I live in the south-east US, and we are getting drenched in rain and storms. In fact, my living room keeps being lit up by purple-blue flashes of lightning. It reminds me of a night about three years ago, around my 30th birthday…
It was the middle of June and it had been raining all day.
Not long after sunset, it really started raining. Buckets of rain poured down in sheets for hours. The forest in which I live echoed with crash after crash of thunder.
There's something about the power of a thunderstorm that's intensely erotic to me; and my wife knows it. We often make love when the weather turns bad. But tonight she had something a little different in store. Taking me by the hand, she led me to the back door, and threw it open. With a giggle, she bounded out into the night, shouting a "C'mon!" over the downpour.
The rain was like ice as it soaked through my clothes in seconds. Ahead of me, I saw my wife's short, dark-haired form dart into the woods behind our house. I followed quickly, flashes of lightning illuminating my way. She hadn't gone far, leaning against a massive old sycamore.