Gay Marriage is NOT That Important

Sure I'd love to be able to legally wed Marcus. But really, at least in the western world, we don't have it that bad. We've actually done quite well for ourselves. There aren't any signs in shop windows saying "No Gays Allowed", we aren't constantly denied employment, and our houses of worship aren't burnt to the ground. We aren't treated that unfairly by the rest of the country. Our neighborhoods are generally safe, expensive, and well kept. We have a disproportionate amount of representation in national government and national media. So why all the angst? And why is it directed at gay marriage?

Gay marriage should be at the bottom of the list of things that get our community's panties in a knot. The things we should be fighting for is freedom for gays in places where they are being persecuted and executed. Or the teaching of "gay is OK" during sex ed in public schools. Or a cure for AIDS. Or discrimination protection. Or universal health care. Or free college education. Gaining marriage rights doesn't give us equality. It just means we'd be free to get a divorce and give those good-for-nothing exes a claim to the money they didn't earn and the house they didn't build.

FAGS - HAGS = BETTER GAY NIGHTLIFE

Integration isn't everything it's cracked up to be. One of the most annoying things about being dragged out to the gay scene is walking in and seeing the amount of dick-hungry females taking up very limited gay space.

Numerous gay clubs have become infested with estrogen oozing bachelorette parties, "I'm so wasted" sorority girls, and fat chicks looking for a self-esteem booster. Gay acceptance has gone too far, it's about time we draw a line in the glitter and add some fine print: Adam 4 Adam only. You have a vagina? Great, nobody here wants it. Please go away and be a frothing whore elsewhere. Seriously, stop feeling up our go-go boys, stop clogging up our dance floors, and stop holding up our bartenders.

As a heterosexual female you have a plethora of STRAIGHT venues to drink, meet a man, and ultimately go home alone and unfilled just like you would if you went to a gay club. You can flagrantly flaunt your tetons at the next WWE Match or Exotic Car Expo. You can suck face with a man who might actually bone you at your local football game or monster truck rally. You can get wasted and be the slut you were born to be at a million and one straight bars, Frat parties, and any street corner in any neighborhood that does NOT start with Castro and end with Chelsea.

AND FAGGOTS, STOP BRINGING YOUR HAGS TO THE GAY BARS. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE YOU MAKING OUT WITH A CHICK OR GRINDING YOUR ASS ON HER VAGINA.

Different But Equal

YES you are a faggot and NO it's not normal. But it's totally fabulous.

The sooner we all realize this, the better. As a community we are NOT unified by our careers, our talents, our sense of style, our favorite music, our love of the gym, or any other trivial trait we may or may not share in common. We ARE unified by our HOMOsexuality.

The fact that we are men who love men puts us in a minuscule minority that isn't fully respected by the heterosexual majority and is understandably misunderstood. Honestly, we are freaks of nature and we should embrace that. We should STOP trying to convince the breeders that we are JUST like them. We're not. Sure most men probably just want to find the ever elusive feeling of "true happiness", that we all probably share in common but that's where our underlying similarities end. Most men do NOT seek true happiness in another man's underpants or find it in a muscle stud named Zane. Why the hell would we want to be just the same as everyone else anyway?

I Want Brock Armstrong BAREBACK

Up until now, all of the guys "I wanted" fit squarely into the collegiate jock category. It's not that those boys don't get me all hot and bothered anymore, they still do, but recently my hole has been wanting something different, something manlier, something hotter. My new crush goes by the name of Brock Armstrong and unlike the crushes before him, I actually have direct contact with him.
What makes him even hotter (in my opinion) is that he loves to fuck and get fucked, bareback. That's right, I said it makes him hotter that he loves bareback sex. Watching him participate in some no holds barred action just makes me want to join in. Maybe I will.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed and ass-cheeks spread open in hopes that we actually make body to body contact, mouth to cock contact, cock to hole contact, and load to stomach contact. Preview him taking raw dick up his ass (just the way I like it) in the video below!

