Eco-erotica #2

The sun is hot on my back. My hair is thick from the seawater. The stiff board under my body buoys me as I patiently wait for the next set of waves to come in.

And then I see it — the first wave starting to form in the distance. My heart starts to race and I decide to try for it, even though I can tell it is going to be one of the biggest of the afternoon.

I turn and paddle hard. The wave comes from up behind me. I feel the board start to tip forward, dropping down the face of the wave. I jump up, a little too eagerly, and catch the edge of my board. My body sucks in a big breath of air as it instinctively knows I’m going over.

I tumble and struggle not to hit the coral reef below. The leash is ripped off my ankle, which gives me more freedom to pause in the calm beneath the wave.

I surface in time to see my board cartwheeling in the wave towards the beach. It’s then I realize that the top of my bathing suit has gone with it as well. Damn, it was one of my favorites.

The second and third waves in the set are close behind, and I spend the next few minutes swimming, diving, and ducking beneath each. Finally, the calm between sets arrives.

I take a look around and survey my options — the beach is a good quarter mile swim. There are no boats or boards anywhere nearby to flag down.

Just as I’m resigning to swimming back being my only option, a sea turtle pokes his head above the surface of the water, just a few feet from me. He has a more curious expression on his face than other turtles I have seen. We look at each other for a few minutes. It’s almost as if he understands my predicament. Loneliness and disappointment come over me as he disappears beneath the water.

I turn towards shore and start paddling. But within two strokes, he re-appears, this time with the back of his shell pointed towards me — reminding me of the position a father on the playground would take as he offers his toddler a ride. Feeling the thrill of his return, I reach out gently to touch his shell, and he doesn’t move. I hook my fingers under the lip of his shell just behind his neck, and he begins to dive.

He doesn’t go deep, at least not for very long. I’m able to reach my head up for air when I need it. But I do my best to produce as little drag for him as possible. After a few minutes, he finds a rhythmic beat of his fins. I can feel the slight current generated by his forward momentum, gliding across my half naked body.

Up… down… up… down…. I go into an almost meditative state, feeling the pulse of his strokes and the current of water against my hard nipples.

I’m almost startled when his pace slows to a stop. I pull my face fully out of the water and wipe my eyes to look around. He has taken me further offshore and up the coast slightly to a small sand bar surrounded by coral out in the middle of the bay. I release my grip on his shell and climb up onto the sand. He joins me on the sand, and I feel as if a lover has taken me to their favorite bench in the park to make out. I decide to honor this gift he’s given me by enjoying my time there, before figuring out how to get back.

I recline in the sandy shallows with my knees to the sun, and my head resting on the bottom so that the water covers my ears and comes up to my cheekbones. The waves gently lap across my body and up between my legs. Since I’ve already lost the top half of my suit, I decide to abandon the bottoms as well. Without the fabric barrier, the small waves hitting my pussy make my body alive with sensation. I savor the cool breeze on my breasts, my skin baking in the sun, my hair gently flowing in the water, the water’s gentle kiss on my clit with each wave that passes.

With my ears underwater, I can hear the sound of sand being tossed in the waves and the clicking of small fish swimming amongst the coral. I also hear that same, slow rhythmic beating of the turtle’s strokes. I think about the turtle next to me, and wonder if I’m hearing his lover approaching — coming to meet him at their secret, sunny, sandy spot.

The slow strokes stop what sounds like just a few feet from my head. When no turtle splashes its way onto the sand with us, I sit up to investigate. I turn around to see an olive-skinned surfer floating nearby on his long board, shifting his gaze between me and the turtle.

“Can I take you back to shore?”

My mind takes a few moments to process his request. Who is this? Did he find my lost board? Or maybe my bathing suit? How did he find me? And where am I exactly?

Eventually, my brain and body connect again after being in what felt like an alternative universe. I place my hand on the turtle one more time to share my gratitude for the ride, and to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

I look back to the surfer and see he has turned the board and himself towards the shore, ready and waiting for me. Without words, I leave the sandy paradise and swim towards him. He watches me over his shoulder as I mount the board and kneel behind him.

He begins the long paddle back. Right… left… right… left. I find myself drifting into the meditative state again with his rhythmic strokes.

