Whippoorwill

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

How about some more stories, guys? I have others to tell, but I don't want this to be the Whippoorwill column. But here's another.
When I was living in France, I was driving one Saturday morning for a few days vacation in the Loire River Valley. Leaving Paris, it was sprinkling, and as I passed under an overpass, there was a comely young hitchhiker decked out in jeans, a black leather jacket, and backpack, avoiding the rain. I have always been a sucker for picking up hitchhikers. Now I didn't want to get my hopes up, as every Frenchman, straight or gay, from age 2 to 92, has a black leather jacket. So I stopped and picked up Jean-Hubert, who had just graduated from the lycée (and thus was maybe 17 or 18) and was off to visit his Grand-Mere in Bordeaux for the summer. As we talked, we got warmer and friendlier with each other. I saw him glancing at my crotch (also undoubtedly jeans-clad), and returned the glances. At some point, we both put a hand on the other's thigh at the same instant. The groping and rubbing went on for some time as we were speeding through the French countryside. Eventually the sun came out, and we stopped at a roadside rest stop located on the edge of a cornfield. We went off into the cornfield, which was high enough to hide our waists, but not our torsos. The pants dropped to the ankles, and we blew and jacked each other off. We then went into the (empty) restroom and washed the bits. When the road to Bordeaux split to the southwest, Jean-Hubert and I said our goodbyes with some passionate kissing, and I wished him a hot and slutty summer cruising the parks and beaches and T-rooms of Bordeaux. And I had a new appreciation for cornfields. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

Let's hear it for nips. It took a teen-aged me until someone turned me on to nips that I admitted I was indeed gay. Jacking off with the other guys in Boy Scouts and Catholic boys school? Everybody does that. No homo. Eating my jizz? Just keeps the sheets clean. No homo. Sucking off Tony in 8th grade? Not that different from eating my own jizz. No homo. Letting my best buddy corn hole me? Well, none of the girls would do it in those days. Just helping a friend get off. No homo. But then having my nips played with and sucked, and getting an immediate boner. Electric currents flowing between my nips and cock. Jizz all over the place and knowing there is nothing better than having sex with another male. Yep. Me homo. 

I remember back in the early to mid '70s, when things gay were just starting to creep into polite society, there was an interview with a Levi's executive who was asked, "To what do you attribute the success of your product?" (501s). He replied something like, "We say it's because they wear so well, but we know it's really because they show such a good basket." 

I remember back in the early to mid '70s, when things gay were just starting to creep into polite society, there was an interview with a Levi's executive who was asked, "To what do you attribute the success of your product?" (501s). He replied something like, "We say it's because they wear so well, but we know it's really because they show such a good basket." 

I had my own cousin. 😉

I have a bit of a fantasy of being with Twins or maybe brothers. 
 
Anyone know of any providers that do this? 

No bidet?
C'mon maybe you caught him unprepared. 

I remember back in the early to mid '70s, when things gay were just starting to creep into polite society, there was an interview with a Levi's executive who was asked, "To what do you attribute the success of your product?" (501s). He replied something like, "We say it's because they wear so well, but we know it's really because they show such a good basket." 

How about some more stories, guys? I have others to tell, but I don't want this to be the Whippoorwill column. But here's another.
When I was living in France, I was driving one Saturday morning for a few days vacation in the Loire River Valley. Leaving Paris, it was sprinkling, and as I passed under an overpass, there was a comely young hitchhiker decked out in jeans, a black leather jacket, and backpack, avoiding the rain. I have always been a sucker for picking up hitchhikers. Now I didn't want to get my hopes up, as every Frenchman, straight or gay, from age 2 to 92, has a black leather jacket. So I stopped and picked up Jean-Hubert, who had just graduated from the lycée (and thus was maybe 17 or 18) and was off to visit his Grand-Mere in Bordeaux for the summer. As we talked, we got warmer and friendlier with each other. I saw him glancing at my crotch (also undoubtedly jeans-clad), and returned the glances. At some point, we both put a hand on the other's thigh at the same instant. The groping and rubbing went on for some time as we were speeding through the French countryside. Eventually the sun came out, and we stopped at a roadside rest stop located on the edge of a cornfield. We went off into the cornfield, which was high enough to hide our waists, but not our torsos. The pants dropped to the ankles, and we blew and jacked each other off. We then went into the (empty) restroom and washed the bits. When the road to Bordeaux split to the southwest, Jean-Hubert and I said our goodbyes with some passionate kissing, and I wished him a hot and slutty summer cruising the parks and beaches and T-rooms of Bordeaux. And I had a new appreciation for cornfields. 

