Kinky Kelvin Does Breakfast

Here's a video we shot a while back for Gay Action News that was too naughty to broadcast OR put up on YouTube. Watch as Kinky Kelvin creates an elaborate breakfast for a boy who just spent the night!
Check YouTube for more funny Gay Action News segments.
This video also features the song "Get Into It" by Cazwell and Amanda Lepore.

The Back-up Plan (also an upcoming feature movie)

I neglected to mention at the end of last week's piss party -- just as their group was heading out the door -- the sewage started backing up out of the drain.

This happens about once a year and requires a trip to Home Depot for an industrial sized snake to clear the clog. I was not happy. Why? Because it was clear that something happened at their party to clog the pipes and they were happily on their way home, whereas I was stuck there with sewage backup. You know, sewage. Let me spell it out for you: S-H-I-T.

Well... shit and water and piss and toilet paper. You get the picture.
But their work was done -- in their minds -- the space was hosed down and the puddles squeegeed to the drains. Garbage bagged, recyclables assembled -- time to go! And as they were dressing, the sludge started coming up through the drain whenever a toilet was flushed. And the drain it came up through is situated in a spot that allows the sewage to flow through most of the basement until it finds another drain at the other end. From there it goes out to the City Sewer.

I couldn't deal with it. Normally I'd get the WetVac and suck out the drain, but I didn't have the energy. Like them, I wanted to leave, and so I did, knowing I'd have to come back later in the week.

Thursday rolled around and I had put it off long enough.
Every time this happens we check the building's sewage trap located in the basement floor adjacent to the wall nearest the sidewalk. This is the last spot we have access to before sewage escapes to City owned piping. It's also the access spot where we feed the metallic "snake." And it's also the first place to clear out before even renting a snake.
But every time we do it, the clog is always much further up the line (in our building) and clearing out that area has no effect. So we skipped that part of the procedure and headed directly to Home Depot to rent out the giant snake: $65 for four hours.

It's so big and heavy it takes two of us to get it in the minivan. We get it down to the basement, clear everything out of the way to gain access to the trap... and realize there's literally a shitload of sludge and sewage IN the trap. It's never looked that bad before. I put two latex gloves and Saran wrap around the arm of the friend who was helping me (he has the minivan and helps with odd jobs). He got on his belly and cleared the shit out. But not just shit and sludge. Condoms and condom packages too. Plus the dreaded paper towel , a sure way to clog any system. It looked as if someone had emptied garbage into the sewer system!

As he continued clearing I went to the bathroom area and turned on all the faucets full blast, including flushing the toilets. Suddenly, the water came flowing through like a river, passing through the trap and flowing out to the city pipes!

In other words, the clog had been cleared at the trap and it turned out to be unnecessary for us to even rent the snake. The one time we didn't check the trap, was the one time it would've made a difference! Lesson learned.

It was a full day though with many other things done to improve the space (secure the urinal, install a new wall mounted faucet). So I went home, leaving one thing behind...

Friday arrived -- with a trannie party that night -- and there was still shit/sludge on the floor where the drain had overflowed earlier. Not only was it nasty looking, but the smell was unpleasant to say the least!
So using paper towels, I picked up the greasy sludge and shit mixture. And yes, I wore latex gloves, unlike when I sometimes pick up used condoms with my bare hands.
But even after wiping it up with paper towels, it was still oily and slick, so I got a brush with some warm soapy water and scrubbed the floor. Finally it was all coming off.
I dried the floor with more paper towels and put a fan on it for extra drying. I needed to work fast because that night's party was only hours away!

But the smell was still there!
Should I burn sage as I've done before to get the "moldy basement smell" away? No, that's too masculine a smell for trannies, how about something feminine and flowery?! So I went to the local supermarket and purchased two bottles of Gardenia scented Mistolin deodorizer that I poured all over the basement floor. Whew! Fragrant! Like a meadow full of flowers. The girls will love it!

One hour later the "Lady" promoter of the trannie party came downstairs and as I beamed over its recent transformation, she took one whiff and immediately exclaimed, "What's that awful dirty basement smell? Can you do someting to fix that?" A meadow of Gardenias indeed!
I went through and smudged the space with smoking embers of Sage.

As for the trannie party?
There was a moment when the male-to-female ratio was so off (20 guys, 3 "ladies") that I felt a real need to keep changing outfits and wigs to give the illusion that there were more girls there than there really were! I started out as a geisha wearing Whoopi Goldberg (don't ask) and five outfits later ended up in a giant slutty brunette wig and a dress with a slit all the way up the middle of the back exposing my ass crack. The guys seemed to like that for some reason!

