Saturday, January 9, 2016

Michael J. Fox Beneath the Belt


Friday, July 5th, 1985:  Two days after I arrive in Los Angeles, I am sitting in the human resources department at Paramount Studios, waiting to interview for a job as an administrative assistant, when Marcus comes in to drop something off.  He's my age, African-American, with very light skin, freckles, and a hairy chest.  I get his phone number.

Saturday, July 6th: Our date, an inside tour of Paramount, followed by cruising at the Gold Coast and dinner at the French Quarter.  He came to Los Angeles to become an actor five years ago, and has been in a few things.

"Do you know anyone famous?" I ask with tourist zeal.

"Nobody really famous.  I mean, some guys on tv.  Robin Williams.  Tom Hulce.  I know Michael J. Fox from acting class."

I'm not impressed.  I've barely heard of Michael J. Fox -- he's getting some teen idol exposure for his role as Alex P. Keaton, conservative son of ex-hippie parents on the sitcom Family Ties. But I've only seen the show a few times.


Marcus plans to stay celibate until there's a cure for AIDS, so no more dating.  But we stay friends.

Wednesday, July 10th: I start working at Muscle and Fitness, two days a week as a "contributing editor," aka gopher.  On my first day, I meet Ivo, a stringer for the magazine, about 30 years old, a Bulgarian bodybuilder, with short brown hair, a boyish open face, massive shoulders, and slates for abs.

Saturday, July 13th: My first date with Ivo.  I'm curious about Back to the Future, the new time travel comedy starring Michael J. Fox.

"No way, man!" Ivo exclaims.  "That Mike Fox thinks he's a big deal, but he's terrible in bed.  They should call him Princess Teeny-Tiny!"

Weird coincidence!  I think.  I've been in town a week, and already I've met two people who know Michael J. Fox, and one of them is his ex-lover!

Sunday, July 14th: I have lunch with Marcus and tell him about my date.

"Strange," he says.  "I'm completely out to Mike, and he's never said anything about being gay.  Sounds like Ivo is one of these celebrity name-droppers who claims to have been with everyone from Harrison Ford to Arnold Schwarzeneggar."

"But he wasn't bragging.  He got upset.  He said Michael was bad in bed and should be called Princess Teeny-Tiny."

Marcus laughed.  "Well, I don't have any information on that.  But tell you what -- Mike is in London right now.  When he gets back, we'll all get together, and you can ask him yourself."


Ask Michael J. Fox about his size?  I don't think so!  But it would be fun to meet him.

I date Ivo three or four more times, until his crazy, obsessive behavior drives me away.

Saturday, August 3rd: I finally see Back to the Future.  I'm not impressed with the heteronormative plotline.

Saturday, August 10th: The promised date.

Marcus picks me up and drives me to a small, bare-brick cafe on Melrose.  We are just ordering drinks when Michael comes in, wearing a white shirt, buttoned down to reveal a soft smooth chest, tight bulging jeans, and sunglasses.

He's my age, short, slim, androgynous  The feminine teen idol type.

He hugs Marcus and reaches out to shake my hand, then says "What the hell" and hugs me, too.

I feel a definite bulge pressing against me.

Bratwurst, maybe Bratwurst+.

So much for the Ivo's "Princess Teeny-Tiny" claim.


"So, are you guys together?" Michael asks as he scans the menu.

"No, we're friends," Marcus says.  "We dated once, but you know some guys can't handle celibacy."

"Well, who can blame them?  You got the goods!"  He nudges Marcus affectionately.

This is the 1980s, an era of rampant homophobia.  Michael is either gay or amazingly gay-positive!

"So..I was dating another guy who claimed to know you," I say.  "Ivo the Bulgarian bodybuilder."

Michael frowns. "Doesn't ring a bell.  But you know how it is, you get a tv show, and suddenly every guy you have ever said hello to claims to be your bosom buddy."


"Or your ex-lover," Marcus adds.

"So far I've been spared those kinds of rumors.  I don't know why.  I'm here having lunch with two hot guys, wouldn't you naturally assume that I'm gay?"

He wraps his arm around my shoulders.  "What do you think, Boomer?   Want to be on the front page of the National Enquirer tomorrow morning?"

Is Michael cruising me?  "Um...only if you bring the condoms."

"Wouldn't you know it!" he exclaims with a grin. "All the hot guys are bottoms!  I'd better stick to girls."

The conversation goes on to other topics.  We finish our lunch, and Michael pays and leaves.

"Was Michael cruising me?" I ask on the way home.

"Oh, no, that's just his way.  He makes everybody feel like he's in love with them.  And it works -- there's not a soul on Earth who doesn't like him."

Except for Ivo.

A few weeks later, the movie Teen Wolf comes out, with a scene in which Michael's character claims that he's "not a fag," he's a werewolf.  I ask Marcus about the homophobic dialogue.

"This is Hollywood," he says with a shrug.  "You do what sells."

See also: 15 Celebrity Dates, Hookups, and Sausage Sightings; Marcus and His Beneath the Belt Mystery.

The Hookup Contest, Part 2: Gabe's Date with the High School Boy


The Plains, January 2016

Remember the hookup contest Gabe and I had before Christmas?

We each chose someone for the other guy to try to hook up with on a dating app. I had to approach the 18-year old Bastian, a high school senior whose profile said explicitly "no older guys" and "no hookups -- dating and relationships only."

