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Everything Dances
December 10, 2002
I had little idea what was going on last night. My genitals felt elongated,my clitoris was miles away from my vaginal opening, and everything down there felt metallic, and maybe a little dusty. There is a concern, at my age, that things may well be getting a little dusty down there, but metallic?
It was dark, dim, and too bright all at once. Sex was new, every sensation was an utter mystery, and every desire was a notion, confused by its own existence.
We fumbled, feeling a little nauseous, feeling anti-sexy. I like my nausea with a bit of adventure, and adventure we had, when the KY ran out and the only thing left was jasmine massage oil. Erections were sporadic, and short lived, and no one remembered what an orgasm was, or how to have one. And there were body-fluids, though not the expected ones, but rather those that perhaps best remain inside the body, at least in polite company.
I’m not entirely sure what we were trying to accomplish. If it were coitus, we missed the mark. The positions were all wrong, hair caught between tangled limbs, too far away, each from the other, to make the proper contact. Each soft penis felt different, looked different (especially when my eyes were closed) though they all belonged to the same person. At least I assume so - he sensed other people, other presences in the room. I had no awareness of these visitors (participants?), though I, on reflection, would very much have liked to have made their aquaintance.
Looking back, I think we were just playing, like we so often do. Like I’m doing now. And the name of the culprit? Everything dances when you’re not looking. |
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