Three Twinks and a Bear on the Same Night

West Hollywood, August 2017

I haven't been back to West Hollywood for four years, and I probably won't be back for awhile, so I want to make the best of it, as many friends, sights, hangouts, and penises as I can cram into six days and seven nights.

I stay with Infinite Chazz and have dinners, go cruising, and otherwise reconnect with Lane, Will, Randall the Muscle Bear, and Zack the Photographer. Plus I meet five new guys.


1. Jerzy

Wednesday: at dinner at Sammy's Thai, I meet  Jerzy,  tall and big-boned, with a rugged face and a severe military haircut, his muscular physique going to fat, a very thick 7".  He's mostly an oral bottom, but open for suggestions.

Jerzy doesn't believe that older guys becom twink magnets, so I take him out to the Rage and the Faultline to look for twinks.  Later we go back to Chazz's apartment to spend the night and "share."

Thursday afternoon: We hit the gym, the Getty Museum, UCLA, and the Santa Monica Pier.

Thursday night: Jerzy wins the twink contest, and gets to go down on me, Chazz, Will, and their partners.

Saturday night: I meet Jerzy, Lane, and Ben in Long Beach.  We visit Randall the Muscle Bear and cruise the cowboy bars.  No hookup.

Jerzy calls on Monday: "Tomorrow is your last night in Los Angeles, and I want to do something special.  How about if you drive down here to Costa Mesa, and we'll have dinner at a place I know on the beach.  You can bring one of your twink friends, if you like, and we'll share."

2. Alex

Friday afternoon: While visiting UCLA with Jerzy, I met Alex, a 21-year old resident advisor on campus to lead new student orientation.  He' taller than me, with straight black hair, a round face, retro horn rimmed glasses, and a tight smooth chest.  Average sized penis, big balls.  Into making out (a lot) and oral (top and bottom).

He gives me an "insider tour"  of Hollywood which mostly involves driving down Sunset Boulevard. We end up in Little Tokyo before returning to his apartment to make out.

Sunday afternoon: We drive to Hacienda Heights to visit the Hsi La temple.  Then we return to his apartment to make out.

He calls on Monday: "Are you doing anything tomorrow?  There's a new exhibit at the Huntington Library that I thought you would like...."

3. Darius

Thursday night: Will and I go to the Eagle in Silverlake, and pick up Darius, who has only been out for two years and wants to try being tied up for the first time.  While Will uses a dildo on him, I enter his mouth from above.

Then Will's partner tops him while I go down on Will.

4. Dylan

We meet at Infinite Chazz's "twink party" on Friday night, and "share," but he doesn't stay over.  He's of medium height, rather pale, with short blond hair, thick eyebrows, a smooth chest, and a shaved crotch (about 5 inches, but perpetually aroused).  An oral and anal top.

Saturday night: We drive into Orange County for dinner with Lane and Ben and a few other guys.  We end up back at Infinite Chazz's house -- just us, no sharing -- and have breakfast and go jogging in the morning.

On Monday I show up at Dylan's job with lunch (Pollo Loco take-out).

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" he says.  "It's your last night in town, so I'd like to do something special.  I know you like comedy, so I got tickets to the Groundlings..."

5. Michael

Friday night: Infinite Chazz and his partner invite two twinks over to share celebrity hookup stories.  Dylan goes down on me and I get his phone number, but Michael ends up spending the night, with breakfast at Hugo's the next morning.

He's Hispanic or Italian, of medium height, with curly black hair, dark features, a smooth chest, and a a gigantic uncut Kielbasa  Mostly an oral bottom, but he let me go down on him.

Monday night: Michael and I go to Santa Monica for dinner with Zack the Photographer. We share (oral only) and spend the night.

In the morning, we have breakfast before Michael and Zack have to go to work.

"Tonight is your last night in Los Angeles," he says.  "I hope you don't think this is corny, but I'd like to spend it cuddling on the couch, watching Netflix and eating pizza.  And going down on you about six times, of course."

Four guys, each wanting to spend a "special night."  Which did I choose?

Answer after the break

My West Hollywood Date from Hell: Me, Morris, and the BFF

West Hollywood, May 1994

I've always been attracted to men in business suits, probably because I saw so few growing up.  All of my friends' fathers worked in factories and wore coveralls, except to church on Sundays, where they put on the Ritz.

The preacher wore a suit (no Satanic clerical collars for Nazarenes!).  I spent countless hours watching him as he paced and yelled and pounded the pulpit in outrage, until his tight bulldog body was slick with sweat and his cock was very blatantly shifting back and forth in his pants.