So I offered to set Bastian up on a date with Gabe, and tag along "for moral support."

All's fair in love and cruising.

The date was scheduled for December 20th, but Bastian cancelled. He said we could reschedule for after Christmas.

I figured that was the last we would hear of him-- younger guys wimp out all the time.  But he did text me a few days after Christmas, asking for the date to be scheduled on January 3rd, a Sunday night: dinner at a Mexican place, then the new Star Wars movie, The Force Awakens.

He didn't want his parents to know he was gay, so he arranged to spend the night at a friend's house.  We had to pick him up and drop him off there.

Bastian was slim, a little shorter than me, with sandy-blond hair, blue eyes, and sharp features.  He was wearing a sweater, no coat, and carrying a backpack.  "In case we spend the night," he said, sliding into the back seat next to Gabe.

Driving to the restaurant, I kept mostly quiet.  It was their date, after all.  Their conversation consisted of:

Gabe:  So you're a senior in high school. What are your college plans?

Bastian:  I applied to UCLA, Columbia, Florida State, and the University of Hawaii.  I'm going to wherever the guys are the hottest.  Boomer, you lived in California.  Were the guys big there?

Me:  Well...um...

Gabe:  What do you want to major in?

Bastian:  Art.  I want to start a fashion blog.  I'm really big into fashion.  Like, do you shave your pubic hair?

Gabe: [Embarrassed pause].  Um...no, I never tried that.

Bastian:  Oh, it's great!  It makes your penis look a lot bigger.  Here, have a look.  You too, Boomer." [A cell phone is shoved at me, showing Bastian nude, aroused, very big, with shaved pubes.]


The questions continued at the restaurant, including the sort of questions one doesn't ask in public in a small town on the Plains:

"Have you ever been topped by a really big one?"

"Do you know any guys with big ones?  I mean, really gigantic ones, like in porn?"

"Have you ever been with a black guy?  Do they have big ones?"

"Have you ever been rimmed?"

"Who's the youngest guy you ever let top you?"

"What does 'golden showers' mean?"

And, he was rubbing his leg against mine under the table!

When Bastian went to the bathroom, Gabe turned to me: "I thought this was a quiet, shy, conservative guy who wanted to date and get to know you.  Sounds like he won't even make it to the end of the movie!"

"I know, it's weird. He was brushing my leg under the table.  And I thought he didn't like older guys."

"Consider yourself lucky.  He was trying to grope me!"  Gabe laughed.  "Man, this aggressive bit is a big turn off.  We should take him home, so he can take a cold shower!"

"No, let's go to the movie, and see what happens.  Maybe he'll calm down.  Besides, I've been looking forward to seeing it for weeks."


At the movie, Bastian sat between us and held the popcorn, so we would reach in to get some and grab his hand instead.  Plus he used his free hand to brush against my thigh. He tried to grope me through my pants, but I pushed him away.

And he kept peppering us with comments.

"I bet Finn has a big one!"

"You think Finn and Poe are together?"

"Han Solo is one hot Daddy! I'd do him in a minute!"

I shushed him, but the comments continued.

Afterwards we walked out into the lobby and then into the mall parking lot.  Bastian linked arms with both of us.  "Hey, let's get frozen yogurt!" he said.

"Well, I'm a Vegan," Gabe said.  "They probably won't have anything I can eat."

"Ok...so then, back to your apartment?"

Gabe flashed a "no way!" look at me, and said "Well...I have a roommate, so I can't bring anyone home."

Bastian's grip on our arms tightened.  "Then let's go back to Boomer's place.  He can watch.  Or join in!  I've never been with two guys at once before!"

We got to the car.  Bastian climbed into the front seat, next to me.  Gabe climbed into the back.

"Ok, your place, right?"  he asked, putting his hand on my knee.

"I'm a little tired," I said.  "We'd better just take you home.  Or to your friend's house."

"But...you know, it's a date," he said in a small voice.

"We should just take you home," I repeated.

"I thought...but aren't we?"

Was the kid starting to cry?

I put my arm around him.  "What's wrong, Bastian?  You've been on dates before.  Sometimes things happen, sometimes they don't."

His shoulders were trembling.  "No, I haven't.  I've never been on a date before. Or had sex.   I never even met anybody gay before. Everybody at my school is straight.  Church, too.  I download porn and get hit on by Creepy Old Guys on that dating app, and that's it."

"So why all the questions about rimming and golden showers?"

"And the hands everywhere?" Gabe added.

He looked up teary-eyed.  "That's what gay guys do, isn't it?  I didn't want you to think I was just an ignorant kid..."

"That's not at all what gay guys do," I said.  "What they do is this."  I wrapped my arms around him and hugged Bastian, and kissed him on the cheek.  He didn't want to let go.

"Maybe I'm up for some frozen tofu, after all,"  Gabe said.  "Then we'll see what happens."

This is what happened:

Kielbasa, ok with kissing, mostly into anal.  But, with a 37 year age difference, I've now officially been with someone young enough to be my grandson.

See also: The Hookup Contest; a Boy for Valentine's Day

The Top 10 Bathhouses in the World


I love bathhouses.  In the U.S. most gay guys shun them as sleazy relics of a closeted generation, but in Europe they're a mainstay of gay life.

