The Unliving

We are the unliving
Unliving our lives
Not wanting the life we live
Doing nothing to change it
Doing nothing to break the cycle
Dragging ourselves through the day
Afraid to ask for help
Afraid to tell the truth
Fear is our constant companion
Small most days, but constant
It dictates our every word
It dictates our every decision
This small worm, an infection making us the unliving
We have to take the medicine to cure this infection
We have to take the medicine that will make us brave
That medicine is called love
It’s a powerful medicine
But it’s hard for us to swallow
We don’t think that we deserve it
We fear it’s not true
We fear
Take your medicine
Share your medicine
Receive the medicine you are given
There is an abundant supply in every breath
Encourage others to take their medicine We can not live this life in fear
This world can not live this life in fear
Love is not sex
Sex is not love
We get those confused
Love comes from the heart
Love is received by the heart
It’s time to stop this unliving
It’s time just stop this unloving
For all of us
It’s time for all of us to live our lives
It’s  time for all of us to love our lives

Suds and Sex

We heard about it through a social group we belong to, it was supposed to be fun, exciting and a chance to do something with a bunch of other people you would normally reserve for a quiet night at home, surrounded by candles and soft music and maybe an enticing book. Wear something you don’t mind getting ruined they said, maybe something you wouldn’t mind getting wet, and bring a change of clothes. We were keyed up, thrilled at the prospect of the unknown. We were going to a Foam party, the idea being that while folks danced to a DJ under club lights and the flow of groovy and upbeat dance mixes as foam is pumped out across the dance floor. The thought left us with intense curiosity and a sudden wonderment.

We arrived at the club, the music was awesome, and the urge to dance was immediate. The bar was full of people trying to swallow the courage to let loose and lose their inhibitions. And the DJ danced in place in front of a giant screen playing a light show in beat with the music she spun. The place seemed to fill steadily with sexy people, a myriad of bold sexy energy and people unconcerned with what others wore or how they conducted themselves on the dance floor. We allowed the music to creep into our bodies, accepting its control over our movements and permitting its suggestive melodies to flow like water over our minds.

There were couples older than us whom shuffled across the floor in the same style they’d learned in gym class as kids and those younger than us that danced fearlessly. Some moved as though they’d been shackled by their own reservations and others who appeared to be so off beat that it actually worked in some weird way. We said hi to some old friends and met some new ones, watched as moral lubrication washed through the crowd. Then the word spread, the foam flowed on the other dance floor and we had to see.

We navigated through dark hallways to the other dance floor and as we rounded the corner we were in awe, never have I seen such a site that seemed to cause the logistical side of my brain to crash, like that screen that flashes across our computer that tells us there has been an internal failure I couldn’t make sense of it and I must have looked stunned. There in front of us was a mountain of foam, billions of tiny little bubbles flowing back and forth across the dance floor, clouds of the same bubbles floating by us as we watched the colored lights filling the little suds with purple, pink and blue hues, the music and heavy bass seemed to fill our bodies as the foam began to envelope us. The machine that hung from the center of the room that pumped out the bubbles filled the dance floor from floor six feet above our heads.

I felt like a child, I wanted to run and jump and dive through the foam, it was so light that you couldn’t grab it and when you tried the little amount of current your movements made sent great amounts of the foam floating away. We were carried into the sudsy mass by inquisitiveness and held there by stronger feelings that we were doing something naughty and allowed ourselves to be enveloped by it completely. We held onto each other, but could not see one another, our skin became slippery and our bodies writhed and danced as our senses were overwhelmed and set free. Before long we were moving against others we could not see, sliding passed foreign arms and legs, people touching each other, blinded by the foam. It didn’t seem to matter what we looked like, what color we were, what race, what our orientation was, we were all kids dancing and splashing through a shower of sex and sensuality that seemed to celebrate all the things we had been taught was wrong, and we soaked it up and enjoyed every bit of it.

Heaven by Firelight

As I lay there on the floor in front of the fire place, with the ethereal sounds of Blackmill and Trentmoller saturating the air like a soft mist, I stare up at her. She is lying face down on the bench looking back at me, the afterglow showing in the reflections of the firelight in her dark, inviting eyes. There is just a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips, her right arm is draped down allowing her fingers to trace my ribs and caress my chest. As her soft, delicate fingers wander across my naked body, I close my eyes and remember moments earlier when my large calloused hands glided across her hips and thighs and back, massaging coconut oil into her pale, supple skin.

