I'm a quick sketch; I'm in the Civic Center Motor Lodge for another sexual encounter, fisting this time and I can see right away that my job is to hold steady while these two possessed sex-driven crazy ass bottoms ride my arms in some bronco busting action that keeps me, a top...the top...in a suspended, awed state of submission. Don't talk to me about power bottoms. This is beyond power bottoms...this is uncharted territory for me, and frankly, gents, there are times where I can get a little scared...maybe this would be one of them.
Take a straight-looking businessman by day, and put him in a fabulously old school, semi-seedy motel just blocks from the very grand San Francisco City Hall, and you might guess that he'd take my extended arm all the way to the elbow in one sleazy slide and then work his hole like a pumperjack. A stocky guy but graceful with each stroke, all the way in, and then he'd let up, until very nearly out. I'm on the bed and on my back...this is the maybe only way this can be done, and by the way, the view is great.
Meanwhile, on my other arm is another power bottom whose approach is totally different...how about a hole that sucks up an arm like a python sucks up an alligator? Ah, slowly but firmly, completely, finally,silently. The hardest job was giving each man his due, these two different styles could make an unwieldy chariot, but I think I did OK. I'm so lookin' forward to the next time. And by the way, anybody out there the wee bit interested, you can find out more about me on Asspig, or Barebackrt, or Adam4Adam (San Francisco/Civic Center)...just start with billytwee. Any pair of bottoms wanting a chariot ride, now knows how to find out more.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Ryan Cummings: Multi-Cumming Man Cunt Star Needs His Close-Up
Xtube, video performer and producer Ryan Cummings is a freak. In a good way, of course...at least, I want to think so. Ryan's manpussy is blessed (?) by an extraordinary quantity of nerve endings along those sugar walls resulting in waves of multiple orgasms that keep this handsome dude on the edge throughout the most ordinary of fuckings. There is no reason to doubt him; you can see for yourself as he's posted some generous clips on Xtube; just start with ryancummings. His blessing or curse - and I say 'curse' because I doubt many of us could survive such pleasure - must be something similar to vaginal orgasms, which I have heard described as waves, or ripples of orgasms, an ebbing and flowing but continuous sensation. Quite different from a spurting moneyshot.
Ryan is a Superstar in the making, and he needs only a better outlet. He has done some work for Bad Seed Media, including a video of his gangbang at a recent IML, but I can't locate a supposed dvd version, and since I can't find it, I'd like to communicate with anybody who has. Ryan's also done some work through other channels, performing separately with poz faves Jessy Karson and Logan Stevens in a flip scene. Another xtube contributor, KidSatyr, the former Mindspring of googleblogspot, has uploaded his two scenes with Ryan, with a poz injection and buttloads of cum.
I suspect Ryan wants to call his own shots, but if he can work something out with Treasure Island Media or SlutMachine, this guy could become really...uhm...famous. I haven't met this high flying Canadian - he is also known as flyinryan, but we've chatted and he sounds like a nice, serious guy. As for that IML video (or was it MAL?), I'm still lookin'.
Ryan is a Superstar in the making, and he needs only a better outlet. He has done some work for Bad Seed Media, including a video of his gangbang at a recent IML, but I can't locate a supposed dvd version, and since I can't find it, I'd like to communicate with anybody who has. Ryan's also done some work through other channels, performing separately with poz faves Jessy Karson and Logan Stevens in a flip scene. Another xtube contributor, KidSatyr, the former Mindspring of googleblogspot, has uploaded his two scenes with Ryan, with a poz injection and buttloads of cum.
I suspect Ryan wants to call his own shots, but if he can work something out with Treasure Island Media or SlutMachine, this guy could become really...uhm...famous. I haven't met this high flying Canadian - he is also known as flyinryan, but we've chatted and he sounds like a nice, serious guy. As for that IML video (or was it MAL?), I'm still lookin'.
Friday, May 8, 2015
What Blatino Oasis Is Not
It just so happened that I was in Palm Springs the same weekend as Blatino Oasis, so naturally I went down valley to the Cathedral City Boys Club to check it out. I had seen videos on xtube that made it look irresistible to me: scores of handsome black men, appropriately scantily garbed, lotsa drinks, laughs, strip shows, live sex shows and dj's around the clock...the relentless hot sun of the desert...what's not to like? Actually, I was looking forward to what went on after the sun went down.
