A catholicity of tastes - written by my friend Sam on the Isle of Dogs in London

I have to confess to a catholicity of tastes... to me it's about being fit, generating high energy... glowing... a warm and sparkling consistency with a generous dash of mischief... and deep sensitivities and clarity of intentions... and the willingness to engage and express intelligently in order to find the "right place" where truths tend to take their coffee breaks... and find these together if the interests are congruent... not making assumptions when just exploring a bit by posing a friendly question or two to clarify the stew... which is so much more sensible... thus nary an iota of intimidation or bullying bullshit transmits from any quarter of the soul... an inappropriate tool... the physicality that entrances me is like that of a classic sculpture or a priceless painting or a heroic poem manifested carnate... sometimes just showing that you are being the best you can be is a huge turn on... partialities go to smooth satiny skin with or without hair, soft and tender but lying atop a firmness of muscular design that is characteristic of a masculine male... a face that demands to be kissed for long long minutes and hours... an embrace that is comforting and welcoming and yielding yet full of strength and ardour and needing reciprocation, tending to "tending to"... tall short hairy or not... chiselled features and full lips, a cock that is a perfect fit in my mouth or my ass... an arse that has a mind of its own and speaks volumes with a natural play... all these things reside in every different kind of man... and I love 'em all.... even the Oirish...