Hank is a cute lean, happy guy. The nice red bush, the wide honest smile. Tasty tasty fuckin tasty.
Visit Fratmen!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Wednesday - tech/news
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Another Gay Movie
ANDY is your typical All-American seventeen-year-old gay virgin. Like everyone else, he's dying to have sex. Totally out of the closet and mad-crazy horny, this naive high school senior is caught in that awkward vortex between child and adult. Much to the dismay of his MOM (who wonders why all her carrots and cucumbers keep disappearing), Andy spends much of his private time practicing for the big moment when he'll finally take the plunge.
Andy is not alone. He attends high school with his three best friends, all of them totally out-loud-and-proud. JAROD is a buff, blonde varsity-jock stud. GRIFF is the valedictorian, sinewy sexy, and a closet romantic. NICO is the pierced alternative-kid gay-cinema expert. The guys all have one thing in common - they're all booty-virgins.
MUFFLER, 18, the boys' bulldyke Casanova stud bud, delights in pointing this out. Muffler is a cheerleader-magnet with loads of sexual experience under her mullet. The final straw for the guys comes at Muffler's graduation party, where everyone is having sex but them. That night they make a pact to do "the big A" by the end of summer.
What follows is a raunchy ride on the bumpy road to butt love. Along the way, the film spoofs not only American Pie and gay movies from Trick to The Broken Hearts Club, but also the entire gay lifestyle.
After the end-of-summer blow-out bash at Muffler's, the boys' lives (and asses) will never be the same...
Will Andy decide he's not ready for sex after all? Will Griff act on his raging crush for best friend Jarod? What is Nico doing with MUFFLER'S GRANDPA? Will Andy get that gerbil out of his ass?
Beneath the film's sex-romp exterior beats the true heart of the story - one of friendship and loss of innocence. Each character experiences his own rite of passage on a journey that spans from boys to men.
http://www.anothergaymovie.com/
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Gay sex in the 70's
I finally saw the documentary gay sex in the 70's. It wasn't what I thought it was, it was good though. The scenes and pics from the olden days in NY were pretty cool, and hot. The whole asthetic back then was such a turn on, the guys, the lean bodies. The stories, my god the stories, I would have loved to have seen those piers. Give it a go if you should happen upon it.
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Solar Tattoos
The cool thing to do apparently, solar tattoos... Basicaly isntead of dyes and inks its the sun and sunscreen. Some of the examples on the site are pretty well done. I've been doing this unintentionally for most of my life, tho all I ever get are sandal straps on my feet.
http://freephotosandvideos.com/photos/body_modification/solar_tattoos.htm
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Viagra Icre cream
What the orgy crowd eats in the summer.
I kind of want to get a bucket and meet a hockey team after a game for a snack...
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Another Gay Movie
ANDY is your typical All-American seventeen-year-old gay virgin. Like everyone else, he's dying to have sex. Totally out of the closet and mad-crazy horny, this naive high school senior is caught in that awkward vortex between child and adult. Much to the dismay of his MOM (who wonders why all her carrots and cucumbers keep disappearing), Andy spends much of his private time practicing for the big moment when he'll finally take the plunge.
Andy is not alone. He attends high school with his three best friends, all of them totally out-loud-and-proud. JAROD is a buff, blonde varsity-jock stud. GRIFF is the valedictorian, sinewy sexy, and a closet romantic. NICO is the pierced alternative-kid gay-cinema expert. The guys all have one thing in common - they're all booty-virgins.
MUFFLER, 18, the boys' bulldyke Casanova stud bud, delights in pointing this out. Muffler is a cheerleader-magnet with loads of sexual experience under her mullet. The final straw for the guys comes at Muffler's graduation party, where everyone is having sex but them. That night they make a pact to do "the big A" by the end of summer.
What follows is a raunchy ride on the bumpy road to butt love. Along the way, the film spoofs not only American Pie and gay movies from Trick to The Broken Hearts Club, but also the entire gay lifestyle.
After the end-of-summer blow-out bash at Muffler's, the boys' lives (and asses) will never be the same...
Will Andy decide he's not ready for sex after all? Will Griff act on his raging crush for best friend Jarod? What is Nico doing with MUFFLER'S GRANDPA? Will Andy get that gerbil out of his ass?
