An order of Venti Thongs at Starbucks Coffee

The Starbucks Coffee on Pennsylvania Avenue in Forestville, Md. where the cruising happened.

A few weeks ago I had a dental checkup early in the morning and didn’t eat breakfast. So I was hungry when I got done with my cleaning.

There is a Starbucks a mile down the road from Dr. Chung’s office on Pennsylvania Avenue in Forestville, Md. So I drove over to get a quick decaf mocha and one of those delicious smoked bacon, egg and cheese breakfast sandwiches. I had my laptop with me so I could catch up on work emails while I ate.

I got my order and picked a seat in the back of the restaurant, near the restroom, where it was more quiet and the frigid breeze from the front door didn’t hit me whenever a customer came or went.

I was busy, tapping away on my laptop, and didn’t notice when  a handsome young Latino man with a parka with a fur-trimmed hood sat in front of me. Well at least I didn’t notice him at first.

But then I happened to glance up and noticed he had let the back of his jeans slide down and was wearing a bright red thong that disappeared into the crack of his ass — or at least the part of his ass crack that I could see.

“Man, he must not know his ass is hanging out and it’s cold as shit today,” I thought.

But then he looked over his shoulder and saw me looking at that fat ass and winked.

“Okay, this is cute,” I thought. So I smiled back and put my head down and got back to work on my laptop.

However, my appreciative smile must have encouraged him to cruise harder. He got up and walked to the door of the bathroom immediately to my right, opened it and stood in the threshold and motioned for me to follow him.

“What the fuck?,” I thought. “People fucking up in Starbucks bathrooms now? I thought this shit only happened at train stations, truck stops and gym locker rooms.”

I smiled at him again and shook my head no. He wasn’t bad looking — a little on the plump side though — but there was no way I was having public sex at Starbucks. Especially a crowded, early morning one.

But he didn’t give up. I put my head back down and kept working and he walked outside the restaurant and stood with his back to the glass window near my table and pulled his jeans almost all the way down to his knees so I could see his ass in all its glory.

“This motherfucker is too thirsty,” I thought. Time to end this show.

I quickly logged off, packed up my laptop, and headed to my car.

Hey, I may be sexually active but to me coffee and cruising don’t mix.




When a Dick Comes Between Friends and the Dick Wins

Patrick’s penis.

I always counted on “George” as a friend and mentor.

We have so much in common. He was once married and is now divorced and lives as an openly gay man. Like me he has grown children. And he is a gracious and kind host.

But a big dick got between us.

George regularly hooks up with “Patrick,” a short, brown-skinned guy from North Carolina who reportedly has a dick so big it looks a baby arm hanging between his legs.

Apparently, George mentioned to Patrick how good I am in bed and Patrick started hitting me up. Which was a bit odd, because Patrick is supposed to be a primary top too.

Patrick started texting my profile on Adam4Adam and then we started texting on the phone. At first I thought he wanted a threesome with George and me. But it soon became clear he wanted to get me alone and play with my dick.

But Patrick’s behavior struck me as odd. It seemed like he was never working and was always hanging around cruisy Washington, D.C. spots like Union Station, which has a notorious men’s bathroom off the lower level food court, or the MLK Library near Gallery Place.

I mentioned to George about Patrick’s advances and his odd behavior and George told me he had concerns about Patrick as well. In fact, he told me he thought Patrick was homeless and a hustler.

“One weekend I picked him up and brought him over and his clothes had that homeless smell,” George said. “So I washed his clothes for him. But I made it clear I didn’t want to make that a habit.”

“Oh, now his behavior makes sense — he does behave like a homeless person going from place to place,” I said. And I thought nothing else of it.

But a few days later Patrick sent me an angry text, accusing me of being a typical faggot who runs and tells everything.

“What do you mean?,” I asked.

“George showed me the texts you sent about me,” Patrick said. “Lose my number.”

I almost laughed. This bum was acting like I was the one after him. He was the one sweating me.

