He’s not like other guys, Michelangelo’s David. No matter how tiny the shorts, no matter how snug the miniskirts, we can’t make him hard, though it’s fun to imagine him so – he’s gorgeous.
Of course, he’s hard already, his soft limpness as stiff as stone. If he really were hard in the sense of an erection, it would have no doubt broken off long ago, a la the arms of the Venus de Milo.
Imagining is enough, the potentiality of it, the idea of it, even the Platonic ideal of it…. Not unlike the possibility of sculpted artwork waiting to be awakened from a block of stone.
Why, then, do the crotch-shot selfies that some guys sext me seem so gross?