Fantasy Fulfillment?


Okay, blog readers are telling me they want me to write more about sex. Okay, I will give you what you want.

I have always had a fantasy about getting down with a Middle Eastern dude. For some reason I find their swarthy looks and exoticism attractive. So a few weeks ago I had an opportunity to do so when I answered a Craigslist ad.

Want to read about it? Well, here we go.

A photo Joseph (left) and Nicholas texted me on March 31, 2010

“Nicholas” is an Egyptian who has a black lover named “Joseph.” They love to be watched while having sex as long as the third has a banana dick and is fit and trim. My description and photos fit the bill so a few hours later I was pulling up in front of their house.

Nicholas was a little older than I imagined but still handsome in that Mediterranean sort of way. Joseph was was a dark-skinned, very professional and polished black man and a bit cool. Were they feeling me or would this be a bust?

They offered me a drink and asked me to sit on a divan while they sat across from me on the sofa, with Nicholas leaning back in Joseph’s arms. The Winter Olympics were playing on the flat screen in front of us, and we talked about the luger who was killed a day before and how they kept playing the clip on television.

We were just having a normal conversation. I started to wonder, “Are they not feeling me? Maybe I will just have this vodka and tonic and head out.”

But then I happened to glance over at the sofa and noticed Joseph had his dick out. It was big and fat and very dark. He was stroking it and looking right at me. Nicholas turned around toward him and got to work stroking it and sucking it.

So what was I to do? I pulled out my dick and started jerking off watching them. After a few minutes I walked over.

“Can I join,” I asked.

From there things got a little freaky. Clothes came off, dropped on the living room floor in piles. And Nicholas was soon sucking both of our dicks at the same time, taking two long black schlongs into his mouth as he kneeled in front of us, playing the submissive white boy to his black masters.

“Suck that big dick, you know you like it,” Joseph said, egging him on. Nicholas sucked on our dicks like a starving man who hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

“Let me get the camera,” Joseph said as he pulled his dick out of Nicholas’ mouth. He disappeared and came back in a few with a small silver digital camera.

“Is this charged up,” he asked Nicholas.”I can’t tell by this light.”

“Yeah, man it’s charged up,” Nicholas answered. They sounded so much like an old married couple I had to smile. Still, I had to jump into the conversation.

“Hey, y’all can take as many pictures as you want but don’t take my face,” I said. “I don’t know where they will end up.”

“Sure,” Joseph answered. “We’ll even send you some copies.”

Then he turned to Nicholas and ordered him to take both dicks in his mouth while he took the pictures. Nicholas happily complied.

The action moved up to the bedroom and kept going. Joseph started fucking Nicholas on the bed doggy style. He didn’t wear a condom (I guess since they were a couple they barebacked) and his dick was lubed up an slick as it piled into Nicholas’ asshole, which was stretched wide by Joseph’s thick dick.

Nicholas ass got so wet I could hear the “squish, squish” as Joseph’s dick pounded him.Nicholas moaned with pleasure.

I was just an observer. Nicholas said my dick was too big for me to screw him and besides, they wanted me to take pictures of them fucking. I was beginning to feel like a cameraman on the set of porno film. But it was pleasurable to watch them.

Before long Joseph pulled out his dick, slid across the bed toward me, and busted his nutt on the shaft of my penis. I didn’t appreciate him putting his cum on me without asking — I’m squeamish about HIV. So I wiped it off with a wash cloth, careful not to let his semen get near the urethra, the opening at the tip of my penis.

“Don’t you want to blow a nutt for me too,” Nicholas asked.

I lied. “Oh, I’m going to hook up with my lover later. I want to save that nutt for him.”

We dressed and I got ready to leave.

“You know, if your dick wasn’t big we would have asked you to leave,” Nicholas said. “We have had guys over for threesomes before who lied about their dick size and we tell them get out.”

What he said caused mixed emotions. I was proud I was desirable physically but in just one sentence he had reduced me to an object, a walking phallus.

