Raining Lust

Remember walking home in the rain,

Our damp shoes held in soft hands

As our feet swished through the rushing

Gutters of refreshing spring rains,

Long wet locks clung to your cheeks

And dripped in sensuous trails

Along your sodden green t-shirt,

A warm wet skin clinging smoothly

As we kicked and splashed our giggles

Beneath dark windows of the deaf.


Up the hill, our feet caressing old cobbles,

Through the darkness of your ginnell,

But we strolled in arms beyond your house

And onto the lush velvet of the common,

Spraying shards of desire from every tussock.

You swang laughter over your shoulder,

Ran headlong through the undergrowth

As the chill warmth of spring rain coursed

In delicious rivulets across your smiling face,

kissing your shining eyelids in the dark.


Beneath the oak, the one by the dipping dell

Where we’d picnicked that day we bunked off

And spent the day in the warmth of grassy hugs,

You pulled me close, ran hands sticky with rain

Tactile over my sodden jeans, kisses imploding

On storm engorged lips, as my hands traced

Shivers over moist goosebumped thighs,

Pressing the softened down with insinuating

Urgency; your moisture’s warmth an urgent

Contrast to your skin’s chilled rivulets.


Dark in the silent drumming of the moor,

Our refuge beneath the oak’s dripping arc,

Bending in echoed urgency into each other,

Fingers creating passionate folds of fabric

Whilst we etched bark patterns on your back,

A mossy imprint, a reminder of desire’s deluge,

Of the thrilling lust of underwear swept away

Beneath midnight’s pressing monsoon skies.

We walk gently home, cold wet hands warmed,

Lust clinging as close as saturated clothing.  

The End

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