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Unsteady Sturdy Stable
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Unsteady Sturdy Stable He drops down out of the cab of his trusted oversized pickup, kicking up a small puff of dirt as his boot heels met the ground. A subconscious fix of his hat and then his belt, is made as his door swings shut. He tilts his head for a better view of her as he walks around the hood of the truck. The metallic moan of the door swinging upon fades into the night. Her legs gracefully slide from the floor mat to hanging outside the cab. Reaching up His hands conform and cradle her waist. Her hands float down until they rest on his shoulders. He eases her down out of the truck. She practically slides down his body till her feet feel the earth beneath. She had landed closer than he intended but not as close as he secretly wanted. He wasn’t sure if the electricity he felt, when she put her hand into his, was from her, the approaching storm or his endorphins wanting to break free. Seems folly to think a storm is brewing when the denim night sky is lit up like rhinestones in the sun. But the way the breeze sways and flirts with the hem of her short lil sundress, all in unison with the sway and flirt of her hips, there is no denying something is building. The air gets hotter and thicker, with every step closer to his house. The humid heat, is like an unseen weight, makes it harder to breathe. The anticipation, of what dreams may come, made each step quicker and each breath a bit harder. Stepping upon the fourth generation porch, that still has most of the timber his great granddaddy had cut, they both stop and simply look at each other. Minds and bodies both conversating without saying a word. Her smile to him continues to shine as the clouds congregate in the heavens above. Single clouds all funneling like the crowd bunching at the church door as most of the sparse town heads into sunday service. This growing mob of clouds begins to hide the moon from view. Gentle hand meets hardened chest. Through the flannel, he feels the softness of her skin as her hand fins its place upon his chest. He catches the distinct seductive storm smell that is interwoven with the damp heat, telling him exactly what the night has planned. The nearly crackling electrons of electricity saturates the night air like pheromones. He pulls her close. Denim meets cotton. Soft rugged lips meets soft firm lips. Each losing themselves in each others kiss. They feed off each others passion and the heat they generate makes the muggy summer night air seem cool in comparison. Their bodies press closer together as their tongues dance and dart, in their playful and hungry exploration. The building breeze, listens to Mother Nature’s square dance call, and pivots into an allemande right forming a small dust devil. Mother nature foot stomps the steps and the dust devil follows in unison. Drifting pivoting twirling like a young following bubbles in the wind. The impromptu dance tips his Stetson to the side of his head. The kiss interrupted causes both to chuckle at the playful nature nature has tonight. Adjusting his hat, these soon to be lovers, smile at each other before the wind ushers them inside. The unseen influences of these moments, are most definately felt and building in intensity. The dance is just a building block for the inevitable torrent and eventual release. The friction and tension of two forces colliding competing and joining in a natural symbiotic union. The pounding in his chest joins the acoustic sounds of the horses in their stalls becoming worked up by the approaching storm. The fireflies disperse as the colts and stallions become filled with energy that make their bodies move. His lips once again find hers and never leaves as he picks her up and carries her through the old hickory door. Her legs straddle his frame like it was her saddle. The heel of his boot nudges the door shut. The homestead would be a home, if even just the night. His boots clang down the hallway into the bedroom. His effort to minimize the sound was a bit unnecessary. As if the neighbors, the next door down, wasn’t far enough away. They were well past the back forty, as if all that seclusion didn’t afford them enough privacy. The lovers’ fingers drift across the buttons and zippers of each others clothes, like the leaves in the strengthening zephyr. Lips never failing to cling to each other as the lovers’ hands and fingers can’t peel each others clothes away fast enough. Her fingers break the bonds of his big belt buckle like a bolt from the stable door. Pulling the bottom of his black and red flannel shirt free from his ‘goin ta town’ jeans, she is free to continue to unwrap the candy before her. Sliding her hands up his chest, that’s been forged from years of dawn till dusk endless manual labor, she eased his shirt off his shoulders. His smooth rawhide hands were as delicate as a surgeon’s as he pulled her sundress off, up over her head. His hands rolling over her like the approaching stromwall crawling across the sky. His looming frame and carnal need backs her up to the bed. Heat lightning strobes across the sky as an opening salvo to what laid ahead. Darkness and light square dances across the prairie sky. Self and nature, nature and self. Him and her, her and him all in a brewing storm. His bare chest and unfastened jeans show the top of his underwear, one final barrier to what she hungered to know. She stands before him, bronzed by southern sun, in nothing but her bra and panties like a vision from a dream dreamt long ago. They couldn’t be any closer, yet clearly, were not nearly close enough. HiIs fingers perform the delicate act of unfastening the clasps of her bra. She can feel the trials and work his hands have done as he slides the bra off her slender shoulders. His breath catches at the sight of her unabashed. The faint sound of the starting to buck and bray within their stalls is the ambient noise to his breathless admiration.. The storm seems to drive the pace of the lovers hands and lips. Or maybe in a