Sexuality Happens

I was just thinking the other day, along with Q, that we were going to really miss fall in Colorado this year. Arizona doesn’t have the changing leaves, the crisp clean temperatures, the cool nights of cuddling under a blanket (we haven’t been able to sleep under the same blanket or sheet since we moved here — it’s far too hot). No hot apple cider while sitting on the front porch. No driving through the mountains, waiting for the leaves to change

This is a picture we took last year in September in Estes Park. It was when the leaves had just barely begun to change. You can see the hints of yellow, which slowly and beautifully change into reds and oranges, burnt umber and golds. The leaves are just absolutely stunning.

It’s time like these that I miss Denver so much. The leaves changing are just perfect, and this year, I won’t be there to see them. Cactuses don’t change color.

Kissing on a fall evening, with the leaves rustling, and a cool breeze in your hair, your lover in your arms.

I can’t wait till next year, when Q and I are back next fall. Sex in the fall — there just isn’t anything like it.

-Essin’ Em