For all those poetic, masturbating wanderers.
When naked in the wilderness I feel alert, alive, full of wonder and, yes, paranoid. But paranoia vanishes with time as you transform; suddenly you're no longer separate from nature, like everything becomes part of one moment. It could be cold or warm, damp or dry; rain, even snow. The sensations change, but you still feel overwhelmed by nature, enveloped in the ecstasy, the beauty of nakedness, but often I would be clothed by night. At night I always felt more uninhibited in case the curious onlooker might stroll by. Like a deer or even a wolf I wanted to be clear from the sight of humans.
This was my time to enter the primal stage of my existence, to reach deep inside my body and my mind to pull out every craving, every latent desire that had been weighing on me like so many grand pianos tied around my neck. Often I would stand there underneath a tree, lean up against it or stand erect to let the wind blow across my buttocks and feel the warmth of my throbbing penis in my hands. There is no other feeling like it, it is at times indescribable. Fantasies arise inside the mind and leave as quickly as they had come.
The mind is one gushing river of thoughts of cunts, clitorises, arseholes, penises, nipples, breasts, legs, thighs, tongues, hands and pretty faces all pleasuring each other at once, but then they fade. The girls I fantasised about in high school, college, work: friends, lovers, colleagues, people who knew me and people who never knew my name fade and the guys too. It's me alone in the wilderness experiencing nothing more than pleasure, pure hedonic bliss as I feel the grass of the earth caress my feet, the rough bark of the tree against my buttocks and my hands carressing my penis, my chest and my ass growing tighter with each stroke.
All of these breathing, living things in unison with me as I push myself further over the mountain of orgasm, feel the tyranny of so many thoughts like cannon balls shooting out from every orifice of my body. feel the sky, the stars and every woodland creature in silence until we scream in pleasure in the night as the land and air echo my orgasm that arises like a raging storm, yet finishes as quietly as the humming bird, all becomes still, until my penis rises once more with the sun.