Art In My Playroom (Part 5)

It’s been quite some time since I added any art to the playroom’s walls.  

My brother had a ton of framed erotic art in New Jersey.  With his move to Michigan, he saved some and the rest he gave to me to find men who would give them a good home. 

Well, Jaylen, who has appeared often in these posts, fell in love with my brother’s collection.  Most were great black and white photography of hot men—very different from what is on my walls, where everything is drawn.

But there was one poster that fit my aesthetic.  I saved it for myself, and it is now on the wall above the bed in the playroom.  It fits right in with the Etienne posters from IML and the Chicago Eagle.

When you take pictures of a picture or poster, it is always hard to make them look good.  You will have to come see them for yourself.  Preferably as you’re naked and lying in the sling…

Wall Art

I have shared with you many posts about the art on my playroom walls.  I wish I could say this was my latest acquisition.  But no, that's just wishful thinking…

 

I have felt that writing a post every other day has been working for me.  But there are some times when four in one week feels like too much work (and I don’t want this blog to ever become work.)  I still enjoy sharing.  But I want to make sure that I still look forward to writing and it doesn’t become a duty.

*

The number of daily readers has grown in the last few months.  I don’t think I will ever see the numbers I had before the pandemic, but it is nice to feel that I am reaching a wider audience again. 

I shall be back on Monday with more of my February sex…

Traveling Home

 

As this piece self-posts, I should be halfway home to Michigan.  My work gig in Indiana is over.  I will miss several men I met here on my frequent trips to the bathhouse.  But it will be good to sleep in my own bed and fuck at my own sling.

I will attempt a post on Tuesday, before I travel to family on the 25^th.

Merry Christmas (and a little about J. C. Leyendecker)

 

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it!

 Our Christmas image come to us from J. C. Leyendecker (1874-1951).  He was a prolific illustrator—for magazine covers, books and advertisements.  I first came to his work in trying to explain the meaning of a Cole Porter song to a friend.  The lyric in question was “I can’t imagine being bad, with any Arrow Collar ad….”  I pulled up illustrated ad after illustrated ad.  (see below)

 

Almost certainly gay, he lived with another man and was one of the most successful commercial artists of his day.  His drawings are incredibly homoerotic…

His work has appeared one other time here, on Thanksgiving, 2021.

Getting Jabbed

 Just about the moment I post this, I will be leaving to get my Covid booster for the year.  If it is like the other Covid shots I’ve gotten, it will knock me out for a few hours—and then I will feel fine.  But those hours are when I should be writing a new post for today.

So I will put it off until tomorrow.

I will say it is very odd to no longer have the lag of writing things up 6 to 8 weeks after the event.  I am now at two weeks to 10 days.  And with traveling for Christmas, there is the potential that I will run out of hook-ups to record…

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Today’s illustration was sent to me by GaryM.  He suggested it needed to go on the wall in the playroom.  It does fit right in.  I wish I could read the artist’s name.  I would like to see more of his(?) work. 

Priapus

 

I have decided to take a day off from writing today.  I was concerned that very few people had read the conclusion of the House Party, published on Friday.  But my readers are playing catch-up today, according to the analytics I am seeing.

*

I wanted to be an archeologist as a kid.  My mother saved a kindergarten drawing I had carefully done of me with a shovel.  The teacher, used to writing fireman, policeman or doctor on other student’s pictures, had had to look up ‘archeologist’ for mine.   

I liked dinosaurs, of course, but was drawn to ancient civilizations.  I vividly remember the National Geographic article on the then current excavation at Pompeii.  All those plaster casts of people dying from the blast.  No mention, back then, of the erotic side of Pompeii.

Priapus was a rather minor Greek fertility god.  He was the protector of fruit trees, livestock and male genitalia. The Romans loved to use him in erotic art, what with his supersized and permanent erection.  Two frescos of him from the walls of Pompeii.

Art In My Playroom (Part 4.5)

 

I have mentioned in one of these filler posts that I have been doing writing for the ‘other’ me—the one that occasionally needs to make some money from his laptop’s keyboard.  Well, that project is done as of 30 minutes ago.  I think. 

I should be back to business as usual here fairly fast.  I didn’t fall too far behind in what I did when, but I can see the numbers have dipped as readers don’t have new material to bring them back.

As the last two posts dealt with fisting, here is the last of my Drub drawings in the playroom. 

As I have said before, do check out his website to see the rest of his work. 

