Tuesday, September 25, 2012

No Ka-Ching On My Thing


Last year, on the 2nd anniversary of my retirement from porn, I wrote a post answering the question as to whether or not I miss being in studio-based porn entitled "Missing Porn". As with most things, when you address something and think you've said all you needed to say, over time you realize that there's either more to say on the matter, a different way for you to say it, or a combination of both. The preceding poem was a combination of both.

For obviously I still don't miss being in studio-based gay porn. But when I have those moments that I wonder if I made a mistake leaving it, I'm hit with a thunderbolt of reality reminding me of how I made the right decision.

Such as this response to the above video that I got from a Facebook friend:

Lastly, a big FYI:
The line in the poem about me taken penile injections for a movie is the only line in the poem that is NOT autobiographical. However, I do know of porn actors who have and still do it. But the most I myself have done is allowed myself to be instructed to take Viagra by some porn producers.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Backroom Evolution


Over time in my blog posts, I have made it no secret of my venturing to bar and club backrooms. In fact, the bedroom encounter I told of in my poem “Red Light” started from a bar backroom.

Because of my natural curiosity about sex, but being brought up to repress it, backrooms have been a tool of sexual exploration for me. I’ve learned quite a bit about sexual behavior and even race relations over time because of those trips. And have been able to use some of what I’ve learned to become a valued source of information in some of my appearances like my moderating a discussion on race, and the 1st episode of “The Gates of WiL”.

I started venturing to backrooms after about 1 year of my coming out to myself, which would make it between late 2002 and early 2003. Back then, I saw backrooms to be areas that promoted anonymous sex, but had enough light in them that the anonymity it promoted was not to the point of not even seeing a face of a potential playmate. In fact, back then you could easily find someone to have a one night stand with, and not be disappointed by what you found when the lights came on. Come to think of it, I don’t recall hearing those lights referred to as “ugly lights” until a few years later. Thus indicating the evolution of what backrooms have become...A place where with the increase in darkness came with it an increase in the air of desperation.

Sure, backrooms have always been set up as a rest stop for desperadoes, but also a place for those unashamed of being sexually adventurous, like myself. Sadly however, what I have seen grow more and more over time is the number of guys who sit in the shadows so you don’t see their face, or body. This is all done out of guilt and shameGuilt and shame over their orientation and being sexually adventurous, hence why you can sometimes find even young good-looking guys hiding in those shadows. Also guilt and shame over how poorly maintained guys of any age have allowed themselves to be with their drug and alcohol abuse, and weight gain. Not surprising how that number of guys hiding has increased with the rate of obesity in this country.

So while those guys are hiding out of guilt and shame, I’m not one who is so desperate to be touched that I’m going to allow some self-loathing sack of shit with eager hands feel on my ass, or an eager mouth with a face I can’t see suck on my dick. Because I love and respect myself and my fellow man enough to not sign up for bad karma by getting off at the expense of the obvious self-loathing shown by those guys hiding in the shadows.

The air of desperation that I spoke of earlier causes many problems. For one, it is why I couldn't keep a hard-on. To be honest, forget about keeping a hard-on, sometimes I couldn't even get one at all. It’s because there are all these unwanted hands reaching for me, and I don’t have the void and desperation that says, "any-ol'-grope will do".

That air of desperation is also what caused that guy from “He Wanted A Reaction…InvasiveBitch Got One” to become increasingly violent from my rejection of him, then pushing me to the point that I had to punch him in the face to make him stop invading my space. It doesn't matter what my reasons are. Even if it’s because I'm some racist prick who wants to jump on the bandwagon and cop-out by calling it “preference”, if I say that I don’t want your hands on me, then you are to not put them on me. And as long as I'm polite in my initial request to not touch me, then you have no right to be aggressive and/or violent because I denied you. Even though you hate the fact that I denied you. For the fact will remain, as I said before – my body, my call. Like I also said in that post, it was not my proudest moment, but it led to me needing to address this sad evolution of backrooms.

With that said, if you think that such desperation is only from the older gay males who have lost that beauty believed to come with youth, then you are sadly mistaken. Because I have seen this need to be touched by any hand, fucked by, and/or suck any nearby big cock in young gay males that fit modeling and porn-world definition of “cute” as well. To the point that the only thing that might cause a guy to be dismissed is not even age as some would think, but skin color. With this being 2012 and the gained acceptance gays have made in society, you would think those days of gays (young and old, trollish and beautiful) displaying such self-loathing, prejudice, and bigotry would be on the verge of (at the least) fading, if not all together gone. But instead what I have observed is that behavior getting worse. It is for these reasons, that the air of desperation in backrooms has caused backrooms to lose their "exploration spark" for me.

