Rent Parties

"Harlem Rent Party" by Mabel Dwight

My buddy "David" sends me a text message.

"I'm having a sex party. You're invited."

You may remember David from an earlier post. I call him my sexy geek because he is an IT professional, real estate professor, has a big dick that looks a ripe banana, and can suck a mean dick. But I have never known him to have a sex party.

"Hey man, times are tight. I need the money."

"Okay, I'll try to make it."

He is not the only one I know having sex parties not because they like sex but because they like money. There is this young guy I know who throws a sex party at least once a week to raise the funds to cover his apartment rent and other expenses. They are pretty perfunctory affairs -- come in, give him $10, put your clothes in a plastic garbage bag, and sit around in your underwear in the dark eyeing the other guys there and waiting for the action to start.

I have never seen the host participate, although he is a hot guy with a friendly personality. He just sits at the door taking money and busy on his laptop trolling gay sex hookup sites so he can invite more fresh meat through the door.

Hey the dark clouds of the Bush Administration are still hanging over us. David is right -- these are hard times and the unemployment rate for Blacks is above 15 percent. So I don't blame these guys for what they do. A brother has to hustle.

Support Group

Okay, I'm trying to do gay stuff that don't involve sex. Immerse myself in the culture. Try out my wings.

So last week I went to a gay support group for men over 40. I get all excited about going. Finally a chance to open up with brothers, ask good questions, find out the real shit about gay life from mature men who have been in it awhile.

Matter of fact, a buddy of mine who suggested I go to the group said one of the men it is 75 years old and just coming out of the closet. His wife had died and he felt the time to come out was now or never. 

The support building has a lot of metal doors but few windows. It's like Fort Knox. I think, "Shit, do these gay motherfuckers think they are about to get attacked!"

I ring the buzzer. They let me in. And my hopes of having some heartfelt dialogue go right out the window because...they are HAVING A CHRISTMAS PARTY!!

"Come in Immanuel, get a plate man. Make yourself at home."

There are about eight guys there that run the gamut of gay. They look like your brothers, uncles, your high school English teacher. One is very effeminate with arched eyebrows but most just look average.

We do talk about some issues -- gay marriage and gay bookstores and cross dressing. But this meeting is all about digging into fried chicken, potato salad and banana pudding and sharing the Christmas spirit. 

After about an hour I'm ready to go. The host walks me to the door. I noticed he is limping. Being my usual nosey self I ask why.

"It's a side effect of my HIV treatment," he explains. "It's alright. I'll be okay. Are you HIV positive?"

"No," I answer. "I just took the test a few weeks ago. I want to stay negative. I always wear a condom. Always."

"Cool. Well if you need any health services you can get them here. And come back to another group meeting. We'll be back to our normal schedule soon."

"Cool, I will." And I mean that.

Little One

"Little One" is probably one of my biggest blog fans. He is just 22 years old, a kid. But he has an old soul -- you can talk to him about anything from politics to pussy. The kid is sharp.

He is small in stature with the body of a ballet dancer -- slender waist and toned ass and legs. Skin the warm, rich color of brown sugar glaze on ham.

I met him online when I tried to correct the grammar in his sex profile. But he got me straight...he was actually right about the subject/verb agreement. So we started talking and discovered we were both writers. I would read what he wrote and he read my blog.

And a friendship grew.

"Damn, Little One. I have to cook for the kids and can't think of what to do. I need to do something quick and easy."

"Hold on man, I'll send you some casserole recipes."

And he would email them right away. Now that's a friend.

But I avoided meeting him. First, he was dazzling handsome and that intimidated me. Secondly he is young enough to be my son. And thirdly he leans toward the effeminate side, which is not my taste.

All summer and into fall he would sometimes ask if I was interested. I would promise I would come but make up an excuse not to.

But last Saturday I was on the way home from a side gig and got an IM from him.

"It's cold tonight and I'm staying in. Come over and watch a movie with me and stay warm."

I paused before answering. Thought a while. Decided.

"What's your address Little One?"

I was there in less than 20 minutes. He greeted me at the door with nothing but a towel around his narrow hips.

"You got here quick. I didn't have time to shower."

I work out and stay in shape and my dick still gets hard as a rock. But I was unsure whether we would blend. I am twice his age plus one year.

He invited me to get comfortable and I changed into some jeans and a wife beater I carry in my gym bag and lay across his bed. He asked me what movie I wanted to watch from his collection and I picked "Brother to Brother," a gay-themed drama.

He had finished showering and still had on the towel. "I need to put on some lotion," he said.

"Can I do that for you?"

"Sure."

I rubbed the lotion into the arms, massaging them. The his legs. Then I took the brown towel from around his waist. His dick was rock hard. Standing up proud and stiff like a little toy soldier.

