Gay Voyeur Blog

Inside or outside, shirtless or clothed, I'm happy to see a muscular guy taking up space. Though I'd prefer to see a shirtless guy inside more often.

Inside my apartment.

Inside my (fill in the blank). Make that blanks. A lot needs to be filled.

Look out, it's another big dick post! Which will reveal what we all know about ourselves. We can never get enough big dick. Well, ask me after a gang bang and I might answer differently.

This is a hypothetical as I have limited gang bang experience. As in zero. I just know that I'd want someone to cover my dry cleaning bill afterwards. It's tough to get four gallons of cum stains out of silk. Not even Martha Stewart has a do it yourself tip for that situation.

She's good on three gallons of cum though. I think she demo'd that the last time she was on Live with Kelly and Michael.

Except when they're not everywhere. Sometimes you're in a hunk desert. Isn't that awful? But reminds you of the importance of really looking hard when you do spot someone. Really appreciating it. And (here's the totally crazy, fucked up part), smiling and/or saying hello if at all possible.

Then something may end up happening beyond looking. I get that so much of our socializing is online, but nothing can replace 3D, in-person, for-real encounters. You can read someone's energy. Like maybe the guy looks amazing but strikes you as terrifying. So steer clear. But maybe he looks amazing and has amazing energy. Steer right to him.

It's raining jocks. And snowing jocks. And there's the very real threat of being buried in jocks. And flooded in jocks.

Now why aren't you showing the slightest bit of concern and alarm? It's almost like you want to be overloaded with jocks. Well, like people who choose to hang dockside to watch tidal waves because they are so awesome, I guess you'll get what you have coming to you. Or on you.

At what point was an entire type of person named after a jockstrap? Not logical, I know. But logic goes out the window when bulges and muscles are involved. And without logic, I have all sorts of great ideas of a first date.

Forget the whole "Let's meet for coffee" thing, which yes is my standby if meeting someone in person for the first time. Better to meet while he's in the middle of changing his clothes outside. Or in the middle of having a boner on the train. Or in the middle of having a naked chest when he walks by with a naked chest.

Whether in motion or at rest, jocks are just plain awesome. As long as I don't have to make conversation with one. How much can one talk about sports without losing consciousness? Like the guy on the airplane who thought maybe he'd be safe from being snapped if only he closed his syes.

Isn't that a mental development thing? That age when a kid thinks the world disappears if they close their eyes. Or is it that thing where if you put an object behind your back, the child thinks it no longer exists so it's a magical amazing surprise when you make it reappear.

And out of focus but still worth it. Because there's nothing that says genuine spy pic than a blurry locker room shot. So wrong. And so worth it. Like watching a horrible reality TV show. 

Now why isn't there a show about locker room peepers and the men who try to avoid them and fail? It could be called The Real Peepers of Random Men's Locker Rooms of Beverly Hills and Other Places. Or just Check Out His Ass! Yeah, the latter would probably get higher ratings.

Time to get in all your last minute peeping before the new year. Because peepable men will cease to exist in 2016. Very shortly, the most a man will enable to be seen is his bare ankle. We're headed back to Victorian times. So register www.HotNakedAnkleMen.com now! Because if you wait too long, all that will be left is www.HotNakedAnkleMen.biz and nobody goes to a .biz, certainly not to masturbate.

Though masturbation will be a problem since only ankle nudity will be allowed, even when alone. Good luck finding your ankle's g-spot. Foot fetishists won't even get to see their own bare feet. That's the tragic world we'll all live in.

I can't even imagine what guys are going to work out in, or play on the beach in, or shop in hot weather in. But not this stuff. We're entering the dark ages of male nudity, folks.

Well, make that temptingly partway dressed. Because when some skin is exposed it makes me think of all skin being exposed. Plus there's this whole semi-arbitrary erogenous thing going on. Like it's societally acceptable for men to be out and about without a shirt on. 

This despite the fact that I find a man's chest (okay certain men's chest) to be equal in triggering desire as a man's ass. I also find some guy's legs as or more arousing than their dick. But thankfully society doesn't demand men cover their legs. Except perhaps during a wake.

Don't go to a wake in shorts. Unless you live in Bermuda or something, then probably it's fine. But make them tuxedo shorts.

I have so many opening lines, like "I bet guys line up for your opening" or "I bet guys line up for your openings." The latter is for guys who have cute mouths and buttholes, rather than just cute of one. It's wonderful I have detailed, technical knowledge of male biology to understand the relevance of singular vs. plural.

Converting a peeping situation into an opening line is fraught with risk. It's not often the surreptitious pic snapper makes themself obvious. It's like being a spy with a t-shirt that says "I'm a spy." Although no actual spy would wear that shirt so it would throw people off.

These working fellas are so darn cute! The hours they must spend in front of the mirror to get that carpenter / construction worker / dry waller look could not have been better spent. Is there a secret store where they can buy pre-soiled, wrinkly clothes and lived-in work boots for that touch of realism!?

Bravo! But I sense celebrity stylist Rachel Zoe may have had a hand in this.

There's the slight possibility these guys actually earn a living in the physical, constructive arts, but there is no chance they aren't self-aware of their appeal to clients, random onlookers, Home Depot checkout clerks and homos.

Well I wish they were all my buddies. We'd spend awesome time together, like they could do all their jock things, or sitting with legs spread things, or showering things and I could do all my watch their crotches things.

Actually that's just one thing. Me watching the guy's crotch. One long thing.

I'm glad that pre-crime police aren't a thing because I would totally peep if I could get away with it. Or at least I'd totally think that I would peep if I could totally get away with it. And not freak the hell out of some guy in the process.

Oh wait, I already peep.

Not the climbing onto a fire escape and staring into someone's bathroom at night (I swear that wasn't me!) but rather the every day opportunities to sneak a peak, or peep a sneak, or peep an ass or sneak a bulge.

Men in motion. I can't even take it. I mean, hello, look at these fellas. Look at them. You get what you need out of a look but you want more now. What the hell was the world like before photography?

I guess people did dirty paintings and stuff. With extreme artistic value of course. And with dicks and ass.

The more pixels the better! Thank you, inventors of the retina display, for cramming more man flesh into my vision. Not that I have the sharp vision that could even tell the difference (sorry Apple). But more pixels equals more man so bravo.

And here's to semi-violations of privacy that allow moments of voyeurism to be documented. That moment where someone says "See that ass? I'm going to capture that ass with my portable pixel generating machine." And it's a genius machine that can cram a bubble butt into a jpg. Technology has come so far.