It's not just about hooking up.  You can lift weights in a fully-equipped gym -- a plus in Europe, where gyms with day passes are scarce -- take a steam or sit in the hot tub, listen to live entertainment, read the latest magazines, chat with friends.  Where else can you get all of that in two hours, for a fee of five Euros?

 And for hooking up, they're far superior to bars and apps:
1. You can see everything the guy has to offer in advance -- no lying, no dissimulation, no hiding unsightly parts under heavy sweaters.
2. You don't have to interview him, call a friend to share, or do any of the other precautions necessary when you invite a stranger home.  The act occurs right there.

Here are the top 10 bathhouses in the world, and the guys I met there.


Bloomington

1. When my friend Viju came home to Rock Island with me in the summer of 1983, I took him to Man's Country, Chicago, on Clark Street, in the heart of the first gay neighborhood I ever knew existed.  It looks like a haunted armory now, but in 1983 it was pristine, all black and chrome, with a maze, a wall of glory holes, and room after room of naked men.

We met an older guy named Mike, who took us to a gay bar with a picture of Yosemite Sam on the placard before going back to his place to spend the night.




West Hollywood

2. Banos Vica, Tijuana.  At least I think that's the place Alan dragged me to in the 1980s.

Talk about sleazy!  In a crazy galleria.  You undress, dump your clothes in a bag, and go upstairs and wander through creaking corridors, dimly lit by bare bulbs, paint chipping on the walls, trash on the floors, sleazy looking naked guys in the shadows.  I loved it.

We met Alejandro, a slim guy from Veracruz who spoke both Spanish and Nahuatl, but no English.  Alan wasn't happy with my ability to monopolize the conversation.



3, Lane and I went to Europe almost every summer from 1989 to 1996, and always looked for the bathhouses in the cities we visited.  My favorite was the Sauna Condal in Barcelona, probably the biggest bathhouse I've ever been to, spread over three floors, with a gigantic darkroom, rows of glory holes, and many theme nights.  We met Ramon, who was of Chinese ancestry but didn't speak Chinese.  Big into Catalan independence.

New York

4. Sauna Centre-Ville, Montreal.  Four floors, with a rooftop patio.  Playrooms, glory holes, dark rooms, a dungeon with a sling and bondage equipment.  I was in town for a conference in the summer of 1998, and met the Wing Man to the Muscle God.




5. In New York, I started making the annual Paris-Brussels-Amsterdam jaunt, and in Paris I always found time for Les Bains d'Odessa.  An ancient Roman motif.  A pool, live entertainment, glory holes, a lounge with drinks and snacks, bear nights the first of the month. Plus, around the corner from the Luxembourg Gardens.  That's where I met  Jean the Violinist who wouldn't let me touch his instrument, and Ludek, of the glory hole bait-and-switch.

Florida

6. Plus I lived about a mile from the Club (now known as the Clubhouse II), so I went at least once a week.  Mazes of private rooms, brunch every Sunday, tourists from around the world. I met the Intersexed Guy there in 2003, and Barney hooked up with the Jolly Green Giant.









7. During my terrible summer in Slovakia, my friend Doc and I visited the Sauna Labyrint in Prague.  Very bold color scheme, all in pinks and blues.  3 floors of dark rooms, mazes, and glory holes, plus a bar and video rooms.  No weights, but you can put off your workout until later.  We invited a very muscular Polish businessman named Bartek to our room.  He came to Munich with us.

Dayton

8. While living in Dayton, I often made the two-hour trip to Indianapolis to visit my relatives, and then stopped in at the Works.  Rather small, no glory holes or darkrooms, you did everything in a giant steamroom.  But I managed to meet Jim, one of the youngest mayors in Indiana history, who invited me to visit his small town.









Upstate

9. While I was living upstate, I often went to the River Club in Albany, rather small and sort of expensive ($20 for 4 hours), but immaculate.  The night I became a Creepy Old Guy, I met the 21-year old Peter.












10. And I started driving home to the Midwest every summer.  It was a two-day trip, with the Flex Club in Cleveland  as a convenient halfway point.  In a terrible part of town, but at least there was a good Thai restaurant in walking distance.  Full hotel facilities, plus video rooms, dark rooms, indoor and outdoor pools, a restaurant-bar, and a beautifully equipped gym.  Admission was so cheap that some locals came every day.  Like Lester, who bragged to all his friends about his hookup.

See also: 10 Reasons You Should Go to a Bathhouse.


Thursday, January 7, 2016

A Darkroom Bait and Switch at a Florida Bathhouse

Oakland Park, Florida, October 2003

Remember the Glory Hole Bait and Switch in Paris during the summer of 2015?

It happened before, in 2003.  But this time it was really my fault.

Every week or so, in the late afternoon, Yuri and I went to the Club (technically Clubhouse II), a long, low, single-floor bathhouse with narrow corridors, a lounge area, a sauna, a steam room, and two video rooms.  I didn't even realize that there was a dark room until I saw someone going down a narrow, creaky staircase that looked off limits into the basement.

There was another lounge down there, and off to the side a big room with a single red light that people kept turning off.  It was completely dark.

I walked in slowly and felt my way against the wall until I came to a hard chest about my height.  Very smooth.  Lower, I felt an enormous uncut Kielbasa.

