Buck naked in the woods . . .
He’s lying sunny-side-up among a handful of faeries on a sanctuary hillside under a blue spring sky. He’s a natural looking next-door type guy, definitely not over-groomed. An amazingly thick shock of unruly black hair is splayed on the quilt beneath his head. He is not skinny. There’s a slight padding to his buttermilk-complected face, belly, and thighs that invites caress. A matching trail leads from his navel to the bushiest set of pubes I’ve ever seen - no manscaping for this one – and they sparkle as if they’re made of spun onyx.
His eyes are closed. I don’t move. I imagine he’s a little shy and it’s his first trip like me. As the pale morning sunlight warms our naked bodies, I sense a slow movement in his groin. His member slowly rolls around to one side and extends in a waking stretch. After a few minutes, fully realized, the curve of his erection veers determinedly towards the sky. It stays that way…
“Damn,” I think, “I remember just how that feels.” Hormones raging, just the sensual heat of intense sunlight on my bathing suit was enough to spur a hard-on. I think of the places where it first happened and the images and thoughts that filled my mind just then. Watching him is like watching pure potential, pure energy, pure life. No regrets, but my own energy takes different forms and has other beauties now.
I don’t know who he was. I’ve probably shared a shower or had dinner conversations with him since without knowing. That first-gathering innocence he radiated doesn’t last long.
Yet, every gathering I attend provides these moments of simple joy. A quiet voice trying out a just-written song that sounds better than anything on the radio. The sight of someone quietly journaling during the precise moment when afternoon meets evening. Mythical creatures realized, dancing fervently around a fire. The peal of a banjo ringing across the lawn. The smell of curry and sage and lentils cooking from the communal kitchen that lets you know you’re home. A quick outdoor shower after hot, urgent sex in a tent.
And sometimes I just love skipping clothes.
(to be continued...)
Read Installment 2.
No comments:
Post a Comment