Cold drops of rain as we run,
so much for our picnic in the sun,
the grass glistens green with drops,
you giggle as you fight with flip and flop.

I grab your hand and lead you on
not to the house but to the barn,
you look at me with a sneaky grin,
I know the fun will soon begin.

The stormy breeze blows on your skin,
goosebumps rise as your dress is thin,
plastered to you and clinging wet,
I try to grab it, but you say not yet.

I am pushed onto a bail of hay,
and told I have to stay that way,
she begins to spin and to dance,
a sudden need within my pants.

A hem gripped soft and slow,
her wet white dress with neon glow,
she lifts it up and to my surprise,
nothing else on her creamy thighs.

The wet dress drops to the floor,
she dances and teases, I can stand no more,
I stand up to shed my own,
she climbs the loft, I watch and moan.

Wet clothes running puddles,
I find her and begin to cuddle,
lightening flashes and thunder booms,
but we don't plan to leave this room.