6', 210 lbs. CMT

A little on the rugged side but sensitive in nature. I enjoy, walking in the woods, scary movies, soft music and a good steak. I'm an uninhibited naturalist. I try to keep myself in shape and make the best of this 60+ year old body. Healthy poz.

I'm spiritually oriented, intuitive, and a certified massage therapist. I am a student of Kabalah, Vedanta and Christian Mysticism. I am committed to my spiritual practice and would appreciate a man who understands and encourages introspection and spiritual exploration.

I'm always open to meeting fit mature men and masculine young guys. Ultimately, I would like to meet a special guy to develop a special relationship with - but in the mean time...I'm open to all possibilities. Big hands, big feet, deep voices and pro cuddlers are on the wish list.

For some reason Latino, Indian and Middle Eastern men seem to always catch my attention. And btw, if you have dark furry pits, I am definitely interested. I'm not a big fan of smelly toiletries and colognes. Prefer natural masculine smell.

Would love to hear from you.

INFP

Some favorite quotes:

"Imagine it's 30 years from now. You're looking back at the history of your relationship with desire. There was a certain watershed moment when you clearly saw that some of your desires were mediocre, inferior, and wasteful, while others were pure, righteous, and invigorating. Beginning then, you made it a life goal to purge the former and cultivate the latter. Thereafter, you occasionally wandered down dead ends trying to gratify yearnings that weren't worthy of you, but usually you wielded your passions with discrimination, dedicating them to serve the highest and most interesting good." Rob Brezsny

"Only in the presence of another man can a man realize his true masculine self." Thomas Lake

Desirata ... "with all of its shams, drudgery, and sorrow - it is still a beautiful world"

"Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need." - Tyler Durdin

"You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things you used to own, now they own you. " — Chuck Palahniuk

"The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person. " — Chuck Palahniuk

"My first time I jacked off, I thought I'd invented it. I looked down at my sloppy handful of junk and thought, This is going to make me rich. " — Chuck Palahniuk

Written in the 1940s
A Day For A Lay

It was a spring day, a day, a day for a lay when the air Smelled like a locker-room, a day to blow or get blown. Returning from lunch I turned my corner and there On a near-by stoop I saw him standing alone.

I glanced as I advanced. The clean white T-shirt outlined A forceful torso, the light-blue denims divulged Much. I observed the snug curves where they hugged the behind, I watched the crotch where the cloth intriguingly bulged.

Our eyes met, I felt sick. My knees turned weak. I couldn't move. I didn't know what to say. In a blur I heard words myself like a stranger speak. "Will you come to my room?" Then a husky voice, "O.K."

I produced some beer and we talked. Like a little boy He told me his story. Present address next door. Half Polish half Irish The youngest. From Illinois. Profession mechanic. Name Bud. Age twenty-four.

He put down his glass and stretched his bare arms along The back of my sofa. The afternoon sunlight struck The blond hairs on the wrist near my head. His chin was strong, His mouth sucky. I could hardly believe my luck. And here he was sitting beside me, legs apart.

I could bear it no longer. I touched the inside of his thigh. His reply was to move closer. I trembled. My heart Thumped and jumped as my fingers went to his fly. I opened a gap in the flap. I went in there. I sought for a slit in the gripper shorts that had charge Of the basket I asked for.

I came to warm flesh then to hair, I went on. I found what I hoped. I groped. It was large. He responded to my fondling in a charming, disarming way: Without a word he unbuckled his belt while I felt And lolled back, stretching his legs. His pants fell away. Carefully drawing it out, I beheld what I held.

The circumcised head was a work of mastercraft, With perfectly beveled rim of unusual weight And the friendliest red. Even relaxed, the shaft Was of noble dimensions with the wrinkles that indicate Singular powers of extension.

For a second or two, It lay there inert then suddenly stirred in my hand, Then paused as if frightened or doubtful of what to do, And then with a violent jerk began to expand. By soundless bounds it extended and distended, by quick Great leaps it rose, it flushed, it rushed to its full size.

Nearly nine inches long and three inches thick, A royal column ineffably solemn and wise. I tested its length and strength with a manual squeeze, I bunched my fingers and twirled them about the knob, I stroked it from top to bottom. I got on my knees. I lowered my head. I opened my mouth for the job.

