Saturday, August 31, 2013

My Dick Inside You Is Like A Fingerprint

When a bottom has his head on straight, and you're a good top, your dick is like a fingerprint to that bottom.

Such was the case at the ManMeat NYC sex party I attended recently.

The area was dark. I usually don't even bother trying to play in such areas of a party because the trolls make such darkness a free-for-all, thereby becoming intrusive. To the point that one might lose their cool and become violent in defending their personal space. Anyway, I walked around anyway. And then I saw it....this familiar tattoo.

His tattoo was so unique, that I couldn't help but know it was him. You see, back when I was volunteering at the sex party at 30 Lexington, I topped him. I fucked him a couple of times, mainly doggy style. So the design of that tattoo on his incredibly shapely muscular frame in dim light was engrained in my brain.

This time however, he was playing with someone else at that moment, and as much as I wanted to touch him and refresh his memory of who I was, I took the high road most guys don't seem to take, and left him alone. And it seemed to make for good karma. For a little while later, I was walking around, and we saw each other. He was alone this time, as was I. We were both naked, and started feeling each other up. I told him a couple of times that we had met before, but he never seemed to react. Most likely because the loud music prevented him from hearing me. We felt each other's cocks and asses. He then let my hard dick slipped in between his thighs. We were then standing there simulating sex with my cock sliding back and forth between his thighs and tickling his perineum, which drove him crazy (in a good way). While doing this, I massaged his ass, which seemed to drive him even more crazy.

He then said to me, "Why not go for the real thing?"

I said, "Okay." So we went over to this nearby mat.

He then said, "Then let's get a condom, and some lube."

I said, "Got it." Because always prepared and not too keen on the condoms and lube given at sex parties, I had brought from home, packets of lube in one sock and condoms in the other.

He suddenly got down, and started sucking my already hard cock. As good as he was, this was not the amazing orifice on his body that I wanted my cock to fill. It's was his ass. So I eventually led him up, and started topping him doggy style.

His ass still felt amazing, just as it did when I fucked him at that other party. I fucked his hole and he fucked my dick for a good while with many coming over to watch. I'm surprised that I didn't shoot a load. Although I'm sure along with the creeps who I had been moving the hands of all night interrupting my flow,  the condom also played a part. I'm not complaining because in this case, I can see that a condom would help me to last longer in an amazing ass such as his. More so than if we ever had a private 1-on-1 without the sex party audience, and unwanted creep-hands. When I stopped fucking him, he asked me if I had cum. I told him I didn't, and he was happy to hear that because he said that he wanted more later. And truth is, did I.

I found myself sweating like a pig afterwards. Again, that's not a complaint. For I love sweaty sex, and I find someone cringing over it to be a sign of a lesser and inhumane idea of the human male body's reaction to sex. Anyway, I told him that I needed some air, so I got out of the groping crowd, and did my post-fucking ritual of washing off after each sex party playtime. Sex in mine or my playmate's apartment is sex I like to stay sweaty and bask in.

Later on, we ran into each other again. And we immediately started feeling each other up again. He started to ask, "Did you used to go to a party----?"

With my recalling him not hearing me before about the fact that we had met before, I interrupted continuing, "----at 30 Lexington Avenue?"

He replied, "Yes!"

I told him that I mentioned to him before that we met before, and he said that he didn't hear me as I had mentioned before figuring out. He said that he knew the way I fucked him felt familiar. This meant a lot to me since in my versatility, I've said numerous times I've always felt I was a much better bottom than top.

I went to sit in the lounge for a bit after to rest some more. When I came back, He said, "Round 2?" and I happily obliged. 

After this Round 2, we kissed and made out for a bit. He said that this time, he wanted to make sure that we exchanged numbers. This gave me a choice of doing it right then, or later. I decided on later because I felt that either one of us could easily lose the other's phone number on the paper we write it on since we were walking around naked, so the only place to put the number would have been our shoe - for both of us. So as much as it was a risk that we might miss each other again, I decide when one of us decided to leave, we'd simply just find the other one. Luckily, that worked out. I was standing around near the downstairs lounge area collecting myself when he came up to me, and told me that he was leaving soon.

I like when initiating a booty call is in either party's court. Instead, of the game-player's credo where they say, "Give me your number, and I'll text you", and they never text you, and with their overcompensating ego and power trip, they never gave you their number in the first place, and the other guy's naivete never asked. Another behavior pattern that justifies Karma making so many gay males wind up old and alone. Well, such behavior was not the case here. For when he told me he was leaving, we both went over to the bar, got pens and papers, and wrote each other's name and phone number down. Now, if we ever get around to using those numbers remains to be seen. For we both have lives outside of that party that we don't know about. But at least we made the effort to make that sexual magic happen again.