My body has never felt more alive and aroused. The sun, the salt, the heat, the cool, the water, the sand. First the otherworldly ride holding on to the hard, bumpy shell of the turtle, and now watching the toned, tanned back of a silent stranger paddling me to shore. Again, I’m almost startled when his strokes stop. He pauses to rest.

After a few moments, I crawl towards him on the board. I pause as the front of my knees touch the top of his ass. With two fingers I touch him at the base of his neck. He sits motionless as I trace slowly down his spine until I reach the top of his bathing suit. I scoop my fingers under the band of his suit, holding for a brief moment, comparing how soft this feels as compared to my hold on the turtle’s shell.

I run my fingers along underneath the band, circumnavigating his strong core, stopping when I reach the line of hair that runs south from his belly button. I reach my other hand around and untie the cord on his shorts.

I feel him slowly lean to one side and slip off the board, disappearing under the water. I look around to see if I can spot him, and am jolted when his shorts fly out of the water and splash down on the surface of his board. As I continue to wait for his naked body to surface, I lie face down on the board. Eventually, his surfer lungs can’t hold out any longer and he surfaces at the back of the board.

He pulls himself up just behind me. I open my legs so my feet are hanging off either side of the board and he pulls his wet, cold body up across my warm, dry skin — I am convinced I hear sizzling.

As he lies on my back, he begins to kiss my neck and shoulders. I can feel myself getting wet and his cock growing hard as it is pressed against my body. He slides his legs in between mine. I’m not sure whether his penis penetrated me, or my pussy pulled him in, but I can tell the intense pleasure is mutually shared.

As slowly and methodically as his paddling strokes, he thrusts into me. In… out… in… out… Slow, rhythmic, deep…. but not deep enough. I want more, and he has more to give.

I slowly push myself to my belly and open my legs further and he follows my movement. Our legs straddle the board. We shift without losing our connection until he is on his back, and I am lying on top of him with my feet dangling in the water on either side of the board. He pulls his knees up, so he can use his feet against the board to push and his hands on my hips to pull, and he works himself deeper into me.

He pulses. The ocean waves rock the board. The sun and wind tease my nipples. My mind is quiet as all I can do is to feel my body.

My waves of orgasm come in a set. He rides each one with skill and grace — knowing when to pulse hard, when to pause, and when to push deep. One… two… three.

When the calm after the orgasmic set comes, I sit up, and slowly lean to the side and slip off the board. My turn for a swim. I feel contrast of the slippery wetness of my pussy compared to the sticky wetness of the ocean.

When I surface, I see him smiling and stroking his still hard cock. I pull myself up behind him on the board and straddle my legs so I can push my breasts into his back. I reach down and borrow some of the slippery wetness from my pussy, and add it to my wetness still lingering on his cock. I stroke him as his grips the side of the board. Inspired by the day, I move slowly, rhythmically. I feel his orgasm in my hand as well as in my belly and chest as it travels up his body.

I hold him, resting my head on his back, and we watch the cum on the board slowly mix with the waves that crest the board.

When I finally release him, he shifts his body forward, and begins to paddle us back to shore.

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Two gifts from snake

On a recent trip to Colorado, I had an experience with a snake that will forever change my understanding about the true nature of the world and my place within it. The snake gave me two gifts: belief and a story. I want to preserve both the interaction that led to the first gift as well as the second gift itself.

I’ll first start with the interaction that led to the gift of belief….


After setting up the site that would be my solo home for the next 20 hours, I headed for the nearby creek to wash my hands. A snake darted out of my path and stopped about four feet away from me with its head in a sunny spot beside a tree. The snake was about the width of two pencils and about a foot long. It’s brown body had two yellow stripes that ran along it’s length.

I stopped to admire the snake and recalled the suggestion from Bill Plotkin in his book “Soul Craft” to talk with animals — if you are patient and dedicated, he says, they might just talk back.

There was part of me that read this suggestion and thought, wouldn’t it be cool if that were true? Can people really have conversations with animals? I’ve seen amazing videos (like this one) that present such compelling evidence. But I also had this strong inner skeptic: yeah right, talking to animals is just as crazy as the trees having feelings, or the rocks being “sacred.” The part of me that deeply knows the wisdom that exists in everything from soil to our cells is often drowned out by this loud, persuasive skeptic.

