When it rains, it pours

I had been waiting all month to meet him in person. We were texting every day, sending photos, videos, sexting. I was so excited. I was waiting in a coffee shop near where he was staying, waiting for him to finish up his day. He texted at 6:30 to say he had finished at work and invited me to meet him. I finished my tea and headed to my car, parked several blocks away.

Immediately upon stepping outside, as if I was living in my own personal romantic comedy, the skies opened and a torrential downpour erupted. By the time I reached my car, I was soaking wet. My blown out hair was dripping and curly, my make up was smudged, and my clothes were creating a massive puddle in the driver's seat. But I was too excited about meeting him to give up! I texted him, asking him to bring me a spare t-shirt and shorts.

He was wonderful. He jumped in my car and I pulled over to the curb to change my clothes quickly. My skin was wet and sticky in the humid air. A perfect gentleman, he acquiesced when I asked him to avert his eyes. I was too embarrassed to go out anywhere, so we drove around his neighborhood, chatting, exchanging stories, talking about where he worked and lived. Finally, we pulled into a parking lot overlooking the NYC skyline. The sky was pink and orange. There was a rainbow. And he leaned over to kiss me. Before I knew it, the shorts were off and I was grabbing his shoulders, moaning into his neck. No one has ever touched me like that. I came three times. We moved to the passenger seat. I adjusted the seat so he was reclined and slid down between his long legs to return the favor. I felt like a teenager again - unable to keep my hands off of him, totally overcome with desire.

At the end, I was overwhelmed with satisfaction. My legs were shaking and the windows were fogged up. After we'd recovered our senses, we walked around on the pier, him standing tall in jeans and a button down; me beside him, barefoot in his t-shirt and shorts.