What We Want in a Man (Body Wise, At Least)

20 Aug

What We Want in a Man (Body Wise, At Least)

For info on my gay erotic fiction, visit rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop or gay-erotic-fiction.com for a mobile-friendly format.

And it’s not what you think, if you believe the results of an admittedly highly unscientific poll taken by one of the web hook-up sites, which asked, “what part of a man are you most attracted to?”

Hey, we’re homos because we like dick, right? So it’s no surprise this crazy “size matters” sub-culture places almost religious significance on the male penis. Because of this, we wear cock rings, get pierced, buy fifty dollar underwear or bikinis or tight, tight jeans all to show off – or shall we say – enhance our crotch. Just so Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now finds us worthy.

But, sorry to disappoint you, guys, only a third of the guys who responded said it was a guy’s package that wowed them the most.

Then there’s a faction of us who view the gym as our house of worship or Nazi den of torture, depending on our mood. We work those abs to exhaustion to emulate those retouched washboard models that adorn the covers of Men’s Fitness; work those biceps and chest muscles and shoulder muscles and legs and gluts, all to look terrif on the beach or shirtless at our favorite guy bar. Some of us even go a step beyond, spending hundreds if not thousands of dollars on testosterone therapy, steroids (legal and otherwise), and muscle supplements to max our efforts with those resistance machines and free weights. But, according to our poll, abs and arms each got a piddley 10% of the vote. Chests did a bit better at 30%, asses, yes, asses that supposedly women so adore in their men, less so at 20%.

Now, I’m a basic butch guy when it comes to dressing up. A twenty year old Tee and $20 pair of levis I got on sale at Kmart suit me fine. But I know there’s that group of us who go broke running up our Visa cards on clothes, those $50 polos and $250 jeans, all of which end up on the bedroom floor. Then there are those fancy haircuts we agonize over. (I give myself a buzz for the price of the electricity.) But only 2% of our respondents gave a shit what a guy wears and 4% how he was coiffed.

I know. At this point you’re asking: O.K., so what the fuck’s left? Well, an overwhelming 60% of the guys who answered said it was a guy’s face that got their dicks stirring.

So what should we learn from this?

Goodbye L.A. Fitness, fuck you Gold’s Gym, see ya International Male, and hello Cosmetic Surgery Center of South Florida!

So Just How Many Of Us Are There?

18 Aug

So Just How Many of Us Are There?

For info on my gay erotic fiction, visit rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop or gay-erotic-fiction.com for a mobile-friendly format.

First there was Kinsey who said we made up ten percent of the population. More recently, a scientifically compiled sex survey by Indiana University concluded 15% of the American population, ages 14 to 94, identified themselves as homosexual or bisexual. Then came a Gallup poll about the same time that concluded our numbers were much lower, on average just 3.4% nationally.

Now, in what it touted as the first large-scale government survey measuring sexual orientation, the Centers for Disease Control says that only 1.6 percent of adults self-identify as gay or lesbian, 0.7 percent as bisexual, and an overwhelming 96.6 percent as straight.

So who’s got it right? Studies like the CDC’s that are “statistically significant” may still not tell the whole story since the bulk of America’s gay population lives in urban areas and such a study, by design, would need to be skewed to recognize this reality. Besides the obvious, that the cities are where the money and the jobs are, gays feel a sense of security in numbers.

Secondly, how many people when asked about their sexual orientation tell the truth? Even in our enlightened times, it’s more likely a homosexual might answer heterosexual or bi rather than the other way around since, like it or not, stigmas and discrimination are still rampant in many areas of this county, particularly the boonies. Some people are paranoid even when a survey is labeled “anonymous.”

And how do you define bisexual? By the number of sexual encounters the individual has with the same sex versus the opposite sex? Or how he or she is hardwired?

Gay is not an absolute, but shades of gray, and like sexuality itself, is as open to interpretation as color swatches at Home Depot. You’ve got guys, regular guys, beefy guys, who rap one another on the ass after a sweaty football game, homoerotic as hell, then go home and fuck their wives or girlfriends silly, maybe because they got turned on on the field? Then there’s the same guy type, maybe he’s a coach or a truck driver, with a male life partner or some fuck buddy who mirrors his under-spoken masculinity, and they very discreetly, or maybe not so discreetly, fuck the shit out of one another every chance they get. You’ve got openly effeminate men, many in the professions, who are as straight as a flagpole with seven kids to prove it and not a homo urge in their loins, and cross-dressers who have ten inch dongs and fuck bi-married men.

