absolutely love muscle.
There is nothing more stimulating to me than a buff, gorgeous muscleman. It turns my head. It makes me want.
A bodybuilder is a wonderful thing to behold.
That said, occasionally when I see a picture of a swole dude, I like to examine the background of said pic. You can learn a lot, just by looking.
Take Adam Charlton, here. (Please!) He's all flexy and posey behind his hatchback. And of course, your eyes can't help but be drawn to his adorable face, and his hunky, muscular muscles. I mean, puh-lease! Are you not already half way to orgasm over this guy?
Can you imagine being the skinny box-boy at the grocery store who is bagging the groceries as Adam Checks out? The clerk asks said hunk, "Do you need any help out today?"
Adam takes a look at you, the aforementioned box boy, and winks. He hesitates.
Oh god, ohgod ohgodohgodohgod, you plead in your mind. PLEASE need help!
"Yeah, I think I could use some help," he finally smiles.
As you rejoice, thanking whatever kind of god or Flying Spaghetti Monster is up there, Adam leads the way to his aforementioned hatchback, his tight ass flexing as his legs alternate the glute muscles, seemingly for your own enjoyment. Adam cocks his head back to make sure you're following. He notices that you're about to pass out with lust, and he smirks.
"Here we are," he says, with that intoxicating British accent of his, as you arrive at the car. He opens up the back end, then stares into your wanting eyes. "Can you stick the package into my back-end here?" he smiles.
You wonder if his convoluted request might be just a British idiom, or some kind of different way of saying things; like we say "elevator" and they say "lift;" we say "umbrella" and they say "bumbershoot." That kind of thing.
We say "put my groceries" and they say "stick the package;" we say "inside my hatchback," and they say, "into my back-end." That kind of thing.
As you cautiously load your package into his back end, he watches. Patiently. Then he slowly raises his green shorts and tightens his massive legs into rock-hard, striated columns of man-muscle.
You nearly fall. Into his "back end."
"Would you mind taking my picture, lad?" he finally asks. "I'm just visiting the States, and I'd like to send a picture back to my mum, to let her know I'm eating okay."
"S... sure," you say, after you pull your body off of his "package(s)," recuperating from your involuntary orgasm. "I'd be happy to, Mr. Charlton."
He looks surprised. "You know who I am?"
"Oh, yes, I do," you respond. "Jerked off to you many, many times."
He smirks again. Then his smirk turns into an all-out grin. "You certainly are an interesting back-ender," he says.
Back-ender? Is that another British idiom?
Then he adds, "Well, perhaps we should venture a meeting between us two, a little later. Wouldn't want to disappoint a fan, after all."
Okay, where I was originally going with all of this (before Adam's impossibly gorgeous physique distracted me) is here: I sometimes like to take a gander at the stuff in the background. Today's picture offers a wealth of information:
First, I was able to deduce that this uber-fetching Brit was in America by examing the barely-visible license plate frame. It says "Palm Beach." Last I checked, there wasn't a Palm Beach in the UK.
Second, let's examine the contents of said back-end: Apparently, Mr. Charlton does a lot of spilling. Take a gander at the mega-bundle of paper towels, top left. He does eat healthy, though, doesn't he. Kashi Go-Lean (extra-large box). I can't really make out much else. Wish I had a higher resolution pic. But one thing I DO make out is the GENEROUS, EXTRA-LARGE, PERHAPS-GALLON-SIZED bottles of wine!
Evidently, said hunk likes a little granola with his booze. And the presence of the aforementioned paper towels now makes sense. I know I do a lot of spilling when I've had a few too many.
You can learn a lot, just by looking.