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Bernie pushed his way into the master bedroom, Rex's private space and led his captive behind him. Gently but with purpose, he pushed Rex down onto the king size bed. He fell back onto the white silky duvet and looked up at Bernie with wonder in his eyes. "Let me close these curtains and make us....more private!" he hissed. Pulling the curtains closed with a snap, he next moved over to the small bedside lamp and switched it on with a click. The lamp illuminated Rex in a warm, soft light that made him look very sensuous to Bernie who already found him perfectly irresistible. His shirt lay fully open and his hair was mass of ginger-red tangles....he looked delightfully dishevelled and ready for.....anything! A playful, six foot rogue if ever there was one. Bernie stepped back and eased himself into a chair in the dark corner, to Rex he looked like a shadow now...a form...a voice. "Rex! I must confess I played a trick on you! Tonight, when I knocked...well...I had been in before. I had let myself in and found you....playing with yourself. You did not see me...I was soooo quiet. I loved what I saw! YOU must show me more....how you please yourself....I want to watch you....PLAY for me!!" Bernie ordered in a way that Rex was very aware of the nature of this command. "You see, I am and always have been an incurable voyeur. I love to watch and really get off on seeing men like yourself flaunt their wares and really show off...just for me...I LOVE IT!" Bernie added for clarification. Rex moved his hands down and released his trouser button and then slid the zipper open. His flesh tool popped upward from the open boxer fly, free and in full glorious view. Rex heard a delighted gasp from the corner as he peeled back his moist foreskin, exposing his red cock knob. The knob shined with pre-cum and Rex squeezed tight and created a stream which flowed down and covered his fingertips. "YESSSS.....MORE!!! Show me MORE!" Bernie called from his dark corner and Rex now moved with confidence....he would show him just what he liked and how! Bernie's eyes were glued to Rex's magnificently long, slender uncut cock, a precision tool covered in pre-cum and shining in the dim bedside lamp light. Bernie who was cut for medical reasons as a youth and always lusted after ample, natural and perfectly unaltered foreskin! Bernie's smaller, thicker cut flesh-stick rose to complete attention as Rex played on. "Mmmmmmm....Watch me stroke my cock for you....like this......Yesssss!" Rex sighed as he manipulated his long foreskin up and back. The skin flowed in fluid undulations before Bernie's wide eyes, the same way as it had back in the doctor's office the other night. Bernie carried on watching and felt so erotically charged, so totally aroused...more alive than he had in years, or possibly ever! He was very aware that his body trembling with excitement, this growing lust for Rex was thrilling and all consuming! Rex carried on playing his instrument and gently moving his legs back and forth along the soft duvet cover. His toes flexed and wiggled delightfully inside his thin socks as he let himself go fully, showing his audience exactly what pleasure meant to him. The shadow of Bernie rose up and moved into the light at the foot of the bed. Rex gazed up and stroked with an increasing speed but never let his eyes leave the eyes that beheld him. Bernie placed one knee down on the soft bed and reached forward, grabbing both sides of Rex's trousers. He pulled forcefully, yanking the trousers and boxers downward so that Rex's throbbing tool got caught in the fly. Nimbly, Rex lifted and released his precious plaything from the tangle and Bernie whisked the mass of clothing from him. Rex rose up from the pillows and Bernie took hold of the dress shirt and it, too joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. Lovingly, Bernie removed each warm, moist thin blue sock from his slender toed feet thus leaving Rex bare, hard and all his! The musky scent of Rex's warm, pink feet wafted upward and Bernie enjoyed the manly fragrance anew. Rex watched as Bernie groped inside his deep trouser pocket and plucked free a sheer black mass of silky nylon. Rex smiled. He recognized the expensive pair of socks as those Bernie had worn the night his exam with Doctor Martin. "Mmmmmm...Nice socks, Bernie. I loved it the other day when you shoved them in my face!" Rex said as he yanked his turgid fuck-stick with forceful strokes. "I really fucking hope you did NOT wash them!" Bernie chuckled and waved the socks in the air. "You can smell them a mile off! I wore them until this morning, just for you. I want you to wear them now...and keep them as my gift to you!" Rex raised one of his large, size 11 bare feet and flexed his shapely toes provocatively. "You put them on then...my feet are yours to enjoy...as well as any other things that may catch your fancy!" Bernie knelt by Rex's sculptured feet and slow licked his lips; his round face glowed in the lamplight and accentuated his high cheek bones and sharp, pointed chin. He looked older than 60, a bit weary but the twinkle in his lustful eyes was unmistakable. Bernie spoke softly, "Rex Davenport, man about town, stud muffin supreme...have you ever been worshipped?" Rex looked into those searching hungry eyes of Bernie and replied, "Worshipped...mmm...well, I have been enjoyed in various ways but worshipped???...I am going to say....not as fully as I will be tonight I imagine!" Bernie smiled broadly, "Welcome to my special temple, oh, perfect man...let my quivering tongue delight in your glory!" Bernie moved forward and found Rex's still raised bare foot, with toes flexing joyfully in the air. Placing the sheer socks down on the bed, he grabbed hold of Rex's round, right heel and let his mouth engulf his tasty big toe. The salty bouquet of taste filled Bernie's watering mouth as he sucked and licked all round Rex's big toe as if it were a little cock. Rex lay back, feeling faint and moaned, "Bernie, that is sooooo amazing. I love my feet to be played with...always have....but you....shit...you really know how...aaaahhhhhhhhhh!" Bernie slowly devoured each toe along the right foot and then let his tongue lash down in long, lavish strokes to take in the full length of Rex's large, high arched foot. The taste of Rex's long day at the office along with the pleasing leathery aroma left Bernie as high as if he were on some new feel-good drug. Rex admired closeted, hen-pecked Bernie, his skilled mouth moving like the wind over his bare foot and that grey hair bouncing up and down on his round head. Rex carried on beating his meat and letting his foreskin slide upon a mounting lather of pre-cum that oozed forth like a stream. Bernie grasped Rex's other waiting foot and brought it up to his eager mouth as well. Bernie managed to shift between Rex's manly feet and taste every bit of his 11 inch wonders. His tongue played between Rex's flexing slender toes and he teased, tickled and tantalized an enraptured Rex for nearly 20 minutes! Rex stroked his rock hard, oozing manhood all this time, not climaxing...just edging, enjoying and delighting in having all of Bernie's masterful attentions focussed on him. Rex felt Bernie begin to slide a soft, sexy sock upon his right foot; skilled fingers pulled the black sheer nylon sock right up to just below Rex's knee, encasing the very top of his well developed calf muscle. The silky feel of the sock sent tingles all up and down Rex's spine. Rex had so many little "kinks" that he had been storing up all through his life, many never acted upon, but very much part of him. Sexy socks always caught his eye, the scent, the feel, the look...and Bernie knew this and read him like a book! The left sock now moved into place against his calf and Rex lifted his black sheer clad feet up in the air, his tight cycler's ass spreading wide open before Bernie's gaping eyes; pushing his two large, whiffy feet up to a nose just begging for a sniff. Bernie inhaled his own pleasing sock aromas, brewed over several long days, that now encased Rex's gorgeous feet and he pushed forward into them, feeling Rex's strong arches cup against his face as he held both feet tight. "Rex, this is heaven. I have always wanted a guy like you to worship and devour, but I never found one as perfect or as willing! My pleasure tonight does not involve my orgasm...only yours...and you are going to have as many as I can squeeze out of you before my fucking phone rings!" Bernie shouted as he pulled Rex's sheer socked feet apart and hungrily admired Rex's throbbing uncut manhood and his rusty ringlet framed ass crack. The stealth speed with which Bernie swooped down upon Rex's moist rosebud took the intoxicated stud completely by surprise, "YESSSSS......AHHHHHHH....MMMMMM!!" Rex extolled in a high pitched voice as Bernie began to feast upon his waiting ass flesh. To Be Continued...Oh, Yes!! Write or comment, love to hear from you! DJ

