30 cocks
30 cocks in the room, and nary a one for me to grab. It’s a pity. Not that there were a few that would have welcomed it, but, which ones? Best not to find out by trial and error.
I was dancing yesterday, ecstatic dance, big room full of people moving every which way, free-form expression, sometimes sensuous, sometimes wild, sometimes playful. And right in the midst of it I suddenly noticed that I loved that there were men there. Loved it! Loved them! Loved seeing them, seeing their shoulders, their backs, their butts, their legs, seeing them move and turn and jump and sway. Wanting to reach out and put my hand around a nice package just for the joy of the celebration of it. What a wonderful thing it is!
Kind of like some hard-wired primate excitement and impulse. Took me by surprise and I just kept laughing at myself for the thought of it, dancing harder for the restraint from actually doing it.
And I remembered back to the days, years ago, when I was beginning to explore these realms, and did learn to celebrate my body, their bodies, women’s bodies, men’s bodies, in every shape and form. When we did indeed dance and prance and play and hold a nice package or two or three. That it was all in celebration, not for any attempt to get anywhere or get some sex. These bodies are quite fabulous, and quite fun. Dancing miracles, they are.
Tonight a friend comes over for a massage trade. Perhaps he will let me play.