Is there a word in the English language that expresses rapture, lascivious explosion and sensual exploration? Wow. (Yeah...I didn't think so.) Fuck! It's 12:40a.m and I'm just home from my first "real" 3-way. (This entry *IS NOT* going to be a play by play so go find your internet porn somewhere else. Besides....I was so engulfed in the whole experience that details are nowhere as prevalent as thoughts like: soft skin, awesome lips, tenderness.)

:::deep breath:::

(Real in the sense that a year ago ended up being just Rob and I after about 5-10 minutes.)

My commment to the couple earlier in the evening of "mental note: next time Saturday Night," expressed what a good time I was having. I hope it was tri-mutual. (haha, another non-word) Both were excellent kissers--which is everything, really. I could have made out all night long and been satisfied. From "Malcolm in the Middle" to Jeremy In The Middle. hehe. A cute transition. I drank too much. lol. You'd think by now I'd know that alcohol impedes sexual performance, but I was more nervous than I thought I was going to be when I got to their place. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been, but I think it's that little kid in me that will never leave. It's the part of me that allows for such pleasure and begs for such experience. Wow. (The word keeps coming up in my head.) I'm thinking of the Frou Frou song "Shh" and the intensity of the part in the middle of the song where she says:

"I feel good all over...
"I feel good all over...
"When you're inside of..."

And she never says "Me" but the lingering and waiting for it while the music kicks in communicates the intensity without words. Oh wow...I just realized I left my CD's and lube at their place. I'd like to say it was on purpose, but truthfully, I was was in a cloud of bliss afterwards that someone could have shot me with a BB Gun and I'd would have been unphased. ((That 70's Show Reference))

((Time interlude.... After writing the above, I fell asleep on the couch for the last 4 1/2 hours. It's been an exhausting day on all levels. Physically my body is begging for the comfort of my pillows and blankets.))

What a contrast day this has been. It started out with getting home from The Factory and seeing Randy in bed with Ryan. Talk about pain, but I'm beyond tears with him now. I called Chuck, to hang out at the beach. His brand of comfort is one that would allow me to vent without being an emotional wreck. Before leaving, I walked to the top of the hill and wrote this (Perhaps it was fortelling of the wonderful way the night would end):

THOUGHTS FROM ATOP WEST BEACH
It's one-something. At the beach for the first time this year. I'm healing. Spiritual cuts bleed pieces of your soul. So I'm here at the beach hoping to reclaim some of the soul that has been draining over the past year or so.

Now...it's three hours later. Flattery of a 17 year old who thought I was 20, seawater and friendship fused to make a patch for my soul. I no longer feel the gushing of myself out into the world. I sense the changing of time in the water's unending approach and regress. Oh how warm I am waiting for the sun to set. I am a cactus. Still. Centered. I am here while the landscape changes and becomes the next season.

I feel strong because I know that I will survive and that happiness is something that exists inside of me. It isn't a place that I must physically go to and it isn't a treasure that I must find. It's in the tide pools that the children below are fascinated with. It's in the wind pushing the sailboats off into the distant horizon. It's in the sportsmanship of the men playing volleyball all day long; in their claps, their grunts, their pain. It's in a phone call from my mother showing concern without saying she's concerned. It's in watching the teenagers skim the water in their wetsuits and fall into the ocean. Dried salt in the air is okay, but not in my food. It's the things that I don't do and never try that I will be trapped by.

Sometimes boys can make the most beautiful expressions in response to an emotion that they feel. They lack the words to speak. Our bodies respond to cold by showing bumps on the skin. Involuntary responses that communicate clearly. Like the baby that cries because it's hungry, or tired or simply wants to be held. No words are necessary.

I want to be held, and I know if I'd cry someone would know--without words--to hold me.