(oops! sometimes i confuse pornography with obscenity - i'll try to get back to the pornography soon....)
Saturday, November 30, 2002
Friday, November 29, 2002
Holiday ReminiscingOnce I hopped on the bike with my 12-pack tucked under one arm, heading off to t-day dinner with 2 good friends, I started to think a bit more about my post from Thursday afternoon. I mention a best friend, and while "best" is accurate (compared to other friendships, I hung around, talked to, etc., with him the most) it wasn't what you might think. We were best friends at school, but I can't remember us doing much of anything together outside of school for those 2 years we were best friends, 7th and 8th grade. Meanwhile, at the end of 5th grade (age 11), during summer break, I enrolled in summer school classes at a local High School, sort of a place to send kids from the area who I guess weren't doing the sports thing, and I took Current Events, and a few other classes I can't remember. The first day of class, there I was in the assigned homeroom, with about 15 girls filling in the other desks. The classroom continued to fill, and oddly enough, I was still the only other boy. Finally, at the doorway, a boy showed up - he looked around the room, scoping things out, and then came over and sat next to me. We quickly became friends for the summer. And for the next 2 summers, we both attended this summer school, and tried to sign up for the same classes (once we even did a Presidential debate - he was Nixon; me of course, McGovern). He lived in another part of town (but still South Side) so during the regular school term, we only occasionally talked by phone, but never saw each other in person. Graduating from grade school, my parents insisted I go to the so-called best High School in town, all boys, and it scared the crap out of me. Of course, High School anywhere scared me, as I am fairly fearful of change, then and now. The good news, my pal from summer school was also enrolling in the same High School.
This was the boy who would become my true Best Friend. I turned him on to pot when we were 16; he asked about my sexuality when I barely understood it myself (and was the only person I was "out" to for years); I saw one of my first concerts with him (Bootsy Collins Rubber Band), he had a years-long crush on one of my sisters. Graduating was tough, as I had settled on a school in Alabama, and he was going to the West Coast (where my first 3 choices of college were located, actually). But we stayed in touch, hung out during Xmas breaks, and summer breaks, and still referred to each other as Best Friend during those years, and even later when I moved to New York, and he eventually made his way to Boston for Grad School.
Have I ever mentioned my addiction to Lifetime? You know, "Television For Women" - Lifetime, the cable channel. I often joke about it, as it's mostly the made-for-TV movies that I watch. But in the last few weeks, I have gotten into a bit of a routine late at night. I get home, read some emails, check auctions or webpage stats, and by 1 a.m. I am watching CNN, then switch to Lifetime for Any Day Now at 1:30. I had watched it only occasionally before, having liked the black woman star from her recurring role in older Law and Order episodes as the feisty public defender, but was a bit disappointed at what seemed to be a more lightweight character in this newer series. But when I'd watch, I always enjoyed it, and recently, getting to see 3 or 4 episodes a week, the friendship between the 2 woman - the subtleties, the arguments, the understandings without speaking - I've grown to really love this show. If you know the show, you know it's a white woman and a black woman, in modern day Birmingham, Alabama, but the show also includes storylines in each episode of their growing up together in the segregated South of the 60's. Last night's episode dealt with how, as close as they both are to each other, race is still a huge issue, and affects them quite differently. And it occurred to me that that is another huge reason why I enjoy the show. Sure, sometimes it's sappy, and some things do seem to resolve too easily, but the friendship challenges each woman, and "the race issue" isn't dealt with in one episode, tidied up, and they move on. And some of the stories of their childhood are the most compelling to me. I know, I know, who likes reading about someone else's favorite TV shows. And while my life was nothing like theirs back in the 60's, (I think the characters are perhaps just a couple years older than me) it is the only show I know of that deals with one of the big issues of my childhood (Civil Rights, race relations, etc) and ties it in to how far we have, and have not, come since then.
So, sometimes when I see the conflicts the two women have in understanding each other, it reminds me of my 30-year friendship with my Best Friend from my youth. These days we only see each other at the Holidays when I go back to Chicago (he settled back there several years ago), and not necessarily each year. So we aren't Best Friends anymore, how could we be with so much time and distance between us? But, remarkably, we can slip very comfortably into conversation about just about anything when we do see each other, and last Christmas, having dinner in a restaurant, of course race relations in the great city of Chicago came up. And we argued. And it was heated. At one point, he looked at me and said "how many black people are in this restaurant?" As I started to look up, he said "no, don't look, just tell me" I guessed 5 or 6. He said I wasn't even close, that he was the only one in the restaurant, and that he knew that as soon as he walked in the door. We talked about hypersegregation, how blacks and whites still don't mix socially, about how we still we never see the world the same way, how fucked up things are. It saddened me; it angered him. His anger made me angry, and defensive, but we stuck it out, not resolving anything, just kept talking and disagreeing and I got some understanding that perhaps towards me it's not so much anger, but frustration - that you can be close to someone, and yet experience things so differently, and hate having to explain yourself over and over - for decades, in our case!
We left the restaurant, it was late; we had talked about going to a bar (he's usually nice enough to let us go to a gay bar where I'll be more comfortable) but decided to head home, and we got in his car and headed back to my Mom's place where I was staying. Having gone only a few blocks, we hear a siren, and lights flash. A cop, behind us. My pal pulls over, visibly angry, but once the cop got to the window, very polite, formal, answering questions, showing driver's licence, etc. Everything was done slow and meticulously, it seemed odd to me, but I was getting it eventually. Black man, nice car, white neighborhood. We tried talking about it after the cop left, but he couldn't - shaken, angry, saddened, and I think also embarrassed - he acted respectfully and formally to the cop, but it clearly enraged him that he could not question the cop, the public servant, about what the fuck he was doing and why. Here we were, two 40-year old men, being treated like guilty teenagers.