 

Drub - Comics, Greeting Cards, Fine Art Prints & Limited-Edition Filth (drubskin.com)

Addendum, published on February 8:  I published the piece above on February 6—mentioning how reader numbers were down with the lack of new content.  February 7 rolled around and I had more viewers than any day in its 11+ years.  About 3.2 times the average number of people clicked on it.  And today, the trend has continued, though not quite as high. 

Thank you.

And there will be new material tomorrow!

FP Goes to New Jersey

 I feel like I have been silent for a bit.  There is nothing bad happening here—things have been quite good, actually. 

I was to leave a few days before the 25^th to spend the holiday with my brother and his partner in New Jersey.  Originally, I told them I would drive in to keep me out of two crowded airports and a packed airplane.  Then that huge winter storm was announced.  I decided to leave on the 19^th and be there long before the weather changed.

So that’s what I did.  This was my first trip to see them since the pandemic.  We had missed two Christmases—and we needed to catch up.   

I took two days to drive in, five hours each day.  I wasn’t prepared for how tired that still left me after day two.  All went fine though.  We celebrated his partner’s birthday, their wedding anniversary and Christmas.  With all that I managed to publish two posts while I was there—and play twice with my fisting bud, Rudy.

I waited to come home until I thought the Pennsylvania roads would be clear, stopping again at the halfway point.  I made great time and made it home yesterday.  But I have been useless today.  Sitting at the keyboard and owing you a post.  Hopefully tomorrow…

 

Here's hoping you all had as restful a holiday as I did...

Tom of Finland does Christmas.

Art in My Playroom (Part 4.4)

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Art in My Playroom (Part 4.3)

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Art in My Playroom (Part 4.2)

 I ran out of time to write today.

Ok, I procrastinated until I ran out of time.

Here is the next of the five pervy pictures form Drubskin in my playroom.

 

I met a man, long before the blog, who had me fuck and fist him.  Then, he asked me to load him with four or five billiard balls.

“Now, back up!” he told me. 

He stopped me about six feet away from him.

He lay on his back--and he shot them out of his ass for me to catch.

One after the other.

I am still in awe.

Of course, I shoved them back into him and had him do it again…

 

Drub - Comics, Greeting Cards, Fine Art Prints & Limited-Edition Filth (drubskin.com)

Art In My Playroom (Part 4)

You would think that there would be no room left on the walls of my playroom, but that is not the case.  I have a series of five works by the American artist who signs himself as Drubskin or just Drub. 

 

 For one of my birthday’s my brother sent me a greeting card with this image.  I was intrigued and looked the artist up online.  I loved what I saw.  I loved the color, the imagery and, of course, the glorification of the fetishes I love. 

Over the years, my brother continued the tradition until I have a series of five of Drub’s work.  I have them grouped together—each a fetish I love and is available to the men who come to the playroom.

I chose to share the watersports picture first, as tomorrow’s post is all about Dave drinking from the tap between fucks…

 I will feature the others sporadically.

 

If you want to see more of his work beyond what I own, I recommend his website, where he has a huge gallery of images.  Support our living gay artists. 

Drub - Comics, Greeting Cards, Fine Art Prints & Limited-Edition Filth (drubskin.com)

Art In My Playroom (Part 3)

 

I got inundated with a number of special projects these last two days, and so the latest post about my bathhouse behavior got tabled. 

 

 

 This piece is on the wall to the side of the sling.  I really like it, but I can’t tell you much about it.  I think I clipped it from a magazine years ago.  It could have come from a stroke may like In Touch of Blue Boy, but I’m thinking it was an illustration from Out magazine, which I read religiously in its early days.  While it is similar in style to Tom of Finland or Etienne I am fairly sure it is not by either of them.

 

If any of my readers recognize the artist, I would love to give that person credit.  Drop me a line in the comments or at felchingpisser@gmail.com.

Art In My Playroom (Part 2)

 I sat down to write a post today, but I just didn’t feel ready to type about more sex after the 10 pages of heat I poured out describing the house party.  So here is a look at more of the art in my playspace.  These three are all posters designed by Etienne, Chicago’s Tom of Finland.  There are two for the Chicago Eagle—the great leather bar (oh, that back room!) and one for IML. 

Speaking of IML—I will be attending—and reporting!

