Formerly practicing homosexual man describes the joys of homo-sex

*** E X T R E M E – C O N T E N T – W A R N I N G ***

Courtesy of Ann Barnhardt’s website

… As a still thin peach-fuzz covered young man barely into his 20s, I went to this bastion of hedonistic masculinity looking for an experience that would surpass in intensity anything I had done before.

I attended one woodside cabin party where the hierarchy amongst attendees was quickly apparent.

Relinquished to a subservient position, in the heat of those moments, the air was thick with musk and the guttural sounds of deep male voices. Far from being a world of limp pink prissiness, a raw form of masculinity survives solely in gay male culture. Here, it became almost violently Spartan in its severe attempt at male bonding.

Swept up in the wave of pheromones, it’s difficult to separate oneself from the action and become immediately detached in order to protect mucus membranes from the bodily fluids that were now dripping from the ceiling. For those of us who grew up constantly feeling the chill of male rejection, the welcoming warmth of male bodies is uncontrollably hypnotic. Taking part, all memories of past alienation and indifference were forgotten as if they never happened.

Only, once it was over, you walked away sore and alone. Unbeknownst to me, somewhere nearby, Randy Shilts was dying of AIDS.

The Story Continues…

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