Saturday, July 15, 2017

A Gay Connection at a Gas Station in Rural Illinois

Rural Illinois, July 2017

On our way back from New York, we stop at a travel plaza: a Sinclair station with a giant dinosaur outside.  I haven't seen one since I was a kid.  It gives me a weird feeling of going into the past, being dislocated in time.

Something important is about to happen.

While Bob is getting gas, I head toward the convenience store.   A family is just leaving, walking toward the Subway sandwich place next door.

Mom wears a veil, like the Blessed Virgin in art.  I briefly wonder if the family is Amish. Are there Amish people around here?

The teenage son smiles and says "Hi."

I'm so surprised that I stop and stare without responding.

He is wearing an orange t-shirt with a sports team on it and short black pants with a bit of a bulge.  He's tall, a little chubby, deeply tanned,with short black hair, dark eyebrows, flawless smooth skin, and square workman's hands.  He's holding a cell phone.

 The store is huge, selling food, souvenirs, DVDs, auto supplies, even coats and jackets.  There's a fountain in the middle.

I pace around, pretending to look at the merchandise.  The clerk eyes me suspiciously.  I pick up a banana to buy so he won't think I'm shoplifting.  My mind is racing.

I should have said "hi" to that boy.

What for? You're cruised by a hundred twinks a day.  You should know the difference between a cruise and being friendly.  That was just being friendly.

Friendly, at a gas station in rural Illinois?

He's not even hot.  Kind of cute, but not beautiful, certainly not the "supreme beauty" that you remember forever.  And no athlete...he had a little belly on him!

This is close to where Ryan H., the college track star, lives.  Maybe he knows him.  That could be my in.

Who says he lives near here?  He could be from anywhere.

Yes, but....

What were you planning to do?  Pick him up in front of his parents? Go down on him in the bathroom?   Mutual jo in your car, while Bob watches?

No, but...

Get his phone number, exchange selfies for six months, and then drive 500 miles back here for a date with him?

No, but...it was rude to just stand there.  

It's a gas station in Illinois!  He'll get over it!

I want him to know that he has a kindred spirit, that he's not alone.

Not alone in what?  He's probably straight!  And if he does happen to be gay, how would he know that you are?  He probably thinks that you're Bob's father.  If he's given you a second thought, which no doubt he hasn't.

I should have said hello.

Bob has finished getting gas and parked the car.  He goes into the convenience store to use the restroom and buy some snacks.  I walk around to the Subway and look in the window.

Feeling very much like a perv, I watch the family ordering.  The teenage son splits from the group to look at the rack of chips, trying to decide on one.

I walk into the Subway and head toward him, planning to pretend to browse among the chips and fruit and strike up a conversation.  But as I approach, he decides on Cool Ranch Doritos and turns back toward his family.

As we pass each other, he smiles and says "Hi."

I smile back and say "Hi."

I look at the chips for a moment, take one last look at the boy, and leave the Subway.  Bob meets me.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"No.  I'm satisfied."

Who cares that we never dated, or hooked up, that we never really even met?  We shared a moment of joy.

Bob and I return to the car and drive off into rural Illinois.

I've had dates and hookups with men of all types, from bodybuilders to chubs, from teenagers to grandpas.  I've gone down on dozens of men.  I've had dozens of men go down on me.

 But an experience that I will cherish for the rest of my life is saying "Hi" to a cute guy at a gas station in rural Illinois.

See also: A Glimpse of Supreme Beauty at a Rest Stop in Iowa; Picking Up a College Track Star in Front of My Brother.

Friday, July 14, 2017

13 Guys in One Night at Bath House in Cleveland

Cleveland, July 2017

On the way back from New York earlier this week, we stopped in Cleveland.  I wanted to go to the Flex Club, a great gay resort/bath house.  Bob didn't want to go, but he said it was ok if I went by myself.

It's hit and miss.  Sometimes I can wander around the video room, the dark room, the leather room, and the saunas for two hours and get completely ignored by everybody and everything.  Sometimes I'm very popular.

I think of a night at the Flex Club as a success if I meet five guys in two hours.  But the other night, I was with 13!

1. Within a minute of going upstairs to the video room,  I was kissing a red-haired twink with a scrawny body but an enormous Mortadella.



2.That wasn't unusual: I tend to attract twinks.  So I still didn't know if this was going to be a good or bad evening.

A few minutes later, in the dark room, I saw a very handsome, hairy-chested guy in his 30s with someone else, so I joined in.  The second guy left, leaving me with Hairy Chest.  When I got on my knees, I saw that he was wearing lady's panties.  Weird, but a cock is a cock.  About 6".














3-5.  I sat on a bunk in the dark room, and an older black guy approached.  Big cock, one of those giant hernias.  He brought his two friends and "ordered" them to pull it out and let me go down on them.  Nice physiques, big cocks.
















6.  A young bear lying on a bunk wanted to kiss and do interfemoral.

7. His friend, a chub in his 40s, joined us.  He went down on me.
















8.  I started talking to an older guy in the leather room, and told him I was going to the dark room.  He followed me, but on the way I passed the room of someone I liked better: in his 30s, glasses, smooth chest, enormous penis.  He turned out to be a biology teacher.