CLICK HERE TO WATCH
MORE BAREBACK ACTION

Totally Drained: Part Three

By the time my 14-day stay in Northern California was over, my skin had healed and I was ready for my next event, Phoenix Forum in Arizona. This porn convention was alot more pussy-centric, alot less gay, and alot more draining. I had just experienced my first real big gay event but this was an entirely different ball game.

Pool parties lasted all day, hotel room parties lasted all night. Most attendees were drunk, high, or both through out the whole event. Boobies were all over the place, running amok, and striking fear into the hearts of the small group homos who were unfortunate enough to be there. I'm kidding. Breasts are lovely, I just don't need to see them before breakfast.

I also picked up some new lingo. Apparently, the fact that my allergies were acting up, making me sniffle and sneeze, gave others the impression that I had been inhaling powdery substances. And thus the question: "Do you like to party?", which really means, "Do you do drugs? Do you have anyone on you? Can I have some please?" I thought they meant party, like an actual party with booze and tons of people and loud music and a cake, celebrating someones release from prison or kidney stone passing or loss of virginity at the age of 14. Either way my answer would be, not really. But seriously. Who knew Party = doing drugs? Am I the only one who didn't know that? Maybe I spend too much time playing video games and fapping. I also found it alarming that an invitation to sandwiches and hot sex(which I assumed would be strictly gay sex) turned out to be a hotel room turned pussy palace and cocaine snort-a-torium.

Not really feeling the whole situation I decided to find my kind of fun elsewhere. And that weekend, "fun" came in the form of a waiter/college student. My waiter. He gave great service and I decided to be cheap by leaving my hotel room number instead of a tip. I kid. I left a tip and my hotel room number. He came over that night, worked his magic on me, and had me naked and down on my knees in less than 5 minutes. What can I say? The guy was hot and I'm a slut. Why waste time? I was pleasantly surprised when he offered me his ass, I graciously accepted of course. My penis loves the attention, my hole just usually loves it more. Once I got my fill of topping (in less than 5 minutes), I flipped myself around, threw my legs up in the air, and told him to use MY ass any way he wanted. A little bit of spit, a bed-drenching amount of sweat, and two ball-draining loads later, I was falling asleep in the arms of my waiter with a warm gooey feeling deep inside me.

Totally Drained: Part Two

Before the GayVN Awards, I had spent seven days in Sonoma County for my monthly MasonWyler.com shoot. The shoot went swimmingly. I fell into a freezing cold pool due to my lack of balance as I tried sneaking a peak of a really hot scene that I was not involved in. I had my skin eaten alive by chiggers as I sucked dick on top of their home otherwise known as anything made out of wood. I came to San Francisco looking like an insect world war had been raging all over my backside.

I don't know if it was the fact that I couldn't stop scratching my ass or the fact that all the guys in town were a trillion times hotter than I was (I wasn't high on anyone's "To Fuck List" that weekend), but during the majority of my stay in SF, my clothes stayed on, my knees were left unscathed, and my hole was never intruded upon. The only thing that entered my mouth that weekend was tongue, food, and liquor.

Like I stated in Part One. I did get to fuck someone. A hot someone. I was totally clothed, I just whipped my dick out and went to town. I kind of felt like the fat kid at the community pool. It was kind of embarrassing that I had to keep my clothes on just to hide the horrors that laid beneath but as soon as I got my fat member into that watering hole, it felt really good.

Totally Drained: Part One

Between yesterday's post and the last post I made before that, more than a month has gone by. Most of you probably don't care but I feel like filling you in on what's been going on in my world anyway.

Since the last time we spoke, I had just released a scene where I tried to show what a great top I can be (stop laughing) and I told you about my racist slip in the sauna. Well soon after that I attended the GayVN Awards in San Francisco which was... exhausting.

Understand that I have never been to a circuit party, a gay pride parade, or even an industry event in my life. My participation in gay night life consists of Marcus dragging me out to a gay bar once or twice every three months and going home before midnight.

