Weeeeeeerk!!

This is Miss Carmen Carerra, from her performance this weekend at the hot trade establishment know as Escuelita's in NYC. This is a tuck game for the GAWDS! (picture courtesy of Dlisted)

Let's hope her nuts didn't fall out like that one time when I went to Escuelita's and this drag queen was doing "Umbrella." #Nightmares

No Homo? No, Homo!

I received this picture of the brothers of Sigma. I assume we are referring to Phi Beta Sigma based on the blue boots.

The Brothers of Sigma

Now, I know some Sigmas, and baby, they don't look like this. First of all, they must have told all the fat or out-of-shape brothas to stay home.

Second get into the cakes on the one to the far right. I would bet good money that he has been passed around and gutted by at LEAST half of the other dudes in this picture. Plus he looks pissed off and you know how Mutha LOVES an angry bottom!

Third, get into the cum gutters!

And the peek-a-boo bushes!

I would bet that many of these guys would try to fight you if you suggested they were gay gay and DL unclockably gay anything but rabidly heterosexual men. Maybe they are in bizarro world, but bravo to the obviously gay stylist who convinced them to take this picture.

Dude: You sure this won't make us look gay?

Stylist: Nooooo! Women LOVE seeing a hint of bush and your cum gu... I mean your ab muscles!

Dude: Is this enough?

Stylist: No, lower, please!

Pass around party bottom Dude: But why I gotta show my ass and look mean?

Stylist: Um, that's the new style in sagging jeans, instead of showing boxers, you show skin.

Dude: You sure this ain't gay?

Stylist: Not even a little!

I love an Angry Bottom

This picture of Chris Brown turns me on waaaay more than this picture does...

The idea of breaking a brotha down and converting that anger into sexual energy. You know he would resist at first but he would be quickly cowed and before long, he would be begging for the dick or the paddle or the wax or whatever. Plus I like the blond hair!

Blackout 15

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DOWN!!!

Happy Valentine's Day

I have had someone living with me, sleeping in my bed since September 1 and I don't think most of my friends know it. In the beginning, I didn't mention it because I didn't want to jinx the relationship, but now, well, not sure why. Maybe I'll figure it out as I am writing.

I met him in August, right before my cruise. We went out and had dinner and fooled around in the backseat of my car. After my cruise, we picked up right where we left off and I was feeling good.

He was going through some roommate drama, and so I told him he could move in for a minute in September. I had the extra room so it wasn't that big a deal to me at the time, as I assumed he would be moving out by the end of October at the latest.

It's funny how much you find out about someone when you live with them. Like how another person's sleep patterns and habits can totally annoy you. Like how someone ability to be comfortable in a filthy bathroom can piss you off (it's not like I am a neat freak, but I'M SAYIN!!!). And it's funny how all the things that annoy you about a person annoy you so much more when you aren't having sex regularly.

And there we have it, I am living with a guy who likes to sleep in my bed, and who says he finds me attractive, but who doesn't like to fuck. I have not really made this a big issue because I don't want to make it seem like he has give up the ass in exchange for a roof over his head, but in a way, he does! I know if someone let me live with them totally for free, the least I could do is have sex with him regularly, with a 3-4 times weekly dick sucking as a minimum.

All kidding aside, when you aren't having regular intimacy, that builds feelings of resentment and being used, so that even on the rare (very rare) occasions when the other person wants to do it, they get pushed away. Its like, oh now that you are in the mood, I am supposed to drop everything and perform.

Anyhoo, I decided that I wasn't going to do anything for him for Valentine's or even make any mention of it to him. So far, neither has he.

Back in January, I told him, as nicely as possible, that he needed to be out by March 1. Stay tuned to this blog to see how that goes.

Happy Valentine's Day, suckas!

Remembered... Pleasure?, part two

I have started and re-written this second part of the story several times, trying to figure out how to portray the narrative. The emotions involved require more than just a straightforward telling of the facts, and yet, I don't want to gloss over the reality of the situation with beautiful words and imagery, so once again, here goes nothing...

The next day, I picked him up from a pool party the next day, ready to pick up where we left off, and he was drunk and high. He had gotten totally fucked up and was hitting on our mutual friends. He correctly interpreted my stony silence and apologized profusely. I told him in no uncertain terms that while i was totally interested in him, we could just chalk it up to a good weekend and leave it at that. He apologized.