So since backrooms are have now become overwrought by the desperate, and too little a rest stop for the sexually adventurous like myself, I'm sticking more to the decision I made long ago about going out even when I'm horny. That decision being to never go out looking for sex. But instead when I'm out and horny, be prepared to go home alone and use the same tools to get off that I did all those years before my coming out and being sexually active----my hands, my imagination, and maybe some porn. And in recent years, the porn has become more and more the optional component of those 3.


I am not saying that while I am single, that I will never venture into another backroom. But I am saying that if I know the patronage that frequents it brings such an air of desperation with them, I won’t be going there. For as long as there is breath in my body, I doubt that my interest in exploring sexuality will wane. So I’m going to look for avenues to explore it. It just that now, based on what I see backrooms show about today’s gay males' low self-esteem that societal acceptance should undo in some capacity, the number of backrooms I will venture to will definitely decrease.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Getting Out The Kinks - Cum Pig

Would I drink this glass of cum? Maybe, but you'll have a definite answer by the end of this post.

I have repeatedly said in blog posts over time about how much I like nature. To the point that in one blog post, I stated that I get turned on by watching science videos that show sperm production. Yes, this makes me a bit of a nerd.

With that in mind it should not surprise you that I LOVE CUM.

But what you probably know is just how much. I love the sight of cum springing from a guy's cock. In fact, the only porn I want to watch during sex is one like this video that I posted before of ejaculations from within a vagina.

But this time, the video would be from inside my ass while the sex is happening at that very moment. And how I feel about the guy would determine if that ejaculation is seen through a condom or not.

When I bottom, I'm always on the horns of a dilemma when the guy says that he's cumming. For I don't know whether to let him keep his cock inside me and feel it throb as he squeezes out that man-milk, OR to have him pull out like he's in a porn video so I can see the cum gush out of his dick. For whether I can see it or not, I know cum is  being expelled, which is either way a big turn on for me. I will say that my one pet peeve is when a guy pulls his cock out of the condom to shoot on me, and he gives me a towel to wipe the cum off. Because I love the feel of his cum on my skin. For me it's a temporary branding that says, "Sex happened!" And I have no problem sleeping with it on me.

In a past blog post, I reviewed the FlavaWorks movie, "Mixxxed Nuts, Vol. 2". One of the things I took off points for was because stars like Cody Kyler squinted their eyes when the top was giving them a cumshot to the face. This showed how the idea of taking a cum load to the face was imposed on them by the porn studio. For that squinting shows that the porn actors obviously didn't like it, but did it for the sake of a buck. And they did it poorly.

If you really want a cumload to the face, you are going to look at that dick with your eyes open wide like you're looking down the barrel of a gun that will shoot you in the face with the sweetest and tangiest of bullets once that gun goes off.
video

And if you get cum in your eye, and IT BURRRRNS.... your love of cum will make you just grin and bear it.

This may seem extreme to some of how far my being a cum pig goes, but I also like the smell and taste.
Yes, you read correct ----I said "taste".

If I know my sex partner is a healthy guy, which includes him being drug-free, I'm all for tasting his load. For I've had rare instances of tasting a drug-user's load, and as a drug-free person (therefore having my head on straight about what I'm tasting), I found the taste of the cum disgusting because of the drugs tainting the semen's natural elements.

So to go back to the question at the beginning of this post as to whether or not I would drink that glass of cum pictured,...the answer is NO. My feeling is shoot cum on me, or shoot it in me. But to shoot it into a glass? It's HOT to look at, especially as it's happening, but...it's big waste of some natural paste. ;-)

Thursday, September 6, 2012

He Wanted A Reaction...Invasive Bitch Got One!

It was like I was forseeing the future. Before I went out to The Cock Sunday night, I wrote this Facebook update:

It might not have been me forseeing the future, as much as me knowing the possibility of who I was going to run into.

There is one guy who seems fixated on me. It's like he sees me in his sights, and he can't help himself. I am not to trying to toot my own horn of my physical beauty by saying this. I am secure in my looks, but this guy's behavior is unsettling because it's obsessive. He acts like I'm the only man in the world, and I feel that even if you date someone, this would prove problematic. Because I'm thinking of the big picture. And in the big picture, the real world, we have flaws. Flaws that might make us do things that will make our mate have to move on. But someone believing you are the "one and only beautiful creature on the planet" won't move on like they should after your ultimate transgressions.

