bj's gay porno-crazed ramblings
Monday, September 30, 2002
achey ramblings on bandwidth, eBay, donations, and pornoSo, I'm realizing that my year of being hosted at DREAMHOST is almost up, and I think my domain name thingee is up in the spring, so I need to plan for staying on, right? I took advantage of their savings-by-paying-for-a-year upfront, which turned out well, as DREAMHOST has upped my bandwidth allowance a few times; and just today I am reading that I have 25gigs/month!!!! woo-hoo!! So that gives me a lot more flexibility on what i can post, bigger files, etc. And this weekend I just got re-instated by eBay, which is real good news, as those 45 days without that income has really hurt (but then again, don't feel sorry for me, I'm fairly lazy and could've gotten a resume together and looked for a "real" job, rather than goofiing off and trying to build my 70's porno empire.....)
Where was I? (all those exclamation points in the email got me dizzy...... or was that the junk food i had at 4:30 this morning....anyway) Oh yeah. So rather than be really tacky and put up some lame PAYPAL donation link (I'll do that next month when I'm really desperate), I figure I'd like to do more of a donate your tired, used porno kinda thing, and that way any of you who have mags or videos (gay preferred, but I can deal with other stuff, ewwwww, I think) that are just taking up space, e-mail me, and we can work something out. (please don't make me send amateur j/o of myself, please!) Several guys have already done this ( i won't name names. Well, send me some porn and I might...), which is fantastic of them, so why not you?
Ok, so I posted a couple of things on eBay already ( i think I have a link up on top somewhere there, oh wait, there it is) and hope to add more all week, plus do some stuff on NAUGHTYBIDS - cockrings (with real COCK in them!), stuff not allowed on eBay (like Black Gang Bang #9); oh gosh, should I try to sell those ripped undawears I have??? - anyway, you get the idea.
please please send me your unwanted porno!!
Sunday, September 29, 2002
damn! did I miss fashion week again?
"Pale washed-out legs were last year"
director: Peter de Rome
My porno fantasy, if I were allowed only one, would be to spend a week at a country home with Peter de Rome. Probably one of the few directors that I've thought about spending time with. He has so few commerical films, and yet I love all of them - I know he must have tons of 8mm film cans scatterred all about, and I'd love to see every one of them, with him, as he talked about his ideas, who the models were, etc. The above clip is from his first commerical film, a collection of his shorts, called The Erotic Films of Peter de Rome, released in 1973, culled from works he had done earlier. Unlike some of the other greats from the early 70's, he didn't start off with the idea that he could do better than what was currently out ( Poole, Steve Scott , and Jack Deveau had all said as much, and of course, achieved just that). No, De Rome had been making short films for his own enjoyment since the early 60's, and then began to share his work with his friends. After entering a European competion and winning, he was brought to the attention of Jack Deveau, who of course loved what he saw, and they worked together throughout the 70's. I must re-read his autibiography, it's quite fascinating. Meanwhile, enjoy this clip. I hope to post more of his shorts.
Saturday, September 28, 2002
play bite your ass?DZCKG [2:20 AM]: horny? available now? bob here
BJland [2:21 AM]: yes. maybe. hi bob
DZCKG [2:21 AM]: want company? like to suck and kiss be sucked get on top and play bite your ass versatile tho
BJland [2:22 AM]: well, stats, a pic, all that helps, of course
DZCKG [2:23 AM]: 48 5'7" 145 no pic moustache hairy chest muscular legs nice ass and dick
BJland [2:23 AM]: well, like to see a guy's face before inviting him over
DZCKG [2:24 AM]: I'm fun no pic here sorry can I call u or do u want to call me
DZCKG [2:24 AM]: I'm cute
DZCKG [2:25 AM]: still there?
BJland [2:26 AM]: yeah still here
DZCKG [2:26 AM]: what's the verdict?
BJland [2:26 AM]: well, i know i answered on invinting you over, so i'm not sure hwat your asking
DZCKG [2:27 AM]: can I call u and talk or do u want to call me before I come over? no pic here very sorry
BJland[2:27 AM]: naw, not into the phone thing, good luck, man
DZCKG [2:28 AM]: not into fone but to get an address etc.
BJland [2:28 AM]: huh?
DZCKG [2:28 AM]: to see where u live
BJland [2:28 AM]: oh sorry
DZCKG [2:28 AM]: want to call me?
BJland [2:29 AM]: i thought i was clear. a picture of your face before deciding about getting together
BJland[2:29 AM]: and you said you dont have a pciture
DZCKG [2:29 AM]: 9178264278 but no pic here sorry
Friday, September 27, 2002
eBay, please please let me get what I want!So, according to my calculations, my 45 day suspension should be over next week. But as they cautioned me in the suspension email, reinstatement is not automatic, so I wrote them this week asking how to get back. I got a friendly "fill out this form, read all these regulations, and send us a statement saying you read it and will be a good boy now" email. So, as much as I've read, and re-read those regulatons dozens of times in the past 3 years (they haven't been officially revised since November of 2000 - just constantly re-interpreted by them), I actually took the time to do it (something I'm sure is rare with other sellers). The email also cautioned me:
"**IMPORTANT** Please review the mature audience policy in its entirety. Your suspension was based on violations of this policy. Any future policy violations may result in the immediate and indefinite suspension of your eBay account.
Now, as much as I agree that "scanning receivers or radios that receive cellular transmissions or has "full 800mz" coverage" is a very serious issue, I figured either they are testing me to see if I actually read what I am supposed to, or someone made a silly mistake (we all do). But I couldn't help myself, and had to email the mistake to them, and then assured them that I did read and review the Mature Audiences pages, just to cover my
So, wish me luck, and if all goes well, I hope to be trading again within the week. And of course, I am still very very very happy to accept any and all of your porn donations.
not really a re-run if it's been 5 years since I've posted the clip, right?
"Seperately they smoke; together they're the men who put the Fire in Fire Island. In the fuckingest, suckingest, sand and surf sex spectacular of the long hot summer."
director: Jack Deveau
A New York City teacher (Malo) needs to get away from the constant cruising and pick-ups of Manhattan by taking a month at the beach - Fire Island! Starring: Malo, Matt Harper, D.(Paolo) Gorsky, Larry Paige, Hugh Allen, Pepe Brazil, Gary Hunt, and of course, Myles Longue (aka Ed Wiley). Written by Moose 100.
Click one of the pics to view the movie trailer (you know that if you view the clip in the browser, you can "right click" and view it FULL SCREEN, right?), or here if you want to download and save for later.
Thursday, September 26, 2002
can you say Gratuitous Underwear Pics ?