“Why don’t you lose my number first because I don’t understand if you feel that way why you bothering to text me in the first fucking place,” I answered.

I then called George because I wanted to know why he would show this odd man text messages shared between two good friends. No answer.

Then I texted him. No answer.

Then I sent a message to his Adam4Adam profile. No answer there either.

And then I thought about it and realized George is 60 years old and it might be harder for him to get good dick. An although old Patrick might be homeless and a hustler with clothes that smell like musty feet George is probably grateful to get that dick fix from time to time.

So in this case, a big dick trumped a more than decade-old friendship.

Burning Down the House


My partner “Van” and I go to a Black gay men’s retreat in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina every Martin Luther King Holiday Weekend. It’s a private affair and you got to know someone to be invited.

It’s always fun and we get to interact with professional — and working class — gay Black men from all over these United States. One them, “Milo,” told me this story of being forced out of the closet:

Milo, who works for Amtrak in Los Angeles, lived with his girlfriend. A real beauty. Feminine. And good in bed.

But he also had a male lover on the side. A real handsome guy. Masculine. And a beast in bed.

For months, maybe years, Milo had his cake and ate it, too. Pussy and titties on Friday night. Ass and dick on Saturdays. And never did the two meet.

Until that day he came home from work on a Friday afternoon and found his girl dressed all sexy in black lingerie. They had been together for a while and settled into a routine. Was she trying to light a fire back under things?

“Hey baby, I really want to have a romantic Friday night with you. But first, I left you a little letter on the refrigerator. Go read it,” she purred.

“Oh shit,” Milo thought. “She wrote down something sexy she wants me to do. Like some freaky recipe.”

He grinned and trotted over to the refrigerator in their tiny kitchen and started to read it. And his smile vanished and the blood drained from his face, turning his pecan brown complexion three shades lighter.

His male lover had mailed his girlfriend a confessional and she had posted it for Milo to read.

“I just want you to know I’m in love with your man and he is fucking me too,” it read in part. And for your information you met me. I’m his homeboy Darren. The one he works out with on Saturday. But I’m more than just his buddy. And he is working me out in more than just the gym.”

Seconds passed that felt like hours. It felt deathly quiet in their downtown apartment, despite all that Los Angeles traffic whooshing just two floors below.

“Milo, I want you to explain this to me,” she said.

“Look baby, I got to make a run,” he said. “I will explain when I get back.”

I forgot to explain this. Milo is fun guy from Oklahoma. The life of the party. All smiles and jokes. He still has that high, whiny, Country and Western twang and sounds corny.

But he is crazy as shit,too.

“Immanuel,” he explained. “I went to a gas station and brought some gasoline and I went to that motherfucker’s house. He wasn’t home but I set that shit on fire and burned it down. That’s what that bitch ass got for doing that bullshit.”

“But didn’t you get caught,” I asked.

“Nah, I know how to do shit like that without getting caught,” he said. “And after what I did that motherfucker wasn’t going to talk to the police because he was afraid of what else I might do.”

Milo is handsome but has a face that looks almost like a cartoon character. Like his head is large and slightly bulbous, like Tweety Bird from the old Warner Brothers cartoons.

But something in his eyes — a steely hardness — made me believe he would commit arson and smile so sweetly in your face with that awww shucks manner that you would never believe he would.

Milo went home and sat down with his girl.

“Look baby, I messed up. Dude kept trying to seduce me and I tried it out. Let him suck this dick. That’s all. He just wants me and will do anything to mess up what we have. You know how them faggots are. They just want to be women, anyway.”

She looked at him with liquid, doe-like eyes. She loved him. Believed him. Forgave him.

“Look baby. Let’s get married next week and put this all behind us. Just something small down at the courthouse and a quick honeymoon down to Baja.”

“Yes Milo. I will marry you,” she said. And that night he fucked her till her pussy was sore and a week or two later they married.

But Milo kept fucking with dudes.

And she found out because despite letting the first one slide she was far more watchful.

And two months later they separated.

And eventually divorced.