The UCLA guy

He's a cutie. Nicely built, about 5'9'', dark eyes, dark, slightly salt-n-pepper hair. He's wearing a UCLA sweatshirt and low-rise, faded jeans that have a hole at the knee. Gray flannel boxers peek out over the waistline of his jeans.
"Do you think he's cute?" I ask Grant, gesturing over to where he's standing.
"Uh huh" I don't need an answer... Grant is staring straight at him, doing that little flirtratious thing he does with his eyes. Our physical types occasionally interesect, Grant and I.
He approaches the bar to get a drink, and as he walks by us, Grant looks at him, and
innocently looks away. This catches his interest. He looks over at me, and then smiles at both of us.
"You go to UCLA?" I ask. His eyes light up.
"A long time ago I did! I'm Steve by the way."
"Go Bruins!" I say, raising my glass. Clink. Clink. Clink.
"I'm Andrew. And this is Grant." We all shake hands with Steve.
"You've got beautiful hands," Steve says, holding on to Grant's hand after they've shaken. He examines his hand slowly, touching his fingers, turning it over and gazing at his palm. Grant does have beautiful hands. They are slender and artistic. He has long fingers and naturally shiny, healthy fingernails. Steve's hands, in contrast, are rugged - he has short, thick fingers with a slight smattering of curly, dark hairs. I notice a small callous on his thumb - like he worked in construction.
Grant is basking in the attention. It's so adorable to watch. I wink at him.
"And is this your boyfriend?" Steve asks.

"I love you too."

Wow.
4 simple little words. That's all it took. 4 words ultimately even more powerful than the 3 words they were a response to.
And now Andrew's life has become a lovesong. There's a spring in my step, a smile for anyone who passes by, and rainbows by day and fireworks by night. My other friends roll their eyes whenever I start talking about Grant - happy as they are for me, it gets tiring to hear about someone else's love life: I try to limit their exposure to my saccharine-sweet thoughts: "Seen any good movies lately?" when all I really want to talk about is Grant Grant Grant.
Yea, I've been in love before. Ernest can tell you. But this time it feels different. More... grounded somehow. And grounding.

"I love you, Grant"

"Tonight's the night I'm telling Grant," I tell Ernest.
"You're going to tell him tonight?" Ernest raises his eyebrows and looks at me in that flamboyant big-sister-best-friend way only he can.
"Yep. I've been wanting to tell him for a few weeks now - I'm ready."
"And how are you going to tell him?" he asks.
"Hmmm... I'll probably just blurt it out. I'm no good at romantic stuff. Roses and candy and balloons just aren't my style..."
Ernest rolls his eyes. "Don't be silly Andrew. Remember how you told Aaron?"
I think back.
"On my sofa, while we ate Thanksgiving leftovers."
"Mmmh.... such a precious moment!" Ernest sighs. "And with Trevor you -"
"I was on top of Trevor. Naked except for a condom".
I smile. That was 7 years ago.
"Practically yesterday!" Ernest sighs wistfully. "So beautiful!"
"Yes, and now please stop reminding me of ex-boyfriends. My only hope is that Grant says it back -"
"Tut tut tut!" Ernest wags his finger admonishingly. "Love is unconditional. You are telling Grant because that's how you feel. Not because you expect -"
"Yea yea I know. He'll tell me whenever he's ready. Still -"
"Well then, go get him! And remember: wear a pressed shirt. And black shoes, not sneakers."
It's my turn to roll my eyes.

Boyfriends, being in the doghouse, and desserts

If anyone ever tells you that relationships don't take work, well, either they haven't been in one, or they are lying. Relationships are incredibly complex...
I would know. I've been in several... both good and bad ones. Those of you who've been reading my blog for a while (OK, I admit it, I've been slacking of late, but the good news on this front is that Grant is a writer too, and is very encouraging of me writing, so expect more soon, especially if he gets his way with how we spend our sunday afternoons!) Anyways, friends & long-time readers of Andrew J know several of his boyfriends - there was Trevor. And Aaron (OK, I'm still not finished the Aaron's move to Austin series, but there is no surprise ending coming. We do end up breaking up). And a few others in between.
And now there's Grant. Sexy, cuddly, corn-fed Grant. Each of these men have been incredibly important in their own way, and each of these relationships was a lot of work. This last weekend was one of the best weekends I've had with Grant, but it ended with Grant getting pissed off at me. And I deserved it. I should have texted him to let him know I'd be late ("by an hour! geez!").
So now I'm in the doghouse. woof-woof. I'm hoping he'll be less mad tomorrow, and we'll make up. But just in case, I'll probably pick up some fresh cookies from his favorite bakery on the way home from work. I've always found that to make up with a boyfriend, desserts work better than sex.

Text messages from a buddy from a Gay Resort Vacation

Day1: Stuck at Dallas airport. Flying sux
Day2: Ahh, paradise! sipping a margarita under a palapa... life is good. Miss u
Day2: Gorgeous men. Cute Peruvian guy is cruising me.
Day3: On the way to our diving trip. Peruvian guy was HOT.
Day3: Diving was awesome!!!! totally sunburned thogh. lol.
Day4: This is the life. wish I could stay here forever. Gorgeous men all round. Hooked up with cute guy from texas last night
Day4 PM: OMG... spanish music, caribbean sunset... too many hot men to take in...
Day5: more diving today. check out pic lol. notice my hardon under the suit?
Day 5 PM: heading to hotel with couple from Long Beach after white party... gonna have a 3 way.
Day 6 AM: whoa 3 way was HOT HOT HOT. Miss you. How's work going btw.
Day 6 PM: Gray wants 4 way with Long Beach couple. Should I?
Day 7 AM: thx for advice. 4 way was hot. 3 way was hotter tho.
Day7 PM: packing... can't believe the week is over. :(:(:(
(yea dude, we all feel sorry for yoU!)

A Porn Moment with Grant

So last night while Grant and I were having sex he did something a little different. We're going at it all hot and heavy - he's on his stomach and I'm on top of him - doing my usual favorite hold his waist down and make out with him over his shoulder. Making out is really awkward in this position - I can basically stick my tongue in his mouth and mlay with his... anyways, it's feeling pretty good, when all of a sudden Grant says, "Hey stop for a sec".
Reluctantly, I stop.
"I want to watch," he says.
Whoa. I could have cum right on the spot.
I quickly flip him over so he's got a full visual of what's happening... I feel his eyes on my abs, and my hips thrusting in and out of him. His eyes burn a line down my thin treasure trail to as far down as he can see before his body blocks us. Him watching me like this is incredibly hot and he brings me to the brink in no time...
I shoot - hard and furious - and when I open my eyes and look down, see that he did too. It was one of those classic porn moments - where the cumshots are perfectly in sync and the actors doing more than just acting.
We smile at each other.
related: introducing Grant; one of our earlier dates

Had a great time this afternoon, but you forgot your speedos at my place...

He's hot. His blue & white speedos fit him perfectly and show off his great package. He has a perfect Meditteranean tan, jet black hair, and a sensuousness about the way he shifts about on his towel.
"Gorgeous day, huh?" I say, sitting down beside him.
"Yea, it feels like summer!" He's got a deep, husky voice. And a days worth of stubble on his chin that accentuates his dark features.
"I'm Andrew."
"Michael."
We make smalltalk for a while, and lazily sip our drinks as we soak in the sun. Dolores Park is packed today: wall to wall flesh, bulges and speedos. I'm incredibly horny.
"Can you do me a favor?" Michael asks, reaching for his sunscreen.
"Sure!" I would love to.
I spread sunscreen on his back - savoring the feel of his taut muscles and spine under my fingers.
3 hours later, we're in my bedroom, entangled in each other's embrace. Michael is an
incredible fuck.
An hour after that, Michael is gone, and I find a pair of white and blue speedos in my bathroom, right near the shower. He had put his shorts back on, and had meant to put his speedos in his backpack... but probably forgot to.
Hey, no complaints here!

"Did it lead to sex?"

If you had walked into my apartment 10 minutes after that moment, you would have encountered the following in the kitchen: an empty Chunky Monkey icecream container on the counter, with 2 spoons in the sink, and a wet, sweaty t-shirt on the floor.
On the way to the bedroom, you would have seen Aaron's boxers strewn on the floor. (technically the red GAP boxers with a flamingo pattern are mine- I've had them for years). A few steps later, where Aaron tackled me, you would have seen a pair of white briefs.
In the bedroom, you would have seen both of us on the bed, aked & snuggled up together. At the foot of the bed, on the floor you would have seen a wet little handtowel we'd just soaked up our recently expended cum with. Aaron was dozing off, content in post-orgasmic bliss.
As I lay there, watching him sleep, I gently stroked his hair, thinking enjoy it while you can - you've only got a week left of it.

