Dude did have a nice booty. Too bad the sex wasn't good.

He had been hitting me up since November, begging for a chance to have a threesome with “Van” and me.

This 29-year-old chocolate drop from Georgia. Six feet one with a booty plumper than a Thanksgiving turkey.

So Sunday I relented and invited him over for some late afternoon play.

I should have known it was going to be a dud. It took him forever to warm up —  he smoked weed for damn near an hour before we climbed the steps to the bedroom.

“I don’t know if I can take that big dick,” he said, his eyes squinting because he was so high.

“Don’t worry it won’t hurt you,” I said.

But his sexual technique was lame. He mostly let us do the work, laying on his back while Van licked one nipple and I lapped the other.

And when it came time to fuck and I bent him over doggystyle and tried to slide my dick in slowly it was hard going.

Whenever I tried to get a decent stroke going he straightened up and made me stop, claiming he was in too much pain.

Finally things just came to a halt.

“You can’t fuck me like that with that 12-inch dick.”

What, I thought? My dick isn’t 12 inches.

And he went downstairs and quickly dressed and left. Didn’t even say bye.

“He was tired,” Van said. “Plus he had hemorrhoids which is why he couldn’t take dick.”

“Yeah, you’re right his asshole was all lumpy,” I said.

And we chuckled and forgot about it.

But a day or two later I said an online hello to the Georgia dud and mentioned the encounter was strange.

And he went ham on me.

“You can’t fuck worth a shit,” he said. “You just tried to push up in me all quick. As old as your ass is you should know how to fuck better ”

Wow. No one has ever said I couldn’t fuck well before. This was a new one.

And he was the one who kept saying for months he wanted a big dick and could he come over. I didn’t go after him.

“Nah son the problem is you just can’t take dick,” I responded.

I almost started going in on him about his rampant case of hemorrhoids but then I thought better.

I clicked a button a blocked him.

Q: Readers has sex with someone you thought would be hot turn out disappointing?

Gay couple Octavius Terry and Jamal Sims. Photo courtesy of Youtube.

“Javier” is a handsome, 40-something man from Venezuela who sports a closely cropped beard.

He looks like all parts of the world rolled into one – Africa, Latino and European.

Javier loves black men above all others and has been in a relationship with “Raoul” for 14 years.

They own a home in a desirable Northeast Washington. D.C. neighborhood and enjoy a wide circle of friends.

But there is a problem. Raoul’s big black dick, which Javier adores, just isn’t getting hard. They haven’t had sex in months and when they did last the experience was just “meh.”

They don’t talk about it. Javier loves Raoul and they have so much time and money invested in each other he is loathe to separate.

And they still enjoy each other’s companionship.

So Javier slips out, taking off work early so he can get dick. The bigger and blacker the better.

“I do it for my sanity but I don’t know how long this situation can go in,” he says.

Another acquaintance named “Ryan” has been in a relationship and married to his man for 20 years. But his partner is overcoming prostate cancer and is having erectile problems.

Ryan loves him but damn a gay man has to have dick and ass sometimes. So he will say he is having a night out and visit the Crew Club, or The Eagle or Glorious Healthclub in D.C. and suck dick to his heart’s content.

Many gay men want monogamy and that one guy to fulfill their dreams. But relationships can be hard and require give and take and understanding and turning a blind eye from time to time.

I don’t think many people realize this.

Ryan thinks his partner knows he steps out but understands. Javier thinks his dude may be fucking around which is why his dick won’t get hard.

Since having an openly open relationship is out of the question for both – Javier said his dude is possessive and Ryan doesn’t want to crush his man’s ego – it seems things will remain as they are.

I’m not one to judge. This is reality for many gay men.

Q: Readers what do you think?

Gay black men in the 80s, the period when Phil and Darnell fell in love. Photo courtesy of nih.gov.

My friend  “Phil” told me this story about how he fell in love in the South in the early ’80s. I changed a few details to protect his privacy.

Phil and his older brother “Gus” are both gay. But Gus was bold and didn’t care and proudly came out of the closet when he was a teenager, and was soon a familiar face in all the gay bars in New Orleans.

Phil, who was more studious and quiet than his brother, stayed in the closet and busy studying while in college. Afraid to disappoint his loving parents by telling them yet another one of their sons was gay.

That was until Gus brought home his friend “Darnell,” a tall, broad-shouldered, brown-skinned black man with a mustache and short Afro, which was still in style as the 80s dawned.

Darnell went into the military but that didn’t cool off the romance with Phil. Photo courtesy of ethosmagonline.com.

