Six Naked College Boys and One Date

Bloomington, Indiana, February 1983

On surveys, only about 2% of the U.S. male population admits to being gay, and another 1% bisexual. Of course, most are leery of coming out on a survey questionnaire, and dissimulate.  The actual population is probably much higher.

And I estimate that a huge proportion of the "straight" male population, about 80%, is open to sexual activity with men.  .

20% are on the downlow:  They are interested in relationships only with women, so they claim to be "straight," although they are attracted to both men and women.  They seek out male-male action while telling their wives and girlfriends that they're out getting a loaf of bread.  They're open for kissing, cuddling, reciprocation, whatever.

30% will settle.  They are attracted only to women, but who cares?  Sex is sex, and it's a lot easier to get a guy than a girl.  No kissing, no reciprocation, they just want to lie back and think about lady parts.

30% will let you watch.  They aren't attracted to guys, and they don't want you to touch them, but they are willing to engage in autoerotic activity with you present, as long as you don't let on that you are interested in watching.

In fact, a major form of "male bonding" for that 30% is to invite your buddies over, watch porn or just talk about girls, and engage in autoerotic activity without letting on that you are watching each other.

I first heard of this practice when I was in graduate school at Indiana University, when a hefty Dungeons-and-Dragons player named Duane criticized The Kinsey Report (some 30 years after it was published) because 37% of male respondents stated that they had engaged in a 'homosexual' act to orgasm at some time during adulthood.

"That Kinsey had a ridiculous definition of homosexual acts!" Duane exclaimed.  "It  includes everything you do with other guys around, even a circle jerk!"

I didn't know what a circle jerk was.

"Oh, it's like when you're reading porn magazines or talking about girls with your buddies, and you decide to get off.  You're not touching them -- you're not even thinking about them.  You're thinking about girls.  How is that homosexual?"

My interested piqued, I asked, "How many buddies are with you, generally?"

"Sometimes just one, but I've been in a group of six before."  He eyed me suspiciously.  "Why?"

"No reason."

 I had to find some way to get invited to one of these six-guy orgies!  But of course I couldn't come out -- this was the homophobic 1980s.  I figured that since Duane played Dungeons and Dragons most nights, that was where the "circle jerks" happened.

I waited a few days to alleviate suspicion, and then asked to join, offering to bring a pizza.

When I arrived, there were five college boys sitting in Duane's dorm room on the 5th floor of Eigenmann Hall.  I took my place among them and scoped out the territory:

Desk chairs: 
Duane: husky bear, graduate student in physics.  The Dungeon Master.
Ben: cute eyeglassed graduate student in economics, new to D&D.

Duane's bed:
Scott: long haired, bearded hipster, graduate student in sociology
Andrew: blond undergrad in physics, rather husky.

His Roommate's bed:
Asher, the roommate, a rather muscular but shy grad student in math.
Me.

We played Dungeons and Dragons for awhile without comment, but when straight men get together, women invariably enter the conversation: sizes, shapes, angles, the ones they've been with, the ones they would like to be with, ones on tv.  Soon the conversation became more graphic, as they tried to one-up each other with tales of the most spectacular feminine physiques they'd been with.

I said "My ex-girlfriend had breasts like Loni Anderson's."  (Jennifer, the savvy receptionist on WKRP in Cincinnati).

They were all impressed.  "Wow, that must have been great!" Ben exclaimed.  Apparently breast sizes to straight men are like cock sizes to the rest of us.

"Yes, they were quite...um...nice," I said.  What, exactly, did straight men do with women's breasts? "I...um...felt them many times."

"Yeah, right.  I bet you did more than feel them!"  Duane said, nudging Ben.

"Darn right!"  I wondered what they were talking about.

"We gonna talk about girls, or play Dungeons and Dragons?" Asher said, annoyed.

But once the talk of girls begins, it doesn't end.  Next I brought out my secret weapon: an issue of Playboy.  "I also dated a girl that looked just like her," I said, opening the centerfold. and placing it on the gaming table.  "Um...she was the head cheerleader and the Homecoming Queen.  I did lots of things with her breasts, too!"