Naw, seriously, I figured I'm poking (fun) at those other guys, I should at least show some of my own sordid eBay past. Meanwhile, last night, I was in the middle of apologizing to some AOL'er about being an a-hole a few weeks back, mostly because he lives in far far away Williamsburg, and he's also only 25, but then I saw his pics (schwing!), and... well, the gods got their revenge. The power went out on just one line in my apartment, of course the computer and tv line, so I wasn't back up until 11 am (banging on the super's door - HURRAY!!! I MIGHT BE MISSING SOMETHING ONLINE!!!!)
I swear, no more randy eBay auctions....... after this one -
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
yesterday, day offIt ended like many, passing out in bed, the spoon from the ice cream still in my hand. A few minutes earlier, riding home from House of Regrets (but, no regrets last night, 3 "repeat offenders" got my attention for a while each, one with the door open!) I did my usual, stopping off at Key Food and grabbing some junk food. But late afternoon was the best time. I managed to get out of the house later than I had wanted, but still did a few errands, then headed across the Williamsburg Bridge for a nice bike ride.
Last week I had to go to Williamsburg on an errand, and while pressed for time, I thought I should try the bridge on my bike rather than the subway. Once I climbed the second set of stairs, carrying the bike, then riding uphill, in effect, I was starting to regret my decision. Panting like a dog, sweating, and I hadn't even seen the East River yet! But once I really got going, those endochrins or whatever that make you happy, got going, and the views, the breeze, the other bikers, all made my smile widen, and I was soon glad I took the bike. I dropped off the stuff I needed to, then headed towards the river, where it's fairly industrial, and had some time to snap some pics. Nothing fantastic, just those quirky "view of Manhattan thru industrial buildings on the other side of the East River" shots that everyone seems to get. But I also found a small little onshore park, and I hope those snaps come out, as I managed to get a few quirky "view of Manhattan thru shoreline of rocks from other side of East River" shots. Then I skidaddled back home, much faster than I could've planned, and had my sexdate with the "involved" guy, making a note to get back to Williamsburg with the camera again.
So yesterday was fantastic, as I had nothing planned for over 24 hours, so it didn't matter how much time I took, if I got lost, whatever. Tried one or two quirky "shots of Empire State Bldg thru Williamsburg Bridge masses of steel and fencing", and when I got to Long Island, skipped the funky with a capital F part, and headed straight for the industrial warehouse section along the shore, darting in and out of dead end streets, to see what sorts of views I could see, and sometimes capture. Was very relaxing, riding in what is really sort of a generic part of town, in the sense that it's common in many cities to have that part of the riverfront that's dedicated to warehouses and industrial use, with a few scattered tiny cute homes. Actually made me think of being a kid several decades ago, going with Dad to a building site to take measurements. Cars zooming past me like they're on a highway, seeing the occasional shirtless jogger or fellow bicyclist. I found the little park again (Grand St or Ave?), but it had too many people, so I rode north, occasionally spying other people with cameras, but trying to find the spots where no one else was. "Hey you, scram!" - I hadn't had someone yell that at me in awhile, but I guess he was locking up some gates, and I was on the wrong side. I smiled and said sorry as I passed him, he continued to scowl, my grin widened. (Just dropped of my film at K-Mart; I haven't shot a whole roll of film in one day on a very long time, and now have to wait til Sunday to get the pics and CD back). On my way back, stopped off at the little park, less people, but a good mix. Trendy guy sitting on rock playing with an electronic music-looking contraption; several Hasidic families, small kids running around ignoring their parents shouts; a man practicing some sort of horn. I took my place among them, climbed down the rocks, sat, took some more pictures. Late afternoon sun, cool breeze, very calming and restful, I eventually settled in on a bench and let the warm sun envelop me, the wind playing with my chesthairs, and silently congratulated myself for making a good day.
Ok, so you're a young woman, and one of your best friends is gay. So you like going out drinking, laughing, having fun, even taking pictures with him. Do you realize he's using those pictures for on-line "dating"? Maybe you want to give him a few lessons in photoshop so he can put those tasteful black bars over your face - it's easy, see? Now he'll get LOTS of dates!
To me it's very emotional music; just on it's own, and because I got turned onto this album last fall. Fantastic for late late nights of sleeplessness; perfect for a sensuous sex-date, which I would sometimes play in a different room for added effect; riding on my bike, with the discman on, I can suddenly start crying with this on, but it's always a good cry, so I never mind. I was actually surprised at how good this performance is, I didn't expect the simple staging and watching the insturments played to add so much to the already great sound. Anyway, enjoy.
Tickets for the U.S. tour have begun to go on-sale - 11/01/02 new york (sale date - 09/28/02 pre-sale 09/26/02
The new album, ( ), will be released Oct 29th.
Tuesday, September 24, 2002
A: You can purchase this CD by mailorder by sending a flattering photo of yourself and a check made out to M.C. Schmidt for $10 US to:
800 Hampshire Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
Lest one think from yesterday's post that I am a bitter old queen (actually, I consider myself, at 41, to be middle-aged), I actually like most of my fellow queers. Take the lovely and talented boys who comprise Matmos (please); I would do anything, anything, to watch those two men performing together (preferably without their trousers). Hence, when I saw the listing for the CD and how to obtain it, I sent a not-too-gushing letter with my 10 dollar check, and the pic you see here (there) to the right (above). As much as I'd love them to go "woah, he's hot, let us fly him out to san francisco and do unspeakable things to him for a whole weekend and make sure the audio tapes are recording every sound" - I'm actually hoping they'd just use it in some background installation or some "lets make fun of our fans" album artwork.
Monday, September 23, 2002
After a fairly slow evening at work, here I sat, thinking about the man I'd spent the last 2 late Friday afternoons with, getting ready to go to the Cock. I may see him one more time, but I really ought to do the "let's be friends" thing. See, he lives with his boyfriend, and while they have an "open" relationship, I don't. I mean, I don't have another relationship, so getting involved with someone who does, and getting tangled up in some sort of emotional tie with him would be a very bad idea. I must've lost 5 pounds Friday rolling around the bed with him, drenched in sweat and giggling. But he had plans to go to the movies or something, and who wants to hear about that? I can't do the fuck-buddy thing, I'm only able to do anonymous sex with someone I don't know. Once I know you, it has to move on to some other level, and here, it's just not possible. So, maybe just one more time, with the understanding that that will be it. He's handsome and affectionate and interesting, and while I certainly couldn't (yet) see him as "the one", I could see spending a lot more time with him over the next few months, and that just ain't gonna happen, so I ought to nip it.
