Tag Archives: sleeping naked

a lament: to beg for a season's end

a bath, a book, a glass of wine. a fine end to a mostly long day.
the book? elizabeth smart’s By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept. poetric prose. love tryst. “homewrecking”, said moralistic critics of the time. swirling romance, says i. fitting for a tub.1940s classic lost for a couple of decades, then found again.
she’s describing a stretch of northern californian coastline, up into oregon, that i know well and haven’t seen for seven years. inside, my heart’s breaking a little. i long for it, but i mostly long for summer.
honeysuckle-scented nights. warm salted breezes off the shore. the feeling of sweat on the small of your back. when air’s temperature matches the warmth of your breath. the heat of the sun on as much skin as you can bare. nights warm enough to lie under a tree or lay stargazing on the beach as conversation bleeds into dawn. jacketless at 2am.
i ache for summer. Continue reading

between the sheets

throwing-sheet
i got some laundry done today, including my favourite sheets, the 250-thread count egyptian cotton ones. naturally, the bed is now immaculately dressed.
the heat wave is breaking briefly, just for tonight. it’s fallen several degrees and a breeze has been conjured for the first time in about a week, with today being the most insufferable yet–until now.
soon, i’ll have a hot bath with baby oil, and toy with myself in the tub before i crawl naked into bed.
but thanks to this slightly cool breeze wafting in off the ocean, and with any luck, completely unclad, i’ll cool down and remain a little on the chilled side all night long.
i sleep naked year-round, but it’s so much more enjoyable in the summer. i love the sensation of being naked under a single sheet on a hot night, the top sheet often completely askew, maybe a leg dangles over the side of the bed, a nipple protrudes, when a warm breeze whispers over my skin.
when it comes to that taunting breeze, nothing evokes the simple eroticism of summer for me better than sleeping naked — except fucking outdoors.
but tonight, the only option i have is that of crawling into bed alone, naked. so, without ado.
thalamus
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in case you hadn’t noticed, visuals will be a big part of this site. i intend to have a lot of erotic images posted, and many will be nudes. that said, i think porn is uninspiring, so i prefer fine art nudes or retro porn from the ’50s and beyond.
hopefully, this site will have a unique look and feel as a result. if you find images you think are suitable for The Cunting Linguist, please email them to me. thanks.