AN OPEN LETTER FROM KYLE MAJORS ASKING FOR YOUR SUPPORT FOR JESSE SANTANA

 

On May 8^th Cockyboys.com Exclusive Jesse Santana appeared on a Sirius Radio Show hosted by Derek and Romaine on the Sirius “Out Q” channel. The interview was scheduled by Jason Sechrest, a publicist retained by Jesse’s DVD company JetSet Productions.

Hosts Derek and Romaine apparently have a number of issues and disputes with publicist Sechrest. In an effort to discredit Sechrest, Derek and Romaine set out to demean and embarrass Jesse. In a purported attempt to “get to know” Jesse, the talk show hosts sprung questions on him regarding somewhat complicated current events ranging from the Myanmar Cyclone, to the proposed Gas Tax Holiday and even the reasons Madonna faces challenges in her attempt to adopt a child from Africa. I doubt many politicians could answer these questions if sprung on them out of the blue. Jesse, caught by surprise, struggled with answering some of them which gave Derek and Romaine the fodder the were seeking.

Although Derek and Romaine justify their conduct by claiming they were nice to Jesse, promoted his movie, and thought the questions were fair, anyone who actually hears the interview can tell that Derek and Romaine were setting out to get Jesse. From their condescending tone, to the line of questioning, to the snide comments made during and after the interview, it is very clear the talk show hosts set out to try to make a mockery of Jesse to settle their seeming ‘high school’ like grudge with Sechrest.

Whatever the reasoning, the attack on Jesse was completely inappropriate and unprofessional. Jesse is perhaps the nicest and most professional performer in the business. He approaches the adult industry like a profession, and goes out of his way to treat people with respect and dignity.

In considering Cockyboys.com’s response, one idea was to offer a free one year membership to everybody over the age of 18 who could demonstrate they had cancelled their Sirius service. I realized, of course, that the only alternative for a satellite radio consumer is XM Radio. If the two are allowed to merge, consumers have no alternative. Perhaps this seems like a non-issue when the companies offer so many channels. But what happens if you object to the management of the company? I don’t want my dollars to go to a company that would employ Derek and Romaine. Thinking of the issue more broadly, imagine if News Corp acquired the combined satellite companies and every channel had a conservative bent, or Gay.com acquired the combined company and everything was about gay issues. Americans have a constitutional right to freedom of expression, which includes a right to have those outlets free from monopolistic control.

Cockyboys.com filed and initial complaint with the FCC on May 14, and will be providing a more detailed complaint soon. In addition I’m examining a potential federal court action seeking to block the merger on constitutional grounds. I urge you to join me and reach out to Federal Communications Chairman Kevin Martin by letter or email, and urge him to block the Sirius / XM merger so that that Americans have a choice, and can vote with their wallets when a company like Sirius employs talk show hosts like Derek and Romaine. Chairman Kevin Martin’s contact information is below.

Kevin J. Martin

Federal Communications Commission

445 12^th Street, SW

Washington, DC 20455

KJMWEB@fcc.gov

Thanks for your support for Jesse, my site, and choice in media.

-Kyle Majors

Recently I had a spot open for a new face after one of my boys decided to move out of the area and settle down with a nice farm boy he met at the L.A. Rodeo.  I wished him well, then started the process of roping me another dude.   

Now as you might surmise, finding new talent isn’t always the easiest thing to do.  Sure, I’m deluged with e-mails daily from guys, from guys’ boyfriends and girlfriends and from the occasional agent; each one comes with pictures and stats that do the hard sell.  I get so many of them I often thought about making a coffee table book with their photos, but my lawyer counseled me against it, too many legal issues concerning ownership, so you’ll just have to believe me when I tell you I’m up to my titties in cock action shots.   

After sorting through so many shots, I’ve developed quite a thick skin.  I hate to say it but you gotta be really spectacular to get my attention, and that doesn’t mean you have no body fat or a mondo dick (although that can help – a little), but it really means you have to possess ‘star quality,’ and that’s something you can’t photoshop or teach, it’s there or it’s not.   

So mostly when I go on my star search, I tend to try to do it in person, without the subject even knowing I’m checking them out.  Why?  Well, when you gaze at a photo, it can tell you only so much, but when you’re actually in the same room, suddenly you’re privy to see how they act, walk, whether they’ll look good on video, do they display any sexuality, etc.  (Because I just told you that, please don’t flood my office with piles of DVDs of you guys walking around.)  The downside of this method is not being able to convince someone to drop it all on screen. 

On this recent search, I had winnowed my candidates down to two guys.  Leo sent pics, which showed he had a marvelous body and a slyness that made me want to check him up at his office.  The other, Sergei, is a Russian who works out at my gym.  Every guy stares at him, he’s that hot – with half wondering if he was a former gymnast and the other half hoping that maybe he plays for their team and they can bring him home and pummel his horsemeat. 

I decided to start with Leo first, since I knew Sergei might be a bigger challenge.  Leo works for a bank in

Century City.  According to his application, he’s 26, 6’ 2”, 190 pounds, gay, comes from a big family and is single.  He has a degree in accounting, which helps to understand why he’s a manager at the financial institution, but this job is not what he wants to do forever.  He’s looking to start his own business based on an invention he created; he’s waiting for the patent to be approved and then he’s set to go.   