“I knew my brother had probably fucked around with Darnell but that didn’t matter,” Phil said. “We took one look at each other and the attraction was there. We soon became inseparable.”

More than 30 years later Phil said he has never had a love affair as intense as the one he had with Darnell. He liked the way Darnell talked. The way he walked. The way he smelled.

They didn’t have an opportunity to have sex often — family was often around. And when they did they mostly just tongue kissed and bumped and grinded. But Phil said the feelings were still intense.

“That man could touch me with all my clothes on and his touch would make me cum,” he remembered.

Phil was a sophomore at Xavier and working part-time at J.C. Penney but Darnell did not have so much going for him. So his grandmother, who raised him, persuaded Darnell to join the military and get out of New Orleans before he fell in with a bad crowd and got in trouble.

Darnell went away to basic training in Oklahoma. But his love for Phil didn’t stop — in fact the separation intensified it. He called Phil collect almost every day, running up the phone bill. And almost every night Phil would sit at the dining room table alone studying into the night, waiting for Darnell to call.

Darnell even managed to get an allotment for Phil so that each month a portion of his military paycheck went to his love back home in Louisiana. Phil cashed the checks and hid the money under his mattress.

You see, Phil was saving the money because he planned to run away with Darnell after Darnell got out of basic training and went to his first post in California.

They had it all planned out. Phil would drop out of college, get an apartment off base with Darnell, and work at J.C. Penney’s to help them make ends meet.

But the two lovers ended up as star-crossed as Romeo and Juliet.

Gay poet and activist Essex Hemphill (right) in the 1980s. Photo courtesy of Pinterest.

Phil’s mother was cleaning the house and changed the linen in the room and found a few hundred dollars in cash between the box spring and the mattress. She guessed immediately what was going on — mothers often know their children better than their children know themselves.

Phil was studying at the kitchen table, waiting on the collect call from Darnell as usual, when his mother confronted him and forced him out of the closet.

“I know what is going on — you plan to run away with Darnell,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears of love and sympathy. “I see you mooning around this house waiting on him to call. It’s obvious what is going on. It’s breaking my heart to see you like this.”

“Baby, you have to live your life and you have a lot of life to live. You have to finish college and make a better life than your father and me did.”

Darnell’s family found out too. You see, Darnell came home on leave for a month before shipping out to California. At the airport he cried so long and hard when he was saying goodbye to Phil that a blind man could see the two were in love.

Darnell’s grandmother narrowed her eyes looking at the spectacle and sucked her teeth. Darnell had already urged her to write a letter to the Army making up an excuse so he could be honorably discharged and come home. Now she knew why.

“A few days later his grandmother wrote me a letter demanding I sever ties with Darnell,” Phil said. “She said homosexuality was wrong and quoted all these Bible passages.”

The pressure from the two families worked. The two broke up.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” Phil said. “After California the military was shipping Darnell to South Korea. I couldn’t follow him overseas. Remember, these were in the days way before President Clinton’s ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ Policy. I would have jeopardized Darnell’s military career by following him around.”

So years passed. Darnell married a woman but soon divorced her and came out of the closet. Phil got over his first love and developed other relationships and moved away from New Orleans. But the two remained friends, although mostly the extent of the relationship today is keeping up with each other on Facebook.

Q: Okay readers tell me about your first love!

Photo courtesy of professorlocs.typepad.com

“Van” and I this week had to rush to South Carolina for the funeral of my stepfather.

Ma was glad to see us. My stepfather was a cool guy and fully accepted my sexuality and Van into the family, even saying he was a much nicer person than my ex-wife.

But his death after a long illness will bring changes to my life.

I’m thinking more about aging and mortality now. And I will have to travel South more frequently to check in on Mom, who claims she needs no help  but every once in awhile does.

But I’m up for the challenge and pray God directs me.

My stepfather’s funeral service was beautiful but I have to admit the week was stressful.

All the phone calls, the 450-mile drive to Mom’s house and endless parade of relatives and family friends through the door proved to be exhausting. And deflecting questions about my partner “Van.”

“Who is that? Your brother or a cousin?”

“Oh, he is just a close family friend.”

My mother pulls me over later. “That’s all they need to know. These country people are nosey and don’t need to be all up  in our business.”

And we laugh and keep it moving.

Sex is a great way to relieve stress and cope with grief.

Watch a brief clip on Xtube of our threesome with Micky.

So after the service and repast (a cousin who is a caterer did the food and it was off-the chain) Van and I slipped away from the crowd and went to our hotel room and went online. And soon met “Micky,” a retired military guy who is 6 foot five with a 10-inch dick and toned body.

