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Category Archives: Bulge

Tom Daley and His Speedo

Because a day without Tom Daley and his bulge is like a day without sunshine. Gratuitous much? And since today just happens to be lacking in the sunshine department, here are a few nearly naked shots of Mr. Daley, our favorite Olympian, clad barely in a Speedo, and ripping it up off the diving board. Forget David Beckham and Ben Cohen, when is Tom Daley going to get an underwear contract? (Or better yet, lose the clothing altogether?)

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Super Speedo Post

It’s the season of the Speedo, so here are a few select shots from some traditional favorites (Tom Daley, David Beckham, Ryan Lochte) and some lesser-known but equally-bulging others (Elio Pis, Paul Rothmann). Hey, it’s Monday, it might reach the 90’s, and this is all you’re going to get from me mid-day.

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Tom Daley: Bulge & Pits

Because it’s Monday.

Because it’s always a good time for a gratuitous photo of Tom Daley in a Speedo.

Because Tom Daley looks good showing off his bulge, his arm pits, and his torso.

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Ben Cohen’s Leaked Full-Frontal Shots!

Forget my full-frontal reveal, and check out Ben Cohen’s package below. If you want to talk about a major male nudity get, I think Mr. Cohen may come in second only to David Beckham. Second best or not, the battle of the bulge is hotter than ever. (Though I didn’t expect his balls to be so, well, dirty…)

Wait for it…

Two times in one day? I almost feel bad.

Almost.

And really – did you think it would happen? There are two things you will never see on this site: my cock and Ben Cohen’s cock. David Beckham’s dick is still up in the air…

 

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The Great Gratuitous Shirtless and Naked Male Celebrity Post

As a follow-up to this mega-collection of naked male celebrity photos (The Erection Collection), and a pre-Easter treat in the limbo-like suspense before He rises (oh blasphemy), here is another group of former ‘Hunks of the Day‘, hyper-linked for easy access and studded with a few new photos for your man-candy Easter baskets. I’m not going to group them into any sort of order or label as I did last time, partly because we as humans defy such quick categorization (but mostly because I’m just too damn lazy and it will be enough searching through the archives to find a decent spattering of male celebrities getting their nudity on).

By the way, if you want to search the Archives yourself, scroll down to the bottom of the page, click the drop-down box for the ‘Archives’ section, and select the month and year you wish to peruse. If you go to the bottom of the pages and hit ‘Older posts’ you can keep going back, back, way on way back when…

The very furry Scott Caan

The artfully inked (and aptly-last-named) Stuart Reardon

The sporty Nick Youngquest

The perfectly pubic Noah Mills

The beautifully bountiful Columbus Short

The sexy-back singer Justin Timberlake

The arguably cutest of the three, Nick Jonas

The ever-Speedo-clad Tom Daley

The gleefully shirtless Darren Criss

The oh-so-young-but-still-hairy arm pits of Taylor Lautner

The specimen of perfection Scott Herman

The dashing dancer/football player Victor Cruz

The shirtless guy from all the shows I never watched Chace Crawford

The falsetto smoothness known as Adam Levine

& the manliest man Sacha Harding.

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David Beckham & Tom Daley: Guess Who’s In Their Underwear?

It’s probably not whom I would think at first. If it was a question of a Speedo, hands down the safe money would be on Tom Daley. But if it came to underwear, I’d bet on David Beckham. This is a pleasant switch-around, with Daley donning his Calvins, and Beckham in a pair of tight trousers. I’m not sure who wears what better, so we’ll call it a British draw. It’a Sunday. I’m tired. Do the math.

