Standing provocatively in my short cheerleader outfit, my midriff bare to the sun, I seduce him over to me with just a passing glance.

“Meet you in the showers?” I whisper. His smile says definitely.

“And bring your friend,” I tell him.

“Which one?” he asks, looking back at the football field behind him.

“All of them,” I grin.

Just so you know, this scenario happens, often. In my mind that is. Doing the entire football fantasy is my go-to mind-blower of choice. Thinking about those broad shoulders, husky voices, tight rear-ends, all that ass slapping and that crazy hot aggression drives me wild.

I’ve dated a few football players in my time, and while they look (and sometimes feel) so good, they are usually not that great as boyfriends. That machismo that makes them so tempting also makes them so cunning and virtually unattainable in the commitment department. So, instead of just having or wanting one, I think about having them all. This is a fantasy that I am 99% sure (although I never say never), will never come true.

So while my football playing orgasm-inducers stay locked inside my head, I have found a new and real ultimate fantasy come true: the involved Dad.

I realized this a few years ago while at the splashpad and a very good-looking guy rode up on a bike with his kid on the back. He spent the next hour getting wet running around with his child, laughing and I spent that hour trying to stay dry watching the manliness that was him. In retrospect, I believe I have always been turned-on by the Dad/baby scenario, having had a framed poster of a sexy guy with awesome bulging biceps holding and staring down at a newborn baby hanging over my bed. I have always wanted babies and I have always wanted hot guys, so the two together made a nice composition on my teenage girl wall.

I know I am not alone in this department. Seeing Mr. U with our own children usually is not that huge of a turn-on, I guess because it is his job and mine, and if you’ve seen one poopy diaper being changed, you’ve seen a million (and I have seen a million). I also don’t want to offer him a medal for getting up once at night, when I am up all night. Lack of sleep is not sexy. Ever. But, I’m sure he could easily charm the panties off of some other freak like me, just by walking through the mall wearing our baby in the Baby Bjorn. In fact, shortly after my youngest son was born, we were at the mall and Mr. U was holding our youngest while watching our middle child play in the fountain. A woman with another toddler sat staring fascinated at my man, as if he were in the fountain, naked, gleaming like a Greek God. It took all the strength I could muster not to wipe the drool off of her chin. When I walked out of the store and greeted my family, the devil literally came out of her eyes and punched me in square in the face. She was an involved Dad lover too, so I could not really fault her for loving the thought of my 5 pound newborn in my sexy husband’s arms at the mall of all places.

I’m sure the feeling is one of biology. Women want to make babies with men who will care for their offspring. Throw in six-pack abs or a husky voice and you’ve got tonight’s dinner.

The Undercover Mamas mimic my thoughts. There were a few who did not think the task of being a dad was sexy; heartwarming and sweet, yes, panty removal material, no. Even those other hot dads who were completely engaged with their children, some of the Mamas thought that was too much baggage to be sexy.

But, the ones who thought that an involved Dad was sexy were very exuberant about their answers. The Mamas especially felt that urge down below seeing their partners with their little girls – getting their nails painted, having tea parties and doting over their every need. Other Mamas thought it was hot to see their partners (and other involved dads) coaching their kid’s sports teams.

That brings me to my ultimate fantasy come true. Mr. U recently signed on to be one of the coaches on two of our son’s baseball teams. I was glad that he was being more involved in the kid’s extracurricular lives. But, the moment when I laid eyes on him in that coaches outfit and ball cap, showing some little screaming 3-year-old how to swing a bat, I honestly thought I had never seen him look sexier. I took him home that night and surprised him with some very involved loving of my own. Now, when I need that little extra mind porn to get me over a hump (pun intended) I even sometimes think of him in his ball uniform, and Mr. Brawny football player is standing at the sidelines crying.

I have not let him in on this newfound turn-on of mine though, otherwise he’d be coming to bed every night in that purple get-up of his and it just would never be the same.