Fucking Hurricane: Catagory 4

When it rains it pours they say. I've been sleeping with a lot of women lately. A lot of women. If the vagina was rain, I would say, I'm in the eye of a 'fucking hurricane'. Outside, watching the sky roll and curl like a fresh bruise. The wind turning me sideways, blowing me round. The rain begins, slapping me in the face, pounding my body, drenching me soaked. Running, out of breath from fear and thrill, dodging limbs and darting debris. The earth bends, the ocean lurches and seizures, levees burst. To safely come inside with barely enough time to tape up the windows. The smell of rain, while delicious, does lose its allure. Long dark days and nights, cold, wet. God, I pray for sunshine after awhile. Though like every storm, this will lift and push on.

If this apartment is rocking. I'm masterbating.