Up Your Alley 2016 and SOMA History

I'm always ambivalent about draggin' my lazy ass down to Dore Alley for this annual event, often touted as being more 'San Francisco...local...neighborly' than the much more 'Universal...global...inclusive' Folsom Street Fair.   It's an exhausting fifteen minute walk from my house.  Just kidding.  I'll probably get down there tomorrow, but mostly because I'm one of the FOMO gang.  One good thing about past Dore Alleys is that the porno studios had booths were they unloaded inventory at bargain prices, and some good buys were to  be had.  I tried checking the website but there is no list of participating vendors that I could find, so I guess I'll have to check it out for myself.

One thing I did notice is that one website gives the phonetic pronunciation of Dore as 'dor,' which is news to me.  It had always been Dor-ee Alley, so I don't know where this Door is coming from.  Most of us know that the greater South of Market area consists of Mission, Howard, Folsom, Harrison, Bryant, Brannan and Townsend Streets running east/west and parallel to Market Street; the numbered streets run from north to south, 1st Street to 13th Street aka Division Street, as in dividing SOMA from the Mission which runs on a different grid altogether.  San Francisco has several grids intersecting, so you're a real San Franciscan when you know to get from the Bayview to the Presidio without checking a map.  The SOMA blocks were designed for commerce and filled with warehouses, factories, workshops, stables, and the Irish, including some of my ancestors.  And oh yeah, there were some Filipinos and Mexicans living there, too.  It was a Catholic kind of place.  The blocks are big, so there is a network of narrow streets, or alleys cutting through, making it easier to get around.  The joke is that the city planners named a lot of these streets after the working girls who labored on these streets to make life more pleasant for all the laborers, stevedores, teamsters and clerks...an overwhelmingly male population...who kept SOMA humming after work was closed for the day.  So when you're in SOMA next time, take note of Clementina, Jessie, Annie, Harriet, Kate, Minna, Mary, Clara, Zoe, Jennifer, Julia, and Dore.  There's also a Guy, a Gordon and a Morris, but I'll let you figure that part out for yourself.

Get down to Up Your Alley or Dore Alley and have a great time.

Ryan Cummings, Cockstar

There's no question that Ryan Cummings has the hottest ass in the business, and it's a shame that we can't see more of it, but he's up in Canada with a family and a good job and a bit far from the creative centers of the porn universe.  We're still waiting, patiently or not so patiently, for the end all gangbang of Ryan's famous ass to be captured on video and for posterity.  Until then, we're happy with BBRT's latest video offering, 'Filling Ryan Cummings,' available off the website for just thirty bucks which is less than I paid buying it off the shelf (where I grabbed the last copy available at my local porn outlet, the dvd is selling fast) in porn capital San Francisco.

The butt is famous, but after this video, I predict Ryan's cock will be just as famous.  BBRT's director, a talent named Koloff and unknown to me, has captured the star's unique talent of repeating ejaculations, and I'm not talking about a measly dribble.  The cum just spurts out, again and again, without the cockstar even touching himself.  And we get it from all the right angles.  Porn connoisseurs should buy the dvd for their collections and frequent future referencing.  Of course you can access the scenes through various websites, which I don't do since I consider that a waste of money (I believe in collateral) but sometimes, somewheres, there's no other choice.  That being your situation, check out the Ryan/Mick Raw matchup in a sex club.  Top Mick sports a big bold biohazard tattoo on his left shoulder and Koloff shoots the scene from the best perspective for all you pervs thrilled by any and all poz aspects of bareback sex.  Start at the BarebackRT website.

Omar Mateen Was Not Gay

There is nothing sadder than a queer man who will not allow himself to be queer.  There is nothing more dangerous than an armed queer man who will not allow himself to be queer.  There is not a gay man in America who does not believe that Omar Mateen, Orlando mass murderer, was not gay.
There has been much discussion among the mainstream, 'straight' if you will, media as to whether this guy was gay.  According to his second wife (the first marriage failed), he was given to homophobic comments, and occasional rants: always a flag for repressed queerdom.  He was no stranger to gay venues. He was familiar with certain aspects of gayness.  He knew of gays from the internet, from school and from the street.  And there will be more revelations as the curious media delves deeper into his confused existence.  I posit that Omar Mateen was not queer.