I entered the bank, asked about Leo.  He wasn’t in today, he was attending a conference in

St. Louis.  I returned the next day, he was stuck there due to weather, he’d be back this afternoon.  I thought, okay, he better be worth it.  I had some errands to run over on Abbott Kinney, I swung past on the return.  The moment I entered the bank, I thought is that the same guy who sent his picture to me?  Sure, he was the right height and weight, but he was dressed in such conservative wear that did nothing to show off what he claimed to be packing underneath.  Only when he moved in a certain direction could you tell his lats were built properly or when he bent down to pick up a paper did you see a truly amazing ass just waiting to be discovered.  I approached Leo, asked if he had a moment.  He misunderstood my intentions, he offered to have Elisa sit down with me, she could help.  As he called her over, I handed my card to him.  Leo looked at it, put two-and-two together, and without batting an eye, he re-directed Elisa to another customer.  Leo would love to talk, but since he was late today – I understood.  How about meeting for a drink later this evening or tomorrow for lunch?   

I arrived at Chaya Venice, Leo was already seated.  He looked remarkably the same – dressed in his banker’s clothes that did nothing to emphasize his body.  I began to wonder whether or not he was a wolf in sheep’s clothes.  We chatted about his work, about the food, about his upbringing and, of course, how he’d feel working in the adult industry.  A fan of my work, Leo had no qualms about it, although he did wonder how his family might react.  He thought they would be able to deal, but he correctly surmised one never knows until they’re in that situation.   

When the waitress arrived to clear the plates, I let it slip to her that Leo was involved in gay porn to gage his reaction.  The waitress flinched, but he did not, never turning red or trying to cover.  He seemed to be a real peach.  Now if I could just figure out a way to determine whether or not he was the real deal or not.  With his tie firmly ensconced around his neck, his French cuffs keeping his sleeves in place and his legs underneath the table, I knew we were going to have to get him into the studio.  How would he feel about that?   

Leo arrived the next day (Saturday) wearing a tracksuit and old Keds.  I had my friend Big Ed at the studio with me, to make sure I had a witness in case anything went jenky, but I wasn’t expecting any problems.  So without further ado, I asked Leo to take off his clothes and show me what he’s got.  He did just that and let me be straightforward with you – Leo was one of the gems who looks better in person than he does in his pics.  His pecs were perfectly defined, his abs rippled, his legs not chicken-y, but sculpted and his forearms were those of a professional baseball player.  He turned around, his ass – hairless, his legs – follicle friendly and his feet – quite attractive.   

Leo turned around and his dick was perfect – he has one of those penises that is proportionally perfect – the dick doesn’t hang below the balls, the balls don’t hang way way way below the tip of the dick, he doesn’t have one of those dicks where the skin is super dark when the body isn’t (I’ve never understood that), and his trim was just that.  It was all I could do to keep myself from making it hard with my mouth.   

Of course that was the next step.  So I asked him to get hard.  In under a minute, he was erect – and even dripping.  I asked him to stay that way for the remainder of the interview, which lasted about an hour and every time I checked, there he was, standing at full salute.  Did he have the job? 

Oh boy, Sergei’s gonna have to be a gem to top this one.   

To be continued…

I thought it was part of my dream, and then I realized dreams don’t actually taste that good.  There was an actual penis, making its way over my lips and into my mouth, exploring like a earthworm in search of a meal.  I could still taste the remnants of his semen in the dried flakes stuck to his shaft, ones we didn’t wipe clean before collapsing into his bed after a marathon sex session.   

Without a protest from me, I kept my eyes closed, reached up, felt the back of the ass that hovered over my chest, felt the firm bottom shaped like a not-yet-ripe peach and remembered how only a few hours ago Nate and I got to know each and every inch of each others’ bodies during an intense lovemaking moment that made me wonder what was in store for us this time. 

But I’m getting a-head while getting head.  

Nate’s a great guy to bone.  Our hook-ups last a couple of weeks.  Somehow we find ourselves single at the same time (although that’s not always a hard-and-fast rule, just the sex is) and then we get to the point where we think should we take the lustful releases to the next level, but ultimately something intervenes, ending any chance at a more conventional relationship.   

But this time was different.  About a month ago, he and I had bumped into each other at the airport in Atlanta (I was doing promotion, he had been called back to the Mothership to receive an award from a soda company that’s based there – Google it if you must), discovered we were on the same flight, made damn sure to renew our Membership in the Mile High Club, which most folks don’t realize you have to keep adding to it annually in order to maintain frequent flyer status.  We’re both charter members. 

After we landed, Nate and I proceeded to see each other once, twice, then thrice a week, bumping up our status when we decided to intro each other our respective circle of friends.  We had gotten close to this level before, but I wasn’t worried.  Really I wasn’t, although some of my friends had to be warned in advance who he was and not to think about cock blocking me. 

We attended some parties, the movies, the beach and worked out together, but mostly though, our plans tended to involve sex.  We fucked in my living room, softening the already supple suede sofa, ravaged each others’ asses at his condo on the stairs leading to his apartment (he’s a bit of an exhibitionist, too) and while standing spread eagle in front of the plate glass window that overlooks La Cienega Boulevard with views to Downtown.  Nate and I also had sex out by his condo’s swimming pool, which is located not on the top of the building, away from curious eyes, but down below, taking a chance no one would notice.  We were so vocal that afternoon – and we definitely saw a couple of guys stroll by – there’s no way people didn’t notice, but hey, we didn’t receive any complaints.  Nate is the only guy I’ve been able to penetrate while in a swimming pool and have his bottom not end up with a thankful of water.  Nate had sphincter control equal to no one. 

He also had a libido equal to no one, which worked for me as his dick probed my sleeping mouth.  His pre-cum had a sweet-salty taste to it.  I started to suck a little more on this semi-hard member, leaning my head back, then pulling it forward again as his dick slid in and out of my mouth.  As I pulled back and dove in again, his penis grew till it was not many sizes too small or too big (there is rarely such a thing when it comes time to talking about dicks) but just right.   

