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bustybi2001
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| Mind - Man is endowed with an unconquerable mind. I like to use mine. Economic and political thoughts are topical and easy to discuss, but I prefer to gorge on early 20th century American literature, French and Russian literature, sort of a loner in that regard. I prefer the debauched and open-ended art of sexuality. The mind is attracted to like-minded, so the charge goes. The broader view down the less traveled path intrigues me.
Body - My private temple is slim, lean, muscular, 5' 10", 160 lbs., my dome gleams and my endowment is what one would safely assume with a hardened cuckold, which, not-so-oddly, construes to the "less is more" cliche. Can't say much, can't say enough, I'm me.
Soul - A pragmatic dreamer with sound intentions. I'm not spiritual but follow the tenants of what I like to call "innate common sense." Love is real. Two are stronger than one. And beauty will save the world.
I seek a relationship with a sexually dominant woman. We should be attracted, like all couples must, but have dominant fetish over sexually submissive men, preferring the young, muscular and very well-endowed for carnal pleasure. Gifts, roses, poetry and snuggles are needed at home, but the lust for bbc must be quenched. It's all good.
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Rise Up For Your Banana
Feeling like an odd ape out at a primate festival is no way to live, breath or bound. Your snub receptors can only throb for so long until you need a banana. Once bitten and chewed, a banana makes you feel culled and wooed. A worthy-feeling chimp once more, you will relax and control your urges to scream "where the hell is the justice in this jungle?!" Jump for the lectern at the next academic conference of any literary society and wildly toss bananas to all in need. Share your wealth. Let the pedants not eschew the pendant. At the top of your simien lungs, "fig you, fig me, fresh ripen fruit for you and me." Calmly then, softly recite, "fallen figs are an open canvas of absence." Tossing banana peels at Victorian muses, happy monkeys beam in new-found gloat. Discover the necessary banana, and life re-begins.
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The pic I uploaded for my profile was denied, as if it was so, so offensive. Saddened, really sad. Maplethorpe must have rolled over and barfed in his pine box. I have a decent body, and I wasn't wagging my tool, nothing like that.
Collarme.com stays minimized in my tool bar. When I get bored I'll click it open. To all those who have the face of a German Shephard and gentle body curves of a Pitbull, it's OK. We're all here for the circus, clowning, often frowning, having fun for free.
There must be a rabid male group of chat invitation spammers. I'd be willing to chat for a minute or two but I hesitate because I see a lot of this:
"Never Invite Me To Chat! No Men, Ever! I'd Rather Scar Your Face Than Chat With You. Read This Warning Twice, U Twisted Male Freaks!
Theories relating to 'cause and effect' of no-chat warnings amuse me. Could it be that 50 simultaneous rapid fire chat invitations cause unrepairable system crashes? I'll never know, unless told.
Charles Manson's concubines must have received too many one-liner messages. I see 'em coming. Angry women with "no one-liner" warnings coming at me with sharpened forks.
I don't say much to anyone. People I think I might like to say "hello" to are in my 'favorites' file. In the end, I heed those haunting warnings and get scared. My 'favorites' has now become a long list of people I've never communicated with. But they're there, I got 'em in a box just in case.
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