Alone with nature

It happened once at a tantric festival. We were at a summer camp, living in tents far from any cities. We had a lot of cool practices, and we allowed ourselves to be naked when we wanted. One day I swam alone—completely naked—to a small island in the river. I was all alone, walking on sandy hills covered with grass, eating wild apricots that I found there, shaking off only a little sand and a few ants. The place, the weather, and my mood were so peaceful, quiet, beautiful, and cozy. It was warm, but not hot. There was a light breeze. I couldn’t hear anything but the soft rustling of grass and leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a stork was singing a slow, melancholic song. And I thought: I am so happy to be here. I felt part of this place. I felt every cell of my body alive. And I decided to make an act of love with this place. I began to touch myself, focusing on what I saw and felt on my skin—the sand, the wind caressing me, the touch of warm, almost hot air. I lay there, feeling the hot sand, the smell of the earth, the grass, and everything around me. And then I had a deep, beautiful orgasm. I stayed there for a while longer, just enjoying this moment of my life. Then I said goodbye and swam back to my unusual companions.