"So, are you moving to Austin with him?" (aka Aaron's move, Part 7)

My sister refills my coffee mug. She's been visiting San Francisco for a few days.
"Nah. I can't... I've got too much keeping me here: job, friends, family..."
"Hmm."
"Besides, I'd just be in the way. He needs to go do this on his own. He doesn't even have a place to stay when he gets there. He'll be moving in with his parents."
"So, maybe you could see how it goes and follow him in a few months or -"
"Yea yea," I break in,"I've thought of that. but you know - we'll see."
"Hmm."
"And anyways, I love my job. Yea it has it's down moments and all, but..."
"Andrew, you complain about your job all the time."
"And Austin - I mean, it's so hot there. If I wanted hot I would have stayed in LA."
"But it's gay friendly - like way more so than LA. You'd be into that."
"What about Grandma. I can't leave San Francisco."
"Hmm."
"I mean, Aaron's a great guy and all-"
"Totally" she adds.
"and really cute," I say.
"And funny." She smiles to herself, recalling one of his jokes.
"and we click, for the most part -"
"- and he's sexy!" she says, "such a catch...."
"STOP THAT! I am NOT moving to Austin, okay? Who's side are you on, anyways?"
(related posts: Aarons Move Part 6

Good times (aka Aaron's Move to Austin (Part 6) )

Aaron's lauging his ass off.
"Whoa, how high are you, kid?"
"I mean - it was so fun- fun-" And he bursts out again.
It's infectious. I start giggling too.
"Like- there we were and she's like -"
I can totally imagine Suzie standing there staring at the curtains
"And- and-" Aaron stops to catch his breath. "And then she says -"
"Suzie?" I'm now lauging hysterically.
"I've got nothing to wear - and -"
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. Aaron has slid off the sofa and is lying on the
floor - literally - rollilng around laughing. His boxers are bunched up and his tshirt is wet with sweat.
"And- and then I go - Oh baby!"
Aaron loves calling Suzie baby. Another fit of laughter. I love how he
calls her baby.
It's now yy turn to slide off the sofa, convulsing with the strangeness of the moment
"Oh baby, and then I point to the curtains and say..."
Aaron grabs hold of me, "wear these, Miss Scarlett!"
We both totally lose it. I'm laughing so hard I'm crying. My stomach hurts, and so does my jaw. Aaron's totally seized up on the floor, roaring unconrtollably. I crawl over to where he is lying, and put my arm around his waist. His tshirt has ridden up, leaving my hand in contact with his taut flesh. When he finally comes to, he opens his eyes and looks at me.
"I've got the munchies."
"So do I"
"Ice cream?"
"Double Fudge?"
"Chunky Monkey?"
"BOTH!" we say in unison, picking ourselves up.
(related: Aaron's move Part 5)

Dancing with Grant

"Will you dance with me up on the platform there?"
"OK"
We both hastily climb up on the platform. It's about 4 feet high, and bang in the center of the dance floor. There are hundreds of guys around us - shirts off, and dancing with abandon.
"Can I take your shirt off?"
"OK"
It feels warm up here, as we bump and grind. Our waterbottle falls from my back pocket to the floor. Oops.
"Look up" I say, and he does.
The discoball is hanging directly above us, so close that we can reach up and touch it. We watch our reflection in its thousands of little squares as we make out. A couple of guys on the dance floor have turned to watch us as Grant and I gyrate to the music. I turn him around, and draw him closely into me with my hands on his waist. We're both facing the front of the crowd - and I'm pressed right up against his backside. It's a amazing headrush.
"I feel like Leonardi DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in that scene from Titanic" I say, almost breathless.
"King of the World?" he asks, with that cute, cornfed smile of his.

Aaron's Move to Austin (Part 5)

"What are you making?" I peer over Aaron's shoulder. Something's sizzling on the stove.
"It's just a stir fry." he says, "want to try some?"
"Sure!"
Using his wooden spatula he deftly lifts a string bean and carrot out of the wok.
"Open" he says.
"Mmm..." I say, crunching it down. Nice and spicy.
Using the kitchen towel, Aaron wipes a bit of soy sauce from the corner of my mouth. I notice a small brown spot on the towel.
It's funny, but I can't remember the last time I washed a kitchen towel. Ever since Aaron's been around, he's made sure my kitchen was spotless. Kitchen towels always got washed and folded and put away. Under me, they'd never get folded... they'd barely get washed. I suddenly feel a sense of panic. Can I just send all my kitchen towels to Austin with you, I want to ask him. They'd have a better life there...
related posts: Aaron's move part 4

It has been 5 months...

It's just before 6 AM and I can't sleep. I'm sitting on my sofa, naked, wrapped in a blanket, and typing away. Grant is in my bedroom, naked as me, wrapped in blankets, and fast asleep. It's completely quiet, save my typing (Grant doesn't snore at all, not even lightly!). The alarm will go off any moment now.
He's been spending quite a bit of time at my place lately. We usually end up here after a night out, or watch a movie or cook together, or just hang out. Last week, he did his laundry at my place!
So what do you think guys? It's been 5 months since Aaron moved to Austin (last September). Is it that too short a time? He makes me happy. You'd all like him if you met him. Spike ("Ya, he's nice!") and Paul did. So did Ernest ("what a handsome devil!!!") , as did Phillip ("he's got the cutest cornfed smile!").
O.. there's the BEEP BEEP BEEP of my alarm. Laptop in hand, I go to the bedroom. Grant is fumbling to find the snooze button. There. I can help. It's off now.
"Morning, handsome!" I say, putting my laptop down.
"Mmm... morning, Double handsome!" he says and draws me towards him.
Someone has a bad case of morning wood. It's stiff and hot and rests diagonally along his thigh.
Gotta go, guys. See ya in a bit...
related posts: Grant; Aaron's move to Austin Part 1; Part 4

Freedom's just another word for... (aka Aaron's move to Austin Part 4)

"WILL YOU STOP SINGING THAT DAMN SONG!!!" Aaron is livid.
"nothing left to lose..." I quietly hum the rest of the line to myself.
"I KNOW what you're doing. You keep singing that stupid Bobby McGee song JUST to annoy me. In the car. At home. At my place. You even requested it at the Midnight Sun. Geez. Give it a rest already!!!"
That sulky, pouty look appears on Aaron' face.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," I say innocently,"It's my favorite song. Look, I even blogged about it 2 years ago"
Aaron rolls his eyes.
"She was from Austin, you know."
"I KNOW. You've only mentioned that a million times! Janis Joplin, and Kris Kristofferson too."
I wasn't sure about Kris, but let it slide.
"And they break up when they move to California..." I add.
"Yes - I know. For the million and one-th time. Somewhere near Salinas."
I can't help but smile at that last part. Even though I know that smiling when Aaron is mad is the worst possible thing you can do. He quoted from the song! I love this man!!
"Drama queen!" Aaron pushes me away. A play push, but a little harder than necessary.

Related Posts: Aaron's move to Austin Part 3 ; Part 2 ; Part 1

Aaron's to-do list (aka Aarons Move, Part 3)

Aaron is a meticulous list maker. Unlike me (well, sometimes I make lists, but only when it's fun!). He usually has a running list stuck to his fridge under the "I'm not a morning person" magnet. His Move List is about 2 pages long. Among the more predictable, move-related issues (change address, etc) I found the following:

1. Cancel gym membership
2. Find owner for massage table
(wish I had room for it)
3. Buy spaetzel maker (German store on Noe??) for mom
4. Find Snoopy pillow
(Snoopy Pillow? never even knew he had one)
5. Speedos, superman boxers, cruise stuff from A's place
(not the Superman boxers!!!! wahhh!)
6. make copy of CD of pics of A&A
7. use gift certificate from Castro Cheesery
(where's Aaron going to find a Castro Cheesery in Austin? )
8. Norton Anthology from A's
(It's been here since last winter, he brought it over so we could poetry to each other on cold nights)

Related posts: Aaron's Move Part 2; Part 1; Meeting Aaron;

Our third date

"Mmm..."
"You like that, huh?" I ask.
Grant moans and smiles some more, and nuzzles deeper into me.
"What about this?" My hands are roaming over his shirtless back, and have found the waistband of his underwear. Cute black pouchy boxerbriefs. His jeans are unbuckled and unzipped but still around his waist. I move my hands under them, and caress his ass.
"Oh yea." Another smile. A cute, boyish, cornfed smile.
Using my toes, I manage to work off one of his socks. Then the other.
"Let's lie down. It'll be more comfy," I say, guiding him to lie down on my sofa. As we lie down, our jeans, both unzipped, move down a bit, fully exposing our briefs (and our pouches) We're both fully hard.
"Mhh.." Grant's hips press into mine, and soon we both find a slow, gentle rhythm of grinding our hips into each other. It feels heavenly.
We kiss. He has nice, fresh, peppermint breath.
"MMhhh..." It's time for me to start moaning.
related posts: I think I'm single now, my favorite underwear postings: Derek, WestHollywood

Milk on the Castro

They're filming a new movie in the Castro - about the life of Harvey Milk. Castro Street has been taken over by a Hollywood Film crew - the neighborhood is being restored to its 70's glory - the Castro theater has a blazing red sign now instead of the restored art-deco neon sign. Many businesses have taken their names boards & signs down and original ones from the 70'sare up - "ToadHall", "Rainbow Icecream", "Eureka Savings", and, most famous of all,"Castro Camera"
"This is where it all happened, Andrew! Right here!" Ernest says as we walk by Harvey Milk's old shop. There is a "Boycott Coors Beer!" poster up in the window, and the inside is abig mess. A perfect setting for a Harvey Milk movie.
Ernest was there when it all happened... the camera shop, the campaigning, the elections, defeat,the election, the defeat, the election, the victory, the swearing in at City Hall, the many months of hope, the shock it was all happening (for real!!!), the long, dark night, the vigil, the longer, even darker night on the Castro... the confusion.
Ernest has gone silent.
I take hold of my best friend's hand.

