Taking your shirt off like this, makes you ten times hotter
Grab the bottom, lift it over your head
and if you're built, I am melting
Because all you did was get dressed to save lives
but it looks like you got dressed to strip
|There's something sexy about men in scrubs. This gif alone is enough to make me cum|
Ladies, you cross your leg to adjust yourself on the bar stool. Yes, the pheromones have reached your shores. The men sweat at the crescendo of the cock battle, this happens at the bar, arcade, or any form of man cave. You have frequented them all, like a feline among a pack of wolves.
There's something about being surrounded by full fledged MAN in competition, heated debate, the energy of DICK, an orchestra of wits, it's more about the vibrations, not physicality.
Gay men, you'd notice this next one before any woman, the one you've been eyeing all night.
He struts out of the bathroom grabbing his dick, getting a handful of it.
All night you've watched to see who goes toward that bathroom, somehow you missed this one. Otherwise you'd be standing next to him at a urinal, no need to explain why. He explodes out of the bathrooms swinging door with brute force, grabbing his crotch like a stress ball. Your mind plays it again and again in slow motion. Sometimes they'll exit that bathroom zipping up their pants. There's something so hot about the fact that he didn't wash his hands, forgot to zip and now he greets you, shaking your hand. You are grabbing the hand that grabbed the cock. No need to feel like a pervert, you aren't the only one who noticed, Jenna has amazing peripheral vision as she pretends to fix her hair. The way his body rocked from side to side, when he stopped in his tracts and leaned to one side, beer in one hand. The way he wrapped his lips around the mouth of the bottle, she envisioned his mouth on a sinner.
Full Court Press
Summertime is always chock full of triggers. Balmy July afternoons invite the men to come out to play. The big brown ball is forced violently against pavement. A gang of tall, hard sweaty men grunt, sweat and fight for that ball, they want to put the ball in that hole. One of them put his hands on his hips while leaning forward, exhausted. He then wipes his soaking wet forehead, then you know what is coming next. You brace yourself as you watch from your car, licking your lips. He reaches for the bottom of his shirt, lifts it up to wipe sweat from his face.
All is revealed, those chiseled abs, everything below the nipples. A glimpse into the forbidden, a taunting, a preview of what the rest of him beholds. One hundred percent hard, glistening, rippling man skin, has been revealed from under a drenched shirt. That forty second series of events happens again and again...Warriors pass around that ball that is covered in each others palm sweat, the same palms that no doubt adjusted nuts. Wait, Tyson just reached down under his basketball shorts to adjust his nut sack, by doing so, the V-Cut was revealed.
Voice from Close Behind
|Doing this is a guaranteed way to get pussy (or ass)|
His presence surprises you. He comes from behind slowly yet aggressively. His mouth a couple of inches from your right ear, his breath hitting your neck, the spot. His energy damn near fucking you from the back and all he said was, "Are you in line?" In the middle of this supermarket, you have lost all of your thoughts. You can barely respond because you haven't even seen him yet, but with that baritone, he can get away with a lot. Sometimes, the sexiest thing a man can do, is to not be seen at all. That is when it is pure energy, unexpected...It's just a voice, but your knees are weak, nipples hardening.
Posture of Perversion
Men shouldn't sit with their legs close together all prim and proper, especially when freeballing in shorts. Fuck yes! They should take up space and lots of it. Legs should be wide, body should be leaned back, the way he always does when you ride the train to work. The jolt of the train, your hand on that hard pole trying to keep balance, every morning you wet yourself. He glances up at you, in his work pants, doesn't matter what kind, because its the position of crotch. The fold of his pants, like Mount Everest, displayed like the Hope Diamond as he reads the morning paper. You know that it is just the fold of fabric, but somehow, that doesn't stop your imagination. Somehow, it may as well be pin-striped cock. The train car bounces and you hold harder on to that pole as he looks up at you. You can't see his eyes, because yours are on his crotch. As the train bounced, you saw a thick imprint that revealed itself as his redwood legs moved.
He looked like a regular business man, another young professional at happy hour and you didn't notice. But now that he's rolling up his dress shirt over a mound of forearm muscle, you're hooked.
Somehow with the sleeves rolled up, he's more rugged, more man. Where the cuffs hit skin, you notice veins, veins which tell a story of a pretty strict gym routine. Loose fabric around man arms is an abomination, everything should be tight, and it is. He's not wearing an undershirt. There's nothing like a dress shirt over a bare hard muscular body. It's like the juxtaposition of sex and sophistication. Tight dress shirt over hard pecs, hard biceps, sleeves rolled up signifying a hard working man. If he unbuttons his shirt, he will expose skin, muscle, flesh. His work day is over, he stands a few feet away, his shirt unbuttoned three times...a loose tie collapsing on his chest. You can see a long triangle of skin, hint of pecs, throbbing every time he lifts his glass.
Gay men, you love smoking weed with the trade. He always has to be the one to roll the blunt, ladies, doesn't it hint on how he will eat the box? The way he manipulates that open blunt with his wet tongue, licking it, rolling it...you can barely compose yourself. You know that once you are high, it will be even more difficult to do so. When his eyes become slits, when he leans back in the whip, you in the passengers side placing your lips on a blunt wet with his spit.
The blunt you watched him lick. That long tongue all over that blunt, he did it so passionately. You love watching that nigga roll that blunt with his tongue...and now, it's time for the shotgun. Open up your mouth and let all of his smoke in...like a new phase of semen...white smoke comes rolling in your mouth, he releases it all.
Does he know how turned on you are? It's so intimate. Spit. Smoke. Fire.
Let it out
Don't lie, when he's drinking beer and burps loudly, you don't want him to say excuse me. It will ruin the rude barbarian sexiness that just transpired. Broken silence from a loud man burp, long and deep from his soul. May not seem subtle, but its unconventional how turned on you always are. Gay men, maybe this is more so for you, drinking with the trade. Anytime a man lets out anything, it is a subliminal form of ejaculation. A release. But just don't pass gas nigga.
"Nice to meet you Kyle..." You gaze into his bedroom intense hazel eyes as your hand nearly disintegrates in his Goliath palm. His handshake is firm, strong, aggressive, commanding and his eye contact confirms confidence. He doesn't have to be built like "The Rock" to pull this off, he just has to have MAN HANDS and the command of yours. Energy flows from our extremities as humans and this is the best way for a man to melt you with a first impression. The boardroom has become a bedroom in your mind. Lets discuss an acquisition of my ass. You can still feel his hand engulfing yours, his wide slightly rough fingers, especially the index, were phallic symbols. Phallic tingles...
Say My Name
I'm bad with names, but he calls my name correctly like he's known me his entire life. And when he chooses to use my name in the beginning of random sentences, to personalize the statement. Even when he is angry, "Isayaah!!!" "Isayaah, come here!" The one you want says your name like no one else...no matter in what context he says it. For me, it's when he doesn't overuse it, nor under use it. When he wants to include me in a group conversation, my name is announced, "Isayaah is a writer too..." It's like I matter, it's like he wants other people to see that I matter. Even if you just met and he repeats back your name, it can be magic.
"Hey I'm Rick"
"Nice meeting you Rick, I'm Isayaah..."
"Isayaah, that's a great name, Isayaah."
As opposed to a simple impersonal "Nice meeting you."
He upholds your majesty by choosing to repeat your name in a variety of situations.
The calling of a King.
Oh how subtle his sexy is for me...
FREEBALLING IN BALL SHORTS
and you're HUNG...
|Maybe this isn't so subtle...|