Porn Friends Gone By

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I wanted to knock this post out before I forgot about it, my teensy tiny attention being what it is and how I have to use it to focus on quantum physics and yarn and what I’m going to have for lunch.

Anyway, I’ve been very struck by a picture blog I stumbled on recently called brutoseros which is an absolute archive of gay porn people so very thorough it might be verging on OCD.  Instead of a few token examples of each performer, whoever is putting this together posts a comprehensive survey of their work.  You want to see what Chris Rockway looked like before and after his unfortunate haircut? This is the resource for you.

One has to applaud such dedication.

Also,  a few days ago, the post featured the only pornster I actually know, this devastatingly humpy Swiss guy who worked under the nom de smut of Alain Gerard, which is pretty close to his real name.

When R man and I moved out here, he reunited with his old friend Richard, a slightly disgraced and semi-defrocked priest.  Alain (who hadn’t gotten into showbiz at that point) was Richard’s friend and so would show up at parties to distract those of us given to drooling over muscular blondes.   Pretty much everybody there, in other words.

A couple of amusing dinners were enlivened by Alain and some straight (straight-ish) guy and what they seemed to think was their discreet flirting.  R Man and I were amused, anyway, the guy’s wife didn’t seem to find it too funny, but then she spent most of the evenings drunk and crying in the bathroom.

Alain was determinedly oblivious to the effect he had on me and my pants, possibly because he was accustomed to tongue-lolling adoration and possibly because he was distracted by trying to snag R Man.

That happened a lot; living with R Man, I had long since become accustomed to cute guys pushing me aside so they could try to climb up on the R Man Ride.  Let’s compare and contrast, shall we?

R Man
the author

Let me point out, before this turns into an absolute pity party, I got plenty, plenty of mens and the ones sniffing around for me were not looking for R Man so being drastically different from each other worked for us.  I don’t know how these gay couples that are essentially each other’s clones divvy up who gets what.  Not my problem.

Eventually Alain drifted off to L.A. and the world of feelthy peectures.  And now that I think of it, Richard left the church and wound up in Seattle where he started his own porn company, called something like ooodaddy.com where he worked in front of the camera as well, so I guess I know two pornsters.

Yay peenee.

10 responses »

  1. I often look at my handsome husband and wonder “what are you doing with me?” Husband is handsome, tall and kind hearted. I have a big dick. He could have anyone, but he claims he only wants me. Go figure. Love is a mysterious thing.

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  2. I am laughing so hard that I'm commenting before even finishing reading your post (note too how there are three “ing” words in that sentence, please). A lovely picture of R-man and an uncharacterically goofy pic of you. You know I love you . . . hats and all.

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  3. R=Man had the looks alrighty. And peenee has that special something. You can't name it, but it is real. Your minions can attest to this, if only they would stop looking at the eye candy you post. Anyway – looks are fleeting, but crazy is forever.

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  4. An unlikely college chum ended up in the blue end of the show biz, something I discovered one night on the way home from a night out in Greenwich Village; purchasing the Sunday TImes at 3:00 a.m., there he was, to paraphrase Miss Lauper, on the cover of a Honcho magazine. It was hell waiting 'til morning to activate the phone tree (“No? Really?””Really!!!“). Must have been a blip in his life, 'though, as the Facebook has since revealed him to be a Jungian therapist living in the MIdwest with his husband, a party planner, and looking more like Kelsey Grammer than Steve Kelso, alas…

    As for Dealing with the Attractive Husband, count me in; Mr. Muscato seems to turn heads worldwide. We were sitting in a bar in Paris once and a man started chatting with us; I was translating, as my French is better than the MIster's, and it soon became evident that a pass was being made. In some dudgeon, I let the beau mec know that the Mr. and I were an item, and his blithe reply was, “pas de problem – you can come watch!”
    .

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  5. Gosh, oftimes when I read your spicy anecdotes I realize just how sad and pathetic my little life has been.
    ahem
    I mean that in the best way, of course.

    I'm just going to have to make it a mission to meet more porn stars.

    Like

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