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Title.................................................................................................posting date
Erector Set........................................................10/4/97
I loved my Erector Set. At ages 7-8, I laid awake at night and thought about how I could make something different. Use the pieces unusually. And I played with my dick while I laid there. Kinda spun idea wise between sensation and mechanics. What perfect practice.
Mrs. Smith, my 3rd grade teacher was a skinny old country farm woman, kinda nervous, near the end of her career. She had a rep for severity. I was a dutiful good student, and had no problems with her. Classwork was easy, and my mind drifted. I was thinking a lot about the other boys. Some I thought were good looking, sexy, cute (Alfred). Others were goony, sexy, male (Jackie). I thought differently about various boys on different days. I was playing these days with my cock & balls thru the pockets in my pants. Or thru holes I wore or tore in the pockets in my pants.
We sat in double desks in this class, 2 each desk, side by side. My seat was with a girl who I don't remember except that I ignored her. I'd occasionally take my dick out of my pants. It was a dare I did to myself. Made me hot/nervous, and got me off well. Yes, I was having climaxes in 3rd grade. In class, in the bathrooms, at recess. No cum yet, but climaxes. I did not have any sex contact yet with classmates.
One day in class I was thinking well about Jackie, who sat in the next row to my right, and a seat behind. Mrs. Smith was working some lesson at the blackboard. I positioned myself so that I could flash my dick at Jackie. Legs at acute angles, pelvis twisted. Then I called his attention to it. Jackie pointed at my hard cock and burst into horselaughs. Mrs. Smith ran back the aisle, and pulled Jackie from his seat. She swooped him right out into the hall. I got my legs back under the desk, and my cock back in my pants. Jackie was yelling: "...but he...but he...but he..." Mrs. Smith was yelling nonstop at him, dominating the noise. She got him quieted down in the hall, and returned to the room. She went immediately back to the lesson. My head was down, I was crushed. She said nothing, ever to me about the incident.
Years later, when I did Student Teaching, I realized that when you are in front of a class, you are totally aware of everything that happens. You see every movement. You just choose what to react to. Just as humans do in any other situation.
She was expedicious, and prevented a larger incident. I learned. She did good.
First time I shaved I was about 11. I started getting hair, and decided I liked it better smooth. So I used my dad's double edged razor, and his shaving soap cup and brush. I liked doing it, and shaved occasionally thereafter. I always jerked off a lot after I shaved down. Then I got shaved in the hospital (appendicitus was the occasion) by an orderly when I was 16. He took a long time, and shaved me from my tits to my knees. I had no hair on my tits, or my belly, and probably not much on my legs. But he took his time soaping me up, and shaving me down. He said only "...this might tickle..." when he got to my cock & balls. No, I didn't get a hardon. The inflamed appendix might have slowed me down a bit, but I think it was his overall silence. I was sure thinking about it. One or both of us was also embarassed. He shaved me down the night before surgery, so I had the evening to pet my shaved body while laying there in the hospital ward. Yes, I got off laying there in the darkened room. Click this link for Shaving Techniques
Early in my sexual adulthood, I found myself the object of the sexual attentions of a Catholic priest. Felt pretty good. Somebody on my dick who liked makin me like it. Thats what I thought. (I knew I was feeling good at age 12 when I jacked off (and shot) while making a confession about jacking off...that dark wooden booth...secrets...shadows...the caring ones asked how old you were, son). Early practice at being made simple at the end of your climax. Allowed the priest occasional access for 3 years (1968-71) thru his alcoholism, Vietnam service, and eventual discharge as a fag. His ideas were from banalhell. Well, I showed him what a Saab was, and ended up with his. Sucha hustler. He got it cheap. I sold all white leather and was pleased with blue naugahyde, takeover payments, and a Blaupunt. Now I nail cock shapes on the wall. Sucha ceremony. Good for the Soul. Artful. What I learned: Whisky hurts. Being sexy is my business. I can ignore bad ideas, but they hurt because they prevent growth.
Ken was a beautiful youn man; about 5'10", 140 lbs., sandy hair, and the kind of light brown eyes that sometimes looked green, or even orange.
But mostly I was charmed by his quiet friendliness and ever present warmth. Candid and understated.
