I've seen Mindtrip in action at a famous and notorious house party in Silver Lake, and sadly I was not among those he fucked that night. I mean the dude fucks just about anything that moves, and that's why we love him and are interested in what he's up to. Now then, an Xtube contributor has posted a motel hookup starring himself and...our great Mindtrip. Check out 'anon hotel cumdump' posted by a white, almost twink type kid who calls himself the_cumdump, and you'll see Mindtrip at his serious fuckin' best. Mindtrip has also posted a video of his own on Rawtop's website in the Naughty Fuckers free video section...and under 'amateur videos.' He calls it 'Pozzing in a Hotel,' and there's actual poz talk ('infection,' 'poz load') as he nails another white piece of ass. This of course is absolutely verboten in the 'mainstream' bareback porn business, although Treasure Island Media comes closer with each year. But so far, as far as I know, Mindtrip is the only guy who's actually done it. I told you he was a no-bullshit kind of guy. Mindtrip, we love you.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Popular Blogger Turns Up on Xtube Fucking Ass
I suspect that I am not the only reader lamenting the departure of Life in the Raw, one of the best barebacking blogs ever. Blogger Mindtrip revealed his sexual adventures as a top, nailing butt from one end of LA to the other. His presentation was opinionated and direct, presented with a no-bullshit attitude. He seems to have pretty catholic tastes...pornstars, escorts, daddies, collegiates, disco queens, muscle men, all 'ethnics' and many generic hookups...he fucked them all. His postings were regular and frequent, and then, I guess, it all become a big bore or maybe something more interesting came his way: Life In the Raw is no more, or I could be wrong; but if it's somewhere and somebody out there knows, please let me know.
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Fake Cum Creampie
I am well aware and if you are not so aware, you are about to become aware, that what we see sometimes in porn...is...an illusion. Up until the 1990's, there were a lot of video tricks used, especially in mainstream straight porn. I'm not talking about the strategic crossing of legs, 'invisible' condoms or 'precautions,' an injection of lube treated with nonoxynol-9 to minimize the transmission of HIV. I'm taking about phony cum.
Sometimes its application is pretty obvious, when a creamy flow of seed is emitted in a torrent akin to a malfunctioning softserve dispenser. An early Dick Wadd video comes to mind. But that's what happens when a director resorts to video tricks; that pina colada mix used to simulate semen has to be just right, or it gets just plain comical.
But I myself had to resort to a video trick last week when while attending a sex party at a Palm Springs gay resort, I discovered I had forgotten my lube. Actually, the bottle had slipped out of my pocket and was safe in my car. I trolled around the place but couldn't find anybody else's lube where to borrow from. Most of my fellow bareback bottoms are pretty earthy and we don't mind sharing...cum, piss, viagra, poppers...lube. But I was the only bottom among the tribe of swingin' dick tops. I finally settled on some SoftSoap that I found in the john. I was afraid it might sting once in my ass, but it did not. So I lubed up with the SoftSoap and returned to the play room to get fucked, and get fucked I did.
Three or four daddies fucked this hot poz ass, a couple I knew from before, and they, too, are certifiably HIV-positive. One silver daddy plowed deep and hard, with a fierce fuck and sloshy sound effects raising audible comments like 'what a creampie' from a crowd of men taking in the action. This was turning into a loud, squishy affair, made final by a spectacular orgasm with grunts and more squish. I was milking that poz cock for all it was worth, and then silver daddy resumed fucking, pushing his toxic contribution deep into my basement. He was't the only top there into creampies. Other tops followed, turning my mancunt into a messy, cummy toxic stewpot. Hey, I wasn't about to tell anybody it was SoftSoap that got the whole thing started. Now anybody who reads this post knows the real story.
Sometimes its application is pretty obvious, when a creamy flow of seed is emitted in a torrent akin to a malfunctioning softserve dispenser. An early Dick Wadd video comes to mind. But that's what happens when a director resorts to video tricks; that pina colada mix used to simulate semen has to be just right, or it gets just plain comical.
But I myself had to resort to a video trick last week when while attending a sex party at a Palm Springs gay resort, I discovered I had forgotten my lube. Actually, the bottle had slipped out of my pocket and was safe in my car. I trolled around the place but couldn't find anybody else's lube where to borrow from. Most of my fellow bareback bottoms are pretty earthy and we don't mind sharing...cum, piss, viagra, poppers...lube. But I was the only bottom among the tribe of swingin' dick tops. I finally settled on some SoftSoap that I found in the john. I was afraid it might sting once in my ass, but it did not. So I lubed up with the SoftSoap and returned to the play room to get fucked, and get fucked I did.
