My Gay World

New Year's Resolution

2007-12-24T05:49:00.001-05:00

I have a friend who visits this blog regularly and mentions to me that I haven't posted when I haven't posted for a while - like three months. Something happened a while ago that knocked the wind right out of my sails in terms of this blog and I haven't had anything to write about.

I thought it could just be a place to hold my fantasies. Now it's just a reminder of a really horrible interaction that didn't have to be that way. However, I love that it's still getting hits even though I haven't posted since September.

So my resolution for the New Year is that I will post here every month and that I will try to post here twice a month. I would love to say that I will post here weekly, but I can't imagine that's going to happen. If it does, fine.

This guy's weeny poking his underwear (dancing belt) in that way reminds me of high school. We used to get dressed after marching rehearsal in the mornings and it would be a room full of 15- to 17-year-olds in various stages of dress. I was about 16 at the time and I remember looking over at two guys in the saxophone section whose dicks poked out like that. I couldn't imagine what made their dicks do that, or how uncomfortable it might be. When I tried it, it just made me notice my dick more than I was already noticing it, which at 16 was all the time.

It's always been an appealing look, but something that's not "for me." I'm not built like that.

Happy Holidays to everyone. Thanks for dropping by and I'll do my best to post regularly in the new year.

Three Young Men

2007-09-24T07:44:00.000-04:00

Did I ever mention that I once me two guys who were involved in a three-way relationship? I'm sure I did. Rest assured that they didn't look like this. First of all, they were older and less fit and secondly, they were more...suburban. They were much farther into their relationship than these guys, who look like they might have just met.

I just heard something, maybe it was on Dan Savages podcast, about poly-relationships. I can't imagine the politics that must go into managing a relationship like that. Seem like there might be some "sub-grouping" going on. Of course the guys I met seemed perfectly happy with their arrangement. It seemed like they believed that it was the only way they could have a relationship. They were very happy, very settled.

Finding time with the bf isn't that difficult as we live together and it's just us. We have a normal, routine, which I believe we both enjoy, for the most part. I suppose that adding a third would be the same dynamic, just broadened a bit. Still, if you have to make time to have quality time with two different people, as I suppose they don't always do things in threes, might be more time consuming, and use more of your brain energy.

If you don't already read Dan Savage, you ought. He also has a podcast, which is really good.

Thoughts on Twins

2007-09-18T11:14:00.001-04:00

I've had a lot of thoughts recently about twin-dom. I'm not a twin, but I've always felt like one, sort of like half of a whole. I was born under that twin sign. I've got a lot of pictures of twins in my files. Fortunately none of them having sex. I mean, it may be a hot idea to think of it, but it's sort of gross when you actually see something like that. It's just such a crossing of boundaries.

I had a massage the other day. At first, I was disappointed that the person giving the massage was a woman. I always feel like a man just naturally gives a better massage because...because men are stronger. But this woman was the hefty type and when she threw her weight into it and leveraged herself, she really got in there and did what needed to be done.

I think the crossing of boundaries is sort of how I feel about massages, too. It's a very sensual situation, which could easily get sexual with the "right" two people. So it's a sort of a hot idea. The problem is that when that tension between the person giving the massage and the person getting the massage is interupted by actual, inappropriate contact, it's gross. It's not what massage is all about, unless that's what you went to get a massage for. And that's not really massage in my book. That's a whole nother trip.

Years ago, I took a tantric massage workshop and it was all about this arrousal and building up the sexual energy without the release. It was better, in that situation to not release. That's not what it was about.

Boundaries are strange things. Once crossed, they can't be uncrossed. Like when you say something and it can't be un-said. How deep was that?

Totally!

Could Be King

2007-08-15T01:37:00.000-04:00

This picture reminds me of a website I have become familiar with called Bare Naked Men. Michael, the creator of Bare Naked Men takes pictures of the hotties we are all aware of and Photoshops cocks, usually very well, into the picture.

Somehow I can't imagine that Harry, hotty that he is, let this picture me taken. (I also can't imagine that he let that horribly placed tattoo be ground into his chest.) I also think this is a fake because I bet that Harry is uncut since he's Brit. Unless the royal family is Jewish, which I think we would have heard about.

I encourage you to take a look at Bare Naked Men and to let him know know where you got the link.

But back to Harry. Both he and William are very nice looking young men. Strange to me how much affect one parent's genes can override what the effect of the other parent's genes. I've always preferred Harry for his unconventional good looks, although William is certainly no one that I would "kick out of bed." I like how Harry always looks so rough and tumble.

Is this an unbelievable picture? No, not at all. I like to think that the young man who is (let me count) third in line to the throne in England is just this beautiful and that his bush is just this bright. I believe I've written about bright orange public hair and the good feelings that it's given me when remembering a few guys from my past - Jay from high school and James from much later.

And thanks, Butch, for sending this on.

Wresting-mania

2007-07-20T11:11:00.000-04:00

I've run across several of these pictures on my trollings through the Internet. A big, muscley guy in a tight little thing with his dick all obvious through the fabric. They're interesting pictures and if you're into pictures that hint rather than show (Butch) then this is the sort of picture you like.

Wrestling was not a big thing when I was in high school. It wasn't even available. I know that because one of our best cornet players transferred to another high school so that he could participate in the wresting team, which was coached by his father. Of course that meant he had to give up being in band and playing the cornet. Of course it also meant that he would be introduced into the wonderful world of communal showering, a world which I never knew in high school.

To Butch

2007-07-02T11:11:00.000-04:00

Butch prefers the non-dick shots, the ones that "leave something to the imagination." I prefer to have the dick out where I can see it and I'll take the imagination from there.

This guys body is so amazingly perfect that it's hard to take my eyes away to type. The problem is that I've always had problems relating guys like this.

Back when I was still on the market (thank God that's over) I had my picture up on a dating site and occasionally - occasionally - someone who looked like this would send me a message and ask about getting together.

At that point, I was pretty "seasoned" in the dating, plus I was in school and very busy. So I didn't have a lot of time to dick around (or have coffee) with people who didn't look like good prospects for something ongoing - or even something that would have been a good experience after I closed the door and he was gone.

More than once I said, (and this is a combination of picture and profile - i.e. likes/dislikes, etc.)
I said, "You look like a really nice guy, but you'd hate me. You wouldn't get me. Good luck."

One or two argued, "You don't know...we should meet and have a drink...blah blah blah."

I just feel like I can tell at this point. Well, maybe not this point. I'm a little out of practice.

Still, it's nice that guys like this are out there. Our weary eyes need something way too pretty to land on once in a while.

Uniform Thing

2007-07-01T11:00:00.000-04:00

I once went to a bar in New Jersey - way out in New Jersey - that was having a uniform party.

I was standing there with my then boyfriend when he nudged me and said, "Look at that."

Two big guys, one dressed as a cop and the other in full leather were making out like crazy about six feet away from us.

"Wanna see if they'd be into a four-way?"

He just smiled and stared. He was one wild ass boyfriend. We didn't approach them with the offer. I like the idea better than the idea of actually acting on the idea.

Speaking of uniforms, one weekend we were at a camp ground in Pennsylvania and I walked out of the little house where the kitchen was and saw that boyfriend talking to a cop, state trooper or something. Turns out it was a friend of the boyfriend. He was one of those guys who just looks very good in a uniform. It's like people who look really good in glasses, but not so great, sort of plain, without them. So the guy totally worked the uniform.

Who has time for fetishes like that? I've got other things to do.

No judgement, of course.

Out Back

2007-06-28T11:01:00.001-04:00

This picture reminds me of a pottery studio I used to work at. He didn't work there. It was just me and a hippy chic. But there was that metal siding all over the place.

Things are going well. I'm just busy. The bf was out of town and is coming back this evening, which will be nice.

This guy is very pretty to look at, but I wonder what he'd be like to be with - either for a cup of coffee or to "be with." My guess is that he'd probably be very nice, but that he'd be the tiniest bit vapid. Of course is you can deal with the vapid thing then that's okay and the rest of the package is obviously in working order.

I ran across a website the other day filled with pictures of guys standing in front of their mirrors with a camera taking a full body shot. One after the other they were all there, sometimes with a flash. I'm glad our little friend over here had the sense to get a photographer, although it looks like one of those situations where you go out back, strip down and have a friend take a snap of you in your underwear while sporting a boner.

What? Like you've never done that?

Belated Valentines

2007-02-18T16:50:00.000-05:00

Isn't this the sweetest picture? I just found it somewhere (on the internet). Sort of reminds me of the bf and me. Things have been really great lately. He's been a total doll as I've been working constantly. (I've taken a second job and it's tons of work.) He vacuum around me and doesn't even do it with attitude. He just does it because he wants clean floors.

We also wake up holding hands a lot lately. He's just the best. I'm crazy about him.

We were just watching an old Miss Marple, which I picked up at half price. He mentioned that it was much easier for women "back then" (probably around this time - WW2 - or a little later) to live together without a lot of looks and suspicion. There were numerous lesbian types in the movie. Of course, now it's no problem, but can you see these two living together without people talking? What a history our people have.

Happy Belated Valentines to my sweetheart.

Self Sucking

2007-02-16T11:58:00.000-05:00

I've always loved the idea of self sucking. I've had dreams where I was (miraculously) limber enough to suck my own cock. Alas, when I awoke, I was not.

In graduate school, I knew a guy who said that he was able to suck his own cock. He wanted to show me, but I decided against it. I was afraid that it would lead to something that I didn't want to happen. He said that his boyfriend was completely turned on by it.

Supposedly yoga will help you limber up enough to do it. I would like to think that I have enough patience to practice and eventually succeed, but up to this point I have not and I'm not sure that it's enough of a reward for me.

There are a bunch of photos of a guy who can self suck if you follow this link. It's sort of fascinating. He says he's straight. I believe him. It seems to me that there's nothing gay about sucking your own cock. It's when you suck another person's cock that you are gay. Granted, that's a judgement call. The pictures are interesting to a point. It's not as if there are a lot of different positions one can get into to suck one's own cock. But it's worth a look.

P.S. Isn't the guy in this picture pretty?

Crush is Over

2007-01-21T07:26:00.000-05:00

Have you ever had a crush on someone and then you see him and you realize that he's just sort of normal and, in some ways, sort of annoying?

I had that happen recently. The shine sort of wore off, the fascination is over. He's still a very sweet guy who I interact with socially now and then, but he's not even as interesting as I thought he was at one point.

Sort of like the kind of guy represented by this picture. I have a friend who tricks exclusively with SASA's (straight acting, straight appearing), mostly because he is anything but.

This guy to my left may be a total sweetheart when you talk to him, but it's that whole posing and looking tough that makes me a little indifferent. He's handsome and well built, but doesn't look like much fun.

The bf has a way of smiling that totally turns me on. He's fun. He makes me laugh. And when you're so close to someone that all your stuff is pressed up against theirs and you're spending time with them completely exposed, it should be fun (in my book.)

I'm sure this friend with the straight man fetish gets something out of it all, but I don't want that, and all that comes with it. (What do you get out of it? Would anyone like to comment?) I'd rather have something dependable, funny and sexy.

Still, this guy has a nice cock, doesn't he?

Sunblock for Butch

2007-01-19T15:24:00.000-05:00

My friend, Butch, asked me to update my blog. He also asked me to replace the picture that was up here with a picture of a guy "packed into a Speedo." I don't really usually go for pictures of guys that are just nice pictures of guys. I usually like a little dick in my pictures. But I ran into this guy and thought he was extra sexy.

The bf and I were in Florida right after Christmas. We had such a nice time laying on the beach. He likes to get a lot of sun. I do my best to stay out of the sun in the first few days, but I always get plenty. They during the last few days I am pretty liberal in my sun exposure. I always come back with plenty of color.

We were the only gays on the beach in Naples, Florida. Not surprising. It was very family. We only met one lesbian. She was behind the snack bar and one of those that whispers "gay."

Here's to Butch and his bf who are in Florida now.

On Cruising

2006-12-20T12:09:00.000-05:00

This evening when I was walking through the train station, I noticed some pretty heavy cruising going on between two guys. They weren't nasty, cruisy types. Both were in jeans and coats, looking like they were going from here to there, just changing trains. I reminded me of a very specific incident that happened a few years ago.

I was in NYC and I was commuting to work or going to a play. It doesn't really matter. I couldn't have stopped even if I wanted to. But the big thing was that even though I had made that initial eye contact, I knew I couldn't do anything. I knew that the only thing for me to do was keep walking and don't look back. I had a boyfriend.

We were walking and the guy had gotten ahead of me and he was slowing to wait for me and as I passed him, I caught his eyes again and then looked away and kept walking. But the thing is that I felt sort of guilty. I felt like I should go back and say, "You know what? You're totally hot. And if I weren't in a new relationship, I would absolutely get your number." I felt like I should apologize for ending our daliance before it even began.

I've had conversations with friends about cruising. Not recently, back in NYC. I knew a guy who was really against it. That whole walking past and then looking back to see if they look back? He thought it was insane. He refused to do it. The first time I did it I was amazed. I was 24, brand new to the City. Now I don't do it on principle. I don't want to put out that kind of energy.

Cruising. It was fun, but I don't miss it.

Morning Walk

2006-12-02T12:34:00.000-05:00

Sleeping Macho

2006-11-30T16:12:00.000-05:00

I recently heard the phrase "sleeping macho." It's when you sleep clothed only in a white T-shirt. Ze Frank, my new internet straight boy crush, says, "Sleeping macho looks very attractive on a man. I feel like it helps me breath."

When the bf is out of town, I sleep macho. I like the way it feels, plus my shoulders don't get cold. When the bf is in town, we both sleep naked. I like rolling over and feeling him naked next to me. There's something comforting in it. I've tried sleeping in white socks, but he's not having it. He throws a fit until I take them off. Says it reminds him of porn stars. When we had sex on the floor of the living room the other day, he was sure to get those socks off me. But I wish I'd had knee pads.

I started sleeping naked when I was 15. It was Christmas eve of my 15th year. I had a room with a lock on the door and I thought I would "just try it." Not only could I not sleep from the excitement of the following day (yes, even at 15) but I also had a raging hard-on. What a night. I didn't sleep. And that was pre-jack off. I had no idea what one did with a penis.

That same year, my mother stopped coming in a waking me up every morning for school. For years she would walk in, turn on the lights and throw my covers back. At some point, I got some blue, one-piece long johns. I thought they looked sort of hot. So I decided to sleep in those. During the night, my erection found its way out of the button fly. When my mother walked in, she threw the covers back and then replaced them. Her son was becoming a man. It was around that time that I woke up with a gooey mess in my long johns that, stained my sheets blue (from the long johns). I had no idea what it was. Someone needed to talk to me.

Someone finally did.

I urge you to Google "sleeping macho" and see the short bit that Ze Frank has on his site with the same name. He's a very funny guy. All of his work is very artfully done, and very funny.

Once, Twice, Three Times...

2006-11-30T10:59:00.000-05:00

What sort of surprised me (but not when I thought about it) was when
I charted how many times I had sex with each guy on my list. I have,
on my list, 112 people with whom I have had sexual contact. (Again,
this is not an exhaustive list, but it is representative.)

64, or 57%, of those were single contact.
22, or 20%, were two to four contacts.
15, or 13%, were more than five contacts.
11, or 10%, were what I would term a sort of "relationship."

About ten years ago, I was having the "how many people have you had
sex with" conversation with a group of people. A young, single
lesbian said, "I'm only ever going to have sex with four people in my
life." An older lesbian replied, "Let me guess. Up to this point,
you've had sex with three." The young lesbian fully expected for the
next person she had sex with to be her mate for life - or that she
would meet her mate for life and that would be the next and last
person she had sex with. The older lesbian just shook her head.
It's sweet to think that it's going to be that simple, that you're
going to meet someone and that'll be it. But life seems to have
worked out differently for me.

So what about these 64 guys who I had sex with one time? (Not AT one
time.) With some of them, I had sex and I fully expected the budding
relationship to continue. I mooned over several, wondering what it
was about me that was so unlovable that they didn't want me. Now I
think I was being protected from horrible pain. With some, most I
think, it was a mutual understanding that this is going to be it.
We're going to spend this time together and be on our way. We had
little more in common than where we were at the time and mutual
sexual attraction - and sometimes the attraction was not even that
mutual.

There's a part of me that still feels like I should feel guilty for
something, for having had so much sex. But at the end of the day, I
didn't catch any diseases and I didn't do anything to intentionally
hurt them. So why should I feel bad? It's the whole idea that sex
is bad. I don't think it is. I think my obsession with it was worse
than the actual activity.

The other almost 1/3 of these guys (taking out the eleven
relationships) were either dating situations where we were thinking
about turning it into a relationship or it was just a convenient
thing where were just enjoying the "fire" that one or both of us knew
would eventually burn itself out. I am reminded of a Cole Porter
song that always reminds me of a specific affair I had. "If we
thought a bit of the end of it when we started painting the town,
we'd have been aware that our love affair was too hot not to cool
down." That sort of thing. And a couple were just really hot
weekends where we were getting it on until we had to go home. Those
were fun.

A word about the word "relationships." The observant reader will see
that I've had eleven and think it a bit strange. I'll explain. I
consider myself as having had seven "big" relationships. This means
we were committed to each other in some way and we were together for
at least a year. Looking back at the first two, I see that
juxtaposed against the relationship I am currently in, these look
like silly dabblings. However, at the time they felt real. It was
real pain. So they remain on the list.

Three of those eleven are affairs I had during one of my
relationships. It was an open relationship and we were allowed to
have sex, "just don't fall in love." Someone should have explained
the rule to me that says, "Don't do it more than twice with the same
guy and never make an appointment." (I had sex with guys who would
not give a phone number. They had rules. Rules would have been
good.) With all three of these guys, my emotions got involved and I
was taken away into a really intense situation. It taught me that I
am not capable of doing that. Some guys can. With me, it's always a
disastrous (albeit fun) time. Lots of heart ache.

The last guy was a long distance thing that was very intense and
doomed from the start. It was a great time, but didn't work out. It
was horribly painful in the end, but we are on speaking terms now.
So it wasn't a real relationship, but it was headed there and it was
all I had going at the time - and it lasted a while.

So do these numbers make me a slut? (Or a former slut?) Seems to me
that my numbers are either average, or less than average. Seems to
me that there are many gay guys who have way outdone me. Thoughts?
Opinions? What's an average number?

Sex Connection and Numbers

2006-11-28T22:44:00.000-05:00

I was thinking this afternoon about something I read years ago.
About an invisible cord that connects you and any person you have sex
with, after you have sex. (I could look it up and quote it, but it
might take too long and I'm in the middle of a thought.) The idea is
that until you remove the cord, it connects you to that person and
your spiritual body is possibly "stuck" or affected by it. (I'll
type out the way to remove the cord if anyone is interested.)

So, of course, I thought about how many people I've had sex with,
been in sexual situations, etc. It's been a few, I'll say that.

I was also thinking also about non-sexual situations I've been in and
where it almost feels like there's some sort of connection formed
there, too, one that I would like to sever, or not.

A few years ago, after having a conversation with a study group I was
in, I started to write down every person I remember I had sex with.

Wait. I'll tell how the conversation went. We were a varied group,
two guys, two women, two gays, two straights. So if you made a grid
and the X-axis was Gender and the Y-axis was Sexual Orientation, all
four boxes of the grid would be filled. It was a great group. I
miss them. (They'll never read this.)

So the lesbian says to the group, "How many people have you had sex
with?"

The straight guy says, "I can tell you. Four."

And the straight girl says, "Oh my god! I feel like such a slut. I
think it's like twelve."

The lesbian says, "I think I've had sex with seven, maybe eight,
depending on how you count it."

They looked at me. "Well, Blake?"

I said, "I have no idea where I would start counting."

"Give us a round number. More than 500?"

"No. That's too high." I ended up guessing that the number was
nearing 200, but probably not over that. I had no way to tell. It
was just one of those ways that being a gay man is different than
being...not a gay man.

So I started making a list. I started with the major boyfriends, and
moved on to affairs, memorable one timers, etc. Then I tried to spur
my memory on with race, location (conventions, vacations), big events
in my life, country of origin, parties. I wrote them all down on a
list. They came to me in the middle of meetings, when I was about to
go to sleep. I kept remembering people and adding them to the list.
Finally, when I had a substantial list, I decided to put them in
order as much, as I could. When I did that, I came up with more to
add to the list. It was a fascinating process. The number I finally
came up with, when the last one was added a couple of years ago, was
126.

But I can tell you that it's not the final number. There is a party
that I'm not even willing to start with until I find a certain
journal, which is in storage in the states. I went to a party and
had a nice time. When I got home, I wrote about it in detail. It's
fascinating reading. So it adds a few guys to the list. I used to
go to these parties. I should write about that some time. I had
absolute rules about what I would and wouldn't do. I was once
standing with some friends and I said, "Okay. If either of you want
your dicks sucked, tell me know because I'm not touching if after
anyone else's mouth has been on it." They both dropped drawers.

I decided to write a story about each one. Tell how we met, what
happened, when I last saw them, etc. Strange how a story about an
afternoon quicky can be three pages long and the story about a guy I
dated for six weeks can be a half page. Anyway, then I took the list
and made a whole spreadsheet about it in excel. Who was white,
black, hispanic, etc. I did HIV status. I did some columns on how
many times we did it. Then I noted how much of his name I
remembered, if any. As I said, I find it fascinating and I want to
write about that.