More after the break













Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Nude Photos of Dads and their Adult Sons

The two best accessories for attracting men are puppies and kids.  There's something undeniably sexy about a guy being a father to his son.  He is participating in the innocent world of childhood, yet he's obviously been sexually active, he obviously has a penis.  Maybe it's the juxtaposition of innocence and experience, the domestic and the erotic.

When the kids have grown up into attractive adults, the sexiness is compounded.  Two guys overbrimming with erotic energy, yet with a nurturing, domestic bond.  And if you get some sausage sightings, you can see if the son inherited his father's penis.











Not too many fathers and adult sons would be willing to see each other nude in the United States, where we have a Puritan hangup about nudity.  But in Europe it's commonplace for fathers and sons to strip down together, go to saunas or the beach together, drink beer togther.









I've never had any erotic interest in my own father.  The familial bond precludes erotic desire.  But I fantasized about my friends' dads when I was in junior high and high school.  A lot.










More after the break.

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

I Pick Up a Boy and His Daddy at an Airport in Montana

Helena, Montana, April 2013

In the spring of 2013, desperate to get out of Philadelphia, I sent out a lot of application portfolios, but being obviously over 40, with 13 years of temporary "visiting faculty" jobs, plus a resume-full of gay-themed research, made me less than desirable as a candidate.  I only got three interviews: a women's college somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania, a Catholic college in Montana, and a public university on the Plains (I took the Plains).

My flight to Helena, Montana gave me a 2-hour layover in Denver.

I don't mind layovers.  The Denver Airport has an artwalk with some of the most interesting public art in the U.S., plus a nice view of the mountains and a nice breakfast place.

Plus airports are great for physique watching: an endless variety of businessmen in suits, college boys in t-shirts and short pants, hot dads balancing their toddlers on their knees.

Helena Airport, on the other hand, is tiny, with a single lobby and a single restaurant, Captain Jack's Bistro and Bar.  Pictures of cowboys, pillars that look like trees.

After my interview, they took me to the airport at 3:00 pm for my 5:00 flight, even though I had my boarding pass and was through security in about 30 seconds.  Nothing to do but get on my laptop and look out at the dark clouds rumbling overhead and wonder if I was going to make it to Philadelphia.

Not a lot of beefcake to watch: a couple of high school athletes, a middle-aged cowboy with a nice basket.  Otherwise all women, kids, or elderly people.

And a twink: tall, slim, with weird wavy hair, a bearded oval face, prominent eyebrows, and those big round earrings, wearing a white button-down shirt and red jeans with a nice bulge.  Rather feminine, flaunting about with his carry-on.  I noticed that it had a rainbow flag on it.

My first gay guy in Montana, and he's not closeted!  Too bad that he's not my type.

Even though there were lots of empty seats, he plopped down next to me.

"Going to Denver?  Yeah, I guess we're all going to Denver.  I'm off to visit my sister in Tucson -- she just had a baby.  I haven't seen her in almost a year.  My name is Jacob."

"Congratulations," I said.   "My name is Boomer."

He grabbed my arm.  "Oh, I bet there's a story behind that."

"Three of them, in fact."  I don't usually make conversation in airports -- there's little point -- you'll both be flying off in different directions in a few minutes.  But -- the only gay person in Helena, Montana!   "I'm going home to Philadelphia.  I was here for a job interview."

"Oh,  Boomer, I hope you get the job.  I'd love to show you the sights!  Did you get a chance to see Cruse Avenue?"

"Cruise Avenue?  Is that the gay neighborhood?"

"No, silly!"  He slapped my shoulder.  "It's a great street that overlooks downtown and the mountains, so you can get a birds' eye view of everything! Oh, and I'd take you to the Holter Museum, and the 4J's -- that's our best casino, not like Las Vegas, but it's fun!  And if you like dancing, they have country-western line dancing at the Rialto."

"Boys dancing together?"

"Sure, whatever you want.  We're open minded in the Big Sky Country."

Did this guy work for the Tourist Bureau?  "I'm really more into classical music."

He grabbed my arm again.  "Babe, you're in luck.  My Daddy is one of the performers at the Montana Early Music Festival. That's why he's not going to Tucson with me --they're performing at St. Peter's tonight.  That's the Episcopal Cathedral downtown."

Daddy?  My ears perked up.  Adults did not refer to their parents as "Daddy," so Jacob was outing himself as the bottom in a fetish relationship that was about control rather than BDSM.  "So, how long have you and your...daddy been together?"

"About three years. I don't call him Daddy all the time, of course.  I call him Mike on campus and to his ex-wife.  She's not very accepting -- she thinks we're just roommates.  But most people in Helena couldn't care less.  It's live and let live up here."  Suddenly there was a rumble of thunder, and it started to pour outside.  The clouds were so dark they were almost black.

