R.P. Andrews's Blog, page 29

Here’s Another Installment of My Gay Advice Column, “Go Ask Daddy”

Another Installment of My Gay Advice Column, “Go Ask Daddy” 

Buddy: l’m in my early twenties but unlike my two older brothers, who were circumcised as babies, l’m uncut. But l like the cut look on them and guys l’ve played with. Should l get cut too?

Daddy: Obviously at your age that’s largely up to you. But getting circed when you’re an adult male is no walk in the park but a rather potentially painful procedure with a long recovery. Remember, your adult tool is a hell of a lot more sensitive than it was when it was a thumbprint between your legs in the nursery. In my day circumcision was a routine practice in hospital newborn nurseries, but in the last decade or so, more and more parents are choosing to not have their newborn boys circumcised.

Recent medical research, however, suggests that uncut cocks may harbor the HIV virus and the germs responsible for other STD’s longer and if not kept clean can also have a higher incidence of penis cancer. Again maintaining regular personal hygiene is key here.

But unless you suffer from some medical issues like phimosis where the foreskin is so tight that it cannot retract without being painful, l’d pass. While l’m cut myself and prefer it on other guys, an occasional uncut guy can be fun.

Nibble, nibble.

 

The Sex Addict: A Lonely Life. By Design.

The Sex Addict: A Lonely Life. By Design.

The sex addict makes making it his first and only priority. Everything else – job, family, success – is secondary.

The sex addict is continually on the hunt for fresh meat. Second go-arounds with the same guy are a bore no matter how good the sex was the first time around.

The sex addict has no time for conversation unless it leads to the bedroom or the backroom.

The sex addict wants no friends. Friends get in the way of the hunt. Socializing is time that could be spent pursuing dick.

The sex addict puts all his energies into looking good not making good.

The sex addict thinks about his next conquest even as he’s doing the last one.

The sex addict plays the websites for hours like a day trader or gambler, always hopeful he’ll be a winner with the next click.

The sex addict delights in the sex clubs and the bath houses where indiscriminate sex is alive and well – and sometimes even available. Bars are for guys who are into friends, not fucking.

The sex addict counts his life in conquests not loves. Love is for the weak.

The sex addict views sex as a numbers game. Quantity is more important than quality.

The sex addict has lofty standards but settles more times than he admits. The sex is all that matters.

The sex addict’s life is a lonely life.

Exactly the way he wants it.

 

Here’s a preview …

… of a video commercial I’ll be running on select Facebook demographic pages in mid January to promote my erotic gay fiction…

 

Mindfuckers: II

Mindfuckers: II

There should be a special place in Gay Hell, where you’re surrounded by Bible Belt Conservatives or Evangelical  Christians (who are taking over the White House) spouting Leviticus unto eternity, for the Website/Phone App  Mindfuckers Supremo. Those that show up on schedule for your destined web-arranged rendezvous, then feign disinterest. Like the one nerd who promised me the blow job of my life. It was a Tuesday night so, what the fuck, why not. The red flag should have gone up in my head when he asked to meet him in the parking lot of a local mall. But I was horny by now. Even as I drove over, I had visions he’d pull away just as pulled up. But no, I got out of my SUV, he got of his, and we walked in one another’s direction. He was nerdier than his pic, but a mouth is a mouth, and after all, it WAS a Tuesday. I outstretched my hand to shake his and introduce myself when he said, “Gee, I’m sorry. I don’t think this is going to work out.”

NOT WORK OUT? HUH?

Now, my pics are pretty explicit. And while I may not be God’s gift to Gaydom, I still turn heads and go to the gym 3, 4X a week. Woody Allen’s younger brother I ain’t. If he wasn’t interested, shouldn’t my pics have been enough to make a judgment call long before this?

There were some elderly shoppers nearby wheeling their cart of food to their car but I didn’t give a shit. I still went off like a lunatic.

“You hauled me over here and now you’re the one not interested, you nerdy little queen?”

With that, he ran into his car, locked the door, and swept away. Lucky for me, since in another millisecond I would have bashed his head against the door, then regretted it. And by the time I got home, he had blocked me so I couldn’t even tirade into cyberspace.

Then there was the gym-bod hottie who set up a time, called to say he was on his way, and an hour later was still online where I left him. My knee jerk reaction was to block him, but I didn’t and, believe it or not, a week later, the same fuck E’s me. “Got some time later today?” (Yes, this is all true folks!) He had to be high, had to be.