So back to this connection. There is someone I met and I didn't have
sex with. (I didn't even meet him in a sexual situation.) But I
feel like I have this strange, horrible connection with him. It's
one of those people who says he's all about love and peace but is, in
actuality, a vindictive, crazy son of a bitch. And when I saw that,
I decided to step back. So I was just thinking that it would be nice
to sever that connection since he keeps popping up. So I think I'll
do some ritual to cut that cord. He kept writing me here and saying
mean things. I don't need that. Anyway, that sort of stopped me
from blogging for a while. But I'm back. I'm busy with a new job,
but I think I have some new ideas and I love writing.

Thanks for stopping by. I'm back.

Cowboy

2006-09-14T10:57:00.000-04:00

For some reason, this picture reminds me of Fire Island in New York. I guess because of the little swim trunks and the very typically hot guy with a very typically muscled body and the little apologetic tattoo on his deltoid. He's being playful and there's something sort of hot about it - although I don't really trust guys like this to be good sex. It always seems to be about them.

I never had sex on Fire Island. I was only there three times for a grand total of probably eight days, but it just never happened. Once I was with a boyfriend on a day trip and the other two times, I was completely depressed over a breakup with that boyfriend.

Stories about all that goes on there abound. It's a nice little sandbar with no cars and it's mostly boardwalks going here and there with little houses set back, ofte in the middle of trees. I can imagine that if you were in the right frame of mind, it would be a great time.

Picture this guy and several hundred other guys who came out of the same mold walking around scantily clad. It's just nuts. It's one of those situations where a hot young guy could find himself very busy and very sore by the end of a long weekend. And I don't think that young is that important. Youthful is more like it. I like youthful. Young is sort of...overrated. Young and smart is good, but it's annoying to constantly throw out references from the eighties or nineties and have some kid tell you how he was still in plastic pants or something.

"Let's hear it for maturity," said the 41 year old gay guy.

Couples

2006-07-31T17:55:00.000-04:00

This picture reminds me of couples I used to see where the one guy was in his thirties or forties and the younger guy is in his early twentites. They are average looking and they are getting along well for the moment. Heck, it's sort of exactly like a relationship I was in when I was 25.

It was fun. The guy knew lots of stuff and lots of people. My job was to go along and be there for him. It was an excellent learning experience for me. I would almost recommend it to young guys except when reality hits and you realize that it might not work out (because the younger one has a lot of growing up to do or because the older one is just biding his time until he's ready to be in a "real" relationship) it hurts really bad.

I recently realized that in my sloppy, younger days, I hurt or offended someone - probably several someones. Maybe hurt and offend are not the right words. But I know he reads (or has read) this and I don't know what it was, but I want to apologize. Things change and people grow up - or don't. Forgive and move on.

For a while, I didn't really understand why I kept getting attached to older guys. They were always a good ten to fifteen years older than me. Then I realized that it's the age I like guys. So now I'm with someone who is basically my age, although a tiny bit older. And I believe we will grow older together. Being young was sort of painful. Still, I had fun.

2006-07-31T17:49:00.000-04:00

I haven't been able to think of any great sex stories lately. I've only had sex with the bf for the last...almost three years, and while that's great, it means that the variety of my new exual encounters is nil.

In my work lately, I deal with a lot of teenagers and I keep hearing stories about how sexual they are. It sort of freaks me out. They're just kids, but apparently, they're really slutty.

Like this one guy I work with. Yesterday he said, "You know my daughter, Jessica." And I thought, "Jessica? She's a total slut!" Of course I said, "Jessica? She's such a nice girl."

This got me thinking about the difference between being a slutty teenage girl and a slutty gay guy in his mid-thirties in NYC (or any city for that matter.) It's not that different, but then it's really different. I started thinking about the poltics of being a single gay guy in NYC and having sex for recreation. I can't see what's wrong with it.

Sometimes when I was single and really not ready to be in a relationship, I would pray (literally pray) and ask God to help me find some nice, sane guy to have sex with. I was lonely and horny and I felt like I needed a little companionship. But I didn't need to start dating. I was too crazy at the time. And most of the time, I met some nice guy who was into it for an evening. We'd talk, have sex and that would be it. It ended nicely, friendly. It was fine.

I told a few people about that and they said, "I could never pray for sex. That's like sacreligious or something." I don't think so. If you think that, then you have to be thinking there's something wrong with having sex. And if you're having sex, then you're doing something wrong. I don't think there's anything wrong with having sex. I think it's a good thing. I think that if it's mutually agreeable and a good time, God smiles.

As it says in "The Lord Wont' Mind," by ____________ "There's enough hate in the world, honey. If it's love, they Lord won't mind." It wasn't love, but it was close enough at the time.

He Showed Me His Root!

2006-07-13T17:55:00.000-04:00

When I was just out of my first stint in graduate school, I got involved in activism in New York. I was involved in Queer Nation, which was a spin-off of ACT UP.

There was a guy there, Fletcher, who was an older (probably around 40 - but a worn out 40). The rest of us were in our twenties and early thirties (except for the occasional old time activist in his sixties). Fletcher was an Australian guy with blonde hair and scars from a youth spent picking zits. He was a little bit too familiar with a lot of the boys, which was annoying. A little bit of a social pariah, but a hard worker.

At one point, one of the clubs that was in NYC at the time had a benefit for Queer Nation. It was an underwear party. I went, but refused to strip down. Sort of a dicey crowd.

So there’s Fletcher in the middle of the room dancing around the room in tighty whites and boots. He danced over to a group of my friends and put his thumbs in the band of his underwear and, pulled it down past the pubes.

Later, my friend, Doug, said, “He showed us his root!” Doug shivered remembering it.

That’s what this guy reminds me of, although he is much better preserved than Fletcher was at the time.

At the Beach

2006-07-10T17:53:00.000-04:00

The bf and I went to Barcelona last weekend. It's a nice city with a lot to see. It was a lot of walking. I woke up super sore both Saturday and Sunday. It was also hot, which was sort of nice.

At the end of the day on Friday, we went to the beach. It was swarming with people. I said, "How is the beach this packed at 2:00 on a Friday afternoon?"

He said, "People take off Friday afternoon so they can come and enjoy the beach." Later, he pointed out where in a guide book it said, "The people of Barcelona make their work life work around their social life, rather than the other way around." The bf lived in Barcelona for a year several years ago. He's familiar with that whole schedule.

So we picked a spot that was not in the middle of the gay scene, but where we could look over and see it without straining our eyes. I think it's always just a little too much to sit in the middle of that unless you have a set of friends, a sort of "Sex in the City" group where you're in a bubble. The nude part was very far off. This was skimpy swimsuit area only.

The queens just kept coming. They walked past us and towards the center. And like suburban sprawl, the group just got bigger and bigger until we were completely surrounded by the gays.

There was one group of three that was pretty remarkable. There were lots and lots of muscled up guys, but a group of three walked up and they were all three just completely pumped up. It was like some kind of joke. they all wore long shorts and no shirts. Their bodies completely worked out. It's something I haven't really seen since I went to a gay beach in New York - and that's been a few years. They guys walked up and were greeted and then greeted again. Of course they peeled down to little Speedos. They all seemed to be wearing Speedos. It's probably an exaggeration, but not much of one.

Apparently the gay scene is alive and well in Barcelona. I think they even have gay marriage. We didn't go out. We never go out. But there was something about being there, being on vacation, that got our libidos going, so that was nice.

Of course the beach in Barcelona - the one we were at - didn't look like the beach in the picture, but the guy sort of looks Spanish. We might do a nude beach soon, so says the bf.

The Third Nipple

2006-07-10T17:49:00.000-04:00

I've been to my share of camping trips where guys wake up and having coffee wearing what they slept in - i.e. a nightshirt, nothing, etc. But I've never crawled out of a tent and seen a guy like this enjoying a cup of coffee.

There's always hope for the future.

I was reminded today of a guy I dated years ago. He lived in New Jersey. I lived in NYC. The commute was only the beginning of the end of the relationship.

His name was B, shortened from a longer, more complex name. He was a teacher. Students called him Mr. B. The cheeziness of that bothered me a bit, but he was a cute little Black guy and I had just gotten out of a relationship and needed some distraction.

One of my most remarkable memories of B was his third nipple. I'd heard of people with the third nipple, but I'd never actually seen one. I'd imagined a perfectly formed extra nipple misplaced somewhere in the chest area. It wasn't like that. His looked sort of like a mole. Like it was just a small areola under his left tit. Sort of interesting, not particularly sexy.

We had about five dates. Mostly it was at my apartment, which was nice because he did the traveling. He didn't mind because he just drove into the city in his monstrous, gas guzzling truck - and amazingly always found a parking place.

The kicker was when I ventured out to visit him in NJ. He picked me up at the train station, we watched a community theater version of Tommy, the rock opera (just let your mind go wild imagining that) and then eventually ended up at his house, where he lived with his ex and his ex's new boyfriend.

In my head, I was sort of hoping the relationship would work out, but there was a part of my brain that was making a list of reasons why it wouldn't. When we were greeted by the ex and his boyfriend, two slovenly suburbanites, I realized that there was no way.

Then we got to the bedroom. Besides the “Were you on crack?” paint job (lots of dark, flat, solid color) there was a ton of snapshots, memorabilia from shows he was in and lots and lots of stuffed animals. It was like being in the bedroom of a 14-year-old girl. If there is anything that acts as salt peter to my system, it’s lots of stuffed animals. I can deal with one.

He hoisted a giant bear from the bed and put it on a shelf. “He usually sleeps with me, but tonight I have someone else to cuddle up to.” I just smiled at him and thought, Get your fill tonight, Sugar, because I won’t be coming back here. A really sweet guy, but the whole package was nothing I was buying.

In the end, I broke it off by saying that the commute was just too much. He didn’t like that reasoning – no one does – but I’ve always felt like it is a legitimate reason for breaking up. Besides, I was not going to move to suburban New Jersey. He said he was thinking about moving to the city, but in the end, it really wasn’t about the commute, was it?

Typical Chelsea Boy

2006-07-09T03:22:00.000-04:00

This guy sort of looks like trouble in a way. He's super pretty, but I don't think I would have ever stood a chance with him. He looks like a certain type of Chelsea Boy in NYC during the Ninties. It's that perfect body/nice face thing. I mean, I had a pretty body and a nice face at the same time as the rest of those jokers, but I didn't have as much attitude - and I had a soul.

That was a time when lots of bars were opening up in Chelsea and on the occassion that I would go to one with friends, I just felt like a thirteen year old girl with braces and glasses standing against the wall at a dance in a shapeless dress. Call it my aversion to lycra.

He also reminds me of a personal ad I came across once. It was written by a guy who was obviously in AA. (I could tell by the lingo he dropped in his ad). This was during my "troubled" period, the months when I was climbing out of the deep dark, muddy hole that was my life at that time. (And no assistance from drugs was needed to get me in the hole!)

I wrote him and said, "Good luck" in terms of finding a boyfriend. I meant it genuinely. He seemed like someone who would make a good partner for someone...else. I knew that any AA boy worth his salt would have slowly backed away from me at that time.

I'm grateful for the rough times. What didn't kill me made me stronger, which I guess would include everything because nothing killed me.

The Two Call Rule

2006-07-08T17:40:00.000-04:00

Right after I got out of a fairly lengthy relationship years ago, I read a personal ad that really appealed to me. The guy seemed really centered and sane. He was a yoga instructor and was reasonably good looking. Plus, he was British - how exotic!

We met for dinner and both had a fairly nice time. There were laughs and the conversation was constant with none of those awkward pauses. I found it endearing that he didn't even hint at having sex after dinner. We just walked around the Village for a while and I went home. Not even a kiss - which today would make me think, What's up with that?

I was fresh out of relationship and all I really wanted was to be back in a relationship. The idea of dating a sane, British yoga instructor was quite appealing to me. Free yoga instruction? I'm in.

I called, but he didn't return my call in a couple of days and then I called back. I hadn't yet learned the two call rule, so I called again...and possibly one more time.

A year or two later, I saw a movie where a guy, sitting by a pool, answers the phone and says, "Oh Ted, hi. Yeah. Listen, can I call you right back?" He hangs up the phone and says to a friend sitting with him, "Stupid fuck. Doesn't he know the rule? If you've called twice and I haven't called you back, I'm not interested!"

Even weeks after my last attempt to contact the yoga instructor, I thought, He totally saw that I'm crazy and desperate. I knew that he, being sane, decided that I was not the best bet for a sane partner, since I was, at the time, insane.

This guy in the picture reminds me of the yoga instructor. I remember thinking, Man, he looks totally hairy. I could see hair creeping up around his collar in the back. I wondered if I could deal with it - hair in the bed, hair in the drain. I probably could have, but I'm glad the bf is not hairy. I'd still love him if he was, but smooth skin is nice. He even shaves my back now and then after giving me a haircut.

What's not to love about that?

Big Eraser Nipples

2006-07-07T17:56:00.000-04:00

This guy reminds me of my first New Year's Even in New York City. I was out with some friends and we decided to bring in the new year (1990 - the Gay Nineties) at a leather bar - The Spike.

We were drinking and laughing and trying to not look completely out of place when I had to pee. I went to the bathroom and I was standing at the trough next to an old leather guy and we started chatting.

Zipped up at this point, we drunkenly started talking. I commented on his enormous nipples. They were literally so pulled and tortured that they were as big as the last joint of my little finger.

"Wow. Those are huge," I said. (I was 25 and still quite green.)

"Yeah. I'm into nipple play," he said, looking down at them.

"Can I touch one of them?"

"Sure."

I pinched it and he groaned a little bit. It was totally not my style, but it was a funny experience. Then I washed my hands and went back to my friends, to relate the story.

Later, I was walking around and got talking to some older guy who was clearly just out to show off his new leather pants and hat. He wasn't as hard boiled as most of the guys in the bar. He was probably a banker or something. We chatted for a bit and then we kissed for a second or two.

When I went back to my friends, I said, "I kissed a leather man."

"I want to kiss a leather man, too!" They both said. Then it became a challenge to find the right leather man. I was glad I picked the banker. Both of them stuck their tongues in the mouths of some pretty gnarly guys. It was a good New Year's Eve. We all ended up heading back to Brooklyn together. No dates that night.

I think The Spike eventually closed. Too bad.

Flannel Pajamas

2006-07-07T03:20:00.000-04:00

In graduate school, I was "the gay guy" in my class. There was a gay guy, Jim, in the year ahead me.

In my second year of that program, I met the gay guy in the class after me, Bill. It was as if there was a quota that this program had to have a gay guy in each class.

When I met Bill, I was intrigued. He was fun and had a nice smile, and a good look, like he would be a handsome guy when he got older. This guy in the picture sort reminds me of Bill - but only his face. Bill's body was sort of like a hairy string bean.

Bill had a very sexual way about him and he talked in a way that suggested that he would be an absolute wild man in bed.

However...

Bill was plagued by the fact that he was raised Catholic and he had an amazing amount of that Catholic guilt. He would lay still as a moved about.

"Are you okay?" I would ask. "You don't seem like you're having a good time."

His eyes were closed and he lay in the corpse position. "Oh, it's great. Keep it up."

As a novelty, that's sort of...not even okay, but doable. But as an ongoing thing, it's really, really annoying. It's like "helping" someone move and having them drink coffee and fiddle the whole time. You're doing all the work and looking at the guy like, "Why am I here, you jackass? I could be at home watching t.v."

The situation devolved, eventually, to where I went over to his apartment one night and he was getting ready for bed, but wanted to have sex. Bill was already dressed for bed in flannel pajamas and was wearing a T-shirt and underwear underneath. He refused to get naked. He pulled down his briefs and pajama bottoms and put a washcloth on his stomach so that there's wouldn't be any mess on his pajama top.

I sat there and said, "You're serious."

"I have to get to sleep right after this."

It wasn't long after that, that I explained to Bill that I was looking for something else, and that our time together was over.

Not long after that, I saw Bill at a party with Jim. They had met at some function and started dating. They were a nice looking couple, but Bill later explained that Jim was very controlling and that he (gasp!) had a very small dick.

I lost touch with Bill, but I have faith that he eventually found what he was looking for. He is the grandson of a very famous cartoonist. He was a nut job, but he was connected, and his family was worth lots and lots of money.

That memory is always good for a big eye roll.

Samenwoning

2006-07-06T17:46:00.000-04:00

I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but the bf and I signed a "cohabitation contract"- there's another word for it in Dutch - a couple of weeks ago. We also signed wills. It wasn't the most romantic of events, just the two of us, a notary and a translator. It was very businessy.

However, some weeks before that, right before we went on vacation, we exchanged rings, and that was nice. We weren't all that prepared with what to say and we sort of hit the highlights in our private little ceremony for two.

Afterwards, I've said things, and he's said things, that in a perfect world we would have said that night. He says, "That's what I wanted us to say when we exchanged rings."

To me, the verbiage that goes with the exchange of rings is sort of an ongoing thing. It seems like it should be an everyday thing. I always reply, "Just tag it on and pretend that we said it then." I'm not a great proponent of re-writing the past, but if it serves a purpose and it doesn't hurt anyone, why not?

I think that the contract has brought us closer, sort of solidified things a bit. He just keeps getting lovelier every day. Sometimes he's less lovely, (and so am I) but that just makes him more lovely the next day. He's a great guy and I feel very fortunate to be with him.

How My Dick Straightened Out

2006-07-05T12:28:00.000-04:00

When I was a fifteen, and I discovered my dick, I realized it was bent. It had a "classic n curve." It bothered me slightly as the only other dick I had seen in person and the few pictures I had seen, were all straight. I was assured by the person that it would not be a problem later in life.

My theory is that it grew bent because of how I wore it in my trousers. At the time, I wore white briefs and my dick was at 6:00. I wore fairly tight jeans, as it was the Seventies - and I was always outgrowing my clothes. Added to that, I was almost always hard.

After talking to this guy, I found out that he wore his dick to one side. I think it was to the right, but I decided that the left was more comfortable for me.

So at 15, I changed my habits. I started wearing it at 3:00, which inevitably turned into 4:00 or 5:00 throughout the day. I kept getting hardons. In fact, during band every day while my euphonium was resting on my dick in my lap, I stayed hard for the entire time. (You try to not get a hard on with a couple of pounds of warm, vibrating metal on your dick.)

Eventually, I noticed that the curve was less. It was only a slight bend. I remember saying to someone, "Really, it was just there. I swear it used to bend down a lot more. Maybe it just seemed like it curved more." Then one day, the curve was gone. It was a sort of body modification, I guess. I think it was not having it in that curved position all day long while I was hard. Maybe I retrained the tissue and musculature.

I don't miss it. I guess I prefer a cock without a bend. Maybe a slight bed wouldn't be a problem.

I like the picture of this guy, by the way. He reminds me of the Seventies and when I was 15, not knowing which end was up, or what to do with my bent dick. I think it's that mustache. He's probably in his 50's now. Wonder how he looks.

Drug Night in Dallas

2006-07-03T16:26:00.000-04:00

This guy reminds me of a guy I met in Dallas years ago.

At the time, I was living in NYC and I was just back in the Dallas area for a visit. I think I was hanging out a bar when he approached. I often needed to go to a gay bar after being around my family for too long. They're nice, but sometimes it's just a little too much "family values" and it's time to be with the gay folks in a crowded, smoky, airless bar. You know - community.

I don't remember the guy's name, but I do remember that he was fun to talk to. He was sort of adventurous and had a body like this guy, that sort of non-descript, moderately hairy body that no one is going to complain about and probably comes to him very naturally. I am fairly certain that he didn't have the wiener on him that this guy did. If he did, it was not the attraction.

What I mostly remember is that when we got back to his apartment, he offered me a drug...and I accepted. He said it was some sort of workout supplement and that if you took too much of it, it had the effect of extacy...and it did! It was a spoonful of a white powder in a glass of water. It took effect pretty quickly. This is absolutely one of those things I would not do again. I don't know what I was thinking, but it was a good time.

Anyway, it took effect and we were in the kitchen for a while fooling around doing this and that. I remember he did some messy shaving of my chest and public hair. Eventually we moved into the bedroom. Nothing to write home about except--

He tried to fuck me - without a condom. I was really fucked up and having a great time. But even in my completely fucked up state on a drug I was not familiar with, I was together enough to say, "No. Not happening." He whined a little bit - always an attractive quality - but I stuck to my guns. Eventually it wore off and I made it home, probably at dawn.

So that's what this guy reminds me of, one of those guys that you fool around with alone, but who you wouldn't get involved with or be seen in public with. They're just too sleazy.

Glad I got out of that one with only some minor chafing, badly trimmed chest hair and a hangover.

Gay Naturism and John

2006-06-22T01:06:00.000-04:00

Before I moved from Texas to NYC, I found a small ad in a naturist magazine about a naturist weekend in Pennsylvania for gay men. These were the days when all correspondence went through the post office - i.e. no e-mail.

I wrote for information, waited, filled out the form, wrote a check, sent it in, waited and finally received my instructions and welcome letter. Man, was I excited. And I never told anyone...

When I got to NYC, I moved into the dorm and the first Friday, I packed a backpack and tripped off to Penn Station and then on to Pennsylvania, again, not telling anyone where I was going. I had originally made plans with another guy who lived in the city to travel with him, but I missed the train and took the next one.

When I got to the station of the small town that was the drop-off point, the train pulled away and I was left standing. I waited, but no one showed up. There was no phone, and I certainly had no cell phone, but there was a man tending the lawn at a church across the street. I finally decided that I would have to walk to the campground, a Jewish children's camp. I decided to ask the man for directions.

I pointed to the map and the guy said, "It's down that road." He looked at the sun. "You'll never make it before sundown. Let me put my things in the back of my truck and I'll drive you." So I was rescued by the lawn man of a church in this tiny town. But then again, I've always depended upon the kindness of strangers.