Evidently to him, my style of fucking created the chemistry that I've always felt one's style of fucking (be they top or bottom) should a fingerprint. Like no other in the world. A style where if blindfolded, that dick inside you, or ass and pussy wrapped around your dick is totally familiar.

This also dispels the racist theory of those wanting to know what a Black cock is like by sampling just one. Because it's been at least 2 years since I fooled around with this guy. He's was with other guys the night I met him, and he (like I) has had other partners. YET, my Black cock stands out in his mind. Ergo, disproving the idea that all you need to do is sample just one and you're set on knowing what Black cock is like. For there are fucking styles influenced by individual history behind each dick with Blacks just like with every other ethnicity that you run to on the regular.

So the reason this guy has a shot at another go with me is because he don't know a dick by the color of its cover. And that's a lesson many need to learn.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Fearing Chocolate - Live Debut @ Bareburger East Village

This was my live debut of this poem/song at Mike Geffner's Organic Open Mic, which is held every Tuesday at Bareburger. I might present this again at Titillating Tongues to redeem myself from the mistakes I made this 1st time, which were mainly due to last minute changes to comply with performance suggestions while still memorizing it.

Lastly, for a better backstory to this poem/song please see this promotional post on my Tumblr blog. Thank you.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Hearing Sex In Unison

The next Titillating Tongues is August 16th. So if you're in NYC, the following is what I plan on debuting and using erotica to address:

For awhile now, I have had a sexual fantasy about how to cure a lot of social angst, hypocrisy, repression, and judgment towards sexuality, as well as do away with the crabbiness we sometimes encounter from people, or see in ourselves because we are sexually tense. And with my vivid imagination, I think I found a solution....

What if we all had sex at the same time?

With that crazy idea came the poem,

This poem addresses everything from how crazy it seems for an alarm going off and everybody fucks, why it could cure a lot of social woes involving sexuality. The poem also tells how as with all feel-good things, there must be some limitations put in play. I was very careful to revealed all of those concerns, no matter how crazy and fascist they might seem. The key to this fantasy is....we all get off.

Another piece I am contemplating debuting at Titillating Tongues I might save for Mike Geffner's open mic event on Tuesday evenings. Because it's a poem/song that is more social commentary than erotica with sensuality put in. For it addresses the sexual racism I've seen in some of my outings that I'm sure is not just on the gay scene, but in straight society as well.

That poem/song is:

There are non-Blacks who have sex with Blacks, but when it comes to dating, they would never fathom the idea of dating a Black person. The reason why is because they don't want to upset their racist friends who shouldn't be their friends, or family who threaten to disown them for dating a Black person. When in actuality, if they were really worth a damn, for having such a racist attitude, if not disown, the person would most definitely distance themselves from that so-called family to some degree. Even if later on, the love of their life turns out being a color their racist relatives approve of. That racism shown before should plant a seed of distrust towards those friends and family members.

FYI - I am also talking to you non-Blacks who have propositioned me for sex with that intention. Therefore, that includes those of you where knowledge of that intention escaped me, so that proposition actually led to sex.

Well, by the end of this poem/song, it will be made clear how Karma always makes you pay for such cowardice.

What sometimes happens at Titillating Tongues is that if the list is not filled up, then previous presenters are allowed to go up again. And since doing both of these pieces in one set takes me over the allotted time, I'm reserving "Fearing Chocolate" for if I get a second chance to take to the stage. Otherwise, I'll present it at Mike Geffner's open mic event at Bareburger. Hopefully, the following Tuesday. So if you miss hearing this poem at
then try to find me at 

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Goodbye, Splash Bar!

It has been repeated all over the gay "news" websites that the NYC gay bar,
Splash is closing.

Since Splash is the place where I 1)finally faced my gayness, then 2)met the 4 guys who were part of the 5-man orgy I lost my virginity in, 3)met the first guy I dated after coming out, 4)had my 1st paid go-go dancing gig, and 5)met some of the playmates you've read about (like the the Frenchman, then the 2 Swedes), you would think I would be saddened by this news.

However, that is not the case. For that was then. Now tells a very different story that as usual, I'm going to be the one blogger honest enough to tell it like it is.

