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Part 4 – Inexplicably male.
It can’t be overly easy for a man of 6’7”. Men are supposed to be big, or at least that’s what our male instincts tell us, but when you’re so much bigger, some things are just so much harder. Take beds for example, an ordinary bed was never designed with you in mind, nor doors for that matter. Fragile things become common place to strong hands, far more than the common man may perceive. Showers, when did you last see a shower head 7’ in the air and even the humble bath has its relaxing promises pissed on, when half of you is wet and cold while the other half is warm and soothed and the cell phone, the cell phone is a bloody joke.
It’s part of being a man I guess, somewhere lost between our ego and genetic code is the fundamental acceptance that big is better, stronger, more powerful... more dominant. Like the inexplicable drive of salmon swimming upstream, men know to be the alpha male is best... or if not the alpha, then happily close to him, though one thing’s for certain, no man wants to be the omega of the pack. The alpha is respected, feared, trusted and needed. His instincts to dominate are willingly indulged as he can lead, protect and provide, making him feeling validated and whole. It’s just the way we work, we all want it one way or another.
Philosophy, civilisation and religion have all successfully helped us to forget and banish one inalienable truth. You and me baby, we ain’t nothing but mammals. Another man willingly submitting to you, because your strength is greater than his, because he respects you, because he would rather you smiled and protected him than see him as a threat and kick his arse. Because he needs something in your masculinity that his own cannot provide, tell me that doesn’t make you feel something right inside, something kind of male, whether you’re straight or gay.
Sure, most of us no longer fling our poo and scream when stressed or pee on things we want to own, but all that programming is in there somewhere, present even if it’s not intelligible and piloting our unconscious male minds is this pack driven animal with a need... to breed. I think it’s the reason we worry about the size of our manhoods so. It is a simple assumption that makes real sense to 99% of men, your cock is your maleness. Sure there are numerous other virtues and qualities that define the strength and stature of a man and his masculinity, but strip him down to the bare and hairy essence and what do you get?
Sex? Not necessarily, but the penis, indisputably. The moment we first realise what a great sensation the penis willingly provides, what our ability to ejaculate is, we find it’s fuelled and intensified by stupid amounts of testosterone and such. Making our unconscious pilots very happy and thus eagerly encouraging them to seeks out and achieve, to gratify their old and nameless wants.
So a big cock makes for top dog? We know that’s not entirely true, but our masculinity is not something we have given to us from birth, though we may have it, it only becomes tangible once it’s acknowledged by other men. We need the pack, only really through them can a man easily find confidence with his masculinity. To play and fight, to brag and challenge, to simply be with, that our instincts might clarify where our place is and whether we can indeed sit rightfully as an alpha.
Women will tell you that size doesn’t matter and some would argue that they are sincere in their point of view. Deep down however, part of them also inexplicably knows, though perhaps they might understand and respect it less, they want the alpha male, and we knew it all along. The soft and caring, homely male may be perceived as an excellent nurturing father, but it’s the hard, rough alpha male, chief among his peers and of other men that is prized and coveted by the desire of submission.
Being bigger than most though, one unwillingly becomes a suspected proving ground for many a pack member or even a rival male trying to elevate his own respect and standing by making you, such an obvious symbol of male strength, submit to him. Needless to say, many the lesser may try, none if any succeed. The bigger the man, the more unconsciously expectant to other men’s respect he must become accustomed to... and then, there is sex.
Thanks to Rome’s thoughts on Christianity centuries ago, men lost a knowledge that was common place to the ancient and first civilisation. Politicians, lawyers, philosophers and such were not career paths as they are today but rather the preserve of old men past their prime. To be young, was to be a warrior. Strength and ferocity of the body and the mind would have seen you a man on the path to becoming an alpha male, little different than modern gladiators of rugby or football. The camaraderie of arms would have been shared with fellow men and sealed with a special few in mutual satiation of intimate masculinity. For trusted bond, more than just your best mate, more the reason to stop his blood being shed on now long and forgotten killing fields.
A pleasant ring perhaps, well, who can say exactly what does happen behind the closed doors of the locker rooms up and down the country? Perhaps a few straight men bonding in the heterosexual manner of the warriors of old... blatantly yes, they just don’t tell the wife. J
So perhaps you now have an insight to being 6’7”, in command of your youthfulness, your masculinity and your place at the top of the pack, if not the testosterone coursing through your veins. Broad size 14US feet with hairy tops supporting a 265lbs warm unyielding, well muscled frame, tempered by both the gym and battle on the sports field. Biceps over a foot and a half in circumference, made the more imposing for the width of his shoulders holding them up.
Hands with palms far larger than a CD, with strength enough to crush an apple in just one of them and a manhood, heavy and eagerly provoked to exude a clear flow of lubricating virility, who’s scent another man truly respects. Resting unwillingly within the a soft, moist skin enclosure, that instead of causing worry for your masculinity, could only serve to bolster it beyond repute from far lesser men than you.
With that in mind, there he sat, bright and early at the bar room table, waiting for me, waiting for his breakfast, the morning of our first real date.
I took a deep breath, and went to joined him for breakfast, uncertain where the day would take us and desperately trying to ignore the instinct to submit that his very presence demanded from me.
