Public Sex

On a recent Disability After Dark Andrew Gurza talks about public sex. He was spurred by the death of George Michael. I suspect that in the mind of the general public queers are eager to sex in any washroom they can find – hence the weird panic in the USA over washroom rights. Who wants to walk into a washroom & find some trans having sex with anyone – sex is the only reason queers use washrooms anyway.

Andrew’s podcast is more about the logistics – even a handicapped stall is too small for him, his wheelchair, and then another person (plus his prodigious pecker too 🙂 ) There isn’t enough room to swing a jockstrap around let alone … well you get the picture.

My own experience with public sex is limited – does making out in a gay bar count? Grinding erections, with jeans on, in a dark corner while tonguing each others’ tonsils? Once at the Barn on Church St (remember that place?) I did get my dick pulled out by a guy who played with it awhile then he deserted me when one of the staff walked by. There was a darker-than-else-where spot at the Barn where sex did happen. But it was so dark did that count as public?

I’ve had guys brag about doing or being done in various gay bar washroom but no one ever seemed to get those opportunities in, say, a MacDonald’s. Big Mac please, with all the extras. Though there are site that list good public washrooms for encounters. Many in places like university libraries. And there have been many ‘raids’ on washrooms by alert morals squads.

Why public sex anyway? Often people have no alternative – living with family for one – too many roommates – not living near where things can happen. Or opportunity presents itself & you can’t say no. Personally I’d rather do it in private. Making out in public doesn’t bother me. I’ve groped, been groped under restaurant tables. All as foreplay to going somewhere more private.

When I first moved to Toronto David A Balfour Park was notorious for men cruising, fucking & sucking in bushes at all times of the day. I did walk though a few times, in day light, but didn’t see anyone. I’m not sure what I might have done had that happened but I was willing to find out.

I have witnessed public sex a few times though – between hetero couples though – guys with girlfriends on their laps clearly fucking, fingering females openly on TTC (the better way) – women groping their men almost proudly. They always give onlookers this glare of ‘what you looking at’ or ‘stop staring’ or ‘Jealous.’

For some guys the notion of being caught, being seen having sex is a major turn on. I’ve been with a couple of such guys. One who nearly came when he pulled my pants down in the passage way between his house & the one beside it. It did more for him than for me. I like my comfort when having sex – pillows for my head, a warm damp cloth to wipe with asap. I’m not going to be carrying wet ones around in my shoulder bag for that sort of emergency 🙂 unless I’m with Andrew.

gotta light

cigarette rituals

a flicker in a bramble of dark

moon scattered light

embers glow

signals flare

invitations

dangling darting fire flies

flies on lips

‘it might rain’

‘yes’

‘nice all the same’

‘yes’

‘gotta light’

dank wood smell in the air

damp bark

breaking twigs

cars pass

beams catch shapes

figures

the breathless anger of the unseen

eyes blinded a moment

to refocus on

swarms of red firelips

caution under foot

under knees

catch a momentary breath

replay a familiar sequence

flicker glow of hands

cupped to protect a mutual flame

‘gotta light’

‘don’t smoke’

‘oh well’

‘over here’

‘yeah’

a branch shudders

a root stumbled over

smell of man earth

thick rich flesh in the dark

flick of lighter

eyes lit a moment

glow dance

slow turn to disappear

to be followed

or ignored

‘gotta light’

‘nah’

a moment

to get oriented

no street lights

no traffic signs

only a jam of sighs

cocks cupped

to share a mutual flicker

a market cornered for a moment

for a dash to the finish

but there is no finish

only the race to dawn

only the taste of gone

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kiss314257567_1162384753819933_3271661288579707843_oon going 🙂 when new podcast are posted:  Disability after Dark  iTunes

 

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#Washroom #Selfies

Is there a National Selfie month yet? Maybe April, because that’s the only month with an I in it 🙂 One of the many things I realized when I watched the Vivian Maier documentary was, not only wasn’t I taking enough photographs, I wasn’t taking enough selfies.

me03 I’m down there somewhere

I consider myself more a guy who takes pictures than a real photographer but the film pushed me to make some concerted changes in my approach to what I point and click at. But I get bored easily and once I have enough pictures, say, of toilets at the curb, I lose interest.

me02 don’t ask about the mirror spatter

I have lots of shots of me taken by others, mostly me on stage trying not mug for the camera or the audience. So I decided to start taking pictures of myself in various reflective surfaces. I know the traditional selfie is camera at arms length pointed at oneself but that’s not me (yet).

me01 dimly dimpled

Turns out that the mirror selfie is an almost requirement for cute (or otherwise) (maybe) queer guys. I have seen endless washroom mirror shots of guys, flexing, smiling, jacking off, etc in the mirror. From all sides, nice ass shot hot stuff. Which lead me to start doing the same – only fully clothed. I picked public washrooms that I actually use – some in parks on my morning walks, some restaurants where I dine. Some in cast off mirrors on my walks. I’ve never been comfortable having my picture taken & taking my own makes me feel more uncomfortable – something about not wanting to appear too vain and lack of positive self-image iced together.

me04 there is an i in both urinals

This exercise has helped reduce those feelings, somewhat. The next phase will be to do adopt the comparison trope – guys hold something next to their cocks to prove just how big it is – remotes, beer cans, tape measures & the like. I won’t go the cock route (yet) but will see what I can hold up to show how big my ego is in relation to some ordinary item 🙂

 

samples

The Golden Triangle

I wonder where they are

that background – what is it

why that wall paper

why those paintings

the men in the picture

naked sometimes hard

sometimes with flies open enough

to let their business out

or pants pulled down enough

to see pubic flourish

with that aching member arching

into the camera’s eye

my eye

wandering away from the pivotal point

the golden triangle not holding me

as I wonder

where did they get those curtains

where is the light coming from

how long have they squirmed on that couch

that weirdly colored rug

while someone

clicks and focuses

getting them to turn this way that

ooh that’s good

getting them to pout to smile

grimaces that only convey

how uneasy they are in front of a camera

faces that reveal nothing

not even discomfort

sometimes a splash of stoned

the goofy far away look of someone

who has once again

retreated to some other moment

while someone with a camera

zeros in on the part of them

that tells viewers nothing

that may make mouths water

but it ends there

I wonder   what next

did they go for drinks

was there money exchanged

paying their way through college

or

are they just hapless street boys

lost and being prayed upon

are they confident hustlers

aware of the power of their sweet grins

firm chins and eager eyes

is there pleasure there

more than a rote factory of okay

if you ran into one of them

on the street

sitting across from you on a bus

or serving you a coffee

what do you say

do you recognize that face

does it seem familiar

but you just can’t place it

without those curtains behind it

if you remember

then what can you say

‘I really dug your scene on BBoys’

how do they move

knowing there are men

out there who know

their photographic

pixilated

flatscreen bodies

better than they know their own flesh

viewer and viewed

strangers in a circle

a lens

that captures them both

one in a moment that never changes

each time it is viewed it is the same

no new light no new angle

can fall on the image

no matter how often

I count the petals on the rose curtains

study the business

that is never put back in its pants

I can never taste it

warbox bigger is it than my head

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