Aaron's move to Austin (Part 2)

So the honest truth of the matter is I don't want Aaron to move.
There. I said it.
Don't get me wrong, I am very happy for him. I think it's a great career opportunity, and it's what he's always wanted to do. He's spent years and years getting smart at school, and whoa, UT Austin is pretty impressive. But... he'll miss San Francisco. I know he will. He's leaving behind friends, a social network and many people that care about him. He just doesn't realize how much he likes this place. The fog doesn't roll in in Austin. The winter nights aren't cold and damp - the kind where all you can do is snuggle up as close as you can to your boyfriend. The kind where Aaron's toes get cold.
He'll miss San Francisco, I tell you. Atleast I hope he will.
( Aaron's move part 1)

Sing it again, Sam....

"I've seen you here a few times before."
"Yeah, I know you too - I remember a cute face," He has handsome dark brown eyes, long eyelashes, long sideburns and a nice smile. Underneath his lower lip is
a small triangular patch of hair.
He sits down beside me and signals the bartender.
"Care for another, Andrew?"
"Nah, I'm good for now." I can't decide whether to stay or go. I should have been in bed hours ago, but then again, this guy here has sparked my interest.
"What's the name of that guy you're usually with?"
"Who? You mean Spike? Tall, blond?"
"No... the other guy. I haven't seen him around in a while."
"You mean Aaron? He moved to Austin a few months ago."
"Is he your boyfriend?"
"Um... y.. well..." I hate binary questions that need non-binary answers. Yes, but he moved
to Austin and so I'm not sure if we're boyfriends or not anymore.
"Listen, it was nice talking to you. I have to go..." I say, getting up.
I walk home at a fast pace, but that sinking feeling in my stomach follows me all the way.
(related posts: Aaron's move; Aaron; The Midnight Sun)

Aaron moves to Austin (Part 1)

"Can you beLIEVE it?!?!" Aaron is excited, out of breath, and pounces on me as soon as he reaches my door.
"What? What happened?"
"I just got a call - they want me!!!" We dance for joy, at my doorstep. I tell him how happy I am for him, and I truly am. He is giddy with excitement.
"So -" I lead him by the hand inside and seat him on my sofa. "tell me"
"Well, it's a faculty position - Not full time - but -"
"Adjunct?" I ask. "That's really cool, Aaron."
He is still panting with excitement. All 5'10'' of him. Of my Aaron."And how soon?"
"Well, 3 weeks." he says.
Fortunately, he fails to notice the dejected look on my face.
"We'd better start packing," I say.
"Shit.. I need to figure out where I'm going to live because I really don't want to move in with my parents."
"It's a college town. you'll do fine" I say, stroking his unkempt hair. He hasn't shaved in 2 days. He looks incredibly sexy.
There is a lump forming in my throat, and I'm struggling to keep it down.

San Francisco Pride 2007: We miss you, Harvey!

From Harvey Milk's speech on June 25th, 1978. This was his first Gay Pride Celebration after being elected America's first openly-gay Supervisor, and his last. 5 months later he would be assasinated in his office at City Hall.

"So, let me remind you what America is:
On the Statue lf Liberty, it says "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free..."; in the Declaration of Independence it is written "All men are created are equal and they are endowed with certain inalienable rights"; and in our national anthem, it says, "Oh say does that star-spangled banner yet wave o'er the land of the free."
For Mr. Briggs and Mrs. Bryant and Mr. Starr and all the bigots out there: That's what America is. No matter hard you try, you cannot erase those words from the Declaration of Indepencence. No matter how hard you try, you cannot chip those words from off the base of the Statue of Liberty. And no matter how hard you try you cannot sing the Star Spangled Banner without those words.
That's what America is.
Love it, or leave it."

Happy San Francisco Gay Pride 2008, everyone!

(last year's Pride Weekend posting: What would Harvey say?)

On board the plane- the guy in the window seat

I'm trying not to look at him too much... but I am intrigued. He's tall, very slender, reasonably good looking, probably in his early forties. His closely cropped hair hair is receeding in a very sexy way. Dress slacks and grey polo shirt.
I would have written him off for straight, except that he was reading an article with several pictures in it on Hayden Christensen in the in-flight magazine, and there was something else...
(I wish Aaron or Stefan was around. I'd sign 'Gay or Straight?' to them, and have an immediate second opinion.)
He adjusts his legs to get comfortable, and I notice the outline of his very muscular thighs under his slacks. A runner perhaps?
Then it hits me. His biceps and forearms are well formed but not overly muscular - but the hair on them is trimmed close. Also, his wristwatch - while definitely a Men's - is somehow more slender and stylish than your straight guy would wear. I find both his arms and his watch incredibly sexy.
Then I lean forward, and yes - his chest hair is closely trimmed (or shaved) too, just like his forearms.
Beep Beep Beep my gaydar goes.
He eventually notices me looking at him, and doesn't seem too uncomfortable or put off by it... On the contrary, his arm seems to relax and soon his elbow is comfortably touching my forearm on the armrest bewteen us.
"Something to drink?" asks the flight attendant...
(other airplane tales: New Orleans )

Ain't we lucky we got 'em?

"So do you mind cheering up a little bit?" I look over at Aaron. He's been in a pissy mood ever since I picked him up. Slouching in his seat, that half-grimace-half-pout expression.
"I AM in a cheery mood! See?!?!?!" and he gives me this artificial, teeth-clenched smile.
Smartass.
"Listen, we don't visit my grandma very often, and she doens't get a lot of visitors. Can you be a bit hospitable?" I say.
"DON'T tell me how to behave. I'm not in grade 5. Jeez."
Then quit acting like it. Aaron has quite the knack for this.
"OK, so what's wrong. I don't want to have a stressful visit with Grandma."
"I've already told you a million times. You KNOW what's wrong."
I hate this game. Fact is, I never already know what's wrong when something is wrong. And what - I'm expected to be psychic? Who the hell does he think I am? Dionne-fucking Warwick?
That last thought makes me smile, despite myself.
"Oh great. And you find this funny."
Fuuuck. "No, I don't find anything funny for Pete's sake. I'm trying my best and no, I don't know what's wrong."
"Well maybe if you listened a bit, and weren't so fucking full of yourself - Mr Andrew fucking J - you wouldn't be so -"
"I DO listen! I DO!" I say, rather loudly.
"Really? You listen? And last night when -"
"I was drunk. I don't remember what you said. And you were drunk too..."
"If you were so drunk, how come you know I was drunk?"
I roll my eyes. We're going in circles again. I just hope he doesn't do this in front of my grandmother.
(more on Andrew & Aaron: Good times ; More Good Times; and yea, we have sex too)

I'd like to buy the world a sandwich...

"What did you say?" I ask, laughing softly. Aaron's head is right next to mine on the pillow, his earlobe extremely close to my tongue.
"Nothing." I can feel him blush.
"Awww.. come on... what were you singing?" I gently kiss his earlobe.
"Uh... just... I don't know. I feel really happy right now." I can feel him smile, even though my eyes are closed. "I'd buy the world a sandwich if I could..."
I hug him close to me. I smell Aaron's scent on every inhale. I'm happy too.
"What kind of sandwich?" I press up closer to him.
"Well, hmmm..... the song was supposed to be about Coke, so..."
My toes feel his. They are cold. He needs to cut his toenails.
"Hmmmm?" I gently kiss his neck.
"Peanut butter," he says, finally. This makes me laugh. Inside. Outside, I just smile and lick his ear some more. Aaron buying peanut butter sandwiches for the entire world. The thought fills me with indescribable contentment and pride.
"And jelly," he adds. There are stars in his eyes.
Do I make you feel as good as you make me feel, Aaron?
"What kind of jelly?" I ask.

De-linting Andrew before the fundraiser

"Thank god you're here! I need your help!" I let Ernest in. He's looking very dapper in his leather trenchcoat and suit.
"Cute shirt, Andrew!" he says, "But what's all that fur -"
"That's what I need your help with! I can't find my lint brush and this shirt is covered with cat hair... I met this artist guy a week ago and well, I tricked with him and I think we took our clothes off in the livingroom, and his cat must have slept on my shirt..."
The buzzer rings again. I buzz Philip in.
"Hey Philip!"
"Cute shirt! But it's covered with hair -"
Philip is looking quite handsome too in his black tie.
"So, here is a roll of masking tape... can you both help me de-lint this shirt?"
Ernest deftly covers Philip's right hand with masking tape (sticky side out) and then does his own, and they both start pawing me. All over my back, chest, shoulders, abs...
"This feels really good! Don't stop!" I say playfully. It really did feel good.
Pretty soon the cat hair is gone, my shirt looks perfect, and me and my two dates are in a cab heading to the event.
"You didn't really lose your lint brush, did you?" Ernest asks.
"No. But you have to admit, it's more fun to de-lint someone with masking tape..."

