Rainy Days and Thursdays
Today I saw a shirtless guy get caught in the rain. He was wearing a back-pack and Adidas shorts, and at first I thought he was a soccer player. His socks were pulled up to his calves as if there were shin guards underneath. But if he really was a soccer player he probably would have taken the shin guards off before walking home from practice. He had on a white baseball cap, backward, and he wore his shorts low on his hips. So low that when he turned around I could see his purple boxer briefs clinging to his cute little bubble butt. His body was smooth and well muscled, but not so chiseled and defined that he looked hard.
When it started to rain he didn't run for cover. He didn't even speed up. He just kept walking, letting it fall on him. He even stopped for a minute and lifted his face up to the sky like he was enjoying it. The rain came down harder and his wet torso was glistening. I could just imagine the heavy, steamy southern air out there and the way the rain smelled on his skin. Thick and moist and salty. I wanted to run outside and start licking him.
When it started to rain he didn't run for cover. He didn't even speed up. He just kept walking, letting it fall on him. He even stopped for a minute and lifted his face up to the sky like he was enjoying it. The rain came down harder and his wet torso was glistening. I could just imagine the heavy, steamy southern air out there and the way the rain smelled on his skin. Thick and moist and salty. I wanted to run outside and start licking him.