I watch too much television. I feel the need to apologize for that, like it is a bad thing. I recently went to a holiday party where I knew very few people and made the mistake of mentioning a television program I had recently seen to the person seated next to me. The person said ‘I don’t watch television’ and then turned away from me and looked the other way. So, I apologize for watching too much television. Because it is (apparently) a bad thing.
That said – I enjoy it very much. I sit for hours and hours watching television. (Sitting is the second favorite thing I like to do with my butt.)
Here is a summary of those hours and hours:
Favorite Shows
American Horror StoryYes, the scripting is like something that poured out of a word Cuisinart and everyone is terrified that there is no way they can tie it all up and make sense of it (oddly they did). It is so over-the-top and so much happens in such little time that there is no room for characters to develop at a natural pace – but who the fuck cares? This is a lot of fun. A show with everything for everybody. Jessica Lange and Frances Conroy are outstanding. I mourn the loss of Jamie Brewer’s character, Adelaide. The rest of the cast is also first rate.
SuburgatoryThe primary relationship is a bit off (Father and Daughter? Ummm… Parental Boundaries?), but I like the world the writers are creating. It has a long way to go (and may not get there), but definitely worth watching. The neighbor girl across the street? Fascinating. Standout episode: Thanksgiving.
Happy EndingsInteresting cast. Interesting gay character. Interesting style of banter. Enters and exits like a Tasmanian Devil on a coke bender. Sometimes the characters grate on me - these are annoying people, but they each have a soft inside and that keeps me watching.
CommunityGreat cast, one that actually mirrors the name of the show. The writing is creative… sometimes too much for its own good. It would be a shame to lose this one.
Parks and RecThe sands beneath these characters are constantly shifting. How the actors manage to make it all work baffles me, but they do make it work. Started as an Office wannabe – became something even more likable.
30 RockTina Fey. Tracy Morgan. Enough said.
AwkwardA world I was never privy to before. Covering some of the same territory that Suburgatory covers, but doing a much better job.
South ParkWhen it is good (You’re Getting Old, Broadway Bro Down), it is very, very good. When it is bad (Bass To Mouth, Funnybot, Royal Pudding), it is a total train wreck – and not the fun kind (like American Horror Story).
Bob’s BurgerCharming. I love the kids. And the wife. I wish Louise Belcher could run for president (If only cartoon characters could. – oh, wait… (Michele Bachmann, Rick Perry, Thomas Cain, Newt Gingrich)? They do. They do.
WorkaholicsStrikes me as another kind of Always Sunny, but I like the cast. Sophomoric, juvenile. Extremely sexist. Umm… why do I like this? Oh, because the dudes are so comfortable with their homo-bro-ness. That, and they talk about their junk a lot.
Raising HopeLove the cast. So glad they have brought Cloris Leachman back from the zoned-out Alzheimer’s edge. She adds so many dimensions to the show – it would be a shame if she were rendered simply a vehicle for old-people poop jokes. Martha Plimpton has long needed something to showcase her talents! This is her “Medium”.
Cougar TownThis needs to come back. The cast was very funny, the writing sharp. I like all the characters – which is surprising considering they all are privileged white people (even the non-Caucasian ones), but then that same criticism applies to 95% of television.
The MiddlePart of the 5% (along with Raising Hope). In all its Malcolm in the Middle wonderfulness. When Patricia Heaton remains part of the ensemble, the show works – when she pushes her way to the front of the stage, it gets awkward – she tends to chew the scenery or become stilted. Perfect example of this – the episode with Marsha Mason as her Mom – it should have worked, but didn’t. That said, the whole cast is first rate, with the five family members each shining the brightest.
The Walking DeadI like zombies. I like survival. I like this show – when they stick to those two things. Soap opera bullshit? Not my thing. All I want to know is… when do they get to go on a free shopping spree at the mall?
Guilty, Guilty Pleasures
Tosh 2.0Tosh is the reason to watch. The clips are just the cringe-worthy moments his shtick is wound around.
The SoupJoel is the reason to watch. The clips are just the cringe-worthy his shtick is sound around.
Fashion PoliceJoan Rivers is… ummm, still alive. Kelly Osborne is cute as hell. The gay guy is sweet and inoffensive (another new gay stereotype I am liking) and the stick figure on the end has just enough personality that someday I may actually remember her name (although it seems to me she is on every show on E, including some gawd awful thing with a husband – so I think all the rest cancels out any good will she earns for being on Fashion Police).
