Face to Face with John Stamos' Bulge

In 1984, when I was living in Hell-fer-Sartain, Texas, the one moment of joy in my miserable life came on Wednesday nights, when I could watch Scott Baio in Charles in Charge, followed by 21-year old John Stamos as an aspiring singer in Dreams.  How could you avoid falling in love with him? Thick black hair, a smooth tan chest, a basket that wouldn't quit, and a smile that stayed with you for days.

It only lasted for 12 episodes, but John Stamos got the full teen idol treatment, with posters in teen magazines and articles on "What It's Like to Date John."

I wanted to date John, sure, but I also wanted the big-city Philadelphia freedom he was living.  He was an emblem of hope, an awareness that there was life out there, over the rainbow.

 After I moved to West Hollywood, I saw John in You Again? (1986-87), as Jack Klugman's teenage son, but not in Full House (1987-1995),  the ultra-conservative TGIF sitcom about three straight guys raising a family together in a strictly gay-free San Francisco.

It was rather depressing.  Could the guy who got me through the horrors of Hell-fer-Sartain be homophobic?






West Hollywood, June 1990

At Gay Pride in June 1990, when I was marching with Beth Chaim Chadashim, I saw John in the crowd of spectators.

I nudged Lane.  "Look.  John Stamos, the teen dream I had a crush on in Texas!  Is he gay?"

"I don't think so," Lane said. "Gay actors never come to Gay Pride -- somebody might recognize them.  He must be straight but a supporter."

"That takes a lot of guts in homophobic Hollywood.  I'd like to go over and shake his hand."

"Who are you kidding?  You just want to meet your childhood crush!"

"Young adult crush, actually.  I'm two years older than Stamos."

By this time we had long since passed by.





Santa Monica, September 1991

Lane and I were at the Divine Design fundraiser for Project Angelfood, which provides meals for people living with AIDS.  I saw several celebrities  I knew in the crowd, such as Michael J. Fox and Patrick Stewart -- and John Stamos!

But instead of going over to say hello, I stood frozen in place, staring.

"What's the matter?" Lane asked.

"John Stamos."

"So why don't you go over?"  He paused.  "Don't tell me you're nervous!  You see celebrities at the gym every day.  You dated a teen idol, remember?"

I reddened, embarrassed to be having such a strange reaction.  "This is different.  John Stamos was...special.  I'm afraid I'll gush."

"Ok, so he turned you on.  He's just a guy.  He's not even built.  Have you seen his chest recently?"

"Thanks for making me think about his chest! Now I'll never get up the nerve to go over."

Lane grinned.  "Sorry.  What I meant was, he doesn't even have a very big cock.  I imagine that when it's hard, it's not more than five inches. You could go down on it and have room for his balls."

"This isn't helping!"

Hollywood, October 1993

I was walking in the AIDS Walk along with about 1,000 other people.  I stopped to sit on the curve to tie my shoe, while Lane and Infinite Chazz walked on.  When I looked up, John Stamos was right there, just a few feet away, walking quickly while talking to a male friend.

No way I was letting an opportunity slip away again!  I was going to shake his hand!  I would jump to my feet, run two yards over to him, and say "Hi!  I just wanted to thank you for helping me get through a dark time in my life!"

I jumped up, but my shoe was still untied.  I came up to within a few feet of Stamos and said "Hi!  I just wanted..."

He stopped walking and turned to face me.

At that moment, I tripped on something.

I'm still not sure how it happened, but I ended up falling onto my hands and knees, hard, with my face against John's crotch!

"Whoa, dude!" John and his friend helped me to my feet.  "Are you ok?"

"I think so."  Actually, my wrist hurt and my knee was scraped and bleeding.  "Did I hurt you..um...down there?"

"No, man.  You didn't hit me hard."

His friend laughed.  "John's gotten head lots of times, but they usually buy him dinner first."

I should have said something like "Ok, I'll buy you dinner."  At least I should have gone into my "you helped me through a dark time" spiel.  But I was too dazed and embarrassed.  I just stood there.

"You sure you're ok?  You look a little out of it.  You want me to call anybody?"

"My friends are right over there.  Thanks, though."

John and his friend walked on, while I stood there, thinking.

My mouth had been pressed against John Stamos' cock, separated by only a thin mesh!  That counts as oral sex, right?  Even though neither of us consented to it.

I've told several people this story over the years.  Not one believed that it was really an accident.

And no, I can't comment on his size.

See also: Nate Richert's Kielbasa.