Now I know: not much. If you, like me, were expecting some sort of back room you'd find at The Black Party, a situation where no hole goes unplugged, you'd be as disappointed as I am. No such thing at the Blatino Oasis I was at.
The set-up at CCBC is a cluster of small cabins, each one easily accessible to the next, that seems to encourage all those looky-loos who just go from one to the next, door slamming, and similar heads poking around, those voyaging voyeurs. One cute white boy legs up in the sling was totally ignored for more than hour. I oughta know: I was in the sling opposite the whole time. I stayed a little longer and I was as good as ignored, a couple of buttslaps and some finger probes, but no black cock interested in slamming one of the biggest holes in the desert.
The crowd that Sunday morning (I checked in around 1:30) was young, social and into silly playacting...without any real black studs into fucking.
My suggestion to CCBC: turn down the lights, way too much light in those sexshacks.
Now I know: not much. If you, like me, were expecting some sort of back room you'd find at The Black Party, a situation where no hole goes unplugged, you'd be as disappointed as I am. No such thing at the Blatino Oasis I was at.
The set-up at CCBC is a cluster of small cabins, each one easily accessible to the next, that seems to encourage all those looky-loos who just go from one to the next, door slamming, and similar heads poking around, those voyaging voyeurs. One cute white boy legs up in the sling was totally ignored for more than hour. I oughta know: I was in the sling opposite the whole time. I stayed a little longer and I was as good as ignored, a couple of buttslaps and some finger probes, but no black cock interested in slamming one of the biggest holes in the desert.
The crowd that Sunday morning (I checked in around 1:30) was young, social and into silly playacting...without any real black studs into fucking.
My suggestion to CCBC: turn down the lights, way too much light in those sexshacks.
Monday, May 4, 2015
Back Alley Blowjob for Chump Change
I'm not a great cocksucker. I don't live to suck cock although I respect those men who need to suck cock, especially those so driven that they jeopardize reputation, family and career to suck cock. The media pages are jammed with Republican cocksuckers self-destructing over the promise of dick. But speaking for myself, I'm not one to prowl the streets looking for cock.
But -
when a slender latin, standing between two parked cars in one those dark side alleys of San Francisco, waves an erect dick in your direction, and it's 6 a.m. and no one else around, does one have to think for an instant about what to do?
I'm not a great cocksucker. I don't know how to suck cock all that well because I've never cared all that much about it, being the analist that I am. But I did adapt right off to this guy's style, which is to thrust violently. The cocksucker's job in this case is to keep his own teeth out of the way.
Thrust, thrust, thrust, shove, shove, in and out. Strong, blunt, fast. Then-
jingle, jingle, jingle. Yeah, the fucker's pockets were full of loose change, and it was jangling with every thrust.
Thrust, slam, boff, in and out. Jingle, jingle, jingle. Yeah, it was hard not to laugh, which would have been impossible anyway since my mouth was full of hot latin dick, Then-
there was a streaking flash of a car's headlights as it slowly trolled the alley. Golden boy lost it all, the bravado and the erection. He zipped up and beat it into the shadows. In a New York minute.
An old Monte Carlo rolled past and turned at the corner.
No cum shot here.
Looking down on the pavement, I saw the remains: quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies all scattered about, fucked out of his pockets, I guess. Well, hell, I scooped them all up: $1.79.
$1.79, not much...Even the trannies in split hot pants do better than that. End of discussion: I'm the makes me the cheapest whore in San Francisco. The Buck Seventy Nine Whore.
But -
when a slender latin, standing between two parked cars in one those dark side alleys of San Francisco, waves an erect dick in your direction, and it's 6 a.m. and no one else around, does one have to think for an instant about what to do?
I'm not a great cocksucker. I don't know how to suck cock all that well because I've never cared all that much about it, being the analist that I am. But I did adapt right off to this guy's style, which is to thrust violently. The cocksucker's job in this case is to keep his own teeth out of the way.
Thrust, thrust, thrust, shove, shove, in and out. Strong, blunt, fast. Then-
jingle, jingle, jingle. Yeah, the fucker's pockets were full of loose change, and it was jangling with every thrust.
