Sexual attraction is primeval. So are the emotions felt when a thunderstorm brews and unleashes hell. Both activate something deep within — at least it does for me. When the two of them meet, it’s more than I can stand. That’s why I love doing it in a storm. That’s my true kink. There’s something powerful and aggressive about nature’s wild side uniting with my wild thing. It stirs my inner-animal and makes the sex that much better.
Don’t misunderstand me, storms have an aggressive element, but I’m not an aggressive lover. That’s not me. I know aggression is used to lift some lovers to new heights of euphoria, but it’s still not my thing. Euphoria can be obtained without it.
Similarly, I don’t reach out and choke my lovers during sex. I’m more a meat and potatoes kind of lover. Biting, slapping, whipping and choking aren’t part of my sexual appetites… but making love under a tropical thunderstorm is. I like how it makes me feel. It activates something inside. HE comes from another place of my psyche. HE feels things in ways I can’t. This is another layer of my sexuality hidden beyond the civilised one I usually present to most lovers.
That first crack of lightning is enough to activate it. First, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and then the rest of it follows. The sensation penetrates deep beyond my upper sensibilities and finds that mysterious level of sexual subconsciousness I need to cross over. I’m like a wild beast with a veracious new energy when the storm rages around me!
But I’m not a choker! Definitely not! Remember that when I tell you the next part of my story. It’s important to keep it in mind. I don’t choke. Here I go. Now take a deep breath, Mitchell. Make sure you get this right.
Last night, I held Nina down. That part is in no way extraordinary. Our sexual synergy took us outdoors. It was actually her idea. “Let’s try something different,” she said.
I was on top, so of course I held her body in place. It was missionary. Simple. Meat and potato love in the privacy of the backyard. Her knees were pointed towards the night sky, and I was facing her, enjoying the moment. No one was being hurt. It was perfect. Nice. Things were orderly.
And then that small storm cell presented itself and covered the stars. It came out of nowhere and it moved fast.
There was a flash of light, a crack, and then a deep rumble which shook the ground. None of it was forecast. I know this because I made damn sure of it before setting up our date. It wasn’t meant to happen. I save that for others.
As expected, my neck reacted to the sound in an instant. Just like before, I couldn’t stop the sensations once they started. This time, an intense pain struck me right between the eyes. After it subsided and the fog it created had lifted, I saw a stranger’s hands appear from nowhere and slide around Nina’s neck. I felt my hips move much faster — and my sex reached a new level of hardness. Those hands clamped down tight, her eyes popped open, she gurgled and then struggled to get herself free of their grip. These are the last few things I remember as the rain began to fall. The rest of it fades into a blur.
A gentle hum of rubber on a dry road coaxed me back to reality. The bristles on my neck had subsided. Nina and the storm cell was gone. At some point, I must’ve dressed, left her place and got myself behind the wheel of my car. I should’ve been confused by this strange shift in memory, but I wasn’t. I was profoundly satisfied instead. Never before have I experienced such a sense of inner peace as I did last night.
That’s not the end of it. There’s a little more.
As I slipped into bed, Samantha woke, rolled over and whispered, ‘How was it, dear? Did you get everything done that you needed to?’
“Yes. All of it.”
“Oh, that’s good. Well, g’night. See you in the morning.”
She gave me a peck on the cheek, rolled the other way and went back to sleep. Can you believe it?
Yep, that’s her way. She’s too nice a person to probe any further. My wife performs every obligatory nicety with trust and grace — even through disturbed drowsiness. Like I said, it’s her way.
Sam has many sides of that nice order of hers. She goes to bed early, so she can wake early. There’s much to be done and little time to waste. I won’t see her until dinner, and I won’t feel her again until we go to bed tomorrow night. That’s when she’ll kiss my cheek, roll away and sleep. It’s been like that for years. It’s why we don’t have children. She’s obsessed with every duty outside the bedroom — and sleeping whenever she’s inside it. This makes her happy. It makes me sad and frustrated.
Yes, you guessed it. Nina’s a more willing partner in that respect, but she’s a—
Nina? Oh, you want to know about what happened to her during the storm?
Oh, I don’t know. I’m too afraid to call her and find out if she’s still alive. Those two hands weren’t mine. I’m telling you, they didn’t belong to me. My orderly upper consciousness tells me that I couldn’t have hurt her. It’s not within me to choke — but I’m also aware that there’s another something hidden deep beneath layers of civility. I don’t know where that finishes.
It’s also why I’m afraid to watch today’s news.