morecowbell11
08-25-2004, 01:40 AM
i cry when i touch it, but not out of shame, or guilt. in fact just the opposite. i cry for the raw beauty of it. i grasp my manhood and relish the joy that one man can give himself and the inherit aesthic picture that arrises within me. a feeling of such empowerement that i behold, the knowledge that in a matter of moments i will give myself an array of emotions that are so powerful that men have killed and have been killed for them. as i ride my self induced rollercoaster, i run the gament of feelings, first is sweet anticipation. what mental painting will i delineate to help me climb to my rapturous peak. what iniquitous siren will tease and taunt my brain with her libidinous way. then there's the raw physical aspect of it. my hand is undulating on my most sensitive of areas. sweat beads on my forehead but is payed no attention, there is the rythmic sounds of flesh on flesh and muffled moans cascading throughout the room. all the while pure orgasmic exctasy is creeping up on me. then the moment arrises. the moment when all earthly processes siece to exist and time is no longer relevant. my face contorts and my muscles are spasmic. my breathing hypervents and then haults all together. out of my body comes the most potent concoction known to man. i thrust and heave it forward with tremendous force, within this serum are the blueprints to create life. i am now awash in peace and tranquility and all that is left is to throw away the sock.