Because It's True

Spotted scrawled on a university bathroom stall back in 1995 (yes, I wrote it down):

"I love men.  All kinds of men.  I love the way men smell.  I love the way they carry themselves.  I love their hairy legs.  I love seeing their jeans around their ankles, around sandals or athletic shoes.  I love mustaches.  I love the gleam in the eye of a man when he's consumed with passion.  I love a man's nipples; his pecs; his chest.  I love the bush of hair at his crotch and the rivulet that runs up to his belly button.  I love them naked and I love them dressed; I love them wearing a shirt unbuttoned to the waist, exposing the carpet of hair.  I love men's biceps; their tattoos and their 3-day beard stubble.  I love the hair and the smell of man's armpit.  I love the way a man's cock feels in your hand, how it grows from flaccid to erect with merely a touch.  I love foreskin, the way it slides over the cockhead.  I love the way men kiss.  I love men's balls and their butts.  I love their calves and their thighs as they sit, spreadeagle on a toilet, offering you their hard, dripping cock.  I love dog-tags and pierced tits—baseball caps on 25-year old cleanshaven buzzcut college studs driving jeeps, their tan, hairy legs spread wide in shorts.  I love big daddy bears, their hairy chests criss-crossed by black leather harnesses.  Cocksucking.  Jacking Off.  Titplay.  Bondage.  Transcendental male fuck-play."