The Perfect Man

His name is... exotic. 

Something that sounds familiar but that I’ve never heard before. Perhaps it’s an adaptation of an existing name. I’ll never really know for sure. His eyes…. Piercing and mysterious. Perhaps its brown or a dark green. But it always seems to radiate in direct sunlight. And his eyebrows. They do something to his face, that make him seem like he’s deep in thought and relaxed all at the same time. They focus the wisdom and authority through the face and out his eyes, like a beam. My heart stops every time I see him.

He has a strong but kept beard. It’s not outdone in its form but neither is it scruffy. It elongates his face, and turns him from what he would normally look like, An Alpha, into an Emperor.

And he acts like it too. He always lets me speak my part, and share my viewpoint. He takes me into consideration. But he knows so much about the world, politics, and the intricacies of the human spirit that for once in my life, someone, him, is guiding me. That I don’t have to be the one telling everyone else how to grow up, how to mature. Grounding and progressive, he is also old-fashioned. He does things himself, unless he needs help. Then he’s not afraid to ask; He’s comfortable with himself and the world. The others are not a threat. Except his own self, and he understands that. And he helps me to understand my own threat too: Me.

 He is tall and imposing, but not excessively. He is a good 2-5 inches taller than me, so I must look up to him to kiss and look into his eyes. That forces me to stand up straight and tall; I must, in order to feel in line with him. He is strong and keeps his body in good form. He is between 30-40 years old but carries with him the spirit of a strong 70 year old. Not petty, nor quick to anger. I feel like a team with him in self improvement and mastery; I am learning to let go of the barriers to unconditional love because he is doing so as well; I feel no shame in my own spirit, and he is the first, and probably the only one I will ever meet in my life that understands who I AM inside. Completely loving and accepting. I even told him my deepest darkest secrets. And he understood without batting an eye. Life is strange, people are stranger. But judgement? That’s the strangest thing of all.

 He is extremely hairy but with aesthetic. His chest is matted with curly bushy hair, up to about 2 inches off his chest. The hair thins significantly but not invisibly around key points of his body, so the form of him is kept; his chest has the thickest hair, but it wraps (skin visible) around his back and shoulders; His arms are a bit thicker and so are his legs; His knuckles and toes all have a healthy amount of hair on him. The only places unmolested are the undersides of his hands and feet and half of his face. And I would know this from experience…

He is very well hung without it becoming an impediment. From around 8-10 inches long, we can comfortable assume any position without fear or risk of us disconnecting from one another, and his girth always seems to push my body just past the point of reset: Meaning I can always feel myself adapting around him. It’s never there with little sensation. There is a perfect curve too that allows me to sense where it decides to go.

He is also Catalan. Or Syrian. Perhaps middle-eastern; From a country or location of great great rich culture and languages that I find pleasant, if not a little alien. He, though identifying from where he reigns, does not identify with the closemindedness of his culture yet champions the positive; the healthy emphasis on natural masculinity and what that REALLY entails (being comfortable with oneself; always ‘going and getting’ instead of ‘expecting and asking’; paving your own way).

He insists on teaching me the ways of his culture deeply, no stone left unturned. He knows what it is that I am missing that will make me a richer person, the person I need to be (and that he sees I need to be) and continues to challenge me in all areas. He also forces (though I desire to as well) to learn (all) his languages and their intricacies in order to facilitate not only cultural and linguistic growth, but mental and personal as well.

He is a responsible self-dependent man; He has a job he loves (and that he shares all the details of, with me) and encourages me to be the same. He is not jealous because, Both:

1.It is a symptom of immaturity and misunderstanding of real love and affection

2.And, he feels and knows that I trust and need him as much as he does me.

As such, he feels no need to compulsively check on me or even stay with me; I am free to spend a few hours or the day without a shutting down of productivity and emotional health on his behalf; The same courtesy to him is naturally and effortlessly extended. There is a mutual understanding of our emotional connection, and sometimes we abandon our personal times for the other because we also understand the other may crave the attention of him, and that alone makes us want to drop whatever we are doing to be with one another.

He thrives off teaching me but also what I can teach him; I am not just a student but I see things in a different way, I feel things different that also facilitate the growth he craves in himself. He strives to protect me because it is both instinct and given, given the dynamics of this relationship, but also because I am his, his own property, which is a title I have given myself and him to me, as long as I decide to stay with him: We are both sovereign creatures.

He loves to travel and drags me to places I never thought I’d enjoy or aren’t motivated to see; Only for him to show me (and to discover for himself too) what a gem that said location and population can be.

There is never a dull moment between us, not because we are always ‘doing’ something but because even in actionless complete silence, the mere basic way we carry ourselves complement the other, as if we are always in some perpetual dance throughout our lives.

He loves me and knows that I not only thrive, but need the constant show and expression of it. Sometimes it’s the mere sideway look he gives me, or the smile (or slight grin) that gives me life throughout my day, but also the kind and deep way he pats and strokes my head, or puts his arms around my shoulder. Maybe it’s the way he breathes on me, or rests his forehead against mine in certain moments. The way he kindly traps my hand underneath his monstrous hand, tight, almost to the point of pain, but without any. He also never lets me go, unless he flawlessly intuits that I need to, whether it be to check my phone, readjust myself, or do some other (menial) task. He subtly gropes me or touches me, pulls me towards him or positions himself around me in some subtle sexual way that reignites my insides for him (s.a. standing directly behind me, and pulling me into him, his entire front side of the body making contact with my back.). And the way he calls me beautiful in many different languages, or whispers it when we are in quiter or more conservative places.

