Proceed at your own risk

HAIRY BEAST

CAREFUL OR I'LL DROP THE CAMERA

HEY FELLA!

BITS AND PIECES

 

CANDLE IN THE WIND

IT'S OFFICIAL

 

It's official. I've lost my mind.  For real.  I've also just become a really annoying sex partner.  Some guys brings emotional baggage to bed, I bring my camera.

I was pretty sure that at this age I'd run the course on all potential sexual fetishes.  Again, I was wrong.  So wrong.

Take it from a man just beginning his 7th decade of life, every time you think it's over, it ain't.

I truly believed that I had exhausted the possibilities.

But truth be told, I have an insatiable imagination and a yet to be satisfied libido; and while I'm planning retirement, they're planning trouble.

Back in my more limber days, I went through a phase that involved an almost scientific study of male same-sex fetishism.   I even explored other people's fetishes always intrigued by the possibility of finding at least a kernel of arousal within myself.  Sometimes I succeeded spectacularly, sometimes the result was mediocre and sometimes it just left me cold.

One time I thought I would love it and I threw up.  Another time I thought I would throw up but I loved it.

And that brings us to the saga of simultaneous fetishes--which was the golden age of my fetish phase.

Gary T, one of New York's most successful escorts back in the mid-90s, was also known to many of his peers as the frugal hooker.  Gary lived on a subsistence level income, saving virtually every sou, peso and cent he pulled in.

   

Gary kept strict office hours, working four days a week and on Saturdays.  On work days, Gary would turn as many as seven tricks per day, many of whom were regulars. His bookkeeping and scheduling systems were worthy of Price Waterhouse.

Anyhow, it's the scheduling part you need to care about.

Gary had a five year plan, stuck to it no matter what, and today Gary runs a thriving construction business in his hometown of Dallas.  Oddly enough, Gary and I never had sex with each other.  Well, not exactly.

We met one morning in 1993 over brunch at poolside at the Raleigh Hotel in South Beach.  Equally organized and anal, we caught each other rearranging the restaurant's table settings--and for the same reason.

We were both annoyed that our friends hadn't yet dragged their asses out of bed and had turned to the relaxing art and curative powers of bringing order and balance to the ordinary world in an attempt to control our tempers.  Recognizing this family value in each other, we connected and quickly went from scowling and eating alone to laughing and eating together.  We became and remain very good friends.

As I said, Gary and I never "technically" had sex together.  However....

One night over dinner, Gary, as was his habit, shared a very intriguing story.  He had just come from one of his favorite regulars.  Gary loved this guy.  The scene required no nudity, no sex and was over in about 20 minutes.  And for it all Gary would walk away with the extraordinarily high fee of $400 (1993 dollars). We spent an hour discussing the possible origins of this particular scene or fetish. It fascinated us, but neither one of us could find anything within ourselves that allowed us to relate to the client's "need" or the source of arousal.

This frustrated me greatly because I was accustomed to looking deep within myself and always finding some tease or hint of arousal, no matter how small, that would allow me to relate to the other person's libido and the why behind almost any fetish.  This one had me stumped--and as you've likely noticed about me, I don't like stumped. I don't do well with stumped.  I need answers and I need them yesterday.

Gary would enter his client's apartment, but never further than the beginning of a very long entrance hall.  Just inside the door, Gary would find a large sack of oranges and $400 in cash.  At the other end of the hallway, about 20 feet away, the client would be standing completely naked.  Gary's job was to pelt him as hard as possible with oranges until the bag was empty, pocket the four Benjamins and leave.

   

Gary and I spent hours trying to figure this one out.  One night, the client called from the office and asked Gary if he wouldn't mind bringing the required sack of oranges himself; the client was in a rush and likely wouldn't have the time to shop for oranges.

Gary couldn't find enough oranges so he bought a bag of tangerines. The client let Gary keep the money, but canceled the session. Had to be oranges.

Somehow, this conversation led to a rather eccentric and kinky (?) plan.  Gary and I decided to explore the psychology of festishes in a rather unusual way.  In as much as possible, considering our other scheduling needs, when Gary was summoned by a client to execute some interesting fetish, he would immediately call me.  I would then hire an escort of my own to live out the exact same fetish "synchronous" with Gary and his client.  Whatever Gary was doing to his client, my escort would do the same thing to me.  And then Gary and I would compare notes on how he felt doing it and how I felt having it done to me.  Admittedly, there were some things neither one of us would do, but that was only about 10% of the time.  Over a course of almost six months, I attempted a range of fetishes, some of which I had certainly heard of but had never tired, others that were completely new to me.

I cannot express in words just how much fun this proved to be for both of us.

In an attempt to be as clinically accurate as possible in our findings, we also felt that synchronicity and simultaneity were both critical to the study protocol.  And since the frugal hooker maintained strict rules when it came to scheduling, it was reasonably possible to synchronize our orgasms despite the fact that we might be blocks apart.