But he pushed me gently away. He bent down. He unlaced His shoes. He removed his socks. Stood up. Shed His pants altogether. Muscles in arms and waist Rippled as he whipped his T-shirt over his head. I scanned his tan, enjoyed the contrast of brown Trunk against white shorts taut around small Hips. With a dig and a wriggle he peeled them down. I tore off my clothes. He faced me smiling. I saw all.

The gorgeous organ stood stiffly and straightly out With a slight flare upwards. At each beat of his heart it threw An odd little nod my way. From the slot of the spout Exuded a drop of transparent viscous goo.

The lair of hair was fair, the grove of a young man, A tangle of curls and whorls, luxuriant but couth. Except for a spur of golden hairs that fan To the neat navel, the rest of the belly was smooth.

Well hung, slung from the fork of the muscular legs, The firm vase of his sperm, like a bulging pear, Cradling its handsome glands, two herculean eggs, Swung as he came towards me, shameless, bare.

We aligned mouths. We entwined. All act was clutch, All fact contact, the attack and the interlock Of tongues, the charms of arms. I shook at the touch Of his fresh flesh, I rocked at the shock of his cock.

Straddling my legs a little I inserted his divine Person between and closed on it tight as I could. The upright warmth of his belly lay all along mine. Nude, glued together for a minute, we stood. I stroked the lobes of his ears, the back of his head And the broad shoulders.

I took bold hold of the compact Globes of his bottom. We tottered. He fell on the bed. Lips parted, eyes closed, he lay there, ripe for the act. Mad to be had, to be felt and smelled.

My lips Explored the adorable masculine tits. My eyes Assessed the chest. I caressed the athletic hips And the slim limbs. I approved the grooves of the thighs. I hugged, I snuggled into an armpit.

I sniffed the subtle whiff of its tuft. I lapped up the taste Of its hot hollow. My fingers began to drift On a trek of inspection, a leisurely tour of the waist. Downward in narrowing circles they playfully strayed. Encroached on his privates like poachers, approached the prick.

But teasingly swerved, retreated from meeting. It betrayed Its pleading need by a pretty imploring kick. "Shall I rim you?" I whispered. He shifted his limbs in assent, Turned on his side and opened his legs, let me pass To the dark parts behind.

I kissed as I went The great thick cord that ran back from his balls to his arse. Prying the buttocks aside, I nosed my way in Down the shaggy slopes. I came to the puckered goal. It was quick to my licking. He pressed his crotch to my chin. His thighs squirmed as my tongue wormed in his hole.

His sensations yearned for consummation. He untucked His legs and lay panting, hot as a teen-age boy. Naked, enlarged, charged, aching to get sucked, Clawing the sheet, all his pores open to joy.

I inspected his erection. I surveyed his parts with a stare From scrotum level. Sighting along the underside Of his cock, I looked through the forest of pubic hair To the range of the chest beyond rising lofty and wide. I admired the texture, the delicate wrinkles and the neat Sutures of the capacious bag.

I adored the grace Of the male genitalia. I raised the delicious meat Up to my mouth, brought the face of its hard-on to my face. Slipping my lips round the Byzantine dome of the head, With the tip of my tongue I caressed the sensitive groove. He thrilled to the trill. "That's lovely!" he hoarsely said.

"Go on! Go on!" Very slowly I started to move. Gently, intently, I slid to the massive base Of his tower of power, paused there a moment down In the warm moist thicket, then began to retrace Inch by inch the smooth way to the throbbing crown.

Indwelling excitements swelled at delights to come As I descended and ascended those thick distended walls. I grasped his root between left forefinger and thumb And with my right hand tickled his heavy voluminous balls. I plunged with a rhythmical lunge steady and slow, And at every stroke made a corkscrew roll with my tongue.

His soul reeled in the feeling. He whimpered, "Oh!" As I tongued and squeezed and rolled and tickled and swung. Then I pressed on the spot where the groin is joined to the cock, Slipped a finger into his arse and massaged him from inside. The secret sluices of his juices began to unlock.

He melted into what he felt. "O Jesus!" he cried. Waves of immeasurable pleasures mounted his member in quick Spasms. I lay still in the notch of his crotch inhaling his sweat His ring convulsed round my finger. Into me, rich and thick, His hot spunk spouted in gouts, spurted in jet after jet.

by W. H. Auden

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