In From the Storm to the Heat of the Playroom

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Pictures to Brighten Your Weekend

 

I really wanted to write today, but it’s just impossible as I’m baking for an early Christmas dinner on Sunday.  I still have three playdates in November to write up and about the same number for December.  (The weather here in Michigan has really cut into my playtime, dammit.)

I have to say that you guys must be really connecting to the History posts.  The number of viewings of them are as high as what blogger was like when I started writing here in 2011.  

It is refreshing and very gratifying. 

So here are a few pictures to tide you over until Monday!

History: Treading Water

 

We finished my last pre-blog, personal history with me shooting my first load in a guy’s ass at my first visit to a bathhouse.   We went to breakfast (though it was 1pm) at Tiffany’s.  We parked and my brother led us to a door with no name on it.  Inside it was dark and decorated like a barn.  I desperately needed food and it was good.  At 2pm the lights went off.  I was groped by my brother’s roommate and told it was now Crazy Daze--drinks were half price for as long the current song blared on the sound system.  We ordered.  The four men I was with were having a blast, but I did not do much of either the groping during the blackouts or the drinking as the lights came back on.

There was one good moment there.  A hot construction worker—blond, muscled and tool-belted—arrived at our table.  As it was Sunday, he may have just been in butch drag (It was the years of the Village People, after all).  He wanted me.  And only me.  He pulled me out of our booth and kissed me.  Hard and demanding.  He ground his muscled body against my reed-thin one.  He took my hand and placed it on his thigh where his hard cock was engorged under the denim.  I ended up taking his number—knowing I’d never call him—but used him as fantasy material for weeks, imagining us having sex at the bathhouse.

My brother’s break up with Jerry at the baths that night was never discussed with me or the family.  I am sure they had good sex together.  But deep down I often wondered if finding the most flamboyant man possible to introduce to our parents as a partner was more of a ploy to make my dad’s blood boil.

Two family dramas happened that winter.  My gay uncle, my mom’s brother, had a stroke and died a few days later.  At the same time, we recognized that my widowed paternal grandfather was failing—so my brother moved into his house to care for him.  My brother has told me repeatedly that he loved being there with this reserved, quiet man.  He opened up to my brother and told him things that he had never shared, at least with us—and likely not my father either.  Grandfather’s decline was steep—and he was gone by the end of January, two years to the month after his beloved wife.

It was decided in early February of 1977 that my brother would move into my grandparent’s home.  Here is where my journal was a revelation.  His housemate there was going to be Mike, the Mike who pined for me one minute and ignored me the next.  I had totally forgotten he was ever my brother’s house mate.

I helped them move.  Mike picked me up at school, late as always, and took we to the apartment being packed up.  Who should be there but Theo (you remember him and my experimenting with him at the campground?)  He was helping pack as he’d started ‘seeing’ my brother. 

Putting my brother’s things in my grandparent’s home was odd.  Odder was watching my brother and Theo in the flush of first romance (at least on Theo’s side.)  And then having Mike detail what he and a trick had done in bed the previous night was pretty much the last straw.

I worked out the day in mounting fury.  And got back to the safety of school.

That night, Theo called, wondering if I was upset.  I was, but less so now.  Even back then (and this is from my journal) I knew it was inevitable.  After that night we had snuck Theo into the disco, I was sure that the two of them would get together.  And I knew it was a good thing that Theo was learning how to fuck with someone who treated him better than I was being treated by Mike. 

But I didn’t say that to him.  In answer to his question of me being upset, I simply said, “Would it change anything, if I were?”

Theo murmured “No.”

And we left it alone.

Life was back to being all about school and doing a show in college.  I kept busy and ignored trying to find sex and simply masturbated in the shower.

At the end of February, I went to have dinner with my brother, Mike and Theo.  It was odd being in my Grandparent’s house—so much was exactly the same, but other rooms felt like his apartment.  Dinner was fondue (It’s 1977, what else?)  We had drinks afterwards.  We talked about this and that.  Theo, on the couch, snuggled into my brother’s strong arms.  Mike, on the floor at my feet, leaned on my knees.  I was thinking about Theo.  And then a girl, Nancy, in the drama department who I really liked and wondered if I should get to know better.  Then Mike sucking my dick.  I only half listened to the other three as more thoughts crowded in.