In the course of the evening I ran into a very preppy well dressed youngish business man who said he did marketing. Very masculine, but very reserved. He made it clear that he was into me, always looking and smiling, so we went to a semi-private area and laid on a mattress. As we laid there he grabbed my dick through the dress (and eventually lifted it up and got some direct hand-on-penis action). But he didn't seem interested in anything oral, even kissing. And I could barely feel his dick. Was it that small or was he just not erect? Yes and yes.

So... what ended up getting this masculine young business man off? It was the clothes. And his interested in them for himself!
Hearing this, I decided to bring him to my private changing area and had him strip naked. (He covered his penis out of embarrassment). I had him lay back on the bed with his legs in the air (as if to get fucked!) and put fishnet stockings over each foot, rolling them down one leg, then the other. Then I put a silky short dress over his head -- he eagerly wiggled into it. And then I gave him a blond wig with a flip. After I helped him get the wig on, he immediately started playing with it as though it was his own hair. He was suddenly in girl mode, but the best was yet to come.

We walked over to a full length mirror where he was able to see what he looked like. He loved it! He felt up his own body (as I also felt it) sticking his ass out and essentially behaving like a little whore totally getting off on the slutty clothes he was wearing and the hair and the fishnets that barely concealed his ass and cock. It was like sensory overload and he was ecstatic! He even finally got a full erection! I got off just watching how much he was into it! Like someone discovering something they've wanted for so long and were finally able to secretly indulge. And I was there, without judgment ("You're a FREAK!") to coax him along and encourage him. A cross dresser was born.
If only the boys at the office knew.

He mentioned wanting to do more, but quickly changed back to his business clothes, and with the change in clothes came an extreme change in his demeanor. It was as if he was ashamed of what had just transpired. It wasn't much later before he was out the door of the club, saying "baby steps" when asked about taking things a little further and maybe even wearing such an outfit in public at the party. Perhaps next time. If he ever returns.

But I'm glad I was there to unblock that clog, clear out that obstruction and let his river run!

Open Letter to a 'Friend with Benefits'

I want to write this and not offend you because I think you're an amazingly talented guy who is super sexy and fun to play with. And I mean REALLY fun!

Damn.
I don't know how to write this, because I know you'll get defensive.
And it's gonna sound like I'm judging you.
But is it judging to evaluate someone's behavior and come to the conclusion that it scares me? And that it makes me afraid for my OWN safety?

It's the barebacking.
I know how much you like the idea of it: the videos, the fetishizing, the fantasies... But the last time we were together you mentioned getting barebacked by someone you just met, perhaps because he said he was negative. And you accepted that and took the risk.
And stepping from fantasy into THAT reality scares me.

If that kind of behavior continues, it's like Russian Roulette and only a matter of time before the bullet infects you. It's happened with MANY of my other friends -- a slippery slope of self-destructive behavior. And it IS self-destructive. And I care about you too much to sit back and not say anything.

Truthfully, it kind of turns me off.
Yes, I've played into the fantasy and whispered into your ear about your getting raped by guys shooting their loads into you. But that's fantasy. You crossed a line. And now I even feel guilty about participating in the fantasy at all.

You are STILL super sexy and I want very much to continue playing with you, but I will not bareback you. Can you accept that? Can you have sex that's still super hot, but doesn't risk seroconverting? Are using condoms really such a turn off?

You see, that guy who said he was negative. Maybe he was negative the last time he got tested. But he could've just contracted HIV (clearly he enjoys barebacking) and he's not testing positive yet. And that's the time when people are most infectious. So he gives it to you, YOUR test comes out negative because it's too early to get an accurate result and then you bareback with me because we've known each other for so long and we're both testing negative. But in actuality, you're NOT negative. And now we BOTH have it.
Then what?

I DON'T want HIV. It's like inviting cancer. Who wants to live with a chronic "manageable" illness that may or may not be kept at bay, checking my blood every six months hoping my t-cell count is high and my viral load is low? What if I catch a different strain of HIV that's gonna require a whole other drug combination, or worse yet, is drug-resistant? And who knows what the long term effects will be of taking any of those drugs into my system? I don't want to find out. I DON'T WANT HIV!

Is it REALLY worth it? Do you want to risk getting HIV just because it feels good and you want to feel more connected to someone?

How about connecting to ME. The REAL me, who cares about you and wants you to live a long healthy life.

And by the way, does your boyfriend know about any of this? I know you bareback with him. What does HE think?

