who’s your favorite michael bergin?
is it the calvin klein bergin? the baywatch bergin? the blink-or-you-miss-him bergin of the broken hearts club? or is it michael bergin, author of a cheesy kiss-+-tell 2004 memoir?
there once was a time, not too many years ago, when michael bergin’s all too perfect body + chiseled ken carson face haunted every third sex fantasy i had.
odd fantasies they were, too. they had to be.
bergin is way too pretty, by half, to fit into my bed … even on my best night + even in my most feverish, overwrought fancies.
touching his body, in my ‘mind’s eye,’ as they say, was like touching rubberized vinyl slick with hawaiian tropic. his pepsodent smile flickered close to my face, on the brink of vanishing entirely into abstract pixilation. nothing sweaty, nothing grunting, nothing even warm.
i mean no disrespect to mr. bergin’s actual personality or sex appeal.
countless times, bergin’s blemishless + imperturbable apparition made me hard, stay hard, + cum hot, feeling as if an angel, wings thrashing, had been ripped from my body.
but my feeble imagination failed to imbue the model-actor-author’s photogenic perfection with a pulse, an odor, + body heat.
it was like humping a computer-generated effect, to be added in post-production.
i haven’t seen a recent photo, but i imagine now at age 38 bergin still glows like a disney prince charming.
+, if in the unlikely event he reads my blog +, even unlikelier, it makes him go gay, + if, unlikeliest of all, he would like to personally persuade this 54-year-old doubting thomas that he’s in fact 3-D, hard as bone, hairy-chested, + smells of scotch + old spice, all i can say is i won’t mind playing the other man, this time.
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