Madonna

Oooh I can't wait.... The concert starts in another hour and a half. I'm already practically hyper-ventillating as I sit here and type. You see, I grew up with Madonna's music. Material Girl & True Blue made high-school bearable. The college years: Like a Prayer, and Vogue. Take a Bow and Secret saw me graduate. I remember waltzing around my bedroom with Christopher (an ex-boyfriend), bumping into furniture the entire way, after we saw Evita together on a date. In 1999 I rushed out to buy a CD of Don Maclean's greatest hits after I heard her version of American Pie. Then I was mesmerized by Ray of Light. A few years later, my LA days were defined by Hollywood. And now, Confessions.
I suppose you could say I'm a fan.

Walking down 18th on a Sunday morning

It's such a trip. Walking down 18th Street towards Castro St on a mid-morning Sunday you're bound to run into atleast a few of them: cute guys leaving houses or apartments, smiling or waving at their shirtless 'friends' standing behind the doors, usually smiling or waving back at them. If you've got a good memory you might even recognize a few of them from one of the clubs the night before. They're wearing the same clothes they were wearing from the previous night, only slightly rumpled now. They have disheveled hair, and look like they've gotten very little sleep, but their faces and bodies glow with post-hookup bliss.
They usually smile sheepishly at you, or at each other, in recognition. Was your hookup good too? Right on, dude!
These guys are an important part of our neighborhood. Just as important as the pretty potted plants and the bright Victorians with the bay windows. They help keep things colorful. And yes, gay.

Lazy Saturday afternoon sex

Kevin likes slow-motion sex. Like spending 2 hours touching, feeling, caressing, massaging, fondling, kissing…. not even getting past first base but not even caring. It was a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon. It's not like we had to be anywhere. Sunlight was streaming through my bedroom window in that special way (those of you that have seen my bedroom in the afternoon know what I’m talking about), and jazz was playing on the stereo. Two wine glasses and a half-empty bottle of chardonnay on my nightstand. Of course, when the munchies and the giggles hit we had to move to the kitchen to find something to eat, but that was just a fun, amusing, one-time interruption. Kevin was really good. Like, really really good. We totally clicked. I hope to see him again on another sunny Saturday afternoon in the not-too-distant future.

Driving Miss Keith

The caller id on my cell says Keith.
"Hey Keith, what's going - "
"Andrew, we're fucked. It's all ruined. We're not going tomorrow night."
"Huh? Why not?"
Keith was going to his cousin's bachelorette party dressed in drag, and asked me to be her male escort. I was actually looking forward to the event... I always do when I get to be a submissive, male escort to a fabulous drag queen. Particularly at non-gay events.
"Well, I have nothing to wear. And it's Memorial Day weekend. I can't wear a repeat," Keith says.
"Uh, how about that light green Marilyn Monroe thing you almost wore on St. Patrick's Day?" Sometimes, I impress even myself in my ability to think quickly.
"Hey... there's an idea. I think it's still in my closet somewhere. That could work... after all, green is a nice, fertile, bachelorette color! If I can find it, we're on again. Pick me up at 10:30 sharp. Love ya!"
I hang up, amazed at how easily Keith had gotten a ride out of me too. Picking him up all the way over in Berkeley wasn't part of the original plan.
The phone rings again.
"And could you pick me up a tube of green glitter? They sell it at Cliff's. We'll need some for your chest too. And not the holographic kind. I hate that stuff."
Click.
Ahh, yes. The joys of being one of Keith's favorites.

Pissing, hands-free

So there is something that drives me absolutely crazy about a guy standing in front of a urinal, pissing, without holding his dick. Like Rex. I walk into the mensroom today, and hear the sound of a steady, thick stream of piss. Rex is standing in front of the urinal, pissing, and cracking his knuckles at the same time. Then, he lazily stretches his arms above his head, pissing all the while. He isn't even shy about it. "Andrew, what up, bro?" he says, as I sidle up to the neighboring urinal and sheepishly start peeing, using both hands. Well, for starters, my cock, thanks to you, I think. I'm not completely sure, but I think free-form pissing a straight-boy thing. How do they hold their aim?

