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Some colors have no name......

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I stepped out onto the cool damp wooden dock. In the pasty late summer moonlight, a seeming multitude of small water globules shown as tiny silver domes, the only testament to the warm summer shower that had fallen earlier that evening; exquisitely spaced, precisely positioned as if careful in their enthusiasm not to touch a neighboring droplet and thereby lose itself. I felt the cool wet domes scatter and crush and coagulate under my intrusive feet. I paused to feel the coolness of the wood on my feet; and I wondered many things; how many of the tiny, shimmering droplets there are? How does the rain know how many are just enough? Why don't they like the nearby concrete? What worlds do they contain within? I imagined each droplet as a universe; planets, stars and incredible phenomena spin and dance and whirl away centuries within. Assumed freedoms unwittingly enslaved by the physical laws within; vastness unimaginable to the beings within, yet, inconsequential to me. How is that possible? My mind, fully awake, ran now like liquid through my stone body. I traced my toe in an arc across the wood and watched as thousands of the little universe drops flowed together, conspiring to leave evidence of the act; of my being. It was done without malice, but I couldn’t but question; what violence have I had just caused in the tiny worlds within? An ancient resonance then unmasked; indeed, was given name, echoed through my soul and I gave myself away. Just then, the breeze freshened, silky and familiar......toying silently with a small stand of black eyed susans nearby; and I was then first aware of my nakedness, then by degrees, glad for it and finally reveling in it. I felt powerful, potent and wondrous in that moment; I wallowed in the feeling, savoring it, tasting its many subtle flavors, knowing it is was fleeting as the wind and as fragile as the flowers certainly dancing in my honor.

As I extended my consciousness, I noticed fireflies in the meadow to my right, hundreds, blinking and dancing out their primordial Morse code. What messages could be decoded, what ancient lessons and secrets could be learned if only I could have read their code? Meanwhile, crickets carelessly played the forgotten music of eternity in chaotic unison. The gentle summer breeze sent waves across the open meadow, as if the grasses and wildflowers were cheering for this primeval multimedia show.

I then cast my gaze down into the water at my feet, where erotic shades of silver and blue, shimmered with ancient energy and pulsed with the knowledge of other times, other places, other lovers. Tiny insects hovered over the surface, touching it cautiously, causing perfectly concentric circles to grow and then fade back into the nothingness from which they came. I peered down onto the watery, obsidian surface. The very perfection of its blackness beckoned to me. I wondered what knowledge and power might it have acquired over millions of years of washing over this world and everything on it? I longed to know this; to feel its power, sense its wisdom, taste its acquired flavors, hear its ancient music. The reflection of the full moon shattered on the glassy surface into thousands of bright spots and luminous veins; disjointed, frenzied, agitated, yet recognizable in a familiar and comforting way. The seething cone of dancing colors displayed an entirely unknown palette. Some colors have no name.

I moved further out onto the wide, solid dock. A length of yellow rope hung carelessly in the water, writhing slowly to the rhythms of the current. I smiled (but with my private face) at its cautious abandon, its tethered freedom. A few small strands of seaweed grasped at its prickly, weathered surface; apparently tired of their journey downriver, pausing here to rest. They in turn grasped casually at others of their kind drifting by. How many will elect to join their brethren at this tenuous, insecure way station? A sudden splash from out on the river jolted me out of this insignificant contemplation; but only momentarily. I turned back to the hapless rope, straining lazily at its captor with no real intention of ever gaining its freedom; I was suddenly jealous of its world; of its dissonance and disrespect. I bent down to pull it up onto the dock, the breeze freshened and once again told me, that I was naked. The shabby rope plopped down on the dock with a wet, muffled slap. Now I had killed it; it lay there dead and motionless, the water that had previously been its very lifeblood oozed onto the dock, gobbling up thousands of the tiny dewdrop universes; their secret worlds languorous within. I watched as the growing puddle reached a certain critical mass necessary to flow on its own, suddenly, boldly, without permission, down through the cracks between the boards, and back to Mother River. I quickly regretted my careless iniquity, and threw it back into the flow.

Suddenly, I was aware that she had been watching me this whole time with that curious, patient look and crooked half smile she would get when she really didn’t understand where I was or what I was thinking. She never troubled herself with such mundane details anyways, but rather contented herself with the confident knowledge of her central place in my universe. The silken skin of her face shown in the watery moonlight as a beacon to my soul; calling to me to a place where time and possessions and pursuits had no meaning, no substance, no truth.

I moved slowly down the submerged steps….then further out through the silky, warm water to where she was. I could feel her eyes on me as I approached. She was floating lazily on a red pool noodle that was arched across her back. The ends, tips of a submerged ‘U’, made crimson gray by the milky moonlight stuck obscenely out of the water at a harsh contrary angle. Behind her, the far shore, a mile distant, twinkled with lights of campfires, boathouses, lanterns and the occasional cheesy fireworks; the type sold in bundles at dusty roadside stands and detonated drunkenly for the amusement of raucous, dirty faced camp kids.

Just then, from out on the river, from another time, the ancient ones called to me. Their shrill contentions raised small bumps on my skin. I wanted to understand them; their primal language, answer them, and even join them, but how? Definitions sharpened by centuries of loss and pain unmask but slightly, the ancient reverberations now lost somewhere within my soul. I strained, but I couldn't see them, their black and white markings, so brash and linear in the full light of day, create a brilliant deception in the lazy quarter light of the late summer moon. They called again, mordant, superior; laughing at my petty existence. But of course, that isn't true I told myself, or is it?