Beneath the film's sex-romp exterior beats the true heart of the story - one of friendship and loss of innocence. Each character experiences his own rite of passage on a journey that spans from boys to men.
http://www.anothergaymovie.com/
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Gay sex in the 70's
I finally saw the documentary gay sex in the 70's. It wasn't what I thought it was, it was good though. The scenes and pics from the olden days in NY were pretty cool, and hot. The whole asthetic back then was such a turn on, the guys, the lean bodies. The stories, my god the stories, I would have loved to have seen those piers. Give it a go if you should happen upon it.
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Solar Tattoos
The cool thing to do apparently, solar tattoos... Basicaly isntead of dyes and inks its the sun and sunscreen. Some of the examples on the site are pretty well done. I've been doing this unintentionally for most of my life, tho all I ever get are sandal straps on my feet.
http://freephotosandvideos.com/photos/body_modification/solar_tattoos.htm
<<------------------------------------------------->>
Viagra Icre cream
What the orgy crowd eats in the summer.
I kind of want to get a bucket and meet a hockey team after a game for a snack...
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Jeremy's Blowjob @ Nystr8men
As promised we got the hot stud Jeremy to return. This time we take him to the next level. Or should we say, our resident cocksucker, Bobby took him to new heights?
Bobby delivers a blowjob that makes Jeremy's eyes roll back, that makes his toes curl. Jeremy was in ecstasy having his cock in Bobby's mouth and throat, especially since Jeremy's newest girlfriend is not a fan of providing oral sex. Jeremy said it has been a while since he got a blowjob and since they are his favorite, thing he dumped a huge load all over Bobby. Besides dumping hot loads, we think Jeremy should dump his nonsucking gf.
Look for Jeremy's return in the future, we plan to have Bobby service both Nick and Jeremy together.
Visit NYstr8men!
As promised we got the hot stud Jeremy to return. This time we take him to the next level. Or should we say, our resident cocksucker, Bobby took him to new heights?
Bobby delivers a blowjob that makes Jeremy's eyes roll back, that makes his toes curl. Jeremy was in ecstasy having his cock in Bobby's mouth and throat, especially since Jeremy's newest girlfriend is not a fan of providing oral sex. Jeremy said it has been a while since he got a blowjob and since they are his favorite, thing he dumped a huge load all over Bobby. Besides dumping hot loads, we think Jeremy should dump his nonsucking gf.
Look for Jeremy's return in the future, we plan to have Bobby service both Nick and Jeremy together.
Visit NYstr8men!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Monday - storytime
<<------------------------------------------------->>
The Recruiter PT 2
By Julian Obedient
Scotty Mason woke with a bad headache -- again. It wouldn't go away. It
was tormenting him. He'd had it for weeks. But today it was fierce.
With each throb, he felt a spurt of real anger. He sat up and pulled a
crumpled cigarette from the torn pack by the bedside and left iit in
his mouth unlighted.
His hands turned into fists as he thought about it. But there was
nothing to do. The bastard had outsmarted him.
He lit the match he was holding and put it to the bent edge of the cigarette.
The guy at the mall yesterday who got away, that fucking Derek.
He wanted to take that smartass kid and slam him against the wall, and
hold him there while he taught him what it was to show some respect to
your superiors.
He wanted to hold him against the wall by his throat and watch the kid quail.
He pulled himself out of bed, sat on the edge, took a few last drags
on the cigarette and stubbed it out in the butt-filled ash-tray on the
nightstand.
There was a thunderstorm and lightning outside, and rain was pelting
the window panes.
Fuck, shit, fuck, he said as a hard stream of piss hit the water in
the toilet bowl. What a lousy day to have to go out fishing.
He was way below his quota for the last three months, and every day he
had to put up with being chewed out by the colonel. Stupid
motherfucker, he didn't even know what it was like out there.
Resistance was growing on the kids like a fungus.
He was alone for the weekend. Ryan was visiting his parents; Quincy,
his girlfriend in Dallas.