I knew when I would have to cum and organized myself accordingly.  If I knew I was going to be in a situation where I couldn't control that for one reason or another, I would instruct my escort to make sure that he got me off at a very specific time.  Sometimes I would "tip" extra for this but the promised tip could only be earned if the orgasm was delivered at the appointed time, give or take a few seconds.

Having achieved orgasm, Gary and I would immediately call each other, announce that the eagles had landed and then hook up for a drink at either a bar or at one of our apartments to compare notes and explore each others libidos.

We weren't always successful of course.

There were two reasons for this.

The first was that sometimes the fetish would make me laugh and I just couldn't get aroused. Second, sometimes the fetish was so fucking hot, that I would turn off my phone and extend the session for an extra hour or two.  Gary knew when he called that if I didn't answer, the latter had occurred.

Gary and I became a little addicted to this game; and, I suppose, in a way, it became it's own fetish.  And, of course, as is the way with boys, we eventually grew bored with the game. However, to end the game with a bang, I mean a very big bang, we set a goal for ourselves.  Four way simultaneous orgasm via Verizon.

This required some degree of cooperation from Gary's client and my escort.  Both were amused and amenable.  We all agreed on a specific time, who would take the lead, who was better at "control" and then we achieved, for lack of a better sexual term, the Verizon bang.

Our speaker phones survived.

Over the years, I caught up with a few stragglers, fetishes that Gary and I had overlooked but all in all my taste for novel fetishes waned some years ago.

It's been many years since something new caught my libido by surprise.

Until this week.

So I have a new habit; I'd like to say a new hobby.  Just like stamp collecting only stickier.  Much stickier.  Word to the wise:  keep the lube far away from your digital camera.

Now this is very different from videotaped sex.  Been there, done that.  Videotapes record, in this the camera participates.

So there I am I'm doing one of my artistic photo sessions being all artsy and dignified when my model, apparently a bear loving bottom, asks me just how hairy I am under that t-shirt.

"Extremely," I respond somewhat indifferently, focused on my work.

Brandon, his name, pushes me back into the bed, yanks down my pants and in between a succession of "...yummies...me likey bears..." he ambushes my penis with his scruffy face.

I started to abandon the camera on my nightstand....but then...I thought...if embedded CNN and AP journalists in Iraq can keep the cameras rolling under fire, so can I.

It worked too well.

Now I have a new obsession--even worse than Twinkies and milk.

Brandon loved it.  I loved it.  I'm addicted.  It's official. I'm now in a menage a trois with my digital camera.  Fortunately, the camera is as gay as it's owner.  See, the evangelicals were right.  First gay marriage and now a sexual relationship with optical equipment.

This might seem simple to you. Not so.  It was hot but it was challenging.

I expect it will take many attempts before I've mastered this fetish, but based on just one session, here are my first set of top ten tips for those of you who want to try photographing your sex partner during actual sex:

1. Find someone who thinks bursts of flash lighting are erotic--in a Mr. Demille, I'm ready for my close-up kind of way.
2. Make sure you have a camera with that anti-jiggly feature.
3. Instruct your partner to aim away from the lens, please. 
4. The zoom lens is not for penetration, optically or digitally.
5. It's not the mega-pixels, it's the composition.
6. Only try this at home.
7. Keep your hands dry; Aqualube is not Nikon-friendly.
8. Expect surprise penetrations and mountings when your focus is on the LCD screen. (This is one of those moments when that anti-jiggly feature comes in handy.)
9. Beware of dogs who love to be photographed.
10. The automatic Red Eye feature does not work on cum.

I hope you've enjoyed the fruits of my first venture into this new fetish.  I expect it will take me a few more months of experimentation before I'm fully satisfied with the result.  I hope you'll be patient with me until I get it just right.

DRAGONS AND CHRYSANTHEMUMS AND BEARS, OH MY!

The Japanese are nuts.  Everyone knows that.  And nuts are unpredictable.  You never can tell what they'll say or do next.

The Japanese are also crazy for new stuff.  So are we, of course, but how we respond to novelty and how the Japanese respond to novelty is where we part company.  The Japanese see something new, they make it better.  We see something new, we crap it up.  Disagree?  The Japanese see American transistor radios and they make Sony.  We see Belgian Waffles and we make Eggo's.  I rest my case.

And now, as nuts as it may seem, the Japanese have seen gay bears and they love them.  The latest comic book craze soon be exported to our very shores from the land of Chrysanthemums and Samurai:  Gay Bear San.

I've long been fascinated by Japanese comics, specifically the gay porn ones.  For those of you unfamiliar with this fascinating genre, you're in for an odd treat because Japanese gay porn is mostly designed for a young female audience, defying the stereotype about women and porn.  American women may turn a disapproving eye on the antics of Dirk Yates and Michael Lucas, but Japanese women go crazy for Ranmaru Samejima and his boyfriend Enjoji.

With Japan's comic book industry accounting for more than 35 percent of all printed matter in the country, there are thousands of porn manga (Japanese for comic books) to enjoy.  And the raunchiest, prettiest and most intense gay porn on the printed page is "Yaoi", entirely for women.

