Things I think are hot these days

Ultimate Fighting Challenge (so flagrantly homo-erotic, yet all the boys feel manly watching it). The fighters even hug/kiss afterwards.

Robert Kubica's eyes in his F1 helmet (yahoo news feed photo)

Rafi Gavron (meow)

My skinny, filthy, hardknock mechanic (one of those impossibilities - I would fuck him in a heartbeat if noone ever ever ever would know, but since there are no such guarantees, it will remain such a completely secret stimulation - I'm scared even writing this here). I want him to get me dirty.

My sexy, gorgeous redhaired girlfriend, who gets dirty eyes and langourously affectionate after a few drinks. She makes my heart pound when she falls asleep in my arms or touches my hair.

Dancing.

The boys walking shirtless down the street.

One skater boy that was golden and glistening and we locked eyes and smiled (I was glued to the ground) the first time I saw him, and has been oblivious of me every other time I've encountered him. I thought I was over the skaters about a decade ago, but now I look up at the sound of the wheels every time.

Tony Jaa. I am deeply, eroticly, lustfully in love with Tony Jaa. There's this mannerism in his movement, of locked back and hamstring that looks dancelike as he slides and stops, and the way he walks and climbs stairs is so animal - it's like the ultimate culmination of human fitness - it just grabs me by the crotch and the gut and I'm helplessly on fire.

Younger men

I find it very strange that as I age, the boys that are attracted to me get younger, and I do mean "boys". In the last month, I've been vigourously hit on by boys that could be my offspring.

I thought the age gap thing was my problem, that there was something broken or stalled about me that I was blinkered to men more appropriate, only drawn to the untempered naifs.

A few years ago I slept with a guy 12 years younger than I, and I would have backed out if I'd known his age. He was the most gorgeous guy I'd ever been with - one of my favorite notches. A couple years ago I slept with a guy 11 years younger. He was stunning in every way, and more than sex - another gold star weekend. I secretly cultivated a crush on a boy 9 years younger than me for ages. He's graduated and gone to university, and he gets hotter as his body and face and style changes and grows. I resisted, but was worn down by a man 8 years younger than I, and we dated for over a year. My boyfriend now is 9 years my junior. I've never been so content with someone.

But then, I get catcalled by boys still in high school, chosen on the dance floor by boys whose number ends with teen, and persistently asked out by guys that aren't drinking legal. This is too young for me - they actually aren't attractive. I suppose I do have a line - it's nice to find it.
I get the warm stroke of someone liking me, but no flickers of curiousity or temptation to give 'em a try. They're skinny and vulnerable and unformed, like their personality is still undecided.

They seem to think I'm much younger than I am (perhaps it's the poor age recognition software in the under 20 models, perhaps it's me in a rather playful and happy phase), but shockingly, nothing changes when they find out the truth of my age. No bolting in horror. I find this bizarre and amazing. I don't know what to make of it. Any way you look at it, girls their age are many times more physically beautiful than me, so it's a surprise to be drawing attention from that. Plus it's a sudden development- it's never occurred in volume like this, and 8 years ago, I couldn't have caught the eye of a boy under 20 for anything.

I'm very grateful to realize I'm beautiful while I still am. I'm glad that fact didn't elude me 'til it was too late. I wish I could have said that about myself 10 years ago, but hell- better late than never.

Heard Adults Only by Slick Rick for the first time. It's not that great a song, and it's basically about Rick raping girls in the ass, but even before I recognized the vague topic of the song I was totally turned on. I had to slouch on the edge of the couch, hit Back, and shove my hand down my jeans. I came so fast. Well, I had to hit Back twice, but that was because I was afraid that with Murphy's law, someone I couldn't hear through my breathing would come to my open front door and catch me in action. Probably my elderly neighbour. People tend to knock when I'm naked.

I'm wearing a garter belt and stockings inside of fuck-me boots and chilling at home alone cooking, kitchen dancing, and playing computer, with no plans. The extra four inches lets me experience my boyfriend's height. It's fucking awesome.

I was out dancing, to fantastic music, among friends such a happy place for me. I was enjoying the usual approaches and compliments I was getting, and flattered by the youth and cuteness of the boys that were hitting on me.

Then I spotted one I wanted, and I can't say why I picked this one. He was a little shorter, wearing an unbranded black ball cap and blank blue T-shirt, with a kind of young tradesman look, strong without being gymmed out. Not really my usual type, but there was something compelling about him.

I moved two people away from him and shadowed him for a long time, noticing that he wasn't with anyone, and he didn't have designs on the girls that surrounded him. He was clearly in his own world, dancing in a not-especially-intriguing, repetitive, style; head down and in the beat.

Then I hovered nearer to him, directly behind him, dying to reach out for the vertical hollow of his back, where his shirt hugged the muscles gating his spine as he danced. He didn't notice for so long! People passed, disrupted his space as they spoke to me, we were side by side, yet he didn't glance up and see me for the longest time. Finally his gaze accidently struck me, and I smiled my best nervous and awkward but I-want-to-do-all-kinds-of-things-to-you smile, and he got it.

The next hour was a maddeningly arousing slow dance of approach, as we got nearer and nearer. He was so different, though. He did not at any time reach out and pull me to him. And in pauses, neither of us reached out an introductory hand and asked for a name. We did not speak to each other for over an hour, although several people I knew spoke to me, so he would have heard my name. One of my earlier suitors also came up to me with grabby hands and I sent him off.