So, as I strapped the cockring on, thinking of all this, my thoughts turned to the limitations of my usual Sunday night outing, where a bunch of rude men stand in the dark crawling over each other to see if someone has their cock out and if they can touch it. I'd love to be able to rig up some cameras from above, and just film the goings-on. And while prepared that not much would most likely happen, and that I should be prepared to simply humor myself by watching, smoking some weed, having a beer, it was in fact particularly annoying there last night. Several small groups of friends descended upon the backroom, each sipping their cocktails through tiny straws as they kept screaching at each other insane remarks that they chuckled over and remarked at how terribly clever they were being. "Oh so-and-so, get that nasty dick out of your mouth!" Hehe haha hoho. "Oh so-and-so, what are you doing back here, you naughty boy" What idiots. I really wish their were a list of rules, like:
Rule #1 - NO ACTING LIKE SILLY FAGGOTS.
Sunday, September 22, 2002
Actually, if I were still selling used underwear, I might make up a story like that. But, alas, this morning, while drinking coffee and sitting in this chair, alone, I could hear the boxers tear as I tried making my balls more comfortable by shifting. Just slightly at first, but once that little hole opened up, any movement made the boxers tear more. Damn! Now what do I do with them?
eBay and me
Spent some time this morning emailing a fellow seller (okay, so maybe i'm not a current seller, BUT I'LL BE BACK, BABY!) about some of eBay's do's and don't's. Just for fun, I pulled these 2 old automated emails from eBay after cancelling some auctions early in 2000. (way way back when you could, within certain parameters, sell used underwear - and last night I posted below some old pics from jockstrap auctions).
Subj: NOTICE: eBay Procedural Warning - Adult Item in Inappropriate Category
with us. Unfortunately your items were not properly categorized. Therefore, we have ended the auctions early and credited all fees to your account. Please view our Used Clothing guideline page for a better understanding of our auction guidelines and how they affect the way you list your items:
Subj: NOTICE: eBay Auction(s) Cancelled - Used, Unwashed Undergarments
357682050 hairy guy's HOT MEN's GOLD SPEEDO swim suit
with us. However, used clothing may be listed on eBay, only as long as the clothing has been thoroughly cleaned according to the manufacturer's instructions and the auction's Item Description does not contain inappropriate or extraneous descriptions. Such listings will be moved to the adult section or ended. Therefore, we have ended this auction(s) and all fees have been credited to your account.
Saturday, September 21, 2002
must wake up and get my ass to work. Body aches. Gosh, after my "date" left around 6ish, I don't think I did a dang thing. oh yeah, Jocko found a nice young man who's posting 2 remixes of Bjork 's IT'S IN OUR HANDS.
Friday, September 20, 2002
apparently this guy hasn't been reading my eBay pointers - look now before his auction is cancelled
Director: Wakefield Poole (1974)
Casey Donovan and Val Martin, (House For Sale), in a simple-themed film about men looking for a place to live (renting a room, getting a roommate, etc). Includes Burt Edouards, Kurt Gerard, (Rooms For Rent), and Peter Fisk and Tom Wright (Apartment For Rent). While the first two parts can be seen in the 1989 E-Z Rider video release called Tease Me, I believe the film is out of print, or may never have made it on to video. While Casey Donovan and Val Martin were the 2 "big names", for me the real highlight is the third part, with Poole's real-life lover Fisk, involving a beautifully filmed fisting scene, as well as the unexpected haircut of Tom Wright duirng the sex scene . Seeing this film this summer, I couldn't take my eyes off Fisk's tattooed forearms!
Maybe I can get a little help here. Often I get folks saying they can't view the movie clips I post, and even when I send the Windows Media Player link, some ( I won't mention names) say they can't figure out which one, or are too lazy to actually read in order to figure it out. So, maybe this little link here could help. I tried it in two different browsers, and it recommended two different versions of the player, based on my operating system and the browser. SO maybe a few of you would be kind enough to click it, see what it says, and email me so I can judge if maybe I should use that link each time I post a clip to help folks out.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
Ok, let's try to get this right - Jock worn is good - we all love JOCKS and if we can't be one, or date one, we want to wear their used clothing. But, you can't sell USED UNDERWEAR on eBay, so keep the JOCKWORN stuff to shorts, shirts, running gear, maybe even pajamas (mmmm, JOCK WORN FLANNEL) and all that, - oh yeah, and SPEEDOS - lots and lots of SPEEDO freaks, er, collectors, out there; used underwear = bad, used jockgear = good; got that?
Have I mentioned that 2 or 3 of the eBay items I've posted on this page in the last couple days have been REMOVED???? One guy, I think he had the abs, a football jersey - perhaps he forgot to mention that he'd clean the damn thing. The other one might have been used underwear, which is terribly, terribly naughty. Gosh, I'd hate to think the same freak who finked on me is reading this page, and ratted on those other guys. But i am having a terrible time not being allowed to deal on eBay - I only hope that I can jump through all the appropriate hoops in the acceptable fashion when I plea my case for re-activating my account in 2 weeks. I've got lots of fun stuff for sale (all within eBay's guidelines, of course). One eBayer emailed me that one of his porno videos was cancelled "because one of the performers was Brian Maxx ..... and "XX" is a violation" - they must be using some sort of search looking for "inapproriate" XX and XXX rated videos. Ah capitalism.......
Yes young man, free speech is a wonderful thing. This is how it works. Silly protesters briefly interrupt some sort of government speech/meeting/announcement. They are hauled away, and given a summons, few hours in jail, whatever. The governmental employee/elected official/bureaucrat remarks on how great our country is - afterall, we haven't chopped off the hands or heads of the protesters. Therefore, we have the moral right to bomb the crap out of those countries that do such things. Capiche?
At first I didn't like this song much, with the non-Sarah hip-hopish 2nd vocal, but it grew on me. Rumoured to be the second single release from St. Etienne's Finisterre - Soft Like Me. I must say, though, the last song on the album, the "title track" is so great - quitely sad, even though I have no idea what the lyrics are...... but you should wait to get the album, and hear it after listening to the whole thing. Hope they tour soon.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Odd how the brain works. Or maybe more accurately, odd how my brain works. Yesterday was an extremely UP day for me. Saw several friends, two of the newer variety, two of the old-friends variety. Rode my bike around doing errands (which was supposed to involve buying stuff like socks and cd's, but turned out to be looking at spots where those socks and CD's should have been). Dropping by a pal's workplace for a great hug and a load of work on my back (backpack), having beers with another and meeting one of his handsome friends (who I'd seen out before, but now there's a name, and the image of a few hairs poking their way over the top of his shirt collar....). And met up with one of my oldest friends, an ex, at another friend's benefit party. The benefit party was for my other friend's work she is doing helping mothers and children in Nepal, and I've known her for years, worked for her in her vintage shop - in fact, lived in an apartment that she uses as a storage space. Without going into the particulars of the great work she is doing, I was rather overwhelmed at being at this party. I quickly took a spot away from the crowd, absorbing the music, sitting alone, watching people interact, looking at the large photographs of the folks in Nepal that have benefited from her work. But the most amazing thing to me was seeing her, my friend. Full of energy, greeting people, getting nervous at the prospect of speaking to this large group, even though they are mostly friends and contributors. She is just one of those people who her BEING is an inspiration. Loving, caring, yet modest and self-effacing, nuturing. And better yet, she brings those qualities out in other people. There's no guilt trip here, merely a warm personality that reminds you that your life can and should make a postive difference.