The next day I called, only to get the answering machine. I remember telling my family later that night, and without explaining, just when they heard "cop pulled us over" they knew. They were angry, and sad for my friend, who we've known for 30 years, who put himself through Stanford and Harvard and has done community service jobs all his life, is the smartest man I've known, works his tail off - but is still seen as someone who shouldn't have that car, and be in that neighborhood.
Thursday, November 28, 2002
Things you regret; things you're thankful for. Back in the early 70's, 8th grade, Miss Davis my teacher had proudly put up her Black History Month display on the bulletin boards, huge banner proclaiming "TO BE YOUNG GIFTED AND BLACK". It looked great - artists, poets, freedom fighters, etc, - their pictures and bios displayed on large multi-colored construction paper. As I took my seat, one of the other students nudged Miss Davis, looked over in my direction, and whispered something. I didn't think much of it until later in the day, after going to other classrooms for other classes, then returning to my homeroom with Miss Davis. The banner had been changed. Now it read "TO BE YOUNG GIFTED AND BLACK, and WHITE" Oh crap. I was so embarrassed. Perhaps horrified is a better desription.
It was the early 70's, my family lived on the South Side of Chicago ("the baddest part of town" as you Jim Croce fans might remember), and the neighborhood was going though "the change." When we first moved there, it was an all white neighborhood, moving into a cute house my mother had grown up 5 doors down from, always hoping to some day live there. Then the first Black family moved in, a nice quiet middle-aged couple with no children. Then the panic set in, the whisperings about when people would be moving (not if), my parents seeing their friends less and less for no discernable reason to us kids, not at first. The Catholic school I went to had been all white when I started in kindergarten, but by 5th grade, there were only 5 white students in my class, and by 8th grade, I was the only white kid in my class. My brothers had moved on to high school, my sisters (one grade younger) were in some experimental small school. My best friend was black, and was taunted for being my friend. Needless to say, some of the kids weren't nice to me ("honkey" being a popular word in the early 70's), but overall it was still a good school, the teachers were great, and I didn't miss my old friends who turned out to be bigots. Our parents never explicitly talked to us about why we stayed, even after the loss of all of their old friendships. And I didn't always tell them about every little incident at school, and this one bothered me.
For whatever reason, somehow I had felt lucky to have been given this opportunity, not to run from "the change" in the neighborhood, but to stay, meet new and different kids (you can imagine the hairstyles, I'll have to share a class photo), and one of the best things was kids bringing their records to school, and even singing pop songs in church - even the nuns got into the "making it relevant" movement, and one of my all time favorites was Be Thankful For What You've Got. Anyway, I just remember thinking "oh, Miss Davis, you shouldn't have done that, its okay, I understand, don't ruin the message just to try to make me feel ok...." but I never spoke up, 13-year-old me. Many years later, home for the holidays from college, I told that story to my parents, how bad I felt for not speaking up, but how happy I was that they were wise enough to have us stay put in our neighborhood, despite how hard it was for them, and sometimes us kids, and give me those memories and amazing lessons about life.
workgood, bad, ridiculous. The shift started off fairly slow, I was bored, and my usual antsy ready-to-serve mood, chattering like I'd just had 3 cups of coffee, straightening stuff out. I knew I had to settle in and just read or something to pass the time, as it's the day before a holiday, it will most likely be a slow night. So I settle in and continue to read Holidays on Ice, have my first few chuckles, and off to the side (from the restaurant side) a man approaches, huge smile saying something like "HEYA DADDY-O!" He most definately didn't say that, but more likely got my name wrong and it just sounded like Daddy-o, but it was Eyebrow Man, walking past me behind the counter, and around to the front, to look in the mirror and comment that he lost his leather cap. I of course said a big hello as well (no reference to daddies, though), he gestured towards his coat as he seemed to be talking to no one in particular, opened it to reveal a sloppy white t-shirt with some sort of big logo I couldn't read fast enough, pointed at some paint on the inside of his coat, zipped up, and said something about a Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. It all happened so fast, him swooshing past me, only inches away for a brief second (I estimate the distance at 8 inches, an "educated" guess), then stopping in front and blabbering about something I couldn't quite understand as I was kinda stunned and staring (and hopefully not drooling). Only 2 nights earlier a friend had emailed that just maybe Eyebrow Man had been hanging about on purpose. NAWWWWWW! was my reply, of course, but this made me wonder. Nothing clear, but still that happy gee-maybe-he's-queer-and-better-yet-interested thoughts that gave me the calm smile I enjoyed for a few short hours.....