Micky is usually a top but on Saturday night he wanted to get fucked and that is what we did to him. He also loves Platinum Wet lube and is not averse to spreading it around.

So soon we were all sweaty and oily.

The sex was so good the sheets came off the bed.

I take a photo of “Van” (left) and Micky during a break in the threesome.

Me banging Micky from the back.

Trying to take a selfie while fucking doggy style is hard lol.

Micky’s dick.

The Woodberry Kitchen in Baltimore. Constance and her husband were seated at a bar table in the center and our party was at a table to the right, right under them.

This week my partner “Van” celebrates his birthday and we rushed home from South Carolina on Sunday to get the celebration started with a  brunch with friends at Woodberry Kitchen, one of our favorite restaurants in Baltimore.

We were waiting on our table when I glanced across the room and there was “Constance,” a woman  I have known since we were in sixth grade. She was having brunch with her husband, a retired professional football player.

“Shit,” I thought. “Of all people I got to run into I have to run into Constance.”

Let me tell you why. Constance, who today is an instructor at a community college, is a busybody and bossy. She has been that way since she was a flat-chested, pre-teen wearing pigtails and saddle shoes.

Okay, this is a big, crowded restaurant, I rationalized. So the hostess will probably seat us far from Constance and they won’t even notice us.

Nope. No such luck. We got seated at a table near the bar right in front of them.

I wasn’t going to spoil Van’s birthday brunch, especially since he had hung with my mother and I like a champ last week after my stepfather’s death. Besides, God had my back. I was going to man up. And so I did.

I walked over to her. “Hey Constance!”

“Oh, Immanuel! It’s so good to see you.”

And we chatted about our kids and mutual friends and I told her I was having lunch with friends. And I sat down with Van and tried to act normal. But she kept glancing over. And leaning over and talking to her husband excitedly.

I mean, my friends and I are not flaming. But it was no mistaking we were a gay party. And her eyes were wide with curiosity. And every once in a while she would call over to me and urge me to try the dark ale or not order the bacon because it was too tough.

Constance was a big gossip from way back. An hour after brunch ended at 2 p.m. she would be on the phone with half my high school and middle school class, informing them that the same Immanuel who had married his gorgeous college sweetheart and had two beautiful kids and a big house in the suburbs, two cars in the garage and a dog was now a…faggot.

So I took the bull by the horns. Fuck it. I wasn’t going out like a bitch. I’m still a proud man. I just happen to be gay.

“Hey Constance come over and let me introduce you to my friends,” I said.

She practically knocked a waiter down getting over.

“This is Gerald and Michael and Harvey and Mitchell,” I began. “And this is my partner Van, who is celebrating his birthday.”

Baby girl didn’t miss a beat.

Constance started texting like crazy. Photo courtesy of tellyouall.com.

“Oh, Happy Birthday Van,” she gushed. “And it’s so nice to meet everybody.”

“Nice to meet you too, Constance,” everybody said.

And she chatted awhile and took her ass back to her seat. And we went about our brunch.

Still, I noticed her texting furiously on her phone.

“Yep, Facebook is going to be interesting on Monday,” I thought. “Cuz she is going to tell everybody.”

But you know. I really didn’t give a fuck. I pay my own bills. I was living my life. I’m happy. Constance can kiss my ass.

Besides, I had some dirt on her. I knew her husband, who is at least 10 years older and overweight like many retired football players, wasn’t doing his duty in bed anymore and she had taken a few lovers to get dick. But hey she was married to a rich baller so she stayed.

But deep down inside I knew I wouldn’t trade dirt for dirt if it came to that.

Eventually she and hubby got up and left. “We have to hang out soon, Immanuel,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Yeah, right,” I thought. “Don’t try to act all phony. I know you are getting ready to put that knife in my back.”

That night I was surprised to get a text message from her.

She said I shouldn’t worry about the situation at the restaurant and she was glad I was living my true self and was happy. And she  did want to come hang out with me.

And you know. She did really seem sincere.

I smiled, turned over and went to bed.

Q: Readers, have you been outed unexpectedly? Tell us how that happened?

Tancredo Buff

Adult actor Tancredo Buff had been curious about doing porn since he was a kid in Puerto Rico and secretly looked at the X-rated magazine and film collections of his friends’ parents.

After migrating to the mainland United States as an adult Buff decided to make his dream a reality.

Mature actors such as sexy, gray-haired Allen Silver inspired Buff. Plus he got laid off from his job and had more time to pursue his porn acting interest.