Eventually, Mike and I followed Theo and my brother up the stairs.  They went down the hall to the left and we went right.  The oddity of it all came back as the door shut.  Did I want to have sex in this house?  I decided I was really not that weirded out—I was trying emotions on for size.  We fell into bed and I quote from my journal: “Mike fucked me and I must admit I can take it or leave it; it really didn’t do anything for me.  Sucking me, later, was nice.  I really do care about Mike, but just can’t make the commitment he wants.  I feel like myself so much more around Nancy or Theo…  I don’t know where I’m headed.”

And I didn’t.

Stretching His Hole--Round Two

 My Playroom—November, 2025

 

I got a text from the man I met in early November, who is just beginning his anal journey. (He is the one who arrived with his homemade lube, a plethora of lube syringes and just about anything else I would need.)  He wanted to come back.  I thought he had said he wouldn’t be available until after Christmas, but here it was still before Thanksgiving. 

It took a couple of days to settle on a date, but he made it back to the playroom.  This time he arrived with nothing. After a quick check of his cleanout, we went downstairs…

 

He is totally naked today.  He has a nicely haired body—and I am pleased to see it and not the thermal underwear.  He gets into the sling.  I help secure the stirrups.  I have melted some coconut oil.  I find in my bag of tricks a lube syringe.  I suck up the oil, work the syringe into his asshole and fill it with the liquid.

He sighs.  “Do it again.”

I do.  The pearly liquid begins to drip out of him.  I finger it back into his hole.  He groans.  I make sure I play with his prostate.  His cock erects.  He tries not to touch it.  I pause to suit up.  Magnum on, I finger his hole once again, as with the other hand, I lube my latexed dick.  I stand up and slide in.  Slowly.  Opening his ass.  His eyes get big before he shuts them tight.  I hold for a good 20 seconds before I begin a slow in and out.  He takes it.  From how his dick is dripping, he likes it, too.

I pull out.  I finger him once again.  Now two fingers.  Switching to three fingers makes him moan.  I grab the egg headed dildo, one of my smaller toys.  I try to twist it into place.  Nope.  It’s a no go.  I reach for the tiniest butt plug.  This slides into him easily and he sighs in appreciation.  I tap the base with a finger, once it is locked in place.  He groans.  I hit it with the heel of my hand.  This gets an even bigger response.

I work it out.  His sphincter does not want to let go of it.  He enjoys the battle.  I get up and go for the clear dildo with the black handle.  It has a nicely shaped end that fits in most men.  I grease it up and he takes it in one steady entry.  He even tells me it feels great.  I work it in and out.  I take it all the way out and re-enter him with it.  He pants.

Soon I grab the discarded egg headed dildo.  It fits in him now.  And he loves the bigger stretch with the middle girth of the egg.  I go back and forth between the two toys.  His ass lips are filling with blood and looking hot.

It’s time for the speculum—something he knows and loves from owning the same type that I have.  I grease up the metal phalanges.  They are cool to the touch.  As I position the toy in his now slightly gaping hole, he gasps with the temperature change.  I work it in.  He sighs as it moves into place.  I begin the slow crank open.  Pausing after each turn of the thumbscrew.  He is moaning at the familiar stretch it is giving his ass.  I work his prostate with one finger after each turn.  As it gets bigger, I use two.  His moans are non-stop now.

I put on a new Magnum.  I stand up and slide into his open ass.  His cock is drooling like crazy.  I fuck him. 

“I can’t believe you fit in me with that in there…”

I smile.  I knock his hand away from playing with his cock.  He has already lasted ten minutes longer than last time.

I fuck.

I slow down and pull out.  I crank the speculum closed.

“Can I try the metal one?”  He is pointing at the Ballistic Butt Bomb.

It’s a bigger head than anything I’ve used on him, but he is open and relaxed right now.  I go get it and grease it up.  He pants as I put it against his hole.  I push, with a slight turn and it goes in.

“Fuck…” he moans. 

I stand up.  He’s shot his load.