I was working as a Grocery Store Cashier in my last year of college when I noticed him as a customer. When he had occasion to use my line, I was happy to smile and say something with my eyes. To my great pleasure, Ken took to spending extra minutes at my register when he was in the store. On occasion he'd put his arms across the top of my register while standing behind it and watch me work. The attention made me think about blushing, but instead I beamed.
With some weeks passing, I learned that Ken lived just around the corner from the store with his parents and some younger children. Ken told me that his dad was sick before he told me one day that he died. I was struck. The news came from nowhere in this beautiful young man; Ken told me simply, and I sensed in him an impressive capacity for handling emotion. I felt for him, it brought us closer. I invited Ken to the apartment I shared with my college lover. Ken hung out in a pizza parlor just down the street in the evenings; it became easy to slip over there and invite him home on a Saturday night.
All of this happened thru a semester of school and a Summer following, when Ken and I did some swimming in a country pond. We laid back in a friendly and rather quiet but untested regard. Spent time together. In the Fall, my lover and I parted; I went away to student teach. I didn't see Ken. Graduation approached in January of 1971. The trip back to Indiana gave me many thoughts, but the memories of Ken grew with intensity as the miles to that little country town decreased.
I knew I wanted to see him for what would have to be the last time. And he was there, in the pizza shop.
As casual as had ever been was his raised arm "Hi". A flash thru my mind now questioned the inbalance in caring that my anxiousness made me sense. Was it real, or my skew of perception? The presence of mind that many a social shrinker knows as truth won: lay back and see what happens.
And that was the character of our relationship. Ken was a quiet, friendly and thoughtful kid. So much of our relationship was unspoken that I didn't even know his age. Now, seeing him again, I was wondering if I could convince myself if just looking at him was enough. Could I tolerate leaving the relationship where it had been, so nicely.
With me there entranced and unanswered, Ken asked where I was staying for the night; I said that I didn't know. At 23, I'd sleep in my car if I had to. But Ken answered, "Well, we can stay at my cousin's house."
Struck again, my mind raced. And asked about the arrangements, and they were all made.
I didn't know Ken's cousin; and I didn't care to. After snacks at two different country diners, and what seemed like endless night driving around the country by his cousin, we arrived at the house. An ill-kempt cement block construction in a poor rural area. Some abandoned trailers in the distance. Some piles of junk closer to the house. Affection for Ken held my attention thru a surreal distraction of social and relational scatterings and discards. The physically real answer was more apparent.
This January night was typically cold; and the heavily blanketed bed that the three of us climbed into was a welcome nest. In the squalor and Winter, I did feel warm and safe. In a row, Me, Ken, cousin, who was now softly and wetly snoring. I laid in the dark unasleep. Moving around a little, rotating on long axis: making an effort to relax to sleep, and not wanting to. My mind was stimulated from the day's novelty, and my emotions were flooded. Ken had clearly gone out of his way for my accommidation.
This young man. My desire. Last chance. All of these, and the float in my head allowed me to put my hand on his crotch. And open his pants. And feel his genitals. Play with his cock.
Ken turned slowly on his side to face me, and I blew him. He came with a quick and automatically muscular shudder. Muffled moan. After some silence and my inquiry, he asked if I'd done that often with other guys.
In the morning I watched Ken for some hint of mood. I can't read him. Silent and unshowing. During the ride back to town, cousin asks Ken how it feels to be sixteen. Today. Suprise strikes me. "OK" he says only, and unconvincingly. Animatedly, I wish him happy. With no change we are arrived in town, at campus. I get out, and say goodbye. An echo stays in my head.
Jan. 1971 - Nov. 1982
I moved to Pittsburgh in January 1971, immediately after graduation from College in Indiana, PA. I had been Student Teaching in the suburbs and living in an old 1 room flat above a straight neighborhood bar in McKeesport, PA. Someblue collar young men had other rooms in this building, and we all shared a bathroom. Peek as I did, I got no cockshots.