The Romance Is Over Award:
How I Met Your MotherUgh. Can you all move on to something else. This is awful, painful to watch. When it is on, I keep looking at the clock and wonder just how bored the writers were when they thought this episode up. How could something that started out interesting become so bloody staid?
The Romance Is Waning Award:
Modern FamilyThe shape of the show is so established – as soon as the major plot points are highlighted, the audience can just fill in the blanks and come to the same happy, warm, smarmy, overly-privileged conclusion each week. ABC could save itself a lot of money and just let the audience do all the work. None of these characters ever really have any struggles worth giving a shit about… so why should I? How could something that started out interesting become so dull and predictable so quickly?
The Romance Never Got Started Award:
Two Broke GirlsGawd awful writing. Gawd awful ideas. Gawd awful characters. Is it 1980? Kat Dennings? Gawd awful. (Horrible Actress.) Matthew Moy, Garret Morris, Jonathan Kite? Total Embarrassments. (Horrible Stereotypes). In this day in age how could anyone think this was a good idea? How could something so… gawd awful still be on the air?
The Not Really... Award:
Allen GregoryI pay close attention to this one. On so many levels it is repugnant. The way the gay community is portrayed makes me squirm – only because I think they may have hit the preening-overly-privileged, class conscious, designer label conscious, queen thing right on their shaved, almond-shaped heads. The show sends so many mixed messages. Are they for us? Or against us? Or do they just hate everyone? Except exceptionally handsome, under-employed gay boy toys? Because other than that character – everyone else is just repulsive.
The Quirky But… Eh Award:
New GirlI hate Zooey Deschanel. There, I said it. Hate She and Him. Hate her cotton commercials. Didn’t hate her in Elf. The rest of this show is just so uninteresting, you find yourself praying she’ll appear soon. Wants desperately to be Happy Endings. Desperation is never pretty.
The Quirky and I Hate It Award:
WhitneySomebody cancel this piece of shit already. It reminds me of that time when Bette Midler, Joan Cusack, Paula Poundstone, etc. tried to have sitcoms. They all flopped because they failed to capitalize on what made them endearing in the first place and relied on standard, sitcom form. Whitney? There never was anything endearing to begin with… so… pull the damn plug already. The corpse is cold.
Can’t Seem To Watch You, Though I Really Should ListLouie
It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Breaking Bad
Children’s Hospital
Can’t Seem To Watch You… At All:
Up All NightI love Christina Applegate. I love Maya Rudolph. I love Will Arnett. Then how can I resist this show? Oh, yeah… I forgot. I hate sitcoms about how difficult it is to be a parent. Because breeding is optional, you know.
Time to Pull the Plug Nominees:The Simpsons
Family Guy
How I Met Your Mother
Already Dead, But They Just Don’t Know It Yet Nominees:Whitney
Two Broke Girls
The Cleveland Show
Mike and Molly
Saturday Night Live
Reality Television
Show I Will Be Bitching About Next Year:Work ItHaven’t seen it. Don't want to. Don't need to. It already has me cringing. Really over the whole "I have fake boobs and testicles and can't walk in heels" comedy. How awful can television be? This awful.
Worst Thing(s) to Happen to Gay Television:
The A-List: New York, The A-List: DallasOkay, so I look the other way when confronted with the preening stereotypes that are being passed off as positive images for gay folk on Modern Family. I cringe my way through Allen Gregory (being gay? Not a choice!). I even smile on occasion at those wacky ass young drag queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race. But The A-List: New York? And The A-List: Dallas? This is gay-bashing at its all-time worse. And it’s being perpetrated by our own beloved LOGO? What? LOGO couldn’t find enough money to fund more Jeffery and Jeffery – or pay off all the money owed to the cast of Sordid Lives so we could get more of that fun stuff – but they will throw money at these overly-privileged, spoiled-rotten, reality-deprived, lazy-assed, talentless (apologies to Mike Ruiz – who should know better than to associate with this kind of shit), narcissists. Fuck you, LOGO. You do such a disservice to your own people: people you claim to serve. You should be ashamed of yourselves. And grow the fuck up. This is not reality. These shows do not represent real gay people - this is the kind of gay you shove down America’s throats and then wonder why everybody hates on gay people. Want to know why America doesn’t think gay people should marry? Watch these shows.
For me, personally, it was a very good year in music. I listened to a whole lot of new stuff and, in fact, went out of my way to force myself out of my comfort zone. Doing so, I discovered a lot of wonderful stuff and some not so wonderful stuff.