As I throated him, I added hand action, following the slight curvature of his cock.  (I also started rubbing one out on my dick as well.)  With a little spit, I could cover his dick from top to base with one easy gliding motion, I knew he was getting off on it when I saw his nuts retreat into his body.  Not so fast, I thought and I opened my mouth wide like a pelican, hoovering one testicle, then the other, gently rolling them around in my mouth.   

He liked it when I ran my scruffy chin against his scrotum.  Sometimes I blew air onto the wet skin, followed by a tongue massage as he t-bagged my face.  Was he headed in that direction, did he want me to eat out his hairy ass, get him ready for a good-ol’ fashioned fucking?   

Oh contraire.  He moved back into the position that awoke me, where his dick was lined up perfectly with my mouth.  He wanted to keep on feeding it to me, and I was more than thrilled with being the happy recipient.    

Now fully erect, his cock and foreskin retracted, exposed a giant head.  I spent a lot of time tonguing his head as I pumped and primed his dick with both hands, turning them slightly as they went up and down his shaft, adding spit and his pre-cum mixed together.   

I gladly took all seven bent inches with gusto.  Every time his cock hit the back of my throat, he moaned, his head was that sensitive.   

Nate was getting really, really close.  I was, too.  When he was deep in my mouth, I grabbed his butt with both hands, pulling him as close to my face, to send him as far as possible into my mouth with every thrust, sucking as hard as I could with the muscles located in the back of my throat as he reached around with his hand and took over jerking off my cock.   

I thought about swallowing his semen, but the sensation of Nate’s hand on my dick proved too much, I was that close and I unloaded onto his back.   

Nate whipped his cock out and came all over my face, jizz ended up in my eyebrows, on my nose and eventually in my mouth.   

He bent down, kissed my face, then wiped me clean with the towel we used earlier that night.  He rolled over in bed, not worried about my boys who were still clinging to his beautiful body, and Nate fell fast asleep before I could ask him about letting me take a load down my throat.  Oh well.   

There’s always time before the sun rises.   

Hey everyone this is my first blog, Im new to the industry so I thought Id let you know all about me!

The Basics

Hair Color:	Blonde
Eye Color:	Blue
Height:	5′11
Profession:	Adult Performer….Duuh
Relationship Status:	Single… Here to Mingle!
Religious Views:	Roman Catholic

My Favorites

Favorite Color:	Blue/Green
Favorite Car:	Range Rover
Favorite Movie:	Supersoaked(Falcon)
Favorite Hobby:	Jacking off…mmmhhhmmmm
Favorite Song/Singer:	Piece of me….Britney Spears
Favorite Book/Author:	Anything XXX
Favorite Vacation Destination:	Italy
Favorite Food:	Chicken Parm
Favorite Restaurant:	Jack N Jills
Favorite Animal:	Dog
Favorite Store:	Blackjack
Favorite Celebrity :	Rihanna

This or That

Chocolate or Vanilla:	Vanilla
Big Mac or Whopper:	Eww
Coke or Pepsi :	Neither H20
Beer or Wine:	Neither Vodka
Coffee or Tea:	Tea
Apple Juice or O.J.:	APPLE JUICE!
Summer or Winter:	Summer
Windows or Mac:	MAC!
Cats or Dogs:	Dogs
Boxers or Briefs:	Briefs
Rain or Shine :	Shine
Chips or Popcorn:	Eww
Salty or Sweet:	Sweet??
Plane or Boat: Plane
Morning or Night:	Night!… Im Nocturnal
Movie or Play: Movie
Walk or Drive:	Drive…Who Walks?!??!!?
Money or Love:	Money?!?!?!? HA
Breakfast or Dinner:	Breakfast
Forgiveness or Revenge:	Forgiveness
Paint or Wallpaper:	Paint
House or Apartment:	House

Do You?

Have Any Pets:	Not Yet.
Have Any Children:	Nope
Smoke:	EWWW!!!! GROSSS!!!
Drink:	Sometimes
Exercise:	5 Dayz a week
Play On A Sports Team:	Nope
Belong To Any Organizations:	Cockyboys.com… Duuh!
Love Your Job:	Fuck yea!!!
Like To Cook:	Nope
Play An Instrument:	Does the Cock Count?!???! hahahah
Sing:	In the shower.
Dance:	Yep
Speak Multiple Languages:	Nope
Ice Skate:	Nope
Swim:	Yep
Paint:	Nope
Write:	Nope
Ski:	Snowboard
Juggle:	Nope

Have You Ever

Stolen Anything:	Yep
Been Drunk Before Noon:	Yep
Had Sex In A Public Place:	Yep
Got Caught Telling A Lie:	Yep
Got A Speeding Ticket:	Nope
Been Arrested:	Ha For running Away..lolz
Littered:	Nope!
Fantasized About A Co-Worker:	Oh Ya!
Cheated On A Test:	Yep
Cheated In A Relationship:	Nope
Failed A Class:	Nope Thats why U Cheat! Duuh
Screened Your Phone Calls:	Always!
Eaten Food Off The Floor:	5 Second Rule!
Stuck Gum Under A Desk:	Yepp
Wished You Were Someone Else:	Nope
Cried During A Movie:	Yep Im a Dork
Had A One Night Stand:	Yep

Other

Describe Yourself In One Word:	Fuckable!!!
Biggest Fear:	Not gettin my nut -or- Stalkers!
Biggest Mistake:	Too many to count!
#1 Priority In Your Life:	Be Happy Everyday! =-)
Dream Job:	Pornstar!
Where Are You Right Now:	My Apartment
Where Would You Rather Be:	The Beach
Famous Person You Want To Meet:	Rihanna
Place To Visit Before You Die:	Italy
Song Played At Your Funeral:	Ima live forever! haha

Bottoms Up hahahaha-Andrew Blue

Last week I found myself with some extended downtime; rather than bum around L.A, I scouted out a last-minute trip online, grabbed my passport and a bag and less than 24 hours later I was kicking back on the quiet, soft sandy beaches in Cozumel, Mexico.   