Nate grabbed me in a big, warm, cuddly bearhug

... the moment he opened his apartment door. It was so good to see him again. He looked great. We'd both just gotten off work, and so were still dressed up in our work clothes. I took in that familiar, comforting Nate smell as my head rested on his shoulder. It brought back memories of our brief fling back in December. If we both hadn't been completely famished, I'm pretty sure we would have ripped each other's clothes off and ended up in bed.
In a way I'm glad we didn't end up in bed, because we would have missed that brief but stunningly beautiful trek through Golden Gate Park to the restaurant on Irving St.
I hate to get all romantic, but it's inevitable after being at Golden Gate Park at twilight on a warm spring evening. The smell of eucalyptus wafted through the air, the lights had just come on at the De Young Center illuminating the fountain and the sculptures around it, and we had to dodge the occasional lawn sprinkler that turned on as we made our way along the paths. Nate's eyes had a certain sparkle, and he looked happy. I was glad he was still part of my life.

New story: My Tattooed Musclehunk

This story was inspired by a little incident at the gym a week ago.

He’s about a block ahead of me, and I easily catch up with him.
“I… I think you’re really really hot,” I blurt out.
“My apartment is just around the corner. Care to join me?” he asks, smiling.
My cock springs to attention again as I eagerly nod.

Click here for the full story My Tattooed Musclehunk

Enjoy!

Max's brother and my roommate

Max came up with a brilliant idea on Friday, as we were on our third round of drinks, sitting in the back patio of the Mix.
"We should totally have my brother hook up with your roommate. I think they'd be awesome together."
Much as I love the idea of becoming one of Max's in-laws (he's a GREAT cook and throws fantastic parties) the idea of setting up my roommate with anyone makes me nervous. Although now that I think about it, there is something vaguely appealing (in a kinky sort of way) about the idea of the two of us having sex with two brothers in the flat at the same time.

My weekend dose of Todd

Todd kept playfully nudging me as we walked through the displays and exhibits at the SF Asian Art Museum yesterday. I think that means he likes me. By the time we got to the 3-Gorges Project exhibit, which was very impressive, and timely considering they just completed the massive construction yesterday, the playful nudges had turned into playful nudges and the occasional hug, and soon the nudges and hugs turned into nudges, hugs and the occasional kiss.
It was all very cute, and in a way, reminded me of Dan nudging buddy (in MESB) after he buys him the ice cream cone. Except that I didn't have sticky fingers or a sticky face at the end of it.

Alan & Mulholland Drive

What I discovered about Alan last Wednesday on our date was that he is passionate about Fine Art. Like really passionate.
Which is wonderful in that I know very little beyond the basics, so I'm hoping I can learn a lot. I also learned that the LA County Museum of Art is one of his favorite museums on this coast. I used to spend a lot of time at LACMA when I lived in LA. (One of my favorite paintings there: Mulholland Drive).
So, as he was leaving my apartment (way later than we should have stayed up, but a good time was had by all), we made plans to go to one of the local museums one of these days.

Eric & Dave on Vacation: Chapter 2

So, here it is folks. Eric and Dave are back. Find out what happens when they confront the girls after their little nocturnal adventure:

Eric and I had no idea what to expect when we got to Las Palmas. I expected the worst - that both our sorry asses would get publicly humiliated and then dumped.

“Oh man… I’m fucked.” Eric let out a whimper. For an instant I thought he was going to bolt.

As Stephanie turned around to look at me, I shrunk at eye initial contact.

Click here for: Eric & Dave on Vacation, Chapter 2

Enjoy! And feel free to leave a comment here, or email me directly.

Trevor

Last night I had dinner with my 89 year-old grandmother. I love spending time with her, and I always feel guilty for not visiting her more often. She was very fond of Trevor, my ex-boyfriend who's briefly mentioned in a previous posting, and always asks after him, even though we've been apart for almost a year now. In fact, some evenings, such as last night, all she seems to want to talk about is Trevor, bless her heart.
So, needless to say, all I could think of after I got home last night was Trevor. And how grateful I am to have had him in my life.
Trevor's smile lit up my world for several years. If you find yourself drawn to a character in one of my stories who has a beautiful smile, there's a good chance you're being drawn to Trevor's smile.

I wish they all could be Iowa Boys

Like Todd. We watched 24 at his place last night, drinking wine stretched out on his sofa. What a cutie. As I gently stroked his hairy legs under his shorts during the show and we made out during the commercials, I thought to myself, I wonder if they're all this cute in Des Moines and Cedar Rapids. Maybe one day I'll find out.