I'm not really connecting the dots the way I wanted, but I think this morning, feeling a bit down, and letting my post title from yesterday, we live as we dream, alone sink in and absorb me, I am caught perhaps in just trying to process everything form yesterday. I can go for days, and even weeks, quite frankly, without seeing or spending time with friends, and so maybe the high of seeing 4 in one day has gotten me to be so contemplative. Or maybe it's the contrast of the feelings from that tune that contrast with the knowledge of something different, of seeing how others do impact you, and how you impact others. Maybe it's the scarey feeling that I don't impact others as much as I'd like, or ought (to me those are the same things, the ought is a self-imposed high standard that while I often feel I fall short, I still want to reach it). I wish my hugging of one friend could've cheered him up enough, I wish the few green pieces of paper I dropped in the bowl could've gotten that second home in Nepal for her work, I wish a lot of things, I guess. I guess i also need to do what occurred to me last night, talk to my friend about her work. I know that she's well aware of the obvious impact, she actually sees the transformation of the kids getting an education, the mothers finding a nurturing place, all that. But I wonder if she's aware that her personality is infectious, that it's inspiring in other ways that she doesn't see, and couldn't possibly be aware of, that there is even more benefit. What I love is that she is not a person who thinks in terms of changing the world, of being some great "leader", but rather has this pragmatic knowledge that what you do can, and should, make the world better, in whatever ways you can.
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Having a Gang of Four mini-concert in my boxer shorts. Oh wait, I mean, listening to Gang of Four while sitting in my Encorswish-donated boxers. That Chicks on Speed song sounded like it sampled We Live As We Dream, Alone, one of their many fantastic songs, from the album Songs of the Free, their third, and probably my favorite (despite the mini-hit I Love A Man In Uniform). I remember very clearly buying their first album after a rave review in Rolling Stone, coming home, unwrapping the 12-incher, putting it on my J.C. Penny stereo, cranking it, and getting blown away. Probably the best live band ever, I've seen them maybe only 4 or 5 times, and that Andy Gill with his amazing guitar playing, his hips moving and mesmerizing me, causing this non-dancer to always move when their music plays. I remember getting a fake I.D. so I could see them in this small club in Chicago back in 1981, when I was only 20. Muscle For Brains is another amazing song from that album, Jon King (the other Jon King) screaming out those first few words, "Don't help me, I can save myself!", and of course the album's first tune, Call Me Up, with Gill and King alternating the vocals.... "It's not so bad in the promised land (It's not so bad in the promised land), It's not so bad in the promised land (How do I fill my days? A force called 'Hard Cash' moves my feet)".
Shit, no turntable, grrrrrrrr. Must go hunting for Songs of the Free on CD. Later!
Do I hear one dollar? One dollar, one dollar, one dollar.....
So I guess this will be sortof an Andy post. I wanted to post about something else, but I fogot it/am too sleepy to write about it/have a shorter, more humorous anectdote instead.
So, I am at work, sitting behind the counter and it's getting pretty busy, that 7:30 folks getting home from work not wanting to cook pick something up on the way home rush. One of my ex's comes in, and is about to place his order, we try to say hey and all that but it's real busy, But he has to take and/or make a call, says he'll be right back. Then two good-looking men come in together, approach the counter and stare directly down at the plasticized menu. I say "Can I help you, sir?" He looks up to say "just a minute" then smiles when he recognizes me, asks how I've been, and introduces me to his pal, who looks very familiar. I say hi, take their order, and they go wait. The ex comes back in, I take his order, we talk briefly about nothing, and he has clearly spotted the other two men. Now, the tall guy I talked to with the pal, I dated him for all of 3 dates maybe 2 years ago, and about 6 months ago had one of those silly late night 3-ways that always sounds more fun than they really are (the third guy kept fast-forwarding some porn video, like "hello - there are two horny men standing over/under you Now!"). And I was pretty sure I had had sex with the pal, and it took me only a few minutes to realize it was an AOL hook-up - and I have the videotape to prove it! Hehe! It didn't come out too well, the color all screwy, but still, it was hot, and hot to watch, especially when he tried to hide his face by having me have my back to the camera shielding him while he crouched down and blew me (but you get see his cock popping out of his jockstrap from between my legs...). So here I am, bagging orders, taking orders, answering the phone, smiling widely looking out and seeing 3 hot guys who I've had sex with standing only a few feet from me. Cool.
Monday, September 16, 2002
The Chicks on Speed Fashion Rules remix - is that the bassline, or the first few notes, from the GANG OF FOUR's We Live As We Dream, Alone? Anyone know? (oh yeah, they'll be here - well, in BROOKLYN - in October with PEACHES - yeah!)
lubeboy...it's all coming back to me. He left around 6 a.m., after one last attempt to get me to "help him out." I should've known it would be a weird night, after talking to another guy at the Cock who just didn't get that I wasn't interested. He'd ask "Do you live in Manhattan" and respond to my answer with "WOW! really??!" Then "do you ever go to the Cock?" Another curt "yes" and he says "really??! When?" "Um, how about now, man" "Oh, I never see you here, and I'd remember you!" Ugh. I went to get a beer, and while handing over my 5 bucks, my t-shirt is being tugged at, from the top of the collar, hard. It's him. I turn with a nasty look, he moves forward. "Oh, does that bother you?"
I disappeared, leaning against a column of sorts, slurping the beer, watching two guys trade blowjobs near the front of the bar. I guess the backroom (20 feet away) was too far for them. Very hot, though. Going back to the overly lit backroom for the 4th time, I watch 2 guys go at it, one sitting on the couch slurping furiously at his tall, hugely hung partner. Slurper grabs my ass, trying to pull me in. I was content to watch, so neither encouraged nor discouraged him. As tall hung man moves towards a 3rd guy out of my view, slurper turns his attention more directly towards me, but then stands up, moving his butt into tall hung man. Now he kisses me passionately, pulling my cock out of my pants, stroking lightly. After another 15 minutes of maneuvering, and hugely tall (or was that hung?) man has gotten rather involved with 2 others, slurper asks me if i live nearby. He then confesses that he'll never get it up adequately here in this crowd, why don't we go to my place. I caution him that I'll be asleep within 10 minutes of getting home, he begs for 15 and whispers some barely audible filthy things in my ear. He starts to leave the backroom, holding my hand as I follow. Once we get to the front of the bar, he asks me to lead, and grabs my hand to be lead out into the street. I should have called the whole thing off when I saw he was wearing a TWILO t-shirt, but I was happy for the attention.
