We all know that women’s bodies are objectified and overrepresented in the media. But why the exclusive focus on the “fairer sex?” I know it wasn’t always that way, and the Greek sculptors agree with me. So does Michelangelo. So, in this semester’s first sex column, I offer a celebration of our favorite things about men’s bodies.
Hands. So underappreciated. Tanned, pale, scarred, flat, warm. Men’s hands in particular are square and so strong, and I love the big tendons moving just below the surface. Is that weird? Hands are so hot because they do so much: swing tennis rackets, write computer programs, play piano. I can’t help but imagine them running down my stomach, squeezing my butt, moving on to other talented performances…
Facial bone structure. Forgive the cliché, but a good jawline is hard to beat for sexy—especially if there’s some shadow. Scruff is fun, rugged, and adds a nice touch of we-can-go-all-night-baby, but also wonderful are eminently-kissable, freshly shaven cheeks.
Forearms. Oh man. I can only stare dumbly at the defined, sinewy forearm muscles that shift around when a guy writes. The clear sign of physical fitness combined with the intellectual act of composition is lethal. Even better if he’s got that manly arm hair in beautiful orderly disorder. Take me.
Hair. He needs to have it. Men, screw your team, don’t you dare shave your head! Running my fingers through Samson’s gorgeous mass of messy hair during and after sex is titillating. And you should absolutely walk around all day with your sex hair.
Strong legs. I may be in the minority here, but I love it when guys wear short-shorts. All that hard muscle, just thinking about it is getting me all hot and bothered. Guys, whip out those dolphin shorts and I’ll see you at the pool.
Abs and chest. I didn’t realize how essential these were until I had a man with these assets. He’s hard and firm against your breasts, he can have you standing up, and there’s nothing like waking up pressed against his solid chest, unable to breathe under the weight of his strong arm draped on top of you.
Back. Up against the wall, in the bathroom. You’re facing the mirror and all you can see is every perfect muscle on his sleek, toned back tensing and relaxing while his hands are occupied elsewhere, watching your own involuntary reactions over his shoulder.
Glasses. Keep them ON. While they’re not a body part, they’re just as much a turn on. It’s not about bad eyesight; it’s about the smart, sexy, bookish, boyish, sex-god vibe I get while he’s looking at me through those lenses. I want you to wear them while you’re in me.
Smell. Every man has an innate, natural scent—it’s different from guy to guy, but when you find it, you know it. It’s addicting, velvety, enveloping, grassy, all-consuming, and warm, like sunshine skin. Mmmmm.