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Up to now, I've been pretty intense in my writings, and I have revealed some heavy-duty parts of my past. There will be more of those, but my path has included a lot of fun, too: Light. Frisky. Playful and Childlike.
Sure, I have prevailed over challenges, but I have also been loved by many, and I've had some amazingly fine experiences. Every story that I relate is true, and every joke is mine, but you are welcome to use them as well...
Pedigree Dog Food
I was in the audience at the Mr. San Diego Leather 1984 contest. My buddy Mark Holmes won the title that year. A heterosexual kinky man who I knew and loved walked up to me, with his two slave-girls. We embraced and he kissed me right on the lips, as he usually did. He was a very early straight ally. Back then, he was the only one that I knew. Now, there are hundreds of them in my life.
I said "I've been meaning to ask for your advice." He said "Sure! What's up?"
I asked "What dog food do you recommend?" He said "WHAT?!??"
I repeated my question, and he asked "Why are you asking me that?"
I said "I'm thinking of changing my brand. Pedigree claims that they are 'Recommended by Top Breeders'. Since you are the only breeder who I know who is a Top, I thought that I'd ask YOU!"
Years later, he told me that he had re-told that story at least 500 times.
Pogey-Bait
In the Navy, the phrase "Pogey-Bait" was used to describe some item (such as a snazzy car) that could be used to attract sexual playmates.
Well, I can personally attest to the fact that a 1969 Triumph TR-6 sports car in FLAMING RED!!! could not have been improved in any way for picking up attractive military men wandering through Balboa Park on a pretty San Diego day.
That is, if you could keep it running. 1960's British sports cars had to have been the least dependable cars ever made. During the time that I had it, I spent dozens of hours just cleaning electrical connections (made by Lucas Electronics) with fine sandpaper. For this reason, Joseph Lucas was known as the Prince of Darkness, because the headlights, dashboard lights and taillights would go dark at random.
However, if everything was running fine, then there was a fool-proof way to get laid, any time that I wanted:
I'd drive slowly through the park, revving the engine whenever I'd see a hot military man by the side of the road. He'd turn, see the "MR FISTR" license plate, and yell out "Hey! Mister Fister! Nice car!"
I'd pull up alongside, and say "Ya want a ride?" Turns out, he always DID want a ride. We'd start a nice slow tour around the Fruit Loop and beyond, and end up at my apartment building nearby. Then, I'd fuck him.
One day, I got a surprise:
A very handsome Marine accepted a ride, and eagerly joined me in my bedroom. We both got naked, and then he said "Wait!" He pulled a pair of his wife's panties out of his pocket and slipped them on. Then, he laid on his back, and threw his legs up.
I maneuvered around so that we could consummate, but as soon as I was balls-deep, he started hollering "Make me your BITCH, Sir! MAKE ME YOUR BITCH!" Over and over. I couldn't get him to shut UP, until I shoved a dirty jock in this mouth.
Well, the thing was, it was a hot summer Saturday afternoon, and all of the windows in my ancient apartment complex were wide open. For months afterward, I'd go wash clothes in the apartment building's laundry room, and some neighbor would sidle up to me and say "SO… Did you ever make him your BITCH?"
One More TR-6 Story
I was going to college, and would drive the completely undependable little sports car back and forth each school day. One day, we had unusual weather for San Diego. I got into my car, and as soon as I hit the freeway, HUGE amounts of rain started coming down. The car gasped and sputtered to a stop by the side of the freeway.
The gas gauge was lying. It told me that I had at least a third of a tank left. but in fact, the car was completely dry. So, I got out, climbed a chainlink fence and jogged a mile and a half to a pay-phone. This was what people did, when cellphones did not yet exist.
I called my boyfriend David, and asked him to bring me a can of gasoline. I went back and got inside my car. After about an hour and a half, he showed up. I stayed inside the convertible and let him pour the gas. He hated being in the gushing, cold rain, and was grumbling continuously.
I had a bratty impulse: I rolled down the window and said "As long as you're out there, would you mind checking the oil?"
A Tenor's Tale
My sister painted this portrait of me, right around the same time.
A quarter of a century ago, Country-Western themed gay bars were super-hot. Popular like crazy. I had five cowboy hats, and at least as many pairs of cowboy boots. We'd go out dancing at least twice a week.
These are my favorite cowboy boots. If the police and
their dogs are chasing me, I can go straight up a chain-link
fence without even slowing down! 😄
I loved to go two-stepping, down at Kickers, which was one of our local Country dance bars. When I was young, I had an incredible vocal range. I could sing baritone on the low end, and could sing so high (without going into falsetto mode) that I could reach notes almost as high as a Countertenor.
So, here I am, all duded-up in tight jeans, boots, tight t-shirt and a nice Stetson hat. I'm waltzing and singing along to Lorrie Morgan's song "Something In Red." while holding a buddy of mine from the Gay Men's Chorus in my arms. I was matching Lorrie note for note, belting it out, and my friend was astonished.
He said "Wow! You really can sing high - You must be a tenor!"
I said "Yes! Yes, I am."
"Wellll… I'm actually more of a 'nine-and-a-halfer,' but then, EVERYBODY exaggerates!"
How I Got My Tattoo
Decades ago, tattoos were not popular. Maybe a grizzled veteran from World War Two got a few tattoos when he was in the war, and they had blurred into black blobs by the time that he hit middle age.
Then, tattoos became trendy. Everybody was getting them. I resisted as long as I could, but when I made it all of the way through Mid-Life Crisis, I finally designed one for my shoulder, signifying "Love Around The Clock." Of course, I never TELL people that.
If somebody asks me what my tattoo means, I say "I have no idea - It came with the body when I took it over. It's so nice to be male again!"
Cocker Spaniels
Back when I had two big black male mixed-breed dogs named Reggie and Stevie, I would take them to the dog park. This was always a big deal for them.
This pic was taken on the same day as the story.
That's Stevie chasing Reggie, and Reggie ignoring Stevie.
One day, I had brought the boys through the gate, and they started running along the perimeter fence; sniffing, peeing, pooping and being happy dogs.
Suddenly, two Cocker Spaniels ran up to Reggie, one on each side, and started licking his dick. Lick-lick-lick. You would have thought that there was ice cream coming out of his penis, the way that they were going at it.
Suddenly, the owner of the two dogs came running up to me. He looked embarrassed. I said "You know, I never realized until now why they are called "Cocker Spaniels."
He was not amused, but I was!
San Juan Capistrano
I used to have a gym-buddy named George. George blushed. A LOT. Once I figured that out, I loved to use every trick in the book to get him to giggle and blush.
He didn't seem to mind at all, because I was a kind man, and silly, too. I just loved seeing him crinkle up his handsome face, and it would turn beet-red.
One day, he came up to me to share some great news: "Tony, I've got a new boyfriend! We are going to spend the weekend in San Juan Capistrano!"
"Well, then, don't forget to SWALLOW, George!"
<<<blush>>>
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