The problem starts because I can see the substance abuse in his eyes and his mannerisms. So based on what I've endured from Sam in Emails Of An Intervention and Toby from "Paying (Ends ---My 'Friend')", A substance abuser is of no interest to me, being it drugs or alcohol. And this guy's abuse substance of choice seemed to be alcohol. Which is sad because without those red flags his behavior sounded off, I would have been interested in him. But the substance abuse has taken such a toll that while he might not be much older than me, he definitely looks it.

I believe that I may have written about him before in past Facebook updates because of his behavior.

This all started a few weeks ago in the backroom area. This one guy kept touching me. And each time, I politely moved his hand because I had no interest in him. The 1st time I saw him, he had a drink in his hand, which for me is a "no-no". I have no love or lust to give a guy who is such an alcoholic that he needs to bring a drink into the backroom. My feeling is if you're going to be sexually adventurous, be a man about it by being sober. So that means, don't come near me with a cup or bottle of "liquid courage" in tow. No matter how hot you think you are, that "liquid courage" makes you that many times uglier. Since he doesn't know I have this rule, that's why I politely moved his hand from me. The problem started when he kept doing it each time he looked at me, and walked pass me. After about the 4th time, I had had enough. So I grabbed his hand, and threw it down.  Then he grabs my finger like I'm the one who's wrong, gets near my ear and says, "You're at The Cock. Don't be an asshole."

Fact is I wasn't being an asshole. It's my body. So whether I'm in the general public, or even in a bar, club, or porn shop backroom, I have EVERY right to remove your hand from touching me, especially if you are a stranger. Why? Because it's my body, my call.

Needless to say, I became enraged. For I felt like I was on the verge of being raped in some small way. I say "no", and some rapist treats you as if you're wrong. As a way to guilt you into standing down, and letting him do what he wants to do to your body when you don't want him near you. I became so enraged that I started shouting at him how I moved his hand off of me 4 times already. As the volume escalated, then he started yelling back in an innocent tone, "And I stopped!"

I screamed back, "If you stopped, then why am I repeating myself?! Why is this the 4th fuckin' time I'm telling you 'No'?!"

Over the weeks since that incident, he has seen me there. With each time feeling the need to walk pass me, and graze me. He knows exactly what he's doing, and that I hate it. I tried for these following weeks now to tell myself that 1) he was like a child, and trying to get a reaction out of me, and/or 2) he's a miserable creature, and he wants me to react and put him out of his misery. Either way, I decided that I shouldn't give him the satisfaction, so I ignored him. However, it seems that has made things not better, but worst...for us both. For one, this problem of obsession that started in the backroom, had by this point escalated to him grazing me out on the main floor of the bar.

This latest incident was this past Sunday, he did it again. The bar was packed for Labor Day weekend, so all the bodies made the bar hot. And with it being The Cock, I could easily walk around with my shirt off. STILL, that gives no one the right to touch me if I don't want to be touched. I wasn't even in the backroom this time. I was by the bar. He came up to me again. He grazed me again just as he had already done earlier. And again, he knew what he was doing. And I could see it with my peripheral vision seeing his obsessive eyes burning holes in the side of my head. By this point, plus the flashbacks to all the weeks earlier, I had enough, and looked him in the face, and told him, "Stop touching me! You know I don't like you! Stop!"

Thus began the same routine again. This time, he didn't have a chance to whisper in my ear, so he went straight for the loud, innocent act asking, "When did I touch you?!" At first, I wondered was this guy schizophrenic. Then I took noticed of something.

I noticed that just like in the 1st incident, when he spoke close to me, he knew and mentioned that he put his hands on me first. However, when the volume got raised to where the predominately White crowd at The Cock could hear his White self, he would give this loud tone of professed innocence asking, "When did I touch you?".

So he clearly was trying to bluff his way through playing the "I'm-an-innocent-White-man-about-to-be-attacked-by-this-angry-Black-man" card. And it is sad that the racism in New York City is that bad that he could 1) devise this plan, and 2) for too many in that crowd, get away with it.

However, this time, along with that professed innocence, he told on himself. He went into hysterics screaming, "I find you attractive! Alright! Is that so wrong?! I find you to be a very good-looking guy!"

And I returned, "Yes, but I am not interested. So LEAVE ME ALONE! You keep putting your hands on me, and I don't fuckin' want you to! BACK THE FUCK OFF!!!"

Two patrons broke us up before it went any further, avoiding security from being called. Both patrons tried to talk me down. They both said, "He obviously likes you. You're a good-looking guy."

I told them, "Thanks. But I don't like him back! He needs to man-up and deal with it. I do." And I said that thinking of the guys who turn me, sometimes out of racism, hence why every other Black guy gets the same dismissal. Yet I don't force my presence on them just because I find them attractive. I have to respect their choice no matter how misguided and narrow-minded it may be.

