July 14, 2010

Against the fence

Summertime and my recent outdoor switching have me recalling my first ever outdoor experience when I was 25. Thus began my trend to overstep the edge of decency in my quest for arousal.

It is a cool evening, the waves lapping at the shore, mimicking the sound of leather against my exposed cheeks as I grip the chain link that surrounds the private beach.

I feel the cold steel against my forehead, can smell the rust as I inhale. I hear my whispered moans, the secrets passed between two lovers on that September night, as the sting caresses me and awakens my desire with a hiss.

The fence marks the time, each slap of his belt echoed by a clang of metal, a pause, another slap and clang. Grasping the links, I feel like climbing but must stay rooted here, the sand burying my feet, forming imaginary restraints at my ankles.

We are vulnerable to discovery but in no hurry, two actors entranced with their performances under the spotlight of the moon and the crashing applause of the lake.

(Incidentally this is a photo of Moonlake. I thought it appropriate, although not the true setting of these events.)


  1. This is a masterpiece of writing.


    word verification: peelene :o

  2. Thank you, Hedone. It's such a delicious memory; it's hard to do it justice. But I will forever try.


Leave your mark.