He contacted a list of adult film studios and several got in contact with him.

Forbidden Funk Media called him in for an audition in New York City. After an exchange of Facebook messages and emails he also got an offer to do work with Tobii Chase, who films the Bigdickstudxxx.com series in south Florida.

And Buff  did a scene for Savage Talon Media that is available for members of the website.

I just let myself go

Buff admits he was nervous doing his first scene in 2013 and his skittishness must have shown in his eyes. But actor Randy Harden at Forbidden Funk Media put him at ease for his scene in the series “My Hole Belongs to Daddy.”

“When the cameras started rolling I transformed myself like a lion and started doing my scene,” he said. “It’s like I just let myself go like I’m falling in love with the other actor even though I’m not and it’s a professional thing.”

One of his favorite scenes was in “BearBack Workout” with Gant Black, Diesel Bear, Jack Harden and Jake Mitchell.  The chemistry was so intoxicating the actors didn’t want to stop freaking and kept the action going for hours, long after there was enough video to do the scene, Buff said.

Big Bear and Tancredo Buff.

And one of the most poignant encounters was with actor Big Bear in Florida with filmmaker Tobii Chase.

Buff went to Chase’s house to have dinner and discuss the scenes Chase wanted him to do.

Chase got on the phone with Big Bear and later Big Bear dropped by. The three began drinking and playing in the pool. Then Buff got out of the pool and almost stumbled and fell into Big Bear’s arms.

“He said ‘hello’ and just like that we started kissing,” Buff said. “I remember we said to Tobii ‘here is your scene.'”

Chase ran and got his camera and filmed the spontaneous sex session.

Big Bear and Buff became good friends after that encounter. But Big Bear unfortunately died last August from pneumonia.

“I have cried for friends and family but never so much like with him,” Buff said.

When he does porn Buff aims to please

Buff, who lives in Buffalo, NY, with his partner of 13 years in an open relationship, says he does porn because he enjoys sex. He endeavors to perform sexually in a way to satisfy others who watch and make them wish they were part of the action.

The money he earns pays bills, although Buff says you cannot make much money in the industry unless you are a superstar.

He only consulted his partner before doing porn and didn’t tell his friends until the first scene was released and many people had seen it. Buff said some friends felt weird seeing him having sex on camera but many said they liked it and have become some of his biggest fans, subscribing to streaming websites that feature his work.

Buff also actively promotes his work by using social media.

Growing up in Puerto Rico and seeking to break gay porn stereotypes as an adult

Puerto Rico is more open to gay people now but was not when Buff was growing up there. He said he acted masculine and played sports. However, Buff was still afraid someone would find out he was gay and he would become the victim of bullying from his friends, teachers and even his parents, which was the usual treatment of gays in Puerto Rico’s machismo culture.

Tancredo Buff in a scene with Jack Harden (left) and Suil.

“I can remember going to my first gay bar when I was 18 and I always had the feeling that if somebody from the neighborhood saw me they would tell my parents,” Buff said. “I always had the feeling that things might change and they have in Puerto Rico now that same-sex marriage is legal.”

Buff said he came out to his parents by bringing home his boyfriend. His parents accepted without much fuss and stopped pestering him about when he would get married and have children. Buff has three living brothers and one foster sister and only his foster sister, whom he has the closest relationship with, and a nephew know he does porn.

Buff hopes his presence in porn will encourage more porn directors to feature mature Latino and African American. For decades the role of men of color in gay adult films has been that of the stereotypical, hard, sexually aggressive, down-low thug, he said.

The role of the dominant “Daddy” has traditionally gone to white men although black actors such as Buster Sly, Jerry Stearns and Cutler X have moved into this arena. Buff said the studios should depict the diverse sexual range of gay men of color.

“What I resent about studios is that they forget about mature Latino and Black men,” said Buff, who has a college degree and worked in government. “I could act like a thug but in my normal, regular life I’m not a thug. I think that motivated me to get into porn.”

More about Tancredo Buff:

How he got his stage name: Tancredo is a variation of Tancredi, a warrior and a king and Buff is in honor of his current hometown Buffalo.

Astrological sign: Aries/Taurus cusp

His favorite colors: Red and green although he tends to wear a lot of blue.

Favorite food: chicken and rice

Favorite TV shows: “Top Chef,” “Once Upon a Time,” “Homeland,” “How to Get Away with Murder,” “Empire” and “Mr. Selfridge” on PBS

Favorite Vacation Spot: Any beach

http://pimusique.blogspot.com/2016/04/i-think-that-i-might-have-been-set-up.html?m=1#comment-form

The Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen, allegedly used this photo on gay hook-up apps. He also frequented gay clubs for years. The media is largely missing the story on how damaging repressed homosexuality can be.