The Adventures of Rex II: - Bernie Drops By (Part One) Three days passed since the medical exam experience and Rex Davenport kept his fingers crossed that Bernie might get up the nerve to come by and visit him some night after the doctor's office closed. Rex was not ashamed of the playful events of that delightful evening with Bernie and the doctor, not at all! Rex had spent nearly most of adult life working his ass off in the city at a large advertising agency to get where he was now at 50 and his sex life had taken a real backseat to all else. The last year or so had been a turning point for Rex and discovering what his budding mature sexuality had to offer was all he could think about. His intense lust, abiding curiosity and completely open mind seemed to be an aura that followed him around and he now found himself in wild and sexy situations more often than not! Gay or adventurously bisexual best described his very liberal sexual attitude now. A life of avid cycling on weekends and health eating had paid off royally as he looked as tight and agile as he did at 25. Rex, deliciously ginger haired with a touch of white frosting, looked a dashing figure in all types of wardrobe. His ample body hair sprinkled about in perfect golden ringlets decorated his nearly six foot frame from head to toe. He was stunning and all who saw Rex admired all he had to offer! The underground trains had been packed and Rex was glad to be home before 6 pm and not stuck in the centre of London until later. He loved the feel of stepping into his plush home from the busy streets and finding peace and quiet. He loved it! His home was the house that all on his street envied. Simple garden out front and a private sanctum out back. The terraced Victorian home’s interior offered large rooms spread over three floors and was furnished with a mix of modern functionality and a dash of antiquity. The door closed behind him, not quite latching- Rex was just too tired to notice. He bent down and unlaced his black leather Italian shoes, pulling each off with a flourish. The new carpet recently installed felt delightful under his warm nylon socked feet as he strode into the living room and poured himself a healthy scotch from the small table decanter in the corner. The day was ebbing away and the light fading. Normally most people would pull curtains shut...not Rex. He actually had his favourite chair right by the handsome bay windows of his front room. He knew a few houses across the street watched him. Tonight he stood by the chair, lit the floor lamp and saw the upper bedroom window across the street go dark. He knew he was being watched, maybe even recorded. He loved it! Rex was very much becoming an exhibitionist. The very fact he knew the occupant across the street was now focussed on him...his ample uncut tool just swelled inside his trousers with that knowledge. He plopped himself down on the comfy chair and put his feet up in that "I am home...Thank God!" pose. The antique footstool was a throne for his size 11’s and the socked glories were on full display. He hoped the watcher got a good view of them, he twiddled his long socked toes as if waving a greeting. He carefully undid his blue stripped tie from his white button-down collar shirt and pulled it free from his aching neck. Tossing the navy suit coat over in the corner quickly, he then resumed his cocktail sipping at a leisure pace. Rex's head sank into one of the soft chair back and he mused playfully about his newly discovered erotic life so far. His semi-hard uncut tool held in his white boxer shorts began to show further signs of life, uncurling and flexing it moved through the fly slit until it encountered resistance from his tight suit trousers. Rex's skilled hands moved downward and released his trouser waist button and undid the zipper, allowing his now hard cock to pop free. Taking a large gulp to finish off the scotch, he placed the glass on the low table by the chair and began to explore his man rod. Using his right hand, he nimbly stroked the silky foreskin back and forth. Soon pre-cum began to ooze from the top of his pink knob and dribbled down his warm shaft toward his ginger haired pubic nest. Luxuriously he rubbed his soft, thin blue OTC dress socks back and forth on the brocade footstool. It felt so good to relax, think about sex and play with his favourite toy! His dick felt good in his hand and he watched as the ample foreskin travelled back and forth, leaving a wet coating of pre-cum all over his cock top. He juiced so copiously and many a playmate nearly drowned in his flow! His eyes wanted to close, he felt so relaxed and aware of his whole body...head to flexing socked toes. The air filled with the scent of his musky workday feet...he loved that smell! The warm afternoon fading sunlight dappled the chair and his body felt golden and so warm as he lay, playing...thinking...and craving. His eyes closed and he began to hover in and out of that place just on the edge of sleep. His hand kept stroking and his cock remained stiff and alert. ************ The lovely evening had brought Bernie out tonight. No longer could his thoughts of sturdy mature Rex be ignored. Sure, Bernie was married and very much in the closet. His wife would be horrified at the things he and the doctor got up to sometimes, but they both loved men and Bernie wanted to explore Rex alone now without the doctor hovering over him. He could still picture a very naked Rex on the exam table and see his huge, uncut cock gushing cum. He cherished those aromatic socks that Rex had pulled off and presented to him that hot night after the medical exam had finished and he deeply inhaled their manly scent often in a few private moments over the last few days. Those socks of Rex’s were a treasure! Bernie now paused by the front of Rex`s quiet house and felt....a certain urge...a lustful craving...to mount the steps and approach the door. The bearish 60 year-old with greying hair made his way up the few front steps and waited. His breath was short with excitement and anxiety. He nearly turned away but his legs did not want to obey. Angry with himself for being so shy, he held his ground by the large front door and noticed that it was not quite shut. This was strange he thought to himself and knew that if Rex was at home he surely would have shut and locked it; this was still London after all! Fearing that the house had been robbed while both Rex was at work, Bernie quietly pushed the wooden door inward. It swung open and revealed the tidy front hall with a pair of black expensive leather shoes tossed near the base of the staircase. Bernie crept in on his toes, wondering what was going on. Why the open door? The living room door was wide open and he moved to gaze inside. The comfy chair Rex loved was rather centre stage and the timid medical assistant did a double-take as he noticed a very aroused Rex laying in full side view before him. A quick intake of breath prevented him from gasping aloud at this delicious image or possibly passing out from over excitement. Rex, still dozing ...gently stroking his turgid meat stick through the open front of his boxers was a sight Bernie had not expected to see in a million years. Bernie felt he should quietly leave. This was not proper he thought to himself. I must get out he kept thinking...but his body was not his tonight. He could not force himself to leave, try though he might. He felt as if he was watching an erotic play or a perfect porn flick unfold before his very eyes...but he was in the play, too! Lucky him! Bernie took in the beautiful sight of Rex pleasing himself. He admired, with great awe, his incredibly stiff cock. Such an erection for a 50 year old, so solid and virile he noted with ever growing interest. Rex was as fit as he had been that night in the doctor's office just a few days prior. The way his manly hand stroked his tool, the look of his tussled ginger hair atop his sculptured, handsome face; Rex was someone he wanted to be close to at least one more time. He never dreamed of seeing Rex like this...ever! Rex all stretched and his large sculptured moist socked feet undulating-as if pulsing and elegantly crossed at the ankles on the handsome brocaded footstool. Rex could have been posing for a centrefold in Bernie’s private world! He looked so alive and SEXY! Bernie felt a great gush of lust well up within, he thought Rex was a darling man...but now he was...His PASSION! Bernie dropped his hand down and stroked his growing cock inside his trousers. The sight of Rex alone could make him cum if his was not careful. Bernie hatched a plan of action and quickly went to work. Much more to come!!! Remember the motto: The Adventures of Rex stories are a celebration of one man's journey into middle-age with a raging hard-on, a passionate nature, perfectly sculptured socked feet and his handsome head held high! Make comments or write me...I love to hear from my readers! [email protected] or here at Adonismale!!

Let me start off by saying... I'm all for change otherwise we would be stuck with stagnation and the decay that comes with that... but I've learned when we see change day by day like our face in the mirror it's not so drastic as when we don't see someone or someting for 10 or 20 years... not only are the physical changes sometimes jarring but we also probably missed all the important events in each others lives... and that in my opinion is why it's so difficult to reconnect with certain people after a long hiatus... yet sometimes there are people and places it seems we never left and can pick up right where we left off... Let me also add that I will almost always miss people more than places or things. I spent a significant part of my life living in the Los Angeles area... I'm not from Beverly Hills but I've always felt at home there and have known several people who call it home... a friend of mine once called me and said "I saw you sashaying down Wilshire Boulevard with shopping bags in your hands" ... that used to happen much more when there was still I. Magnin at 9626 Wilshire Blvd. (my first credit card) and Jerry Magnin's store on Rodeo... Now it's a Saks and Jerry's store sadly no longer exists either... an interesting tid-bit about Jerry's grandfather Cyril Magnin... played the Pope in the movie "Foul Play" I Magnin on Wilshire Saks Mens Store I don't know if they still sell maps of the movie stars homes (I know you can still take specialized guided tours)... but frankly most people who you would want to see their home most likely live behind carefully guarded gates and high hedges and/or fences for safety and privacy... but that was not always the case... Back in the day my favorite homes were... 8531 Santa Monica Blvd. Delores Del Rio--- 1903 Out Post Drive 230 Ocean Way 6776 Wedgewood Place One of the many marvels was... This was her beach house until it was converted to a hotel and in 1956 became The Sand & Sea Beach Club and badly damaged by an earthquake in the 90's and fell into disrepair and eventually torn down... but the original guest house still stands... Cary Grant's beach house was pretty swell too... Palisades Beach Road Although there is not as much privacy now as when he lived there... it recently sold for about 12 million dollars. But I would be remiss without including Charlie Chaplin's house... it was and still is amazing... 1085 Summit Drive Probably one of the places in the LA area that I have noticed the most significant changes are Westwood Village... for a short time I lived nearby and almost everything I needed was readily available within the few streets south of UCLA. 1928 Now I won't dwell on this too much but Tom Crumpkir's Malt Shop home of "the worlds thickest malts" is now a California Pizza Kitchen... Tower Records is gone, Penny Lane records is gone, the Butterfly Bakery is gone (they had the best cakes and pastries in the LA area in my opinion) and Hamburger Hamlet is gone (I think I have eaten at Hamburger Hamlet more than all the other restaurants I have eaten at in my life combined... In Los Angeles like everywhere else many things contribute to change... but change is almost always based on the economy poor management and/or rising rents in addition tastes and needs change with time (In the LA area you have to factor in fire and earthquakes too)... but I have to say one of the biggest factors for a lot of the change we see is technology... I have to admit I have been very slow to embrace itunes... I still prefer going to an old fashioned record store. If you are going there is a lot to see... even if you have been someplace before I recommend going back to see if the changes are improvements or something else... One place that I can't recommend highly enough is Grauman's Chinese Theatre... 6925 Hollywood Blvd. Sid Grauman built the theatre in the 20's it was and still is the most sought after theatre to screen movie premieres... it was renamed Mann's Theatre in the 70's and recently reverted back to it;s original name a few years ago.... The legend goes that Norma Talmage accidently stepped in wet cement during the final stages of it's construction and gave Sid Grauman the idea for the Inprint Ceremonies since then the Hollywood elite have left imprints of their feet, hands and signature. The most recent was Lionel Ritchie on 7, March 2018. It's quite a lively ceremony filled with fanfare.... I saw the Sidney Poitier and Natalie Wood Imprint ceremonies... But I learned visiting that I have the same size hands and feet as Gregory Peck... I would have loved to have been there for the George Clooney and Brad Pitt hoopla but more than all of them I wish I had been there for... Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell (but I was not born yet) Malibu and Trancas Beach have seen it's share of change from my first memories... but one of the things I was considering as I wrote this is that Alice's Restaurant is not around now because it was of a place in time... I'm glad I was of that time because you never knew who you would run into there... and a place I never knew was the Big Rock Cafe in Malibu... it burned down before I was born... It's always been Moonshadows to me (and one of my favorite places to eat in the whole world... like almost everyone else especially at sunset) 20356 Pacific Coast Hwy I can't recommend it highly enough... but don't show up without reservations... http://www.moonshadowsmalibu.com/ I hope it's there as long as I'm alive... but I would like to think that if something changes maybe something better will take it's place... that does not always work out in life but sometimes change can exceed our wildest expectations... I think of this because when I was young long term LA residents told me about a time when Sunset Boulevard was flanked by a poinsettia field...with all of this in mind it's important to know that we should not cling to the past but equally important is ...