The CDC also concluded that gays tend to have more problems with smoking and drinking (what else is there to do while you’re waiting for Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now?) and also suffer from a greater degree of depression than straights. This last point is in direct conflict with a study published in the professional journal, “Psychosomatic Medicine,” which said homosexuals, in general, may suffer from less depression, anxiety and burn-out than heteros. That includes even gays still in the closet to family, friends and business associates where you would expect anxiety to be higher. The study involved both psych evals and measuring levels of the stress hormone, cortisol.

But let’s say the CDC is right with its numbers and we sexual “outliers” constitute less than 3% of the population. That still means we are equal to the largest current minority demographic in America, Latinos. And we’re unique in that we cross all race and ethnic lines.

And for the icing on the cake, there’s our discretionary incomes. Like all demographic groups, there are gays who have no money by wanton lifestyles or bad luck. But with the billions in gay tourist dollars generated in South Florida, just one sliver of the country, or the hundreds of millions of dollars benefiting businesses in states where marriage is legal, what we may lack in numbers we sure as hell make up in dollars.

And after all, isn’t that what this fucked up capitalistic society of ours is all about?

Foreplay in the Extreme

15 Aug

Foreplay In The Extreme

Recently on my Facebook page I posed the question, “Like a lot of foreplay with your man or do you just do it?” Not surprisingly, the overwhelming majority of guys voted for edging the hell out of one another first.

Now there is foreplay, your garden variety of sucking, licking, kissing, body rubbing, pits, tits, rimming – you get the picture – as you work one another up to the Main Event. Then there is Foreplay in the Extreme when Lady M rules and foreplay IS the Main Event since your dicks, though they may feel just won-der-ful, are about as stiff as boiled spaghetti. (Unless you get a shot of Trimix in your cock which gives you the perpetual erection of a 13 year old, but that’s for another blog.)

I’m not here to extoll the virtues of meth because there are none, but I can’t deny that as a curious writer of erotic gay fiction willing to explore almost anything for my art I was bedazzled by the impact it has on one sexual psyche and how it can bring foreplay to a whole new level. It transforms your body into one phallic wonderland.

Like the time, under the influence, I had the wildest threesome I ever had in my checkered gay career with two super specimens of Fort Lauderdale manhood where we devoured one another’s bodies while chatting away about that week’s sales at Targets in smack speed talk. Two of us even attempted to stick our putty pricks in the third’s butt at the same time and might have succeeded if we were stiff, not smacked.

Or the time, Eduardo, a tall, trim, hairy Cuban architect with a fat uncut dick that was eight inches soft and stayed that way let me nibble on his droopy foreskin for hours; or Hugo, with the buzzed body of a gymnast, just lay there with his muscular thighs spread apart while he urged me on to bang his bounded up bull balls with a rubber mallet till my wrists gave out.

Of course, afterwards, when he’s gone home to his goldfish, and you can’t sleep, you end up stroking your limp dick all night as you pull up every snippet of favorite porn and enter a kind of perpetual foreplay séance, determined to cum when you know that ain’t gonna happen.

My absolutely most devastating example of foreplay in the extreme was my humpy, hairy buddy, Mitch, NYU educated, Steve Jobs smart, and a total meth head. He’d play with his beer can dick for weeks on his extended highs till it all caught up with him, and he fell asleep at the wheel driving back from Key West and drowned. He was 43.

Yep, there is foreplay and then there is foreplay in the s-l-o-w lane. Having tried both, I’ll vote for the garden variety any day.

HIV Rate Down For Everybody – Except Us

13 Aug

HIV Rate Down For Everybody – Except Us

For info on my gay erotic fiction, visit rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop or gay-erotic-fiction.com for a mobile-friendly format.

According to the latest from the Centers for Disease Control, the HIV rate in the U.S. fell by one third each year in the past ten. Experts hypothesize that maybe the disease has essentially burned itself out much. That’s what happened with the Plague of the Middle Ages after it wiped out a sizable portion of Europe’s population, or the Spanish Flu of 1918 that killed more people than those who died in all of World War I.

Rate drops were seen in almost every demographic group – men, women, whites, blacks, Hispanics, heterosexuals, even injection drug users.

Every group except for gay and bisexual men where it remains on the increase.
So what gives? After all the propaganda fostered in the gay community about safe sex for decades, what is it?

Are we stupid?




Or just hopelessly horny?

To begin with, as I‘ve said before, the pharms should be running ads not of happy twentysomethings on the pill, but of decaying fiftysomethings who’ve been on the meds since they hit the deck in the mid-late nineties, but who can’t escape the almost inevitable effects of the disease – haggard looks, early dementia, loss of muscle tone unless they OD on steroids and Human Growth Hormone, deteriorating joints, shot livers, etc., etc., etc.

