Don't you hate when clothes get in the way of a fine crotch or a fine ass? I don't. I love it actually. I love that place where fabric meets flesh. Add motion and I'm in heaven. That's what sunglasses and subtlety are for.
The exhausted guy at the gym can't expect to let his guard down and not be snapped. I'd say he's spreading his legs, inviting attention, but with those muscles, his legs spread themselves. If he's taking roommate applications, I'm in.
It's brave to wear spandex, especially shirt and tights combined. Brave and sleazily obnoxious. My kind of obnoxious. The best thing about spandex is that I'm jealous of it because it gets to hug him so tightly. Oh well, I'll have a catfight with it later. For now, let him do the hugging while I watch.
By the way, who invited that inner thigh machine at the gym? Because I owe that person flowers or a handjob or a flowery handjob.
Same for the inventor of sweatpants. Pants that sweat? I'm in! If I'm lucky.
The guy in tight khakis on the train platform is hopefully going to the store to buy even tighter pants. Because I tricked him by sending him a gift card for $100 credit toward tight pants only at the tight pants store.
Then the cowboy guy gives a good name to denim. A well worn crotch is a thing of beauty.
Speaking of crotch and ass, isn't it amazing how many combinations they can find themselves in when there are three guys?