By now everyone was sitting in full view of each others' crotch. Soon there was a little squirming and hiding going on.  At this point the instinct was to grab Asher or Ben, sitting on either side of me, but instead I grabbed myself.

Still no sausages!  Time to get the ball rolling.  I unzipped.  "She always told me how much she liked this," I said.

Then Scott the Hipster unzipped.  "That's nothing.  I bet your prom queen girlfriend would dump you in a minute if she saw this!"

It was rather unimpressive.

Soon the other guys unzipped: Duane (thick), then Ben (nice mushroom head), then Andrew (impressive Bratwurst), leaving only Asher sitting shyly, fully clothed.  The conversation dimmed as each guy was immersed in his private fantasy, staring into space or at the centerfold.

I tried to stare into space, avoid the disgusting centerfold, and look at Scott and Andrew, on the opposite bed, plus cast occasional sidelong glances at Duane and Ben.  And Asher, looking more and more uncomfortable.

I reached over and touched his shoulder.  "You ok?"

He stared at my crotch for a moment, wide-eyed, then said "I gotta go, sorry."  He brushed past me and rushed through the door.

At the end of the event, kleenixes were passed around, and the guys returned to their game without comment.

Altogether, rather unsatisfying.

The next day I ran into Asher in the Eigenmann Hall Gym, working out furiously.

"What happened last night?  You didn't seem like you were having fun.".

He reddened -- apparently what happens in the circle jerk stays in the circle jerk -- but said "It was just too weird.  I know you're not supposed to...you know, look, but how can you not?"

Asher was gay!

I didn't go to any more Dungeon-and-Dragons Circle Jerks, but I did get a date.

See also: 15 Simple Rules for Cruising Straight Guys; and Dungeons and Dragons

Looking for Bears in the Straight World

Plains, April 2014

The problem with living on the Plains is, all the gay men look like this.

Smooth, blond, 21.

Anxious to get you into bed, but not to be friends afterwards.

And if you do become friends, they won't be around long: they're planning to run off to the nearest gay neighborhood as soon as possible.

The guys who stick around past 30 are typically heavily closeted, on the downlow, with wives and girlfriends waiting at home, requiring "discretion" for hookups and no socialization after.

So how do I build up a friendship network, like the ones I had in West Hollywood, Florida, and even Upstate?  Guys to chat with at the bars, see at parties, have over for dinner.

Maybe if I find some bears -- chubby, husky, hairy guys, typically over 40, therefore more settled, likely to stick around town for awhile.

1. Work

There's a gay employees group that meets at a different restaurant in town once a month.

January:  12 lesbians, 2 straight allies, 1 gay man in his twenties who gives me Attitude.

You get Attitude just trying to make friends?

February: 6 lesbians, 4 straight allies, no gay men.

March: 8 lesbians, 4 straight allies, 1 gay man: Mike, a professor of education in his 60s, who agrees to a date later.

A muscle bear, rather handsome, with a hairy chest and a little belly, and a nice Kielbasa.

It's not really a date, since we never leave my apartment.  A little conversation, bedroom activities (mostly oral), and he leaves.

When I suggest more activities, he states that he's busy: club meetings, organizations, dinners with straight friends every night of the week.  But he'd be happy to come over for another hookup.
 

2. Church.


There are only two gay-welcoming churches in town. I select the Unitarian-Universalist Fellowship, which is more dedicated to social issues than spiritual enlightenment.  Every Sunday there's a new sermon on something I should feel guilty about.

I'm not eating organic, free-range, fair-trade, low-carbon footprint, locally-grown potatoes;

I'm shopping in stores that oppress workers in Guatemala.

My fitness regiment is elitist, oppressing the poor who don't have the time and money to join a gym.

I drive a car.

Besides, there's only one gay couple, Hank and Wayne, 50s and 70s, and they're totally assimilated, hanging out with straight people all the time.

