Sometime around 1990 after I finally owned a car, I was driving along Wilshire Boulevard in the middle of the day when I spotted an incredibly hot guy in a suit desperately thumbing a ride. He clearly needed to get someplace in a hurry but, as was typical for LA, every driver ignored him. I was in the inner lane, so I went around the block and picked him up.
He could be Link because of the strong resemblance but needless to say it wasn't him. It was an equally hot but younger doppelganger. The guy was really sweet and had to get to a job interview in a hurry. He had only been in LA a few days and was headed someplace on Slauson, which wasn't where I was going, but I pretended it was exactly in my direction and dropped him at the door.
I never saw him again but the memory of him remains vivid. My fantasy version of what happened did not include me leaving him at the door.
I am turned on by ripples, muscles, body hair, and even on occassion flab--but too many veins is a realy turn off for me. He needs to take a day off from the leg presses--just my humble opinion.
ReplyDeleteLeo G.
I want what he's taking! Beefcake
ReplyDeleteEncore un super modèle de Colt. Je ne connais pas non plus d'autres films de lui que le solo dont tu parles, où il bouffe sa jute à la fin. Rien que d'y penser, j'ai la gaule !
ReplyDelete