Sometime after 10pm, one of the guys who sometimes does deliveries, sometimes busses tables, etc, came into the takeout side, and was just acting a bit goofy. As it was slow, and my co-worker had already left the take-out side for the night, this guy took up space in front of one of the computer terminals. I had left my station for a few moments, came back and he had some weird screen up, and I just reached over and said NO, and closed the screen off. He mumbled something in Spanish - he knows barely any English at all, I know NO Spanish at all. A few moments later, a couple of other guys come over, they start kidding around with each other, but all in Spanish. At one point I try to interject something, a lame joke, no one reacts initially, and the guy who had first come in says "Maricon, Maricon, Maricon; Punta punta punta" and the three all titter and guffaw. Probably directed at me, and probably with the "he-doesn't know Spanish it won't hurt" intention, but you can't live in New York for more than 2 weeks without knowing those words. Pissed me off, but I let it go, figuring what the fuck, why make a scene, he's an ass. 10:30, 3 rather drunk guys come in, approach the counter, laughing and stumbling over each other, and try to place and order, one repeating or one-upping the other. Eventually they get the order clear, I punch it into the computer, he gives me his credit card, i ring in through and have him sign the slip, telling him it will be about 10 minutes. Thankfully, the drunks go outside into the cold to wait. Meanwhile, the Spanish-speaking co-workers had meandered away, but soon had come back. The drunks came back in, I told them it would be a few minutes. Then the order was ready, and one of the delivery guys packaged it, and called out the order, handing it to the guy who had placed the order. One of his friends see the obvious Hispanic-looking guy doing this, points to his friend grabbing the package and says "this guy here, he MARICON!" laughs, gets a laugh from my co-workers, and says it twice more. I'm standing on the other side of the counter, but barely 18 inches away, and say loudly: "You know, some people find that word to be very offensive" He shrinks away as the pal who was being called the name says "what he say, what does it mean??" Continuing to be loud, I said "It means FAGGOT, and it's quite offensive" I see everyone look down at their shoes nervously, as the customer says "Oh Jeez, he didn't mean it, he's really drunk, gosh I'm sorry, he didn't mean it, I'm really sorry" and they all leave. Meanwhile, all 3 co-workers, the Spanish-speaking guys, have slowly walked away, into the restaurant.
I'm alone, but for 2 customers a few feet away waiting for their food, a bit shaken, but glad I spoke up. I have no idea what the Spanish-speaking guys think, I don't know if I really care much, but I keep hearing my own voice saying "faggot" loudly, angrily. A half hour passes, not much activity but for me doing my nightly cleaning up, and as I sit back for a moment to relax, a waitress and the night manager are over in my area doing some of their clean-up, and she looks down and says: "Are you wearing two differnet shoes?" Of course I look down and say "NO", then look again, and she is right; we all 3 burst out laughing. Two different worn-out Timberland boots. When I leave shortly after midnight, the Spanish-speaking guys are still hanging around, at a table, drinking beer. I didn't say goodnight, neither did they.
Wednesday, November 27, 2002
Tuesday, November 26, 2002
I stop, knowing a body next to his might get his attention, and he turns his head up, we both smile widely and say "hey man." I open the door and report for work, he continues painting the front of the restaurant. After I settle in behind the counter, he walks in, comes toward the counter, not sure who to address (my co-worker who does the deliveries works right beside me) as he asks for some money "for the truck." I giggle like a, well, no, I giggle like me, a real butch giggle, of course. I reach in the cash register and pull out 50 cents, place it in his hand as our eyes meet, my heart melts, he says thanks, and goes back to the outside of the restaurant, his baggy jeans slowly walking away from me, filling my imagination.
Monday, November 25, 2002
A week or two later, I was working a Sunday day shift, filling in for someone, and there he was, at the bar, eating something. Hmmm, maybe he works at one of the other restaurants (I think we have 3 in Manhattan). Sleeves pulled up, revealing those delicious forearms, I passed by just to get a credit card checked, and returned to the take-out side, not able to see him any longer. But my thoughts were full of him; how I'd playfully chew on those thick eyebrows (I'm not kidding, they're like bushy dark brown hamsters sitting atop his eyes!), gently kiss his dark eyelids as he slept beside me, snuggle my face between his neck and strong shoulder..... I didn't even think of sex, per se, or wonder about his genitals - it was the face that I knew I could stare at forever, the thick warm body I could cling to for hours at a time.
Yesterday morning I get to work - now I will be working Sunday days every week - and I get to the basement to get some supplies I'll need for the day, and there he is, talking to some of the Mexican staff who work in the kitchen. Gulp. I get the stuff I need, hoping to get out of the supply room fast enough to get one more look. I pass by, and just as I begin to walk up the stairs I turn back, and see that he has turned slightly and our eyes meet for the briefest second as we both keep going. Naw, he didn't purposely turn to see me, did he? Maybe a half hour later I see him on the ground floor, in the restaurant, talking to the manager, then he leaves. Nope, nothing there. But I'm smiling, just having the fresh memory of that face. Probably straight, hopefully clueless what I'm thinking, but the handsomest man I've seen in a long time. The day progresses slowly, uneventfully, as I get along well with the delivery guy assigned to me for dayshifts. A little bored, I go into the restaurant side to refill my paper coffee cup at the bar, and Eyebrow Man is sitting there, right on the other side of the coffee pot, eating. I smile weakly, in acknowledgment, but careful not to smile that way and he semi-acknowledges me. While I am happy to get another closer view of his handsome, rugged, kissable lickable face, I worry that I may be too obvious. I don't like the idea of making someone nervous or uncomfortable, especially a coworker (granted, I've only seen him 3 times in over a month), and I quickly go back to my take-out side. A few minutes later, while gazing out the window to the street, I see him cross, and get into a big white truck. Is this some fantasy porno-romance novel I'm writing? Swarthy handsome truck driver teases horny middle aged man until he can't take it any more? I stare out across as he gets in, his beautiful head moving slightly to look for traffic, and I notice the delivery guy looking at me, wondering what has caught my eye, so I shift a bit so as not to appear to be staring, drooling at the vision across the road. Eyebrow Man pulls away, my heart very slowly begins to settle back into its normal beat, and I sit back behind the counter.