Ah, bestowed with one of those golden opportunities you often don’t get in life, I seized the moment.

“Listen, last week when you said you were on your way, then never showed, I found you were still online when you were supposed to be at my place. So, after giving you an extra half hour, I left for the local sex club where I met a hot, humpy couple from Toronto, and we fucked the night away. (I actually did meet such a dynamic duo, only not that night.)  So, I guess I have you to thank for that. But please, I don’t need people who waste my time. Your credibility with me is in the sewer. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if that’s even your pic or are you really some 4’6” horn-rimmed glasses geek.”

His response to me was just two words. I’m sure you can guess what they were; but those two words spoke volumes. I had caught him at his own game. Then, I blocked the fuck.

The bigger question is what motivates people to play these games. Are they insecure with their own sexual desirability? Or are they so shit on in their real lives and no-nothing jobs (I can see that buxom boss towering over them at the jewelry counter at Macy’s), that this is their only way to exert power over others?  Or are they just perpetually stoned?

Then there are those who waste your time and theirs because they failed third grade reading.

There was a guy in town from North Carolina this past Thanksgiving weekend who hit me up on bear411 a month ago. He was a nice enough looking, not very hairy which is my fetish, but I agreed to hook-up when he got here. There were enough texts and pics exchanged between us  to eat up my data usage for the month. He even expressed gratitude that such a hot guy like myself would pick him. (Okay, enough.)

Comes time to connect, it just so happens we were both going to the Alibi, Lauderdale’s iconic gay bar, the previous night and agreed to at least meet there. I combed the bar more intensely than my tongue does a hard cock but couldn’t find him or his buddy when, just about to leave, I spotted them chatting with some other guys. The two of them, who looked more like partners than buddies, were tall, gray-haired, and plainly dressed, and frankly “Howie” was a bit on the scrawny side, not sporting the lightly muscular frame of his pics.

That night I texted him, said had he seen me and asked if he was the guy I just described. His response: “Yes, I saw you but you’re not what I thought you were. I don’t think we’re a match.” Now since all my pics are current, the only thing I could think  was he was expecting some six foot brute not a 5’6″ in-shape guy. I texted him back and said first, it didn’t matter to me if we connected, I was the one making the concessions and could it be that he assumed I was tall. Who’s fault? His. It’s right in my profile and, in fact, most times, but I guess not this time, I even point it out to some super tall guy who comes on to me ( I rarely go for skyscrapers since I  prefer guys I can look directly in the eye) before we do the nasty who either says he prefers short guys or doesn’t care.

Needless to say I didn’t get a  response because I think he realized he’s the one who had fucked up. If height is so important to you, isn’t that the first thing you’d check? But the big reason I was pissed was that a lot of time and messaging had been wasted over weeks for ZILCH.

My ego was deflated for about thirty seconds. I ended up having back-to-back all nighters with two of my fuck buddies, both old enough to be my sons.

So to scrawny “Howie,” I have just this to say:

Thanks.

Mindfuckers: Edging Masters

Mindfuckers: Edging Masters

mind’fuck’er/ noun: a gay man who comes on to another, leads him into believing he’s interested in copulating, then, at the last moment, drops out of sight like he was abducted by aliens. Most prevalent on sex websites where cyberspace provides the perfect cover.

Naïve, shitty little me.  After years of chance encounters in the bars and the baths, and being a logical, pragmatic sort of a guy, I turned to the sex sites figuring that’s where people were meeting. You post who you are and like, they post who they are and like, and there’s a match-up. Right?

Not exactly. Even though I’ll do a periodic sweep of local listings, and put out feelers to guys I think could have a mutual interest, I rarely get any responses. So in the end, you’re left waiting for hits from the universe of guys who happen to be on when you’re on. No better than the bars. That’s why after coming home from a night out, or even in between on my smartphone, I’ll check who loves me, then go to bed, and, guaranteed, the following morning I’ll have half a dozen hits, 1:45 am, 2: 10 am, 2:30 a.m., from the “I want it now boys” – “wanna fuck?” Or better:

“My back door will be open. The lights will be off. I’ll be butt naked on my sofa. I want you to come over to me, and without saying a word, fuck me til you breed me, then I want you to leave.”

