Tempani sat exhaustedly at her desk. She’d already had quite the day and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

The orgasms (and they are certainly orgasms…plural) that Tempani experiences are quite intense. Waves of pleasure flow through her, every fibre in her body alive to the heightened state of arousal.

They are not the sort of orgasm one has where they can simply go ‘that was nice’ before popping off to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

These orgasms exhaust Tempani and as she stared out of her office window at the rain she questioned whether she would have the strength to make it back home.

Despite her post-orgasmic fatigue she had coped remarkably well at the very important meeting. Indeed, the very important client and his entourage seemed pleasantly transfixed as Tempani delivered here presentation with professional aplomb.

The only time she slightly hesitated was when a raindrop still clinging to her damp hair fell. Like a horny harbinger of ecstasy it spied Tempani’s bare hand resting on the large glass conference room table.

This dirty little drop only had only one goal in mind. It could see Tempani’s finger just waiting. Were the lines in the knuckle smiling at it? Teasing it to descend faster, to fulfil its deviant destiny by sensually splashing down on to that smooth skin and bringing with it the mother of all climaxes.

Yet despite what promise this singular speck of satisfaction held it would fail in its true purpose. With Tempani’s skin in sight and pleasure only moments away she moved her hand to gesture at the screen. The raindrop splashed inconsequentially on the glass table.

Tempani turned to glance at the raindrop that lay lifeless on the table, it’s promise of pleasure unfulfilled. It was at that moment her brain decided to add some unhelpful commentary;

“Cor! Imagine what would have happened if that had hit you? Best of luck trying to show exponential growth in a line graph while having a full on orgasm”

This momentarily caused Tempani to lose her focus but she was able to regain her composure and complete the very important meeting without incident or interruption from any more perverted little raindrops.

When the meeting was over she exchanged final pleasantries with the very important client and returned to her office. Following a brief discussion with her assistant where she asked if she wouldn’t mind popping out and buying an umbrella and a new pair of tights, Tempani closed the door and collapsed in her chair thoroughly exhausted.

The company that Tempani worked for occupied the fifth floor of a modern building in Central London. The abundance of glass meant the architect was not a big fan of privacy and any passengers travelling on the train track that ran adjacent to the building would have a clear view of her.

She would often stare out across the impressive London skyline, it helped her focus but on this day her view was distorted by the rain that lashed against the glass.

The rain was heavy and the way it hit the window made Tempani believe that it was trying to break the glass to get to her. The sound of the rain splashing against the glass seemed to hiss ‘We are not finished with you’.

She moved closer to the window and stared at the droplets that formed on the glass with impatient haste. It was probably her exhaustion but Tempani thought the rain reacted to her. The rain found its journey blocked by a transparent obstacle it slipped and slithered across the pane desperate to reach her. Deciding that strength lay in numbers it grouped together forming a larger stream. Tempani dreamily traced their futile attempt with her finger.

She would write about the events of that morning when she got home in her ‘Rain Journal’. It was a book that Tempani had started when she first realised about this condition. The hope behind the journal was that it would provide some answers as to what was happening. Yet over ten years of entries and it was nothing more than an anthology of questions, frustrations and awkward encounters.

Her gift/curse/affliction (Tempani would delete as applicable depending on her mood) first revealed itself shortly after puberty. An unexpected downpour during a hockey game led to a thoroughly embarrassed Tempani, numerous raised eyebrows from her class mates and the strong suggestion to her parents from the ex-Nun head teacher that they should consider an exorcism.

Several other incidents are recorded in this journal before a two page acceptance that the rain does in fact cause orgasms (the word orgasm is underlined and highlighted).

What follows are a number of experiments and theories, some of which have proven to be useful. Perhaps the most notable is that it is just rain that causes this reaction and not water. Baths, showers, swimming pools have no sensual impact upon Tempani at all. However, a record of a day trip to Clacton-On-Sea establishes that the sea is very much a no go area. Tempani then spends a number of unnecessary pages theorising whether this means rivers as well and when she might end up in a river, concluding that this probably applies to lakes also and repeating the process.

In amongst the reminders of rain induced orgasms are pages entitled ‘Practical Tips’. Here Tempani bullets points in a variety of different coloured felt tips steps she could take to mitigate the consequence of coming into contact with rain.