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Rydar HansonWell, either we have a lot of Hanson fans out there, or a bunch of you just love your Photoshop! Thanks guys for the cleaned-up pic of Ryder (you can stop sending now...) - I'm guessing it's a still from Chain Reactions (sadly, a video I had that was all f**ked up and unplayable); I really don't think it's from Faces, even though the boxcover of that one shows him in leather pants (chaps?). I just watched another video with him in bike shorts....
Now, where was i?oh yeah - Rydar Hanson. Usually when casually mentioning an 80's porn star, i'd link to maybe the HIS Video page dedicated to the star; but that page sucks. Sure, it has a few of his videos, but not even half of his output. Born Wolfgang Praegert in Germany in 1957, he died of AIDS in 1989. Lightly hairy, uncut, beautiful body, incredibly edible ass (which I might add was never fully given its due on film or video) he was a typical 80's pornstar, in a couple good videos, but poorly utilized in most - (bad sex, bad lighting, awful editing, you got the idea). To see a fuller listing of the video titles, you should check out this relatively new, but fantastic site I learned of only the other day, Woody's Gay Video Erotic Index. Fantastic cross-referencing of pornstars, video titles, and directors, I've spent hours the past couple of days looking up info. And, the WEBMASTER contacted me and asked for some help if I see errors or missing info, so I'm only too happy to add my 2 cents. Check it out, and send the guy a note if you are enjoying his hard work!
Back to the video box cover below (yesterday's brief post) - that's Hanson on the cover,all decked out in leather, looking pretty tasty (although I don't think he's wearing that outfit on this video). It's one of those compilation videos put out by Magnum Griffin, an interesting company from the 1970's that i know little about. Their actual 1970's output was great - a bunch of magazines, high-quality photography, beautiful men including Jack Wrangler, and some great loops - 10-15 minute films ( the voice-overs were laughable, best to be turned off if you wanted to get off). By the 80's, when video was hitting big, they released these loops on tape, packaged usually an hour's worth - so they included 4-6 clips. But only Volumes 1-5 or 6 seem to be their own, original work, and something like Vol 9 shown below is a mish mosh of 70's and 80's stuff (I haven't looked fully, but it has the Jack Wrangler whack off scene from Kansas City Trucking, the Rydar Hanson/ Eric Stryker scene from Thinking Big, and several others. (Yes, soon to be available for purchase on eBay, once I preview it and take note of all the scenes).
Oh yeah, I definately need to learn Photoshop - that boxcover pic would look great with all the words deleted, and cropped just below his nicely unsnipped cock, doncha think?
Saturday, November 23, 2002
you know I hate to go a day without posting, but i'm tired and hungry. SO let me get some food, change my PUBLIC pic on CRUISETOOL and pretend I'll get some emails, relax, and come back later with my thoughts on this pic, Mr Hanson himself, and other related and semi-related thoughts.
Friday, November 22, 2002
"They'd been good buddies all their lives, but for one night they were going to be lovers. They'd get a little drunk, and they'd explore every sexual variation two guys have ever encountered together. And tommorrow they would forget - The Experiment. Or would they?"
Director: Gorton Hall (1973)
Starring: Dave Craig, David Blair, Eva Faye, Gorton Hall, Jimmy Hughes, Joey Daniels, Mike Stevens, Peter Thomas, Robert Weaver, and Tony Ross .
Thursday, November 21, 2002
6 weeks For those of us counting, it's been six weeks since I've had sex. (NO! That hairy p---y/lubejob incident at House of Regrets 10 days ago doesn't count - I left the booth without getting off.) Anyway, it's not freaking me out like I would think, but since i am a pragmatic man, I figured just in case the opportunity should arise, so to speak, I may need some tips. Even the best of us get rusty, so I popped in a tape I am selling on eBay, The International Guide to the Fine Art of Fellatio, to get some help from macho-voiced Michael Braun (just listen to the way he says COCK-K).
"They want it so bad, they look up at you like a cocker spaniel"
(1989) Starring: Michael Braun, Lon Flexx, T.J. Anderson, Eddy Crane; introducing Craig Anderson, Ted Cox, and Brian Travis
Wednesday, November 20, 2002
LEFTY6448 [2:06 PM]: U GOT MAIL
BJland [2:09 PM]: cool
LEFTY6448 [2:10 PM]: U SENDING YOURS
BJland [2:10 PM]: i have pic link in profile
LEFTY6448 [2:11 PM]: NOT NAKED
BJland [2:11 PM]: sorry, not into just exchanging pics....
LEFTY6448 [2:12 PM]: OK LATER BUT I AM IN NYC
BJland [2:12 PM]: ok, have fun
hmmm, but he is in NYC
the guy was totally smooth, and 20. Doing the math, I figure he "loves" about 1 billion men. I suppose I should feel complimented, but our conversation lasted about 45 seconds before he confessed to wanting to go to bed, OR suck cock. (Vanilla or chocolate? Tide or Cheer?)
Tuesday, November 19, 2002
rawtopdowntown: Hey fuzzy. What you up to? I have to come to the East today anyway.
ME: sorry, not my scene, but have fun anyway
I didn't make fun of his b-hole, I didn't point out that if he's the top, i should be seeing a hothardthickmanmeat pic instead of pulsating b-hole pic, and I didn't comment on the advisability of unprotected sex with a stranger. Nor did I point out how special and desired I feel knowing that he's only interested because he'll be in my neighborhood anyway. A simple polite "no thanks" - pussycat here, yup.