I turned my gaze back to her, our eyes locked in an ancient lovers dance….desire, anticipation, tension, pleasure, lust and love spinning swirling and writhing together in wild frenzied abandon; a dance that had been danced countless millions of times, but each time with a different shape, rhythm, texture and meaning. An orgy of colors, lights, sounds and sensations tore recklessly through my mind disrupting memory and stopping time. I moved slowly through the water, conscious of every swirl, every eddy and every molecule coursing over my naked skin. My eyes greedily drank down this magical potation of lust and fire and bewitchment she so skillfully prepared for me. Her ancient ways had surely captured the souls of many lovers, in other places and other lifetimes; but now, for this brief moment in time, she was mine.

As I arrived at the feet of my floating goddess, I reached out and lightly grasped the calf of one extended leg….then slowly, deliberately grasped the other. Her legs....long, straight and strong, flowed with the gentle familiar curvature of all things natural and right and true. I savored the softness, the smoothness of her wet skin. I pulled her effortlessly towards me. Her inviting legs wrapped around me….accepted me. My hands slid slowly up each magnificent column…sliding across her warm wet skin….up….past her knees….up….onto her lower thighs, the gentle camber of the muscle changed and tensed as it worked to pull me into her….up….up….slowly up…and onto her hips. I paused there and noted my complete control of her body as she feverishly yielded to my will. As I entered her, a genital spark passed from her skin to mine and coursed throughout my entire body, waves on wave of blue electrical pulses seethed and sizzled on the surface of my skin….I could hear them, snapping and buzzing in orgiastic fury as I plunged into the depths of her soul.

I withdrew and abandoned this very enviable position between her beautiful legs as the parks and currents became a deafening cacophony; an overload..... too much for my taut fuse to bear. I moved around behind her as she cooed and pouted her dismay. I slid my hands around her waist and across her gently rounded stomach. As I did this, she relaxed her head back onto my shoulder. The water and the noodle conspired to hold her in just the right position. The moonlight gave a golden cast to her tousled raven hair as it tickled and teased at my cheek and ear. I buried my face in this spun copper treasure and savored the slight sultry aroma of wet hair, honey oat shampoo and sex. My lips instinctively kissed, pecked and nibbled at her ear and neck. With one hand I reached up and ran my trembling fingers through the curly damp tangles….so soft and silky. As her back arched to meet my touch, her full breasts emerged from their hiding place beneath the surface. The water rolled grudgingly off of them in silvery rivulets, leaving behind a few lone sentry droplets. The ashen moonlight shone off of the wet skin of those magnificent breasts, revealing each tiny erect hair, pore, freckle and mole in monochrome blue splendor. Her nipples were perfectly round, soft and large, and showed as dark burgundy circles. As I stared at them shamelessly, the cool air caused them to harden and rise. I watched as the dark areolas shrank and pushed up the hard, rosebud center. I rolled one between my fingers causing her to gasp breathlessly. My hands now slipped down, and gently cupped her ass. I could literally see the lobes of that incredible ass with my hands. Such an ass…..a ‘please Dear God, let me see an ass like this once before I die’ kind of ass. A prayer answered kind of ass. And I held that ass in my hands, delighting in its soft, yet firm acceptance. My rock hard cock waved in an unseen tribute beneath the surface.

She turned her head towards me, her full, womanly lips parted slightly as her tongue explored its own roseate boundaries. I pressed my lips on hers firmly. Our mouths opened and our tongues danced and darted, excited to see each other once again. I ran my tongue slowly across her smooth white teeth; I explored every nook and cranny of her delicious mouth. I savored the taste of her mouth, the silkiness of her, I inhaled her breath deeply; our breathing in complementary unison. My passion was building at a fever pace. She nibbled at my lower lip inciting my passion to new levels. The wetness overwhelmed me. My hands were racing all over her body, as if they couldn’t find exactly what they sought. I made one of them stop at her breast….I again gently rolled an erect nipple between my fingers, her back arched as her whole body shivered and spasmed with desire. The kiss grew deeper and more intense; tongues exploring depths and gauging desire. The world and all in it seemed to recede into the glory of the night. She became my world, my everything. Our mouths were locked in an ancient embrace, engaged in a primordial dance; communicating in the ancient lovers vernacular. I ran a hand down that incredible stomach and across her hairless pubic mound….pausing to note the gentle curvature, the firmness of the pubic bone below, the softness of the secret skin above. I slowly extended one finger down, and gently parted her swollen lips. My finger searched for the firm silky bud of her clitoris. She arched her back even further as my finger found its target. She moaned into my mouth and I drank the sound down like a thirsty desert traveler; and demanded more. I worked the clitoral hood back exposing her most secret treasure. My finger danced and played on her swollen organ. My finger slid down further and entered her body. The silky smooth moisture of her body differed from the watery envelope that held us. As I curled that finger ever inward, persistently upward, seeking her magical g spot, her mouth broke from my disappointed mouth. Her body arched again, and again, as she broke into waves of explosive orgasms. Moans became a torrent of screams and shouts urging me on.

As the raging storm subsided, and she relaxed back onto my chest, I felt that familiar warmth of intimacy wash over us both, our eyes locked and we became as one. Some colors still have no name, some colors never will.......

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