Are you an ass man?

She asked me this after I told her I needed to see her ass. And at that moment, I most assuredly was an ass man.

There are some aspects of my erotic imagination that are, if not fixed, at least relatively consistent: I like clothing in general, and certain types in particular. I enjoy exercising control, dominance, particularly in the lead-up to a tryst, particularly in public. I like oral sex.

But other aspects of my desire are more contingent.

I’ve been trying, as a little thought exercise, to bail down just what it is that resonates for me sexually in different situations. What is it that captures my eye, my imagination? What stiffens my cock? And the answer is, it kinda depends.

In a professional, social, or intellectual setting – one in which conversation is the main means of interaction – I’m close to purely sapiosexual. What will catch my attention and hold it is your personality – your intelligence, wit, flirtiness. Yes, your looks will matter, but far less than, say, your voice. The woman I’ve compared to Sasha Grey is stunning physically, visually. But she’s also one of the smartest people I regularly encounter. She’s thoughtful and sensitive, funny and creative. And while it’s her looks that made my jaw drop when I met her, it’s this whole package that I find repeatedly compelling.

Out in public, it’s different. First, foremost, interest attracts me. That woman who keeps checking me out? She is, almost by definition, hot.

And second, a sort of composite of characteristics that add up to “intriguing.” A woman who presents herself as being somehow “complete” and “evident” as she is just doesn’t appeal. If the way a woman carries herself doesn’t imply a question to me, she’s unlikely to hold my gaze. I might look. I might look twice. I might turn my head. But that’s it.

But one who’s sad, or curious, or riveted? I want to know more. If there’s a story that she invites me to imagine, or to wonder about? That’ll hold my interest.

Of course I like a nice ass, round breasts, beautiful eyes, a gorgeous face. Who doesn’t. But to hold my gaze? There needs to be more.

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