And now for something completely different. On 10/31 it was densely nerdy marveling at the words calceology, telamon, and hallux — I should probably have issued a technical-linguistics warning on that one — but today it’s underwear models (in a Daily Jocks e-mail ad from 9/26) wearing minimal tighty-whities that display the carnal attractions of their bodies, fore and aft, in intimate detail, hot stuff definitely calling for a male-sex-content warning. And then there are racy bonuses: the male couple in the ad is interracial, and the one presenting as a receptive / bottom is celebrated as an equal partner to the one presenting as an insertive / top.
Just to remind you: these are photos of male models playing characters in a sexual story (loosely playing with the image of a wolf pack) for a receptive audience, a story that’s intended to be at least sexually pleasing — or, better, actually arousing — to this audience and thereby to sell more of the company’s wares (DJ is an Australian company, here selling items from The Pack underwear company, distributed by Dragon Label Limited in Hong Kong). I’ve given these characters Italian names: Nero ‘black’ (note: in Italian, Nero is pronounced roughly like English neigh-roe) for the black receptive partner (who brings his tight muscular buttocks and its anal prize to the encounter, plus a focused and open facial expression) and Lupo ‘wolf’ for the white insertive partner (who brings his crotch and its genital prizes to the encounter, plus a decidedly feral facial expression, at least in the first of three photos).
(Note this posting’s title — it’s totally not for kids or the sexually modest)
It’s all about fucking in fur: two scenes from the MEN.com gay porn flick Norse Fuckers in which men mate wildly and promiscuously, like the proverbial fur-bearing carnivores, while wearing fluffy fur stoles (which they discard as impediments when they dig into their pronging) and delightful furry boots (which stay on, even while the men, otherwise stark naked, are fucking their mates).
There will be pictures.
(About a gay porn flick, with naked hunky models displaying their bodies, but no actual genitals on display or descriptions of man-on-man sex, just some vulgar slang and reference to ejaculation. Still, not to everyone’s taste.)
In my e-mail on 11/22, a Falcon | Naked Sword mailing for its 2023 Christmas gay porn movie, whose title is a cheap raunchy pun:
The guys with the Xmas goodies (I’ve fuzzed out their pornstar dicks for WordPress modesty): Beau Butler (who’s been featured a number of times on this blog; here displaying his pornstar butt), Damian Night (new here), and Reign (from my 2/20/22 posting “Men’s Briefs: the locked gaze”)
My interest at the moment is not really in the flick or in the actors, but in the pun in the title. (“How like a linguist”, you are saying, “to disregard the hot stuff and focus on the wording”. As it happens, I’m entirely capable of getting off on the hot stuff while making mental notes on the wording.) But I will post Falcon’s publicity for the flick for you, because it actually describes the background plot, without the sex-act by sex-act retelling of the individual scenes:
(Yes, man-on-man sex — and a penis — discussed in street language, with hot photos, so not suitable for kids or the sexually modest)
Through the random confrontations of different things in my e-mail today: camp sexiness from John Travolta, porn sexiness from Skyy Knox and Milo Madera.
(Man-on-man sex, with a photo that just barely doesn’t have any genitalia in it, so not for kids or the sexually modest)
Today is the Saturday of the US Labor Day weekend — the actual holiday is on Monday — and so there are sales on almost everything imaginable, including of course gay porn. This year TitanMen is offering a holiday pun — Labor Gay — for the occasion, in an ad showing two pornstars hard at work, laboring at their job:
(Yes, about raw man-on-man sex, from gay porn, with photos of nekkid guys doing the deed, and with descriptions of it all in street language, so totally not for kids or the sexually modest)
The emotional attraction of the flying cowboy positions, plain and reverse, is the floating mid-air fuck itself — whee! — and the intimacy and trust that are needed if the participants are going to pull it off at all. And the couplings are, admittedly, a delight to watch. But they’re physically challenging, probably better left to the professionals, porn actors who train for this and have people to help with things.
In plain flying cowboy, the two men face each other, so facework and kissing can easily accompany the fucking, and the hole can wrap his arms and legs around his fucker, getting both support and intimacy.
Reverse flying cowboy, on the other hand, with the hole facing away from his fucker, is all about the asswork — no doubt deeply satisfying to both men, but it obliges the fucker to do a kind of balancing act with the guy suspended on his dick.
The result tends to merit judgments about how ingenious the actors’ performances are, about how clever they are in managing to make the fuck look like something a viewer could fantasize about. Because these fantasies are what the performances are for, what fags like me are paying for; the whole point is to get us fully immersed in the fantasy of taking it up the ass in mid-air and so to appreciatively shoot our loads. But for this, second-order aesthetic reflections on the marvels of the actors’ abilities are just a drag on our imaginative road to coming.
Worse, their efforts often come off as ridiculous; few things kill a hard-on faster than amazed laughter. Reverse cowboy is pretty easy to make convincingly hot. Flying cowboy has the facework going for it, and getting kissed by a fantasy guy during a mid-air fuck totally works for me. But reverse flying cowboy is a challenge; it so easily tips into absurdity. (There will be illustrations.)
A gay porn offer from 8/26, however, uses a shot that manages to communicate the intensity of reverse flying cowboy on both sides — with an orgasmic facial expression on the part of the fucker, and the body of the hole folded up so that the fucker can hold it in his arms, providing both support and intimacy, as well as that deeply desired big hard cock filling the hole’s ass. Amazingly hot (for the intended audience), so long as you’re not diverted by aesthetic analysis of the sort I just gave you.