Art in My Playroom

 There is a lot of art in my playspace.  There is an IML Poster and one for the late lamented Chicago leather bar, The Eagle.  Both are designs by Etienne.   The three largest pieces are male nudes drawn by a Michigan artist.  He was the partner of a man with who I still play.  After his partner passed, there was a move made by my friend.  He didn’t want to take them to a relative’s home, so my playroom was designated as a good place for more men to enjoy them.

They were all drawn from pictures of the crop of porn performers I came of age seeing.  They are lovingly rendered from the mags of the era like In Touch and Playgirl.  Personally, I love having Al Parker looking over my shoulder as I fuck…

Fisting Party on Halloween Night

 North of Home—October, 2021

So the actual afternoon/evening of Halloween I spent at the Ginger Bear’s house.  Between us, we had organized a group of men to share some fist and some food.  My only contribution turned out to be Ross (he of the enormous rosebud).  The Ginger Bear invited four buddies who showed up.  All were over 50.  His friends are true bears.  Ross is built much like me, tall and slim.

I got there in time to set up my fuck bench—which was never used.  Our host owns two slings and a third had been borrowed.  Around 5pm the guests showed up.  We sat around the big table near the kitchen and got to know each other over a beverage.  Slowly we stripped down to business…

Ross and I take the middle sling.  There is action on either side of us.  One man, half of a couple, stays upstairs, puttering in the kitchen.  The Ginger Bear is to our right.  He is working a rather large toy into his willing partner in the sling.  To our left, the top is slowly opening up his bottom trying to make his very large hands fit.

Ross gets in the sling as I open the j-lube, mixed in a tiny water bottle—so it can go along with the bottom for any other play.  He braces his legs against the chains.  I kneel and stick my tongue into his hole.  My cock instantly erects.  I tongue his hole until I can’t stand it—his moaning is so hot sounding.  I stand up and my cock slides in.  I am pretty sure I will be the only one using my dick tonight, but I know Ross wants any body part inside of him that I can give.  I never have to wait long for Ross to get comfortable with my dick.  I begin fucking him, hard, almost immediately.  I love the sound of my thighs slapping into his ass cheeks.

I pull out, kneel and eat his hole again.  He pushes his rosebud, just slightly, towards me.  His hole widens.  My tongue pushes his insides back into place.  I grease my hands as I savor his ass juices in my mouth.

I stand and fuck again.  Then, standing, I start with my left hand fingers.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Plus the thumb.  All in quick succession. 

“Here you go…”  My whole hand goes into him.  Easily.   Less is more in fisting.  I do a slight turn of the imbedded hand to the left.  Back again.  And then right.  Each movement sending shivers through Ross.  I slowly twist my fist in place so I can slide my cock down my forearm.  It goes easily past his ass lips and disappears from sight into my open hand in his ass.  I fuck my hand—letting my cock slide between my second and third fingers.

Ross groans—louder and with a shudder of sheer pleasure.

So I pull my cock out and go into him again.  This time the guys on our left are both watching.  “My party trick,” I murmur and begin fucking into Ross and through my fingers that much harder…

Soon it is all about alternate hands.  Slowly and deliberately.  In and all the way out.

The Ginger Bear, on my right, has given up on his big hands with the guy in the sling.  There is now a medium sized dildo attached to a fucking machine plowing into the eager man.  GB is controlling the speed and depth.

To my left I notice those big hands have finally been accommodated.  The bottom is a verbal guy —loud and delirious with the sensations generated.

I am moving to doubling up my hands in Ross.  I have my left in—and four fingers of my right.

We are so close—but I look at his face and he shakes his head.  I ease back.  Another day.  After all he wants to experience other guys here tonight.

We break. 

I go wash up.  When I come back downstairs we all change up.  Ross goes into the sling to our left and takes the big hands on that top easily.  The Ginger Bear wants me to open up the guy he couldn’t get into.  We roll the fucking machine out of the way and I grease up.  I don’t bother getting my cock out, as I don’t want the conversation about if he wants it or not.

My fingers go into his hole easily.  Soon my entire left hand.  The man is thrilled.  His body gives off tremors that match his deep moans.

It takes just a little longer for my bigger right hand to stretch him that last bit.  It goes in and the man is wracked with a full body orgasm.

We all stop when we are told supper is served.

After dinner, I have a quick session with the very vocal man.  He loves what I do—and lets the whole house know it…

*

This is a shorter than usual post—though in actual time, I was there way longer than a regular hookup.  I think my problem when I abandoned it on Sunday was that it didn’t have the drive my posts usually do.  After all, normally it is all about the orgasm driving the telling of the tale along.  Not so with this one.  I gave so many anal orgasms to men I can’t count them—but I didn’t shoot.  And that was fine.  Sometimes food with friends can be more important.

