480 BPM

Imagine the bed seen from above.

On the soft sheets – four men lying in their underwear or without it. They chat around, exchange absurd jokes, ask one another a question or two. They bond over their insecurities or the ways of coping with them. They talk about their past, their turn ons, share some fantasies - their hands begin to wander. You can hear the thickening arousal, as the breathing becomes heavier.

It gets harder to speak.

Among increasing moans the hands now travel around their own and each others bodies, the pleasure of being touched matches the one of touching. The joyful masturbation is long begun, the heads lie close, the time slows down and dissolves...

...only to be brought in by the symphony of loud breathing and moans tipping others over. The sound blends with arching backs, spasming hips and shivers taking over. There is a moment of silence, the legs are entangled, some hands held, until the joyous laughter brings peace and hope to do it again in the future.

Dear Erika,

In the world full of omnipresent pressure to comfort to the ugly role of „real men”, the world full of unwanted dick pics, weird competition and pleasure reduced to an orgasm I deeply believe that we all need a male version of I Feel Myself. The ever-so-wanted display of real emotions and sensuality among those who are pressured not to show it. An act of radical, caring jerk-off with a hug after.

PS I am using the term „men” with full awareness of it being a bs category.