When we got there and I was directed, by a clothed man posted at the entrance, to the main campsite and all the cabins. I was told where my cabin was and was encouraged to get comfortable. Again, it was sort of a strange to go into the cabin, undress down to my tennis shoes, and walk out the door naked to go meet people. There's a quality to that situation that was sort of exciting. Like I knew logically what I was doing, but I kept hearing this voice in my head saying, "Dude, you're not wearing any pants! Your boys are hanging out."

Like most of these events, it was peopled by a lot of very average guys and some letchy guys who were like wolves in a hen house, just getting ready to pounce. There were also some very nice people. Also lots of people with cameras. I had my picture taken a lot. One of the "moves" I got a little tired of was a guy putting his hand on my shoulder and talking to me and then moving it slowly down to my ass. (Wow, man. That's clever! No one's every pulled that one on me.)

This was also the weekend were I met a guy named John. He was a cute little Italian guy with a nice body and a mustache that was a total (unintentional) throwback to the Seventies. He also had hair that was a little out of date, but he was totally cute. We ended up talking a bit (only a bit) and then fooling around in the dark to the side of a building one evening. There wasn't any private space in thecamp. It was all big rooms with bunkbeds. Ours was a quick interaction that was sort of exciting, but less satisfying than I had hoped. He wasn't very friendly afterwards. He was a part of the clique that was M.A.N. (Males au Naturale) in NYC. He didn't really have time for me.

Years later after 9-11, when the Twin Towers fell and all those people died, I kept thinking that I must have known someone in one of the towers who died. I saw posters every day for weeks. Then one day I saw a photo of John. The guy I was dating at the time said, "Yeah. He died. I didn't know you knew him."

I said, "I met him briefly years ago and I saw him around now and then."

Anyway, the picture here reminds me of that weekend - frolicking and running around in the sun naked. It was great fun.

About Big Dark Nipples

2006-06-22T01:03:00.000-04:00

This guy reminds me of two things:

1) The way my dick used to curve down like that. (It did, but it doesn't any more. I have a theory why it's now straight, but I'm not telling that story unless I'm asked.)

2) Terence, a guy I worked with on a catering job years ago who found big dark nipples very sexy.

Terence was probably not that old, like mid-thirties, but he seemed like he'd been around for a while. He was one of those guys whose eyes are just a smidge too close together, who is a little queeny and who tells lots of funny stories energetically. Tons of fun to be around, but not someone I'm interested in '"doing." Sort of a hard sell relationshipwise.

One evening he told us this story, "Queens used to go into the department store john and sit down with two empty shopping bags in front of them, so that if they got a trick, he could stand with his feet in the bags while he blew him and no one would see two pairs of feet in one stall."

See? He was filled with factoids like that from the "old days." Anyway, those nipples.

So he decided that: a) He wanted a tattoo, and b) he found big, dark nipples really sexy. So he decided that the appropriate tattoo for him would be to get tattoos that made his nipples darker and bigger. The idea was that the tattoo artist would do a circle around his nipples and fill them in with a shade of brown.

Terence was a little nervous about getting a tattoo, and about his bold choice in design. So he got drunk. [Side note: I can't believe that any kind of tattoo artist, even in those days, would tattoo a guy drunk. Alcohol thins the blood and makes the whole process a mess because the blood doesn't coagulate at the same rate as normal.] He's sitting there ready to go and the tattoo artist starts at the bottom of the nipple and gets about an inch and a half before Terence says, "Stop! I can't do this!"

Terence ran home and took a scrubby thing and went at the little cut with soapy water, trying to scrub out all the ink. Thank God he came to his senses. I've seen a lot of stupid tattoos, but that one would have been terrible.

He even showed me the scar, a little inch and half long slightly brown mark.

Today's Lesson: Don't let your fetishes lead you down a dumb ass path.

Porn Star

2006-06-21T18:08:00.000-04:00

Living in NYC was fun in a lot of ways. One fun way is that I would sometimes see "celebrities" or realize that someone I knew or had been seeing, on the street or at the gym, had a bit of notoriety.

For instance, I would see Parker Posey on the street with her boyfriend and I once waited on Yoko Ono. Not exactly brushes with Julia Roberts (I had a friend who fell off a curb and was helped up my Julia), but it was interesting to see them being people.

One of the people I saw regularly at the gym and then in a magazine is this gentleman in the picture. I think he was German or something (although from the looks of him in the photo, he must be Jewish). He had a sort of hard face. He wasn't exactly good looking, but there was a sex appeal to him. Then I found out that he was doing porn.

One day in the gym, a guy beside me on the mat doing abs turned to me and said, "Can I ask you a question?" He was a cute blonde guy, sort of looked like a former football player. He later got into steroids.

"Sure," I answered.

"Were you ever in...like...a magazine? You know, your picture?"

I was. In 1995, photographs of my 28-year-old naked body graced the pages of Honcho. It was a quick bit of fame which I'm still trying to live down in some circles. Fortunately no one here knows about it aside from the bf, and he's not telling anyone.

So I nodded and I said, "Yep. That was me."

He said, "I cut out my favorite pictures from porn magazines I buy and I put them in a book. You're in the book. You're one of my favorites."

Mother always said, "Just smile and say, 'Thank you.'"

It was nice. It was at least a year after the hubbub died down in my normal circle of friends, so it was a little surprising to have someone ask me about it. And nice in a way.

Yes, I'm a man with a past.

The Shaggy Euroguy

2006-06-21T13:10:00.000-04:00

Years ago, when I went to Chelsea Gym in NYC - back when there was a Chelsea Gym - there was a guy who went at the same time as me who was so hairy. He had sort of a goofy face, with a slight overbite and eyes that naturally did that half-mast thing, but the most distinguishing aspect of him was that he was hairy from his neck to his feet.

I've seen guys with hairy patches on their backs, but it's the rare guy who's complete back is hairy. Even his upper arms an the sides of his torso were hairy. The only thing that wasn't hairy (and I know this from seeing him in the dressing room and the shower) was his decent sized uncut dick. His ass looked like he was wearing hair pants, but his cock was just a very nice flesh flute.

I often wondered what it would be like to do it with a guy like that. Sort of like having sex with someone who is wearing a mohair jogging suit, I imagine. He chatted me up once, but I wasn't interested. Plus, I was in a relationship. I imagine having a relationship with him would be like having a large dog on the house. He was European, but I didn't have a very good sense of Europe back then. I think I remember him saying that he was Swedish, but it might have been Swiss.

One day, I went to the gym and I saw that he had somehow removed all that hair, or most of it. Clipping? Shaving? Nair? Maybe it was so that he could see the musculature of his body. I could tell his had a nice body, but under all that hair, it was difficult to see how nice? He seemed a little more manageable, a little more appealing without all the hair, but then there was nothing special about him, like his "thing" was gone.

That was in the days when I looked at trimmed body hair and bristled. It just felt like razor stubble. I shaved my balls back then, but nothing else. Now I trim my chest regularly. The bf prefers it that way, and I do too. I like it longer than he likes it, but he doesn't seem to mind the bristly part.

Maybe that guy at the gym had that disease where you grow lots of hair all over your body. He didn't have a particularly hairy face - like no hair on his nose - but the rest of him was just covered. There are guys who love hairy guys.

I hope he found one.

More Radical Faeries

2006-06-20T13:25:00.000-04:00

The Radical Faeries was a really great experience for me. It was a group of non-conventional guys camping and doing communal cooking.

One of my favorite things was the occassional guy who happened to be there who wasn't classically beautiful, but who was also not...sort of queeny and repulsive like some of them were. (Of course, if you're a Faerie and you're reading this, I'm not talking about you.)

I remember a guy who looked like this guy in the picture who hung out with the Faeries, but was straight. He also loved to wear dresses. Not frilly frocks, this was the early Ninties. The dress I remember him wearing was one of those Jersey dresses with no sleeves. The story was that it had belonged to his wife. He really wasn't, by all accounts, gay. He hung out and collected wood and talked, but went to his tent if anything "too gay" started happening.

He was a strange guy caught between worlds. Likes wearing a dress and camping with the gays, but he was straight. Of course maybe there was another story I wasn't getting, but I like the one I was told.

Just a Casual Guy Being Casual

2006-06-20T12:25:00.000-04:00

I like this guy becaue he's got a nice face and he's handsome and all, but then you look and there are his genitles hanging down there like he forgot his pants.

I like the casualness of the photo. In so many pictures of naked guys, they have a look on their face, like, "Yep! I'm naked. I've got a hard dick!" This guy is so casual. He looks like someone you'd see on the bus or in the office. It's nice, sort of refreshing.

That's why I like the idea of nudist events. You'd think that people - even a group of gay men - could stand around talking without it all becoming a big sex thing.

Just talk about gardening or your trip to Greece or that new addition you're building onto your house. I guess that's my fantasy, to be standing around naked with people just talking, not paying much attention to the fact that everyone is airing their dick and balls.

With gay men? I'd say that wouldn't be easy.

Nude Volleyball

2006-06-20T03:44:00.000-04:00

Years ago, I went to the National Nude Volleyball Championships with a boyfriend. I'd never heard of the NNVC and quick goggle search just now gleaned nothing. It was in Western Pennsylvania, which was quite a drive from New Jersey, where he lived.

The crowd at the weekend sort of surprised me. It was a sort of everyman volleyball weekend. It was just a crowd of people walking around in tennis shoes carrying towels.

It was a tournament, so this team played against that team and eventually they had the best two teams playing.

Not surprisingly, the last two teams were composed of very healthy young men. The other teams had both men and women. Old, young, fat, skinny, they were all there serving and volleying to one another. There was even a youth and children's category. It was very "family." It was fun to watch for a while, but we spent a lot of time at the pool during the preliminary games.

Of all sports, I think I find volleyball the funniest to watch. It's contained on a small court and there's a lot of team interaction, unlike other sports that are played on larger fields or have only one or two people. Of course if they were played nude, my interest might get piqued.

I remember thinking how odd it was that these guys talked and planned and congratulated each other just like they would have if they had been wearing shorts or uniforms. Big dick, small dick, big bush, shave, there didn't seem to be a thought about it. It was so natural that it felt like I was watching the game through a fabulous pair of x-ray glasses. It's just not something you see every day, all that flesh and all those gentiles everywhere. I really enjoyed it.

A year or so before that, I had gone to a nudist event and had gotten involved in the regular, informal volleyball games. While I was playing, I didn't think too much about the nudity. I was more concerned with hitting the ball and not looking like a dork.

Years later, I went to another nudist event in New Jersey in the winter. It was at a community center and there wasn't a lot of heating. I played volleyball there too, but had to leave eventually because I was freezing my nuts off. The very crowded pool proved to be a better choice because it was less frigid. Of course it was a chlorinated soup of New Jersians, but what are you going to do? I remember it being a fun evening, but also being glad to be home.

Bluebonnet Nudist Community

2006-06-16T00:21:00.000-04:00

There's a character on CSI Las Vegas named Warwick that this guy reminds me of. The character on CSI is a light skinned Black guy and this guy is...probably White but there is definitely a resemblance with the texture of the hair, the and the classic good looks.

One thing I'm not crazy about in this picture is that his dick is hard. It's a nice dick and I sort of like that his lovely bits are all out there for the people to enjoy, but I think there's something to be said about stublty.

I really like being outdoors naked. When I was 22, I went to my first nudist camp. It was Bluebonnet Naturist Community in Wise County, Texas. I drove up an walked to the little office off the dirt road, inside the gate. When I walked into the office, a little bearded man in his thirties was behind the desk. He stood up and he was, of course, completely naked - except for boots.

After I paid for the day and signed some forms, I went out to my car, got undressed, grabbed my towel and walked to the main place where people were hanging out. It was the strangest feeling to walk naked into some trees (down a path to a clearing). The paranoid part of my brain thought that this was some sort of trick. But it wasn't like anyone knew I was going. I kept it top secret, called from work and headed out early in the morning.

The people there were nice, very friendly (it was Texas afterall) and very welcoming. I met a woman who talked about her painting and showed me a painting and said, "Oh you work at that restaurant? My son works there."

I said, "Well, he might have had an interview, but no one new has started lately."

When I got to work that evening, after spending the whole day swimming and hiking in the buff, I was standing at the bar getting some drinks for a table and someone came up behind me and said into my ear, "I saw you in Wise County this afternoon." I stiffened.

I turned around and there was a new guy smiling. He had started, but I'd only worked with him once. I'd completely forgotten about him.

"How do you know about that?" I whispered.

"Man, I saw you."

I knew he hadn't been there. He was a young, ex-football player. I would have noticed him among the middle-aged crowd and all the kids. He finally admitted that his mother had called him and told him that she'd met Blake who worked at our restaurant.

"She keeps trying to get me to go out there with them, but I can't do it. I don't want to see my mom naked. It's bad enough you did."

"Well, don't tell anyone. It's a secret."

"Don't worry. I don't want anyone to know my parents are freaks."

My boyfriend at the time, Cliff, looked at me sitting on the bed the next day and said, "Where is your tanline? Where you been?"

He went with me the next week. It was a fun day. I would have enjoyed being a member, (you could only go twice as a non-member and then you had to pay the annual fee, which was the same for a single man as it was for a straight couple) but it seemed expensive and it was a good hour drive to get out there.

That's the kind of fun, naked stuff I like to do. I was very adventurous when I was younger.

Swimsuit Guy

2006-06-15T03:42:00.000-04:00

The bf and I don't exactly agree on the subject of swimwear. Between us, we have three swimsuits. Two are boxcut and one is a more traditional boxer cut. We don't do Speedos, I was informed.

The thing is, I've been to so many European beaches and beaches with Europeans on them, that my standards have changed as to what's "appropriate."

Years ago, my sister looked at a man in a Speedo and then over at me and said, "If you ever wear anything like that, please don't talk to me." She said the same thing about a winter hat when I was 12 and recently complimented my choice while I was wearing the same style hat. The point is, I have lingering voices in my head from my very damaging childhood regarding what's appropriate for me to wear.

Then came Rich. Rich was the boyfriend I had for seven years. He was into skimpy swimwear. In fact, on our first date, which lasted two days, we went to the beach and I wore a swimsuit of his. It was a red Speedo with the front extra swatch of white fabric cut out. When we went into the water and came out again, I realized what the white patch was about. My gentiles were on full display in tightly clinging red.

I know now how much being with Rich changed me. I was horrified. Titilated, but horrified. These days I would just laugh it off and walk to my towel, just as Rich encouraged me to do.

As far as the bf and I go, he would prefer me to wear a boxer cut. I'm not sure if he thinks the boxcut is too revealing on my lucious body or if he thinks it's inappropriate because he thinks I'm getting old and fat. (For the record, I'm really not getting fat. I'm holding it together.)

I like wearing a little swimsuit at the pool or at the beach. I don't really swim and I don't tan. I like to sit under an umbrella and read or do sudoko. But I like the idea of being nearly naked, and I like the idea that I can still wear something like that. Then again, I've seen big, fat grandpas wearing tiny little swimsuits, so it sort of doesn't matter since I'm in Europe. I think this whole swing towards the big, baggy surfer swimsuits is criminal. How in the world can you assess a guy's basket or ass in those? It's possible, but it makes that job that much more difficult. What are designers thinking?

My feeling on this guy? I found this months ago and it's been in my picture file at work. I like how it feels to walk around like that in public - barely wearing anything, not really covering anything. It's a sexy picture, although I don't find him particularly sexy - meaning I don't think he would be great sex. But I like the whole peek-a-book thing going on, and I like that you can see the tope of his pube line.

Let There Be Pictures!

2006-06-14T15:40:00.000-04:00

For some time now, as I've be surfing gay blogs, I've thought to myself, Blake, you need some photos on your blog, boy. Then the other day, I figured out how to do it. It was fairly simple. I'm very happy about it, as I've been questioning this whole pink theme lately. (But whatever.)

So then, when I was wondering what pictures I could put up besides a few snaps of the bf and myself on vacation, I remembered a stash of CDs that I had burned a few years ago.

For years, I was subscribed to a daily porn e-mail. It was nothing but dick every day, sometimes twice a day. I liked it. Even if the guys were creepy or not my type, I liked getting a little bit of dick in the mail. Finally the owner stopped the list and offered them in big chunks to download. I'm looking forward to going through them with a thought towards putting them here. Looking through these pictures has totally made me horny.

Even now, in deciding which would be my first snap, I went through quite a few to get to this one. I wanted something more artsy than full out sexual. Ideally, I wanted someone who reminded me of someone I'd been with. This guy reminds me more of what I thought a few guys would look like when I was chatting them up in the bar at 2:00 am. When you get up close, you can see that he has sort of a dorky look on his face, but I think that works in his favor - it makes him not so perfect.

As for a specific type I'm attracted to, there is none. However, stay tuned and you'll see the amazing variety of what appeals to me. What I like about this guy is that he's built really well, although I sometimes wonder if guys like this are a little stiff - less limber than a skinny guy. Plus, he looks really tall and I've written before about my aversion to really tall guys.

So look for more cock here in the future. Not sure how often it will be. I was trying to think of a regular schedule and something that sounded good (without sounding too cheesey) like "Martini Thursdays" or "Haiku Fridays." I could go with "Weenie Wednesdays" but that sort of grosses me out. "Testicular Tuesdays"? "Flaccid Fridays"? Just look for dick in the future.

Hey! Look for dick every day!

Men of Discipline

2006-06-14T02:33:00.000-04:00

I was shaving my balls last night when I was reminded of a class I once took called "Novice Tops." It was through an organization I was only marginally involved in called "GMSMA - Gay Male S and M Activists." This was in New York City. I heard about it through another group I was involved in. The man who told me about it was the teacher of the class.

The basic idea was that we learn, in a hands-on, classroom setting, about the ins and outs of S and M - from a "tops" perspective. How-to bits and safety. I've never been particularly interested in S and M, but I thought it would be fun to take a class. It was. Everyone was naked for most of the class and some of the participants were total hotties.

The night I remembered was Shaving and Candlewax. It was done in someone's art studio and in conjunction with the Novice Bottoms group. The actual moment I remembered was when I was with one of the hotties working on shaving one of the bottoms. Of course we asked what he wanted shaved. I'm pretty sure it was everything below the neck. We used surgical prep razors, which you can buy online and which I always keep in stock, thanks to my good friend, Cowboy Prince.

We had this bottom spread out on the floor as we slowly took away his chest hair, armpit hair, ball hair and pubes. The class was hands on so that we could all get a sense of what it was like to do each activity - so that we wouldn't be experimenting or doing something the first time if we ever went out and "had a scene" with someone else - which I never did. Of course the guy was completely thrilled to be worked on by two health specimens. (I was looking pretty good at 32, and the other guy was a total knockout, in my humble opinion.)

I guess the point is that the other top was a member of an elite group of extreem S and M guys called "Men of Discipline," or MOD for short. This was New York City in the '90's, so I'm sure there was some cruel nickname for them, Marys of Discipline or something to do with their uniforms.

Yes, they had uniforms and they all had a very militaristic look with the short hair and tall leather boots. In the gay pride parade they marched together in precision, as I remember. They really marched. You had to be recruited for the group, had to have the right look. Rumor had it that there was a pretty severe initiation and that they were into really severe stuff. Like there were broken lips and bruises.

No...thank you.

One time I was tying this same top's balls up (during Rope Tricks night) and his cock was getting hard and I thought, I am holding the cock of possibly the best looking guy in this class. It was thick and sort of normal length. It was a beautiful cock. He also had a very nice body, nice tits and abs.

There was no sex in the class. It was strictly classroom activities for three hours with a break of cookies and juice in the middle. Sixteen naked men in the living room of a West Village apartment learning about S and M.

The nineties - those were some great years.

Naked Traveling

2006-06-13T10:46:00.000-04:00

During the trip, I listened to The Time Traveler's Wife on my ipod through the car radio. The bf wasn't thrilled with this, (as evidenced by the fact that he fell asleep almost immediately after it started) but he put up with it while I drove for hours through a whole lot of nothing.

It's a nice book, interesting concept. It's all about a couple who knows each other, through his time travel, throughout her life. It's difficult to explain, but it's a great book.

One of the premises is that when he time travels (it's always out of his control) he shows up in the past or the future completely naked. In fact, he can't take anything with him in either direction - clothing, tooth fillings, pieces of shattered glass that might be stuck in him. And I so love the idea of suddenly being somewhere naked.

First of all, I picture the main character, Henry, pretty fit. He's a runner and keeps healthy. I see him as moderately hairy and fairly good looking. I like the idea of him just showing up unexpectedly, in any situation with no clothes on. He mentions it a lot because it's an ongoing issue of some weight.

It reminds me of a guy I once knew through a guy I was dating for a while. The guy went back to some small town where he was from to visit his mother. He was a "committed nudist" and talked about sneaking out the back during the night and walking around naked. It was a sleepy little town where almost everyone goes to bed early, so he ventured out, hiding behind bushes and buildings to miss being seen when someone drove by.

It's also like one of those dreams I've had where I'm naked and everyone is sort of ignoring it, although they know that it's "irregular."

I also know two guys who once went to a party where a young guy was hired to deal with the coats and assist the hosts. The young guy was in his early twenties and was beautifully fit and completely naked. There's something about being naked when other people are clothed that is really hot. Of course being naked when everyone else is naked is pretty hot too.

On Three-Ways and Park Rangers

2006-06-13T07:07:00.000-04:00

When the bf and I were about to tour Mesa Verde, which I recommend if you're ever in the area, we were waiting for the tour group to gather. We were the first to show up.

The bf said, "Maybe it'll just be the two of us and a park ranger in tight pants."

I looked at him. "And then what would we do?"