Monday, November 18, 2002
Sunday, November 17, 2002
damn, i got a lot of work to do this week.
Saturday, November 16, 2002
BJland [9:55 PM]: hey man
Pigboynyc [9:56 PM]: HEY DUDE
see? this is why I am no good at the AOL. Several more minutes pass, and neither of us type anything back at the other. That's the entire conversation. I'm thinking: how many ways of saying hello is he gonna try? Or did he just forget that he messaged me, and thinks I started the conversation? I really don't want to respond with "What's up?" only to get his "not much" And he's thinking: What's wrong with this guy, can't he respond? or did he just read my profile and isn't into pigs, so maybe I shouldn't say anything else unless he says "hot profile"?
Friday, November 15, 2002
"A panoramic potpourri of polymorphous perversity ... GOOD HOT STUFF ... Boy do we need it now!"
Well, I decided to go with an oldie. When I first started going to the BIJOU Theatre in Chicago, I found the movie trailers to be the best part (as far as on-screen activity, that is). Tight editing, great music (often different from the actual films), and sometimes, if you are lucky, fantastic voice-overs (the Higgins films always had over-the-top voice-overs). About a year ago I acquired on eBay two videotapes from Hand In Hand Films, one was all movie trailers (you've seen some of them, you will see more) and one was for the film Good Hot Stuff, a behind-the-scenes look at how Hand In Hand made porno films, along with some scenes of the studio's releases. Fun and purposely campy narration by long-haired blond Marc Woodard, Jack Deveau and Peter de Rome talking a bit about their work, and nearly 90 minutes of clips. Anyway, this movie trailer is one of my favorites - jazzed up 70's music, quick fun editing, and the last 1-1/2 minutes has plenty of cum - enjoy!
Thursday, November 14, 2002
BJland [11:22 AM]: sorry, not discreet here
Mr4Mr [11:23 AM]: just need a hot dude to suck me off, man
Apparently, the need for "discretion" isn't as important as getting one's rocks off. But to be honest, I don't always go to someone's apartment and tell the doorman "the cocksucker's here", sometimes I just say "massage guy - OOOPS! I forgot my table again!"
Wednesday, November 13, 2002
Say what you will about the late 70's/early 80's "clone look" but those mustaches are great for buttmunching (and the guy here proves it). This clip is from a video I am selling on eBay (what? you think I post this stuff merely for your filthy gratification?); I've been holding on to it for awhile, hoping to find more info on it. But, alas, I couldn't. All I know is that is was produced by College Station, and I recognized the name as one of the gay adult male photography studios that had a lot of stuff in magazines such as Playguy, In Touch, and Blueboy. The quality of photography is good, recorded on film (yeah!), and appears to be one of those where they were doing the still shots as the primary focus, and this film as a second thought. Meaning that I think they were just getting their feet wet with film, but the look and feel is more of telling the "story" through quick images, rather than those boring 10 minute shots of close-up cock going into close-up manhole.
I live in Bayridge, Brooklyn..NYC, Single Male for Single Male, Hobbies & Interests: Beefy Italian & Greek men ME: VGL PR, MASCULINE, 32w, 185lb, 6', Vin Diesel Haircut, Dark Br. eyes, big arms and thick body, sexy smile Occupation: A good one.. YOU: VGL 27-40 something, have pic for trade, muscular, versatile, Carrot Top haircut, (Italians a plus, but not necessary). NOT INTO HOOKUPS..dating and having fun.
ok. so maybe I added a word or two to his ad.....
Tuesday, November 12, 2002
Monday, November 11, 2002
Sunday afternoon at work was horrible, the whole neighborhood needed take-out, the cook just couldn't juggle the take-outs and all the folks who descended upon the restaurant on this beautiful Sunday afternoon . But 5 o'clock rolls around, my replacement is on time for once , i have a bunch of money to count up, and it looks like I'll be out by 5:15. The computer system starts to go nutty, another 45 minutes pass, it's still not fixed, I decide to get out of the way (and away from those awful, hungry customers), and take a seat at the bar and have my first on-the-house margarita since I started working there some 10 weeks ago. I get home around 7:15, a pal calls up, brings over some chocolates, and we watch Simpsons. Late late that night, I am still horny (when aren't I?) chatrooms, videos, CRUSETOOL - nothing is helping. By around 1:30, I decide to head out. It's a warm night, it stopped raining a few hours earlier, and I get dressed and put my new favorite disc in the walkman. The bike ride is great; the rain scared enough people away that the streets aren't too nutty, and the air is warm and breezy, the sounds in my head soothing, the smell of autumn, the wet leaves on the ground, is intoxicating. I find myself at The Phoenix (how did that happen?), but locking up the bike, the song is just too good to go in just yet, so I lean against a wall oustside and enjoy the rest. Reminds me of the last time I hung out in this very spot, a nice young man visiting NY, we came outside to this spot to smoke some pot. Probably the best part of the night, as we had no distractions, no loud music or other men, just an incredibly lively conversation with someone who has a beautiful soul. Now, if I were a cynical person, this would make it difficult to go inside and hope to meet anyone, but I wasn't feeling cynical; nor was I counting on meeting anyone. Beer was 2 bucks, and I put a great Pere Ubu tune on the jukebox.