Page 7 for instance is the reason why if you asked anyone who went to her school ‘Do you remember Tempani Jones?’ they would reply without hesitation ‘Oh you mean the girl who came to school wearing a poncho carrying an umbrella’.

A melancholic theme of this journal is the bleak look that a young Tempani has on living with this bizarre gift. An attractive and previously outgoing, happy-go-lucky girl slowly becomes more recluse. It is, should you require a reference, on Page 12 of her journal where she happens upon a semi-permanent solution to her troubles – Not go out.

Whilst she reluctantly accepts that her education requires leaving the house she justifies limiting social interaction with a graph, the accuracy of which may be suspect but one can at least admire the pretty colours she chose to use.

Effectively withdrawing from society has its consequence that Tempani painfully reflects upon. Her parents, still reeling from their daughter’s very public sexual awakening, may have been happy she was not sneaking off to see boys but very disappointed she would feign illness to escape a picnic arranged for Aunt Margaret’s 80th birthday.

Whilst she still maintained a core group of friends she had little desire to extend it, her theory was the less people she interacted with the less chance of witnesses of any storm based sauciness. However, even her closest friends would not often invite her to places citing the reason that they didn’t think she’d want to come, it nonetheless frustrated Tempani that she was deprived the opportunity to say no.

Withdrawn and isolated Tempani found the only suitable distraction was her education and with very little distraction she thrived. University beckoned and with it a set of new challenges.

The move from teenager to womanhood is marked in the journal with a declaration that she must live a normal life. It is a mission statement to herself that she would not hide away any longer. Despite this new found resolve she still maintained some of the usual precautions – avoiding large groups and where possible outdoor activities.

Her commitment to leading a more normal life extended to no longer resisting the advances of those who found her attractive. At school she had dismissed any possibility of having a boyfriend finding the notion to be ridiculous (with or without her affliction) but she could not deny her curiosity and desire to indulge ‘in that sort of thing’ (this is also highlighted and underlined).

Her first experience was with Tom after one boozy night at a local pub. His wish of how he wanted to end that evening was made clear before Tempani had even ordered her first rum and Coke. After a number of drinks they ended back in his room for an evening that Tempani would describe in her journal as ‘absolutely fucking terrible’.

To be fair it would be wrong to simply lay all blame at Tom’s drunken fumblings because as Tempani recognised this disappointing liaison led to a scientific discovery – Only the rain could arouse her.

Masturbation was something that Tempani never really considered doing. Why would she? Why put all that effort in if you could simply stick your head out the window and let the rain give you a mind blowing orgasm.

Despite all her ‘experiments’ Tempani had never tried out manual stimulation. Had she done so she would have quickly realised she felt no arousal whatsoever. Instead, this discovery was left to Tom.

Admittedly his technique of prodding at her like he was entering his PIN number at a cash point was not the most masterful way of doing it but it really wouldn’t have mattered. Tempani could feel nothing. She just lay there trying her best to encourage the increasingly frustrated Tom.

However no amount of rubbing would produce any sign of arousal and the faux deep breathing Tempina did to give the impression she was sexually excited started to make her seem like she was asthmatic.

“What’s a matter with you?” Tom said, the alcohol doing little to help control his emotions.

Tempani abruptly stopped that line of questioning by giving Tom a lack lustre handjob resulting in him unemotionally depositing himself over her belly. At least Tempani could put ‘Semen’ on her list of wet things that don’t cause orgasms.

After this non event Tempani spent perhaps too much time trying to make herself manually have an orgasm. Despite her technique being far more refined than Tom’s the result was the same – nothing, not the slightest hint of arousal.

She even tried sex toys but this just resulted in a one page, double sided rant in her journal that she was fifty pounds down and wasted loads of batteries.

Tempani later theorised that perhaps she was cured but the unfortunate consequence of that cure was that all sexual desire had been removed from her. Although she was only twenty she already felt she had a lifetime of orgasms and probably could live with that.

Her awkward experience with Tom happened as England entered a long spell of dry weather and the glorious sun matched her equally glorious mood. She felt free of this curse and threw herself fully back into life by attending many social events.

It was at an outdoor music festival (a previous no go event for Tempani) that she met Ethan. Their relationship blossomed slowly and whilst there was clear sexual chemistry between them Tempani was in no rush to take things to the next level.