“Can you keep going?”

He shakes his head.

I tell him that he’s increased his playtime today, from 30 minutes to 45.

He cleans up and is out the door…with a big smile on his face.

*

His first visit is here:  He Knew What He Wanted

Fisting Sawyer in the Sling

 My Playroom—November, 2025

 

Sawyer, who I had originally called Fist Guy when I met him at the house party we attend, wanted to come back to the playroom.  He reminded me that the toys were fine, but he really preferred my fist—and the connection it brings.  I made a mental note.

He arrived right on time after his drive to my place.  I grabbed the melting coconut oil off the counter and we went downstairs…

 

I am lying on the bed, watching him strip.  He is around my age, a little younger, and has kept himself in good shape.  He puts his clothes on the chair, and turns to see me there, with my cock swelling in the pouch of the jock.  I spread my legs in invitation and he crawls between them.  He inhales the aroma of the jock, moaning at the scent of sex.  He licks it, tentatively at first, then with growing lust.  He finally pulls it aside, making my cock erect and sway under his hot breath.  His mouth gobbles me down—all the way to my pubes.  He begins a series of hot deep throatings, leaving my balls covered in saliva.  He licks it up and does it one more time.

“Do my balls…”

He does, licking them tenderly after the heated throating of my shaft.  I moan and tell him I love it.

Soon enough, he is on all fours on the currently flattened fuck bench.  I kneel and try to give him the same oral pleasure he gave me.  I am all over his hole—sucking, licking and tongue fucking it.  I grease my cock with coconut oil as I do it.  I stand up and push into his wet ass. 

Sawyer gasps and takes it.   “Fuck me, Daddy.”

I do a couple of slow, opening-him-up strokes, but I am soon at a much faster pace.  I pull out and taste him again.  Hot and delicious.  I fuck him once more, before I let him taste his ass jizz on my cock.

His hole is expanding fast.  I grab the egg headed dildo, grease it up and insert.  I add my cock on top of the toy, reveling in the feel of the ridged shaft of the toy under me.  Then I reverse it so the toy is on top.  Back and forth.

I pull out my cock and the toy.  On my knees, I work three fingers from both hands into him.  They are back-to-back, knuckle to knuckle.  I do a lateral stretch.  He moans his encouragement.  I do another.  I grease up my entire left hand.  It enters his hole—his ass lips clamping down on my wrist.  I keep it there for a long time before I move it ever so slightly with a turn to the right.  And back.  Again, a little farther around, this time.  And back.

I pull out and use my cock on him again.  The Ballistic Butt Bomb is on the shelf right by my side.  I grease the oval steel ball and slide it into him.  I add my cock.  I love fucking into the cool metal ball.  The long thin shaft of the toy feels great under my dick.

We move to the sling.  He hops in and keeps his legs on the chains.  I eat his ravaged hole.  The mix of his juices and the coconut oil is heady.  I fuck him once again.  His eyes are riveted to the mirror above him.  He loves seeing my engorged dick split him open.

I use the egg headed dildo one more time.  It tightens the feel of his hole.

I fuck.

I eat him out as I grease up my hands again.

My left works into Sawyer once more.  Quite easily now.  I move it slowly, twisting it in his ass.  I pull it slightly out and open my fingers.  I press in this way—and my middle finger touches and caresses his second hole.

I pull out and add more lube to my bigger right hand.  Now I do with it the all the things I did with my left hand. 

Enter.

Turn.

Open.

Caress.

I stand up and sip my tea, holding it with a towel to keep the lube off the mug.  Sawyer relaxes.

I kneel and fist him again.  Alternate hands.  Back and forth.  Three or four times.

I try to add my cock with my left fist in place.  Today—the angle seems wrong, so it doesn’t happen.

I re-lube my left hand and work it into him, first forming a fist as I push in—then with an open hand.  I am standing.  I lean down, putting my head on his stomach, and inch my hand into him.  The tiniest movement feels huge to him.  I have never been so deep in Sawyer’s ass.  I keep it up, barely moving, but giving him ripples of constant pleasure.

We take a break.

I do another round of alternate hand fisting.

Soon, his hole has had enough hand.