He switched on the t v as he made a cup of instant coffee. He stood in
front of it as he drank the insipid brew, still only in his khaki
skivvies, mindlessly scratching his balls and cursing at the reporter
who was highlighting the story. Two recruiters in Washington State got
an autistic kid to sign up. Then they tried to tough it out while his
family, the press, and finally his congressman made a holy stink about
it.
He put his coffee cup down and lit another cigarette. They were
accusing the recruiters of strong arm tactics and then knocking what
the troops were doing in Iraq on top of it.
He knew he had to calm down. He had to be positive.
He crushed the cigarette, showered and shaved and got into his uniform
and pulled himself together.
He stood in front of the mirror and saluted himself.
Mason! he said.
Yes, Sir, he answered.
A good start for the day was another cup of coffee and a donut inside
the mall. No chance for a cigarette here. Saturday morning, the place
has to be swarming with possibilities. Maybe even that prick Derek
would show up.
He'd get in his face and not let him go this time. That was one kid he
wanted to catch and sign up.
If he knew the kid's last name, he'd give him a call. Maybe one of
those other cunts who hung out at the mall would know it.
He shut and opened his eyes, rubbed them, and then opened his hand and
rubbed the sides of his face by the bone of the eye sockets with
extended thumb and middle finger. He pulled himself together. He
couldn't let himself zone out over his coffee. And he couldn't let
himself keep thinking about Derek like this -- he was working. Yeah,
but the thing with Derek was about work.
Mason looked around as if studying the mall's architecture.
A bunch of guys in baggy clothes stopped at the electronics store and
messed around with each other, leaping and landing and yelping as they
commented on the devices in the window.
He felt defeated before he began.
Gentleman, he said, despite his apprehension, as he approached the group.
You look like a team on the beam that wants to see some action.
Oh, no, one of them in a sleeveless shirt and a backwards baseball cap
groaned, team on the beam. He walked away with a slouch.
We got our action, Dude. We don't want your kind of action, another
one said, a hippie with an earring. Or may just a faggot.
I see how you're checking out all that equipment, Mason went on
ignoring them, trying to find a hook. Well you ought to check out the
army because the army's got some high tech stuff that'll make the
stuff you're looking at in the window seem like black and white
television.
But the kids weren't biting. He found himself in the ridiculous
position of following after them. Gentlemen, he said, trying to get
their attention, Dudes.
But they had no interest in paying attention to him, and as long as
they did not get caught by him, he couldn't make them.
An army recruiter has mystical power. He is an archetype. He is the
force that makes the landscape dangerous, the agent of a power that
can transform your world from an open and free place where you belong
to yourself to a lock-up where you belong to someone else who can
dispose of you as he will, even unto death.
He was the agent of death, the lingering Erlking beckoning. He invited
both defiance and surrender.
The more political among the kids organized demonstrations against the
recruiters. But most of the kids kept their distance. Recruiters are
dangerous.
And then there are those kids that get caught. Some think they want
what the recruiters are selling. Others get bamboozled.
Standing in the center of the atrium, facing a store that sold leather
fashions, Mason felt uncomfortable being himself. It wasn't like
anything he had ever felt before. Properly, then he should not have
known what it meant to feel the way he did. It ought to be an
unidentifiable feeling. But it wasn't. It was a distinct feeling that
told him he was uncomfortable being himself. He knew it.
He shook his head as if he wanted to shake such thoughts out of his
head -- or as if he wanted to shake himself free of himself.
He needed to sit down someplace, to rest. He felt nausea.
In the Men's room, in a large stall with a toilet and a baby diaper
changing table, he sat and bent forward and clasped his head in his
hands.
This is very dangerous. You can get court-martialed for not following orders.
He stood. He became dizzy. He opened the door to the stall knowing he
had to get out. He fell and hit the floor.
A kid on his way to pick up tickets for a Neil Young concert heard
something as he passed the Men's room. Inside he found a soldier face
down on the bathroom tile. Luckily Reese, the security guy, was right
there, and he called the emergency squad. Mason was coming to, but was
disoriented, had trouble speaking.
The transient ischemic attack was minor; to the extent that such
things can ever be considered as not serious, it was not serious. But
it was a warning. Mason knew by an intuition that had never before
graced him. He was a tight fist of anger, all throughout his body.
Everything about him was clenched.
You're no good to us, the colonel said. I have to be honest with you.
