In a Blue Moon

The sea was enchanting tonight! And, as usual, it schooled me. Because of the full moon tides, this was not a “lie back and float” visit. It was more of a “let’s tango!” kind of night.

The debris and rubbish of the tourist months had cleared out, leaving the water clear and silky – and it was almost imperceptibly cooler than it has been all summer. The tide was strong and once I made it out past the breakers, the rolling waves were righteous and bountiful! Tall and big and strong (as I like my lovers). I had to keep my wits about me in order to find that place where I could have just as easily been carried out as carried in. When you play with abundance, you’ve got to be mindful. You’ve gotta learn its dance moves. Its pulls and shimmies and rhythms so you can complement each other and nobody gets lost.

There are different parts of life to which my ruminations on abundance apply (fame, money, power and so forth), but because I am first and foremost horny, and because being immersed in the sea is a very sensual experience, I got to thinking about sex in abundance. Of course, that is one of my greatest longings at the moment since I currently am without a lover. But when you’re “tangoing” with somebody beneath the sheets (or on the kitchen table, or in a field under the stars…) there are also unspoken power plays that happen naturally – whether you’re even aware of them or not. And whether it’s your first time together or your 3001st, there are moves and cues and nuances that we are managing all the time. Who’s on top. Who initiates. Who moves on from one spot to the next. Who teases. Who bites. Who bleeds. It’s all mixed up in a delicious bubble of animal interaction. And, a bit like I described in The Freak Factor, once in a blue moon you may find a lover whose toes you need to know the flavour of. Who knows the ridges of the back of your teeth. Whose tongue longs to lap the bead of sweat running down your ass crack a millisecond before it reaches the puckers of your anus.Or even after it has.

So there I was, under the August 2012 “Blue Moon” – way past where I could stand – letting the sea lead me. Once I found that sweet spot where I could let it sway and pull me, but where I knew I wouldn’t be swept out to sea (unless I wanted to be), I turned myself eastward to face the big, bright disc in the sky with gratitude and admiration for the way it choreographed the sea’s movements for me this evening. And because all of life is poetry, I found myself leaving the sea with the radio in my head tuned to Bob Marley.

My deepest hunger – my dearest desire – is that maybe if I’m really, really lucky, my true partner in crime will reveal himself in time to swim with me at night in the sea under the next blue moon – with the sea helping to direct our own sensual moves. Someone who would want to share in the adventures and delights of the seasons and nature and sex in all its power and bounty. Could I be loved? Could you?



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