Behold *colour, movement* Michael Fassbender in a Frenchie magazine called Obsession (For Him). Brackets? Optional.
If you look up the word ‘penis’ in the OED, it says ‘Michael Fassbender’, such is the frenzied association. Yet and however, we have never actually really properly seen his penis. Because, ladies, ladies and undecideds, a fucking silhouette doesn’t quite cut it. Heck, when we saw him on Broadway Market down London’s glittering East End only a short while back, he didn’t even have his cock hanging out of his trousers. This, in the East End!
But we’re nothing if not suckers for a little titillation, so Michael yanking down his jeans to reveal a sniff of his strawb’ blon’ bush is enough to have us reaching for a Jacob’s Cream in order to sit down ‘n’ savour.
Segue: He’s kinda Hot Ginger Dad off-of EastEnders crossed with Getting Hotter Ginger Kid Who Works On The Car Lot in EastEnders, right?
Back in the room, you will find, after the break, Michael Fassbender’s arse. It’s very nice. It too would slip off our designer-imposter chairs given half the chance.
We're so turned on right now we'd slip off our designer-imposter chairs, were we sitting. ,