Low Dewpoints and the Swell of Desire

Right now the air is really, really dry — low dewpoint — and I’m feeling it in my shorts. There’s something about dry air that does that to me, and maybe to everybody else — don’t really know. I do know that on days like this, there’s a freshness, and vitality, and lively energy in the air that makes people say, at minimum, what a nice day it is.  What they probably really mean, though, is what a nice day it would be to spend in bed, going at it like crazed marmots.

When the air is dry, skin feels like it’s at its peak of aliveness, like the natural order of it is to be touched, caressed. I remember an evening once, when I was just entering puberty, when the air felt exactly like this and I was outside in the dark, in our back yard, and I felt so — randy, without knowing what that was — and so I took off my clothes and let the air caress me. At the time I had not yet discovered other options — did not know what to do with such desire — yet it remains one of the signature erotic events of my life. 

There’s something about the way skin feels in this weather that’s just heavenly. Your skin tingles. And when your hands glide across her body — because they are completely dry, there’s no sticking, not even the slightest resistance as you caress her, just pure electricity jumping back at you. The only moistness is exactly where you want it. This is exactly why silk feels so good — caressing her body through silk imitates caressing her body without it when the dewpoint is low. 

By contrast — think of those hot, muggy days and nights. Personally, I can’t stand being touched in that weather. I don’t care how sexy you are, my skin just seems to naturally repel anything and everything. And caressing? You can’t caress — your hand just sticks to her skin and pulls it with you when you try to move.  And when you’re in the thick of it, body to body, you’re either slipping around in a slick of sweat, or you’re stuck to her like a vinyl shower curtain. Either way, you gotta really want it.

That’s why I love air conditioning.

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About David

Prone to musing and to being prone. Father to two, writer, engineer.
This entry was posted in musings, sex and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Low Dewpoints and the Swell of Desire

  1. gammaword says:

    well I just hope you and yours get the Fourth started with a bang!

  2. gammaword says:

    Well — imagination is a powerful thing though, no? I know how that long-distance thing can be — the longing that’s so strong you can practically feel him/her touch you. So enjoy those “imaginary” caresses because maybe, at some level we don’t understand, they’re not so imaginary. And at any rate, maybe you’ll find some time to be with each other in the flesh soon? I hope so, because the universe can hold only so much desire in its circuitry…

  3. alphabetfiend says:

    Crimy! I wrote a very thoughtful poetic labored-over cooment earlier and then when I went to post it, we had gone offline and the commentb was lost. Oh well, I’ll take it as a sign and shut up already. Good night, G*Word! Hope you are well!

  4. alphabetfiend says:

    What is a cooment? I’m picturing giant candy colored ant bodies like from the childhood game, Cooties.

  5. gammaword says:

    Anticipate! Imagine! You can’t go wrong and it’s delirious doing that in this weather! Savor it all, is what I say. When you do finally see him in person — bring all of that with you. He probably feels all of that and more — this “stuff” flows across distance, at least in my experience — he probably feels it from you. Your comment reminds me of Ani DiFranco lyrics in ‘Shy’ — “Let’s not ask what next, or how, or why, I’m leaving in the morning, so let’s not be shy”. So — swing the door wide open, let him in and see what happens, right? Even souls that touch briefly are lit up.

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