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Friday, September 16, 2005
Cocked
Yesterday I was surrounded by cock.
A girl like me didn't know quite what to do, being in the midst of so many thrusting phallus'; it was rather overwhelming.
Sadly none of the cocks on display were there in the flesh - much to my disappointment. But seeing so many in one place was a total joy.
And this place was the Museum of Sex, an environment where I felt totally at home. I was checking out their latest exhibit Men Without Suits - an exploration into the history of objectification of the male nude image. Given my own preoccupation with Men In Suits, I just had to see this exhibit.
It was fabulous - a fascinating study into the naked male body, even if it was a little too centred around homoeroticism for my liking (the female perspective, was - as always - missing). But some beautiful pictures and brilliant historical perspective: masturbating over the male image is - quite obviously - nothing new.
Speaking of which, the rest of the museum left me feeling rather hot and bothered: I spent two hours going through the history of Western Pornography and Stag Parties (where guys get together to watch porn), and after seeing scores of cocks thrusting in and out of pussies, in full graphic close-up, I was dying to run to the toilet and have a quick frig.
Sadly it was not to be: as liberated as my friend is, I somehow think she may have had an issue with me disappearing off for a quick wank, so frustratingly I had to wait until I got home.
But it was worth the wait, and my friend walking in on me midway through my frig didn't stop me from finally relieving the tension that had built up over the day; even though he may have been a bit suspicious when I finally exited the room with a huge grin on my face.
Still, I think I got away with it.
A girl like me didn't know quite what to do, being in the midst of so many thrusting phallus'; it was rather overwhelming.
Sadly none of the cocks on display were there in the flesh - much to my disappointment. But seeing so many in one place was a total joy.
And this place was the Museum of Sex, an environment where I felt totally at home. I was checking out their latest exhibit Men Without Suits - an exploration into the history of objectification of the male nude image. Given my own preoccupation with Men In Suits, I just had to see this exhibit.
It was fabulous - a fascinating study into the naked male body, even if it was a little too centred around homoeroticism for my liking (the female perspective, was - as always - missing). But some beautiful pictures and brilliant historical perspective: masturbating over the male image is - quite obviously - nothing new.
Speaking of which, the rest of the museum left me feeling rather hot and bothered: I spent two hours going through the history of Western Pornography and Stag Parties (where guys get together to watch porn), and after seeing scores of cocks thrusting in and out of pussies, in full graphic close-up, I was dying to run to the toilet and have a quick frig.
Sadly it was not to be: as liberated as my friend is, I somehow think she may have had an issue with me disappearing off for a quick wank, so frustratingly I had to wait until I got home.
But it was worth the wait, and my friend walking in on me midway through my frig didn't stop me from finally relieving the tension that had built up over the day; even though he may have been a bit suspicious when I finally exited the room with a huge grin on my face.
Still, I think I got away with it.
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