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The difference between pics 2 and 3 (and some others, too) looks like a type of time-lapse photography.

My favorite in LA was Numbers. I liked the booths and the fact they had a full menu, which could occasion asking a younger patron, "Have you eaten yet? Please join me for dinner." They usually went for the chance of a free meal, and it provided the opportunity to get to know the young man a bit better before what would hopefully come later. But I also loved a somewhat more rowdy/sleazy place called Hunter's on Santa Monica (7500 block?). Pool table and beer crowd, but some of the hottest boys in town on a good night. I still fondly remember a very handsome and well-built boy who went by TJ that I met there. Took him down to Huntington Beach for a weekend -his pick of location- and did nothing all weekend but him. Saw him several times. Rounds was a Numbers-like scene in NYC, and a very interesting and target-rich environment, from both perspectives. But most of my hiring in NYC was from the Pink Pages of the Advocate. For some reason, I was never much into the New York bar scene, so really can't speak to any besides Rounds.

I've woken up next to Channing Tatum many times! Just before I wake up.

I knew they used to bronze baby booties but didn't know it was done to actual booty.

Picture was taken just before I crawled up between his legs. Then did whatever I was told.

I could have dreams of this hunk, of me with this hunk, and of what this hunk does with that asparagus. It's complicated, a little kinky, and wonderful. And the sauce ain't hollandaise!

Looks a little like a loading dock taking delivery. Is this what's meant by "fresh meat?"

Handsome man, and love the Banana Surprise artwork. Anyone know where that's at?

I find pictures like this, of a dog so comfortable with and trusting of its human that it falls peacefully asleep beside him, to be among the most touching and, perhaps oddly so, comforting images I've ever seen. A portrait of such pure affection paired with innocent trust that it makes my eyes water a bit just to know such wonders still exist.

OMG, he's taught the dog to flirt! And it's working.

Men like this sometimes make me reconsider my position on facial hair, which I usually don't favor. But this man is h-a-n-d-s-o-m-e, and then some.

Actually, it's only two in "10".

Personally, when in the right frame of mind, of course, I have always liked Charles Gounod's Funeral March of a Marionette, recognizable to most as the theme music to Alfred Hitchcock Presents. Steady rhythm, nice tones, and just the right hint of whimsy to accompany the rare occasions of me getting lucky. And, like me, it's done in less than 5 minutes. I think I'm joking, but am not entirely sure. Cue music.

Looks like his name's misspelled. Looking at what's he doing -and doing so very well- shouldn't it be Benjamin Blew.

Wouldn't have to tell me to come to bed. I'd have never gotten out of it.

Two of my favorite hunks in the same movie, Phil Bradley and Brian Hart. Oddly enough, I don't notice the music when I watch them "act."

Oh, My, God! That image takes me back to the exciting days -and nights- of cruising Santa Monica Boulevard in the '80s, looking for the local talent. Not all were good catches, but the fishing was delightful. I do miss those days, as well as bars like Numbers (on Sunset) and Rounds (New York), places where "young entrepreneurs went to meet older financiers." Thank you for the glimpse along Memory Lane.

Flamboyant? Maybe. Horny? Absolutely!

Beautiful backside! I volunteer to clean off the sand.

To keep with the musical theme introduced by g56whiz, "I'd rather be blue, thinking of you, I'd rather be blue over you, than be happy with somebody else..."

Lazy bitch! He's got two free hands.

That's a little too close to "crime and pun-ishment."

Oh, please, Sweetheart. Let me help you out of all those clothes.

Apparently, he's applying his "special" wax finish.

Precisely. The only reason someone looking like that would be in Indianapolis is that he couldn't make bail or buy a bus ticket to Chicago.