At first, I thought I saw at Splash Bar a racial acceptance that made me feel anything was possible for me. My black was seen as beautiful. Enough to make Splash Bar a place I could go to and without effort, get propositioned and/or find myself in a one-night stand, or even date. Hence how I met the 1st guy I dated after coming out to myself, Alfonso. But in just a few short years, even after going to Splash sporadically, my sexual propositions there came more and more from non-Americans, such as the Frenchman and Swedes I mentioned earlier. Meanwhile, advances from Americans became practically non-existent, except on a Blatino night. And that was usually by Black guys who looked like they just came out of an ethnic porn video, which is not my type at all. Not even a one-night stand.

The seed of racism in our community was always there growing. However, all of the incidents in the 1st 4 sentences of the previous paragraph blinded me to it. For from my first night there, I've only seen about 2 Black guys ever win Splash's Stud Search contest. Keep in mind that I've been out for 11 years now, and frequented Splash quite a bit in those 1st few years. Plus, one of those 2 guys was me just a couple of years ago. And I'm sure the only reason I won was because the light-complexioned Latino who while wearing boxers (not boxer-briefs) got louder applause and catcalls than me, dropped out of the competition.

Later on however, Splash's patronage and party promoters brought to my cultural and ethnic mecca of a hometown guys who packed in their baggage from their in-breeding hometown's racism where they wanted to live by the "White or light like me" mentality. The problem with this is that Splash along with a great many other places throughout the city accommodated this mindset. This bad pattern in gay nightlife might have started in other places, but because of my history there, Splash was my go-to place. So it's where my eyes were opened. First positively with my sexual awakening, but then negatively to the racism in the LGBT community.

Some are quick to blame phone apps and websites for bar closings. I don't believe that's necessarily so. For a great many people who are looking instead of letting life happen are alcohol and drug abusers, so they need a place like Splash, or any other bar/club to congregate. And a phone app or hook-up website is not going to cure that addiction and desperation. Plus, since misery loves company, these people need the company of many around them to soak up negative energy from their guilt and self-loathing.

Now you see why my bidding Splash farewell, along with some fond memories includes a bad percentage of "good riddance" mixed in. Well, that beats the hypocrisy of those who are flooding their Facebook pages and Twitter feeds about how sad it is that Splash is closing, but haven't been there in God knows how long for one reason or another. At least I'm keeping it real.

So so long Splash. It was a good run.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Bi-Butterfly - The Poem

As said in a post from last year, I submitted a drawing to the open submissions for Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay & Lesbian Art's exhibit, "Uncensored: Queer Art and The Church". I knew that my drawing would be a rarity by dealing with bisexuality, since biphobia is quite rampant in not just the gay community, but for American attitudes towards sexuality in general. Which is quite ironic and hypocritical since the purpose of the exhibit was to "flip the bird" to attitudes towards sexuality by the church.

What I didn't know was how rampant it was until I recently presented this poem inspired by the drawing at Titillating Tongues. It created the most lukewarm applause I had ever received. The only time I received a less enthused applause was when I was the first to take to the stage, which is understandable. But that was not the case here. I was somewhere between being the 5th or 8th presenter.

So with such an experience, why insist on presenting this poem here. Because this poem tells:
1) my bisexual fantasy; as well as 2) my bisexual truth; and 3) the truth of other bisexuals as well. Even those who have yet to come out because they don't want to deal with prejudice in some other form, like I faced that night through applause.

The hot pink of a woman’s vagina
Shows the color of flesh covered by her skin
It’s the blood rushing throughout her body
From a heat starting from within
Her clit, her nips, and all of her lips
Swell as they crave my touch and entry
Admiration of this sexual beauty
Is how the human race has thrived for centuries
Tonight as I take flight
I’ll hold her close with only my right hand
Since she is not my only pleasure passenger
I hope she understands

Sexy royal blue man held by my left hand
He is the other passenger on this ride
You would think he’s being a gentleman
Saying, “Ladies first” of who gets me inside 
But it’s his plan to have my cock drenched by her pussy juice
Which he wants when I dip in him next
His main goal is to be the cause of my cum explosion
And feel the throbs that concludes the sex
I don’t begrudge his plan
If I wanted to play “catcher”, I would do the same
But tonight I am determined to pitch
And the beauty of his ass is to blame

It’s time to dispel some theories
About my bisexual ways
This craving is not a common conflict
That haunts me all of my days
One gender is my forever love & sex
The other is just a quick sex fix
But I’m sure all of this judgment and hate
Are those wishing they were a love or trick 

You are flying with a Bi-Butterfly
And I want you both tonight
Shielded by my wings of gold and silver
From the world’s scrutiny of our flight
The light of the sun, moon, and stars
Glowing around and through my wings
Making us free to play day or night
And any time in between
There is no confusion, no lies
This openness is what makes a Bi-Butterfly fly

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