But he’d love my load.  I clean up the excess lube off his hole and eat him out again.  My cock erects—as it can go soft when I am concentrating on my hands.  I stand up.

“Breed me, Daddy.”

I am more ready to let go of a load then I thought.  I speed up the strokes.  Sawyer squeezes the pouch of his jock.  Which makes his ass squeeze down on me.

I pull out, tasting his hole one more time.

I’m ready—I stand and just make it into him before I explode…

Bookstore Quartet

 Near Home—November, 2025

You always hope that on any given trip to the bookstore you find someone who wants what you have to offer.  On the Saturday night before Thanksgiving, I found not one but three playful men.  We made the perfect quartet…

 

I go into the dark room, the door shutting firmly behind me.  I like what I see.  A handsome lean man, with a long thin cock, is getting it sucked by a younger man.  The Latino, who now only occasionally cross dresses, is watching, while stroking his uncut cock.  Another man is here, too.  He has his dick out—though it’s not hard yet.  I sit along the far wall where I can watch both screens—but of course I watch the blow job.

The guy giving it tires.  He gets up and goes to the restroom.  The guy who isn’t hard yet, instantly stands up and moves to the guy who was getting blown.  He kneels and takes the spit slick dick into his mouth.

The Latino stands up and walks over to me.  “You feel like fucking tonight?” he asks.

I nod.  The Latino steps out of his pants and greases up his ass.  I roll a Magnum on my cock, knowing that’s how he plays.  He bends over, holding onto the arms of a chair.  I stand up, lube the latex and slide in.  I thrust hard.  He groans and he begins beating his own cock twice as fast as I am thrusting.

“Fuck, me Papi,” he moans.

I speed up.  So does his hand.  He groans and in less than three minutes of fucking, he is spraying his load on the old linoleum floor.  I go wash up and he pulls out a wet wipe…

*

The Latino has taken off.  I’m back in my same seat.  The handsome guy is still getting head.  He’s back to the first sucker—but it’s obviously not doing it for him.  He motions that he wants to take a break.  Now I wonder if the two suckers are partners.  They confer with each other and take off.  Leaving me and the handsome man alone.

We stroke to the straight porn.

Suddenly he gets up and comes over.  He sits next to me.  “May I?” he asks.  I nod and he fondles my dick.  “Nice,” the guy breathes, more to himself than to me.  He keeps it up for a moment, then stands and kneels in front of me.  He takes me into his mouth and gives me an expert blow job.  I am surprised—I had him sussed out as straight trade.  Now he goes to my balls and gives them the licking that I love.  He loves them, too.  He makes little mewling sounds of satisfaction as he does it.

Finally, he sits back down.  I give him less than 30 seconds before I am on my knees and returning the favor.  I spend a long time on his balls—and then work up the shaft.  He is a steady dripper.  His cock leaks at the least provocation.  I keep mopping it up with my tongue—coating his dick head.

The door opens.  It is the man I have known from my earliest days of playing here.  He is also our age—and maintained his body.  He nods to us before he takes off all his clothes, but socks.  He sits and strokes, watching me give head.

When my knees tire, I sit between the two men.

The door opens.  A man enters, tall (taller than me, so at least 6’4”) and nicely worked out.  He could be anywhere from 30 to 40.  He sits facing the three of us.  He unzips and takes out a sizable dick.  It hardens quickly.  He looks at the three older men.

The handsome guy gets up, walks over and kneels.  He begins to suck him.  The young man nods to me and gestures for me to join them.  I stand to his side and he begins to suck my cock while he is being sucked.  He’s good—and his face is registering just how much he loves this.  Fully naked guy joins us, standing on his other side.  Now the young guy gets to go back and forth between our two dicks.  He gives us equal time.

Finally, the guy stops sucking us and puts his hands on his sucker’s shoulder.  “I don’t want to shoot yet,” he whispers.  We move back to our seats.  The young man stands up and strips.  He leaves on his athletic socks and slips his feet back into his shoes.  He is nicely gym built—but not excessively so.  He sits for a moment—stroking his cock.  Then he gets up and kneels in front of my naked friend.  He begins sucking his cock.  My friend kneels and whispers something to him.  The young guy stands and bends, still sucking dick but making his ass available. 