We talked a bit on the walk home, he had a slight Southern accent. He used the bathroom as soon as we got in, and when I returned from my turn, he was lying naked on the bed. I loaded about an hour's worth of music on WINAMP, and began to gently touch his balls with my tongue. Then the narration began. At first it wasn't so bad, a lot of "oh yeah, your _____ feels good; (verb) my (noun)" that sort of thing. But then it starts to get instructional, and I wasn't following his instructions, so he'd have to quickly change his narration to fit what I was actually doing. At one point, it got so bad I started to think of that Simpsons episode where Bart has Santa's Little Helper in dog-training school and is doing the "sit, stay, roll-over, lick that other dog's butt" routine. I supressed my laughter, and then the Rite-Aid bottle with lube comes out, and gets poured all over our genitals. Back at the Cock, he assured me he would get hard, and would get huge, and neither happend as far as I could tell from 3 am when we arrived, until he finally left.
Don't get me wrong, huge wasn't so important to me, except his narration kept including that word when talking about his limp dick that barely managed to stay in my mouth. "take my huge cock, oh yeah, you like that big dick, doncha?" And he kept putting lube on, and making that squish squish squish sound that I thought only happened in mid-80's porn videos when he jerked himself. As the Grace Jones song came on, the last one I programmed, I realized it had been an hour of this, and I was gearing to cum, and get this over with. He could tell I was getting ready, and begged me to wait, more lube on him, more shifting of positions (did I mention the position-shifting? constant maneuvering and re-maneuvering, these tweekers really need to start adding Qualudes to their diet), squish squish.
I started getting lost in my own thoughts, mostly "please god make him go" as well as "damn, I forgot to get half-and-half, the morning's gonna suck." Somehow I managed to wrangle my dick from his hands (he lept pulling it away from me, and it was like a bad wrestling match which I always gave up on until then to get my cock back). Under these circumstances I would normally have extreme difficulty getting hard, but he started talking about the hugely hung tall guy from the backroom, and how hot it would be with him. Sproing! And it got there quick, he narrated my jerking for awhile as I then tried to tune him out, I stood up over him, and despite his "wait, waits" he finally gave up and started encouraging and splat! splat! splat! I was done.
Surprisingly, he pulled me down to lie on top of him, and wanted to cuddle. His hands were gently stroking my body, it felt good, and I was lulled into a half-sleep. I could hear him maneuvering around again, and he was doing some sort of squish squish on the other side of the bed, but I kept my eyes shut and prayed he'd finish up. I'm pretty sure I did fall asleep, if still aware of his presence while dozing, and he alternated touching me and squishing on himself. Finally he says, "gee, I should let you get some sleep" I opened my eyes, and said "yeah, it's been more than 15 minutes" He responded with "can you suck my dick for just one more minute and I'll leave" I couldn't contain my laughter, but tried to make it good-hearted laughter with a bit of weariness as I said, "man, you gotta be kidding, I'm going to sleep" He laughed, asked if he could shower (that quart of lube on his body must've been getting to him finally) and I agreed, and 5 minutes later, ushering him out, I see it's 6:07 Monday morning. Ugh
Sunday, September 15, 2002
but my thong is yellow - try to beat that!
no, no! buy my stuff, and I'll let you look at my abs.
Dude! buy my HOT jersey, and I'll let you look at my abs!
Was at work for 14 hours today (Saturday)! Finally home, some snacks, some weed, and the remote control. Will have to do some thinking about the sexdate Friday night. Really dig his face, his demeanor. But I may just wait and see if this "married, but with permission to fool around" guy contacts me first.
Saturday, September 14, 2002
... the sex was good. There's a catch; I knew this before he got here, and it didn't matter then - he has a boyfriend. But then he turned out to be cuter than his pics, and sweet, and affectionate. He was here for awhile, and wants to see me again. Hmmm. the sex was good.
Friday, September 13, 2002
How come after checking out the new 'do over here, did I suddenly remember that I just had to download this Blondie song?
(envy is rarely pretty)
"Did you ever wonder about those New York apartment buildings where any kind of action is possible, and every man is fair game? From the elevator man; to the super's teenage son; to the lover's in Apt 12C; and their best friend - well, you can stop wondering."
Director: Jack Deveau (1981)
After 2 lovers quarrel during thier 1st anniversary dinner, a series of silly, but fun vignettes involving getting locked out of the apartment, telegraph boys, ex-lovers, etc, all, of course, involving sex. Includes a nice intro into the film with Jack Wrangler and Malo. Starring Buddy Preston, David Dion, George Brown, Luke, and Lee Marlin.
Thursday, September 12, 2002
I wind up going for the 2-4-1 beer, but stay long enough only to have the first beer, and the chip entitling me for another stays in my pocket, unused. Across the street, at The Cock, the dense crowd seems more drugged-out than usual. I have a joint stuffed somewhere in a pocket, but the music, the "vibe" here doesn't feel right. Everyone is glassy-eyed, a few silly dancers seem to only bump into me, not into the rest of the crowd. I don't stay long, I ride aimlessly towards my home, and it's not long before I am asleep.
In the morning I woke up for only a few minutes around 10 am, long enough to hear that the world was very quiet, a cool breeze from the window urging me to go back to sleep, and I did. Maybe an hour later I wake, the kids in the playground nearby making their usual noises, screams and laughter, very reassuring. Coffee, blog-skimming, laundry, and later a bike ride just around the park nearby, I took it easy, enjoyed the relative quiet this part of town affords. In the back of my head I knew there was lots of activity elsewhere, the occasional plane or helicopter straying way over east, above.