Romantic, ain’t it?

I can go on with diarrhea of the fingertips about my trials and tribulations as a cyber sex addict, but what I want to talk about now are the above defined “mindfuckers.” They come in several varieties. The low end boys are those who keep sending you those cryptic e-mails, winks or gropes every so often, and when you ask when they’re interested in connecting, you get the evasive “cool,” or even better, “kewl.” Those I block.

But these minor leaguers are just a bore. The group that should have their balls cut off in public at some mall or, better yet, a leather bar while they’re running a drink special, are the guys I classify as the Super Mindfuckers. They come on to you big time, (“You sure you don’t model for Titan?”), you negotiate a date, they even say they’re on their way and, then, they never show. No call. No text.  Nothin’. You planned your day, you re-arranged your schedule, you took a shower, you even popped your $2 tab of Viagra. And they don’t show.

More on Mindfuckers Monday …

 

Results of the “Curious?” Poll

Results of the “Curious?” Poll

On last week’s poll on whether you would consider having sex with a woman to man

Actual w-t-m trans

transgender,  50% of you said you would give it a shot if he had all his new equipment. But eight out of ten of you said no way to a transgender who still had his vagina.

Ah, but what about the 20% of you who said you would? Hmmm….

 

 

It’s All About the Fur

It’s All About the Fur

Yea, everybody’s hardwired for a certain type and I respect that. But sorry, smooth guys, while I certainly wouldn’t kick you out of bed ( I had two of them over the holiday weekend and had a great time) if I had my choice between a so-so guy with a so-so body who was hairy, and a smooth-as-silk guy with a face and body by God, I’d grab the fur ball any day of the week. Even the hint of chest hair sticking out of the top of a guy’s T-shirt or a pair of furry forearms or – shit! – hairy muscular legs on some jogger – is enough to get my motor running.

Debunking some out-of-date Freudian psychology, I think I’m a str8 gay man today and unloaded any sissy boy tendencies I may have had a long time ago because I had no interest in mimicing my mother but definitely worshipped my father. He was a humpy hairy fuck and, I’m not ashamed to admit, my first sex object. I saw him near naked or naked more than a young boy should see his dad (no, he wasn’t a pedophile – I just got lucky), and jerked off over him before I did any other fantasy man in my life. I also inherited his Slavic hirsute genes. While I felt awkward in high school when I took my shirt off for gym, a few years later after I started playing the scene and saw how much my fur turned other guys on, I became a certified exhibitionist. Down here in Florida, I don’t frequent a bar unless I can leave my T-shirt in the car.

Bottom line, as best as my self-psychoanalysis goes, I think I’m attracted first and foremost to furry guys either because I was infatuated sexually with my father, or because I’m in love with myself and searching for my clone.  Take your pick.

So what’s so hot about hair?

In my mind, and I know a lot of you smooth guys or into smooth guys will rightly disagree, body hair on a str8 gay guy (nothing will save a furry queen) is the ultimate in masculinity. For me, it separates the men from the boys and certainly the men from the girls. (Except for those poor Sicilian girls I knew on Staten Island, the most Italian American county in the U.S., who buy Nair by the truckload.)

Secondly, there’s nothing quite as sensual for me as running my fingers through a guy’s furry chest hairs or across his fuzzy abs even if he has a bit of a belly. Hell, I give myself a hard-on just doing it to myself in the morning. Chest, arms, abs, legs, shoulders, back, butt, I want it all. In fact, when it comes to fucking, I have a hard time keeping Mr. Peter stiff unless he and I are feeling a furry butt.

I know and I’ve met hairy guys who only want them smooth – when I hit them up, it’s “thanks but no thanks, buddy” – and smooth guys who go ga-ga over furry men (there’s at least one smooth Asian a week on the web who wants to support me). Ah, but when two furry guys dig each other, well, that’s magic. That why either by luck or design, all my current fuck buddies are furry.

