Pedro's Hookup with Philip McKeon

Since putting out the call for celebrity hookup stories, I've had three guys approach me claiming that they hooked up with Philip McKeon.  None before.

Here's the most detailed.  He didn't give a name, so I'll call him Pedro.

His story has been modified for grammar, pacing, and style:

Hollywood, 1986 or 1987

I've been in the business since I was five years old, but one of my favorite jobs was the horror comedy Return to Horror High (1987).  Scott Jacoby, George Clooney, Maureen McCormick -- we were all wild and crazy kids.  We had a blast.

I wasn't out yet, but everybody knew, and I got a lot of offers.  I'll tell you about George Clooney sometime. But the one I really wanted was Phil McKeon.

22 years old, this incredibly tall, incredibly hot Nordic god, with a smile that wouldn't quit, not to mention the huge bulge shifting around in his pants when he walked.  He never talked to a girl off-stage, and no girl picked him up after work -- he must be gay!  So one day I decided to find out.  I asked "Hey, Phil, can I talk to you about something in private?"

I led him to a secluded spot on the set.

"So, what's the big mystery?"

"Just this." I pulled his head down and kissed him without even groping him first!

We kissed for a minute, and then he broke away.  "Every guy in Hollywood has done that," he said, rather belligerently. :What do you have that's so special?"

"Eight inches of primo Latino meat," I said, pressing his hand against my aroused cock.

He scoffed.  "Just eight inches?  Why don't you take on a real manwich?"

That;s right, he said manwich.

I fell to my knees.  He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out a ten incher -- I swear, it was like a garden hose -- pale, cut, with a thick mushroom head.  I opened my mouth as wide as I could, felt the head push past my teeth, but it was all I could do to keep from gagging.  I grabbed his buns to steady myself and let him do all the work, thrusting back and forth.

Finally I beat him off with two hands while sucking his head. That got him off -- he spurted a nice sized load.

Then he buttoned up and pulled me to my feet.  I thought he wanted to kiss again, but instead he said "You got what you wanted, ok?  If you tell anybody about this,  I will have you fired."

And he just walked away.

He was kind of cool on the set after that, as if I had offended him in some way.

Plains, October 2017

You're probably wondering 2 things.

1. Who is Phil McKeon?

Alice (1976-1985) was a "single woman making it on her own" sitcom in which aspiring singer Alice Hyatt finds happiness and fulfillment working as a waitress in a small-town Arizona diner.

11-year old Broadway actor Philip McKeon was selected to play her son Tommy.

As he entered his teen years, Phil's blond-haired, blue-eyed, androgynous good looks made him an ideal teen idol candidate, so he honed his singing talent and sat for a few shirtless and semi-shirtless photo shoots in Tiger Beat.  

But the competition from Leif Garrett, Shawn Cassidy, and Robbie Benson turned out to be too intense.  After starring in a few horror movies, he dropped out of acting, although he still hits Hollywood on occasion to produce or direct.















2. Is Pedro telling the truth?

I have never heard any Phil McKeon hookup stories before, although many people point out that he "acts gay" or they get a "gay vibe" from him.

Phil, who died in 2019, never married or been linked romantically with a woman.  He spent his last years in Hays, Texas, a suburb of Austin, where he hosted the "Breakfast Taco" radio program.

According to his Facebook page, he liked the New York Yankees, Van Halen, Fox News, Sean Hannity, and Westerns.

He was a devout Roman Catholic who goes to confession and participates in "prayer chains"

What do you think?

See also: Philip McKeon after Alice

My Wild Night: Pancakes, Massage, and a Wiener

One day in the winter of 5th grade, when I was ten years old, a cute boy named Mark approached me after school.

"Wanna go out to eat?" he asked.

That was an odd dating request.  Boys usually just invited you over to play, or to Dewey's Candy Store.  If they were were rich, they invited you to a movie downtown.

But I said "Ok" anyway.  Mark was short and solid, with blue eyes and a severe military crew cut, and his brother Darryl was a high school wrestler.  "Out to eat" meant the whole family, so I could see them both!

"When do you want to go?" I asked, expecting him to say "Friday night."  But he said "Right now."

"Is your Dad here?"  I looked around for a car.

"No, just you and me."

"That's dumb! There's no restaurants in the neighborhood."

Our "neighborhood," the parts of Rock Island we could roam freely through without supervision, was bordered by 18th Avenue on the north, 31st Avenue on the south, 38th Street on the west and the city of Moline on the east.

There was nothing in it except Dewey's Candy Store and Schneider's Drug Store.


Was there some new place that I didn't know about?

"I have to go home first, and tell my Mom where I'm going."

"Don't be a baby!" Mark exclaimed.  "We'll be back before Captain Ernie is over."

We walked right past my house -- it would take only a second to go in and tell Mom.  But Mark, and his blue eyes, and his muscles, led me on, past 20th Avenue, all the way to the corner of bustling 18th Avenue. There were cars streaming in both directions, and the only traffic light was way down on 38th Street.



