Hairy delights

I have been over-indulging you, and the enormously high volumes of cock recently shovelled through this blog have plumbed new depths in crass sexualisation, even for me.

Yes, yes, I know there was some winkie in that image, but the rest of this post is going to be a cock-free zone, in what is, I hope, at least partial recompense for my crass-ness.

Yes, instead this post is going to focus on one of my other huge fetishes: chest hair.

I can't begin to explain just how besotted I am with chest hair.

Almost as much, in fact, as I am besotted with winkies.

As a small child I was endlessly, utterly fascinated with it. Couldn't stop staring at it, in fact, wishing my hands (and other parts) were instead dancing through it and over it in a thrilling act of part-worship and part-adoration.

Tongues would also have been involved.

So imagine my surprise and delight to discover that I Am Not Alone: that there are, in fact, entire blogs devoted solely to the celebration of chesty hirsuteness.

It is from them that this glorious selection of man meat has been stolen, to be reposted here for your delight.

Perhaps now, in the context of these images of hairy manliness, you can understand why I am made so despondent by the evil practices of shaving, trimming and plucking.

 And don't even get me started on the vile unnaturalness of "manscaping".

Even this contemplative hippy looks, to me, like a sublime object of adoration and sexual desire:

And this chap is like a visual banquet laid out for my pleasure:

But it's not just in public places -- I adore this chap, too, with his sensual eyes and that oh-so-manly dusting of body hair...

This hairy chap is, for me, the ultimate combination of gorgeous sex appeal and winsome youthfulness:

Although, actually, this chap might be the ultimate...

Even this chap's beard isn't putting me off:

I love the fact that pretty much all of these images have obviously been taken from photo sharing accounts like flickr, from what look like people's holiday snaps.

I hope at least some of the subjects find themselves on the web and realise that they are being worshipped from afar.

I like that idea, of them discovering by some fortuitous accident just how much they are adored.

I am utterly in love with all of them.

See -- there was no crass sexualisation in any of that, was there?