Dancing When the Rain Comes

Author's Note: This story was inspired by, and written for, a friend online. She enjoys dancing, playing outside, and the rain. In my experience, men are more hesitant to spend time in the rain playing, so I imagined a husband joining his wife, with a little convincing, for all these activities and changing his perspective on frolicking in the rain. A few lines borrow from the lyrics of Clint Black's song "Like the Rain."

Both characters participating in the story are over 18 years of age.

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He stood just inside the screen door, watching her for ten minutes before she noticed him. In that time, she stretched, pirouetted, and leapt back and forth across the porch. Some of the time, he could recognize when she landed in a plié or stretched over the steps in an arabesque, but he didn't know how to describe many of the moves she made. That was characteristic of her: she often left him without words.

Finally, she stepped off the porch and raised her face to the sky, and her hair darkening made him aware of the sounds talking through the trees and on the window pane. Looking at the droplets cascading down her shoulders, he couldn't believe he'd never liked the rain. She turned to step back up on the porch and froze as she saw him through the screen.

"Oh! You're back?" She squinted, trying to peer through the mesh into the darkness behind him.

"Your parents still have the kids. I took an Uber back. We couldn't go mini-golfing because of the rain, so they decided to go to the Mall instead. Something about shopping and then going out for ice cream and pretzels. They'll probably be several hours." The door squeaked and then banged behind him as he stepped outside.

"How long have you been here?"

He looked at his watch. "Ten minutes, maybe? Fifteen? I didn't realize it was so long. You're hypnotizing. I like watching you dance. I especially like seeing you wet."

She smirked. "Oh, do you now? Do you think I'm wet now?"

His eyes widened momentarily, and then flitted up and down her figure. He opened his mouth, then paused. She lamented he didn't talk to her enough, but maybe it was her fault. After two decades, she could still leave him speechless. Too many thoughts struggled in his head. Finally, he managed to open his mouth and make intelligible sound.

"How long have you been out here? And why naked? How did you know how long we'd be gone?"

"You don't like to see me naked?"

"You know I do."

"Come dance with me?" She raised her hand to him but didn't move off the second-last step onto the porch.

He stepped to the edge of the porch, just under cover from the rain, and took her hand. "Dance with you? In the rain?"

"Dance with me. In the rain."

"My clothes will get wet."

She looked at him for a long moment, then took her hand out of his and reached up to the top button below his collar. Looking him in the eyes as she unfastened his shirt, she said softly, "now you know why I'm naked."

A lump formed in his stomach. He watched her hands until his shirt fell apart and she pulled it from his shoulders to toss it on the closest chair. It was strange watching his own chest heaving, and he glanced to the sides of the yard to see if any of the neighbors were in sight. His attention was refocused when she took his hands and placed them on his own belt.

"No one else is outside. People don't like the rain. So, will you dance with me?" She stepped back and pirouetted, stopping to gaze at him with chin lowered and eyebrows raised, waiting for him. As self-conscious as he was, he couldn't deny her.

Buckle. Button. Zipper. He realized he should have removed his shoes first. He stepped back to sit on the chair and pulled off shoes, socks, and pants. He stood in his boxers and stepped back to the edge of the porch. They stared at each other.

"You're overdressed."

"I don't mind them getting wet."

"I'll make it worth your while."

He raised his eyebrows. His hands were on his waistband, but he wavered. "I don't know."

She stepped to him and covered his hands with hers.

"You would put your dry clothes on over your wet ones?"

"No, we should have enough time. I'll run inside and dry off before getting dressed. I wouldn't put dry clothes on wet skin. Or wet clothes."

Her fingers slipped under his waistband, and her eyes held his as the fabric slipped from his fingers. First, he felt the soft cloth around his ankles, and then his view of her eyes was replaced with the top of her head and he gasped at the warmth on his center. He shuddered as he felt her cheeks, the roof of her mouth, and then her tongue tracing him. Furrowing his brow, he glanced desperately to the sides of the property.

"There. Now your skin is wet. You'll need a towel before you can get dressed. Come dance with me?"

He groaned. Her hand tugged at his, and he stepped out of his boxers and down from the porch.

"Doesn't it feel wonderful?" She gripped his waist and lifted her face to the sky.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

He closed his eyes as his face basked in the bit of sun that pierced the clouds above. Every sensation felt more pronounced, from the droplets tracing their way down his face, to the minuscule warmth of the sun, to the coolness of her stomach making him feel hot in comparison, to the rough stones under his feet. The kisses trailing down his neck and collarbone.

"I can feel you groaning. In your chest." Her ear lay on his shoulder.

"You. What am I going to do with you?"

"Whatever you want. We have two hours, at least."

"Here?"

She slid down his body in response. Her fingers pulled him to the side and she nuzzled the soft folds at his base, then her tongue traced its way to his tip. He was lost in her eyes and the heat of her mouth. After a minute, he gripped her shoulder for support, and she hugged his hips so they supported each other. His chest heaved until he grabbed her chin and pulled her away.

Staring intently at her, he pushed her shoulder back until she reclined in the grass. Spreading her knees, he knelt in the grass and used his fingers to open her sex. Fascinated, he watched water droplets collect on her and in every nook and valley. His tongue tasted the moisture from her navel. He rubbed her thighs, pushing her knees up and spreading her lips. When a small puddle had pooled at the opening to her sex, he pressed one finger inside her and twisted it, allowing the pool to empty into her. She shuddered.

