We all do it.  Objectify particular body parts on other guys.  Come on, admit it.  I do.  Sometimes, I just stare at a man's hot chest and that's all I care about.  He's reduced.  He's meat.  Or who of us doesn't love a nice big cock staring us in the face?  I love the way a cock moves and grows, jumps and dances as it gets harder and harder and harder until we have to get our hands on it, our mouths on it, our ass around it...

Here are nine different body parts for you to choose from.  If you could only choose one, which would it be?  What a terrible choice to have to make.  But choose you must, so answer the poll to the right.  And be sure to click on each picture to see to whom it belongs.  Then you get to enjoy more of them.

We have to start with the cock, of course.  Afterall, it really is what most of us are after in the end (pun intended...). I, for one, love a beautiful cock - soft and hard, cut or uncut, small or large. I can enjoy them all.  I love the way a cock feels in my mouth when it's soft, just resting there at first and then slowly getting warmer and harder.  That turgid mid-point, before it's rock hard, is my favorite.  I can feel it jump in my mouth, grow toward my throat.  I await its hardness.  I await its seed.

Then there is a man's beautiful ass.  What is it about those round, firm muscle-laden globes?  I am most fond of a smooth ass as it's bent before me, the man almost-uncomfortably bent over waiting for my tongue.  I can smell the musty maleness of him as I gently lick around his pink, sweet hole.  My tongue goes deeper inside, opening him up ever so slightly, preparing him... tasting him.  Let me feel his muscles contract as I'm inside him with my cock or my tongue when he starts to shoot.  Let me feel that heat, that ... wetness.

Ahhhhh, a man's smile.  Open, eyes twinkling, lips wet as if to say I need your tongue in my mouth.  I need your lips next to mine.  I need us to breathe for each other.  Come to me, his smile says.  Come to me and let us explore each other, this day, this life.

Power.

The arms are all about it.  Hold me down with those strong muscles.  Force my face into the rough carpet with those biceps, those foreams.  Make me take what you want to give me.

Or hold me softly yet powerfully after we're spent.  Our juices combined. Our sweat soaking each other and the sheets.

Broad and strong, a man's chest confronts you, either blocking you from moving forward or asking you to meet it with yours.  The two pecs, perfect in their symmatry, separated by that dent, that cavern running between them toward the open belly button.  Touch those nipples. Hear him breathe in.  Bite them, nurse on them, have him want you to stop and keep nursing all at the same time.  Press your man's chest against his and become one.

Men have hair.  Hair on their arms and legs, back and shoulders, chest, balls, knuckles, feet, face, pits and toes.  We're men.  Our hair should be evident.  Lick it with your tongue.  Wet it down.  Watch it glisten with sweat as he presses into you, your legs in the air.  He's working hard to please you and serve his needs.  He's sweating.  His hair is soaked now and soon you can return the favor, sweating on top of him.  His hairy, wet body is waiting for your gift. 

A man's balls are to be savored.  Put them both in your mouth if you can and soak them in your saliva.  Grab them and pull them down firmly yet gently as you bite his lip and he winces, wanting more... scared to take more.  Tap them lightly from below after you've bound them with rope.  Watch him jump and look at you with tears in his eyes. 

Or let him sit lightly on your face as he drops his balls into your mouth and feeds them to you.  Suck them, he says.  Chew on them. 

Fuck me, they say.  Take my fuck, they tell you.  When you're in him or he's in you his eyes tell you everything you need to know.  Yes, they say. Yes, we are one.  Yes we fuck.  Yes.

Most men have it - a beard, a mustache, a goatee, van dyke or just 3-days stubble.  It burns your neck when he rubs you. Your ass chafes as his beard scratches your hole.  It frames him.  It accentuates the masculinity of him.  The square jaw, the lips wet with desire, the mouth opening for what you will feed it.

Only men have it.  We are men.