More Swedish Delights

Did you catch the story in the NYT in which Swedish/Seattle soccer beauty and underwear model extraordinaire Freddie Ljungberg says that he’s proud to be the subject of gay rumors? What’s with all the athletes rocking the pro-gay message lately? Nice work boys.

Freddie holds a particularly beloved spot in my heart for many reasons. First of all, he’s a stunningly gorgeous boy. Look at those cheek bones! … I said the cheek bones, not his oiled, muscled torso. Oh, okay, look at the oiled muscle torso. It’s all proving the same point. He’s stunningly beautiful. Score one for the knockout Swede.
Speaking of knockout Swedes, he’s also a favorite of mine for his appearance in my homoerotic wrestling fiction. He’s actually made two appearances there, first with countryman Alexander Skarsgård at his back as Freddie faced off with underwear model challenger David Beckham in the inaugural match of the All-Stars. Not to spoil the suspense for anyone who’d like to read it, but the match includes a favored image of mine of Freddie’s head trapped in a front-to-back figure-4 headlock, his face getting smashed into David’s ass, just before he escapes the humiliating hold with a nasty ball claw (good times!). Freddie’s second appearance comes in the midst of “contract renegotiations,” as part of the multi-chapter unraveling of executive assistant Andrew’s career (which in turn, set up the current Secretarial Pool auditions to replace him). So, all told, Freddie’s been at the pivot point of more than one wrestling fantasy of mine.
Freddie also owns a warm and fuzzy (okay, hot and hard) spot for me due to his tattooing. Freddie’s tats are tasteful, and a peekabo tat at the waist is over the top erotic. How can you not just desperately need to yank the waistband of his underwear down to see the rest of that tiger (which you absolutely know must be the nickname for his cock)?
Finally, as if Freddie needed any further eroticizing, he’s also an Alpha Dog. The pic of him sitting on the dock in Seattle with his Newfoundland makes me desperate to tackle the Swede and rip his clothes off him… except for the boots. A grappling session with a naked, sexually secure Freddie wearing only his black work boots is my idea of streets lined with gold!


There was a period of time somewhere between 8 years old and 10 years old when, rather than immediately flip to toy section of the Sears Christmas catalog, I went straight to
the underwear ads. That was probably the most skin I’d ever seen, and I knew that I liked it. A beautiful man modeling briefs is art, whether it’s in Sears or the Met.

Designers of overpriced underwear continue, to this day, exploiting the blatant sexuality of the underwear ad to market a few square inches of thin fabric. God bless him, David Beckham can’t keep his clothes on, it seems, instead displaying his astounding physique over and over and over again for Armani briefs. The classic shot of David wrapped in a huge rope is a fantastically transparent marketing of man-sex. That coiled behemoth hanging between his legs promises that his six pack abs and footballer thighs aren’t the only thing that make David worthy of lust.
Swedish footballer, Freddie Ljungberg, makes my mouth water even more than David Beckham. Freddie tugging at his Calvins makes me irrationally obsessed with buying underwear (must obey Freddie… must buy underwear…). Freddie enjoys the advantage of being Swedish, which gives him an automatic boost in his sexiness quotient. I also get the hit that Freddie is a bad ass, which probably explains his surprise victory in my fictional wrestling match over David. Despite nearly succumbing in David’s crippling figure-4 choke, Freddie managed to knock the Brit out flat.
Towleroad (God bless him, too), recently posted a new ad campaign from Calvin Klein featuring the likes of Twighlight fratboy musclestud, Kellan Lutz. Kellan does more for me in this ad than he’s generally done for me in the past. I think his crotch clawed in one hand and one of those huge pecs clawed in the other could be worth some imaginative energies.
The upcoming Calvin Klein campaign features many more objects of lust for me, though. Mechad Brooks has got to have one of the most stunning torsos ever. It’s a ridiculous oversight on my part that he hasn’t starred in a wrestling match yet. That will be rectified soon.
Japanese footballer Hidetoshi Nakata has been on my card for an All-Stars match for some time. This shot of him with his briefs tugged halfway down his hips reminds me that I must find a suitable opponent for him soon. And finally, I’m not as familiar with Ferndando Verdasco, but I will be now. Just try to tell me that shaggy head of hair isn’t crying out for someone to drag him around by it. Just try.

So I know why I get so hot and bothered by hunks in underwear. Other than the obvious fact that a gorgeous body in next to no clothes is an instant turn on, the hot stud in briefs has two vectors of allure for me. For one, it’s another transgressive image, displaying for the world to see (in awe) what is ostensibly a private image of a hard man in his undergarments. To see a man on a billboard fifty feet high in nothing but his Calvins blurs the line between private sexuality and public decorum, and that’s a bit naughty and incredibly nice at the same time. For another thing, this all takes me back to being nine years old, running to my bedroom and slamming the door the minute I could get my hands on the Sears catalog, and having my ears start to ring with the pump of blood at seeing gorgeous men in nothing but their underwear.