But we know that won’t happen. The gay media which benefits from all the pharm advertising does a lot a pontificating but won’t dare kill the golden goose by demanding more relevant ads.

The state health departments aren’t much better, pushing testing and condoms when they should be policing the bath houses and sex clubs for unsafe sex, or as San Francisco did at the height of the AIDS epidemic, just close them down. Ditto with bareback sites and any mention of BB’ing in hook-up profiles. (You can’t say “shit” in your profile but “BB only” is just fine.)

No, we can’t rely on outside forces. This change has to start with each and every one of us and with it, a sense of personal responsibility.

But after over thirty years since we knew a bad bottle of poppers wasn’t the culprit, will that ever happen?

I Was Never a Celebrity Fanatic …

12 Aug

I Was Never a Celebrity Fanatic …

… many of the people we idolize in show biz, as talented as they are, just got lucky (how many Barbara Streisands are out there that weren’t in the right place at the right time), and even the Pope has to visit that little room every morning.

But what strikes me most about Robin Williams, one of those truly one-of-a-kind talents, hanging himself is how apparently all the success in the world – he enjoyed ten times the success most people would only dream of – means nothing if you’re not happy in your own skin no matter how you try to change things. Look at literary giant Ernest Hemingway who shot himself, or pop culture’s queen Marilyn Monroe who was a psychiatric basket case, to pick just two names out of the hat.

Ironically it’s often this failing that makes the most creative among us, well, iconic.

If I Could Choose, Str8 or Gay, What Would It Be?

11 Aug

If I Could Choose, Str8 or Gay, What Would It Be?

For more info about my erotic gay fiction, visit rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop, or gay-erotic-fiction.com on your tablet or smartphone.


I don’t think any post on my Facebook page pulled as many thought provoking responses as my video blog that posed the question: “If you could choose gay or str8, knowing what you know today about gay life, what would you choose?”

While most of you were firm about choosing gay, there were those who pointed out that in a world dominated by str8’s, being hetero is just easier and poses far less obstacles personally and professionally, and there were some who regretted not having children which just a few decades ago would be unheard of if you led a gay lifestyle.

When I was young growing up in the age before dinosaurs, I fell for the Freudian crap about dominating mothers and submissive fathers as the causative agent for getting hard-ons for men, and though my parents largely fit that mold, I realized, as I grew older and the research validated my own opinion, being gay is a genetic roll of the dice. Sure, family dynamics, peer ties, religious upbringings, even where and when you grew up can re-enforce or suppress sexual orientation – that’s why you got some str8 married guys with three kids looking for gay guys on the down low to fuck ‘em – but the elemental foundation for what we like sexually and emotionally is in our DNA.

So be it.

But how you would answer a question as I posed is, to some degree, generational. Even after Gay Liberation hit the deck forty years ago, if you knew in your heart and soul you liked men, not women, and, very important, did not want to deny yourself that part of your identity, you often had to choose, as Robert Frost put it, “the road not taken,” which, not always, but often meant compartmentalizing your life, often closeted at work and/or with family or str8 friends, cultivating a tight secret network of fellow brothers, sometimes leading a double life with a wife and kids, or blowing the hinges off the closet door and waiting for the shit to hit the fan. Which it usually did.

But an urban Millennial gay guy or one growing up in the upscale burbs, a twenty or thirtysomething, would probably respond, “Hey, what’s the problem, bro?” where today’s veneer of acceptance makes everything seem cool. Hell, there’s even members of the Pan Sexual Generation who have gay friends and str8 friends and gay lovers and str8 lovers and have no hang-ups or feel compelled to choose one side of the fence or the other.

All that aside, we can’t be that dumb not to realize discrimination and actual hatred against gays still, and will probably continue to exist everywhere (isn’t that always the way when somebody’s different? – or better put, threatening?). It’s particularly pronounced in working class Small Town, America, where the gay star high school quarterback even today ends up marrying his naïve or “I’ll change him” high school sweetheart, and the class “fairy” is bullied and tortured til he can get out of town and live in some urban gay ghetto.

(As I’ve said before, I think our growing acceptance is based not just on our numbers and perhaps changing social views, but on our discretionary spending – “liking” us just makes good business sense, from two guys buying a house together to having – fuck! – a wedding reception – cha-ching, cha-ching!)

Unlike many gay guys of my Baby Boom generation, I was never pressured by parents or ethnicity to marry when I was young, and I pretty much led a quiet, uneventful life as a solo gay guy and later a partnered one. In fact, neither my folks nor his folks when both were still alive ever questioned what was going on between us, and to this day, I am not just accepted but genuinely liked by G’s adult niece and nephew as he is by my sister and her hubby. We also realize not everyone in our shoes has been that lucky.

Yet yes, there were times I wish I had had kids, feeling like an outsider when I saw those who did, and yes, there were times in my closeted career, successful as it was, that I wondered if some gay glass ceiling where a spouse counted as much as brains stopped me from going further, or how I felt awkward when I went to job-related social functions stag, surrounded by stodgy str8 couples (a few of whom I knew were fuckin’ around on the side). As much as loved loving men, I questioned at times whether I should have settled for porn and followed the str8 script (marry by 25, 2.3 kids by 30).

I’ll never forget how a confidant at work, Charlie, brilliant but openly gay, was passed over for the Corporate Operating Officer’s position in our Catholic healthcare system solely because the Archbishop publicly said he didn’t want a “queer” running their hospital. Five years later, under “good old boy” str8 leadership, we were bankrupt.

And certainly, many if not most gay guys, by happenstance or choice, end up alone in old age, without the benefit
of a partner, spouse – or kids.

Okay, but now let’s take the “Leave it to Beaver/Father Knows Best” glasses off, shall we?

Sixty percent of American marriages end in divorce, and there are plenty of str8’s who “did the right thing” who are still left alone, widowed or divorced, and whose grown kids live on the other side of the country and are just waiting for the will to be read. Sure it’s great to have adult children to rely on later in life, and there are many who have been blessed with that plus. But there are also str8’s whose offspring were nothing but nightmares, either walking medical dictionaries or unrehabitable losers. Or worse.

And there are also a lot of gay men, not just of my generation, who cave into family or peer pressures, or think they can just “work things out,’ marry, then find themselves supremely frustrated and miserable. If they ultimately choose divorce as an out, the kids they thought would be understanding ostracize them and the wronged wives take them to the cleaners.

Sure, there’s a lot wrong with the stereotypical gay lifestyle that some of us lead by default or choice: its overemphasis on sex and physicality and superficiality. But hell, aren’t str8’s just as guilty?

And if you divorce the glitz from the real, isn’t all we want is to feel comfortable in our own skin with someone who feels comfortable with us? And if that’s a guy, however you define your guy, and not a gal, life is too short not to seek that.

Given all those pluses and minuses about gay and str8 life, let’s return to my question.

If I were thirteen again and knowing everything I know about gay – and str8 – life that I do today, and I walked into that voting booth to choose my sexual orientation, what would I choose?

Str8, of course, simply because it’s the path of least resistance. It’s got a script. Gay life is free fall.

But just then, as my finger was on the voting leaver, and I felt a tinge adventurous, well…

I might even write-in “bi.”

After all, why not have your cake AND eat it too?

Not a Slam Dunk Yet

8 Aug

Not a Slam Dunk Yet

For more info on my gay fiction, check out rpandrewsgayfiction.com on your laptop or gay-erotic-fiction.com on your mobile device.

july23dMost of us thought – me included – that it would only be a matter of time before same sex marriage would be the law of the land. Either we would win test case after test case, state by state, on the constitutional grounds declared by the Supreme Court, challenges that could take years. Or the Supreme Court next year would finally say: “That’s the way it is – just do it!”

Ah, but a three judge federal panel in Cincinnati dominated by Republicans has taken up cases challenging aspects of same-sex marriage restrictions in Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, and Tennessee based on rulings favoring us made by judges. And right now the message out of Cincinnati when it comes to legalizing gay marriage in those states is: Not so fast.

Why? Well, the panel is wondering whether courts, as they have largely up to now, shouldn’t be the decision makers; maybe that decision should either be made by the voters (as it has – not in our favor – in places like Ohio and Florida) or their duly elected representatives in their respective state legislatures.

If the panel decides in that direction, it’s going to be much tougher than if we were fighting religious zealots. Though opinion polls say 55% of Americans today are okay with gay marriage, that’s an average and means shit in Bible Beltin’ states.

Will the Supreme Court ultimately come to our rescue, underscoring the constitutionality issue, much as it did with segregation sixty years ago (it didn’t leave it up to the states to decide); or are we going to have a crazy quilt mess in this country of pro-gay and pro-str8 states. This would be akin to where we were just before the Civil War, when some states were slave and some states were free and the battle was on deciding which way new states entering the Union could go, a decision that was going to be left up to their citizenry.

That is until the bloodiest war in our history decided otherwise.

Hell, we might even see a reversal in states that have made ssm legal based on a judge’s decision.

Stay tuned – and fasten your seat belts. It’s definitely going to be a bumpy ride.


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