No longer concerned with rain the journal entries changed to her theories on how she could possibly keep a man when he would not be able to sexually please her.

She mused on the possibility that a mix of blowjobs, handjobs and any other jobs she could think of would keep them more than satisfied but the problem would arise when they wished to reciprocate. Even the best lover in the world would not be able to make Tempani the slightest bit aroused and guys seem to take that personally.

Within the journal is a whole essay on the possibility of a platonic relationship. They certainly exist and Tempani was in no doubt that there were plenty of couples enjoying such companionship.

What she didn’t know is how does a relationship become platonic. Even at a young age she knew guys do not approach you in bars and say ‘Fancy coming back to my place for a nice platonic relationship’. How do you even raise it? When is it socially acceptable?

“Darling I just want you to know I am going to suck your cock but other than that our relationship is strictly platonic’.

Despite her insecure scribblings Tempani very much enjoyed the company of Ethan and they began to spend quite a lot of time together. Heavy petting on the sofa would not lead to anything more intimate than awkward silence. Ethan masking his erection wondering how to get her in the bedroom and Tempani wondering if now is the right time to say ‘Hey let’s go platonic’.

Despite the awkwardness they continued to see each other even indulging in such pursuits as jogs around the local park (something that Tempani would have normally avoided and not just because of the rain).

During these jogs there would be impromptu races which would lead to flirtatious attempts to trip each other up. As they lined up to start their next race Tempani kissed Ethan on the cheek and said ‘Catch me if you can.’ They both laughed as he chased her round the park, Tempani took a hard right into the wooded area where Ethan found her resting against a tree.

“You caught me” she said, smiling but clearly out of breath.

“What’s my prize?” Ethan replied advancing towards her.

“Come here and I’ll show you”.

Ethan approached Tempani, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her in close as they started to kiss. Above them storm clouds were forming and light drizzle fell hesitantly from the sky.

The leaves of the tree protected them from rainfall but the hissing sound it made alerted Tempani to its presence.

She looked up at the dark clouds that menacingly filled the sky. Normally she would be feeling a sense of panic at this sight, desperately looking to escape the rain or at the very least find somewhere to privately submit to the pleasure it would bring.

But now she was cured. She had no fear. As Ethan nuzzled at the nape of her neck she smirked at the clouds , a teasing smile to entice a jealous reaction from an ex-lover.

The clouds did react throwing down more rain at the kissing couple, ensuring this time it was harder so the weak barrier of leaves would provide no protection.

Drops landed on Tempani as she nibbled on Ethan’s earlobe. As the rain trickled down her cheek she began to experience something she thought lost forever. Within moments her body began to tingle, her heartbeat quickened and her breathing became shallow.

Tempani pulled Ethan into her, his arousal could be felt poking through his shorts. She grabbed his hand and put in between her legs, the dampness already seeping through her jogging bottoms.

She gripped the band of his shorts and tugged them down releasing his cock which she took in her hand and began to stroke.

“Fucking Hell Temps!” he moaned as he slightly pulled away to look at her.

She stared back at him. Tempani could feel the orgasm beginning to build, it was only a matter of time before she would be experiencing the full force. Drunk with arousal she had the presence of mind to bring Ethan along for this wild ride.

The reality, of course, was she didn’t need him. Nothing he would be doing aided her arousal, the rain had that totally covered.

Pulling down her jogging bottoms while Ethan hastily struggled with putting a condom on she purred impatiently ‘Hurry up and fuck me!’

Tempani did all she could to delay this inevitable orgasm. Ethan had to be inside when it happened otherwise she’d be experiencing the same sexual awkwardness as she did with Tom, albeit at the opposite end of the spectrum.

Tempani stifled a moan of pleasure, keeping it at the back of her throat which she only released as Ethan’s cock slid inside with ease.

Once he had entered her Tempani fully submitted to the pleasure that only the rain could provide. Pressed against the tree she wildly bucked and slammed down on Ethan’s hard cock.

Any intention for Ethan to be involved in this orgasm disappeared, Tempani was lost in the throes of it so much so that Ethan could have quite simply ejaculated followed by doing a few laps of the park and Tempani would not have even known he had gone.

