Saturday, July 8, 2017

Levi's Date with a Star of "The Dick Van Dyke Show"

West Hollywood, June 1995

It's the night before Gay Pride, so of course Lane and I have a full house: Infinite Chazz, my ex-boyfriend Fred and his boyfriend Matt, Randall the Bear with the Pierced Penis and his date Levi ("like the jeans"), and some other guys.  Most of them will spending the night, six in the beds and four in sleeping bags on the floor, so they can march in the parade tomorrow or get a good place to watch (we're a scant three blocks from Santa Monica Boulevard).

The only one I haven't met is Levi, a Long Beach boy in his late 30s or early 40s, slim, very tanned, and just starting to go bald, with gray hairs among the black in his beard and poking up from beneath his white t-shirt.  Very nice bulge.  I'm hoping to get to "share" later, but chances are he and Randall will invite Will the Bondage Boy into their bed instead.

As usual at West Hollywood parties, we discuss celebrity hookups: Scott Baio, Michael J. Fox, Rob Lowe, Louis Ferrigno.

Randall tells about the time he and Dick Sargent competed over a Disney teen star -- not Tommy Kirk  (that's a story for later).

Then Levi stands.  "All right, boys and girls, it's time for a guessing game.  And to make it more interesting, everyone who guesses correctly wins 10 minutes in the bedroom with me on my knees:

On Gay Pride Day in 1978, when I was a 22-year old Cute Young Thing, fresh off the boat from Alamosa, Colorado, I met and had a swooning night of passion with my boyhood crush, a star of The Dick Van Dyke Show.  You have to guess which one."

The classic Boomer sitcom (1961-1966), about tv comedy writer Rob Petrie (Dick Van Dyke) balancing his work world with his suburban family!  I'm too young to remember first-run episodes, but I've seen a lot of reruns. Not a lot of gay content, no beefcake, but some of the guys were interesting.

"Was it Buddy?" Fred asks. (The short, spunky Morey Amsterdam)  "He had a wife named Pickles -- you don't get more phallic than that."

"I'm voting for Jerry Paris, who played the next door neighbor," I say.  "He was incredibly handsome, nice hair, great hands."

Maybe it was the son," Will the Bondage Boy suggests.  "Larry Mathews would be all grown up by 1978."

"Dick Van Dyke himself?" Matt asks.  "I always got a little -- je ne peux pas dire -- a vibe from him."

Nine votes are cast, with Randall abstaining: 3 for Jerry Paris, 2 for Dick Van Dyke, and 1 each for  Morey Amsterdam, Larry Mathews, Jerry Van Dyke, and Carl Reiner.

"Unfortunately, no one will be seeing what my mouth can do," Levi says, "Not until later, anyhow.  The famous tv star who set my heart aflutter when I was a boy, and who brought me to my knees that hot day in June 1978, was none other than Richard Deacon, who played Mel Cooley."

Huh?

Mel Cooley, the officious busybody, the easily perturbed stick-in-the-mud, the quintessential square, the brunt of a thousand digs and put-downs?   How could he set anyone's heart aflutter?

Besides, he was bald, bespectacled, and rather homely, with a W. C. Fields nose, a weak chin, and a nondescript physique, even for the 1960s.

Levi explains:






Alamosa, Colorado, 1960s

A small town in the scrub grass at the base of the Rockies, 200 miles from the nearest big city, where the biggest tourist attraction was sand dunes.  It was full of cowboys, Mormons, and hobos, with nothing to do on a Saturday night but go to football games and drink beer: painful for a quiet, non-athletic, bookish boy regardless of your sexual identity, but when you're growing up gay in the police-state 1960s, sheer torture.

Looking for survival strategies on tv, Levi hit upon Mel Cooley.  Obviously gay -- at least, no wife was ever mentioned.  And a master of the passive-aggressive barbs that let you survive and even triumph over bigger, more powerful adversaries.  When fisticuffs would get you pummelled, try a slow burn or a disapproving eye-roll.  When an open objection would get you killed, try a snarky quip.  Genius!

Smitten, Levi watched Richard Deacon in everything he could find: Mr. Ed, The Addams Family, That Darn Cat, The Gnome-Mobile, Blackbeard's Ghost, Get Smart, The Beverly Hillbillies, Here's Lucy, Maude, BJ and the Bear.  