I know my cue—I go over and kneel behind him.  I rim his full, hairy cheeks.  He groans around the dick in his mouth.  I grease my dick as I tongue fuck him.  Then I stand up and slap my cock on his butt.  “You want this?”

“Fuck, yes!” he manages around the dick in his mouth.  I enter him.  He moans.  I begin a slow fuck.  “Hard and fast,” he barks out, before putting the wet dick back in his mouth.  I oblige.  Fucking him hard and fast.  His ass makes a hot, wet sound on each stroke.  He gasps, forgetting about sucking now.  He grabs his own meat and strokes it.  In moments, he is shooting all over the floor.

He pulls off me and sits next to my naked friend.  “I didn’t expect this tonight.  I hope I was clean enough…”

I assure him he was spotless.  And he was.  As the young guy gets dressed my naked friend, stands up and bends over.  I push into his ass.  The young guy loves seeing my dick in someone else.  “I took all that?” he mumbles before getting up and going home.

I fuck my bookstore acquaintance until he begs me to stop.  I pull out slowly.  “Did you cum?” I ask.

He shakes his head, but tells me he needs to take off.  I go wash my dick, not because I have to, but to encourage the handsome guy to suck me again.  And he does, the moment we are alone in the theatre.

When he comes up for air, he tells me that we’ve played before—at a motel party ten or so years ago.  He’s not pissed that I don’t remember.  Far from it.  He stands up and takes off his pants.

“My turn,” he murmurs.  “And I would love your load.”  He bends over and holds onto the chair arms.  I eat his ass.  His ass cheeks are smooth—but it is a luscious furry crack.  I could spend hours there in the right circumstances.  But with all the good sex tonight, I am ready to breed.

I stand up and slip inside him. He is not tight, but very clingy.  It feels great—and different—then any of the other holes I’ve fucked tonight. 

“God, you fill me up…” he moans.

I begin a gentle in and out.  I can’t help but speed up, before I normally would.  I just let my dick take charge.  I am truly rutting into this handsome man now—and he is begging for my load.

“Give it to me…”

“Almost there…”

“I can feel it…”

What he feels is the big head of my cock expanding, ready for the discharge.  I’m there.  I spew spurt and spurt into him.  I am shaking with the orgasm.  I hold onto his hips and groan.  I can’t quite catch my breath. 

I marinate in my jizz for a long moment.  I reluctantly pull out.  I sink to my knees and push some of my escaping cum back into him with my tongue…

Blake Visits the Playroom for the First Time

 My Playroom—November, 2025

For the first half of November, I could barely get someone to come to the playroom.  The second half of the month was just the opposite; I had a steady stream of men.  First up was a man around my age, who was taller (!), with a great beard.  We had spoken on both BBRT and AssPig.  He was looking to give his hole a workout.  And that’s just what I wanted to do…

 

Blake is stripping off in the playroom.  I sit on the fuck bench (lowered to its table position.)  As soon as he is naked, he kneels.  He inhales the musk of the jock—and moans in the back of his throat.  He begins to lick around the edges of the pouch.  It’s my turn to moan.  I let him explore for a bit, but soon I want more.  I pull back the stained fabric and my growing erection springs up.  Blake grunts and begins to lick up the shaft.  Slowly.  Taking his time.  He finally arrives at my dripping piss slit.  He licks across it before digging into it.

I groan.  “Take my dick, man…”

He ignores me and continues licking—now down the shaft and to my heavy balls.  He tongues them thoroughly.  Then he sucks them, individually, into his mouth.  One.  The other.  Back and forth.  The hair on my testicles is coated with his spit.  He works his tongue under them, licking my cock ring.  I sigh and squeeze his shoulder.

Now he works up the shaft once more.  This time he deep throats me.  It is worth the wait.  He takes my entire length down his throat.  Again and again.

“I need to eat your ass.  Let’s change places.”

He gets on all fours on the padded table the moment I stand up.  I kneel and begin slowly tonguing down his ass crack.  I avoid his pucker the first time.  On the second slow trip down I zero in on his hole.  Almost instantly it begins to open; to flower—giving me ass lips to tongue and suck.  I make him groan.  I notice that he has found the mirror on the side wall so he can watch me use his ass.