cosmic shift it was the lovers’ passion that stirred the storm. The crackle of thunder echoes as their bare chests press together. Her breasts flatten against the wall of man before her. This encounter is as ferocious and sudden as the coming storm. There was no prelude, rapid unbridled build up, just two forces of nature finding a balance and fulfilling a need. The rain starts slowly drop after drop against the window. Slowly the sprinkles turn to rain until the window is slick and covered. She clings to him wanting all of him, wanting to rain down over her. He turns her around as the rain can be heard hitting the roof. The bedframe creeks like the branches of the trees in the swirling storm. The storm, their unrelenting desire, swells in intensity and the horses in the barn are already growing restless. Thunderclap after booming thunderclap makes the mustangs want to break free find a way out. Sight blinded by flashes of lightning. Hearing muffled by thunder. Her moans grow closer and the reverberation felt upon their skin. His invasion into her fills her in ways she never knew existed. The grip she exerted around him made each thrust and pull back that much harder and that much more perfect. Thier moans and sound of two bodies overrun with desire and pleasure, compete to drown out the sounds of the storm. His attention must refocus. He runs headlong into the storm. The rain is relentless. The storm is out of control and he needs to make sure the horses don’t escape the barn. With every movement forward makes maintaining what balance he has that much more unsteady. His inability to prevent the stable from being overrun become that much more a reality. With each progression he is was met with even more rain soaking him little by little. His becoming slick and saturated. The wind continues to swirl and whip about him. Each movement met with strong resistance. So much accepting resistance, he has to use his entire body to press onward. Leaning into the storm as it wraps around him, as it consumes him. The sound of the stable’s side screen door slamming grew louder and louder as he approached. Recurring percussive banging as the door slammed against the frame. This storm had it’s own organic cadence. A progressive totality. Slam...slam slam, slam, slam slamslamslamslam. Slam...slam slam, slam, slam slamslamslamslam. The nature of the night continued to fiddle with this prairie countryside song. The force of this tempest never seemed to stop building. The horses wanted to escape to be free of the barn. The way they whined and brayed he knew corralling them was a futile attempt but he had to try. He had to hold back against the surging storm for as long as he could. The winds made its progress of its lifecycle. The gentle whispering breeze had given way to the delicate rustling and hum. The building crescendo, now had the wind nearly breathless as i whooshed and moaned in betwixt the rushing inhale as the tempest clung to the energy it was quickly exhausting. He throws himself against the barn door Slamming himself with all his might over and over bucking against all that the storm throws at him. The barn seemed to billow and contract with the changing pressure. One of the horses breaks free and shoots from the stable. He strains with all his might the slam the doors shut as the storm wants more from him. His muscles taught, as he tries to hold on. Soaked, exhausted trying to stop the inevitable as the storm wraps around him consuming him whole. He can’t breath as the storm leaves him breathless. His will to resist nearly broken. His legs beginning to shake as they struggle to not fail. His grunts can be heard amongst the crackle of the thunder. He pushes hard and each time he has to push harder still as the horses clamored to break free. The constant bucking weakened his resolve more and more each time he thrashed and pushed harder. He was soaked to the bone to the point it seeped into his soul. There was beauty in this ravaged battle. The sensualness the<b> violent </font></b>forces both cooperating and competing. He threw himself against the barndoor with all his might letting out a mighty roar. But it was not enough. He was cast aside as horses broke free surging into the wetness. It was like the stable pulsed shooting them out into the storm. Exhausted soaked and content that he tried and did all he could. There he lay spent. The barn emptied and barron. The storm quieted as the liquid nature dripped from the sagging roof. All the effort, all the turmoil, wore on his body till the moon started shining thru the clouds. The hot humid tension of the storm had abated and a refreshing cool settled in the night air. The unexpected warmth and tranquility of the moment filled him in an unexpected way. The raw natural beauty helped fill his still racing heart. The night air snuggled in, resting upon his chest. He wanted to stay here forever if not at least a few moments more. Reality pushed it’s way in. Forever would need to last just a few minutes. He places a hand down to get to his knees and push himself up. For it was time for him to clean up this wonderful mess that he had made. |
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A billion "Likes", my friend!!!! Check out my blog -- A Godiva World
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 Check out my blog -- A Godiva World
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Wow, wow, WOW. YOU are an amazing writer! You've made complimentary comments on all my junk but my stuff is merely spank bank worthy. YOUR writing is art and true talent. I am looking forward to reading more tonight. I dare you to come up against me in a business letter though...ha ha ha Please read my blog The Sapiophiles Sapiogurl
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Glad you enjoyed was kind of a challenge to myself. Had a thought of how horses bursting out of the barn could be a metaphor for male climax and dared myself to try and write a story around that premise. So great to see you and so great you liked it thank you 
lolBecome a member to create a blog
