Friday, May 12, 2017

Why Infinite Chazz Broke Up with the Ginger Boy


West Hollywood, June 1994

We gave Chazz the nickname Infinite because he was infinitely hung, with at least a Mortadella, and because he was infinitely attractive.  Every guy in sight cruised him.  He would go out to the bars and come back with six telephone numbers.

We met when I was working at a camp for juvenile delinquents, but we didn't become friends until February 1994, when he was 20 years old, taking classes at Cal State Fullerton and working at Disneyland.

For the next two months, he drove up to West Hollywood nearly every Friday or Saturday, whichever day he had off, to go to dinners, parties, and Shabbat services.

He was a big hit at parties, where he usually won the "biggest penis" or "most easily aroused" contests.

He always shared our bed, unless he was out on a date.

In April 1994, a week or two after Passover, Infinite Chazz started dating Kris, a 19-year old aspiring actor, fresh out of high school in New Jersey.

"He's super-hot, and super-talented," Chazz gushed on the telephone. "He's only been in town six months, but he's already been in some movies and tv shows."

"So, you've been on three or four dates," I pointed out.  "When do we get to meet him?" It was customary to introduce the prospective boyfriend to the friends on the second date, to get their approval.  Barring that, the fourth or fifth date -- to share.

So the next weekend they had us over for dinner at Kris's terrible one-bedroom apartment on DeLongpre, just south of Sunset in Hollywood.

Kris was a ginger boy with a bright open face and a wide mouth.  Good for kissing, able to accommodate the biggest of Kovbasas.

But Chazz didn't invited us to share!

Too soon?

During the month of May, I saw Chazz and Kris often.

They came to Shabbat services at Beth Chaim Chadashim, followed by dinner at the French Quarter.

No sharing afterwards.

I had lunch alone with Kris while Chazz was at work.

No sharing afterwards.

They came to our friend Jason's party in mid May.  Kris won the "biggest penis" contest, beating out Infinite Chazz by a full inch when they were both aroused.  As his prize, he could invite anyone he wanted into the bedroom for 10 minutes.

He chose Chazz.

Still no sharing!



This was becoming awkward!  It was ok to wait a couple of weeks, but it had been over a month!  Not offering to share was unforgivably rude, like saying "You're not good enough for us!"

"Maybe Kris is HIV positive," Lane suggested, "And doesn't want to spread the virus around."

"Then he should say something!" I complained.  "And besides, we'd be having safe sex."

"Well, maybe they're monogamous."

"No sex outside the relationship?  The old heterosexual 'wife as property' model?"

"It's not very common, but it happens," Lane said.

"Ok, but they still should say something, apologize and explain, not give us the air!  It's just rude.  I'm about done with Chazz!"

"Maybe it's not Chazz's fault.  Maybe it's Kris.  He's newly out, after all, and he hasn't lived in West Hollywood long.  He doesn't know the rules.  Weren't you the same way, when you first moved here?"

So I gave Chazz another chance.  On Memorial Day weekend, we invited them to a barbecue, and hinted strongly that we should spend the night together.  But...nothing happened.

Kris was starring in a low-budget car-chase film called Smoke and Lightnin, and in June he invited me to a cast picnic as his "date."  A boring, heterosexist, outdoor affair, the monotony broken only by a nice sausage sighting of Christopher Atkins.

And by Kris saying: "Let's find a secluded spot and make out."

This is it!  I thought.  After two months, it is finally time to share!  

We didn't find a secluded spot during the picnic -- Christopher butted in -- but afterwards we went to the Rage, the twink bar, where we would be meeting Chazz after work (they didn't checked ids, if you were  cute).  We found a dark corner and kissed and groped.

But when Infinite Chazz arrived, we hung out for a bit, then had dinner at the Greenery and browsed at the Different Light, and went home.

No sharing!

A few days later, Lane and I left for Spain.  When we returned, I called to invite Infinite Chazz and Kris to lunch.

"Kris is still on location in Florida," Chazz explained.  "And anyway, we're not boyfriends anymore, so you'll have to invite him separately."

"You broke up? Why?"

"The oldest story in the book, Dad: I found out he was unfaithful.  Someone caught him in the act, and told me, but he didn't deny it."

"Sex with other guys!" I exclaimed, pretending to be horrified.  So they were monogamous after all!

"Oh, no, sex would be ok.  We had an open relationship, like you and Lane.  But I had a basic rule: no romance. No falling in love."

"And..?"