Thrust, slam, boff, in and out. Jingle, jingle, jingle. Yeah, it was hard not to laugh, which would have been impossible anyway since my mouth was full of hot latin dick, Then-
there was a streaking flash of a car's headlights as it slowly trolled the alley. Golden boy lost it all, the bravado and the erection. He zipped up and beat it into the shadows. In a New York minute.
An old Monte Carlo rolled past and turned at the corner.
No cum shot here.
Looking down on the pavement, I saw the remains: quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies all scattered about, fucked out of his pockets, I guess. Well, hell, I scooped them all up: $1.79.
$1.79, not much...Even the trannies in split hot pants do better than that. End of discussion: I'm the makes me the cheapest whore in San Francisco. The Buck Seventy Nine Whore.
Friday, April 24, 2015
Billy Twee's House of Sin
Here's an apology to all you guys, who have diligently read my posts, for the lengthy intermission since my last contribution to this blog. No, I was not in the hospital, nor was I in jail. Here's what's been going on: I've been completely immersed in real estate transactions; selling properties, paying off all my bills, taking care of other fiscal obligations. Then there was the process of finding a place where I could someday retire, but that meant a place that wasn't going to eat up my last dollar. And then, get a new loan. And then, etc., etc., etc. It took some doin' but the deal closed!
Well, Billy Twee has found his place in the sun, quite literally...in the Colorado Desert, the Coachella Valley of Southern California, where the days are hot and the nights are warm, most of the year. Yeah, I've finally bought the place in Palm Springs, something I've wanted ever since I hit the bareback party circuit masterminded by John Singleton and the late Bill Gardner of Hot Desert Knights...ah, going back 15 years. Yes, indeed, it was April of 2000 when I first had this dream.
You latter-day-sinners wouldn't believe those parties. It was an airplane hanger-sized venue, with heavy black ceiling-to floor draperies (were they leather? I can't recall) closing off play areas, a row of 6 or 7 slings, a fuck bench or two, cages, and a St. Andrew's cross (why St. Andrew, I've gotta ask...what happened to him? the Romans must have flogged him), a piss area with a couple of old tubs and a massive leather upholstered raised platform for hot fucking that could be observed at standing eye level. And most important, appropriate lighting, with just the right amount of shade and shadow. My first time, I had the time of my life, taking pornstar dick - the HDK studs were usually there, that's how local the bareback scene was in those days - and experimenting with a teensy bit of crystal (me, maybe the pornstars, too). I was so stoked after this night of raunchy sex, I got into my car...it was about 4 a.m. and they were kicking us out...and drove the 400 plus miles to San Francisco straightaway, all the while thinking I gotta get a piece of this and I think I can!
Well, it took a while, but I've done it, not that I could ever replicate those hot desert (k)nights...but I can try. For once in my life, I have room, I have privacy, and I have the wherewithal, the friends and contacts, and the media, and at least for now, the physical capacity. And for the first time ever, ever, I can host at will.
So watch this space because I intend to host fisting parties, escorts, outdoor fucking in the hot, dry night under that incredible desert sky, and most important, I'm gonna give back to all the friends in Palm Springs, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento, Las Vegas, New York and Florida who have been so nice to me over the years.
You guys gotta understand, now I can be as loud and as messy as I want, and so can you!
Well, Billy Twee has found his place in the sun, quite literally...in the Colorado Desert, the Coachella Valley of Southern California, where the days are hot and the nights are warm, most of the year. Yeah, I've finally bought the place in Palm Springs, something I've wanted ever since I hit the bareback party circuit masterminded by John Singleton and the late Bill Gardner of Hot Desert Knights...ah, going back 15 years. Yes, indeed, it was April of 2000 when I first had this dream.
