Friday, February 19, 2016

The Joy of Public Sex: 12 Hookups in Public Places


Which would you prefer, the very attractive, gigantic guy reclining on a nice soft bed, or the equally attractive, equally gigantic guy sitting on the dirt against a hard brick wall?

Hookup websites list lots of places to have anonymous sex in public: restrooms in shopping malls and on college campuses, heavily-wooded parks, secluded beaches.  But I've never understood the attraction.  It's dangerous, illegal, and uncomfortable.  Why not just invite him back to your apartment?

I haven't had a lot of experience with the practice of public sex, but there have been times when I gave in to temptation and took care of things right there on the spot.

Tyrone. My second sexual experience, in high school, with Tyrone my workout buddy, took place in his car in the high school parking lot.

The Levee  In Rock Island a lot of men went cruising at the levee, and had sex right there in their parked cars.  I was too skittish to do it there, but I did go home with Professor Burton, who held the annual handcuff parties.




The Photojournalist.  During my senior year in college, I hooked up with a student in my Photojournalism class.  We didn't have anyplace to go -- I lived at home, and he lived in the dorm -- so we went to the stacks in the library -- deserted on a Saturday night -- and went down on each other in the PK section (Sanskrit, Pali, and Hindi).

The Airport Restroom. Trapped at Lambert International Airport in St. Louis later that year, I learned about cruising in public restrooms.  Six guys, including a buffed businessman in a suit and tie.






New Delhi. When I was visiting India, just after getting my M.A. from Indiana University, Viju took me to Jahanpanah City Forest in Delhi.  You see someone you like and follow him into the bushes.  I met Arshad the Zoroastrian, who took me out to dinner and then on a tour of the spiritual pilgrimage sites in Delhi.

Oxford, Mississippi. Later that summer, on the way to my first teaching job in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, I spent the night in Oxford. Mississippi, and went down on three country boys in the woods outside of the Faulkner mansion, including Elmer, a University of Minnesota undergrad who came back to my hotel to spend the night.

The Rest Stop. On the way back, I stopped at a rest stop in Arkansas, and saw a guy masturbating through a glory hole.






The Cathoic Boy. At a conference at Notre Dame, I met a Catholic undergrad, who took me to a path that went around St. Joseph lake on the Notre Dame campus.

Ankara.  In the spring of 1989, during my semester teaching in Ankara, I found that Turkish men were cruising each other constantly, in the park, on the metro, in the hamams.  A lot of the college boys cruised in the wooded hills beyond Bilkent University, but I met an older guy there: Turkish moustache, furry chest, thick Bratwurst.









The Truck Driver.  During the Great Redneck Roundup of 1995, we stopped at a rest stop near Laramie, and I climbed into a truck cab with the driver.

Macy's. One day my effervescent, outrageous friend David tried to get me to pick up a clerk at Macy's and go down on him in the restroom.  But I wimped out and made a date with him instead.







The Restaurant Kitche. During my summer in Paris, I went to Suam Thai for dinner almost every night, and got extensively cruised by the chef.  One night he invited me into the kitchen to discuss something, and one thing led to another.  We ended up having sex in the supply room.

My Office.  When I was living in Manhattan and commuting to Long Island to work on my Ph.D., I I had three choices: take hookups home on a two-hour train ride; borrow Yuri's apartment; or entertain them in my office -- in a secluded corridor in the Social Science Building.

I shared with three other graduate students.  But I knew their schedules, so it was safe.

Still, every time I brought a hookup in, I listened carefully for the sound of a key in that lock.

Nothing in public since 2001 -- I have an apartment with a nice soft bed, only about ten minutes from here, so....

Monday, February 15, 2016

My Celebrity Boyfriend and I Hook Up With....

West Hollywood, February 1987

Valentine's Day


I've been dating the Celebrity, a former teen idol (I promised not to reveal his name), for a little over a month, and he's met almost all of my West Hollywood friends: Alan, Raul, Marcus, Michael, Mitch, Thanh. But I've never met any of his.

Dating a celebrity, I naturally expected to do some "sharing" with his celebrity friends.  John Travolta, or Rob Lowe, or Ralph Macchio.... 

But he doesn't even introduce me to anyone.

Maybe tonight will be different.  "I'm going to go all out," the Celebrity promises.  "This will be the most memorable Valentine's Day of your life."

Wow!  What's memorable to someone who starred in his own tv show?


200 doves flying out of a cake?

A charter jet taking us down to Tijuana for dinner?

Scott Baio naked in his bed?

Breathless with anticipation, I arrive at his house at 6:00 pm

There's a note on the door: "Door's open.  Follow the trail."

I go in.  There's a trail of paper hearts across the living room and dining room and down the hall.

The dogs, Rory and Max, are whining at the back door.  I assume they've just finished a potty break.  So I let them in.

"No, they have to stay outside!" the Celebrity yells in the distance.

Too late.  They scamper across the house, me following, to the spare bedroom, where the Celebrity is lying naked on a heart-shaped rug.   His penis and testicles are pushing through a hole in a Valentine's Candy Box.  He's desperately yelling "Sit!  Sit!" and grabbing up the candy before Rory and Max eat it.

 "Um...hi...this didn't turn out to be as sexy as I thought."

The candy put away, he removes the box.  The dogs sit.  I kneel and pet them.

"No, it's great.  Really creative."  I lie beside him, and we kiss.

He springs to life.  I go down on him.

No offense -- it's very nice, average sized, beautifully shaped, cut, ruddy.

 But in the last month I've gone down on him about 30 times.  Ok, now 31 times.  I was hoping for something...or someone...a little different.

We move into 69 position.  Rory and Max whine.  "Out!" he commands.

When we've finished, we order Chinese food and watch tv.

"Sorry the Valentine's surprise was a bust," the Celebrity says.  "Let's do something else tomorrow night, to make up for it.  Anything you want."

"Well, to be honest...have you heard about the West Hollywood 'sharing' thing?  Where couples bring in a third, one of their friends?"

He grins.  "Sure.  I didn't think you were into that."

"I haven't really done it before, but I'd love to give it a try.  If you...you know, are into it."

"Sounds hot!  I'm turned on already."  He kisses me.  "You just sit back and let me make all the arrangements.  I'll take care of everything!"

I move my hand to his crotch.  He springs to life again.

32 times.

I spend the next day bubbling with excitement.  What famous face and physique will I be "sharing" tonight?  Tony Danza? Mr. T from The A-Team?  Scott Baio?

I knock on the door at 6:00 pm.  The Celebrity answers, and draws me into a kiss.

"Did you...."

"Get you a Valentine's present? Absolutely.  Up-to-date model, with lots of new features."

"You got me a new tv?" I joke.

"No, it's way bigger than a tv set."


"Um... jet skis?"

"No, but I'll give you a hint -- it has a retractable hose."

"Curioser and curioser."

"Shall we go check it out?"

He takes me by the arm and leads me to the bedroom.

My mind is racing.  Paul Michael Glaser?  Leif Garrett?  Ted Danson?

He opens the bedroom door.

Can you guess who we "shared"?

Answer after the break.








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