So—it’s here—since this is my sex life, for better or worse…

And a couple more by Tom of Finland since, from my analytics, my readers loved those…

Fisting with Tom of Finland

So I started writing up my last post about October--and life got in the way.  I just didn't get it done.  

 Since it was a fisting party, here are some fisting illustrations, courtesy of the great Tom of Finland.

    And for the record, none of us looked like this.  

At all.

Packages

 

It’s that time of year. 

Packages. 

Mistletoe.

 

This is from a calendar illustrated by Etienne, our Chicago based Tom of Finland.

While my current play times are dwindling, as cases rise again, I still have a few to write up from this fall.  I just couldn’t quite make myself sit at the laptop today.  I do think my giving you this package more than makes up for it.

Almost a Double

 North of Home—October, 2021

A few days later I drove up to see the Ginger Bear.  My fingers were itching…

 

He has moved his sling to the basement.  The heater is on this time and I am still warm enough after stripping down to my jock.  I get the boots back on quickly as the floor was still cold.  He has hopped in the sling and his fingers are already busy with his nipples.  I kneel and spit on his hole.  My two index fingers slide in.  I do a mini lateral stretch and then stand up and slip my hard dick into him.

The Ginger Bear groans—and twists his nipples.  Hard.  I give him a nice friendly fuck.  He groans again—so I speed up my thrusts.  The basement is filled with the sound of my hips slapping onto wet, meaty buttocks. 

I grab my speculum.  I slide it into place and do a steady crank open.  One finger of my left hand plays with his prostate the entire time as I crank it open with my right.  Now two fingers go into him.  I have cranked it wide enough for my cock to fit through the stainless steel wings.  I play with his soft red insides for a moment…stroking and lubing them up.  I stand up and slide my cock between the no longer cold metal.  I fuck him deliberately with slow, even strokes.

I pull out and crank it shut.  I slip on the black plastic ass grommet over my erection.  My cock head pokes through the other end of the toy, giving me a huge girth.  It takes just a moment to squeeze it all into his stretched hole.  I enjoy fucking with it in place.  The Ginger Bear loves it—it must feel like he is getting the stretch of a double fuck.

It’s time for the hands.  I lube up both with J-Lube.  Fingers first.  Eight of them.  A real lateral stretch now.  And again.  My left hand disappears and his asslips clamp down on my wrist.  I hold a moment.  I pull it out with a slight twist.  The right takes its place, disappears and I can feel the snap of his ass shutting down on my wrist.

Now it is all about the back and forth.  Slow.  Measured.  One.  The other.  And back again. 

The Ginger Bear is gasping and talking in some sort of language of his own creation.

I stop the alternating hands and let my left crawl up into him.  The moves are so tiny—but his reaction is huge—as I move deeper into him than I have ever gone.  When I look down a good inch of my forearm is inside him.

He has another shuddering moment.  A deep internal orgasm.  Bigger than all those that have come before.

I pause.  And slowly work my way out.

I grease up again.  I start with alternating hands.  But soon I leave the left in place and start working the right in alongside it.  I make it as far as the knuckles. 

Both hands go back to the slow in and out.

I double up again.  This time I can add the right past the knuckles.

More gentle stretching.  The Ginger Bear certainly loves the stretch from both of my hands.  He tells me to try again.  The left goes in.  The right hand joins it, past the knuckles and the palm.  Just the heel of my left is exposed.  It almost disappears.  But not quite.  We are so close to a full double fist inside him.

I pull out slowly…

And we are done.  His hole has had enough.

We go upstairs to wash up and eat the meal simmering on the stove…

 *************************************************************************

 

In other news, I got my Moderna booster on Monday.  For the record, my time under the needle looked nothing like this…

 I want to thank fellow blogger SamBear for finding a drawing by Etienne I had never seen.

Etienne

 
While I retired last August, I did keep my hand in things by agreeing to do several special projects.  I am in the middle of the first of three of them that are happening this summer—and hence why I have not, yet again, had much time to post.

 

So until I can write…

It has been awhile since I have posted the work of Dom Orejudos, who signed himself as Etienne.  He is our own Midwest Tom of Finland.  Here is one I have just come across…

No, really, I was not trying for the double entendre…