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If It’s Black-and-White, It’s Arty (Even If It’s Male Nudity)

He had grown into a lad of such beauty that he hardly seemed meant for this world – and indeed one almost feared that he might only briefly be a part of it… He brought pleasure to the eye and serenity to the heart, and made people wonder what bounty of grace might be his from former lives. ~ Murasaki Shikibu, ‘The Tale of Genji’
What a splendid gentleman he has become… Back in the days when everything was going his way, when the whole world seemed to be his, we used to hope that something would come along to jar him just a little from his smugness. But now look at him, so calm and sober and collected. There is something about him when he does the smallest little thing that tugs at a person’s heart. It’s all too sad. ~ Murasaki Shikibu, ‘The Tale of Genji’
I am a steadier and soberer person than I used to be, and it astonishes me that you still think me a trifler. One of these days the true state of affairs will be apparent even to you. ~ Murasaki Shikibu, ‘The Tale of Genji’
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Unpacking, Undressing

“For I am – or I was – one of those people who pride themselves on their willpower, on their ability to make a decision and carry it through. This virtue, like most virtues, is ambiguity itself. People who believe that they are strong-willed and the masters of their destiny can only continue to believe this by becoming specialists in self-deception. Their decisions are not really decisions at all – a real decision makes one humble, one knows that it is at the mercy of more things than can be named – but elaborate systems of evasion, of illusion, designed to make themselves and the world appear to be what they and the world are not.” ~ James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

“What happened was that, all unconscious of what this ennui meant, I wearied of the motion, wearied of the joyless seas of alcohol, wearied of the blunt, bluff, hearty, and totally meaningless friendships, wearied of wandering through the forests of desperate women, wearied of the work, which fed me only in the most brutally literal sense. Perhaps, as we say in America, I wanted to find myself. This is an interesting phrase, not current as far as I know in the language of any other people, which certainly does not mean what it says but betrays a nagging suspicion that something has been misplaced. I think now that if I had had any intimation that the self I was going to find would turn out to be only the same self from which I had spent so much time in flight, I would have stayed at home. But, again, I think I knew, at the very bottom of my heart, exactly what I was doing…” ~ James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

“He made me think of home – perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” ~ James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

 

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A Room in Boston, In Underwear

The scarcity of narrative forces the viewer to fill-in-the-blanks. Like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story (which I always hated – why make the reader write the book? And which ending is the definitive ending? What really happened??) in its infuriatingly obtuse and abstract construct, it offers hints and nudges, but no real directive. If you’re looking for answers here, you will come away disappointed. The essence of tease and release, the game at its most obstinate and inane. I would feel worse about it were there not other demons with which to duel. Confined by the frames and threatened ever by the cropping, it is a claustrophobic place to reside. It is, by my own design, a trap. A cage with the illusion of freedom, and plumage that grows more faded with the passing of time. This story is yours. Write it as you would have it written. Or better yet, listen to the words of James Baldwin:

“Now, from this night, from this coming morning, no matter how many beds I find myself in between now and my final bed, I shall never be able to have any more of those boyish, zestful affairs – which are, really, when one thinks of it, a kind of higher, or, anyway, more pretentious masturbation. People are too various to be treated so lightly. I am too various to be trusted.”

“Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare.”

“Confusion is a luxury which only the very, very young can possibly afford and you are not that young anymore.”

“He looked at me and I saw in his face again something which I have fleetingly seen there during these hours: under his beauty and his bravado, terror, and a terrible desire to please; dreadfully, dreadfully moving, and it made me want, in anguish, to reach out and comfort him.”

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Tom Daley’s Spinning Bulge

It’s been at least one hot minute since Tom Daley showed up here in a Speedo, and that’s one minute too many. Here he is, bulging out with all that centrifugal force, and you see now why science is our friend. At any rate, it’s nice to be reminded of this past summer, and the ones yet to come. After all the snow, it’s a nice respite.