"Linger."

The conversation ended there as the area was soon flooded with college students on break doing good works cleaning up a national park.

Linger? What did he mean?

I figured that I would just let it slide. Maybe that means that in the right situation, we might find ourselves munching on opposite ends of the right guy. Maybe that just means that he likes the idea. I don't know. At this point in our relationship, I absolutely don't see anything happening.

In Six Feet Under, there's a few episodes where David and Keith explore three-ways. It turns out to be something that is not healthy for their relationship, but the first time happens in a very organic way, which I enjoy watching every time. The third, Sarge, hangs out with them after a game of paint ball and they get a little stoned and Sarge has to stay over. Later, Sarge shows up in the doorway of their bedroom wearing only his briefs and says, "It's cold in the living room. Is there room for me in there?" It's a hot scene. There is, of course, no sex. Just breakfast the next morning.

I see it like that with the bf. But, as I said, I don't see it happening any time soon. Still, I like that he throws things like that out.

And We're Back!

2006-06-12T22:45:00.000-04:00

The bf and I arrived back home in Amsterdam on Saturday morning after traveling for about 19 hours. We were both zombies, although I was more out of it than he was. On Sunday, we slept late and then made our way to the park where he lay in the sun and I lay in the shad of a tree. (I have a little sun phobia and I had just spent three weeks in the sun of the American Southwest.)

Since we've been back, it's been beautifully apparent how many gay guys there are here. Gay couples really. I see them here like I didn't see them on the trip. At the market, at the plant store and at the park. They are everywhere and it really makes me happy.

At the park, there was a couple to our right. One of the guys was sort of older (which is not a bad thing), sort of skinny, almost pear-shaped, a smattering of hair hear and there and two nipples that looked like raisins stuck on at the last minute. I'm sure he had a good heart.

Then the second guy stood up and started walking around.

The second guy looked like he was in his late twenties. His torso was sort of V-shaped. He looked fairly muscular and appeared to be much less hairsuit than his companion. He wore a tiny little blue, square-cut swimsuit and even from several meters away I could see the outline of what looked to be a really big penis. He also had what looked like a six pack that was sort of sun burned, so that the highest parts were really pink.

He walked to the water and looked in. He wore sunglasses and had a T-shirt casually draped around his shoulders. He was appealing in that very pretty, sort-or-perfect, 0h-you're-probably-a-sex-addict way. He walked along a path to a dock and then looked around there for a while. He looked a little bored, a little thoughtful, a little like he was cruising.

The bf was lying beside me reading and I was having a horrible time not looking at this beautiful, young guy walking around. (It's just my policy to avert my eyes, no matter what is headed my way or in my line of vision. It keeps the peace.) Plus, I needed to pee and I wanted to head into the bushes where he was walking, but I didn't want to look like I was looking for some action.

He was just eye candy, but I could totally see this guy moving into the bushes and dropping his drawers. Maybe he has an agreement with the other guy that he can dally in the bushes of the park on a late Sunday afternoon. Or maybe he was just bored and in thought.

I finally did pee, but I rode my bike pretty far along the path to do it. I don't need any uncomfortability with the bf. Plus, I was totally not in the market for that guy. Years ago, though...

Vacation Time

2006-05-19T08:25:00.000-04:00

I'll be away on vacaton with the bf for three weeks, so I won't be writing. Please return after June 9 when I will be back.

Thank you for your readership. It means a lot to me.

Pretty Summery Boys

2006-05-15T13:07:00.000-04:00

Today on the train there was a guy standing in front of me in his tight, summery T-shirt and loose fitting jeans. I could see curve of his pectoral muscle. He had nicely defined arms and what what appeared to be the flat stomach of a guy in his mid-twenties who doesn't need to do abs, but does them anyway. Essentially he was genetically gifted. He had was slim and tall and probably looks great with his shirt off - one of those boys who muscles easily and has perfect skin.

He had a bit of a hook nose and a short upper lip, giving him a sneering look, but otherwise, he
was an appealing guy - physically.

There was a bit of vacancy in his eyes that made me think of a couple of guys I did "back in the day." Back when I was in my late twenties and going to the gym regularly. I ran in that circle, seeing them every day. There was a familiarity with them. One guy in particular, Jim, caught my eye and as neither of us had anything to do, we saundered off to get a cup of coffee somewhere. Eventually we ended up at Jim's apartment. Knowing the drill, we undressed and began kissing. Jim's body was young and firm. It had the V-shape with the small waist and the big shoulders. He had a nice ass, not a bubble, but well shaped. It looked good in or out of jeans. Jim also had skin that was completly hairless and flawless, like a porcelein.

His cock and balls were on the small side, but that kind of thing never bothered me. That was before I started shaving my balls and the whole thing seemed excessive. His bush was just a little bit too perfect. It reminded me of someone telling me that shaving your balls and trimming your bush makes your dick look bigger. I've never gone in for that. To me it just looks like a small dick with a very trimmed bush.

At the time, I was on the hairy side and getting hairier, not having been introduced to all the various kinds of trimming I do now. I sort of felt like a beast next to him, but I was 28 and worked out. It wasn't bad at all, but standing next to him, it seemed so.

Anyway, the point of all this is that I looked at Jim and admired his beauty and really looked forward to being all over him, to having sex and being nasty and sucking cock and all of that. But Jim turned out to be pretty wooden sex.

Jim was young and probably hadn't had that much sex, although he was spewing sexuality like a fountain. He didn't kiss very deeply and seemed to be trying to have sex without making contact - eye contact, emotional contact, oral contact, the whole package. I remember thinking that there's only so much one can do, touching suppel skin and licking perky nipples. There's only so much cock you can suck before it's time to just call it quits, shoot your load and get out of the apartment.

I've never been a big fan of unexperienced guys. I'd rather have an experienced guy any day - but not necessarily one that screams, "slut." The guy on the train reminded me of all the inexperienced guys I've done/known in my time. He didn't look like the kind of guy who would bend over the couch offering his ass to be eaten, or fucked. He looked like the kind of guy who would grimace and say, "I don't do that." I'm all about respecting boundaries, but when "that" is a pretty vanilla, nothing experience, I'm into zipping up and moving on.

Meeting the Joneses

2006-05-11T17:42:00.000-04:00

When I was with Billy, we would often go camping in the weekends. We'd been together about three or four months at the time. We were still getting to know one another and these weekends told me a lot. Billy was a member of the Radical Faeries. Sometimes we went formally to a Faerie weekend and sometimes it was just a some of the same people. Most weekends were at least semi-clothing optional and very "sexed up." We went to a Leather and Levi weekend and the National Nude Volleyball Championships. It was a fun summer.

One weekend we went camping at a gay campground in Pennsylvania. I think some friends of Billy's were there, but that's not the point of this story. We pitched a tent and went for a walk. On our way back, we saw that we had neighbors in the next lot. The lots were just big enough for a tent and some walking around space. They were close.

Our neighbors were both young and cute, probably early thirties. (I was a boy of 25 and Billy was 36.) We started calling them the Joneses. After dinner, Billy and I walked over to say hi to the Joneses and have a beer. I don't know why, but my recollection of that situation was that I felt like he was using me as bait - boy bait. I'm not sure why, now that I think of it. I was a cute young thing, but Billy was no sloucher. Well, he was getting a little thick, but he had such sparkle.

Anyway, we all sat together by the fire, eye contact was made, hands started to roam...and we ended up having sex in their tent. A sort of couple swapping/free-for-all. It's a little blurry how it all came about. We might have also smoked pot. I think Billy was sitting next to one and I was sitting next to the other. Mine had dark hair and I think a mustache. We talked and he looked at me and Billy flirted with the other, a blonde. I remember thinking I was a little uncomfortable with the situation, but I was a little turned on. And when Billy was faced with a possiblity to have sex with someone new, there was no stopping him. He was full steam ahead and all I had to do was come along for the ride. (And they were thinking the same thing.)

I don't think it was completely great, but I remember enjoying it. We were four guys in good condition, sucking dick and kissing and all that. I don't think there was fucking, but there was lots of variety. It wasn't quite equal time, but we sort of spent time with each of the others. Mainly, though, I stayed with the dark haired guy. I think I was happy about that.

From then on, we always refered to the people in the next tent as "the Joneses" if we didn't know them.

Billy really enjoyed situations like that. I'm glad I experienced it, but all I really wanted was to have Billy as my boyfriend. I went through it wishing that he would just be my boyfriend and not screw around so much. But it was part of the deal. It was what I agreed to when I signed on. He was strictly non-monogamous.

That was such a crazy time. It was the early 90's and AIDS was very present. Billy's lover had died of AIDS just four months before we met. We had safe sex, but it was just the frequency with which he had different partners that worried me. (But mostly I felt betrayed.) And yet, almost 15 years later, we're both still negative. It's a testament to the fact that you can have sex quite a bit and not get contract HIV. Meaning, sex isn't bad. People should have sex.

I finally came to terms with who Billy was. He's a great guy, very happy now. I left him because I realized he wanted different things than I wanted. It was a crazy year with him.

On the Porch

2006-05-05T11:36:00.000-04:00

Today, for some reason, I was walking down the hall at the office, and I remembered a fun night in Texas many years ago, like 1988, I think.

I had been living with my boyfriend, Cliff, until all hell broke loose and I moved out. We continued seeing each other, but I lived in half of a rent house in a sketchy neighborhood. It had a nice front porch and a good back yard, but it was a hot box and I was miserable there.

One night Cliff was over and we started having sex. We always had fabulous sex. It was great, great chemistry. So we were doing it here or there in that hot house late on a muggy summer night. Cliff liked it when I sweated. No one was really out in the neighborhood and Cliff suggested that we move onto the porch. It was dark enough because of the overhang, that no one could see us and if we heard anything - a door open a car coming up the street, we could always drop down or go back inside. It was a very low risk situation.

We went outside and soon, Cliff had me with my hands on the railings and he was fucking me from behind. It was very sexy. I can still feel it. It was adventurous and public, but hidden, a great mix.

Then out of nowhere, we saw a police car in front of the house next door shining a light into the house next door. We dropped behind the railing and went immediately inside. I locked the door and we went to the back, where the bedroom was.

We lay in bed with the lights off. My heart was racing. I thought they were going to break the door down and haul us in for fucking on the front porch. Cliff assured me that they couldn't do that. But it was Texas in 1988, so who knows what they would do. I still remember laying in bed flat on my back, my ears super-sensative to every little creak in the house. I expected to see flashlights out the window peering in. It never happened.

It's a fun memory. Cliff was a pip. He was sexy and lusty and didn't pay much attention to what he was "supposed" to do. There's a part of me that misses him.

Three-Way Stories: Date with the Hawiian

2006-05-05T07:43:00.000-04:00

After Rick and I had entered the (figurative) room in our relationship marked "three-ways" and we were looking around for willing third parties, I started chatting up a guy who worked at the GLBT Community Center in NYC. He was young and worked the front desk. He wasn't really Hawiian, but he looked it. Something Polynesian, sort of Asian. His name was Brian.

Anyway, I had met him at a sex party months before and we'd made out for a while and fooled around. He was young and cute, a dancer. Then Brian started talking about Rick and me telling me that we were a hot couple and yada yada. Later, I mentioned this to Rick. Rick was interested - he knew him from the Center as well. We made a date.

We had dinner and then went to Brian's apartment. (Rick and I had decided that Brian's apartment was the place to go. We didn't want either of our apartments to be tainted. It was an lat relationship.)

Plus, one never knows how difficult it's going to be to get a trick out of the apartment once it's over.

What I remember about the sex is that it was very awkward. Rick, as I mentioned before, had a tough look, and for a lot of people, that came with certain expectations. For Brian, it was the expectation that Rick liked to have his ass slapped (wrong) and that he enjoyed a little biting (very wrong.)

It started easy enough. Brian and I made out, Rick and Brian made out, I took Rick's pants off, sucked his cock, Brian took mine off, etc. I remember a lot of standing and I remember that I couldn't get comfortable. But mostly I remember that Brian kept biting Rick.

Brian sucked my dick a bit and did some biting, and I thought, No more cock for you, boy. I kept his mouth on mine or pushed him towards Rick. Rick, for his part, never said anything, but I could see he was really uncomfortable. He even rolled over and had Brian rim him a bit. Even from my perspective, I could see he was biting.

A biting rim job? Sounds dangerous.

I can handle people like that in bed alone. There's fucked up stuff going on and I have no problem saying, "No ass slapping. Don't do it." But in a three-way sitch, it's just difficult to negotiate. Plus, it was Rick that was getting all the biting now and because he didn't tell him to stop, Brian thought that Rick was enjoying it. I just stood back and thought, When are you going to tell him to stop? It was nuts.

So the long and the short of it was that when we were headed home, which was very soon after we came) Rick was whining about the biting and swearing Brian off. I was also really disappointed because I thought it would be a fun time with Brian. It wasn't.

Later, Brian asked when we could do it again. I said, "Oh, we're really busy." Then finally, "Rick finds three-ways a little overwhelming." The best laid plans, eh?

I think that was our only other three-way. Rick wasn't really a guy I could do that stuff with. We both had our sex lives outside of the relationship, but we couldn't include the other. Sort of a pity, but it's not like I regret it.

A Question and an Answer

2006-05-04T13:30:00.000-04:00

Thomas asked this question: "when and how would you address the issue of a three way with your boy friend?" I thought it was an interesting question and I will answer it here.

With my current boyfriend, I think it will be a long while before that becomes an issue. I am currently very satisfied with our sex life and I am very happy with the direction our relationship is going in. And, as I wrote before, I know myself and I know that I lose focus when I have sex with someone outside my primary relationship.

However, so as to not be "one of those people" who cannot answer a hypothetical question, I will answer.

I would talk a bit about what kind of guys he finds attractive, besides the obvious answer: me. I'm really not sure. I know of only one guy that the bf has had sex with, his ex, who is now dead (may he rest in peace.) Maybe he likes big guys, Black guys, uncut guys, smooth guys. I really have no idea. (I, by the way, am none of the above, although my body is a little bigger than his.) It's just something we never talk about. We just had a conversation the other day about what I would "really" like to do - like those things that we maybe haven't done, but that I think about and don't tell him.

It was an interesting conversation. I didn't have much. I told him that I have a fantasy of him fucking me and I told him that I have a fantasy about sucking him until he comes and then swallowing. He's fucked me a time or two, but it's not a regular thing and he told me he thought we should not do it again. And as for swallowing, I just don't but I like the idea. The whole conversation was interesting and one might ask why we are only now - three and a half years into our relationship - having this conversation, but it just hasn't come up. We do a lot and it's always been pretty great, pretty satisfying. I haven't wanted more. Plus, he's the kind of guy you have to get to know sort of slowly.

Armed with that information, I would point out various guys that fit the bill and talk about them, sort of fantasizing verbally, but not doing anything for a while. Then I would suggest we did something about it and we'd talk about it and what it would mean. It sounds laborious, but unlike the two boyfriends that I wrote about, he's not someone you can spring things like that on. And he's really not the kind of guy who springs things like that on me, although he's full of surprises lately.

I think another option, one that has always worked better for me, is to be the third in an already established couple. Then I don't have to worry about what affect it is having on my primary relationship. I know some couples have established patterns and ways of dealing with it. Surely, I imagine, if I am being invited to join the party, it's not going to shock and awe anyone. And if it does, then they shouldn't have done it in the first place.

There are also three-ways with two other people who are not connected like that. There are a multitude of possibilities.

So my short answer to Thomas is: When I knew it was the right time and gently.

Three-way Story: Friend of a Friend

2006-05-02T17:45:00.000-04:00

I was with a guy for seven and a half years, Rick. Rick was tall and muscular and tattooed. He was a total find. He was smart, articulate, edgy and well connected. We made a great looking couple. As I tend to do, I adapted my look to the boyfriend. So I looked a little edgy and tough as well. It was nice.

About two years into our relationship - we never lived together - Rick went on a trip through the Northwest. He was in Seattle, Portland and San Francisco. I think he was gone for two weeks. It sounds like a great trip right now, huh?

Less than a year later, a guy he'd met in Seattle, Jon, came to visit. Jon was a cute, tough, pierced guy in his early thirties. At some point, we went to dinner and then Jon came back up to Rick's apartment. We were waiting on something. We were watching t.v. sitting on the bed. There was no couch. Then we started cuddling a bit. I thought it was just friendly hugging and I didn't quite know what was going on.

Then the kissing started, Rick kissing Jon and then me, and I was intrigued. Rick and I had never talked about doing something like that. It just happened that day. I remember enjoying it. Jon had a cute little body and Rick, of course, was always a lot of fun in those days.

After it was over, Rick and I were talking. "Have you had sex with him before?" I asked.

"Yes, on my trip to the Northwest last year."

We saw him again and it was sort of okay after that. Then a few days later, Rick mentioned off-handedly that Jon had AIDS. I said, "Did you think about telling me that Jon had AIDS before I had sex with him?"

"Well you didn't do anything risky, did you?"

"No. I sucked his dick a little, but that's not the point. It just seems like you would tell me something like that." I was pretty pissed, but conflicted. I knew, too, that I hadn't asked anything. That was before I thought to ask. It never really got to be easy, but I think I eventually asked everyone I dated, if it got to that point.

Anyway, a couple of years later, I went to a convention in Seattle. I looked Rick up and he took me on a little tour of the city. I was visiting a couple of friends I hadn't seen in years and it was disastrous. I needed someone gay to talk to. I felt like I was going crazy with those two. Something about how they were projecting all their heterosexuality on me. (Not all heterosexuals do that, I know.)

So we go back to his apartment and we're sitting around and...we had sex. It was the strangest thing. I totally knew that he had AIDS. He talked about it. He talked about his medications and ailments. He was still pretty healthy, but his health maintenance took a lot of time. It was just rolling around and kissing. I am pretty sure I didn't suck his dick. He sucked mine quite a bit. It was nice. It was really really strange. It was one of the few times that I had sex with a guy I knew was positive or had AIDS. Seems strange, sort of. But I'm here to say that I remain negative.

I actually took a survey, years ago on all my sex partners. I listed them out and made a spreadsheet. (One should use his MBA when he can.) One of the things I noted was how often I knew his status before I had sex with him. I also did race and what I did with them, among other things. It's interesting.

So I would count Jon as a good experience. He was a great guy. I totally lost touch with him.

Three-Way Stories: Surprise Three-Way

2006-05-01T06:42:00.000-04:00

Recently, I was asked if the bf and I ever did a three-way. We don't. The relationship is sort of set up where that's not a possibility. And, for me, that's fine. Outsiders tend to make me lose focus and it disrupts the flow of the relationship. I like the idea, but right now we really need to keep hold of what is going on. However, I have been involved in a few three-ways involving guys I was dating and I will write about them.

Billy was a guy I started dating four months after the love of his life died from AIDS. [Note to self: Don't ever do that again.] He was in sort of a wild period in his life and he just needed a companion to see him through it. That's basically the purpose I served. I thought it was more than that. That was my mistake. However, he was a very fun boyfriend. I did a lot of things I never would have done alone.

About six months into the relationship, Billy and I spent the night with some friends of ours, a couple - Tim and David. We got in late and they gave us the bedroom, while they slept on the couch in the living room. We went to sleep after a beer.

We'd had sex with Tim and David a couple of times, in fact, that's how we me them. But Billy bored with people after a while. So he sort of did this "dance" to get out of having sex with them - similar to the dance he did to get into have sex with them, but with different steps.

When we woke up the next morning, we lay in bed cuddling and laughing, pretending to still be sleeping when they poked their heads in. Then the doorbell rang. It was Jay, a friend of theirs from a group Billy belonged to. Jay came into say hi and we were both naked in bed. He sat on the bed for a while and then said something about being cold. Billy encouraged him to strip down and get in the bed with us. He got into his socks, underwear and T-shirt and got in the bed between us. We talked for a little longer and then Billy started playing with Jay and Jay was playing with me and finally Jay got naked and we had sex.

It was nice sex, very playful. Jay was tall and thin. He had a beard and a slightly grown out mohawk. He was hairy and very naturally toned up. It was great fun.

That wasn't planned at all. It just sort of happend because of the circle Billy ran in and the friends he had. Billy had sex occassionally with a lot of people.

In the end, at breakfast, Tim and David clearly felt like they'd be intentionally excluded, which they had. Of course it wouldn't have been a problem if they'd have come in, but it was a different tone without them.

Billy got me into a lot of situations like that.

Fun in the Sun

2006-04-27T12:14:00.000-04:00

Yesterday when I got home, I had a good hour before I needed to go out again. I was going to meet the bf and head out to have a quick dinner before we went to his brother-in-law's birthday party. It was a little chilly in the apartment and while I was filling the kettle to make a cup of tea, I felt the sun on my arm and I thought, Wouldn't it be fun to stand naked in the sun for a few minutes? So while the water was boiling, I pulled back the shades in the kitchen and removed my clothes. It was nice to stand naked in the sun. I don't get to do that any more.

Years ago, I had a nudist boyfriend. He was a Black nudist, which sort of rare. Actually, I had a sort of clothing-optional-but-not-full-blown-nudist boyfriend for about a year, but he was much more into using nudity to get into sexual situations with people. I also had another boyfriend who went with me to a nudist camp in Texas one time just to prove a point. It was totally sexy to see him standing there wearing nothing but tennis shoes and sunglasses and carrying a towel. I wish I had a snapshot.

Anyway, the nudist boyfriend was fun because he liked to do nudist things. But he was really into not being sexual at these events, so it was sort of "safe," meaning I never had to fear harassment from guys I didn't want to be harassed by. Unfortunately, that meant that there was no opportunity to be harassed by guys I did want to be harassed by. (Wink wink.) Oh well.