But, even though it was pleasant enough in there, it was one of those "I'm the only one who's not talking to someone else" nights, so when the beer was done, I was gone. Some more aimless bike riding and music-listening, but of course House of Regrets wasn't far off on the agenda. Paid my 10 bucks, started to walk thru the booth area and thought it was much darker than usual. Maybe I hadn't yet adjusted to the light, but after awhile, I was sure I was right. Several of the booths had no lighting whatsoever. After maybe 30 minutes of back and forth, up and down pacing, I leaned into a booth, most of my body outside of it so I was still visible. Some guy appears to be looking in my direction, but he's in the shadows, and so all I have is an outline of a decent shaped body, and his hands groping his trousers. Eventually he crosses the aisle to position himself in the booth next to mine, which while he's in better lighting, it's much more awkward to actually look at him. Realizing I can't see him, he slowly emerges, and leaves his booth, crossing in front of me, and then parking himself against the wall on my right. He leans into me, I'm not moving, and he does the light touch caress across the torso thing, gets no resistance, and lets his other hand begin to stroke my chest. I reach up and put my hand at the back of his neck, pulling him into me, and after a couple light kisses, he comes into my booth.
Good, solid body, gentle touch, and our arms are around each other as he begins to massage my back with his thick, strong hands. He pulls my jacket off, then continues the massaging, then positions his legs so as to lift me up, and my legs are no longer touching the floor, but are wrapped around his lower torso. We kiss gently and he is making pumping motions with his hips. When I dismount, I try to grab his stuff, but apparently I was going too fast, and he stops me. Slower, I reach in and just gently play with his balls, and he reaches into my boxers and grabs everything with one hand, pulling it all out and stroking. Soon I am down, his balls in my face, his moans gentle but clear. His thick cock is bobbing above my face, and I can't wait any longer, and pull him in. He seems to like this, as his body shudders, his hands both at the back of my head. We play around like this for awhile, he switches places briefly, and he then tries to play with my ass while I am blowing him. At one point he says the p-word, and I gasp. I try to laugh it off (meaning loudly, so he knows not to say it again, but then he says "nice hairy p---y." I say EWWWW really loud, and he stops going in that direction, pulls me up and kisses some more. Then he turns me around, sits on the bench behind me, and his hands are all over my ass saying all sorts of filthy things (but good filthy, the p-talk is no more) he pushes me forward, so that my ass is more up in the air, and one hand grabs my cock, stroking and continuing the dirty talk. My balls are slapping against my thigh, he's really got me going here, and then woooosh! Naw, he couldn't have cum. Awww, crap, he lets go of my cock, then reaches back for it and then I realize he's put lube all over my ass, balls, and cock. Yuck! "Awww, JEEZ! Where the fuck did all that fuckin' lube come from?!" I am totally grossed out, my cock is withering, and he tries whispering in my ear "don't worry baby, I wasn't gonna fuck you, unless you want me to..." I turn around and say, "sorry man, I can't stand lube, I can't even touch myself you got it all over me!" as I reach for my pants and get my clothes back on. He offers a tissue, I decline, and he tries the "Ain't gonna fuck you" line again. I simply say "have a good night" and get out of there. I go to the bathroom, but it's hopeless, he must've dumped a quart of that shit on me, ferchrissakes, I feel so gross, and now I can't even attempt anything with anyone else. I head up the stairs, take a few deep breaths as I unlock my bike, find myself chuckling aloud, and realize I may well break that 5-week record afterall.
Sunday, November 10, 2002
Saturday, November 09, 2002
5'10, 210#, 48c, hairy and masc.
looking to meet.
BJland [10:32 PM]: screenname, etc looks very familiar.....
HRYDORY [10:32 PM]: really
BJland [10:32 PM]: probably not, you dont have a profile
HRYDORY [10:32 PM]: not into profile queens
into furry men
...... and with that charming line, I broke my 4 week spell, we fucked like bunnies all night, I'm madly in love.....
um, what the hell could the etc part be after animal grunting?
Friday, November 08, 2002
you can't imagine how beautiful this is until it's in your hands, and the discs are playing. Right now there's an amazing live version of Generous Palmstroke playing; Bjork's growling with Zeena's strumming is sending shivers thru my body. So many alternate versions and little surprises, just wonderful............
If you've been reading me for awhile, you know I sell porno videos on eBay. I'm posting the last few Old Reliable tapes, including the one where this quickie clip is taken. I did managed to save a bunch of stills that I made for the auctions, which I hope to one day post on a separate page (but please, don't hold your breath - she's still waiting for a Bjork disc I promised 6 weeks ago, and he's still waiting for the AVI of Dallesandro I promised god-knows-when). So I figured a quick whack-off clip of one of the models was in order for a nice Friday think of me while your grabbing yourself post.
Thursday, November 07, 2002
going for the record4 weeks ago this afternoon, I had sex. Last time I had sex, in fact. Was pretty good, from what I can remember. But it looks like I'm gonna break my record of 5 weeks, and that was from the mid 90's. I had a boyfriend then, so it was particularly pitiful, you know? But the best part, is that the 5 week drought wasn't broken by him. I had been riding around aimlessly on my bike that day, and as I was passing the Strand Bookstore, a particularly handsome man was staring in my direction. I slowed, but didn't stop, then circled the block and tried to re-locate him, ARRGGGGH! Nope, no where in sight.