Thanks for sharing the info regarding your youth in communist Hungary. I knew it was repressive, but I had no idea of the degree. I am not an expert on cinema, but I was lucky enough to attend grad school at a university with a great Film Studies Dept. So I was able to watch French, German and Italian cinema. I could audit classes-even though I was not a film major- and participate in discussions. A fantastic time; what a university should be about. I don’t keep up with American cinema; it doesn’t interest me. Neither does American TV though I must admit I love How To Get Away With Murder: a great cast, a mix of gay and straight characters, and a fabulous story. I watched the first 4 seasons of the British Being Human; I wouldn't say the characters are average-looking. I find Russell Tovey extremely attractive. I wasn’t interested in watching the American version of the program. It bugs me that Americans feel no shame about remaking foreign programs and movies. If the French remade the Wizard of Oz or another film that Americans hold sacred, it would be war. I agree with you about the US’s preoccupation with beauty. Compare the American soap The Bold and The Beautiful with the British Eastenders. I think Eastenders has some very talented actors whom American casting directors wouldn’t look at twice (such as the guys who play Phil and Ian). Yes, Eastenders is much, much better than B&B! Actors who look like Humphrey Bogart and Edgar G. Robinson wouldn't stand a chance in Hollywood today. And it's not just mainstream cinema. Compare vintage porn with today’s porn. Vintage porn actors, whether straight or gay, were easily distinguishable from one another. Today’s actors and actresses, on the other hand, are virtually clones: interchangeable women with tattoos, bleached hair and fake breasts; interchangeable men with tattoos, hairless chests and sizable endowments. I also agree that there is a lot of gratuitous nudity in American productions. I think it’s because the writers know they have shallow scripts. They try to establish an audience by advertising the amount of nudity. I always found America to be a land of contradictions: it’s one of the most sexually-obsessed countries in the world, but at the same time one of the most sexually-repressed countries in the world. Sex is everywhere. Look at how women’s bodies are used to sell everything from cars to toothpaste. https://www.scoopwhoop.com/inothernews/sexist-advertisements/ I think such programs as Spartacus are for those people who want to see nudity, but are too embarrassed to rent a porn video. Closeted gay guys can get their fill of dick without having to rent / search for gay porn on the web. They can even tell themselves that there is a story. As for why a lot of gays historically spoke with British accents in American films, I don’t know why that is. Growing up, cinema presented me with lots of stereotypes: The Germans were militaristic; the Italians were criminals; (in the mob); the French were legendary lovers; Asians were inscrutable. I don’t remember what I was taught about the British. I do remember when Hugh Grant was caught with a prostitute in his car. Americans were shocked because everyone thought he was gay. After all, he had become famous in the UK playing a gay character and he was dating Elizabeth Hurley whom he wasn’t interested in marrying. I think his being caught with a prostitute in such a public place was just a publicity stunt to show American audiences that he was just as red-blooded as any American male. Finally, as for the black penis in Hall Pass, this is another reason I’m fed-up with American films. I’m tired of people of color being objectified and becoming fetish objects: Asian men are sexless (neutered). Asian women are dragon ladies, skilled in unusual sexual arts. Black men are sexual athletes. I didn’t see the film but I doubt the actor had much to do. He was only there to be a symbol of gay panic and to play on stereotypes. Frankly, there was no reason for the character to even be black. It’s clear the director was determined to hit two balls with one bat: gay panic (the character’s fear of having a dick so close to his face) and the fear that the average white guy doesn’t measure up when compared to a black man. Sadly, this is what a lot of American cinema puts out: The Hangover, Hot Tub Time Machine, Bad Moms, Dirty Grandpa… All hits.

Thanks for the response to my Forum topic: The Evolution of American Cinema. I appreciate your comment. I grew up in the States, but haven't really lived there for 30 years. I was enamored with movies growing up. I think every American kid of my generation loved going to the cinema. And parents loved that we went; the cinema was our babysitter. It kept us out of trouble. Initially I saw movies as just escapist fare. But as I got older, I saw them as propaganda. I saw how they formed our attitudes about race, sex, love, and “other” people (minorities, gays, foreigners). For example, in 1930s Hollywood, gay men were ‘sissies’ and ‘pansies’. During the Second World War and the subsequent Cold War, Hollywood increasingly depicted gay men as psychopaths and anti-social villains, dangerous misfits who fell prey to a well-deserved violent end. Anyway, I grew up wanting to be cinematographer. I attended film school, but I left after a year because I got fed up with all the BS. I switched to still photography. Still, my passion for cinema continued. I studied in Italy during my jr. year. That’s where I discovered a cinema that was quite different from anything I had seen in the US. In Rome I used to frequent the art cinemas which showed old films. I saw 1900 a.k.a. Novecento. It includes an explicit scene of the actors Robert De Niro and Gérard Depardieu, who are shown on either side of the actress Stefania Casini as their penises are briefly fondled and masturbated by her. I also saw Depardieu and Patrick Dewaere (a brilliant actor; I still miss him.) in Préparez vos mouchoirs (A worried husband finds a lover for his depressed wife. Neither of them can satisfy her. However, a teen can.) and Les Valseuses (Two whimsical, aimless thugs harass and assault women, steal, murder, and alternately charm, fight, or sprint their way out of trouble. They take whatever the bourgeois characters value: whether it's cars, peace of mind, or daughters.) And there was a marvelous film called Pourquoi pas! by Coline Serreau. Several men and women share a house and redefine the nuclear family; there’s a lot of bed-switching. These films were made in the 1970s. And of course, as I was in Rome, I discovered the cinema of Pasolini about whom I used to argue with my host father. He saw Pasolini as a degenerate; I saw him as an anarchist. Later I lived in Amsterdam and discovered the works of Paul Verhooven: Spetters and the 4th Man. All of these films were TOTALLY different from anything I had seen in America. Not just because they contained male nudity, but because there was a different sensibility. I really couldn’t imagine American directors / producers producing such films. So I have to agree with this statement from Wikipedia: European attitudes towards depictions of nudity tend to be relatively relaxed and there are few taboos around it. Showing of full frontal nudity in movies, even by major actors, is common and it is not considered damaging to the actors' careers. As for the quantity of male nudity in European cinema, the International Movie Data base, the IMDB lists 52 Feature Films from The Netherlands with male-full-frontal-nudity dating from 1973’s Turks Fruit to 2018’s We. The IMDB lists 750 Feature Films from France with male-frontal-nudity dating from 1973 to the present!!! Some of these are co-productions with Italy and Germany but still that’s a huge number. How many American Films with male-frontal-nudity does the IMDB list? None. I know a few: American Gigolo, Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Bad Lietenant, Shadowboxer and American Pie. but Esquire Magazine lists 20! including the aforementioned. The rest starred European men such as Tom Hardy, Ralph Fiennes, Michael Fassbinder and Ewan McGregor. Anyway, I guess there isn’t much to be said about the topic - at least on this Forum. Hollywood actresses care. Feminists care. They both want an equal playing field. But that’s about it. Most of the Americans I know don’t even go to foreign films. They don’t even own passports. They are so brainwashed to believe that if it isn’t American, it’s not worth knowing. Straight women probably wouldn’t mind seeing a dick if they’re sitting in their living rooms with their girlfriends, but they’ll most likely feel uncomfortable with dates sitting next to them. (Look at the attempts to market erotica to women. I know of only 3 magazines marketed as Erotica for Women: Viva, Foxy Lady and Playgirl. Viva premiered in 1973 and ceased publication in 1980. I believed Foxy Lady had an even shorter shelf life. And an editor of Playgirl finally admitted that a large number of its readers were gay.) Straight men most likely feel uncomfortable seeing a penis on the screen ( there’s even a term for it - gay panic) and gay men can get their penis fix on sites like this. The MeToo movement sparked a debate about sexism and the objectification of women in Hollywood. This led to a few critics questioning why male nudity, particularly full-frontal nudity in Hollywood is a taboo. And why when there is a penis on the screen, it’s treated as a joke, something to laugh at, a signal of gay panic. Example: Hall Pass has a scene with two penises dropping in, looking like mismatched bookends. Owen Wilson, playing one of the beta males who embody John Updike’s perception of the American male as a failed boy, falls asleep in a health-club hot tub, panics, and thrashes around as if drowning. Crouching beside his body after he’s been pulled free from the shallow vortex are a black man and a white dude, both untoweled. The black man lowers a huge phallus that bends like a banana, its proximity to Wilson’s head so perturbing that he asks that his rescuer switch places with the one they call “Irish,” who, we see in a ricochet shot, is hung like a tadpole. Even when introducing once taboo dick humor into a mainstream comedy, filmmakers are unable to resist the hoariest racial/ethnic stereotypes. In guy-land cinema, every comedy advance seems to lead to another reversion, every bold stroke the eruption of an underlying anxiety. Owen Wilson’s minor spaz at finding a supersize penis hovering over his head is the reflex flinch of a straight guy’s gay panic. ~ James Wolcott, Vanity Fair Perhaps one day America will move past it’s puritanism. I’m not holding my breath. In closing, as of July 26, 2019, there were 17 films on Netflix with Full Frontal Male Nudity. Only 1 is American.