Stefan, Bobby and other miscellaneous drama

STEFAN> yt?
ANDREWJ> hey sup Stefan...
STEFAN> Last night Bobby walked out on me.
Not again, I think to myself. Third time in the last 2 months.
ANDREWJ> Oh no. what happened?
STEFAN> I'm so distraught :(
Yea but you like drama, honey.
ANDREWJ> Sorry to hear...
STEFAN> Honey, why is my life always filled with such pain and ...
misery and anguish?
STEFAN> misery... and anguish!
ANDREWJ> It's not, honey. You're fabulous, and wonderful, and charming
just that you're a dramaqueen.
STEFAN> I can't bear life any more. I feel so... persecuted. like... like Princess Diana.
ugh here we go.
STEFAN> Or Eva Peron...
ANDREWJ> Princess Grace...
STEFAN> Or Sonia Gandhi...
Sonia Gandhi!?! That's a new one.
ANDREWJ> It'll be OK. Give him a day, and I'm sure he'll call. He's a good guy.
STEFAN> Honey why do us beautiful people suffer so much? :( :( :( All we do is give, give, give... and
Dude, I have to get back to work.
STEFAN> and remember those men who were screaming at me after the Bunny Jam...
ANDREWJ> they weren't screaming, honey... they were horny and drunk and besides you were a cute, half-naked guy in a bunny outfit.
STEFAN> and back at Kensington Palace when I -
I roll my eyes. There goes my afternoon.

Does Aaron read your blog?

Aaron lets out a whoop. "Oh my God I can't believe you told them that!"
"Told them what?" I look up from the dining table. Aaron is laying on my sofa, laughing to himself as he scrolls through my latest blog entries. He is naked except for boxers. My boxers, I notice, slightly irritated.
"And you should add a link to the Candyman video. It really is her best song." His eyes light up as he hums a few bars. "It's way cool how she's the blond, brunette and the readhead... " he giggles.
OK. Just for you, cutie:
Click here for Aaron's favorite video
Damn song'll never get out of my head now. Tarzan and Jane were swingin' on a vine...
"And you had to tell them THIS?"
I move to the sofa and peer at the screen. His hand finds mine and he pulls me down beside him.
"It doesn't matter, cutie. Besides, you're better looking than me. They know that."
"Yea but... I'm only slightly smaller than you..."
I just smile. Men are all the same.
"Are you going to finish telling them the Troy thing?"
"Yep... as soon as -"
"And Vincent wasn't all THAT hot but he was - hey who's Jeremy?"
You know... the tall, geekish-looking guy -
"Oh, and you should do an blog entry about the book I'm reading..."
OK.
"And another one on..."
Hey wait a sec, whose blog IS this anyways?

The man with the cat

- David Hockney."
"You like Hockney?"
"Yea... I've got a huge poster of Mulholland Drive at home. Not to mention the painting of Percy and the cat..."
He gets his David Hockney reference book off the shelf and comes and sits down beside me, this time a little closer than before.
"It's a great piece," he says, opening the book to the painting. There they are, Mr and Mrs Percy, and their white cat sitting erect on Mr Percy's lap, lookingforlorny out the window.
"I saw the original a an exhibit last year in Los Angeles". I kick my shoes off and stretch a bit. His sofa is comfy.
A big orange cat appears from the kitchen and walks languidly- almost seductively- towards the stairs, where it stretches and yawns. He looks towards us expectantly.
"Wanna sleep upstairs? My bed's comfier than the sofa..."

Good times

Ahhh... there he is. I make my way to the back of the bar, passing cruising stares and many cute men. Some of them are making out. Many of them are shirtless.
"Hey cutie," I say, putting my arm around Aaron from behind and giving him a kiss on the back of his neck. Aaron disentangles himself from the embrace of the rather tall, muscly guy he was making out with and turns to me.
"Andrew! This is... uh..." Aaron starts.
"Vincent." The muscled guy smiles at me and offers his hand.
"Nice to meet you," I say.
And in a split second, I have looked him up and down and sized him up. Cute, well built, aggressive looking, but at the same time sensitive. Nice strong arms. One of his hands is still on Aaron's naked waist. This vaguely bothers me.
"I'm heading home." I have to work tomorrow, and I'm feeling tired.
"Oh, OK. I'll see you later," Aaron says.
"Want the rest of this?" I say, handing him my unfinished Cape Cod.
On the way home I pass Hot Cookie. I see Jeremy inside closing up for the night. Jeremy is all of 22, and is preparing for his GRE. His study guide usually lies open on the counter near the cash register. I wave at him, but he doesn't notice.

Every single part of Aaron's body...

Aaron is already at Speedo Mountain with his group of friends.
"Hey cutie," I say, sitting down with him. "Need help with that?" I ask, taking the bottle of sunscreen from his hand and applying it to his back.
"Thanks" he says.
"Hiiiiiiii Andrew," says Darlene, slightly slurring her words. She's usually never sober after 2PM.
"Gonna get comfortable?" Aaron asks, tugging at my shirt and putting his hand down my shorts. I pull off my shirt and unbuckle my shorts.It's a scorching hot day, and I'm glad we're in the shade.
Carlos passes me a glass of champagne. I take a sip, and as I do, realize I just got sunscreen lotion on the back of Aaron's speedos. The squarecut bright blue ones I love so much.
"Sorry," I carefully wipe the sunscreen off his ass cheek and apply it to his thigh. I've kissed every single part of this boy's body, I think to myself. The champagne is hitting me.

Sweet-talkin sugarcoated candyman! (candyman!)

Aaron lets out a sudden yelp of joy.
I look up at the screen... and sure enough it's Candyman. One of Aaron's favorites.
The lighting changes, and so does the energy in the club. Little squares of purple light reflected off the discoball, and blue flashing strobelights illuminate the walls and the people to the beat of the music. A cloud of dry ice appears above us and dissolves into the crowd as it descends. The dancefloor is soon packed with a sea of men: cute, 20to30-something, out-on-a-Tuesday-night OMG-I-just-LOVE-Christina-Aguilera hotties.
Aaron is now jumping around in a trancelike state. Smiling from ear to ear, writhing in joy, really feeling the music.
I try to keep up with him but can't.
He's in his own little world.
And it's absolutely adorable.

Aaron's mad

OK. Aaron's mad at me. I can tell because he has an unhappy look on his face which is a combination of a pout and a grimace. And his shoulders are slouching. He's sitting at my dining table staring at the cocktail he just made himself. You'd think I'd know better than to ask what's wrong.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Blah blah blah blah bla..."
"Aaron, we've already talked about this..." I feel like rolling my eyes.
"Yea but your behavior yesterday just reinforced it. I..."
Now don't get me wrong, Aaron's awesome. And he's often right about stuff. Sometimes he's not. This time he wasn't. Not to mention the boy has a bit of a temper.
"So what would you like me to do?"
"Change everything about you. Stop being you and be someone else."
OK, so that isn't really what he said. But it might as well have been.
"We've got to be somewhere in 10 minutes. Do we have talk about this now?" I say, looking at my watch.
"I'm not going."
Yes you are. You're just going to be difficult about it, aren't you."Please?"
At this point though I don't even want to go anywhere.

In Cold Blood

I wake up with a loud shriek.
"Jesus, are you OK?" Aaron asks, jumping up. He switches on the light.
I'm drenched in sweat. Aaron's naked body is now clammy and glistening with my sweat too.
It's the damn book I'm reading.
"I - I just had a nightmare," I say, calming down. In it, Aaron and I are tied up and about to be shot. The next thing, we're in a car... driving as fast as we can, fleeing from some danger. All of a sudden, the road turns into a cliff and...
"Why do you continue reading it? It sounds freakish to me"
"I know... I - I just - "
"You can stop reading any time you want you know." Aaron is mildly irritated.
No I can't. It's like watching a trainwreck. I can't help it. I just have to finish it now. Besides, it's one of the best books I've read in a long while.

So close, so very close...

"mmm..." is all Aaron says. Lots of mmms and a few happy uuuhhhs, and those precious, deep exhales between kisses. Nothing more is necessary. I feel his warmth beneath me as I lay on top of him. The blankets form a coccoon around us, keeping the heat in, keeping us close together. Our lips are locked and my hands roam up and down his sides. He is holding me tightly. I feel his arms locked together at the small of my back. His smooth legs and smooth chest feel like heaven. He is mostly smooth, and where he isn't, he is closely trimmed... just like me. So in positions like the one we're in right now, there's nothing between us, nothing at all - and I can feel him throbbing, right up against me. Aaron has a beautiful dick. Long... fully extended, it reaches up to the end of my shaft but not up to the head of my own cock. They fit well together... locked upwards, stimulating one another with our gentle thrusts.
It feels like there is a flood (a flood of what I'm not sure - but something wonderful) flowing from my chest down into Aaron's, and his moans and uuuhhs are all that matter to me at the moment...