I moved to a 2 room apartment on 5th Avenue on the edge of a neighborhood near the Carson St. Bridge. Spacious largish rooms, and a hall bath, shared with an old woman who was borderline weird. She was a bit of a public scold, and usually depressed and unhappy. She seemed to like me, but I kept a cool distance. Several bus lines ran near, so I could get everywhere in the city easily. I frequented the Holiday Bar, a collegiate bar between the Pitt Campus, and Carnegie Mellon U. Home was a walkable distance. Also a walkable distance was the Transportation Club, a gay private after hours club. Tiny, and the only late night option in this home-town middle american city. I brought tricks here frequently, and had a short affair with a cute redheaded boy who was a nurse at Mercy Hospital, which was about 8 blocks away. His beautiful thransparent-skinned dick got bright red when he got hard. We'd suck each other to multiple climaxes in the mornings when he finished his night shift duty. There was an older man who had an attachment to this guy. The older guy was a business man (likely a salesman) who traveled, and was around occasionally. This guy took an interest in me, though I has no sexual reciprocal desire. His persistence eventually made seeing the redheaded boy too difficult. While still in this apt., I met some hustler boys form the suburbs of Washington, PA who would occasionally come to Pgh. and my place to crash in trade for sex.
I met a gay black highschool teacher; mature, a fixture in the Pgh. scene. He became a bar friend, who wanted always to hear about my sex and relational adventures. I was happy for the chat, and told all. He eventually developed a relationship with a student, which continued after the student graduated from high school. A pretty and troubled white boy from a middle class family. The boy suicided due to family crisis and confrontation, and the highschool teacher was inconsolable in his resultant alcoholism and guilt haunt.
In 1972, I moved to Shadyside, the gay neighborhood of choice in Pittsburgh. There I lived in 3 apartments on the same block of Howe Street in 10 years' time, comfortably and happily thru several relationships and an active trick life. From College days, I developed a style of having open relationships. I found casual sex in the mensrm. of the Holiday Bar, The mensrms. of the Cathedral of Learning on the Pitt Campus, The basement and several mensrms of the Norreh Social Club, the mensrm. of Pegasus, Cherche La Femme, Venture Inn, and other bars whose names I forget. For a few years after I moved to Pgh, you could swim naked at the YMCA. I did, and enjoyed walking around naked, with middleaged men soliciting me in whispers to follow them to places where they'd blow me. An old bathouse on Forbes Avenue in the Hill District, only a block away from my first Pgh. Apt. was an interesting place. I didn't go there often, for reasons of sex promise in other places. This bathouse had a tiny pool and large sauna in the basement. The main floor had lockers, and a dormotory style room with hospital style metal beds in rows. The top floor had a maze of rooms in sequence, some with single cots, and larger rooms with multiple beds. The style was open sex with anyone, in view of others who would happen past, watch, and join the play. There was a core of regulars who lived in or near Pgh. In addition, passing-thru truckers frequented the place for shower, sauna and sex. The place was quite blue-collar and unabashed. The bar crowd did not go here. I frequented the Club Baths that opened in the mid-70s. It closed down before I left Pgh., due to poor management practices. A late night cruise area near the Holiday Bar provided lots of titillation, and little contact sex. Sex was available in the basement mensrm. of Carnegie Institute, and in several of the downtown department store mensrms., and in quarter booth stores also scattered around Pittsburgh's downtown. The Greyhound Bus Station was also dependable for show & jack. I also discovered sex in Schenley Park, one of Pittsburgh's best treasure troves of quality hot horny men. I found I could get a response by showing my dick in these places. I liked the sexual attention that I earned this way. I slowly made many friends in Pittsburgh, and came to be comfortable, though longing for more sex than I was finding, convinced that others must be having more sex than I, since I was wanting even more than i was finding. With repetion, I jacked off in my apartment windows for a neighbor, started doing phone sex, took polaroids of myself naked, put ads in national gay publications, and developed sex penpals. I got a hot guy named Tommy to move into the other first floor apt. in my building. We jointly hosted a large Summer Party where we cooked and served 160 hot meals to our friends, and blew fuses repeatedly with loud music. He moved to NYC apx. 1978; I gifted him with a blue felt baseball cap and cut flowers. A more public sense of Gay community developed with disco in the middle and late 70s, and with the promotion of Summer Gay Party events in North Park, where crowds were in numbers of high hundreds.
