Exposition of the concept of form.

Before I begin, be warned that this entry is for me.You may read it, you may comment, but if one person says "but your body is hot" or "hugs" I will kill a kitten for Christ.I just finished watching Frida. Selma Hyack was sex on a stick, a bottle in one hand, hand sliding up the thigh of a woman in pearls with the other. I was deeply moved, and empathetic to it all. A body broken, a body not doing what it is supposed to. Desire, betrayal, concepts of sexual versus personal loyalty. Anyone who is an artist, who is disabled, who is trans, who is bisexual, who is polyamourous or a swinger... hell, anyone- should see this movie.Afterwards I stripped off my top, empty black screen reflecting back a shape of one breast caught in sunlight and I felt my cock get hard.Why is it that if this body belonged to any other person I would find it delicious?Great breasts, an ass that curves up to meet it. Enough hand-holds to caress, not enough to smother.Good cheekbones, child-bearing hips. Looking down and stretching breasts bounce up and nipples stand at attention, a sculptor's dream.Long toes with no serious calouses. Delicious calves. Thighs that are too large for my eye as an artist, but as a lover's dream with cock slipping between sweaty thighs as I pounded her from behind.But she, is not what I want to be.There were times when I would cut out body forms and paste them together in the scrapbook of my mind- his jaw, that beard, his soft fur. I look good with a beard.I was born in body, body not mine.As Frida cut off her hair, an act of sorrow, she became her masculine half, became strong and independent again... but she still longed for him.Breathe in and the chest beneath me moves.