Now I don’t know about you, but everything on this quiet, scuba-loving island falls into two categories:  beautiful and more beautiful.  That includes everything from the fish to the beaches to eats and – of course – the boys.  Although a teensy island without a vibrant nightlife (people come here to dive, the serious partygoers stay across the channel in Cancun),

Cozumel manages to serve up quite a few scrumptious guys who have no idea just how good-looking they are. 

On my second day there, I rented a jeep, headed for the eastern side of the island.  I nabbed rays, took a quick dip in the warm and swiftly moving water, deciding this empty beach was exactly what I was looking for.  As I headed back to my car, I spotted one of those scrumptious guys, a spectacular specimen as he parked his cab alongside the beach, letting two touristas take photos of a blowhole on some rocks (the water dug out a hole in the rocks and when a wave rolls in, it shoots up, like a geyser).   

He and I exchanged glances.  Not knowing how a flirty gesture might be received, I didn’t make the first move.  Didn’t take him long, he smiled.  I nodded my head, continued walking along the sandy shore.  He drove his fare northward; it’s a small island, right?   

The next morning I walked along the balustrade; some people prolly thought I chose to walk on the sidewalk closest to the water to avoid the non-stop invitations to buy diamonds, rugs and other knickknacks from the many tourist traps that line the street, but truth be told, I secretly hoped to encounter the driver at one of the many taxi stands.  No such luck.  I grabbed my beach stuff and headed to the beach once more.   

After three days of killer sun and no more sightings, I figured I wouldn’t see the driver before heading back to the States.  Wrong.  I was walking to my Jeep when I spotted him about to pick-up a fare.  I kicked it in gear, snuck into the cab first.  He was about to tell me to take another cab until he recognized me.  He smiled.  Well, they could take the cab behind his.  I boldly suggested the following:  he could take me to the most beautiful beach on the island as a fare or he could do the same and I wouldn’t pay, but would buy him dinner.  He agreed to the latter and we took off. 

As I sat next to Mario, I couldn’t help but wonder how such a big guy could fit in such a small car.  Also, after watching him adroitly shift gears, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about how his hand would feel wrapped around my cock.  We headed south toward Punta Sur, where the best beaches can be found.  They’re all free and except for a few divers, they’re mostly populated by locals who, during their day off, seek solace from the tourists.   

We walked a cove that was hidden from the road.  Excellent for getting busy, I thought.  I was surprised to discover another man, waiting.  Immediately my thoughts turned panic – yes, I told a couple of friends back in the States where I was headed, but no one at the hotel knew, was I destined to become a male Natalee Holloway but with better hair?   

Mario sensed my nervousness.  He immediately introduced me to his partner of five years.  Suddenly I felt like the third wheel.  What was I doing here?  There was a picnic spread, which of course I was too nervous to partake in, so finally I just asked – what the hell is going on?  Mario fessed he and his longtime partner had long had a fantasy of having sex while a stranger watched, but one, it was hard to find someone who’d do that here on the island, two, it was even harder to find someone they didn’t know.  So, they figured maybe landing a hunky tourist might be the key?   

Fortunately for them, I wasn’t pissed and fortunately for me, Mario’s partner was even hotter.  I sat on a nearby rock.  Mario and Flavio stood, began kissing.  Their hands roved, first outside of the shirts, shorts, then inside.  Quickly, Mario’s shirt came off, Flavio’s bottom’s dropped.  I wondered if that foreshadowed their relationship?  Mario dropped to his knees, sucked Flavio’s massive member, occasionally stopping to gag.  Standing, Flavio watched me, I’m sure his dick hardened when I popped open my shorts and stuck my hand into my crotch, stroking and moving my dick around until the head caught a breath of seaside air.   

Flavio fucked Mario’s mouth, hard; Mario gagged once or twice more, but kept swallowing.   I thought they’d reciprocate, but Mario stood, kissed his partner, then spun around and dropped his shorts.  With a few drops of saliva, Flavio rammed his cock into Mario, who winced in pain / glory, making me grateful I wasn’t him.  Mario went onto his tippy-toes several times until he relaxed, then slowly eased back onto his feet, letting himself enjoy the steady gyrations that were making me pre-cum like a banshee, if that is indeed what witches do.   

With broken English, Mario told me to cum.  Originally when I realized our meeting would involve sex of some kind, I had hoped to get some Latin love, but when I watched Flavio ram Mario almost right from the start, I realized it wasn’t about me, it was about them getting off (and fast).   

I did as I was told.  I stroked my dick, harder, faster. 

I listened to Mario and Flavio grunt and groan in Spanish as Flavio held Mario’s waist and pulled him tighter.  When I noticed Mario’s heels dig in and the front of his foot lifted slightly, his toes curling hard and his eyes rolling, I couldn’t hold out any longer, my seed shot out my cock.  Moments after it hit the sand, Mario launched a stream that hit the sand with a thud, and Flavio blew his load inside his partner, whose strong legs allowed Flavio to rest his torso on top of Mario during that moment of perfect ecstasy.   

I’m booking my trip back to

Cozumel as I write.   

 

Tracy, the 24-year-old truck driver who worked at the sewage company where my father had arranged for me to work rather than waste away my last summer before college, had my young dick in his mouth, and his in mine.  We lay on the floor sucking and slurping and thrusting and licking unaware the second baseball game we had been watching had already ended and was followed by a roundup of the day’s sporting events.   

