Sunday, June 4, 2017

The Satyr's Hookup with Sylvester Stallone

Upstate New York, August 2010

Troy, my boyfriend for the last year, has finally agreed to move in, and we're having a "housewarming" party to celebrate.  We invite his college friends Micah and Jordan; the Rich Kid and the Rapper from the Gang of 12, and their dates; and my ex-boyfriend Chad, who of course has to bring his housemate/Daddy, the Satyr.

The Satyr is a tall, husky, bearded bear, 62 years old, with an enormous Kovbasa++++ beneath the belt.  But I don't like him -- he's imperious, theatrical, sneaky: he has a manipulative relationship with Chad, and he tried to keep me and Troy from dating.  For what reason, I don't know.

Besides, he stifles my standard conversation topics at gay parties.

Enormous penises...he has the biggest I've ever seen.

Dates from hell -- there aren't any worse dates than our weird night in October 2008.

Celebrity hookups -- he claims to have been with everybody.

When he was a teenager, hustling in Times Square, his clients included Robert Redford, Peter Fonda, and...Christopher Isherwood. When he was a camera man in Hollywood, he dated Tom Selleck, Rob Lowe, and John Travolta, who flew him down to Cabo for a wild weekend with Tom Cruise.

I'm sure the Satyr is making all of this up.  I lived in West Hollywood for 10 years at about the same time, and met a lot of celebrities: Michael J. Fox, Richard Dreyfuss, Robin Williams, Christopher Atkins -- but I never dated any superstars.

Time to call his bluff.  "Details!  You have to tell us the whole story.  Date, location, who you were with, what he was wearing, how hung he was..."

The Satyr glares at me, but says "Sure.  I'll tell you about my first gay sexual experience, with Sylvester Stallone."

"Great!"  I've heard a lot of celebrity dating stories about Stallone, the Italian Stallion, the star of the Rocky and Rambo series, so I'll be able to spot a fib a mile away.

Manhattan, January 1970

The Satyr (then named Sparky) was 22 years old, living in Spanish Harlem, taking acting classes at CUNY and trying to make ends meet anyway he could.

Through hustling, of course -- his extra-large equipment made him very popular among a certain type of closeted queen (shown is porn star Rick Donovan).

He hadn't "come out" -- acknowledged that he was gay.  He was always "the trade" -- the one who gets the blow job.  In those days, the trade thought of himself as straight.

He also waited tables at a strip club, swept floors at an illegal gambling den, read Tarot cards, did astrology, and translated Japanese for the Consulate General of New York ("I was born in Japan, before my mother -- well, that's another story").

Through the New York occult community, Sparky met Morton Lewis, who had directed a few films on astrology and the paranormal.  He needed a camera man for a new hippie love fest film that his brother was bankrolling.  It wouldn't take much work -- just three sets, a bedroom, a living room, and an exterior to be shot in Central Park.  Two days max.

He neglected to mention that it was going to be a softcore porn, but Sparky wouldn't have minded anyway.  It was a job in the industry!  Anyway, he could easily ignore the women's naked bodies and concentrate on the men.

"Wait -- you said you didn't identify as gay," Troy protests, "But you liked looking at men."

The Satyr shrugs.  "It was 1970.  Gay people were criminals in the State of New York, and psychopaths, according to the American Psychiatric Association.  It took a lot to admit it to yourself."

The movie, Party at Kitty and Stud's, would star newcomer Mike Stallone, a very massive bodybuilder type with thick black hair, dark droopy eyes, a sensual smile, and a strange, slurry way of speaking.  He was beautiful!  Sparky was instantly hooked.

He struck up a conversation with Mike at lunchtime.  They had a lot in common.  Similar childhoods: Mike's mother was a professional astrologer, and his father was a hair stylist.  An interest in the occult.  Determined to make it in the business, scrounging around for any job they could find.  Mike's latest was cleaning out the lions' cages at the zoo.

"I was completely broke, man, sleeping in the bus station.   It was either take this job or rob somebody."

"You should try hustling," Sparky said.  "With your physique and dick, you could earn some primo bread."

"I'm not queer, though," Mike said with a smile.

"That's ok, you don't have to be.  A mouth is a mouth, right?  It's the guy going down on you that has to be queer."

Mike didn't actually have sex with anyone on camera, but he had to be aroused a lot, on both days, through multiple takes.  By the second day, he was having trouble keeping it up.

In one scene, he had to be a gigantic shaft ready to plow into one of the actresses.  Morty wanted Sparky to film him approaching slowly, and stopping just before he touched her vagina.  But Mike couldn't stay hard long enough.

"We're going to have to shorten the scene," Morty said.  "Unless somebody wants to be a fluffer -- go down on Mike until he gets hard. Ladies, I know it's not in your contract, but..."

Before any of the actresses could respond, Sparky said "I'll do it!"

Everyone stared.  No one admitted to being gay in 1970, at least not in public.

"Hah, hah, big joke!" one of the actors said.  "Like you'd really go down on a dude!"

Sparky's face was burning with embarrassment and fear -- would Morty fire him?  Would Mike beat him up?   He tried to concentrate on that beautiful body, and more -- Mike's painful childhood, his determination, his passion, his pride.

"His penis..." Micah adds.

"Of course.  The penis is the doorway to the guy's soul.  A blow job is very spiritual."

"I'm serious," Sparky said, his voice trembling a bit.  "I'd love to help out."

"Let's cut the clowning," Morty said.  "Ladies..."

"No, let him do it," Mike said.  "It takes a lot of guts to admit you're queer, especially among you Neanderthals. I'm game."

Morton shrugged.  "Just get with it already.  I've got a movie to make."

"Come on, buddy," Mike said softly.  "Let's see what you got."

So Sparky knelt in front of the nude Stallone.  He had never gone down on a guy before, but he had received many blow jobs, so he knew what to do.  Soon Mike was an iron rod.

"That's enough!" Morton exclaimed.  "You want to get him hard, not have his baby."

Flushed with erotic excitement, Sparky returned to his camera, and they filmed the scene.

He "fluffed" Mike twice more before the day ended.

A few months later, Mike -- now named Sly -- got his big break, a starring role in Rebel (1970).  And Sparky moved to California, where he got a job as a camera man.  They never had sex again, they didn't even stay friends, but still, it was the defining moment of Sparky's life.

Upstate New York, August 2010

"Reading between the lines, it's kind of a sad story," Troy says.  "The guy you came out for wanted nothing more to do with you."

"But it was never about Stallone," the Satyr says.  "I liked him, sure, and he had a great physique, but it was about being true to myself.  It was the moment when I could finally stop lying to myself and say 'I am gay.'"

"My defining moment came with John Travolta," I tell them. "Picture it: the summer of 1978.  A sallow 17 year old..."

See also: Lane's Hookup with Batman, Robin, and the Joker; the Sylvester Stallone post on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding.

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