My Pet Peeve: The Puppet Master

Last night's party for "Jocks" (not to be confused with this afternoon's party for men into water sports) brought back a memory I'd rather forget: the machinations of the Puppet Master.

I met a hot Israeli guy -- same height as me (six foot) -- with an aggressive form of sexuality that I really responded to. Unfortunately for the umpteenth time, he was another bottom looking to get fucked. A bossy bottom. And a temperamental one at that. Since most Israeli guys I meet are tops, I was willing to give him a try. Plus he was sexy and lean.

But what started out as hot and passionate for about two minutes, quickly turned into having strings attached to my hands leading me in one direction or another: "pull on my nipples, spank my ass." Only he didn't talk. (Well, he did, but none of the words were in question form.) There was no interest in my needs unless they validated what he wanted. It was a rhetorical conversation. "You're gonna fuck me? Yeah!" And then he'd pull my hand up to his tit and squeeze my fingers together tighter around his pierced nipple because I wasn't doing it hard enough. Ok. I get it: more of this, less of that.

The puppet master is the guy who grabs your hand and places it where he wants to be touched. It's essentially his way of demanding you do what he wants.
Now don't get me wrong, I like to please my partners (to a fault sometimes) but being directed and manipulated like a puppet? Not my scene. At all.
You can ask me to do something, but physically moving my hands to play with your nipples or jerk on your dick or pushing my finger up your dirty loose hole? No.
It's like the guy who pushes your head down to suck his dick. Some subservient guys are into that -- not me.
Or maybe I haven't met the right guy. I guess that means I'd be a rotten slave.
Actually being in love is a good way to humiliate one's self. Or rather, do something that you might not do otherwise. Do it for love! And why not? Because love should be a many splintered/splendored thing.


So this puppet master...
was being very verbal about how much he wanted me to fuck him and how great it would be, but once I put in the mushroom head, the fantasy ended and it was, "Ow! Slow! Wait. Go slow ok. I haven't done this in a while." (Yet he was getting fucked by someone else right after I ditched him, so for "not having done it in a while" he was certainly catching up fast. But I'm getting ahead in the story.)
Slowly we got into it, but even when the motion of the ocean had some strong waves to it, he preferred still waters. And still waters ruin my enthusiasm, especially if the only other extracurricular activity I get to do is to squeeze your nipples as hard as I possibly can.
At one point I felt I needed to be stiffer, so I pulled out for some extra stimulation his hole couldn't provide. I began jerking off again, prompting him to immediately begin with the dirty talk about how hot it would be when I was back inside him.
Once I was stiff again, I re-entered and AGAIN he was back to the complaining about how big it was and to go slow. And trust me, my size is only average.

The thing is, if my dick doesn't get enough friction, I'm not going to stay hard. I know how to fuck and start out slow, but eventually ya gotta get the friction going.
Maybe we could try the spanking that he alluded to earlier! But he didn't want to be seen indulging in his kink, so we moved to a semi-private area and I had him lay on his stomach with his ass in the air and his face in the mattress. Wow! That looked hot! A perfect Israeli ass, slightly hairy, but not too much. It got me rock hard as I slapped it and slid my hand down his clean crack.
"I want to see your face," he pleaded. He simply couldn't stay laying on his stomach with his ass in the air for more than 30 seconds -- the hottest position I had seen him in all night! He turned on his side, forcing me to fuck him in a spooning position: the hot image of his ass was a distant memory.
The spooning position quickly led to him being on his back again so he could better see my face. But it didn't allow for enough friction. I tried to spank, but we weren't in the right position: not fun. I was beginning to go soft.
And of course my hand was pulled around to his chest, returning to his hyper-sensitive nipples.
"Play with them HARD, please?" -- he didn't ask out loud: it was a given. I obliged, briefly. Again.

I got fed up and eventually issued the phrase that means bye bye to all partners: "I need to take a break." And that was it for the evening.
He wanted to hook up later, but I didn't like the way his aggressive demands played out. And at times he seemed so lost in our activity, it was as though he wasn't even connecting to me. Maybe he had taken drugs or maybe he was a sex addict. His behavior was very bizarre. Maybe we're just not sexually compatible.
Um, I'll say it right now: we're not sexually compatible.
Yes, it was good for two minutes about thirty minutes earlier, but to be honest, I'm just not that into you.

Maybe I'm being too hard on him, but if I am it's because his behavior reminded me of a long standing fuck buddy relationship that I ended for the same reason: always moving my hand to masturbate him as I fucked him from behind. The difference then was I told my fuck buddy I didn't like him doing that -- moving my hand for me, instead of asking, and he still did it -- over and over again.
It turned me off to the point that I stopped returning his calls.
Yes he had a great ass, but after ten years, his body wasn't what it used to be. (Not that mine is either.)
But having it be all about someone else's needs? That's great when your needs are mutual: top + bottom = complete! But when negotiation and versatility are involved, sometimes someone's needs are not going to met. And I refuse to have that be me for more than five minutes.

If you want something, ask for it. But don't expect to even get it.
Also, there will be no string pulling, because my tendons are elastic and they will snap back.

And if I ever play with you again, Mr. Sexy Israeli Butt, just lay on your stomach, stick your ass in the air and shut up. And if it hurts when I fuck you, take it like a man.
Getting your nipples pierced couldn't have felt good, but the pain subsided and eventually brought you great pleasure. The same will happen with my cock, trust me.


On a side note, a cute young Latin guy with beautiful curvy lips beckoned me into the bathroom, shut the door behind me and immediately spit in my face! I was shocked. And turned on, despite having his saliva in my eyes. So I spit back and slapped him. He spit on me again, kissed me, smiled and walked out the door, not even turning around to say goodbye. End of story.

Happy 12th Anniv-EASTER-y!

It's been twelve years since I began doing parties at this location. (And five additional years before that at other locales.) Many men have entered -- hundreds -- thousands! -- and boy is my ass sore.
The parties have been doing okay, too!

Twelve years ago it took a few months to turn a private residence into a place where adults could play and have fun. Promoters have cum and gone. Some have stayed. And through it all I think I've created some friendships that will last a lifetime. (Can I get any more corny?) As bizarre as overseeing sex parties might seem, it's really like a family of people that are sharing something very intimate. And hopefully doing it in a way that's safe and respectful. I know more about some people than even their closest friends might know. That's the way it is when you're privy to knowledge about someone's sex life. People have shared secrets -- with me, or with a room full of onlookers.
And I've seen a lot.

Perhaps the most intense thing I've seen in all twelve years was a woman getting aggressively fisted by another woman at the mixed LGBT party. Gay men who are into fisting refer to it as "punch fucking" where the recipient's muscles are so relaxed that the hand can go in as a fist, rather than bringing all the straightened fingers together at their tips and easing your way in.
These too young white gals in their twenties had an audience, although the voyeurs stayed at a respectful distance (for a change). Perhaps the intensity is what kept the crowd at arm's length, so to speak. The lesbian couple were near the clothes changing area, a pretty public spot to demonstrate their passion. One woman was on her back propped up as if giving birth and the "midwife" knelt between her legs trying to find the baby. Over and over again. Clearly they wanted to put on a show. And so they did.
But watching a woman aggressively ramming her fist into another woman's vagina? It's like she was getting brutally assaulted. (At least from a gay man's perspective watching.) I guess I see the vagina as something delicate that should be treated tenderly. The image is as difficult to forget as the sounds: the loud gasps and moans of a girl penetrated to the extreme. Intense.
But it was consensual and pleasure inducing, so more power to them! (Fist raised in the air!)

On a lighter note, another memorable moment happened when we were having the original "Freaky Sex Contest" at an Anniversary party around Easter time about ten years ago and the winner was a handsome Italian guy in his early thirties fucking a young pale-skinned porn star twink in his early twenties with a chocolate bunny. As the chocolate melted and got partially stuck in the bottom's (douched) ass, the sexy top went in and ate out the remaining chocolate. It turned into a faux scat scene that was equal parts freakish, revolting, hot and delicious! The eater also said it was a fantasy he's always had -- to eat chocolate out of someone's ass. So why not share it will a roomful of wanking onlookers?
And what's more attractive that a face fully smeared with chocolate?
Perhaps a butt fully smeared with chocolate? Yes and no! (From someone who loves ass and chocolate!)
The mind can play tricks on you.
Really, it was just chocolate, I swear!

Before that happened though, the young porn star attempted to "smoke a cigarette with his ass." He got on the stage (a platform raised with a mattress on it) and threw his legs over his head. He tried for at least five minutes trying to accomplish the intended goal, but alas he couldn't perform a task he'd done privately to apparent success. I think he was trying to suck air into his ass and blow it back out through the cigarette. At least he redeemed himself with the chocolate bunny. And thank goodness he cleaned with an enema before the rabbit hid in his hole, because sometimes when you're eating chocolate out of someone's ass, chocolate is all you want.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. And chocolate from someone's ass is just chocolate, thank you very much.

And on that appetizing note, Happy Anniversary to all! And to all, a good bite.

The Multipurpose Room

Pictured above: Sherry Vine is flanked by Joey Arias and Raven O in a parody of Lady Gaga's "Telephone" video.


There are more uses for a sex club than just having parties.
Yes, the dungeon-like space has been used by photographers looking for interesting locations and a couple porn movies have been shot there, specifically young men pissing and a couple other movies with men of color in mind. But that's in the distant past and it's time to bring our dungeon into the age of the internet!

With that in mind last weekend, someone came in and really stirred things up: popular local drag queen Sherry Vine.
Sherry has been on the NYC scene for several years and has recently become an international viral sensation (the good kind of viral) with her YouTube parody of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" video with nearly 4 million veiwings at the time of this writing. Viewers rave how hysterically funny and offensive her version of "Bad Romance" is with her lyrical twist: "Shit My Pants." Sherry is not a stranger to scatalogical humor. She also did a version of Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn" rewritten as "Corn." (It was found in her poo and she didn't remember eating it! Ugh!)
Sherry's newest project is another Lady Gaga parody, this time the 9 minute mini-movie "Telephone" featuring Beyonce. Beyonce gets Gaga out of prison and they go to a diner and poison everyone. Sherry has another drag favorite Peppermint playing the part of Beyonce.

Since there's a scene in the original video that takes place in a jail -- and we have a mock prison cell in our space -- it seemed the ideal location for her to use. And since we're friends that go way back, she got to use it for free! How perfect is that?
The production was quite impressive, too. She had six backup dancers for a couple choreographed sequences and Joey Arias and Raven O (two other popular drag performers) played the parts of two tough prisons guards throwing her into the cell for a cavity search -- to humorous effect. (The cavity search was not in Gaga's original version!)
I helped out with the lighting and whatever else they needed me for. The filmmaker, Blake Martin, is a student at Columbia University and did an outstanding job with Sherry's "Bad Romance" video, so I'm anxious to see how "Telephone" (aka "Make Me Moan") turns out!

It's fun to be a part of the creative side of New York City's downtown scene -- something I've been photographing for almost 25 years... but that's another career. And this blog is about sex parties!

Other purposes for the space? Using it for private encounters!
There have been times I've used it for sexual escapades before or after a party, when a scene is so hot that it needs to continue (like the one at the beginning of the year). But I've never really set up a scenario and brought someone in when the operating hours of a party weren't involved.

Last weekend, though, I was dropping off some invites to a video store and decided to see who was there. (Video stores are not my favorite arena for cruising. I prefer sex clubs.) I quickly found a short Asian guy -- only two other people were there! Once he invited me into his booth, he made it known that he liked to be collared like a dog, so I took off my belt and wrapped it around his neck. I've never done that before, but he seemed interested in kink!
I ended up fucking him doggy style, holding the belt as a leash, careful not to do any form of auto-erotic asphyxiation. Breath control was not his interest. (And I don't want to be arrested for an accidental death during "rough sex!" ) He loved it.

So the next day I put my space to use and invited him over for a private session. There are areas set up for bondage play (where Sherry's jail cell was -- the product of a lesbian promoter who's built some impressive BD/SM equipment), so I had him handcuffed and attached to different apparatuses and, among many other things, was striking him repeatedly with a riding crop. It was fun. Sort of. I'd never done stuff like that before with someone I wasn't very attracted to. And I was doing it more out of curiosity and for his pleasure.
It was taking him forever to cum -- to the point that I gave up and he didn't even have an orgasm! Ugh! I came already, can we end this? I thought.
Maybe we'll play again, maybe we won't. But being a good top like that takes a lot of work, coming up with inventive new scenarios and doing all the work! I invited him to a future party, hopefully he'll find a different top to treat him as he sees fit. I'd prefer that be someone else.

On a side note, someone was asking in an email about "queer parties for cis men."
"Cis" men? I had never heard of that. So I did a Google search for sexual slang, after erroneously giving them information for a male-to-female trannie party. The sexual slang dictionary said "cis" meant "complete irrevocable submission." (Sounds like my Asian friend!) That's certainly not a trannie party (unless you're into that as well), so I directed the questioner to a couple events I heard were more BD/SM oriented.
But -- after much back and forth for clarity, I found out that "cis" means something completely different, because the question was coming from another subculture:
"Cis" are what female-to-male transexuals refer to as men who were born men with a real biological penis. So this transboi was looking for a sex party for his (born) male gay friend. Fascinating.
And so the education continues.