[ SECRET POST #2874 ]

[case]

⌈ Secret Post #2874 ⌋

Warning: Some secrets are NOT worksafe and may contain SPOILERS.

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Notes:

Secrets Left to Post: 03 pages, 074 secrets from Secret Submission Post #411.
Secrets Not Posted: [ 0 - broken links ], [ 0 - not!secrets ], [ 0 - not!fandom ], [ 0 - too big ], [ 0 - repeat ], [ 4 - random images ].
Current Secret Submissions Post: here.
Suggestions, comments, and concerns should go here.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

This! Although I more want to see poems about a man's sexuality from a female POV, than poems about a man's sexuality from that same man's POV. Masculine sexuality is mentioned way too little when it comes to explicit appreciation of it by a third party, I guess precisely because people *do* think sexuality is a inferior type of power due to being associated with women and that explicitly talking about a man's sex appeal.

Of course, appreciation of men's sex appeal that's just kind of there but not talked about is all over the place with male heroes like James Bond and all the current superheroes and stuff who can get any woman to sleep with them, who have awesome bulging muscles, blah blah blah. But whenever someone actually starts talking about exactly what about the man's body or the way they move or the clothes they wear makes them so sexy, everyone gets all embarrassed and awkward and self-conscious and act like it's hilarious, as if the men are being treated like women or something. It's all so dumb.

[(Anonymous)]

"Connoisseuse of Slugs" by Sharon Olds, for a start.

When I was a connoisseuse of slugs
I would part the ivy leaves, and look for the
naked jelly of those gold bodies,
translucent strangers glistening along the
stones, slowly, their gelatinous bodies
at my mercy. Made mostly of water, they would shrivel
to nothing if they were sprinkled with salt,
but I was not interested in that. What I liked
was to draw aside the ivy, breathe the
odor of the wall, and stand there in silence
until the slug forgot I was there
and sent it antennae up out of its
head, the glimmering umber horns
rising like telesopes, until finally the
sensitive knobs would pop out the ends,
delicate and intimate. Years later,
when I first saw a naked man,
I gasped with pleasure to see that quiet
mystery reenacted, the slow
elegant being coming out of hiding and
gleaming in the dark air, eager and so
trusting you could weep.

[(Anonymous)]

nayrt

That is absolutely lovely.

[(Anonymous)]

always loved that poem

stupid sexy slugs!

[intrigueing]

*loves* omg I love it. So perfect.

[(Anonymous)]

God, that is gross.

Dicks aren't attractive to look at to begin with; comparing them to slugs really doesn't help.

[(Anonymous)]

You're an idiot. Went right over your head, didn't it?

Also, dicks are the coolest thing.