It began as a light drizzle. Despite being September, the rain was surprisingly warm. Some people opened their mouths and let the rain warm their chilly bodies.
Thoughts danced through the minds of the wet people; mostly dirty thoughts. They undressed each other with their eyes. The warm rain seeped into their clothes like a lover’s mischievous hand. As the light drizzle grew into a steady rain, people felt their minds sliding slippery into lewd permutations of genitals, hands and mouths.
Strangers hit on their strangers. Long time crushes suddenly kissed each other. Mortal enemies discovered that their enemies were kind of hot in a way. Sexually repressed people suddenly felt a lifetime of libido. The sexually obsessed almost died from sensory overload.
By the time the rain became a downpour, people were fucking in the streets. Umbrellas were discarded followed by clothes. It was a time to fuck. It was a time to fuck a total stranger or have the best sex of your life with the one you love. Some people were just content to masturbate while the rain soaked them down to their soul.
People dry inside their cars couldn’t understand. Those inside buildings were afraid to go outside. They were all content to watch though.
The rain ended as all rains do. It moved on to the next town. The people it soaked were still fucking. They fucked until they dried, both inside and out.
Where did the rain come from? Where does any rain come from? It’s just recycled water. Maybe it was the water from a lake where young people fuck. It could have been the water from a wet t-shirt contest. For all we know, it is water pollution that comes from a sexual science lab.
But when the warm rain comes, so does everyone else.
Play With This is a series of articles designed to give you things to play around with in your writing. Feel free to borrow, modify, or completely change for your own stories.