I stand up, my cock dripping with precum and coconut oil.  I slide in.  Blake groans.  His ass is wet and hot.  I begin a slow pump the moment I bottom out.  His ass continues to open.  He squeezes down on my invading dick.  I grunt—and fuck him harder.

He is ready, even this fast, for something bigger than me in his ass.  The Ballistic Butt Bomb is the easiest thing to grab while I stay deep in his hole.  I work myself out and grease the toy.  He takes the stainless-steel head of the toy with ease.  He loves it when I add my rock-hard penis back into him, fucking along the thin shaft until the head of me bashes into the steel ball in his ass.  Over and over.

We switch to the sling.  I spend a long time eating his juicy hole once he’s comfortably in it.  I fuck him when I’m done.  I love how different his hole feels with him on his back and not on all fours.  Not better.  Just different. 

I reluctantly pull out and grab the medium speculum.  It is cool to the touch—and I tell him so.  I grease it up, slip it in and begin the slow crank open.  As soon as I can fit a finger in, I play with his prostate after each turn of the thumbscrew.  Now it’s big enough to add my cock.  I stand up and push in.  He moans.  The metal is no longer cool.  It is the same temperature as his hot ass.  I fuck, loving the combined feel of flesh and metal.  I eventually pull out and crank it open one more turn—and fuck him again.

I now go to the traditional black butt plug.  He takes it easily.  I use the Ballistic Butt Bomb as a mallet and beat the flat base of the toy inside him.  He loves the vibrations I produce.

I switch to the bigger three tier plug.  He takes the first two sections with ease.  I work the last, biggest one, slowly into his guts.  He takes it with a sigh.  I beat, more lightly, on the end of this toy too.  Blake groans.

He’s ready for my hand.  I grease up my left.  Two fingers.  Three.  I add the fourth.  I move slowly, still stretching his hole.  I grease up the right hand.  Three fingers from each slide in, my knuckles together—palms out.  I do the same stretch manually that the speculum did.  I pull the right out and bend my thumb on my left hand to the palm.  My hand slips into him.  I turn slightly and pull out with a slight twist.  I do it again.  And again.  Now with the right.  He takes me quite easily.

To change things ups I grab the clear dildo with a handle.  It’s easy to hold, with my greasy hands.  He loves the swell in the shaft—and the length open his second hole.

I go back to my left hand.  I open my hand inside him and my middle finger can play around his second hole.  He groans again.  I pull out and use the clear toy once more.  Then my hand.  I alternate the two for some time.

I grab the newest toy, one that I finally took out of its box.  It is a series of mini butt plugs on a thin shaft.  His hole gobbles it up.  I should have used it much earlier in our play.

He says he like the look of the first dildo I ever bought—a toy I find hard and inflexible.  But he loves it.  I work it deep.

I go back to my hands.  I try for adding my cock, but it’s not an easy angle—so I concentrate on alternating my left and right hands.

We take a break, cleaning his up of all the extra lube.

I set up the rimseat.  I tell him I want to eat his ass as we relax.  I get under, lying on the soft mat.  He closes the seat and sits down.  His long legs might make this low seat slightly uncomfortable.  But he forgets it, the moment my tongue goes deep into his hole.  Deeper than it’s been in any other position.  He moans.  I groan.  I eat his juicy ass.  I can’t get enough.  I lick and moan and tongue fuck him.  There is a steady drip of his juices mixed with coconut oil and it is making my harder and harder with each drop.

I finally tell him I need to fuck.  He gets up and he’s into the sling before I can fully stand.

“Breed me,” he mutters.

He’s read my mind.  I am so horned I can’t stand it.  I slip inside Blake and begin to pump.

“I really want your load,” he mutters.

And he’s going to get it.  Any moment. I pick up the pace of my thrusts.

“Oh….shit…!!!”