I try to befriend them anyway, and end up with an evening of intense boredom, discussions of room additions and favorite recipes, and a date with their 21-year old boy toy, Jimmy.

3. Bear Parties

In West Hollywood and New York, there were bear parties every weekend, where 30 guys got together for socializing and sex.  Why couldn't I host one on the Plains?

I put an ad on craigslist and some social media sites: Bear Party, husky/hairy/chubby guys and their admirers.

Crickets.  Silence.  A few inquiries like "Will there be any really goodlooking guys there?" and "Will there be any young, cute guys there?"

Five guys show up, all smooth twinks in their 20s.

Ok.  I try again: "Gay and Grey Hookup Night."  Younger ok, but over 40 especially welcome.

More inquiries like "Will there be any young, cute guys there?"

This time I get six guys, all over 40.  All closeted, downlow, "is this discreet?", with constant discussions of "my wife" and "isn't this or that actress hot."

Sex only (mostly oral), no socializing later: "I told my wife I was out shopping for tires."

Ok, one more time:  "All ages and body types welcome."

Twenty guys, ten closeted downlow "is this discreet?" bisexual chubby bears, the rest out-and-proud, open gay twinks.

I guess I'm stuck with the twinks.

There are worse fates.


See also: My Platonic Friends and Their Boy Toy; Yuri and the Muscle Daddies.

15 Rules for Hooking Up with Straight, Bisexual, and Downlow Guys

In West Hollywood many people believed that there was no such thing as a straight man.  Exclusive same-sex desire was a universal of human experience. Men who called themselves straight were just too weak or cowardly to resist the heterosexist chant of "what girl do you like?  what girl do you like? what girl do you like?"

Today we know that some men are, in fact, heterosexual, with no conscious same-sex attraction.

But others, a much larger proportion, are on the downlow, heterosexual as far as anyone knows, with wives and kids, acting on their same-sex desires only anonymously, in secret.

Others are bisexual, desiring both men and women, perhaps equally, perhaps men only occasionally, as a special "playtime."

  Still others are heterosexual, but willing to "settle" for a man if no woman is available.  What does it matter -- sex is sex..

The last three categories are open for cruising, and in small towns with a limited gay population, tremendously increase your chances of success.  But you have to be careful.  Cruising a straight or downlow man requires a whole new set of skills, and a whole new set of rules:

1. Cruise online. Straight men rarely go to gay venues, lest they be seen, and in public places they are always with women or with straight male friends who don't "know."

2. Find out how straight he is.  How occasional is his interest in men?  If he meets guys once a month or less, ok.  If he's always seeking out guys, then he's a traitor, enjoying all of the privileges that come with heterosexual identity, hoping to enjoy sexual freedom while letting "real" gay people do all the work of fighting homophobic injustice.  He's a pathetic loser.  Move on.

3. Find out how homophobic he is.  Many straight guys with occasional same-sex interests overcompensate by denigrating gay people, especially those who are open.  "I don't shout it from the housetops!" he yells.  "Marching in parades, broadcasting your sexual preferences!"  Move on.

4. Skip the first-timers.  "I've never done this before.  I've thought about it, but I've never had the nerve..."  Yeah, right.  He's been saying that for the last five years, enjoying the thought of a same-sex liaison, but always losing his nerve.  And if he does actually show up, there's no way the reality can live up to his fantasy.

5. Arrange for a daytime meeting, at your place.  Chances are these will be required anyway, since he's busy with women at night, and there are people at his place who "can't find out."

6. But not for "right now."  Anybody willing to come over "right now," without finding out a little bit about where he's going and who he's meeting, is bound to be a dud.

7. A face photo is a must.  Not necessarily to determine his degree of hotness -- it's probably 20 years old, and photoshopped.  To determine his degree of openness.  No face photo: very skittish, probably a no-show.

8 Get contact information.  A last name, a working cell phone number, an email address.  And use it to make sure it's not fake.  It might come in handy later.