Another blog in reply to the top response in my previous blog poll: "Want to get to know you (ie: favorite things, feelings about things, events, opinions, etc.)" This blog I shall discuss about my views about the penis. 😉 Below taken from my profile. With that being said, a couple months ago I was perusing through EBay & came across this nice lil item. 😊 https://www.ebay.com/itm/K335-P-Mens-Willy-Pouch-Penis-Sock-Warmer-Sleeve-Printed-Space-Dyed/181383535573 As you can see they ask for what size. I noticed for a large it states "fits 7~9" in length". I just wonder how many they've sold in this size cause a 7 inch penis is rather nice just as much as an 8 inch. But damn, up to a 9 inch penis! Apparently they took a well endowed black penis in mind when making these! Don't have XL so I guess you're outta luck if you have a penis larger than 9 inches! 😂😉 Out curiosity, I checked while composing this & seems as though "large" is sold out! Find it funny that small "fits 4"~5.5" in length" is still in stock! 🤔😂 Trust me, I think I've seen my fair share & had fun with plenty of really nice penises during my time & a 9 inch dick is really something to behold! Matter of fact some of the black men that fucked me in my first porn had some really nice, huge dicks which I am sure ranged from 7 1/2 up to or close to 9 inches. For the record: I wanna set this straight. Yes, its true that most women desire a really nice large penis. Yes a really nice, large, thick penis is pleasing to the eyes but there are limits to them. Let me explain. A flaccid (limp) penis that is about 7 1/2 - 8 inches or more in length is enjoyable to look at & to fantasize about feeling it inside you, but a flaccid penis that this 5 1/2 - 7 inches in length is better cause they have much more to grow & can erect much larger than a large flaccid penis. Girth (thickness) of a penis also plays a part as well. While some women like a well hung penis, some may lack in girth & vice versa. Agree? Disagree? 🤔 Please reply below with your comment.

One of my favorite memories of working at Tunnel Bar in New York City in 1991 is when a striking Black queen walked in off the street and shook my hand as if I owned the place. I was just a 24-year-old barback. “Hello, I’m Kevin Aviance, House of Aviance, and I’ve moved to New York to take over.” I nodded as if agreeing. And how that is exactly what happened next. The Kevin Aviance story could be Season 3 of Pose. In the 1990s, as I first started going to find community in what we called gay bars then, I developed a theory of their names. The first category was Address Only, like the 520 in Iowa City. The second was Double Entendre But Vague, like The Underground, in Portland, Maine, where I grew up, or The Abbey, in Los Angeles. Double Entendre Real Specific would be The Stud, in San Francisco, or The End Up, also there, or My Sister’s Room. Literary was its own category—how many lesbian bars are called Rubyfruit Jungle? Apocryphal stories link the name of the Stonewall Inn to the lesbian memoir, The Stone Wall, by Mary Casal. The Bar in New York City, Feathers in New Jersey, or ‘Bout Time 2 in Austin, well, they belong to Could Be Anything, which is just a plain disguise. Because maybe even a joke would have been too much, for someone who couldn’t take a joke about being queer. I eventually understood each bar name to be, at least possibly, that owner’s attempt at a clever disguise that had stood the test of time—or hoped to. I couldn’t call these “safe spaces,” as they were never so very safe, and we knew it. I think of the gay men who used to sit in the big glass windows at the Twin Peaks Tavern in San Francisco (long nicknamed the Glass Coffin) when I would walk by on my way to work in 1991, brave in a way I never guessed then. That was one of the first gay bars in the country where you could stand on the street and see who was inside. These bars are not community centers except when they were. Or are. If they are your community center, they are filling in for whatever you might have if you had a different government. For many, they rightly represent histories of addiction and abuse that prevent a simpler relationship. And a real community center isn’t going to ask people to leave if they can’t pay for a drink. That said, I don’t know how else to describe the bars I miss in my old neighborhood in Brooklyn except as my local queer bars and maybe that’s enough. Carrie Nation and The Excelsior resembled small town bars back then as they were usually mixed in terms of clientele and not too crowded. I prefer this, to be honest—the queer community I need has never shared a gender. At their best, they were like a party you could drop into and run into at least three old friends, and maybe make one or two new ones. I met the friends who saw me through those years—especially those who became my gay Asian mah jong group. And while I was never really good enough to do more than play as a replacement and make drinks, for most of my 90s and 00s in Brooklyn, I had a queer Asian center to my daily life, which meant so much to me. These were the friends I went to see on September 11th. As we honor the memory of The Stonewall Uprising this month, I find myself wondering if there’s a bar I would fight for. Two weeks ago I was a host for Bubble T, the queer Asian/AAPI party in Williamsburg. I’ve been a few times as a celebrant but for Pride they did me the honor of asking me to be one of the night’s hosts. As the performers took the stage in a room unlike any 20 years ago when I was younger, trying to learn to play mah jong a few miles away, I felt an exhilaration at being in what felt like the future I’d never imagined. Bubble T was the place my friends and I didn’t even know to hope for then. And when I finally made my way home at 5 a.m., I was reminded that my favorite rainbow is the one you see at dawn as you come home from the clubs. These bars, whether they are a local with a juke box and some beers in plastic cups, or a club with a stage and a roof bar, in a big city or tiny town, they are not exactly where we go to feel safe—because after the Pulse nightclub shooting and too many other hate crimes, we often don’t—but they are also the place we take a risk: on our heart, our desires, a fleeting connection even just with a crowd you never speak to. The risk you took could easily be walking in and not running away. They’re the staging grounds for our dreams— of connection, family, a night’s glory or a lifetime of it. Whether you are putting a song on the jukebox with the hope of setting a mood for someone you just met, or climbing onstage in a taffeta cape, ready to lip sync, these bars are a tradition older than the apps you might use while in them. Movements have formed within them, and families, too, the kind that don’t know each other until they meet. And as long as we need all of this, we’ll need these places too. Maybe the answer to the question of which bar I’d fight for is all of them.

I agree with the opinion cited above but also believe the biggest factor is chem sex or P&P (party and play). I've had several friends contract serious STDs as a result of partying on crystal meth and servicing any number of anonymous partners while they were stoned out of their minds. Drugs lower people's inhibitions and tina in particular enables men to maintain their erections while inhibiting ejaculation. One friend who participated in a weekend binge said he was fucked bareback by 12 guys but could only remember three of them. And he didn't even know who most of the guys were. We already do. It's called fashion sense. How much do you agree that condoms should be used even for oral sex?