Without saying anything, the guy pushed me to my knees.

When he finished, he quickly put his towel back on and moved away, farther into the darkness.

Rather abrupt!  I don't need this!   I moved toward the open door behind me and left the dark room.  Someone followed me out.

A very handsome guy in his 20s with thick brown hair, a round face, and glasses.  Nicely built but not a gym rat, with large platelike pecs and a small belly.  Smooth everywhere, even his arms, with very pale skin.  He looked like this guy, except for the penis.

It must be the guy I just went down on, having second thoughts about his rude treatment.  I  turned and felt his chest, the standard bathhouse greeting.

He looked surprised, but put his arms around me, and we started kissing.  When I tried to grope him, he moved my hand away.

Must be still recuperating, I thought.

"My name is Michael.  Do you have a room?"

"Boomer.  Actually, I just live a short distance away, so I usually just get a locker."

"I got a locker, too."  He paused.  "Well, we could go back to my hotel.  I'm staying at the Island Sands [a gay resort nearby]."

First he leaves abruptly, and now he wants me to follow him to his hotel room without any preliminary discussion?  I don't think so!

But he was very cute, with that lost-soul look that I find appealing, and his Kielbasa was spectacular.  So I said "It's almost dinnertime.  Let's eat first."

I took Michael to a Thai restaurant for angel wings and pad thai.  He was a computer specialist from North Carolina, in town for a conference on a new operating system.   Or something like that.

"Do they have bath houses in North Carolina?" I asked.

"Oh, no -- I've never been to one before.  I just got my nerve up because I was on vacation.  But I wasn't having much luck."

"Not even in the dark room?"

"No, guys would feel me down there and move on."

"I can't understand why.  You're pretty big down there."

He gave me a weird look.  "How do you know?  We never did anything."

"I...um..."  My face burned as I began to understand that Michael was not the guy I went down on!  It was just a coincidence he had about the same build as the guy, and followed me out.    "Oh...um...I saw you in the steam room before.  At least I thought it was you."

"Not me.  I never went in the steam room."  He paused.  "So, how into size are you?"

"I never saw one that was too big or too small."

He grinned.  "Well, the night is young."

Ok, this guy was probably a little small, and self-conscious about it.  But I was already embarrassed over mistaking him for someone else, and I wasn't about to let the date slide. We went back to the house I shared with Barney and Yuri, and sat on the couch to watch tv and make out, but still, whenever I tried to grope him, he moved my hand away.

"I'm mostly a bottom, anyway," Michael said.

When I finally got him into the bedroom and out of his clothes, he was tiny.  A pencil stub.

But there's more.

The head was split at the urethra opening, so much that it almost looked like two heads. There was a small hole at the base of the shaft.  And he had only one testicle.

"I'm mostly a bottom anyway," Michael repeated.  "You don't have to do anything with it."

"Oh, no, it's great.  Very attractive."  I went down on him for awhile.  Michael finished almost immediately, without ejaculating, and then went down on me.  Then we cuddled in bed for awhile.

"You're certainly distinctive," I told him.  "I've never seen one quite like this before.  It must get you a lot of attention."

"Not really.  I'm usually too embarrassed to bring it up, and then when the guy sees it, he refuses to touch it.  That's why I'm a bottom. You're one of the only guys who has ever gone down on me."

"Maybe that could be a selling point.  When you cruise a guy, tell him that you have a distinctive penis.  He'll come home with you out of curiosity."

Michael seemed somewhat annoyed by the idea. He said something about having to get up early, put his clothes on, and left.  We exchanged phone numbers only as a formality.

I now know a lot more about the intersexed persons than I did in 2003.  As much as 1% of the male population has sex organs that differ from the standard model.  There are penises with slits, wide fissures, the uretha somewhere other than the head.  There are no or small testicles.  There are ovo-testes.

Plus there are chromosomal variations, XYY and XXY, that result in many physiological differnces.

People who are born with intersexed conditions are often "fixed" at birth, pushed through surgery and hormones into the standard model.  But their conditions are not life-threatening.  They are perfectly healthy, just different.

So why shouldn't it be a selling point while cruising?

See also: The Surprise in Comic Book Guy's Bedroom.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Will, the Bondage Boy with the Sweeney Todd Fetish

Silverlake, November 1987

I met Will  at Sunset Junction, the gay street fair held every October in Silverlake, L.A.'s second gay neighborhood.

He was about five years older than me, short, compact, with a little belly and a  very hairy chest, one of the first "bears" I ever met.  He told me that he worked at the Eagle, a leather bar in Silverlake.

I was a little nervous about accepting a date with a bartender -- he must get drunk a lot.  But Will was attractive, different from my usual Asian and Hispanic guys, and besides, I wanted a tour of Silverlake.  It was 15 miles from West Hollywood, way out where Santa Monica met Sunset, so we didn't go there much.







We had dinner at La Casita, a very bright, colorful Mexican restaurant -- rather a treat, since there were no Mexican restaurants in West Hollywood at the time.

Then Will took off his shirt, put on a leather vest, and took me to the Eagle.

It was my first time in a leather bar.  Older crowd, a lot of bears, a lot of chaps and leather jackets and cigarette smoke.  I was the youngest guy there, a little out of place in my cruisy tank top and jeans.


Will got himself a bottle of beer and me a soda, and introduced me to some of the regulars.  One asked "Isn't it past your bedtime, kid?"