15 Favorites
This is a list of favorites, not a best of list. “Best of” would seem to designate some type of superiority determined by a set of criteria. These are simply the recordings that caught my attention and held it, so I recommend you seek these out and decide for yourself.
Okkervil River: I Am Very FarI love this album. It’s got a lot of Roxy Music influence, very glam – but not in an obvious way.
Girl in A Coma: Exits and All The RestWow. I was so impressed by this. It puts them in the same class as The Pretenders and Concrete Blonde.
Wye Oak: CivilianThis one is like sinking into a nice warm bath.
Stephen Malkmus And The Jicks: Mirror TrafficOkay, so the vocals take a bit getting used to, but you cannot deny the joy and skill that exists within these songs.
Devotchka: 100 LoversAnother album that I just fell in love with. It’s sweeping and romantic – but not in a cliché’ way.
Wilco: The Whole LoveOkay, so this is weird, but I really thought about Pink Floyd throughout this entire gem. This is a very mature work. I like Wilco? Really? Since when? Since they grew up, I guess.
Adele: 21You can’t argue with this one – other than it feels a little too on the nose. I liked it immediately, more due to the songwriting than the rather labored vocals. Where is she going to put all those Grammies?
tUnE-yArDs: w h o k i l lQuirky to a fault, I still found a lot to love.
Destroyer: KaputtYeah, retro 80’s to a fault, but I love the Pet Shop Boys.
Cut Copy: ZonoscopeI’m a sucker for stuff like this.
Peter Bjorn and John: Gimme SomeClever. Clever, clever, clever. Some of the best pop songs I have heard in a long time.
The Joy Formidable: The Big RoarWhat a pleasant surprise. Big rock with some nice tasty pop licks. Can’t wait for more.
St. Vincent: Strange MercyThe album Kate Bush should have made.
The Black Keys: El CaminoA surprise. I thought they would always be stuck in 1972. They have graduated to 1977, bringing the whole retro/early 60’s/new wave vibe to the table.
Joe Henry: ReverieVery cabaret, very theatrical. I enjoyed it, and in many ways, this is the album I wish Tom Waits had made this year.
Favorite Singles
I was thinking this was a bad year for pop music, but it is all relative. While most of the music I heard on the radio annoyed the hell out of me, there were some that I relished every time they aired. And, yes… female voices kept things interesting this year.
Lonely Boy – The Black Keys
Pumped Up Kicks – Foster The People
Rolling In The Deep / Rumor Has It / Someone Like You / Set Fire to The Rain - Adele
Till The World Ends / I Wanna Go – Britney Spears
We Found Love / S&M – Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris
Domino – Jessie J.
E.T. / The One That Got Away / Last Friday Night - Katy Perry
Edge of Glory / Marry The Night / Born This Way/You and I – Lady Gaga
Papi / On The Floor – Jennifer Lopez
Secret Love / For What It’s Worth – Stevie Nicks
What I Heard / Mother – Blondie
Fly / Super Bass / Moment For Life – Nicki Minaj
Novacane – Frank Ocean (Yes, I know it’s just “Blame It (On the Alcohol)” by Jamie Foxx – but I like it)
Motivation – Kelly Rowland
Give Me Everything / International Love – Pitbull
Moves Like Jagger – Maroon 5 feat. Christina Aguilera
Fuckin’ Perfect – P!nk
You Make Me Feel… -Cobra Starship Featuring Sabi
Stereo Love: Edward Maya & Vika Jigulina
In The Dark – Dev
Sure Thing – Miguel
Favorite Song of the Year
I Love You (But I Don’t Know What To Say) – Ryan Adams
Guiltiest Pleasure
Burlesque Soundtrack (Thank you, Xtina and Cher. It was awful… awful wonderful!)
Veterans
This turned out to be an excellent year for veteran acts. Sure, these entries didn’t spring a whole lot in the way of surprises – but then, they are veterans – and the reason they are still around is because they can deliver the goods consistently. Sure, nostalgia plays a part, but the craft and skill demonstrated speaks louder than the soft spot these artists hold in my heart.
Emmylou Harris: Hard BargainJust lovely. Yeah, a little too safe and polished, but so what.
Robbie Robertson: How to Become ClairvoyantLush and polished.
R.E.M.: Collapse Into NowNot quite the return to form they promised, but solid none the less. They had a great run.
Blondie: Panic of Girls75% perfect pop – I could do without the reggae affectations and the French tickler, but hey, it’s Blondie, so that crap is part of the package.
Stevie Nicks: In Your DreamsThe first two songs on this CD are the reason I keep believing in Stevie. After that, it is hit and miss, but then – hey, it’s Stevie Nicks, so… goes with the territory.
