He wanted to chase storms.
I wanted to fuck him.
Things would have worked out fine, if it hadn’t been for the final storm.
Seth Johnson was everything my mama had warned me about—sexy, charming, and very married. In my defense, I didn’t find out he was married until after we’d fucked the first time. It happened on the job—real professional, I know—but, the thing is, when you’re chasing storms there’s this electricity in the air from the lightning, the wind, and the danger. It’s easy to get caught up in it and carried away.
I was Dorothy. Seth was the tornado.
The first time I saw Seth, he was on the Weather Channel talking about a hurricane threatening Florida. Around him, trees whipped back and forth, bent nearly in two. Lightning struck a pole near his Jeep, but he was not afraid; he was excited. I swear, a car flew by him at one point and he just grinned. The footage made my nipples hard and my pussy wet, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. Later, I watched him on CNN showing off his latest video and talking about a once in a lifetime opportunity to storm chase one-on-one with him in his chase vehicle as a volunteer with his team. Volunteers could drive their own cars as part of the team, but I was not interested in that. No, I wanted to be sitting next to Mr. fix-foot-five, fine as hell, badass,c storm chaser extraordinaire, Seth.
I interviewed with his assistant, got the job, and the rest is history.
We had each other’s clothes off by lunchtime my first day. All morning we sat in his car, listening to the storm reports as he wooed me with talk of F-5 tornados, category five hurricanes, flash floods, baseball-sized hailstones, and lightning strikes.
I couldn’t help but notice his cock growing thick and long in his jeans and, apparently, he took note of my nipple issue and horny fidgeting because the next thing I knew, he had one hand in my bra and the other in my pants. Soon, we were fucking like monkeys. I came like a typhoon.
“I’m married,” he told me while we sat on the bumper sharing a post-coital cigarette. “It’s no problem if you’re cool with it.”
Honestly? I was cool with his big dick in my hungry cunt and his exciting storm talk, but nice girls don’t say things like that, so I just said, “You being married kind of puts a damper on things for me.” I could hear my mama clapping.
He nodded, taking my rejection well. He didn’t fire me and life went on.
Hooked on storm chasing, I justified staying on the job because I really liked it and thought I could get a handle on my lust for Seth.
Everything was fine until the day we got the call to check out a possible F-5 tornado situation. Arcing flashes of blue light had been reported as power lines were hit by strong winds. Soon reports of baby twisters started coming in. We raced closer to the eye of the storm. When we got about a mile away, it started raining. It was a hot day. The windows of the Jeep steamed up and we got out.
I stood next to Seth on a fence rail to have a better look. At first, the wind was oddly still, but then it kicked up with gale force intensity. Rain whipped my hair into a frenzy, blinding me and tearing at my face. Seth grabbed it, wadded it up, and stuffed it down the back of my shirt. I know he was trying to help but the storm combined with the way his fingers jerked my hair made my clit tingle. He was wet, his own hair plastered to his skull, every muscle—including the aforementioned huge cock— stood out in stark relief under his soaked clothes. He looked like a pirate, riding out a killer storm on the deck of his ship. All I wanted to do was fuck him and I probably would have jumped him if the wind hadn’t knocked me down.
“Holy shit!” Seth screamed, landing on top on me. “It’s a fucking carousel!”
I imagined us fucking, spinning around and around on a carousel, before realizing he meant we’d been trapped in the middle of a rare tornado event where two tornadoes revolve around each other in a carousel-like way. That certainly explained the freakish wind, which literally ripped the shirt off my back.
“Stay down!” His breath was hot on the back of my neck and I arched up into him like a cat in heat.
Fierce wind swirled around us, raindrops lashed my breasts and the next thing I knew, Seth was jerking my pants down, hauling me up and bending me over the fence rail. Now, I ask you, how could anyone say no under circumstances like that?
Needless to say (and if you’ve seen the video, you already know this part) I didn’t push him off. No, I spread my legs and he plowed into me. We surged together as the wind howled and things started flying through the air. Corn was ripped from the fields and, by the time it was over, I had half-moon cuts in my palms from gripping that fence so hard. We were part of the storm, trapped in it, with nothing to do but pray and fuck as the world went wild around us.
We screamed like crazy people when we came. It wasn’t until later we found out the whole thing had been taped by CNN’s crew. Obviously, they didn’t put it on the air, but that didn’t stop some yahoo from putting it on the internet.
Seth’s wife threatened divorce. I was fired and here we are.
The good news is I have a new career as the stripping weather girl in Las Vegas and have never been happier.
Copyright © 2008 by Zander Vyne. All rights reserved.
A full-time writer, Zander Vyne’s erotic short stories have been published everywhere, under many creative aliases. It’s like a scavenger hunt – look in the past contest results pages at Desdmona’s, in anthologies like Garden of The Perverse: Fairy Tales For Twisted Adults, and Cream: The Best of The Erotica Readers And Writers Association, and in issues of Red Scream. For those of you less fond of the needle in a haystack, mystery game approach, look for more work at the The Erotica Readers And Writers Association (okay, I lied…there are a few stories there under other names but, I promise, if you visit www.zandervyne.com, you’ll find a riddle-free zone filled with Zander Vyne stories and flash fiction).
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