He always played gay-vague, passive-aggressive, snarky sticks-in-the-mud aching to ruin the hero's fun.  But on the talk and game shows -- Dick Cavett, The Tonight Show, Mike Douglas, The Match Game -- he revealed the sensitive, sweet soul beneath the bristly facade.  Levi was intrigued: he wanted more.




Hollywood, June 1978

A few weeks after he graduated from Adams State College with a degree in agriculture (his parents insisted), Levi was living in California (top photo), working in a department store, and watching his first Gay Pride Parade.  Harvey Milk was the grand marshal. There were protests against the Briggs Amendment, which would prohibit teachers from making pro-gay statements.

 And -- sitting on the patio of a restaurant facing the street, Levi saw his childhood crush, Richard Deacon!  He was with Paul Lynde and Phyllis Diller and a couple of Cute Young Things.

He was 57 years old, graying, and kind of chunky -- Levi later discovered that he didn't like the gym, and followed Miss Piggy's rule about jogging: "One should run only when one is being chased."  But he was enormously tall, massive, and vibrant, talking animatedly, waving his hands about.

"Mr. Deacon, I loved you in Dick Van Dyke!" Levi exclaimed, rushing forward.  "And in That Darn Cat!  You're a genius!"

"I'm not a genius," Richard said, looking up with a cruisy smile.  "I'm a craftsman."

Levi instinctively looked around, waiting for an insulting quip like "You mean crap-man."  But the others in his party just smiled.  Richard -- "Deac" -- invited Levi to join them.

Later they all had dinner at Deac's house off Coldwater Canyon Drive, north of Sunset.  He cooked: steak with corn compote and summer squash,  asparagus, and a Napa Valley cabernet, with a chocolate torte for dessert.

After dinner, Paul and Phyllis and the Cute Young Things went home, but Levi spent the night.  And the next.  They didn't become lovers, but they became friends, and shared tricks and recipes and Gay Pride Parades until his death on August 8, 1984.

West Hollywood, June 1995

"During my six years of friendship with Richard Deacon, I learned three important things about him," Levi says.

1. He didn't want to play heroes, or God forbid, romantic leads.  No fisticuffs, no kissing ladies.  He found what he was good at, and used it to his advantage, crafting a respectable Hollywood career, making enough money to indulge in all of the things he loved: good food, good wine, art, theater, travel.

2. He was the nicest, most approachable, most easy-going guy in Hollywood.  He would talk to anyone, from superstars to the counter girl at the deli, and no one had a single bad word to say about him.  

Levi pauses.

"What's third thing?" I ask.

"For some of you, it might be the most important.  Not to me -- I couldn't care less.  But it was very nice on a hot Hollywood night with a glass of Merlot by the bedside."

"What's the third thing?" I repeat, annoyed.

He spreads his hands, spanning at least a Kovbasa+.

3. Richard Deacon was hung to his knees.

See also: Cesar Hooks up with the Entire Cast of "I Love Lucy"; The Dick Van Dyke Show; The Satyr Hooks Up with Sylvester Stallone.




Friday, July 7, 2017

Gabe and I Have a Grindr Hookup Contest

Plains, December 2015

The other night I had a couple of free hours, so I went onto a dating app, and I got approached by a hustler!

"I specialize in making older guys feel good," he offered.  "I know it gets lonely when you're over 40, and everyone ignores you."

"Are you kidding?" I exclaimed, annoyed.  "I get approached by younger guys all the time, and I've never yet been turned down! I could hook up with a dozen twinks every night if I wanted to."

 The next day I was complaining about the hustler's chutzpah to my friend Gabe. a recent graduate of the University, now a barista at the gay-friendly coffee house.

"Weren't you exaggerating a bit?" he said.  "I mean, I think you're hot, but most guys my age aren't into anyone over 30, I don't care how much you can bench press."

He paused.  "Now, me, on the other hand, I can attract anyone, any age,  18 to 85.  I just have to bat my eyes and flash my come-hither smile."

I had to admit that Gabe was one of the cutest guys I ever saw: 24 years old, with a nice tight physique and a very thick Kielbasa beneath the belt.  But he was also rather feminine, long-haired, weird red-plastic glasses, with weird plastic bracelets, into poetry readings and art exhibitions and protesting meat processing plants..

"Sure, you can attract androgynous, artsy guys, but what about a man's man?  A guy who drinks beer and goes deer huntin', and wants you to help him skin his kill?"

Gabe, a staunch vegan, whitened.  "Well...I might not want to date him, but I could certainly get him into bed.  Any guy, twink, bear, chubby, Daddy, not a problem."

