Sausage Sighting of Billy Mumy and Jon Bon Jovi

This is Jeremy, Infinite Chazz's partner.  I saw Bill Mumy on your hookup wishlist.  I hope this is what you were looking for:

Summer 1991!  There has never been another summer like it.  Paula Abdul was at the top of the charts, Michael J. Fox and Keanu Reeves were at the top of the box office, and everyone was glued to the tv, wondering who killed Laura Palmer on Twin Peaks. 

I was a 21 year old undergrad at Florida State, studying philosophy of all things, and I landed the best summer job of all time -- an internship at Universal Studios in Orlando, where I became a gopher and script boy for the Superboy series!

It was about a college-age Clark Kent studying journalism at Shuster University.  Played by Gerard Christopher, aka Jerry Dinome, 30 years old, a strong romantic-lead type, a former physique model, tall, tanned, and buffed, with a bulge that wouldn't quit.  Hot!



I sidled up to Gerard, bringing him coffee and bagels, telling him that I wanted to be an actor (I actually didn't), trying to tease out whether he was gay or not -- and more importantly, whether he was into 21-year old philosophy majors!

Season 4 began with a two-parter (aired October 6th and 13th, 1991), in which Superboy runs afoul of Adam Verrel (Michael Des Barres), a stereotypic British-sophisticate villain.  Hey, I didn't write this stuff.

 Adam blackmails eccentric inventor Tommy Puck (Bill Mumy) into creating a super-weapon to take Superboy down.

Michael Des Barres was big, bold, and flamboyant, an androgynous glam rocker who had his own band in the 1970s, and had since performed with everyone from Blondie to Duran Duran.  He was newly divorced but still friends with Pamela Des Barres, quintessential groupie whose tell-all book,  I'm with the Band (1987), details wild nights of sex wilth everyone from Don Johnson to Mick Jagger.

Unabashedly bisexual, or I guess pansexual -- he liked sex, period.  And rather aggressively into me, with the hand on shoulder and accidentally-brushing-the-bum bits.  He wasn't at all my type, so I just kind of ignored him.

Bill Mumy was quiet, a little more reserved.  I never saw Lost in Space: I knew him from the old Twilight Zone episode where he plays a kid with eerie superpowers, and from his musical group Barnes and Barnes:  "Fish Heads" on the Doctor Demento radio show.

He was skinny, almost gaunt, with a long face and crazy hair, not really my type. 

Also rather conservative; Michael and Gerard went out drinking and "raising hell" after the table read, but Bill went back to his hotel to call his wife on the telephone.

We shot for two weeks.  During the last day, Michael wrapped his arm around my shoulders and said "Gerard and Bill and I are popping down to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow for a quiet little gathering at my mate Tico's house.  It's an overnight. Fancy coming along?"

An overnight party would certainly mean sharing Michael's bed.  But Gerard would be there, too -- showering, going to the beach, stripping down, all of those things that could lead to male-bonding and hand jobs.  Maybe I could convince Michael to "share"!  So I agreed.


Some quiet little gathering!  Tico turned out to be the drummer for Bon Jovi, and he had this marvelous five-bedroom house near the beach in Wilton Manors, the gay neighborhood of Fort Lauderdale.  He wasn't gay -- he had a live in girlfriend -- but half the guests were gay men.

The other half were famous musicians -- Jon Bon Jovi, George Michael, Blondie, Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue!

I don't remember what we had for dinner, but I remember everyone eating off paper plates while they cruised, flirted, and got wasted.  Pot and cocaine were passed around, and the scent of poppers filled the warm night air.

Some of the guests were skinny-dipping in the pool.  I saw one guy with an enormous cock just walking around, flapping in the wind.

Michael wasn't nearly as aggressive as he had been in Orlando -- he mingled extensively, never staying with one person for more than a minute or so.

 Gerard and Bill Mumy stayed together, almost defensively.  They were both getting rather high.

 I imagine that Gerard wasn't used to being ignored. Sure, he was the star of a popular tv series, but here, he was a minor celebrity, even a nobody -- did anybody but junior high boys actually watch Superboy?

Around 9:00 pm, Gerard suddenly grabbed Michael and Bill and dragged them into the house.  They returned naked except for socks on their cocks, like the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and started singing "Welcome to California."

Wow!  Gerard naked, with his enormous cock barely hidden by a gym sock.  Michael and Bill, too, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Gerard.


Until Bill Mumy got a slight sock misfunction.  It slipped off, leaving his nice semi-aroused 7" for everyone to see.

Some of the guests hooted, and one yelled "Danger, Will Robinson!", which I guess is a line from Lost in Space.

When he saw what had happened, Bill covered up and rushed into the house.  He didn't come back.

In the morning, we had breakfast, then caught our flight back to Orlando.  I saw Bill again in the spring, when he reprised his role as the eccentric inventor on Superboy, but I didn't mention the sock misfunction.

I guess that was pretty convoluted, huh?  A lot of buildup for a momentary glimpse of Bill Mumy's penis.

Would it help if I told you that I had sex with Michael Des Barres that night?  Good kisser, very big cock, mostly an oral bottom.