There were several restaurants on the other side of 18th Avenue, but the one that caught my eye was the Hasty Tasty Pancake House.

I had never seen anything so beautiful.  It glittered in red and gold like a palace from the Arabian Nights.

The Forbidden Fruit.

"I'm not allowed to cross 18th Avenue by myself," I protested.  "It's too busy.  We'll get run over."

"I do it all the time!  It's easy -- watch."  Mark waited until there was a momentary lull in the traffic and darted across the street.  My heart pounding, I followed.

The other side of the world!

Everything was different here.  The sky was darker, the air was cooler.  The houses were small and grey and shabby.

We went inside and sat at a garish red booth, and Mark bought us pancakes and milk.

They didn't taste good.  I felt too guilty for being on the other side of the world without telling Mom.

It was 4:00.  Sometimes I played after school, or went to Dewey's, but I always got home by 4:00, in time for Captain Ernie's Cartoon Showboat.  Mom would be wondering where I was.

"I have to get home to watch cartoons," I said.

"Come to my house. We can watch Captain Ernie there."

"Well...it's late, and..."

"I'll let you feel my wiener," Mark offered with an evil grin.

 "Um...well..."  I had only seen a few wieners before, and I never felt one. Bill never let me.  And Mark was cute...

"It's real big,  As big as my brother's, and he's in high school."

That sealed the deal.  We darted back across the street and walked to Mark's house, on 20th Avenue near the border of Moline.

Mark had a portable black and white tv set in his room. We sat side by side on the floor, watching Cartoon Showboat for a while. There was no clock, so I couldn't tell what time it was.

Dad got home at 4:00, and we ate dinner at 5:00.  I had to go!  What was the hold up?

Finally, after an eternity of cartoons.  Mark turned the tv off and drew the blinds.  Smiling, he took my hand and pressed it against his crotch.

"No fair!  All I can feel is your pants!"

"Ok."  He started to unzip.

Then we heard a noise in the hallway outside, and he quickly zipped up.  The door opened, and a big boy came in.  Darryl, the high school athlete!  He had his shirt off -- he had muscles!

"What you dorks doing in the dark?" he asked, leaping onto the bed and turning on the light. "Whoa, what a workout!  I need a massage!  Either of you guys a masseur?"

"I am!"  I said with a grin.

"Ok, great -- it's right there in my shoulder.  Dig in good."

I got to sit on the butt of a semi-naked high-school boy and rub his muscular shoulders!  But still, I felt guilty.  I shouldn't be here!  Dinner is at 5:00 -- Mom and Dad will be worried!

Eventually Darryl said "Thanks, little man" and left.  Mark shut the door behind him.

It must be almost 5:00 by now.  I had to hurry.  "You said I could..."  I began.

"Oh, sure."  Mark unbuttoned his pants, and pushed my hand inside.

It was nice, bigger than mine, with an impressively solid shaft.


"Now I get to feel yours, too."

I unzipped, and we fondled each other for awhile.

"I know how to make it get bigger," Mark said.

"But I have to...."

Then a voice yelled up the stairs, "Mark, is your friend staying for dinner?"

We quickly zipped up again.  He looked at me.  "Do you want to?"

"If my parents say it's ok," I said.  "Can I call them?"

"Sure.  The phone's in the kitchen."

There was also a clock in the kitchen.  6:30!  

My heart started to pound with fear.  "6:30!  But you said it was dinnertime!"

"That's right -- we eat at 7:00."

I was three hours late!  Without saying goodbye, I rushed out the door, into the winter darkness, and raced home.  Mom was calling all of my friends, and Dad was out scouring the neighborhood.  They thought I had either been kidnapped or fell into a ditch.

Years later, I learned that I could get away with any misdeed by claiming that I had been trying to meet a girl or impress a girl.

But "I was trying to feel a wiener" obviously wouldn't work.  I was grounded for two weeks, and forbidden from playing with Mark again.

10 problems with liking men in suits

There are some definite problems with having a special interest in men in suits.

1. They are garments designed erase any hint of the man's physicality.  Women's outfits show curves and cleavage, and bare arms and backs, but men's outfits make their bodies invisible (obviously some sexist stereotyping going on).  So unless they're very buffed or aroused, you have no idea what's going on under the gabardine.

2.  Half the time, when you think you see a bulge, it's not actually their cock.

3. Men generally wear suits when they are busy with work or at a formal event, where they're unable or unwilling to cruise, and might not even recognize your interest.   So it's hard to meet them that way.

4. If you do manage to meet them while they're in a suit, 90% of the time they'll show up for the date dressed "casually," in a bicep-displaying shirt and bulge-displaying jeans

5. If they do show up in a suit for some reason -- they came directly from work, or you're going to a party at Andrew Lloyd Weber's house -- I guarantee that they will take it off and carefully hang it up before beginning any sexual act. No way this is happening.

More after the break.