"Well, I might not want to date a Cute Young Thing who still lives with his parents and has a 10:00 curfew," I countered, "But I could get him into my bed in a second."

"How about we make a little bet?  We each select someone on the app, and the other has to convince him to meet in one hour or less. The loser has to buy the winner dinner."

"What if we both land our guys?"

"Then we have a four-way."

So Saturday night, prime dating and hookup time, we met at my apartment and went to work.

I got to choose someone for Gabe first:

Travis, a 38-year old truck driver from a small town about 50 miles away.  Tall, bearded, hairy, and hung.  His interests actually did include hunting and fishing, as well as football, motorcycles, and "big, chubby guys with some meat on their bones."

The thin, androgynous Gabe was the opposite of what he was looking for!

Gabe gave it his best shot, initiating the conversation with "Want to come over for a beer and a massage?"

I watched their polite, less-than-enthusiastic exchange.

Travis:  "Did you see the game tonight?"

Gabe: [Long pause].  "Uh, no.  I'm here with my friend.  We watched Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.  It's a great old movie about a group of drag queens who get stuck in the Australian outback...."

Travis: [Long pause].  "I'm going hunting next week.  I can't wait."

Gabe:  "[Long pause]. "What music do you like?  I like Owen Pallet, Jay Brannon, a lot of queer indie music."

Travis: [Long pause].  "Um...well, I listen to country-Western, mostly.  I'm going to the Fur Fleet in March.  It's the biggest gathering of bears, cubs, and chubs in the Upper Midwest."

Gabe: Sounds like fun.  I love bears and chubbies."

Travis: [Pointedly] "Me, too."

"That was a dirty trick!" Gabe exclaimed, shutting down the app. "You picked a guy with none of my interests, and I wasn't even his type!"

I shrugged. "All's fair in love and cruising."

"Ok, Mr. Man, now it's my turn."

He picked Bastian, a 18 year old high school senior who was planning to go to art school: long dirty-blond hair, a handsome although rather severe face, a slim physique with an impressive Bratwurst.  Lots of weird plastic bracelets and chains around his neck, two tattoos. Not really my type.

Besides, his profile said "No hookups -- dating and relationships only" and to make matters worse, "My age only."

I glared at Gabe, but said "No problem!  I'll have the hookup arranged in an hour! But leave the room -- I need privacy to work my magic!"

Gabe retreated to the study.  A half hour later, I announced, "Mission accomplished.  Dinner at Chandler's tomorrow night at 7."

How did I get the boy who wasn't into hookups or older guys?

1. Praise.

Boomer: "I just wanted to congratulate you for being out at a young age.  I know it's hard to be gay in the heterosexist high school culture."

Soon I was hearing horror stories about the constant "what girl do you like?" interrogations of his friends, teachers pairing boys and girls together for marriage assignments, parents evoking "when you have a wife and kids" every five minutes.


Boomer: "Have you dated anyone at your school?"

Bastian: "Please! They're too scared to be out."

2. Complaints about Hookups.

Boomer: "Well, there's always this dating app."

Bastian: Are you kidding?  It's full of creepy old guys who just want to get into my pants."

Boomer: "I know.  You can't get rid of them, it's always like 'Come over and do me! I'm more than just a penis!"




3. A Potential Boyfriend

 Boomer: "Hey, I know a guy you might like.  He's 24 years old, single, and completely out."

I told him about Gabe's interest in art, poetry, and queer Indie music, and sent his picture.

Bastian: "Sounds great!  Set us up!"

4. Sealing the Deal

Boomer:  Let me see if he's up for it.  [Pause for a few minutes.]  He says fine.  Dinner tomorrow night at Chandler's.  But the thing is, he's shy, and he won't meet with a new guy unless I'm there as moral support.  Do you mind if there are two of us?"

Bastian: "No problem.  See you both tomorrow.  Can't wait!"

There is more than one way to share a twink.

The story continues with The Hookup Contest, Part 2

See also: The Twink Who Wasn't Interested; Cruising My Host's Son at a Heterosexual Party



Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Dick Sargent and Randall Compete Over a Disney Adventure Boy

West Hollywood, June 1995

It's the night before Gay Pride, and Lane and I are having about a dozen guys over, so they'll be able to get to the staging grounds easily tomorrow, or find a good place to stand to watch.  As usual at West Hollywood parties, we swap celebrity dating stories: Tom Cruise, Rob Lowe, Mario Lopez, Dustin Hoffman.