Worked scheduled for 6, I got there my usual 15 minutes early. It was slow for the first hour and a half, something that was expected. Suddenly it got busy, and I was unable to quietly contemplate, greatful for that. At one point a woman with a large grinning face starts to order, prefaced with "I have a question" Apparenlty she wants a la carte what we only serve as a meal, I explain the menu a bit, she asks for suggestions, consults with her tall, but unhelpful husband, I keep smiling (the computer screen actually says SMILE! SMILE! SMILE! on it in case we forget). She orders something finally, which of course involves making several more decisions, she hands over money, I smilingly hand her change, she asks for one of the bottled sodas. As I hand it to her, and some more change, she smiles widely and says "thank you for being so patient with me, it's been a long day, 12 hours at Ground Zero." I finally look beyond her face, and take in the flag pin on her shirt, the surprisingly inoffensive patriotic t-shirt, her husband is wearing an FDNY memorial baseball style cap, and some Veterans t-shirt. I smile more genuinely now, nodding quietly towards her, my eyes - no, you are at work, hold it in.... I wait for their order, it seems to have quieted down, and I look them over. They look like the "ugly Americans" that you see on the tour busses, or in foreign capitals, with loud clothing and phrase books. But I am also seeing their eyes, and I only see 2 other humans, and am warmed by their tired eyes. When the order is ready, she isn't in the store, but he is, I hand it to him, wish him a goodnight, and he inspects the inside of the bag breifly, heads to the side counter and looks to be struggling with hot sauce. I offer one of our small pre-wrapped containers, advising it might be easier for him, he smiles, thanks me, takes it as he allows our eyes to meet only briefly. I am grateful to have seen just two of them, and not a mass on some television screen. No doubt very different from me, but a subtle, welcome reminder of my own values, treating people as individuals, not dismissing them because of looks or perceived differences, and all that crap. I head over to the counter and straighten out the newspapers left there, N Y Times headlines screaming for my attention, I bury them under some local, less obvious distraction.
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
December 21st, 1988, I got a phone call at work. "I have to run home to my family, my sister may have been in a plane crash" was the gist of the few words I heard. My boss let me leave and meet him at the apartment, packing furiously and hoping against hope that it wasn't true. We hugged without letting ourselves show much emotion, so he could leave quickly, and he was gone. The news confirmed the awful news, and in the next few days we barely had a chance to speak on the phone, me going to my family for the holidays, he comforting his family and dealing with government officials. The months after that were awful for him, all the questions, and tears, and regrets. I had not ever actually met her, only saw her once in person, as she ran up to us in the Gay Pride March only a few months earlier, spotting her brother, hugging him and looking into his beautiful brown eyes with her almost identical beautiful brown eyes, simply saying "I love you." I noticed the earrings she was wearing, the ones he was so happy to have found, vintage silver and marcasite, for her birthday. I don't think he was "out" to her, but clearly she knew, and was hoping to see him that day. His little sister, beautiful, loving, caring. Gone.
The years since then haven't been good, either, as we as a nation forgot, got over it, moved on. An airport tax for alleged security measures, accusations of one nation or another funding the terrorists, quiet ceremonies on the anniversaries. Do you know the exact same thing can happen again? A bomb in a suitcase, checked in, the passenger doesn't board. No one knows until it's too late. I don't feel comfortable discussing someone else's personal life, having it skimmed over, dissected, and worse, forgotten about. But too often we allow the politicians and news media to hijack events like this to suit their own purposes, proving their patriotism, getting ratings to sell cheeseburgers and deodorant, passing legislation that will advance some scarey agenda without giving the promised security. We let ourselves get cynical, and dismissive, and forget not only the folks we've lost, but forget that we have an obligation to figure out how we can learn from this, demand more reponsibility from government, hold up news media to higher standards of actual journalism. We shut down, its too much, I can't make a difference, and I honestly don't know if I can argue against any of that. 14 years later I clearly remember my mother's helpless face as I asked where she keeps "the hard stuff" when I couldn't sleep that Christmas Eve night. 14 years later I clearly remember my boyfriend crying on the street, middle of a sunny winter afternoon, the sound unbearable, and all I could do was hold his shaking body, letting him lean on me, a loss I won't even dare imagine.
No, it's not the only tragedy, but it quite honestly sickens me when I hear or read something to the effect - so what? more people died some other way, more suffering happened this other way, etc. If something different affects you more, fine, talk about it, do something about it. But it needn't be at the expense of another's loss or tragedy. We heard it in the 80's when we wanted money for AIDS research - "more people die from cancer" - where did that get us? Not enough funding for either, and now more people die from AIDS - but are those same people swayed now? No. It's not here in our country, it's not people like me, etc. We can't fix everything, we can't prevent every loss, of course. But that's not an excuse to do or feel nothing.
Spend your day, or any other doing what works for you, whether its glued to the TV, going to the movies, or perhaps what many many of us are doing, not necesarily announced in public, or even totally consciously, lost in thought, sad, mournful, angry, wondering. One of those ACT UP chants that seems so appropriate in many other contexts: REMEMBER THE DEAD, FIGHT LIKE HELL FOR THE LIVING.
Thoughts on a day while trying to hold back on the other thoughts.
Happy Birthday, young man.
Monday, September 09, 2002
Sunday, September 08, 2002
one of the many reasons I am feeling more agitated about this coming September 11th. I think it's obvious that there is a mixture of intense emotions surfacing as we get closer to this anniversary, and the cynical side of me is gearing up to protect myself from the onslaught of unwelcome and, in my mind anyway, offensive, things I'll be subjected to. Clearly the reactions to, and rememberances of that day will be as varied as the number of people it affected. I hope that I can find a way to tolerate, ignore, or otherwise deal with reasonably the ones that are very different than my own. Television will once again be a huge part of this, as even those of so close experienced so much of it thru that machine. But early this morning, as I woke up coughing and headachy, trying to find a tv show to pass the time, as I flipped thru, I saw what I thought could only be a joke. Larry King was doing a "Where were you on Sept 11th" sort of compilation clip show - and of course it was all celebrities. Last year it seemed it was weeks before we were subjected to the usual tv onslaught of "how to make this event more entertaining - let's find some celebrities" formula. So it should be no surprise that a year later, it will be part and parcel of the tv coverage. But it still bothers me; it in fact made me cry, flipping the channel away from Tom Cruise and Judge Judy. All that crap about how we are forever changed by that day. I know that we can't all be changed in the same way, but it did seem, for a while anyway, that we realized that the regular joe was important. That the range of workers, strangers to each other, that helped each other get out of that building, comforted each other inside that building, searched the city and put up posters together in the days and weeks after.... We seemed to have a renewed respect and admiration for firefighters and cops and even people like the manager of the subway station at WTC who knew when the first plane hit to evacuate immediately, saving tens of thousands of lives. This instinct, this gut reaction to not only save yourself, but to reach out to other humans was wonderful to relearn about each other. And in the days and weeks after, as we roamed about the city, often in a daze and lost in our own thoughts, that nod, even that faint smile that we dared share with complete strangers, it said more than "i know what your'e going thru" - it said, "I'm there for you, brother; I'm there for you."