"Drama, in the shape of exceptional happenings...

had never stopped there - "
is how this book I've just started begins. I observe in my immediate sphere the following: the drag-queen-in-(self-assumptive)charge at Cafe Flore tonight upset about something, declaring that her entire show will be ruined unless action is taken right away -- the lesbian couple beside me 'talking through' their issues in rather loud whispers. I hope the one that looks like Annie Lennox wins. The other one looks manipulative -- Across the street, Jake - one of the neighborhood homeless guys - having chosen Bagdad Cafe as his concert stage for the evening, getting his violin out -- is that Rich upstairs at the Metro? With hmmm... wonder what happened to Jim (or was it John) from last week? -- the twilight, all chiffon and liquidy - the sky a pretty shade of blue and pink as orange streetlights are flickering on -- the Sisters, white faces and colorfully arched eyebrows - loudly soliciting money from all of us patrons ("And you with the laptop - what do YOU have against p.a.w.s?" I quickly pull my wallet out) -- that whatshisname crossing the street didn't we fuck once after yoga class? -- a voicemail from Francis, wanting to know if I'll be attending all 4 parties tonight or just the last three. And I suppose your ball-and-chain would rather stay at home? Tell him he's invited.
I guess Holcomb, Kansas is a long ways away from San Francisco, Toto.

Extra nudges & reading body language

"You should hook up with Troy," I continue.
Aaron glances at me, then slowly looks away. This is a look I am beginning to recognize. Not agreement, but not disagreement either. Nudge me just a little bit more... please, he is saying.
"It would be hot," I say, stroking him through his jeans. He's still hard as a rock. "He's totally your type." I reach over and kiss him on the neck. "We could have a threesome."
Aaron moans softly and leans in toward me.
I continue with my kisses."Would you like that?"
In lieu of a response, he puts his head on my shoulder and presses his lips into my neck. His breath his hot.
Our dinner is getting cold on the coffee table.

Stefan's in town!

"I can't believe i am standing here, practically naked, in this crazy costume," Stefan says as he desperately tries to flag down another passing cab. It's 3AM, and a very cold night.
"Hehehe, we do look pretty ridiculous, huh?" I say.
Stefan is wearing bunny ears, a loin cloth and leg warmers. I'm wearing bunny ears, a yellow boa and overalls made of bluish grey downy material. It was Bunny Jam time again, and Stefan was in town. We just HAD to go.
"What if someone recognizes me? I'll be ruined..." Stefan says, shivering from the cold.
Just then a loud groupof rowdy drunk guys drive by in a beat up old truck, and jeering and honking their horn at us.
"The least they do is could offer us a ride," I say.
"Some of them were kind of cute," Stefan says, momentarily forgetting how cold it is.
We're soon joined by a group of other bunnies... there's a Superhero bunny, a carrot and a very glamorous looking playboy playbunny, with a discoball tail. Eventually, a cab does stop for us, and the five of us share it. Stefan gets to sit beside Superhero bunny all the way home.
( more on the Bunny Jam: BJ 2006)
(Stefan: in Puerto Vallarta, cruising in college )

Aaron

Aaron and I get along splendidly. I've known him for over almost a year now. The first time I had sex with Aaron was sometime in June 2006, a few weekends before San Francisco Pride weekend, and several hours after he said hello. We never really got close until a few months ago. It was time last December that I noticed how adorable he was, and that he noticed the same in me (these, of course, are my own words. I wonder what he would say). He's smart, cute, sexy, and always horny - precisely the adjectives I would use to describe myself. We're different enough... he's quiet, pensive and thoughtful, unlike me - the outgoing, vivacious, talkative one. He's got a comforting smile, and for some reason loves being with me. The sex is good... nah the sex is great, and we've got several mutual friends who seem to be nudging us towards relationshiphood with questions like "where's your boyfriend?" or "How's Andrew/Aaron?" when they see Aaron or me without the other....

Dinner with Aaron

"So, did you have a good time with Troy the other night?" Aaron asks from the kitchen.
"Um, yea, I did actually," I say, not looking up from my laptop.
"Cool."
I look over at Aaron, who is standing at the kitchen counter, making dinner. He's been spending a lot of time over at my place these past few months. It's been nice to have him around. I'm not really used to living alone, and he's helped a lot in the transition from my old apartment and roommate.
Aaron brings over our dinner - 2 plates of pasta, and puts them on the coffee table.
"Dinnertime!" he says, taking a seat beside me on the sofa.
"Mmm..." I say. I draw him up close between my legs, and kiss him softly on his
cheek.
"So, you seeing him again?" he asks tentatively.
"Not sure," I say. "Probably." My hands travels lazily down his chest. I feel his smooth skin through his t-shirt. It comes to rest on his crotch. He is fully erect beneath his jeans.

Sunday Brunch with the guys

"Well..." says Spike, eargerly staring at me.
"It's hard to talk about it without getting horny..." I say.
I already feel my hardon trying to nudge its way down the leg of my shorts.
"Dude. You're killing us..." says Mark in response to my continued silence.
"I know, I know. OK, so here's what we did," I say, readusting myself under the table. And I tell them about last Wednesday with Troy. They cling to my every word.
"That guy's an animal..." Spike says when I'm done.
"Yeah, I don't believe it."
"You don't have to believe me. It did all happen though. And I'm seeing him again tonight." Free of the confines of my briefs, I feel myself pulse and throb under my shorts.

A great deal on drinks...

"Excuse me, do you drink?"
Wow. Like, I'm standing here in the middle of a bar on the Castro... you need to ask?
"Um, yea, I do..." I respond cheerfully.
"Well." He looks at me, and then around. He's very flustered, as if he was standing at the checkout counter of the college library and realized he'd just misplaced his library card. And bus tokens too.
"I didn't realize it was 2-for-1 night," he continues, "and the bartender gave me 2 of these really strong drinks... and... well, if you want one..."
Why, how sweet.
"Cheers, thanks!" I say. "So let me guess, you're visiting San Francisco."
"Oh no, I just moved here." He bats his cute, bespectacled, doe-like 27 year old eyes at me.
"Well, welcome to the City," I say, flashing him one of my welcome-to-the-city smiles.
"Where did you move from?"
"Connecticut."
"Wow, quite a change."
"Yeah, I just finished up school, and - " - Let me guess - a Master's degree in Economics from Yale - "blah blah blah " - wow, he's quite the talker - " and here I am!"
"So where will you be working in San Francisco?"
"Oh, for the Federal Reserve. I'm an Economist!" He says proudly.
"Cool! So, what was the weather doing back in New Haven?"
"Oh, it was freezing cold and -" he suddenly furrows his brows and looks at me, "Hey, how did you know I went to Yale?"
"Just a hunch."
"So you remind me of my ex-boyfriend," he says a bit shyly.
"Was he a supermodel?"
We both laugh.
"Hey I wasn't kidding."
We laugh even more, both a little drunker.
It's fun making new friends.

The guy in the black trenchcoat

The Midnight Sun is shoulder to shoulder with cute guys in winter gear - coats and scarves of all colors and makes. Not many hats (bad for the hair of course).
He's wearing a cute black woolen trenchcoat. A dark red dress shirt and grey slacks underneath. He must have just gotten off work. I notice the Calvin Klein label on the bottom left side of his coat. The top button of his shirt is undone, revealing an amply hairy chest.
Somedays I wonder what it would be like to have an amply hairy chest. I bet he'd be fun to cuddle with in bed. Hairy guys are always fun when it's cold outside. As he takes a sip of his drink, his muscles flex slightly, and I make out the impression of his left nipple through his shirt. Nice.
So now I'm wondering if he's a boxers or briefs guy. Hopefully boxers. They look sexier on a hairy man. I imagine my hand wandering over his bare chest and abs, amidst the swirls of hair until they reach the waistband of his cotton boxers... you know, that spot where the hair gets denser, and beckons you below...

Another drink, Antonio?

I've seen him in the neighborhood before. Like a few weeks ago, when I was leaving the gym after a particularly good workout, he was standing outside, looking at the t-shirts and stuff they have for sale. He was wearing a corduroy jacket with a furry collar. The same one he's wearing tonight.
"So you thinking of joining our gym?" He's standing beside me, still a bit nervous. Actually, he's much taller than me, and is practically towering over me. I find his nervousness endearing. I also like how his jeans are slung low on his waist, exposing a little of his undershirt, which is tucked in deeply.
"Maybe. Do you like it?"
Boy, do I ever. I just say,"Yeah, it's a pretty good facility. You should ask for a guest pass and try it out."
"You must work out a lot," he says.
I smile. I know where that line usually leads.
(Antonio; another gym story: My tattooed-musclehunk)

Have you heard of the Teddybear Picnic?

"Of course, my dear! What a delightful little lullaby," says my grandmother. "All the teddybears on a picnic in the woods, and frolicking with one another until dinnertime!" I'm constantly amazed at the things she's able to remember.
"Oh yea, I remember that one!" Karl says, humming a few lines. "No, it's not a gay song at all. Teddybears carrying picnic baskets into the woods, their mommies and daddys putting them to bed when they get tired. It's cute." Then, scratching his head, he says, "Although I can see how you think it could be a gay song."
I like how he chuckles to himself.