I wondered many things.  Would

Tracy be the same to me at work on Monday?  Would this drunkenly engaged sex act progress any further or would it end with a squirt side-by-side on the floor?  Would he and I actually kiss?  As I stared at his 8- or 9-inch-around cock, I actually was hoping for the latter, despite the fact that I knew his wasn’t an everyday occurrence.   

I figured since he made the first move, it was my turn to take the lead.  I slowly slid my body away from him, ending up on my back, so he’d climb on all fours on top of me.  Then I took his cock in my mouth, but then quickly worked my way around his ball sack, down the perineum and landed on his ass.   

Slightly hairy in the crack, his butt was round and firm, definitely clean, with a hint of masculinity.  I can’t really describe what that smells like, you just have to know what it smells like in order to appreciate it.  His ass was like his face – gorgeous.  After seeing such a phat cock, I figured maybe too many guys were afraid to sit on it so he had to be the bottom and maybe he’d suffer from that damn rosebud syndrome, but it wasn’t the case at all.  He hole was tan like his skin, but with a hint of pink dead center.  It liked like one of those sweet dried peaches you find at Whole Foods.   

I prowled around, first with my tongue, which when I pierced the surface for the first few times, he tensed, ejecting my probe from his body.  Shortly after, he loosened up and allowed me to enter farther, adding a digit, then another.  When I got to three fingers, he warned me not to start anything I couldn’t finish.  I told

Tracy I wanted to fuck him.   

He said he was game, did I have protection?  Now in my wildest dreams I never imagined this is what would happen, but just in case, in the remotest off-chance that it might, I actually stowed a pack in the drawer of the coffee table.  He slipped one on my dick and began to let me enter him.   

He had difficulty.  Although my tongue and fingers had readied him,

Tracy had to withdraw, let the muscle relax.  As he did, he kissed me.  That surprised me as I had had, only moments before, my mouth buried in his ass.  Matthieu, the French exchange student I bedded during my senior year of high school, never much cared for kissing after a rim job.  

Tracy finally was able to sit on top of my cock and take it all the way and by all the way, I mean he really took it deep.  He ground his pelvis into mine, leaving no airspace between our asses.  He raised himself slightly, switching to kneel on his knees so he’d be a few inches above my groin and he lifted himself to the point where the head of my dick was visible from my vantage point and then he’d stop and really drop hard onto me, his asshole swallowing my rock hard cock, thank god it was rock hard cause if he hit the angle wrong, I’d end up with a fractured penis.   

That pop-and-go show went on for sometime, I was having such a blast, the view of him on top of me, the sensation of him squeezing his hole around my cock felt so good, I warned him I was gonna cum.  He said go for it and then I don’t know what I was thinking but I said to him, “If I cum, then I won’t wanna let you reciprocate.”  

The words hung in the air for probably eight or nine beats, one for each inch around his cock.  He slowed with each downward thrust, then as he landed all the way on my dick, as far as he could take it, he leaned in while gyrating slightly, uttering, “I wanna see you take it.” 

I sucked in a lot of air as he put a condom on his massive meat.  While I was glad it wasn’t an extra long to boot, I did worry about his girth.  To really open me up, he ordered me to sit on his face, which I did.  He fucked my hole but good with his tongue and his meaty fingers until I was good and ready, although I wasn’t sure that all the rimming in the world would prepare me for what was coming.  Finally

Tracy decided it was time.  

I moved away from his mouth, backed down to his cock, it was essential I be on top so that I could control the entry, were it the other way around, he could inflict some serious damage before we got to the fun stuff.  My eyes watered as I took only his head.  I had to pull out.  I felt liquid run down my leg, I looked and was relieved to find it was only his spit.  I’d try again.   

I sat on his dick once more.  It wasn’t a dick that once you passed the head would thin out a little around the shaft, it was quite thick all the way down to the base.  I tried to keep it in me as I slid him farther into my body, but again I couldn’t take it and hopped off.  Tracy rolled me onto my side, rubbed my shoulders, told me it wasn’t that big of a deal, we could find another way to cum, but I was determined damn it to somehow take it all the way.  Even though I wasn’t a bottom, I wanted to feel it, I was definitely in the ‘I’ll try anything once mindset.’   

I gave him the go-ahead and I knew it was risky, but I allowed him to penetrate me while lying on my side.  He slid up behind me, poked the head inside my ass, all good.  He moved his dick in deeper, slowly, making sure to ascertain my comfort or pain, and who knows whether it was the position or the fact that he’d tried before, but the third time proved to be the charm.  He was able to penetrate me fully, finally stuffing his enormous cock into me while wrapping his arms around my body, holding me in the most-tender yet rough half-Nelson you can imagine.   

As he pushed back and forth inside me, I could see him in the reflection on the now darkened TV, the shadow of an uber-masculine guy named

Tracy.  I felt him as his thrusts hastened, I couldn’t hold back any longer, the titillating sexy sensation I had had when I was in him returned and we both came simultaneously, me on the floor and him deep inside of me, until both of us lay there quietly and he slipped out, threw out the condom and held me until we woke up, horny as dogs again and we fucked over and over and over until it was time to go to work on Monday.   

Thanks Dad, for giving me the best job ever!

Twenty-four hours later, we were fucking like mad in my parents’ bedroom.  Thirty-six hours after that, we were still fucking only now we had moved to my room, though we had had to stop to take some breaks for food, a dip in the pool, sword fights in the showers, the occasional tune-in to CNN to make sure the world hadn’t ended and to check VM messages, ensuring my parents weren’t on their way home.   