Saturday, September 07, 2002
2 offersgot home from work, the Theraflu worked for those 6 hours, but I can feel the symptoms coming back. Quick check of email showed 2 offers of assistance for my getting better. One from a pal to rub my chest, with or without Vicks vab-o-rub (he's in Kansas, tho.....) Tne other was for chicken soup and ball licking. But this one claimed to be 2700 miles away. The name seemed familiar, but a quick search of old emails showed no previous correspondance. Hmmm. took a brief nap, but woke up and thought - oooooooh, THAT guy! mmmm, that face between my thighs, oh yeah! And the other day, poking around his website, I saw some below-the-neck furriness. Jeez, if he lived closer, I'd really reconsider my no-one-under-35 rule, oh yeah!
Sneezing. Coughing. ewww, burping? Those are the symptoms, so a quick Theraflu, and I need to get outta here and git to work. But tonight need to take it easy. SO - anyone out there wanna come by with soup, and lick my balls for a few hours, you know how to get in contact...
"All it takes is a token - and a whole lotta nerve!"
Director: Ian McGraw (1982)
Another from P M Productions, actually filmed in the New York City subway system, this film teases the viewer with the promise of casually dangerous public sex. The cruising on the trains rings true, of course, but the actual sex is in closed-off bathrooms and passageways - but still hot! Keith Anthoni, with those pouting eyes (and huge schlong), stars, plus Daniel Holt, Jeff Stone, Tharon Davis, Ashley DuBois and others.
Friday, September 06, 2002
One year ago today...... after the live performance, had to go to Napster (or whoever it was a year ago) and download the studio recording of Generous Palmstroke. (oops, shouldn't I be off to work now? did I mention he had beautiful hairy balls that smelled of his rushing out of the shower and into a cab to come down here?)
hotwhen describing a hairy, thick-dicked, cute-as-hell Latin 20-something who just left your home but left something of himself on your sweat-dripping chest, is the modifier "hot" always used? Just asking.
Gosh, just after noon and I'm on my second post of the day? Makes no sense at all. Was still up at 5 am watching Simpsons on DVD (thanks Mr Tool - not his real name... or is it?) Managed somehow to get the porn clip up, realizing that tomorrow is the end of my "billing month" at Dreamhost, and I've got tons of bandwidth to use, so who knows, maybe another clip by Saturday morning. I finally put together my P M Productions page; and while it is rather "in the rough" at the moment, I figured I can add, correct, elaborate, etc., as time goes on. Also watching a few new (or new to me) blogs - not ready to report on them, but all 3 look very interesting, and best of all, challenge my silly biases. Two are by very young men (like 20-somethings, ouch!!) who it turns out are far more than merely cute, but actually quite interesting; the other is - egads- a married bisexual man, whose writing is quite amazing. I'm fascinated by this one, and need to delve into his.... archives. Speaking of bloggerboys, let's play Guess the hot blogger. I took the pic to the left here at Gay Pride, thought he looked familiar but I hadn't recalled the priveledge of seeing him shirtless, and luckily my camera was working as fast as my filthy mind. Had forgotten all about it, but developed my Gay Prode pics this week, and here we are. So, let's play Guess the Hot Blogger - you boys (and girls, shirley there must be some girls!!!) e-mail me with your guesses, and feel free to explain your guess (it must be so-and-so, I recognize that lickable pit"), I'll tally them up by Monday and print a full pic of the young man (no, that's not necessarily a clue, just a term of endearment).
Director: Mac Larson (1982) (aka Joe Gage)
Thursday, September 05, 2002
That's Mister John to you
Finally developed my Gay Pride pics - not a lot here, but a few good photos that I hope to post soon.
Another AOL member ignoring my desperate pleas for attention....
One Year Ago Today...
I've mentioned this several times in the past, so briefly - Last fall I was lucky enough to win a pair of tickets to one of Bjork's "secret shows" at Riverside Chapel here in NYC with about 100 other people. Of course every song was fantastic, but this one we hadn't heard yet, and it was amazingly dramatic in that small venue, with Zeena Parkins's powerful accompaniment to Bjork's incredible singing. I'll try to remember to put up an mp3 of the studio recording that was the b-side on Hidden Place here in the States, and I believe Generous Palmstroke was actually included on the British version of Vespertine. I find much comfort in her lovesongs, seemingly simple, amazingly complex.
so needy of comfort
but too raw to be embraced
undo this privacy
and put me in my place
mmmm mmmm mmmm mmmm
the hugest of hugs
undo this privacy
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
One year ago today.... Bjork on TV - Pagan Poetry Live
I think I need to change some of my habits - my attempts at finding "dates" of various sorts is just irritating, humiliating, and downright nonproductive. I don't know of the "right" way to do it, but certainly the on-line attempts don't work for me. Getting a feel for whether I want an actual date (as opposed to a mere sex hookup) is nearly impossible for me. I rarely get any sense of who a person is from a profile, a few emails or a few minutes or even longer of Instant Messaging. Actually, while I know I'm not so great in expressing myself in the written form, I am usually very turned-off by most personal profiles that I read. I joke about the "UB2's," guys who describe themselves in detail and then require you to be just like them. I mean, if it was something like "good self-esteem with a healthy dose of modesty; enjoy turning my partner on, and making him smile out of bed as well; affectionate; opinionated but trying hard not to be judgmental kinda guy - UB2" - well, then, maybe. But maybe not - ugh, why the UB2 part - don't you want someone who is different from yourself? I suppose if you were talking about shared values, rather than physical characteristics, or personality traits, then that makes sense to me. Last night, after a rather nonproductive late night of searching outside of this apartment, I came home to an email via one of the free on-line dating services:
"Hey there I like your look man. Do you like masculine, affectionate, down to earth Black men ?? Take a look not only at my photos, but read my profile, let me know if there is any intrest."
I have to admit pausing at the word "masculine" - another of my pet peeves - I just assume that if you need to use it to describe yourself or your desired mate, then you have "issues" with masculinity, and I won't fit the bill or be compatible with you. But, on the other hand, folks often just use the words they see around, and I need to not get too hung up on one word, perhaps a genuinely harmless one. So I clicked on the link and checked out his on-line profile, which was neither good nor bad (well, he does go on a bit about oral hygiene). but of course, ended in the dreaded Hiv Neg U B 2 please.
