A Good Bit of Water Under the Bridge

Young men have beautifully vital bodies. Mature men have the same, brushed in various ways with the gradual effects of age. Older men also have clearer perspectives, knowledge and insights not yet achieved by younger men. They are at peace with themselves and the ways of the world. From their years of experience and reflections, mature men know what is truly important in life. They have discovered happiness.

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Been There, Done That … Mature Men

Time is a thief. Like a tax, it takes something from us everyday … for some less than others. Age is a state of mind as much as a physical reality. It is a cosmic bundle of experiences and memories. It is calmer, more bitcoin talk gigamining thoughtful perspectives. It is beauty in a mature form. No law says a mature men can’t celebrate and enjoy their lives or their bodies. No rule says they can’t share themselves with others.

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A Man Celebrating His Body

George is in his seventies, an age that men have come to know themselves and their bodies. When he presented his thoughts and photographs, I saw it as an excellent opportunity to let younger guys know that even seven decades does not necessarily diminish a man’s vitality, or his appreciation for all the nuances of the male form. George gives us something comforting and inspiring in the notion of growing older.

In George’s own words:

“I was told by my mother that I was circumcised shortly after birth because my foreskin was almost sealed and I couldn’t pee properly. For so many years doctors seemed to love an excuse to circumcise. I was never told exactly what circumcision was and at senior school could never understand why my penis was so different from the other boys when I saw them in the changing room.”

“Although I am quite tall I have small hands for a male and somehow this may be reflected in the size of my flaccid penis which did not seem to grow during puberty. However it did increase greatly in size when I had an erection which to me was upright and really hard.”

“I would classify myself as bisexual and have always been fascinated with male genitals. Sites like Enlightened Male have given me the chance to see the great diversity in the penis and especially the foreskin. When you lose your foreskin at birth you have no idea what you have lost and always wish you had one. Of course the glans is very attractive and I see so many men with their foreskins rolled back when flaccid so that we see the glans.”

“There are obviously many men with a shorter flaccid penis than mine, but my girth always Continue reading

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Up Close With Edward Po … aka AragonPrime

Here is a man that I have become quite fond of in a short time. Don’t ask me why. Maybe because something comes through his personable face. Maybe because his photographs reveal an interesting man. Maybe because we have walked down some of the same roads during our decades of life. I’ll never meet him because he lives too far away. But one thing I can do is imagine the great friendship he and I might otherwise have.

Edward is an “amateur” photographer. You might think “highly skilled” photographer would be a better way to put it after looking at his stunning work.

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We bantered about the condition of our asses, mine being so much less photogenic than his. But then he’s out taking pictures while I sit on mine writing all day, which probably explains it.

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Is it the pose that makes this photograph so appealing? Is it the natural lighting Edward has captured? Those things are certainly part of it. But it’s also the the male beauty, the man at one with his body and with Mother Earth. It’s the subtle suggestion that it’s the simple things in life that count.

Here Edward is having fun experimenting with pixel manipulation. He told me his Photoshop skills are not great. Like me, he doesn’t have the patience.

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The male form in silhouette. The model: Edward Po. The mood: intoxicating … at least for those who know how to appreciate it. How many men half his age would envy his body?

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A winter day in upstate New York. A man alone in a hot tub, contemplating, so it would seem, the gift of life, captured for posterity by an “amateur” photographer. I personally would call him a thoughtful and imaginative photographer. What Edward is showing us is nudity is natural. He’s showing us that it’s okay to be in touch with your body and enjoy living in it.

During the course of our email discussions, Edward said this: “I love the capture of the play of light and shadows, as well as capturing the human form – male or female.  I use myself as model most of the time as I am available and cheap and willing to put up with a demanding photographer.”

So you may wonder why I call Edward Po an intriguing man … this photograph helps explain it. When I saw it, my imagination ran amuck. Though he probably did all of this alone, I pictured two men painting each other, then photographing the results. Continue reading

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An Aussie in His Youthful Fifties …

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.

There is something very freeing about getting older, now in my mid fifties I am so happy in this no longer young or taut body, and likewise enjoy others who are slipping toward more gracious years.

[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.

So where do I fit in? Moot point! A fresh take of the Klein Grid, you won’t be surprised. Continue reading

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An Englishman I Would Like to Know

Meet Chris. He is English and semi-retired on the East Coast of England. His greatest pleasure is a local beach which is quiet enough for him to wear very little – or nothing at all. The rest of the story is his own words.

Let me go back to the beginning. I was brought up in rural England at a time when male nudity was a taboo subject, but I was always fascinated by nudity (I guess most boys are) and got into lots of scrapes when I took off my clothes at inappropriate moments. My father believed that young boys were naturally rebellious and needed clearly defined behavioural boundaries backed up by firm discipline. The firm discipline was administered very infrequently, but when it was it took the form of a heavy leather strap applied with some force to my bare bottom. As happened when I exposed myself completely naked at my bedroom window and the lady next door was not amused. Neither was Father, who put me over the end of my bed and thrashed me – still bare after my display. After the beating he took me in his arms and held my naked body close to his until I stopped crying – and I knew that he loved me.