 A few weeks later I was working my part-time job and who should walk in but Joseph and Nicholas. I gave them some VIP treatment and they were very appreciative. In fact, during the past few weeks they have sent text messages thanking me for the sex hookup as well as the hookup on the part-time job. They invited me to come again whenever I have time.

 Funny, most of the text messages now come from the top guy in the relationship — Joseph. Go figure.

But I don’t know. It was hot but I’m tired of being the third wheel, the man that comes in to fulfill a bored couple’s fantasy. Because you see we had used each other — I wanted to have sex with an Arab and they had wanted a big black dick.

P.S. While I wrote this I was on Yahoo instant messenger chatting with a blog fan from the Midwest. I dedicate the last two entries to you “Boris.” Thanks for being a faithful reader and I look forward to meeting you when you get in town!

The Masculine Mystique


There is this guy I know who is fat and round and looks like a little black Buddha. In the gay and bisexual world, which puts a premium on youth and fitness and a big dick, “Lorenzo” wouldn’t get a second glance.

But Lorenzo has something that he thinks gives him a leg up. He is masculine and so “unclockable” no one would know he sucks a mean dick.

“Immanuel if I hook up and a feminine dude knocks on my door I just close it in his face,” Lorenzo said.

And all I can think is, “Why do gay and bisexual guys have such a prejudice against feminine dudes?” Check out the advertisements on gay personal Web sites. It seems half say, “seeking masculine man.”

Funny, but from my random sampling and from talking to folks it seems guys who seek the most masculine guys are usually very feminine themselves.

I even know guys who refuse to go to local gays clubs because there are too many “fem” guys around. “Immanuel, I can go to a straight bar and pick up more good dudes than at some of these bars,” one buddy said.

He has a point. Sometimes when I go the clubs I sit back and observe. Many of the guys act openly effeminiate, especially the younger ones. It never ceases to surprise me how a thugged up dude with a headrag and baseball cap will walk up to me and open his mouth and the illusion of swagger and manliness evaporates.

My friends tell me masculinity is a commodity in the black gay and bisexual gay world for several reasons.

First of all, American culture is saturated with tough, masculine images of black men (think of rappers such as LL Cool J and actors such as Denzel Washington). Since the public and media image of black men is so one-dimensional (in most movies black men are either comedians or sexual aggressors or tough guys), most young men want to adopt this image. Many black actors (Wesley Snipes and Martin Lawrence) have put on dresses and played men-in-drag or gays, but the characters are always played for laughs.

The only time I can remember a A-List actor playing a feminine gay role with any sensitivity was Ving Rhames, who portrayed a drag-queen raising a drug addict’s daughter in “Holiday Heart” in 2000. But Rhames caught heat for that role — there are persistent rumors that he is gay, which he denies. The fact he got ass-fucked by white supremacists in “Pulp Fiction” certainly didn’t help the rumor mill stop spinning.

Another reason masculinity is in is because guys desire friends and lovers they can take among straight friends and family and nobody knows. That is because being gay is still taboo in many parts of the black community.

Hell, I even know down-low guys who will bring their lovers to their homes to meet their wives. For all she knows, all he is is just another one of the boys over to watch a football game or play cards.

“That’s what you want,” said a friend, explaining why he asks his lover over when he and his wife host parties. “You want a situation where you can spend as much time as possible with your lover and that is a perfect solution. And you can’t bring some nigger in that is swishing around.”

I’m sorry, I think we black and bisexual men need to get over this attitude and embrace our brothers, whether they be feminine or masculine. I think if being gay was more acceptable in black society, and there was more acceptance that black men don’t all have to be thugs, the value on masculinity would not be so high.

Because to me hanging with just masculine men is another form of being on the down-low, just like having a wife or girlfriend on your arm.

Photo courtesy of blackpublicmedia.org’s “So You’re a Man Now? Black Masculinity Project.” Check out the Web site.

The White Dude


Look, I didn’t know he was white when we first met. I thought he was just a real light-skinned black man. Come on, the room was dim. How was I supposed to know?

And he is not really, really white. He is a Sephardic Jew whose ancestors once lived in Spain and Portugal. So his hair is dark, his eyes are a warm, rich brown and his skin is olive. His balding hair is cut close to the scalp, just like a black man.