Withdrawing his finger, he found it slightly milky, and he licked it clean, then lapped at her. He couldn't tell if it was the rainfall coming back out of her or her own waterfall, but he sucked at the liquid coating her lips. Knees squishing in the wet grass, he tried to find a comfortable position. When he dropped his hips, he felt the grass tickling and grasping at him. If he raised his hips, he felt the sky or an unseen neighbor was watching him.

At last, he rose and pressed her thighs apart with his hips, then planted kisses along her jaw. His breathing intensified with the rain, and he could feel large drops falling cool on his back as he descended into her warmth. Her breath was warm on his cheek, so he turned his mouth to hers.

Lips to lips, he was overwhelmed with the need to have as much of himself inside her as possible. He probed her mouth with his tongue, wove his fingers in hers, and used his weight to press her hands and her buttocks into the wet grass. Pressing himself deep within her, he could feel her legs wrap around him, keeping him close.

"Are you too cold or wet?"

"I'm fine." She seemed out of breath as well.

He could feel her undulating under him, and her legs shook against his hips and back. When it was finally too much, he pressed her hands into the grass over her head. His body pressed all of her into the ground and the sounds in his throat were not words. When he finally relaxed his hips and went limp, he could feel her still trembling beneath him.

Releasing her left hand, he stroked her cheek as he contemplated her face. Grimacing, he wiped his hand on his hip, then wiped her cheek again.

"I just made you dirty. Your back must be filthy."

"Mmm. I'm sure." She searched his eyes. "I'm your filthy wife. What do you think about that?"

He chuckled. "I wouldn't have you any other way. But I can't believe we just did that. You're corrupting me."

Rolling off her, he lay on his left side and stroked her chin, her breasts, and her hips with his hand.

"You are utterly magnificent."

She blushed. "Thank you."

"I actually feel like I could stay here all day, but your parents and the kids could be back as soon as an hour and a half."

He admired her face and her body as she tilted her chin up to the sky and closed her eyes. His hand moved from her hip to her breast, gently encircling it. Playing his thumb slowly over her nipple, he paused with his mouth open for several moments.

"You're not moving, are you? I didn't mean we should stay here until they get back."

"You said we have time. I'm comfortable. You needn't worry so much."

Sighing, he propped his arm under his cheek and watched the rain roll over her skin. He tried not to count the minutes, so he started counting the splashes on her stomach instead. It was a futile effort, so he let himself get lost savouring her beauty, moving his eyes to examine her from head to toe.

Raindrops pooled on her still-closed eyelids. "You're staring at me." It was half-question, half-statement.

"You are so beautiful. Do you even have any idea? Just... you have no idea, do you? You're blushing."

She smiled.

"I am a very lucky man."

Her head turned toward him and she blinked the drops from her eyes. "Kiss me."

He could taste the rain, the sky, her warmth, and her. It wasn't clear where one began or ended, but he was sure he could actually taste them all.

"I think the rain has almost rinsed my front clean. My back must be a mess."

"Well, we're in a shower." She grinned mischievously.

Standing, he reached out a hand to pull her up. "You really are my filthy wife. You're completely covered in leaves. Stand still."

She didn't stand still, but he chased her around the yard and patio below the porch, pulling leaves off her. Several minutes later, he rubbed the last leaf and smudge of dirt off her calf.

"There. You're all clean."

She stopped and turned to him. Was she pouting? "Do you still like me? Now that I've showered and I'm not your filthy wife? And I've dragged you out in the rain?"

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close. "You know, I never liked the rain until I walked through it with you. I love you. I don't think I could stop if I wanted to."

Her fingers wrapped around him, and he felt a twitch.

"Besides, you're only clean on the outside. You're still my filthy wife inside."

"You still love me, even though I'm a little crazy?"

"I think I love you because you're a little crazy. I'll definitely never be bored with you." He looked up at the sky, then down at new drops making their way down her cheek. "Like the rain, I have fallen for you. Now I know just why you like the rain. It's always calling for you. I'm falling for you now, just like the rain."

Her kiss was smothering, but if he died right here, with her wrapping herself around him and their tongues fighting back and forth between their mouths, he thought that might be alright. After what seemed like ten minutes, he pulled his head back to gaze at her. "I really, really love you."

"Mmm. I love you too."

"Let's go get dressed."

She sighed. "Ok."

Holding his hand, she walked toward the porch steps. Feeling him lagging behind her, she looked back to see him watching her rear.

"See something you like?"

"You know I do."

Glancing below his waist, she smirked and pulled her hand from his. Dancing to the middle of the porch, she looked over her shoulder at him and wiggled her hips. She put a hand demurely over her mouth and adopted her faux-Marilyn Monroe breathy voice.

"Oh, Zeus! Is that your lightning bolt? Are you going to try to hide that in my clouds?" Her cheeks shook. "Make them clap?"

He guffawed. "You are crazy. But sounds good to me!"

She fixed him with a sultry gaze for a moment as her voice returned to normal. "Gotta catch me first."

The screen door slammed as he looked around the porch in disbelief. "Wait! You don't.... Wait, you don't even have clothes out here?!"

Judging by her laughter, she was already at the stairs.

"No, seriously?!"

Her voice must have been halfway up the stairs. "Gotta catch me!"

"That's not fair! And really?!"

"Better hurry!" She was upstairs.

Scooping up his shoes and clothes, he made the screen door spring squeal in protest and raced into the house after her.