Funny, once upon a time, Elvis really did it for me — and half the female population of the US from what we’re led to believe by his “bodyguards” ;-). However, these days it takes a bit more than a sexily curled lip and a guy who can risk serious pelvic strain swiveling his hips while wearing blue suede shoes, to turn me on. Actually, I’m not sure I’d look twice at a guy wearing blue suede anything on his feet… Okay, fashion police aside … yep, I know it was the thing back then, but blue suede? Seriously! Now, when Elvis hit the black leather phase in his ’69 Comeback special, well, dayam, he could have ‘comeback’ all over me. The guy was hot!
But I digress… well, not really. Speaking of leather, or more specifically, men in leather, it certainly pushes my buttons. There’s just something about seeing a nice, firm butt lovingly encased in black leather that sends my hormones into a frenzy. Actually, a naked, firm butt lovingly encased in my hands does the job even better *wg*
So what parts of a man turn you on?
Is it the eyes? Those smoky bedroom ones. The sort that don’t just say ‘come hither’, but ‘come, now!’
Or maybe lips do it for you. I remember seeing Val Kilmer in Batman years ago and thought he had just about the yummiest mouth I’d seen on a guy. No idea what the movie was about – I think Nicole Kidman was in it, too, and some guy named Robin... - but every time Val’s mouth came on the screen, I was transfixed.
Is the visual important at all? The guy who lives next door to me, whom I’ve never seen more than a glimpse of (he has fair hair, and that’s about all I know), has the most amazing deep, sexy voice. If the rest of the package goes with that voice, honey, I am so THERE! It’s the kind of voice you could spin fantasies around… trust me, it’s been done ;-) Think Sean Connery. He’s old enough to be my father, but even my daughters think he’s Hot with a capital H. Of course, the voice PLUS the obvious alpha-ness of the man could have something to do with it…
I hear you crying, what about the body? Six packs to go! Hunks and muscles. Muscles and hunks. They go together like… like condoms and an erect penis… like bald and Vin Diesel (sorry, I have trouble imagining Vin being quite so sexy with hair). Okay, the body counts. I should know – I spent quite a few years studying the male form as a sportsperson (yeah, that’s what I tell my adult daughters. They don’t believe me…why is that? ;-) You see, years ago, before Jane Fonda and “the Workout” urged us to “push that body…push…str-e-tch…go for the burn!”, before aerobics became the rage and women started encroaching on the gym trying to earn the female version of a six-pack (what is that? A four-pack?), I did body-building. Oh, I was very into muscles. Things were a little different back then, though. At the gym I frequented, there was only one toilet/change room, and because it was never used by women — god forbid a female actually encroached on their turf to pump iron — it didn’t even have “MEN” on the door. Brassy little piece that I was, I waltzed up to the door one day, only to be met by a wall of muscle. Very nice muscle it was too, considering my nose was stuffed into enough pectorals to bench press a rhino. It was “suggested” that I might want to use the toilet in the garage downstairs. I was all set to fight for equality, earn my place there, mix it with the big guys – that was me, Susie the Suffragette — until the door opened and I copped an eyeful. Oh my god! What an eyeful!
I’m pretty sure it was the increase in my heart rate to previously unheard of levels at the sight of half a dozen naked bodybuilders that let me tell you, Mother Nature had been very kind to, that caused me to pass out. The owner was quick with the smelling salts – nice man, nice muscles, too. But to this day, that sight is imprinted on my retinas so that whenever I see a well developed gluteus maximus in full flex, I get all fluttery and lightheaded.
These days I’m older (not THAT much older… my twenty-something daughter is reading over my shoulder – cheeky bugger!) and nothing really surprises me anymore. I wouldn’t be wasting prime drool time fainting, that’s for sure! I’d be waltzing into that change room with my eyes wide open and my tongue hanging out.
But muscles and mouths and bedroom eyes and husky voices aside, I think the thing, for me, that is the quintessential hunk, was embodied in a guy I spotted in an airport on my most recent trip to the US. I was just sitting there waiting for my connecting flight to Sydney, minding my own business, when I lifted my eyes from my laptop for five minutes and found myself facing one of the most gorgeous-looking men I think I’ve ever seen. Sitting laid back in one of those uncomfortable airport lounge chairs, long legs encased in black leather (oh, be still my beating heart!) sprawled out in front of him (this honey-man was TALL *sigh*) and he was dozing. I tell you, waking up to that face every morning would have been no hardship.
But before my hormones could go racing rampant around LAX, he perked up when the wife and kids arrived (yeah, yeah, I know, the best ones are either married, or…). If he wasn’t hunky enough before they arrived, he sure was after.
You know, there is nothing sexier to me than a man who loves his wife and family. And that was written all over this guy’s face. Jumped up to kiss his wife, and no little peck, either. I know passion, and there was passion by the bucket load in that pucker. Whoa! And then the kids… After he’d taken care of the wife, he was down on the floor while they crawled all over him, laughing with them and tickling. They all settled down, and he squatted down beside the littlest one, a future heartbreaker who had his dad’s dark curly hair and cheeky grin down pat, and that prime, leather-covered tushie was right in my eyeballs (you just knew I was coming back to that, didn’t you?).
Well, once I got my heart rate back under control, picked up my bottom lip, and tried to act like I wasn’t in danger of short-circuiting my keyboard from overproduction of saliva, I lifted my eyes, trying to look somewhere but the most obvious place. That’s when I noticed the wife looking at me. And she was laughing at me. Not nasty at all, just very amused. God, can you say “sprung!!”?
You wanna also bet she sees a lot of that?
Of course, Hubby The Sex God asked her what she was laughing at. She just smiled at him and shook her head, then winked at me when he focused back on the kids.
Yeah, he was a hunk, all right. And she was one lucky lady. Not for the leather pants, or even the to-die-for face and bod, but because he loved her and his family and he didn’t care who saw it.
That was about the sexiest, hunkiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.Susie