A single, deep, long kiss in front of Eric's apartment building, an exhaled "I'm sorry, Daddy," and all was forgiven.

Another wonderful kiss, more deep sharing of confidences. A perfect cap on the weekend and as he disappeared into the airport that Tuesday, my heart was happy and full.

The following Tuesday was September 11, 2001, my second day on a new job. As I watched the first tower fall, my thoughts were of him, and how he would soon be on his way to work for a bank in a highrise in downtown Los Angeles. I called him and made him promise me that he would not go to work that day.

I guess it was 5 or 6 months later that I got a call late one evening... "Daddy? I just got gay-bashed!" He was calling me, crying, from the hospital. I did my best to console him. i told him I would fly out the next day, but he said that he would be ok. I insisted, saying that he needed someone to protect him, to watch over him. He started to get mad, yelling at me that I couldn't protect him, I was in DC and he was in LA and he was on his own. There wasn't really anything I could say.

I was too young and too infatuated and too in love with the idea of being in love to see that a long distance relationship with an tragically beautiful and emotionally needy man with Daddy issues who was living his life at a much lower price point than I was would never work. I found out that he pretty much exclusively dated thuggish, gangster-looking types, which in LA meant real gang-bangers. Although I looked mean, i am certainly not a gangster or a thug and he was used to the phsysical and emotional drama that such relationships bring. He often manufactured things to be pissed off with me about. He once called me and got mad at me because he had to masturbate because I wasn't there to fuck him when he wanted to get fucked. It was draining, but still, I hung in there.

Two straws broke the camel's back.

He called me once, his voice pregnant with guilt. "I went to a party last a couple of weeks ago. This dude was there, he kind of reminded me of you and he said I was cute. He had a limo, Daddy, and we drove around all night. I'm sorry Daddy, but now he's all up in my video!" My VERY first thought was what the fuck does all up in my video mean, but my heart knew what it meant and it was breaking. Although he didn't say it, he had almost certainly had sex with this guy, which wasn't the worst part. By mutual agreement, we had agreed not to discuss any "activities" we had been involved in to scratch that itch. What hurt was that he felt that he had to tell me about this particular one, which meant, that more than just a momentary itch was scratched.

I asked him what he meant by all up in his video and what he intended to do about it. He said he didn't know, but that he was sorry. Sorry for what, he wouldn't say. It was a couple of weeks before Valentine's day. I had already bought a ticket to visit him in LA and made all these arrangements. Two weeks later, he hit me up online and casually mentioned that he was going to Palm Springs for Valentine's Day weekend. I was FLOORED. I asked him about our plans and he said he thought I was only talking hypothetically. I reminded him that I had emailed him the confirmation. He totally blew me off. At that point I was pretty much done, even though I hung in there until that Labor Day

So much more happened than that in the two years that we were "together." What hurt the most was the realization that I was obviously more in love with him that he was with me. What did that say about me that I allowed myself to be blinded to a fact that was obvious to everyone else?

*dead*

Remembered... Pleasure?, part one

I have never written of this before because frankly it was too painful, but here goes nothing...

I met him Memorial Day Weekend 2001. I was still fresh off a weekend of whoring around and getting my life at Parliament House in Augusta, GA the previous month. He was with my friend Eric. He was wearing jeans and a sky blue jersey. He was short, brown-skinned and very very cute and he had an intensity about him that drew me in. We shook hands, the touch lingering a few seconds more than necessary for strangers meeting in a crowded room. We spoke of simple things and common interests, always managing to be near one another throughout the rest of the day.

An exhange of numbers, the promise of a date before he returned to Los Angeles...

He never called

I chalked it up to the normal flakiness of black gay men and didn't really give it any thought. Two weeks later, on a Friday, I get an IM at work: "I kicked myself every minute of the trip home for not calling you." It was him. He said he felt foolish, because he was into me from the moment I said hello. He thought it was crazy to be so into someone he had just met.

That night we talked until the battery on my cellphone died and then we talked some more until the battery on his cordless died and then, we talked some more until my cordless phone died. Somewhere during that conversation, he called me Daddy for the first time. I had always hated that word, because I felt it meant I was getting old, but falling from his lips, it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.

For the next three weeks, we were as inseparable as two people could be (who lived on opposite coasts). We revealed everything about ourselves, the good, the bad and the ugly and still wanted to know more. Plans were made. I had to reveal to him that I planned to take a trip for the 4th of July to Tennessee to meet someone I had begun chatting with before I met him. He said that was fine, after all, we were just getting to know each other.