Three or four daddies fucked this hot poz ass, a couple I knew from before, and they, too, are certifiably HIV-positive. One silver daddy plowed deep and hard, with a fierce fuck and sloshy sound effects raising audible comments like 'what a creampie' from a crowd of men taking in the action. This was turning into a loud, squishy affair, made final by a spectacular orgasm with grunts and more squish. I was milking that poz cock for all it was worth, and then silver daddy resumed fucking, pushing his toxic contribution deep into my basement. He was't the only top there into creampies. Other tops followed, turning my mancunt into a messy, cummy toxic stewpot. Hey, I wasn't about to tell anybody it was SoftSoap that got the whole thing started. Now anybody who reads this post knows the real story.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Death of a Sweater Queen
Tooling around Palm Springs on a winter Saturday, it is impossible to avoid garage sales. Now there are garage sales and then there are garage sales. In resort towns with a high proportion of senior citizens, folks are checking out by the dozens every day. Their real estate turns, and their heirs must decide what to do with a lifetime's acquisitions. Estate sales are even better as they are usually operated by hired professionals and the whole house is accessible with every little thing tagged for sale...little thing as in ashtrays and candy dishes. In affluent neighborhoods of gay Palm Springs, an estate sale affords the rare opportunity to enter an impressive, exclusive residence, steeped in history and style. I'm sure this is also true of Palm Beach, Fort Lauderdale and the Hamptons.
After you've been to a few of these estate sales in Palm Springs, all those bits of information you've absorbed over the years of your gay life must be reconsidered, such as:
All gays have good taste. So-o-o untrue. Just check out the next gay estate sale. Pity.
Palm Springs is a suburb of Los Angeles. I will admit there is a lingering association with Hollywood, but we all have to work harder to keep it alive. All the great things to love about Old Hollywood are getting lost amid the trashwave of Khardashians, Miley Cyrus and media types I read about yesterday whose names I've already forgotten. Gays must keep the appreciation of Hollywood alive. If not us, who else? That big gross butt-ugly statue of Marilyn in the heart of downtown takes us in a wrong direction.
Palm Springs is the City of GODS, or rather Gays on Disability and Steroids. So untrue. Most are retirees who spent much of their gay lives hiding who they are, and are now getting to enjoy life. Many are living off investments and savings of a lifetime, and they worked hard to get where they are.
Gays are good at real estate. Maybe better than everybody else, but we're now spending too much money on safe real estate investments. The pioneering spirit in real estate that basically rebuilt San Francisco, and is working its stuff in parts of Los Angeles, Oakland and Sacramento, has been put to bed in Palm Springs. Maybe Palm Springs has already been saved by the guys who started buying up those midcentury tract houses back in the '90's. Now people, wanting in, are paying too much.
Gays collect more sweaters than anybody else. This must be a cultural thing. When I was a kid there was such a thing as a sweater bar, where well-groomed professional types could meet hustlers in a safe, discreet environment. I can't think of any such place now except for maybe the Town House in New York City. The places were usually very dark, playing show tunes and never rock or disco, and everybody knew each other, including the hookers. I was afraid to go into a sweater bar because everybody there was supposed to be cliquey and snotty, but then I started hitting the old Yerba Buena Village on Nob Hill and the Alta Plaza in Pacific Heights and made some friendships that have lasted to this day. I went to Macy's and bought a black cashmere sweater...but only one and that was it. The estate sale that brought all this back was in Palm Springs last month. Everything the Departed had owned was up for grabs and I knew he had to have been an elderly gent, as in, old enough to be my gay uncle and frequent sweater bars. Sweaters....galore! Sweaters not just for the Town House, but sweaters for hiking, fishing, gardening and sitting by the fire. Italian cashmere sweaters, Scottish wool sweaters, Greek fisherman's sweaters. Some very expensive, some not so. In every color. Enough sweaters to fill two department store style racks. It was wonderful to see this...a sweater queen exiting in a blaze of glory.
After you've been to a few of these estate sales in Palm Springs, all those bits of information you've absorbed over the years of your gay life must be reconsidered, such as:
All gays have good taste. So-o-o untrue. Just check out the next gay estate sale. Pity.