I guess I'm not much good to myself, either, Mason said.
That's no way to talk.
Yes, sir, Mason said, falling back on the only prop he knew, the
discipline of taking orders.
No, no, Mason. You can't tough this one out. If you take my advice,
you go get some counseling. It's rough out there. You'll get a medical
discharge, no disgrace.
No disgrace. Ha! It was a big disgrace, and he knew it, and they knew
it, and everybody knew it. But everybody was acting like nothing had
happened, that a dream had not been shattered. The only thing he had
ever wanted, really wanted, was to be among other guys like himself,
to be one of a band of brothers sharing a noble purpose and bound
together by their dedication to their duty and to each other. Instead
of that he had to go cruising malls getting shit on by hippies, not
even with a partner, like most guys, because there was a shortage of
recruiters here. And what did it get him? Shit from little
motherfuckers like Derek and condescension from his superior officers.
And now he was nothing, absolutely nothing.
So for the first couple of weeks, he totally went to seed. He was
ashamed to go outside. He spent days in bed. He didn't wash or shave.
His hair grew long and shaggy. When he finally was ready to go out
again, he didn't recognize himself when he looked in the bathroom
mirror.
So much the better, he thought.
No risk anyone else will either, he figured.
He had the urge to drive over to the mall; so much had happened there.
He needed to look around once more, to say good-bye.
How strange suddenly to need to say good-by to a place you didn't want to be.
Then, spontaneously, despite himself, it came to him even though he
did not want it to, did not want to know what he realized he knew. It
was not about the mall or about who he had been or what he had been
doing. It was only one thing that mattered to him, one thing only that
he wanted: it was that fucking Derek.
He wanted to see that guy in uniform, standing at attention, saluting him.
That prick had penetrated him and he couldn't do anything about it. If
he had only gotten Derek to sign!
He stood by the soda machine looking at the floor and shaking his
head. When he looked up he saw a bunch of kids across the way -- he
recognized some of them -- looking at him, noticing him, unable to be
sure they were seeing what they thought they were seeing.
He turned his back to them and walked quickly to the exit.
He was furious.
Life was hell all week.
It was beyond everything to find himself in this situation. Suddenly,
something was caving in. He lay in bed in the one-room he was renting
by the week, feeling his heart beat hard, and his stomach sour.
Derek. Derek was always with him, like a painfully throbbing wound.
But there was a shred of dignity he had left, and it lay in his
training. Self-discipline saved him.
He pulled himself out of bed, showered, shaved. He needed a haircut.
He put on fresh underwear, the same kind of khaki skivvies he always
wore. But it wasn't the same any more. They were part of a uniform he
wasn't allowed to wear anymore.
He had something to do. He had to go get a haircut and buy new underwear.
<<------------------------------------------------->>
The Recruiter PT 2
By Julian Obedient
Scotty Mason woke with a bad headache -- again. It wouldn't go away. It
was tormenting him. He'd had it for weeks. But today it was fierce.
With each throb, he felt a spurt of real anger. He sat up and pulled a
crumpled cigarette from the torn pack by the bedside and left iit in
his mouth unlighted.
His hands turned into fists as he thought about it. But there was
nothing to do. The bastard had outsmarted him.
He lit the match he was holding and put it to the bent edge of the cigarette.
The guy at the mall yesterday who got away, that fucking Derek.
He wanted to take that smartass kid and slam him against the wall, and
hold him there while he taught him what it was to show some respect to
your superiors.
He wanted to hold him against the wall by his throat and watch the kid quail.
He pulled himself out of bed, sat on the edge, took a few last drags
on the cigarette and stubbed it out in the butt-filled ash-tray on the
nightstand.
There was a thunderstorm and lightning outside, and rain was pelting
the window panes.
Fuck, shit, fuck, he said as a hard stream of piss hit the water in
the toilet bowl. What a lousy day to have to go out fishing.
He was way below his quota for the last three months, and every day he
had to put up with being chewed out by the colonel. Stupid
motherfucker, he didn't even know what it was like out there.
Resistance was growing on the kids like a fungus.
He was alone for the weekend. Ryan was visiting his parents; Quincy,
his girlfriend in Dallas.
