Buzz cut hair, a close-cropped goatee, stove pipe jeans and thick leather boots, Duke Rivers looks every inch the classic Dad. But this one-of-a-kind serving of seasoned beef is unabashedly original and as comfortable in his well-honed skin as you are just looking at it. The nipples on his well-honed pecs peek out of the armhole of this tank top like headlights that could illuminate the darkest night. And that bulge in his pants acts like a beacon of exactly what is on his mind. The initial veneer of gentility vanishes before your eyes as a level of sheer sexuality erupts from every pore. Though he may be called “Duke,” with a family tree of lovers that could repopulate the Amazonian rain forest, Duke is actually the reigning king of free gay love, endowed with just the right royal scepter that makes him uniquely qualified for the position. A rivulet of dark hair in the valley at the center of his expansive pecs acts like a crown over a towering set of lean abs and is framed by a set of arms last seen on Popeye.