Palm Springs is a suburb of Los Angeles. I will admit there is a lingering association with Hollywood, but we all have to work harder to keep it alive. All the great things to love about Old Hollywood are getting lost amid the trashwave of Khardashians, Miley Cyrus and media types I read about yesterday whose names I've already forgotten. Gays must keep the appreciation of Hollywood alive. If not us, who else? That big gross butt-ugly statue of Marilyn in the heart of downtown takes us in a wrong direction.
Palm Springs is the City of GODS, or rather Gays on Disability and Steroids. So untrue. Most are retirees who spent much of their gay lives hiding who they are, and are now getting to enjoy life. Many are living off investments and savings of a lifetime, and they worked hard to get where they are.
Gays are good at real estate. Maybe better than everybody else, but we're now spending too much money on safe real estate investments. The pioneering spirit in real estate that basically rebuilt San Francisco, and is working its stuff in parts of Los Angeles, Oakland and Sacramento, has been put to bed in Palm Springs. Maybe Palm Springs has already been saved by the guys who started buying up those midcentury tract houses back in the '90's. Now people, wanting in, are paying too much.
Gays collect more sweaters than anybody else. This must be a cultural thing. When I was a kid there was such a thing as a sweater bar, where well-groomed professional types could meet hustlers in a safe, discreet environment. I can't think of any such place now except for maybe the Town House in New York City. The places were usually very dark, playing show tunes and never rock or disco, and everybody knew each other, including the hookers. I was afraid to go into a sweater bar because everybody there was supposed to be cliquey and snotty, but then I started hitting the old Yerba Buena Village on Nob Hill and the Alta Plaza in Pacific Heights and made some friendships that have lasted to this day. I went to Macy's and bought a black cashmere sweater...but only one and that was it. The estate sale that brought all this back was in Palm Springs last month. Everything the Departed had owned was up for grabs and I knew he had to have been an elderly gent, as in, old enough to be my gay uncle and frequent sweater bars. Sweaters....galore! Sweaters not just for the Town House, but sweaters for hiking, fishing, gardening and sitting by the fire. Italian cashmere sweaters, Scottish wool sweaters, Greek fisherman's sweaters. Some very expensive, some not so. In every color. Enough sweaters to fill two department store style racks. It was wonderful to see this...a sweater queen exiting in a blaze of glory.
Friday, December 6, 2013
In Praise of Vann Williams: Hottest Black Bottom Ever
I wouldn't be so silly as to declare any one bottom as the greatest of all time. There are a great many hot bottoms who have since retired from the business, and some who have also departed forever to that great porn studio in the sky, who still and will continue to delight millions well into the future, thanks to a fabulous and wonderful technology that is now largely taken for granted. A hot bottom is a joy forever. Jon King...we salute you..and will never forget you.
But in the fantasy that is porn there is one unwritten law; all hung black porn stars are tops. Investigate the record of hits on the internet searching for black tops/white bottoms and you will find numbers that trend to infinity. White tops on black bottoms...uhm...let me get back to you. Such is the mystique of black dick, so deeply ingrained into western Euroamericana psychosis, compounded by racialism and wishful thinking. Talented black bottoms are getting fucked and giving pleasure every hour of the day and it's mostly under the radar. That's all the more reason to call out Mr. Vann Williams, one of Black Breeders' super talented porn stars, functioning mostly as a bottom, and taking load after load of black cum. You can check out this manly, bearded stud on the Black Breeders website, and for you cheapass mutherfuckas, Black Breeders posts its generous teasers (usually 1min59 sec in duration) on Xtube. If there's another built, bubbled butt, masculine black bottom taking miles of thick black dick, I've yet to see him. Until then, Mr. Vann is the man.
But in the fantasy that is porn there is one unwritten law; all hung black porn stars are tops. Investigate the record of hits on the internet searching for black tops/white bottoms and you will find numbers that trend to infinity. White tops on black bottoms...uhm...let me get back to you. Such is the mystique of black dick, so deeply ingrained into western Euroamericana psychosis, compounded by racialism and wishful thinking. Talented black bottoms are getting fucked and giving pleasure every hour of the day and it's mostly under the radar. That's all the more reason to call out Mr. Vann Williams, one of Black Breeders' super talented porn stars, functioning mostly as a bottom, and taking load after load of black cum. You can check out this manly, bearded stud on the Black Breeders website, and for you cheapass mutherfuckas, Black Breeders posts its generous teasers (usually 1min59 sec in duration) on Xtube. If there's another built, bubbled butt, masculine black bottom taking miles of thick black dick, I've yet to see him. Until then, Mr. Vann is the man.
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