One year we went to a naked New Year's Eve party. It was with a group of guys I didn't paricularly like, but how often is one invited to a naked New Year's Eve party? I sort of had to go. It was okay until a totally cute Jewish guy showed up. He was tall and thin, beautifully muscled and totally appealing. There was a couple who sat the guy between them, started flirting heavily and eventually the group started playing ring toss onto the Jewish guy's hard dick. (We were given some festive glowing bands that could be made into rings.) I, of course, had to opt out of the game, as I was with said boyfriend.

We also went to an event at a gym in New Jersey where we played volleyball for an hour in a room that was absolutely freezing. He also like to go to the nude beach.

I miss that, but the bf likes to go to the sauna, which is nice. It's not the gay sauna. It's the regular sauna and we go with his brother and brother-in-law (not a couple). It's very normal and very family - although there are not children running around, thank God. It's just something they've done for years, and now I'm included. One of my favorite memories is of the four of us just standing talking in a circle, all completely nude.

The bf also goes from here to there in the apartment when he's naked, which is nice. I like the whole being naked thing. I don't think we'd ever go to a nude beach, but I've been told recently that I obviously don't know him very well with all the assumptions I'm making about him.

Still, whether it's inside or outside, it's nice to see him naked. He's totally sexy. I remember the first time I saw his body. He was in the kitchen of his old apartment when I was visiting with a friend. I'd just met him. I walked into the kitchen one morning hoping to nab a cup of joe and there he was in his boxer briefs. And really, what better way is there to say, "Good morning?"

Bald with Big Eyebrows

2006-04-19T17:51:00.000-04:00

When I sat on the bus coming home tonight, I sat in a seat in a set of four where I was facing backwards. It's not my favorite way to travel, looking at everyone, but there weren't that many good seats left. It was on the aisle.

I looked up and there was this guy looking at me, just a glance. He was businessy and probably about 35. He was completely bald, male pattern baldness, but shaved after that. He had these humongus eyebrows. He had nice eyes too, and he probably hadn't shaved in a day. I couldn't tell if the look was flirty or just intense and mean. I tried to not look at him when he was looking at me. He fell asleep and I got a better look.

Guys like that are appealing, but I don't see him being great sex. First of all, I bet his has sort of a big body, not fat, but really hairy. Then I imagine him being a little stronger than he realizes. And I bet his body temperature is really high. He's a nice looking guy and I would probably love to chat him up in a bar, but I like a guy that's a little smaller than me. The bf isn't small, but he's just that much smaller than me, and I like it. People tend to get bigger. So I like a smaller guy. Is that totally wack?

I have a friend who loves big guys. The bigger the better. He says, "I like to be smothered and covered." He just loves a giant guy to lie on him. When I was dating, I put a limit on how tall a guy could be for me to go out with him. It was 6'1". But the shorter the better. I'd probably be a good guy to date a midget or dwarf. Maybe.

Years ago, I was at a sex party and I wrote the whole thing down afterwards. I didn't know any names, so everyone is referred to as "The Hawiian" or "Baseball Cap Guy." I spent an hour our two writing that account. It's in some journal at, I think, my sister's house. I interacted with a number of people. It was totally other worldly. I think it was the best one I ever went to.

Anyway, towards the end, there was some big, hot muscle guy. He was sort of making the rounds feeling people up and doing what people do. I was sort of at the end of when I wanted to be there, so I thought it was time to come. I was standing against a wall. He happened to be there and I after we made out or something, I asked if he would stick around while I "finished."

This guy, who I refered to later as "Hairy Muscle Guy," was one of those totally worked out guys who had a healthy mat of hair on his chest and stomach. (Rare at the time.) His entire body was muscles, his legs, his ass, everything. He was beautiful. Plus he had a nice haircut, good lips and a great jawline. I feel very fortunate that I got to paw and touch him for a while. I can still feel it. Nice skin. He was also very verbal. And for about ten minutes, he seemed totally into me. Plus there were guys on either side of me half way participating, watching. It was a good time.

However, I don't think he would be great sex on an ongoing basis or for much more than ten minutes while standing. First of all, his beard was really stiff and he hadn't shaved, which was actually a great look on him. But he also looked "too strong." At any rate, he was just too big. But it was totally hot.

Taste is a funny thing.

We Are Going To Bath

2006-04-18T10:24:00.000-04:00

When we were in Istanbul, we went to the Turkish Bath, both the bf and I got the full treatment. It was sectioned off, so it was all men in a round marble room with little alcoves, lots of warm running water. Since we were two, we were given a common room and told to undress and return wearing a "towel." It's more the texture and thickness of a tablecloth.

The deal is that you sit in the Hot Room for about 15 minutes with other guys who are also wearing only the towel. After a while, you're brought into the big room, which is pretty warm. A guy, also dressed in a towel, lays you on a warm slab of marble and does a quick, cursory "massage."

Then you're taken to one of the little alcoves. You're doused with warm/hot water and "scrubbed" with a loofa-type thing. Then there's a soapy aspect where you're soaped down.
In the middle of all this, my guy was called away. He was constantly yelling in Turkish anyway, so I didn't really miss him that much.

Meanwhile, the sink above me was filling up and after a while, the warm water was overflowing and running onto the floor. By this time, my guy had removed my towel and placed it over my "privates." So I was laying on the floor essentially naked with warm water pouring onto my one side. I was looking up at the mildewy, domed ceiling for a while and then I closed my eyes and imagined that I had fallen in the bathroom and that the sink was overflowing and I couldn't get up. With my patience had completely run out, my guy returned.

He soaped me up with a rough rag. Lots of warm sudsy water. Then he doused me with warm water and put my wet towel on my back before walking on my back. He was a large man walking on my back. I was impressed that he didn't break anything. When I sat up, he put me next to a sink. He shook my hand and asked if it was good. If "rough" equals "good," it was very good. He then asked for a tip at the end and departed.

When I found the bf, we sat on opposite sides of a sink and I continued to pour cold water over myself with the small bowl provided.

The whole thing cost € 30. For a one time experience, I'd say it was worth it. Would I do it again? Not there. My sense is that it was a little touristy and that it was a little bit of an assembly line. The bf thought his was a little too fast. Mine was lengthened by the long wait lying on the floor. This place is listed in the 1000 Places to See Before You Die, so it gets a lot of young people traveling around doing things like that. We tipped them ten lira each. Mine was happy. The bf's guy was insulted. He'd actually asked for 15 or 20. Please!

It was so not sexy. But it was interesting, and the place really is about 300 years old.

Uska Dara

2006-04-18T03:22:00.000-04:00

There's an old Eartha Kitt song entitled Uska Dara. I haven't head it in years, and I just looked up the lyrics and they have nothing to do with this story, but there's a line in the song when Eartha purrs, "Oh, those Turks!"

In graduate school, I had an Statistics tutor who was Turkish and I used to say that he was the type of Turk she was talking about when she said that line. It was about twenty bucks and hour and worth every penny - and not just because I learned Statistics.

This weekend, me and the bf spent the weekend in Istanbul. It was a nice time. The city is a little busier than I prefer a city to be and things can be a quite backward, but it was a nice time. And occassionally I spotted a young Turk that made me say, "Oh, those Turks!"

It's certainly not all of the Turkish men. (They don't age like the French, for instance.) But there are some younger ones that were appealing. One who served us coffee - Turkish coffee,which I found...not good. He was probably in his mid-twenties and had curly, black hair with a little, very stylized facial hair. He was on the trim side and wore clothing that hid his probably average body. I'd have done him in very different circumstances.

There were a handful of those. The problem is that most men there don't really take good care of themselves. They're fat or their teeth are really fucked up, or there's just something very slovenly about them. They don't have a very Western sense when it comes to that.

All in all, I think one would have a hard time living there. Everyone seems to be on the take, ready to make a buck any way they can. The whole "relating" to each other is sort of lost when all they can think about is squeezing another buck out of you. Plus they all seem to smoke and that gets really caked up on them.

But some of them are still nice to look at. It would have been nice to see some of them naked. I bet they have these totally hairy crotches. Not a shaved pair of balls in the country, I bet. And they're all circumcized, since they're probably all Muslim. We might go back to Istanbul in a few years, but we won't be rushing. The most we'll probably do is do a beach vacation in August.

Strange Behavior

2006-04-13T03:39:00.000-04:00

This morning on the train, there was a guy standing in front of me who I looked at and thought, Hmm...average. Then I looked away to do my sudoku and my short term memory had repaired the image and I suddenly remembered him as being good looking. So I looked up. But then I thought again, Ih...not much. When I went back to my sudoku, my brain, again, repaired the image, shined it up a bit and I remembered him as being sort of a hotty. Again, I looked up. He was still sort of middling, not much to look at. He looked like he hadn't washed his face before leaving the house and he had sort of a greasy mullet. I still can't get the cute version of him out of my head.

Strange. And he reminded me of someone.

Years ago, at a convention I was at, I met a guy with an initial name. I think it was R.J. or something. When I initially spotted him, he was leaned up against a bar, wearing a cowboy hat and perfectly fitting jeans - along with a flannel shirt and a leather vest. And he was staring me down, smiling. A friend nudged me and said, "I think you have a fan."

This was one of those conventions where there wasn't a whole lot else to look at, so I really stood out. I was about 35. I smiled and saundered over.

"Can I buy you a beer?" He asked. And we were off to the races.

R.J. was a Baltimore local, and apparently dressed like a cowboy every day. We made out a bit eventually and he took me to lunch the next day in his red pickup. He didn't want to have sex. He wanted to wait, date, "make it special.".

I was like, "Dude, this is a convention and I live in New York. So, uh, take your pants off."

I eventually got him to agree to a bit of after-lunch delight, but he was a little limited in bed. He let me remove his boots, pant and underwear and then he pulled the front of his black T-shirt behind his neck, so that it was still around his shoulders and upper arms. I tried several times to roll him over, but he lay there, stuck with his back on the bed. He was like a beautiful slab of concrete. Whatever...just get on with it. It wasn't as much fun as I had hoped. Yes, he had a nice body, but he kept talking about a "future together" and he totally tasted like a smoker.

So blah-blah-blah, we came. And after a little afterglow, we got up to shower. I tripped off to the bathroom and he followed. I got in the shower and he came in after me, skirting around the edge of the shower, always facing me. He was smooth, commenting on my "great body," etc. The he skirted around, still facing me and got out of the shower. I turned off the water and opened the door. He was smiling, talking, drying off - facing me. Then he talked to me as he backed out of the bathroom.

What a strange bird, I thought. Then I poked my head out of the bathroom and saw him as he neared the bed. His back was to me, for once, and then I realized what all this strange behavior was about.

His shoulders were covered with zits. It was like some teenage nightmare. It's like some thing you see and you think, For goodness sake, see a doctor! So all this song and dance was about hiding that from me.

Of course as we went back to the lobby and said good-bye, I acted like everything was normal and I didn't mention it. It wasn't a big deal to me, but it obviously was to R.J.

He said he'd call and that he might be moving to Yonkers for work so that we could start our life together. He never called. I'm glad because if I dated a smoker I'd be smoking again in no time.

But he was a hotty.

Skoooozle

2006-04-07T09:58:00.000-04:00

For a while, when I got my first computer (1999 - for business school), I was able to easily find dick on the internet. I had a short list of websites that would show me anything from twinks to bears to leather boys. I even found myself on a site or two - but that's another story.

Then something happened and suddenly finding dick became very difficult. It seemed like you had to pay a fee to access all the dick sites. I hated it. Fortunately, at the time I was on a subscription so that I got daily pornography. But it always seemed to me that there must be some secret door, behind which was tons of free dick pics, but I couldn't find it and I didn't know who to ask.

Recently, I came across the door, a door, to lots of pictures of naked men. It's the magic of blogging. I've found several sites and have become casually acquainted with the work of a few guys One of my new favorites is Eric, is the star of Skoooozle. He writes and appears in the blog. The byline is Therapy for a Gay Exhibitionist. He reminds me of someone I've known in the past. He is completely in his own world and seems very happy about it. That's not to say that he's not reality based, or that he wouldn't be tons of fun to talk to. It's just that he doesn't seem to play by all the same rules as the rest of us - or as the rest of many of us.

I recommend taking a look at Skoooozle, but not while you're at work. He's got short clips of himself doing various things. He's also got some writing, which is sweet. There's a piss scene that I found particularly compelling. There's a shot of him jacking off, but it's only his face. It's the strangest site. I hope he keeps it up for a long time. And he's got an amazingly understanding boyfriend.

Keep That a Secret

2006-04-03T03:13:00.000-04:00

Years ago in NYC, when I was with Rich, a long-time boyfriend, we were involved in a church pretty heavily. It was a nice community and we were a part of the "cool, mid-thirties, good looking guys" group. My little friend, David, played the piano during the services and afterwards talked about the illicit sex he'd had - he was in a "monogamous" relationship. Once David sucked mine and Rich's dicks on a roof at a party. It was a fun time.

At some point, Dean showed up. Dean was from San Francisco. He'd moved to NYC with a lover and soon after they'd unpacked, Dean was promptly dumped. Dean was a gorgeous guy. Tall, sinewy muscular body, shaved head, nice basket. Dean had a great smile and was fun to talk to. Rich and I talked about the possiblities of a three-way with Dean, but decided that it's better to not become "that sort of element" at our church. Did I mention that this was a gay church?

After the new wore off, I still had a little bit of a flirtation with Dean, but it was nothing serious. Then one day I mentioned it to David.

"Oh yeah," David said. "He's hot, but I think there's something about him that you might find sort of unappealing."

"Like?"

David told me that he had gotten Dean's AIM name and that David had IMed Dean under another name. So Dean didn't know who he was chatting with. Dean switched screennames and they started talking about what Dean was into. I think David was wondering things like, did Dean swallow or how big his cock was.

David said that Dean started going on about scat.

I said, "You mean shit?"

"Yeah. He's totally into it."

David played along, pretending that he, too, was into scat. Finally, he signed off. "I had to," he said. "It was really creeping me out."

I never looked at Dean the same again. He was still a hotty, and guys loved to fawn over and flirt with him, but (not to sound judgemental or anything) it just seems really nasty and unhealthy. I came upon a website one time, when I was looking for information on fisting and, probably because it has to do with the ass, a lot of scat pictures came up. It's pretty vile stuff. I could almost smell it through my computer.

A few years ago, I was talking about Ella Fitzgerald with someone and how she sang "scat." The girl I was talking to said, "Oh I love scat." That is something you will never hear me say, about music or otherwise. I just don't get it.

Watersports

2006-03-30T10:55:00.000-05:00

I've never really done much in the way of heavy s/m things. By "heavy" I mean watersports and fisting and that sort of thing. I took a s/m workshop (called Novice Tops) years ago, but the teacher, Gil, stressed that we would not be going into those subject with that course. We only covered things that pinch, temperature torture, basic rope bondage and that sort of thing. However, I have had my minor experiences with watersports and after a request from cowboyprince, I will tell those stories.

When I was with my longest term boyfriend, we were into the "roughest" sex that I've ever been involved in. He was big and tough and we experimented with it because he was the sort of guy that looked like he was into rough sex. It was mostly in terms of using muscular strength while having sex. It got tiring because he wasn't really cognizant of how much things hurt and that there were right and wrong ways to do all that.

We were together for only a month or two when we were in my apartment one day and we started getting frisky. He had just walked me through buying my first pair of Dock Martins. I was feeling tough and enjoying the feeling of them. We took our clothes off and we looked at each other and, without speaking, we both put our boots back on. Then we proceeded to continue having sex. It was pretty fun, very spontaneous. But that's not a watersports story. It was just a pre-story to illustrate how we got a little edgier than I've ever gotten before or since.

The pee story came about when we were having sex and somehow we made our way to the bathroom and I lay down in the tub and he peed on me. Not on my face, just from the neck down. The problem was that after that, I didn't quite know what to do. I was covered in piss and I didn't want to get back on the bed and get the piss on his sheets and mattress. I'm sure I did a quick rinse before we continued.

He was the type of guy who, instead of rinsing off after sex, preferred to rub the come into his body and sleep in it. I got used to it, but I continued to rinse. I had a lot of chest hair, which was not an issue for him. Come gets all matted into hair. I find it uncomfortable.

During that relationship, I had an affair with a guy who was considerably older than me. Sixteen years, which made him about 50, I think. It was a torrid affair and he lived in Cleveland. He was into lots of things that I never considered. I opened the drawer in his bedside table once and had my eyes opened. Every little kink device from handcuffs to diapers were in there. I closed it quietly and didn't ask.

This guy was, from his own account as well as rumors, into watersports. He liked to drink piss "straight from the tap." We never did it. He said that he preferred to keep our sex the way it was, which was pretty mind blowing. I asked him once what he liked about watersports/piss drinking. He wasn't able to articulate it. I suppose it was the taste and the kink factor. It's a guy standing while he was kneeling and the guy was pissing into his mouth. Really, it's a pretty gnarly thing to think about. He was also a "total bottom" and liked to give himself over completely to the other person.

I remember that he did like asparagus. We would eat it and he loved the way it makes piss smell. I've heard of people who are into piss drinking asking their partner to eat or not eat certain things if there was going to be piss drinking that evening.

When I think of watersports, my first thought is of peeing on my leg in the shower at some point. It was warm and strange feeling. I understand how it could be enjoyable, but I think it's just one of those things that doesn't interest me. I'd be interested to hear why people like it, what the fuss is all about.

So there you have it. I've done a whole lot in my life, but I don't have extensive experience in watersports. I'm not sorry.

Taste-Smell-Smell

2006-03-29T11:39:00.000-05:00

Taste: When I was in graduate school, I met a guy named John who eventually became a really sucky best friend. We had a short affair, but even when it was over, there was one part of him that always turned me on.

John had a pencil mustache. It was a little extreme, but it suited him as he was extreme in a lot of ways. But under that mustache he had a lower lip that someone could write poetry about. It was red and pillow-like and it seemed to always be glistening with moisture. It made me want to lick it. I don't think he was even conscious of his constant remoisturizing of it, as he was unconscious of so many things.

The problem was that when we kissed, his mustache smelled and tasted so much of cigarette smoke that it was gross. He smoked like a chimney and there was a heavy concentration of smoke in the hair. It was pretty awful. After that, I was always reminded to wash my whole face before getting into anything with anyone.

Smell: On the platform waiting for the train today, I watched a guy. He had the hair of a Seventies teen idol, sort of long, wavy and parted in the middle. His face was serious with an intensity that is probably going to age him pretty quickly. He wore a jacket just a bit too large and baggy pants that somehow were able to show off what is probably a very nice ass.

However, as I was looking at him, I smelled smoke from another person up wind of me. It made me look at the guy a little differently. I thought that he would probably stink of cigarette smoke. I don't think he would have been a good lay - not that I'm in the market - because he looked like he was one of those guys who holds back. He might be an intense sexual experience, but I can't see leaving the experience feeling fulfilled or satisfied. He just doesn't look like he wants to engage more than on a very superficial level. That said, he probably gets laid quite a bit.

Smell: Today in the elevator, two guys were talking. I could vaguely smell the one guy's cologne - just a hint. When they stepped off the elevator, I moved to where the guy had been standing. His smell lingered and he left not only the mild cologne scent, but also a slight musky smell of a guy who had not showered that morning. It was a delightful combination.

Sex is so mult-sensory. It's amazing.

Shaving Ritual

2006-03-23T04:08:00.000-05:00

The bf likes it when my chest hair is trimmed down. (I like the look more when there's a week to ten days growth.) He's out of town, so last night, I put on the ipod, listened to some political talk radio and went in to the bathroom to start the trim-fest.

I first came across this look in the 1990's when the whole hairless thing was in and I was having an affair with a veterenarian who had a trimmed chest. It's a nice, clean look, but I must say that I didn't particularly care for rolling around in the proverbial hay with a trimmed chest. Too prickly. However, when you're wearing that prickly hair, you don't notice it.

My chest hair, when it's allowed to completely run wild, is pretty thick. I don't mind it, really. It's nice to have the option to have a chest full of hair, or to have less. We have electric clippers that I use for the trim job. The whole process is annoying and in order to get through it, I have to focus on the end result. There's a lot of work to do and it's no fun. Once I get going, it's interesting to see the result and the giant clumps of hair fall off, but it's not what I would describe as fun, although it was at one point.

I also trim my underarm hair down to almost nothing. The bf shaves his to the skin.

Unlike most times when I'm trimming, last night I took a prep razor (gifted to me by my good friend, Cowboyprince) and trimmed up my shoulders, upper arms and stomach. Then, of course, I shaved my balls and ass and trimmed my pubes.

It's always so much work, this trimming and shaving, but I'm always glad when it's done. I know that the bf will enjoy it when he's back in town. He really likes it for some reason. I always feel a little naked standing there naked in front of the mirror with all my hair in the sink. My body looks less defined, less interesting somehow.

The first time I did it, I swore I'd never do it again. I was actually the model one time in a shaving and waxing demonstration for an S/M club I was loosely affiliated with. My back broke out afterwards, although the attention was fun. A few bears in the audience bemoaned the fact that I was losing back hair. I just thought, Believe me, it'll grow back.

As far as back hair goes, I'm an amateur compared to my father and brother.

Show Me

2006-03-21T12:03:00.000-05:00

One day in the summer before my junior year of high school, my friend Don (mentioned in my last post) called me and asked about some powder I had that cured jock itch. I had had a case and I'd mentioned it. He asked if I could bring it over when I went to his house later.