Whew.

So when Morris (not his real name) showed up one day at the Metropolitan Community Church, I was enthralled.

He was in his 40s,  but distinctly old fashioned -- wearing a gray flannel suit in Los Angeles heat, complete with vest, pinktie, handkerchief in the front pocket and cuff  links instead of buttons.

Thick gold watch, pinky ring, slicked-back black hair, cologne.  Who was this guy, Humphrey Bogart?

The pinky ring and cologne were turn-offs, but not enough for me to avoid him during the after-service "coffee hour," aka the "cruising hour."

We didn't usually discuss our jobs in West Hollywood -- everyone made do on a variety of part-time and temp jobs while pursuing our various goals of acting, modeling, writing, or art.  But Morris asked first thing, and told us that he was a broker-sales-marketing something or other to do with business.  Yawn.  Other biographical details: he was new in town, transplanted from far-off Connecticut, he had only been out for a few years, and he was a non-practicing Catholic who had never been in a Protestant church before.

In other words, he was not at all assimilated into the gay community.

Well, we could work on that.

"You need the grand tour of West Hollywood," I told him, "The bars, the Different Light, Mrs. Fields' Cookies,West Hollywood Park.  I'm meeting my partner and boy toy for lunch in a bit.  We could..."

"Thanks, but I have a lunch engagement of my own. Another time, perhaps?"

Thoroughly rebuffed, I retreated to the other side of the room and talked to other people until he was gone.  Then I walked down to the French Quarter, and waited for Lane and Infinite Chazz.

In May 1994, I was 33 years old.  Lane was five years older, shorter than me, buffed, bearded.  Our boy toy, called Infinite Chazz because he was infinitely attractive to everyone who saw him, was in college in Orange County, but visited most weekends.

It was very crowded, and the French Quarter was set up with mostly tables-for-two, so we had to wait about 20 minutes to be seated -- at a table only 20 feet from Morris!

"That's the guy I cruised at church," I told them.

"Whoa, bummer!" Infinite Chazz exclaimed.  "I mean, he's hot and all, but look who he's with!"

It was a woman in her late 100s, who was doing everything she could to appear under 80.  Black wig, heavily made up face with bright red lipstick, evening gown, dripping with jewels.  Mink stole in 80 degree weather. Eating a steak with a knife and fork.

Never before or after did I see anyone eating a steak at the French Quarter.  Or using a knife.  I didn't even know that they had full "cuts of meat" on the menu.

"Miss Mae West is still alive!"  Lane exclaimed.

"Or Aunt Clara from Bewitched," Chazz suggested.  "Or...I know, I know -- Auntie Mame!"

"Maybe Auntie Mame is his mother, Mommy Dearest Mame?" Lane suggested.

"Taking your mother out to dinner!" Chazz exclaimed.  "Sick!"

"Or maybe Mr. Morris is...a gigolo!  Dinner, dancing, a kiss on the cheek, make the dowager princess feel loved."

"I'm trying to read the menu!  Stop making me sick to my stomach!"

"All I know is, I dodged a bullet there," I said.  "That Morris is crazy.  Imagine, hanging out with a woman!"

We weren't gynophobic, necessarily, but we grew up with parents, friends, teachers, coaches, and pastors constantly screaming at us, "What girl do you like?  What girl?  What girl? What girl?", hour after hour, day after day, constant asserting that "You are attracted to women, like every boy who has ever lived!  Your destiny lies in a woman's arms!  Heterosexual romance is the meaning of life!"

So it was an enormous relief to be able to relax and not have to think about, talk about, or look at girls. Any mention of a woman, could re-open old wounds, ruin our mood, put a damper on the whole day.  We looked up to guys who could go through a conversation, a whole day, or a lifetime without mentioning anything feminine.  They had the power!

It wasn't easy.  You had to pretend not to see actresses on tv (Dynasty?  Isn't that the show starring John Forsythe?), omit pronouns when talking about your relatives (instead of "I'm calling my mother," "I'm calling my parents"), and call your pets "he," even if they were female.

Lane and I weren't that assiduous, but friendships with women?  No way!

I was going to let Morris slide on by, but suddenly he got up, arm in arm with his lady bff, and approached our table!

"Fancy meeting you here!" he said. "I'd like you to meet Mae."

Lane nudged me under the table.

We made introductions all around, but did not deign to shake Miss Mae's small, many-ringed hand. Touching a woman?  Absolutely not!