And I also went down on Jon Bon Jovi in the bathroom?

Sausage Sighting of Christopher Atkins

When I was living in West Hollywood, I met a lot of actors, some famous ones: Adam West, 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, my friend 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.

The full post is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

Lane's Bear Boyfriend and Infinite Chazz

West Hollywood, January 1995

Lane was a big fan of a gay comic that appeared weekly in Frontiers, about an assimilated couple: they lived in a straight neighborhood, had mostly straight friends, and had problems involving kids and in-laws.

"That's what life should be like," he said one night. "If the world wasn't so homophobic, we could move down to Anaheim, buy a house, and adopt a couple of kids, just like..."

"Just like our oppressors?"

"Just like straight people.  And look -- one of the guys is short, slim, and Jewish, and the other is tall, goy, and muscular, just like us!"

"Must be a sign," I said, busily channel surfing.

One Sunday night in January, we went to a book signing of gay cartoonists at the Different Light Bookstore.  Tim, who drew Lane's strip, looked nothing like his characters: he was about 40, and big, bigger than me everywhere:  6'8 to my 6'1, and about as wide as he was tall, with impossibly wide shoulders, thick heavy biceps, enormous hands and a big belly.  I swear if he lay down on a bed, he would take up the whole thing!

Add a thick black beard, leather chaps, and a leather vest festooned with silver skulls, and you have a cross between a heavy-metal rocker and a Hell's Angel.    No wonder there was no line at his table.

Lane rushed us over.  "I love your work!" he gushed.  "Does it reflect your real life?"

I expected a big, booming voice, but Tim was actually soft spoken.  "No, it reflects what I want life to be -- a 'normal' life, with a house, a job, a partner, and kids, where gay and straight don't matter."

Ugh!  I came to West Hollywood to escape the "house, job, wife, kids" cage!  I left Lane to gush some more and headed over to meet Donelan.

When we reunited, Lane didn't talk about Tim, but he was very energetic in the bedroom that night.  I was certain that he was fantasizing about Tim

Lane liked his men big, the bigger the better: tall, massive, muscular, fat.  I was much taller than him -- we looked like Mutt and Jeff walking down the street -- but I couldn't compete with Tim.

A few days later, I came home from work to find Lane and Tim sitting on the couch. Not kissing or fondling, but Tim was so big that he couldn't sit on a couch without pressing his leg and thigh against the guy next to him.

I was certain that they had been in the bedroom!

I roiled with jealousy.  We were allowed to see other guys, as long as we brought them home to "share" the bedroom activity. Sex without sharing was cheating.

"Having fun?" I sniped.

"We were just waiting for you to get home," Lane said with a guilty grin.  "We're going to go out to dinner."

Grumble, grumble.  Ok, I guess.

We piled into Lee's hatchback -- Tim was too big for the back seat, so I had to take it.  On the way to the restaurant in a straight neighborhood, we stopped at the 7-11 for something, and Tim almost slammed the door on me!

"Sorry -- I didn't know you were getting out of the car."

Yeah, right.

After dinner, we returned to the apartment, but Tim didn't come in for sharing.  He looked around to make sure no one was looking, then hugged us both at the same time and gave us each a wet, gross kiss.  I reached down to grope him and found Lane's hand already there.

That night Lane was less than enthusiastic in the bedroom.  Because he had already had some bedroom calisthenics earlier in the day?

About a week later, Lane announced: "Tim has invited us out to visit him in Temecula on Friday."

Temecula?   

A far, far southern suburb, about 1 1/2 hours away from West Hollywood, where Tim lived in the house he inherited from his parents, where he had three cats and belonged to a gardening club and saw his two daughters from a heterosexual marriage on weekends.

Ugh!  Sounds like what I moved to West Hollywood to escape.  Besides, I had a vested interested in keeping Lane as far away from his boyfriend as possible.  I was pretty sure that ten minutes after Tim said "Move in," Lane would have the U-Haul rented and the "Dear John" letter written.


"Driving all that way in Friday night traffic?  No, thanks!" I said.

"Well, how about if we leave here at 2:00, and get there at 3:30, before rush hour starts?"

What?  Lane knew that I worked at JobTech from 8 to 5 Monday - Friday!

"We can't make it.  I have a job, remember?"

"It's contract.  You can take the day off whenever you want."

"Sure, if I don't want to make any money that day."

Lane paused.  "Hey, do you mind if I drive over by myself?  I'll be back by 10:00 pm, I promise."

I glared at him.  "Sure, no problem."

As Friday neared, I became more and more apprehensive.  Lane would probably be spending the afternoon in bed with his boyfriend!  Plus he would be experiencing the sedate Straight World lifestyle of the comic strip.  Mowing the lawn, calling the plumber to fix the sink, planning the garden club picnic, bringing a casserole to the hetero couple next door, advising the daughter over her boy trouble.

Ugh!

In a year or two, they would be inviting me to visit them in Temecula, to meet the in-laws and the kids.  They would serve coffee and cake in the living room, with a picture window looking across to the neighbors' house across the street, where the kids were playing catch in the front yard....

