I never would have known my local Samson friend was so spellbound by hot women 'till we had (a repeat) restaurant lunch. As such, a troupe of high school girls traipsed in, and eventually sat adjacent to us. These were pristine, rich, white girls wearing the latest designer clothes / hairstyles. There was 6-8 of them, and they were all bubbly and giggly as they carried their sizable pocket computers like individual bars of gold. These girls were undoubtedly students at the across-the-highway private academy, and they were there at this restaurant on "lunch break" (having driven their parents' BMWs and Mercedes-Benz across the way). Likely many of them came from heady stock - CPAs, surgeons & prominent business owners, having been expectedly pampered throughout their short lives.
At the time, this friend was my Silas 3.0, and the tension he was experiencing due to the "availableness" of this troupe was impossible to miss. I remember feeling powerless and a bit annoyed but altogether grateful as well that I wasn't in his intensive heterosexual shoes.
All in all, I vividly recall him being visibly distraught as he forced himself to not glance their way. It seemingly took all his strength in order to NOT capture / captivate / become spellbound by their sexual prowess. As an aside, him wearing his work uniform likely only added to the intensity of this moment, serving as a reminder of his past, pre-conversion (Christianity) hedonism with many a similar lay.
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Saturday, (7/1) my wife and I executed our typical weekend workout at the local Y. Never before had I seen one particular mid to late 20s man in there prior. His upper body was lean and svelte, but his legs - damn his legs - were stunningly beautiful.
Stunningly beautiful legs = muscular, hairy, beautifully proportioned. Bulky thighs / calves, seamless knees / ankles. Tan flesh. Either dark or blonde (leg) hair. And they must be long, thick hairs that drape over the muscled flesh like a silk carpet.
This young man was no doubt athletic. Perhaps he was a runner or a rock climber or both. He could have been a varsity / collegiate (baseball) catcher. Anything requiring that constant crouching down that builds lower body strength and the subsequent mass. For that's where his strength lay. Lower body.
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Well over a decade ago, I showed up to sing (routine Wednesday night rehearsal) in our church choir at Lakeside Pres, and the melodic tenor (who was a new guy to me and the church in general) sitting adjacent was wearing shorts (as I was). He was around my age (late 30s at the time), and due to the stunning beauty of his long legs, I literally came close to creaming my shorts as we sang to the Lord - our austere Presbyterian tunes - over the course of that hour.
Let me repeat: these were some stunningly beautiful legs, and they were close enough for me to (accidently?) rub up against.
The owner of said legs was married (his wife too sang in the choir), and as a couple, were also new to the area. Not long after this up close legebration, they decided to move away to greener pastures which resulted in him taking his stunningly beautiful legs (as well as his incredible voice) to the Pacific Northwest. Not long after that, I stopped singing in the choir, covertly mourning my loss.
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The summer after I graduated high school (1990), I had to take College Algebra before entering into the freshman architecture school curriculum at Mississippi State University. I took this course, along with English Composition I, at Holmes Community College's then newly opened Ridgeland campus.
Upon entering the latter's classroom, I found myself sitting across from a handful of high school (Madison-Ridgeland Academy) peers (two girls and one guy), one of which was a varsity athlete (football, baseball, track) who I'd never once spoken to. It's important to know that at our high school, the boys weren't allowed to wear shorts. Hence, blue jeans were the norm.
To my delight, there was no such dress code here at community college.
"Trevor" was wearing athletic shorts during that first day of English Comp I and every day afterwards. Our class met thrice weekly for +/-90 minutes, therefore I had a front and center view of his stunningly beautiful legs each and every day we met. This entire experience served to both captivate and suffocate me simultaneously. For it both enlightened and horrified Rob as to what he was primarily attracted to in certain other men.
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Masculine sexual activity is all about thrusting (movement of the erect penis in and out of the wet vagina). There's no way around this. That thrusting is done via the lower body. The entire porn industry is built upon this animalistic movement. This beautiful movement that powerfully personifies the act of intercourse.
Interestingly enough, my Silas 2.0 masturbated by humping the couch / bed prior to ejaculating within his briefs. I'd never met another guy who did this. He refused to masturbate any other way, having "taught himself" this technique as a boy. That dry humping, of course, is a thrusting movement that's lower body executed. According to him, he only needed 60-90 seconds to climax therein via this technique (efficiency was first priority for this Samson guy - in everything).
To summarize, this lower body thrusting is decidedly heterosexual intercourse anatomical vocabulary. As such, the lower body of a man may very well equate to this visually. And that is definitely the case for me.
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To circle back to the young man my wife and I encountered this past weekend at the Y, he not only had those aforementioned stunningly beautiful legs, but he also was very polite. He and I spoke a couple of times, throughout our time there, as we crossed paths during our respective - 90-minute - strength training workouts.
But what didn't occur - in the very least - was me becoming "in bondage to the thrust" as a result. Instead, I simply acknowledged what I witnessed, and went on my way.
How did I accomplish this at this stage in my recovery?
I honestly don't know.
Yesterday, during our "Brain Changers" virtual Samson Society meeting, the word was FREEDOM, and this narrative of mine (what I've encapsulated here) was front and center. But, even having a full 24-hours to ruminate on this further, I still can't pinpoint what's specifically occurred to free me from these shackles.
Maybe it's simply that I've met my quota for stunningly beautiful legs. I can tell you that I've been so very blessed to know enough men with tree trunks - as I've described here - that perhaps I've simply leveled up as a result. It's as if that guy, "Trevor", from high school (who sat across from me for two summer months at HCC within English Comp I) has been sexual with me via the countless tree trunk brothers in Christ I've intimately (keyword) befriended since 1990.
For I wanted nothing more than to be pursued by this guy. That's what my sexual fantasies - involving him - revolved around. Him befriending me prior to us having a homosexual relationship. All throughout that summer - post high school.
Let me be more specific.
All three of my Silases have been men who I've experienced intimacy with - on a level (I would argue) - that equates to a sexual relationship.
To take that statement a step further...
Even without the exchange of bodily fluids, the mystique of their individual manhood(s) I've had the opportunity to observe / experience - up close and personal. Besides these formal Silases, there've been countless other men (mostly within the framework of Samson Society) who've provided me with similar experiences.
Each of these experiences has uncovered more and more of what I longed to know and understand about men (including my own individual, reflected manhood) back in 1990.
It's just taken a really long time to get to this point of me now knowing enough to properly level up.
Relationships take time and SO MUCH WORK. They're the exact opposite of sexual fantasy which are cheap and thereby overall worthless.
I have been so blessed by Samson Society. I realize it when I have experiences like I did this past weekend at the Y.
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