Exhibitionist Credo

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Enjoy Blacks Bottoming, Or Be Denied This Black Topping

Recently, after a long while, I attended the Monday night Milk Chocolate NYC party at Rainbow Playground in Queens. There weren't a lot of guys there at the moment, and most were not cute.

However, there was one guy sitting in a chair that I noticed as I traipsed through the video lounge, but I didn't set my full eyes on him. While I could feel his eyes on me, I never returned the look. Because from what my peripheral vision caught, he had a nice body, but I thought the hair on his body was a bit erratically patterned for my taste. As if he shaved it weird.

A little while later, while wandering around, I came to the open dark play area. I could see from the silhouette that that guy I noticed before was there. Getting suck off by someone. None of the other guys there caught my interest, so I spent most of my time dodging their reach for me. Then he reached for me. I wanted to let him touch me, as my eyes focused and my ability to see in the dark made his silhouette become a man with a face in that dim light. Leading me to discover that what my peripheral vision thought was hair on his body earlier was not hair at all. They were tattoos.

I still didn't let him touch me at that moment however. Simply because I didn't want to include the guy sucking him off, or any of the other guys trying to touch him, or me. So yes, I denied myself this hot tattooed guy because I didn't want to be rude to anyone else. Because while it is highly accepted in sex party/backroom behavior, it's actually quite rude to feel so entitled to knowingly take a guy away from someone(s), and allow the perceived beauty bestowed on you by your color, ethnicity, body type, etc. to give you the fuck-faced audacity to do so.

Well, Karma must have smiled on me for taking that stand. Because I did get him later. When I moved away, he shortly after stopped the guys touching him, then came to me. We then started making out. The guys who wouldn't take "no" for an answer stuck around. Putting their hands in the way to feel his cock while I was soon going down on him. When my cocksucking got too good for him, he pulled me up, and kissed me some more. Feeling my ass making it very clear that he wanted to get inside me. I walked backwards leading him to the large sofa in that area. I reached in my thigh pack for my supplies. Lubed up my ass, and let him in.

Once those around us saw that his raw Italian cock was going to go inside me, and not the other way around, the crowd thinned out. At the most, I would see one person playing voyeur. And it was always changing as to who it was. They seemed to get tired of watching a white guy top a black guy, see it wouldn't change any time soon, so they would move on. Then another would take their place and do the same. Which was fine by me. Because even in that wide open space where anybody could come by and try to participate, our hot sex was so unseemly to them that it left us to fuck like we were alone in a large hotel room. Able to change positions, and moan and groan without disturbing a soul. Sad to say at a sex party, but it's me looking how every dark cloud has a silver lining. And our being able to be so intimate with this primal fuck was that silver lining. Especially this one move he did with me on my stomach.

He would pulled up with just the tip of his cock inside me. He would then hold that pose for a few seconds. Leaving me to wonder if and when he was coming down. Then BANG! He plows down hard into my ass! I felt the jiggle of my ass cheeks each time he did that.

We later ran into each other again in the video lounge. He invited me to sit next to him, and we started making out immediately.  During our making out, one thing that became evident about his body that he wanted to show me was how he pre-came a lot. Letting his dick lean on my thigh, so he could pick up his dick, and let me see a string of pre-cum connecting us. So this explains how when our making out soon led to me getting on my knees and leaning on the back of the sofa to bottom for him again, without much lube, my hole let him in. His lube was spit and pre-cum, and my hole was more so relaxed because it was him.

Again, the same thing happened. Guys would watch us for a second, and realize a white guy was topping a black guy, then they would move on. We stopped after a bit. Neither one of us had come yet. We slouched on the sofa fondling each other. Somehow, the topic of porn came up, and after I revealed my porn past, he revealed the same about himself. He said he had did a movie for Treasure Island Media a few years ago. I was not surprised. Knowing me, it might have been me to bring up the subject of porn, then tell of my past in it to get him to explain his tattoo of Treasure Island Media's signature logo of a skull and crossed-swords.

The movie he was in was titled "In The Flesh". In that movie, he went by the name "Angelo". He said he never fucked in the scene as a top or bottom, and that he was in a bathroom giving oral. While he did give a great blowjob, what my ass just endured twice (at that point) from his dick made me feel honored to been able to feel his talent as a top without the rest of the porn-viewing public being able to guess how great he is.

Way before this however, back when we were making out, I was considering topping him. So after making out for a bit in the afterglow of this fuck, I eventually asked him if I could top him. He was quick to state him being ok with it. He then asked me if I wanted to do it there in the video lounge on that sofa, or go into a booth. I chose to take him to a booth.

