It’s a hot afternoon, one of those days when the dark clouds threaten rain. Not the gentle kind of rain but the rain that the locals call a frog strangler; hot, steaming, pouring rain that comes down in big fat heavy drops.
The first drops of rain come down. You run down to the dock, strip off your clothes and stand at the end of the dock, looking up, arms outstretched, welcoming the feel of the rain drops on your skin.
The rain is warm, gentle at first. You begin to dance. It’s a dance without rhythm, a dance without a name, a dance that celebrates the rain and the thunder and the lightning and the splashes of the raindrops on the lake. You dance like the raindrops fall.
The rain comes down, heavier and heavier. The drops are big and warm. The water runs down your face, down your neck, like lover’s fingertips tracing the curves of your body.
You feel each drop as it runs down across your breasts, pauses at the nipple, and then falls off to join the others. You feel the drops as they run between your breasts, across your navel, and down to your pussy.
You feel a touch tracing the folds of your pussy, the wet gentle drops exploring every fold and every space.
You feel the the drops falling on your back, flowing down along your spine and between your butt cheeks. The drops tease your butthole, and flow down ever so gently the inside of your thighs.
You dance, you dance to the rhythm of the drops where there is no rhythm. You dance to the feel and touch of the drops.
You feel the drops running down your outstretched arms, across your ribs and to your hips. They feel like a lover’s gentle touch on your hips. The touch sways you gently and pulls you back ever so slightly. You feel the drops on your back and now they feel like a lover. You feel his erection between your butt cheeks.
You sway with your skin slick with rain and your phantom lover holding you ever so gently. He pulls you back and you bend over, letting him enter you from behind.
He feels like the rain; warm, slick, gentle. He pushes into you and you moan with pleasure. The raindrops now run around your hips and caress your clit. The touch on your hips feels like warm rain.
You feel him thrusting into you, gentle and warm like the rain, slow and fast, almost without rhythm but at a pace that you know is like the rain falling on the lake, intense, relentless, filling.
With a last quiver, you go over the edge, in a big warm orgasm that spasms your whole body.
And then you dance alone on the dock, in the warm rain, filled with peace and quiet and satisfaction.