Thunder & Fury: A Collision of Desires

The rain hammered against the windows, a relentless, furious assault mirroring the storm brewing inside our marriage. Just two weeks ago, the tempest had been brief, a swift release fueled by adrenaline and the chaotic energy of a lightning strike. But now, here we were, trapped within the confines of our home, electricity snuffed out by a violent gust of wind, and the air thick with unspoken accusations. The rain-slicked wood of the foyer floor reflected the flickering light of a distant flash, illuminating the stark reality of our situation.

Her naked form, a silhouette against the rain-streaked glass, was a constant reminder of the fragile trust that had been shattered. Her breasts, cradled in my hands, felt heavy with unspoken words, each touch a painful acknowledgment of the mistakes I’d made, the promises broken. The scent of rain mingled with her skin, a primal aroma that heightened my senses, pulling me deeper into the current of raw emotion.

“I love you now more than ever,” I whispered, my voice barely audible above the thunder, pressing my lips against her ear. The words felt hollow, inadequate to express the tangled mess of guilt and regret that consumed me. God had protected us through the turbulence, he had guided us, but it was clear that our ship was far from sailing smoothly. The storm within our marriage had been raging for four long years, and now, it seemed, it was about to break.

Minutes earlier, we had shared an intense, soul-deep connection, a merging of bodies and spirits that left us breathless and trembling. The pleasure had been overwhelming, a release of pent-up desires that had simmered beneath the surface for too long. But even in that moment of ecstatic abandon, the specter of infidelity had lingered, casting a dark shadow over our intimacy. The reservation snafu, the poorly written poem – each detail a tiny spark igniting the tinder of her suspicion.

Mel’s hand slipped down, her fingers tracing the curve of my limp member, finding a stray drop of cum and scooping it up with a delicate touch. She smeared it on my lip, a silent act of defiance, before kissing me with a desperate urgency. The warmth of her touch ignited a flicker of hope within me, a desperate attempt to quell the rising tide of her distrust.

“I think this will help,” she said, kneeling in the rain, her body vulnerable and exposed. She took my flaccid member in her mouth, her lips pressing against my skin, a silent demand for reassurance. Her fingers worked deftly, inserting them deep into the flesh, mimicking the movements she'd made before, digging into my pleasure. The cold front of my anger met her warm front of harboring deserved distrust, setting off the wind of argument through the evening.

The repeated texts from a female co-worker, a constant intrusion into our day, fueled her suspicions. Mel grabbed my phone, her grip tight and possessive, determined to cut off the outside world from our shared space. “This feels so four years ago!” she exclaimed, her voice laced with bitterness and resentment. The memory of those missed opportunities, the unfulfilled desires, hung heavy in the air.

My erection didn't immediately happen. Her mouth held my cock and balls, pressing them together and moving them inside the warmth, using her first finger to insert the flesh. She released and repeated this motion twice before standing up, holding the wet member in her hand and kissing me now as the sheets of rain pelted the side of the house.

I let her have it with words, the frustration of living in guilt and shame for four years. She spewed back resentment, hurt, and pain, feeling any pretty woman in my life was probably cheating with me. We clashed in a tornadic circle of accusation and anger.

Mel let me go, turned around, and leaned against the old Victorian dresser where we stored greeting cards and gifts for birthdays. “There’s literally no light except for the flashes,” she said, looking down the road at the darkened streetlights. My hand reached around and down her stomach, past her waist to massage her labia and clit. Her breathy coos and sighs brought back blood flow, and my penis grew against her thigh.

She first pushed me, saying words that didn’t make sense, crying hysterically, her fists then pounding into my chest. “You have no idea whatI’velived with…” Her words trailed off. I held her as the turbulence from the front of emotions subsided, and soon she was crying into my chest, the coolness of the backside of the storm.

She pushed back into my hand. Two fingers slipped in deep, and my other hand wrapped, flicking and rubbing her clit. A loud crack and quick boom rattled the windows again. She let out an orgasmic cry, her shoulders almost rolling under her torso as she looked back, eyes wide and mouth agape. I didn’t stop, even though my cock was now hard, lying within the crevice of her ass and sliding up to her back as I pushed forward into her.

I listened and held Mel, not saying a word, feeling the insignificance of my pain against what she had been holding inside. Her tears and crying were like soft rain on the roof that was now falling. At first, we found common ground within the church and scripture. It taught me lessons, and now I affirmed everything about her that I loved. The tears were still wet in her eyes and on her cheek when she finally smiled.

In one swift movement, I released my hands and replaced my fingers with my cock. Again the clap-bang of a strike nearby startled Mel a little; her body twitched. Her head bowed, and her body braced as I began to push my numbness in and out, holding her hips, and thrusting through the wet, warm pleasure without much resistance.

Unlike the original discovery of my email transgressions, we moved past anger and frustration into reconciliation. The rain outside seemed to be stopping. We even laughed about some of the writing I did in those emails, mimicking the words and talking out our sex issues. We landed in a place where we could open up to each other on current issues in our relationship, one that had been strengthened through the experience.

Standing in the foyer, entering her from behind, I heard the thunder start to dissipate. We were on the backside of the storm. I pulled out and led Mel by hand to the front room, where I lay back on the couch. She lowered her body onto my glistening, hard shaft and rode me first, on top. I was numb and hard, so after ten minutes, she spun around into reverse cowboy, facing my feet. I pushed up into a bridge position lifting her and letting her down.

The wind outside had picked up about the time we started kissing. Anger and tears sowed seeds of passion, and in my arms, Mel curled into my lips, pressing into my torso. Our hands began small caressing movements on cheeks, forearms, thighs, and shoulders. Gentle and slow, our mouths touched, pressed, searched, tongues parting lips and finding each other. The flame of love that God put in our hearts for each other grew, stoked by our honesty.

