Here’s a man that cannot share his identity on the Internet, but he can share his heart, his creativity and his wonderful imagination. He can also share parts of his body that not everyone gets to see. The rest of this article is in his own words.
[Mutual male attraction[ makes one want to stand naked on a hilltop and call out to the world, I feel beautiful, I feel alive, I feel your beauty, I am yours, I understand you, I want you, touch me, taste me, delight me, as I will touch, taste, delight you.
[Ejaculation] is surely a most amazing feeling, again and again till complete, then comes that deep relaxation, a peace that when allowed to flow heals our whole body as we feel each and every muscle and sinew in our body let go and fall into deep and restorative rest and rejuvenation.
Though the qualities of feminine I adore, her touch, her voice, her nuances–I love them, but the nature of that attraction has changed. A lifelong fascination in ‘camp’, from behind a ‘hetero’ facade, bursting to join the Mardi Gras.
My life to a year ago: centre bottom left quadrant; Present, past twelve months: smack in the centre of all four quadrants, and: Ideal, what I would like (dreamed): decidedly in the top right quadrant corner. Lots of 6?s.
This evening, on television male dancers in fleeting images so graceful, a brief promotion for a new ballet, I know who you are, this delightful joy arising in me. I am mesmerized, for their beauty, and for how I see them, this immersion so sweet.
To write of it, to acknowledge with such intensity, is this not what we each seek, this affair of the male heart and soul. Beauty upon beauty.
Appearing in front of me, feelings in such subtle waves, more than appreciation, so clear in those aspects of the man I welcome, fleeting like flowers in spring, beyond longing, male union that knows who I am.
I stop momentarily, at first a glance, then longer, choosing to hold my gaze, to look and study their deep embrace, their bodies and my own responses so vivid and clear.
His hand gentle with fingers intent seeking out below his partners breast, his other holding him close resting with invited attention upon his soft lower neck, time stands still, their breath shared, naked touch so willing. Their lips join in dance, eyes closed deep in their intimacy.
I look at the hair on his chest, caressing the manly shape of his torso, how beautiful, his hand rests in front of him, I wonder how his male prowess might stand, above genitals carried at restful expectation, their movement so rhythmic.
There are autumn leaves and winding paths, fine fabrics and hidden boutiques, second hand treasures and items oriental, sandalwood fans of romance and dance, of Hepburn and Valentino and burlesque reviews, of Priscilla and Monroe, of stilettos and shop windows, of men and women with pure silk scarves, of still life models, fine lace and haute couture, tailored suits and good leather shoes, galleries, art deco and dedicated athletes, secret pools and sunset swims, perfume counters and flowers in bloom.
Of who I am these fifty years plus.
She is so beautiful, and all the pretty things she wears, while he is my beau he so captures my stare.
Who am I, just a guy.
So precious, so rare.
I’m involved, uninvited and most welcome, shhh no words need be spoken, just hear the water falling, the voyuer a friend to the experience, come join the willing confidant, the moment more intense, that secret wish uncovered, for acknowledgement, desire for recognition, sharing and show, intimate moments, moisture and mist, steam spray and sensual camaraderie.
Each shared moment, warm rains falling droplet by droplet from the shower head, splashing with lustre on clean smooth skin, radiating, tingling, exquisitely male to male.
How wonderful to see you naked right there in front of me, so luxuriously wet from head to toe, your hands upon my waist, fingertips, lips, drawing me in, how can I resist your grace and physique, what place so tender touches that so ignites, embrace, succumbe. I’m yours.
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