Friday, February 4th

I went to work as usual, but couldn't concentrate, worrying about Lane dumping me to go suburban with the motorcycle bear Tim.  Finally I decided to drive out to Temecula and catch them in the act!

I claimed to not be feeling well and left at noon.  I didn't want to drive all the way down to Temecula myself, so I called Infinite Chazz, who was from Orange County and knew his way around the suburbs.

We met three years ago, when I was working at a camp for juvenile delinquents.  Now he was living with his parents and taking classes at Cal State Fullerton: 20 years old, slim with short brown hair, a long face, a tight smooth chest, and an impressive Bratwurst beneath the belt.

We called him Infinite Chazz because he was infinitely attractive, sure to cause jaw-dropping stares in every gay guy who came within five feet of his dazzling smile and even more dazzling bulge.  He visited every couple of weeks, to "share" and make the guys at the synagogue or MCC die of envy.

At 1:30, I picked up Chazz at his parents' house.  We stopped to grab lunch at a Carl's Junior, then and drove another hour to Temecula, arriving at 3:00, at just the right moment for Lane and Tim to begin their illicit bedroom activity.

Sure enough, Lane's car was parked in the driveway.  The upstairs window was open.  That must be where they were doing it!

We knocked.  Tim immediately came to the door.  Fully clothed.  "Um....hi?" he said quizzically.

Thinking fast, I said "Hi!  I decided to come out after all."

"Great!  Glad you could make it!  Lane's out in the garden."  He reached out his bear paw to Chazz.  "And this is...."

"My friend, Infinite Chazz."

"Well, come here, let's have hugs all around."  He wrapped us in his massive arms and gave us each a kiss.  I reached down to grope him, and found his hand on Chazz's basket.

That night the four of us hooked up.  Tim had a Mortadella+, beercan thick, with an enormous head.  I got to go down on him for a few minutes before Infinite Chazz took over.  Then he topped Chazz while kissing Lane.  Meanwhile Chazz went down on me.

Tim was quite energetic for a man-mountain.

Turns out that there was no illicit bedroom activity going on.  Tim drew bears in his comic strip, but in real life he liked smooth, slim twinks and Cute Young Things.  He liked Chazz.

See also: I Sneak Chazz into His Boyfriend's Bedroom; Leonard and Larry

Our First Hookup with Infinite Chazz

Anaheim, California, February 1994

My job at at a camp for juvenile delinquents lasted for only about six months, from July 1992 to January 1993: too many crazy rules, too homophobic.  The only kid I really bonded with was Chazz, a cute 17-year old on a diversion program for vandalism and auto theft, who I helped break the rules to visit his boyfriend.

We stayed in contact, chatting in America Online chatrooms and sometimes talking on the telephone.   After his release, he moved to Orange County, about 40 miles from West Hollywood, to stay with his father and stepmother. He got his high school diploma, enrolled at Cal Stat Fullerton, and got a job at Disneyland!

"You and Lane should come down and visit," he said.  "I can give you a behind-the-scenes tour."

I hated theme parks: the crowds, the noise, the tacky tie-ins, the $15 ice cream cones.  Especially the Disney Main Street, a glorification of the racist, sexist, homophobic 1890s America of Walt Disney's childhood.

But I liked Chazz -- I felt like a big brother to him.  And Lane had fond memories of going to Disneyland as a kid.  So we decided to go down on a Thursday in early February 1994 -- a weeknight in the middle of winter shouldn't be too crowded.

 We checked into our room at the Sheraton around 7:00, picked up Chazz at his parents' house, and took him to dinner at a Mexican restaurant (tip: always eat first, so you don't have to buy the overpriced, saturated fat-laden theme park food).

It had been a year since I saw Chazz in person.  He had changed, or maybe I had permission to notice, now that he was over 18!  Thick arms and shoulders.  A far bigger bulge.  His adolescent features hardened into those of a classic leading man: a square jaw, a heavy brow, soft eyes, and a bright smile.


When we ordered our cheese enchiladas and arroz con pollo, Chazz excused himself and went to the bathroom.

"Why didn't you tell me that your Boy Toy was so drop-dead gorgeous?" Lane exclaimed.

"I know!  Last I saw him, he was a cute kid, and now he's a super-hunk!"

"I'd wear a gay-pride t-shirt to Liberty Baptist Church [where homophobe Jerry Falwell preached] just for a five-second through-the-pants grope."

"I didn't even think you were into twinks.  You like bodybuilders and hairy-chested, bearded bears."

Lane laughed.  "Sometimes a twink will turn my eye.  Remember Danny, my boyfriend before you?  He was a regular Trophy Boy.  And Chazz definitely does the trick.  Any chance of us sharing tonight?"

"I don't know.  Since I was his teacher at Camp Routh, he may not think of me as an erotic possibility.  He might not even be into older guys."

"Older?  Who you calling old, Sonny?!"

"I'm 33.  That's a huge age gap for an 18 year old.  And you're 38, old enough to be his father."

"Just suggest it, will you?"

"Well, I'll ease into the idea."

