Erotophoria

When a man grabs my ass I have a responsibility to respond. I would consider it an unfair act of discompassion if I didn’t set him straight, establish a healthy male friendship, and be sure to tell him exactly where my boundaries lay.

It doesn’t matter that his unkempt, stubbly beard matches perfectly with his bed-head hair. I’m above that cute “I don’t care how I look” appeal.

If some ambiguously straight young man is startled when I say, “Oh… I wasn’t expecting that” when kneading fingers grope my buttocks while we just so happened to be sharing a hug in parting I owe it to him to say, “it’s okay. You’re fine. I was just a little surprised.”

If I tell him, “you know, can tell me if you like men - it won’t bother me one bit,” it’s because I mean it. I’m not bothered by the notion that some men like the company of other men. I would say it because I don’t want our friendship to be strained by conflicting and confusing emotions, and that an immediate and empathic confrontation is the best course of action if something like that happened.

And if he were to respond with a vague remark about still needing to understand the universe? I might ask him, “You mean you haven’t explored that side of your sexuality yet?”

“I was trying to be more subtle then that – but yeah… did you just read my mind? Can you read minds?”

I would tell him, the dear heart, I can’t read minds. But I have a responsibility, as a compassionate human being, to welcome him back into my home, in my room, sit him down on my bed and have a very serious and stern conversation with him, to prevent any further confusion.

To initiate the process I might ask him, “do you want to kiss me?”

I wouldn’t ask for my sake – surely I wouldn’t take any pleasure in such an intimate and innocent act with another human being. It would be inconceivable to hold in my mind the vivid image of his often sheepish smile, and remember how fun and expressive he could be as he danced for me in private not but moments before I made a decision to help this fledgling explore realms of pleasure.

No, if I were to press my warm body to his and gently lay him down before giving him his first understanding of yang-yang energies, melded together in heated harmony, it would be purely for his benefit.

If I touched him, grabbed him, held his rock hard pulse in my hands… in my lips… my own pleasure would be of little importance.

Even knowing that his timid touch of another man’s tenderness is his first wouldn’t arouse me. My curiosity would not be inspired. Nor would a welcoming smile spread across my face.

I’m above taking my own personal pleasure during such an important moment in a male-male friendship. I would be a servant to this beautiful young man, insuring that he knows exactly how he feels towards me, so that neither of us would be plagued by misplaced sexual attractions.

Beautiful, beautiful man – I’d do this for you, so that you can feel comfortable having a completely heterosexual, man to man, male friendship with me.

Now please, lay back and let me not take pleasure as you squirm and purr. Don’t marvel at my skillful, silent linguistics. Don’t ask me how many times I’ve had friendships as deep as this with other men before because it’s just not important.

Oh, and one more thing… please… don’t ask me why I might smile, or swoon, or blush at the mere sight of you. The thought that I might enjoy further intimate acts with you would not be the reason why I would react to your presence in that way.

Pleasant erotic dreamings,

~Virgohippy