Hot and bothered.

The picture in my last post is driving me to distraction. Let me 'splain.

I've got this thing. It's a bit of a... oh... one could call it a fetish but I think it's more just an insistant preference. I have this THING for men's shoulders. I guess like some men are breast men, some leg... some... well... whatever... and some women are butt women and some women are... umm... what else are women known for looking at? Well, I'm into shoulders. Broad, masculine shoulders.

While in junior high I developed this prefence. Or at least, that's when I became aware of it. I think I was in seventh grade. There was a boy who was in ninth grade who rode the same school bus as I did, waited at the same bus stop. As with all good school children, the seven or so of us who waited there would all get in a nice straight line and wait for the bus to arrive. Being the punctual (and afraid of missing the bus) kind of girl I am, I was often the first person in line and thus was able to concentrate all my efforts on watching for the school bus... but not just ANY school bus... the right one. God forbid the person in the front get everyone's hopes up by picking up their bag for the wrong bus. But that's another story.

One day, I was later than usual. The majority of the line was already formed. I ended up standing behind the ninth grader. The ninth grader who looked like a high schooler... with his already masculinizing features, increased height, and distractingly perfect shoulders. I spend the better part of the next ten or so minutes eyeing the curve of his shoulders, the shape of his shoulder blades... and getting very, very turned on.

Of course, after that I occasionally made the effort to be a little bit later to the bus, but generally my fear over missing the bus far outweighed my desire to get a little titlation. It never really happened again that way, anyway. He never wore a shirt as thin, never managed to be so close to me... but it's stayed with me all these years.

Thinking about that boy, again, I was reminded of my first (and subsequent) viewings of Dirty Dancing. I never really had a crush on Patrick Swayze but that scene... as they're dancing... seducing one another... she takes off his shirt and moves around behind him, tracing his shoulders as she moved around him. Maybe she bit him, tasting the muscular flesh. Maybe it's my fantasy that she did.

Whatever the case, both stay in my memory as deliciously erotic experiences.

Despite what I've heard over and over again... men's bodies are worthy of the same lavish attention as women's. They're beautiful, sexy, and sensual... especially their shoulders.