flickr photo of the day: Thug’s hot happy trail
Photog*Phillip’s photostream is full of great snaps and portraits of the street scene in Miami. An invaluable documentation, and some hot thuggy, natural men.
This Is When The Officer Came and Questioned Us on Flickr – Photo Sharing!
We were taking photos in a hidden away corner of the Rock Garden inside the park. Some people sell and do drugs in this area and a woman was raped here a few months back. An officer came and asked us if we were “Discussing our leases”. I can only assume he thought all of us were homeless and he was being sarcastic. Once he saw I had a camera and that we had photos from the last shoot he left without so much as a comment. He never even told me if he liked the photos.
For more Straight [Naked] Thugs, go here.
flickr photo of the day: The hot pits of a hot chubby cub
The last several days I’ve been getting it from all sides about my weight. Normally, I don’t think about it too much, but some station queen recently said, “Look, how fat he is!” Never mind that someone at the station also commented that I’d lost weight and someone I’ve fucked at Rudolfa told me just last night that I was “looking fit.” It’s all about perception, and good manners, or the lack thereof.
So fuck all that. I’m often attracted to fat guys and chubs. I think it must come from having watched wrestling on TV as a kid, but a muscular guy with a big belly gets me instantly hard. Up til now I’ve spared y’all these particular proclivities, because I know how severely judgmental punters are in this scene (being overweight is treated more like a moral failing than as natural diversity) but no more. I’d apologize but I really think it’s time gay men got over their body fascism, which is often a masquerade for their own self-hatred.
Bring on the chubby guys!
Today’s XTube: Latino bruiser flexes
A real bruiser with a just little bit of tummy and slabs of muscle, not a bit overdone. Nice pits, too and apparently a great attitude.
Click here in case the player doesn’t show up or for a bigger version.
Bellies, little and big
Anyone who’s walked around the station with me knows that the type of boy or man I go for varies quite a bit. Butch is really the only constant, although I’ve been known to be attracted to [gypsy] boys who are a little bit queeny, especially ones who wanted me to fuck them.
[Like that preppy gypsy student from Pinocchio two years ago who woke me up in the middle of the night, raping me with his butthole, dry, up and down my dick.]
Butch, people understand. Chubby or boys with bellies, many don’t get. I even had a friend go so far as to say he didn’t believe that I actually liked beer bellies, that it was some sort of pose. What faggoty arrogance. I assured him that, yes, I do in fact, love beer bellies on youngish guys, but also on burly muscle bears. I also assured him that the last three boyfriends I’d had in Chicago all liked my belly, especially the 16-year old Mexican boy who liked to slurp beer out of my navel.
It’s taken me awhile to be semi-comfortable with it myself. A few months before I left Chicago I’d been shopping for clothes with the skinniest friend I had. All his life he’d taken shit for being too skinny (you’re hit coming and going in America if you’re a fag), too bony but I always thought he looked good, even though I wasn’t attracted to him. I was trying on a somewhat tight t-shirt in the Belmont Army Surplus. I came out and asked James what he thought, did I look too fat in it? (Shit, what a gay thing to ask.) He cocked his head, looked at me sternly and said, “You’re a man, aren’t you?”
And that’s it for me; that’s what butch essentially is: It’s just not giving a shit, not being self-conscious or overly concerned with your appearance. [Um, did I just claim to be butch?] Which is why some polished muscleboy or a rent boy dressed head to toe in Kenvelo and who spends more time in front of the mirror than his girlfriend is not butch to me, no matter how “masculine” he thinks he is, or how cute. Butch is old-fashioned, I know, but it’s what I like.
Fuck, Milan was butch; and boy, did he have a belly, not a trace of a six-pack, though it didn’t show much under his roomy t-shirt. A nice oblong, lightly hairy mound placed perfectly over his normal-sized waist and under his squared-off and defined chest. The first time we did biznis he was lying down on the bed — Clint had loaned us his bedroom for sex — and I was sucking him, one hand under his balls, rubbing his belly with the other hand while trading off to jack myself.
I started out sucking him with my eyes closed but then when I looked at him, into his eyes and over that belly, I almost came.
“Don’t go so fast! I don’t want to come now!” he said, in perfect English, when I took my mouth off to kiss his tummy. But I had a harder time trying to control myself. And wow, when I made him stand up so I could look up at him and his belly, I lost it. I lost it as he was fucking my face and his stomach partially smothered my nose.
Earlier in the week, Milan and I had woke up together in the squat where we were sleeping. No one else was in the room. He propped himself up against the wall to smoke his breakfast cigarette. I was lying next to him, looking at a glimpse of hair and the little fat-roll pooched over the waistband of his jeans. His belly button was squashed, shut like a black eye. I started rubbing his tummy, running my fingers under his shirt and a little bit under his underwear.
I said, “I love your belly.”
He grinned that incredibly cocky, incredibly sexy smile of his, his eyes absolutely black, wet, smiling too.
He reached down into his briefs, pulled up his hard cock, and showed it to me.
“This belly make me horny,” he said.
I couldn’t have said it better.
[This post was originally supposed to introduce Charlie, another rent boy with a little belly, but I got into writing about Milan instead. Oh well. We had a good time together at Rudolfa where we drank 8 beers each, then at Valentino where we drank 5 more, 3 of which he bought for both of us. He drank too much and fucked some fat girl in the toilets. He was a pretty good kisser but we didn't have sex. Here's a pic, complete with a little belly just barely visible underneath his shirt. Not really a belly, more like a pooch but still cute.]
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