This one’s going to sound mean. Some of you will be horrified that I can gain so much pleasure from something which, for you, is embarrassing and uncomfortable. But I’m going to put it out there on the off-chance that others not only agree but get a little bit dribbly and cross-eyed at the thought of it.
I like it when you get public erections.
I love to see your cock growing hard through your jeans when we’re sitting on a crowded tube train. I like to watch the fabric stretching as your eyes wander around, trying to settle on something – anything – you can concentrate on to make this go away. I like to whisper inappropriate words to you across the table at dinner, encouraging you to grow hot and bothered. I want to watch as you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat and ask if we can please just wait a bit before we get the bill because you’re not happy standing up yet.
How do you disguise yours?
I used to go out with a guy who had a shoulder-slung man-bag for exactly these occasions. I could get him hard while we were on the train, then he’d sling the bag over his shoulder and position it in front of him, at crotch height, to allow him to disembark with dignity.
It reminds me of teenage boys. Not that teenage boys do it for me now that I’m an adult, of course. I’m with the grumpy grown-up in the My Chemical Romance song: teenagers scare the living shit out of me. With their haircuts and their impenetrable pop-culture references and their heartbreaking, humiliating youth.
But when I was a teenager myself, teenage boys were the most fascinating thing in the world. The jokes they made about sex that they didn’t quite understand, their overdeveloped right forearms, their desperation to touch – oh please please please – a boob. But above all I loved spotting that gentle rearrangement, that shuffling motion, as they draped a t-shirt or a sweater over their crotch to hide an uncomfortable public boner.
Each guy has his own way of hiding it – some lay a sweater over their lap, others untuck a shirt and lean forward so that they can hide it behind the hanging fabric. My first boyfriend would rearrange his belt, at the same time tucking his hard on behind the waistband of his pants. Some guys rely on baggier jeans or a shift in seating position, others carry strategically placed bags.
How subtle is it?
You all think no one will notice. You think you’re being subtle. And perhaps not everyone knows. But as I’m whispering words in your ear, or regaling you with an unnecessarily explicit story, I’m watching to see you shift, to spot that tell-tale bulge in your trousers, that hidden movement that tells me you’re growing hard.
I’m noticing the fuck out of that. And I love you for it.