I should probably backtrack a little.  The summer before I headed off to college, my Dad had a come-to-Jesus moment in that he realized I was about to leave the nest and he hadn’t taught me a thing about being responsible with money.  So in his very warped way, he decided to ‘cut me off’ for the summer, and arranged for me to get a job – not at his office, where working might be decidedly too cushy – but at an industrial park in the Valley.  WTF, right? 

I was royally pissed at my Dad, like you can’t spoil me my whole life and then all of a sudden decide that because you realized you were a bad parent all these years, it was suddenly time to teach me a lesson about fiscal responsibility.  We fought, I moved out, my Mom brokered some peace and I moved into the guesthouse, at least I was still on the property.   

What did I have to do?  Well, the company in the Valley was a wholesaler for sewage systems – I nearly died when they told me that one.  Thank god the company found itself on the top of the food chain so to speak, they manufactured and installed the systems, they didn’t have anything to do with the cleaning.  I definitely would’ve drawn the line.  Monday through Friday, I trudged to the office, reporting for duty, thankfully not doo-dy duty, but helping out with whatever needed assistance, not realizing that as I reluctantly learned how to read and program a spreadsheet, complete an inventory, order and oversee schedules for production, etc. that I was actually picking up excellent experience for running my own boy website. 

About three weeks into the drudgery, I sat at my desk reviewing the truckers’ time sheets for the week.  I commented to my supervisor how cool it was that there was a female driver.  The Supervisor warned me not to make fun of Tracy cause in fact

Tracy was not a she but a he. 

Tracy is a guy’s name?  The Supervisor said it’s a family thing, he’s a real sweetheart, just don’t poke fun at him cause of his name.   

Armed with this information, I had to see who this

Tracy could be.  I walked to the break room where four guys sat devouring lunch.  Two were at least 50 pounds overweight so immediately my interest waned.  The other two had nametags on their shirts, you know the kind the ‘mos covet and wear out when they’re trying to go blue collar?  Neither were named Tracy so I turned to walk out when I bumped into a specimen that Colt magazine would’ve named as their pin-up had they found him first.  Six-foot-two inches tall, 24 years old, scruffy, arms as big as my legs, slate-blue eyes with dark hair, a 33” waist (it was printed on the back of his Levi’s) and a nametag – Tracy.   

I introduced myself to him, made it my mission to eat lunch in the break room until I could talk to him.  It didn’t take long for that to happen.  Two days later, I checked his schedule and made sure to be in the room when he was.  We chatted again and my supervisor was right – he was a super nice guy.  Underneath that masculine façade that provided me with nights of jerk-off material, I discovered a guy who not only enjoyed kicking back and watching a baseball game, but also knew why LACMA should be skipped in favor of the Norton Simon.   

One day after our shifts, I decided to ask him if he wanted to watch a game at my parents’ house (they were vacationing in

Barcelona while I toiled, my Dad did not have to learn a lesson apparently.). 

Tracy agreed, brought a twelve pack (I don’t think he realized I wasn’t of legal drinking age, oh well…).   I supplied the subs and chips.  In the guest house, we watched the Phillies defeat the Mets, then found another game after that.  After having  too many beers, we ordered pizza, moved onto my parents’ wine cellar, he knew which vintage to go for, and we had a terrific time in front of the TV.   

Emboldened by alcohol, I debated making the first move.  I figured if I did and he weren’t gay, then either he’d be offended and beat me up (unlikely) and take off and might make my life a living hell at work, but if he weren’t, then it could be some serious fun.  Every time I made up my mind to take action, the moment didn’t seem right and so I’d pause and catch glances of his gorgeous hands as they clutched the beer bottle like I wanted him to hold my dick.   

And then almost without warning, he scooted over on the sofa, threw his legs over the armrests and rest his head across my legs.  His head started straight ahead at the TV.  I didn’t move a muscle.  Well, maybe just one.  I wished I could see his face.  At the same time, I was glad he couldn’t see mine cause I was in heaven.   

Not knowing what to do next, but figuring this chance was as good as it was gonna get, I reached out and stroked his hair.  It was soft, somewhat curly, his.  My hands slowly caressed the back of his neck, rubbing him gently.  My fingers found their way around the side to his unpierced ears, to his scruffy chin, his nose.  He opened his mouth and took my finger inside, sucking the chip salt from the fingers and teasing me with his talented tongue.   

Tracy rolled over onto his back, stared up at me with my finger still in his mouth.  He smiled.  He continued rolling, undoing my buttons and zipper and pulling out my penis.  He sucked the tip mostly, keeping me on edge for a long time, only occasionally going all the way to the base.  I could see pre-cum sticking to the shadow on his face, I wondered whether he was someone who might only be into oral or whether he might also wanna kiss.   

Five minutes later, we were lying on the floor, in a 69, the kiss would have to wait.  I buried my face in his crotch, it smelled sweaty, his low-hanging balls stuck slightly to the side of his leg, I am sure I pre-came even more when I had them in my mouth.  Try as I might, I couldn’t get his dick all the way into my mouth, despite its’ relatively short length; that’s cause it was the fattest thing I’d ever seen, when people say beer cans, it’s generally an overstatement, but in his case, it was an understatement.  Serious.   

His cock was ginormous around, I thought no way in hell I was gonna take that up my ass, right?   

(to be continued…) 

Sunday night supper at Lucques is a good way to end the week.  It’s even better when you gots someone good to spend it with.  Last Sunday, I received a call from my Mom, she wanted to know if I had plans for Thursday night.  Knowing how my Mom works, I automatically uttered yes, I had a friend’s gallery opening, then a dinner afterwards cause if I didn’t have a reason readily available, my Mom would sucker me into some tedious commitment. 