Jacob reached out and stroked my knee -- very open for an airport!  And how did he even know I was gay?   "It looks like we might be going to that concert after all."

About fifteen minutes later, our flight was indeed cancelled, so I was stuck in Helena overnight.  I could call the college and have them get me a hotel room, but whenever I've done that, I haven't gotten the job.  Besides, Jacob was already calling his Daddy to arrange for me to spend the night.

I wondered what Daddy looked like: older, of course, and an anal top, but...a stern leather master?  A cigar-chomping bear?  A hard-drinking, tattoo-covered redneck?

Well, it wouldn't hurt to meet him, anyway.

I got Jacob's full name and number, and emailed them to Troy in New York -- just a precaution -- then followed him to his car, clinging against him under his umbrella.

We had dinner at a Mexican restaurant -- he grabbed my knee under the table while I ate my arroz con pollo with guacamole, and briefly held my hand.

 Then we went to the Rialto, the country-western gay bar.  Deserted at 6:00 pm on a rainy Thursday night -- but we managed to find a secluded corner for kissing.

"I'm going to be servicing two Daddies tonight," Jacob murmured, running his  hand over my chest.  "One for each end.  Oh, I can't wait.  I hope you're as hung as my Daddy is."

"How hung is he?" I asked.

"Well, let's just say we grow them big in Montana!

We got to the concert just as it was starting. Jacob ushered me into one of the first rows and pointed to the choir.  "That's Mike," he whispered.  "Isn't he hot?"

"He sure is!" I said, although I didn't know exactly which of the elderly, portly singers he was referring to.

I'm not a big fan of Renaissance music, but the concert was interesting, mostly through the incongruity of hearing it in Montana, looking at a row of middle-aged bears and wondering which was the "daddy" of the twink beside me.  The husky, white haired baritone?  The chubby tenor?  The elderly, eye-glassed bass?

Afterwards Jacob led m up to the stage, past all of the middle-aged bears, to....another twink?

Mike was a professor of music at the college, slim, eyeglassed, blue-eyed...and in his mid-30s.  No more than five years older than Jacob!

This Daddy-Boy relationship was obviously not based on age.  Was it based on penis size?

Back at their house on the oddly-named Flowerree Street, Mike revealed a slim, firm, hairy chest and an uncut, average sized penis.  He was mostly an anal top, but agreed to let me go down on him.

Then Jacob went down on me while Mike topped him.

In the morning we went back to the airport for our flight to Denver.  They gave me their phone number, and said if I got the job, we would get together.

I didn't get the Montana job, but the Plains is only 900 miles away.  I might drop in sometime





By the way, Jacob, the bottom. had a Mortadella+. Go figure.

And I still don't understand how he knew I was gay.

See also: 36 Hours of Cruising at Lambeth International Airport.







10,000 Naked Men, Part 2: Kilts to Pairs

I'm reviewing my collection of 9,248 pictures of men collected from 20 years of internet bulletin boards and blogs.

Last time: Asian to Hung.

Kilts.  Several dozen photos, both posed and candid, demonstrating that Scottish guys go commando under their kilts.










Latino.  Men from Latin America, or Hispanic men in the United States. They can be of any race. This guy from Mexico City has been reading Garfield before demonstrating his Kovbasa+.






Matadors.  I think the enormous bulges are part of the costume, symbolic of the matador's virility and power.  I also have some where the bull's horns have ripped open the costume, leaving the penis exposed.  It's not spectacular.


















Middle East.  Arabs, Turks, Persians, and Israelis.  Bedouins a plus.  And a Kurdish guy with the most enormous Kovbasa+++.

The problem is always where to classify.  This guy could easily fit into Muscle and Outdoor as well.  I downloaded a program to find duplicates.











Military, Police, and Guards.  Men in uniform, including border and castle guards, hot cops from various countries, and cute soldiers taking selfies.  They can't get too far out of uniform, or you can't tell that they're military.

















Muscle.  Most of the guys in the collection are muscular, but this folder is reserved for the ones who stand out as particularly buffed, and don't fit into any of the other categories.








Nerds.  You know you're a nerd when you spend more time trying to see what book he's reading than looking at his penis.  Guys wearing glasses or bow ties, reading books, or doing science fiction or superhero cosplay.














Old Guys, Chubs, and Bears.  Guys of the more mature persuasion, of heftier girth, or with an exceptionally hairy chest.  It's surprising how often all three come together.  This guy has only two of the three qualities, but he has a nice smile.















Orcs and Other Fantasy Beings.  It started with Orcs -- who would have thought that some guys find Tolkien's baddies sexy?  Here's a very well endowed Orc captured and forced to carry heavy weights around.  The folder also contains elves, dwarfs, hobbits, fairies, goblins, angels, demons, and furries (animal people).












Outdoors.  Guys at festivals, nude beaches, nude bike races, or just displaying their goods in public places, like this Hungarian maintenance man.
















Pairs.  I'm not big into action shots, but I like pairs of guys, brothers, friends, or lovers, kissing, hugging, or just hanging out side by side.

Next:Punks through Urinals