An account of my life through my writing, the arts, men and media. All things homoerotic.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
By the time I got to the beach, an onshore wind was blowing. The smell of the ocean sometimes makes my dick stir. Sycamore trees can do it too. They smell like sex to me. The other day there was a offshore breeze blowing and it was about 70 degrees at 9:00 AM. Perfect surf conditions. I rode my bike to the beach and passed several surfers getting into their wet suits. I wish that I could report that I saw some ass, but I did see a lot of flesh and some beautiful men. I love living on the coast. Driving past parked cars next to the beach with a glimpse of ass, always makes me happy. Today an appraiser came to look at our place. Very cute. Jason. He came out to my cottage and knocked on the door to ask me if I knew where the hot water heater and furnace for the main house were. I showed him the basement door and watched him go down the stairs. He had to bend down to avoid hitting his head and as he did his jeans slid down and his shirt rode up at the same time. Commando! Damn hot little crack and he was bent over for quite a while taking pictures. I think he knew he was giving me a show. MMMMmmmmmm.
Spent the day in IKEA. Even had lunch there. Cheap. I had to buy a new bed. I bought a few other accessories. A lamp and I almost bought a new table. Retrieving the bed items from the warehouse was quite an experience. The place where I'm living was foreclosed on about a month ago. The landlord did not inform me or the front tenant that this was going to happen. He acted like it was a total surprise and then we found out that he had not paid his mortgage in a year. Well, that's what happens, buddy. He has turned out to be a complete asshole. He stripped the front house of all the fixtures while the renter was in Colorado. He rented the places semi-furnished and just took back his bed.
So, I'm in IKEA and waiting in line to check out with all my shit on a flat cart and in front of me is one the cutest guys I have seen in a long time. He was wearing khaki brown board shorts, flip flops, a blue checkered short sleeve shirt and shoulder length sandy blond hair. He had it cut in a blunt cut and kept putting it behind his ears to get it out of his face. I could see a small bulge that indicated the head of his dick was uncut and when I looked up I could see that he saw that I was looking. I realized I had a very serious look on my face and I smiled slowly and he smiled back. Fuck! He was my ideal youth. Kouros. His legs, his eyes, his face, his body. I imagined it all and I fell in love in that moment.
This happened recently at the library, although I never caught his eye. Flip flops, jeans, t-shirt, short curly blond hair, about 20 to 25. He reminded me of myself years ago when I was oblivious to the stares and glances of older men. I had a female friend who told me once that she hated walking down the street with me, because of all the stares and double takes I got. I don't tell you this to brag or boast, but because I was so naive and unaware of the affect I had on people in my youth. Now, I feel invisible and would love to notice a glance or a double take. Youth is wasted on the young.
"An artist has always gotta be in the state of becoming"... Bob Dylan...
"If you advance confidently in the direction of your own dreams and endeavor to live the life which you have imagined, you will meet with a success unexpected in common hours." Henry David Thoreau. All material herein is written and copyrighted by me, unless otherwise noted. Please leave your comments. I love to hear from you. You can email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org
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