Gosh, I have never, EVER been asked that in person from a potential date. And I don't know if it's merely a matter of it's really that important to guys, but in person it's too scary to ask, or too embarrassing or difficult to deal with the answer/consequence - and the online thing gives you that ability to ask and "require" the stuff you can't bring yourself to ask about in person - and therefore, if "not a match" as they say, you can simply type those words at the other guy, or ignore their instant messages, or log off, or whatever other mature methods of dealing with a rather serious and personal issue that is. I've mentioned this "pet peeve" of mine in the past, and have had it misinterpreted, apparently, judging by a few emails I've gotten. Perhaps its my age, and I don't mean merely how old I am, but more that I've been having sex for over 20 years, have been doing my best to have "safer sex" for most of those years, and I guess I just ASS-ume we all do that. But it's as if I am in a time-warp, where I am acting like it's 1987, where we don't know anyone's HIV status, and you act accordingly. And because we didn't know, we "risked" falling in love with someone who may well be poz, and could get sick, and yes, could die, or infect us. And not everyone dealt with those scary thoughts well. And then it got even scarier - now we can take a test, and require others to take it, and reveal the results to us, and decide who to avoid. Maybe I'm crazy, but my own little ridiculous method of calculating my odds at finding a good partner have meant that after I have eliminated anyone under the age of 35, and various other silly factors, there ain't that many left in the potential pool. If I start to calculate out anyone who might make life difficult, those with substance abuse problems, who smoke cigarettes, who have or may get a disease, who ride bikes on busy New York streets amongst the most dangerous cabdrivers in this county, who eat at McDonalds and have a few extra pounds.... well, maybe I'll be safe, but I'm afraid I will be very, very lonely. Life can be very difficult, and scarey, and I want to find a grown-up who understands that, and despite all my numerous flaws, and all the potential difficulties ahead of us, knows in his heart that life with me is a helluva lot better than life without me - that's what I hope to give, as well.
And I've had a handful of dating offers because of this blog I started so many months ago, and while quite complimented at some of the nice things a few guys have said, in all honesty, I have a hard time with the idea of being at this huge "disadvantage" before even meeting - I know very little about someone, and they may have read months and months of my thoughts and views on various, mostly personal, things. They've seen a bunch of pics, and if I say so myself without much modesty, some good pics, at that (I shed the modesty as the photographer, not the model)! Obviously, I only publish the good ones, and believe me I have drawers and hard drive file folders full of some pretty awful stuff - and another thing, I really don't just hang around the house all day in a leather cockring and jockstrap! I am almost always in boxers, and put off as long as humanly possible the trip into the shower, just lingering around here sipping coffee and scratching my ass. But seriously, it's not so much that someone may have lots of info about me, but its more complicated than that. They have a certain skewed view, one based on my ability to write, and perhaps embellish, and then their own world view interpreting that. And much more importantly, it's not a dialogue, it's not in person, where I am actually participating, and we are getting to know each other. And people misread things all the time. Friends of mine have thought I had sex 6 times in one week, cuz they didn't read closely enough to see one entry was a dream, another a remembrance, and the others all part of the same actual act adding up to one sex date in that week they thought I had 6!
I guess this is where the rambling part of the BLOG TITLE comes from - I am going nowhere with this train of thought, but am merely frustrated in my desire to find a companion, and frustrated with myself and my inertia about changing habits that might at least give me better odds at finding someone who's values I share, who's pillow I caress, who's stomach I rest my head on and giggle about the gurgles from our dinner that I made for us right here, in my home. I realize this is common, and we all have times when we feel isolated, and that there is no one out there like me, and no one out there who will like me, and dare I say it, LOVE me....
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
He's cute, he's begging for it, and he has TRIPOD pop-up ads - go ahead, click it.
At this time of day, I usually do as I am told - I suggest you do the same.
Well, maybe I exagerate ( I don't spell corecttly, but I exagerrate) - if it requires I stay put on my ass drinking more coffee while posting something without having to think much, I am open - I think this guy may have started it, having a head start on us
sometimes it's fun just to watch the instant messengers have conversations all by themselves......
gosh, and i didnt even get to see his.........
oh wait, there's more!
E NYC3 [3:01 AM]: ur cute.. u want a 27 playmate?
gosh, I'm all a-flutter, he seems just soooooo perfect for me!
Monday, September 02, 2002
It was raining lightly as I rode home, swerving around the (other) drunks out on the street as all the bars were locking their doors and pulling down their gates. Water splattering my back as the bike wheels moved me towards home, I took my time, enjoying the cool air, and the sight of folks semi-hurrying thru the rain. I didn't get out until after 1:30, changing from work, hoping the Bronx Zoo baseball cap would be enough to protect me from the rain. The Cock was super-crowded, as expected on a holiday Sunday night. The backroom too overcrowded and too dark. When the lights are almost completely out, folks act stupider and ruder - pushing, stomping, and surprisingly little actual sex going on.
The boys sipping cocktails thru tiny straws as they hold their drinks close to their face, loudly whispering to buddies "I can't believe we're back here, oh my god! what are they doing there!?"; those guys on the other end of the spectrum dropping to their knees even if there isn't room for that, furiously grabbing every crotch that pushes by, figuring eventually one will stay and they can slobber for awhile. One pairing would've been funny if it wasn't so annoying - 2 tall guys, one trying to sound sexy and urging his partner in short, clipped sentences to do "it" - "Good boy, go down" "Yeah, you know you want it" "show off for me, man" - Meanwhile, the other guy was screaching "Why am I back here???!! ohmygod! I am too nervous" and getting whinier and more pitiful "I just don't think I can do that here!! What if someone i know sees me??!" but his partner was persisitent "Relax, take my cock, you'll feel better" "C'mon, you know you want to" "ARRGGHH, what should I do, everyone's pushing" and the whining just wouldn't stop as I slowly moved to another dark dank corner.
Here a decent looking guy had propped himself up, leaning against the wall, standing on one of the couches, pants pulled down below his balls, stroking his fat cock. Several guys, including myself, tried touching, grabbing, but he pushed each away with a rather annoyed shove. Loser. Just past him was someone I recognized, a rather uptight young man who I've met only once - but kneeling down, one cock in his mouth and 2 others waving around his head, with the addition of one of the few lights shining down on him, it was nice to see he can loosen up when called upon to do so. It was incredibly hot and sweaty, my clothes drenched just from standing there, glasses fogging up. Later, near the speakers in the "main room" one guy I've always thought was handsome, who I sucked off many years ago in the backroom at Wonder Bar, walked by. I grinned, he grabbed my crotch as he moved past me, I found my hand on his hard stomach, both of us still slowly moving in opposite directions, eventually only our hands were touching each other, fingers latched for a moment, then he was gone, absorbed by the mob.
Sunday, September 01, 2002
So, tired, doing some last minute cleaning up preparing for the roommate move-in, and trying to remember details about last night. Oh, and time for more free stuff - I'll have to respond to your email requests on Monday.
Let's see, handsome tattooed man dancing; pal pushing lady in wheelchair at 4 a.m. as she screamed "you're pushing me into the street, help!" (he wasn't, but it did look like he was) after she asked for help from us; email from handsome guy around midnight saying he, gulp, "enjoyed" the haircut video...... more coffee, more later, perhaps.