Randall the Muscle Bear usually doesn't participate, although he knows a lot of actors, but tonight he may be trying to impress his date, Levi from Colorado, so he says "I'm going to tell you about the time Dick Sargent and I competed over a Disney adventure boy from the 1960s."

The room is abuzz as we discuss the Disney adventure boys, a stable of teen hunks who took their shirts off to demonstrate "wholesome American masculinity" during the late 1950s and early 1960s: Jeff East, Tim Considine, Roger Mobley, James MacArthur, Tommy Kirk.

"You'll have to hear the story, and guess.



Hollywood, May 1966

Randall, who would become the Muscle Bear with the Pierced Penis, was then Randy, a 26-year old twink, fresh out of the Navy, back in his home town of Los Angeles after eight years in Hawaii, Guam, and Germany.    He moved into a tiny apartment on Crescent Heights, in what would one day be West Hollywood, got a job in set design, and reunited with his old friends, including actor Dick Sargent (the future star of Bewitched).

Dick introduced him to 26-year old Tommy Kirk (Old Yeller, The Shaggy Dog, Swiss Family Robinson) who had been fired from Disney last year when the studio discovered that he was gay.  He was trying to keep his career afloat with some beach movies and low-budget thrillers, like It's a Bikini World and Psycho A-Go-Go.

The three of them were talking, and Randall mentioned his crush on a Disney Adventure Boy from a few years ago -- he'd be in his 20s by now.

"He's a really nice guy," Tommy said.  "He and Annette are the only two of the old Disney gang who will talk to me now.  But he's straight.  He's got a girlfriend."

"Maybe she's a beard," Dick suggested. A woman you date as a cover.  "And, straight or not, nobody can resist my impish grin."

"Or my...um...baseball bat," Randy bragged.  "I'll bet you I can convince him to drop his pants in just two hours."

"That's nothing!  I'll have him throwing my legs in the air in 45 minutes."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Sounds like an episode of Truth or Consequences," Tommy said.  "Tell you what -- I'll arrange the meetings -- that's the truth.  But I get to go down on the loser, the dude who doesn't get the boy.  Those are the consequences."


Dick Sargent's Date

Dick and Tommy and their beards met the Adventure Boy and his girlfriend at a Hollywood hot spot.  The music was loud and psychedelic; acid and pot were being passed around openly.  There were dancers in cages.  There were a number of celebrities grooving to the music, including George Segal and the Smothers Brothers.

 At 36, Dick felt a bit old for such a groovy hangout, but he gamely danced the frug and the watusi with his girl.  Then they sat at a red booth for drinks.

After awhile, the girls went off to "powder their noses," and Tommy found an excuse to make himself scarce. Dick slid across the booth and grabbed the Adventure Boy's shoulder.

"Hey, dude, you didn't hear it from me, but I think your chick digs chicks."

"Yeah, I know," he said.  "Doesn't bother me a bit.  She's the smartest, funniest girl I've ever met, regardless of who she sleeps with."

"But don't you want to...you know, get laid?"

The Adventure Boy smiled and patted his hand.  "To tell you the truth, sex with girls isn't much of a kick.  I never could figure out why everybody's so hepped up on it."

"Me, neither."  Dick reached down and grabbed his knee.  He didn't respond.

"There are so many more important things in life.  Art, literature, music, philosophy."

Dick moved farther in, found the Adventure Boy's crotch, and squeezed.  The Adventure Boy found his hand and moved it away.

"A sunrise on the beach is more satisfying than any number of blow jobs, I don't care if they're from a chick or a dude."

Dick backed off.  Later he went back to Tommy's house for his "penalty."

Randy's Date

Randy refused beards, offering Tommy and the Adventure Boy a "guy's night out."  Beginning, at his insistence, with the L.A. County Museum of Art.  He had never been there -- it only opened in 1961, and moved to its new building on Wilshire in 1965.

"This is where it's at," the Adventure Boy said.  "Picasso, Rembrandt, Matisse will be here long after our beach-blanket dreck is forgotten.  Mod comes and goes, but the artistic spirit lives on forever."

Randy touched his shoulder.  "You're really very sensitive, aren't you?  Nothing like your buffed airhead persona in the movies."

He shrugged.  "It's a job.  Besides, it gives me an opportunity to scope out the action. The Body Beautiful in Technicolor."