Originally posted April 29, 2019 Hey hey! 😊 So... yes believe it or not I am FINALLY going to spill the beans about that animated gif that I've posted of me revealing a gorgeous huge black penis! Shortly after college & living with my then BF, I had made a return trip back home to visit family in the San Diego area. My younger brother's good friend Tony has a brother (Troy) that was doing low budget porn in the area. I had contacted Tony about meeting up with his brother Troy to discuss me doing my first ever interracial scene. The idea of this had been floating around in my head as a fantasy & was curious as fuck about doing this. A few days past & met up with Troy after getting all of the arrangements set up. The day of shooting, I found the studio where Troy was going to be filming it. Tony, Troy, & my brother where there along with 3 other black men that I've never seen or met before. As Troy introduced me to the 3 men, I noticed they were checking out my goods with smiles on their faces. After the introductions, Troy went to verify everything was in place for filming as my brother lead me to a small room so that I could change into a skimpy thong bikini 👙 & robe. When I mean it was a skimpy thong bikini, as in the front covers just enough of my pussy but allowing to see that I keep it clean & bare! I then began to take off my clothes to change into the thong bikini right there in the room with my brother standing right there. No big deal as my brother has seen me naked multiple times as I've seen him as well, & he does have a nice penis which I've sucked a couple times! My brother & I make our way out to the studio after I changed & to my surprise I see the each of the 3 black men that met earlier wearing just towels around their waists! Troy begins to film as he tells me to take a deep breath & relax & just go with it. With that, I slowly untie & let my robe drop to the floor giving everyone a first class view of my tanned body in that skimpy thong bikini! Oh the look on everyone's faces, especially the 3 black men that I could tell were just achin to fuck me! 😂 I began teasing them with a seductive dance while slowly peeling off my thong bikini. Once in a while I would tease them by giving them a short glimpse of my bald tanned pussy by quickly pulling down the front of my bikini bottoms! After a bit & turned by back to them to not only give then a first class view of my tanned ass in my thong bikini bottoms but to show that I was untying the top. I then turned around after letting my top drop to the floor & gave them a great view of my tanned boobs! Slowly made my way toward the 3 black men, standing there topless right in front of them as I could tell all of them were seductively visually fucking me! It was then I told the 3 of them each to grab my thong bikini bottom & rip it off of me! They obliged & there I was standing right in front of those 3 gorgeous black men completely naked! I then squatted down in front of one of them, this was when I unleashed & freed one of the most beautiful hung black dick I've ever seen! The other 2 proceeded to tear off their towels giving me a great view of their just as beautiful hung black dongs! As you can see from the animated gif, after revealing his large dong I teased a bit by gently rubbing the tip of it on my boobs. I then began to play with, caress, kiss & lick it, & then seductively began to suck on it! I tried my best as I started with the tip of it & slowly took more of him into my mouth. I could feel his black dong begin to get more erect each time time I tried to suck on it! All this time I was really wet 💦 & ready for my savage fucking from 3 VERY WELL ENDOWED black men! I was really lost in lust when all 3 each took turns having their fun ramming me with their huge, fully erect gorgeous black dongs! My gawd it was fuckin awesome as I've then never gotten stretched open so much while getting fucked so, so good! I even let all of them take turns boob fucking me & each time I had my mouth open ready to take the tip of their dong into my mouth each time they thrusted! 😍 After a bit of getting fucked by these 3 wonderful huge black dongs, all 3 of them began to jerk off right in front me. I was laying down on the floor resting, getting ready for each of them to unload their semen onto me! I began to play with my tanned pussy as it was such a turn on & so beautiful to hear them echo subtle moans of pleasure & see these 3 black men just standing over me beating off to me! Then one of them unloaded his semen 💦 onto me hitting me all over my face & boobs. I then licked my lips as I could taste some of his yummy semen & swallowed it! The other 2 followed as one of them just as he was cumming, stuck it back into my pussy & unloaded inside me! My gawd it felt so fuckin awesome not only to feel his dong back into me but to feel his warm semen 💦 enter me. Everyone was watching with me as he pulled that lovely black dong out of me, as he did, such a beautiful sight to see as all of his semen that he unloaded into me began to ooze out of my pussy! I then reached down & wiped some of it with my finger & then licked it off, mmmm so yummy! The other & last one unloaded his semen on the rest of my nakedness with the last of his cum shot into my mouth, which I eagerly swallowed! 😍 While on the floor gathering myself after this beautiful & great fucking by 3 gorgeous black men, I noticed Troy was taking a couple pics of me. Seems as though I completely covered in their semen from head to toe! 😊😍 I will say this that each of these black men that fucked me oh so fuckin good, each had a really nice muscular body with a cute butt to go with their equally impressive black dick! ❤️ them! Now that I told yall this, I gotta go pleasure myself with my dildo cause I am so fuckin wet right now! Think I will break out my fat 8" dildo along with my Hello Kitty vibrator (so cute!) 😊😘 Much ❤️ SN

He’s the Obama-style boy-from-nowhere with charisma and the potential to become the first openly gay president of the United States Of America. But who is Pete Buttigieg? Hollywood’s most powerful and fabulous homos are mobilised; the eyes of the LGBTIQ+ world are upon him; and Trump-loving, right-wing TV network Fox News is shitting its pants. This is the impact of Pete Buttigieg (pronounced boot-edge-edge): a handsome, young gay man from a little-known mid-Western state who has announced he’s going to run for President of the United States Of America in 2020. If he becomes the Democratic nominee, he’ll be standing against President Trump: a man revered by redneck, racist, white supremacist, misogynistic homophobes as a god, even while the rest of the world considers him somewhere on a sliding scale between clown and catastrophe. Buttigieg launched his presidential bid by directly butt-kicking everything that Trump stands for. So far, it’s his charming, boy-next-door all-Americanness and erudite eloquence that has shone through. At just 37, his wise-head-on-young-shoulders made noises about real change for a new generation. The next generation. Change. Sound familiar? One of President Obama’s enduring campaign slogans was “change we can believe in”. The other was “yes, we can”. The last ten years have certainly changed the face of US politics. Obama was hotter than the average president and a generally decent guy. And he was the black. What’s more, the American electorate were smart enough to not be spooked by a surname sounding like Osama or the middle name Hussein or Donald Trump’s efforts to depict him as a scary Muslim and not even American. But has the road been paved for a minority citizen to become Commander-in-Chief? Is Buttigieg change we can believe in? Can a thirty-something gay man really say yes he can? Witnessing Buttigieg’s candidacy develop has been electrifying. He’s a married man. He met high school teacher Chasten Gelzman via an app in 2015 and married him three years later. They have two dogs, Truman and Buddy. It’s all picture-perfect cute. His résumé reads like something you or I might invent to bag ourselves an out-of-reach job: he’s a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford and a graduate of Harvard University; he has served as a lieutenant in the US Navy Reserve and took an unpaid, seven-month leave during his mayoral term to deploy to Afghanistan. He earned the Joint Service Commendation Medal for his counterterrorism work. He was elected Mayor of his hometown of South Bend, Indiana in 2011 aged just 29 and re-elected in 2015 with 80 percent of the vote, positively transforming both the local economy and its prospects in the process. He campaigned to ensure every resident of South Bend, “regardless of race, religion, gender or orientation” felt safe and included. He already has more years of government experience than Donald Trump, more years of executive government experience than Vice President Mike Pence, and more military experience than anybody to walk into the Oval Office since President George HW Bush. If that wasn’t enough, Buttigieg can speak seven languages, play piano and guitar, and generally do everything that’s simultaneously irritating and admirable at the same time. He came out in his twenties, found closeted army life difficult, and wishes his fellow Americans would learn to trust and accept people from different backgrounds, such as gay men. It’s all sounded a bit vanilla, but then to the meaty stuff: how will a gay president exert moral authority in countries where it’s illegal to be gay? Whether you want America to be the undisputed global headmaster or not is a different discussion, but Buttigieg’s response is intrinsically sound: he’s on a mission to make gay men more credible in the political arena, so that we are taken more seriously as human beings around the world; so that leaders like the Sultan Of Brunei or Saudi Arabia’s Mohammad Bin Salman or Russia’s Vladimir Putin would be confronted and condemned by a powerhouse homosexual. And we haven’t even spoken about the fact that he’s a practicing Christian… After Buttigieg’s town-hall address in April – a tradition where American politicians are granted a platform to reveal standpoints and views – CNN’s Anderson Cooper (himself a handsome, gay, married man) told viewers that Buttigieg is hot on character information but notably short on policy specifics. Indeed, even Buttigieg has said, “I think it’s important that we not drown people in minutiae before we’ve vindicated the values that animate our policies,” during his speech. One thing is clear: the road to the 3 November 2020 presidential election is going to be a rocky one, made all the more fascinating by Pete Buttigieg. Article from DNA News and Features by Torsetn Hojer.

Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I'm a big fan of porn stars from the 90 and early 2000. These times gay porn studios were run by gay men with better taste and (because they were actually gay men) direct experience with what their audience fantasized about. Plus, most of them cared about the quality of the movies they were releasing and the role those movies played in gay culture. For a lot of people for a long time, gay porn was the only place gay people could see other gay people portrayed in a positive light (or any light at all)—even if it was “just porn.” Now? Competing gay porn studios and their straight-owned parent companies are tripping over each other in a mad dash to produce multiple scenes per week—most of which usually end up on a free tube site 30 minutes after being released—and they’ll cast anyone with a dick and a valid ID to get the job done. Today, literally anyone—anyone—can do gay porn. 20 years ago, gay porn stars like Jake Deckard or Blake Harper were famous because of how good they looked while having sex with other men. Now? “Gay porn stars” are famous because of their social media embarassments and how awkward they look while trying to have sex with other men. And it pisses me off when I hear that f.ex. BelAmi models are labelled "gay porn stars" while everybody knows George Duroy's policy to hire only str8 guys. This ubiquity of hetero guys, who for unknown reasons are pushing themselves to gay porn industry, is also terribly annoying. And I do not buy this "gay 4 pay" thing. Every generation gets the gay porn they deserve.

Yes! Disco lives! (Or at least ABBA does.) 😍 Thanks for the reminder, @majikthis ! I must protest! I said I could grow accustomed to facial hair on hot-looking men! But if you're going to be that submissive so soon after our initial acquaintance.... Assume the position, boy! Excellent selection, @Sammy ! "One Night in Bangkok" is one of my favorites. It had some radio airtime in the US for a while back in the mid- or late-80s, but I don't think it made it into the Top 10. (I know, I know; That was before some of you were born!) It's the opening number of the second act of the rock musical "Chess," by Tim Rice and the two men from -- by coincidence -- ABBA. The musical was originally produced on the London stage, where it was a fairly big hit, but its US production on Broadway was a flop. This is apparently the "official" video for the song and is how the song goes in the musical: "Chess" was roughly based on the rivalry between a Soviet chess master and an American one, who were playing for the world championship (hence the chess theme of this scene's set). The writers threw in a love triangle in the plot to increase the musical's appeal. For some reason, the writers set the final championship round in Bangkok, where prostitutes for both heteros and homos are notoriously plentiful, alluded to by the song's references to bars and massage parlors, lines like "Can't be too careful with your company / I can feel the Devil walking next to me," and the otherwise ill-suited line, "We get our thrills above the waistline, Sunshine." This performance doesn't reflect it, but the singer's character is meant to be something of a flaming queen, which was another reason I liked the song! Obviously, I wouldn't mind having @Tomster "walking next to me"! Back to the game: For a change of pace, here's the incomparable Miss Dolly Parton's classic, "Jolene," in a recent version accompanied by Pentatonix (Miss Dolly is third from the left): (Note: It's most unfortunate that this gem is sponsored by the US restaurant chain Cracker Barrel, which discriminates against LGBT people in employment. Someday....) The lyrics: Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy I'm begging of you please don't take my man Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy Please don't take him just because you can Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of auburn hair With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you, Tommy He talks about you in his sleep There's nothing I can do to keep From crying when he calls your name, Tommy And I can easily understand How you could easily take my man But you don't know what he means to me, Tommy Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy I'm begging of you please don't take my man Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy Please don't take him just because you can You could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me, Tommy I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do, Tommy Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy I'm begging of you please don't take my man Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy Please don't take him even though you can Tommy, Tommy ,,,

Today, but I'm not an actor at Men at Play! When was the last time you deep throated a banana?

I played "Chantal" of La Cage aux Folles the musical at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center. It was immense fun taking tap lessons, meeting new friends, and memories that I shall never forget. The funny part about it was I had been very "naive/new" to gay culture. I sang first tenor in the Tampa Bay Gay Men's Chorus and I was basically TOLD by many to audition. Though I'd heard about it, I had to watch the movie to get the feel of what it was about. Some know, many don't, if I come up with anything else....I'd like to share....well one more share. Though my first date was when I was fourteen, a friend and his boyfriend set me up with a blind date. When I showed up, there was this gorgeous man and he was twenty-four, I KNOW, can you believe those two. He was a really quite the gentleman, and he really wasn't a creep per se. He didn't try to talk me into anything, we had a great time together, and later he gave me my first blowjob, and I gave my first.

blip's FAVORITE tale from HARPO SPEAKS (blip calls it The Story of the 1 Penny Scrubbrush) ... Well, word buzzed around Indianapolis, all right. The total attendance for our fourth show was a nice, round figure. Ten people. Even with the screen behind the second row, it still looked like ten people. Now even Minnie had to face reality. We were washed up. We were stranded. We didn't have enough dough to pay our way out of a hotel. We could sneak out of the hotel, but we still didn't have train fare to any point beyond Kokomo. We didn't have enough money to pay the kids in our company the price of dinner. It was the end of the line for the Shubert unit and it looked like the end of the Marx Brothers, headliners on the Orpheum, the hit of the Palace, and the toast of London. I had seven cents in my pocket. Her sons were afraid to say it, but Minnie said it :"We'll have to wire Al for a loan." We knew that Uncle Al was financially good for our getaway money. He now had a new partner, a guy named Gallagher, and owned half-interest in the most popular song in the country, "Mr Gallagher and Mr. Shean." But Minnie was not exactly sure if she had sent the telegram to her brother's right address. She wouldn't admit it, but she was also afraid that even if Uncle All received the wire, he might decide that this was the last straw, and refuse to bail us out. "Boys," she said, "we can only wait and hope." While waiting and hoping, I went on an aimless walk in the outskirts of Indianapolis. I was drepressed and confused, and I had to be alone. I kept telling myself that something good always happened every time I hit rock bottom. But I didn't believe it. What could happen? What could I do? Groucho could go back in vaudville as a single. Zeppo could go back to Chicago with Minnie, where he would have no trouble finding a job. He was the only high-school graduate in the family. Chico could land a job as a piano player, on his own terms, anywhere. But me? What was I trained to do besides being a Marx Brother? Well, I could play the harp on the New York City ferry-boat, for nickles and dimes. Beyond that, nothing. As I walked, a long-forgotten voice came out of the past. Miss Flatto. Miss Flatto, wagging her finger at my nose and saying, Some day you'll realize, young man. Some day you'll realize! Okay, so now I realized. I had come to no good end, exactly as she predicted. I was a man of nearly thirty years and here I was stranded in a strange city with seven cents in my pocket and no way of earning cent number eight. Okay, Miss Flatto, I said to the voice in my memory, you've had your revenge. It was the only time I ever felt sorry for myself. I came out of my daze. I was startled to find I was standing watching an auction sale. The inventory of a little general store in the suburbs – groceries, notions and dry goods – was being auctioned off. There were about twenty people there. They must have been jobbers, mostly, because the auctioneer was knocking down the stocks in big lots. I was careful to keep my hands in my pockets, so I could resist any crazy impulse to make a bid, and blow my entire capital of seven cents. The shelves were nearly emptied out and most of the crowd had left, but I still hung around, having nothing better to do with myself. Finally, everything was gone except one scrub brush, the former owner, hovering in the background, the auctioneer, myself, and an elderly Italian couple. The elderly couple had been there all the time. Either they had no money or they were too timid to make a bid on anything. Whatever it was, they exchanged sad looks now that the auction was winding up. The auctioneer was tired. 'All right,' he said. 'Let's get it over with and not horse around. I have left here one last desirable item. One cleansing brush in A-number-one, brand-new condition, guaranteed to give you floors so clean you can eat off them. What am I offered?' The old Italian guy and his wife looked at each other, searching for the key to the right thing to say. The auctioneer glared at them. 'All right!' he yelled. 'It's only a goddamn scrub brush!' They held on to each other like they had done something wrong. I said, quickly, 'One cent.' The auctioneer whacked his gavel. He sighed and said, 'Sold-thank-God-to-the-young-American-gentleman-for-one-cent.' I picked up my brush and handed it to the old lady. She was as touched as if I had given her the entire contents of the store. The old man grabbed my hand and pumped it. They both grinned at me and poured out a river of Italian that I couldn't understand. 'Think nothing of it,' I said, and added, 'Ciao, eh?' - which was the only Italian I could remember from 93rd Street. They thought this was pretty funny, the way I said it, and they walked away laughing. I walked away laughing too. A day that had started out like a nothing day, going nowhere except down, had turned into a something day, with a climax and a laugh for a finish. I couldn't explain it, but I hadn't felt so good in years. A lousy penny scrub brush had changed the whole complexion of life. When I got back to the hotel the money had arrived from Uncle Al. Just as I anticipated, it had been decided that Groucho would audition as a single, Zeppo return to Chicago with Minnie, and Chico hire out as a piano player. To all of these decisions I said: "Nuts." It was the longest serious speech I had ever made in front of the family, and everybody listened. Then everybody started talking. We talked ourselves out, until all our self-pity was gone. What happened to us was our fault, not the Shuberts' or anybody else's. And what was going o happen to us would also be our own doing, not the Shubert's or anyone else's. Aboard the east-bound Pennsy. The other passangers on the coach kept complaining, so we bribed the porter a quarter and spent the night in the men's room of the nearest Pullman car. I tootled my clarinet and played pinochle with Chico. Groucho smoked his pipe and read a book. Zeppo did deep knee-bends. At the same time we were all working, throwing ideas into the kitty and putting together a show we could take back to New York. None of us stopped to think how idiotic and deluded were were. What show? For whom? We were not only exiled by the moguls, but now even the scavengers wouldn't touch us. Absolutely idiotic. And thank God we were. The train ride from Indianapolis to New York, clacking through the blackness of nothing, was the most momentous jump we ever made. For me, it was the prologue to a new kind of life in a new kind of world. [Within two years the Marx Brothers were the biggest hit ever to hit Broadway in years with their first show - I'll Say She is. After that, The Coconuts and then Animal Crackers. They OWNED Broadway for seven years before moving to film.]

