In the Hot Seat


“Shelton” has been my buddy for years. He is one of the wisest and kindest men I have met in this gay life.

Shelton is a tall, beefy, chocolate brother who speaks with a mild twang of his native Texas.

And he is also one of the biggest freaks on the planet.

I was hanging out late in D.C. a few weeks ago and decided to stay at Shelton’s instead of trekking back to Baltimore.

We stayed up a bit, watching TV and eating Shelton’s delicious homemade brownies. Then I hit the sack in the guestroom.

The next morning after I took a shower and was still nude Shelton called me over. “Hey I have a new toy I want to test on you.”

Oh shit, what is this crazy Negro planning, I thought.

Shelton rummaged in his closet and pulled out what looked like a toilet seat on four short legs. 

Shelton’s toy looked like this.


He pulled out a bottle of lube, lay on the floor naked on his back, put a pillow behind his head and the seat over his face.

“Oh I get it…this makes it easier to eat ass,” I said.

“Yup, take a seat Immanuel.”

I did and Shelton starting lapping at the ridge between my balls and asshole, making it wet. Then he inserted his thick, big tongue into my asshole. It felt delicious.

He didn’t forget my dick, which had gotten hard because I was stroking it. He managed to pull my stiff member down through the opening and licked the head.

After awhile I pulled it out of his mouth and kept jacking, which was easier because it was wet from his saliva and the lube.

Shelton kept right on eating my ass like he was savoring bon bons from a box of fine chocolate.

The pleasure built till I couldn’t take it any more.

I came, my thick nutt dripping over my balls like glazed icing.

The whole time Shelton had been jacking his dick, which is nine inches long and almost as thick as a Coke can.

I got up from the chair and got between his legs and started sucking his dick.

That freak must have been on the edge. I barely got my mouth on his dick before it started twitching he moaned loudly. 

I pulled my head back and smiled as he blew a big nutt.

We both had to get dressed and get to work but it was a great way to start the day.

“How did you like my new toy,” Shelton asked as I was getting ready to run out the door to catch my Uber to the office.

“Loved it,” I said.

But My Ass is Tight!


Maury

Okay after I write this blog post you are going to think I’m shallow. And maybe a bit catty too.

But I gotta discuss this with y’all. So here we go.

Why is it when a person you are not attracted to hits you up online or in person and you say “Nope, not interested” they gotta come back with, “Oh, you gotta try me out. Your big dick will love this tight ass.”

This always makes me ponder…

“How do you know your ass is tight?”

“Have you fucked yourself to find out? How did that go?”

“Do you have receipts? I mean, do you have some references I can call and check to make sure that ass is tight”

And look a tight ass — or a big dick for that matter — does not guarantee good sex. There has to be mutual attraction. And you better bring some boss foreplay skills to the table before you think about getting me.

Because if a tight ass is all you got to offer I might as well get a fleshlight and jack myself off.

 

Onyx Code Red Party


My buddy “Manuel” from Puerto Rico, who now lives in the Bronx, is going through the process of joining the Onyx leather group.

Onyx is an organization for men of color who are into the leather lifestyle.

Manuel came down yesterday to attend the Onyx Mid-Atlantic Code Red fundraiser for HIV/AIDS and invited me.

So I put on a pair of red Papi boxer briefs, black baseball cap and Nikes and nothing else and hit the party at the Green Lantern Club.

Great party. Dancing, a fabulous Drag Queen host who sang her ass off, silent auction, raffle, bake sale, male dancers, a saran wrap and candle wax kinky sex demonstration…oh and jello shots three for $5.

Here are some pics:

My outfit

You have got to watch the film “Being 17”


Being172

Thomas (left) and Damien in the film “Being 17.”

I saw the trailer for the film “Being 17” by acclaimed French director André Téchiné months ago and could not wait to see it.

But chances were slim I would get a viewing. The film was released in limited theaters in the United States and I could not find it near Baltimore.

So imagine my surprise when I was bored Monday afternoon  and happened to browse Netflix and there it was. I sat down right away and watched the whole thing. It was worth the wait.

“Being 17” follows two teenagers who live in a picturesque town tucked in the Pyrenees Mountains on France’s border with Spain.

Damien DeLille (actor Kacey Mottet Klein) is the smart-aleck, spoiled son of a physician mother and a military helicopter pilot. And Thomas Chardoul (Corentin Fila) is the biracial adopted son of poor cattle and goat farmers who live in the hills  above town.

Damien and Thomas are not the most popular kids in school — they are the last chosen to play basketball in gym. But their common state of being outsiders does not bond them.

They bully and provoke and fight each other constantly.

But you see it is not really because they dislike each other. It’s because they desire each other but have not come to terms with their sexuality.

It’s a story many gay and bisexual men can relate to because they have lived it. And I have always suspected some bullies bully because they are attracted to the person they torment.

