Summertime
What is it about the warm, breezy summer nights that makes me unreasonably randy? The days get longer and hotter, the humidity rises, and I'm constantly thinking of skin on skin.
Hot nights seem made for such things. The delicate scent of warm male flesh, the salt taste of it on my tongue and teeth. The sensation of arms wrapped around, bodies so close in the darkness that you might as well be blind, but you can feel everything.
What is it about clean, summer sweat that makes it feel so erotic? Feeling it trickle down the small of my back in a hot and crowded club, pressing a cold rum and coke dripping with condensation against my cheek, I'm reminded all over again how much we're all just animals at heart. How little our civilized selves and our well evolved brains have to do with our deepest, strongest longings.
Hot nights seem made for such things. The delicate scent of warm male flesh, the salt taste of it on my tongue and teeth. The sensation of arms wrapped around, bodies so close in the darkness that you might as well be blind, but you can feel everything.
What is it about clean, summer sweat that makes it feel so erotic? Feeling it trickle down the small of my back in a hot and crowded club, pressing a cold rum and coke dripping with condensation against my cheek, I'm reminded all over again how much we're all just animals at heart. How little our civilized selves and our well evolved brains have to do with our deepest, strongest longings.