The notion

It's not that I don't *want* to write, or don't have things to write about, or can't find the time. It's just that I haven't found both the time and the ambition and the energy to write all at the same time. I've been busy, just with life. Being an active participant in life is time consuming.

So I have the story of what happens after a week of abstaining, the story of the semi-bondage sex of the weekend, and the remembrance of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day 2004 to write about.

But alas, not today.

Quickly, though: I desperately want to be able to convey how much I love to touch S. Whether an absent-minded hand in his hair or a well-directed back scratch, a delicately brutal nipple twist or running my fingers across the pronounced arch of his foot, I love the feeling of his warm skin and bristly-soft hair under my fingers. Yesterday we had a lot of full body contact, just being as close as we could. It was very nice. Intimate, but subtly so. Satisfying, as well. I was with him late into the night, but felt the pull of my own bed strongly enough to send me home in the wee hours to wrap up in heavy blankets. Sometimes I lie there lonely and wishing for his touch, but last night I was sated and happy to remember the evening.