Mack who I wrote about in my two part series, “Being A Daddy: Variations On A Theme”   (http://wp.me/pXwOp-1WI  ), is by far the furriest of the group and really digs all my fur as much as I do his. Both of our pelts are soft to the touch which makes them mutually super sensual. Christ, I keep talking about looking for my clone and while he’s a bit taller than me – who isn’t – and broader, Matt comes pretty close to my ideal hirsute man, with the added benefit of a brain and handsome, handsome black Irish looks and piercing blue eyes. He’s also got what I call the magic triangle. When I’m making love to his dick (if I like a cock, I don’t suck it, I worship it), all I see is fur, muscular hairy thighs on either side of me (I’m a leg man), hairy balls and even hair spouting from his shaft, a dense bush and abs covered in fur which continues like the Amazon rain forest up to his chest and shoulders. As beautiful a sight aesthetically as it is sexual, like admiring Michelangelo’s David Matt is what bear used to mean when I came out in the seventies.

Now, it’s true while a lot of guys love back fur, I’ll get my back clipped during those hot sweaty months though guys who love fur love my back hair so go figure. But I have only one thing to say to those guys who shave their bodies or – God help them – permanently obliterate their fur with a laser because they think that’s sexier:

HUH?

Curious?

Curious?

I first got enamored with the idea of doing it with a girl-to-guy transgender after l read a story in Men’s Fitness last year about a gym in the Midwest that caters exclusively to gals-to guys. (Check out my blog at http://wp.me/pXwOp-1FJ.) Transgenders need to take testosterone on a daily basis but because they weren’t born with the same skeleto-muscular frame as us genuine articles, they have to work a hell of a lot harder.

But what was amazing were the pics of some of them. Because of the sex hormone, their body and facial features became more masculine and some even were even able to sprout body hair and beards! The result? They looked like some of the hotties that make my dick stir when l see them out and about in Queer World, Fort Lauderdale.

From what l understand, surgeons use the clitoris which frankly is an undeveloped penis just as guy’s pecs are undeveloped breasts as the basis for their new tool. In a documentary about a guy who was born without a penis l caught on the Discovery Channel, l learned they can now create a dick from skin on the inner lower arm. The guy still needs one of those penis implants to pump it up when he wants an erection but there’s sensation so, barring the real thing, it sounds like a good deal. (Funny about that guy born without a tool. All his buddies thought he was the ladies man and he satisfied the chicks he slept with which goes to show what you can do with your fingers and tongue when you’re creative.)

Thus my curiosity to have sex with a transgender male. It’s the writer of erotic gay fiction in me that wants to explore new frontiers. (Sure, you sick fuck, you’re probably thinking.) There’s even a dating site for such connections though l haven’t really explored it yet.

This brings me to the point of this blog: recently a older guy from the Midwest who looked like he should be milking cows hit me and others up l’m sure on one of the websites with a pic of himself and his 18 year old boy. The duo would be vacationing in Lauderdale and Dad  was looking for takers to fuck his boy while he watched. His boy it turns out was once a girl and while his “top surgery” was done, he still had his pussy! (It’s getting increasingly  hard to decide which pronouns to use when you talk about this shit.)

So, gentlemen, l’d like to hear from you on whether you’d walk the wild side… (above pics are actual gal-to-guy transgenders) …

Take Our Poll

 

Take Our Poll

 

Take Our Poll

 

 

Why Are These People Smiling?

Why Are These People Smiling?

Tomorrow is World AIDS Day, a perfect time to spit out another one of my sermonettes on the HIV epidemic which continues to grow over thirty years after we knew a bad bottle of poppers or toilet seats weren’t the cause. This pic appeared in a recent ad for a new HIV med.  Most of these faces are young, and all I can ask is why are people still getting infected? Are lust and hormones and blind trust in what a guy tells you his HIV status is responsible?  Absolutely. I’ve been sexually active since LBJ was President and now as a “Daddy” continue to be more popular than ever, and I can tell point-blank, barebacking isn’t making a comeback – it never left.

It’s obvious to me the condom campaign fostered by the powers-to-be in our community and the health care machine has failed miserably. Will increased use of PrEP not just by the young but 40 plus gays as well eventually save the day? Or that vaccine or cure they say may be just around the corner?

Who knows. I lived through and survived the AIDS crisis (for all my sleeping around and poz friendly attitude when it comes to sex, I’m still negative)and all I do know when I see people young enough to be my my sons or daughters still getting infected, all I can ask is:

Why?

Remember those smiling faces will be costing all of us billions of dollars in avoidable health care resources for decades to come.

Still smiling?

 

The Gay (Feminist) (Black) (Latino) Agenda Is DEAD.

The Gay (Feminist) (Black) (Latino) Agenda Is DEAD.

