Erotic innocence

She has always loved spontaneity. The thrill of surprising someone and the way adventure stirs the senses and her eros. So that summer, fresh out of university exams, she sent him a message on a Friday morning:

"Pack something light. I’ll meet you at the train station at 3pm."

No details. Just a pulse of excitement behind her words.

He was already there when she arrived, standing near the entrance, curious and calm.

"Let’s go," she said, grabbing his hand. "Our train leaves in 15 minutes."

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Somewhere hot," she smiled.

When he saw their destination, a grin spread across his face. The seaside- just the two of them. This would be their second trip together—almost a year into their relationship.

After a long ride and something small to eat at a local pub, they wandered down to the beach. It was evening now and the air carried a chill whilst the sky was slipping into blue-grey.

"Do we have a place to stay tonight?" he asked.

"Not yet. We’ll figure it out." That was her—always trusting the unfolding, always hoping life would catch her.

And life did.

As they walked hand in hand along the shore, they came to a quiet little port, boats swaying gently in the water. The moon was rising and he was telling her about The Power of Now, a book he was reading at the time—how tasting the present moment was the way to real peace and aliveness. She listened, enchanted not just by his words, but by him. He fascinated her. His depth, his quiet confidence. His mind and his body.

He was her first real relationship. The first man she let in—mind, heart, and body. She had waited, waited for someone who saw her. Who met her in thought, heart and soul before touching her skin. And it was him. He studied IT and read books on spirituality. He was intelligent, a free spirit and he had depth- a hippy who knew how to programme :D. His dark, curious eyes held galaxies. And his hair… long, soft, unforgettable.

"I know where we’re sleeping tonight," she said, a little spark in her voice. Then, looking around, she jumped onto one of the docked boats.

"Are you serious?" he laughed, part stunned, part aroused.

The first two boats were locked. The third one wasn’t. Small, but clean.... A bed. Tight, but just enough space for two people who wanted nothing more than to be close.

They curled into each other, every part of them brushing skin to skin. It was warm. And the thrill of being somewhere they weren’t allowed to only added to the heat between them. That night became a memory burned into her body. They didn’t sleep, they couldn’t…. there was too much to feel, too much to explore. Each breath, every glance—it all shimmered with unspoken hunger.

In the morning, sunlight spilled through the little cabin window, gently kissing their bare skin. They smiled, glowing and hey left quietly before anyone would notice. But something in both of them had changed. They were more open now, more connected to themselves and to each other, more alive.

After breakfast, they found a quiet and private spot on the beach, away from people. He lay with his head in her lap, soft and still. She gazed down at him, soaking in his beauty. There was something both masculine and delicately feminine about his features that stirred her deeply.

She stroked his face slowly, reverently, her fingers dancing through his hair. The more she touched, the more the energy between them began to build—not urgent, not rushed, just rising gently like warm water in a bath. He didn’t say a word, he just breathed. He shifted slightly, letting his toes dig into the sand, his fingers trailing the earth. She rocked her hips slowly, in rhythm with the waves behind them.

Then she reached for a single blade of grass.

With a teasing smile, she brushed it gently across his face. Over his cheek… his jaw… his lips...toward his ear. A moan escaped his lips, that soft, involuntary sound. The kind that only comes when someone is completely surrendered.

She watched him closely, teasing his ear with the tip of the grass. Slow, slow circles and strokes, brushing the outside and inside of his ear. The sensation, amplified by his breath became almost unbearable. It felt as if the grass itself was making love to him.

They were fully clothed, there was no goal. Just presence and an undeniably powerful energy. Just two bodies meeting at the edge of pure sensation.

They stayed there for nearly an hour. In silence, in ecstasy, in the delicious in-between. Letting pleasure build, then soften, then build again. Riding that wave of erotic energy that moves not from friction—but from attunement. From deep, slow, intentional touch and connection.

Later, they left the beach glowing. Blissful and changed. They stopped at the first hotel they could find, craving a bed—not for more play, but for rest. For the sweetness of coming down together.

She would think of that day often.

The boats swaying in the harbour.

The heat of his skin in the morning light.

The way the grass danced across his ear like it knew exactly what it was doing.

And she would write it all down one day.

For someone like you to read.

To remind you that eros lives everywhere.

In the meeting of skin and sun.

Of fingers and hair.

Of trust and breath.

Of grass and an ear.

And that sometimes, the most orgasmic experiences have nothing to do with what we’ve been taught to call s*x.

They live in presence.

In surprise.

In the brave surrender to the moment.

In choosing to follow pleasure when it whispers:

Jump on the boat.

With love and a wild heart,

Rosie x