Not a cloud in the high western sky of Northern Colorado as the sun caressed my skin. Temperatures in the low nineties on that July afternoon in 2000. The elevation and absence of humidity kept me high and dry while I commanded the Natural Fort in all my butt-ass naked glory. The locale so named for being a natural sandstone fortification shaped by centuries of erosion via rain, snow, and wind. Its unique beauty scarred with graffiti and litter. An easy target for vandals and disgusting slobs because of its location alongside Interstate 25. Only a few miles south of Wyoming. On the otherwise flat eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains where the Great Plains begin. It was a weekday – I want to say Wednesday – so there was little risk of anyone else showing up. If someone had, it’s anyone’s guess how they would’ve reacted.
I was there with Kate. A real-life 1960s flower child now a middle-aged woman experimenting with photography. We’d recently met and she wasted no time asking me to pose for her. Upfront about wanting to see everything. Wanting to document me in action as I strutted my stuff with authority. Instantly recognizing my shameless big dick energy and love of performing. Shining through the dense clouds of perfectionism and compassion that have dogged me throughout my life. I agreed to pose for her. Thrilled by the opportunity to express myself as I wanted for an encouraging audience and collaborator. I should’ve always listened more to the Kates of the world rather than the haters who would never allow me to please them. Or, if you’ve read my memoir, I should always listen to the Toris and never ever the Beckys. I get that now.
Summer 2000 was the peak of a transitional period in my life that began the previous year and would wind down over the next several months. A frustrating period in my life. I’d exploded into adulthood with born self-discipline and ambition combined with a fun-loving almost bohemian spirit. Working and playing hard as I balanced day jobs with making rock and roll and running the streets of downtown Denver all night long. I was totally on the right track for me but took the advice of those haters and decided to “buckle down” (unnecessarily in hindsight) and take my day job seriously, Even committing the unforgivable sin of getting my long hair cut short. Only to pose a serious threat to said haters and losers who were lazy as fuck. People who never stopped to think and merely reacted. Always negatively. Getting myself run out of that company. Then another. And another. Before yet another.
And there was another after that. One I allowed to exploit my naked ambition and raw leadership abilities at age 21 to get it through its own transitional period before being canned for bullshit theft accusations. Had I stolen from the company, it surely would’ve pressed criminal charges. But I digress. My next job, which lasted nearly three years, was just around the corner. I was essentially on a three-week vacation when I posed for Kate. And this experience was the release I needed at that moment. Turned loose to unleash my talents as I saw fit. And for someone who appreciated them. Offering praise and occasional suggestions. But never criticism. Because there were no valid criticisms to be made. I led the charge from start to finish. Pointing out every step of the way with my big hard cock. Throbbing from the excitement of liberation from both clothes and walking on eggshells. Only watching out for broken glass as I made my way around the fort. Kate captured my raging manhood and firm round booty all the while. I began the shoot in clothes, but they didn’t stay on long.
This has always been my favorite image from the shoot. Even back then I already knew that X marked the spot. Though Kate shot all the photos on 35mm color film, I think they look better in black and white. It’s not a knock on her because she was still learning. I also own the rights to these photos and can do with them as I please.
Although still fairly skinny at the time, my metabolism was beginning to slow. Meaning that I could no longer eat whatever I wanted whenever I wanted without gaining fat. I’m also struck by how young my face looked then. Age is ultimately just a number as I’m way hotter now at 47 than I was at 21. I still looked like a kid at 21. It’s why I don’t want to show a photo with my face. But I swear I was of legal age at the time. I’m definitely one of those men who peaked after 40. And I couldn’t be happier about that.
I was 15 months away from the start of my stripping career. In retrospect, this photoshoot was a precursor to my private party shows. It was a sexual experience for each of us albeit one with no physical contact. I had zero physical interest in Kate. She displayed no allusions to the contrary and gave every impression of being devoted to her husband. But I spent that afternoon exhibiting my naked body and expressing my adventurous sexuality while she enjoyed the show. Capturing every moment from beginning to end. I didn’t hold back. Exploring the entire fort. Striking pose after pose alongside the weathered and sometimes graffitied sandstone pillars. Occasionally tagging them myself with precum after touching them with the swollen tip of my cock. Daring more than once to position myself up high and in view of the constant stream of Interstate traffic. Regularly stoking my cock in front of her. Not because I needed to. Because it felt good. In hindsight, I could’ve shot a load for her camera and she would’ve caught it with enthusiasm. In hindsight, I should’ve. I should’ve marked the neglected Natural Fort as my territory with wave after wave of my hot sticky cum with Kate capturing the hypermasculine pageantry of libertine nobility on film.