My buddy “Leo” introduced me to “Carlos” a few weeks ago. It was Friday night and I was off from work with nothing to do so I asked Leo to hit a bar or club with me.

“Let me take you over to meet and old friend of mine, Carlos,” Leo said. “Then we can go out.”

Hanging out at some guys’ house was not what I had in mind. It had been a long, hard week at work and I was ready to unwind.

“Hey, who is this friend?”

“Just a nice dude so come on.”

So we went to Carlos’ house. And Leo and I never made it to that club because Carlos and I unexpectedly hit it off. I am usually not attracted to white men but he was a good conversationalist, has a voice as smooth as soy milk, and we had a lot in common professionally.

So Leo, Carlos and I went through a bottle of wine and ended up in the bedroom — an impromptu, interracial threesome.

Before we started Carlos looked at me deeply and asked, “Are you sure you want to start our friendship like this? We don’t have to do this.”

I thought a moment. I was high on the wine. “Shit, let’s just do it.”

But the threesome was more like a two-some. It was like Leo was not there — it was just Carlos and me. His kisses were light but warm. His olive body was covered with hair that was soft against my smooth black body like a warm, furry blanket.

As the sex heated up he started talking and moaning to me in Spanish, urging me to jerk my dick and bust my nutt for him. I don’t know Spanish — I took French — but I picked out some words. “Oooh Papi.” “Negro.” “Bello.”

Wait, “Negro?” Was he calling me a nigger in Spanish? I didn’t have time to think because cum was soon spurting  from my dick and running through my fingers.

Leo went home but I spent the night. The next day over coffee I couldn’t stop bringing up race and how I was slightly uncomfortable with him. It kept slipping into the conversation.

However, for a Jewish guy Carlos surprised me. He knew a lot about black culture and wasn’t shy about letting me know. Shit, he even had Jiffy cornbread mix in the cupboard and listened to black gospel music on the radio.

I don’t even like gospel music. It all sounds the same to me. But Carlos made me feel relaxed and at ease and we had so much to talk about. The art hanging on his walls, Obama and health care reform, race relations, and the Holocaust. And like me he is a father so we talked about our kids.

“Let’s slow down,” he said. “I want to get to know you. Most people bore me. They are so banal.”

So in the past week we have gone out on dates and hung out a bit. He lives near my office and once met me downstairs just to talk for a few minutes before he hopped on the subway to go to his job.

Nothing serious. No ties. No obligations.Just two guys getting to know each other, to develop something that is more than just skin deep.

A Kindred Spirit


A few weeks ago “Brooklyn” left an email address in a comment at the end of one of my blog posts, saying he was building a support group for  masculine, down-low men.

He wrote:

I think you would be a great resource. contact me, I would like to build with you, Immanuel and anyone else who knows brothers who can benefit from a group like this.

I reveal a lot about my sexual escapades in this blog, probably a bit too much. But I still like to keep my privacy. Still, his comment was intriguing because I’m tired of being almost alone in this journey. I have several good gay friends but I can count on less than one hand how many left a marriage and kids to go to the other side of the rainbow.

So I emailed Brooklyn and we exchanged numbers and after a few missed calls we finally talked by phone last week. Our stories are astonishingly similar — he was married, had a few kids, but had a desire to have sex with men and acted on his attraction.

But unlike me who got caught (be careful to clean up your online activities) Brooklyn came clean to his wife and exited the situation. His wife took the kids and moved hundreds of miles away and now he is dealing with separation from his children and navigating a gay new world that we have both come to find out is full of shady as well as good people.

The first night we talked on the phone for almost three hours. And we decided to become Facebook friends. So he revealed his face and real name to me and I did the same to him.

He is a tall, brown-skinned black man with hair that frames his head like a kinky halo. He is so normal looking and the photos of him and his children are just so heartwarming — you can just feel the love he has for them come through.

Brooklyn wants to form a support group for down-low men and I promise to come to the Big Apple to meet his group and participate. But I warn him men may be coming to hook up and he agrees.

