Earle Has Public Sex with Teen Idol Matt Dillon

Orange County, August 2017

I'm visiting Los Angeles for a week, having dinner with my ex-boyfriend Lane, his husband Ben, and four of their assimilated married couple Orange County friends, all in their 50s and 60s.  No nudity, no sharing, just discussions of aluminum siding and 401k accounts, and what I'm doing wrong with my career and personal life.

I try to steer the conversation away from what's wrong with me to celebrity hookup stories, and to my surprise, hear a number of new ones.

Lane and Ben hooked up with Keanu Reeves' boyfriend.

Stan went down on John Amos in the shower.

 James dated Ricardo Montalban.

 And Earle had public sex with 1980s teen idol Matt Dillon.




West Hollywood,  May 1982

Earl grew up in Buffalo, New York in the 1960s and 1970s, which was just as conservative, repressed, and homophobic as it sounds.  Gay people were never mentioned in school, except once in high school health class, where the teacher advised them not to engage in "self abuse," or they would turn into "he-shes."

There was lots of sex, but it was clandestine, guilty, never spoken of.  Earl started going down on his next door neighbor when he was still a pre-teen.  In high school he went down on practically the entire football team, and got screwed by the coach.

There was public sex at Delaware Park, at the Greyhound Station, and at dirty bookstores.  And as a last resort, there was the movies.

This was before VHS tapes or DVDS, so if you wanted to see a porn movie, you had to go to the a "dirty movie" theater downtown.  Usually it showed legitimate movies until midnight, when the porn came out.  Straight porn, of course, but an audience consisting of 30 or so horny, repressed straight men, all ages and races, all sizes and shapes, tenting in their pants while watching naked girls.  Some would pull it out and beat off, right in the theater.  You weren't supposed to, but no one bothered them.

Gay guys would walk down the aisles, as if they were heading for a seat.  If the straight guys covered up, they weren't interested, but if they displayed their cock, you could get on your knees and give them a blow job.  Sometimes Earl took three loads on the same night.

But he wanted more.  He wanted a place where you could go out on dates, hold hands, kiss, not just suck dicks in secret.

 In 1980, at age 23, he made the Big Move to West Hollywood.  He changed his name to Earle with an E  and threw himself into the heady, optimistic world of pre-AIDS gay culture.  Dancing, drinking, muscles, Frontiers magazine, the Different Light bookstore, Gay Rights Marches, Gay Pride.

This world, though bright and glittery, had perils of his own.

 He was judged on his looks, his belly, his smallish cock, his less than stylish wardrobe, his lack of awareness of social norms.

He met hustlers and manipulators.  He tried to date, and ended up with tricks.  He tried to trick, and ended up with an empty bed.

One night Earle had been stood up by a blind date and struck out at the bars.  Depressed, lonely, and horny at midnight, he was driving aimlessly down Santa Monica Boulevard, when he saw the Pussycat Theater on Santa Monica, a few blocks east of Fairfax.

Closeted straight men getting blow jobs from anonymous strangers in the dark?

A wave of nostalgia hit him.  A simpler time, when size, shape, bank account, and knowledge of social norms didn't matter -- all that mattered was a cock and a mouth.

 A happier time?

Earle parked, bought a ticket, got popcorn, and went inside.  On screen, a naked lady being screwed by one guy and sucking another.  He looked down.

About thirty guys, like the dirty theaters back home, sitting in widely separated seats.  Earle began walking down the aisles, looking for someone who was tenting or aroused.

Suddenly an usher was shining a flashlight in his face.  "Hey!  Pick a seat or get out!"

Embarrassed, Earle sat down immediately, next to a twink with shoulder-length brown hair, a long face, and a slim physique.

"You can't do that here," he whispered, nudging Earle. "You have to do it this way." He grabbed for Earle's crotch under his popcorn.

Soon Earle was fondling the twink under his popcorn.

"Ok, now," the twink said.  "He won't be back until the movie is over."

"You do this a lot?"

He shrugged.  "It's 21 for the bars, but 18 for movies."

Earle knelt. The twink unzipped, and Earle went down on his thick 7".   He said nothing else, just stroking Earle's hair while he licked and sucked.  Earle began playing with himself.

He had never masturbated in a public place before.  The floor was sticky, and littered with candy boxes, napkins, straws, popcorn kernels.  There was a thick, musky smell in the air.  And he couldn't drown out the disgusting sound of female orgasms.

We're in West Hollywood! He thought.  We don't need to do this anymore.

"Let's go back to my apartment," he whispered.  "More privacy."

"No can do," the twink said.  "Try this."  He raised Earle up and kissed him.

Kissing a guy was enough to revv Earle's engine.  Soon he was spurting onto the floor beneath the seat.

But he must have been too loud.  Other patrons turned around, and one guy said "Get a room!"

The twink zipped up and scooted past Earle and headed for the lobby.  Earle thought he wanted to go somewhere more private and followed, but he rushed out, got into his car, and sped away.

In the lobby he finally recognized the twink as Matt Dillon,  Tiger Beat fave rave, star of Little Darlings and My Bodyguard and Tex.

Earle never went back to the Pussycat Theater -- he was beyond skulking and slithering and hiding in the shadows.  And when he saw The Outsiders, The Flamingo Kid, A Kiss Before Dying, In & Out, and Wild Things,  he couldn't help but feel sorry for Matt Dillon, who was still trapped in that world.


Was Earle Telling the Truth?

Matt hasn't been linked with many women, so he could be gay and closeted.  I haven't heard any other gay dating stories about him, but he wasn't a major star after the early 1980s, so maybe whatever stories guys had were put on the "B List" while they told about Scott Baio and Sylvester Stallone yet again.

By the way, this is what Earle looks like today.  I assume -- this was conservative Orange County, so I never got to share.

See also: On My Knees in Central Park with Macaulay Culkin; Lane is Tied Up by Keanu Reeves