A hot guy and a hot car

"Sure you can. Here!" he says, tossing me the carkeys. I barely manage to catch them. "I'll race you to the top of Twin Peaks." He takes off in his other car, leaving me standing at the curb.
"I...uh..." I'm fumbling, slightly nervous, and extremely excited, as I open the driver's seat door to his Mercedes Benz CLK55. Wow this is a nice car. Probably worth about twenty times what my decade old Honda Civic is worth. The black leather interior is slick, the dasbhoard looks like a very elegant airplane cockpit.
The seat-warmers come on, I'm buckled in, and the stereo sounds like I'm in a symphony hall.
And whoa... this thing has POWER!
I ease off the pedal, amazed at how much pick-up it has. I turn off Castro Street and wind my way up Market Street, leaving the city lights and the envious gazes of several gay men behind. I am at the summit of Twin Peaks in three exhilarating minutes.
He's already there, waiting for me.
I park easily, and take my seat beside him. It's a crystal clear night, and the Bay Area is spread out at our feet - the City skyline just below, the Airport to the right, the Oakland Hills straight ahead, and the Golden Gate Bridge, brightly illuminated, to our left.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it Andrew?"
"Nah," I say nonchalantly, even though my heart is still racing. I slip one of my hands into his coat pocket to keep warm.

Antonio

There's that tall, lanky 21 year old again. Why is he looking at me? He IS cute, but he's so... young. He's probably Spanish or Meditteranean... that dark, curly hair, the dark eyes with long eyelashes, that sensuous way he glides from the bar to the table. He's so skinny... he must have a 26 size waist. And deep red lips. The beginnings of a shadow on his chin. He's a little unsure of himself yet - the way he sips his beer and clumsily wipes his chin.
He quickly looks away when I look at him. Then he glances back to see if I'm still looking at him. I am.
He hesitates, then smiles.
Cheers, kid.

Dating outside of 94114

"I wish he'd move closer... I mean... he lives all the way out in Hayes Valley."
"I once dated a guy who lived in Twin Peaks," muses Paul.
"94131? That's not so bad," says Mike.
"Unless you bike everywhere."
"You've got a point."
"What do you guys think of 94103?"
"The Mission? Fine unless you own a car. You can never stay over on street-sweeping days."
"This one trick once took me out to the Avenues..." Mike again.
"Danger! He better be hot, because you can't leave until the morning!"
"Hey guys I'm seeing someone who lives in Ashbury Heights...94117!"
"West of 94114?!? That's a change! I thought you were into east-of-Castro guys!"
"So remember that cute guy from Kevin's party last week? Well, he gave me his cell... it was a 925 area code!"
A collective shriek goes out from all four of us.
"Yikes!"
"Might as well be Egypt!"
"Yeah, long distance relationships suck."

It's beginning to feel a lot like...

Christmas lights are everywhere, the large 'Community Tree' has been put up on the corner of Castro and 18th. The shops are buzzing. The cute men I saw on speedo mountain only six months ago are still around looking just as cute, but now in woolen jackets and fashionable scarves. The musclebunnies have gone into hibernation.
The community is getting ready for the holidays. Philip just invited me to the Home for the Holidays at the Castro Theater. Fabulous Miss Keith and her fabulous posse are having a fabulous Christmas party.
And Ernest has decided to celebrate Christmas this year. "But no presents. I expect none. Under any circumstances. You know how I feel about presents... don't you dare, Andrew. I'm warning you..."

Welcome to the world, Ethan

So I spent Thanksgiving weekend with the family, and my brand-spanking new little nephew Ethan. He's 2 weeks old (2 1/2 weeks by the end of my trip), and the cutest little thing I've ever seen.
He and I spent a good deal of time talking - which consisted mostly of him opening his eyes once in a while and making little gurgly noises, and me making goofy sounds and funny faces. As I looked down at him and rocked him in my arms, I found myself fascinated just imagining all the adventures and possibilities his life will have in store for him... all the things he will see and do by the time he's my age. It left me wondering if, thirty four years ago, when I was 2 1/2 weeks old, anyone could have even dreamt up the person I would be today.

Eric and Dave on Vacation - Chapter 6

Hey folks, Here is Chapter 6 of Eric and Dave on vacation.

Eric and I stayed home all day making love. He called in sick, and I canceled my appointments. We couldn’t get enough of each other...

“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time.” With his free hand Eric reached up and slowly ran his fingers through my hair.

“Yeah, me too,” I said.

Click here to read Eric & Dave on vacation, Chapter 6

Enjoy!

Note to new readers: Eric & Dave on Vacation (aka Straight Boys on Vacation, as it is called on nifty) is Dave's story... the same Dave from My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend. It's what happened in Puerto Vallarta and beyond, several months before they join Rich, Bri and Cindy in San Diego.

The long drive home

"Do you want to drive?" We were atleast an hour away from home, and I was tired. Besides, truth be told I don't really like driving that much anyways.
"Sure!" he says, gleefully taking the car keys from me as I get into the passenger side of my car. "One thing though..." He grabs a bunch of napkins, wets them and starts cleaning my windshield. "How do you drive this car with the windshield like this! It's filthy!"
Feeling even more grateful to Karl that he's not only going to drive, but he's also cleaning my window, I wonder if I'd get away with asking him to wash my car for me.
I watch from the warmth of the inside of my car, as he scrubs and polishes the windsheild, occasionally looking at me and making funny faces - grins, crossed eyes, furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips. I laugh when he sticks his tongue out.
When he's done, I'm tempted to hold out a dollar bill as a tip, but am too tired to be humorous.
I hold Karl's hand for the rest of the drive home.

The Farewell party at work

"Say that again..."
"Yo' ma bitch, girl!"
"Wooh! I think I just came!"
"Again???"
"Yeah... wish I was wearin' panties!"
"Christ! Move over! These are new shoes I'm wearing!"
"Good God... you lesbians are too much!"
"Oh yeah, Mister I-stalk-guys-in-the-mensroom-at-work?"
"Andrew, I'm wearing silk boxers."
"Yeah I know. You were in Stall 2 at 3 o'clock"
"I rest my case."
"So anyone here ever slept with a co-worker?"
"Hey so why's everyone looking at me? That's a line I'd never cross."
"Yea. Tell the truth, Andrew. We know you better than you think.."
"OK, if you insist. Let me tell you about the other night at Sandra's..."
(Other co-worker stories: Derek, cute ass, Rex pissing )

The only other Danish guy I can think of is Hamlet

Hmmm... he has sandy blond hair, I think looking down at his head. How unique. I guess I really do have a dark-hair fetish. I can't remember the last time I was with someone so blond.
"Mmh... that feels good," I say.
"Tak," he says, which I learn means thanks. Then he adds, "You have a very sexy body."
My mind starts wandering as he does his thing. This is the first time I've ever been with a Danish guy before - a tall, blond, trendy-jeans and sports-coat clad, sexy cologne wearing, all the way from Copenhagen kind of Danish guy. It makes me feel so... so Euro... so high-class, as Wanda Sykes would say.
In the morning, he gives me his email address, which looks like a long string of vowels with a few V's and K's in it.
"Come and visit me in Copenhagen. Gay marriage is legal in Denmark."
"I'd love to," I say, wondering if I'd just been proposed to - and if I'd just accepted.

My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend - Chapter 5

I didn't want to keep you all in suspense any longer... here is chapter 5 of My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend.

An excerpt:

When I returned with the champagne and glasses, the two of them were lying down beside each other. Cindy’s nightgown was riding up over her stomach, and Rich was caressing her.

“Brian, come and lie down beside me,” Cindy said.

Instantly, I felt put on the spot. I didn’t want to be part of their scene. “I don’t know, Cindy. I might just go back to Dave’s –”

“Please?” she looked at me with pleading eyes..."

Click here for the full chapter - My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend - Chapter 5
Hope you enjoy it! As always, let me know what you think.

I am NOT sleeping with Nick in that bed...

Sandra, Nick and I are the last three standing. Who knew my straight co-workers could party that hard?
"You and Nick are sleeping out here in the livingroom," Sandra says as she starts inflating a queen size air mattress. "It's 4 AM and neither of you is in any shape to drive home."
"Sandra, are you crazy?" I say, pulling her aside. "I can't sleep in the same bed as him. He's way too cute, way too straight, I work with him, and I'm way to attracted to him."
"Well honey he sure isn't sleeping in MY bed. For all the same reasons." Sandra replies coolly.
We hear the sounds of Nick pissing in the bathroom. 37 year-old, tall, dark, handsome, sexy, muscular, tight-jeans wearing, metrosexual Nick. Just an hour ago, when we were all confessing what our 'types' were, he said, "Hmmm, well, if Andrew were a girl, she would be EXACTLY my physical type. We'd have sex like fucking maniacs." I just smiled weakly and gulped in response to that.
Next thing I know, it's 10 A.M, I have a terrible headache. I'd passed out on the couch. I stumble to the bathroom to pee, and see Nick sleeping on the floor in the bathroom. His jeans were still undone. I nudge him awake. He's a mess too.
Sandra wakes up from the noise, and comes into the bathroom wearing a pink bathrobe. No signs of a headache. "Rise and shine, you two! I'll get the coffee started..."

My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend - Chapter 4

It's Brian, Rich and Cindy time again! Here's Chapter 4. For some reason, Dave and Stephanie from the "Eric & Dave on Vacation" series are insisting on playing a larger role in this story, so if you haven't checked out the Eric & Dave series yet, you might want to...

An excerpt:

Dave and I did what we’d always done best. We huddled together as we watched Rich with our girlfriends.