I have traveled a lot, and sex has always been an important part of my life. So many stories I could tell. Here's an extra special one. One evening, in my early 40s, I was in St Peter's Square, Vatican City, and there was a cute (turned out to be French) 18ish boy hanging around. We chatted, and quickly picked each other up. He was staying in a cheap hotel, and we went back to his. We hopped in bed and immediately were going at it. Soon there was pounding on the door and the Italian grandmother hotel-keeper screaming at the top of her lungs. She had seen us come in, and was irate that there were two people in the single room. She threw us out. He grabbed his backpack and we headed to my place. Through some unusual circumstances I was staying in a convent catering to pilgrims, right on the edge of the Vatican. Through a priest friend of mine who was stationed at the Vatican, I wrangled a front door key out of the nuns who ran the place, so we were able to sneak in late at night. We soon were in my single bed, fucking like bunnies. He stayed three nights with me, fucking our eyeballs out, until he had to return to Nice. Each morning we would leave with the morning crowd of pilgrims, and never got caught, and snuck back in nights when they were all in bed. I can still see him, laying naked on the bed in the morning sun, cock at full mast, in front of a window with St Peter's just beyond.
He later came to study in the US, and for a couple of years we would call each other occasionally. Ah sweet youth. 

I have had a couple of hotel staff experiences in Paris. Once, some years ago, I was staying in a 2 star hotel (great location, unremodeled 1900 building - today it's a four-star, unfortunately) and had been out to one of those really sleazy sex clubs Paris was so famous for. I crawled back to the hotel in the wee hours, totally drained, covered in cum and who knows what else, and had to ring for the night attendant for entry. And ring, and ring, and ring. I could see through the front door to the desk, and finally a fine specimen of a young Frenchman stood up behind the counter, with no sign of any clothes. He came to the door, his shirt around his waist, and let me in. When he went back behind the counter to get my room key, his trick for the night, a hot young African immigrant stud, stood up behind the counter next to him. Had I not been totally spent by the evening's prior activities, there would have been a 3-way behind the front counter. 
On another occasion, I had decided to try a gay hotel. The proprietor was gay, but most of the clientele weren't. After I got settled in my room, the proprietor came up and asked if he could do anything for me. One thing led to another and I ended up fucking him. He said we should do it again, and that I could stay in the hotel anytime I wanted to for free. I didn't take him up on it because he had the stereotypically poor French bathing habits, including dingleberries. We didn't do it again, and I never stayed there again. Not that a gay hotel was necessary to get laid in Paris, at a time when most bars had free sex "caves" and T-rooms were common. I found hotel rooms better suited to recharging my batteries for another day's easily-had debauchery. 

I have had a couple of hotel staff experiences in Paris. Once, some years ago, I was staying in a 2 star hotel (great location, unremodeled 1900 building - today it's a four-star, unfortunately) and had been out to one of those really sleazy sex clubs Paris was so famous for. I crawled back to the hotel in the wee hours, totally drained, covered in cum and who knows what else, and had to ring for the night attendant for entry. And ring, and ring, and ring. I could see through the front door to the desk, and finally a fine specimen of a young Frenchman stood up behind the counter, with no sign of any clothes. He came to the door, his shirt around his waist, and let me in. When he went back behind the counter to get my room key, his trick for the night, a hot young African immigrant stud, stood up behind the counter next to him. Had I not been totally spent by the evening's prior activities, there would have been a 3-way behind the front counter. 
On another occasion, I had decided to try a gay hotel. The proprietor was gay, but most of the clientele weren't. After I got settled in my room, the proprietor came up and asked if he could do anything for me. One thing led to another and I ended up fucking him. He said we should do it again, and that I could stay in the hotel anytime I wanted to for free. I didn't take him up on it because he had the stereotypically poor French bathing habits, including dingleberries. We didn't do it again, and I never stayed there again. Not that a gay hotel was necessary to get laid in Paris, at a time when most bars had free sex "caves" and T-rooms were common. I found hotel rooms better suited to recharging my batteries for another day's easily-had debauchery. 