"He and this other guy were kissing!" I imagined Chazz's face contorted with disgust.  "Can you believe it?"

Suddenly I realized that I had gone down on Chazz a dozen times, but never kissed him.  It was the most intimate of activities in the gay world, far more intimate than oral or anal, often reserved for one's boyfriend.

So...that day at the Rage, Kris and I jumped past the "play" of simple erotic contact to romance...

"I don't know who the other guy was," Chazz said softly.  "My friend didn't recognize him, and Kris wouldn't say.  But if I ever find out..."

Gulp!

"So I have a question," I said.  "You were dating for two months.  Why didn't you ever invite us to share?"

"Why, were you into it?  You're always talking about how much you like black guys, Asians, Hispanics, swarthy Mediterranean types like Lane.  I didn't think you liked redheads.  I didn't want to put you on the spot."

See also: A Sausage Sighting of Christopher Atkins

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Sausage Sighting of Christopher Atkins

When I was living in West Hollywood, I met a lot of actors, some famous ones: Adam West, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Cesar Romero, Gregory Harrison, Greg Williams, John Amos, Lou Ferrigno, Michael J. Fox, Richard Dreyfuss.

But only one is a Facebook friend today: Christopher Atkins

Here's why:

West Hollywood, June 1994

In the spring of 1994, our 20-year old ex-juvenile delinquent "son" Infinite Chazz began dating Kris, a 19-year old baby-faced ginger boy who had been in Los Angeles less than a year, but had already been in some movies and tv shows.

You might know him as Kristoffer Winters, who played the Zilbor in Dude, Where's My Car (2000) and Clayton Gallagher in Shameless (2011-2012), and who is reputedly the boyfriend of  Jeremy Renner.

Renner could do worse -- Kristoffer won the "biggest penis" prize at one of our parties.

Not much of a physique, but hung to his ankles.

Kris had just landed his first starring role, in what turned out to be a very bad Smokey and the Bandits rip-off called Smoke n Lightnin, about two auto mechanics named, naturally, Smoke and Lightnin (no g), who get involved in a caper involving car chases and girls.

"It's not exactly King Lear," he admitted, "But it could lead to bigger things.  And you'll never guess who my costar is -- Christopher Atkins!  I had such a crush on him when I was a kid!"

We all had a crush on Christopher Atkins when he played a boy growing up on a desert island in The Blue Lagoon (1980) -- a thoroughly heterosexist movie famous for several nude frontal shots of the tanned young actor.

More movies with frontal nudity followed, notably A Night in Heaven (1983), about a male stripper, plus a story arc on Dallas (1983-84).

Christopher's star had waned a bit -- for the last ten years, he had appeared mostly in sleazy, low-budget productions like Mortuary Academy and Bandit Goes Country. -- and Smoke and Lightnin.  But what actor wouldn't jump at the chance to work with such an iconic star?

And maybe get a glimpse of the most famous penis of the 1980s.

It was a low budget movie -- three weeks of shooting at a real auto repair shop in the San Fernando Valley and a house in Mission Viejo, and then off to Florida for two weeks of shooting the Miami locations and car-chase stunts.

One day Kris invited me out to lunch, and to meet Christopher.  I was sort of disappointed -- I didn't expect the lithe, tanned teenager of Blue Lagoon, but the cragginess, long hair, and moustache was a bit too redneck.  If I saw Christopher walking toward me on a dark street, I'd be worried about a gay-bashing.

But he turned out to be very friendly, very gay-positive.  He knew about Infinite Chazz -- even about the nickname "Infinite" -- and asked about the date of the Gay Pride Festival, as if he intended to come.

The day after they wrapped up in Los Angeles, Christopher hosted a picnic in Griffith Park for the cast and crew and their families.  Infinite Chazz couldn't make it, and Lane was in San Francisco, so Kris invited me to be his "date."

"I don't want to be the only gay guy there," he explained.  "But play it cool -- I'm not out at work.  Only Christopher and Mike [Michael Kirton, the director] know."

I had already met Christopher Atkins, I hate eating outside, and I really hate hanging out with heterosexual nuclear families, fielding questions about girlfriends and the bodaciousness of this or that actress, watching boy-girl pairs making out and kids screaming and tugging at each other.

But no doubt Kris would show his gratitude by inviting me over to "share."

Did I mention, hung to his ankles?

So we sat at a picnic table with Christopher and Lyn and their kids (Brittney and Grant), and Mike and his girlfriend and Sabryn and her husband, and ate hamburgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, and some sort of apple cobbler from gross paper plates, and talked about Mike's new muscle car and the new bathroom Christopher was installing in his house.

