Pouring pleasure in a concrete cityscape

I love the rain. Which isn’t really surprising, since I live in a country famous for its hot and humid tropical summers. It is a welcome relief, it is soothing and most importantly cleansing. I feel like my disappointments are rinsed clean every time I stand in a downpour.
Rain! The very syllable runs through my being jolting me alive and melting the prudish existence that is my daily life. Every romantic association it brings: lush fields, laughing green trees, open lakes, rivers and seas...
... not where I live though. Every morning I go up to the terrace of my rickety old house to find the sun rise over a concrete jungle. Buildings, telephone towers, power-lines and the far off sounds of a train –hidden from view by more and more buildings.
Then comes the rainy season. People in the streets dancing in relief, crows drenched on a cloths-line, the streets soon waterlogged - the world around is suddenly alive! In the couple of hours the euphoria will die down and the rumbling thunder will scare people indoors.
It is then that I will climb the tall red stairs to the terrace. The drains in the terrace are clogged with the remnants of the old moss dried in the summer. There is a thin film of water below my feet and I take off my dress and lay down, my bare back and bottom touching the still warm water (the rain still trying to cool the cement floor) and the uneven ground. Bullets of rain fall on my face, my neck, my arms, the arches of my feet, my nipples, my body and I am instantly aroused by the smarting dull pain. I feel like someone is on me (man, woman who cares?) kissing, nipping, nibbling every inch of my nakedness. The rain pounds and pours harder and harder- as I feel weak by the rising pleasure in me. The thunder beats and shudders and I feel weak by its pressure. My eyes, nose, ears all throb simultaneously as I come with such fury that I feel utterly spent.
The rain still falls relentlessly. After a while I get up and put on my dress. I circle the terrace kicking the waterlogged zones, frolicking and absolutely sated.