Monday, July 6, 2015

the soothing drone of my air conditioner

There are few things as sexy as making out in the ocean with someone, feeling up each other's wet bodies, being splashed every so often in the face by saltwater, boners hidden just below the water's shifting surface, whilst that same shifting surface glitters with sunlight. It's pretty much up there on any best feelings in the world list that I can think of, at least as I am able to do so right now, memory of yesterday still very fresh on my mind.

He was with the same group of friends that I sat on the beach with, a couple towels away. I was taken with his babeliness as soon as I saw him. The beach was filled with babes, gorgeous men anywhere you looked, sexual fantasies being played out each time I shifted my gaze, no matter which way your eyes went, the actors cast in hoped-for sexual escapades, fantasies imagined from behind the safety of sunglasses. 

We were swimming with friends, the two of skinny dipping. Our friends peeled off, went back to shore, the water too cold to stay in as long as we had. I was cold but I wanted to keep bobbing near this person's body as long as possible. The coldness didn't matter - it could be endured to continue to be near this person. We talked about something, I don't even know what. I just kept letting my body get closer and closer to his, thinking about the moment my skin could touch his. And it happened and it was really fucking sexy, making out in this ice cold water, lettings our dicks graze against each other underwater, the taste of the ocean in every kiss.

I got a ride back with him and his friend. A car ride, going along the shores of south Brooklyn, Verrazano Bridge looking colossally regal in the lowering sun. He came back to my house. We showered together and made out in my bed before sitting on my couch, drinking beers, and listening to Fleetwood Mac. It was a really fucking cute day.

It was a really fucking cute weekend. The 4th involved fireworks watched from some tall condo building in Williamsburg, running around full of joy, going here and there and there, eating some guy's asshole for about half an hour in the stalls at Lovegun, sexting with him until six in the morning for some reason, eggs, coffee, sunshine, life. 

I don't know what summer is, other than that it is a season when everything is warm and things are more fun. I don't know if it means more than that. I am pretty sure it does though. The promise of fun living, of a type of living that should happen all the time, tends to reveal itself in these summer months. I just want to sustain that feeling through changing weather, to hold on to this forever. And in that, the story of life, not wanting it to end, not wanting to die, wanting this time here on this planet being so happy, to extend forever. When we say we never want summer to end what we are saying is that we are terrified of dying. 

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