Then Miss Mae returned to her steak, but Morris stayed behind.  "So, Boomer, you mentioned a tour of West Hollywood. Will next Friday night be ok?"

I hesitated.  He was friends...or something...with a woman!  But he was attractive, sophisticated, and wearing a suit.  And he probably had a penis. I liked penises. Why not?

"Sure, that will be fine."  I gave him my address.  "Call for me at 7:00."

"Marvelous.  Um...will your friends be joining us?"  He leered at Chazz.

I looked at Lane, who didn't share my fetish for business suits.  "Well, I go to schul -- temple -- on Friday nights, but I'll meet up with you later."

Lane and I were allowed to date other people, as long as we got together for the bedroom activity, to participate or watch.

"I'l be going to temple with Lane," Chazz said.  "But I'm up for after-schul dinner and cruising."

"Marvelous."  He reached out his hand to be shaken, gave Infinite Chazz a wink (was that how they cruised in Connecticut?), and returned to Aunt Clara.






We spent the week discussing the logistics for my Friday night date.

I would take Morris to the Different Light Bookstore and then the Cafe Etoille for dinner -- the ritzy place would justify his wearing a business suit.  Then cruising at the Toy Tiger (the oldster piano bar).  We would meet Lane and Chazz at the Gold Coast after temple.

Since Morris was new to the gay community, a four-way would probably be too much for him, so we agreed that only Lane would be present for the sharing.  Chazz would take the guest room, and join us in the morning.

On Friday night, I put on the tie that I wore only to job interviews and funerals, so Morris wouldn't feel too out of place.

7:00.  I waited.

7:10.  No Morris.

7:20.  No Morris.  This was before cell phones, so I couldn't call.

7:30.  I started changing into my regular clothes so I could go out by myself, when there was a knock on the door.

Morris.  Wearing a cut-off t-shirt and jeans.  Not a business suit!  Well, at least he had a hairy chest and a nice bulge.

"Parking is a nightmare in this town!" he said.  "Mae is still looking for a parking place.  She'll be up in a minute."

Mae?  Up in a minute?

He kissed me on the cheek.  "So, what marvelous plans do you have for us this evening?"

Mae?  Up in a minute?

Browsing at the Different Light Bookstore.  Dinner at the Cafe Etoille.  Listening to old show tunes at the Toy Tiger.  A good night kiss on the cheek.  Morris, Mae, and me.

I did manage to go down on Morris later, but that's a story for another time.

See also: Sex in the Office: I Finally See Morris's Member.

Jerzy Has 24 Hours to Pick Up a Twink

West Hollywood, August 2017

I'm back in California for a week to visit my old friends and old haunts, staying in West Hollywood with Infinite Chazz.  We're having dinner at Sammy's Thai restaurant on Santa Monica: Chazz, Will the Bondage Boy, Lane, and their partners, plus two other guys.  Most of us are over 50.  Lane and Ben's friend Jerzy is the youngest one there: he just turned 40 a couple of days ago.

Jerzy immigrated from Poland with his parents and baby sister when he was eight years old, went to Cal State Los Angeles and now works in an office down in Lakewood .  He's tall and big-boned, with a rugged face and a severe military haircut, his muscular physique going to fat.  I haven't seen his penis.

We start talking about the problems of being a twink magnet, being approached by young guys constantly, having every hookup turn into a romantic date, being forced into the role of anal top whether you'd much rather be an oral bottom.

"I call b.s.!" Jerzy exclaims.  "Gay culture values youth -- when you turn 40, you're over the hill.  Certainly the twinks don't start lining up to get into your bed!"

"How do you explain my dating a 19-year old college student?" I ask.

"You're a professor, around college students all the time, so what else are you going to meet?"

"I met him at the dentist's office."


 "Expectations.  You think young guys are going to be interested, so you remember the one exception, and forget about the 99% that don't cruise you back."

"Ok, but...I picked up young guys at a restaurant, at the comic book store, at the grocery store, at Lane and Ben's wedding...."

"Well...you live on the Plains, where everybody is El Tubbo.  In L.A. the competition is fierce."

"I get cruised by twinks all the time, too," Chazz says.  "You can't get away from them."

"That doesn't prove anything.  You're Infinite Chazz.  Everybody is interested in you."

"Me, too," Will adds.  "I'm a bondage bottom, but they keep saying 'f** me, Daddy.'"

"You just haven't tried," I say.  "I guarantee that if you went to a twink bar or gym, or LGBT youth center, you'd be getting a phone number a minute."