It's not that I don't enjoy it. I do. And yes, I usually get some desperately wanted attention from a handful of hot boys, hot drunk boys, and hot drunk boys who are slutty (in that, I'm going to suck you off in the bathroom stall, kind of way). What's more enjoyable than that you ask? Sitting at home playing Resident Evil 5 on my PlayStation 3, not going deaf from incredibly bad remixes of already shitty pop songs that make me want to gouge my eyes out. Not screaming, "DO YOU WANT TO FUCK?!", to the man-candy who's groping my ass, standing right beside me, just so that he can respond with, "WHAT DID YOU SAY!? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!", and then having the ick-worthy creeper to my left hear me repeat the question and interject "I'VE GOT A BIG DICK FOR YOUR ASS, BOY!" No thank you.

The GayVN weekend was not that kind of weekend. It was basically a weekend-long industry event centered around gay porn catered to the sluts who make it and the perverts who buy and sell it. Each event was so overcrowded with hunky porn models (and guys hotter than porn models) that there wasn't any room left for the "ick-worthy creepers" who would otherwise be there, butting in on conversations and saying things that I don't want to hear. I met many people, made a few friends, attempted to have sex with all of them, and failed miserably.

Not that this will surprise anyone but what you are about to read is both slutty and desperate. Here it goes:

I met Shane Frost, he's such a bottom. A dirty nasty whorey bottom with a flaming addiction to all things that glitter. ( He didn't have sex with me. Can you tell that I'm bitter?) And he wants you to vote for him HERE.

I met Jay and Paul from TheSword.com - I don't know what they are position wise. I'm not sure if they even like boys. I just know that Paul's penis is supposedly 8 inches in length and that he is a tease. They came back to our hotel room but left without taking off any clothes or whipping anything out. Paul: Next time I'm holding your penis hostage until it sperminates all over my face.

I met Diesel Washington, who I swear to god is like 10 feet tall. And he confuses me. He looks like this hot, angry, muscled, dom-top that towers over everyone, which scares me and turns me on at the same time. Do I drop to my knees or run for my life? Probably drop to my knees.

I met Scotty B. from Cocktails with the Stars. We rode in a limo together and I sat in his lap at Lime Bar. Scotty, if you're reading this, I want you to do me. Really. Do me. Please.

I met Dallas Reeves (again) and Dustin Michaels, two boys, two words, fucking gorgeous. Two fucking gorgeous boys that I can't get. Dallas I suppose is just out of my league. I tried talking to him and he blew smoke in my face. Dustin actually gave me the time of day, we hung out, he came back to our hotel room, and he passed out on our bed. He also thinks I'm a filthy diseased whore. Whore I might be, but diseased I am not. TESTED AND PROVEN. I still want both of them like a bulimic chick wants food.

I met Jack Shamama from GayPornBlog.Com. I ended up hanging out with him alot this past month. He welcomed me into his home. I met his cat AND his dog. I came in his kitchen AND his living room. I even came in his closet. I love Jack, he taught me that style is as important in my life, as my look.

I met Aaron King (again). We met two years ago on a porn shoot for Jet Set. We didn't have any scenes together so we decided to fuck off set in my hotel room. Two years later I randomly bumped into him in San Francisco (don't you hate it when you run into old tricks?) He just moved there, I was there for the GayVNs. We hung out... And we fucked again. Only this time I was a little more drunk, he was a little more sexy (bigger, hairier, hotter), and two other guys were passed out on the bed next to us (My BF was one of them). For the 6 days I was in San Francisco, that was the only time I got laid. I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.

This isn't all the people I met that I wanted to have sex with. Just all that I felt like writing about at the moment... Stay tuned for Part Two!

Craigslist Redundancy Broken By Pie

If you spend any amount of time trolling the M4M ads on Craigslist then you must love re-runs (I know I do). Each ad seems to be the same as the last one except with different incorrectly spelled words. Maybe straight is spelled "strait" instead of "str8" or discreet is spelled "discrete" instead of "discreat." But for all intents and purposes, most of the ads are redundant, repetitive, and identical.

Most ads go a little something like this:

Headless body shot here, another wierd angled body shot there (so you can't really tell how muscled/fat the person is and it probably isn't even the same person thats in the 1st picture), A picture of a lonesome penis, Picture of an ass and/or hole, maybe a picture of a leg, and if the guy feels really daring, a thumbnail-sized fuzzy picture of somebody's face.