Paul Simon: So Beautiful Or So What
Kate Bush: Director's Cut / 50 Words For Snow
Wanda Jackson: The Party Ain't Over
Lucinda Williams: Blessed
Foo Fighters: Wasting Light
The Cars: Move Like This
Tori Amos: Night of the Hunters
Favorite Dance
Here is where the year got weird. The Best of Dance? It was all over the radio. Sure, the clubs played the remixes, but the radio mixes got major play… on the actual radio! Dance music was everywhere – more mainstream than ever before. So check out my favorite singles and there you will find the best of dance. Okay, so there were a few exceptions to that rule and here they are:
One Hot Pleasure – Erika Jayne
Fade – Kristine W.
You Haven’t Seen The Last of Me – Cher
Call Your Girlfriend – Robyn
I’m Into You – Jennifer Lopez
Arrow Through My Heart - Eddie Amador & Kimberly Cole feat. Garza
Thank You’s
Not the best of anything, in fact, in some cases, the worst of the genre – but they brought joy to my life and a smile to my face. I admire pop craft and always will. No one is really immune to this stuff.
Katy PerryWhat a year. What a collection of pop gems. Yeah, she can’t sing, but that doesn’t seem to matter much these days. Every single from “Teenage Dream” eventually clicked with my ears. Yes, it is formulaic, because IT IS pop music, and what is pop music except a formula? And yes, her voice is shrill and flavorless. Eh. Get over it.
Britney SpearsBritney had almost as good a year as Katy, delivering her best in ages. Yeah, I know, she really doesn’t sing, but when the beats are this good – who cares.
Jessie J. – DominoThis is basically Katy Perry with a British accent and a purer sense of fashion. That said, the world could use a lot more Katy Perry – who doesn’t like to smile?
Kelly ClarksonI love pure pop, so what is not to love about Kelly Clarkson. Yes, her vocals tend to get a little strained on the extended long notes and her attack is rarely subtle (in fact, it’s become downright workmanlike), but I still find myself getting lost in the froth.
Lady GagaShe certainly kept us on her toes. Some of what she did, I had to question (what was with that Thanksgiving Special?), but she and her handlers are a bunch of very smart cookies. The new Madonna? Naw. There will never be another Madge, but Gaga has managed to stretch her 15 minutes quite a bit and in a number of tasty, satisfying ways. Sure, she tries too hard, but, unlike many an established star, at least she puts in some effort.
Nicki MinajSo, initially wrote her off as crass, vulgar, and obnoxious. But the fact is, she has a great talent for creating a lot of drama and licks that serve as ear worms that burrow their way into one’s brain. Very talented and I think she is the heir to Mary J.’s throne.
Jennifer LopezYeah, I know – kind of a spent dime, and as a biscuit – one full of empty calories. That said, she delivered three great cuts this year. And while only one of them really struck a chord with the bulk of listeners, they were all undeniably fun.
12 Also Rans
This is a list of albums that I remember liking, but something about each one of them held my enthusiasm in check. Still, they remain some of the best releases of the year.
Crazy Clown Time - David Lynch
The Decemberists: The King Is Dead
Death Cab For Cutie: Codes and Keys
My Morning Jacket: Circuital
Lykke Li: Wounded Rhymes
Raphael Saadiq: Stone Rollin'
Givers: In Light
M83: Hurry Up We’re Dreaming
Ceromonials: Florence + The Machine
Wild Flag – Wild Flag
Yuck – Yuck
Ryan Adams: Ashes & Fire
Dum Dum Girls: Only In Dreams
Disappointments
I expected more from these artists and these releases. Is that fair? Either I feel they failed to live up to their full potential (Gaga), are coasting (Scott), are disconnected from themselves (The Strokes), or simply chose to go in a direction they shouldn’t have (Waits and Bjork).
Jill Scott: The Light of the Sun
Lady Gaga: Born This Way
The Strokes: Angles
Tom Waits: Bad As Me
Bjork: Biophillia
Worst
Anything Bruno Mars smeared his feces onI cannot wait for this man’s 15 minutes to be over. He has a collection of the worst lyrics ever. His image, along with his music, is cribbed from others who got there first. His voice is annoying (though on occasion it reminds me of Rod Stewart). That said, he has a gift for arranging and melody. Still. I would be happy if I never heard from him again. Suck on some morphine, Bruno.
