Rites of Spring: Chapter 2

In the second installment of the Rites of Spring series, Gazelle's eyes are swimming with colors and tears, as she is running, the best Messenger of the Tribe, running through Men's Town. They are all there for her, hundreds, thousands of men.

"Gazelle watched him -- okay, stared at him -- as she jogged past. Messenger men, on the average, had a tendency to be long and lean.  Quick, absolutely. Strong, certainly.  Masculine, positively (sometimes) -- but never in the combination she saw in that Man sentry.  He was so strong, so tight, so masculine it was like stumbling across a hormone icon:  a statue dedicated to muscles, hair, strength, and -- she guessed (okay, hoped) -- a big cock.
    The street continued, and she continued to follow it.  Half a block or so later she saw another Man -- still with the virile masculinity of the first, the other, though, was a bit older:  his hair was sprinkled with light white, and his body -- while still tight and corded -- seemed a touch softer.  His skin was paler -- a light cocoa compared to the first man’s night sky.  But he was bigger, much bigger than the first.  The other had been lean and quick; this new one was big and much stronger: like encountering a lion after passing a cheetah.
    Turning her head back to the road, she saw others:  four on the right, three on the left.  Like the other two they had all the trains of a Man:  corded muscles, a hard stare, ritual scars like ribbing up their arms and across their chests, weapons (spears, swords, guns, ropes, shields) at the ready.  But they were as unique as seven people could be:  some were shorter, some taller.  One was gray-haired and quite old.  One was, maybe, eighteen and had the body of a young man.  One was missing a leg and supported himself on a crutch (the Age of Sacrifices).  One was almost fat, but muscles still moved with leaden certainty under his big chest, soft belly. 
    There was something else that made them different -- but only from the first, the Sentry, she’d seen.  They were all different, all unique (within the range of being a Man, that is) but all the same in one respect.
    No loincloth, no shorts.  Just cocks."

~4700 words