New fiction in the works

The two stories I'm working on right now (and very close to completion) are:
Eric and Dave - Chapter 2 (find out what happens to Eric and Dave when they meet the girls)
Also, based on popular demand, my Tattooed Musclehunk is getting his own story.
Stay tuned... they'll be posted here by the end of the week!

Rock hard

Martin's cock stayed hard all evening. Rock hard. If I didn't know better I'd think he'd taken something for it. He was hard when we met at the Bar, when we danced, and when we made out at the table near the DJ booth. Not an obnoxious humping-gyrating-my-pelvis-into-your-space hard, just a very pleasant, sexy, hey-stud-I'm-happy-to-see-you hard. It stayed hard even when we talked about politics and economics and such (of course, we were groping each other during this conversation). He stayed hard for the entire time we got down and serious, first on my couch, then in my bed. No waxing and waning for this boy. Just hard, hard, hard, hard, hard. And this morning, he wakes up with morning wood.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I guess I even take it as a compliment.

Navel-bling and Prairie Home Companion

A few nights ago I was walking down Castro Street with Rod. I was on a high from a great evening we'd just spent, talking about books and literature, and the AB reading we'd just been to together. I eagerly took his hand when he slipped it into mine.
We passed 2 guys, who were adorable in the way only 21 year-olds can be. Both were very good looking, with wild, spiky hair, and low-low rise jeans. One had on a pink t-shirt with the word 'Fag' printed on it in glitter, the pink stone in his navel-piercing sparkling as brightly as the glitter. The other wore a bright green t-shirt (which matched the green highlights in his blond hair) with the A&F logo on it (A&F is still cool for a Wednesday night, right?). The slightest bit of trimmed, blond pubic hair visible above their waistlines, and not a hair on their mid-sections to be seen otherwise.
They were both already dancing to the beat of the music coming from the Bar, and the excited, feverish look in their eyes both told me they had already been drinking (d'uh! it's already 11 PM!).
My initial reaction, being the typical not-completely-uncynical thirty-something gay guy I am, was, how cute. Such adorable little kids. They probably know the latest gossip on all the celebs, the run-down on this season's fashion trends, read Cosmopolitan and Vogue, and fill their heads with all the fabulously useless crap they can possibly find.
But then of course, living in SF for as long as I have, I knew too well to judge a book by its cover. And these two didn't prove me wrong, bless their twinkish hearts. Rod and I overhear:
"So, catch Prarie Home Companion last week?"
"Missed it. Too busy cramming for the Biochem finals. I am soooo over Pre-med."
Rod and I smiled at each other. We were so proud of our little boys. I squeezed his hand a little tighter, and he reached over and kissed me.

Augusten Burroughs

What a trip! I attended his reading & book-signing at Books Inc (a bookstore in my neighborhood). Augusten is one of my favorite authors. if you haven't read Dry or Running With Scissors, you've got to check them out!
He read an essay called 'Moving Violations' from his new book 'Possible Side Effects' (We knew it would be good, because he started saying, "I can only read this one here, or back in New York"). He took questions for a good 45 minutes, and then signed books for a long line of people that stretched well outside the bookstore.
So now I'm all charged up and inspired, and brimming with ideas, and have to start writing again. If only my my job and my men didn't keep getting in the way.

My co-worker studmuffin (Derek)

I was in an hour long meeting with Derek yesterday. He was wearing an immaculately pressed light pink shirt (I love it when straight guys aren't afraid to wear pink) that offset his tan and his dark hair perfectly. He is such a hunk.
As usual, my imagination got the better of me after the first 15 minutes. You bet, Derek, I'll do absolutely anything you want, just keep holding that sexy pose: the one where you lean back in your chair and put your hands behind your head.
I wonder if he owns a pair of pink cotton boxers. And if he does, how they would look tented up. And if the waistband was old and the elastic a bit loose, and the top of his pubic hair was showing... and if it was dark and curly like the hair on his head. And if he was really excited, there would be a tiny, delicious looking wetspot right at the tip of his dick....

Alan, sweet Alan

I hadn't heard from Alan in several days, so was overjoyed to get a voicemail from him last night. Yeah, let's totally get together soon, Alan, you hot stud you. Like I'd turn down a 3 hour long makeout session with the best kisser in the City? Just the sound of his voice practically made me start french kissing my cellphone.

Tattoed musclehunk

I rarely talk to the serious bodybuilders at the gym. Especially when I'm attracted to them.  I get tongue-tied, and figure they wouldn't really be attracted to me.