Well it wasn't fine.

When I got back, his attitude changed. He became defensive and argumentative. He accused my of cheating on him. In short, he became a crazy bitch. Hmmm... maybe there was a reason we lived on opposite coasts. He was dismissed.

Labor Day Weekend, 2001

The mutual friend, Eric, had a little soiree at his house and had invited both of us, unbeknownst to the other. When he saw me, I saw the shock register on his face. I had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. He came up and invited me into the hallway. The door closed behind us and there we were. I reached out to touch his face, stroking the contours of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. He whispered to me, please Daddy don't, even as he moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating. We stood in silence for what must have been seconds and felt like glorious hours. And then he crossed the final barrier. He leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back and we kissed each other. I had to have him.

On the ride back to my hotel room, we spoke again of inconsequential things, trying to fill in the 2-month gap that we didn't speak to each other. He asked me if I had heard Erykah Badu's second CD, "Mama's Gun." I said no, and he replied that there was a track on it that reminded him of me...

Many nights he was alone
Many, many many nights
His light was too bright
So they turned away
And he stood alone
Every night and every day
Then he turned to me
He saw his reflection in me
Then he smiled at me
When he turned to me
And he said to me
How Good It Is!

I'm an Orange Moon
I'm brighter than before
Brighter than ever before
I'm an Orange Moon
And I shine so bright
'Cuz I reflect the light
Of my Sun
Ohhhhhhhh
I praise the day
He turned my way
And smiled at me
He gets to smile and I
I get to be Orange
Like I like to be
How Good It Is!

You're the bright light Daddy and most people don't get you, but I'm your Orange Moon and I get you.

I literally had to pull the car over for a second to catch my breath. Was I dreaming? Did I finally meet someone who actually GOT me? I looked at him and he looked at me and there was no one else in the world. He interlocked him hand with mine and kissed it. He held it tight all the way back to the hotel.

Eddie Murphy makes a joke about fucking versus making love. Now, I had fucked many men, but that night was the first night I had ever made love to someone. It was beautiful and highly erotic, intimate, passionate, wild and freaky.

The next day, on the way back into the city, he said I turned him on because I knew all the words to Jay-Z's Hey Papi. He said he liked that thuggishness. Then the DJ switched it up a little bit...

And I can't believe it's real

Can't believe it's you

Can't believe it's happening

Can't believe it's you

And I can't believe that you are here with me

And I am here with you

Kissing you

He kissed me again right before getting out of the car and heading back to Eric's apartment. I went right out and bought Mama's Gun.

(to be continued)

As they might say over at DListed.com, this made my no-no hole say yes-yes!!

Lastly I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never certainly never covered before - so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know... In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.

These are the words of the formerly AWOL Governor Stanford of South Carolina to his mistress, an Argentinian woman called "Maria." He claims he spent the last five days "crying in Argentina" with "my dear, dear friend." Time for the side-eye...

If by "crying" he meant "fucking" and if by "dear, dear friend" he meant "my good, good pussy," then yes, I would agree.

This is the same guy who as Congressman Stanford voted for President Clinton's impeachment, citing the need for "moral legitimacy." Loosk like it's not as easy to pass judgement when it's YOUR dick getting sucked.

Hypocritcal much?

Nice cakes

Lenny Kravitz and his amazing boogina!

My tongue is hard...

My Testimony

11 years and one month ago, I had a revelation...

March 26, 1998

…the time has come for me to face the truth. I am gay. Those three words have been in the back of my mind since I was 14 years old, but until today, I could never say them, even to myself. This can't simply be a stage I'm going through, because stages don't last for 13 years. This realization does not bring me any particular sense of peace or well being, but a sense of loneliness because it throws into chaos all the plans I have for my life.

I don't like going to gay clubs and standing around listening to house music all night long. I think most drag queens have deep-seated emotional issues and I would never be caught dead making a fool of myself at a gay pride parade. Gay pride is a misnomer for my life. I am neither proud nor ashamed of it. It is just who I am.

I have never felt so lonely as when I am in a room full of gay men. I feel no kinship with them. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that we have in common is our sexual desire for men (real men, not effeminate male women). Other than that I am a completely average Black male.

