A Rather Large Rock

It started as a sunny, beautiful day. We decide*to head to one of my favorite places, a place I have been coming back to my entire life, usually solo. There?s only a handful of people I've ever been here with. And you are one of them. The sun started playing hide and seek behind the clouds on the long bumpy drive out here. We were hopeful of beating the weather and definitely not deterred by it.We*park next to the river. A lot has changed here in the years that I have visited. They put in man-made docks and picnic benches,*signs explaining how the site was formed, and the Indian legend passed down from my mom to me. Hanging Rock. It has interested me and captivated me forever. A young Indian girl, in love with two men, forced to choose only one. She climbed to the top of the large Bostancı Escort rock and flung herself into the rocky river below. Death rather than choosing.Sometimes, when I come here, I make the decision to climb the rock and contemplate throwing myself free, like she did. Or just taking in the view from the staggering height. Other times, I decide that I would rather risk being crushed by falling rocks down by the river. Watching the river flow swiftly by, not a care for who lies beneath.We get out of the car and start up the path. We come to the fork: we must make a decision. Be crushed or make a splash. I want to go down below, but you want the sky. We begin our ascent. I huff and puff as I am not as fit as you. You make it look so easy. Not dangerous Bostancı Escort Bayan in the least; maybe only in my mind. I keep pausing to admire your body working.We make it to the top and hear our first claps of thunder. Standing at the top of the rock, facing death is usually breathtaking. Today, it is more so, watching the added storm clouds and lightning crack across the dark sky. Something about thunderstorms*just shake me to the core. With each roar of thunder, I press myself closer to you. I am not terrified, just want to race the storm to see who can make more electricity.The rain starts. Slowly. Cold on our skin, making us wet on the outside like I am on the inside. I turn you to face me and lean up to kiss you passionately, Escort Bostancı pressing my wet body hard against yours. The wind kicks up and you bite my lip. We need to head down. Standing on the tallest point in the area in a lightning storm is not the best idea in the world. We head down the rock, part way climbing, part way sliding on the slippery limestone.We head down by the large chunks of rock that have fallen off the rock in past times. Hanging Rock stays true to its name and hangs above our heads, protecting us from the full force of mother nature's storm. The rain is really pouring now, small streams drip from the rock. We stand under the cliff and hold hands.We watch in awe at the amazing storm, our own storm only beginning to brew. I start to turn towards you and you take my hands and press me back against the rocks. Our wet clothes cling to our bodies and stick to each other. You press my hands up over my head and lick my collarbone. You leave kisses from my wrists along my arms. You stop and smell my hair; it smells like nicotine and rain. You groan into my ear.