Message-ID: <13468eli$9807300148@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/13468.txt> From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister) Subject: {ASSM} Story: I Wihs it Would Rain Down - i wish it would rain down.txt [1/1] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <6pl6qd$a4d$9@solaris.cc.vt.edu> Greetings. Here is another story from the Mind of H.D. Meister. If you are not at least 18 or live in a community which does not allow adult material, DO NOT READ THIS. Post freely, archive and critique as you will so long as the work is not altered in any way, you do not gain a profit from my work, and all due credit is given to the author: me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I Wish It Would Rain Down By: H.D. Meister (dez187lm@hotmail.com) I used to get so much enjoyment out of Summer. Something about sitting beneath a blazing sun and sweating like a race horse made me feel at one with the universe. That was before Lori. That was before I knew how sex had the power to trash a friendship. We spent many days and nights together. We would talk about this, that, or nothing at all. Whenever she needed an ear, I had two to offer. Both of my shoulders have born witness to her tears. And we have shared countless laughs. We were the best of friends until that one Summer night. It had not rained in over a week. The air was dry day and night, and there was no relief save for inside an air conditioned building. She had come by to visit me, bringing over two videos. I supplied the iced tea, and together we had intended to enjoy yet another quiet night in each other's company. I had a pair of denim shorts on and a muscle shirt while she wore a bikini top and spandex shorts. I had seen her dress this way many times; she had a beautiful body. But I never once gave serious thought as to what it felt like. We were half way into the first movie when I got up to refill our drinks. She paused the tape and turned on the radio. Phil Collins was playing. "I Wish It Would Rain Down" came over the speakers softly. "I love this song," she whispered. So without thinking, I walked into my room and activated my MP3 player. I happened to have downloaded that file earlier that day and let it play continuously. Returning to the kitchen I saw that Lori was standing over the sink. I could hear her sobbing softly. I did what I always did: I waited respectfully. If she chose to tell me what was bothering her she would. I never asked; it always sounded like I wanted to pry into her life. I waited for close to five minutes before she turned towards me. I knew what was about to happen, but I didn't know. It sounds foolish, but part of me knew why she had come over that night. I had spent the past three months helping her sort out her emotions after a bad end to an even worse relationship. I had been there as I had always been. Now she was ready to move on, but first she had to repay my kindness. She could have chosen any of a thousand different ways, but none of them pleased her. When I saw her walking towards me with that slow, measured step I knew so well, I thought nothing of it. She needed a hug, and I gave her one. Then, with her head resting on my shoulder, she spoke softly. "Do you love me, Leon?" I didn't know how to answer. I had never though beyond the friendship we shared; it had taken me close to a lifetime to even consider getting that close to anyone, and here I was, suddenly reviewing my accomplishment to see if it had surpassed my own expectations. I cared for her; that much I knew for certain. But did I love her? I didn't have any reference point; I had never had anything more potent than the average crush on this woman or that girl in my life. Love. I had not bothered to consider it. Now I had no choice. I was not going to tell her I did when I didn't; I have seen too many hearts broken because of that error. And I couldn't say I didn't love her since I didn't know if I did or not. So I was stuck with telling her that I did not know. The moment those words left my mouth I knew the truth of those words many poets have written when they said something about the pain of love. Three words, and I hurt like someone had hit me in the stomach with a piece of pipe. She looked up and smiled. Then she kissed me softly on the lips. I should have been surprised, but I wasn't. I returned her kiss. I didn't think that it would go beyond that. I knew our friendship would be strong enough to carry us past a moment of weakness. But now that I look back, our friendship was not strong enough to keep the sleeping storm within us both at bay. Even now, I'm not sure if what I felt when I broke the kiss to look into her eyes was lust or love. They are very much alike at times, especially when viewed by someone who doesn't know either one. Someone like me. We made love. Simple words, but no others can come close to explaining our actions. It was as if we both knew what the other wanted. No... needed. She needed someone to cling to. I needed someone to love. Together... we needed love. We needed each other. It was the hottest night on record, but we didn't care. I licked the sweat off of her body and asked for seconds, never once letting up. We explored each other's bodies with care, neither one of us wanting the moment to end. I had no experience outside wet dreams and dry fantasies to guide me hands. Yet they seemed to know exactly what to do, where to touch, how gentle to caress her flesh. Her touch. I have never felt anything so soothing in all my years. I was about to have my first sexual encounter with someone