He knows how to behave seemingly in every situation, and when he doesn’t, I pick up the slack, suprising him on even how perceptive and adaptive I can be.

He can read when I take up the role of speaking or ‘dirigint’ in public, as an expression of myself, though our default mode is me taking after his lead; Not because I need someone to think or act for me but because that is simply what the dynamics of our relationship offer. He craves taking charge and doing what is needed when he is able to do so; and has no problem letting me do so when the situation requires it; We are both men, after all.

And lastly, when we are in the comfort of our own home, he prefers to retain as much physical contact as possible, though it never becomes overwhelming. Whether it be watching tv, video gaming, reading, or any other activity, I am always on top, in front, or even behind him, making as much physical contact as possible. He loves that my feet are cold and uses his (always) warm body to revitalize them. He’s always stroking me, whether that be during the day or at night, during sleep. It seems like whenever I wake up, he is there loving on me. When I snore too much, he readjusts my head. And he has this magical ability to adjust my head to sleep on his arm, all without ever putting it to sleep, nor damaging my own neck in the process.

He always takes me too whenever he desires, no questions, no bullshit; whether that be in a porta-potty, our house, or traveling. When he is hard, and is able to, he whips out his beloved manhood, and I, absolutely enamored by him, become instantly in the mood to service him where he stands (or sits). There is something spiritual about attending to him that I find it exhilarating every time and life-giving.

I miraculously feel as if I was alone, whenever I am with him, and don’t necessarily require alone time to recharge from being with someone. I am free to dance, express, or design something from myself with his full appreciation, that doesn’t fall on borderline obsession or sheer sexual gratification. Everything he does is sexual but with a basis on his emotion and love for me; nothing I do feels like it should be kept from him; In fact its quite the opposite: Everything I do, I desire and excite to share with him because he’d appreciate and understand it in a way that I previously thought only I could do.

And like me, he always seems to have some secret talent or skill, or passion that comes up that takes me by surprise, and ignites a passion in me to learn how to partake of it as well; I not only love learning, but I love learning to learn; He recognizes and values this and seeks to better his own skills so that he may bestow those unto me as well.

He has a deep voice that sounds almost sweet as it does threatening. Sometimes the way he speaks makes himself loose the nuance he needs others to pick up on to fully understand the intent and direction of what he is trying to say, and not just the words alone; I ALWAYS pick up on his real intent and I thrive on either enjoying the missed communication (to laugh about with him afterwards) or to subtly steer the conversation in a way in which both parties understand what was intended on being communicated and what was actually missed, all without missing a beat nor creating an awkward situation in which either party was humiliated.

He also inspires me to be patient. Not because he begs me to be, but because, though I am an already very patient human, the truly sensible way he lives and functions also don’t require me to abide by myself through countless childish and immature decisions and judgments as if he was becoming a child for the first time. So even on his shortcomings or mistakes, I offer a heartful offering of patience and peacemaking because it is something I know that will be recognized, and taken advantage of, in the positive sense. We don’t take each other for granted for a second, and we both secretly appreciate that fact in many various ways.

He loves to play wrestle and cuddle, sometimes in a very pushy way; He will lay his heavy 200lbs+ strong body over mine and pin me down, sometimes for extended periods of time; an activity we both ‘get off’ on as he asserts a sexually teasing physical dominance, and that I must submit and learn to submit too, even if my muscles ache or become restless. Sometimes while pinning me down, he will tickle me, not only for fun but to watch me slowly learn how to adjust to the constant sensation and submit to his will; a healthy activity that not only strengthens the trust and connection we have with another but also the bond and pact we subconsciously make with each other when we wake up every day. Sometimes he even causes a little pain through pinching, or other ‘small’ actions on my body to the same effect. I love, crave, desire, and hunger for those moments of adapting to his every whim of pain and pleasure, and seeing that conscious and unconscious pleasure he takes in seeing me take my role with him seriously. And the icing on that very beautiful cake is him seeing me take pleasure in performing that role for him that no one else could fill, and seeing that pleasure flutter through my reddened face, even if the sensations are sometimes overwhelming.

We have an uncanny knack of adapting our sex to different kinks and methods, in a way that it is as if we are reading exactly what the other needs to ‘get off’. Our selfishness becomes selflessness in sex, all the while retaining the very extremely carnal and spiritual nature that it contains.

One of the moments that give me life, and that I secretly crave the most is when, before, after, and during sex, he pulls back and stares in pleasure at my body, no matter what position, condition, or how clean it is. He will pull back and lovingly and devilishly eye my body as I am gaping and throbbing, him forever stroking himself, and forever hard as a rock. He never loses his erection with me and never fails to cum. It would be such a huge breath of fresh air as every man I have been with, without fail, always gets soft and fails to be able to cum. He will truly love me and I him. I will see the Adonis in him, the god, the man, the partner, and he will always forever see the companion, the loyal, his other, and his undying friend in me.

We will live many places in life, and do many things and the only thing that will stay constant is our love for ourselves, and our love for one another.