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New Orleans Scene from ‘The God in Flight’

“Andrew’s childhood had been spent in a tall, narrow old house in the French Quarter, a house dressed in iron lace, a house with lines as graceful as those of a willowy woman. The house was even more feminine than most of the houses in that odalisque district, full of silky and velvety textures and fragrant silence… There was an enclosed courtyard where a fountain ran musically amid japonicas, camellias, green frills of ferns. The Persian carpets on the dark floors were very old, their colors muted by age to the dim, coal-lit glow that stained glass can have when you stand outside a church at night. There was a Pleyel piano, a library of scores… The town house was full of big and little pleasures and comforts, as if it thought that everyone within deserved – a soft and perfumed lap to lie in… Relax, it seemed to say. Unclench your neck, breathe deep and slow. Read my books. If you’re tired, sleep. Sleep, for that matter, when you want to. Sit on the veranda in the sun and watch the clouds go by.”

~ Laura Argiri, The God in Flight

“Winter here was a manageable enemy, held well at bay by a little fire in a toy fireplace like the one in this room… There was also a peculiarly New Orleans detail, an ormolu gilt plant stand that held an ancient and flourishing feather-fern plant. A bookcase with bowed glass doors yielded a cache of French novels and poetry: George Sand, Balzac, Lamartine. Simion had awarded himself the pleasure of drying well before the fire and got into bed in one of Andrew’s old silk robes. He had hung it on the back of a chair before the fire to warm while he bathed and slipped into it with a sigh of delight. Andrew had given him this robe; it was a heavy yet liquid damask silk the color of strong pekoe tea. He brushed his hair and thought how nice it would be to have someone else do the brushing so he could concentrate fully on the pleasant sensations and fell into one of those strange states that came upon him in this house, at once abstracted and relaxed and utterly alert. The mirrors reflected him, still as a picture, hand and brush poised at the end of a stroke. There were lots of mirrors. Three, in fact; the one above the fireplace holding him full-face, the two on the side walls offering his profile. This was how Andrew found him when he knocked on his door and entered, wearing a sherry-colored dressing gown and looking particularly golden and godlike.

‘Come, don’t turn away. You let those heartless mirrors see you, now let me.'”

~ Laura Argiri, The God in Flight

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Battle of the Underwear Bulge: David vs. Mario

It’s a banner day for the bulge, as the internet was treated to a double dose of underwear videos featuring David Beckham and Mario Lopez. There must be someone smiling down on us (or making up for the delay of the gays in the Boyscouts vote that was put off until May)- as we find Mr. Beckham (in his own brand of wet boxer briefs no less) pitted against Mr. Lopez (in his own brand of purple briefs). In this instance, and with a nifty commercial directed by the former Mr. Madonna, Guy Ritchie, I give the edge to David. The close-up on his pulling out a wedgie is priceless – kudos to Ritchie for that, and for getting him into wet underwear.
 
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The Amazing Jockstrap Post

While I’m not slipping into a jockstrap this year like I did here, and here, I managed to find a few guys who did, and here they are. They’re not your traditional football-playing jocks, and that’s why I like them.

 

 

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Super Basket

There’s a more complete jockstrap post coming up later today in honor of the Super Bowl, but for now my own little football get-up is here to get in the sporty spirit.

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Week in Review

The wild winds of January returned in full-force this past week, plunging us into the depths of sub-freezing temperatures and reminding us that winter in the Northeast is anything but a cake walk. Fortunately, there was solace to be found in the more superficial pleasures, and some of the deeper ones as well.

  • One of the best ways to make it through the wilderness when the cold is knocking at your door can be found in a classic winter cocktail – in this case the Manhattan.
  •  The most touching pair of photographs I’ve seen this year – and in quite some time – courtesy of these simple, but powerfully-juxtaposed pics from Wayne & Cody. More on them to come in the near future.

  • Speaking of football – this time the American version – I had a frank talk with my brother (prior to the game) of the match-up between the Patriots and the Ravens.

  • The parade of Hunks of the Day continued, with the multi-faceted talents of Benjamin Godfre,  the bountiful and beautiful booty of Will Wikle, the hairy-chested realness of Mark Ruffalo & the elegantly age-defying Dermot Mulroney.
  • And the week closed out rather woefully with Justin Bieber pulling down his pants and exposing his barely-legal bare butt for all of the Instagram world to see. In other words, I’m glad this one’s in the history books.
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