I had risen to a seated position, and she bucked and pushed on my hardness as my hands held her breasts and my lips kissed her neck. She worked on my shorts after pulling up and discarding my shirt.

Her passion was raw, initiating movement while on top of me, and then, after I flipped her onto her back and tossed her legs over my shoulders, it still powered our bodies. Pulling into my thrusts and squeezing my neck with her hands as my full weight pressed on top of her, Mel was audible and forceful. My cock felt as strong as ever, and our lovemaking turned to animalistic fucking at this point.

Unlike the original discovery of my email transgressions, we moved past anger and frustration into reconciliation. The rain outside seemed to be stopping. We even laughed about some of the writing I did in those emails, mimicking the words and talking out our sex issues. We landed in a place where we could open up to each other on current issues in our relationship, one that had been strengthened through the experience.

Standing in the foyer, entering her from behind, I heard the thunder start to dissipate. We were on the backside of the storm. I pulled out and led Mel by hand to the front room, where I lay back on the couch. She lowered her body onto my glistening, hard shaft and rode me first, on top. I was numb and hard, so after ten minutes, she spun around into reverse cowboy, facing my feet. I pushed up into a bridge position lifting her and letting her down.

The wind outside had picked up about the time we started kissing. Anger and tears sowed seeds of passion, and in my arms, Mel curled into my lips, pressing into my torso. Our hands began small caressing movements on cheeks, forearms, thighs, and shoulders. Gentle and slow, our mouths touched, pressed, searched, tongues parting lips and finding each other. The flame of love that God put in our hearts for each other grew, stoked by our honesty.

I had risen to a seated position, and she bucked and pushed on my hardness as my hands held her breasts and my lips kissed her neck. She worked on my shorts after pulling up and discarding my shirt.

Her passion was raw, initiating movement while on top of me, and then, after I flipped her onto her back and tossed her legs over my shoulders, it still powered our bodies. Pulling into my thrusts and squeezing my neck with her hands as my full weight pressed on top of her, Mel was audible and forceful. My cock felt as strong as ever, and our lovemaking turned to animalistic fucking at this point.

I listened and held Mel, not saying a word, feeling the insignificance of my pain against what she had been holding inside. Her tears and crying were like soft rain on the roof that was now falling. At first, we found common ground within the church and scripture. It taught me lessons, and now I affirmed everything about her that I loved. The tears were still wet in her eyes and on her cheek when she finally smiled.

In one swift movement, I released my hands and replaced my fingers with my cock. Again the clap-bang of a strike nearby startled Mel a little; her body twitched. Her head bowed, and her body braced as I began to push my numbness in and out, holding her hips, and thrusting through the wet, warm pleasure without much resistance.

Unlike the original discovery of my email transgressions, we moved past anger and frustration into reconciliation. The rain outside seemed to be stopping. We even laughed about some of the writing I did in those emails, mimicking the words and talking out our sex issues. We landed in a place where we could open up to each other on current issues in our relationship, one that had been strengthened through the experience.

Standing in the foyer, entering her from behind, I heard the thunder start to dissipate. We were on the backside of the storm. I pulled out and led Mel by hand to the front room, where I lay back on the couch. She lowered her body onto my glistening, hard shaft and rode me first, on top. I was numb and hard, so after ten minutes, she spun around into reverse cowboy, facing my feet. I pushed up into a bridge position lifting her and letting her down.

The wind outside had picked up about the time we started kissing. Anger and tears sowed seeds of passion, and in my arms, Mel curled into my lips, pressing into my torso. Our hands began small caressing movements on cheeks, forearms, thighs, and shoulders. Gentle and slow, our mouths touched, pressed, searched, tongues parting lips and finding each other. The flame of love that God put in our hearts for each other grew, stoked by our honesty.

I had risen to a seated position, and she bucked and pushed on my hardness as my hands held her breasts and my lips kissed her neck. She worked on my shorts after pulling up and discarding my shirt.

Her passion was raw, initiating movement while on top of me, and then, after I flipped her onto her back and tossed her legs over my shoulders, it still powered our bodies. Pulling into my thrusts and squeezing my neck with her hands as my full weight pressed on top of her, Mel was audible and forceful. My cock felt as strong as ever, and our lovemaking turned to animalistic fucking at this point.

We fell onto the bed kissing and fondling flesh and parts, holding some, caressing and petting others. My fingers had opened her gently while standing together, wrapped naked, softly breathing between wet, gentle lips. I scurried on top again, to feel her warmth surround me, joining us, lining up our hearts. The lights had flickered and gone off sometime in our coupling.

The build-up began as she started making sexual demands in the middle of this marathon of heat, friction, and semi-athletic fury. It started with “Fill me up!”; then “Pound me!” followed by several; “Drop that harder!” I moved off the bed, standing and holding her legs as she looked up at me with a fierce, pained and pleasured expression, her eyes so intense. I pulled her legs as I pushed forward and she braced, moving into me. The leverage was incredible, my timing swift, and my thrusts slid deep. Her head up pulled up as she fought the friction of the evening, turning it into throbbing pleasure through the pain.

We both said, “I love you” at the same time. The rafters rattled and screens shook. The need to cum grew fast in both our bodies, and together we released air, forming a long drawn out “Ahhhhhhh, yes!” My convulsions from each release into her pulsed long, filling shots. Her legs quivered from her climax. We released ourselves onto each other and just embraced.

Epilogue: We will be six years clear of my transgression, and that marked the last time we have brought it up. I pray about strengthening our marriage every day of every week, and the Lord has answered my prayers.

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