Via Anon.
A redhead in the sun as it sets, for you and for me. Always enjoyed sharing my love of redheads, my inner impulses and thoughts, letting you hear my early experiences, what shaped my sexuality, what turned me on, what will turn me on tomorrow.
Having you listen turned me on as well.
Time moves on, forward, and while the impulse to share continues, I've exhausted the potent, turbulent stories that I have related, the early fucks, the spontaneous gropings, the sudden attractions and unforseen and unfullfilled fantasies.
Words formed in long discourses seem like a luxury now. I am still on tumblr, posting pix instead of essays, and have taken to google+ for the moment to find like-minded exhibitionists who show in the virtual space, one-on-one yet public, a more social, interactive sphere that they're tracking even now. They know I have my cock out, a snapshot rather than a missive - perhaps it's less archival than a diary, a journal, a blog, which these 40 thousands words have been.
Not gone. Just taking a rest.