(Gay porn actors displaying their bodies entertainingly in minimalist briefs. But yes, man-on-man sex in street language, so not for kids or the sexually modest.)
Just for gasps and laughs. Posted here because of the two model’s presentations of themselves, their stances, their facial expressions, their amusingly skimpy briefs, their body types (especially Rudy Gram’s, which appeals deeply to me), and their evident pride in having developed their pectorals to the point (the point of their sharply erect nips) where those muscles (and Lobo Carreira’s two signally available buttocks) should probably be given names. So I find this p.r. shot for a recently released Lucas porn flick both incredibly hot and laugh-out-loud goofy.
(About a gay porn actor, with just barely WordPressable photos, and with the predictable talk about male genitals and man-on-man sex in street language, so entirely unsuitable for kids or for the sexually modest)
(Gay porn, detailing man-on-man sex in street language, so entirely unsuitable for kids or the sexually modest)
[A short short story (under a thousand words) from 1/16/96, intended for a volume of such stories (A Thousand and One Kisses) that was never published, perhaps in part because of the sexual explicitness of this story. The story is also one piece of my fiction about the characters Sundance and Butch.]
He Kissed Me
I’d go there every so often. Cut school, which didn’t have much to say to me anyway, and ride my bike downtown (a long slow uphill, actually, which meant a nice glide back home in the late afternoon). No one remarked on me going to movies in the middle of a weekday; I looked 18 rather than 14 (early growth spurt, a pile of muscle-building farm work), so I guess the people at the Bijou thought I was just a farm boy between chores.
I loved the cowboy stuff, Montgomery Clift and Guy Madison especially. But I’d watch anything, for a while. Sooner or later I’d check out the men’s room, which was nicely placed (you went down a long flight of metal stairs into the basement, then along a corridor to an odd corner well out of the way of accidental visitors) and usually had some action, if you were willing to wait for it.
This guy I called Murphy — he looked Irish, but I never got his real name, since we never, either of us, uttered a single word — was a regular. The first time, he was standing at the last urinal with his cock hanging out, half hard. I stared at his cock and into his eyes, he turned away from the wall and towards me, I knelt down in front of him and sucked him off. He had a very sweet cock, just the right size, and he came fast, always did. When he was done he’d zip up and walk out, wordless and expressionless. He had calloused hands and wore work clothes and boots; I figured him for a construction worker of some kind, with empty times between jobs. We always played the same scene.
The fifth or sixth time I came down to the t-room I walked in on Murphy zipping up and this frat-boy type (going from bottom to top: penny loafers, pressed chinos, crisp white shirt, dark blue figured tie), curly black hair and cute as hell (I called him Mitchell, which turned out to be his name and he was a frat boy too; sometimes I just know things), was watching him with that thanks-and-see-ya look I’d seen in my own face in the mirrors here.
Our Man Murphy left, and Mitchell and I looked at one another, approvingly. Ya wanna suck my dick, shit kicker? he said, like he was offering me a beer. (Amazing! Guys almost never talked down here). I could feel my face flush with embarrassment, plus desire. Sure do, I blurted out. (I learned early that it pays to be up-front with what you want.)
He steps forward, I start bending my knees to worship in front of him, but he puts his hands behind my head and pulls me back up. And towards him. And kisses me — first just brushing his lips against mine, gently, then opening my lips with his tongue and entering my mouth. I can taste the sweetness of his mouth and, I think, a bit of the saltiness of Murphy’s cum. I do what I guess you’d call swooning — this has never happened to me before, though I’ve fantasized for years, on my bed, cock in hand, about long loving kisses from Monty or Guy — and Mitch, my lover Mitch, moves his hands down to embrace me, catch me, pull me against him. I can feel my cock, hard and leaking pre-cum, standing straight up against my belly, trapped by my briefs. Through his chinos and my dungarees I can feel his cock, a firm companion alongside mine.
Now he presses his tongue hard into my mouth and we both start moaning and I can’t believe that I can be open to, filled by, a man this way, it’s like getting fucked but with mouths, oh Jesus, I love dick up my ass (how come nobody ever fucks in this place?), oh Mitch, kiss me harder enter me. Mitch commences to growl, wolf-kisses me, and I shoot my load right in my pants, and he feels it happen. He chuckles. My mouth is hanging open, gulping air in, as Mitch puts his hands on my shoulders and pushes me down, with one hand unzips himself and pulls out his cock, with the other guides me onto it. I look up adoringly into his eyes, see that he’s past amusement, hurtling through arousal, he fills my mouth with cum.
We rested a while, my forehead on his belly, and then he helped me up so we were face to face again. We both said our thank-yous, and he kissed me a second time, affectionately, and I got hard again, and he went down on me, smiling, licking some at the first load of cum before taking my dick in his mouth and getting another.
Afterwards we kissed, third time, and I put my tongue in his mouth, we both liked that a lot. He offered his name and a short bio, and he asked for mine (I even told him about Sundance being my private name for myself). He admitted he had a thing for hunky farm kids, and I admitted I had a thing for cute college boys. I told him he was My First Kiss, and he replied gravely that it was his pleasure. (College boys are, in my experience, usually polite, unless they’ve been drinking.)
Every man I have ever loved, except one, looked enough like Mitchell to be his brother. Butch looks like Mitchell grown into a Real Man. I told Butch this a couple of years ago, and he told me it’s called imprinting. (I didn’t tell Butch that it took him some time to get past his reluctance, to get to be as good at kissing as Mitchell was at age 19.)