Afterwards they drove to the Santa Monica Pier to have dinner and then walk along the beach at sunset.  Randy put his arm around the Adventure Boy's waist.  Tommy chuckled.

"Hey, you dudes should drop by my pad," Randy said.  "I got some righteous Sangria I picked up in Spain, and some maui wowie."

The Adventure Boy suggested that they go back to his house instead.  He put on a record of Debussy, offered them a joint, and then sat with his legs wide, his head back, his eyes closed.  His knee brushed against Randy's.

"Man, I could just lie here all night, letting the music flow through me.  This has been a far-out day."

Tommy went out to the kitchen in search of wine.  While he was gone, Randy knelt in front of the Adventure Boy and pressed down on his crotch.

"Art, music, pot, a walk on the beach, a couple of cool guys by your side. What more could you ask for?"

Randy unzipped him and pulled out his penis --very long, very thick around, pale in the dim light -- and fondled him.

He didn't get aroused.

Randy went down on him.  It was like going down on a limp noodle.  Completely soft.

After a few minutes, he tried his hand again.  Nothing.  He returned the Adventure Boy's penis to his pants and zipped him up.

A moment later, Tommy appeared with glasses and a bottle of wine.  "You guys been keeping yourselves busy in my absence?"

"No," Randy said, annoyed.

After a glass of wine, they said goodnight, and Tommy drove Randy back to his house to collect his "penalty."

West Hollywood, June 1995

We glance at each other.  Randall hasn't given us much to go on.

"Definitely Roger Mobley," Will the Bondage Boy says.

"James Macarthur," I suggest.

"Tim Considine?"

"Nope.  It was Aron Kincaid."

The blond hunk in all of those beach movies of the early 1960s -- Beach Blanket Bingo, Muscle Beach, Bikini Beach Party?  He was a lot hotter and more buffed than ostensible star Frankie Avalon, and a lot less interested in the ladies.  I don't remember him being in a Disney adventure boy movie, but then, growing up Nazarene, I only saw a few of them.

This was before you could look up such things readily, and by the time I was near a library, I forgot all about it.  Only recently did I look him up: Aron Kincaid was no Disney Adventure Boy.  His only work for Disney was The Happiest Millionaire (1967).  Randall was mistaken, or fibbing.

But at least both he and Dick Sargent dated a former Disney Adventure Boy: Tommy Kirk.



Was Aron Kincaid Gay?

It's possible that Aron was gay, but too tired or too high to get aroused, or too nervous with a third person there.

Or that he had no sexual desire at all; maybe he was asexual.

He was engaged to four women over the years, but never married.  When he socialized, it was with a man or a much older woman, like screen legends Rita Hayworth and Maureen O'Hara.   But mostly he preferred solitude.

In the 1970s, he moved to San Francisco and started a new career as a model.  He became friends with Armistead Maupin, author of Tales of the City, who named his chief villain Norman Neal Williams ( after his real name).  Later he moved to New York City, where he embarked on a third career as a painter of landscapes and seascapes.

 He lived alone through his life, and died in 2011.


See also: Dick Sargent, Cary Grant, and Groucho Marx, All in the Same Bed.

Tuesday, July 4, 2017

I Hooked Up with a 48-Year Old! At the Gym! On the Plains!


Plains, July 2017

Four things you need to know to understand how amazing that is:

1. Plains is crowded with twinks and Cute Young Things.  They're everywhere, in the campus gym, at the gay-friendly coffee house, on the street.  You go on Grindr for 10 minutes, and 10 guys who just turned 18 (they claim) are sending you selfies of their aroused penises taken in the bathroom while Mom and Dad are at work.

2. But hardly any gay men over 30.  Every twink and Cute Young Thing, without exception, plans to move to West Hollywood, Chicago, Denver, or Minneapolis.  I can't blame them -- I would too, if it was financially possible.   And very few adult gay men move here for jobs -- if you had a choice of the Plains or a big city, or even a middle-sized city, which would you choose?

As a result, the number of gay men over 30 in town is infinitesimal.  I know two, and they are planning to move to Phoenix.

3. As you get older, the guys who cruise you get younger.

It's a weird inverse relationship:

In your 20s, you get cruised, approached, and asked out mostly by guys 10-20 years older.

In your 30s, mostly guys your age, or a few years older or younger..

In your 40s, it's mostly Twinks, under thirty but grown up, living on their own, with jobs and cars.