I took him to the largest and best lit booth. I took him there because I'm tired of seeing sex party patrons influenced by the aforementioned racist roles in porn. With whites only wanting to play voyeur to interracial sex if it's with a black guy being a gorilla nigger top. And if I name companies, it' unfortunate how one name included among them would be the very one Angelo worked for, Treasure Island Media. The sight of a black bottom with a white top for them and practically every other porn company is too rare a sight.

So my way to undo what we've been taught was by leaving them with the memory of us sucking each other, and fucking ....with him as a top going at me hard and deep. Even if they didn't stick around long to watch like I mentioned before, the mere sight of it for just a few seconds plants the seed in the mind of how a black guy as a bottom to a white man is possible, and can be just as beautiful as interracial sex with a black guy as a top, if not more so. So I took away the beauty of what we were going to do, as a means to more so undo what porn had trained them to accept.

He loved my cock just as much as I loved his. I won't go into details about my topping him, but anyone outside the door of that booth got quite an auditory show. It was enough that when we stopped, someone tried to come in, but undoing the hook-lock. They never entered enough for us to see them. So I leaned a little forward to kick it shut, then got up to put the lock back on.

We again laid there basking in the after-glow of sex with a formula that was quickly becoming our thing: Fuck a bit, savor it, fondle each other, then fuck again. And the last component of that is exactly what happened.

Once I felt the urge in him I laid on my back and raised my legs. I dabbed my hole with lube because I wanted his pre-cum to play a strong component to being my lube. So he aimed his wet, raw cock at my hole, and went in. And once he felt the resurrected tightness of my hole around his dick again, he pounded me mercilessly. I think what make sex with us catch guys' attention was how regardless of who was topping, neither one of us was silent. Our fucking was a constant overlapping of moans saying "God, I love your ass!" with "God, I love your cock!", or "Gimme that dick!" with "Oh, fuck yessss!"

Then it finally happened. He came. He shot his load in me, thrusting so hard into me with his orgasm that if I was a woman, no doubt his sperm would have met at least one eggs, if not several. Hence the term for a guy cumming in a bottom's ass during bareback sex, "BRED".

And before I conclude, let me address those still waging a bareback vs. condom sex war, and their claim of the shame I should feel for having bareback sex by way of this tweet:
Moving on,...We again laid there basking in the afterglow. This time, we were exhausted, and rightfully so. My hole drained his balls of jizz that had been building for who knows how long, while his intense topping made my feet have to re-learn how they felt to be against a floor.

Soon after, I called it a night. Basking in not only the sex, but the stand I took against being considered worth watching only if I'm a top by denying sex party patrons the sight of it when I did top. And until I see our community change their view on a black guy being a bottom, if I can, I think I will continue to make that my m.o. The same way I'm still going commando after advising all black men to do in "Black Guys Wear Underwear, Too". Proof that I do practice what I preach.

It's easy for me to take that stand because my being watched while fucking at a sex party/backroom is not a necessity. Nor is it a desire. It is just simply a part of the sex party/backroom scene that I accept, but I am more than willing to avoid it if the opportunity presents itself. Especially when it's to fight stifling imagery drilled into our heads.

And due to the roles we've been told we must play based on color/ethnicity, that might be a necessary move to make so that guys can learn to expect versatility from all colors and ethnicities. Thereby see that we blacks can play all positions in sex just like white boys. So until then, I'll strive more to let them see live what they see too little of in porn....

A black man ready, willing, able, and hungry to ride the entire skin  rainbow of ass and cock.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Open Mic Exhibitionism, Virginity Giveaway, and Loathing of Clothing

Last year, it was quite disappointing to learn that The Inspired Word was ending Titillating Tongues. Because there are so few events like it in New York City offering a safe space for erotic artist to showcase their work.

Well, I am please to announce that  Titillating Tongues in making a return. Before, it was at Soho Playhouse, then Le Poisson Rouge. Now, it's out of Manhattan, and coming to the Brooklyn speakeasy, Hell Phone.

What's special about this return is that I was introduced to Titillating Tongues by Aimee Herman emailing me an invitation to be a featured performer, and I have been invited to be a featured performer again in this return, but this time by Inspired Word producer, Mike Geffner.

I know I broke new ground there with my debut and various other performances. Some of which included me stripping on the stage, which led to a mention in TimeOut New York. Well, I'm not sure I'll go that far this time around, YET. For I have yet to see the space, and learn what I'm working with. In the meantime, I do hope that if you're in NYC, that you'll come by, and check me and all of the other performers out. And maybe even take part yourself since their is a 15-slot open mic.

With all that said, the only teaser I'm giving are the titles of the poems to be included in my set thus far:

LeNair's Exhibitionist Credo
Overdue Virginity Giveaway
Strut of No Shame
Loathing of Clothing

So if you're in NYC, I hope to see you all on September 23rd.
Get your tickets HERE. 