Anything Chris Brown smeared his feces onYeah, he’s talented. (Beautiful People was awesome!) Yeah, he can dance, has a voice, and a knack for pop that makes your ears prick up. But he’s a total douche. And an unrepentant woman beater. Fuck you, Chris. (Oh – it sounds like a certain rapper already did!) Thank you, Martyn!
Eminem CollaborationsThis trend take a (Bruno Mars/Skylar/Rhianna/Kesha/Lily Allen/Whoever) chorus and wrap a couple of lame raps/verses around it (whether they have anything to do with the chorus or not) sucks. Eminem just happens to be at the heart of two of the worst offenders. “Lighters” is awful. Dr. Dre’s “I Need a Doctor”, barely tolerable. What distinguishes these from the other dreck (5 O’Clock in the Morning, etc.) are the totally annoying angry-white-boy whiney raps perpetrated by Eminem. I mean, c’mon. Nobody with that much money is that pissed off all the fucking time. It seems he could have developed more of a range by now. He’s become Johnny-two-note, vacillating between being pissed off and comatose.
Radiohead: The King of LimbsThis has a lot to do with their appearance on SNL. Pretentious. Laughable. Embarrassing. Oh, and regarding the CD? Unlistenable.
Coldplay, Mylo XylotoThis has something to do with their appearance on SNL. Pretentious. Laughable. Embarrassing. Cringe-inducing. Nauseating. Tiring. The CD is okay, it’s just so… pompous, overdone, strident, bombastic, over-produced, and shallow. If I wanted that, I’d listen to U2.
Drake: Take CareStop it, already. My ears are tired. When the man steps away from the machine I will start listening again.
Tyler, The Creator: GoblinUnmitigated nonsense. Absolute trash.
T-Pain: rEVOLVErEvolution takes guts and a need for growth. Desperation to remain relevant and land another hit? Not so much. Auto-tune has always been annoying. T-Pain takes it to the extreme. He actually had four singles released that failed to catch fire, so they didn’t make the cut for this CD. Best Love Song? Worst song.
Jay-Z and Kanye West: Watch The ThroneTwo of the dullest talents in rap get together and… umm. WTF? Percy Sledge is turning in his grave. What could have been a wonderful homage is rendered embarrassing. Undercooked and lazy to the max. I am amazed these two could tear themselves away long enough from their mirrors and empires to even bother dropping these rhymes. Production-wise their ‘throw in everything, including the kitchen sink’ approach doesn’t help. Paris? What does it mean? It doesn’t mean anything. That makes it annoying – not exciting.
Beyonce: 4A Shrill Drill. B-Bouncy delivered the most unlistenable album of the year. Goats singing the phone book sound better than this. The woman doesn’t sing, she bleats. Her inability to deliver the most basic lyric with any sense of meaning continues to baffle and amuse me. Some of the worst musical ideas ever committed to a CD.
Wiz Khalifa: Rolling PapersDuhhhhhhhhh
Don’t Get It
So there may well be something to be said for each of the following albums – it’s just not what I would say. These are the favorites of many critics, but CDs that left me in the lurch. The blame may be all mine to bear, but I failed to connect in any way to the following:
Bon Iver: Bon Iver – Boring, Somber, Dank, Lifeless
Fleet Foxes: Helplessness Blues – Derivative to the point of redundancy
James Blake: James Blake – See “Bon Iver” If I want to feel this way, I will take valium
Danger Mouse and Daniele Luppi: Rome РClich̩, Overblown, Silly, Embarassing
YACHT: Shangri-La – It’s like the just got their first Casio tone keyboard and want to impress us
Panda Bear: Tomboy – Ummm. Huh?
Fucked Up: David Comes to Life – Like a scrambled radio signal you can’t tune in no matter how much time you spend doing so
Low: C'mon – Boring, Derivative
Thurston Moore: Demolished Thoughts – Just awful. What was he thinking.
PJ Harvey: Let England Shake – That voice. Oh, God… that voice.
Kurt Vile: Smoke Ring for My Halo – See “Fucked Up”, oh, and boring as hell
Beirut: The Rip Tide - It was okay, but too subdued for my taste
Das Racist: Relax - A real shame, a wasted opportunity, failing to deliver the goods as promised
Favorite sites to listen to stuff first:
Seek these out.
NPR Listen First
Pitchfork
Idolator
We Are Pop Slags
Muso’s Guide
Paste Magazine
Remember Chris Farley? The supposed successor to the John Belushi throne at SNL? The fat guy who would do anything for a laugh? He had a character, Matt Foley, an abrasive, over-the-top, totally inept inspirational, motivational speaker who was perpetually down on his luck and living “in a van, down by the river”. That was his catchphrase and he pulled it out constantly in an attempt to ‘scare-straight’ troubled teens whose inept parents misguidedly would hire him and invite him into their home.