When Chazz returned, I said "This weekend we're going to see My Father the Hero, starring Gerard Depardieu.  He's very hot, don't you think?"

Chazz shrugged and said something about 20-year old Mackenzie Astin in Iron Will.

I pointed out a hot suit-and-tie guy in his thirties.  Chazz shrugged, but his jaw dropped at the hot teenage busboy.

Grabbing at straws, Lane told about his hookup with Cesar Romero, the Joker on the old Batman tv show.  "He was in his 80s, super hot and super hung, believe me!"

Chazz yawned and said "Before we go over to the park, I should tell you some ground rules:"

1. No physical contact. Hay people are technically allowed at Disneyland -- they can dance together since a lawsuit in 1984 -- but you still have to be careful.  You might not get kicked out for holding hands, but you can get yelled at or beat up.

2. Don't out me in front of the staff.  They're usually ok, but management is really homophobic.  They don't hire anybody who 'looks gay,'   You hear them complaining about 'fags' and 'fairies.'

3. You're my uncles.  Don't out yourselves, either, just to be on the safe side.

"Sounds fun!" I exclaimed, thinking "why are we doing this again?"

Oh, yeah -- Lane wants me to ask Chazz to "share."  After all that oldster-bashing, I don't think so.

Chazz directed us to a "cast member" parking lot, which was a lot closer than "guest parking," and through a secret side entrance that led to Adventureland (yes, we paid the admission fee).

It was a Thursday evening, but the crowds were still intense.  Lots of nuclear families with babies in strollers and overexcited kids, some hot Dads, an occasional teenager.


Chazz got lots of smiles back.  He was getting cruised by everybody.   Literally everybody -- men, women, teenagers, boys, girls, Aladdin and Princess Jasmine.

I pointed out various guys,  to check on how Chazz responded.  He uniformly rejected anyone who looked over 30, and squealed "Gross!" at Daddies and bears.  But high school boys brought a broad smile to his face.

"Do any of the 'guests' approach you and try for a date or a trick?" Lane asked.

"Oh, sure, all the time.  I can't stand the Creepy Old Guys -- they stand so close that you can see their yellowed, rotten teeth and smell their rank breath.  And they think they can impress you by talking about things from before you were born. As if!"

"How old are these Creepy Old Guys?" I asked.

"Oh, way old.  I bet some of them are even old enough to be my dad!"

Lane frowned.

"But I've made dates with a couple of guys my own age, you know, cute ones, ones I have things in common."

Our behind-the-scenes tour involved going into secret side-doors to avoid the lines of rides like Space Mountain and the Mark Twain Steamboat, going into little tunnels to see the animatronic Abraham Lincoln and the Sleeping Beauty Castle, and some shopping in a "cast member"-only store hidden behind one of the seemingly empty storefronts on Main Street U.S.A.

I found it all rather depressing.  I was just waiting for 11:00, when the park would close and this behind-the-scenes tour would have to end.

Finally, as the crowds were pouring through the front entrance through trams, Chazz led us to Adventureland, back into the small side exit, and out onto the still-bustling streets of Anaheim.  We found our car, and started on the way to his house.

Chazz looked alarmed.  "Hey, aren't you going to invite me to...you know, spend the night in your hotel room?  I thought you guys did that all the time."  He reached over and grabbed my knee.

"Not all the time," Lane said from the back seat.  "But sometimes, if we meet someone we both like."

""We didn't think you were into older," I said.

"Well, not Creepy Old Guys, like grandpas, but you guys, normal age, sure.  I been fantasizing about Boomer ever since he was at Camp Routh.  I have a thing for teachers, you know."

I turned around, and Chazz directed me back to the Sheraton.  We went up to the hotel room.

That night he got his nickname of Infinite, and not just because of his Mortadella+.

 See also: Lane's Bear Boyfriend and Infinite Chazz; Lane and His Trophy Boy; and My Scary Date with the Teenage Lawnboy

Infinite Chazz Hooks Up with Mark-Paul Gosselaar

Washington, DC, April 15th, 1995

I'm in Washington DC, visiting my old friend Alan for the week before Easter and Passover. My partner Lane calls, like he does every day,  and Infinite Chazz gets on the phone.

"Hey, Dad!  You'll never believe this! Last night I was dumped!"

"That is hard to believe!"  I exclaim.  "You're never rejected.  You just walk up to the guy, flash your patented smile, and he's writing down his phone number!"

Infinite Chazz is 21 years old, a student at Cal State Fullerton, called "Infinite" not only because of his enormous Mortadella, but because he's infinitely attractive, sure to cause jaw-dropping stares in every man who comes within five feet of him.  He drives up every couple of weeks, to "share" and make the guys at the synagogue or MCC die of envy.

"Not this time.  And you'll never guess who dumped me."

"Jerry O'Connell?" I joke.  The star of Sliders was the prime time hunk du jour.

"Close.  Mark-Paul Gosselaar."

"What?  Are you sure?  Is this a fantasy?"

"I wish!  I'm still smarting from the rejection."