I’m there.  My cock bucks into him.  I am no longer in control.  My balls empty into his warm and wet hole…

History: Finding My Way

I am back to my personal history today.  Last time, right at the end of November, Mike and I had sex—and he decided he was in love with me…

Thanksgiving happened—and on Sunday November 28, 1976 (I diligently note in my journal) Mike called me.  He wanted to go to Detroit.  I said yes.  We went with Paul, who I remember absolutely nothing about, and Patty—the self-proclaimed Fag Hag of my brother’s friends.  We went to Menjo’s the dance bar. Then on to Gigi’s.  This bar was as grungy as the Flame, but it had a dance floor.  Mike and I danced to the blasting disco.  When the music turned slow and romantic, I opted out.  He was angry, but quickly found an obliging waiter.  They slow danced and pawed each other.  Did he really think this would make me like him more?

That night was also my first drag show.  My 19 year old self didn’t know quite what to make of it.  Occasionally funny—but I hated lip syncing.  Still do.

Since Mike had no privacy at his shared apartment, Paul said we could crash on his couch.  There was just room for the two of us.  Mike gave me a blow job—and it must have been good as it got me off.  I note in my journal ‘that I didn’t have the strength to reciprocate.’  I would love to know now if that was real or feigned.

That night was memorable for one other reason.  In the shower the next day, back at the dorm, I found I had crabs.  Mike, too.  Paul’s couch was the culprit.  A quick call to my brother—and a trip to the drugstore…

I saw Mike again on Saturday night.  He came to see me in a college production.  He’d gotten his shared apartment to himself for the night.  He fucked me—until the phone rang and he totally lost his erection.  As a young man, I really liked the idea of taking another guy inside me.  The issue was, each time I tried, the reality did not meet my fantasy of it.  At all.

It was a struggle to get out of there on Sunday morning—as I had no car and was dependent on him to get me home.  He really wanted a relationship—to be my boyfriend.  I wanted a friend.  A friend with benefits, if the term had been invented back them.  I didn’t want to be just a trick—but his erratic behavior (like the waiter) was not helping me form any kind of bond.

Christmas.  Semester break.  December 30, 1976.  I was now 20.  Theo and I spent the day shopping in Ann Arbor with my brother.  Mostly records and books.  We had lunch and dinner at his apartment.  Theo was entranced with him—as I looked on.  My brother decided, even though it was a Thursday night, we should go to the Rubaiyat, the dance bar.  He dug out a University of Michigan Sweatshirt and put it on underage Theo.  We got in with no issues.  Theo was entranced.  He was the Disco Queen.  In his element.  He rarely left the dance floor—partnered by my brother, or me, or some man of the moment.

I drove my brother’s car back to his apartment while he sat in the back seat with Theo and made out with him.  I expected the rearview mirror to steam up any moment. I then drove Theo back to our hometown in my dad’s car—as he babbled on and on about the night.  I was hurt—but put on a brave face.  I had no claim on Theo, after all…

We were back at my brother’s place the next evening for New Year’s Eve.  It was an uneasy night.  All the men in his circle were there—with a lot of drinking.  I’d met most of them by this point.  The whole night was uneasy (and unrequited) with Theo wanting my brother, me wanting Theo and Mike wanting me.

January 4, 1977.  A Tuesday night and Mike asked me to go to the Rubaiyat.  I agreed.  He was always late when picking me up.  Every time.  But not tonight.  He was right on time and in a great mood.  On the drive from University to disco, he gave me a package.  (I’d given him one the night before.)  There was a leather notebook, a framed picture made of dried flowers and a scroll (all the rage in the 70’s) with some generic ‘words of wisdom’ on it.  I thanked him and he was all a glow.  We parked and, still in a great mood, we went into the disco.  Instantly, he saw three old tricks at a table across the room and left me alone for the rest of the night.  I was dumbfounded.  My brother arrived.  We danced a bit.  He rolled his eyes about Mike and all but said “you can do better…”  I don’t know who got me home that night, but I am guessing my brother.