When I arrived, Don was alone in his house, as he usually was. It was a hot Texas day and Don was walking around in those polyester shorts that kids in P.E. wore. They were red because our junior high school colors were red and white. His mother was at work - she was a single mom. Don was an only child. They lived in a not-so-nice neighborhood. Small house, but presentable.

Don asked if I had the stuff. I pulled it out. He looked at the bottle and asked how you use it. I was sitting on the bed.

I said, "Just move everything to one side, squirt on a line and then do the other side."

Don pulled his shorts down to his knees so that he was standing in front of me naked. His cock was tumescent, his pubic hair brown and full. "Show me," he said.

I looked at him in the eye and stood up. "I think you can figure it out, Don." I walked to the other side of the room. I'm not even sure Don had jock itch - and I never got that powder back.

It's strange now to think that Don was probably trying to instigate a little sexual interaction. I'm sure I was completely unaware of it. I just didn't think about things like that. I was very innocent for a long time. All I was aware of was that Don was trying to throw me off balance, trying to make me jump, as was his way. Don was a real guy-guy and I was a bit of a sissy. His mission was to toughen me up. (It didn't work. It was a long time before I found the right guy to do that.)

Of course if it had been 40-year-old Blake's brain in 16-year-old Blake's body looking at 16-year-old Don's semi-hard cock, it would have been a different story, but we didn't have that. What happened happened.

[Sometimes I look back at those hot teenagers I had crushes on and I feel sort of gross and peodophelic. But then I have to remember that I am looking at them with teenage eyes. We were kids. So it's perfectly normal - although I still don't dwell there.]

When I saw Don at my twenty year high school reunion, I spoke to him briefly. From the moment I approached him, I felt like he was trying to end the conversation and say as little as possible. Don had gained a good bit of weight and was still single - at 38.

It's not that I think that he remembered the jock itch powder situation. We had a lot more experiences after that, remaining friends until I decided to really become a "band fag" and "choir queer." I think that at the reunion, I was an openly gay guy and he didn't want to be seen enjoying a chat with the gay guy. (I was by far the gayest one at the reunion.)

I also suspect that Don's nervousness was intensified by guilty memories of when some other guy wasn't as naive as young Blake and looked at Don's pudgy cock and said, "I'll put the powder on in a minute. Let me show you something first."

On the Bus, Legs Touching

2006-03-21T11:43:00.000-05:00

Yesterday on the bus to work, I was catty-cornered from a guy. He was a tall, good looking African with dreds and long legs. He was talking to a woman the whole time. Throughout the trip, our knees were touching. It was nothing sexual. I don't even think he noticed. It was just that there was no place else for our legs to go. But I enjoyed it.

This morning I sat in the bus and a guy sat next to me. Seats are a hot commodity, so people have no problem sitting in a free seat. This guy was a young Dutch guy with that faux mohawk thing going on that the kids were doing last summer. I've seen him before. He's nothing to look at, just a young, straight Dutch guy. Throughout the trip, our thighs were pressed up against each other. Again, it was just lack of space. As soon as a seat freed up, he moved. But I enjoyed it.

When I was a teenager, things like that would happen and I would go to great lengths to hold my leg in an uncomfortable position so that it wouldn't touch someone else's. I didn't want them to think that I was gay.

There was also a time when guys I was around, for whatever reason, usually church, would sit with their legs spread as far apart as they could get them. I was forced to sit with my knees touching. It was a ridiculous situation. I was physically weak with no agenda and they were guys who were around guys and, thus, constantly proving to themselves and each other that they were men. For a while I was close to one of them, Don. I asked Don why he sat like that. He jokingly said that because he had really huge balls and it hurt when he put his legs close together. I thought, How big could your balls be?

Being a teenager was a pain in the ass. I like being an adult.

Three-way Stories: Worst Three-Way

2006-03-19T10:21:00.000-05:00

During the middle of my longest relationship, I met a guy and had an affair. Actually, I met three different guys during that relationship, but this story is only about the one guy - Mark. Mark was very sexy in an unconventional way, not the best face, but otherwise well put together. He had an amazing body and was pretty much a total bottom. It was one of those affairs where we were both in a crazy place. Neither of us could think of anything else for months.

Not long after we met and started our affair, Mark told his boyfriend, Allen, that he had met me and that we had had sex. They had an open relationship, which they were very proud of. It was a lot of work, but they enjoyed it.

Eventually, Mark said that he thought it would be a good idea for the three of us to have sex so that Allen could feel included. Allen was pretty conventional looking and had a small dick. It wasn't micro, but it was on the small side. Mark's dick was pretty normal sized (although I remember it being wonderful) and mine was bigger than both of theirs by far - certainly much bigger than Allen's. I'll just say it. Allen was a little intimidated by my dick because he was the big "top" in the relationship and now here I was showing Mark what a big dick felt like - and consequently, how small Allen's dick really was.

When we got into bed, I move on top of Mark and began sucking his dick. It was literally a minute or two into the sex. Suddenly I felt a slap of cold lubricant on my asshole and Allen mounting me. I looked at Mark and rolled my eyes, then I continued to suck Mark's cock. Allen fucked me for a few minutes until he started moaning, pulled out, ripped off the condom and shot on my back.

"Man, that was great," he said, wiping his come from my back. It was a total grudge fuck. He was proving his masculinity by fucking the guy who was fucking his boyfriend.

I lay down on Mark, began kissing him and we rolled around for a minute or two.

Allen stood at the end of the bed. "Well great," he said. "I've already shot and you two are just getting started!"

I laughed and looked at him and said, "Allen, we haven't even been in bed for ten minutes."

It was as if he expected us to shoot and get up so we could all go out to eat. We didn't. Mark said, "Well, we'll be a few more minutes, but you're certainly welcome to join us. You can choose which of our dicks you'd like to suck."

After a few other attempts at three-ways with them, I told Mark that I didn't want to do it again. It was always more civil, but often three-ways can be a little imbalanced. Often I felt a little more attraced to one person more than the other. For me it was Mark and Mark felt felt the same way in that situation - since I was the novelty item and Allen was always there. Hence, I had to pay a lot of attention to Allen and I had to put up with a lot because then he felt like the king and that he could be dominant.

When Mark asked me my I wanted to put a kabosh on the three-ways, I said, "I just find the three-way thing a little confusing. I don't know where to focus." It was a lie. What I wanted was to have sex with Mark and have Allen go away.

Three ways can be fun, but the politics can be difficult.

Three-Way Stories: First Three-Way

2006-03-17T16:21:00.000-05:00

My first three-way happened rather organically, which is how I feel these things should happen. I was probably 19. I was at a cowboy bar in Ft. Worth, Texas that is no longer there. There is a bar with the same name, I think, (651) but the original bar burned down years ago.

The room was fairly dark with two low lamps hanging over a couple of pool tables. I was standing by the cruising wall when I looked over and saw a cowboy looking at me intensely. He was about 50, wore a cowboy hat and boots. He motioned me over with his head and I, obediently, walked over. He bought me a beer. After a little conversation, a friend of his, around 32, came over. I would later find out that the younger guy was Amish. The cowboy asked if I would like to come back to his place with them.

The cowboy was sexy enough with his SASA (straight-acting, straight-appearing) ways, but the young Amish guy just added to the package. He was slim and good looking, shy and quiet. They got in their cars and I got in mine and I followed them out of the city to the middle of nowhere to Azle. It was dark and the road was not paved when we got to the woods. We drove on for a good ten minutes.

We ended at a mobile home. It was stationary, but it was a single-wide. The cowboy and I got out of our cars and went in. It was dark and we got to business quickly. We started making out and undressing before the Amish guy showed up.

It was a very equitable situation. Three ways afford one many possibilities in terms of positions. A guy can get his dick sucked while he's sucking another guy's dick. There's kissing, sucking, even fucking if it comes to that. With us, it didn't. We played around, sucking dick and making out. Both the Amish guy and the cowboy were uncut, which I thought was very exotic and unusual in Texas. I found the Amish aspect particularly hot. He had a slim, but naturally muscular body of a guy in his early thirties. The cowboy was hairy and had a gut. Still, the three of us sucked and touched and played around until all of us shot and we were laying there sticky and spent.

The Amish guy left and eventually, I was left alone with the cowboy, who wanted to do it again. Not knowing how one goes about excusing himself from a situation like that, I went with the flow and had sex again, coming as quickly as I could and then finding my clothes and car keys.

I'm pretty sure the cowboy wanted to get together again, but I didn't want to without the Amish guy. The cowboy talked about fucking and I remember that he had a pretty enormous cock, which I couldn't really imagine taking. Plus the whole mobile home thing. It's something that I could deal with if it was sprung on me, but it wasn't really something that I wanted to go to knowingly. Still, it made me curious about the possibilities of three ways.

Dark Frenchmen

2006-03-15T07:01:00.000-05:00

There are two guys here who are half Black (from some small island country, surely) and half French. Both from Paris, both very parisian. One of them, L, is sort of typical. He's very suave and has wavy hair that he slicks back. He is stick thin and is has a following of women that react to him like he's a teen idol. He laughs and smiles as if to say, "I'm so sexy I'm giving myself a hardon."

The second one, R, is also thin, but my guess is that he's got more musculature. He has more traditionally Black hair and a more typically Black nose. He's got a laugh that draws me in. He's got a sparkle in his eye. He looks like he's having fun.

Both of them are straight, but when faced with the dilemma of which one I would rather find myself on top of or under, (It's a fantasy) I choose R. R looks like someone who is more friendly, more real. He looks less "love 'em and leave 'em" than L. I've heard that L is all about the chase. Then when he's finally got them, he loses interest.

I'm sure they both have big dicks, but I picture R's cock as a thicker. Plus, he seems like he would look at sex as a fun activity for both parties, which I find important. He's also got a great ass and he doesn't look as fragile as L. L had a lung collapse some time ago and he looks like he'd be no help lifting anything. R seems like he'd be as comfortable with his ankles behind his ears as on all fours with his ass in the air.

R is so handsome that I can't look at him much because I think if I started I might not stop. I always walk away from him saying, "He so pretty." It's his smile, but I bet he's got a very nice chest.

Tall Dutch Guys

2006-03-10T03:07:00.000-05:00

This morning walking to the station, there was a young guy standing at the door handing out newspapers. I looked to the left to see if, perhaps, the guy in the g-string was there again, the older-than-he-should-have-been guy on roller skates with a very nice ass for a guy his age. Of course he was not. I think that even in Amsterdam, someone had the decency to say, "Dude, it's 7:00 in the morning. People don't need to see that."

Anyway, the guy who was standing there was a tall, blonde man. I thought, I wouldn't mind seeing him standing there in a g-string. It's not that a g-string is so sexy. I actually find them a little bit effeminate, and thus, not much of a turn on. But on the plus side, they do reveal a lot and that's awfully nice when the guy in question (this one 25, hairless, broad shoulders and beautifully muscled - my fantasy) is nice looking. I imagine his pubic line peaking just over the top of the g-string and the material very thin, showing nice buldges of his large meat and balls.

This got me thinking about a certain strain of Dutch guy. They are really tall. It's like if you took a normal sized guy, me for instance, (at 6 feet or so) and enlarged me by 5-10%. It's a nice look. It's almost an enviable look. It's so much man. Big hands, big chest, legs, arms, feet, cock, balls. Everything is larger and it would be fun to have that at my disposal for a while.

However, I've said for years that I wouldn't seriously date (or even go out with, at one point) a guy who was that big. In my opinion, I'm tall enough. I like being the tall one, the big one. Plus, there's the aging factor. As people age, people tend to put on weight, get heavier. If you start with a guy who is smaller, anywhere from 5'3" to 5'10" and he puts on weight, the whole package is still a managable size. If you start with a larger guy, he justs gets bigger and bigger and then end result is a gargantuan human taking up more than half the bed.

For instance, the other day, I was with the bf in bed and we had just finished with...something and his head was hanging off the edge of the bed. I knew that in his exhausted state, he was not going to move himself. It was just easier for him to lay there uncomfortably. And I knew that he would rather be six inches lower and have some support for his head. So I grabbed his legs and pulled him towards me.

With one of these giant guys, you can't do that. You take a calf in each hand and pull and nothing happens. They weigh too much.

Years ago, during my short man phase, I wanted my little friend somewhere else on the bed. I just moved him and remounted. You can't do that with a really big guy. I tried. They're like a lump. Maybe I just like the control. I like being the big one.

Plus there's the laying on top of one another thing. I've always been very concious of how heavy I am in relation to how big the guy is that I am lying on, sometimes I just hang, supporting myself with my elbows. Some guys are not that considerate. If they're too big, you just have to lie there and take shallow breaths as you try to rock them off. That's not fun. That's not sexy.

I have a friend who thinks it is very sexy. He says, "I just love to be smothered and covered. I love all that weight on me." (Read that again imagining a high pitched Texas accent.) So it's just a different strokes thing, but my preference is no taller than me.

So to me, these guys are nice to look at, nice to play with, but I wouldn't want to bring one home to keep him - as nice as he might be.

I was once at a sex party and there was this French guy there with a cock that was so thick, I couldn't get my hand around it, and I have a big hand. We made out for a minute and then he asked, "Would you like me to fuck you?" I declined as I had strict rules at those parties. Then he asked, "Would you like to watch me fuck someone?" I was like, "Sure!" We didn't find anyone who would take the challenge.

There's so much to write about with Dutch guys.

Chinese Man on Train

2006-03-09T09:25:00.000-05:00

While heading for the train each morning, I am often behind a little Chinese man as I get on the escalator and head up to the platform. He's young, about 23, I'm guessing. He looks like an immigrant - he's got a little bit of an out-of-touch look about him. He seems sort of lost and on his way to some job where he probalby keeps to himself.

He's so cute. Maybe I think this because I am usually standing behing him looking at his incredibly tiny, compact ass. He reminds me of the Asians I've done. Once unleashed - maybe the way I went about unleashing helped a bit - they were good lovers, most of them. I wouldn't like it if there was a "boy" quality to them, but this guy and the ones I've done, are just tiny little men and there's something tough about them - a sort of Napolean thing, I guess.

Still, this guy just wanders around. He looks like he needs a connection.

I like an little Asian guy with smooth skin and a muscular little body. That's nice. I've always heard that Asians have straigh pubic hair. That's not completely true...but it's much straighter than mine.

New Friend

2006-03-08T07:52:00.000-05:00

I have a new friend - new being since October. When I met him, he was a little ball on legs, almost as wide as he was tall. He's a short guy, but that's never a good look.

I saw NF again when I was waiting for the bus one day. He'd lost quite a bit of weight - like 30 pounds. Now we see each other quite a bit, socially. He works in the building next to me. He's very spiritual and has lots of good stories about strange things. Apparently he gets a lot of sex and he is a bottom. I can't imagine that he is that sexually active, but he claims he is.

NF is short and sort of distant in a very "otherworldly" way, but I have considered what it would be like to have sex with him. I think it would be okay. I think it would be a fun time. He'd surely try a lot of things that other guys might.

The thing is, when I'm sitting next to him on the bus, I can smell his breath - and it's not good. It's not like my manager who has that kind of breath where you think, Can't you taste that? My God! It's more like a strange sort of staleness. The bf has a strange taste to his mouth sometimes, but when I'm up close like that, I'm usually not thinking too much about it. But with NF, it's one of those things where I smell it and I think, Boy, brush your tongue! I think he's somewhat aware of it because he's always popping mints.

Of course this isn't an issue as we're just friends and the whole sex thing is not a part of our repetoir - although he did offer to marry me if the bf doesn't, so that I could get a Dutch passport.

Still, when I'm laying in bed about to get busy, I sort of hate dreading sticking my tongue in a guys mouth because of the taste. Isn't sex complex sometimes?

Two Guys - One Green, One Pink

2006-03-08T07:13:00.000-05:00

In the mornings at the train station, there is a guy who is always there. There are a lot of people who are always there, but this one is very noticable. He is always dressed in the same green outfit. It's almost like a joke that went too far.

He's got a jacket that has these wooly sections. The wool is a plaid that features a lime green. Not florescent, but bright. He's got a pleather bag and a pair of fleece gloves that match. It's such a strange outfit because for months I sort of assumed that he's just a youngish straight guy, but it seems really gay - and now he sort of seems gay. Not flaming, but someone who identifies as gay and has gay sex.

He's one of those guys who I would like to think was sexy, but I can't. He seems like he would have a body like a piece of wood, not hard like wood, but just up and down, nothing much to talk about. Plus, the way he doesn't make eye contact, he seems a little tentative - and I think that is never a good recipe for sex. He's like one of those guys you can get to the gate, and he's probably got a nice sized cock (and I'm guessing hairy balls) but he's just not one to let loose and go crazy.

The other guy is the pink guy. The pink guy wears a pink scarf. It's really bright pink and doesn't seem to be worn for warmth, seems like it's more for the look. The pink guy looks a little arrogant. He's got good skin, but big round eyes. He's like the kind of little kid who is always staring with eyes wide and mouth open. So now he's an adult in an expensive suit with eyes wide and mouth open. It's not a good look. However, I'm guessing that he sees himself as a prize. (i.e. Whoever lands me will be one lucky guy.)

I try to not make eye contact with the pink guy. He seems like a talker, like someone who would smile and chat and make my morning commute...well, make it so that I had to take another train.

A far as sex, I imagine that he's pretty impressed with himself. I don't imagine that he has a large cock (not that that's important) but I imagine that he's got one of those bodies that's hard from being worked out, but where something isn't working. Like the musculature is all wrong.

Maybe he's one of those who is a screamer - and not just when he's coming. I've been with guys like that. Like I'm sucking his cock and he just screams like, "Woooo! Yeah! Nice!" That sort of think just makes me suck harder and try to get the fool to come so that the whole damn thing is over. I've had sex with guys on ecstacy like that. Calm the fuck down, man.

Sex is all about relating, isn't it? It doesn't have to be a lovey-dovey thing with butterfly kisses and rainbows, but you certainly do have to be on the same page with the guy.

Horse Ass

2006-03-03T02:58:00.000-05:00

A man just used my computer to print something. He and his group have been using offices down the hall from me for two weeks. He found out early on that I would let him use my computer to print out his presentations. So he shows up at my door fairly often smiling saying, "Hello, Blake," in his Eastern European accent.

The man is not classically handsome. It's like he was at one point, but then his lips and nose got really big. He also has a fairly deep crease between his eyebrows. I feel like telling him he needs to use lip balm. Still, if the situation was right (i.e. if the bf was not in the picture) I'd totally do him.

One of the most appealing aspects to this man is his ass. It's this big horse ass, like two really big muscles connecting to big muscley legs. Plus he's probably got a big, uncut, monster cock. (My fantasy, my choice of cock.) I imagine him at the beach, one of those locations I've been to with the bf where women rarely wear tops and where men of all shapes and sizes wear Speedos. I imagine him in a Speedo, a dark one. He's completely comfortable, having worn a Speedo his whole life.

Looking at this man, I can tell that his body is probably not "pretty." I'm sure he doesn't do a lot of ab work an that he's probably working some love handles. So that's all figured in when I see him at the beach. It's that unself-conciousness that I find appealing. Plus, I bet his ass would look great as he tromped through the sand on his way to and from wherever he was going.

I bet he looks great when he's showering off in the public showers after a day at the beach. Again, he's probably completely unself-concious, doing what he's done his whole life. His sausage dick hanging there swinging gently as he turns to rinse his back. He's lost in thought as I oggle his package.

This man might have no idea that I'm flirting with him, in my very subtle way. It's not even overt flirting. It's more that I'm engaging him in conversation. It's that when he asks if he can use my printer, I say, "Absolutely, any time you want," as I smile at him. It's just me doing anything that will make him smile.

He's also probably an incredible appreciative lover.

Brokeback Roommates

2006-02-23T03:00:00.000-05:00

Two guys walked into my office yesterday, one to announce that he was back from sick leave and one to announce that he is leaving company to take a job in Olso. One of the guys is English, one is Scottish. They are both in their early thirties. Neither is really classically good looking. There are minor dental issues and one has a nose that is a little crooked, but they are guys with a very broad range of appeal. They are friendly and are mostly just normal, nice guys (both with nice tight bodies) who love to smile and laugh.

These guys are roommates, single guys living in a foreign country, saiving expenses by sharing an address. They go out to a pub for drinks with friends on the weekends - a few pints, some jokes. I can see them throwing back a few as they slap other guys on the back talking about sports and things. I can see young women offering their young woman parts, hoping for some company for the evening, or for longer. I imagine that after a while the two of them head home together and have one more pint before going to bed.

At home, I imagine they sit around in T-shirts and underwear (straight guys do that, don't they?) in front of a fire place. One thing leads to another, their eyes lock, contact is made. Shorts come off and faces are plunged into engorged crotches moist with the sweat of the day. One of my favorite images is of the one guy on his back wtih his legs up, while the other guy has his arms around the first guy's thighs. There is penitration, and sweat glistens on the one guys face as the firelight lights the whole scene.

The only thing that would really improve this scene is if somehow, by some happenstance, the two happened to invite a certain 40-year-old colleague home. A Blake sandwich sounds like a wonderful addition to the evening.

If the two weren't such lovely people on their own, and if they didn't look like such delicious bookends, this fantasy wouldn't work. If they were perfect, it wouldn't work. But like those guys in Brokeback Mountain, they are normal looking, beautiful guys. One can totally imagine that they enjoy each other's company and that they love to fuck. What is not to love?

Roommates indeed!

I Heard That!

2006-02-16T07:57:00.000-05:00

Through a series of tangential thoughts just now, I was reminded of a guy I dated and how people have such strange (read: annoying) fetishes and phobias.

