nothing like a night of tribal dancing to the beats of Victor Calderone on a holiday weekend in the Pines to get U all horned up, particularly after E-dick has prevented U from getting an “afterparty” invite from a hot, young couple . . . i mean, c’mon guys, how do U expect me to get it up AND keep moving like the Energizer bunny in the wee hours of the morning without drugs? . . . U sure did like the rhythm of my pumping hips behind U on the dance floor . . . couldn’t we have left it at that? . . . but no, U had to go to a different place and cop a feel . . . with one hand U worked your way into my bitch dog shorts, underneath my jock, and with the other u placed my hand on your boyfriend’s big dick . . . i tried to rise to the occasion, i really did . . . maybe it IS time for Viagra, at least on the dance floor . . . too bad we didn’t hook up in the Meatrack a few hours later . . . i didn’t have any problem sticking it to some space cadet who must have been a stunner in his prime . . . i’d wanted him for years and now, when i finally had my chance, i wasn’t shy about exposing the hard goods . . . he took one look at my tuffy and dropped his bitch dog shorts to show me his nicely shaped ass . . . come to my house and fuck me . . . he lived at the western end of Fire Island Boulevard, next to what looks like a lily pond at high tide . . . i wonder how many men had wiped their feet on the welcome mat on Sunday alone? . . . i’ll bet u would like to see me in my leather, wouldn’t u? . . . it took all of 10 seconds for him to slap a rubber on me and not much longer to don his leather cap and position himself in front of the mirror . . . he watched my cock go in and out, in and out while he shouted u r right my alley, service boy . . . nothing like a good pun to keep U turned on . . . his drugs must be really fine if he’s calling me a boy . . . too bad he couldn’t stay still for more than a minute at a time and he was so busy inviting me back that i kept wondering where i had gone . . . i felt like an appliance even tho he told me he preferred me to his dildo . . . what a sweet talker! u can come anytime u want because i probably won’t i suggested after we assumed our 57th position . . . subtlety isn’t my strong suit . . . as soon as he told me he had shot his load he made it pretty clear he wasn’t going to help get me off . . . he forgot my name almost as soon as i told him . . . i used to use that name on the phone he apologized . . . when i told him phone sex made me giggle, he said he only used it to hook up with guys . . . u mean like AOL? . . . no, i don’t type and i don’t drivehe answered . . . well, that explains everything!

there’s a buttcrack epidemic sweeping my world . . . and it’s a lot more addictive and dangerous than the rock cocaine i smoked years ago at the Adonis porno theatre on Eighth Avenue . . . there i was at the Pier Party on Sunday looking at all the guys with their shorts and jeans hanging midway down their hips and wishing that i had Lara Flynn Boyle’s tongue in MIIB . . . plenty of anuses would have gotten an anonymous tickle when all eyes were on the fabulous fireworks and the less fabulous performances (can’t we come up with something a little more original than Madonna & Donna Summer impersonators? and Kristine W. belongs in a studio, not on a scaffold) . . . nice pecs used to really get me going . . . there’s a bumper crop of tits in the Park this year, David, my witty and long-gone ex once said . . . but they never got me as horny as the hint of a dark valley, just below a high contrast tan line, descending into two firm globes of smooth flesh . . . the homo version of cleavage i suppose with low slung pants functioning much like a push-up bra . . . as soon as the dance ended i headed for the Ramble on my bike in search of something more than visual stimulation while my companions went home to nap before their afterparty at Allegria . . . not the way i would have preferred to end my weekend, which included spotting Rollerina (in flats) and shaking Andrew Cuomo’s sweaty, unelectable hand at the parade, but hey, gay men do not live by pride alone . . . it didn’t take me long to hook up with a couple of guys desperate to get fucked . . . i refused the first because he didn’t have a condom . . . the second eagerly swathed me in lube and latex but the old in/out didn’t do the trick even after ten minutes of pounding him against a bench and twisting his head around so that i could kiss him until he broke the silence with an unmistakable grunt . . . by now it was past 1 a.m. and during Guiliani time, that was enough to get u arrested . . . then again, during Guiliani time, the cops would have made it impossible to stick anything other than a plunger in somebody’s ass in the Ramble . . . how quickly things change: once again the place is a sexual free-for-all . . . during my final tour of the night, i crossed paths with a beautiful, shirtless guy who stopped in his tracks when i turned back to look . . . he couldn’t have been much more than 25 and even in the limited light, his buttcrack positively glowed . . . c’mon give it to me he urged as i sucked on his nipples and passed my hands lightly over the curve of his grinding ass . . . seconds later, after he dropped his pants, i was heaving inside him . . . did u give me your load? he asked as i shuddered ecstatically . . . yeah, i replied, with a lot more shame than pride.