"Yeah, right," Jerzy says.  "And I guarantee that if you went to a twink bar or gym, you'd die of frostbite from all the shade they'd be throwing."

"That sounds like a challenge."

Chazz smiles.  "How about this: I'll bet that Jerzy can find a guy under age 25  --- no, under 21 -- in the next 24 hours.  At the gym, at the Rage, on Grindr, whatever.  All you have to do is get his phone number."

"What do i get if I succeed?"

"I know you're the world's biggest oral bottom.  We'll meet at my apartment tomorrow night, and if you can prove that you got the phone number of a guy under 21, you can go down on each of us, one at a time -- and let me tell you, there are some massive cocks in this group.  But if you fail, you have to top one of us, whichever asks.  Ok, guys?"

Lane and Ben bow out, but the other guys agree.

Jerzy grins.  "Six cocks just for getting a twink's phone number.  How can I say no?"



Wednesday Night

Chazz offers to let Jerzy spend the night, so he won't have to drive all the way back to Lakewood.  After dinner the three of us hit the Rage, the biggest twink bar in West Hollywood.  Naturally, two guys in their 40s and one who's 56 are ignored by the munchkins buzzing about on the dance floor.

Next we go to the Faultline, the leather/bear bar where Lane and I used to spend many Sunday afternoons.  Not very crowded on a Wednesday night, and the guys there are mostly aging, seasoned leathermen.  I do manage to get cruised by an 20-ish otter, a young, thin guy with a hairy chest.  We make out for awhile, and he gives me his number.  But that's my pickup; Jerzy is mostly ignored.

When we get back to Chazz's apartment, we have a three-way.  Jerzy is good at kissing and very well hung, with a thick uncut Kielbasa.  Chazz and I both go down him, but we won't let him go down on us.

"That's for tomorrow night," Chazz says.  "If you can overcome your aging guilt enough to cruise a twink."

"What you need is a place to show off your muscles," I tell him.  We'll get up at 6:00 and hit the gay gym."


Thursday

Unfortunately, the gay gym is a little short on twinks at 6:30 am.

"Well, where do you go to meet the young guys?" Jerzy asks.

"Everywhere.  Today I was going to go to the Getty Museum, UCLA, and the Santa Monica Pier.  I'm bound to get cruised by a few guys there."

"Ok...I'll take off work today, and go with you.  We'll get the phone numbers of ten Cute Young Things before lunch."

At the Getty Museum, I am cruised by a high school boy on a field trip, but I don't get his phone number.  Jerzy is ignored.

Classes haven't started at UCLA yet, so there aren't many students around, but a cute blond in a UCLA t-shirt strikes up a conversation in the library.  He thinks Jerzy and I are gay dads checking out the campus for their kid.  When he discovers that I'm visiting from the Plains, he offers to take me on an "insider's tour" of Hollywood tomorrow.  Jerzy is ignored.

At lunch, the waiter cruises me.  Jerzy is ignored.

At the Santa Monica Pier, a skateboarding teenager almost runs into us.  In the ensuing conversation, I try to act as Jerzy's wingman, praising him to the hilt.  The skateboarder ignores him.

It's 4:00 pm.  We're suppose to meet at Chazz's apartment in three hours.

"How about a tea-dance at the Toy Tiger?" I suggest.  The bar where every boy is available, for a price.

"No hustlers.  That wouldn't be honest," Jerzy says.  "But I have one more place in mind.  Let me drop you off at Chazz's apartment.  I'l be back at 7:00 pm."

Thursday Night

Six guys gather at Chazz's apartment for snacks and sodas.  Stonewall is playing on tv.   We talk about life on the Plains, how West Hollywood has changed, and the current fascist government, and check the time, waiting for Jerzy to show up.  I tell them about our tour of Los Angeles, and his constantly striking out.  We have no doubt that he will strike out again on his last attempt, and show up empty-handed, and have to act as an anal top instead of an oral bottom.

Then there's a knock on the door.  Jerzy comes in -- with a kid.

A literal kid!  Preteen, maybe ten years old.

Our jaws drop in shock.

"Guys, this is Hunter, my sister's son.  I wanted to stop in and introduce him to all of my friends, and show you the smartphone I bought him.  By the way, I'm the first one he gave his number to."

Hunter politely shakes hands with each of us, and then demonstrates the features of his new phone.

"Ok, we're off for ice cream."  Jerzy grins.  "I'll be back later, after I take Hunter home, to collect my prize."

The deal was: the phone number of a guy under 21.  We never said that it had to be for a date.

See also: How to Attract Twinks