Some will say I’ve been lucky, others that I’m just a pig. But over my decades as a career gay man, I’ve had plenty of men, hundreds of men. And maybe the fact I’m a pretty hirsute guy has helped my score card. Sure, not everybody’s into fur. But those that are, like me, are into it big time, and when two furry guys dig each other, well, shit, its fucken Gay Heaven.
For me, there’s nothing quite as sensual as running my fingers through a guy’s furry chest hairs or across his fuzzy abs, even if he has a bit of a belly. Hell, I give myself a hard-on just doing it to myself in the morning. Chest, arms, abs, legs, shoulders, back, butt, I want it all.
That’s not to say all the guys or even most of the guys I’ve had – and who have had me – have been hairy. Far from it.
My men, like most of us, have come in all shapes, sizes, types and races, from nelly to super butch, from six foot fivers to short guys like me, from the emaciated, often ravaged by AIDS, to the belly floppers, the gym-fit to the no bod at all. And certainly there have been many smooth guys along the way, whether they dug my fur or not.
Most I also confess have been forgettable (a few thankfully), some “made” out of physical necessity, others as “out of the box” sexual experiments.
But out of all of these guys a few, just a few have remained as iconic memories in my mind, as fresh in my fantasies months, years or decades later as the moment I first lay my hands on them.
So every Tuesday and Friday beginning this Tuesday, September 18, I’ll tell you my stories of those guys, my iconic furry men, pretty much as they happened.
Hell, I haven’t even changed their names.
And in between, I’ll share some reflections on my life as a gay man and some of the “phenomena” of gay life I encountered as I made these men. From fuck buddies and threesomes to pig play, the web and sex clubs.
After all, these guys just didn’t materialize one day in my closet.