The phrase, “in a van, down by the river” always captured my imagination. Every time I see one of those white panel-sided vans, I inevitably wonder two things: 1/ is it one of those vans that cruise playgrounds and kidnap school children? And 2/ what would it be like to have sex in the back of one of those?
While sitting in such vans in the past, I have bravely suggested that the back area offered plenty of privacy for a quick fuck, but the owners always gave me a weird look, remaining steadfastly behind the wheel before guiding my mouth down upon their cock. Still the fantasy remained. It is part of that same family of fantasies that include one where I get invited into the cabin of a big rig truck at a highway rest stop and then get thoroughly fucked in the sleeper compartment. That is a fantasy I have yet to realize. But as for the van, down by the river…
Yep. Check it off.
It is mid-week, and while I have been having a lot less sex, I have not sworn it off completely. It has been 23 days since I decided to hold back on having sex and during that time I have only had sex twice! Considering that I would have probably had sex at least 18-20 times in 23 days before that point, you would have to agree that I am making progress and making good on my promise to abstain. But I remain horny – and that itch still needs to be scratched occasionally.
The promise I made to myself was to curb the number of sexual encounters and save it for only dudes who were truly worthy of my ass! The first guy I broke my no-sex streak for was an on-off sex bud of mine. He’s what I consider a superior top – aggressive, dominant, a little rough, and really well hung. The week before I took my vow, we had tried to hook-up. He ended up standing me up twice in one day! But when you’re as good as this dude, a bottom makes a lot of excuses for bad behavior and looks the other way. So when he hit on me, I douched and got my ass to his place as soon as I possibly could. It was so well worth it! The man fucks like a maverick. I also allowed him to take pics. In the end, we both got our cookies and went our separate ways. He is an exceptional top, so, naturally, I made an exception.
The other exception? Fulfillment of a long time fantasy.
There is something seedy about vans in general and that seediness makes for some hot fantasy material. When I pull into the parking lot of one of my usual cruising parks – one that just happens to run along the shore of a major river, I spot this white van right away and park two spots down from it. I look over and, due to the quality of light, can only make out the driver’s profile. He has a very angular looking face and I find it impossible to determine his age. I note that he has a full head of hair and I am not repulsed, so I decide to watch him. He notices me staring at him eventually, but again, due to the distance and quality of light, I can’t make out what his intentions are – so I wait.
A Bronco-style vehicle parks on the other side, next to him. There’s something going on in that vehicle that captures the van driver’s attention for quite a bit. I bide my time and focus on the messages I am getting from various members on Scruff and Grndr. Eventually the Bronco-style vehicle drives off and the van driver’s attention is once again on me. At this point we are the only vehicles in the parking lot, so I decide that if anything is going to happen, it needs to happen now. I pop my trunk and get out of my car under the pretense of getting a bottle of water. As I return to the front of my car, I pause and give the van’s driver a deep stare. There’s something about his reaction that makes me feel a bit braver and I take a couple of tentative steps toward the van door, before deciding to just go for it – risk rejection and get it over with.
The van driver is a compact, wiry type. If he was considerably younger I would call him a pony boy. But he’s not. He does look like an east coast tough, though; vaguely Italian-looking, with rough, angular features. When he was younger he must have been a real babe. Fortunately he’s older now, which means he’s ready to settle for the likes of me. I never really get a beat on just how old he is, but when he asks my age, I tell him the truth and he tells me I hide it well. I take that as a compliment. He hides his age well, too, though I am pretty certain his number is a bit higher than mine. He’s wearing a tight leather jacket and a pair of jeans. Standing outside the passenger door my eyes go right for his crotch, which looks like it holds quite a nice package. Taking note of where I’m looking, he starts rubbing the front of his jeans. I take this as an invitation and climb inside.
The first thing that strikes me is the fact that the man smokes. The ashtray is overflowing with spent butts and the air is potent with the stench. I decide I can live with that and settle into the passenger seat. We make small talk: very small. Then I reach over and take over the rubbing of his crouch, and discover something very big! This is typical of pony boys – or in this case, former-pony boys. They have short, tight, wiry, compact bodies equipped with generously sized dicks. Because of the tightness of his jeans, I am unsure just what direction his dick is pointing or just how long it is, but I also didn’t get much of a chance to explore, because he unzips and hauls that monster out like the prize it surely is. It’s ten inches with a nice sized knob and while it’s not skinny, it is not so wide that it doesn’t slide down my throat with relative ease. In fact, it goes (or rather I do) down so easy that he gasps when I reach the base in what must have been record time. Whenever I am able to deep throat an exceptionally large cock I am always tempted to ask the owner how frequently he meets someone able to take the whole thing, but I usually resist, probably because my throat is preoccupied and I’m unable to speak.
