The Kavorka

I was standing in a hot shower today, drinking a whiskey on ice, letting my mind wander. Inevitably I ended up thinking about sex. Hmmmmseeexxxx. I know that most people enjoy it, hell I've known that for years! What I'd only recently considered was in what way people enjoy it. Why do you enjoy it? What part is the draw? Is it the power you can have over another person? The intimacy? Can you only enjoy it with someone you love or, alternatively, with someone you hate, or don't even know?

I thought about why I like it. I've had a diverse sex life in some ways. I like to try new things but am not yet into anything particularly kinky, I'm attracted to a wide variety of people and their many qualities, shapes,sexes, colors and sizes. I can enjoy sex with someone I love nearly as much as someone I don't know so well, albiet very differently. I really appreciate all the different aspects and options that can be had.  Quiet and loving, rough and crazy, in the dark or in a spotlight(hurrhurr). It's all with it's benefits.

But mostly I just love the texture of sex. I love skin and all the ways it can feel against my face or under my hands, how cold and clean in the winter. I like how it tastes on my tongue on a balmy night when all the windows are thrown open to tempt a breeze in.

The scent of said skin is also big. There's something about individual body scent and I don't mean perfumes or cologne. That rich, warm feeling you get in a quiet moment, when you bury your head in their neck, between nape and ear and you smell the life inside them, you can feel their heart against your chest and it's addicting.

I've always been pretty attracted to thick dark hair as well, I enjoyed Carlito's Way more because Al Pacino had such an amazing head of hair. You could lose your hand in it, it was so thick. I like having something to pull, something to tangle in my fist or smooth out with soft fingers.

I like the urgency, the connection, the deep soft kissing and the texture. I love the texture of it all. 

On a bicycle at night

The strange beauty of life comes to me as I ride my bike, half drunk with the stars over and around me and the moon and the earth and I feel that intense love of being. It swells my heart and I pedal harder, faster to relieve the almost painful feeling. To feel it is one thing, what to do with it is something else.

Harder and faster, my breath deepens as I attempt a tall hill. I smile at this friend I love to hate, I welcome its challenge. When I'm done I coast for a while, feeling the crisp air cool my sweaty skin, calm my panting, ruffle my hair. The bike begins to slow and I don't try for the pedals, just let it be until at last we are at a crawl, the bike and I, and together we fall sideways onto a lawn in a tangle and I just lie there, feeling the prickling grass on my back and neck below me, feeling the glow of the moon on my closed eyelids.

"Are you alright?"

There is a youngish woman standing over me, she also has a bicycle.

"I saw you fall off your bike...do you need help?"

I smile and shake my head. She considers this, then looks up at the sky. Then back to me. Another moment and without a word she's set her bike down, she's laying next to me and we stay that way on the grass, just being.

This strange beauty of life.

Snow in Texas

 Yesterday morning it was about 80 degrees and humid as all hell. I biked to work and arrived sweaty, pulling my jacket off down to the tanktop underneath. The rest of the day stayed that way, until around 4 when a gale came in with the cold and put our jackets back on our shoulders.

By 6 I was wondering if I would be able to ride my bike to meet a friend like I said I would, but they were coming from even further away and hadn't said anything about picking me up or cancelling, so out I went. 
It wasn't so bad, until I left the bike lane on Guadalupe and the wind came head first over me, nearly stopping my bike completely and making me swerve into traffic. 
I got off and walked some of the way, until I was out of the main tangle of traffic and then jumped back on and rode to Spider House.

3 hours later

It'd been raining and we'd waited it out for a while, but couldn't stay forever. I considered taking up residence at Spider House but for some reason my friend didn't think it made sense. We wiped down our seats and took off, ears freezing, backs soon pelted with hard rain, turning into sleet. We parted ways at 14th street, my friend insisting they would be ok to make it the rest of the 15-20 minutes home in this weather. As I said goodbye and turned down 14th street the wind became stronger and the sleet became hail, stinging, stinging, face tenderizing hail. I yelled and went faster. In times like these you have to put your head down and remember your one goal: get home.

6 minutes later I was there. 7 minutes later I was changed. 10 minutes later my friend called to say they'd made it in record time and were going to take a hot shower.
12 minutes later, cup of tea in hand, I hear my roommates exclaiming about the snow. I look out side and sure enough it's actual snow, big flakes in fact. The melt upon impact, the ground is not nearly cold enough to keep them, but look, it really is snowing in Austin!