You latter-day-sinners wouldn't believe those parties. It was an airplane hanger-sized venue, with heavy black ceiling-to floor draperies (were they leather? I can't recall) closing off play areas, a row of 6 or 7 slings, a fuck bench or two, cages, and a St. Andrew's cross (why St. Andrew, I've gotta ask...what happened to him? the Romans must have flogged him), a piss area with a couple of old tubs and a massive leather upholstered raised platform for hot fucking that could be observed at standing eye level. And most important, appropriate lighting, with just the right amount of shade and shadow. My first time, I had the time of my life, taking pornstar dick - the HDK studs were usually there, that's how local the bareback scene was in those days - and experimenting with a teensy bit of crystal (me, maybe the pornstars, too). I was so stoked after this night of raunchy sex, I got into my car...it was about 4 a.m. and they were kicking us out...and drove the 400 plus miles to San Francisco straightaway, all the while thinking I gotta get a piece of this and I think I can!
Well, it took a while, but I've done it, not that I could ever replicate those hot desert (k)nights...but I can try. For once in my life, I have room, I have privacy, and I have the wherewithal, the friends and contacts, and the media, and at least for now, the physical capacity. And for the first time ever, ever, I can host at will.
So watch this space because I intend to host fisting parties, escorts, outdoor fucking in the hot, dry night under that incredible desert sky, and most important, I'm gonna give back to all the friends in Palm Springs, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento, Las Vegas, New York and Florida who have been so nice to me over the years.
You guys gotta understand, now I can be as loud and as messy as I want, and so can you!
Monday, February 2, 2015
Hardass: Fisting Top Humbled
I had played with this durable fisting bottom years ago. This weekend, thanks to Asspig, we hooked up again...later is better than never; this was to be a memorable connection. I do remember that this guy had endured surgery on his butthole for some reason that I cannot recall. What I do recall is that this guy gives the term 'hardass' a new dimension. His buttwalls are like fuckin' concrete. Getting through that hole in the wall requires endurance and patience, and neither failed me last night as I worked my way through that tight, tight, tight hole. Getting through was like having your hand crushed by a brick on each side. I found that I could get a better extension by turning by hand sideways with thumb on the bottom and pinkie on the top, and working it in bit by bit. Let me tell you this top was humbled by this superb bottom. Despite the crushing pressure on my fist...as if some bull had placed a brick on my hand and put his full weight on that brick...I kept on, and yelled...screamed(!)...in pain as I got through. Yowza! That fuckin' hurts, you'll never hear a top talk like this until he fists this guy. Once in, we had a great time, the pressure eases a little but builds over time...I lasted only about ten minutes of this torture, but the bottom came, albeit weakly...what a time we had. A hard...hardass, yeah.
Every fisting session is a new experience with something to be learned and gained. Tops take note: that brick in the wall can crush your fist.
Every fisting session is a new experience with something to be learned and gained. Tops take note: that brick in the wall can crush your fist.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
The End of Condom Porn
A few years hence, historians will look back to 2015 and declare that sometime during that year, gay condom pornography just sort of petered out. By next September, you'll be hard pressed to find condoms in gay porn, and by the end of 2016, there will a few condom fetish sites (I mean, yeah, there ARE some sexy things you can do with condoms), but that will be it. It all has to do with Neg+Prep; it's happening right now and bareback sex and by extension, porn, won't be the same. Hey, it's still sex, and nobody's complaining, and maybe such discussion will become merely academic. But..along with the condom fetish, there will be more dedicated poz bareback fetish sites, and there will still be chasers and gifters, and conversion parties will become more acknowledged and maybe typical, and the poz bareback cult will intensify, but I'll leave that discussion for another time.
So, the Condom Era lasted from 1989 until 2015 and at that era's dawn, I was a big Falcon Videos fan, and I remember big stars like Jeff Stryker crossing over from bareback (the term didn't even exist then!) to condom, but a lot of big names from the Pre-Condom Era already had their tickets punched for the Big Nowhere. They had been dropping off since the mid-80's, and let me tell you youngins out there, them was creepy times...you gotta remember they were still trying to figure out what the hell AIDS was, much less working on a test or medications. But enough about that for now...the Pre-Condom Era produced some really great stars who will live on forever, thanks to video...and I just can't help thinking: oh what Paul Morris could have done with Chad Douglas, Jon King, Kevin Williams or Chris Burns. Shit! The mind boggles.