His hygiene is good, which surprises me – generally smokers are less than on point when it comes to keeping things tasting and smelling good. He shaves his pubes and his nuts hang nice and low. I run the skin of his sack through the fingers of my right hand. It feels amazing. I check in with him to make sure he’s comfortable with what’s going on and he indicates that he is by lowering his jeans past his knees and spreading his thighs wide. I go to town, quickly running through my arsenal of tricks and methods, just to demonstrate for his benefit that he is indeed in for a good time. On an up stroke, I catch sight of the Bronco-style vehicle pulling back into the parking lot.
Wasting no time, he pulls right next to the van, on the driver’s side. Checking in with the van driver to see if he wants me to continue, I return to the upright position in my seat while scoping out what’s going on. It’s at this moment that I start checking out the back of the van. My eye catches sight of some red plaid flannel and I am thinking there just might be some kind of camping mattress under the various tools and equipment that is strewn about the back of the van. But I don’t really get to contemplate this much more than that, for the van driver remains exposed for the world – which in this case consists of the driver of the Bronco and me – to see. He tells me it’s cool and that I should get back on his dick. Turns out he’s a bit of an exhibitionist and wants to put on a show for the driver of the van. Well, never one to shy away from an opportunity to show-off my skills, I take great relish working my throat up and down the length of his magnificent member all the while catching the eye of the man in the Bronco. You see, we’re at a perfect level. The driver of the Bronco can definitely see what I’m doing and I can definitely see that he’s palming his dick while he’s watching. He’s Asian: kind of fleshy, but young, maybe late 20’s, with a roundish face. From what I can see, he is not very well endowed, but what do I care. I got me some – and I am more than satisfied with what I got.
The show goes on for about five minutes when the van driver starts to ask questions and make suggestions. Do I have a place we can go? (No) Do I like to get fucked? (Hell, yeah!) Do I have condoms and lube? (Always.) Would I like to get fucked in the back of his van? (Ummm… gee… FUCK YEAH!) Why don’t I go over and suck off the Asian dude while he cleans up the back of his van? (I don’t want to, but I walk over and talk to the Asian dude for a few minutes anyway. He hides his dick as I approach and it turns out he’s a watcher/jerker and has no interest in any physical contact which is fine with me. I head back into the van.)
The driver of the van has now decided that we need to go elsewhere to play. I’m cool with that. Before spending about five minutes moving stuff around in the back of the van, he suggests that I follow him to the parking lot of a nearby home improvement store. Waiting for him to leave first, I then follow at a reasonable distance.
He parks in the back corner of the expansive, sparsely populated parking lot. I pull in near a small grouping of cars, probably those that belong to the store employees – based on their distance from the entrance to the actual store. Grabbing my little kit of goodies from the back seat, I head over to the van. Yes, the van is no longer down by the river, but it is a van, so it more than fulfills my fantasy. Hopping inside, I am pleased to see that the van’s owner has done a remarkable job of straightening the place up and that , yes, there is indeed a blow up mattress covered with a red, plaid flannel sheet. Quickly, I jump in back. The van driver is already laid back on the mattress, propped up on a pillow. His dick is sticking out of the open fly of his pants so I immediately go down on it. My abilities must awaken other possibilities, for soon he’s shucking those jeans down in order to allow me more room to work with. Again, I cannot help but be impressed by this man’s appendage. It is a thing of beauty, with just the slightest curve. Seriously, every time is glides down my throat I feel like I am eating an entire Thanksgiving meal – it is that comforting and satisfying.
He’s letting loose with a set of encouraging tones, obviously appreciating my efforts. Mid-swallow, our eyes catch and I decide to risk a kiss. I’m surprised when it’s returned. As a kisser he holds back just a bit, but is much better than I’d hoped. This latest development has me shedding my clothing at an alarming rate. I can’t wait to get that fuck stick wedged deep in my ass. I help him with his clothing as well. It’s a bit of an awkward struggle, but the combination of fantasy fulfillment, non-traditional sex locale, the dude’s big dick and general hotness has me working my way through it with aplomb.