He switched on the t v as he made a cup of instant coffee. He stood in
front of it as he drank the insipid brew, still only in his khaki
skivvies, mindlessly scratching his balls and cursing at the reporter
who was highlighting the story. Two recruiters in Washington State got
an autistic kid to sign up. Then they tried to tough it out while his
family, the press, and finally his congressman made a holy stink about
it.
He put his coffee cup down and lit another cigarette. They were
accusing the recruiters of strong arm tactics and then knocking what
the troops were doing in Iraq on top of it.
He knew he had to calm down. He had to be positive.
He crushed the cigarette, showered and shaved and got into his uniform
and pulled himself together.
He stood in front of the mirror and saluted himself.
Mason! he said.
Yes, Sir, he answered.
A good start for the day was another cup of coffee and a donut inside
the mall. No chance for a cigarette here. Saturday morning, the place
has to be swarming with possibilities. Maybe even that prick Derek
would show up.
He'd get in his face and not let him go this time. That was one kid he
wanted to catch and sign up.
If he knew the kid's last name, he'd give him a call. Maybe one of
those other cunts who hung out at the mall would know it.
He shut and opened his eyes, rubbed them, and then opened his hand and
rubbed the sides of his face by the bone of the eye sockets with
extended thumb and middle finger. He pulled himself together. He
couldn't let himself zone out over his coffee. And he couldn't let
himself keep thinking about Derek like this -- he was working. Yeah,
but the thing with Derek was about work.
Mason looked around as if studying the mall's architecture.
A bunch of guys in baggy clothes stopped at the electronics store and
messed around with each other, leaping and landing and yelping as they
commented on the devices in the window.
He felt defeated before he began.
Gentleman, he said, despite his apprehension, as he approached the group.
You look like a team on the beam that wants to see some action.
Oh, no, one of them in a sleeveless shirt and a backwards baseball cap
groaned, team on the beam. He walked away with a slouch.
We got our action, Dude. We don't want your kind of action, another
one said, a hippie with an earring. Or may just a faggot.
I see how you're checking out all that equipment, Mason went on
ignoring them, trying to find a hook. Well you ought to check out the
army because the army's got some high tech stuff that'll make the
stuff you're looking at in the window seem like black and white
television.
But the kids weren't biting. He found himself in the ridiculous
position of following after them. Gentlemen, he said, trying to get
their attention, Dudes.
But they had no interest in paying attention to him, and as long as
they did not get caught by him, he couldn't make them.
An army recruiter has mystical power. He is an archetype. He is the
force that makes the landscape dangerous, the agent of a power that
can transform your world from an open and free place where you belong
to yourself to a lock-up where you belong to someone else who can
dispose of you as he will, even unto death.
He was the agent of death, the lingering Erlking beckoning. He invited
both defiance and surrender.
The more political among the kids organized demonstrations against the
recruiters. But most of the kids kept their distance. Recruiters are
dangerous.
And then there are those kids that get caught. Some think they want
what the recruiters are selling. Others get bamboozled.
Standing in the center of the atrium, facing a store that sold leather
fashions, Mason felt uncomfortable being himself. It wasn't like
anything he had ever felt before. Properly, then he should not have
known what it meant to feel the way he did. It ought to be an
unidentifiable feeling. But it wasn't. It was a distinct feeling that
told him he was uncomfortable being himself. He knew it.
He shook his head as if he wanted to shake such thoughts out of his
head -- or as if he wanted to shake himself free of himself.
He needed to sit down someplace, to rest. He felt nausea.
In the Men's room, in a large stall with a toilet and a baby diaper
changing table, he sat and bent forward and clasped his head in his
hands.
This is very dangerous. You can get court-martialed for not following orders.
He stood. He became dizzy. He opened the door to the stall knowing he
had to get out. He fell and hit the floor.
A kid on his way to pick up tickets for a Neil Young concert heard
something as he passed the Men's room. Inside he found a soldier face
down on the bathroom tile. Luckily Reese, the security guy, was right
there, and he called the emergency squad. Mason was coming to, but was
disoriented, had trouble speaking.
The transient ischemic attack was minor; to the extent that such
things can ever be considered as not serious, it was not serious. But
it was a warning. Mason knew by an intuition that had never before
graced him. He was a tight fist of anger, all throughout his body.