I send him this text today:

The problem is most of the guys get away with a double life until they get caught   so they dont want to talk   just keep freaking in secret

Brooklyn answers:

That is so true. and the fear of getting caught is not enough 2 make us tell our wives…or do anything else but be depressed and keep lying

Still, Brooklyn said he could form a support group to show brothers there is a life after coming clean and living your true sexuality. “It’s not all downhill,” he texted.

It’s good to meet a friend like Brooklyn. Still, it is tough dealing with a marriage ending, supporting and loving your children, and getting used to the gay world. I pray more and play Sade’s new album when I need inspiration.

 She has a song on the CD called “Long Hard Road.” When I play the song it’s like she is singing just to me. Sade sings:

“There’s a long hard road ahead. But a voice inside me said. You know there’s something that you need to know. It’s gonna be alright.”

The Dating Game


I am dating now, exploring. Having fun. Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

Each man is different. They all bring me something unique. And I give them something back. Let me introduce them:

Bachelor #1: Lives in a city to the north. He is in his late 40s, is a manager at his company and lives in a big, old, drafty house that costs a $1,000 a month to heat and cool. He is a big guy, like a football player, with a dick to match. But he sings in a choir and when I close my eyes he sounds like a white boy from the suburbs. Proper and all that.

But the sex is good, we can play for hours nibbling and sucking and licking and rubbing each other.  However he is busy and I am busy so we seldom see each other although we text each day.

“I was thinking good thoughts about you this morning,” he said in a text sent today.

Grade: B-  I really want to hang out and do things like the movies or a concert and not just sex. There is potential if we can take the action outside the bedroom. Otherwise this is just a glorified hookup.

Bachelor #2: Is an older tall, light-skinned brother from the South who I met when he asked me to dance at a club. He happens to work at the train station that I commute to and he will call and talk to me for a few minutes as I walk back and forth to my train at the beginning and end of the day. In fact, today he escorted me through the gates so I could board the train early and get a good seat. He is courteous and kind and handsome but shy.

Grade C  I think we may end up just friends but we haven’t had much time to date so we will see. He wants to go out Saturday night again but I may be booked. I will try to give him time. The quiet ones can surprise you.

Bachelor #3: Okay, we met at a sex party a few weeks ago and just hit it off because the sex was great. Can you spell c-o-u-n-t-r-y? He is also a southern guy, with a thick Alabama accent and slow ways. Slender and not so nice looking in the face at all — he reminds me of a Sharpei dog. But he is attentive, a hard worker and freaky as hell in the bedroom (damn I love southern men!). We have done a carryout and a movie at home, snuggling on the sofa. Nice.

Grade A- There is some potential here. Today he said he wouldn’t mind a relationship with me. I said I was open to it. It’s not something I want to rush, though so we need to go on more dates.


Bachelor #4: I like this dude because we have a in common. He is separated from his wife and we have children close in age. He has taken me under his wing and is showing me gay clubs. He likes jazz and wants to do weekend jazz trips or go to the beach. We have worked out at the gym — we’re both into fitness and our children. When we have sex sometimes I feel like I’m being attacked though — he says my body and big dick excite him and he works me over. He enjoys frottage — rubbing together and not getting penetrated but it’s cool.

Grade B+ : He knows I play with others and I know he has his regulars. Sometimes he plays more of a fatherly role with me since I’m newer in the game but we can definitely continue being friends with benefits if nothing deeper develops.

Hit on by the Developmentally Disabled


I was standing in line at the post office at the train station, waiting to buy stamps before running to work, when he suddenly appeared at my side.

A thin, small statured young black man with big ears that stuck out from his narrow brown face like miniature half moons.

“I need somebody to talk to,” he said. “Will you talk to me?”

His slow, childlike voice and wide, innocent eyes tipped me off. This brother was slow, developmentally disabled. His modest clothes were neat and he was clean. But he had white powder on his lips that looked like he had just eaten a donut.

Or at least I hoped that was powdered sugar on his lips…

“Look dude, I don’t have any money to give you but we can talk,” I said. “And look, I have a napkin. You need to wipe your mouth.”

