Fuck, I love this photo. It’s from the initial Cockiavelli photoshoot on March 24, 2026. The beginning of my return to stripping under a provocative new nom de guerre I originally conceived for fun as a porn star name. I went the Jeff Bezos route and launched my return at only 70% readiness at the start of spring. Allowing me to get the ball rolling while making final adjustments on the fly as determined by the marketplace. Although I was definitely fit enough to strip, which is pretty much true for me at any size thanks to my big ass cock, I’ve since brought down my body fat further to a nice cut. Looking even leaner and harder. Still, it’s a great photo. One that’s been my laptop wallpaper for the past few months and undoubtedly poster worthy. My ass is totally rockin’ in it. I did no editing. Leaving it in all its pristine raw glory.
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This isn’t the first blog entry I’ve written about this photo, so I’ll keep it simple and quote myself from the post I made about it previously on the Cockiavelli website:
My bare-all memoir Naked Ambition: A Male Stripper's True Account of Making Girls Behave Badly and its ultra-smutty companion novel Wild Nights of Arkansas Strippers: Based on a True Story are available in eBook and paperback from Amazon and other online retailers.
“This is my favorite shot from the initial Cockiavelli stripping photoshoots. Showing everything naughty at once. My porn star-sized cock nearly rendering me a human tripod. Big balls, figuratively and literally, that allow me to perform naked for and take charge of strange women in strange places. Firm round ass that is the definition of male bootyliciousness. Who could blame any girl for wanting to lick the length of it all? I struck this pose on a whim to see if I could nail it. And I did. Because of course I did. Imagining an especially naughty party girl also getting naked and parking her butt in that hot seat. Grabbing me by the cheeks. Wrapping her legs around my back. As I thrust my rock hard manhood deep inside her wet throbbing pussy. My libertinage in full effect. Like I’ve been there before…
“Every aspect of my return to stripping as Cockiavelli is an exercise in full-throttle debauchery. Fully embracing and flaunting my inner wild child. Being the entertainer my ideal audience wants. The women who ache and throb to see me go full nude. Who lean back as I dance all over them in all my hard and naked glory while pulling them further into my world with my charm, intellect, and humor. All for which they shower me with kindness and money. Booze too. Sometimes it goes a little further than that. And it’s all good should the mood strike us mutually. Even the Cockiavelli name declares my shameless big dick energy and authoritarianism up front. And that’s what my ideal party girls pay good money for. They want a man to walk in and take charge with naked dominance figurative and literal. They don’t want simps. Simps are a dime a dozen. I’m the rarest breed of human at this point in history.
“At the same time, all of this repels the women I don’t want as clients and audiences. The basic bitches who believe that the best male strippers are in Las Vegas male revues and that they’re “settling” for me. Who erroneously believe that Magic Mike represents me in any fashion. And who assume they’re smarter than me via false equivalencies rooted in willful ignorance. The Cockiavelli name will soar high over their empty heads. Just like me. And then there are the prudes. I have no idea why these women bother to attempt booking a stripper. Not only do they not want to see me naked, but many of them don’t even want me to take off my pants. They also don’t want me going anywhere near them. And they react in offense should I make even the slightest racy remark. I don’t know what possesses such women to attempt booking any stripper, but they go for it. And yes, the tendencies of basic bitches and prudes often overlap. And always when it comes to being cheap and rude.”
If nothing else, I’m totally a cutie with a booty:
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