Sexual Intrigue: In Prurient Pursuit of the... Elusive

[+ SimplyAdam]

Hello Gentlemen -

 

Aside from porn-fueled fantasies and escort hires - or visuals from conquests past - I'm curious to know what sexually intrigues you all? What makes you pause out of apprehensiveness then - perhaps - pursue? The tap of a foot under a bathroom stall? The guy you bump into in the office coffee room? Initiating a wide-eyed teenager into manhood? Something seen as subversive but that is, in reality, innocuous.

 

In 2013 I went on a sauna spree - obsessed with the "what if," and captivated by the "not getting" and, definitely, the "not knowing." From Chicago to San Fran to New York to Kathmandu (the final was a flop, until a new preoccupation with ayurveda massage's possibilities ensued).

 

Below is an excerpt from a blog entry I recently wrote about one pursual that still makes my prick pulse with remembered anticipation. Feel free to jerk off to it (and read more at http://www.simplyadam.com/blog).

 

Currently, I'm still compelled by massages that could possibly - but unlikely - go in any direction. The slight graze of the balls. The focus on the glutes. You know the scenario. Oh, yes - and telling professionals (recently an accountant, an insurance agent, and a maintenance man) how I make my living "taking care of men" and just leaving that door... open. (It worked with the maintenance man - face fucked, then off to the gym, then came back to installed mirrors thinking, "we should have put those up prior.")

 

Do share!

 

"June, 2013 – San Francisco

 

A lover of saunas and temperature extremes, and with a spanking passion for anything that smacks of anonymous sexual ambiguity, I went to an all-male hotel hummum. A steam and dry room, a cold dip and hot tub, and plenty of places to rest. It was packed. In my insatiable prurience, I would go on all afternoon and into the evening working the whole place up. Purposefully positioning myself in select corners of the steam and dry rooms sheltered from attendants’ notice, I’d unreservedly let the mystery of my manhood rise past my towel to issue a resolute nod to the desires of the guys nearby. Hour after hour I would give clandestine go-aheads under that tiny cloth to each man to ensure that everyone was hot for cock.

 

The pursuit of the obscure peaked, and the frenzy began. Partly emerging from our coverings, a hushed glancing at gratuitously granted glimpses of hair and meat through the mist – we scattered from room to room. The pent-up building closer and closer to a climax just… out… of reach.

 

I would sit my perspiring cheeks down in one of those safe spaces and just yank that chub out and whack him to a stiff chup, intermittently pulling on my low-hangers, then casually lifting my leg to give a fleeting flash of ass. Every man got hot and bothered, and would fearfully peer out of the foggy glass windows while slowly, scrupulously, slipping their poles out and stroking them. Or simply letting them stand at attention.

 

Ego inflamed, and veins coursing with broiling blood, I had over 30 men agitatedly, breathlessly playing with their peckers and showing one another like little boys thrilled with the escape in not being told on. It was a rush of schoolyard sweatiness for the fully grown."