Too bad ‘cause she was planning a dinner party for a certain fringe-yet-generation-defining novelist whose books I love and whose name shall remain a secret cause he’s never admitted to being gay, though after reading his works, I’d bet my loft he was a card-carrying member of the cock club.  I nonchalantly informed my Mom I’d see if I my plans could be switched. 

To make it seem like I was actually checking, I went to the gym and ran a few odds and ends before letting her know I could switch things around, made it seem like I was doing her a favor.  Finally a chance to talk to the man who created a character so complex and relatable and not cliché despite the fact he was a real son-of-a bitch, perhaps it was cause we sometimes caught a glimpse of ourselves in him…   

As dinner approached, I did wonder why my Mom wanted me to be there.  They threw plenty of dinner parties without asking me to attend.  No way she knew he was a favorite writer of mine.  Plus, my Mom only does things when it suits her, ahhhh, that must’ve been it, I guessed she wanted something from me.  I couldn’t figure it out what.  

When I arrived at my parents’ house, waiting for me in the living room was the writer, 45, unkempt, wavy brown hair, stylish black glasses, freckled skin and a middle finger with an indentation that bore evidence of a man who wrote his novels not by computer, but by hand.   

With appetizers, dinner and dessert, I peppered the conversation with informed questions about his books, which surprised the hell out of my mother.  She had no idea I knew who he was, much less could quote from his novels, but that’s what drinking too much every day for 25 years will do to you.  The writer was so impressed with my questions, as he left the house, he slipped his phone number to me when my parents weren’t paying attention.  

What would you do?  I don’t know bout you, but I had never had sex with someone who was old enough to be my Dad.  Remember the mostly enforceable five-year rule?  This age difference was so beyond it and besides who knew what kind of body lurked underneath his clothing?  It was hard to detect whether he had a body that leaned toward the young and athletic or one that maybe was already off-to-pasture.  What if he couldn’t get / keep it up?  So not what I wanted, but then again, this was the guy who wrote my favorite stories ever, he was a brilliant writer… 

The next day we met at the bar at Chateau Marmont for lunch.  I wanted to make sure that we were meeting during the day so that should I decide to keep my five-year-rule in play, I’d have an easy out.  The writer was dressed the same way as before, wearing clothes that hid what kind of body might lurk underneath, but his manner was much more playful and direct; having my parents out of earshot encouraged him to feel more free.   

After he signed several autographs from the hounds, we ended up going for a drive in his rented convertible along Mulholland.  He had expressed a desire to see the ocean and to check out the street scene in

Venice, so we followed Mulholland all the way to the beach.  Crazy how the guy who writes the least-cliché stories wants to do the things that would make a first-year English professor’s toes curl were I to write about our day together.   

Yes, the story would’ve been completely devoid of any creativity until the writer mentioned it was his turn to direct the praise.  I stared at him, wondering if he knew about my studio work.  Yes, that’s what he meant.  He had been a fan of my work for years and he felt like a bit of a star fucker himself, being driven around all day by a guy who’s a far bigger celebrity than himself.  I doubted the veracity of his claim until he pointed out that his books have never sold more than a 100K copies, while my DVD sales and downloads total in the millions.  Turns out we’re both fans of each others’ work.  We were definitely having a moment.  

When something like that happens, what do you do?  To be gauche, it’s like when celebs date, they don’t wanna go out of their circle, not cause they’re only looking to be with people like themselves, but because those same people understand what they’re going through as people in the public eye.  Or at least that’s what I was thinking in that nanosecond when he said it and leaned in for a kiss.   

It was an amazing kiss.   

Tender, tough, thoughtful.  It should’ve been the one.  But I couldn’t help thinking that the person I was kissing was a wee bit too old for me.  Not that there’s anything wrong with someone else getting their rocks off by it, but for me, it didn’t work and I even had the benefit of being able to imagine kissing him was like kissing the character he created.  But it really wasn’t right.  Well, down below it worked, I got hard and so did he as I could see his snake bulging out the side of his pants.  But not up top in my head.   

Were it another guy with whom I stumbled out of a club and into bed with, I’d have done him no problem, we’d have fucked like animals, then parted ways, no questions asked, no names exchanged, but with the writer, it was different and even though we both got hard, he sensed it, too.  And he stopped.  And pulled away and we had a conversation without ever saying a word.   

Once that awkwardness evaporated, I offered to let him find his way and boy toys in

L.A., but he declined.  So we ended up hanging out, not just going to the horrible Getty, checking out Pasadena, talking about his characters, but also connecting about people and life and things and experiences that I often can’t discuss with my posse (no offense to them, but that’s just how it is, you know?), spending every available moment together concluding with a terrific dinner at Lucques before he boarded the red-eye back home.  Who knows where I’ll find myself in ten years, but I hope I can find someone like him when I’m ready cause that was the perfect weekend. 

I don’t care if you’re in a relationship or not, but when you’re standing at a crowded urinal at a bar or club, you look.  Not cause you necessarily wanna go home with the person peeing next to you, but cause you’re always interested in how you measure up.  Guys can deny all they want, but they do it.  A glance here and there is part of taking a leak. 

When I was at the Abbey, which doesn’t have a trough exactly, it’s a row of tightly packed urinals sands dividers, on one unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon, I spotted a guy who was a seriously attractive mofo.  He wore a thinning charcoal grey T-shirt, blue running shorts and NB sneakers.  He stood maybe 5’ 9,” looked to be about 160 pounds, had dark hair, olive skin, a toned chest, but not overly so, and really sexy long-distance runner legs with naturally hairy legs. 

I definitely found myself attracted to his body type, but what specifically caught my eye was the fact he was confident enough to go to a gay bar wearing his running clothes and not care what anyone else thought.  He stood out not for his outfit, but his confidence.  Me like-y. 