My last 3 years in Pgh. were spent in a relationship with a young man who I met when he had just got out of the Navy after a single 3 year stint. He came to Pittsburgh from his family's farm North of Butler, PA (apx. 30 miles away) to discover Gay Life. He and his cat named Pipes moved in to my 3 room apartment for a while, until he found an apartment of his own a few blocks away. He did an Art Institute Associates degree, and found work with a lighting company. We continued an open relationship and our suck sex habits. We vacationed together in Myrtle Beach, SC for our first aniversary. Then a southern resort town with heavy draw from Atlanta, it was not yet developed or promoted as widely as it is today. I found much casual sex here. The mores of this town in this era permitted very casual habits. You could go everywhere in a pair of speedos and tennis shoes. Nothing else was required. My dayglo orange and stretched-to-fatigue speedos had the modesty liner carefully removed. I loved the convenience of having my cock so available in this warm and humid atmosphere. My boyfriend and I came to an impasse over my license, when I got into sex in a restaurant mensrm. with a flight attendant at the end of our anniversary dinner. Oops. We made other trips, to DC, to Rehoboth Beach, and discovered larger and more varied Gay communities. Later he became a Flight Attendant, and was stationed in DC. I moved there with him in 1982.
In February, 1981, I was required to go to a PA Police Station for Driver's License Renewal. Others were queued up for the procedure, as well. I finished all as required, but before leaving, I sought the mensrm., to pee. On the way in, I thought about what a nice fantasy it woud be to have sex here, in the State police Station, in Pittsburgh, PA. As I stood at the urinal relaxing for piss, a man came in and stood next to me. He was wearing casual street clothes. I wondered if he was a Trooper; I hadn't remembered seeing him in the lines. I decided to try for a reaction; I leaned back a bit, and squeezed my cock a few times. He looked. I stroked it slowly, a few jerks. He showed me his meat. Generous, and pretty fat. I pulled mine up hard. He got a fast erection. He said he was on his way out, and asked me if i wanted to come to his house. I said yes. He wrote the address. I was on bicycle this day, and told him I'd be there in a few minutes. We did simple suck sex. Nothing too memorable in the sex except that we both got off well with the excitement of having an assignation in a Police Station mensrm.
Nov. 1982 - Nov. 1995
Nov. 1995
After being "downsized" (nice term for laid off) by a boss making poor business decisions, I was offered a SexWork job. A guy came up to me at the Castro Street Fair, 1997, and handed me a card for ManCam.com. Said he thought I had the stuff and the balls to show it. My first day was 11/10/97. I get to be in a room by myself, with my toys, and play with my cock & balls for paying voyeurs. We can send msgs. back and forth. First 2 hr. session I chatted with a guy about ball play and shot a load for him. Got off again a bit later. Zoomed in on the cum. Went home goey and sticky. Yeah, I liked it. Check here for updates.
Current Schedule: Friday 11p-1a; Sunday 11p-1a. Guys are pretty friendly here. Esp. the other performers. There is a suprising range of guys working here. I think CyberPlex is wise for that.
1/5/98: My last scheduled ManCam jackoff. Laid off, because the moneyman is upset at costs, and has cut hours to 6 daily, from the 12 that were before. I asked the Mgr. if he can cover costs with those few hours to sell. He doesn't know. That predicts a business failure in my judgement. I'll do on-demand sub work for them, so you may catch me there, but I'll not know when.
1/20/98: Mgr. at ManCam says they are shut down by current owner, who wants out. Negots. to sell to Bob Jones are in progress.
1/30/98: Negots to sell died when Bob Jones discovered that the business is in negative cash flow. The end.
Saturday Night Solstice Party on 14th. St., SF
The Fairie Solstice party was held on Sat. 12/20/97. Solstice started at Noon on 12/21/97, but no one minded, since Sat. was the better day for a blow-out party.
I arrived at 9:15, to find a line queued up outside. The line was moving, and had 75+ people in it. It went in the building, up a set of stairs, back down the stairs, and into the first floor hallway before ending at the check room. A few impatient guys were already naked in line. I talked a bit in line with a cute boy with a thick Germanic accent. At the check room, I was given a bag numbered 293 (#'d sequentially). I put my clothes & boots in it (everyone stripped completely naked) and gave it back to the attendants.
I walked around to find the 3 floors fairly busy already. There was drumming on the top floor, in a big room with kitchen at one side. A raised deck ajoined this room. The main floor had a disco set up in one room, snacks in another, several bathrooms, a very large rear deck with 20 man (crowded with some standing, probably rated for 10) hot tub, and a flowing fountain on a lower deck level. The basement level was all dungeon sex space, subdivided into many smaller rooms, some with beds, or mats on tables, or matresses on floor. The rearmost room had various bondage & torture devices, St. Andrew's Cross, A Pillory, an inclined rope lattice for tie-down, a Doctor's Examination Table, and nearby a standard Leather Sling. Lube and rubbers were on small stands in every room, and near every major device. Already, at this early hour, guys were cruising around, and playing. I was well impressed with the age and looks of the crowd. Average age was well down in 20s it seemed.
