A storm rolls in with the first cool breeze of the evening.

The heat of July traps me in my body

and forces me to strip my clothes.

Sweat trickles down my overheating

body,

but finally there is a break

in the heat.

The air is electrified,

alive with buzzing tension,

my body quivers with it.

Suddenly, the sky is lit,

lightning slashes across it

and distantly, thunder booms.

I stand at the open window of my bedroom,

stark naked and alive.

The breeze dances across my testicles,

lighting my body as the sky glows.

I curl a warm hand around myself,

rock back on my feet and tilt my head

to watch the show in the sky.

The thunder moans across it

as I moan all alone in my room.

I imagine a man emerging —

birthed from shadow and darkened clouds —

behind me.

His breath smells of rain and his touch is

electric.

The storm has arrived and plans to take me

as its own.

Lightning pierces my body and I am glowing,

just like the sky, from his energy.

His deep groans billow across the night

and make my body shudder

as the earth quakes beneath our feet.

He rains pleasure down on my very core —

each thrust igniting sparks within me.

We tumble against each other, two fronts —

one so warm and the other so cool —

until our pleasure is too great to be contained and the world is awash with our

brilliance.

When my eyes open the storm is moving on,

and the floor is wet with rain and my being.

Yet still the sky moans with our

lovemaking.