Mark-Paul Gosselaar (left) was the teen-dream star of Saved by the Bell (1988-1994), Zack Morris, the constantly-in-trouble operator of Bayside High.  Every gay boy in the country had his pin-up on his bedroom wall; most realized that they were gay watching the buddy-bonding romance between Zack and Mario Lopez's Slater (right)

"I'm not saying he's not hot," I tell Chazz, "Or that he's not a nice guy, but he's never had any gay rumors, that I know of.  He's a hetero horndog, dating every supermodel he sees."

 Indeed, his character Zack Morris screams heterosexual privilege, someone who absolutely assumes the universality of heterosexual desire, who is absolutely convinced that gay people do not exist.

"Well, last night, he made two exceptions.  Me, and the guy he dumped me for."

West Hollywood, April 14th

Chazz was in West Hollywood keeping Lane company.  On the Friday before Passover, Lane was tired, so Chazz went out by himself, promising to bring someone home to "share."

He went to the evening service at Beth Chaim Chadashim, the gay synagogue, and a meeting place for West Hollywood's gay Jewish community.  Although he wasn't Jewish, he had visited often enough that all the regulars knew him.

At the refreshment table after the service, he was drawn to a new guy, strikingly tall, with dirty blond hair, a rarity at the synagogue.  When he got closer, he saw that it was Mark-Paul Gosselaar, his teenage crush!

"Mr. Gosselaar, I love you...I mean, I love your work!"  Chazz gushed, shaking his hand. "I have the entire Saved by the Bell series on VHS."

Usually gushing at a celebrity turns him off, but MP smiled broadly, with that Zack Morris smile that brought teenage boys to their knees.  "Call me MP.  Yeah, Saved by the Bell was lots of fun, but I'm anxious to move on to adult roles.  I'm doing a Misery thing right now about a football jock kidnapped by an unpopular girl."

"Sounds great -- I can't wait to see it."  Chazz noticed that they were still shaking hands, and began to get aroused.  "So, I didn't know you were Jewish."  And gay.

"I have Jewish roots on my mother's side, so when I heard that there was a gay synagogue in town, I had to come and give it a look."

"What's your expert opinion?"

"I need to do more research," MP said, touching Chazz's chest.  "Really get to know gay Jewish boys, see what they're like inside, examine them up and...down."  He looked down at Chazz's crotch.

Chazz didn't need any more prompting.  He invited MP home to "share" with Lane, but MP wanted to see "gay nightlife."  So they went to the Rage, the twink dance club.

They danced, and kissed, and groped each other.  

"How big was he?" I ask.

"Average sized, maybe a little smaller.  I didn't care. I would have gone down on him right there at the Rage, if he suggested it."

"Did you see it?"

"No, but I saw the tenting, and felt it through his pants."

Then the Other Man showed up. 

They were all dancing in a mass, so Chazz didn't even notice when MP moved to the side and faced the Other Man -- Asian, tall, slim, black-haired, with very tight jeans and some socks shoved in to give him a bulge.    

Then they were blatantly facing each other.  Grinning.  Eyes smoldering.

MP was cruising another guy, while on a date with him!  Unheard of in the gay community!

Thinking fast, Chazz said "I'm tired -- let's go get a drink," and walked off the dance floor.  MP didn't follow.

He went to the bar, got a bottle of beer, and brought it to MP -- who said "thanks" without ever taking his eyes off the Other Man.

Chazz grabbed his shoulder.  "I'm ready to go home."

"Ok," MP said.  "It was nice meeting you."

"I mean with you..." Chazz said desperately.  "Or both of you, together.  I have a place..." 

"I don't know...I'm sort of shy." MP reached out to grab the Other Man and kiss him passionately.

Chazz was furious.  He was never rejected, and certainly not in the middle of the date!  He looked around for another guy to make MP jealous, and stuck up a conversation with a cute black twink.  But when he looked around, MP was gone.

Seething with rage, aching with rejection, Chazz drove home, and cried in Lane's arms.

Was Chazz Telling the Truth?

In April 1995, Mark-Paul Gosselaar was 21 years old, and working on Twisted Love, a Misery rip-off set in a high school. He does have Jewish roots, but his hair is black, not dirty-blond -- it was dyed for Saved by the Bell. 

Penis size: About halfway through Dead Man on Campus, his character is making out with a girl in bed, and he gets aroused in real life.  You have to zoom in to see it; at least a Bratwurst, somewhat bigger than what Chazz described.

But I haven't heard any gay rumors about him.  I suspect that Chazz took an "innocent" meeting and added some details about kissing and groping.

But why make it into a story of a painful rejection?  

See also: A Live Sex Show for Alan; Saved by the Bell; Why Christopher Atkins is My Facebook Friend.

Who Can Tell the Best Celebrity Hookup Story?

West Hollywood, August 2017

It seems that all of the celebrity dating and hookup stories I'm  getting lately took place in the 1960s or 1970s.  They involve Andy Griffith, Bobby Driscoll, Jack Wild, Tony Dow, and Ricky Nelson.  I wanted to hear about someone more contemporary.

