Nude Photos of John Manning and His Beefcake Brothers

Here are some nude photos of 1950s Physique Pictorial model John Manning and at least one of his brothers.

A standard 1960s studio shot of John, emphasizing his plus-size penis.

John as an Indian, a rare color photo by Bruce of Los Angeles.

John and his regular co-model James Selig.

John on the left, and the guy on the right is reputedly his brother Jim.

The full article is on Boomer Beefcake and Bonding

What the College Boy was Doing Under the Sheets

Manville, Summer 1973

Every summer from 5th through 10th grade,  I spent a week at Manville, the Nazarene summer camp.  Actually five days: drive in Monday morning, leave Saturday afternoon (so you could be home for church Sunday).

Up every morning at 6:00 am for breakfast, Bible study, chapel, and lunch, followed by jump quiz practice or music practice, sports, dinner, rap groups, a fire-and-brimstone sermon, an hour of free time, and lights out.

In the most horrid cabins imaginable.

One bare light bulb, screens but no glass in the windows, bare board floors, 10 rusty, squeaking army-cots with paper-thin mattresses, placed so close together that you could reach across and touch your neighbor, with  a double bed at the front for the counselor.

The only thing I liked about them was:

10 boys and the counselor bedding down in pajamas or, more likely, their underwear.

The counselor was usually a member of the gospel singing group or an adult volunteer, with a muscular physique and the promise of an underwear bulge, but for some reason in the summer of 1973, when I was twelve years he wasn't either of those.  Titus was tall, thin, and boney, gawky, with big, sweaty hands and clodding feet, not at all the outdoorsman-type you expect as camp conselor. He was a college boy, a "music ministry" major at Olivet,  but unlike most ministerial students, he didn't have a wild side; he was a Johnny Nazarene, one of those super-devout types who follows every rule in the Manual and makes up some of his own.

 He didn't have breakfast with us, or come to any of the morning activities. He showed up at 10:00 am chapel, yawning, as if he just climbed out of bed.

I found out why Tuesday night: he didn't sleep. He stayed up all night, reading his Bible or a book on soulwinning or Nazarene history by the light of a desk lamp.  Plus every fifteen minutes or so, he got up and walked slowly down the aisle between the beds, shining a flashlight.

Not at our faces. At our crotches. 

What could he possibly be checking on?

I found out on Wednesday during the "rap session" before the fire-and-brimstone sermon. Titus was talking about the need to keep ourselves pure before marriage, so of course premarital sex, touching of private areas, or kissing was out of the question. But you also had to be careful to not look a girl in an unchaste way.  It could lead to  self-abuse.

I had never heard the term before, so I asked:  "What's self-abuse?"

Titus looked down at his hands. "Well, you know, it's not because you're wasting your seed -- that's a Catholic superstitution. It's because in God's eyes, thinking about doing something is just as bad as doing it, and when you do...that, you have to be thinking unchaste thoughts about girls,right?"

That didn't answer the question, so later I asked one of my friends:  when you think about a girl "unchastely," your penis gets bigger, and if you're not careful, you can have sex right there, even if no girls are around.

They get bigger?  I had no idea!  I heard some of the older boys talking about "popping a boner," but I thought they meant your wiener accidentally pushing through your underwear, not getting bigger and bursting out!

So Titus was shining a flashlight on everyone's crotches, he was checking to make sure that no one's wiener was getting bigger in preparation for "self-abuse."

I wanted to see that, too. So on Wednesday and Thursday nights, I tried to stay awake, checking the bunks on either side of me for bulges under the thin sheets, or maybe even a  rhythmic movement as a boy had sex "with no girls around." And when Titus walked down the aisle, shining his light on crotches, I watched, as far as I could, discretely, pretending to be asleep.

I never saw anything, but after two nights without sleep, I was a zombie. On Friday morning I made it to breakfast, then went to the nurse's office with an upset stomach. She prescribed 7-Up  and "rest in bed" until I was feeling better.

So I walked back past the classroom building and the tabernacle, to the cabins, deserted and off-limits during the daytime. I walked up the stairs slowly, still with an upset stomach, and trudged toward my bunk. Titus was still in bed. His white t-shirt was the same color as the sheets.

I briefly thought that it was unfair to let counselors sleep in when we had to get up at 6:00 am. But he was a volunteer, not getting paid, so...

Then I noticed the bulge at crotch level. 

His wiener was pushing out of his underwear, bursting up against the sheet.

I carefully slid out of my shoes and pants and climbed into my bunk, never taking my eyes off the bulge. It trembled a bit, moving with the rhythm of Titus's breathing.  His hands were both under the covers. "Self-abuse"?

Suddenly Titus's eyes opened. He sawme watching, and quickly rolled over onto his stomach.  "What are you doing here?" he asked angrily.

"Sick. The nurse said I should go to bed. Don't worry, I didn't see anything."

"See what?  There was nothing to see."  As if to demonstrate, he kicked off the sheets. He was wearing pajama bottoms -- no crotch bulge. He quickly drew his pants on and pulled on his shoes. "Gotta go to the bathroom. I hope you feel better."