It can’t be overly easy for a man of 6’7”. Men are supposed to be big, or at least that’s what our male instincts tell us, but when you’re so much bigger, some things are just so much harder. Take beds for example, an ordinary bed was never designed with you in mind, nor doors for that matter. Fragile things become common place to strong hands, far more than the common man may perceive. Showers, when did you last see a shower head 7’ in the air and even the humble bath has its relaxing promises pissed on, when half of you is wet and cold while the other half is warm and soothed and the cell phone, the cell phone is a bloody joke.
It’s part of being a man I guess, somewhere lost between our ego and genetic code is the fundamental acceptance that big is better, stronger, more powerful... more dominant. Like the inexplicable drive of salmon swimming upstream, men know to be the alpha male is best... or if not the alpha, then happily close to him, though one thing’s for certain, no man wants to be the omega of the pack. The alpha is respected, feared, trusted and needed. His instincts to dominate are willingly indulged as he can lead, protect and provide, making him feeling validated and whole. It’s just the way we work, we all want it one way or another.
Philosophy, civilisation and religion have all successfully helped us to forget and banish one inalienable truth. You and me baby, we ain’t nothing but mammals. Another man willingly submitting to you, because your strength is greater than his, because he respects you, because he would rather you smiled and protected him than see him as a threat and kick his arse. Because he needs something in your masculinity that his own cannot provide, tell me that doesn’t make you feel something right inside, something kind of male, whether you’re straight or gay.
Sure, most of us no longer fling our poo and scream when stressed or pee on things we want to own, but all that programming is in there somewhere, present even if it’s not intelligible and piloting our unconscious male minds is this pack driven animal with a need... to breed. I think it’s the reason we worry about the size of our manhoods so. It is a simple assumption that makes real sense to 99% of men, your cock is your maleness. Sure there are numerous other virtues and qualities that define the strength and stature of a man and his masculinity, but strip him down to the bare and hairy essence and what do you get?
Sex? Not necessarily, but the penis, indisputably. The moment we first realise what a great sensation the penis willingly provides, what our ability to ejaculate is, we find it’s fuelled and intensified by stupid amounts of testosterone and such. Making our unconscious pilots very happy and thus eagerly encouraging them to seeks out and achieve, to gratify their old and nameless wants.
So a big cock makes for top dog? We know that’s not entirely true, but our masculinity is not something we have given to us from birth, though we may have it, it only becomes tangible once it’s acknowledged by other men. We need the pack, only really through them can a man easily find confidence with his masculinity. To play and fight, to brag and challenge, to simply be with, that our instincts might clarify where our place is and whether we can indeed sit rightfully as an alpha.
Women will tell you that size doesn’t matter and some would argue that they are sincere in their point of view. Deep down however, part of them also inexplicably knows, though perhaps they might understand and respect it less, they want the alpha male, and we knew it all along. The soft and caring, homely male may be perceived as an excellent nurturing father, but it’s the hard, rough alpha male, chief among his peers and of other men that is prized and coveted by the desire of submission.
Being bigger than most though, one unwillingly becomes a suspected proving ground for many a pack member or even a rival male trying to elevate his own respect and standing by making you, such an obvious symbol of male strength, submit to him. Needless to say, many the lesser may try, none if any succeed. The bigger the man, the more unconsciously expectant to other men’s respect he must become accustomed to... and then, there is sex.
Thanks to Rome’s thoughts on Christianity centuries ago, men lost a knowledge that was common place to the ancient and first civilisation. Politicians, lawyers, philosophers and such were not career paths as they are today but rather the preserve of old men past their prime. To be young, was to be a warrior. Strength and ferocity of the body and the mind would have seen you a man on the path to becoming an alpha male, little different than modern gladiators of rugby or football. The camaraderie of arms would have been shared with fellow men and sealed with a special few in mutual satiation of intimate masculinity. For trusted bond, more than just your best mate, more the reason to stop his blood being shed on now long and forgotten killing fields.
A pleasant ring perhaps, well, who can say exactly what does happen behind the closed doors of the locker rooms up and down the country? Perhaps a few straight men bonding in the heterosexual manner of the warriors of old... blatantly yes, they just don’t tell the wife. J
So perhaps you now have an insight to being 6’7”, in command of your youthfulness, your masculinity and your place at the top of the pack, if not the testosterone coursing through your veins. Broad size 14US feet with hairy tops supporting a 265lbs warm unyielding, well muscled frame, tempered by both the gym and battle on the sports field. Biceps over a foot and a half in circumference, made the more imposing for the width of his shoulders holding them up.
Hands with palms far larger than a CD, with strength enough to crush an apple in just one of them and a manhood, heavy and eagerly provoked to exude a clear flow of lubricating virility, who’s scent another man truly respects. Resting unwillingly within the a soft, moist skin enclosure, that instead of causing worry for your masculinity, could only serve to bolster it beyond repute from far lesser men than you.
With that in mind, there he sat, bright and early at the bar room table, waiting for me, waiting for his breakfast, the morning of our first real date.
I took a deep breath, and went to joined him for breakfast, uncertain where the day would take us and desperately trying to ignore the instinct to submit that his very presence demanded from me.
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