But I haven't lived in Los Angeles for 20 years, and the  friends I have left there haven't added any new celebrity hookup stories in forever.  At the last West Hollywood party I attended, in 2011, they talked about Scott Baio and Sylvester Stallone.

Frankly, I'm getting a little sick of hearing about Scott Baio and Sylvester Stallone.

Among the top-earning male stars top male stars of 2017 are Chris Pratt, Mark Wahlberg, Kevin Hart, Vin Diesel, Chris Evans, Josh Gad, and Chris Hemsworth.

Surely a friend of a friend has been in Chris Evans' or Josh Gad's bed.

Among the top teen idols over age 18 are Cameron Boyce, Justin Bieber, Cameron Dallas, Aaron Carter, Nolan Gould, Hayes Grier, Shawn Mendes, Josh Hutcherson, Asa Butterfield, and Sean O'Donnell.

Surely there's a Cute Young Thing out there who has gone down on Shawn Mendes or Asa Butterfield.

So I took the bull by the horns: when I was back in California last week, I called the youngest guy I was still in touch with, my "son," Infinite Chazz, 17 years old when I met him in 1992. He's now 42,  working for a social service agency in Hollywood.

"Dig up your twink friends," I told him.  "Especially the ones with some kind of connection to show business.  We're going to have an old-fashioned West Hollywood party, with prizes for whoever has the biggest penis, whoever can get aroused the fastest, and whoever tells the best celebrity hookup story."

"Well, I win every 'biggest penis' contest," Chazz said. "Where do you think I got the nickname Infinite?  But I like the idea of a celebrity hookup story contest. My partner Jeremy is in the business, so he's sure to have a lot. And he has some other friends in the business, too."

So Infinite Chazz and Jeremy invited me to dinner, along with two of their twink friends, Dylan and Michael.

After dinner, I announced, "Each of you tell your best celebrity dating or hookup story.  The most famous celebrity you've been with.  Chazz will rate each story on a scale of 1 to 10.  The highest score gets to go into the bedroom with anyone he wants for ten minutes."

1. Jeremy.

I guess the most famous celebrity I've dated is Zachary Quinto, Spock on the new "Star Trek" reboot.  We met in 2010, when I was working on "American Horror Story," and Zach was playing the gay character.  We went out twice.

Zach was nice, and very nicely hung, an anal top, in case you want to know, but we just were too different to make it work.  I'm the quiet, stay-at-home type, and he always has to be the life of the party.  Besides, he really wasn't my type physically.  I like guys with a little more male-model style handsomeness.

Jeremy looked at Chazz expectantly.

"Um...isn't Zachary Quinto out?" he asked.

"Yes, he came out in 2009, a year before we met."

"5.3," Chazz said.  "Points off for a story about an out guy.  The best celebrity hookup stories are always about guys who are in the closet.  That's part of the thrill."

2. Dylan

When I was a freshman at Stanford, I met a cute guy named Johnny Lowe in my lit class. Quintessential geek, into video games and graphic novels, but cute, with a long face, a smooth chest, a little belly, and crazy hung. I could barely get my mouth around the head!  We were at it three or four times a night, when we weren't eating pizza and playing World of Warcraft.  

My first real boyfriend!  But it only lasted a few months.  I'm into monogamy, and he hit on everything that moved -- boys and girls both! Anyway, we stayed friends. 

 I knew his last name was Lowe, but it wasn't until we had been friends for over a year that I realized that his father was Rob Lowe from "The West Wing."

Dylan looked at Chazz expectantly.

"6.5.  Extra points for the big cock, but points off because he's a son of a celebrity, not a celebrity himself."

"He's been in some things.  Rob's tv series The Grinder, their reality show..."

"Ok, 6.6."


3. Michael.

 This story is about Cameron Dallas.  Very famous actor, Vine star, one of the top teen idols in the country, and not out. 

 I was on the Santa Monica Pier, when I saw Cameron with some of his friends -- all male, I might add.  I went up, playing it cool, and talked to him.  He gave me a cruisy stare, but he couldn't make a move with so many guys around.    We shook hands, and I turned it into a full body hug.  I felt his dick getting hard against me.  But then he backed off.

He looked at Chazz expectantly.

"So...a grope.  No date or hookup?"

"Um...no.".

"Um...celebrity hookup stories should involve sex.  4.7."

"Well, what about you, Dad?" Jeremy asked.  "You lived in West Hollywood during the 1980s.  You must have hooked up with a ton of celebrities.  Famous ones.  Closeted ones."

"Of course.  Lots."

"Well, tell us about a mega-famous guy who you had sex with, and who wasn't out.  I'll bet you'll be the winner for sure."

"Sure, no problem."  Then I began to think

Peter Barton.  Not famous anymore.
Tom Villard.  Out.
Wesley Eure.  Out.
Christopher Atkins.  Just a sausage sighting.
Macaulay Culkin.  Just a sausage sighting.
John Stamos.  Just a grope.
Nate Richert.  Just a grope.
Robin Williams' bodyguard.
Douglas Barr.  Who?.
Michael J. Fox.  Just lunch.  But I had made things up often enough:

4. Boomer

Just after I moved to West Hollywood in 1985, my friend Marcus introduced me to Michael J. Fox, who was starring in "Family Ties" and "Back to the Future."  Big star.  The three of us had lunch, and then went back to Marcus' house in the Hollywood Hills.