The tragic shooting in Orlando is now days old. We have been shocked, grieved, angered, surprised.

Well, there is one thing I’m not surprised about. That Omar Mateen the shooter was on the down low.

You see, some of the worst enemies of LGBTQ people are repressed gay people.

Remember that bully in high school who used to call you “faggy,” tripped you up in the hallway and stole your lunch? Don’t be surprised if he is out now and living with his long-term lover in the suburbs with their pet Shih Tsu. I have seen this happen.

I know ministers who are DL who will fuck a man on Friday but talk badly about gay people Monday through Thursday and Saturday and preach against them in the pulpit on Sunday. And married DL men who go to sex parties disguised in baseball caps and dark shades who throw their legs in the air and get fucked all night but wouldn’t get caught dead speaking to an openly gay man in public.

There are a slew of repressed gay lawmakers (mostly Republicans) who have supported laws that discriminate against people who are LGBTQ (Read my old entry “Politics Makes Strange Bedfellows”).  These hypocrites will suck your dick in a funky public bathroom but won’t vote to give LGBTQ people the right to wed and show their love in public.

J. Edgar Hoover, the founder of the FBI, was reportedly gay and even hired his lover Clyde Tolson as his assistant. But Hoover used his powers to harass anyone who threatened to reveal his sexuality and undermine the civil rights movement for Blacks.

Attorney Roy Cohn, who was secretly gay and died of AIDS, took part in Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunt of suspected communists in the 1950s, wrecking the careers and reputations of many. He later went on to defend developer and now Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, who was accused of discriminating against Blacks who wanted to rent his properties.

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, right, and his assistant Clyde Tolson, were allegedly an item. Despite likely being gay Hoover used his power to suppress minority groups and keep his sexuality a secret.

So just because you suck dick, eat ass and fuck or get fucked by men does not make you a good person who defends people from other oppressed groups. Self-hate is a motherfucker.

In fact Mateen fits the typical psychological profile of a repressed homosexual who becomes homophobic. Raised in a strict, Muslim home by a authoritative father the socially awkward Mateen likely couldn’t express his sexuality. So the rage turned inward and then exploded, taking 49 innocent lives with him and leaving more than 50 others maimed.

I can’t help but think. If he had met just one person who helped him to love and accept himself this tragedy might not have happened. Family and friends wouldn’t be grieving and folks wouldn’t be in the hospital now struggling to survive and heal.

Many of the news reports are focusing on his alleged support of terrorism and his homophobia. But we really need to take this opportunity to talk about sexuality and how when we don’t allow people to be free and themselves we sometimes create monsters.

“Corbin” leads a double life that is even more complex than that led by most gay and bisexual men who are married to women.

Every few weeks he tells wifey he has to work out of town. Corbin is half telling the truth. He does have to work. But his work is dealing methamphetamine out of hotel rooms.

“You won’t believe how much money I make,” says Corbin, who is in his mid 40s and has three kids under the age of 10. “My children have everything they need — horseback riding, a nice house, music lessons and baseball leagues.”

I try not to judge men I meet in this lifestyle and I promised Corbin I wouldn’t judge him when I interviewed him for my blog. He was already extremely paranoid — he kept asking me whether I was a detective trying to turn him in.

But you can’t escape the fact that methamphetamine — or “tina” or “chrissy” or  “glass” or “crank” or whatever you want to call it — is destroying the lives of many gay or bisexual men. The drug, which can be a white, yellowish or reddish powder or a waxy or clear rock, creates feelings of intense sexual euphoria.

This leads users to go on marathon sexual binges where they fuck for hours or days, often doing risky sexual behavior and taking on dubious sexual partners they wouldn’t look at twice if sober. It is estimated one out of four gay and bisexual men have tried meth so the likelihood someone you know is addicted is very high.

The website tweaker.org offers nonjudgemental help to people living with a meth addiction. The website offers treatment resources but also advice for people who are addicted to meth to use it more responsibly.

Increasingly men hit up on my partner “Van” and I who want to PNP (party and play), or smoke and inject meth first and then get down to sex. Sometimes it feels like everybody I meet online is doing it.

The drug releases dopamines, or pleasure chemicals in the brain, and is supposed to make sex 12 times more intense. I love sex so that sounds tempting but the downside of this addiction has made me scared to ever try it.