Jim was/is a doctor of some repute in NYC. He was raised with money and had made his own money through a very successful oncology practice. Jim was also into the seamier side of sex. He knew where, on the subway tracks of NYC, men congregated to have anonymous group sex (he swore it was true). He told me about a conversation he had had through a glory hole, written on toilet paper, about a thing on the end of his dick that the other guy insisted was herpes. Jim told him what it was (a blood vessel problem) and explained that it wasn't contagious. He showed me a polaroid he'd taken of his cock in the ass of some guy. He said with a sigh, "I might actually look back on this one day and think", That's when I contracted HIV. I hope not." He shrugged.

Jim was into rimming, but being a doctor, he was conversant with the numerous bacteria and parasites that reside in the anus and he said he was going to try subsituting his nose for his tongue. "It probably won't be the same, huh?" I agreed it wouldn't.

The strangest thing about Jim was his problem with farting. He didn't like it when I farted. Walking down the street once, I farted.

"Please don't do that. It's gross. The ass is a sexual organ and that just makes me want to stay away from it."

I farted once in the garage waiting for him to get his bag out of the car.

"Blake, please! You know how I feel about that."

Then one evening, at his beautiful apartment, I went into the bathroom and, while peeing, I farted. From the other room, Jim said, "I heard that!"

I asked him when I was allowed to fart. I come from a family of farters. Plus, I'm human and we tend to fart at times.

"Not around me, not in the apartment."

Jim and I never had sex. We dated for about six weeks. We said we were going to take it slow. We tried three times. Every time it was limp dicks on both sides.

One morning I woke up and he said, "We shouldn't date. We should just be friends." I started to argue and then I realized what a fabulous life I would have if I was allowed to fart and if I had sex with the guy I was dating. So we remained friends for a few months.

I learned about his various sexual adventures (the groups, the glory hole, the photo) after we officially broke up. It was a little gnarly to find stuff like that out and I was glad that I hadn't done anything with him. Jim had a great resume. Doctor, great apartment in the village, artsy friends, crazy fun family. But man-o-man did he have issues.

Months later he got a dog.

I'm a cat person.

Ass Skaters

2006-02-15T11:39:00.000-05:00

Last night, while watching the Olympic ice skating competition, I sat next to the bf and remembered one of the ones that got away. The asses on those guys are usually amazing. That clingy material they stretch over the muscular buttocks is one of the great things about living in the year 2006. Last night a skater, ("I'm sure he's Russian," said the bf. "Look how he's dressed.") glided out in a blue body suit with some sort of faux cut-out and sequine thing going on around his chest and shoulders. He was a little fem with is wrists flexed out, but his ass was very nice and he didn't fall down.

Looking at his ass, I was taken back to a church I used to go to years ago, in NYC. It was a gay church and we had all types coming in and going out. For a few months, we had a professional skater coming on a regular basis. He was one of those also-rans who was making a living touring with Holiday on Ice or something. He had trained for years and even in jeans, we could all tell that he had the fine muscle globes of an ice skater.

At the time, I was with a guy who was pretty much a cock magnet. He could have gotten most anyone at church into bed. However, during the months when the skater was around, we weren't "fishing that stream." Plus, I was always suspicious that if it were to "come to that," the boyfriend would dominate the situation and I would be left pinching the skater's nipples while the boyfriend fucked the him with his enormous cock. (It was annoyingly big. I was glad to get away from it.)

I mean that's fun and all to watch someone get fucked, but after it happens a couple of times, you just feel like you're getting sloppy seconds. Eventually the skater left to go on tour and the congregation sighed, none of us having tapped into that side of him.

Today at work, I passed a little intern. He does something financial and he's about 23. I never really thought he was that cute, but someone said, "Take a second look at Guy. He's really handsome."

I looked again and I still find him a little washed out - too blonde. However, when I was leaving, he looked back at me and the way he was twisted, I noticed that he has a lovely pair of ass cheeks. I was impressed. Not enough to talk to him, of course - he's still a straight Dutch kid. But I made a mental note that if I'm ever in a group with him, I should walk behind him.

Thong Spotted Again

2006-02-15T08:36:00.000-05:00

As I was walking into the train station this morning, I decided to go into the door on the left just in case the guy with the thong was there again. He was.

This time he had his back against the wall. He was facing out. When I wrote yesterday that he was a little long in the tooth to be wearing nothing below the navel but a thong and some roller skates, I had no idea that this is a man who could easily have adult children. That said, his legs and ass suddenly look really good.

Still, it mades one think. It's 7:10 on a cold and (today) rainy morning and here is a very adult man wearing something that would give me pause if worn by a 23-year-old guy at a gay pride parade. Oh well.

The basket was nothing amazing. It was all a little squished up and the material didn't have enough give to give the basket any interesting shapes. (Plus I didn't want to gawk at a senior citizen.)

But you know who did have a pretty amazing basket was a guy in his (probably) late 20's who came to stand beside me at the station. It had some heft to it and it there was something poking out of it, like the head had a mind of its own.

Reminds me of high school when we would get dressed into school clothes after marching rehearsal and this one group of very fit guys stood holding court in their underwear. This one guy, Brent, had this little basket and it looked like the head of his cock stuck straight out. Mine just hung down and was tucked into my tighty whities. Brents sort of bounced while he talked and joked. I was jealous.

Sigh. They were a pretty bunch of boys, fit and good looking. Wonder what they're doing now.

A guy sat next to me at work today and I looked at his crotch. Nothing there. I wanted to say, "Dude, you need to get some pants that fit. I can't even tell if you have anything down there."

I didn't say it, and in the big picture, it doesn't matter. Probably better to keep it covered up - what ever it is.

You're Wearing That to Work?

2006-02-14T08:14:00.000-05:00

Every day as I walk into the train station, there are people standing at the entrance trying to give out the free paper. I never take it because I prefer the free paper with the soduko puzzle. These are usually college age kids dressed bundled up against the cold air and possible precipitation in a bright yellow rain jacket.

Today, the guy handing out the papers at the entrance was wearing roller skates and a thong. He was also wearing the requisite bright yellow rain jacket, but from behind, all that could be seen was a string disappearing into his ass crack. He looked a little long in the tooth to be wearing that outfit, but he had a very nice ass and legs. I did a double take and a couple of his colleagues laughed at something. I almost doubled back around to see how his basket was fairing - if there was a lot of shrinkage due to the cold. But I didn't.

I woke up with the nasitest dreams today. It was a sort of sex dream with no one in particular and I didn't want to get out of bed. So after seeing this guy in the thong before work (yes, it was a little sleazy, but still sort of fun to see naked ass in the morning), I was hyper-sensative to the male energy around me.

There was a kid in the train that looked like he was staring at me. He could have just been staring into the distance and I was in the way. Made me realize how much I don't like a tiny little, petite mouth on a man. There were also several very tall men around. Some of them are like giants. I tell you, I'm crazy about the bf, but we wouldn't have gotten very far if he was that tall. Especially if he started putting on weight.

On a man his size, the percentage of weight that he has gained is not that much. But if he was bigger and the percentage was the same, it would be a lot of weight and I would find it annoying. This is why I put on my list that I wouldn't date anyone taller than me. I know how people put on weight when they get older. I factored it all in.

Thong wearers also did not make the short list.

Things Falls Apart

2006-02-11T11:57:00.000-05:00

The first time I fell in "love" was with a guy, Clint. It's a long story and I come out looking very foolish in the end, so I won't go into it. The point here is that he told me about a book entitled The Lord Won't Mind. It was a gay love story. It was kind of violent - the one guy almost succeeds in biting the other guy's dick off - but it was a book I really enjoyed, and that helped me.

As I was reading it, I thought of Clint. It was like being with him in a way. It was a way to keep myself focused on Clint when I couldn't be with him. I only saw him like three times before he got smart and lost me. But I read the book as much as I could because I wanted to be with him, and it was a sort of surrogate.

My new freind from church and I went walking after church last Sunday and he picked up a book and said, "This is the best book I've ever read." It is Things Falls Apart by Chinua Achebel I was buying another book, so I just added it to my pile and got it. Now every time I thumb through the book, I feel like I'm thumbing through him. I hear his voice when I read the book.

I don't want to get distracted from my relationship with the bf, but I would like to read the book to get a deeper insight into my new friend. He's Nigerian and he said that part of the reason he liked it might be because he was in school in West Nigeria and this book takes place in East Nigeria and the cultures are very different. He said that because he thought it might not translate so well to me coming from...where I come from. We'll see.

Still, I can't read it too much without feeling like I'm cheating a little bit. Wack? I know.

Let Me Smell You

2006-02-07T03:01:00.000-05:00

My church chum was in my writing group last night. He's super sweet and so handsome. But something tells me he's not good relationship material, not that that's important information to me.

I'm sure he's got an amazing body, probably one of those that is naturally on the thin side, but gets beautiful musclulature easily. I imagine he has a little waist, nice pecs and a beautiful ass - and a washboard stomach. He wears clothes very well, and makes good choices.

However, last night, all I wanted to do was put my face in his neck and smell him. He'd been out all day at an interview and I'm sure the mixture of his cologne plus the sweat of the day is intoxicating.

Still, I was glad to get home to the bf. He was asleep when I arrived and we sat and watched America's Next Top Model while we drank tea. It's nice to imagine having an exciting single life, but I'm very happy with the day to day normalcy of what I have.

Beautiful Miserable

2006-02-07T02:30:00.000-05:00

There was a guy on the bus today that I have seen before several times. We have the same commute from the airport and he's usually there doing what the rest of us are doing - commuting. However, today when I sat in one of two facing seats on the bus, he sat across from me.

It wasn't like it was some amazing connection, I'm not even sure that he noticed me there. But his briefcase rested on my one knee and my other knee was pressed against his for most of the ride. (I'll never wash that knee again.)

This guy reminds me of someone. Most recently he reminds me of a guy Brenda has an affair with in Season 4 of Six Feet Under. I know that's the most obscure reference. His name is Justin Theroux. Here's a picture of him on IMDB.com, but he's wearing some pretty buggy glasses.

The thing about both of these guys is that they have a great look, very handsome, very masculine, sinuey, muscular, dark hair and eyes. They both also have a very thick beard, one of those that turns into little needles and gives you clown face. (It's a total turn off and, really, a deal breaker.)

But the most disturbing thing about this type of guy is the pervasive sadness that I feel when I look at them. There's an initial turn-on because they are the kind of guy who looks like they could be really present, really look at you and see you. But there is occassionally a hollowness, an emptiness that makes them look like there is no hope, like whatever they are walking on is as thin as typing paper and he should fall through, he will fall into a hole with no bottom.

I watched this guy today. He took off his hat and stared out the window. He hair is very "concentration camp," a little too short if he's going to let that beard grow for a few days. He was listening to his ipod and looked out the window like he was thinking of a pet that had just died. So handsome, and probably gorgeous when he smiles. Beautiful, full lips and thick eye lashes, but masculine.

I hope his day gets better.

Meeting Raphael

2006-02-03T05:04:00.000-05:00

Last night, my friend from work, V, invited a few of us to meet her brother, Raphael and her for a few drinks. I had seen a picture of Raphael in V's office and I was not that impressed. In the picture he has a cute look, but he is wearing sun glasses and it looked like he might be trying to hide something with the glasses.

When the showed up, I thought, Well, hello! He was much cuter than I'd imagined him to be. Raphael is short, probably 5'4". He's got dark hair, nice facial structure and he's Puerto Rican. He lives in L.A. and works in computer graphics on movies, namely Narnia. He spent five weeks helping put in the mist that comes out of the mouths of the people when they are in the snow.

There. I just told you more about a man I just met than I could tell you about my own brother.

Raphael's eyes were clear and beautiful. He was very handsome. I was quite taken. Short guys are one of those things that I really like. Butt licking, Black guys and short guys. Find me a short, Black, butt eater and I would probably be set. On second thought, I have, of course, been there.

Actually, that reminds me of a story. I was once having ongoing, non-commital trists with three guys at once - but all separately. I don't even think they really knew about each other. It wasn't important. These were just casual get-together-when-you-can affairs, nothing heavy. But the thing was that one of them was Black, one a red head and one Korean. And they were all short, like 5'2" to 5'4" short. Like the type of person you look at and think, Man, he's short. It was nice. I liked being that tall. It was like having been dropped into Munchinland. I think that at one point I was with one and we ran into one of the others. So my two little fuck buddies were looking each other in they eye while I stood above them wishing the third was there and that we were all naked.

But I digress.

The person Raphael really reminds me of is Peter - [sigh] Peter... Peter was the brother of my friend, Nancy. It was the late 80's and he was in Ft. Worth visiting Nancy from Houston, where he lived. He had this curly hair that did a sort of mullet thing and hung down in his face so that he had to brush it out of the way all the time. He sparkled and we flirted.

When I expressed to Nancy that I thought her brother was nice and that I would like to get to know him better, she discouraged me and eventually broke down telling me about his drug problems, mood disorder, financial disasters, that he was a user and abuser and on top of it all, was HIV positive, which in those days was a death sentence. That is what you call a Broken Boy-picker.

So I looked at Raphael and I sort of projected that on to him. Mostly it was his sister who gave me the idea that Raphael might have had some problems in the past. I know he doesn't drink (although he smokes cigarettes) and that he "needs to take care of himself." It wasn't stated explicitly, but he sounds like he's positive and that he's in recovery. Not an absolutely detrimental combo, but not one to look for. I enjoyed talking to him.

Hearing about his L.A. life was sort of fun. Part of me wanted to go back with him where my options would be more open and where I could be somehow involved in Hollywood. But as we were getting up from the table, I thought, I live in Europe. That's really cool. So I'm fine.

When we parted, he shook my hand and said, "Speak with you soon." My first thought was that he wanted to keep in touch. I was excited, happy, I felt like I had passed some kind of test. A moment later I realized that it was probably just a thing he says all the time in L.A., sort of one of those meaningless "How are you?" things that's just what you say at the end of a conversation.

It wouldn't be a good match any way. He's cute, but more affair-cute, better to keep the tension in the transitional space than wreck it by acting on it.

He left this morning at 7:15 for L.A.

Friday Evening at the Sauna

2006-01-28T07:00:00.000-05:00

In an uncharacteristic twist, last night I went to the sauna with the bf. Usually, when we go to the sauna, it's with his brother and brother-in-law. We all stand around naked and talk as we do two rounds of dryheat-cold-steamroom-cold. The cold consists of either going on the roof of the building, jumping in a pool of ice water or dumping ice cold water on ourselves in buckets provided. It's fun and fairly exhausting by the end of the evening. The place has a bar so you can get fresh juice, water, beer, etc. or food.

However, the other two didn't show up last night. We were there for a half hour before it solidified and we knew it. We just thought they were late. We usually go with them on Wednesday evening, but they suggested Friday this week - and then failed to show up. So we did our rounds and I had a little bit more leeway about when to do what.

There were two guys there last night who were difficult to not watch. There were also tons of women, so there's no telling the inclination of the guys. It was not a gay sauna.

Guy was had reddish blonde hair. He didn't have much of a torso, but he made up for that with his face, ass, cock and ball combo and attitude. His ass was so pretty and perky. It looked slutty somehow, like he knew that it was his calling card. A lot of the appeal of his face was his lips, sort of throw pillow, puffy. Unfortunately later, I saw him using them to smoke a cigarette.

About his cock and balls: Of course all of these guys are uncut. I feel like that's the biggest way I stand out, which I would really like to do something about. This guy had a little-ish cock and shaven balls. At one point, we were in the dry heat room and I was sitting so that I was at his feet and his head was about six feet in the other direction. Thus, I was sort of staring into his crotch. There before me lay his ass crack, balls and cock. One knee was up. I'm not sure if it was a show or pose for me, but it was lovely. (The bf sat beside me, eyes closed.) The guy's cock was sort of off to the side, large in the heat. An older woman lay beside him, one level up.

Then I saw him sit up. He sort of put his knee up and scooched up to a sitting position. I saw he had a hard on! How nice! The foreskin was still over the head, so it wasn't completely hard, but it was definitely getting there. Apparently he was enjoying laying there enough to get a little blood flow to his groin. When he was in a sitting position, he moved it so that it was between his legs, so it could go down and he could look like he was just sitting there.

When he walked out, it was back to normal. We never made eye contact, which is really liked. I saw him later in the steam room. He sat beside me and when two women left, it was just me, him and the bf. In situations like that, I have to really not look, even glance. The bf would really not like that at all. He's done the jealously thing before and it's not pretty.

The second guy was a type I've seen before. Long, serious face with a large nose that has a little crook to it. Curly, dark hair, sort of Jewish looking. Then from the neck down, he was completely hairless. His silky skin stretched beautifully over sinuey muscles. He was definitely thin, but fit. He looked like a gymnist. One of those that still has a straight line going from his sternum to his public line, no buldge whatsoever.

The only hair below his neck was his bush of public hair. His cock, again uncut, was long and deliciously tubular, a long, thick sausage that would feel lovely in the hand or mouth - an excellent addition to any form of contact. There's something really beautiful about an uncut cock, the uninteruptedness of the fless from the pubes to the end of the cock.

When he entered the sauna, he sat down and then pulled his feet up to the seat, so that his knees were by his shoulders. The upshot of this was that his fabulous cock and balls were perfectly laid out, fortunately not obscured by his feet.

My guess is that he would be a little prissy in bed. The first guy would probably be an absolute slut and take it up the ass in a hot minute. This guy seemed a little precious, a little porceline.

In the end, I went home with the bf and as we got in bed, he curled into me like we were designed to fit together. He's great - and he's got a really nice, fat head on his cock.

Incan on a Bus

2006-01-27T11:47:00.000-05:00

This morning on the bus, I sat across from a guy who had the look of one of those Native American-Mexican types. Sort of boxy, not really classically good looking at all, thick black hair and probably not much in the way of an attractive body - I imagine it to be smooth and lumpy with dark nipples stuck on like an afterthought. His skin wasn't bad, but it was a little rough. Of course he reminded me of someone I've had sex with.

It's not a specific person as much as a specific type. He's the type of person that I would meet in an anonymous situation - out alone, away at a convention, happen to talk to him somewhere - and something in his eyes, maybe the curl of his lips, would make me want him.

Back at his place - or mine - we would roll around and have a great time, doing lots of things that I have done, and some new stuff I hadn't thought of, or that I haven't had the chance to try. I imagine the little Incan man (little because I'm sure he was shorter than me) would be an excellent lover, adventurous and funny.

However, this person, or type, that I keep thinking about didn't make the "short list." Because of the look, I realized that this was not a person that I was going to be seen with, that this was not a person that I was willing to present to friends and family and say, "This is Diego, my partner, lover, etc."

So he didn't make the cut because he wasn't pretty enough - even though I had good, nasty sex with him. Is that shallow? Probably, but there are worse things I could do - as the song says. And besides, someone will love him. It's just not me.

Naked Dream

2005-12-28T02:27:00.000-05:00

Last night, I had what I would term a "sexy dream," although there was not sex, or "threat of sex" in it.

I was with some people in a sort of camp. I don't remember who I was with. I don't think it was important. It was a series of cabins with two-tiered bunk beds lining the walls. I was trying to get out of the building, but I was not in a hurry. It was just a little time consuming and confusing.

There were a number of rooms, sections. I started to go into one and a guy (Nathaniel Morrison, Michael on One Life to Live) said, "Anyone coming through here has to be completely naked." I could see through the corridor that everyone in that section, and they were all men, was naked and laying in bed.

Much to my concious surprise, I opted to go down another hall. I tried, with my companion, to see down the hall, to see if there was any way out, if it there was any use in disrobing and walking through a room full of naked men. Apparently, I was more interested in getting out of the building than having a titilating sex adventure.

This dream could have been brought on by what I saw on tv last night. The bf and I are watching Six Feet Under from the beginning. I bought the first four seasons. We're in Season One and on Episode Eight (Crossroads). To my absolute delight, during this show, Nate goes into Brenda's house and finds a friend of hers naked. He's a hairy, husky Australian guy. Not my type (yes, I've done a guy like that, but not Australian), but I loved that they lingered on him, showing full body shots of Nate and him for more than a few seconds. HBO is good for that. They are the ones who brought us Oz and a full shot of Chris Malone's gorgeous naked body. So maybe that's where it came from.

When I mentioned, to the bf this morning, that I'd had a strange dream, he said, "What was it about?" I was vague. I just didn't want to go into it. Now I would love the opportunity to gnaw on his joint for a while. (He's got a nice one.)

Memories of Paul

2005-12-22T02:24:00.000-05:00

This morning on the bus, I looked across the aisle at the passenger on the other side of me. We were both sitting in seats where the seats were facing and he was essentially facing me. As usual, I wondered, "What is so familiar about this guy?" and "Have I done a guy like this before?" And my answer to the second question, as usual, was "Yes."

This guy was, I believe, Italian. I couldn't really tell because I didn't care enough to pause my ipod. But I noticed his gestures and think I heard that lilty speech pattern.

What I also noticed was an enormous basket. His pants fit just so, and I could tell that he probably had a nice size cock and, one would hope, big balls. His face was one of those that is sort of sharp, the chin and the nose, intriguing, but almost ugly. His eyes told me that he knew his way around, that his cock has opened interesting doors for him.

The combination of those three pieces - big basket, wack face and knowing eyes - has created, for me, the perfect storm. The most memorable was Paul.

It's the eyes and cock that lured me into his web. With those, I could forgive the face. (After all, it's the personality that really counts, isn't it?) Paul's body wasn't great - as, I imagine, the Italian's wasn't either. But things were happening and , really, strange chest hair patterns and a love handle are not things that matter at that time.