Hours later, I was leaving my apartment to go to the Tunnel Bar on 7th st, and who should be walking right by? Yup, this cutie from earlier in the day, we smiled, he kept walking, and somehow I got up the nerve to say some corny line, and he stopped, we chatted, I invited him inside my apartment. We did the kissy thing first for awhile, and flies got unzipped and grope grope grope. Then he starts to pull my shirt off. Uh Oh. I just realized that I had just buzzed off my chesthair. Which, in 1994, wasn't an unusual thing, except that I had done only the left side of my torso. Rather than say anything, I let him pull my shirt off and I waited for his reaction. Saying nothing, he just started licking around my waist as he tried to undo my belt. Hmmm. He got to the goods, made all the appropriate yummy noises as he devoured my cock and balls. Then, looking up into my eyes, he quietly said "can you do that to me?" Gulp. Um, no problem. So as I tried to change places with him, he stopped me. "No, I mean, can you do the same thing to my balls, aren't your shaved?" Oh, that! Yes, they were, sorta, and I explained that i actually trimmed them, not actually shaved, and he pleaded with me to do his. As soon as the hum of the trimmer started, his cock got rock hard, and he grabbed it and started pumping away as I worked on his balls, his fuzzy hairs droppping to the floor of my kitchen. I finished up just as he started scrunching his face, and managed to postion myself so as to catch most of what he shot all over my chest (both the hairy, and the buzzed, sides).
Bigger Than Life
It's 1986, you're addicted to going to the local porno theatre. Your boyfriend is working late, but you'd be here anyway. You've been here a couple hours already, having arrived right after work. Upstairs in the main theatre, they're playing a Jack Wrangler film, one you've seen dozens of times over the past 2 weeks. Downstairs in the cellar where all the buddybooths are, they have a video projector, half a dozen seats, and the new Jeff Stryker is playing. The acting is laugh-out-loud bad, the music cheesey, but after awhile you realize your boner is rock hard. Ashamed at getting turned (but damn that cock is big!), you get up to walk around. Within minutes, some short guy with a big one is playing Jeff Stryker to your Jeff Quinn.
Wednesday, November 06, 2002
Bigger Than LifeIt's 1986, you've been unemployed for 14 months, but you're feeling good about America again ("We kicked ass in Grenada a couple years back!"); your girlfriend doesn't know you like to suck cock ("what she doesn't know won't hurt her"); and you just got the new Jeff Stryker video in the mail - shipped discreetly, of course, in a plain brown packaging, to your P O Box - ("I hear he actually sings and plays guitar in this one!")
"If you don't vote, you can't complain"About 7:15 last night, attempting to take a nap, that was blaring out of some soundtruck, telling people there was still time to vote, but "If you don't vote, you can't complain." Having voted several hours earlier, I opened the window and told them to SHUT THE FUCK UP. One of the many things I hate about election time is stupidity like that - insulting the intelligence of the very people you are hoping to convince to support you. And every election year, people come up with the ridiculous idea that your freedom of speech is somehow linked to your exercising your right to vote. Perhaps they mean something more like: "if you don't participate in the electoral process, (which will never get you what you want anyway), I am not interested in hearing your opinions." Fine. (But i must add - the fact that you did vote won't make me any more interested in your opinions.) But what I've said for many years, and I believe is fairly rational, is that voting does not make a difference; or rather, my single vote does not make a difference. The notion that my vote counts is just plain wrong; in the sense that whether I vote, or which way I vote will affect the outcome, there is not a single election that I have voted in, or was eligible to vote in, where that one single vote would have changed the outcome. And I think we all know that. ("oh, but if everyone thought that, where would we be?" - um, we would have thousands of empty political offices, and then maybe someone would take notice). I think that those folks who don't consciously grasp that will always be disappointed, and will employ soundtrucks to lambast their neighbors with silly notions of "you don't get to complain."
But even though I think voting is irrational, it is still something I usually do. But I think what matters is what happens before we vote; some kind of connection to our community that despite the "fact" that it doesn't matter, we still want to speak up, wait in line with our neighbors, get disgusted over the choices, and pull a few levers. For me, and I would argue for most people, it is an emotional response - which I don't think is a bad thing, actually. Most elections, my choice was dictated by fear and or anger. (1980, perhaps disgust, but I am not sure that's technically an emotion - Barry Commoner; 1984, fear led me to pull the lever for Mondale, crying in the voting booth; 1988 it was anger, and a write-in for myself; 1992, a vote I still regret, but consciously made at the time as a "I don't want to be the a-hole who keeps saying I DIDN'T VOTE FOR HIM, DON'T BLAME ME" - Clinton; 1996, I honestly can't remember, it certainly wasn't Clinton; 2000, Nader.) Recently I read some outrageous argument that younger voters are smarter than older voters, simply because they vote in lower percentages. The reasoning being that they have somehow "rightfully" concluded that the process doesn't yield what it often promises, and that it is a waste of time. I don't recall that same article mentioning that Blacks, the poor, immigrants, people who speak English as a second language, etc - that any of these folks are smarter than the rest of us. I ASS-ume that the writer of the article was one of these wise young persons. I think it would be more accurate to surmise that people who feel less connected to their communities, to the rest of their city, state, nation, don't vote. I think several people have advocated the mandatory "none of the above" punch in every election. I whole-heartedly agree with the idea, as I think there are plenty of us dissatisified with the choices we are given, and the whole "lesser of two evils" dilemna is just too distatsteful. (Funny, in American Government class in high school, I don't remember the chapter on how to choose the evil the best represents me.) A tallying of all of us who find the choices given to us by the two major parties to be unacceptable might just yield some useful information, and put to rest the notion that non-voters are apathetic (look it up - apathy is not caring, and believe me, the times I didn't vote I was very far away from not caring).