In your 50s, it's mostly Cute Young Things, in their late teens or early twenties,  living in college dorms or with their parents


I don't want to know what happens in your 60s.



It makes some kind of sense.  Younger guys typically have the good looks, the muscles, and the sexual stamina, and older guys tend to have the sophisticated style, the money, and the sexual experience.  As one diminishes, the other increases, and you want a good counterpart.

So I'm 56 years old.  Every 18-year old in town is lining up to get into my bed, but on the rare occasions that I meet a guy over 30, he's not interested.

Except for "married (to women)," "discrete," closet cases who don't know anything about the rules of gay culture and will go with any willing mouth.

I can't even remember the last time I was with an actual gay guy over age 30 on the Plains.  Probably in 2014, when Yuri visited and I arranged some hookups for him.

4. This particular gym is low on men aged 20 to 70.  At least in the mid-afternoon, when I go.  A lot of kids (real kids, 12-13 year olds), a lot of elderly retirees, but few others.  So seeing any guy in his 40s is unusual, and meeting one who is gay and interested in going home with me is as rare as meeting a gay Jewish Bushman.

I didn't even see him working out.  It was my running day, and I got there late, when the treadmills are typically taken, so I made a beeline for the first open one I saw, and didn't get off it for 45 minutes.  Then I did some quad, thigh, bicep, and tricep sets, never going into the free weight room.

Just as I was finishing my shower, he came in and chose the shower cubicle across from me -- naked, carrying one of the small workout towels, which means that he expected towels to be provided -- a visitor.  Very tall, with a long, lean physique and a bubble butt.

I dawdled, waiting for him to turn around.  Soon he did.  Black hair, sharp features, a full beard, a very hairy chest, and an enormous penis, easily 4" soft, with low-hanging balls.  I didn't care much for the pierced nipples or the long, slender hands, but otherwise he was hot!

Our eyes met.  He didn't cruise, but he didn't look away in disgust either.

I dried off, taking my time, exaggerating the butt and cock.  He turned off the water.

"The workout towels are surprisingly absorbent," I said.  "I've used them sometimes when I forget to bring my own."

Not the best pickup line, but  a. it marked me as a regular; and b. it broke the ice.

While he was toweling off, I further established that I was an expert on Plains (thus opening the way for questions, like "is there a gay bar in town?").

We walked out into the locker room together.  He was in the same locker bank as me.  Chatting, I learned that his name was Taylor; he was from Minneapolis (figures), he worked as a dean of students at a university (not the University of Minnesota), and he was in town visiting for Independence Day.

Suddenly a twink in a sweaty blue t-shirt appeared and grabbed his shoulder.  "You finished already?  And I thought I was the gym rat."

In his early 20s, my height, very muscular, with broad shoulders and thick veiny biceps.  Rather a long face, short brown hair, a little femme in mannerisms.

I missed him, too?  I really had to spend more time in the free weight room!

Taylor put his arm around his waist.  "This is Austin.  We're here visiting his folks."

Like virtually every twink I've ever seen since turning 40, Austin cruised me -- face, crotch, eyes -- as he reached out a sweaty hand to be shaken.  "Annual 4th of July Barbecue, then fireworks, yawn. It was that kind of dreary stuff that made me want to escape to the Cities. You're not from around here, are you?"

"No, I'm from West Hollywood," I said, outing myself once and for all.

He smiled broadly.  "Wow, impressive!  We've visited, of course, but to live there!  It would be a dream come true."

"Minneapolis is nice, too.  I was just there last weekend for Pride."

"Hurry and shower," Taylor said, a bit annoyed.  "I want to get dinner."

"In a minute, in a minute."  Austin turned to me.  "Tomorrow it's all nuclear family boredom from dawn to dusk, but tonight the Dean and I are going to howl!  You wouldn't happen to know of any our kind of bars in town?  Or dare I hope -- bathhouses."

We ended up going to dinner, then to the gay-friendly coffee house for dessert and live music, and then back to my house.

Austin and I kissed on the couch while Taylor fondled us, and then Austin went down on me while I went down on Taylor -- who turned out to have a very thick Kielbasa when aroused.

We switched position, and I went down on Austin while he was working on Taylor -- average sized, uncut.

Finally we made it up to the bedroom, where Taylor topped Austin bareback while I continued to go down on him.  It took him only a few moments to spurt down my throat ("Go deep!  Go deep!" he murmured.  I didn't know which of us he was talking to).