Withdrawal symptoms include paranoia, depression, suicidal thoughts, a feeling that bugs are crawling on your skin, drowsiness or an inability to sleep.

Users  report they have difficulty enjoying sex without meth. And men even in my age group have said the addiction has cost them everything — cars, homes, jobs, family and friends.

Worst yet many medical experts say the drug is fueling higher HIV infection rates, especially among young men.

Corbin doesn’t think about all this. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t give a fuck because he can make tens of thousands in a week while most of us are slaving away just to make our rent or mortgage payment.

Corbin, a handsome, brown-skinned black man, acts as a supplier, transporting the drug from manufacturers to people who sell it on the street. He says this reduces the risk he will be arrested.

He said men from all walks of life use it — doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians and Starbucks barristas to name a few.

“Some of the men we supply want me to fuck them too,” said Corbin, who used to play football in high school and still has a fairly athletic body and a thick, big dick. “But I tell them I’m not trade — we are selling them meth.”

And Corbin is probably hooked himself. He uses meth, although he says he has it under control and can balance his life as a family man and husband in the suburbs on one hand and a bisexual man who sells crank on the other.

While he is juggling several cellphones dealing  meth Corbin says he will smoke a little of his supply, call up his many contacts (he has plenty of guys in his cellphone who are ready to give up ass or dick for meth) and spends days in a downtown hotel room freaking.

As far as his wife knows he is just trying to get a project done.

I couldn’t do it. But who am I to judge?

One of the most beautiful men I’ve ever had sex with was a meth addict. It was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had in the bedroom. Read “The Ecstasy and the Agony.”

My partner “Van” and I did our usual vacation in Fort Lauderdale this spring. Just a few days of Florida sun and fun.

And during the trip we got to hang out with a group of acquaintances, including “Quinton,” a friend of Van’s who had moved to South Florida from San Francisco.

What a bore Quinton was. No matter where we were — eating at Rosie’s Bar and Grill, listening to karaoke at PJ’s Corner Pocket, or dancing to disco at Hunters — Quinton had to steer the conversation back to himself.

“My family is very wealthy you know.”

“I come from a very distinguished family in Trinidad, you know.”

“Did you know my grandfather was from China? We are of mixed race you know.”

“Florida is really nice but I really prefer San Francisco. It’s too hot here for me. I can’t wait to go back.”

And on and on.

I have learned in this life that gay men who have to brag about what they have are insecure. And usually when you start to question them you find they are crazy and suffering from an identity crisis, too.

All it took was a little gossip and I got all the tea.

It seems Quinton was involved with a married, white architect in San Francisco. The man left his wife and he and Quinton bought a home together.

But Quinton didn’t put his name on the mortgage so when his lover started stepping out on him and not coming home until the next morning and Quinton confronted him guess who got kicked out. Yep, Quinton.

If Quinton and his lover were so tight and Quinton was doing so well why wasn’t he on the mortgage, I wondered? That didn’t make sense.

Then Quinton’s aunt in Florida started dating a guy in another state and left her house empty and invited Quinton to come house sit. So he didn’t even own or rent his house in Lauderdale.

Later a friend clued me in. Quinton was one of those gay men who purposely goes out after men he thinks have money. Potential Sugar Daddies, I guess.

What a turnoff.

It’s sad some gay white men play out their anxiety over race through sex instead of actively working to improve race relations.

Two more unarmed, innocent Black men killed by police in the past week. How many times has this scenario played out? Want to bet the cops will get off?

And now a lone Black gunman  kills five police in Dallas, which will help no one and only inflame this shitty situation.

And that racist Trump is still the Republican contender for president.  And all all the racists are coming out of the woodwork on social media and online message boards, blaming President Obama for a present state of affairs in America that white folks created over  400 years.

And just when the week couldn’t get worse I get this from ericcatonsville on Adam4Adam which represents how twisted this nation is, racially and sexually. He wrote:

hello sir… white pussy boy in Catonsville… after seeing the way my people have treated black men, cops killing them left and right… I just want to serve and be fucking completely owned by a black man… I want to pay for the sins of my pussy race…

His pickup line, which he probably thinks is so sexy, demonstrates what I have long thought. Many white people know how fucked up this nation is but instead of confronting it they bury it in their psyches. And some exercise their demons through sex and role play.

It’s sick. To him all I am is an object to help him feel better because he feels guilty.

Instead of me fucking his brains out with my stereotypical big Mandingo dick I would prefer if Eric in Catonsville, Maryland, who is just 24 years old, write his local lawmakers in support of a fairer criminal justice system and better policing, get involved in organizations such as Black Lives Matter that are trying to make a difference, or just correct his white family members and friends when they say something racist that is wrong.

