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John and Samantha had been dating for some while. Sam was hopeful about how things might turn out – could John be Mr Right? They certainly had fun together. They both liked children and travel. They both had steady jobs and were keen on creative arts, he his music, she her photography. They each liked sports, he his football, she her… oh well, you can’t have everything. But one little concern Sam did have was that there seemed to be a certain lack of raw passion. Yes, they had kissed. And petted. But no spontaneous displays of primal lust, and they had not actually made love as yet. But she was prepared to be patient – time would tell whether John wanted to take the relationship a step further… or not. For Sam, it was a work in progress.

A live band had been playing at their local pub, and John was walking Sam home after a great evening. They hurried on apace as the rain got harder, managing to reach Sam’s apartment just as the shower turned into heavy downpour. They scrambled inside the front door and stood together, dripping wet, in the narrow hallway. Sam prrrrp’d a raindrop from the end of her nose. They both laughed.

As Sam started to remove the hood of her raincoat, John quickly was upon her, as if to assist, but instead cradling her head and kissing her quite hard and full on the lips. His kisses moved to the side of her neck. His hands moved to her shoulders, then her breasts, then her lower back, then her bottom, all the time maltepe escort caressing her through the material of her mackintosh. The tails of the coat rode upwards, and with it her dress. His hands slid inside her panties and tugged them downwards.

Sam was, of course, delighted by this sudden sexual advance, and felt disinclined to suggest they move the action to the bedroom, for fear of losing the moment – she didn’t want to stop a speeding racecar just because it was not on the best track. And so it happened. She wriggled out of her panties, facilitating the opening of legs and invitation of entry. John unfastened his belt, unzipped, and pulled boxers away from an urgent-looking erection, enabling him to obey the green light and drive on in. And all the time he frantically rubbed himself against her and the drying-out expanses of open raincoat. It was all over very quickly.

When his breathing had calmed, she spoke, softly and smiling. “Mmm, babes… where did that come from?”

“Sorry” he replied shyly, “You’re so gorgeous and sexy.. I couldn’t help myself… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just caught me a little by surprise, is all. You have a little ‘thing’ about girls with wet bedraggled hair, then?”

John smiled sheepishly. “No no, I don’t know… girls in raincoats I think… something about you… look so hot in that mac!”

Sam remained quiet and attentive, manavgat escort her look eliciting more explanation. She enjoyed prolonging his obvious discomfort. He decided to play his way out of the embarrassing corner by going on the offensive. “What about you, Samantha? You must have some little ‘thing’ of your own, perhaps?”

Sam chose to be coy. “Oh, I don’t know… love, romance… being with the right person. Anyway, silly, girls don’t have fetishes like boys do.”

But they do. And she did. But she was not telling.

The following Saturday evening, John called round on his way home from football. They had a coffee and chatted. “Back in a sec,” she said. But after some time, John heard Sam call from the bedroom. “Got a minute, John?”

Sam had been busy. And not just with her photographic interests. She also had bought a rather cute blue lightweight shortie raincoat which she now wore, buttoned at the neck and tie-belted round the waist. It felt strange, though oddly stimulating, against her bare skin, and rustled alarmingly as she moved. Patent thigh boots, and nothing else, set off the ensemble. She was taking a chance that it would have the same effect as in the week, knowing that if it didn’t, she was going to look and feel more than a little silly.

She needn’t have worried. The effect on John was no less dramatic than previously, and within seconds he was şişli escort upon her anew with heavy caresses and passionate kisses, and “my darling Samantha… my beautiful darling Samantha…” Sam eased backwards onto her bed, positioning herself to the best advantage – any position was going to be better than upright against a wall, which was not one of her preferred scenarios. John grabbed handfuls of coat material and feverishly worked Samantha’s naked body, including her thighs, which parted with minimal resistance. Sam continued to try to adjust her own position – it was somehow important to her – while skilfully undressing her besotted suitor. The love-making session was intense, but as with the experience in the hallway, rather short in duration. Sam was unperturbed. Feeling his glans swell while deep inside her moments before his climax, and hearing her name called loud and clear, loaded with desire, were more than memorable moments she would be able to savour.

They eventually kissed goodnight and John set off for home – he had a match early Sunday morning. Sam, in her wrap, returned to her bedroom. She powered down the equipment and collected up all the memory cards from the wardrobe mirror, ceiling light rose and headboard cams. In her makeshift studio, she uploaded the raw video files, topped and tailed them, normalised and sync’d the audio from the bed mike and set about editing. Two hours later, she was ready to catalogue the final cut, filing it alongside earlier productions starring lovers past. She slept blissfully, looking forward to sharing a private Sunday morning with a meagre selection of toys and a movie she could zoom, replay, pause, slo-mo, and generally relive the action, never tiring of the dialogue… “my darling Samantha.. my beautiful darling Samantha..”

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