When I find someone attractive, If you aren't paying attention to my briefly diverted attention, you'd miss me. I steal a glance. I download what I'm seeing into my photographic memory. Proportions... Dimensions... Gait... Quirks... It feels like tasting a sample of something new.
"What would I do to you?"
"What do you look like naked?"
Simulations of sensations and sounds swirl in my imagination.
There's so many pretty people out there. There's so little outlets. Remaining quiet, my brain constructs a grandiose daydream starring my latest specimen. By the time I lay down for bed, I have a full-length feature to masterbate to.
I pray to God, we'll never meet...I'd hate to be disappointed.
Lately, I've been experiencing a change in scenes where I can be more open about my sexuality. I have the liberty to say aloud what's on my mind. Having conversations regarding the sexy man or woman that just walked into the room, I've noticed that it stops there. No snowballing brainstorms. No deep-penetrating daydreams. That's that. Nothing more.
I am convinced,
a great source of my inspiration comes from my repression.
Think about it...
Repression is the mother of monstrosities.
On the sexual level, I've learned to limit how much I ejaculate. For myself, ejaculation (note: I didn't say orgasm) exhausts my creative libido. So, I like to wait until I have a truly great occasion to spill my seed. Denial gives me the hunger to devour thoroughly. Waiting also gives me the patience to compose elaborate sexual scenes.
The stuff interesting posts are made of.
The above art is from Zack Gold's "Milk"
It captures the passion and frustration
that ultimately fuels me...
Why would I want to leave this to dry on a rag?
Is his chest and neck worthy of my pearl ambition?