I think that will do more to wipe away his sins than my Black dick…

It’s Baltimore Pride weekend and despite the high temperatures “Van” and I or hanging out with friends and determined to have fun.

Last night an acquaintance persuaded us to go to the “Lust” leather party at the Grand Central gay bar on Charles Street, where the Pride Parade will take place later today.

The party was hosted by the Command leather enthusiast group.

I’m not into the leather scene but it was a great group of friendly folks. The highlight was when we went in the backroom and watched a sexy black Daddy administer a spanking to a very willing white submissive.

I’m not into pain but have to admit the scene was very erotic. Here’s the pics:

Young Hustlers, Selma Avenue, Hollywood, 1971. Photo by Anthony Friedkin.Times have  not changed — there are streets in Baltimore where male hustlers still go.

Last night I took a break from the Baltimore Pride crowd at the Drinkery  bar to go outside and indulge one of my guilty pleasures — a single cigarette on Friday night.

And there I met him. The hustler.

He bummed a cigarette off a friend of mine and we started chit-chatting. And out of the blue he said, “I got a big dick. Do you want to play.”

He pulled his shorts down lower, showing off his neon green Papi underwear, and used his hands to stretch his khaki shorts so I could clearly see his dick print. Yep, his dick was a respectable size.

I was taken aback a moment when he blurted that out. And then it dawned on me. This tall, lean, brown skinned man in front of me was a hustler.

It was clear he was on drugs. He was so fidgety and probably needed money for a fix. But I had to get his story.

“Paul” said his life was ruined when his stepsister falsely accused him of raping her. He was put on a sex offender list when he was 17 and had difficulty finding work. He was already the father of a child.

So he dealt drugs, served some jail time, got out of prison and was even shot (he pulled off his shirt to show the long scar that ran down the middle of  his six-pack abs to prove it).

Now he was an electrician making $18 an hour but after the state took out child support he had very little to live on. So he hung out at gay bars to earn extra cash.

“That will be $40 if we play a little bit,” he said. “It is more if you want to do more.”

“Hey Paul, look I get sex free I’m really not interested in paying for it.”

“Okay man, that’s cool. That’s cool.”

Paul, who is now 28 years old and the father of two, admitted he has been selling his body for a decade, even while he was dating girls and fathering children.

So did that mean he really likes having sex with men? I noticed him staring at my dick bulge. So I had to ask.

“So is what you do fun? Do you enjoy it when you have sex with men?”

He got agitated, waving his arms about and pacing back and forth. And he almost shouted back.

“No it’s not fun! No it’s not fun! No it’s not!”

But I had to wonder. He was protesting too much.

The parade today was beautiful. Here are some pics:

I rarely eat candy but when I do I love cinammon Hot Tamales. So I buy a pack and open them and Damn! When they start making them dildo shaped?

My partner “Van” is buying a condo near Fort Lauderdale, Florida.

So we are in Florida now settling some affairs.

If you’ve read my blog awhile you know I have fallen in love with South Florida. And Van planned to retire here even before he met me.

So the plan is we will split time between here and Baltimore. Since I can telecommute I may be able to work here a few weeks at a time.

And if I find a decent job here who knows?

So here we go!

“Jaleel” was out running errands, getting ready for a family reunion,  when he hit up “Van” and me on Jack’d.

“I would  really like to watch you two fuck,” he said. “I’m kinda shy and that really turns me on. What hotel are you staying at?”

I told him the hotel name and room number. Before I could even check with Van about whether he wanted to play with a third Jaleel was knocking at our hotel door.

“Hey I never confirmed we were going to play,” I said, surprised.

“Well, I was in the area.”

Van and I were not going to throw him out. He was a beautiful chocolate, like a a Hershey’s bar, with a thick black beard. A little on the thick side and definitely handsome. Just 31 years old.

Jaleel still had to run to the store to get ice, sodas, charcoal and citron candles to keep away Zika-carrying mosquitoes. So we decided to play later in the day and he left.

But 15 minutes later there was another knock on the hotel door. Jaleel had come back. “My uncle called and they need some more stuff so I have more time to hang out.”

“Cool, let’s do this then.”

Jaleel

I started by eating out Van’s ass while Jaleel watched, stroking his thick dick until it got hard. Then he lay in the bed beside us while I fucked Van missionary style. His ass was so tight as usual it didn’t take me long to cum — I lifted his legs, thrust a few more strokes, and busted a good nutt.

