Guest Post: Bruno!

Bruno here. I’ve been horny and lonely recently, and this memory keeps forcing its way to the surface. Holly liked it, and I hope you will too.


G and I had met briefly once before, but kept intermittent communication during the intervening months. I thought she was hot, and was looking forward to seeing her again during a weekend camping trip. After a day spent in the same small group, we ended up sitting next to each other around a bonfire. For a while it was loud and stupid, but when the sky threatened rain and everyone else went off to bed, G invited me back to her cabin to have another drink.

I didn’t know what to expect, but was happy to follow along. We walked over, and while she was in the bathroom I retrieved a couple bottles from the fridge and set two folding chairs facing each other on the gravel outside.

She came out and we talked for a while through intermittent waves of drizzle, but eventually I decided to kiss her. She seemed surprised but not disappointed. “So you’re a kisser,” she said.

She told me that she’s a bad girl, that I should avoid girls like her, that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I’m an adult, I said, and I can make my own decisions and take risks if I like.

G is fairly petite, and I’m fairly strong. When she sat back as if to deny me the chance to kiss her again, I plucked her from her chair and put her in my lap. We resumed kissing, and I used my new position to give her neck some attention,

The lights were on inside the cabin, and at least one person saw what we were up to. I decided not to care; the lights went out eventually, giving us what privacy we could have while outside in the dark.

Having received tacit approval for kissing her neck, I tried to kiss G’s breasts. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” she protested. I just grinned.

I wish I could remember more of what happened next, but I was drunk and it was hours past midnight. Somehow, G offered me a deal: If the drizzle became a real storm, we would make love in the rain. She held her arms over her head and closed her eyes as if lying back on a bed. “Because I’m a massive whore,” she said.

I should add that I didn’t really expect her to honor the offer. I thought we’d give up before the weather changed, there would be a discussion of whether the rain was sufficient, or she’d change her mind.

But the damp rustle in the leaves over us intensified until we had water running through our hair. It was my turn to be surprised when G turned to straddle me and began clenching her thighs against my hips as if trying to coax my cock from my shorts.

I took her shirt and bra off to play with her breasts, and she took my shirt off. Before long she had her pants off, and then she unzipped my shorts.

I had to set her down on the folding chair in order to get my shoes and shorts off, and that was the position we stayed in for most of the time. I’m fairly girthy and she’s small, so getting inside her was a bit of a challenge, but eventually I succeeded. G threw her head back and grunted appreciatively.

My last lay had come months earlier; it shouldn’t have been a surprise that I didn’t last long, but I was disappointed. I came on her stomach, then immediately went between her legs, nibbling her clit and massaging her g spot with two fingers. She writhed and sighed, and when she slowed down I stopped.

We stood on the gravel with rain pouring over us and kissed. I got aroused again almost immediately, which she encouraged by pumping my cock with her fist. Then she jumped into my arms and straddled me again. I picked her up and changed levels as we made out -- way off the ground to kiss her pussy, lower to get at her breasts, lowest to penetrate her again.

And then she was back in the folding chair. While I crouched over her and thrust, our damp skin slapping and her breasts wobbling, her areolas barely visible in the darkness, she dropped her head back until I couldn’t see her face and moaned more loudly.

After a few minutes, she pushed me away with her thighs and lay on the chair seat panting. I leaned over to kiss her while jacking myself off, but she encouraged me to relax and not force it. I wasn’t doing anything I was uncomfortable with, but I didn’t know how close I was to coming again, either.

We got dressed as best we could. G’s pants were too wet for her to get them on again, so she was only in her underwear when we went inside. The half-asleep guy on the couch may have noticed, but didn’t say much.

G found a dry pair of pants, and we cuddled on a more private couch for a while. She told me I was adorable and amazing, how much she’d missed sex; she wanted to visit me and show me some tricks. Eventually we went back to our separate beds.

In the morning we hugged goodbye. Since that, we’ve had almost no contact.

I’m disappointed, of course, but part of me can acknowledge that it would be futile to attempt to replicate that rainy night’s emotions. Locking them in time keeps them unique.