The van is parked facing a fence, so it is unlikely that we will be seen through the windshield. We are also low enough in the back that, unless someone approaches the van and peers inside, we are not likely to be seen through the driver’s or passenger window. Yes, the sun is fading, but it is still very light out. All those windows make the exhibitionist in me very happy and my dick is hard as a rock the minute my clothes leave my body.
I return to sucking him, and really, would be happy if that is how he ended up coming. Relishing the power I have over him, I take him to the edge twice, before he insists that it’s time he use my other hole. I grab the lube as he unsheathes a condom and work a finger in my hole, showing off a bit while doing so. Appreciative, he begins rubbing his uncovered dick on my exposed hole. In response, I rub his dick along the crack of my ass. Every time it grazes my readied fuck hole a jolt of excitement courses through my body.
I tell him, “You don’t have to put that (condom) on yet”, as I want to suck on his dick a little more. And I do, for a couple more minutes, but he seems really intent on using my ass and turns me around. So I haul out my poppers and take a couple of deep whiffs, my head down and my ass pointed in his direction. I am really prepared for it to hurt, because I haven’t been fucked since my encounter with my fuck bud the week before. It must have been the poppers, or the finger fuck I gave myself before he enters me, or that his dick is just the perfect length and girth, but that motherfucker slides down my shoot so smooth it had us both gasping.
Now, he is considerably shorter than me, so that might account for some of it, although I think the actual spatial limitations within the van may also have a lot to do with it, but his thrusts are kind of on the shallow side, as if he hasn’t enough room to get a decent amount of leverage in order to pound my ass. I try to help the situation, by taking over, by fucking back onto his dick. This has the unfortunate effect of causing the vehicle to sway. Since we are in a public parking lot, I’m not counting on others honoring the adage, “if the van’s a rocking, don’t come knocking”, so we change it up just a bit, and though stilted, I find his thrusts more than satisfactory. After about ten minutes, the animal in him kicks in. He pushes down on the small of my back and really takes my hole to task. I’m working my dick and loving it as his cock rams in and out of my slicked up hole.
He announces he’s about to cum, and I am on the edge, too… so I’m all for it. Ramping up the intensity ever so slightly before coming to a screeching halt, he emits the most erotic, guttural of sounds before picking up where he left off. Satiated, I beg him to stay in me as I shoot my load, which he does, flexing his dick inside me a few times, which gets me off big time. He pulls out… and, me, fearing that my ass may not have been all that clean – the big ones tend to stir things up in there a bit more, you know – I turn half around prepared to whip that dirty condom off his cock. Only, to my surprise, there’s no condom. Seems he misunderstood what I meant when I said “you don’t have to put that on”… yet. I had assumed that he was pulling it on as I was face down in my bottle of poppers. Oh, well. He’s unfazed by it, and I remain mute. The only reason I felt comfortable letting him fuck me was because I assumed he would have the condom on… not, as you may well know, if you have read other postings on this blog – that I necessarily object to barebacking, but because I was unsure of just how clean my hole was and the last thing I want is to have my fantasy fucked up because I left my top with a dirty dick. I check, and thankfully, his dick is squeaky clean. I thank my lucky stars and immediately go down on it, just to make sure it is indeed clean. He’s lying back again, and part of me doesn’t want to let go of that magnificent member, but hey – we both got our cookies, so it’s time to go home. I clean up with a couple of wet wipes he hands me, clean up the cum I shot all over his flannel sheet, and get dressed. We make small talk and in the back of my mind I wonder if I will ever get the opportunity to do this with him again.
I say my good-byes and head back to my car, where I quickly pull out the old Listerine, take a deep swig and gargle. I hold the liquid in my mouth and throat all the way back to the park. Once there, I grab a couple of bottles of water and head to the porta-potty so I can douche. I expel what he deposited and turns out the dude shoots a big load. Maybe next time I can convince him to shoot on my face. After I clean out my hole, I head for home. Part of me knows that every time I pass by that park now I will be praying to see that white panel van, because this is one fantasy that more than lived up to my expectations and bears repeating.
That or I need to find me a big, macho trucker who wants to see me on all fours with my ass in the air in the privacy of his sleeper cabin!
Aren’t fantasies the best?
I watch too much television. I feel the need to apologize for that, like it is a bad thing. I recently went to a holiday party where I knew very few people and made the mistake of mentioning a television program I had recently seen to the person seated next to me. The person said ‘I don’t watch television’ and then turned away from me and looked the other way. So, I apologize for watching too much television. Because it is (apparently) a bad thing.
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