How did I get here? When I am honest with myself, I spent the last 13 years in a fantasy world called Soon. Soon was that completely tangible, yet totally unknown day in the not-to-distant future when this stage of my existence would end. I kept thinking it would come next week, or in a month, or next year, but definitely by the time I was 18 or 21 or 25 or 30. Until today, I was always certain that it would come. Soon.

But Soon never came and now it's time I stopped bullshitting myself. Soon hasn't shown up yet and it probably never will. What the fuck am I going to do now? Soon provided the sufficient fiction on which I based everything in my life.

I know that eventually I will come to terms with my life, my mission and my place in the world. But right now, I feel completely and utterly lost…

How far can you go down the road...

before its too late to turn back?

Chance Nalley, the man pictured above, is a 7th-grade school teacher in NYC who invited his students to hs commitment ceremony. That is a brave thing for him to do. Even better, many of his students, and their parents (largely black and hispanic) will attend. Wonderful! Oh, and Mr. Nalley identifies himself as bisexual.

(Cue record scratch) Really gurl?

Bisexuality is nothing more than a convenient waystation to gayness. It allows one to acknowledge one's admiration of the dick while proclaiming love of the pussy (at least in theory). Most so-called bisexuals are rarely seen with people of the opposite sex (hence the "in theory"). 

Well Miss Nalley (um... he has GAYFACE!!!!) is marrying a man, so why is he still calling himself bisexual. Honey, that train left a station a long time ago!

again, REALLY gurl!!!!

Hot or Not?

If you put your thumb over his face, 

he is definitely fuckable. 

Thank Gawd for doggy-style and paper bags.

As for this dude, i would fuck him until he vomits! 

It's the eyes!

EX-Masturbator

This is the mos ridiculous shit I have ever seen or heard of.

What the hell is being delivered from the bondage of masturbation? There is NO SUCH THING!!! There is nothing wrong with masturbation. The only situation I can imagine where one might be in bondage to masturbation is if you can't stop doing it, or if you do it at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. Even then, the problem is sexual compulsion and not the act itself.

I am disgusted by the fact that this group is wrapping itself in hip hop vernacular in an attempt to be cool. Masturbation is a perfectly natural expression of human sexuality. Just because one doesn't shout about it from the rooftops doesn't mean it's bad or wrong. We don't all talk about our bowle movements, but there is nothing wrong with having them.

And speaking of bondage, the narrator needs to be delivered from bad grammar.

We must deliver ourselves from the bondage of ignorance.

Remembered Pleasure II

My house burned down on Valentine's day, 2000. The effects of that night still linger with me to this day, but that is the subject of another post.

Valentine's Day 2000 was a Monday, so that Tuesday, a good friend of mine took me to a club called Wet. Those of you familiar with DC from back in the day know all about Wet, but for the newbies: Wet was a gay strip club that consisted of a u-shaped bar with showers at the back. At the time, strippers could be COMPLETELY naked (good times...). Tuesday was black night, so it was full of wannabe thugs, butch queens and not-so-butch queens, DL brothas and gurls who called themselves DL, but were betrayed by arched eyebrows and clear lacquered nails and of course, regular, upstanding citizens like me. The place screamed with sexual energy and many a frustrated brotha made the short journey from the Wet, down a few blocks to Glorious Health and Amusements (affectionately known as The Glory Hole) for relief. Of course, as a Christian woman, I never made that journey more than once or twice a month.

Sadly, all of that is gone now, replaced by a baseball stadium and office buildings. In fact the building I work in sits on top of what used to be Tracks. Anyhoo...

It was into this warm, dark and moist space, full of sexual possibilities, that I was dragged the day after Valentine's Day. I could still smell the smoke and when I closed my eyes, I could hear my father's screams (He survived and is fine now). I posted up in the corner with a cocktail, paying the whole situation DUST. Gradually I became aware of a brotha giving me the eye, so I gave as good as I got.

He was short, about 5'-6" (Me likey!), clear dark chocolate brown skin, beautiful lips and eyelashes so long they almost looked fake. His approach was at once submissive and aggressive and I was instantly turned on. We chatted for the rest of the night as he told me his life story. He had just gotten out of the Army and was here in DC trying to decide what to do next. He had a habit of standing inside my personal space which I found intoxicating.

Since I was staying in a hotel with my sister, we arranged to meet the next night. We had dinner and some really good convo. He was sympathetic to my situation without making me feel pitied. He was submissive to my wants and desires, but aggressive in keeping the objective of where we would end up clearly on the table. As we drove back to the hotel, he stroked my hand and believe me, a brotha was feeling it.