So we watched the old Falcon stuff all through the Condom Era, and were aware of names like Rob Cryston but didn't much care. ChiChi LaRue became a millionairess without any help from me. By the mid-90's, things began to change. The advent of new drugs changed life expectations, lifestyles and sex. The Bareback Era started somewhere around late 1997, I would say, with a couple of fisting videos directed by Steven Scarborough and videographed by Michael McKey. I just checked Scarborough's videography on a couple websites where he's credited on about a hundred videos, and Depth Charge I & II are not listed. I could be wrong about giving Scarborough credit, or maybe the politically-correct powers-that-be deleted both Depth Charges. Anyway...both videos were (just about) exclusively barefisting, with a little bit of bareback fucking and one pearl of cum that somehow made it through the editing. Now Plain Wrapped video had been releasing fetish and fisting videos for a while, but wrapped is wright; it was all condom. Depth Charge was bare fisting, deep and real, and we were shocked.
Then Michael McKey, based in Phoenix, produced a few of his own videos; the production values and qualities were superb but his cast of players, all friends and ordinary guys, ranged from semi-hot to butt ugly. Most of them would qualify as bears today (a few were downright obese), but that term was not widely in use in 1998. Cigar fetishist Titpig became the first bareback star to an audience craving more. Around the same time, Bill Gardner and John Singleton, professional cinematographers based out of Palm Springs, started Hot Desert Knights with a video called 'Bareback Buddies' and a guy in San Francisco named Paul Morris produced a little VHS tape entitled 'Raunch Lunch,' featuring a performer with my favorite nom de porn of all time...Wyatt Trash.
It was all shocking to me, based on the climate of the times, but I had been living an insular life for a few years, having unknowingly converted, losing weight, sleeping 12 hours a day, falling asleep at my computer, and not interested in sex...finally ending up in the emergency room (collapsing at work!), then living on a weird schedule of nine pills a day, and abstaining from sex all together, thinking I was just plain gonna die. I just wanted to get through the year and not embarrass my family with an AIDS-related death. It was 1997, a transitional year, and a lot of us were fucked up mentally.
Bareback sex was totally, inarguably and positively taboo. If you indulged in barebacking you were signing your death lease for a condo in the deepest reaches of Hades. It was ignorant, irresponsible and immoral. Barebackers were fucked up shitheads who didn't give a damn. They were ballin' down the highway, a one-way road to Hell. Hell. Hell. Hell. You're gonna die a miserable death and you're gonna end up in goddamned Hell!
So. Escape to video.
Imagine the shock of watching for the first time, Paul Morris' second video, Breed Me, when a dude works his ass with a dildo, and a torrent of sticky, slimy, messy cum just flows out for about five minutes. No sound except the tolling of bells...like at a funeral. Death. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, etc. We were all going to hell, together.
You know the rest. The early porn characters were our sex life by proxy, then an inspiration, then as we gained confidence, role models. Dick Kraver, Mac Curtis, Big Ken, Billy Boyd, Tom Shannon, Will West, Chad Adams, Ray Butler, names that now sound pre-historic. Dawson was still a few years down the trail. Websites were still pretty basic, if they existed at all. And you couldn't buy these videos at the porn shop. I ordered my first TIM video from an ad in one of the many amateur 'zines circulating then, and it came back by mail order. Then Paul would send us a notice of the next video through the mail with a self-addressed stamped (if you can imagine that!!) envelope to his mail drop on Market Street. And of course we ordered them as they came out and eagerly awaited the next. There was an underground aspect to all of this. Barebackers were shameful, nasty, dirty guys and keeping it hush.
Well, I and millions of others are still here. I resumed by sex life in 2000...that's how long it took for me to overcome the fear of barebacking, from '97 to double aught, well, just 3 years...some guys still haven't come to grips with it. Neg+Prep will change all that, too. In the meantime, thanks Paul, Mike, Bill (r.i.p.), and John, for 17 years of adventure, inspiration, exploration and a lot of really hot sex!!
Ah-men.
So, the Condom Era lasted from 1989 until 2015 and at that era's dawn, I was a big Falcon Videos fan, and I remember big stars like Jeff Stryker crossing over from bareback (the term didn't even exist then!) to condom, but a lot of big names from the Pre-Condom Era already had their tickets punched for the Big Nowhere. They had been dropping off since the mid-80's, and let me tell you youngins out there, them was creepy times...you gotta remember they were still trying to figure out what the hell AIDS was, much less working on a test or medications. But enough about that for now...the Pre-Condom Era produced some really great stars who will live on forever, thanks to video...and I just can't help thinking: oh what Paul Morris could have done with Chad Douglas, Jon King, Kevin Williams or Chris Burns. Shit! The mind boggles.