I wasn't amused.  "I'll be 27 next week."

Will escorted me away.  "Don't mind him -- he's just jealous,  We don't get many young guys at the Eagle.  The rule is, West Hollywood for twinks and creepy old guys, Silverlake for daddies and bears."  He paused.  "So, what do you like to do?  In bed, I mean."

The question was surprising, even shocking.  In West Hollywood we never asked -- we just brought the guy into our bedroom and found out.  It must be a Silverlake thing.

"Oh, um....the usual." I stammered.  "You know, a lot of kissing and cuddling and...well, French [oral sex], of course.."

"What about non-vanilla sex?  Like, you know, bondage? BDSM scenes?"

"I'm not very experienced with that," I said.  "My first boyfriend Fred liked to be tied up and spanked, and I met a guy at Mugi who had a closetful of whips and paddles.  But I've been reading Cavelo and Sean since I lived in Indiana."

"Wow, Cavelo and Sean, that's hardcore stuff!  You're probably ready for a scene, do you think?"


"What kind of scene?"

"Kidnapping and POW are my favorites, but my super super favorite is cannibalism."

Cannibalism?  This evening was getting complicated!  "Let's start out with some kissing and French, ok?"

Will shared a very nice Spanish-style house with an older gay couple, who sat in the living room with us to eat sponge cake and drink coffee before excusing themselves.

Then we kissed and cuddled for awhile.  I tried to unzip Will, but he pushed my hand away.

"Not ready for oral?" I asked in surprise.

"Oh, that stuff is ok, but why bother when there's a full dungeon in the basement?  There's even a giant cauldron for cannibalism scenes!"

"How about some music?" I asked, to get his mind off cannibalism.

"Oh, sure."  He sprang to the stereo.  "You'll like this.  It's Sweeney Todd, the musical."

"Um...I'm not really into show tunes."

"You've never heard show tunes like this.  If you're interested in Victorian London, or crime, or language, you'll love it.  Let me put it on for you."  He fumbled about for the cassette.  "See, Sweeney Todd was imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit, and he gets revenge by killing the people responsible and serving them in meat pies.  Len Cariou plays Sweeney Todd, and Angela Lansbury plays Mrs. Lovett, the owner of the pie shop."


Lovett: Since marine doesn't appeal to you, how about rear admiral?

Todd: Too salty. I prefer general.

Lovett: With, or without his privates? "With" is extra.

Todd: What is that?

Lovett:  It's fop, finest in the shop. And we have some shepherd's pie peppered with actual shepherd on top!  And I've just begun --  here's the politician, so oily it's served with a doily...

Angela Lansbury, the mild-mannered mystery writer of Murder, She Wrote, was singing about eating people!

I could see that I wasn't going to get out of there with some plain old-fashioned bedroom activity.  "I'm not really into cannibalism scenes, but I'm up for some light bondage and spanking."

"Great, that's great too!"  Will exclaimed.  He yelled "We're going downstairs" into the other room and led me through the kitchen and into the basement dungeon.

Very impressive.  Nude photos on the walls.  A sling.  A St. Andrew's cross.  A leather-covered bondage table.  And the famous cauldron, big enough for the bottom to sit in while the top doused him with water from a hose.

"It's an old movie prop.  Johnny Sheffield, who played Boy in the MGM Tarzan movies in the 1930s, was cooked in it."

"That's enough talking, slave!" I said sternly.  "Now strip and stand against that St. Andrew's cross.  You're going to be tied up and tortured!"

"Yes, sir!"

The torture involved "forcing" Will to submit to oral sex.  That counts as "eating" him, right?

That was my last date with Will, but we stayed friends.  He dated Raul for awhile.

See also: 15 Bondage Boys  ; Sean and the World of Gay Leathermen; Will and Scott's Wild Night with Keanu Reeves.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Boyhood Sausage Fondlings, Gropes, and Grabs



I always say that I had 1 1/2 sexual experiences before that  December afternoon a couple of weeks after my 18th birthday, when I went home with Andy the Little Person Postal Worker.

But I've been defining a sexual experience as contact between one partner's penis and the other partner's mouth or butt, to orgasm (that's the one) or not (that's the half).

What if I include sausage fondlings, gropes, and grabs?  I had at least 12 of those before my 18th birthday.

Grab: You just feel around for it.
Grope: You manipulate it through his pants.
Fondle: You take it out of his pants.

(All models are over 18)





Elementary School

Mark. December of fifth grade, my wild night: a cute boy named Mark talks me into crossing forbidden 18th Avenue and then going back to his house, without telling my parents where I am.  Before I know it, it's dark out, and I'm in big trouble.  But I do get to fondle his wiener.

Javon. In April of fifth grade, I visit my Indian cousins, and we play a game involving tying up my older cousin Javon and "torturing" him for information.  I unzip and fondle his sausage before he is "rescued."




George.  Speaking of cousins, that summer I visit my Cousin George in South Carolina.  We take a bath together and sleep together nude: "Only fools wear pajamas."    And grab each other.

Marty. At Nazarene camp the summer after sixth grade, Marty shows me how to "hit a home run" with a girl, and pushes my hand against his pants. I get a major grope of his baseball bat.