If l didn’t say it before, I’ll say it now: The gay activists went about it all wrong. They fought for and won gay marriage which benefits only a minority of gays and for whom  only a minority of gays give a damn about, instead of trying to secure our full civil rights as taxpaying citizens of the U.S., much like the civil rights legislation won by and for blacks in the sixties. If that had happened, and I’m not saying it would be easy or even possible even under Obama, gay marriage would have come as part of the package. But if you ask the average gay man what’s most important to him, prohibiting by law discrimination in employment and housing would be at the top of his list, gay marriage number twenty six.

Now the opportunity to achieve that has come and gone. For generations.

Perhaps forever.

Why do l say that?

First, unless you’re totally oblivious to the world around you, the tight ass Conservatives, the white supremacist Alt-Right Movement (despite Trump publicly  disavowing them for l suspect PR reasons) and the Religious Right  – yes,  the Religious Right are now in charge of the asylum.

Pence? A homophobic’s homophobic who if he had his way would round us all up and put us in conversion camps.

Gingrich? The Father of the Extreme Right Tea Party movement.

Bannon? A neo-Nazi spokesman for the Alt-Righters.

Guliani? Hell l was in New York City at the turn of this century when as mayor he closed the sex clubs and help foster the demise of the seedy West Village to urban development which spelled the death knell of NYC’s deliciously decadent gay scene.

Pissed that a bunch of lawyers in their own little ivory tower better known as the Supreme Court could make gay marriage legal in all states with the simple wave of their collective magic wand, narrow-minded, puritanical, bigoted America which knows no race boundaries and the religious zealots made sure they put into power the guys who would seek revenge. Big time. Wait until religious beliefs legitimizing discrimination becomes the law of the land.

Secondly, and even more devastating, long after the Trump Administration goes down in the history books will be his lasting imprint on the Supreme Court. President Trump will have the rare opportunity to appoint as many as three new justices and get them approved by the Republican dominated Congress faster than a slick dick can fuck a loose hole. And you can bet your next load they ain’t gonna be Friends of Dorothy, a term used by gays prior to gay liberation as a code to describe followers of gay icon, Judy Garland, whose most enduring legacy was as Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz.”  In fact, the guy Trump is zeroing in on to fill the vacant seat held by the late ultra-conservative Anthony Scalia has already described abortion as an “abomination.” Get the picture? He and his future cohorts will tip the scale against social progress for decades to come.

And for those who are trying to get enough of the Electoral College reps to change their vote to Hillary (who won the popular vote) when they formally crown the next President on December 19, each voting individually in their respective states, I’d like to know what kind of grass you’re smokin’. That never happened in our history; the closest that it did was in 1876 when Tilden won the popular vote but neither he nor Rutherford B. Hayes won a majority of the electoral votes.  The mess ended  up in the House of Representatives where some backroom politicing led to Hayes being declared President. And if it did happen, can you imagine the insurrection in the streets when the red blooded American white males who voted for Trump feel castrated a second time? (The first was when a black man -OMG! – was elected President.)

When l express my concerns to buddies, they more or less say to wait and see, give the guy a chance, that things aren’t as dark as l’m painting them. Wasn’t that the false optimism some anti-Nazi Germans, including many German Jews, expressed when Hitler rose to power?

Want proof? In just the single week following the election, over 400 incidents of harassment by those who feel legitimized by Trump’s win were documented against minorities, ten per cent of them against gays. And their guy hasn’t even been sworn into office yet.

So, to all the gays who were to busy getting laid or getting high to vote …

…to all the women who, like many white men, didn’t want a woman President or who hated Hillary for standing by her man in his infidelity…

…to all the blacks who were too lazy to vote because she wasn’t black. …

…to all the Latinos, particularly Cubans, who voted Republican though it was a Democrat, JFK, who welcomed them after Castro came to power…

…to the Sanders groupies who threw away a vote that might have gone to Clinton and instead voted for an impossible to win third party candidate to make some kind of asshole political statement… (Clinton lost all of Florida’s electoral votes by just 100,000, while third party candidates garnered 200,000 votes – go do the math.)

.. and finally to half the electorate who didn’t come out because they were too busy eating their potato chips or figured Hillary was a done deal …

To all of you, l have only one thing to say:

Welcome to Hell.

Along with the rest of us.

l’m beginning to feel like a Jew in 1932 Germany.