This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
ASK.
No—
You see—
the ability to see that there’s a privilege below high-speed internet at home, and by that I mean internet access anywhere, is a privilege in and of itself. and you don’t seem to posses it.
lacking Gawker-level exposure is not lacking a voice. It’s lack of volume.
I’m much happier to say the things I believe and have nobody hear them than say the popular thing and have everyone grumble in weak assertion.
It’s easy to think that all bareback models “are full of AIDS and crap like that,” says Brandon Beal, but your concerns are unwarranted because all the girls he sleeps with “are either virgins or don’t sleep around a lot.” It’s good to know these boys are taking the necessary precautions to stay safe even when they’re not on set—Johnny Forza says he favors the “pulling out” method, and everyone seems to agree.
—via Fleshbot
This is the most depressing thing I’ve seen in a very long time.
From the self-proclaimed “Biggest” porn studio in the world, purveyors of such gimmicks as guys getting slapped on the ass with real dead fish and ass fucking in a swimming pool, aka chlorine enemas.
After recently making the switch to bareback sex, complete with internal cum shots, the site will soon be entering into production of a mainstream, Big Brother-style reality-competition series in partnership with Out TV Canada. The grand prize? 25,000 dollars.
Given that’s all they can rustle up as the prize for a fucking reality show, I don’t imagine they pay their models very well, either, which becomes an especially evident idea when you consider that their regular performers are, after all, Broke.
SLEEP_straight_FRIEND_COCK_JAPAN.WMV
You need to shut the fuck up.
He is, without a doubt, the tv character I can most closely identify with. I only wish he’d come along sooner. But would his experiences with rough trade, pussy-ass Asian bottoms, and generous daddies have been more poignant had they been a threshold to experience, rather than obscure reflections in a golden eye?
That is, ultimately, a question without an answer, though I am grateful nonetheless for the chance to ask that question, for queer characters which reflect the general reality of queer adolescent existence.
All I know is had I been born more passable I’d be in the army today.
Let’s pretend that it happened as an act of anarchy, that it wasn’t love, that the twitch of my bowels, the crowning of a fine, clay-hard conic, glistening turd from the sepulcher of my bowels—the wretch reaching like Christ-risen for the light, straining delicately against the elasticity of porcelain-white briefs—was a mere reaction to stimuli, that it was never love,
The whippet cackled, leaped, dug its claws into my bare shoulders and nipped at my neck. Licked my cheek. Breathed heady, meat-tinted breath. You fingered your dick and ripped him from me by his collar, dragged him yelping to the laundry room and barred him with a baby gate.
Then we sipped Ukranian home-brewed vodka—I mostly remember this. Like rainwater. Like rainwater and how thick your dick was. The whippet and your work with Amtrak. The promise of discount train tickets. But mostly the vodka, the woman who made it, your dead mother, the Jamaican nurse who spoiled the dog.
Days later, I was walking down South St., home from work with Robert, you call me to tell me I should wash my face with cold water.
Dear God,
Is it wrong that I feel bitter when men say snarky things to me and I then try to reply kindly to them but I can’t because they’ve blocked me?
He said, “Do you suck dick or bottom?”
I said, “Fuck off,” because really God, I know that’s not kind, but he has four pics of his dick and none of his face and he’s in the closet and “anything goes”.
And then he says, “rather bb fuck your tight cunt bitch,” and really, I know it’s not that tight, and he sounds rapish, but I wanted to say, “I’m sure you would. Best of luck,” which is kind, isn’t it, but the server says, “You’ve Been Blocked.”
God, is it right to feel bitter, to feel wronged?
Would you eat cookies baked by someone with AIDS?
This is all so fucking depressing. Should I sew all the men I had sex with at sixteen? Cause, like, it was against the law, so I was a victim, right?
VICTIM OF FANTASTIC ORGASMS!!!
But seriously, if you’re fisting Elmo, you probably shouldn’t be fucking anyone outside of your decade, let alone teenagers.
Fuck age of consent laws, but I’ve lived long enough to know that what the dick wants is not always the best course of action. Anyway, the dick forgets what it wants (at least momentarily) when the hard-on goes away.
In side news, I wish i lived in L.A., was born and raised in L.A., so I could have ingratiated myself with the porn community cause I got a hankering to kick Michael Lukas in the balls tonight. I don’t know why.
gay wolverine!!!
Oh, Judd.
I’d
respect you more if you told me explicitly that the reason you think less of me is because I was raised by a single mother in a low-income neighborhood.
At least then it would be easy to stop loving you.