And wouldn't you know that one of the patrons trying to talk me down turned out to be "Gringo" from "Gringo's Morning Chocolate". So it was good to see him again. I just wish it was under more placid circumstances. He said that when he saw me, thought he knew me. But rage on my face and in my voice made me so unlike the pleasant guy he met that morning, that he didn't recognize me until I was calming down.

The volcanic eruption of this situation happened later in the night. I was walking around, and the guy started to follow me around. EVERYWHERE. No matter where I tried to go, he was behind me. By this point of the night however, the reason I wasn't interested in him in the first place was all too evident - he was so drunk that he was stumbling a bit. So by this time, his "Don't be an asshole" speech was no longer whispered in my ear. It was now for all to hear.

I again screamed, "Stay the hell away from me! Stop touching me! I don't fuckin' like you!" I paused, and looked him in the eye, and said, "STAY BACK!"

My friend Matthew at this point had shown up, and saw this. Matthew was slowly reaching to pull the guy back, but not quick enough. Most likely because like everyone else, Matthew was simultaneously watching this freak show unfold. But by this point, I was seething as all these past weeks and events of that night (including the near assault) were running through my mind. So when the guy walked towards me, I swung at him, but missed. When he saw that my anger got to that point, he came towards me again, and this time when I swung ---I didn't miss. And I wound up knocking him about a yard into a crowd of guys fooling around behind him. My friend, Matthew then picked the guy up, and handed him over to the security guy who was coming over. As he was taking the guy outside, I reminded the security guy that I've complained about him before, and he let me go back inside.

You would think that after this point that my rage had a time to subside... No such luck. Because Matthew is bordering on becoming "former friend". For he said to me, "You know, I had him. You didn't have to swing at him."

I was like, "Excuse me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! This guy invades my space, and you're going to act like I'm wrong?!"

He replied, "I'm your friend. And if I think you're wrong, I'm going to tell you."

Was Matthew fuckin' for real?! Was he really that inept in character? Was he a mistake that I allowed into my circle of friends to not be decent enough to understand how:

That PUNCH to this guy's face was for this guy invading my space.
That PUNCH was for him grabbing my fingers when I moved his hand off of me as if I'm the one wrong the 1st time.
That PUNCH was for every week after knowing that since I had no interest in him, I didn't want him touching me, but he touched me anyway.
That PUNCH was for then upping the ante by trying to choke me because he again wasn't man enough to take "No" for an answer.
That PUNCH was for playing on the racism that plagues NYC's gay community at my expense.

Now, anyone, friend or foe, who thinks I was wrong to take a swing at him, then you have holes in your heart where self-respect, respect for others, and compassion should be. And those holes show a void in your code of ethics and humanity that make you just as disposable an entity as that guy.

For how dare Matthew lecture me when he is aware of the incident that started all of this? How dare he lecture me when my personal space is intruded upon? How dare he lecture me when he wasn't even there to see that it had escalated to the point of this guy trying to choke me because I rejected his advances again?

What kind of humanity questions my reaction with those things in play?

By the following day, what I had come to realize is that Matthew's upset over me taking a swing at this guy was not at all about me actually being wrong. It was all about his bruised ego because I took action and justifiably defended myself before he was able to play "hero". I say this because in the text message exchange that followed, I explained my position on the matter very clear listing all the reasons I mentioned in the previous paragraph. Matthew however...NEVER EXPLAINED WHAT MADE ME "WRONG". His text messages were all about his opinion and how he has a right to them.

Yes, Matthew has a right to his opinion. However, the fact is 1) I didn't have to explain myself, because 2) this incident was not about him. This was about my personal space being violated to the point that violence had started to be imposed upon me. And based on all the reasons at play that led up to that moment that I punched that guy, anyone who can't understand that has a code of ethics as dismal as that drunken, socially-inept, substance-abuse-weathered sack of shit. And must be mentally and emotionally removed from my presence until they wake up and see otherwise. For I don't accept such lacks of understanding in my circle. Friends don't always have to agree, but there are displays of character and humanity (or lack thereof) that make it necessary to part ways.

Now, if Matthew doesn't come to realize his wrong position on this, and apologize for lecturing me like I'm his child, then he will show himself to be a mistake in my circle, and become beyond the border of being removed from my circle as he presently is.

As for this drunken asshole, my response to him was by no means my proudest moment. However, I am proud that this experience has solidified some observations I've recently made that may possibly lead to some rule changes for myself. I'll address them in an upcoming video log. But for now, I ask that you don't go to the comments section speculating what they might be.

This post has a LOT of lessons in it. I hope you understood, and if need be, learned them all.

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