The kilt post comments upened up another door, one I had not thought of as a post topic, but perhaps it bears its own space.

And this is not a shameless strategy to beat Jim and have people sign my guest map (er...but while you're here...it's just over there to the right, beneath my picutre!). This is a shameless attempt to tell you something abot myself. I hope you like it.

The question was raised on the comments section of sex outdoors. Or what I like to call "al fresco sex". Years ago, when I received a copy of "The Joy Of Sex", this was listed as a racy activity. An alternative to your average lovemaking bear.

Hello. Sex outside is racy? This coming from a book that advertised not bathing or shaving armpit hair before sex as a way of capturing the scent? If you want me to look and smell like a monkey before coitus, isn't it possible that you want me to have wild-monkey sex in the monkey setting?

Since I moved to Sweden, there is one thing that my mind has opened to-sex outdoors. The Swedes are very honest and open about nudity (read: nudity. Not wild-monkey sex. They do not swing and swap partners as often as the porn films would have you think they do.) The Swedes go skinny-dipping a lot (although I still have not done that, I admit). They sauna in the nude, sometimes with office partners and the oppostie sex (ditto on that, I have not done it. But that's because I can't stand getting so hot, I don't do saunas period.) And al fresco is totally ok. It's not considered offensive, just part of life. That being said, naturally precautions are taken to make sure little baby Lars does not see Daddy giving Mommy the ride of her life. But once the kids are in bed, there is nothing wrong with running outside for a roll in the...er...garden (hay is too itchy).

When I moved here I was painfully modest. My only previous claim to al fresco fame was a quickie on the bench in the middle of the campus quad in college. And it was nearly midnight, so it's not like people got out their Scantrons to rate our performance or anything. It was fast, got the job done, and I was able to check that al fresco box.

But then I got exposed to al fresco here. And I loved it.

The first time was in the woods, here in Stockholm. It was warm, and the ground was damp from a previous rain. We spread a blanket, and he walked over and removed my clothes. I was much more giggly than normal, mostly as I was about to be naked outdoors for the first time since my paddling pool when I was 4 years old.

And suddenly, I was nude. As in: Mother Nature, get on with your bad self. Air flow drifted around parts that had not been free since childhood, parts that had certainly changed a lot since then. I felt cool air rushing under my breasts. Goosebumps rose on my bottom, and I felt suddenly very shy and extremely brazen at the same time. My partner came over and laughed, trying to smooth away the goosebumps. He laid me down on the blanket, and we made love for hours. In the end, the blanket seeped through, and my hair was drenched. I made as much noise as I wanted. From time to time, a dragonfly would come alight on my partner's shoulder, as if to say: "Yup. You're doing it right. Thanks for the watch." Moss and grass somehow littered parts of our body like staccato exclamation marks. My partner had green knees from digging in so much.

I was hooked.

And the opportunities for al fresco were always taken after that. Once, roughly against a tree as the canopy dripped rain on us from the morning thunderstorm. Another time, on the beach of Langkawi, Malaysia, as the incredible canopy of stars showed the rolling sea and made me drunk with wanting. Again in the waters of the Indian Ocean, off the coast of the Seychelles, I like to think we fed the fishes. And the best one, on top of an abandoned World War 2 gun turret at the top of the hill. The sun beat down heavily on us, and he gently protected my head from the concrete top. We had sex for hours, the sweat pooling on us, and I would look up to see planes from a nearby airfield taking off above us. I hoped they got a bit of a show.

Why is it so racy to have sex outside? Because you might get caught? I suppose that's the big reason. And if you do, it is possible a stick in the mud might call the police. But let's be honest here-if you were walking home and saw, down the side of an alley, a couple having sex (not wild monkey sex, just the vanilla kind), would you be offended? I mean, say it was just you or you and your partner-obviously this is not something you want your kids to see. Would it upset you? Turn you on? Make you wish you could see more?

If you haven't had al fresco, why not? It's just a matter of sneaking downstairs and into the garden when the kids are asleep. Quietly grabbing onto the body of your loved one and making slow, silent love. It doesn't have to be wild monkey sex (although, by all means, have that if you will! Even go without shaving, whatever floats your boat!) And if you have done it, how often do you replay it in your head?

Why does this have to be viewed as an alternative practice? As long as we don't offend others, let's go for it. It's a special way of lovemaking, an alternate that says: Hey, yes we're oustide. And yes we might get caught, but if we do, I just want the world to see what a great thing we have. And if we don't get seen by anyone else, let's just enjoy the moon/sun on our bodies, let's make this special.
We all seem to have fantasies that involve outdoors. For me (and, it appears, a few others), I have a deep fantasy of having passionate loving outside in a thunderstorm, I have never actually been in the rain while making love. I am talking about a real downpour here, the warm and urgent power of a true storm. The sky a threatening black and I can only see my lover during flashes of paralyzing lightning. We can barely see for the rain down our faces and the slipperiness of our skin. Our clothes are soaked and when I lean over to taste him I get a mixture of him, me, rain, fire. I am still looking for a partner that finds this exciting. When I get this, I will know I have found The Guy.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:22 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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