I just love those old Turner Classic movies. Especially the Fred Astaire musicals with standards like, "Isn't This A Lovely Day To Be Caught In The Rain?" If you remember, the song continues "You were going on your way, now you have to remain." And that's just what happened to me last year. I was rushing home in a cloud burst and found this gorgeous guy sheltering in my doorway. Here in Italy we have these huge entrance doors called 'portone' which either lead into a courtyard or the main part of the building. It was pouring down in sheets and he was absolutely drenched. Fortunately it was late summer so the rain was quite warm but even so. Of course the first thing I noticed, besides the fact that he was strikingly good looking, was that his shirt was transparent. So probably was my gaze but he didn't see me straight off so hopefully didn't catch my lecherous looks. What he did catch was the tune I was humming. He smiled and sang the rest of the words. That told me three things: he wasn't Italian, he was into romantic music and he was probably gay.

"Hi," I said in my friendliest manner. "Nice day to be caught in the rain. I'm Barringer."

He shook my hand and smiled. "Nice to meet you Barringer. I'm John. John Rain."

We laughed at the coincidence and I noticed that he had very nice teeth. I also noticed that his nipples were poking through his wet shirt. If you've read any of my other stories you'll probably remember I have a bit of a thing for nipples. Naturally I asked him in for coffee and naturally he accepted. You see I'm pretty nice too. He was most grateful and showed his gratitude by taking off his shirt as I handed him a towel. I flipped. His body was exactly the way I like a body to be.

I couldn't believe my luck. I was living a page out of 'The Celestine Prophecy.' His name was John Rain. The rain had brought him to my door and we both ended up singing the same song. It might have been wishful thinking but I was pretty sure we were going to end up in my bed fucking like ferrets real soon. I mean he hadn't said much but I sure liked the way his body talked. I showed him to the bathroom and said he might as well take a hot shower and wear my Japanese kimono while his clothes were drying. My throat was drying by this time too. The thought of this naked stranger under the shower in my bathroom was a real turn on. I was half hoping he'd ask me to join him but he didn't. He was a man of few words and many muscles.

I made coffee and watched him sashay into the sitting room looking like a million dollars in my old kimono. And to think I'd been inside it myself only this morning. He sat down and it slipped silkily open. I realized it was rather too small for him. Or he was rather too big for it. I grew rock hard. The unsaid hovered like a horny honey-bee between us. It flashed through my mind that I should have given him a bathrobe. Too late now. That started me off on another love song as I fixed him a drink. A Shirley Bassey classic. He knew that one too. He got up to look at my CD collection and the belt of the kimono (and my legs) gave way. I found myself facing his fabulous full frontal. I tried to cover my embarrassment by drying my hair but he didn't try to cover anything.

"You could have joined me under the shower." he said, looking at me from above his rising dick.

"I wanted too." I said, as my own dick tented my pants in a vain attempt to reach out for his.

"What stopped you?" he asked, walking slowly towards me and looking me straight in the eye.

"Decorum." I said rather lamely, avoiding his gaze and getting an eyeful of his dick instead.

"Fuck decorum." he said and let the kimono slither to the floor.

Needless to say I was out of my clothes in the flick of a condom and we were fucking like ferrets as I'd predicted. It was like something from 'Match Point.' Fate or luck or destiny had brought us together and we were doing the rest. We seemed to know instinctively how to give each other pleasure. In fact there was a kind of telepathy between us.

Of course trying to write all this down and communicate it to you isn't so easy. Other people's sexual experiences either sound improbable or exaggerated. Sometimes even naive and childish. Also a really good fuck is almost indescribable and usually a very private thing. Sharing it is a bit like being caught by your mother when you're masturbating. I'm sure you'll agree with me. If you've been there words aren't necessary. You understand the sublime bliss of it already. If you haven't then words are inadequate.

It didn't take me long to work out that John Rain liked playing the dominant role and couldn't wait to get inside my ass. I rolled over on my stomach like a submissive puppy. Or maybe 'bitch' would have been a better word. My butt was already spreading its big pouting petals for him. Soon he had me honking like a demented fog horn. Then he asked me to turn over on my back. Said he wanted to suck the fuck out of my tongue while he fucked the shit out of my butt. It's amazing sometimes how the nicest butter-wouldn't-melt-in-their-mouths people say the dirtiest things while having sex. It really turns me on. However I had a few problems turning over. In fact it took quite a bit of manoeuvring but we eventually managed. He oozed out of me, flipped me over like a pancake, and oozed back in. I threw my loving arms tightly round his macho neck and raised my wanton ass way high so that my legs could get a firm grip round his waist. Then I plucked and sucked those gorgeous nipples of his and let him ride me all the way to heaven.