Jaleel had warmed up a bit and was licking Van’s left nipple while I fucked him.

After I nutted, Van busted his nutt. And then we lay on each side of Jaleel, licking his nipples while he lay back and jacked and busted a nutt. It took him a long time to cum.

“You must be jacking off too much,” I joked. “It’s taking you a long time  to cum.”

“Yeah, you are right,” he said smiling. And soon he was shooting a thick creamy nutt on his belly.

Afterward I asked him why he was so shy. He grew up in Fort Lauderdale and always knew he was into men but had to keep it a secret because his family and friends likely would not accept it.

“Women just don’t turn me on,” he said. “I like masculine men.”

He had first had sex with family friend when he was just 21 years old. The family friend was more than 10 years older and Jaleel had always had a crush on him. Jalee remembered his dick was so big it took three sessions before it would fit in his virgin ass.

Jaleel didn’t have much time to talk. His family kept texting. The family reunion was going to start soon. Where was the charcoal? We have to light the grill.

So Jaleel said his goodbyes and left,  back to his down-low world.

Moe the dancer. Sorry the photo is so bad but the club was dark.

A Dominican dancer we recognized from one of our earlier visits was at the door.

“Hey, how have you guys been?”

The Dominican turned to the guy at the front desk. “Hey, these are my friends. Give them a discount on the entry.”

“Hey, thanks a lot man,” I said, glad for his unexpected generosity.

So Van and I sat down and looked at all the eye candy around.

The Boardwalk can sometimes be a depressing place, filled with elderly, overweight white men tipping dancers to get a little bit of time and affection. Most of the dancers appear to be from the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rican and other Caribbean nations.

But Friday night the crowd was younger and more vibrant. And the dancers were definitely good looking.

After a while a dancer named Moe walked over and gave Van and me some time.

Moe was dark-skinned brother with a phat booty in Speedos. He sat on my lap first and grinded and offered me his big, dark nipples so I could lick and suck them while the intoxicating scent of his cologne filled my nose. Then he sat on Van’s lap and played with him.

He definitely made it rain. Soon his briefs were filled with our dollar bills.

Moe leaned over and whispered.

“Go in the back room with me. The rate starts at $20 and you can give me anything else you want above that. I will do anything you want me to do.”

It was a nice try but unless both Van and I could go back and play with him together it wasn’t happening.

“I’m sorry, you can only go one at a time,” he said.

So we chatted awhile. Moe said he was 32 years old and ran a digital imaging company. But money was tight while he was launching his business so he decided to take up dancing. He was at the Boardwalk seven days a week, earning up to $300 a night in tips.

Van noticed his dick never got hard when he played with us.

“Are you gay or just gay for pay,” I had to ask.

“Naw, actually I’m bisexual,” he answered smiling. “I play with men and women.”

The Dominican dancer who met us at the door walked by. I noticed he had gained weight and looked more tired and jaded then had two years ago when Van and I first met him.

“Yeah, it happens,” Moe said. “This is easy money and there are guys who like to drink and get high and they get used to the money and never leave. I’m not going to end up like that. I’m focused on my business.”

And then he got up, claiming he had to take a break. He promised to come back but I knew he was eager to find the next men who would keep tipping him and perhaps go in the dark room in the back and pay him even more for his services.

The Haulover Hustler

My partner “Van” and I are living back and forth between Florida. Yesterday we were down and decided to hit the famous Haulover nude beach with friends.

The weather was perfect, the water warm, and camaraderie with other bathers amazing.

But one person stood out…a dark skinned, thick brother with a thick uncut dick. 

What made him stand out in a sea of naked folks? He was wearing black dress socks as he strode across the sand.

“That’s odd,” I said to Van. “Wassup with that? It is kinda kinky.”

Later when Van was in the water black socks walked up to me.

“How you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I answered. “How you?”

“Oh I’m just out advertising,” he said, turning to the side and glancing down at his dick as if he wanted me to appreciate it in profile.

I’m really dense. It took a moment.

“Advertising? What kind of job do you have?”

Then it hit me. He was selling sex on the beach. Not the mixed drink. The real thing.

“Nah man I’m not looking for that.”

But we kept talking and I learned he had mostly older white male customers who would slip him $40 and disappear with him to a private space he carved out of the brush near the beach so he could “blow their backs out” with his “10 inches of black dick.”

In fact some of his clients would call him ahead of time to set up trysts.

For some reason the whole thing didn’t sound sexy to me.

Later I got in the water and he approached Van.

Van must look more well-to-do than I because he tried to charge him $50 instead of $40.