Despite what you may have concluded, I am not a body fascist. True enough, I wear out the keys on my keyboard that spell “m-u-s-c-l-e-g-o-d.” It’s also true that nine times out of ten the men who appear (naked) in my erotic fantasies are ripped and toned, with huge shoulders, mounding pecs, narrow waists, muscled asses and thick, powerful thighs. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that formula.
But it’s not like anything less is mincemeat. In fact, there are a lot of beautiful male bodies that can rev my engine in a heartbeat that have nothing to do with bouncing pecs. Russell Tovey is a case in point. I’ve gushed about tasty morsel Russell before. Superherofan just capped some tasty pics of my favorite werewolf. This is not a gym bunny body. He’s not shredded or vascular. And he’s spot-on erotic-fantasy gold, exactly as he is (well, particularly when he is naked).
The boyish face on a hot, manly body is particularly hot. There’s a sense of superficial vulnerability that makes me imagine him a pretty boy battler with a wicked sadistic streak. I enjoyed tossing Russell and his co-star Aidan Turner into a pro-ring to settle a score with a couple of the boys from True Blood in my homoerotic celebrity wrestling fiction. It’s a match-up to determine who’s got the goods to sell another werewolf and vampire production in a world crowded with them these days. It’s an ugly fight in which Russell’s fantastically prominent ears are put to good use on several occasions.
True enough. I love some thick, pumped meat bulging in all the right places. But musclegods are far from the only men who populate my erotic fantasies. A big eared, boyishly dimpled Britboy can buy and sell me just about any day, particularly in union jack wrestling trunks getting double-teamed in the corner with a dirty ref not paying attention.
Sidelineland 