Hooked up with this guy in Philadelphia for some Afternoon Delight today.
And it was really nice. In many ways.
But here's my favorite part: he had me flex for him, and he really got off on it.
As in, pose and make muscles.
No one has ever requested that of me. I always think of myself as being the 155 pound skinny kid I was in high school. And yeah, I know I'm not skinny anymore, and I get all excited when I hop on the scale and the needle goes past 190, but still...
I'd like to project my spectral self back to that skinny kid... no, not him, as he had yet to encounter rejection... rather, 22 year old me, going to gay bars for the first time, and being confronted with the fact that then, in the late Eighties, every gay man on the planet but him was going to the gym.
I'd like to go back in time and whisper in his ear, "Some day in the future, this guy is going to stop you while you're taking off your clothes, and say, "Wait! Turn around and face me. So I can see. Put on a show for me. Now flex... Yeah. Yeah! Do that! Show me the muscles in your chest! Damn! Look at the body on you."
Damn that made me happy.