As an older boy we used to take family holidays in South Devon. I suppose I was twelve when my father took me to a quiet beach (Pilchards Cove) where nudists gathered. We sunbathed nude – and for the first time I saw men and women totally unfazed by their nudity, even when the men came out of the cool water with obvious erections. Somewhat to my surprise Father was unfazed too – he stripped without hesitation and stretched out naked like everyone else. I found that swimming naked gave me an erection, and encouraged by what I had already seen I walked back to where Father lay on his towel with my hard penis bouncing as I walked. By then I was well developed and it was a blatant display. He looked at me – then my erect penis – and smiled. I thought that was the best thing I’d ever done and from that moment I had no inhibitions whatever. It was his way of teaching me that there is a time and a place for everything. It was then that I noticed that he, too, had become deliciously aroused. No question where my nice cock came from – or my sexual interests!

At public school I was fortunate in having a mentor in the classical sense of the word – a young master who lived in an apartment within the school buildings.  During our long evening conversations  I became more and more relaxed as he helped me understand my developing sexuality. I felt completely at ease sitting with him on that big leather settee in front of a log fire, always dressed informally and sometimes not dressed at all.

He taught me to be proud of my body and to develop it by constant exercise in a variety of sports. I was never terribly successful at any of them, but the effect on my physique was gratifying. He taught me that the same principle applied to my sexual parts and encouraged me to masturbate every day – not to worry about not ejaculating because I soon would. That was something I really enjoyed doing – either alone or with other boys, and once I started to ejaculate found that I could do it at surprisingly short intervals! Even then I had a somewhat unusual penis – very small at rest but increasingly impressive when fully erect. I became sexually active and found that my nice penis was a mixed blessing – hugely attractive to some but somewhat intimidating to others. My intact foreskin meant that the head of my penis was exquisitely sensitive and with the over-excitement of youth I often suffered premature ejaculation – not that it was a big problem because I was soon ready to go again. My mentor taught me to retract my foreskin whenever I was naked – “let it feel the air and it’ll become less sensitive”. He was right, and gradually, in his expert hands, it ceased to be a problem.

He also taught me to obey the rules – when I was sent to him for punishment there was no ‘Mister nice guy’ but the voice of authority ordering to remove my clothes and to put myself over the arm of the settee to be caned – six and sometimes twelve strokes that left me in floods of tears and in desperate need of comfort. He provided that, too.

At the age of sixteen and encouraged by my mentor I decided that pubic hair was an encumbrance and after some hesitation, shaved. The effect was amazing. The penis that had poked somewhat tentatively from a forest of hair now stood big and proud from a campletely bare body. Even better was the sensation – my bare pubis suddenly became acutely sensitive to stroking fingers! I loved it, and there would be no going back. It wasn’t long before other areas followed – I learned to shave my bottom right to the anal margin, and loved the stream of delicious sensations that happened when I moved – or was touched in that most sensitive place. I did get a lot of ribald comments in the communal showers – not all of it kind. Some bullying too, by older boys who saw me as someone to humiliate. They took me into the woods to be stripped, mocked and beaten, but in truth I rather enjoyed it and continued to shave.

As I developed to manhood I found that a 7″ erect penis was a nice thing to have. Certainly nice to masturbate and in male nudist company something of a magnet. Some declared it perfect while others worried that they might be injured. They all wanted to touch! On balance, I decided that I was very lucky – and still do.

In adult life I yearned for recreational nudity and found it in the form of nudist clubs and resorts of one kind or another. I adored being naked with others and re-discovered the joy of swimming completely naked.  However I did find most of those places somewhat unfulfilling because of numerous rules as to what was allowed and what not.  Most of the things I wanted to do on the beach were strongly discouraged – unlike Pilchards Cove where there had been no inhibitions whatever. In the North of England, where I lived, the age of  ‘let it all hang out’ nudism had not yet dawned!

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A Look at Over Sixty-five

Now in his sixties, Richard has liberated his reflections, his perspectives and his body. Here he has chosen to share his thoughts, his biography and his physical beauty.

Born and raised in a working class neighborhood in Detroit, Richard’s father worked in the auto industry. The youngest in a large Polish,Catholic family, he is the last of the nine children that survived, five years younger than his next oldest brother.

Richard describes himself as an actor, with different parts to play as he made his way through life’s various chapters; no script and no director telling him what he was to do.

After graduating from High School, he worked several years full time and came to the realization that there was no place for him in the factory.   He went back to school (eventually full time) and got a degree in English, finding himself channeled into teaching by default.  After getting a teaching certificate and a Math minor, he landed a job in the Detroit School System and completed a Master’s degree in Middle School Mathematics, then went on to teach math in an inner city middle school for 30 years.

In his own words:

On the home front, as the youngest, I saw my parents through to the end of their lives.  All of this time, I was trying to figure out who I was as a person, spiritually and sexually.  I married and moved to Windsor, Ontario just before I was “50.”  I commuted across the border daily. It was easy because I drove the opposite way of rush hour traffic.  Easy till 911 when it became a nightmare.

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