“But beauty has its own laws, inconsistent with Christian morality.”
-Camille Paglia
I’ve never been wont to long for the past. And this trip down memory lane is not out of nostalgia. Rather, its purpose is to demonstrate – more for myself than anyone else – how effortlessly I may chance into a hedonistic opportunity and immediately seize control. I’ve done this countless times since and made decent money in the process. The right people eager to bestow all their confidence upon me to deliver them to the promised land of ecstasy. And all I have to do is lead by example by chasing my internalized muse of sexual gratification. I did it on that afternoon in July 2000 and can only imagine how more effectively I’d deliver now that I’m far more experienced and more beautiful than ever. That’s always been the easy part.
The hard part has been my ridiculous and self-destructive mission to please everyone. In practice, these exercises in futility saw me hold back my strengths so as to not make others feel bad about themselves. Encouraging them to aim high. Too naive to understand that these people choose to feel bad about themselves. Choose to aim low. They are victims because they choose to be victims. Lazy and cowardly by no one’s hand but their own. Victims of their own self-fulfilling prophecies. Regardless of any legitimate harm others may have inflicted on them in the past. I learned the hard way that the most ruinous people are not the strong and dynamic. They are the weak and apathetic. Preying on the kindness and generosity of others. I was long too kind and generous for my own good. Only to be thanked for it with accusations of being selfish and uncaring. Such people holding my beauty, both inside and out, against me to suit their ends at any moment convenient for any given excuse. I’ve learned my lesson. Fuck them all. Life is way too short to waste on anyone who behaves that way. Unless I’m hunting them for sport, but that’s a different topic worthy of its own essay.
I’m now more than ever embracing the underlying libertinage that has always driven me at my best. The yin to the yang that is my physical beauty from head to toe. The driving force behind my art. And the shamelessly naked and sexual performances I’ve delivered to thousands of women for over two decades. Executed with unabashed Machiavellian authoritarianism. It’s my way or the highway. And my way is far more pleasurable for everyone involved should they choose to feel pleasure. Unlike many, I need not make constant references to my honesty, accountability, self-discipline, or work ethic. These qualities in me speak for themselves. All I must focus on is unleashing my big dick energy and bad boy ways on those with the confidence to allow themselves to have fun and experience pleasure on the highest level without guilt. Because there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The “Christian morality” portion of the Camille Paglia quote above doesn’t reference the spiritual philosophies of Christianity itself but rather its perversions by evil people to hide behind. Plenty of libertines have committed acts of evil, but so have way more self-proclaimed “God-fearing” people.
And that’s enough about worthless and weak people right now.
“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
I bare myself, figuratively and literally, for you. Those of you who choose to make your own fun and experience pleasure without remorse. And those of you who want to but don’t know how or where to choose your own adventure in libertinism. That’s why I lead by example. It’s how I run bachelorette and birthday parties. I’m often not the only one to get naked. As my example inspired girls to do everything from flashing their tits to getting butt-ass naked. I create an environment in which my fellow beauties feel safe to liberate themselves from the bondage of everyday bullshit. Despite how much I accomplished, I look back and see how I could’ve done even more. The good news is that there’s still time for me to do everything I want. Bigger and better than I can even imagine in this moment. And the same goes for every individual reading this.
Kate, ever the voyeur, suggested during our session how sexy it would be to have a female model with us too. I can imagine it. Two hot kids barely into adulthood. Butt-ass naked together in the July sun. Climbing all over weathered sandstone pillars. Blurring the line dividing art and pornography as being in the same frame together leads to touching. Then kissing. Licking and sucking. Before fucking each other’s brains out mere feet from the Interstate. Thrusting my big hard cock in and out of her tight wet pussy with reckless abandon. Going all the way in every position possible within our rocky surroundings. Pounding her deep from above, below, and behind. Our screams of passion and excitement drowning out the steady flow of traffic. Our photographer burning through roll after roll of film. Racing to document our continually escalating pleasure to the delight of her own pleasure. My costar and I finally exploding in climax together. Drenching the monument with our hot juices. I could’ve made it happen and had the photos to prove it. I still could. It’s time for me to get busy.