Lust Requited!

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Mr. Joshua knows what you’re looking at.

Regulars here at neverland are aware of a handful of longstanding frustrations I have that I affectionally refer to as my “unrequited lusts.”  These are the subjects of relentless and ruthless teases that I’ve been a total sucker for. For example, Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!) and his momentous, mountainous, pendulous package. He is forever shoving his hands down the front of his trunks in his matches and readjusting the baggage that’s shifted during flight. He persistently points at the behemoth that strains the stitches holding together his trunks, reminding opponents and fans that there’s a hidden anaconda yet to be unleashed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so torqued by the Mr. Joshua package-tease! I’ve pleaded desperately for a rising upswell of popular demand crying out for a Mr. J strip stakes match (or series of matches, however many it takes before an opponent instantly becomes my #1 favorite wrestler by peeling off Mr. J’s dignity and finally, at long, long last unleashing the beast).

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Michael C. Hall has gone shirtless, plenty, but…

Another frequent topic of my unrequited love has been more in the realm of my erotic wrestling fantasy material, namely Michael C. Hall’s ass. His character grew on me in Six Feet Under. But as Dexter, the sympathetic serial killer, he has played a starring role in several homoerotic wrestling fantasies of mine, one of which I actually wrote down and shared as part of my collection of celebrity homoerotic wrestling fiction. Not too surprising, Michael managed to come out on top in that match by pinning granite-hardbodied Justin Theroux to the mat via sitting on his face and letting those luscious cheeks make Mr. Anniston forget that he didn’t want to be trapped right there, right then.

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Justin Theroux got the honors to wrestle Michael C. Hall in my homoerotic wrestling imagination (lucky son of a bitch!)

However tantalizing Michael’s ass has appeared in butt-hugging trousers in Dexter, though, the actual glutes themselves have never made an appearance. Dexter sex scenes? Sure. Naked boobies everywhere you look? Absolutely. The barest glimpse of Michael’s uncovered, bulbous booty? Not a one. Damn it.

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Dexter’s naked ass has landed!!!

That is, there has been no sighting of those pound-able melons in the flesh until now. After being overseas on vacation, I’ve spent the last week scarfing down the episodes of True Blood and Dexter that I missed while away. I finally caught up with both, and glory be, after so much teasing, so many close-ups on that fantastic (but clothed) bubble butt, long after I’d intellectually given up on ever seeing that ass in the flesh, Michael sated my deep down lust with a long, lingering, full-on sex-scene starring (and I mean STARRING) his g-g-gorgeous ass!!!

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Simply gorgeous.

When I say this steamy scene stars Michael’s ass, I mean, seriously, there was clearly nothing else on anyone’s mind as they blocked this scene. The woman that Dexter is supposed to be banging is naked and, in her way, for those with that predilection, I’m sure attractive. But there’s no way to put it other than to say that her naked body is completely and entirely upstaged. It’s not just that Michael’s beautiful nakedness is always on top with most of the scene shot from above. His ass literally gets several of it’s own close-ups! I mean, how often does this happen, that the camera zooms in, pans away, and then zooms in again on the guy’s ass in an opposite-sex sex scene!? It’s as if Michael, who you know had been asked a thousand times before to bare it, finally just said, fine, fuck it, film my ass!

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The camera lingers…

Enough of the phenomenological critique. Let me just say that even with all of that build-up and all of that teasing year after year, still, without a doubt I did not leave disappointed.  His co-star kept trying to wiggle into the shot, but there was no disguising that those glutes are simply beautiful… powerful, sculpted shelf, fuckable for days.

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Worth the wait…

Michael had a cancer scare that, sounds like, is behind him now. I’m still astonished that he was apparently diagnosed, treated, and in remission all basically within the time constraints of a between-season hiatus. It’s also incredible that despite what was apparently some aggressive treatment, his body is rocking my world every ounce as much today as when Keith first stripped him and threw him into bed in Six Feet Under.  I love that he’s at it for one last season as the lovable serial killer, and he is most definitely a fan-pleaser with this fulfillment of so many unspoken promises over the years.

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Someday… Maybe…

This, of course, fills up my tank of hopefulness again for so many of my unrequited lusts. Maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance that we’ll see someone unpack Mr. Joshua’s oversized baggage. Perhaps sultry stunner Rio Garza will, indeed, someday shock a cocky opponent with a picture-perfect flying drop-kick to the chin AND peel off his own sweaty trunks and stuff them into his opponent’s stunned mouth. Possibly, just maybe, I may even get that custom DVD I ordered from a wrestling fantasyman going on two years ago. Michael C. Hall let us take a lovingly long, lingering gander at his gluteus maximus… anything is possible!

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