Here I was, in the woods, with a snake, by myself, with no chance of anyone walking by or hearing me. I felt inspired to take Plotkin’s suggestion and to talk to the snake. My one-way conversation went something like this:

“Hello snake. Thank you so much for letting me stay on your land tonight. Hey, I’m so sorry that so many humans are afraid of you. We have treated your kind so poorly. We put you in cages for entertainment or “educational” purposes.”

Then, I remembered another suggestion the book had — ask the animal to share their wisdom with you.

So I continued: “Snake, will you come to me in a dream tonight, and share your wisdom with me?”

And all the while, I’m yammering on, the snake is motionless, just staring at me.

“Snake, your species has been around for millions of years, you have so much wisdom and perspective. Surely, there is much you can teach me. Will you come to me in a dream tonight?”

Then I remembered my alone time the day before, and how I’d called in the spirit of bear who lives on the land. I can find the idea of bears sexually arousing (probably in some part due to this book), but I can find myself thinking erotically about other wild animals as well. It occurred to me to tap into the sex magic of snake.

“Snake, can I fantasize about you tonight? Give me a sign. I’ll count to ten, and if you move before I get to ten, I’ll take that as a yes. If not, I’ll take it as a no.”


The snake flicked its tongue.

I sucked in a quick break of air, and then the snake nodded.its.head.up.and.down. TWICE.

Then it slowly slithered away.

I watched it go and then felt tears well up inside. I let the tears out, along with the inner skeptic who was keeping me from having the deepest relationship with the natural world as was possible.


So that night, I stayed true to my word. I fantasized about snake.

Now, I’m not one of those people who find snakes really sexy. I like holding them, but you won’t find me at a party, scantily clad, wearing a real boa in place of a feather one. It’s just not the way I’m wired.

So as I thought about snake, while touching myself, we co-created a story — eco-erotica possibly? — that emerged when the snake’s sensuality combined with where I found the most pleasure in my body.

And this is the story….


The snake is small enough to fit in the gap between my big and second toes. As I lie on the forest floor, still barely warm, releasing the last of the day’s rays of sun, the snake slowly climbs onto my body by first entering through this tunnel between my toes. It moves up my foot, draping slightly down along the inner arch. Up over my ankle bone and diagonally across my shin, the snake feels like a smooth rope being dragged across my skin by a lover. I feel the curve its body makes as it navigates the outer edge of my knee. As it moves up my thigh, it dips down tracing a line toward my inner thigh and up my hip, just narrowly missing a caress of my outer lips. It crests over the top of my hip bone and turns sharply towards my pubic mound. Its wandering parts my hair, as if it is moving through soft grass, and it emerges into the soft pool made by my lower belly sunken between my pelvic bowl. It pauses in this bowl, waiting for the tail to catch up with the head. It rests like a twisted ribbon. I am acutely aware of its weight as my inhalation requires the slightest extra effort to compensate, and all my attention turns to feeling it rising and falling slightly with each breath I take.

Just as the resting snake begins to feel at one with my body, I feel the slightest contraction of the snake’s muscles as it begins its journey again. Streaming up the center of my belly, it turns left to synchronize the curve of its body to my breast. It glides tenderly over my collar bone and into the soft pocket beneath my neck as it turns right to cross the other collarbone and heads down and around my right breast. The snake pauses again, nestled in the small valley between my breasts. My awareness is solely focused on its cool touch on my warm skin.

I breathe into the spot where it rests between my breasts. I sigh, and it continues its visit, but even more slowly this time. It’s like the game I played as a kid — one person closes their eyes, and the other slowly tickles the inside of their arm from the wrist to the elbow. The job of the person whose eyes are closed is to say stop when the tickle gets to the middle of the elbow. But this always turns out to be incredibly hard to do… the anticipation, the feeling, the loss of sense of where your body parts are, often results in a “stop” when the tickler is still inches away from the target. The snake and I play our own version of this game. When would it get to my belly button?

The snake moves so slowly, it feels as though my torso stretches on forever. Finally, I feel the cool body cross over my belly button and start making it’s way through the soft grass on my pubic mound. And when I thought the snake couldn’t go any slower, it dives its head down, parting my lips, caressing over my clit, before reaching for the ground between my legs. The body of the snake seems to pass through my lips for a pleasurable eternity. As the snake’s tail passes across my body and onto the ground, I shudder — stirring the intense pleasure that the snake had conjured up.