For the next while, I tried to catch his eye.  I had never seen him before.  I wondered whether he was a transplant from another city, a visitor or maybe he recently split up from a significant other?  I was determined to find out – right after a trip to the bathroom.  Having had a couple of martinis, I didn’t want my chance to chat him up to be interrupted by having to pee.  As most guys don’t use the urinals at the Abbey, preferring the stalls, there was no wait.  I unzipped, all was good in the world.  Everything became better when I looked to my left and saw the runner enter.  He didn’t pause to check out the stalls first, he approached the urinals like he was moving to the checkout line in Trader Joe’s.  He parked himself next to me.   

He lifted the right flap of his shorts to relieve himself.  I was torn.  I wanted to peek, but if I looked and he noticed, I’d come off like a cretin.  But if I didn’t, well there wasn’t a didn’t.  So I peered.  And what did I see? 

The prettiest cock in the world.  Flaccid, his dick was circumcised, slightly above average in length and girth, hair in the right places, ratio-to-balls – picture perfect.  If there were a market for penis models like hand models, he’d be on top.  I stared straight ahead, glad not to have been busted.  What happened next, however, surprised even myself.   

I told him. 

His head whipped around, his eyes never once glancing below to see how I was graced; as the words registered in his brain, he zipped up, let out a pleasant sigh, washed his hands and exited.   

Standing at the urinal, I felt supremely ridiculous.  What the hell was I thinking?  Telling him!  Inside voice, inside voice!  I must’ve looked ridiculous!  He couldn’t tell I was still pissing, to him I must’ve come off like the guy who stands there exposed, checking everyone out, not taking care of business.  What a T.F.I. I am!  If I were him, I’d have bolted too! 

I beelined for the exit, did a quick 180 in my car on Robertson so I wouldn’t have to pass the bar again, zipped right on Melrose and left on a side street; I was so stupidly rattled, I wasn’t paying close enough attention and nearly hit a car as I overshot a stop sign.  I took a deep breath.  It wasn’t that bad, right? 

That night, I was at my friend Big Ed’s, he was throwing a party.  Hours had passed since ‘the incident’ as I was now referring to it, my posse was giving me plenty of crap for it, which was hilarious, everything that night became the ‘prettiest drink,’ or the ‘prettiest lips’ or the ‘prettiest lips.’  I was laughing like crazy until someone came up behind me and said: 

“I thought yours was pretty, too.”   

My turn to spin around, where I found the guy from the Abbey, smiling as he moved away from me.  My pheromones triggered, I followed.  He kept walking, through the living room, down the hallway, into a bedroom and into a bathroom.  How did he know I’d be there before he closed the door?  Oh, it’s that damn, fucking confidence, so attractive. 

We both unzipped, this time we weren’t standing in front of the pot.  He moved close to me, his hand rubbed against the outside of my crotch.  My dick started getting hard.  My fingers ducked inside his zipper, where I found the prettiest cock in the world waiting for me.  I brought his head out of his shelter.  He grew, not crazy like a show-er not a grow-er, but just like you might expect the prettiest cock in the world to grow.  Pretty perfectly.  

I pushed him back onto the side of the bathtub, his penis stood fully erect as it popped out of his pants.  I bent down, sucked him wildly.  It shouldn’t matter that it’s easier to go to town on a gorgeous piece of man meat, but it does.  I was eagerly deep throating him, licking his balls, stroking, letting him fuck my mouth with abandon to the point I wondered if my mouth would be bruised, it’s amazing what a great-looking cock’ll make you do.   

As I gave him the best head job, his body quivered.  He wanted to reciprocate before he came, and he was dangerously close, but I wouldn’t let him.  I was happy to continue fellating him.  As I sucked, I stuck my hand down the front of my jeans where my cock was covered in so much pre-cum I was glad I was wearing underwear to catch it.  

I stroked myself as I blew him, developing real heat.  Every once in a while, I let my scruffy chin brush against his inner thigh as I took him in my mouth, he couldn’t handle it and at the last minute, he pushed my head back, I closed my eyes and bit gently on his gorgeous legs as we came in unison, he shot a wad onto my face and the floor as I ended up cumming buckets on his shoes.   

Someone knocked, they had to use the bathroom.  He and I cleaned up, made sure we were presentable, and right before he exited, he told me, he was visiting from Atlanta, he and his boyfriend had recently split up and maybe he (not the bf) might move here, now that he knew the sex was so, um, perfect.

I have just returned home from an extremely eventful Spring Break.  All the cockyboys got together to shoot during the break and have a great time in the process. (Perhaps, as I have come to find out, some of us had too good of a time…)I learned a lot this week.  Whether it was the easy way or (more often) the hard way, I learned a lot.  I learned that  this is a business, no matter how much fun a model might be having, it’s STILL a business and should be treated with professionalism.  I learned that in this business, reputation is everything.  And contrary to what I previously believed, reputation is NOT based on your actions but how people PERCEIVE you act.  You can be an overly flirty little angel and still get labeled as a whore.  I wish I had paid more attention to how people were perceiving me rather than assuming they would give me the benefit of the doubt.I learned that the truth ALWAYS will out.  People talk and no matter how hard you work to cover up what really happened, everyone will find out what really went on.  I learned that there is no point in trying to cover up the truth or pull the shade over anyone’s eyes because when the truth DOES come out, it just makes you look untrust-worthy.  There’s still one more lesson I’d like to say I learned but that’s still up in the air.  I’d like to say that once you learn a lesson, and show others that you are sincerely sorry that you made a poor (or several poor) decisions, there IS such a thing as a second chance…