When I was first exposed to Yaoi some years ago, I was confused.  It appeared to be gay porn but I was left cold.  Fascinated but sexually unaroused.  The graphics were charged with emotion and beauty but something critically male was missing.

Japan has a long tradition of romance and relationship-oriented manga for girls and women, and yaoi (rhymes with wowee) grew out of that. In the late 1970s and '80s girls' romance comics began to include stories where male/female romances were supplanted by a sort of idealized, platonic male/male friendship and then later a male/male romance. Although the work was created entirely by women and was serialized in women's magazines, the male/male relationships became a hit with the readership and the audience demanded more.

Why? Well the males in question were about as effeminate and nonsexualized (and therefore nonthreatening) as possible and many manga fans argue that this created a perfectly safe and balanced — although incredibly unlikely — template onto which female fans could project themselves. Relationships in Yaoi break down along hard lines of submissive ("uke") and dominant ("seme") and with women officially removed from the proceedings the female reader could project herself into either role (apparently none of these people has ever heard of a power-bottom). While the work has gotten considerably smuttier since its platonic origins the reality of gay male romance still has more-or-less nothing to do with most of the relationships depicted in these pages. The men in yaoi have often been compared to the "lesbians" in porn for straight men, there for the titillation but about as realistic as unicorns.

As many of you may know, Yaoi has been growing in popularity throughout North America since the turn of the century, and now North American Yaoi grows raunchier and more "gay" attractive drawing in growing numbers of gay male fans.

Experts in these matters point out that just three or four years ago even the most hard-core Yaoi releases were almost "decent" thanks to Japan's censorship laws which prohibit displaying the actual sex act (or, somewhat bizarrely, pubic hair). Most of these early manga suffered from points of insertion that were tastefully obscured with frustratingly placed pixilation to hide the naughty bits. Much of the material coming out of Japan was like soft-core porn, lots of rubbing around with nothing to show for it.

Luckily censors have been turning considerably blinder eyes to Yaoi production as of late, and most of the mature-rated material making its way to North America has all the hard cocks and spurting cum we've come to expect from our pornography... and, in defiance of stereotype, the female fans are eating it up, so to speak.

But with the spread of Yaoi to the Americans, the Japanese have developed a classical yen for something new.  And something new that comes this way?  Bears. Gay bears.

The next big comic book porn trend coming out of Japan is bears, cubs and daddies--the big hairy Japanese men of comics and anime (and the less-hairy men who love them) are coming out of the comics closets with manga, calendars and expensive, hard-to-find artbooks actually designed for real gay readers.

The smooth graceful Japanese queer is soon to be replaced by the bear-san.  So if you're a bear and planning your next vacation and want to immerse yourself in world where you will be worshiped like...well...like a comic book hero, wrap yourself in a kimono and get your big hairy ass over to Nippon!

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BUTT IN THE WORLD?

If you've spent more than a few days reading this blog, you very well know that two of my favorite things in life are rainbows and kittens male asses and honesty; and you also know that hypcrisy drives me insane.  In fact, if I catch myself having a moment of hypcrisy, the first thing I do is have a hot guy spank my ass.  Symetry in motion.

So you can imagine my gluteus maximus joy when I discovered that the Germans have an annual beauty pageant that focuses exclusively on the buttocks.  Male and female--but I  never mind a little sumpin sumpin for my lesbian friends.

Generally speaking I have real issues with beauty pageants in that they are obviously celebrations of lust and sexuality but are usually billed as tributes to womanhood and gay rights.  Miss America promotes itself as the representation of all that is best in the American woman; which would be true if the American woman was nothing more than tits and ass.  The Mr. Gay International competition boasts that it is tearing down gay stereotypes by parading nearly naked gym bunnies up and down a runway, some of whom are not escorts and porn stars.

On the other hand, Germans are not known for hypocrisy and are rather famous for their bluntness (like when the German leader, Angela Merkel openly expressed her disgust for George W.  Bush when he attempted to give her a hug.)

So, it comes as no surprise that a major German beauty pageant would dispense with resumes and talent contests and rather shine the spotlight on ample, bubble, muscle, appetizing butts.

The World's Best Butt competition was held just a few weeks ago in Munich.  Contestant from around the world mooned judges in every way imaginable.  The male winner was Romanian Andrei Andrei, 24 and the female winner was Kristina Dimitrova, 19, of Bulgaria.  Apparently, The Balkans are the butt capitol of the world.

The winning butts each  clenched $14,500 in cash, a modeling contract and an insurance policy for their prize-winning posterior.

A panel composed of German models and entertainers took a long, hard look at and judged the derrieres of 46 contestants from 26 countries.

Speaking in front of a bevy of photographers gathered to record the contest for posterity, Romania's victorious ass master, Andrei said he believed his victory was a credit to his wild look, a mix between "Rambo and rocker."  And in all fairness to Andrei, he may have the title of Most Beautiful Butt in the World, but his other body parts surely deserve equal recognition, admiration and attention.

Frankly, I can't imagine a competition that Andrei would not win.

The competition, held in Munich's Reithalle, was titled "Show me Your Sloggi," after the German underwear company and contest sponsor.