September 2003 (Before DF)
Last Friday night we came home from dinner. The moon was full and straight up in the sky. We thought it was getting cooler and started off with just in case clothes. I wore a sweat jacket and she had a thin summer dress to cover her legs and a zip-up sweat jacket. We figured if one of the neighbors came driving by, I could move behind her and if they stopped we could hold a conversation. We wore sensible footwear for a desert trek. I live in the foothills of a local mountain range. There are trails and the neighborhood dirt roads, about a half of a mile to the trailhead. This may be the last warm full moon that we have this year.
After walking through the neighborhood and up the street, we crossed over a patch of desert and onto a road that goes on up into the mountains and hills. This range at the base is about 2700 feet and rises to just over 4000, so it’s nothing huge. There are wonderful pristine desert valleys and massive cliffs with views for many miles around. After a short climb, I noticed a pillar for a driveway of a lot that someone is trying to sell. I decided to park my jacket there and continue more completely nude. The exertion of the climb had shown me I would be comfortable. My blood was moving, my movement warming my body. We went on up to a gate and went through. We then climbed up the pass.
That gorgeous moon lit everything. We had no need for a flashlight in the desert of rocks and critters. We could see details for a mile or two around, almost like daylight, but the full moon desert at night is with that quality of a sort of black and white TV look. We got another quarter mile up the road and my girlfriend decided that it was strip off the jacket time and left it on a large rock. There were numerous pockets of heat and cold throughout our journey. The cool air flows like rivers and streams down the side of the mountains and rock faces retain the heat of the day, which had been in the high 90’s F. Walkers wouldn’t normally notice this, but seeing with one’s skin makes it quite evident.
As we got to the crest of a knoll, we looked down through the valley and then the city lights spread out for many miles below us. I held her in my arms and caressed her. I slowly lifted that damn dress out of the way. It came off of her in time. It was romantic and touching bodies make it right.
I kept the dress after that. It was like wearing a scarf on my shoulders.
We went on back down, often arm and arm, and hand in hand other times, the width of the trail determining our cuddling. The silence was calming. Only the crunch of the sand grinding under our shoes was heard. Standing still brought an absolute stillness. With nearly no breeze, there are still scents in the air, the familiar brush, a sprinkling of dust, unmistakable aromas that tell us that we are home.
We stopped when we heard deer hooves on some nearby rocks. We had remained quiet for a while, standing still and making out, delirious in our own little world of romance. The deer was probably startled. We picked up our sweat-jackets on the way back and put them on, as it was getting to be cooler. We marched on into the night.
We decided to take the other route back. This one goes through the neighborhood and is about two miles extra. We were more likely to be discovered on this road and neither of us had our bottoms covered. It just seemed right that if anyone asked we would admit we were out walking and had no pants. It is easy to push the front of a sweat jacket, hands in the pockets, down over genitals. There is a sense of freedom in the area residents and these would most likely be the ones returning from the bars late at night. There was ultimately no one out driving home this night. As we got closer to the house, I began to jog home. She loves to run and immediately joined my joy and exuberance. Jackets in hand, it felt great.
We woke up sore. My inner thighs were chapped. We had hiked and jogged over several miles through these hills, taking two or three hours, in the middle of the night.
The Free Range Naturist 