9. Give him the geographic layout of your place.  He believes that passersby will see him and infer somehow that he is having a same-sex hookup.  That's ridiculous, of course, but a pedestrian on the street outside your house, or a neighbor in the hallway of your building, could make him bail.  So warn him in advance if it's apartment, if there are other houses close by, if its a well-traveled pedestrian area, and so on.

10. He gets only two chances to show up.  You wait half an hour for him to show up.  Later that day you get an email: "Sorry, the wife asked where I was going" or "Sorry, I saw somebody who looked like somebody I work with."  Set up another meeting -- we all have scheduling problems.  But if he doesn't show up the second time, move on.

11. Have a friend present.  Hopefully you've screened out the straight guys with malicious intent, and the ones who are so skittish that they might freak out over their "sordid act" and attack.  But just in case, have a friend present.

You can also protect yourself by telling your friend about the meeting, and sending him the straight guy's complete contact information.

12. ID all Cute Young Things.  14, 15, and 16 year olds lie about their age and background all the time, and saying "He told me he was 18!" is not an excuse.  If there's any doubt, ask for an ID.

13. Don't be afraid to tell him "stop talking about women."  Straight guys love to talk about women, especially during a same-sex hookup.  It reassures them that they're "really" straight.  They'll tell you all about their wives and girlfriends, discuss the attractiveness of various actresses, ask about your heterosexual dalliances, bemoan the refusal of most women to engage in their favorite sexual activities.

Don't say "Women!  Gross!"  Say something like "This is a men-only zone. For the next hour, we celebrate the masculine!"

14. Don't be afraid to give him a Gay 101 lecture.  A surprising number of straight guys have had no connection whatever to gay history and culture.  They don't know that there are gay organizations.  They don't know about Stonewall.  They are unaware of contemporary battles over workplace discrimination, religious harassment, and marriage equality.  Enlighten him, either during the online chat, or during the meeting.

15. If you see him in public afterwards, let him lead.  Straight guys are often worried that talking to a gay person in public, in any capacity, identifies them as gay.  Or they might not want their wives and straight male friends asking "So, where did you meet him?"  If he says hello first, stop to chat.  If he pretends not to know you, give him your best Attitude.

See also: 15 Rules of Gay Cruising;

The Bondage Boy with the Wife Upstairs

Dayton, April 2008

Most gay men in Dayton were closeted, but none was more closeted than Roland.

He was a regular at Rode's M4M Parties: in his 40s, tall, slim, with a full head of brown hair, a short beard, a smooth, hard chest, and a curved cut Bratwurst beneath the belt.

Roland wasn't his real name.  He never talked about his life outside the parties, except to say that he was a high school math teacher.  He didn't chat much at all.

Sexually he was mostly passive, giving oral more often than receiving it.  He didn't do anal.

One day in the spring of 2008, I casually mentioned the bondage club I used to go to in New York, and his jaw dropped in surprise.  "Bondage, really?  I'm into that, too!  Are you a top or a bottom?"

"I like to do the tying up."

"Whoa, that's great!  I meet so many guys in Dayton who are total bottoms.  What's your favorite position, spread eagle or behind the back?"

The conversation continued like that.  Ropes or chains?  Dildos?  Whipping or paddling?  Dirty talk? Fantasy scenes?  I never saw Roland so enthusiastic.  Finally he said "I have a fully stocked dungeon at home.  Care to come over and try it out, say tomorrow night at 7:00?"

A bondage date!  How exciting!  Guys in Dayton didn't date much -- they were too closeted, afraid of being spotted by someone they knew.   "I'd be happy to.  Shall we have dinner first?"

"Um...no, come after dinner.  But there's a mini-fridge in the dungeon with snacks, if you get hungry."

Ok.  But certainly after the bondage scene we would go to bed together, cuddle and kiss, spend the night, go out for breakfast in the morning, a date just like back home in the gay world.


I got a little nervous when I drove up to the house in Beavercreek, a suburb of Dayton full of heterosexual nuclear families.  Not really a gay-friendly place!

