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person of interest s2e17 dan lauria as stanley amis / the wonder years as jack arnold
well this is a blast from the past of my childhood, i don't think i watched the entire run but a good chunk of the series when it aired
person of interest s2e17 becky ann baker as deputy erica schmidt / girls s6e5 as loreen horvath
couldn't figure out why i immediately knew her even with a big hat covered with plastic rain guard thing but clicking through her pictures got me. the imdb "known for" often useless for less well known actors. she was in 20 episodes of girls! know for that to me! as opposed to stay which she was *checks notes* "paramedic #1"
poi hey i know you
The Night Shift (TV Series) S4.EP7 ’Keep the Faith’ (2017) - Dan Lauria
Another question for our host and his followers. If you had the opportunity to go to bed with Ed Asner when he was in his prime would you have preferred to be top or bottom? Same question with Dan Lauria?
Prime Ed Asner… without a doubt, top. I’d love a pre-hip surgery Ed banging away at me.
As for Dan Lauria. I’ve always seen him as a top.
Un duo de flics, une planque qui dérape et un Richard Dreyfuss en feu. Redécouvrez "Stakeout" (1987), le sommet du buddy movie sauce John Badham ! 🍿🚓 #Stakeout #RichardDreyfuss #CritiksMoviz

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Chicago Heat: A Forbidden Night in '94
Featuring actors Dan Lauria and John Mahoney
It was the summer of 1994, and the bustling streets of Chicago were alive with the hum of theater rehearsals and film shoots. Dan Lauria, the rugged actor from "The Wonder Years," had flown in for a guest spot on a local production, his broad-shouldered frame cutting through the crowd like a Bronx bulldozer. John Mahoney, the seasoned star of stage and screen, was in his element, wrapping up a run at the Steppenwolf Theatre. They crossed paths at a dimly lit after-party in a converted warehouse, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the clink of whiskey glasses. Dan, with his no-nonsense New York grit, spotted John across the room—that unmistakable Chicago growl, rough around the edges from years in the city, carrying the weight of a guy who'd scrapped his way up from humble beginnings.
"Hey, you're that Mahoney fella, right? From the plays everyone's ravin' about," Dan said, his voice a gravelly bark honed from Brooklyn streets and Italian family dinners. He extended a meaty hand, his eyes locking onto John's with a spark that wasn't just professional admiration.
John chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling under bushy brows, his handshake firm from a youth spent hustling before he made it big here.
"Guilty as charged, pal. And you're Dan Lauria—the tough guy with a heart. Wanna grab a drink? Dis party's drier than a nun's undies."
They retreated to a quieter corner booth, trading war stories over scotch. Dan's tales were blunt and boisterous, laced with curses from his Marine days: "Hell, back in 'Nam, we didn't have time for bullshit." John's were wry, self-deprecating, with a touch of Midwest understatement: "Yeah, grew up poor as church mice, but it builds character, dontcha know?"
The chemistry simmered, unspoken desires bubbling under the surface amid the laughter. By midnight, with the party thinning, John leaned in close.
"Wanna keep dis goin' somewhere private? My place ain't far—got a view of da lake that'll knock your socks off."
Dan grinned, his pulse quickening. "Lead the way, Johnny boy. I ain't one to turn down a good view."
John's apartment was a modest affair in Lincoln Park, cluttered with scripts and vinyl records, the faint scent of pipe tobacco lingering. As the door clicked shut, the pretense evaporated. John pushed Dan against the wall, their lips crashing together in a hungry kiss—rough, urgent, tasting of whiskey and mutual need. Dan's hands roamed John's back, pulling him closer, while John's fingers deftly unbuckled Dan's belt.
"Christ, you're a solid guy," John murmured, dropping to his knees on the worn rug.
He tugged Dan's pants down, freeing his thickening cock, already half-hard from the anticipation. John's mouth watered at the sight—Dan's shaft veined and heavy, crowned with a flushed head. He wrapped his lips around it slowly, savoring the salty tang, his tongue swirling around the tip like he was teasing out a secret. Dan groaned, his fingers threading through John's silvering hair.
"Fuck, yeah… just like dat, you bastard."
John took him deeper, his cheeks hollowing as he bobbed, saliva slicking the length. He hummed appreciatively, the vibration sending shivers up Dan's spine. One hand cupped Dan's balls, rolling them gently, while the other gripped the base, stroking in rhythm. Dan's hips bucked involuntarily, his Brooklyn bravado cracking into raw moans. "Goddamn, you're good at dis… suck it harder, Johnny."
Emboldened, John pulled back momentarily, his breath hot against Dan's skin. "Turn around, love. Let me show ya a proper welcome."
Dan obliged, bracing against the wall as John spread his cheeks, exposing the puckered ring. John's tongue darted out, tracing the rim with feather-light laps, then pressing flat and firm, delving in with wet, insistent strokes. The sensation was electric—warm, probing, immersive—as John's beard scratched teasingly against Dan's skin. He alternated between circling the hole and thrusting his tongue inside, tasting the musky earthiness, his hands kneading Dan's ass like dough. Dan panted, pushing back.
"Holy shit… you eat ass like a champ. Don't stop, you dirty old man."
Satisfied with Dan's writhing pleas, John stood, wiping his mouth with a smirk. "Bedroom. Now."
They stumbled down the hall, shedding clothes, collapsing onto the rumpled sheets in a tangle of limbs. John maneuvered them into position—Dan on his back, John straddling his face in a classic 69. Dan's mouth engulfed John's cock, thick and uncut, sucking greedily with sloppy enthusiasm, his tongue flicking the foreskin.
Dan mumbled around the girth, his hands gripping John's thighs.
John mirrored him from above, swallowing Dan whole again, his own hips grinding down to meet Dan's eager lips. They built a rhythm, mouths working in sync—wet slurps and muffled groans filling the room. John's tongue ventured lower once more, rimming Dan's hole while stroking his shaft, the dual assault pushing Dan to the edge. Dan reciprocated, his fingers parting John's cheeks to lap at his rim, tongue-fucking with fervor.
"Yeah, take it… you're leakin' like a faucet," Dan growled, tasting the pre-cum dribbling down.
The intensity mounted, bodies slick with sweat, breaths ragged. John's balls tightened as Dan's suction grew frantic; Dan's cock throbbed in John's throat. They climaxed together in a shuddering wave—John spilling hot ropes down Dan's throat, Dan erupting into John's mouth with a guttural roar. They swallowed greedily, milking every drop, collapsing in a heap of spent limbs and heaving chests.
Disclaimer: This narrative is entirely fictional and does not reflect any known events or factual scenarios involving John Mahoney or Dan Lauria.
Karaoke night 🎤🎶
What’s your go-to karaoke song? 🤔
📺 Sullivan & Son - S2.E10: Reunited
Life of Lemon (2011) - Dan Lauria
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