Junior High

The Corpse Boy.  My friend Craig's older brother works in a funeral home, so of course we importune him for a tour.  One day he agrees, but cautions us that corpses are called "stiffs" because they're always aroused.  I was pretty sure we were being pranked before I fondled the corpse boy.  But not entirely sure.

Cousin Buster.  One night I burst unexpectedly into Cousin Buster's room and caught him in the act.  He invited me in, but I refused.  Ok, that one doesn't really count.

Cousin Phil.  At Thanksgiving in 9th grade, my brother and I spent the night with Cousin Phil.  I got a sausage sighting, and briefly fondled his penis while he was asleep. Does that count?









David.  The summer after ninth grade, two twelfth grade best buddies named Terry and David teach me about oral sex in the church parking lot. The lesson includes  incidental groping.

Aaron. I build a private place in the attic of our new house for the purpose of sexual exploration, and soon start inviting other guys there.  My conditions are: no girl magazines visible -- hide the covers -- and I get to watch.  Tom, Aaron, Craig, and Marty (not the same Marty as in #4) do it in my room at different times, and once Aaron invites me to help him out. He seems embarrassed by the incident, and doesn't come up to my room again.




High School

Todd.  I fondle Todd before going down on him that night at music camp during the summer after my sophomore year.  He doesn't want to do it again later.

Verne.  We date all through the spring of my junior year, breaking up only when he gets a girl pregnant and has to marry her.  Sometimes we fondle each other while "thinking about girls."

 Tyrone.  In the school parking lot after the Harvest Dance, Tyrone takes it out and lets me work on it for a few minutes.





Dino.  During the summer after my senior year, I go to a guy-only party with Dino, and we play naked Slip N Slide.  There's some "accidental" groping in the mass of naked bodies.

I've lost contact with 3 of the boys, 3 are gay, and 7 are straight (or at least they married women and had children).  Does that mean that both gay and straight men spend their childhoods fondling each other?

See also: My Sausage List and My Sausage Sighting List.




Monday, January 4, 2016

The Beach Boy and the "Fag"

Wilton Manors, June 2004

"I've found him!" Kelly exclaimed over the telephone.  "The One!  We've only had one date, but that's enough to know!"

Kelly was one of the fitness trainers at Barney's Gym: in his 30s, about Yuri's height, with a long face, brown hair, good biceps and excellent abs and a smooth, less-than-spectacular chest.  Beneath the belt he was average, cut, with shaved pubes.  Somewhat shy and quiet, one of those high-school nerds who found self-confidence at the gym.

He would let you go down on him, to be polite, but he reciprocated only if  you were big in the belly.  The bigger the better.  Superchub, no problem.

His dream guy was fat, young, smooth, and supersized beneath the belt.

Not easy to find!  In Florida, where the beach is a few blocks away and guys wear next to nothing year round, the Wilton Manors norm was heavily muscled with 3% body fat.  Husky guys were uncommon, and fat rather rare.  Young fat guys practically unheard of.

And for whatever reason, fat guys tend to be a a little small beneath the belt.  

So who was this Tobias, the Man of Kelly's dreams?

On the night of their third date, they came over for dinner so Kelly could introduce him to his friends: Barney, Yuri, his boyfriend Jim, another fitness trainer, me, and Wade the Beach Boy.  Yuri made his famous moussaka.

Tobias was in his 20s, tall, chubby, with a smooth chest, employed as a bartender at a hotel near the beach.  Obviously smitten by Kelly: he kept his arm around him the whole evening.

But I was turned off by his greasy slicked-back hair, tattoos, rings, and unattractive leer.

And his speech, littered with profanity: "Little Kelly here, he's the best f*king c*ksucker in the business!  Holy f*k, I never c** so hard in my life!"

And the fact that he had been in prison: "There was a little queen at Kissimmee [juvenile detention center] that was on his knees every night, serviced the whole f*ing dorm, I kid you not!"


"What were you in juvie for?" I asked.

"Oh, please, we're queers.  We're all criminals, according to the hetero *holes that run this country.  Now let's get this f*ng party started.  Which of you c*ksuckers wants the first shot?"

He unzipped.  He was already fully aroused.  A perfectly shaped Kielbasa, with a round head and a small vein running up the side.

Well, I didn't mind a little profanity.

Still, I couldn't imagine quiet, shy Kelly getting along with brash, profane Tobias for long.

A week or so later, I flew out to New Mexico to visit Larry and cruise in the Navajo nation.  Then I visited Rock Island and Indianapolis for a few days.

When I got back, I saw Kelly at the gym and asked "So, is it still Paradise?"

"Oh, it's going great!  Wait -- you've been out of town.  Are you talking about Tobias?  He's history!"

"Why, what happened?"

Here's what happened:

A few days after I left for New Mexico, Wade the Beach Boy and Kelly had lunch.

"Oh, it's going great!" Kelly said.  "Great in bed!  I never met a guy with so much stamina.  I must do him like ten times a day!"

"What about outside the bedroom?" Wade asked.  "Do you have the same interests in, like movies?  Or music?  You're the world's biggest gym rat -- does Tobias even work out?"

"Not really.  He says he gets enough exercise in bed! But we go to the beach, we go dancing, we cruise together and bring guys home to share.  It's fun...but...um, have you ever heard of parties where guys have sex?  I don't mean sharing with friends -- I mean complete strangers?"