The smell of cinder and vanilla from the candles waft around us, I pull myself up and kiss her on the lips again, the taste of dark, deliciously thick honey transfer’s to my tongue and I allow it to dance there for a moment, my senses are raw and relaxed. I look up at her and her black hair has fallen across the side of her cheek, it sticks there in the sweat, only one eye, the corner of her lips and her nose peeking out from the side of the bench, I envision what the early sailors must have pictured in their dreams at night under the stars out on the open sea, when they imagined mermaids, bare chested and wet skin glimmering from ocean spray, peering out from the serf at them through the moonlight, how fantastic, how beautiful and surreal.

How lucky am I wonder, nothing else matters in that moment, just the two of us, lying naked, the heat of our bodies palpable and radiant. The aroma of honey, and coconut, it is heaven by firelight.

Falling

Say, Please.

Please.

Say, Pretty please.

Pretty please.

Say, Honey, I love you so much.

You’re the most beautiful girl in the world and

my life is meaningless without you.

Honey, I love you so much.

You’re the most beautiful girl in the world and

my life is meaningless without you.

Okay, she smiled, okay, and

slipped her pink panties slowly

past her hips and then

dropped them off the side of the bed

carefully,

so she could find them

in the morning.

Copyright Tim D.

The Naked Truth Part Three (3)

This is the third excerpt from my “The Naked Truth”. Read the first two parts first if you’ve not done so. It’ll make more sense…well maybe…ha!

I emailed the professor and she responded, she wanted to meet up so I could show her…just settle down it wasn’t like that, I was gonna show her I wasn’t a homeless pervert. We met and she seemed nice, she looked like a college art teacher, complete with the beaded eyeglass string around her neck, the homemade floor length skirt and the smell of Patchouli oil emanating from her. She invited me to model for her the following week and said it’d pay $24 bucks and hour. She went over the rules with me then, the usual stuff, no talking between the model and the students, the students aren’t allowed to have cameras or cel-phones out in class and if you are a guy you aren’t allowed to have a hard-on…whoa! What? Wait a minute, I know I am not still in junior high but there are some things that just aren’t in our control as a guy. You know, like saying things to our wives we know we shouldn’t say but don’t realize we are saying them until they have left our dumb ass mouths, or trying not to spell your name in the snow after you’ve been drinking because otherwise there would really be no goddamn reason for sitting in that little frozen ice shack in the middle of some big fucking lake all day.

I took that job, and they even gave me a free parking space. When I showed up the first night I had my bag with sandals, and a robe. The college is an old college and the art studio looked like one of those depicted in the classical paintings. It had high vaulted ceilings with ornate trim and huge chandeliers. Darkly stained Oak wood everywhere and the models place was on a stage at one end of the room. On the stage there sat a bar stool, an old wood and leather chair; the stuffing of which was protruding from the bottom, and an even much older fabric chaise lounge. Just as I was trying to decide which might be safest from ass sweat and other congealed substances the professor offered me a fresh sheet, I was elated to say the least. Then she pointed to a door in the far corner of the room and stated that is where I would undress and prepare. Now up until this point I’ve never really needed any preparation for getting undressed, but apparently it is a major figure modeling faux pas to take off your street clothes in front of art students, unless I had supposed I was getting dollar tips and conducting lap dances…yeah, wasn’t gonna happen. When I opened the door I realized it wasn’t much of a dressing room, in fact it was actually a handicap elevator closet, it had a single strung up light bulb and standing there I could see down through another open door and into another classroom. This was fantastic I thought. I had a wooden stool to sit on and a nail to hang my clothes from and the draft coming up from down below was enough to chaff me…down below, not to mention the draft of air was cold and this caused the King to retreat with all his compadres, I damn near had to dig him out of my stomach, this would not be a good first impression.

I could hear the professor instructing the class as to what to concentrate on for their initial painting, I’ve got to be honest I was pretty nervous, so I tried to look aloof as I began setting myself up, and as I dropped my robe and bent over to push it aside I hear…“this is our model Tracy for the evening, thank you Tracy”, a silence grew loud over the students as I realized I’d just given every young student in the classroom a perfect view of the full moon. Chuckles ensued and I tried desperately to gain composure before turning round. I just stood there trying to picture some Greek statue in my head so as to emulate it for a pose, so I picked the famous statue of David. Everybody knows that statue right? You can picture it, chiseled abs, sculpted arms and shoulders; yeah I didn’t exactly pull that one off; though I had both arms I also had 30 years on the guy and it was the end of summer so I looked like one of those pigs that are half black and half pink; I had the road crew farmers tan from hell.

to be cont…

She

Do you like my body?

she whispered

as I lay there,

shaking with joy.

 

I need it now,

I answered.

Like air or water or food.

I cannot live without it.

 

Our lives together

were rosy, warm and sensuous,

like a love song that

played for a year non-stop.

 

Copyright Tim D.