The 33-year Wait

I think a part of me always wanted to get down with “Terrell.”

I first met him in college, way back in the mid 1980s. He was the roommate of a friend of mine so I would run into him when I visited their dorm.

From the start it was clear Terrell was different. He dressed very trendy and preppy — Izod shirts, sweaters draped over his shoulders with arms tied across his chest, and duck boots. And he had an ethereal air about him — like he was just floating above the fray and didn’t give a fuck what anybody thought about him.

But he was movie star handsome — with dark, chocolate skin, deep-set eyes and a high-bridged nose.

Until the day I die I will always have this image of Terrell in my mind.

I was registering for fall classes and standing in a line waiting my turn on the stairs leading up to the Greco-Roman style Administration building. And I glanced down and saw Terrell sunning on the lawn.

The fact a black man was sunning was itself unusual — only white kids did that stuff back then.

But then Terrell casually pulled off his shirt, put on some dark Ray-Ban Wayfarers shades (they were all the rage since Tom Cruise wore them in the 1983 film “Risky Business”) and leaned back sensually and stretched like a black panther.

I was supposed to be “straight” then but I couldn’t help but admire his beautiful, lean, hairless torso and smooth, long legs. And despite the dark shades he was looking directly at me, almost like an invitation.

Embarrassed, I broke my gaze.

That summer “Caswell,” my friend who lived with Terrell, and I were hanging out in Washington, D.C.’s Georgetown neighborhood, riding around in my older brother’s Nissan 300ZX with the T-Top down and Prince’s song “Pop Life” blaring from the stereo.

Caswell took a moment from whistling at the girls on the sidewalk to turn to me.

“You want to know something Immanuel? I think that guy Terrell who lives with me in the dorm is a faggot.”

I was really intrigued but I tried to play it cool. Caswell might think I was gay if I sounded too eager.

“Wow, really man?”

“Yup. He acts like a faggot and got nothing but dudes coming up in there.”

Then we started talking about something else. However, a few days later the phone rang in my Mom’s kitchen and it was Terrell.

“Your buddy Caswell told me you are wondering what is going on in my house bitch,” he said nastily. “If you want to know motherfucker just ask me.”

I was shocked. How did he even get my number? But I regrouped quickly.

“Look, you can kiss my ass. Caswell brought that shit up. I never asked about what you do or don’t do.”

My voice was loud. I remember my big brother over heard the conversation and walked up.

“Hey Immanuel, are you okay? Is somebody bothering you? Because we can go fuck them up.”

“No, I’m okay. I can handle this.”

I got Terrell off the phone. In fact, he may have hung up on me. I don’t remember.

I never figured why Caswell told him about our one-sided conversation. Were they fucking?

Since senior year was starting and I was working and living off campus and just trying to graduate the whole crazy exchange fell off my radar blip.

That is, until recently.

Terrell came up as a friend suggestion on Facebook so I friended him. I learned Terrell went on to become a dancer and singer, appearing in theaters and on cruise ships. He also has an acting career and has appeared in bit roles on TV detective and cop shows.

His family is from Baltimore and he comes back from time to time to visit. Including this summer.

So he popped up on Grindr and I recognized his photo and hit on him and he responded. I explained to him who I was and that I always had a crush on him but he still wanted to come over.

And hour later he knocked and I opened the door and he was still handsome just older, with faint wrinkles creasing the corner of his eyes, which are still large and beautiful.

When he took off his clothes he was heavier than when he was young or in his Grindr photos but he was still looking good. And shoot — I’m older and balder and heavier than I was in 1985.

After we got naked he started sucking my dick, quite well I might add. I thought at first that was all he wanted to do. But then he got on all four and turned his shapely ass back to me and I mounted him and banged his ass while he moaned softly into the pillow.

Then we jacked and busted nutts and it was time for him to go. He was in town for his nephew’s high school graduation and ceremony started in a few hours.

“It was nice to see you again man,” I said.

“Yeah, it sure was.” he answered.

I doubt we will hook up again. The sex was nice but not spectacular. It’s funny how something you fantasize about for 33 years can be better as a fantasy than in reality.

But we stay cool and continue to text and keep up with each other.

 Walk of Shame

My partner “Van” is out of town so I hung out last night with long-time friend “Freddy.”

We met at the recently reopened Baltimore Eagle up Charles Street, one of the hottest gay spots in the city.

We caught up over drinks and then went to the dark room bar in the back to see if anything freaky was going on.

But Freddy kept pausing the convo to answer texts.

“There is this hot, built dude I met with a muscle ass who wants a threesome. Are you down?”


“He has a tight ass. You will like it.”

The narrow rowhouse “DeShawn” shared with his family was less than two miles away so we got there in no time.

He had the place to himself. Everyone was at a Friday night church service.

DeShawn, a handsome, 40-year-old brown-skinned man with a rough shadow beard, met us at the door naked and led us up the stairs to his modest room in the back.

The walls were painted fire engine red and his bed was just a boxspring and mattress on the floor covered with a flowery bedspread.