January 13, a Thursday night.  Mike was later than ever in picking me up.  I was waiting in the freezing parking lot, not knowing what was up in this age before cell phones.  He arrived and turned off his car.  Now it wouldn’t start.  Repeatedly.  Finally, it did.  We drove to the Rubaiyat and it was dead.  My brother arrived.  Angry.  I don’t know what the beef was, but he pulled Mike into a corner and verbally let him have it.   Mike stayed away from me for a good 30 minutes after it.  The only fun moment of the evening was a hot guy Mike and my brother couldn’t stop ogling and talking about.  When the two of them went off to dance (with other men, not together) l was left alone at the table.  The hot guy came to my table and was all over me, asking if I wanted to go home with him.  I considered it—but my insecurity kicked in and I told him no.  He was taken home by Paul.  I wonder if he got crabs…?

January 15, 1977.  Mike called wondering about a trip to Menjo’s and then to the bathhouse in Detroit with my brother.  I panicked.  I mastered it and surprisingly said ‘yes.’  We drove down.  At Menjo’s, my brother and I were ready to dance with Mike off in the restroom.  He came racing back to the table.  Jerry was here.  (Remember him?  Supposedly the love of my brother’s life.)  Jerry joined us then—and all seemed fine.  I knew for a fact my brother was sleeping with other men.  Jerry asked where else we might go tonight.  My brother shrugged.  Jerry said he wanted an early night—and off he went.

We danced.

We had a midnight fast food snack and arrived at the Club Baths just after 1:00am.  My brother got a room.  Mike got a room.  I went to the window—and was given a locker as the rooms were now gone.  Mike told me to leave my clothes in his room.  I wrapped that towel around my thin waist so tightly.  I was surprised by how tiny the rooms were, the age of the mattresses, how thin the sheet was they gave the guys who rented the room.

My brother gave me the tour—and I quote from my journal: “First floor:  entrance, TV room, vending machines.  Down a flight of stairs:  sauna—wet and dry, showers.  Down another flight of stairs, lockers and the whirlpool.  Second floor:  20 rooms and the blacked-out orgy room.  Third floor:  the same.”

We were standing on the second floor.  In the course of our tour, I found almost all the men from the New Year’s Eve party in attendance, each glad to see us.  My brother told me I should make myself comfortable and likely stay out of the orgy room.  I nodded.

At the top of the third-floor landing, who should appear but Jerry.  He came down the stairs, rather regally.  My brother said ‘Hello’ and Jerry kept walking.  It was over.  They never spoke again—and it didn’t dampen his mood one iota.

Mike went off to play.  As did my brother to the second-floor orgy room.  I wandered.  Doors were open.  Men showing off ass or cock.  I erected under my towel, but I didn’t make the first move.  I finally I sat in the television room (it was true TV, not porn back then.)   Art, a friend of my brother’s who I’d met in the autumn of the previous year, found me.  We talked.  He asked if I’d tried out of the facilities?  I whispered a ‘no.’ Then he asked if I’d like to come to his room for a cigarette.  (God, in 1977 they could smoke in those tiny rooms—and with the whole place being a fire trap!!)  I said ok—but that I didn’t smoke.

We went up the stairs.  Towels were shed.  “Fuck, you’re just like your brother.  You need to fuck me.”  I’m sure we sucked each other for a bit first as I knew I could do that.  I fucked him.  And came up his ass.  Very fast.  Another first.  But I hated the shit on my dick.  *

But I liked fucking.  I liked being on top of his hairy chest and rubbing myself on it.   And his hot hole on my dick felt wonderful.

I grabbed my towel, cleaned up and opened the door.  There was my brother, and three of his friends.  They all smiled and chuckled.  Art came out fully naked and told them he loved my dick.  His words were just what I needed.

I spent some time in the whirlpool and tried to sleep in Mike’s cold room under the wafer-thin sheet.  I think we were there for 12 hours—and my brother was going to use every minute of it.

I was given my membership card as we left.  I never went back—but it was a huge step for me…

*A small digression here.  Cleaning out your ass in the late 1970’s, in Michigan, was not something guys did.  Not the ones I knew.  I could believe men in bigger gay areas might have figured it out.  My brother, who should know, told me that he saw the change in the very early 1980’s.  Magazines like Torso and In Touch were talking to the brand-new stars of the fledgling porn industry.  They talked about douching their hole for the camera.  And suddenly everyone, comparatively, was doing the same.