With text that reads:

"VGL Str8-acting jock seeks NSA fun with HOT muscled AF type, I am DDF and DISCREET UB2."

I'm not sure what very good looking means to these people nor if they know how to show it in a picture. I don't know what constitutes as straight-acting in the Craigslist world (sucking dick is straight acting? Who knew!?) or how poorly designed clothes represent a group of "hot" people.

Call me crazy but I would imagine that no one is getting fucked via Craigslist. Just murdered and robbed. And maybe if you're lucky, a good old pie in the face (WTF).

Do guys really get laid using Craigslist?

Blood Meridian

By JAMES B. WYLER


Sorry I'm a day late for this conversation. Actually I'll be honest. I know one person who read the book, but I'll be surprised if many more of you did. But as long as I have a good time that's all that matters (the selfish top in me just typed).

I'll start out with this. I love Ridley Scott, but he needs to leave Blood Meridian alone. There is talk he'll make the film adaption of McCarthy's masterpiece and the book will be destroyed. Ridley himself admits to the problems of transferring the novel to screen.

"If you're going to do Blood Meridian you've got to go the whole nine yards into the blood bath, and there's no answer to the blood bath, that's part of the story, just the way it is and the way it was."

Calling the novel a blood bath is an understatement. Men use the ears of kills as prizes of worth, there isa feverish hunt for scalp and then there are the bodies of the dead. And more dead. And more. This is the western part of America Hollywood never got to telling with its iconic tales . Characters played by John Wayne and Gary Cooper would be jail house bitch meat in the world of the Judge and the Glanton Gang.

It is shaking up a genre that is so worn ready that makes Blood Meridian so essential. And any novel that has this line needs to be on your bookshelf:

Men's memories are uncertain and the past that was differs little from the past that was not."

Yes that line comes from the mouth of the Judge, Satan, or his best representative, on Earth; however, when applied to the western, a mode of story-telling that has been steeped in myth and lore, far removed from the actual West, shouldn't we listen to the devil?

Okay, I'm rambling so let's make this concrete with a few questions: 1) at the end of the novel when the Judge and the Kid go into the room, what happens?, 2) what do you make of the Judge dancing at the end and proclaiming his skills as a performer being matched by none, 3) the Kid and the priest. How to describe their relationship? What draws them to each other, other than daddy drama?, 4) is it wrong to see this as a comic novel? Yes it is seeped in death, yet there are out loud funny moments. My personal favorite is when black Jackson cuts the head off of one of his peers who decides that sitting around the fire is now segregated, 5) do we dismiss the Judge by seeing him as Satan as opposed to a real man who understands better than most the nature of humans? 6) is the Kid responsible for the destruction of the gang as the Judge suggests and if so, how?, and 7) what role does the physical landscape play in the plot the development of characters?

So let's talk. Leave your comments. answer the questions (or not). I'll do my best to respond to what is said. Blah, Blah.

And in case you are wondering, yes I have a book set for next month. The week-end of May 23, we'll talk about Jeanette Winterson's Written on the Body. A world away from the Glanton Gang in one sense, but still dealing with those questions of our humanity. And for you queens who think the only thing you can do is read, eat, and live stuff that is gay, Winterson is a lesbian. Although she would remind us that is the least interesting thing about her.

I'm horny

By JAMES B. WYLER


Not much to add to the title at all is there Always happens around this time of year. College basketball ends and I get in the mood to pound some one's hole as they bite a pillow. The chances to do that are rather limited (to steal from Richard Pryor: my dick is so clean you can cook it in a pot of cabbage). In fact I've only fucked two people in my life. One was a straight woman and the other was a working boy who made the best faces when he sat on my dick.

I have no clue why I'm sharing this. My fat ass should be in bed so I can go work in my soul less office tomorrow. Instead I'm ranting to you gals and surfing the net trying to find something I can bust a nut to. It won't help, but it will put me to sleep for a few hours. Then tomorrow I can wake up and be all horny again.

So how are you people doing with Blood Meridian?

Thanks to CollegeDudes247 for the photo.