Taylor pulled out of Austin's butt just before he finished.  Then I lay atop Austin to finish with interfemoral, my penis between his legs.

Afterwards they got dressed and left -- "The family will be suspicious if we stay out all night" -- but not before Austin gave me his Facebook, twitter, snapchat and instagram addresses and said "Text me if you ever get back to the Cities."

Ok, in retrospect, Austin was the one actually interested in me; the boyfriend just came along to be polite.  I'm surprised he didn't sit on a chair and watch tv while we went at it.

But that's a matter of semantics.  No one can deny that I hooked up with a 48-year old.  At the gym.  On the Plains.

See also: I Arrange for Some Muscle-Daddy Hookups for Yuri.

Alan's Arrest: The Vice Cop, the Gay Basher, or the High School Boy?

West Hollywood, July 1988

"Ok, do you guys want to pick at ice cream like little sissy girls, or do you want to EAT ICE CREAM?"  Alan asks.

If you say EAT,  you get six scoops "for starters."

We're at a barbecue at Derek's house near Sunset Boulevard. About 10 of us, including Fred, Matt, Raul, Marcus, and Will the Bondage Boy, are swapping our best stories about disastrous dates, gigantic penises, or hookups with celebrities.  Now it's time for dessert, and Alan's turn:

"I'm going to tell you about the time I was arrested."

This should be good.  Alan does everything BIG.  A Pentecostal theology student turned porn star turned English teacher, he is exuberant, effervescent, full of crazy schemes.  He says whatever pops into his head, does whatever he wants without considering the consequences.  It's not hard to imagine a lot of circumstances where he would draw the wrath of the heterosexual police state.

"Better yet, I'll tell you about three incidents, and you have to decide which resulted in my arrest.  They all happened in the early 1980s, before any of you met me."

"What do we win if we get the right answer?" Raul asks.

"Twenty minutes alone in the bedroom with me.  Anything you want: make out, go down on me, get topped, discuss Dynasty...."

We glance at each other and grin.  Alan is very big beneath the belt.



#1: The Vice Cop

Alan didn't approve of public cruising -- not because of any immorality in anonymous contacts, because it was dangerous.  Undercover cops were everywhere, waiting to haul in "perverts" on "lewd conduct" charges, even if they did nothing but talk.

One day Alan and his friends had a picnic in Griffith Park, and he decided to go on a hike.  A cute guy cruised him.  In his twenties, with blond curly hair and a smooth chest -- well, who wouldn't follow him into the woods?  Besides, there was no way a vice cop would be prowling this far from a gay neighborhood!

They found a secluded spot.  The cute guy unzipped Alan's pants and pulled it out.  He fondled Alan's aroused penis for a few minutes.

Then he flashed a badge.  "LAPD Vice!"

I go into the kitchen and bring Alan another soda.  Obviously the contest is over -- this must be the one.



#2: The Gay Basher

In the early 1980s, before people knew about AIDS, "tricking" was commonplace -- you went out to the bars, met someone, and brought him home that night, without waiting for a date or introducing him to your friends or anything.

One night at the Gold Coast Alan met a truck driver -- in his 30s, very tall and muscular, with a beard and a hairy chest.  Alan usually preferred soft and smooth -- but what a bulge!

The guy said "I want take you home and pound you!"  Alan was not usually into anal sex, but he figured, with someone that hot, he would make an exception.

They went back to Alan's apartment.  When they walked in the door, Alan drew him in for a kiss.  The truck driver called him a  "f*king faggot", and punched him in the face.

Alan sprang back in shock, and the guy was on top of him, punching and kicking and yelling "f*king faggot."

"More ice cream?" Alan asks.  "I brought lots."


#3: Staying After Class

Every high school teacher and college professor knows that male students often get aroused in the classroom. You're supposed to pretend that you don't notice.  But Alan doesn't pretend.

He was so cute!  18 years old, tall, slim, Hispanic, a little feminine, with thick black hair -- and what a bulge!  He had a Mortadella, easily.  And he was tenting outrageously right in the middle of the lecture.

Alan leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to go to the bathroom and take care of that?"

The boy blushed and shook his head.  But after school he came back to "talk about his grade."  His bulge returned.  So did Alan's.

The school was empty except for some kids doing after-school activities and the the janitor making his rounds.  So Alan unzipped his pants, and the boy knelt and went down on him.  Right at his desk!