When she later reflected on this liaison in her journal she would be unable to recall whether she felt Ethan’s cock inside her. She would remember from holding it in her hand that it was thick and certainly above average size but whatever it was doing as she welcomed wave after wave of blissful pleasure you would have to ask Ethan.

To be fair Tempani would make a particular point of complimenting Ethan on his athletic prowess. With her fingernails dug firmly in his shoulders and convulsing wildly in his manly grip, she was impressed he managed to stay standing throughout.

At some point when there was a small respite before the rain demanded another orgasm from Tempani, she heard Ethan moan, his buttocks thrust wildly before he nuzzled into her. She presumed this was his orgasm but any weakening of his grip was met by Tempani tightening hers. She hooked her legs round his, gripped his neck and welcomed yet another orgasm.

You see, as Tempani recognised at Page 52 of her journal, the rain controls her pleasure. It decides when it is enough and often it’s desire to cause Tempani pleasure was insatiable.

The final climatic wave dripped through her body, turning every nerve into pressure points of pleasure. Perhaps Ethan was of some use after all, she could feel his fingers on her side that caused her to roar out the final orgasm. Exhausted and spent she gently lowered herself down and rested wearily against the tree.

Despite her lack of concern throughout for Ethan he seemed to have enjoyed this unexpected frolic in the forest as he addressed his assessment to the exhausted Tempani

“Oh wow! Fuck! Wow! What the fuck just happened. Wow!”

Whilst Tempani would have loved to indulge in a debrief with Ethan she needed to get out of the rain and get dry. Another thing she had learned about the rain is she only has a post-orgasm immunity for a short period (Page 13 of the Journal – The Didn’t Towel Dry Your Hair Properly Incident)

“Let’s go” she said smiling before running back to the car as best she could with weak legs so she could get dry.

Tempani knew that after this any suggestion of a platonic relationship was off the table. Throughout her journal she would often reflect on the lessons learned with this liaison.

The first lesson was she could have a sexual relationship with a partner, it just needed to be raining when she did. What follows in the journal are a number of prints out showing the average rainfall in England as well as certain specific cities.

On average it rains 156 days and Tempani reckoned that was more than enough sex per year to keep anyone happy.

A flaw in this plan was that it never rained at a suitable frequency to make this viable. Firstly it can often rain for a full week and she did not know if her body could cope with a week’s worth of the orgasms that the rain provided.

Secondly, England had experienced more lengthier periods of dry weather. Often weather presenters would be eager to reveal a month being the driest ever on record. Whilst this suited Tempani’s health and prevented her just becoming a mess of liquid on the floor it was not great for sustaining a relationship.

For example, the storm that brought such a passionate encounter between Tempani and Ethan was a brief interlude before England was once again basked in hot dry weather.

One can forgive Ethan for wanting to experience as soon as possible what he did in those woods and Tempani could only keep him at bay for so long before a frost formed over their relationship.

This caused Tempani to revert back to the beginning of her journal and opting for a life of withdrawal and isolation.

Tempani often mused in her journal about Ethan and others. Wondering what their sex life is like with others. She questioned whether she is being fair to them. After all, a woman having wild multiple orgasms on their cock may give them a sense of achievement they have not strictly earned.

She imagined Ethan sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands after some unsatisfying love making

“Seriously love it must be you cos I once had this girl literally explode on my cock”

Yet despite these misgivings Ethan would not be the last to experience Tempani’s rain induced sex sessions. Each one recorded for posterity in her journal with the conclusion ‘I never learn my lesson.’

Tempani broke her hypnotic gaze at the rain that still relentlessly tried to pursue her through the glass. She turned to her desk where her phone was vibrating. She picked it up and saw that Danny had messaged her.

Danny was the latest to show Tempani some affection. They had met a few months earlier at a rather dull conference she was forced to attend. She regretted that the conference took place on a particularly sunny day because a wet session with Danny would have livened things up. Nevertheless they stayed in contact and had been out for some perfectly platonic dates.

Fancy going out tonight the message read.

Tempani looked back out of the window at the storm clouds that showed no sign of relenting. She scrolled through the many Weather apps she had installed which confirmed rain was forecast all night.

Absolutely!!! She replied.

Some time later Tempani Jones would write in her journal that she never learns her lesson.