While in real life I have a more conservative taste in men, in my fantasies little guys are drop-dead gorgeous. I’m not above collaging average-looking people, but it’s perhaps unfortunate that these regular folks don’t sit around taking photos of themselves in various poses suitable for shrunken-men collages.
Because of the above fact, and because I refuse to use Underwear Guy in my collages, years ago I ended up looking for material in gay blogs. The men in these blogs are beautiful to an unrealistic degree. As a grown woman I haven’t tried to be superficial, at least no more than the rest of us, but when I’m alone with my thoughts, do you think I’m going to picture Underwear Guy, or Andrew Cooper? My cramped hand can answer that easily: the latter.
(My hand is not really cramped, but if I keep looking up this gorgeous man’s photos and videos on the Internet, it will probably fall off by Monday.)
As to my little bookworm (role that Andrew Cooper is playing beautifully), he’s just my little guy, doing those tiny tasks he loves to do for me. I love to read, so I’ve accumulated hundreds of books with the passage of years. Books get dusty, moldy, and invaded by silverfish. My sweet little man takes very good care of my books. He carefully removes dust and moisture with bitty squares of cloth he’s procured all by himself (I don’t ask him, he doesn’t tell me he cuts them from my most delicate garments), and he hunts down all paper and glue-eating insects that might try to infest my shelves.
You might think there’s nothing sexy about my tiny man’s actions as I just described them, but that’s as much nonsense as my trying to tell a giantess fan that imagining watching a very tall lady pull trees off your backyard in an effort to seduce you isn’t sexy. Not that she needs to do anything but pluck you and carry you off in the vise of her powerful hand, but there is something heart-pounding and magical about watching a being of a different size do something just for you.
Right before they get naked, that is.