"Ding, ding!" Alan exclaims.  "Write your answer on a slip of paper, and I'll tally the results."

Most guys guess The Vice Cop.  I mean, come on, the guy flashed his badge!

"No," Alan says. "He let me off with a warning -- after he went down on me.  He was on a power trip -- he got off on intimidating guys into sex."

Some guess Staying After Class.  Sex with one of your students, right in the classroom!  Who cared that he was of legal age -- the police would have a field day!

"No," Alan says,  "We hooked up after class several times.  We're still in contact -- he went to UC Santa Cruz, majored in philosophy."

Only Will the Bondage Boy, who has never met Alan before, guesses The Gay Basher.  "You look like you can take care of yourself," he says. "I bet the basher ended up in the hospital, and that didn't sit well with the straights."


"Precisely!" Alan exclaims.  "He got a broken nose and three broken ribs.  My crazy roommate called the police, and of course they arrested me for 'enticing' a poor innocent straight boy."

So Will and Alan go into the bedroom for 20 minutes.  They don't tell us what happened there.  Probably something like this.

See also: Sharing the Kept Boy with Alan; and the Bear with the Sweeney Todd Fetish.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Guys in Sweatpants: The NSFW Version


This is the NSFW version of my post on Guys with Sweat Pants, who showed up out of nowhere in this picture retweeted to my twitter feed.

I had no idea who these guys were.
  A baseball team?  A boy band?  An youtube celebrity and his entourage?

So I did some research.  Porn stars relaxing after a weekend shoot.




The one on the far left, with the horse shoe tattoo, is Dante Colle, "GQ in the streets, hippie in the sheets.  Pura Vida," with 3,000 followers on twitter.  Lots of shirtless, semi-nude, and NSFW gay sex scenes on his social media feeds.















Kaden Dean, the femme guy with the ears standing next to Dante in the back row, is a 22-year old college student from Texas.  He has a Hebrew phrase tattooed on his chest.  He retweets a photo of himself aroused, sent by Logan Cross with the phrase "Look at this new meat my booty gonna eat."







Logan Cross, the short guy in the front with the weird hair and the chest, is from  Utah with a bubble butt and 58K followers on Twitter.  He likes pizza, pug dogs, Miley Ray Cyrus, his hairstyle, and sex with Kaden Dean.














Leo Luckett, the blond guy with the big red tattoo, second from the left, is  from San Diego.  He likes Harry Potter, peanut butter, and Daddies.   He tweets: "Who wants to top?  I wanna bottom."

Clark Parker,  hiding in the background, second from the right, was born on September 6, 1990, is into skateboarding and sex, and belongs to Slytherin House at Hogwarts.  He's Austin Wilde's sock buddy and favorite bottom.









Austin Wilde, the bald one holding the camera, has 90,000 followers on Twitter.  He lives in San Diego, where he regularly tops men on camera.  It helps if you like dogs and are a good cook.  He won the "Best Body" trophy at the Gay Porn Awards in 2017.

Here he asks "Do you like my socks?"













Charles King, on the far right, has excellent abs, representation from Ted Faye, and 1,300 followers on Twitter.  He tweets "I can't remember the last time I paid for underwear," and admits that he's never had sex with Hugh Jackman.

The G-Rated post is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding



Sunday, July 2, 2017

The 10 Hottest Small Guys

The average length of an aroused penis in the U.S., measured from base to tip, is between 5" and 6."  But everyone thinks it's about 8", so average-sized guys often feel insecure, and small guys don't even like to pull it out.  But small ones work just like big ones, better in some cases -- no worries about gagging or biting.

Besides, I've never met a guy with a small penis who wasn't drop-dead gorgeous.  Especially these guys, who aren't ashamed of their smallness, who highlight it, transform it into undeniable hotness.

Here are 10 of the hottest small guys I could find.

1. Beautiful face, tight hard body, and a penis that would fit into the palm of your hand.





2. A twin with the classic face and physique of a Von Gloeden photograph, his limbs akimbo, one hand posed to draw our eye to the small penis of an ancient Greek statue.
















3.  This Asian muscleman has his pubic hair carefully trimmed, like a window into a darkened universe, with a single light shining.
















4. Radiant smile, slim body glowing with vitality, a dress shirt half off, and two low-hanging balls offset the small uncut penis.
















5. Husky, hairy, enveloped in shadow in a rocky wasteland, inviting you to work your way up from his balls.

















More after the break.