Boring!

There were no big stars at the picnic, and very little beefcake, a lot of fat good-old-boy types with their wives and toddler kids.

After lunch we all scattered, some to play tetherball, some to watch the kids, some to go hiking.

Kris nudged me.  "I'm tired of all this heterosexualizing.  Let's go find a secluded spot and make out."

Make out?  I grinned.  That could just mean kissing and groping -- but, in a few minutes, I could be going down on him!

But then Christopher was beside us.  "You guys going hiking?" he asked.

I glared at him.  "Um...yes."

"Great, I'm up for anything."

Not anything, I bet.  

We had gone about a mile up the trail, when Christopher said "Excuse me, got to drain the lizard."  He left the trail and stood by a tree and unzipped.

This was my chance to see the most famous penis of the 1980s -- and to get even with Christopher for spoiling my make-out session.   I came up beside him, said "Is this tree taken?," and unzipped and glanced over.  Not very big, but....a sausage sighting of Christopher Atkins!

I tried to urinate.  Stage fright.  Nothing happened.

Christopher grinned.  "You just wanted to see it, didn't you?"

"No -- I...er, have to go."

"Don't be embarrassed -- I get it all the time.  That's why I started charging.  $10 for a peek, $20 for a grope."

Was he serious?  Would I get not only a sausage sighting, but a fondle?  "Will you take a check?"

"Sure."  He zipped up.

Darn! He was joking!

 I never got to go down on Kris.  When we got back from Spain later that month, he and Infinite Chazz had broken up.

But I'm still Facebook friends with Christopher Atkins (and his son, Grant Bomann).

See also: Nude Photos of Christopher Atkins; Infinite Chazz Hooks Up with Mark-Paul Goesselaer.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

The Navy Pre-Flight Training School: World War II Beefcake

In February 1942, just at the start of U.S. involvement in World War II, St. Mary's College in California was chosen as one of four sites for a Navy Pre-Flight Training School, where new recruits would get four weeks of basic training.

The Navy took over some of the campus buildings and built others, and in July the camp opened.  It was operational until 1946.

 Recruits received military training and took academic classes (mathematics, physics, military law) and athletics (boxing, swimming, and football).  One of the football instructors was future president Gerald Ford.



Upon entry, they were photographed in their underwear -- front, rear, side.  A number of the photographs have been recovered and posted on the internet.

They only give initials, so it will be virtually impossible to track down these guys and find out what happened to them later in life.

We will have to be content with glimpses into the beefcake and bulges of the past.


Martin, J.D. September 7, 1942

Beckman, F.A. August 24, 1942

DeMaria, M.  Oct 20, 1942





Pizzuto, M.A. Oct 27, 1942

Dow, L. M.,  Nov 4, 1942

Smith,E.S. Dec 29, 1942






Dean, D.A. February 9, 1943

Schultze, R.I., October 13, 1943

Carrell, T. R.  June 6, 1944







McMahon R. October 27, 1942.

Brown, R. R. June 22, 1944

The Closet Professor has an article about the training school

The G-rated version of this article is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding


Monday, May 8, 2017

David is Hit On by a High School Boy

Castro Street, July 2014

I'm back in San Francisco, Gay Heaven,  visiting my friend David for a week.

When I met David in 1996, he newly out, with a wife and children back home.  He had just had his first same-sex experience just six months ago, on his 43rd birthday, and he was making up for lost time by cruising everybody in sight.

He's 60 now, a grandfather, craggy, with thick hard muscles and a shaved head, chest, and crotch.  But he hasn't slowed down.

He provides me with a Cute Young Thing to "share."
We go cruising at the Eagle.
We go to a bear party.

Tonight we're having dinner with David's friends Tim and Tutor, at an Indian restaurant, discussing gigantic penises, celebrity hookups, and the joys of getting older, like becoming a twink magnet.

I'm 53, and cruised by guys in their 20s all the time.  Earlier this summer I dated a 22 year old -- a 31 year age difference!

"That's nothing!"  Tim exclaims.  "I'm 56, and last week I had a date with a 20 year old -- a 36 year age difference!"

"That's nothing!" Tutor says.  "I'm 58, and last week I dated an 18 year old kid.  A 40 year age difference!"

We all look at David in expectation.

"An age difference of 46 years.  Maybe 47.  I can't be sure."

Wait -- David is 60.  That would make the other guy...