I thought I'd try my hand at creating reading material for the group. Hope you enjoy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did this night I’m about to describe really happen, or is it just something I dreamed? You can decide for yourself. This was years ago. Before AIDS. Before we knew about AIDS, anyway. Which meant before condoms. Also before New York’s 42nd Street became a Disney subsidiary. It would be silly to say we New Yorkers miss the old, pre-Disney 42nd Street. It was a scary, threatening place; especially after dark, you could feel you were putting your life on the line just trekking through the area. But there was one element lost from the milieu that’s worth mourning. Those few blocks REEKED of sex. Sex of every kind – hetero/homo/whatever, casual hookup or for sale. It was all there, to be had, purchased, or at least heavily pondered, in various movie theatres, massage parlors, and what we euphemistically called bookstores. Walking across 42nd, headed to 8th Avenue, or beyond, toward 9th, you’d almost get hard purely from anticipation. It was the reason you’d come to the neighborhood: to stroll through a sex bazaar, feel a heightened arousal just from the surrounding environment. That’s certainly how I felt, that early autumn night. I didn’t have much going on in my life– maybe, to be honest, hadn’t in a while at that point. I’d stopped for a drink or two at a neighborhood bar, then deciding-without-really-deciding, took a swing to midtown. I ended up right in the middle of it all -- on the corner of 42nd and 8th. It only remained for me to decide how to spend my time. There were two gay movie theatres on 8th, but they were, to put it mildly, not pristinely maintained, and I had SOME standards. Plus the movies were generally lousy – they somehow made sex boring – and you could sit there a long while without evoking any interest. I didn’t want to dig in for what might be a long haul. I wanted to drop in someplace, indulge my lust a little, maybe even only privately. If anything did happen, I preferred it happen quickly. So, I settled on a magazine/book-store on 42nd closer to 9th. It was a modestly large, equal opportunity store -- there were heterosexual wares to the right, gay to the left. Horny patrons of each variety pretty much stuck to their lanes, a peaceful co-existence. I steered myself left, and stopped first to peruse the bulging racks of magazines. A lot of titles we think of as familiar weren’t yet in existence, but most of the then-popular group – Blueboy, Mandate, Honcho, the ever-popular Playgirl – were on exhibit, and men up and down the racks were greedily flipping through the pages. Unlike at a store in a midwestern mall, there was no one to look askance or intimidate you; here, ravenousness for sex was in the open and went unchastised. Everyone just looked at what they wanted – including some more cutting-edge magazines: hardcore offerings, images I presume taken from porno films, displaying gay sex in pretty explicit terms. I lingered a while, enjoying the pictures immensely. But, finally, I moved on. Further back, the store had more to offer. There was a rack full of pornographic paperbacks, covering every possible interest or fetish. A bin held a few very early films on video (this being before the arrival of universal home VCR). And, along the back wall, there were open cabinets displaying assorted types of sexual paraphernalia – tacky little things like playing cards with nude men, all the way up to leather regalia, whips and sex toys. Oh – and underwear. Again, to locate you back in time: this was well before the name Andrew Christian became known. It was even before 2(x)ist, with its technically-neutral-but-screaming-gay advertising. Men’s underwear at that point was pretty drab stuff…unless you knew where to look. And this store was one of the places to look. It was, in fact, one of the reasons I’d gravitated there. The cabinet offered underwear in little plastic packs, with pictures of models on the labels, helpfully illustrating what you (at your best) could look like while wearing them. The pictures indicated that the briefs were…well…extremely brief, as well as generally transparent -- either mesh or sheer nylon. Which is to say, the models were displaying their equipment quite openly. Which couldn’t help but make one wish to partake. “I’d like to see you in those,” I heard to my right. I turned to see a guy about my height standing there, pointing toward the underwear. I could tell you he was an Adonis, but there’s no need to juice up the tale. He was roughly my age, light-brown hair, clean-shaven, and perfectly good-looking. If he was up for an encounter, there was no reason to turn him away. What he was pointing to was a pair of very tight nylon briefs, white and translucent. If he wanted to see me in them, he wanted to see everything. Well, I could play along. “I’d like to see you in that.” I indicated a black number -- also quite sheer, but with the added attraction of having mostly no back. It was what eventually would be labelled a thong, but in those days would probably have been deemed a G-string. “Nice,” he said. Then he turned to me and said, “We could go back to my place and model them for one other.” Well…that escalated quickly. Though perhaps not as quickly as my cock had sprung to attention. Or as quickly as I reached out and grabbed the packet of white briefs. I gave him an acknowledging smile that I hoped was sexy. He in turn grabbed the G-string, and indicated we should head right to the cashier. I wondered if the cashier could tell we were two guys in full-on heat for one another. Probably – but it’s also likely it was something he saw all day and (especially) night. When we hit the street, I realized I should ask how far away he lived. “Just a block or two from here,” he answered. Well, that made things easy. We headed down to 9th Avenue. In similar circumstances, I might have cupped the guy’s ass a bit while we walked, grabbing a feel, but here it seemed like that might violate the agreement. So I just strode along beside him, even as we turned up 9th Avenue. Neither of us spoke. Whatever we were heading toward, we’d go there quietly. He wasn’t lying about how close his place was. It was a third-floor walk-up on 43rd between 9th and 10th. When we got there, he opened the door, and showed me in. It wasn’t much more than a studio apartment. There was a lengthwise couch that bisected the room to create something of a living area. Beyond it was a bed on the floor, along the back wall. I wouldn’t describe the place as spotlessly clean, but it was perfectly decent, well above the living-standards of most single men. Before I could ponder the logistics of how we’d manage our little show, he said “You put yours on in the bathroom. I’ll knock when I’m ready for you to come out.” The bathroom was along the far-right side wall. “Fine,” I said – then walked over there and stepped inside. The bathroom was, like the rest of the place, well-enough maintained, which put my mind at ease. I began undressing. It was only when I had all my street clothes off, and was pulling the mini-briefs up over my trunk, that I truly focused on my situation. I was about to be 90-95% naked (and, realistically, 100% soon after) in front of a guy I’d met less than half an hour ago. Was I up to that? I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw that the packaging photo hadn’t lied: my cock – now noticeably stiff – was quite visible through the material. A glance over my shoulder revealed my ass was equally on view, crack and all. To all intents and purposes, I was already close to 100% naked. I sure hoped he liked what he saw. I didn’t have much time to contemplate, as the knock came at the door. I took a breath, waited a moment, then walked to the door, and opened it. He’d retreated most of the way to the couch. He’d also lowered the lights a bit. They weren’t dim, exactly – I could see him clearly enough. But they were softer; sexier. They certainly showed him to advantage. He fit snugly into the number I’d chosen for him. His chest was hairless, which is the way I like it. I could have jumped him on the spot. “Give me the whole picture,” he said. “Turn around.” I did as he asked – not so slow as to feel on display, but slowly enough he could take in the full view. When I was back facing him, the satisfied look on his face told me I’d passed any and all tests. “Well,” I said. “Your turn.” He likewise made the pirouette, slow enough for me to catch every nicely-appointed aspect of his body. I, of course, got to look directly at his ass-cheeks, without the interference of even thin nylon. He seemed to have something of a tan line, another thing of which I fully approved. When he was facing forward again, I glanced down to check out his cock, but, before I could fully focus, I heard him say “Come over here.” He was beckoning me to where he was standing. I wasted no time, and stepped nearer. When I got there, he reached around and put his hand on the small of my back. He pulled me even closer -- tight against his body. The moment of contact made clear we were dealing with two cocks at full staff, rubbing against one another for maximum male pleasure. I moved my hands down to his bare ass-cheeks, gripped them and then pulled them toward me – bringing his cock even closer, grinding it into mine. I heard a bit of a groan from him, which is always encouraging. I shifted my hands slightly left, then slightly right, creating additional friction. I didn’t get the feeling he had any objection. In fact, he joined in the action – first gripping my ass cheeks through my briefs, then, daringly, putting his hands under the waist-band of my briefs to grab them directly. This seemed to me to be advancing the game a bit, but I didn’t mind. I stood there enjoying the pressure of his cock as our bodies rocked and rolled together. After a short while, he said “I know I said I wanted to see you in those briefs. But now I can’t think of anything but seeing you out of them.” Well, damn – how could I resist? “Don’t be shy,” I said. “Slide them off me.” His face lit up. He moved his hands from my backside to the sides of the waistband, and began to