Everything about him was clenched.
You're no good to us, the colonel said. I have to be honest with you.
I guess I'm not much good to myself, either, Mason said.
That's no way to talk.
Yes, sir, Mason said, falling back on the only prop he knew, the
discipline of taking orders.
No, no, Mason. You can't tough this one out. If you take my advice,
you go get some counseling. It's rough out there. You'll get a medical
discharge, no disgrace.
No disgrace. Ha! It was a big disgrace, and he knew it, and they knew
it, and everybody knew it. But everybody was acting like nothing had
happened, that a dream had not been shattered. The only thing he had
ever wanted, really wanted, was to be among other guys like himself,
to be one of a band of brothers sharing a noble purpose and bound
together by their dedication to their duty and to each other. Instead
of that he had to go cruising malls getting shit on by hippies, not
even with a partner, like most guys, because there was a shortage of
recruiters here. And what did it get him? Shit from little
motherfuckers like Derek and condescension from his superior officers.
And now he was nothing, absolutely nothing.
So for the first couple of weeks, he totally went to seed. He was
ashamed to go outside. He spent days in bed. He didn't wash or shave.
His hair grew long and shaggy. When he finally was ready to go out
again, he didn't recognize himself when he looked in the bathroom
mirror.
So much the better, he thought.
No risk anyone else will either, he figured.
He had the urge to drive over to the mall; so much had happened there.
He needed to look around once more, to say good-bye.
How strange suddenly to need to say good-by to a place you didn't want to be.
Then, spontaneously, despite himself, it came to him even though he
did not want it to, did not want to know what he realized he knew. It
was not about the mall or about who he had been or what he had been
doing. It was only one thing that mattered to him, one thing only that
he wanted: it was that fucking Derek.
He wanted to see that guy in uniform, standing at attention, saluting him.
That prick had penetrated him and he couldn't do anything about it. If
he had only gotten Derek to sign!
He stood by the soda machine looking at the floor and shaking his
head. When he looked up he saw a bunch of kids across the way -- he
recognized some of them -- looking at him, noticing him, unable to be
sure they were seeing what they thought they were seeing.
He turned his back to them and walked quickly to the exit.
He was furious.
Life was hell all week.
It was beyond everything to find himself in this situation. Suddenly,
something was caving in. He lay in bed in the one-room he was renting
by the week, feeling his heart beat hard, and his stomach sour.
Derek. Derek was always with him, like a painfully throbbing wound.
But there was a shred of dignity he had left, and it lay in his
training. Self-discipline saved him.
He pulled himself out of bed, showered, shaved. He needed a haircut.
He put on fresh underwear, the same kind of khaki skivvies he always
wore. But it wasn't the same any more. They were part of a uniform he
wasn't allowed to wear anymore.
He had something to do. He had to go get a haircut and buy new underwear.
Ajay & Tanner @ Seancody
Ajay is versatile and he loves to get fucked just as much as he loves to fuck. They hadn't planned on doing a flip-flop, as Tanner is mostly a bottom. But as the guys were getting closer to their orgasms, Ajay stopped and said he wanted to get fucked. So, they traded off and Tanner fucked Ajay's hole for a bit before they both exploded!
Visit Seancody!
Ajay is versatile and he loves to get fucked just as much as he loves to fuck. They hadn't planned on doing a flip-flop, as Tanner is mostly a bottom. But as the guys were getting closer to their orgasms, Ajay stopped and said he wanted to get fucked. So, they traded off and Tanner fucked Ajay's hole for a bit before they both exploded!
Visit Seancody!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Sunday - fucked up shit
<----------------------------------------------->
Futurama hey sexy mama wanna kill all humans!
I love Bender beyond all reason, he is my personal hero. :-)
Futurama dont be touchin my 3 beautiful robot daughters
and you know it was the crushinator that got the lovin...
Robot hell!
<----------------------------------------------->
Futurama hey sexy mama wanna kill all humans!
I love Bender beyond all reason, he is my personal hero. :-)
Futurama dont be touchin my 3 beautiful robot daughters
and you know it was the crushinator that got the lovin...
Robot hell!
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