So we watched the old Falcon stuff all through the Condom Era, and were aware of names like Rob Cryston but didn't much care. ChiChi LaRue became a millionairess without any help from me. By the mid-90's, things began to change. The advent of new drugs changed life expectations, lifestyles and sex. The Bareback Era started somewhere around late 1997, I would say, with a couple of fisting videos directed by Steven Scarborough and videographed by Michael McKey. I just checked Scarborough's videography on a couple websites where he's credited on about a hundred videos, and Depth Charge I & II are not listed. I could be wrong about giving Scarborough credit, or maybe the politically-correct powers-that-be deleted both Depth Charges. Anyway...both videos were (just about) exclusively barefisting, with a little bit of bareback fucking and one pearl of cum that somehow made it through the editing. Now Plain Wrapped video had been releasing fetish and fisting videos for a while, but wrapped is wright; it was all condom. Depth Charge was bare fisting, deep and real, and we were shocked.
Then Michael McKey, based in Phoenix, produced a few of his own videos; the production values and qualities were superb but his cast of players, all friends and ordinary guys, ranged from semi-hot to butt ugly. Most of them would qualify as bears today (a few were downright obese), but that term was not widely in use in 1998. Cigar fetishist Titpig became the first bareback star to an audience craving more. Around the same time, Bill Gardner and John Singleton, professional cinematographers based out of Palm Springs, started Hot Desert Knights with a video called 'Bareback Buddies' and a guy in San Francisco named Paul Morris produced a little VHS tape entitled 'Raunch Lunch,' featuring a performer with my favorite nom de porn of all time...Wyatt Trash.
It was all shocking to me, based on the climate of the times, but I had been living an insular life for a few years, having unknowingly converted, losing weight, sleeping 12 hours a day, falling asleep at my computer, and not interested in sex...finally ending up in the emergency room (collapsing at work!), then living on a weird schedule of nine pills a day, and abstaining from sex all together, thinking I was just plain gonna die. I just wanted to get through the year and not embarrass my family with an AIDS-related death. It was 1997, a transitional year, and a lot of us were fucked up mentally.
Bareback sex was totally, inarguably and positively taboo. If you indulged in barebacking you were signing your death lease for a condo in the deepest reaches of Hades. It was ignorant, irresponsible and immoral. Barebackers were fucked up shitheads who didn't give a damn. They were ballin' down the highway, a one-way road to Hell. Hell. Hell. Hell. You're gonna die a miserable death and you're gonna end up in goddamned Hell!
So. Escape to video.
Imagine the shock of watching for the first time, Paul Morris' second video, Breed Me, when a dude works his ass with a dildo, and a torrent of sticky, slimy, messy cum just flows out for about five minutes. No sound except the tolling of bells...like at a funeral. Death. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, etc. We were all going to hell, together.
You know the rest. The early porn characters were our sex life by proxy, then an inspiration, then as we gained confidence, role models. Dick Kraver, Mac Curtis, Big Ken, Billy Boyd, Tom Shannon, Will West, Chad Adams, Ray Butler, names that now sound pre-historic. Dawson was still a few years down the trail. Websites were still pretty basic, if they existed at all. And you couldn't buy these videos at the porn shop. I ordered my first TIM video from an ad in one of the many amateur 'zines circulating then, and it came back by mail order. Then Paul would send us a notice of the next video through the mail with a self-addressed stamped (if you can imagine that!!) envelope to his mail drop on Market Street. And of course we ordered them as they came out and eagerly awaited the next. There was an underground aspect to all of this. Barebackers were shameful, nasty, dirty guys and keeping it hush.
Well, I and millions of others are still here. I resumed by sex life in 2000...that's how long it took for me to overcome the fear of barebacking, from '97 to double aught, well, just 3 years...some guys still haven't come to grips with it. Neg+Prep will change all that, too. In the meantime, thanks Paul, Mike, Bill (r.i.p.), and John, for 17 years of adventure, inspiration, exploration and a lot of really hot sex!!
Ah-men.
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