We only inched towards each other, looking up quickly once in awhile, sharing the subtlest of smiles and eyes met. I wanted to be behind him again, to touch him, since I was desperate to, and he wasn't taking liberties with me. Mostly I was in front of him, or beside him, and when I moved to switch places, he would turn with me. Fucking incredibly hot, the tension between us, especially not defused by speech. I got so wet, even before our hands brushed, or the crowd pushed us together.

I got a grip on the hem of his t-shirt once and tugged, then grabbed his side at the waist with a hard, desirous grip, switching to do the same on his other side, run my hand up higher over his lat and then down to just hook my fingers in that delicious hollow of his spine, and release him fast. I could feel him breathe, and wide-eyed he almost give me a first full smile. I spun away from him a step, trying to get a grip on myself again, and drifted a little into a more tightly packed area of people, glancing back at him to make sure he'd follow. He was there, his hands brushing my pants, sometimes my hands at my sides. When I could catch them I'd squeeze his wrist, a finger.

I could feel his face against my neck as he danced behind me, his hands so cautiously and casually touching me - more brushing me, and his legs against the back of mine, for moments. I got a finger hooked into his pocket; got to run my thumb down a few inches of his leg, feeling his hard thigh through his jeans; grab a little chunk of denim and quickly tug his hips into mine. We were dancing so close, and in time, but never pulling each other into the contact, just each leaning towards it and then pulling back. I thought I'd die from the want, yet I was so happy that he wasn't pushy, wasn't taking. I was dying to feel the whole length of his body against my back and legs, and he could have encircled my waist and crushed me to him at any time - I would have melted into him and probably lost all resolve - but it was almost hotter that he didn't. His legs against mine from behind - oh God. Such a tease, and so subtle. It was part of my intention for noone to notice, and I think we managed it.

Later we spoke, to share a water bottle, and he told me where he was from, but we never exchanged names. When I really fully saw his face and his smile, he was really cute, with a tentative shyness in his eyes.

He vanished on me. He told me he had to leave with his buddies for the moment, and he would be right back, but I didn't see him again.

That kind of interrupted attraction is so powerful, it just makes the want grow. I would have liked to get his name, just tell him how much fun that was and that I thought he was sexy, and leave. No more than that innocent stimulation and fantasy fodder, but no less, either, and I got denied. I want him so badly, but everything else now is only going to happen in my head, in my bed alone. Except now I'm passionately hoping to see him again b/c it didn't finish "right".

I believe he meant to return, but something prevented him, or we just missed each other as I roamed the party as well. I speculate that he was very surprised that I chose and pursued him the way I did. I suspect that would be a very unusual experience for him. I'm guessing that's he may be quite shy, or he may have a relationship that wasn't representing that night (like I do), b/c he definitely had the search- and-destroy setting switched Off.

But I am very grateful for such a sweet, erotic connection to happen in the dark with the dirty bass pumping into us.

I love men. I love men so much . I love them hungrily, greedily, with their hard beauty, and in all their wonderfully difficult and vulnerable variety.

Cybele is:

horny as hell and not gonna take it anymore
drunk
starved for touch
masturbating
having inappropriate feelings for a 15yr old
going to take a bath and jerk off
in dire need of a cock
naked
all worked up from surfing porn
going to do cat impressions nude and take pictures
looking for a random guy so I can jump on his face


Things you can't say when you're "friends" with your ex-boyfriend's mom and your neighbours. Welcome to the facebook age.

In other respects, it's nice. There's a guy.... I spent one warm, pre-sexual night with him in my first weeks post-virginity. Then, with impossible odds, we both walked into the same shoe store on the other side of the country, many years later. We exchanged two letters each then, and his last said he was having a baby with someone he'd been off and on with, and settling with her.

Another several years, and he searches and finds me on FB. There's still obvious cyber-chemistry 'twixt us. He's had more children with her; she's petite and gorgeous; he seems frustrated with his situation.

I'm not sure if I'm counselling someone to remain in his marriage, or if I'm just a glittering talisman of the road not taken, glimpsed from his road more travelled.

I haven't thrown out his cards though. They're right in front of me.

I was hitchhiking a short distance; got a ride from a fairly attractive guy that lives in my town. We went through the typical 20km questions - hockey teams, jobs, summer pastimes, marital status, kids.

I said I had a man; he's away for the summer though and that's hard. He said "I have a wife."

"Any kids?" I asked. "No."

"Are you going to have kids?" I'm always interested in where people stand on this issue.

"I don't know. I think she wants kids."

I laughed at him. "Well, that means you're going to have kids, buddy!" We were in easy banter mode. I was almost at my stop, though, so I truncated my outline of where I stand on offspring and told him where he could pull over for me.

"Well, it's been a pleasure driving with such a beautiful woman as yourself..." He was rolling to a halt on the crunchy gravel. I laughed. The standard she's-about-to-get-away-forever unburdening.

"Well, thanks for picking me up, J----." I had one foot on the ground, one hip and leg still in his 3/4 ton. "I should give you my number. We should get together sometime," he was saying.

"You're MARRIED!" I froze, astounded. We'd been talking about his wife not 2 minutes ago. Not to mention MY committed relationship, such as it is.

"Yeah, she's ok with that," he retorted quickly.

I shook my head. "Whatever." I took my other leg out of his truck.

"No, seriously, call me sometime. Please. Anytime." He was holding his card out at me, shaking it. "Please, call me. We'll do something." He was intensely serious. I took the card from him. There were two in his hand.

"Right. Thanks again." I smirked as I turned with the door slam and started down my friend's driveway, shaking my head, itching to tell her about the nerve of this guy, and rubbing the two cards together in my pocket.