slowly tug the mini-briefs down. He seemed to savor every individual moment, as first my pubic hair and then each inch of my cock came into view. At last he yanked them past my erect – very erect – member and pushed them to my knees. I quickly stepped out of them and stood before him nude. I thought he might grab my cock and start yanking hard, but he surprised me by using more delicate gestures – fluttering his hand gently along the shaft both top and bottom, slightly flicking my balls when he got down below. It sent a major thrill through my body. This guy really knew what he was doing. There remained, though, the fact that, for this to really work, both of us needed to be naked. “You need to take yours off, too,” I said. “I’m waiting,” was his quick response. I happily set to work. I tried to match his slow, sultry strip, lowering the G-string inch by inch, till his full cock was revealed. It wasn’t the huge cock of some centerfolds, but it was plenty enough for me. Oh, and I could now see that his tan line was quite real and well-defined; also that his bush was jet black. Since these are 1) and 1A) on my list of Things I Like When Seeing Naked Men, I was a very happy man. Even happier when we resumed our embrace, our cocks now fully unfurled and unadorned. There are a lot of things to like about man-sex, but I think the sheer pleasure of rubbing cocks together often gets short shrift. Standing there, rubbing together, grabbing one another’s asses to grind our cocks even closer -- it was hard to imagine anything that could give greater pleasure. Some people might note that at this point we could have been kissing. A lot of people would have – including me, in other circumstances. But the whole boyfriend thing wasn’t what this night was about. We were in full-on carnal adventure, and love, as Tina Turner would later more or less sing, had nothing to do with it. We let our other organs do all the communicating. I could probably have stayed in that state for hours, but at a certain point he put his mouth to my ear and whispered “I hope you don’t mind being a top.” Which eliminated any need for awkward debate. I can be versatile on occasion, but my preference has always been to top, and his agreeing to it – hell, requesting it – was one of many things that made this night feel like the luckiest ever. He indicated we should move. I thought he’d lead me to his bed, but he surprised me by angling instead toward the couch. Which seemed instantly appropriate: a couch fuck was right in line with the whole outlaw nature of the evening. He sat down on the far end of the couch. I sat next to him. He reached and ran his hand over my cock – in light strokes, the way he had before. It felt just as good. I reciprocated, and his short breaths suggested to me he enjoyed it, as well. Then, after a short while, he spread his legs apart. He reached around under my ass, and pulled me toward him. I quickly grasped he was maneuvering my body into position between his legs – a position I was happy to assume. We resumed the frottage we’d been doing standing up. It seemed to make us even harder, though I’m not sure such a thing was humanly possible at that point. Finally, he said “Are you ready to put that hot thing into me?” For a brief moment, I hesitated -- thinking, well, am I? In many situations, I’d view it as too soon. I’d expect a bit more licking and sucking and rimming; a fuller panoply of foreplay. But I looked at him, saw the desperate desire in his face, and it struck me that our foreplay had begun back there at the dirty bookstore; that we’d waited plenty long enough. That the time for fucking was now. As if mind-reading my assent, he pushed me slightly away, and moved himself into position, lying on his back across the span of the couch. He gave me a conspiratorial smile, and opened his legs wide to show what was on offer. Then he tugged on my arms, gliding me along till I was on top of him. We did a little more of the cock-rub – we just couldn’t get enough of that – but then, from the look he gave me, I knew it was time for something more serious. He lifted me up a little, and touched my cock. But his hand wasn’t just giving pleasure this time – he was applying lubricant. I didn’t see where the lube had come from, but I was delighted to receive it… especially for the delicate, sensuous way he applied it. When he’d got enough on to satisfy him, he made a move as if to put the remainder into his ass. But I gripped his hand, stopped him. I took the lube, put some on my fingers, and gently applied it around the opening of his rectum. He moaned a little – I guess I was doing it right. Then I put more on one finger, and slowly inserted it between his legs. I rubbed the lube around inside his ass. I pulled my finger out, put more lube on, then inserted two fingers and repeated the process – lubricating his insides, and hopefully providing him a bit of pleasure along the way. When I’d finished, and withdrawn both fingers, he looked at me and said “Now I’m really ready for you to fuck me.” Which, needless to say, gave my cock a jolt. I’m glad he was ready, because I sure as hell was. I put the lube down on the floor, pushed his legs a bit apart, and climbed up to mount him. Once above him, I angled my cock toward his hole. He eagerly guided me so I was right at the entrance. We were doing this together. I pushed forward slightly, and the head of my cock went just barely across the threshold. I checked to see he was okay with it; his expression said, if anything, faster! I slid in about an inch; he gasped. I withdrew. Then I pushed it in a tad further. He seemed more relaxed now. I withdrew one more time, then plunged in full force, all the way. Of course, it felt fantastic. Tight and slick and warm – all the sensations you want your cock to experience. When you haven’t had sex for a while, you forget how good it is – but once you’re back having it, it all comes flooding back. I slid in and out of him, reveling in sheer sensual pleasure. Which isn’t to say I forgot him – I kept looking at his face, to be sure he was still with me. He was. He even became slightly talkative. “That’s an amazing cock you have,” he said. “It helps being inside an amazing ass,” I tossed back. He smiled broadly. Then “You’re harder than I even thought.” “Too hard?” “No such thing.” It was, truly, heaven. I was in that place you want to stay forever because it feels so great, but you know the fact it feels so great means it’s going to reach an end before too long. I tried to put that thought out of my head; to just enjoy the moment for however long it could last. “Take a deep breath,” he said. Before I could say “What?”, I heard a snap and could smell the legendary odor of poppers. Where was he hiding all this stuff? He inhaled lustily, and I did the same. I quickly felt that familiar flush cover my body, head to toe. Which took everything to another level. It’s not as if we’d been suffering inhibition prior to this – my cock was between his legs, for Christ’s sake. But this removed our last guard-rail. We both started crying out in passion. “I want you to fuck me deeper” “Spread wider; I’ll give you every inch” “I want you to come between my legs. I want you to christen my insides” “I want you to come with me” From the look on his face, he seemed perfectly capable of the latter without anyone’s help. But I decided to pitch in anyway. I grabbed hold of his cock and started lightly stroking it, even while I continued pumping his insides. He looked almost alarmed. “You’re going to put me over the top,” he said. “That’s what I want,” I said. “I want you to shoot onto my chest.” “You have to promise to come the same time.” “That’s a promise I can keep.” It didn’t take long. I was in the last, “it’s too good/I can’t hold back” stage anyway, but when, after I'd stroked him a few more times, I saw the fluid shoot out of his cock – a drop or two actually making it to the chest target I’d set – I exploded, shouting “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had,” as my cum went off and christened his hole just, as he’d wanted. “I want you to fuck me forever,” he said back, still panting from his own orgasm. The next five minutes or so are a blank. When you’ve got that close to heaven, you lose yourself and all your surroundings. I remember more or less coming to, looking down and seeing a beatific emptiness on his face. He’d obviously been gone, too. But now he smiled – the events of the last hour flooding back. “All things considered,” I said, still a tiny bit out of breath, “I prefer you out of that underwear.” He rejoindered, “I think I like you in and out of your underwear.” “In and out”, I repeated. “That works for me on a lot of levels.” We both laughed mildly, and I rested my head back on his. That wasn’t all there was to the night. We eventually made it to the bed. We smoked a joint there, which had to have been hash or something like it, because I got blisteringly high. Which might account for the fact that we had an even longer bout of sex later…this time including sucking and rimming, and even (I can’t swear to this; maybe the hash fogged my brain) me going versatile, having him serve as top for a go-round. Whatever it was, it knocked us both out pretty good. We fell asleep totally spent. I woke up shortly before dawn. I looked over at him. The blanket had come off, and I saw the same naked body that had roused me to such feats the night before. My brain could conceive of more of the same, but my body was simply incapable of any more. Not for…well, for at least 12 hours. I got up and retrieved my street clothes from the bathroom. I headed quietly to the front door, but stopped when I saw the two pairs of purchased underwear lying on the floor. The aphrodisiacs that had set this wild night in motion. I decided I should take one with me – after all, I’d paid for it. But which should I take? The white briefs, that had fit so snugly and made me feel like an object of desire? Or the black thong, that had looked so tantalizing on him and had propelled me to such a titanic fuck? I made my decision, picked one up, headed for the door, and silently let myself out. Which did I take? That’s another thing you can decide.