Omar Mateen was not queer.  Omar Mateen wanted to be queer.  Omar Mateen wanted to be queer but couldn't let himself be queer, for reasons of conservatism in religion and culture.  Omar Mateen desperately wanted to be queer but couldn't learn how to conduct himself in a gay culture, and was known for loutish behavior that prompted gay men to keep their distance.  Omar Mateen was rejected by the people who sought entertainment at the Pulse, in Orlando.  And Omar Mateen hated them because they were able to do things that he could not do, even though he wanted to.  Omar Mateen hated himself for being incapable of being like the people at Pulse, having fun, 'making friends and finding lovers' to cite the language of disco.  If he had any homosexual experiences in his history, I am pretty sure they were unsatisfactory for others and himself.  He hated this.  He couldn't get laid to save his life.  He hated all those people who were getting laid.  He hated this.  So he bought some firearms and acted out what he thought a 'real man' should do under such awareness.

We, as Americans, will survive this sort of violence.  As individuals, some of us will not survive, sadly.  It is going to be a long haul, but we will get there.  I think it will take a couple of generations for religious and cultural conservatism to decline into a sort of quaint and picturesque hobby,and lose its influence over American culture.  Until then, we have to get real about keeping firearms out of the men who believe they are not quite the men they feel they should be.  These are the troubled men who used to buy big trucks and now buy big guns, and just might get the chance to act out their own self-hating agonies.  Not just anybody should be able to drive a truck.  Not just anybody should be able to shoot a gun.  It's that simple.  We have to make it real for these men.  They shouldn't be able to buy guns just to 'be a man.'  They should go back to buying big trucks.

Fisting 101

Fisting 101, An Introduction to Fisting.

Are you attracted?

Are you ready to take the plunge?

There are a lot of guys out there who are ready...mentally, that is...but don't know how to start.  And fisting can be intimidating to the uninitiated, mostly because fisters are so confident.  And fisters have to be; fisting is a very advanced demonstration and manifestation of sexuality.  And then again fisters themselves can come across as very clique-y, I think, because there's an element of trust that is critical to the enjoyment of fisting. And such confidence must be earned.  It's just the nature of things and not personal.

When I first started fisting, I felt like a third wheel, because everybody else was older, more experienced and expert in what I saw as the most masculine form of sexual intimacy between men.  And they all seemed to know one another, travelling hundreds of miles for the experience, enthusiastically trading partners and fisting jokes.  Yet there is a certain cult-like air to the proceedings that seems impenetrably exclusive.  This I know from my own experience.

Don't be intimidated.

Aspiring fisting bottoms can communicate with me.  I'm happy to initiate anybody who's interested, but an even better course would be to attend FistFest.  Start by going to mynewsletterbuilder.com and the Fistfest website will come up.  Fistfest will include demonstrations and commentary for men wanting to learn how to take a fist pleasurably, and nobody will feel awkward or embarrassed while on the learning curve.  I've just returned from the most recent Fistfest which was in Palm Springs and I understand there were no demonstrations - I hate the term 'workshop' - but only because of the physical set-up at the Helios Resort, but the event was fabulous and I would have arranged to initiate anybody who was interested or just plain curious.  Now there are Fistfests planned for the Parliament Resort in Augusta GA and at the Saratoga Springs Retreat in Upper Lake (Clear Lake), CA, so make plans now.

And don't be shy.

Passings: Jok Church Remembered

He certainly was easy to spot at community events crowded with leathermen: he was the short dude in red...leather.  He was also active in the fisting community, and that is how I came actually to meet him, but in the past week reflecting upon Jok's life and death, I realize that he had been part of my life off and on for decades, although I didn't know it at the time.  Jok Church died of a heart attack last week and my days since have been filled with recollection and reflection.

I first heard Jok on the radio when I was growing up in Sacramento and where he worked to establish and drive KZAP which was about as weird as Sacramento allowed in those days.  That alternative radio station and its involvement in community affairs helped to shape Sacramento into what it has become since.  In the those days, Sacramento pretended to be a small farm town full of hicks.  KZAP was the breath of fresh air; first the air waves, then the kids who grew up there and changed the place.  In a way, Jok influenced my own life without my knowing it.  Even now I remember KZAP.  From there, he went to a radio station in San Rafael, and as I reflect on this information supplied by leather impresario Larry Shockey, I have come to realize that Jok and I tricked at the Post Street Baths in San Francisco, sometime in the early 80's back in the pre-condom era.  We had some real nice sex, and chatted a bit afterwards when he mentioned he worked at a San Rafael radio station, which I remembered after all these years because it was like...pretty esoteric...he didn't seem like the type.  But he was short, cute and with a great ass and as it follows, a vigorous bottom.  I'm getting a little hard as I write this.  Guys, he was a really nice guy.