“You two,” Rich said, gently grabbing us both by our hair. He was as drunk as we were. “Daveboy, and Bri boy - my two favorite buddies." He looked at us both, slowly, and deliberately. "I want you both to sleep in my bedroom tonight. I have a feeling Cindy and Steph might need some space.”

Click here for Chapter 4 of My Swimteam Buddy and my Girlfriend

Enjoy! and do let me know what you think!

Any time, Derek, really. I mean it.

This company-wide Town Hall meeting promised to be just as boring as the others. I generally disklike these events and try to sit somewhere near the back and hope noone notices when I sneak out half way through.
Then I spotted Derek, sitting in the third row, with all the big shots and other upwardly-mobile golden boys his level. Wearing an adorable peach & white striped shirt. His short, schoolboy haircut... a perfect hairline around his ear, sideburns short but long enough to be hot. He turned to the cute golden-boy beside him and they shared a laugh about something. My heart was going pitter patter.
"And now for the quarterly recognition awards..." announced the towncrier. Ugh I hate the quarterly recognition awards. Now's when I usually make my escape.
"The first award, for outstanding -" blah blah blah "- goes to Derek..."
A loud cheer erupts from the audience. Derek stands up looking a bit surprised. He makes his way to the stage, amid the applause and shouts of his colleagues. Cute trousers. Polished shoes. Hot ass. Laughs, smiles, a self-deprecating shrug to the audience... I find myself whistling and applauding uncontrolably. After he receives his plaque, he does a little happy jig on the stage - which makes the audience shout some more. Go Derek! Go Derek! Go Derek! Geez you'd think this was a frat house.
Much later, I see him in the hallway and congratulate him. He smiles that smile that makes my heart melt, pats me on the back (it stings, but just a little) and says,"Thanks, man. You know I wouldn't have gotten it without all your hard work and support! Let's have lunch this week. On me."
Ok, relax, Andrew. Breathe. It's not a date. It's just lunch... I find myself thinking.
(more Derek posts: Derek's boxers, Derek's blue sweater, Derek's ass; Ewan McGregor )

Any interpretations for bad, dark dreams?

My dream last night: Trevor and I were at the top of some building in the tropics and needed to climb down these treacherous stairs. I had my bicycle with me. Trevor said, hey, no problem, I'll take your bicycle for you, and you just follow me.... and, the brash optimist he normally is, started bounding down the stairs with tigger like enthusiasm, carrying my bicycle. I refused to budge and just stayed there watching, as he made it down 2 flights of stairs before he fumbled, dropped my bicycle , and, attempting to save it, fell down a flight of stairs. I'm shouting never mind my bike as I watch in horror, as he continues to fall... headfirst, landing on the dark concrete below. I hear a loud thud and see Trevor lying unconscious, in a pool of blood... and then wake up shouting, panting, sweating...
(more on Trevor: making love; saving my ass; shades of Ewan McGregor )

My Swimteam Buddy & My Girlfriend - chapter 3

Here you go, boys! Chapter 3 of the swimteam story.

“You’re looking great, baby!” Rich said as he held Steph in a long, intimate embrace. They stood very close together. Rich had his swimmer-smooth, bare legs spread slightly apart, and Steph stood in between them.. I glanced over at Dave to see what his reaction was. He looked over at me, and just shrugged his shoulders. He was used to Rich stealing his thunder. We both were.

Click here for the full Chapter

As always, let me know what you think. It's always a pleasure to hear from you guys!

Decompression: The Burning Man Dance

I was dancing with Francis when - hey - where did you go? I turned to the cute guy in the orange toga. His chest was hairy and so were his thighs. On my left - a girl dancing with a tall, slender guy. Both of them wearing red underwear and black and white stockings. Just like Dr. Seuss. On my right was a guy with a shield and a plastic sword, and a lionhead. I danced with him until the girl with the bright green feather wings bumped into me. Hey wassup Miss Angel Thing with all the sequins and lyre (or lute?). The top-hat & tailcoat wearing guy with the beard (taking all the pictures) came up from behind and wrapped his arms around me. I said thanks, and moved towards the cute petite girl with the laser-wire cone bra and beehive hair. She was fierce. Oh Look! there's bunnyguy. (I sooooo know you.) And his friend - Mr. green pink and furry. Hell yeah. Then the girl in the purple negligee offered me a sip of her drink. She was hot. and smooth. Unlike Gorillaman with all the black polyester fur. Get your hands off my ass. Francis where the fuck are you...

And the Latin men? Aren't they charmers?

"Get yourself a slice of carrot cake, pour us some wine, and tell all," my grandmother says. She places an anticipatory pause between the words tell and all.
I do as I am told, and take my seat beside her on the sofa. I then proceed to gush about my trip to Puerto Vallarta. My grandmother listens intently, nodding, smiling, occasionally laughing, as I tell her about my adventures, the beach, the thunderstorms, Frida's, the men... Naturally, I omit the raunchier details.
"And the weather?" she asks, taking a sip of her wine.
"HOT! And humid! Too hot for clothes. I spent the week in speedos or shorts," I said. And the shorts kept coming off.
"John and I loved Mexico. We went every year," she reminisces. I love it when she talks about John. Her cheeks get all rosy and her expression softens. "And Stefan? Is he doing well? It's been ages. Is he as handsome as when I last saw him?"
"Yep. He sends his love. Oh, I should tell you about this strange coconut..."
(more on my vacation: cruising, sex in the water, sunrise )

Handsfree

Adam's orgasm came just as mine did. One last thrust and I let go, shooting deep into him, hard and intense. I held him up against me from behind the entire time, encircling his chest with one arm and holding his arms immoble above his head with the other. His body shuddered and writhed against me. Looking over his shoulder as I came, I watched him erupt, hands-free, wildly spewing his jizz all over his smooth chest and stomach. His first shot was a long, messy white rope that extended from his nipple down to the base of his pubes. The next few shots left small white droplets along his torso and the last one just trickled out of him down the underside of his shaft. It was late afternoon, and the sunlight was streaming through my bedroom window. I continued to hold Adam for a long while, watching, as his cum slowly liquefied and dribbled onto my sheets, leaving wet, shiny streaks on his chest and stomach.

Stillness, except for the sound of waves crashing on the beach

- and Stefan and me quibbling. We're stumbling up a cobblestone path lined with palm trees that takes us back to the hotel. It's 4 AM and we're very drunk.
"Do you always have to analyze -"
"- just like back in college when - "
"- Me!? You mean you - "
... and so on and so on.
A loud THUD noise shatters the silence and abruptly ends our argument. "AHHHHHH!" we both shout in unison and cling to one another. A large coconut, the size of a cannon ball, has just fallen from a tree, crashing on the ground 3 feet in front of us. We stare at it blankly, completely shocked. It gently rolls down the hill and stops at our feet.
"Holy shit! We almost died!" Stefan says.
"Fuuuuck!" Stefan and I both look at each other, and almost instantly, start laughing.
"Like a message from God, telling us to shut the fuck up!" Stefan says. I sit down on the street, and am laughing my ass off.
"You scream like Farrah Fawcett," I say, mocking Stefan's scream. At this he mock-kicks the coconut towards me, but ends up stubbing his toe instead. I laugh even harder. Defeated, Stefan sits down beside me and joins me in my hysterical laughter.
The cobblestones are killing my ass, and the coconut feels cold and wet. But I can't get up yet. It's too precious a moment, and too beautiful a night.
( similar posts: lying on Hartford Street back in SF )
(more on Paradise: cruising, thunderstorms, sunrise )

Still in Paradise: waking up in the living room

I don't feel like a tourist anymore. Stefan and I have several local friends now - the gang at Frida's "un bar" (think Cheers except that the place is a shrine to Frida Kahlo), the zany, hypercharged Vivianna and her laid-back, uber-sexy, suprisingly metrosexual boyfriend, who we hang out with almost every night (I'm reminded of Lisa from New Orleans), the artists from back home (imagine traveling 2000 miles and hooking up with guys who live 6 blocks away from you!) , here on a long term assignment.
Stefan is in the bedroom with the guy he met last night, so I'm relegated to sleeping in the living room. It's sunrise, and I awake to the bright light flooding into our hotel room. Only a day left in paradise, I think to myself, standing on the balcony, as I lazily stretch, taking in the view of Banderas Bay. The early morning fishing boats are out and the fog is slowly lifting off the outer edges of the lagoon. One boat has a flock of seagulls eagerly following in its wake. I am reminded of a solemn Tennyson poem and a different bay, one much closer to home.
(more on Paradise: cruising, thunderstorms)

Growers in Speedos & Tropical Thunderstorms

"I live in Toronto but am originally from Mexico City," he says as his arms encircle my waist from behind. Warm rain is bearing down on us, and we're in the water. The waves are a little stronger now, but the being in the sea is still more pleasant than being on the beach.
I feel his surprisingly impressive bulge up against my ass. Who knew? "Wow, you're a grower!" I say. Oops. that just slipped out.
"You like that?"
I turn around to face him. The rain is getting heavier, the sky is a bright grey, and we hear thunder in the distance. Some of the other guys are getting out of the water. I pull his speedos down to his knees, and he does the same to mine.
At the same instant we're overtaken by a huge wave and tumble apart. Ugh. I hate the taste of salty sea water. Stefan is waving frantically from underneath the umbrella. I wave back. I'll be out in a sec, wait up!
"Wanna come back to our room, big guy?" I ask as I readjust myself in my trunks.
(more in the sun: blonds & bulges )

Cruising under the sun

The humidity is oppressive. The temperatures are fierce. We rarely stray from the shade for fear of getting heat exhaustion. Stefan and I are wearing the least amount of clothes legal.
Thank god speedos are legal. And thank god for beach umbrellas. We can't decide what's hotter though.... the weather or the men.
"Wow," Stefan says, pointing to a dark, tanned guy in white trunks, "that guy's HOT."
"Yeah, so is his husband over there," I say, "the one in the blue shorts. They're here on their honeymoon. They're from Boston, and just got married. I talked to them in the elevator."
"Oh." Stefan is only a little deflated.
"I like the blue speedo guy over there," I say. I smile and raise my drink at a guy 3 umbrellas away. He smiles back at me. Beach blond hair, and hot pecs. "I bet he's from LA." ("Orange County. Close, though," he tells me later that evening.)
"Ready for another round of margaritas?" Stefan asks, motioning the bartender over.

