I know that I have, in this blog, talked about how much I like funny men
That I enjoy their outlook on life and their take on the world.
That their humour turns me on.
But, I've never expressed my appreciation for musical men. (Well, apart from the odd mention of Graham Coxon
I don't know whether it is because I come from a musical family, whilst myself am not blessed with any musical talent (my skills lie in other areas), but possibly a quality that I find can make a man extraordinarily sexy, is his ability to play an musical instrument.
Being able to express oneself through the medium of music enthralls me. It excites me. It turns me on. (And sadly, being unable to do this myself, I envy it too).
I was at an ex-boyfriends' gig tonight, pretending to be a groupie for his hard-rock band. (Which, for the record can just involve lots of cheering and clapping: no clothes items need to be removed for this particular job).
So I'm watching my ex playing away - a very skilled guitarist - and I remember why I found him so sexy in the first place. Not because of the fact that he is a very handsome man, but because of his passion about his guitar playing.
There's something about seeing a man be passionate about what he's doing that is an immense turn on for me. It's not the same as a guy passionately shouting at the tv as his football team win a match; playing an instrument, expressing oneself wholeheartedly, not holding back - that is passion for me. And hearing the result of this passion is like the aural equivilent of great sex.
And, like I've said before, watching a man strum his guitar is like watching him masturbate. Like being a voyeur in his bedroom and getting the (wonderful) opportunity to watch him play with himself: seeing how he uses his hands, what pace, rhythm and pressure he chooses and being priviledged to seeing him experiencing immense pleasure. God, so sexy.
So, anyway, I'm watching my ex play, noticing how with each song, the buttons on his shirt get slowly undone: at the start of the gig, just his chest hair poked through the (1 x button undone) top (any men reading this: this is a FUCKING SEXY look, trust me), and by the end of the gig, his shirt was wide open, revealing chest, nipples and abs to the world. His trademark now, it seems, and one that appears to be bringing in the ladies, so good on him.
But (with regards to him anyway) it's not the chest, the shirt, the sweat that I find attractive: it's the musical talent. And with his thrashing and wrenching, all I could think of was a cute guy grabbing me the same way as the guitar: pulling me toward him, gripping my arse firmly, pressing his hard cock against my body and fucking my mouth with his tongue.
Jesus I'm horny. (And a little drunk too, if I am honest)
Think I'd best get to bed...