"Sure -- Bear Parties.  Boomer talks about them."

"Well, Tobias wants me to go to a Bear Party with him, down in Miami Beach. Fifty naked guys, maybe more."

"Sounds like a fun Saturday night," Wade said.  "Can I get an invitation?"

"Here's the thing.  I'm supposed to be the party's official 'fag.'"

"That is way offensive, dude."

"No, it just means a guy who likes oral sex."

Oral bottoms, guys who are into going down, are often denigrated in gay communities, even called "fags," to distinguish them from the "real men," the oral tops.  It's all sexist nonsense, based on the belief that women are oral bottoms, and being "like a woman" is reprehensible.

"But," Kelly continued,  "The 'fag" has to go down on anybody Tobias wants.  But you know I'm not into that unless the guy is chubby."

"Well then refuse, and just go with guys you find attractive."

"Yeah, but Tobias told me to.  He already told everyone I was going to do it.  He's kind of in charge in the relationship.  He calls himself 'the guy," like I'm 'the girl."

"Ok."  Wade thought for a moment.  "Here's what you do.  First, get me an invitation."

The party was held in one of those extraordinarily expensive glass-and-steel apartments with a picture window looking out onto the ocean and the tv hidden away in a teakwood cabinet.  There were about 30 guys, a good mix of older and younger, occupying the living room and two bedrooms.

Tobias stationed the "fag" on a stool in a small alcove.  Wade said he wanted to mingle, but stood close by anyway.

After a few minutes, Tobias returned with a tall, thin older guy, naked, with a sizeable Bratwurst.  "Is this the fag?"  he asked, looking at Kelly.

"No, I am," Wade said, kneeling and going to work.

Tobias glared at Kelly, but what could he do?  He wandered off, found a thin twink, and brought him to the alcove.

"Sorry, Kelly's taking a break," Wade said.  "But I'm free."  He fell to his knees and got to work.

Tobias walked off in a huff.

Afterwards Wade wandered around until he found a chubby guy, and invited him into the alcove, where Kelly eagerly went to work.

Tobias appeared with another tall, thin guy, saw that Kelly was busy, and exclaimed "Hey, what the f*k?  You refuse all the guys I bring over, but when Wade brings someone..."

"Don't worry," Wade said.  "I'll take care of him."

"That's not the point!  Kelly is supposed to be the f*ing c*ksucker, f*ing going down on whatever guy I say!"

"I think that's called pimping," Wade murmured.  "Is Kelly your boyfriend or your employee?"


That was the end of Kelly' romance with Tobias.

But he did meet someone else at the party: big belly, thick uncut Mortadella.

Ok, he was 55 years old, and had a hairy chest.

But at least he didn't call Kelly a "fag."

See also: The Beach Boy and the Giant; Carlos and his Two Secrets.






15 Rules of Public Hookups

In spite of the proliferation of smart-phone hookup apps like Grindr and Adam4Adam, I still prefer meeting guys in public places for dating or hookups.

It's more fun.  Hookup apps are like going to a smorgasbord -- you know you're going to get something, you just have to decide on what.  Public cruising is unpredictable -- there might not be anyone you like, or the guy you like might not be available, or you might not be able to "seal the deal."  The search is as much fun as the act itself.

It's more reliable.  Online photos are photoshopped into oblivion.  Besides, no photo or video can compare to seeing the guy in person, touching him, feeling his energy in a real place.

It's more interesting.  You don't get a full bio and long lists of interests, tastes, and sexual positions handed to you, so you have to ask.  Finding out about the guy is much more interesting than reading a resume.

Of course, you have to be careful.  Not everyone you meet in a public place wants to be your friend.  Here are the rules for hookups, finding someone for a sexual encounter with no expectation of an ongoing relationship:

1. Select your venue carefully.  You can meet men anywhere, but if they're at work or rushing to work, they're unlikely to have the time to stop and chat.  I suggest a place where there are a lot of guys at leisure, like a bar, a shopping mall, the gym, a museum, or the beach.

And someplace within an easy drive of your apartment.  Nothing is worse than meeting someone you like and having him say "I live only 45 minutes from here."

2. Go in the early afternoon.  In the morning, everyone is too tired to think about sex or romance, and in the evening, they're all rushing out to dinners, dates, and club meetings.  The best hours are between 2 and 6 pm.  If you haven't met someone by that time, give up.

3. Go with a buddy.  Cruising alone makes you seem creepy, especially if you are over 40.  Besides, everyone looks more attractive in a group, and your buddy can help you judge potential partners.

4. Do not drink while cruising.  Or drink only in moderation.  The same thing with drugs.  You need a clear head to judge potential partners.  If you are drunk or high, you will make mistakes.

5. Gather information.  When you see someone that you find attractive, strike up an ordinary conversation. Talk about the music at the bar, the exhibits at the museum, the food at the festival.  Move on to questions about jobs, leisure interests, family, and so on.  If he is hesitant, or if his story has blatant contradictions, move on.

6. Don't discuss sizes or sexual acts.  Oddly, talking about sex makes you seem less sexy.  If he asks, be brief and noncommittal.  If he wants details, chances are he has no intention of following through with a meeting.  He just enjoys thinking about sex.

But what if we're completely incompatible?

No such thing.  Two people who are attracted to each other can always find something to do in bed.