Driving Miss Keith, again

"Uh-huh... yep... 6 o'clock. Sure. uhh... OK. can't be late for the open bar. Got it. 80s themed? like... oh- got it. OK. VIP passes... ya, uh-huh yep.. your place? but that's across town - oh, right. nevermind. dinner? *sigh* sure. what kind? chicken. right. and, yep, I remember... no sour cream. Red? I don't have a red shirt- oh, OK. whatever you want. Miss who? do I know him? sorry, I mean, her? No that's out of our way. we can't... well, I suppose if I left work early and - Yea of course you can crash at my - but- but- no I can't hold my battery's almost dead - I'll pick you up at 5. Me too. bye, Miss Keith."
I will say this... Miss Keith made it worthwhile. It isn't every day you get VIP passes to see the Killers in a suprise performance.
(Driving Miss Keith Part 1; Missing the party )

"Catching up" with Nate

So who would I run into the other night at a going away party the other evening than Nate. As soon as we see each other we bound towards each other and he smothers me in a big bearhug. It's a little ritual we've developed, no matter whom he's with or whom I'm with. We promise to catch up soon. I ask him out to dinner, and he says sure. So long as we can "catch up" at his place after dinner too, he adds. His eyes twinkle mischeviously. All of a sudden I feel incredibly horny.
(more on Nate: twilight in the Park )

On the phone with Stefan: Bodybuilders, straight roommates and angry cabdrivers

“Hey Stefan, remember that time we picked up that bodybuilder firefighter guy and brought him back to Kensington Palace?” Kensington Palace, as we affectionately called the rundown old brownstone Stefan lived in, was a major party hub (gay and straight) during our student days. KP was a great place... so close to campus and all the bars and restaurants downtown. The one downside was Stefan lived with 2 very cute but very rigidly straight guys.
“Oh my God. We were soo drunk that night!” Stefan recalls of that evening a decade ago, adding, “He was bigger than both of us put together!”
“And when he left, he made so much noise he woke up Peter and Mallik?”
“Ugh....” Stefan groans and laughs at the same time, “That was sooo embarassing. Mallik looked so shocked to see the guy putting his clothes on in the livingroom.”
“And he didn't have money for a cab?” Just when we thought the story couldn't get better. More groans from Stefan. “Yeah... and the cabdriver came back to KP at 4 AM and yelled at us for his cabfare. Peter was sooo pissed off.”
“So whatever happened to Peter and Mallik?”
“Not sure. One got married and the other is still out canoeing somewhere is my guess.”

My Swimteam Buddy & My Girlfriend - Chapter 2

(Geez! What took so long, Andrew?). Rich, Cindy and Brian, our confused, helpless narrator are back with another adventure.

Here is an excerpt:

My girlfriend looked incredibly sexy in my buddy’s arms. She flirted with him with that same coy, girlishness she used on me. That’s what it must look like when she flirts with me, I thought to myself. I started to get aroused despite myself. The warm jets of bubbles streaming over my lower back and between my legs weren’t helping either, and before I knew it, I felt my prick getting hard underneath my shorts...

Click here to read My Swimteam Buddy and My Girlfriend - Chapter 2

And, as always, let me know what you think!

On the sidewalk on Hartford Street

'What time is it?'
'1 AM'
'Why are we lying here?'
'Dunno'
'What are you looking at?'
'The stars'
'Dude, there are no stars in San Francisco. Just fog and smog'
'Wow. Who thought the sidewalk on Hartford Street would be this comfortable!'
'I prefer upper 18th. Quieter. And less pets'
'You gonna go to Southern Decadence with me next year?'
'Sure am'
'Why did we order that third round of tequila shots?'
'Dunno'
'In New Orleans they have this drink called Purple Poontangs that -'
'Dude, we know. We read your blog'
'K'
'You guys work tomorrow?'
'Yep. At 10'
'I have to be at work at 8'
Spike, Paul and I say nothing else. Paul's arm is a nice pillow. Life is good for the moment.

At a 'straight' bar on Bourbon Street

"This round's on me, y'all!" shrieks Lisa. Lisa, the only straight woman in our gang is dressed in what she refers to as drag... a petite green dress that hides very little, a bright pink sunflower broach, and a cherry red wig ("Don't forget my hooker panty-hose!" she reminds me, pointing at her fishnet stockings riddled with holes) . She puts most drag queens to shame.
"Bartender, 7 Purple Poontangs, please!". And she turns to us all, "It's a Southern Decadence Parade special". She pronounces parade Pay-rayde.
Her boyfriend, who reminds me a lot of Billy Currington, shakes his head, and says "Noone down here cept her says Pay-Rade. that ain't southern... that's just Lisa!"
"So what's in a Purple Poontang?" the porn-guy asks. He's from Philly.
"It's a big grape slurpy with about 4 shots of alcohol in it," says hunky straight boyfriend.
I look around the table at our little group: the darling oil guy from Houston who's soft on me, the porn guy, Lisa, who's actually an interior designer, her studly boyfriend the car guy, Lawrence and Kris, and me (the blog guy from San Francisco)... all seated at a straight bar on Bourbon Street in the humid, sultry heat of Decadence afternoon.
"Here's to Nawlans, and to the French Quarter!"
The seven of us happily raise our Purple Poontangs and clink our plastic cups, about to jointly suffer from a case of deep purple tongues and brain freeze.
(more posts on New Orleans: Southern Decadence, dancing with the guy's wife)

Southern men: cute & clueless?

"My name is Andrew. I'm from San Francisco. You?"
"Houston"
"Baton Rouge"
"Baton Rouge"
"Birmingham"
"Lafayette"
"Penascola"
"Atlanta"
"Memphis"
"Baton Rouge"
"Myrtle Beach"
"Jackson"
"Atlanta"
"Coral Gables"
"Charlotte"
"Huntsville"
"Dallas"
"Lafayette"
"Minneapolis"
"Little Rock"
Wait a sec... I quickly make my way back to the cute, incredibly hot, corn-fed smiling face from Minnesota, elbowing all the cute shirtless guys on the dancefloor on my way.
"Did you say you were from Minneapolis?" I ask. Before he as a chance to reply, I add "Come with me" and lead him by the hand off the dance floor. It doesn't take long. He cums quickly, and copiously. It takes 3 napkins to wipe it off my chin and chest.
Here in New Orleans I'm feeling outnumbered, not to mention uncute, amongst all these hot Southern boys. It ain't fair, I tell ya. In San Francisco, we work hard to be cute. Hours at the gym, the salon, shopping for the right clothes... while here in the South, they're just plain cute, and don't even KNOW how amazingly, unbelievably, erection-inducingly HOT they are!

Make mine a double. On the rocks, please!

"And so there we were, stumbling out of the bar at 5 AM..." I recount to Lawrence, our good friend and New Orleans host, "and Paul is singing 'Me and Bobby McGee' at the top of his lungs, while we walk down St.Anne -"
"Uh, actually, that was YOU, Andrew. Not me," interrupts Paul.
"Anyways, someone was belting out Me & Bobby McGee, and a few people on the street joined in..." I continue. "And then, we tried to be all quiet when we got home because we didn't want to disturb you and Kris -"
"Uh, Andrew... actually, you didn't COME home. You ended up hooking up with that couple from DC and going back to their hotel room..."
"Well, OK, so I took a slight detour." I say, irritated at Paul for having such a good memory for details.
"Was that YOU at 8 AM, making all that noise opening the front door?" Lawrence asks.
"Anyways, the point is, this place is absolutely INCREDIBLE. I haven't had this much fun since..." I'm trying to think of when I had this much fun in San Francisco, "since... "
"Last weekend?" Paul again.
Lawrence laughs, and reaches for the bottle of Southern Comfort on the kitchen counter. "Some SoCo, y'all?"
"It isn't even noon yet!" I say, loving it, "Of course!"
(more posts on New Orleans: Southern Decadence, dancing with the guy's wife)
(more on Paul: I heart NY ; he leaves SF; The stately ships )