Given todays popular preference for anonymous cybersex, Mike is something of a dinosaur. He brings people together live, in person, at his roving sex parties that travel between gutted lofts to keep police off the scent.
Im one of Mikes ringersa public relations agent. Ringers roam around half naked so paying clients will tell others the party isnt full of trolls. Ringers bring all the boys to the yard, and Mike needs more boys in his yard because his parties are too successfulin the wrong way.
At Mikes parties, paying regulars keep falling for each other. Inevitably, they become boyfriends and fail to return. Mike is losing some serious income. I should charge a finders fee, he wails with each success story. Its a sex party, not Love Connection.
Of course, I had no intention of joining the ranks of his satisfied customers. Then last year Mike introduced me to a fellow ringer at one of his parties. This is Bam, he said, and my jaw dropped in shock and awe. Before me, in nothing but briefs, stood one chiseled hunk of 6-foot-2 Australian manmeat.
The attraction was dizzying, reallyand mutual. Bam and I vanished together behind a black tarp and into the party. Mike called after us, Im gonna be pissed if I lose my ringers! But Bam and I shared a chemistry you cant re-create in a lab. It felt more than physical, and, yes, feeling anything more than physical at a sex party is ludicrous, but love is like the flu. You can catch it anywhere.
Mother may have advised that the only way to find a loving long-lasting relationship is to meet your mate at the proper placeat the sock hop, walking the dog, or shopping for Tater Tots at Ralphs. Poppycock. If this worked for you, congratulations, but one time this guy cruised me at the supermarket and it totally creeped me out.
Gays dont maintain conventional relationships, so we shouldnt have to apply conventional guidelines. As far as compatibility goes, I prefer to see your birthday suit before your grocery list. But thats just me. Promiscuity isnt for everyone. Im merely suggesting that the next time you find yourself in a surprisingly unromantic setting, pay close attention. It could happen to you.
Decent men lurk in the most unlikely places. My good friends Ian and Remy have been in a monogamous relationship for six years, but thats not how it began. They met sloppy drunk, vomiting on each other at a dirty dive bar called the Hole. Do they regret how they met? Does it mean they wont live happily ever after? Are they still slamming tequila shooters? No.
Meet first, make policy later. I grew up in buttoned-up Beaverton, Ore., but that doesnt mean I cant end up at a sex party in Manhattanand smitten, I might add. Bam would be mine, Id decided, and after our initial intro I excused myself to swish some minty-fresh Scope. In the restroom mirror, I pursed my lips and hummed like one of the Dreamgirls. Hes gonna love me!
Then I traipsed past a gang bang in search of my man. He wasnt in the middle of it, thankfully, but across the gutted loft I spotted some jock doubled over a pommel horse; plowing into him from behind was the big bloke from Oz, Bam. Bam, bam! And I am telling youI clutched my pearls.
Beaten at my own game. So why was I turned on? I liked that he didnt apologize for being at a sex party, or desperately rush me home to smother me with flowers and fancy dinners. Wed just met. Romance could come later. Another day, another time. Hopefully right after hed finished over at the pommel horse.
When Bam emerged, he was back in love but I had crossed my arms in mock shock. You cheated on me already? Bam blushed pink, manly hands all over me.
I had the seven-minute itch, he smirked. Will you forgive me?
Weve been together ever since.