About twelve years ago I attended the opening of an exhibition of art at a trendy gallery in New York. The works were fairly daring - most had sexual themes. As I moved throughout the gallery, I came upon a group of people, perhaps twenty, at the center of the room. They were surrounding a work of 'performance art.' The work consisted of a young woman, totally naked, on a red board placed on the floor, about five feet wide and eight feet long. And, she was masturbating.
The reaction of the people varied. No one laughed or snickered. Most viewed her with interest, but showed little emotion. Occasionally, a woman would join the group, see what they were watching, and leave in disgust.
As I watched the girl, I couldn't help but wonder about her. Who was she? Was this her idea? How long would her 'performance' last?
I became engrossed in this young woman. I think I kind of fell in love with her. Her right hand tenderly rubbed her pussy while he left hand tweaked a nipple. Her eyes were closed the entire time she pleasured herself. To my knowledge, she never reached climax, and I watched her for twenty minutes.
I've often thought about that girl. I wish I would have made an effort to meet her. Today when I jerk off, I have many moods. If I want a violent, fast cum, I use porno magazines that show close-ups of women's assholes. But, on those occasions when I want a slow, tender, romantic time with my dick and balls (and asshole) I think of that lovely girl performing for the patrons of that art gallery. Life is so strange and wonderful.