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.  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?


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]., 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."

" 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."

" 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.

Friday, January 8, 2016

20 Preachers, Priests, and Religious Guys on My Sausage List

I have always been attracted to preachers, priests, monks, seminarians, and religious guys of all types.  There's something about a devotion to the spiritual world that makes your presence in the physical world especially erotic.  Maybe the paradoxical juxtaposition of muscles and Bibles, penises and prayer.

Or maybe it's because God has blessed religious guys with exceptional beneath-the-belt gifts.

I've dated or hooked up with members of most of the major world religions.  Here are the most interesting and memorable:


1. Fred, my first real boyfriend.  He was student clergy when we met, during my sophomore year in college.  Then he took a church in Omaha, and I followed him there, with disastrous consequences.  United Church of Christ.

2. During my junior year, Corey was a follower of the Maharashi Mahesh Yogi, and wanted to learn to fly. When I brought up the subject of gay people, he claimed to be opposed to "perversion." But years later I ran into him at the French Quarter in West Hollywood. He was living in San Francisco with his partner. Transcendental Meditation

3.  Peter, the priest with the pushy mom, spent most of our dates talking about why the Greek Orthodox Church wasn't homophobic, in spite of its homophobic policies.  The first time I spent the night, Mom came into his room without knocking. But Peter was #1 on my Sausage List. Greek Orthodox

4. At Indiana University, one night I went to Bullwinkle's, the local gay bar, and hooked up with a Nigerian guy who had a tattooed penis and about a thousand books on magic and witchcraft.  He performed a spell for me.  Traditional African Religion

5. Asher, from the night of six naked men at Indiana University, was the first (but by no means the last) Jewish guy I dated.  Judaism.

6. When Viju, my friend and roommate at Indiana University, invited me to visit him in India,  I hooked up with several Hindu guys, plus Arshad, a Parsi, a follower of the monotheistic religion founded in Persia by Zoroaster (Zarathustra) about 600 BC. There are only about 60,000.  Another gay Parsi was Freddie Mercury of Queen.  Zoroastrianism


7. My most embarrassing hookup was with Warren, a shy, middle-aged guy who thought I was a hustler. He said he was from the Reformed Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but later I found out that his distinctive underwear was "temple garments," the special underclothes that worn upon your "endowment" in the Utah church.  So....Latter-day Saints.

West Hollywood

8. When I first moved to West Hollywood, I met Alan, a student clergy at the MCC who used to be a porn star, and, earlier in his life, Pentecostal.  He went back and forth from "gay is good" to "God hates gay people" three times. But he was a nice guy, and #4 on my Sausage List. Pentecostalism.

9.  While I was visiting Alan in Japan, I looked around for religious guys.  Nearly everyone in Japan is nominally Buddhist and Shinto, but who still believes in the old rituals?  Turns out that Jin, one of Alan's hookups, was actually training to become a Shinto priest.  Shinto.

10. Finding Buddhists at Mugi, the gay Asian bar in Hollywood, was easy.  My favorite was Tranh, the Vietnamese gym rat and UCLA undergrad who I dated for a few months.  He was vegetarian, meditated every morning, and had a gigantic 3-foot tall statue of the Buddha in his room. Buddhism.

11. Rev. Jasper was a preacher at a Baptist church in Gardena, not out to his congregation ("but we're working on it").  He believed that the Bible prohibited anal sex, but not oral, so we were free to engage in all the oral we wanted.  Two dates were enough.  The American Baptist Convention

12,  Panther, my housemate Derek's ex-lover, the naked man in the bath tub, worked as a church organist, but he was also belonged to the Radical Faeries and a Wiccan coven.  Paganism.

New York

13. It's not easy to find Mongolians anywhere outside of Mongolia, and only about 2% practice the traditional, pre-Buddhist religion, so it was quite a stroke of luck to find Tomor at a gay bar in Paris, of all places.  He told me that Mongolian shamans are all bisexual, since they see beyond male and female to the beauty of the soul.

And he turned out to be gifted beneath the belt, with a Bratwurst+.  Mongolian Folk Religion.

14. My friend Andre, who was straight but celibate, belonged to a "traditional Catholic" spiritual community that disapproved of Pope John Paul and practiced only the Latin Mass, but supported female priests and gay rights.  One day he invited me to the exorcism of a  young recruit named Barry.  The demon turned out to be homophobic, Barry turned out to be gay, and I ended up with a date. Traditional Catholicism

 15. Shen, an undergraduate history major from Hong Kong, told me that he was the world's biggest fan of Confucian philosophy.  Confucianism.

16. The Amish Boy in Red Bikini Briefs.  Ok, it was just a sausage sighting at a rest stop on my way south from New York to Florida, but it's the closest I've ever come to a hookup with an Amish guy.


17. Arjun.  Have you heard of the Urantia Book?   It was published in the 1920s, or rather channeled, and it tells about our place in the galactic civilization. Lengthy descriptions of the galactic government.  One of the students in my Sociology of Religion class was a devotee, and invited me to get coffee after class in an attempt to convert me. I didn't get converted.   Urantian Fellowship. 

18. Raphael, the Gay Psychic Angel whose arms didn't work, the hottest guy I have ever seen, told me about my past lives.  I wimped out on the date, but at least we kissed.  He was affiliated with the Science of Mind, a new age religion founded by Ernest Holmes in 1926 that teaches that we create our own reality.


19.  I have to include the Catholic priest in my bed, even though we didn't really hook up -- Father Christopher and I shared a room at a retreat.  But I did get a sausage sighting.  Roman Catholicism.

20. Farshad, the French Moroccan.  I had been with Muslim guys  before, but Farshad was especially devout.  He helped found the first gay masjid in Europe.  Islam.

See also: When Your Boyfriend's Religious Brainwashing Kicks In and all of my stories about growing up Nazarene.

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."

""  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.    " 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, 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.