This time is is no different. He's HOT. Not GQ handsome, just raw, masculine, hot. Huge biceps and shoulders, a smattering of dark hair covering his chest (matching his thin  goatee), and a large tattoo on his left arm. We're in the changeroom, and he's drinking his protein shake at his locker right next to mine. I'm standing there, naked, staring (drooling?) at his biceps and tattoos, when he looks straight at me and asks me my name. Andrew, I say. He smiles at me, and I tell him he has real nice tattoos. "You should get one too. It'll look hot." he says, "Right here," and slowly traces a circle around my belly button, "MMMh... smooth skin." I'm standing there helpless, desperately trying not to shoot my load on the spot. "Nice abs too. Keep it up," Then, slapping my ass, he walks out.

Intense, mischievous eyes

I was on my way home last Thursday, it was 12:30 AM on a school night, but decided to stop in at Badlands for one quick second. And there he was. Hello I’m Andrew. Nice to meet you, Martin. You’re sexy. Why, thank you, I’m glad you like what you see. Sure, I’ll have a Cape Cod. Oooh I love this song too. Yeah, Blondie makes me feel old too. Whatever. Dance with me...
Martin had intense, mischievous eyes and a scrumptious body. And, as I eventually found out, a big dick. We were up till 4:15 am (probably later, that was the last time I looked at the clock on my nightstand). Incidentally, Martin is the third PhD this month. I’ve become a geek-magnet . But hey, as long as they’re hot, I’m not complaining.

All of me, why not take all of me...

So the best part of the closing night performance of Family Jewels had to be the part with the tuba. Family Jewels is the real life auto-biographical story of transsexual Veronica Klaus, a local San Francisco celebrity, performed by Veronica Klaus herself. It chronicles her life growing up as a gawkish, effeminate boy, her gender identity struggle, her eventual MTF surgery and her life thereafter. In one scene she recounts how several weeks post-surgery, she was able to cum 8 times in a row. This was done accompanied with very tasteful yet hilarious histrionics, and had the entire audience laughing & applauding. (Damn! 8 times??!?!)
The most touching part of the play for me was where Veronica picks up a tuba, the instrument she (he) played in her high school band, and marches off the stage victoriously, playing “All of me…” Such an awkwardly beautiful instrument, producing such a melodious tune. Who would have imagined?

MESB Chapters 15 and 16

Here it is, folks. The final chapters of MESB...

MESB - Chapters 15 and 16

Buddy's last day in New York...
I was consciously trying not to think of tomorrow, or what would happen with Tom and me after I returned to Chicago.

His angst...
“You OK, buddy?” I’m not sure, Dan.

And thereafter:
To say I missed my big brother would be inaccurate- Dan was too much a part of me to miss. My boyfriend, however, was a completely different story. I missed Tom desperately...

Enjoy! And as always, thanks for all your support and love. What an amazing audience to write for! You guys rock!

Stubbled skin, Blue Burgers and a lap to fall asleep on

For some reason I find it intensely erotic to lick a guy's smooth skin and find a day or less growth of stubble. So needless to say Robert (the guy in blue speedos from the park) and I hit it off pretty well. By the time he washed up and left, promising to call (it's so adorable when they do that), it had gotten pretty cold. Good thing we'd stopped by his car to get his jacket as he definitely needed it.

I was looking forward to spending the evening with Philip. Dinner at Blue, which is quickly becoming our favorite restaurant, was good, but even better was falling asleep in his lap on my sofa, as he proof-read MESB Chapter 15 for me.

The Return of Speedo Mountain

Ahh yes, the glorious sun is out in San Francisco again. And when the sun's shining, there's nothing more beautiful than Dolores Park. Or, as locals fondly call it, Speedo Mountain. For the first time in 2006, the sunbathers took to the Castro district's favorite sunny weekend haunt. By 2pm, it was wall-to-wall pecs, thighs, shaved chests, 6-paks and asses covered in everything from the skimpiest of speedos to baggy swimtrunks for the less unmodest. Guys slathering sunblock on each other, passing around the beer (camouflaged in paper bags, of course), laughing, chatting, and letting their inner Sun Worshipper take hold of them.

The cutest thing about Speedo Mountain is that while it might look like gay guys are in control, it's actually the dogs that rule. They're free to run, walk and jump around unleashed. So, while you're lying on your stomach, if you suddenly feel sniffing and gentle licking on your ears or neck, be prepared to say 'hi' and shake hands with Rover or Blondie.