Friday Morning

My interest in a self-documenting mode of sexuality leads me to share this. The postings of the horny and exhibitionistic women (and men) on line that interrogate the meaning of interactive sex, alone yet public and anonymous, both drives me to distraction and excites me; I post my favorite and the most beautiful examples in the last months.

I wonder how the virtual thrill of doing it out in the open, for hundreds of partners, yet remaining alone and safe... or at least isolated... conflates and confounds my normal responses to them, and opens up a desire within my secret heart to do the same, a simple exhibitionistic and narcisistic display of cock and cum.

Of desire, of vulnerability.

Of lust and the public spectacle of that release. As a spiritual embracing of my thrill over you watching me. To know your eyes are there, yet not feel the judging gaze of the next few seconds afterwards, of the ticking clock, of the ringing doorbell. Of the mail that goes unanswered. Or the unwashed dish.