First I went down on Michael while he went down on Marcus.  Michael had about 6.5", cut.  We got into the 69 position while Marcus fondled my butt, and then I lay on top of Michael for interfemoral while Marcus was mounting him from the top.  Afterwards we exchanged phone numbers, but we never got together again.

I looked at Chazz expectantly.  This story had everything: a famous but not out celebrity with a big cock that I went down on.  Who cared that it never actually happened?

"4.5," Chazz said.  "Points off for forgetting the most important part of a celebrity hookup story -- it should be real.  You told the Michael J. Fox story a lot when you lived here, and I know it was just kissing and groping -- you didn't actually have sex with him."  He turned to Dylan.  "I guess you're the winner.  Who would you like to take into the bedroom?"

Dylan looked at my crotch.  "I'll take your Dad, even if he doesn't know any celebrities."

See: Gay Dating Stories about Tony Dow; Michael J. Fox Beneath the Belt; A Hookup with Cole or Dylan Sprouse.

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

Sneaking Infinite Chazz into his Boyfriend's Bedroom

San Fernando Valley, October 1992

In the fall of 1992, I was working at Camp Routh, a probation camp for juvenile delinquents, and sneaking a Gay 101 unit into their sex education class, under the nose of the old-school homophobe director, Denman.  A boy named Chazz turned out to be gay, and asked if I could get him a day pass for his boyfriend's birthday:

"Ramon and me been ...um, you know, like dating for awhile.  This will be our second birthday, and so that's why I don't want to miss it."

It wouldn't be an easy task.  Asking Denman for a day pass to see a "boyfriend" would only result in yelling, Bible thumping, and probably a visit from the staff psychiatrist.

We couldn't even demote Ramon to a "friend."  In juvenile delinquency theory of the 1990s, friends were always trouble, steering kids away from the safe haven of home into late night bacchanals of sex, drugs, and vandalism.

But I had another idea.

Any of the staff members could ask to take a juvenile out as a special reward for good behavior or good grades -- a movie, a basketball game, or a pizza, as long as the expedition didn't take more than four hours, and the juvenile was back by 6:00 pm.  I told Denman that Chazz had submitted an excellent practice "employment application" in my life skills class, and as a reward I wanted to take him to see Home Alone.  He agreed.

It was still risky: if anyone found out what we were really up to, I would be fired, and Chazz would spend the rest of his term confined to his cabin.

We left the camp at 1:30, right after lunch, and drove down into the San Fernando Valley.  On the way I quizzed Chazz on every aspect of Home Alone in case someone asked later.

He waited until we were past Pacoima to reveal another problem: Ramon's father was ok with him being gay, but disapproved of his relationship with a "thug," so the visit would have to be clandestine.

"Don't worry, though -- his father works nights, so he'll be asleep when we get there."

Wait -- I was imagining a birthday party, with twenty people wearing funny hats, noisemakers, blowing out the candles on a cake.  I didn't sign on for a secret meeting with Dad snoring in the next room.

 But that's exactly what I got. At about 2:00, we pulled up to a tiny house on Vanowen Street in Reseda, with a spiked fence outside.  Chazz led me around back and rapped lightly on a bedroom window.  It was opened by a Hispanic kid, black haired, dark eyed, thin, even younger-looking than Chazz.
 

"I'll wait in the car," I whispered.

"No -- what if somebody sees you and wonders what you're doing there?  You have to come in with us."

So I pulled myself up over the stucco into a small, dimly lit bedroom.  The bed was unmade.  The floor was littered with clothes, comic books, toys -- how old was this Ramon, anyway? (Turns out he was 17.)

Chazz and Ramon hugged, then moved to sit on the bed.  I froze with embarrassment and fear. Was I about to see a teenage sexual encounter?  It was legal in California for two 17-year olds to have sex, but not for an adult to watch!

"You can kiss and hug, but no sex!" I said.  "I'll be in the living room."  I grabbed a comic book from Ramon's desk and eased my way out before they could protest.

 An hour passed.  I read my comic book, read TV Guide, turned the tv on very softly, listened to rhythmic snoring from Dad.

At 3:00 sharp I figured they were finished -- or should be -- and returned to Ramon's bedroom.  I couldn't knock without waking Dad, so I opened the door and peered into the darkness.  They were lying on the bed in each other's arms, apparently asleep.  Fortunately, fully clothed.

"It's time to go," I whispered.  "Chazz, let's move!"

They didn't hear me.  I walked over and nudged Chazz to wake him.

I didn't notice that the snoring had stopped.

Or that Ramon's father was standing in the doorway, tall, hirsute, muscular, wearing only underwear, staring in disbelief at the 30-year old man bending over his son's bed.  

What happened next is a blur.  I remember yelling in Spanish, grabbing Chazz, and shoving him out the front door.  I remember Chazz giggling all the way up the mountain.  I remember blushing when Denman asked if Chazz had a good time.

