There is something almost child like about playing in the rain to me, but it is also a primal thing as well to be under the grey skies, dancing with nature. Being outside in and of itself is merely a tease, the water beating against your skin, soaking your hair. But the real fun comes after. When you’ve gone inside and dried off.
You’re chilled so you slip under a blanket, perhaps with a partner, perhaps not, and that’s when it begins. You recall that primordial feeling of oneness and seek it again and again. Perhaps it is a cool hand wrapped around your cock, stroking, or your fingers against you clit or buried in your wet pussy. You can hear the storm raging outside and it only turns you on further. Perhaps your partner is there and you share a mind blowing kiss that blows the same storm out of proportion, sending it to the back of your mind as the focus shifts to the present. They lift your wet hair from your eyes and you see the storm in theirs, quite different from the one outside. Maybe that becomes the only storm you can see now and you focus on your pleasure, and theirs for long moments at a time, drawing it in to yourself and drawing it out to last.
Either way, the tempest of your own orgasm will eventually rush over you, maybe gentle as a spring rain or hard as a summer storm. You’ll ride it out, to the sounds of rainfall and maybe thunder (or is that only your pulse pounding in your ears?) will sound in the distance. As you settle again, calm like the eye of a storm you smile your lust satiated for the moment. And you consider going back out to play in the rain.