Paul and I spent hours making out and sucking cock and licking and talking. I was at a convention and we had several hours each day exploring. I remember it as a really "nasty" time. Licking and fingering. Talking and rubbing.

Then something happened and I looked at him and thought, "Oh my God. I need to come and get the hell out of here. This is some monster with messed up body hair and a lumpy body!" Somehow, I was shocked out of my erotic bliss. It's like I was high and suddenly I came crashing down. Maybe I looked at my fingernail and I realized there was a little bit of brown in the cuticle. Maybe he breathed on me and I smelled his stale breath in the wrong way. Maybe he told me a sex story that was just a little "too." But I was not in that place any more, and there was no going back. The only option was to shower and lose him.

So looking at the Italian fellow, I thought, The way to do this guy is to get in there, do him and get out. Don't linger. Of course that's not an option because of the bf. I gave up Italian guys (and French guys and Black guys and all other guys) for the bf, because he's special. The bf is one of those where I look at a shitty fingernail, wash it and go back to what I was doing.

I'd still like to see the big fat cock (and balls), but it didn't happen this morning.

Thoughts on Two Guys at Work

2005-12-21T11:36:00.000-05:00

There are two guys here at work who I love talking to. I would like to say, "Two guys who I would do in a hot minute," but I'm not sure I would actually do them.

The one guy is the Portuguese guy who reminds me of Sean Cassidy. He would be fun to roll around with for a while, but I'm reasonably sure that after he came he'd turn into an absolute ass. And to me, it's not worth it any more.

The second guy looks like Number One on Star Trek: The Next Generation - younger, when the series started and he was filled out, but not fat. He's got blue eyes and dark hair, a heavy brow. This guy is sort of chunky, but would still be a lot of fun to roll around with.

Last night I got into it with the bf. I'm absolutely amazed sometimes at how sexy he is. I was eating his ass for a good long while. I wanted to fuck, but it wasn't happening. This morning he was holding me and wouldn't let me out of bed. The way to that man's heart is through his cock. I mean, he really likes me, of course, but he really enjoys regular sex. I do too, but how nice I am doesn't depend on how recently he's blown me. Still, it's a nice relationship.

Good Ole David

2005-12-03T03:15:00.000-05:00

Years ago (about ten) I started going to a church in NYC. I was in a relationship, but my bf at the time didn't feel like going with me every Sunday. About the same time I started going, David started going. David was a short Black guy with a wonderful sparkle. He'd had some degree of notoriety in the past and was laying low. We became friends.

David invited me over for dinner and I went. We had sex, it was pretty fun. It was the first time in a long time that I'd had sex with a Black guy and the first time I did it with no guilt or remorse. We had another "date" and then on our third, after we'd had sex, I had to tell him that I had a bf and that this couldn't go any further.

Of course he was crushed, but we remained friends and we continued having sex here and there. It was never bed sex, though. It was always in a car, a hallway, in his apartment while his (eventual) bf was at work, somewhere where we might get caught. That was his thing, his turn on. That was what drove me crazy. I hated it.

Once at a party, David went with me and my bf to the roof. And there, on a roof in NYC, David got on his knees and sucked our dicks. I also sucked the dick of my bf, but that whole public thing prevents me from coming in situations like that.

I used to rehearse for singing at church at his apartment. Afterwards, we would fool around, once or twice finishing and wiping up just as his bf walked in the door. He would even have sex parties while his bf was at work. Eventually, they opened up their relationship and had lots of sex. His bf, a white guy, was totally into Black guys.

The last time we fooled around, we were in his apartment and we were making out. David was a really sexy guy. I had long thought that he was positive, but we mostly kept to me doing the "top" type things, although we never fucked. Once, he actually asked me if I would do a three-way with him and his bf. I knew they wanted a top. They were probably in the unfortunate position of both being bottoms, but being in a mutually satisfying relationship. Pity. It never happened.

But the last time, we were fooling around and my hard cock was hanging somewhere around his ass hole and he spit on his hand and "lubed" my cock and headed it towards his ass. I think it was a little "ripe," if I remember correctly.

"I can't do that, man," I said.

"Come on. I want it," he said.

We ended up coming or something, but I stayed away from him after that. He's got a big belly and I would guess that he's positive. He's one of those guys who doesn't really do anything. He used to, but now he works now and then. He peaked early. Thank goodness he has a rich boyfriend who is crazy about his crazy ass.

Church Chum Revisited

2005-11-22T08:26:00.000-05:00

Last night, I was talking to a guy after one of my many social things and I was looking at him thinking, My goodness but you are absolutely lovely. He's got a fairly large nose, which I'm sure is only going to get bigger as he gets older, but he's got great skin and what I suspect is a pretty nice body. He's the Black guy from church.

As he was talking, I kept thinking about how I would like to put my tongue in his mouth or at least just lick his lips. I'd love to see him naked. He's probably uncut, which I would love.

Thing is, after getting to know him a little, I bet he wouldn't be that much fun in bed. I've talked to him a lot and I get the feeling that all he does is work and sleep. Even after church he just goes home to work. And after our social thing (which, truth be told, I'm surprised he can make) he told me he was going to go home and send out some reports that he hadn't had time to send out.

I said, "I hope you get a new job soon."

For the record, I would never risk what I have with the bf on a person like this church guy, but if I were ever single again, I would definitley welcome a roll in the hay with him - which would last, I'm guessing, six months at the most. And that would probably be just about enough.

I bet his crotch smells lovely.

Lips of the Black Man

2005-11-15T02:38:00.000-05:00

I saw a guy on the bus this morning that reminded me of the first Black guy I ever kissed. I was 19 and he was 21. He was the phenom piano player in the music department in college and I was a theater/art student who was spending some of my free time in a choir. We started our little affair on a choir trip, but I won't go into that because I think I've already written about that and it's not the point of the story.

Antoine's lips befuttled me at first. I han't kissed that many people before kissing him, but they'd all been white people. (There were a few girls, but mostly they were men). Anyway, the lips were fairly large, pillowly lips. I guess the white lips I've kissed seem more muscular to Antoine's lips. It's like there was more padding (I hesitate to write fat) in his, maybe less resistance when I moved in and kissed him. I didn't know what to do with them. (He was also not a very active kisser.) We "got the job done" and had a nice time for a while, but Black lips were something that I needed more practice with before I was to feel completely comfortable.

Eventually, with my last boyfriend, I came to appreciate all the wonderful aspects of Black lips. He knew what to do and when to do it. Plus, we were together long enough and got to know each other long enough to be very playful and experiment.

I guess I should say that there are probably White guys with lips like that, but I think kissing a Black guy is more about the gestalt of the experience. There's the taste and the smell that goes along with the feeling. And anyone who doesn't agree has neve kissed a Black man.

I should probably make it a point to kiss a Black woman at some point and see if it's a similar experience. I do have a friend who has great lips, but I don't see it happening with her at this point in time.

Swedish Consultant

2005-11-02T04:42:00.000-05:00

There is a guy here at work who is an outside consultant. He is blonde with a goatee and not too tall. He's absolutely delicious. I think he's like Swiss or something, maybe Dutch, not German, I hope.

This morning I was getting some artwork to be hung up around the building and he was sitting in the spare office I've been keeping the artwork in. I was surprised to see him. I've, of course, seen him before, but we've had limited interactions.

"Are those yours?" He asked.

"No. It's from vendors."

"You should hang up some of my artwork. It's nudes."

"That sounds nice." I smiled and shifted my eyebrown up.

"They wouldn't like it. They didn't like my cufflinks."

I thought he might be using the word "cufflinks" as a pseudonym for "love handles," like he was saying he's fat. (He's not.)

"Cuff links?" I asked. I pointed to my wrist.

He nodded. "They found them obscene."

"Huh," I said. I shrugged.

You never can tell about these Europeans. I didn't know if he meant obscene in a specifically gay way or a general way.

This guy is the type that I think would be absolutely wonderful fun to flirt with. He would probably be a little frustrating to have sex with (and might be a little surprising by like putting my hand in his shirt and feeling a cold, hairy, sweaty love handle.) I'm guessing he might be a little frigid, which I don't find an attractive quality.

I mean, he's not one of those that I immediately think of rolling over and eating his ass, but he's definitely got some sex appeal. I think he might be a really good kisser, and he probably has a fairly thick cock. He has a very nice bulge in his suit pants.

Day Dream at Work

2005-11-01T05:14:00.000-05:00

There's a little Portugues guy here. He's straight and has a family. He seems a little soft to me, the kind of guy that I sometimes have a little contempt for. I like a tougher guy and there's a cockiness to him that makes him seem a little tough.

So I walked past him in the hall today and I got a flash of what he would look like naked and facing the wall while I fucked him from behind. It was a nice little picture, his head rolled back and his stomach pooched out a bit.

It's nice to have sexy guys in the office.

Church Chum

2005-10-24T06:55:00.000-04:00

I ran into a guy at church yesterday. We always talk after church for a few minutes. The first time I saw him, I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. I thought he was absolutely beautiful. He's so one of my fantasy types. He's a Black guy from Nigeria. He wears his sweaters just so - have I written about him before? He's got a great face, albeit with an extra large nose. He's just one of those that I sort of wish were the exact same...but different.

As we stood to talk there outside of the church, he went on and on about how much he works. He gets to work at 8:00 and is immediately asked to solve several problems that have just cropped up. Then he has meetings the whole day and finally gets home by around 8:30, reads his e-mails, responds to a few - this is business e-mail - eats and goes to sleep.

Even on the weekends, he works and tends to work business. He said he if he has to keep that pace up until the end of the year, he will be looking for a new job. It sounds like a ghastly job. (ghastly - how gay was that?)

So here's this totally hot guy who is really not that hot now that I know a little more about him, like that he's in this career hell. He's totally unavailable, which is good to know.

I think jobs like that make people unattractive. "Yeah. I work 12 hour days - plus weekends."

Super. Let's have...let's...how about we talk for ten minutes after church every week? Great! See you then.

Dream of Bart

2005-10-19T06:10:00.000-04:00

The other night I had a dream about this guy at work. He's not that great, but I have a little straight boy crush on him. He's fun and easy to talk to and I bet he makes his wife really happy. But other than that, I don't find him that sexually attractive. The next day, after the dream, I ran into him in the hall and we waited for the elevator together, and I couldn't get the image of him in the dream out of my head.

Here's the dream:

I was standing in the hall talking to someone and Bart came out of a room wearing a pair of tighty-whities. His cock and balls were out of the top of the underwear and he was sporting a really huge hard on. It was one of those that is larger than average, but not impossibly big, like in a Tom of Finland drawing. His cock was uncut (as I'm sure it is in real life) and he had a nice crop of red pubic hair. His balls were also hairy. He wasn't doing anything particularly sexual in the dream (aside from sporting a hard on). He was mostly just walking around looking at it and joking about it, like a little kid would.

That said, I do have sort of a thing for red heads and red pubic hair.

Reminds me of a friend whose kid once walked up to her - at about three - pointed to his erection and said, "Look Mommy, my penis is strong!"

Bart's penis was strong, too.

Philipino Kid in Class

2005-10-14T04:45:00.000-04:00

Last night in class, during the break, I sat next to a little Philipino guy. He is one of those cute little guys who has a bit of sex appeal and looks willing. (He looks like he likes tall guys and likes being the little guy). I've always had a thing for short guys.

Recently, I had a conversation with a woman at work. She asked if I was monogamous with the bf. I said, "Yeah. I'm really crappy at the whole open relationship thing. Plus, everytime I look at a guy, I think I've done his type before." (That's any guy worth doing, btw.) So I don't really feel the need to "taste the offerings" of anyone since I feel like I've already been there. Mostly, though, the bf is so sexy that I don't need anything else, and I know it would break his heart into little pieces.

So I looked over at this little Philipino and I wondered what it was about him that seemed so familiar, that seemed like such familiar territory. I mean, I'm pretty sure I haven't done any Philipinos...well, not that small. Then I realized that he's sort of the would-be love child of two guys I did years ago - seperately.

The first was a little Korean guy. He had a very nice body, no body hair and no ass. It was really a huge shock when I cupped his ass in my hands and was like, Uhmm...the bottom half of your ass is missing. He squealed and moaned when I licked his balls. He was fun and had a tiny little hard dick. I imagine that the Philipino has the same tiny little hard dick. The Korean guy was fun and really into me, but then I had to ruin it all by telling him that I was already in a relationship and he was just a fling. (See, that's part of what I mean by "I'm really not very good with the whole open relationship thing.)

The second was a cute little Puerto Rican that years later turned into a nasty little drunken Puerto Rican. He was one of those that peaked at about 24. I did him when he was about 26 and then watched him turn into his father. He had a formerly cute little body that had been abused for years by alcohol and cigarettes. He had bad tattoos and always walked around without a shirt accomanied by two horrible pugs and a growing belly. He was actually moderately sexy when I fooled around with him - and he only had one dog.

So the little Philipino reminded me of a Puerto Rican on the decline who needs to start thinking about that stomach of his, and of a passionate little Korean with no ass. Also, he's into working at hotels. He currently works on a boat that is a hotel. I looked at him and thought, It would be fun for you, Sugar, but I would break your heart. Plus I would feel gross afterwards.

Memories of Adam

2005-10-03T02:02:00.000-04:00

I stood by a guy on the bus this morning that made me ask the question: Have I ever had sex wtih a guy like this?

I pride myself on having had sex with almost every "type" of guy. My list, and yes, I have a list, includes various ages, body types, ethnicities and, as with this guy, various emtional baggage. The guy had a receiding hairlne, which I usually find attractive. He was short, which I almost always find attractive. And he had these eyes that I could look in for hours and want to jump into. He also had thin lips, a five o'clock shadow and very defined features. He was the epitome of Adam, a guy I had a crush on for several months back in the spring and summer of 1999.

The problem with Adam is that once we'd done it, the intrigue was over. The chase, the game, was finished, and Adam quit paying attention to me and went in search of other prey. He wasn't very "there." He was just using all that energy to lure me in (and that was not very difficult at all) and then once he'd eaten a part of my soul, he was off again. (I was willing, I was willing.)

So, yes, I have had sex with a guy like that. I don't regret it, but it's that whole "fool me once" thing. It hurt bad enough that I know that that's not a place to go to get what I want. That was a great deal of the problem, in my opinion, that I expected much more than he could give, or ever promised.

Now I can look at guys like that and admire their amazing sexuality and glow (which is not always turned on - and when it's not, it's very sad) and know that I've been there, done that and I have the emotional scars (very slight scarring) to prove it.

Spanish Guy's Ass

2005-09-29T07:16:00.000-04:00

There's a Spanish guy here at work. He's one of the many white Latinos that are running around here. He's got choppy light brown hair that is streaked with blonde. He probably went to a lot of trouble to make his hair look like it needs to be cut desperately and like he just got out of bed. (It's what the kids are doing these days.)

I was walking to the elevator today and I noticed his ass. It's like two little melons. I immediately wanted to pull his pants down and put my face between the cheeks. It was absolutely lovely. He's one of those guys who dresses professionally, technically, but is just dripping with sexuality.

As for his chest? I don't know. I would guess it's just a flat piece of skin with a couple of nipples. His arms, probably spindly. But he's got one of those asses you could eat lunch off of - or eat for lunch.

Polish Kid on the Bus

2005-09-26T02:35:00.000-04:00

This morning on the way to work, I was on the city bus. Across from me was this Polish kid, probably 18 or 20. He had a few zits, but otherwise good skin. He had strawberry blonde hair and was a little...not chunky, but he had that extra ten pounds, but he didn't care. This kid was slumped back with his legs spread sort of chewing on a thumbnail or the end of a string. He had a little hole in the crotch of his jeans. He was completely unaware.

He reminded me of one of my favorite porn shots I have in my "library"of porn. Some young blonde kid with no great body, but an enormous cock. He's one of those kids who doesn't have a great personality or a great mind, but he's got a very big penis and for him, that's enough. It'll open doors and then when he's convinced that he's "got it," he'll turn a corner and his metabolism will stop like someone threw the emergency brake in a train and he will become genuinely fat. So my message to the Polish kid is: Have fun while you can.

It's a pity, really.

In the Park

2005-09-04T09:41:00.000-04:00

Today, I was in the park with the bf. I didn't really want to be there and showed up late, without a towel. I got up to pee. On my way back, I saw a very nice looking guy in a white speedo sitting with his knees up, eating an apple. His crotch was beautifully packaged in his little white shorts and I was glad I was wearing sunglasses so that I could stare right at it on my way back to where I was seated. He was a tall, dark haired guy with a nice body and a hairy chest.

Years ago, I would have gladly cruised this guy. I would have done him in a hot minute. He's the type of guy that caught my eye and then I got completely carried away and had sex with. However, I think he was probably the type of guy who is more fun in the chase than when he's been caught. If we could play the game up to that point, we'd both probably be just as happy. I don't need to have sex with him. I just want to get closer and closer, move towards his crotch and finally take his dick out - okay, and maybe put it in my mouth for minute. But that's it. It's not like I need to cum with him.

When I returned to the bf, I told him that I needed to go. I was uncomfortable with no towel. I told him I would be back in 45 minutes. I'll be back at 4:00, I said.

As I was getting on my bike, I saw the white speedo guy glance back at me. He was sexy and looked totally like a sex addict to me. I imagined him making a move on the bf. Then I looked at the bf. He's getting a little doughy and he's not very friendly to people like that. He'd be very lucky if the white speedo was to make a move, but he won't. I came home confident that I'll go back and everyone will be in his place, behaving himself.

I used to not mind casual sex like that with a sex addict. I really did feel like I was "using" them as much as they were "using" me. So what's the problem? The problem now is that I can't deal with it. I'm in a new phase of my life.

Fun Dream

2005-08-26T01:55:00.000-04:00

Last night, I had a dream where I was going to spend the night (i.e. fuck) a woman I worked with at a volunteer job I had some time ago. (Maybe there is a tiny little bit of a bi-guy in me?) When I got there, I went to put my coat away in the bedroom and I saw that there were two beds - one very large and one small. They were identical with their covers and headboards. Both were folded down - like they would at a hotel. It was lots of satin and fluff. I thought that I had probably gotten the wrong idea. I shrugged and removed my coat, throwing it on the smaller bed. I was sort of relieved as I have never had sex with a woman before and I was a little nervous about it.

Then I saw something in the other bed, a movement. Suddenly seven or eight guys emerged from underneath the covers. They were all naked and all totally hot. And I thought, Oh I get it! It was totally hot and all I could think of was this woman sort of ruining this scene by being there. I mean she's a very sweet, friendly person, but I don't want to fuck her - maybe watching a guy fuck her wouldn't be so bad.

Bad Massage Experience

2005-08-23T09:39:00.000-04:00

A couple of months ago, I saw an ad for a massage in my town. He was was spending the summer here and was from NYC. I am from NYC and I was sure that there was some connection. I'll call him Hal.

Hal is a certain type. He's a little over the hill and hanging on to youth fiercely. However, he's got that kind of sexiness where he feels really sexy, but I knew there wouldn't be any sex. So I booked a massage.

The massage was really good, amazingly good. It's the kind of massage I would love to get on a regular basis. I should have thanked him, paid him and left. But Hans wasn't home and I thought it would be fun to sit and talk for a while. (I also thought he might have a little pot.) It turned out that we had a couple of connections and common interests. He made passes at me...well, he made it clear that he was open. He looked at my feet and said, "Wow. Such great feet! Oh, if I were going to be bad, the things I could do to these perfect feet!" He talked about all the sex he'd had on that table. He talked about giving releases. It was clear from everything he said that had I given him the signal, I would have been Mr. Next.

I mentioned that I have a blog that reviews blogs. I just started it. He has a blog. "Would you review mine? I mean...no...I can take it. Oh, I'd love it if you did."

I agreed. We said we'd meet for coffee and talk about writing.

A few days later, I finished his blog and published my review. It wasn't great, but I wrote nice things. There's some nice writing in it and I see what he's trying to do. I also mentioned that he's an aging gay guy who is not interested in aging gay guys and that he was in the middle of a really sucky summer in our town. He thought he would come here and be discovered and make friends and have tons of sex and find a boyfriend.

He sat alone in his apartment most of the time, listening to a neighbor who he referred to as, "The Hacker." He had a really sad affair with a bi-guy and swatted mosquitoes. He now hates our town and has horrible memories of the natives. He is pretty racist and used that N word quite a bit and also crap about Jews.

I got busy with my life and never called to have coffee. Two weeks ago, I looked at his blog and saw that he had read my review. He went on and on about what a terrible person I was. He said I was probably bitter because he refused to have sex with me. He said I had scars all over my ass from being abused by someone. He was really angry.

The beauty of it was that someone (who has a dead blog) commented using my full, real name and called Hal a bitter, aging queen who can't write. He called Hal a hack poet. (Hal writes epic poems about life and nothing and being bitter.) The Commenter was vicious. He said, "Blake, how could you let this horrible, bitter thing touch you?"

I wrote Hal and told him that I had read his blog and that I thought it was unfair of him to say those things about me. He knew they were lies. I said that my review of his blog was not nearly as mean.

Hal wrote back and said he would re-look at what he'd written and suggested that I rewrite my review, since he had taken some of my advice and improved his blog.

I wrote back and said that I had taken the review off of my blog.

He wrote back and said that he had removed everything about me that he had written. So, essentially, I won.

It just goes to show that the gut feeling that I had that told me this guy was "one of that type" was true and that I should always listen to it. I looked at his blog again. He's toned it down. He wrote an epic memoir-type thing that's angry and sad. He's had a rough life. It's sad. He totally thinks that he's deep and spiritual.

The last line of his e-mail was "I don't care what you do with your blog or your life."

What a nasty, gay bitch!