So Damien and Thomas convert their passion into violence, covering each other in bruises that worry Damien’s firm but sensitive mother, who is portrayed by actress Sandrine Kimberlain.

giphy

In one scene Damien follows Thomas to the gym locker room, where Thomas goes to eat his modest home-made lunches in solitude,  and tries to kiss him. At first Thomas kisses back but then he suddenly recoils, surprised that he is kissing another male.

Minutes later he strikes Damien, bloodying his mouth.

Damien’s mother arranges for Thomas to live with them so he can be closer to school and his mother, who is hospitalized in town because of a risky pregnancy. Then a tragedy occurs, bringing Thomas closer to Damien’s family.

And gradually Thomas warms to Damien and gets over his fear and they consummate their relationship in a scene that is both electrifyingly erotic and warm and touching.

Being17

Damien and Thomas finally stop fighting and act on their attraction but the future of their relationship is uncertain.

But will their relationship, which Thomas hides from his parents, last or will he withdraw again? I hope you have Netflix so you can watch the film and find out.

P.S. The actor Corentin Fila is magnetic. It’s worth watching the film just to watch him.

Corentin

Photo courtesy of Pinterest

 

The DL life is still alive and well in 2017


Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

I met “Jose” and “Ben” at the Fireplace bar down in Washington, D.C.

It was the long Presidents’ Day Weekend, my partner “Van” was in Florida, and a buddy bored with Baltimore bars dragged me down with him to D.C.  for a change of scenery.

The Fireplace is notorious for its strong drinks and I was pretty tipsy when I met Jose and Ben, a couple from Philadelphia who were visiting D.C. with a group of friends.

Jose was originally from Venezuela while Ben is a brown-skinned black man from Philadelphia. They were so handsome and looked so well matched — like a pair of gloves — that it just lifted my heart to see them. And they complimented me on looking so good for my age, which didn’t hurt.

We exchanged numbers and I friended them on Facebook. And we promised to get together next time they came down. I mean, we hit it off just that well.

So it surprised me a few weeks later when Jose updated his status to say he married and posted photos of himself and beautiful, diminutive young Latino lady at a reception cutting a wedding cake. I congratulated him on his wedding on his Facebook post but I privately messaged him to get the real story.

It turns out Jose’s family is very conservative and homophobic and he is not out to them. So he married a woman as a cover. And the woman benefited too — she is here illegally and married Jose to gain legal residency.

“Does your wife know you are gay?”

“No,” Jose said. “A matter of fact Bennie was the best man at my wedding. Go back to my Facebook page and see — I posted more pictures.”

And I did go look and sure enough there they were, pictures of the two of them posing with the bride. Or just posing together. A matter of fact they looked more into each other than Jose was into his bride, although that could have been just my mind playing tricks because I knew they were lovers.

“You two are still fucking,” I asked.

“Yep,” Jose answered. “And I’m fucking her too.”

“Wow, okay, I’m not judging.”

But this made me think.

Jose and Ben are in their mid 20’s. It is legal for people of the same gender to marry now. Gay rights have progressed by leaps and bounds in the past 20 years. So it surprised me that young people were still living the married, down-low life that many men my age are still doing.

I guess I’m just naive to think that things like being married to a woman to cover your sexuality had gone out of style by 2017.

The DL Boy in the Neighborhood isn’t Dead Afterall


I stand corrected and embarrassed.

The DL Boy in the Neighborhood, the drug dealer who flirted with my partner “Van” and me, is not dead after all.

The neighbor who told me was mistaken. Another neighbor set me straight a few days later.

But the young man’s condition is still very grave. After the shooting he lost a lot of blood and the doctors put him into an induced coma. The neighbor, a woman whose son is friends with DL Boy, said there may be some brain damage due to lack of oxygen.

So he will have to undergo rehabilitation and will probably never be the same physically, she said..

Something is nagging me to go visit him. The next time I see this neighbor I will find out which hospital he is in.

The DL Boy in the Neighborhood is Dead


The DL Boy in the Neighborhood is wearing the white t shirt. I took this photo of him last year on the corner with his associates, probably dealing drugs.

The young dl dude in the neighborhood who used to flirt with my partner “Van” and me is dead.

Gunned down in a housing project less than a mile away on Jan. 30.

The Baltimore Sun didn’t even bother to mention his name. Just that he had been shot multiple times and taken to the hospital.

I knew he was still dealing drugs on the corner. I saw him just a few weeks ago. A neighbor today casually mentioned he was shot and died from his wounds.

I’m grieving. Lately I had a strong urge to just walk up to him on the corner and talk.

“Why you dealing drugs and going in and out of jail?”

“Do you dream of doing something else? Something better?”

“How can I help you?”

Now it’s too late. Fuck! He wasn’t even  20 years old yet. I’ve already lived more than twice his short lifespan.

So handsome and tall. And that cute smirk he used to make. Gone. Forever.

That’s not right God. He hadn’t experienced life yet. He probably never even left the hood.

Van told me not to take it so hard. Even if I had reached out he probably wouldn’t have listened, Van said.

“We’ve talked about this and knew how it would turn out,” he said.

But I can’t stop “what if?” from echoing in my mind. “What if? What if?”