaking over to my door to be closer.  So I watch.  I don’t think I’ve moved even a fraction of an inch since I noticed you.

The storm seems to be rising right with you – the lightning providing the stop-action look as you sink deeper into the chair, as you move more and more anxiously.

I see your head ease back against the chair and this grin comes across your face, it’s like an acceptance of what’s to come.  All I can see is the response now from your body – your legs starting to shake, your breathing, your mouth forming what must be moans – but that are drowned out by the incredible storm that has descended.

All of this through the curtain – I want to tear it down, discard it, anything to get a complete view, but there’s no way I’m interrupting this voyeuristic moment.

I can see you giving in completely now, I see the orgasm rocking through you and your legs closing, your breathing almost stopping with a full set of air in your lungs.  The tilt of your jaw with your mouth open, eyes shut.  The shaking.

It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever watched.

As you slump into the chair and bask in the storm, the release… you slowly come around back to reality and look around a bit.

I immediately go back to my work, looking away.  It’s like I think I’m playing this cat and mouse game of “nope, nope.  Didn’t see anything.”

There’s another flash and explosion from the thunder that makes me look up.  You’re standing just to the side of my desk now, only a few feet away.  You have this blissed out look on your face.

Without saying a word, you walk over, run your still-wet fingers over my lips and into my mouth.

“You know, the lightning flashes light up both rooms,”  is all you say as you walk out of the room.