His tongue was honey in my mouth, his dick horny in my ass. After a while I was no longer aware where his tongue ended and his dick began. Or vice versa. He kissed my lips and my ass lips with equal passion and fucked me in every position you could think of keeping me on a slow boil until I thought my skin was going to burst like a hot roast chestnut. My dick was on the verge of ecstasy several times but he always sent it into shock with an unexpected lunge here and a furtive thrust there. Finally he touched what seemed to be the pulse of my being and I was suddenly afloat in a stream of steaming cum. His and mine.

"Wow," he said, after we'd both got our breath back, "You invite me in to shelter from the rain and then shower me in cum juice. How long have we been at it?"

"A little over an hour and a quarter," I said, "Do you always time your sexual encounters?"

"No, but I think that must have been something of a record. Even for me."

I had to admit it hadn't exactly been a wham-bam-and-thanku-Sam encounter for me either. Quite the opposite. But my ass was still reeling from the impact. Actually it had been a bit like we were making up for lost time. I mean we'd spent nearly thirty years not knowing each other and only seemed to have two days before he left for Boston.

As we lay in each other's arms afterwards, I asked him all sorts of personal questions but he said he didn't want to waste precious time talking about a life that didn't include me. Still this didn't stop him asking questions about me. I was fairly free. No commitments. In fact I could have flown to the States with him at the drop of a hat. But I sensed something was holding him back and it wouldn't have been wise to suggest it, especially at this early stage.

Still sex was great. Most people divide their day by meals. We divided ours by fuck feasts. And there were usually very short intervals between them. We sometimes 'ate' all through the night too. Naturally, I wanted to make a meal of his ass but he was reluctant. He didn't say much but tried to change the subject by rolling over and offering me his dick again.

By the time we'd spent forty-eight hours really getting to know each other both my mouth and ass were pretty sore. Something perverse inside me wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. Show him what he was missing in the butt department. My dick gets pretty frisky sometimes and his tight little ass really appealed to me. He didn't exactly give me much encouragement but I persevered. Mind you I had to soften his slot with a whole lot of spittle before I could even get a finger tip inside. I slobbered on the puckered rim of his butt hole and teased it with my tongue. It had worked great on his nipples --- he'd quivered like a harp string --- so it should work here too.

I was right. It took quite a while and I was just about to give up when he gave in. His ass hole quivered and convulsed in response to my patient ministrations. I liked the convulsed bit and decided to give him convulsions by the time I'd finished with him. And I just loved the latent lust I detected in his eyes. I forged my way in with a finger. He gripped it like a vice. I worked it around, trying to stretch him out, but he remained tight as a kettle drum. I couldn't resist asking him if he was an 'anal virgin' but he wouldn't tell me. In fact I soon learned that his lips were sealed tighter than his ass and it was better not to ask questions.

I knew then I had to fall back on lube. I took my finger out, plunged it in the lube jar, and then plunged it back in his butt. He let out a low guttural moan. I just love those low guttural moans. They're the best. They really turn me on. More than talking dirty.

I looked down at him. His head was shaking to and fro on the pillow saying 'no'. But his butt was definitely saying 'go'. It was high in the air, squirming around in circles, eager to swallow more fingers. By then my dick was primed like William Tell's pointed arrow and it was aimed right at John Rain's gorgeous apple butt.

I anointed my dick head with lube oil and gave one more vicious twist with my finger. Then it was out with the old and in with the new. I was half way up his fuck channel before I heard his primal scream. I drove my hips forward mercilessly, my balls pummelling his until I hit the pulse of his love button. The scream changed to long, slow contented grunts. His conservative foundations were really starting to crumble. He wriggled and he writhed in horny content and shoved upward with his hips searching to impale himself on me.

We lay, for what seemed forever, in a post-horny haze. Finally he kissed me and said something.

"Thanks for being the first person to fuck me."

That's all he said but I knew by the way he said it that I'd given him something he wouldn't forget in a long, long time.

Then of course it was time for him to leave. We both knew that he wanted to stay and that between us we'd opened up love channels that somebody else would find difficult, if not impossible, to fill. But duty or something called and he wouldn't tell me where he was going or even give me his phone number. He did ask for mine but didn't write it down. Said he would commit it to memory and acted like a secret agent or something.

He promised to call me but I knew somehow he wouldn't. He kissed me again. A long, lingering tender kiss. And thanked me for everything. We both knew what that everything was. I smiled. We'd had such a blast. Literally. Before he left I blasted his virgin butt over and over again until I turned him into a veritable butt slut. I hoped and prayed he'd be back for more. But for weeks afterwards neither my phone nor my door bell rang.

Eventually I convinced myself I'd been fucking someone from the C.I.A. Maybe I had, as I still haven't heard from him. I kept telling myself 'it ain't over till it's over' but knew I was fooling myself. It was good while it lasted but it didn't last. I went home for Thanksgiving in deep depression. My mother thought I'd been working too hard and made me one of her 'soothing' drinks. The kind she used to make me after a school exam when I was a kid.

"Drink that," she said. "It will make you feel better. Tomorrow, you'll be as right as rain."

I looked at her and then burst into tears. Naturally, I couldn't explain why.