A buddy of DeShawn was there fully clothed. “He was just leaving,” DeShawn said.

After his buddy left we smoked a little weed and started sexing. DeShawn took turns sucking us off as we lay on his bed.

“Damn y’all have two big dicks,” he said, looking almost beatific as he held one and then the other in his hands.

We tag teamed him every way possible. Doggy style. Spoon style. Missionary. He even made us lay back and rode us.

DeShawn was a true champ power bottom. Freddy is six feet four with a dick bigger than mine but DeShawn wasn’t complaining – he made us tap out.

But then we heard women’s voices in the hallway and we stopped all the noise and listened. DeShawn’s family was back from church.

One of the women, who I later learned was his grandmother, must have heard us.

“Did you say something,” she said to another woman.

“No I didn’t,” the woman answered.

Oh shit they probably heard us fucking, I thought.

We decided to get dressed and take the party to my house since Freddy’s house was messy.

But first we had to get past the relatives.

The room was hot and we were still sweating. We looked like we had been having sex. And probably smelled like sex, too.

We walked out of the room. I saw DeShawn’s grandmother standing in the doorway of her bedroom, already in her white bathrobe.

She just stared at us.

We walked down the stairs and a heavy, dark-skinned man with gray hair was sitting in the dining room watching a TV on the sideboard. He was Grandma’s boyfriend.

He just stared at us.

We walked through the living room and young handsome man sat there. He was staring too.

It was the friend you had been in DeShawn’s room when we arrived.

“l thought you left already,” DeShawn said.

Motherfucker was probaby eavesdropping at the door while we were fucking, I thought. I could tell just by his “cat-caught-with-a-bird-in-his-mouth” expression.

I was so embarrassed that if I was not so dark skinned you could have seen me blush.

But DeShawn acted like pulling a threesome while his relatives were in the house was no biggie.

“Oh don’t worry about it.”

They already knew he is gay as well as his baby brother.

So the party finished at my place. I took some pics in both places that I’m sharing.


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.




The Korean

Photo courtesy of Marie Claire.

Photo courtesy of Marie Claire.

I won’t lie. I got a fetish for Korean men.

Not Japanese. Not Chinese. Not Filipino. Straight Korean with Seoul on the side.

There is a Korean market/liquor store around the corner from my house that is run by a family of mostly men.

Sometimes I buy vodka there or use the ATM, although the $2.50 fee irritates me.

One of the guys there has sexy almond-shaped eyes,  chiseled cheekbones and a muscular lean body. It’s worth paying that ATM surcharge to gaze at him.

In December I finally fulfilled my fantasy. A Korean flight attendant staying at a hotel in downtown Baltimore less than a mile away hit me up on Grindr one night.

I showered and drove over.

“The door is open just come in,” he texted.

His ass was up in the air and his face was buried in the pillow in the dim room when I walked in. Techno music played softly on his iPhone on the night stand.

I stripped and he turned his head and looked at my dick. He seemed pleased.

The Korean had the face of an angel. He was so pretty he looked like a girl. He was a little heavier than he was in his profile pics but that was okay – that ass was phatt.

And those legs. Asian men have the best legs.

I lubed my fingers and played with his ass, inserting my long, thick fingers. He moaned and pressed his head deeper into the pillow.

Then I leaned over and lapped his ass with my tongue. His skin was smooth to the touch and his body  almost hairless except for a fringe of soft black hair along his thighs.

I put on a condom and lubed up and started pushing my dick in his pink hole.

“Oooh, please go slowly.”

I slowed down. He was tight. But eventually I got my dick all the way in and started pumping in rhythm with the music on his iPhone.

“I love big black cock,” he moaned. So you see like me he had a fetish too.

But alas it didn’t last long. My dick was too big for him and he kept pulling off, his ass making a plopping sound as my it came out.

So we lay side by side in the bed and jacked, and kissed and nutted. His penis was small like a a child but he spurted cum like lava from a volcano.

Then we talked. About my love for Korean film, especially one I had recently watched on Netflix called “Spa Night.”

“Spa Night” is about a closeted Los Angeles Korean American young man who tries to help his economically struggling parents by getting a job at a Korean spa.

The same-sex sexual encounters he witnesses there begin to bring his submerged desires to the surface.
“My life is like that,” the Korean said. “I am in the closet with my family.”

Scene from “Spa Night.”

Korean culture is very family oriented but is claustrophobic and stifling for gay men.The Korean flight  attendant was in his mid 20s and still lived with his parents in Los Angeles. His family wanted him to marry a woman but he refused.

Being an airline steward was an ideal job because it let him get away and sample gay life in a different city most every night.

He was feminine and had dyed his faux hawk blonde. How could his parents not know he is gay I wondered?

It was getting late and I had to go and he had to wake at 5 a.m. for a Los Angeles flight.

We said goodbye. It was nice but I doubt I will ever see him again.

I’m the Side Chick (Dude)

Photo courtesy of

Photo courtesy of

He is about five years older than me but works out in the gym three or four days a week so the body is tight.