It was on.

We sexed literally all night, sucking each other's dicks, eating each other's asses, nipples, feet, fingers, necks, scalps, lips, tongues, nuts, underarms... Then we would relax and massage each others limbs. And then start all over. His body was small and tight under mine. Limber as a rubberband.

"Can I fuck you?" I asked.

Little One said I was too big at first. But eventually we decided to try.

"Take it easy. Go in slow. Use more lube."

Finally my dick slid in. I swear I could feel his pelvic bones rubbing my dick head. Thats just how far I was up in him. His ass was young and tight and wet. I fucked him until he busted a nutt. But when we fucked again he said enough was enough, he could take no more.

So like a good sport I got between those slender brown legs and flicked my tongue against his anus and balls until he jerked his dick and busted the second nutt.

We woke Sunday morning. It was raining. We were still horny. So horny we thought, "Fuck breakfast...let's keep this shit moving."

"I want to see you fuck somebody Daddy," Little One said.

Little freak, I thought. You could grow on an old motherfucker like me.

So I got online and an hour or so later we were freaking with a tall red boy from Georgia, just 25 years old and in our town just a year to the day.

"Happy anniversary," Little One and I said to him before we both fucked him.

But Georgia boy didn't excite me like Little One. His ass was loose -- he said he didn't get around but his asshole told the true story. My dick could hardly stay hard. I had been going all night. But Georgia boy busted while Little One was sucking his dick and nutts. And I stood over them and jacked until I busted into Little One's eager sexy mouth.

"That tastes sweet," he said.

"Thank you. You know I like to eat a lot of chocolate. It makes that shit sweet," I answered.

I drove Georgia boy to his part time job and on the way back called Little One and we went out and ate at a nearby soul food restaurant. Smothered pork chops and grits and home fries and pancakes and biscuits. The staff knew him and treated him like a long lost son. Some of the waiters even came over and talked to us.

He was feminine but masculine and confident at the same time. Confident in his skin. You couldn't help but like the dude.

He talked to me about his ambitions. His plan to open a business and do some stuff in entertainment. He was as busy as I am.

"You're young. You have your whole life ahead of you," I said "Go for it. You can do it."

Little One, I know you read my blog. Thank you for giving me yourself for one day. Maybe one day I'll come back and finish watching "Brother to Brother" with you.


Photo by Dan Nelson

Slow Down

One of my best buddies "Andre" sends me an email. "I need to talk to you. I'm worried."

"Uh oh," I think, feeling like a little kid caught pissing in the neighbor's garden. "What did I do?"

I respect Andre. His advice is always sound. He was married to a woman at one time. After that relationship ended he transitioned into the gay world. He has buried two long-term lovers and at times struggled financially.

But he always keeps going and is one of the warmest people I know. His door is always open and you know you can go there to land a decent meal, good conversation, great sex, or just have an ear to listen to.

Andre read the blog about crazy "Evan" and it concerned him.

"You really need to slow down and be careful. I don't want to read about you in the newspaper."

I bristle a bit inside but I tell myself shut up and listen and learn. Andre has been in the gay world a lot longer.

"And you need to limit these sex parties. If you get a reputation for going to them people can talk about you. And some of these queens can be vicious. You just haven't seen that yet."

"Look, I'm going to take you to some events where there is not sex so you can meet some gays who are doing some positive things."

"And don't put so much information in your blog about what you do. People can use that against you, too. And you should really consider forming a support group to help other guys like you. You know, you don't how you could help somebody else."

"Hey Andre, I appreciate that. I'll listen to what you say," I respond. And I plan to.

Okay, from what I read when guys come out they get real promiscuous because the gay life is new and they want to bust loose and express themselves. But later you get acculturated and tone the sex down, going more for quality than quantity.

Other buddies "in the family" tell me Andre's advice is sound. My good buddy "Rex" said I could meet a crazy hookup who is mad I don't want to sex them any more. That person could spread vicious gossip about me.

Wow, this gay culture is more complex than I thought. There are land mines out there. I feel like a babe in the woods sometimes.

I've Been Nominated for Best Gay Adult Blog!

I got an email informing me that my blog has been nominated the Best Gay Blog of 2009 in the Adult Category. Go here to read about the nominees and vote for them.

Even if I don't win I am honored. I wrote this blog to process my thoughts, work through some issues, and to educate and titillate you at the same time.

In the past month alone, my blog has attracted almost 1,000 readers from 52 nations, including India, Saudi Arabia, Sweden and Brazil. Blog experts I know said that is a pretty respectable readership for a personal blog.

Thank you all for your support and encouraging comments.

More Than He Can Chew

This is my dick. I'm not trying to brag but it is big. Not the biggest, but a lot of times hookups are surprised by its size. And they want me back for more.