No way!

"Oh, don't worry," he says quickly.  "We didn't do anything.  I am absolutely not attracted to kids that age, and even if I was, I wouldn't do anything.  I'm not that crazy.  But I was definitely being cruised."


South of Market, June 2014

David was in the gym in the mid-afternoon, about 3:00, working on the shoulder press machine at 190 lbs, when the Kid came in.

He was short and a little husky, with close-cropped blond hair and brown eyes, wearing a red t-shirt and gym trunks.  High school aged.

Why was he alone?  David wondered.  Kids usually come to the gym in groups, and all work on the weight machines together.

He was dawdling by the bicep press, probably waiting for David to finish his set.

He finished and moved on to the vertical press machine, but the Kid didn't take his place on the shoulder press.  He moved on to the rowing machine, which was directly across from David, allowing him a good look.

Now David realized that the Kid wasn't even high school age.  He was barely pubescent, thirteen years old, fourteen tops.

"That's pretty young to be interested in sexual activity," I point out. "Are you sure he wasn't just being friendly?"

"You know that cruising look -- a brief glance down at your crotch, then back up, eyes narrowed, a half smile?"

I nod.

"He had it down pat at age thirteen!"

David moved into the free weight room.  The Kid waited a few minutes, and followed.

David was working out on a bench near the drinking fountain.  The Kid decided to get a drink of water, and walked by slowly, glancing while pretending not to glance.

Why was a 13 or 14 year old attracted to him?

At that age, David thought 30 was way old, and 40 a doddering antique.  No way would he be interested in someone old enough to be his grandfather!

"Besides, I never would have had the nerve to actively cruise a grown-up!"  Tutor says.

After a while, the Kid left the weight room.

Next David saw him on an elliptical machine in the aerobics room, grinning broadly as he worked.  He glanced at David as he walked past.

He had already finished his run for the day. Nothing to do but shower and change.

After he showered, David put on a towel and headed back to the lockers.  To his left was a little lounge area where you could watch tv and read newspapers.  It was also handy for watching for guys walking past naked.



The Kid was there, sitting with his shirt off, texting someone on his smartphone.  He looked up and smiled.

David had to smile at the Kid's inept attempt to attract his attention.

"Come back in five years, when you've put on about fifty pounds of muscle!"

"And grown a few inches beneath the belt!," I add.

When David finished dressing, the Kid was no longer in the lounge area.  He bought a protein bar and walked upstairs and out to the main entrance to the parking lot.

The Kid was standing there by himself, gym bag in hand.  His shirt was still off, tucked into his back pocket, even though it was a cold, rainy day.

They looked at each other.  The Kid smiled.

David didn't know what to say, but he had to say something.   "So, don't you get cold in this rain?"

"No, I like it."

"Um...do you have a way home?"

"Stupid!" I exclaimed.  "Now he'll ask you for a ride!  You should never let a stranger into your car, regardless of his age."

"Um...yeah, my Mom's picking me up.  Next time, though."

"Yeah, sure, ok."

"I usually play ball at Franklin Square -- when it's not raining.  I'll probably be there tomorrow."

"Great.  Well, see you later!"

David crossed the parking lot to his car just in time to see an orange minivan pull up, and the Kid get in.

Castro Street, July 2014

"Did you go to Franklin Square the next day?" Ted asks.

"No, and I made sure to be done at the gym before 3:00, too.  I didn't want to run into the Kid again."

"He probably didn't want a date or a hookup," I say.  "He probably just wanted a friend."

"I'm not big-brothering him!  His parents might think I was doing something, or he could get mad and accuse me of doing something. But it's nice to know gay kids today are more self-aware and self-assured than they were in our day."

"Well, this is San Francisco," Tutor says.  "You'd have to expect kids to be self-aware in Gay Heaven."

"They are in the Straight World, too," I say.  "Did I ever tell you about the high school kid who hit on me in Dayton?"

See also: Hit on by a High School Boy

Nude Photos of Helmut Riedmeier


These are nude photos of bodybuilder and physique model Helmut Riedmeier (1944-), mostly taken in London in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

















Early in his career.  Notice the 1950s "greaser" look, rather out of date in Swinging Sixties London.


















A little later in the same shoot.


















He didn't do any actual sex scenes, but there was some homoerotic buddy bonding.




A couple of years later, in the mid 1970s.



















Same photo shoot, aroused this time.  He's one of those guys who are the about the same size aroused.

The G-rated post is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding.