Sex and the Second City

The Sex Line

I had such high hopes for a Halloween Post.  But my job is kicking my ass.  It looks like I will be able to get out from under the hell that I am in by the end of the day, and I should be back at my old writing ways.  But in the meantime, there is a number that you can call...

Is Noah's Arc Gay?

Strike two.  Because the Chicago White Sox just clinched the 2005 Major League Baseball Championship I must use a baseball metaphor to discuss the second episode of Noah's Arc--which should be renamed, What's Love Got To Do With Sex and the City When You're Waiting To Exhale?

Porn Star

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Yesterday I had one of those rare sexual encounters that you just luck up on.  It was 1:30am, I was horny as hell, and I really wanted to get busy.  A guy hit me up on men4now without a face picture--telling me that he loved my look.  I was reluctant, but we exchanged numbers and talked.  He sounded cool and told me if I took a chance and met him that I wouldn't be disappointed.

What did I have to lose?  He was travelling.  All I had to do was let him come over and decide whether he was fuckable.

Orgasm Don'ts

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I lied yesterday.  I did do something with CONTRAST, the chocolate skinned dark man with the contrasting characteristic...

Contrast

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We all learned the definition of comparison and contrast in elementary school.  I remember my grade school teachers telling me that to compare something was to discuss its similarities with some other thing.  While to contrast two things was to identify their differences.

But contrasting things need not be negative.  Actually, the differences found in side-by-side contrasting objects can be stimulating, if not exciting.  I don't simply mean sexually.

The Wrong Bradshaw?: A Review of Noah's Arc

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Over the past three days, I called my cable company about 15 times and endured three visits from the cable man (one of which was hot as hell) all to get one cable channel: LOGO--Viacom's new gay programing channel.  Why?

Because this Wednesday was the series premier of the America's first black gay series--Noah's Arc.

Cling Peaches

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If you follow my blog, then you will know that I am always interested in understanding the following phenomenon: How is it that you sign onto a gay meeting website like adam4adam and there are a thousand people online--yet no one is hooking up?

I used to think that it was just that people were picky.  But now I am beginning to think that its really because people are fucked out. 

So Fucked Up

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As mentioned last week, my anticipation was high. I had met a guy on the Internet from the east coast that I was anxiously anticipating a face-to-face meeting. His picture on the Internet, even though it doesn't show his entire face, revealed a stunning body and a beautiful set of lips.  Our telephone conversations had been intense and full of sensuality. 

And now I had just buzzed him in and he was standing in front of me...

A Million Surprises? An SAT2C Editorial

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Ten years ago I was in college and contemplating taking a trip to Washington, D.C.  The Nation of Islam along with other organizations had organized the Million Man March.  A part of me wanted to go--and another part didn't want to be bothered.

Anticipation

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It has been a long time since I've anticipated meeting someone.  The last guy that I remember that I felt nervous about meeting was VODKA, a 6'3" tall, light skinned brotha who made me nervous whenever I merely glanced at his pictures on the Internet. 

It was early 2001, and he was on the east coast and coming to Chicago for a funeral.  We talked on the telephone a few times, and the conversation was good.  We exchanged about six sets of pictures on the Internet and every picture he sent me looked better than the next.  When he arrived in Chi-town, we agreed to hook-up.

Since he had a rental car, we decided to meet for lunch at my place.  I hate to admit it, but due to what I thought were his stunning good looks--I bitched out and agreed to cook lunch for him.  But, I wanted to impress him, so I ordered take-out from this great neighborhood Italian restaurant, and put the food in a pan to make me look like gourmet domestic phenom Martha Stewart.  (Plus, I didn't want my house to have that "cooking smell"--so I killed two birds with one stone.)

I was so excited to see how he looked, I couldn't keep myself still.  I paced back and forth in my apartment--an apartment that I cleaned thoroughly in anticipation of my guest.  When my apartment bell rang, I could hardly keep my composure. In my heart, I knew that he was going to be fine.  I had no doubt...