I've seen a lot of morning wood since then, and watched a lot of masturbation. But I'm still not sure what Titus was doing under the sheets.

David's Top 20 Hookups and One-Night Stands

David, my friend in San Francisco, spent the first 43 years of his life in small-town Arkansas, a conservative Baptist minister who had barely heard that gay people existed, and certainly didn't know that he was himself gay.  After all, he was married.  He had two children.  He lived in Arkansas.

On January 6th, 1996, his 43rd birthday, he realized that he was gay.  Within a week, he had his first same-sex experience, resigned from his pastoral job, moved out of the parsonage, and asked his wife for a divorce.

By June he was living in San Francisco, He got an apartment and a job, joined a gym, bought a new wardrobe, and went cruising.

After 43 years in the wilderness of the Straight World, unwilling to touch, look at, or even fantasize about the masculine, he wanted to make up for lost time by experiencing masculine beauty five times a day.

Hooking up that often is a herculean task, even in Gay Heaven.  You have to be always "on," looking constantly, at work, at the gym, on the Muni.  You have to walk down different streets, go to different bars and restaurants, so you don't run into the same crowd all the time.  And you can't be picky: you have to be available to every man of legal age, whether he's old, young, short, tall, thin, or fat.

The logistic problems made him revise his goal to one a day.  Still during the last twenty years he's probably been with around 5,000 guys.

Here are his most memorable hookups, one-night stands, and public sexual encounters.

The Bible Boy of Castro Street.  In June 1996, shortly after we met, David shocked me by picking up a street preacher.

Brad Pitt.  In August 1996,  David and I had a four-way with Corbin the Gym Rat and Brad Pitt.

The Homeless Kid.  In September 1996, David shocked me again by actually talking to a panhandler.  And inviting him over for dinner.

Santa Claus.  David wasn't usually into the bear type, but he made an exception for Santa Claus, aka Bearnard, in December 1996.

The Straight Boy at the Garlic Festival.  David even cruised in the Straight World.  It paid off when we went to the Gilroy Garlic Festival in July 1997.

The Car Wash Boy.  David was visiting a friend in Oakland, and they passed one of those buffed college guys who advertise car washes by taking their shirts of.

The Abductee.  Alien abductions were all the rage in the 1990s, so what better place to cruise than at a support group for abductees?  Of course, David had to have his own abduction story....

The Brothers.  David was quite a twink magnet, but he didn't discriminate.  One summer he hooked up with two tourist brothers from Slovakia, both in their 40s, while they were traveling with their wives.

Kevin's Old Apartment.  In March 2003, I flew out to San Francisco for a visit, and David and I tried to track down my ex-boyfriend, Kevin the Vampire.  We hooked up with the guy currently living in his apartment after a conversation of less than five minutes.






The Elevator.  There's a lot of porn about getting someone to go down on you in an elevator, but have you ever tried it?  David did.


The Hitchhiker.  In August 2003, David came to visit me in Florida, and we drove down to Key West for the weekend.  On the way we picked up a teenage hitchhiker, on the way to his freshman year at Florida International University.

The Unicyclist.  For at least a decade, the Unicyclist was a fixture on Castro Street. He didn't speak; if he liked you, he would circle you and beep a little horn.  For some reason he never approached David, so one day David approached him.

The Surfer.  The water at Baker Beach in San Francisco is cold.  Even in the summer, you're not going to swim or surf there without a wetsuit.  But when David saw a naked man there in April 2005, he didn't ask questions.  He just went down.

The Bodybuilders.  Everybody in San Francisco went to the gym, so you had to be really spectacular to draw attention based on your physique.  And the really spectacular guys tended to only date each other.  One spring David managed to date Bodybuilder #1, and then, after they broke up, shared his new boyfriend, Bodybuilder #2.

The BART.  The Bay Area Transit System has very small restrooms, and it's not very well heated, but that didn't stop David from having a twink go down on him in the middle of December..

The Slave.  David was into leather, but not into BDSM; no bondage, whips, or clamps, thank you.  But when the prospective bottom looks like this, who can say no?

Skyler Stone.  A comedian who usually plays stoners. You may know him as Cousin Mike on Raising Hope, or from his prank make-out session with his buddy at the homophobic Chik-fil-A.  By all accounts, he's straight, but David says that they hooked up in Los Angeles.

The Otter from the Bike Stop.  In March 2013, David visited me in Philadelphia, and proved that he still had the stuff by getting the telephone numbers of 14 guys in a single 24-hour period.  The only one he actually hooked up with was an otter met in the gay bar The Bike Stop.

The Stonewall Veteran.  The Stonewall Riots, the start of the Gay Rights Movement, were in 1969, so there aren't a lot of people left who can say they were there.  David met a guy who was active in gay rights even earlier, in the Mattachine Society of the 1950s.

Everybody Hooks up with Everybody.  In July 2013, I flew out to San Francisco to visit David, and he provided a friend to share: James, a black-haired twink majoring in Arabic.  It turns out that James dated the nephew of a guy I cruised back in Rock Island 30 years ago.  Sooner or later, everybody hooks up with everybody else.