As I continue to lie on the ground, my mind retraces the snakes path up and down my body remembering the softness, coolness, and weight of its being. Suddenly, I feel the flick of a snake tongue on my left shoulder. Instinctively, I know to move my arms, placing them on the ground above my head. Once I have returned to stillness, a large, dark head of a snake mounts my body from the side, just under my left breast. The pressure of this snake on my ribcage takes my breath away. My body contracts in shock and to hold the weight of this snake, which makes the first snake seem like a mere tickle.

The snake’s long body continues to scale mine. It turns its head towards my feet, slides down the side of my belly, up over my hip bone, and down along my left leg. With all of its weight along my left side, my body wants to roll towards it, spooning myself around it. Instead, I root my right side to the ground, lying solidly on the earth with my heart open to the heavens. Slowly, it slides off my foot and onto the ground, finally losing all physical contact with me. My muscles slowly release and my breathing returns to normal as I readjust to only feeling my own weight against the earth.

A quick flick of the tongue signals his return. This time, I feel the flick on my soft, outer labia. I gasp for air as the snake mounts my body again from between my legs, its slick, cool, heavy body sliding across my pussy. The initial wave of pleasure follows the snake’s head as it slowly climbs up my torso, between my breasts, and up towards my neck.

The snake’s face meets mine and it pauses to look in my eyes. It flicks it tongue a few more times, I let out a moan of pleasure, and the snake shifts towards my right shoulder and slowly proceeds down my right arm and hands that are outstretched over my head. I feel shocks of ecstacy rattle from my pussy to the tips of my fingers as the snake’s long body continues to be pulled between my legs and stretches into my outstretched arms. Finally, the tip of the snakes tail passes through my pubic hair and the absence of its weight feels as present as its body did.

My body begins to rock and undulate with pleasure, just as the snake’s body did as it navigated through the peaks and valleys of my body. I feel the wetness of my pussy along with the wetness of the forest floor as the dew from the night air begins to settle around me. By body longs to move side to side and I find myself rolling onto my belly so my heart can be closer to the earth. As my body continues to pulse and wave, I push my hands into the dirt, lifting my body off the ground and onto my hands and knees.

Coming to rest in child’s pose, I feel myself bowing in sacred reverence to the forest and her serpentine lovers. Cracking sticks and crunching leaves remind me that I am not alone in this forest clearing. I start to breath heavily, wondering what creature is going to visit me next. A man, as dark as the night has become, emerges through the trees. His hair, a bundle of snake-like dreadlocks, are loosely pulled back at the nape of his neck. He is as aroused as I am.

He approaches me slowly, resting as his knees nestle between mine on the forest floor. His hands connect with my hips and my body responds to his gravitational pull. I feel his hard pelvic bones and warm cock pressed up against me as I deeply inhale the scent of his sweat mixed with the cool night air. I arch my back, reaching my heart to the sky, inviting him inside. I exhale as I feel him slide himself inside of me.

He leans forward so his body meets mine. His hands slide from my hips up to my breasts and he lifts me up so we are both upright on our knees, our pelvic bowls nestled together and our backs arched to the black sky. One of his arms continues to cradle my breast while the other hand slides down to hold my pubic mound, my hair resting in the palm of his hand and his fingers on my clit. Our bodies begin to move in unison as he pushes himself deeper into me.

I feel him begin to howl at the moon long before I hear it. His guttural voice echoes off the trees surrounding us. I join him in the howl. Knees on the earth. Chest open to the sky. The union of the divine masculine and feminine. Offering our call of pleasure to the forest.

Our howls are slowly joined by other voices, not so far away. As we howl, the moon breaks through the clouds, illuminating more bodies intertwined throughout the clearing. Lovers weaved in various forms of pleasure and connection, all using earth as our house of prayer.

My call shifts from a howl to a crescendoing of orgasmic pleasure. As I release in ecstasy, I hear the other voices begin to do the same. A chorus of pleasure, echoing off the rocks and trees, reaching all the way to the stars and deep into the earth.

Finally our voices quiet. The dark man and I stay connected. I surrender completely with him on top of me. His weight grounds me back to the earth and I am reminded of the weight of the snake moving across my body. Eventually, I can no longer tell the place where my body stops and his starts. Or where the earth ends and skin begins. I feel his pleasure mixing with mine, and our collective pleasure circling back into the earth — our gift back to the land, the snakes, and all creatures who love this sacred forest.

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