I cared about, and it felt great. Except for one thing: the answer to her question. Did I love her. She was standing before me as she entered this world, about to offer me a woman's greatest treasure, and I didn't know if it was mine to hold. I had spent my entire life doing this or that. I had worked hard to better myself and learn about other things, other places, other people. Yet I did not know myself as well as I thought. My body was alive in a way that I still cannot explain. Every nerve felt as if it was ablaze with a glorious inferno. As I kissed the exposed skin of her breasts, I tasted her. No chef could ever hope to capture the flavor of life and love that I sampled then. And when the time came for me to accept her gift, I did so. I know now that we made love, but at the time, it felt more like raw lust. Powerful. Intoxicating. And eventually, totally unfulfilling. Time had lost all meaning. There were only two souls. One which loved and the other... I could feel the sting of my sweat as it slid into my eyes, but my vision refused to be blurred. I can still see her soft features twisted by the pleasure of sharing herself with me. I wonder what I looked like. Even my orgasm could not dull the edge of our passion. I took a deep breath and continued. My hands slid over her body, and I let them. My mouth sought hers and our tongues danced. And through it all I asked myself over and over again: Did I love her. And I never once got an answer. I never so much as heard a chuckle. Seven times. Seven times did we make love. And we did make love. I am certain of that now, just as I am certain that my chamber awaits me in hell for not seeing so. Seven times, and each time I found myself with a spare moment of clarity I asked myself those thrice damned three words. And still I got nothing. In the shower. On my bed. The livingroom sofa. All bore witness to the love. The plant which stood in the corner. The lights. Everything... except my own eyes and heart. And after it was done and she left, I made plans to leave. I ran like those cowardly bastards who fuck whichever cunt happens to have the misfortune of not only being close enough to fuck, but of bearing the seed of that cursed violation. That I made my fortune many times over is nothing more than God cursing me, replacing the love I threw away with money and items, neither of which would accompany me in Hell. I ran. I did not abandon her, however. I knew enough people to be able to keep track of her. She never married, choosing to raise my son alone. That night had seen the creation of an heir to my fortune. When I heard that she was pregnant, I cried. The child was mine, and I was where? Where would I be when my son needed the strength and kindness of his father? Behind some ebony wood desk bickering over the stock market price of this or that. I was taking trips to Europe and Japan while he was forging friendships, learning from books and life, loving. I did not have the heart to face him when I went to his highschool graduation. I stayed hidden within the throngs of proud parents patting their sons and daughters on the back for a job well done. I saw his mother hug him tenderly. He looked a great deal like me. I knew the pain within her eyes at having to be reminded every day about the coward who ran. And once more I ran. I had ensured that he would have the funds needed to attend whichever college he chose. Once again God mocked me; he chose the same college his mother and I attended. He even moved into the same apartment where he was conceived. I watched him become the man I was not the day he married his highschool sweetheart. And I watched his mother cry, wondering all the while which of her tears, if any, were because I did not take that walk with her. She had not had anyone else. More than twenty years and she held true to the hope that I would return to her. I never did. I could not bring myself to drown her memory with useless sex. What she did out of love I did out of fear. And now it ends. I lay on my deathbed and await the chains which I forged in this life. "Yes? Come in?" Once more, God? Why?! Why must I see her face and that of my son now?! Can I not die in the torment I have already earned without You adding more? "You never answered me," she whispered. "Yes. I loved you. I love you now. I will always love you. And my son." I tried to say more, but the words clogged in my throat. The look in her eyes told me that no words were needed. She knew I loved her, and had waited. She waited for me. I looked into the eyes of my soon expecting to see the burning hatred of a son forgotten. And I saw love. He knew. He did not know why I left his mother, but he knew I loved them both. That one night was not just another casual fuck. He knew, and forgave me. She leaned forward and kissed me. Still as soft as ever. I had never wanted to live more. I cried out for God to grant me but one more year. It would not be enough, but at least I could do the honorable thing and marry her. I knew he would not. Yet she had forgiven me. My son had forgiven me. My soul could now enjoy the torment it had earned. I motioned for my son to stand at his mother's side. When they were together, I watched them... Epitaph: And let it be known. For Love will Man risk all. For Love shall he endure the trials of Life. For Love shall he move mountains, drink up the waters of the sea, and spew them onto the desert. For Love will Man shatter the laws of the Universe. For Love he shall live. For Love he shall die. dez187lm@hotmail.com) -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>