Suddenly and unexpectedly the rain began to fall. A great torrential downpour to mirror the stormy passion that was muddling around inside Trixie’s supple body. James stood there, calm and stoical, as the incredibly wet rain made his ruffled white pirate shirt seethrough so that pecs and stuff. “Trixie?” he said. “My darling. Let’s make love to each other in (and despite) this rain.” James pulled her towards him and the wet raindrops mingled with her tears of joy and also of being a bit surprised about the unexpected kissing, as she swirled her tongue rhythmically and professionally around the bottoms of his pearly white teeth and the roof of his mouth.
After they were done Frenching, they got back on their horses (as mentioned previously, James was riding a white stallion with a mane that was as white as the snow and Trixie was riding a mare with brown splotches) and rode very quickly through a meadow, each consumed by their own steamy thoughts about what had happened (Frenching). It was still raining.