The times were not only pre-condom; they were pre-internet and Jok's best years were ahead of him.
The layout at his house, a few steps east of Castro Street, is equipped with everything required for a sophisticated digital graphic studio of a man who probably bought the very first MAC.  I'm guessing that Jok could see the future in this innovation and all of its potential.  A pioneer of the Internet Age, he maintained close relationships forged from early associations with Apple, Lucasfilm, Adobe and Google.  Jok created cartoons for children's cable TV, and comic characters Beakman and Jax, this information brought to my attention by fellow mourners, for when I came to know Jok through the fisting community, he simply said he was a 'writer of children's books' and that is how I remember him.

I have blogged about our fisting adventures without actually naming him.  I'm doing so now: he was the original and literal Hardass, and one of the most challenging bottoms of my fisting career and certainly the most intense.  He had lived through some surgery which resulted in a very unusual asshole.  And as far as fisting went, imagine trying to fist a small space between two bricks and that is what it was like fisting Jok.  And we didn't care, although we had to prepare ourselves mentally.  Like I said, it was intense.  Jok accepted all of this and told me everything before I stuffed so much as a pinkie up there.  He knew what he wanted and how to get it done: with Jok I learned how to lube his ass with a caulking gun from Lowe's.

R.I.P., sweetie.  I'll never forget ya.

Billy Twee

Free Ballers Beware: The Heartbreak of Butt Pimples

As a few of you have noticed, I have been out of commission for quite a while.  Now I could have written about the colors of the condoms my recent tops wore, but that is not what this blog is about. Yes, I have been getting fucked with condoms only because I think it's rude to question somebody who's slipping one on before slipping it into me, and it's been so unsexy for me as all I can think about is that I'm being denied the pleasure of his raw cock.  Oh well.

That's not why I was put out of commission, though.  A condom is one thing, but underpants are another.  All fellow free ballers...take note.  Don't scratch your ass!  Ever.  No matter how itchy your sweaty butt gets, keep them paws off.  An afternoon of basket swingin' in Palm Springs...that desert place now enjoying its early seasonally hot days...was fun; I like showing it off.  But it got really hot under this synthetic fiber (a sort of polyester), that my butt was sweating buckets.  And I scratched. And scratched some more. I scratched my ass by rubbing the fabric, and before long, I realized that I had scratched myself into a rash.  And as everybody knows, a rash of butt pimples on a horny bottom is the end of civilization.  And the end of  one's sex life, at least for a while.  There's still no fetishist out there who's going to appreciate those ugly little pink buggers.  Without going into more detail, the rash was enough to cool any interest in this one hot ass.  So let this be a lesson to all fellow free ballers, specifically those of you looking forward to a hot summer: keep your hands out in front, and try to think of it as safe sex.

Deep Inside to the Pit

In matters sexual, there is no one who has really done all that there is to do.  Now you may think you have, but trust me, you haven't...really.  That's what's great about your sex life: it's over when you want it to be over.  Until then, keep at it, learning, testing yourself, enjoy the stimulation...as you get older, sex,  always somewhat mental, becomes more so.  So?  What's happened to me that caused me to turn so philosophical?  Here's what happened: I fisted an ass up to my armpit.  I could have gone deeper, I think, but my shoulder got in the way.  A bony shoulder might have gone deeper, but I've been working out, so my shoulder was too big.  All I can say is that for the first time in my fisting career, I wasn't terrified once I got beyond the elbow.  This ass just kept sucking me in.  Who is this talented superb bottom?  Nah, I never divulge names unless it's a professional, a pornstar, or a bottom who gives me permission.  So, nah, but man, what an experience for a top!  I still tremble a little when I think back about it.  There are professional men, career men, men of stature and substance in their public lives who...have...an inner self...that they offer up for exploration...usually on a Saturday night, but not necessarily.  That's my point here: you never really know a man until you get deep inside, and then...deeper and deeper.  And keep trying until you find him.
Thank you, God, for the gift of opportunity....I love fisting!!!!!