This was a page of pictures
I assembled for a man called

One December afternoon, I was his brief blind-date-beyond-the-pale.


I met a lovely dark-skinned guy
and as we kissed and hugged and squeezed
his inner whiteness dribbled down my thigh.

But no joyful cry.


I made for him this web-page of pictures which I find sensual and sexy.
(The stanza above was not included !)

His only comment was: "Very Interesting."

It was compiled with juvenile, romantic love
from the webmaster of

To begin:

a tasteful academic study by a Russian painter:


next, a rather beautiful picture of a cock-contrejour:



Now, beautiful and sexy man, here is a socio-political statement
for which I make no apology:


I apologise if you find it disgusting.
You may prefer this lovely picture of a deliciously small cock
with a very elegant scrotum beneath it.
He is feigning sleep so I will sneak up silently and start licking.


Here is another handsome guy, but I'm afraid his dick is hard,
so maybe skip the picture if you find it revolting.
I like feet. My own are very sensitive, and I like playing with those belonging to a sexy man
such as yourself. (We both wore socks at our first Brief Encounter!)


Nothing wrong with wearing socks.
Even unstained Victorian nightwear can be erotic -


- not to mention a doily !


We have both experienced prison - from different sides of the bars.
I was locked up for
shoplifting food - repeatedly.

I don't have pathetic prison-fantasies,

or, without the somewhat stagey and inhibiting netting:


so that your cock felt like this, even when flaccid.


Actually I dreamed about you on Christmas Eve,
and on Christmas Day I found this photo, which looks more like you
than photos of you!

Though of course, it is not exactly your physiognomy,
and your mustache is bigger and handsomer -
but it catches something that reminds me strongly of you.

Here is a self-fantasy-photo.


Now I'll sign off, O sexy man of Seysses,
with a picture of the Tin Man...


...and an appropriately Saturnalian blessing from me
a sillly white nigger who always wanted to be the real thing,
and so has had to find beauty even beyond negritude.
I find it in stones, in trees, in dogs, in skies, in food...
and even in myself !






Some know me as 'The Hill-Billy'
- probably because I neither wash nor smell -
and here is my naturally-perfumed self at a prehistoric tomb on an Irish hillside.
In the background is Slemish, a volcanic core (or 'plug')
in county Antrim
on which St Patrick legendarily tended sheep.


Post PostScriptum


An impasto self-portrait Homage to Moroni (who painted beautiful bearded men)
in which only the head is mine - as it was some years ago
before my beard went pale gray!
The hairy body belongs to a sweet (but of course unexpressive) guy in my past.

Hairiness is a plus for me with pale bodies.
Black bodies are already sufficiently beautiful
because of their colour and texture.

Since I was a child (in a totally pinky-grey environment)
I wished I was black, or at least chestnut-coloured.

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