Monday, August 29, 2016

Price of a Tight Ass

I recently went to the club, Paddles where HandsomeNYC was having their usual Wednesday night party. This particular night, they were having a cowboy-themed night.

Being as picky as I am, sometimes me playing at a sex party doesn't happen as soon as I walk in the door. This was such a case. It had been quite awhile into the party before I wound up in a hot and heavy make-out session with a Latino.

Somehow, in the midst of that make-out session getting more and more intense, my always-multi-tasking mind saw someone there I hadn't seen before.

He was a good-looking, tall, slim white guy. Some guys were going down on him. During that time however, he kept looking over at me. I found that unfair to the guys going down, and tried to avoid eye contact. However, during any split second where me and my Latin playmate weren't fucking each other with our eyes, I did find myself driven to look over his shoulder, and check out the white guy.

Even though it was a mutual attraction, it was getting to my conscience because I believe that if you can't focus on your playmate/partner, then you shouldn't be with them. I guess it was telling me that my Latin playmate was not worth the time...because we ended our make-out session because after telling me that he was going to call it a night, he stayed just as long as I did,... Leaving with someone else.

But not to worry. Because what happened between the time the Latino left me and I actually wound up leaving as well?

When the make-out session between the Latino and I ended, I went to another area in the club. There the white guy was there getting blown again. I watched, and again, he kept looking at me. I tried to stay playing voyeur, but he then invited me to join him. And while he was getting sucked, he turned to kiss me. This made me feel a tad uncomfortable, but I am slowly coming to lessen my angst over how most gay males don't view sex (namely, blowjobs and fucking) the way I do. They compartmentalize guys where some are guys you just let suck, and other guys get to suck and fuck. With this guy, the tall Asian sucking him was the former, and I was the latter.

For soon after kissing him, the white guy directed me to his cock. It was huge. Making it quite obvious as to why all the guys were swarming him. I didn't suck him for very long before he pulled me back to my feet to kiss me passionately and say to me, "I wanna fuck you".

"And I want you to. So take it", I replied.

I laid down on the structure behind us while he put on a condom, and I put lube in and on my ass, then on his condom-wrapped cock. He thrusted a few times into me. The deeper he went in, the more his long dick began hitting that spot every long cock hits inside a bottom. That spot inside that guys who do poppers claim to use them to relax. When truth be told, it's all in your mind. I know because I did it myself. So once I relaxed that spot in myself, his cock went in even deeper. Unfortunately, a couple of thrusts after that, I heard this loud moan come from him, followed by these slight throbs of his cock, stretching my hole just a tad each time. I asked a question I was knew I was going to have a Love/Hate  relationship with if the answer was "Yes".

I asked him, "Did you cum?"

He replied, "Yeah, I did. Your ass is tight."

I could feel even though he had came, his dick was still hard, and point that out to him. He tried fucking me a little more, but I could feel him very slowly shrinking. Not to a point where he would be totally flaccid, but enough that he could not stay in my tight ass tunnel and thrust.

My tight hole from doing my Kegels once again milked a guy of all he had.

My Love/Hate relationship with a guy coming so soon after he enters you is because while it says your ass is well-maintained, which I LOVE; the HATE is due to how it also makes the sex over way before you're ready for it to be done. And unless your playmate is multi-orgasmic, guys like me run into this situation alot. For most guys are not multi-orgasmic.

I could use poppers to open up my hole enough to make the sex last longer. But that's going to happen. Because:

1) Poppers don't work on me. Well, at least not for the purpose many have been mislead to believe. Because like I said, it's all in your mind. Every try of poppers has never made me relax my ass. During sex, I give my soul, body, and mind to the sex on my own, because I dedicate myself to the pleasure. The pleasure of myself and my sex partner. And I feel the breaks to huff disrupt the rhythm of the sex, and are therefore unfair to my partner. With that being the case, a chemical like poppers never succeeds in its intended purpose. It only gives me a headache. Which leads to;
2) Sex is like a music composition. Hence my poem titled "The Symphony of Sex". And as the sex progresses, your emotions gets heightened, much like what happens to us the further along a music composition we like is played. Well, imagine how it feels when your emotions are rising when a song you like is being played, then suddenly, the track is stopped. And when the track resumes playing, you have to get your emotions back to that spot before the music was stopped.
Well that's what poppers are like to sex. They interrupt the rhythm and rising emotions, then the user expects you to continue on like that break in rhythm ans rising emotions never happened.

Well, the point of the story is that like I view all of my sexual encounters, it's quality, not quantity that should motivate you. So I will say that while I didn't have a lot of sex that night, that one fuck was very brief, but fuckin' mind-blowing.

And I have my tight ass to thank for it.