7. Word the invitation carefully.  You are obviously attracted to each other, so where do you go from here?  A friendship, a romance, or a hookup?

If you invite him to do something specific  -- get coffee, go to a movie -- you are initiating a romance.
If you invite him to get together, and specify in the future -- you are initiating a friendship.
If you invite him to get together now -- you are initiating a hookup.


These next rules are for hookups:

8. Invite him to your place, if possible.  You are more relaxed and in control when it's your own space.


9. Take your own cars.    Never get into a car with someone you don't know well.

10.  Make sure that someone knows where you are.  Have your roommate in the house.  Have your buddy follow you.  Give someone his contact information.  Don't just disappear with the guy.









11. Clean your apartment in advance.  Nothing spoils the mood more than dirty dishes in the sink, an unmade bed, and an overflowing clothes hamper.

12. Hide your valuables.  Leave your wallet in the car.

13. Bring condoms.  Safe sex practices only!

14. Don't kick him out afterwards.  If it is a daytime hookup, etiquette demands that you offer him coffee or a snack afterwards.  If it's a night time hookup, spending the night is customary.









15. Don't pretend that you want a relationship.  I've had one-night stands who made a big deal of giving me their number, and it turned out to be fake.  Hookups sometimes become friendships or romances, but it's perfectly ok if they do not.  Of course, you may want to go farther -- in that case, ask him for a date on the spot.  Otherwise, just say "Thank you for coming over," and add him to your list of memories.


Sunday, January 3, 2016

Was My Grandfather Gay?

My father was adopted!

I didn't find out until grad school in Bloomington, when I became interested in family history, and began reading old newspapers to see if there was any mention of my grandparents.  And then I saw an obituary about a woman who died in Lagrange, Indiana, near my parents' home town of Garret, leaving four children, with the exact names and ages of my father and his brothers and sisters!

That was too big a coincidence!

My father didn't want to talk about it, so I called my Aunt Nora.

"Yes, we were adopted," she said.  "Your father never forgave the old man for giving us up. When he came around to visit, Frank would always hide in his room.  He wouldn't even go to the funeral.  But Frank Sr. was 59 years old, near retirement age, when his wife died, and he didn't think he could raise four kids alone.  So his friend Lloyd offered to help out, and ended up adopting us -- that's your Grandpa Davis."

That would explain the book I found in Aunt Nora's attic -- Skeezix Goes to War, published when my Dad was a kid, with his name signed in ink: "Frank J[...]."  He made a mistake, and started to write his old name.

I didn't think much about it for many years, but recently, I began to wonder -- my biological grandfather, Frank Jackson, didn't marry until he was in his late 40s.  Why wait so long?  And why did his friend Lloyd offer to raise his children?

Was there a Depression-era gay romance going on between my biological grandfather and my Grandpa Davis?

Thanks to the internet and my Cousin Eva's gedcoms, I have some promising details:

William Henry Jackson, my great-grandfather, was a prosperous businessman in Lagrange County, Indiana. His son William became a prominent lawyer, and his four daughters married into some of the wealthiest families in the country, including the McCormicks, who owned half of Chicago. But Frank, the youngest, born in 1878, was a ne-er-do-well.

In 1895, at age 17, he is arrested for "loitering," code for any number of activities, but often for cruising, searching for same-sex partners.

In 1903, he is working in his brother-in-law Charles Hinkley's confectioner's shop on 219 S. Main Street, Muncie, Indiana (today it's a bar).

In 1908 we find him in Cleveland, working in a music hall. Music hall entertainers were often gay.

Sometime after 1910, when his father dies, Frank returns to LaGrange, probably to help take care of his elderly mother. His acting or musical ambitions are put on hold.

Around 1918, he meets the 20-year old Lloyd Davis.

Lloyd lives in Fort Wayne, a two-hour drive from LaGrange in those days.  How do they meet?  What business does Frank have in Fort Wayne?

Maybe it's the nearest big city with a cruising area.

In 1923, Lloyd marries Grace (my Grandma Davis, who befriended gay men in art school.  Was this another one?).  They move to a farm near Garrett, about thirty miles from LaGrange.  To be close to Frank?

Lloyd goes to work as an engineer on the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, a job that takes him to all of the big cities of the East Coast with 1920s gay subcultures.

In 1926, shortly after his mother dies, Frank marries her nurse, Orpha Maye Young (who comes from an Amish family).  He is 48, and she is 28, the same age as Lloyd. They have four children.

Hee and Lloyd remain friends.   There is no record of what Grace thinks of the friendship.

In the mid-1930s, Lloyd contracts a venereal disease, and must go to Hot Springs, Arkansas, for a cure.  Was he consorting with female prostitutes, or with rent boys?

Frank's wife dies in 1937, when he is 59 years old.  Lloyd and Grace offer to adopt his children.  They have none of their own.

Frank visits the children -- and Lloyd -- regularly until his death in 1955.  Lloyd dies two years later.

Were Lloyd and Frank gay?  Were they involved? There is no way to know for sure: no diaries, letters, photographs, or reminscences.  Everyone who knew Lloyd and Frank passed away long ago.

It remains a possibility, part of our hidden gay heritage.

See also:  Do Levis Show Bulges Better than Armani Wool Slacks?; and My Grandpa and the Witch in the Lake of the Woods.