Here in NYC, I went to vote knowing full well there was nothing in my district or state that was of much interest (polls having told us who would win for governor, attorney general, etc) but it was fairly amusing to see that my Congressperson was running unapposed by the Republican party (well, not really amusing, just another example of how money matters more that principle, as they don't want to spend money on a sure-losing battle), and that each and every State judicial postion, the candidates listed in the Republican column were identical to the candidates listed in the Democratic column. (Um, which lever do I pull? If I pull Joe Schmoe's name under "democrat" will he go easier on the criminals, and if I pick Joe Schmoe's name under Republican, will he lock them up forever?) I left many spots empty, but certainly would've prefered a non-of-the-above choice when Republican Schmoe was running against Democrat Schmoe; but I picked 2 or 3 Greens, 1 or 2 Liberterians, and a handful of Workers Family Party candidates. Guess what? Not a single one of my choices was victorious - but at least I am entitled to complain now.
Tuesday, November 05, 2002
Monday, November 04, 2002
Sunday, November 03, 2002
(more) DICKS I have known
I met this dick on AOL, too, of course. We were both using some sort of HOTjockstrap4U screenname, did the pic exchange thing, and he complimented me on my photo-taking abilities. I volunteered to take some of him, saying I need practice doing others (pic-taking, that is), and while it took a couple of weeks to set it up, it was worth it. Tight, smooth, muscular dancer's body, he looked much better in person. He had a jock he wanted to do his pics in, then I showed him my box of jocks, and I think I have an NYPD series of him somewhere on this harddrive. Anyway, he needed a bit of coaching (why do bottomguys always have to stick their asses out and up in the air like a cat in heat wearing high-heels? I mean, it's a big fleshy bulbous thing, we ain't gonna miss it!), but was he was fairly relaxed, followed orders (er, I mean directions) and soon enough we were going at it. Jokingly, I suggested videotaping, he seemed intrigued, and when I showed him I could set it up so that his face wasn't visable, he was very into it. Really into it. I had to keep holding back so he wouldn't cum too fast, and after a few short minutes, he came, I came, we collapsed in laughter, and the tape looks darn good, if I must say so myself (I must; the lighting was great daylight bouncing off the neighboring building, and even though the camera was stationary, I was "practiced" enough to know how to move around within the frame to keep it interesting). Anyway, a few weeks later, I emailed him that the video was pretty good, and I could put it on VHS. He was supposed to pick it up about a week later, with me adding the uncut EL PASO WRECKING (see post below), but he never showed. A week after that appointment, he instant messages me, non-chalant "how's it going" etc., and I asked about the previous Friday's plans. "OH! Gee, I didn't go into Manhattan that day." ME: - " um, you have my phone number and email address" HIM: oh, yeah.
Gosh, this was around 2-1/2 years ago. It was a Sunday afternoon in April, he wanted to fuck, but was tired of the chatrooms, lived real close. so he "settled" for oral. Another shorty with a biggee (seriously, this pic does not do him justice), he was very into the barking orders while you were already doing the thing he was ordering thing. While stuffing my face, he did the inevitable "Do you like that, boy? Tell me you like it, boy!" I rolled my eyes, thinking "Don't the yummy noises give you a clue? How 'bout the hard-on I'm sprouting way way down there, or ain't ya lookin'?" Shove shove, bark bark, splat splat; we finished, he left.
good (porno) deed of the dayAs you may have noticed, I spend a lot of time looking thru eBay auctions; sometimes for silly stuff like hot muscle jock worn auctions, but much more often through the adult listings for mags and videos. Sometimes I buy; often I just bookmark to see what the going rate is, or to gather information on some old favorites. Last week, I bookmarked an El Paso Wrecking Corp auction. This video is always up for sale on eBay, but this particular auction mentioned GAGETAPES, which is the VCA (parent of HIS Video) label that Joe Gage's videos were manufactured under in the early/mid 80's. The older GAGETAPE version of El Paso has the complete film, whereas the re-issues from the late 80's on, including the much-publicized DVD version, have about 15-20 minutes of footage missing. So, I wrote to the guy to see if indeed he had this older version. He wrote back that while he no longer has the box, he remembers it said GAGETAPE, but was falling apart so he through it away. Now, I happen to have 2 copies in box, plus one additional one with no box, so you can see I'm hoarding these. So, I wrote back, and filled him in that he ought to time the video, as well as check out my GAGETAPE page, as he may have something that is more valuable than he knows; I briefly (as brief as I can be on subjects I get all excited about) told him bits and pieces about why he should take the time to check it out. Within hours, he wrote me back, he has the original, older version, and ended the auction, deciding to keep it now that he knows it's near-impossible to get. He seemed pretty happy about it, so that was cool.
Saturday, November 02, 2002
Friday, November 01, 2002
Here's a quickie for my dial-up friends (30 seconds, 1mb, how can you not look??!). From director Robert Prion, who isn't really a fave of mine, but he does two things I like - he used to use all this dance-wave 80's music (Pet Shop Boys, Blondie, and some crappy stuff, too) illegally, ( I think he stopped sometime in the mid 90's) and he always has these quickie intros, some kind of quick sex, like 4 guys cumming on one guy, or a simple "facial" like this clip here, where the actor(s) would then say something that included the title of the movie. A bit controversial, as he seemed to be one of the last directors to finally use condoms in his videos, and very few of them had cum IN someone's mouth this late in the game (1988).
i lve in nyc and love speedos
wanna have sex????
unfortunately, my suitor (get it? swimsuit, suitor...?) neglected to give any self-description. and no pic. Not even genitalia stats, geez!