The only problem is sometimes they bite off more than they can chew. Here's yet another example.

I hooked up earlier this week with “Bo,” a big, light-skinned businessman from the South who lives not that far from me. Bo has big muscles and good sized thick dick, but when I walked into the door it was all about me fucking him.

His nipples are pink and stand out and I got him heated by sucking and nibbling on them. We fucked at a furious pace but had to stop because the condom popped and he didnt have any more.

“Come back later in the week and we can finish that up,” he said.

So Thursday night we did but a repeat performance but it turned out to be a miserable experience. I really should have known better. I broke several of my hookup rules – the main one being don't let anyone obligate your time. So I have nobody to blame but myself and my hard dick that wanted to plunge into Bo's red muscle ass one more time.

I was at a seminar last evening when Bo called.

“I'm only a few minutes drive from you and I'll call when this over. It's only supposed to last another 30 minutes.”

But when I call Bo later there was no answer and his voicemail box was full so I just went back home and chilled. No sooner than I get settled than my cellphone starts buzzing.

“Where are you,” Bo asks.

“I'm back home. I called you and you weren't in.”

“Oh, I was outside talking to my neighbor while she hung up Christmas decorations and I didnt hear the phone. Hey, come on over.”

Against my better judgment I head out. But when I get there the townhouse is dark. I ring the doorbell. Wait. I ring the doorbell again. And wait some more. Five minutes pass and no Bo. So I walk back to my car and hop in, ready to go home.

I'm just pulling out of his complex when my cellphone buzzes.

“Where did you go,” Bo asks.

“Look man, let me make something clear if we are going to continue to hook up. I don't like standing outside in the cold looking like a burglar waiting on you to come down. You knew I was coming a half hour ago.”

"Oh, come on. Come back."

So like a stupid ass I go back. I go upstairs and take a shower and come out all fresh with my dick sticking up.

But no Bo. I hear him taking a shower in the other bathroom down the hall.

“Now, he knew I was coming like more than an hour ago,” I think to myself. “You would have thought dude got himself clean.”

Bo finally comes out and hops in bed. But then he said he has to make a call to his boss about a business deal. So there he is on the phone, gabbing about loans, and buy-out deals and finances and government contracts and bids while I lay in his bed jerking my dick to keep it warm and hard.

Plus he has some home decorating show playing on the television because, you know, he's one of those gay guys who watches nothing but that shit. Well, I'm gay too but hell turn to some Thursday night football!

Finally he is free.

He doesn't give much foreplay...he is about getting banged. And bang him I do, standing by the bed while he kneels doggy style on the mattress and lets me fuck him from the back.

“Go slow, you got to ease that in. You got a big dick man.”

“Oooh, that feels good. Gotdamm! That's some good dick. Oooh. Play with my nipples while you fuck me.”

I bang him for like a minute and he pops up. “I got to go to the bathroom.”

Then I fuck him some more and he pops up again. “Damn, it's been awhile since I fucked. I got to go the bathroom again.”

He goes back in the bathroom, leaving me laying in bed. I'm beginning to think this guy has Jack-in-the-Box DNA in his genes he jumps up and down so much. But this time I hear the water in the bathroom running a long time. Then things go silent.

I swear 20 minutes have elapsed. I'm tired and got to get up early for work. So I dress and head out. I knock on the bathroom door on the way out.

“Hey Bo, I'm tired. I'm heading out.”

“What? I'm getting ready to go some more.”

“Sorry man, I'm tired.”

Oh, okay, I'll call you later.But Bo didn't call that night and I don't plan to go back.

Q: Okay bottoms out there, answer this question. What the fuck was up with Bo?

Coming Out to Dr. Melvin

Tonight I sat down with our family therapist and laid it all out.

"Dr. Melvin, I separated from my wife. I'm a gay man and I've decided to live that way. I can't have my cake and eat it too."

"Are you sure?"

"I feel more at peace. I think I've made my decision. I can't keep living a double life."

Dr. Melvin takes notes. He is a tall, wiry man black man with high cheekbones and mahogany skin. He has provided counseling to my wife and I for two years in a vain effort to patch up what can't be patched up. But he has succeeded in helping us understand each other and be civil.

He doesn't dwell on the gay issue much, other than tell me that I must be ready to accept that others may stereotype me. I can also come out to family and friends as gradually as I feel comfortable with or not at all.

We move on and talk about how to parent effectively after separation and how to communicate to teenagers. He urges me to be more patient and listen and less hyper and dominant.

I think I can do that.

But before I leave he gets back on the gay issue again.

"I counsel several gay men," he said. "Be careful, you are coming out when there is a lot out here."

"I always do safe sex. And I just got an HIV test last week and I'm negative."

"Okay, I'll see you when you're ready to see me again."