I have traveled a lot, and sex has always been an important part of my life. So many stories I could tell. Here's an extra special one. One evening, in my early 40s, I was in St Peter's Square, Vatican City, and there was a cute (turned out to be French) 18ish boy hanging around. We chatted, and quickly picked each other up. He was staying in a cheap hotel, and we went back to his. We hopped in bed and immediately were going at it. Soon there was pounding on the door and the Italian grandmother hotel-keeper screaming at the top of her lungs. She had seen us come in, and was irate that there were two people in the single room. She threw us out. He grabbed his backpack and we headed to my place. Through some unusual circumstances I was staying in a convent catering to pilgrims, right on the edge of the Vatican. Through a priest friend of mine who was stationed at the Vatican, I wrangled a front door key out of the nuns who ran the place, so we were able to sneak in late at night. We soon were in my single bed, fucking like bunnies. He stayed three nights with me, fucking our eyeballs out, until he had to return to Nice. Each morning we would leave with the morning crowd of pilgrims, and never got caught, and snuck back in nights when they were all in bed. I can still see him, laying naked on the bed in the morning sun, cock at full mast, in front of a window with St Peter's just beyond.
He later came to study in the US, and for a couple of years we would call each other occasionally. Ah sweet youth. 

I have traveled a lot, and sex has always been an important part of my life. So many stories I could tell. Here's an extra special one. One evening, in my early 40s, I was in St Peter's Square, Vatican City, and there was a cute (turned out to be French) 18ish boy hanging around. We chatted, and quickly picked each other up. He was staying in a cheap hotel, and we went back to his. We hopped in bed and immediately were going at it. Soon there was pounding on the door and the Italian grandmother hotel-keeper screaming at the top of her lungs. She had seen us come in, and was irate that there were two people in the single room. She threw us out. He grabbed his backpack and we headed to my place. Through some unusual circumstances I was staying in a convent catering to pilgrims, right on the edge of the Vatican. Through a priest friend of mine who was stationed at the Vatican, I wrangled a front door key out of the nuns who ran the place, so we were able to sneak in late at night. We soon were in my single bed, fucking like bunnies. He stayed three nights with me, fucking our eyeballs out, until he had to return to Nice. Each morning we would leave with the morning crowd of pilgrims, and never got caught, and snuck back in nights when they were all in bed. I can still see him, laying naked on the bed in the morning sun, cock at full mast, in front of a window with St Peter's just beyond.
He later came to study in the US, and for a couple of years we would call each other occasionally. Ah sweet youth. 

In the mid-'80s, I was an aficionado of one of the jack off clubs that were popular in San Francisco at the time, intended to provide safe sex opportunities in the early days of AIDs. In 1984, Drummer magazine did a 7-page photo spread on the club, entitled "The Joys of Self-Abuse." I thoroughly enjoyed showing off my well-lubed meat for the cameras. However, unlike Lycrathong I have never been in great shape, so this was a once-off. If my bod had been better, it would have been a different story. 

In the mid-'80s, I was an aficionado of one of the jack off clubs that were popular in San Francisco at the time, intended to provide safe sex opportunities in the early days of AIDs. In 1984, Drummer magazine did a 7-page photo spread on the club, entitled "The Joys of Self-Abuse." I thoroughly enjoyed showing off my well-lubed meat for the cameras. However, unlike Lycrathong I have never been in great shape, so this was a once-off. If my bod had been better, it would have been a different story. 

My story is when I learned that solo travel is the best time to really explore sexually! I was in St. Louis for a job interview just after graduate school and I was horny in my hotel room. It was back when there were those phone lines used for hooking up. So I decided to set up a group scene!
 
I managed to bring together 6 guys in my room that evening and had a hot orgy. My first ever group experience. While the guys were all pretty hot, there was one guy that I really connected with. He was shorter than me with a fantastic muscular body. A former college cheerleader. As the group was leaving, it was obvious that he and I wanted more. He stayed the night and we fucked all night long. Beautiful guy, hot sex and an amazing experience. Only problem was that I was exhausted the next morning when I had to drive six hours back to my home. But it was definitely worth it!
 
Now I always look for hot experiences any time I travel alone!

I was over 50 years old and walking in Manhattan. A handsome guy in his 20s was walking near me and kept looking at me before he approached and started a conversation. After a couple minutes, he asks if I am staying at a hotel. I told him we were right near my lodging when he asked if he could use my rest room. I thought about it and decided to take the risk and told him sure. When he was done peeing, we made good use of the room. Then he was gone and I continued my day with a big smile. Who ever knew that you could get lucky just walking down the street?