I moved around, found some guys I know, and chatted for short moments here and there. But I was out for sex, so I moved on. Knowing from previous parties where there is a big crowd actively cruising around, its good to get around, see and be seen. I returned to the rear main deck, where I soaked for some minutes in the hot tub. Then I cruised around a nearby area with a lawn settee, where some guys were smoking dope. They offered some tokes. We chatted. They had lots of questions about the rings on my cock & balls. I was happy to answer all. I settled down beside one dark, slightly Latino looking guy with a hardon. We played with each other's cock & balls for what seemed like a long time (the smoke), getting our cocks real hard for everyone to see. Guys came past, and paused, watched, liked what they saw. Eventually I shot a big load and got real noisy. We petted for a few minutes after that. The Latino boy was not going to cum real soon. I went looking for some beverage. There was no alcohol served at this event, but some people brought beer. I returned with orange slices, which the Latino boy liked.
Next I went to the dungeon. In a darkish room with apx 10-12 boys in a row on matresses on the floor, and others blowing or fucking them, I sat on a leather padded sawhorse, and stroked my cock hard. The guy next to me took interest in my cock, and worked it slow, eventually kneeling down and sucking me very sweetly. I shot again, moaning loudly again. Then I cruised around, in the area of the bondage devices. There were groups of guys playing here, and some magnificent fucking going on. Nice to watch. Some beautiful long cocks, in the range of 10-11".
Returned to hot tub. Thought about this tub being a large kettle of Fairie Soup. Or a distillery for Fairie Body Oil. Fantasy about how being simmered in a stewpot would be an ultimate sensual exit, with cum and climaxes luring one under. Oh the primitive. The dance around that kettle would be a sexfrenzy. Back in the darkish dungeon room, I played again, getting off for the 3rd and later, 4th time.
In between, I returned to the hot tub, told the Latino guy (from the lawn settee) sitting next to me now, that the function of a hot tub is to get your skin heated up for sex. He allowed as how I was unusual, into it and ready. A more general discussion with most offereing opinions was around the question posed by one young guy: "...Is is a mistake to bring your lover to a Solstice Party?" Opinions from those who spoke: Yes. I told him I could think of several very good reasons to bring a lover. The young man spoke many of them.
After #4, I went to the Disco, where I danced with a number of guys. The dancing guys were of 2 types; either athletic and very well built, or slim and lean. I am in this latter category, so I felt comfortable. I still had the rings on my cock & balls, so they bounced around quite nicely. Luckily, no bruises.
I chatted with some guys who arrived about 12:30. There was still a line outside at that hour. I have no idea about how many guys were inside, but there could easily have been 400+ at any given moment.
Upstairs, I noticed a small planet shaped globe, with color rings of LEDs flashing. A light toy, that seemed real appropriate at this gathering. A Fairiesque 3-D logo/object that seemed to say: "We are in a space we create." An identical one is behind the Bar at the Hole. Penis Art is everywhere on all 3 floors. Objects, Paintings, Drawings, Stained and Leaded Glass. Cocks & Balls & Men drawn and painted directly on walls and surfaces.
Back upstairs, Marajuana Brownies were passed around (2nd tray). Then about an hour later marajuana Cookies were passed around. About 3:30 am, I settled down on the top floor, as the drumming stopped. I had to search around in this big room, about 20x30 feet, for enough space to lay down on the cushy wall to wall rug. I found a space, and 2 available floor pillows. Guys were snoozing, snoring, and some having sex. I spent the night in this room with about 80 other naked guys. Every few minutes, a guy or 2 or more somewhere in the room would start breathing heavy, and moaning, and then get off. This happened all night. About 10 am, people started waking up. More dope passed around. In the dungeon small groups of guys had spent the night in what some of the guys called "puppy piles". I left about 10:45, as the crowd was thinning down. But there were still some guys asleep. So I got off 4X between 10 pm and 3 am, and played with many other guys. I didn't fuck or get fucked, rarely do that. I remain amazed at the numbers, and the quality of guys at this party.
There is a party at this space every Tuesday. I've been a few
times, it is nice, but usually only 20-30 guys. There is a big
party like this one every Solstice. Mark your calendar, this is
a major event.