We couldn't go back to my room, so he got another room in the hotel and wouldn't you know it, we ended up right next door. My sister was asleep on the other side of the wall. That did not stop us from working that room out.

Out of his clothes, he was muscular tank of a man, just hairy enough to run your fingers through. He was a great kisser, hell he was good with his mouth everywhere, and I do mean EVERYWHERE. Everything about him turned me on, especially the way he reacted whenever I touched his ass. I would stroke his hairy asscheeks with my fingers and he would moan in pleasure, so you can only imagine what happened when I fingered him. When I was eating him out, I had to make him bury his face in the pillow to keep from making too much noise (lest we forget my sleeping sister in the next room).

At some point, I had licked and fingered him until he couldn't stand it anymore. He looked back at me over his shoulder and said, "I wanna feel you inside of me." Baby, I almost came right then and there. I fucked that boy all over that hotel room; on the bed, on the dresser, in the shower, on the floor. We went through 8 condoms over the next day. And once again, we broke the headboard. That's how you know you are doing it right!

As I left him the next morning, I was floating on air despite my situation. Despite the death of my mother, my house burning down and my father ending up in the burn unit, all I could think about was that I had met someone who could be THE ONE.

Well, gentle readers, as Anita Baker once sang...

My story ends, as stories do,
Reality steps into view.
No longer living life in paradise,
Or fairy tales

I came back to the hotel room that night, to find THE ONE in bed with 3 other dudes and he wanted me to join in. The man, this beautiful man, whom I thought was THE ONE, turned out not be so exceptional after all. He was a beautiful, but common, whore. I won't lie, I was crushed for almost six months a hot minute, but I got over it.

After feeling what I was feeling, I couldn't participate in that 5-way, but time allowed me to see that I was in a very vulnerable space when I met him, so I let it go and we became good friends. That didn't stop me from feeling a little smug satisfaction when I found out several years later that he got fired from his job and Ben and Jerry's for whoring.

It seems he had a habit of picking up trade from the bar and bringing them back to the shop where he worked for a little cream-making of his own. One of the queens who worked in the shop tried to hit on him and when he was rejected, reported him to management. He was caught, in flagrante delicto, and fired on the spot.

*Dead* Inside

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Remembered Pleasure I

The other day, I was at work, chatting with a friend and we were discussing great sex. The conversation of course caused me to reflect back on the best sex I ever had and to shudder with remembered pleasure...

In September 2000, I was on vacation in Los Angeles. I was supposed to meet this guy I had been chatting with for a couple of months. From our conversation, it was clear that we were going to do it, but I was not prepared for the intensity.

He arrived 4 hours late and although I was pissed, we still went out. He took me to the Santa Monica pier and we walked all around. The stars were out and I think it was a full moon. We were walking along the water's edge and suddenly the moment became very romantic. We kissed under the stars, right there on the beach in Santa Monica, in front of God and everyone.

I was staying at a shitty little EconoLodge back in downtown LA and we headed back there as fast as we could. Back in my room, we explored each others bodies and he shivered every time i touched him. When I first started playing with his ass, he shreiked and put a pillow in his mouth to keep from screaming to loud. He was a great kisser and loved straddling me so he could kiss my lips and neck while I fingered him. That only made me want him even more. He produced alot of lubrication (the kids call is santorum now, after the anti-gay senator), so much so that the bed was literally soaked. I didnt have to use any lube when I fucked him.

Entering him for the first time was like putting on a pair of tight gloves. He started crying and I thought I had hurt him, but he told me he sometimes cried when it felt really good. We fucked all over that room, in every position. When the sensation got too much for him he would collapse under me, a problem I solved by making him kneel in a chair so he couldn't get away. I fucked him for so long in that chair that my leg got numb. His screams got so loud at one point that the manager knocked on the door because of complaints. We even knocked the headboard off the wall.

We spent the whole week together, fucking in the hotel room, at his aunt's house, foolling around in my rental car and at the Griffith Observatory. It was more than just sex though, we had a really good time in each other's company. He was smart and funny and literate and if we lived on the same coast, we both knew that we would be together. We were logical though, and knew that we had to enjoy it while it lasted.

And so it was, that in the summer of my 29th year, that I experienced my first, and so far only, summer love affair.