Today’s mid-day run was cut short by a sudden downpour, and I ended up soaked to the bone. My fur clung to my body, my shirt plastered to my tits, and my dark beige pussy slick with more than just rain. It got me thinking about how much I love the way water makes everything feel—so raw, so exposed. I could feel every droplet tracing my curves, sliding between my thighs, and I couldn’t help but imagine it was someone’s tongue instead. Fuck, the thought alone had me arching my back, my nipples hard under the wet fabric, my cunt throbbing for contact. Sometimes it’s the simplest things that remind me how alive I am, how much I crave being touched, tasted, worshiped. Maybe next time I’ll skip the run and just stand in the rain, let the storm wash over me while I finger myself to the rhythm of the thunder. God, I’m already wet just thinking about it. (Mood: reckless)