I pulled a cloth napkin out of my satchel and handed it to him. He wiped his mouth but most of the white powder still clung stubbornly to his lips.

“Who do you live with?” I asked.

“My mom,” he answered.

“How old are you?”

“I’m 22.”

“Do you work?”

“I work at McDonalds. I’m off today.”

I bought my stamps and he offered to walk me to my office building. I talk to anybody, including the the homeless guys who loiter around the train station in town. So I said, sure we can talk some more. But when we started down the slope to my office the real reason he was so eager to talk to me came out.

“Do you have anything against gay people?,” he asked.

Oh. My. God. I was being hit on by the developmentally challenged. I burst out laughing.

“Dude, I’m gay too it’s no big deal to me,” I said, immediately thinking “I just came out the closet to a retarded dude on a busy city street.”

“Well, my Mom thinks it’s a sin and unnatural,” he continued. He looked down at his feet as if he was ashamed.

“Well, it’s the way God made you. Don’t feel bad about it,” I answered.

“Can I take you out after work? I want to see you. What time you get off? I can be here when you leave,” he asked as we reached the door to my building.

I tried to let him down easy. “Look man, I’m flattered. But I got to go to work and you can’t come in my building because the security guards won’t let you.”

He eventually got the message and turned to walk away. I wished him a good day.

I went upstairs, went in the conference room, and called my buddy “Colin.” (See “Snowed In In the Suburbs”).

I was laughing before he could pick up the phone.

“You won’t believe this man. A gay retarded dude just tried to pick me up at the train station.”

“Oh my,” Colin said in his usual deadpan tone. “What were you wearing?”

“Striped pants, a polka dot shirt and a clown hat,” I answered jokingly.

“That figures,” Colin said.

But I had to admit to Colin, that dude had a lot more chutzpah than black gay men with three times his intellect and bank account. He saw a dude he fancied, walked up to him, introduced himself, struck up a conversation, revealed his sexuality and asked me on a date. Mind you, it would have been a fish fillet at McDonald’s but I would have gone.

Plus he was cute in a nerdy way.

I had to work later than usual today and when I came out of the building day was fading. I half expected to find him waiting for me, with that earnest look on his face. But he wasn’t there.

Can Gay Men Settle Down?


Last week gay marriage became officially legal in Washington, D.C. and couples flocked to the courthouse downtown to apply for licenses.

However, according to press reports most of  the couples were lesbians. I saw one distinguished-looking black gentlemen on the television, holding up a piece of paper with a number that indicated he was one of the first three to apply for a license.

But where was his partner? He wasn’t even in the camera shot. Perhaps he didn’t do so for privacy. But why wasn’t he standing proudly by his mate like the lesbians?

Which leads to the subject of today’s blog. Can gay men settle down and get married?

Okay, first off the bat I have a confession to make.

Personally I’m skeptical about men committing to each other long term. It seems so many men are just about sex and the availability of online sex makes it so easy to change partners, like kids jumping from horse to horse on a freaky merry-go-round.

Folks are even using the possibility of legal marriage to GET sex hookups.

I was eating lunch Friday with a married friend, “Virgil,” who just broke up with a flaky male lover. Virgil was refusing to accept his phone calls and texts. His ex-lover was getting desperate for dick so sent a text that went something like this:

“The legalization of gay marriage has really made me more aware of the possibilities we could have. I’m so excited.”

“Virgil, is that nigger tripping? You are still married to your wife,” I said while chomping down on my burger. “He is using marriage to try to win you back? Oh, please!”

“Immanuel, I didn’t even bother to answer him back,” Virgil said.

“I’m proud of you man. Don’t let that fool rope you back in.”

But hey, I’m new at this gay life shit and I really entered through the sex route. So this morning I called my old buddy “Andre” and asked him if men really could form long-lasting, marital relationships.

Andre assured me men can and do. In fact, he predicted half the couples marrying in Washington, D.C. would be men.

We shall see. I already got a text from one gay couple I know. It came at 1 a.m. in the morning.

“Guess what Immanuel? Byron and I are engaged!