Roland answered the door, took my coat, and ushered me into a family room off the huge steel-and-marble kitchen, where The Simpsons was playing on a big-screen tv.

He didn't live alone!  There was a middle-aged woman sitting on the couch.  Next to her, a 10-year old boy.  And a girl, probably about 12, sprawled out on an easy chair.

 His sister?  A straight female housemate?  What was going on?

"Boomer, this is Sandra and Rick -- he's in fifth grade and already a ladykiller!"

The woman and boy held out their hands to be shaken. Who were these people?

"And the Queen of Angst in the easy chair is Rhianna, in junior high, already beating off the guys with a club!"  She didn't react.  "We're going downstairs to watch the game.  Be up in a couple of hours."

He led back me through the kitchen and a laundry room to a stairway that led to the basement.

"So, was that your sister?"  I asked.

"You really are gay, aren't you?" he whispered.  "That's my wife and kids.  I'm a happily married family man."

This wasn't a date!  It was a down-low hookup!  "But how..."

Behind a side door was his Man Cave, a low wood-paneled room with a couch, a pool table, a card table and chairs, a tv, and some metal cabinets.

"When me and my buddies are in here, watching the game or doing dude things, you don't disturb us unless a kid is bleeding or the house is on fire."  He locked the door and banged on the wall.  "Soundproof.  You can scream, bellow, shout, and no one outside can hear a thing."

The cabinets contained a good stock of bondage equipment: including dildos of various sizes, a vibrating anal massage device, a violet wand, and several types of lubricant.  I imagined Roland coming into the house with a brown paper back in hand and saying "I bought some stuff for the Man Cave, honey."

"You mean you have guys in here to tie you up, with your wife upstairs, and she never suspects anything?"

"Not a thing.  She thinks we're watching tv, or maybe, at the most, wrestling.  I don't think she knows that gay or bi people exist.  She certainly doesn't know what BDSM is."



I was really nervous, but Roland had a nice physique and a Bratwurst beneath the belt, so I managed to orchestrate a simple scene: he was tied to a chair naked, blindfolded, teased, and"forced" to give and receive oral sex.

Afterwards he said "That was nice, back to the basics.  It's so much more erotic when I'm helpless, in your power, don't you think?"

He insisted that I stay for two hours, the length of a real game on ESPN, so we cuddled on the couch and watched Family Guy and American Dad, kissed, and had a vanilla (non-bondage) encounter.

I went back to Roland's house again several times that spring, either on Saturday afternoon or Sunday night.

We stayed mostly in the man cave, except once when I helped Sandra frost cupcakes, and she gave me a a few in a tupperware bowl to take home, and once when she said "It's too nice a day to be cooped up in the basement.  Why don't you guys take Rick down to the park?"

I heard about Sandra's squabble with her sister and Rick's problems at school, and eventually, through conversation, Roland's real name (Mike) and real job (systems analyst).

But when I ran into Roland at the Mall, he pretended that he didn't know me.

In June I had to cut a session short because I wasn't feeling well.  "I think I'm coming down with a summertime cold," I told Sandra.  "They're the worst."

A couple days later, there was a knock on my door.  I answered in my bathrobe, with a box of kleenix in my hand.  It was Sandra!

"Hi, Boomer, I got your address from Mike's phone.  I just made a big pot of chicken-rice soup, and since you're not feeling well, I thought I'd bring you over some."

I was too shocked to say anything except "Um...thanks."

"Oh, it's the least I can do.  I've been wanting to thank you for being so great with Mike."  She handed me a green tupperware container.  "He couldn't ask for a better boyfriend!  Much nicer than some of these guys he brings home."

Boyfriend!  "Um...er..."

"But really, you should get him out of that dreary Man Cave sometimes.  Take him to a gay bar!  Or to one of those gay sex parties I've heard about.  He's a big guy -- I'll bet he would be very popular!  Well, I have to run.  I hope you feel better soon!"

I stood there agape.

Apparently Roland was less closeted than he thought.

See also: The Boy Who Wanted to be Rode