He stroked his fingertips over my naked buttock and then grazed the back of his hand the opposite way. His hand was coarse; covered in tiny nicks from brambles and my skin turned to gooseflesh with his touch. Then, looking straight into my eyes in a way that fluttered my heart, he brought his hand to my face, stroked my cheek and then cupped his fingers beneath my jaw, lifting my chin to look at him.
“I don’t raise my hand to women,” he said softly, “even if it’s to their arse… and they like it.”
He pulled me in closer and kissed me. I waited. There it was: the deep inhale which heaved his chest like he was breathing me into the very bones of him. His hand held the back of my head while we kissed. Then it was running down my breast bone, past my belly and up under my skirt where it closed around my pussy and squeezed gently.
“Don’t you own knickers?” he said with a laugh, pulling away from my mouth and shaking his head slightly. “I’ll have to buy you some.”
“They won’t stay on for long,” I said.
Unbeknownst to us, dark clouds had gathered overhead. In a second the light changed, the heavens opened and rain started to pour down onto us.
“Go into the barn,” he said, his voice loud so that I could hear him over the rainfall. “I have to count the cows again.”
There’s a special kind of feeling that comes with heavy rain on a warm summer day. The air becomes thick with electricity and the scent of the grass gets whipped up by the water.
I reached the barn and pushed open the door. Inside it was full of hay bales stacked high to the ceiling and a few pieces of farm machinery. A window missing its panes looked out onto the fields and I could see him still, standing amongst a herd of cows, his shirt turned dark with the wetness. I took a tartan blanket which was covering an old plough and climbed up onto some of the higher hay bales, spreading it out and lying down so that I could watch the rain falling and the pattern of grey clouds looming in the distance.
In the fields further away I saw a bolt of lightning and a second later hear the crack of thunder. I see him climb up into the tractor and head towards the barn. Perhaps it was the familiar smell of hay or the warm air, but I felt my eyes closing and the overwhelming desire to sleep taking over me.
Before I was fully awake, I could feel something beautiful on the other side of sleep. I began to rouse and realised that I was being held. I smelled the familiar scent of his sweat – grass, earth and man – and felt his chest hair against my cheek. Realising that I was awake, he kissed me on the head and stretched the arm that I’d been lying on for who-knows-how-long.
“I like it when you sleep in my arms,” he says in a whisper. “It’s good to know that you’re capable of not talking.”
“All hopes of eternity and all gain from the past he would have given to have her there, to be wrapped warm with him in one blanket, and sleep, only sleep. It seemed the sleep with the woman in his arms was the only necessity.”
― D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
Before I can respond to this teasing, he tickles me deep in the dip of my hip and squirming out of his grip, I wriggle away, somehow ending up on top of him. Breathless, the smell of the hay and the sound of the rain flood me with memories. The cosiness of the dry, musty barn while the rain pours outside and his warm hands on my waist. There is a perfection in it which makes my nipples grow hard.
I open my legs wider so that I’m sat right on top of him and he reaches both his hands under my skirt; the skin of my hips is wet and cold against them. I start to rock backwards and forwards slowly, holding his gaze. When I feel him wanting to speed up, I slow down so that the rocking of my hips is barely perceptible. He squeezes the flesh of my buttocks firmly and I feel him growing harder underneath me. I unbutton his jeans, reach inside and wrap my hand around his cock, which is hard and hot to the touch. Then, lifting up, I stroke the tip against the wetness of my pussy and feeling it grow even harder in my hand I guide it inside me, moving up and down on it so that just the first few inches enter. I pause and feel the rush of his blood. Then I go a little deeper, guiding more of him into me and moving my hips up and forward, then down and back, letting my pelvis tilt as I move. He reaches both hands up to my breasts and holds them, gently squeezing the nipples between his thumb and index finger. I take both fingers of his right hand and put them deep into my mouth. They almost fill it. Something in this gesture drops him into a deeper layer of desire and I hear him murmur an impressively uncouth few words beneath his breath.
Lightning cracks in the distance and the rain hits the roof of the barn with greater force. Now I take more of him inside me, moving from the tip of his cock all the way down to the base with the rhythm of my hips. He pulls me down to him and plants hungry kisses hard on my mouth.
“I want to eat you,” he says in a low growl and I see in his eyes that he’s between two worlds.
I don’t think he’s been with many women who know how to fuck him like this, I think, as I rock my hips harder. Looking down into his eyes, I detect a flash of vulnerability and realise that he’s probably used to doing the fucking rather than getting fucked. The truth of this touches my heart and I feel something move in the centre of my chest. As my heart blooms open wider, the movements become more rhythmic as if moved by some ancient, imperceptible drum. Something is moving us which is far beyond both of us. Outside the rain pounds; our skin is both cold and hot. The primal nature roused, we are crashing together like waves onto rock. My waters are already dripping out onto his stomach. He holds me under my hips and lifts me higher and deeper onto him with every undulation.
For me the pleasure is high up at the point of my cervix and is rising up through the centre of my torso like a rod of electricity which stops at my heart. Now we’re in a trance and my vision blurs. I see a flash of the beast in his eyes: kind, dark, passionate and wild.
“I want you to come inside me, love,” I say, adding in a quieter voice, “it’s safe.”
My moans increasing in volume are completely drowned out by the rain outside the barn, but he is quiet.
“I want to hear you,” I say. It’s an invitation, not an order. It’s a request to let go of whatever he is holding back from this moment of dissolution.
The sound comes from somewhere deep within his belly. It’s the sound of the earth. The sound of a bull or a bear.
As we come, there is a sense of breaking through to some higher point above me, like when a plane comes up through clouds into a realm of previously hidden sunshine. It lasts for what feels like a very long time. There is a rush of movement up through the centre of my spine and for a moment my vision is distorted as if I’m watching the world through a prism. Our bodies shake, half with cold and half with pleasure. My orgasm is still fizzing through me in a million tiny flutters of invisible wings.
I feel the urge to say: “I love you.” But I don’t. Instead I climb off of him and nestle down beside him on the blanket, resting my head on his chest.
“What if we lived here?” I say. “We can eat hay.”
“I would eat you,” he says, pulling me in close and kissing me for a minute before he reaches down between my legs are begins to gently stroke me in the way he knows will make me quiver, pant, and eventually, come.