Remarkably, we weren't discovered, and Ramon was simply grounded. But I had the nagging feeling that I had been played by a teenage con artist.

Chazz and I stayed in contact.  When he left Routh and moved in with his parents, he used to come up to West Hollywood to visit every couple of weeks.

See also: Lane's Bear Boyfriend and Infinite Chazz

Teaching Juvenile Delinquents about Gay People

Wrestling Tournament

Tujunga, California,  July 1992

After I got back from Nashville in 1992, I found a job as a youth counselor at Camp Routh, a juvenile probation camp (alternative to prison).

It was in Tujunga, CA, up by the Angeles National Forest, about 20 miles from West Hollywood.  There were about 50 juvenile boys, aged 15 to 18, living in cabins like summer camp). No violent offenders; mostly property crimes and drugs.  They took regular high school classes, played sports, and had individual and group counseling sessions. 

My job:
1. Leading recreational activities, including movie nights and a field trip to the L.A. County Museum of Art, and, since I had a background in wrestling, a wrestling tournament.

2. Taking kids out for movies or pizza as rewards for good behavior.


3. Since I had a background in human resources, teaching resume writing and job interviewing.

4. Plus "life skills," like how to open a checking account, how to sign a lease on an apartment -- and sex education!

Classroom at the Juvenile Camp

Imagine my embarrassment in being assigned to teach "where babies come from" to a class of 15-18 year old juvenile delinquents, most of whom had been sexually active for years!

And my consternation when I discovered that the curriculum was entirely heterosexist!

Physiological changes during puberty -- "discovery of girls" -- heterosexual dating and romance -- the mechanics of sexual intercourse -- pregnancy -- birth control -- sexually-transmitted diseases.

It was easy to change "discovery of girls" to "increased interest in sex" and drop the pronouns in the "dating and romance" chapter, but when we got to "the mechanics of sexual intercourse" with only men and women, I had to do something.

I never saw Denman shirtless

The director, a former bodybuilder named Denman, was rather conservative, always talking about faith-based counseling programs, so I didn't have much hope.

Sure enough, when I asked if I could include a unit on gay people, he stared at me as if I had said something dirty.  "Why would they need to know about that?  They're not gay."

"How do you know they're all heterosexual?" I asked.  "10% of the population is gay, so that means about five of them."

"No way!  They're just kids!"

Right, gayness is an adult "lifestyle choice."  I'd heard that one before.  "Well -- even if they're not gay, they're going to encounter gay people in their lives, and they should have some background."

He grinned.  "Oh...you mean like what to do if a homosexual tries to seduce you!  You're right, Davis -- that could be a useful skill for these kids. Lord knows they get a lot of that in juvie.  Go ahead and add it to your class!"



Of course, that's not what I added to my class.  During 3 class sessions, when Denman wasn't around, I taught "Gay 101."  It took 3 days because whenever anyone passed by close enough to hear, I switched to something about "how you know if a girl is into you."  But eventually we covered:
1. People can be gay, heterosexual, or bisexual.
2. It's not a choice or a preference.
3. You can be gay or straight and not sexually active.
4. Gay people don't all have AIDS.
5. All gay men aren't feminine, and all lesbians aren't masculine.
6. It's not illegal to be gay.
7. Lots of religions teach that being gay is ok
8. Gays don't go around trying to seduce kids.
9. Some kids are gay.
10. Homophobic harassment is bad.

They were surprisingly attentive, for a class of rowdy underachievers with no pictures or film strips.  Most of them had never heard anything about gay people before, except that they were bad, and this all came as a revelation.  Some of them had gay siblings, or gay friends; one had a gay Dad.  But no one in the class came out.

Chazz Chest

A few days after Gay 101 ended, a boy named Chazz approached me after class.  He was older, probably 17 or 18,  a little on the small side -- not a wrestler -- stunningly handsome, but very reserved around authority figures.  He never talked or volunteered in class, although his homework assignments were fine.  Sometimes saw him laughing and roughhousing with his friends.

"Can you help me get a day pass?" he asked.

"Why, are you in disciplinary?" Denman was good at granting day passes for birthdays, religious holidays, a parent in the hospital, even a brother home on leave from the army.  Except if you were being confined for a disciplinary infraction.

"No, I'm good."

"Then just go and tell Denman what you need it for."

"Well, that's the thing," Chazz said.  "He wouldn't understand."

"He gave Noriega a day pass to go to his little brother's sixth grade graduation.  I'm sure he'll understand your situation."

"Well, see. . . "  Chazz reddened.  "It's my friend's birthday."

I was a little surprised.  In juvie, family was everything, your one safe haven, your bolster against the bad things of the world (they ignored the fact that many of the kids had horrible, abusive parents). Friends were always suspect, bad influences who would lead you astray.  It was not unusual for the kids to be told "stay away from this person" as part of their probation.

"I admit, that's an unusual situation, but I'm sure if you explain the situation, I'm sure you can get an exception."

"Well, see...the thing is, he's not really my friend.  He's my...um...well, my lover."

Next: Sneaking Chazz into his boyfriend's bedroom.