Monday, August 22, 2016

Porn-Induced PTSD

The other day, I posted on Facebook about an incident that occurred the night before at The Cock's underwear party, Playpen, in which a guy from my past invaded my personal space. As I was writing about that incident, I realized that while being angry about someone invading your personal space is a natural and justified response, I saw myself get on the verge of violence. And it's not the 1st time that violent urge has occurred as an instantaneous response. Luckily for me, having outlets like my drawing and writing have been my therapy to hold the monster back.

This initial violent urge started after I retired from doing gay porn. Don't get me wrong. I have always been protective of my personal space, as everyone should be. However, my 1st response would be to instinctively yell at my violator. Much like a dog barks at a violator to warn them to not proceed with that violation, for an attack with violence will be the next action. The problem is after I retired from porn, I see now that my initial reaction to violations of my personal space has me having to force myself to do the instinctive yell. For my more instinctive initial reaction is to get violent to protect my personal space. Realizing that let me know something is wrong. So now I had to figure out what exactly is wrong.

What I have concluded is that it's some kind of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) brought on by my time in porn. And if you are a gay male, and this claim seems odd to you, then it's a hideous sign of how we as gay males are taught to have no boundaries for who we let touch our bodies, unless based on superficial credentials. Such as skin color and financial standing.

As gay males, we are led by many to allow any- and everybody to touch us. It started from the high number of gay youths who had to turn to prostitution after being thrown out of their homes by hypocritical Jesus freak parents/guardians. So it was a means of survival. For them. The problem now is that the chain of abuse has been put in play. For older gay males are prostitutes' primary clientele. So they teach the newly out gays that letting yourself be touched, no matter how disgusted you are by the person is how you survive. It's how you get ahead.

This is especially true in gay nightlife. Even more so if they're willing to tip. You are to let it be a stroke to your ego, because such appreciation for your beauty won't last forever. Well, I'm 45 and patrons still try stroking my ego - so so much for that theory.

Now, for those times that a patron is a cheap piece of shit who cops a feel without tipping, you're allowed your human nature to be annoyed by that patron feeling entitled to your body just because you're scantily clad. However, the desired reaction from you by most patrons, party promoters, and venue owners is to suck it up to avoid making a scene. And in the gay community, since the worlds of nightlife often lead to gay porn that set of rules follow. Rules that I myself allowed.

For when I was in porn, I would go out and be a lot more permissive of guys touching me, even if I didn't want them to. It was a means to sell a love for the porn persona.

Now, with me no longer needing to sell that image, my body is 100% MINE. I can be out and about in my undies or naked at an underwear or nude party, and feel no obligation to be touched if I don't want to. And my being in my underwear or naked entitles no one to put their hands on my body without an invitation from me via eye contact or verbal means.

I've long realized that the porn industry as a whole gives a false sense to performers that they own their own bodies. Unfortunately, the fact is it's the studio you're an exclusive for that owns your body. If you're not a studio exclusive, like I never was, then that ownership of your body is being passed along like a baton in a relay race. So regardless as to whether you are a studio exclusive or not, your body is never yours. And it will never be yours again until you leave the industry. This realization is what gave birth to my poem, "Boss of My Body".

This aftermath of being in porn further proves why I'm right to advise guys to not get in it. It's an ongoing process of no longer living that life. Maybe I would have less of these conflicts with guys invading my personal space if I wasn't an exhibitionist. However, that doesn't diminish the fact that I have a right to be an exhibitionist in an allowing space. It doesn't diminish the fact that "No" means NO the 1st time. Nor does it exonerate the guys who invade my personal space from deserving shame for their blatant social ineptitude that makes them disregard my saying "NO".

Violence as punishment is something I hope to continue to avoid. I have used various art forms as therapy to avoid it thus far, and I plan on continuing to do so.

With that said, I do feel for those past and present in the porn industry who are suffering from that stress, or will be in the future. For the lights of their porn-stardom will fade on them at some point. Either by their own choice, and/or by an undesired exile by the industry's ongoing desire to prey upon the desperation for validation and naivete in newer and younger models. Thereby, kicking out who they feel is old and overexposed.

So I wonder, will they mature as I have? Will they realize that there is a problem? If so, do they have the means to get those feelings out like I do? Or will it eat them up inside, and cause them to act out? Or will they do as most (if not all) present porn directors who used to be porn actors?...Start their own porn company with the same rules they were taught, thereby leading the chain of porn-induced PTSD to continue.

For some, these questions have already been answered. For others, all we can do is wait, and hope for the best. Unfortunately, as long as the industry continues to endorse prostitutes and gay-for-pay bitches in denial before exhibitionists, it's sad to say that we must expect the worst, while hoping for the best.

Lust Cinema