His dick is so thick and big I swear it hangs down halfway to his knee. But he doesn’t visit me to take care of his dick. It’s his ass that needs attention.

You see,  I’m the Side Chick (Dude) to a man who has been in a relationship with another man for 20 years.

He is the top in that relationship and there is no way his man is going to change from being a bottom after taking that humongous, pretty dick for two decades. And after being together for so long there is no way they are going to break up. They really do care for each other.

So he comes to me to get that sex itch scratched.

He says he loves taking my dick and my tall dark body. How I take control and pound him into the mattress.

He may visit me for an hour every few weeks. But during that time he plays out all the fantasies he cannot do at home. And like a good Side Chick (Dude) I play along.

For instance, he likes for me to leave the door unlocked. He will enter and take off his clothes, stripping down to sexy mesh briefs. And then we will play a game of hide-and-seek, trying to find out where I am in my rowhouse. When he finds me the prize is a good fucking.

Or he bring over a bottle of champagne and sips it with me as we take breaks from fucking. I guess he is a romantic and wants that dating experience.

I’m not much of a drinker and would never buy a bottle of champagne. And the hide-and-seek fantasy games are kinda corny and the skimpy underwear don’t do too much for me — but his ass is tight as hell and that body is sexy so it’s all good. I play along like a good Side Chick (Dude).

I have threesomed with him and my partner “Van” but outside of that he wants to keep our arrangement private. Plus his dude is very jealous and might flick off if he found out.

The man I'm the side dude for has a great body, big dick and a tight ass.

The man I’m the side dude for has a great body, big dick and a tight ass.

Last summer I was at the Bachelor’s Mill Club in Washington, D.C. and ran into him and his partner. I pretended that I didn’t know him — you know, like a good Side Chick (Dude).

As I sat talking with my friends who were playing Spades I noticed him looking over at me from the bar. Every so often we would lock eyes and stare. His partner was oblivious, busy chatting with folks he knew.

My phone buzzed. It was text message from him.

“God, you look so sexy outside of the bedroom. I really like the way you walk and interact with your friends.”

“Thanks handsome,” I text back.

Why do I do this? If I was single I don’t think I would date this person — conversations with him are pretty dull. But that hour or so with me every few weeks seems to give him so much pleasure. I’m a hoe with a heart of gold and like to see people happy.

And frankly I get an ego boost from being desired so much.

So I stay the good Side Chick (Dude).




The COGIC Couple

"Barry" and "Chris" discovered a conservative church was the perfect cover for their relationship.

“Barry” and “Chris” discovered a conservative church was the perfect cover for their relationship.

I was hanging out at Club  Buns in Baltimore last Friday night and went outside to cool off from dancing and struck up a conversation with this younger guy in his 30s And this is the story he told me:

“Barry” grew up in the Church of God in Christ (COGIC), a conservative, Pentecostal faith that can trace its roots back to Mississippi in the late 19th century.

Barry was gay but that was something that didn’t go over well with COGIC, at least not openly. So he suppressed it, attended services several times a week at his church in North Carolina, and got his Praise Break on when the spirit hit him.

He even got a girlfriend. Like a good, young COGIC couple they decided not have sex before marriage. Barry was secretly relieved — he didn’t have to perform sexually with a woman when he really preferred men.

But that didn’t mean Barry didn’t get his freak on. He was in his early 20s in the first decade of the 21st century so he knew how to go online to find sex.

And this dude hit him up online and they agreed to email each other. And then they exchanged numbers. And surprise, surprise the man’s telephone number was already in his cellphone. It seems another member of his COGIC congregation was in the same predicament as Barry.

Shoot, they were even in the same young adult Bible Study group.

After getting over the initial embarrassment and surprise of learning they were both gay,  Barry and “Chris” decided to use to their advantage the fact they were COGIC members attending the same congregation.

They both had girlfriends so double-dated. After they double dated the two would go home together an and fuck each other silly. And they could be together at church and not raise eyebrows because they were supposedly just brothers in faith.

“I didn’t give my girl a key to my apartment but I gave Chris one,” Barry said. “I would come home from work and he would be laying on the couch watching TV, ready to fuck.”

“Since we were both members of the same COGIC congregation and dating girls who were friends we had an excuse to see each other all the time and if folks saw us together outside of service they just assumed we were friends hanging out. It was a good cover.”

“You mean your girl never suspected you were gay,” I asked.

“Nah man. She never did.”

Photo courtesy of Build A Bear

Photo courtesy of Build A Bear

In fact, Barry said he and Chris once went on a date together to Build a Bear and made bears for each other.

“We lied and told the staff we were making bears for our girlfriends,” said Barry, a handsome, dark-skinned man with a slight stature. “That worked because the staff was so helpful. They even helped us pick out clothes for our bears that they thought our ‘girlfriends’ would like.”

Eventually Barry decided to move to Baltimore for better career opportunities and he broke up with his girlfriend, who married another man a few years later. But he also broke up with Chris, too.

“You know we are still friends and when I go down to North Carolina to see family I visit him,” Barry said. “He still has the bear I made him on his bed.”