Michael Lucas’ prediction of the porn and mainstream worlds inevitably overlapping continues to come true with “Porn – The Musical”, a production currently in development between New York’s experimental group the Civilians and L.A.’s Center Theatre Group. According to the LA Times blog, the still untitled show “will explore the real-life stories of the people who work in California’s pornography industry. Using their interview-based approach to theater, the Civilians have begun speaking to industry insiders, including porn stars, producers, directors, technical crew and distributors.” The Civilian’s Porn Musical blog is soliciting feedback from folks who work in the adult entertainment industry to help the understand “the human side of porn.” That’s all good and well, except that porn transforms most “humans” into drooling sex-mutants, both the performers and the spectators. And if the musical doesn’t include double pen, piss play, or bukkake onstage, we’ll consider it an outroght failure.
So to help out, we’re gonna ask all our gay porn peeps to contact the civilians via Twitter. After all, a handful of our favorite studios are located in California (like Titan, Hot House, Active Duty, Raging Stallion, and C1R/Rascal/Catalina) so the musical might as well cover the gay porn world. If they do that, they can just open up a site and charge money to watch—very modern!
The Ladies Who Lunch
By Steve Prince
“Where’s Cody?”
Troy looked at me as is if I’d been struck dumb.
“Really?” Troy raised his eyebrows and looked at his watch.
I looked at my watch. It was one o’clock on the dot. Well. of course Cody wasn’t here; that would make him on time, which isn’t Cody’s way. Not that we were offended by it. It’s just the way Cody is.
Alex gingerly set down his glass of tea. He beamed—the belle of monogamy. He looked as if he had just stepped off a boat docked in Cape Cod, in his navy and cream striped Theory sweater, his mousy brown hair now sun-streaked with ribbons of dark honey. I could only think it had to do with the endless amount of hours he and David spent by the pool or beach. It seemed like every time Troy and I called Alex to do something the answer was the same.
“David and I are hanging out by the pool,” his voice lilting with romanticism. “Come join us!”
And sometimes we would. That was the nice thing about Alex and David; I never felt like a third wheel with them. Although, they both were so blissfully AND annoyingly happy that I sometimes found myself getting a hint jealous.
But things change.
“So, Stevie,” Alex seemed to hear my thoughts, “what’s new with you?”
I wasn’t ready to drop the bomb yet; I wanted to wait for Cody. Yes, I’m dramatic, I’ll admit.
It must have been instilled in me as a child—I yearned to be on television. Feeling unable to be myself anyone around me, I imagined a world of my own creation. I often felt that if my mother TRULY understood me she’d take me to the Nickalodeon Studios and put me on You Can’t Do That On Television or maybe Today’s Special. Surely it wasn’t that hard for gay boy in southern Oklahoma to get on TV… Well, I never got on TV, but the dramatic part stuck.
Not wanting to talk about my new tryst, I deflected Alex’s question. I’m Southern; we’re great at passively-aggressively dodging anything.
“Well,” I sighed, “I don’t think I can say a thing until we hear why you look like a bronzed god sitting right in front of us.”
Alex’s cheeks flushed.
“I assume things are going well between you and David?”
Alex beamed even brighter, if that could be possible.
“We are a-maaazing!” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with a guy so hard. I’m so scared I’m going to fuck it up.”
“People usually do,” Troy interjected and smiled.
“You hush!” I scolded like a mother hen. “Look, sugar, you’re going to be fine. You are already fine, in fact.”
“It’s true,” Troy added waving his finger between us, “we’ve put in too much work on you. David should give us a finder’s fee.”
Cody sauntered in the diner as the three of us laughed heartily.
“Hey, hey,” he plopped down in the booth beside me.
“What did I miss?” he asked taking a sip of my Diet Coke.
“Stevie, avoiding a question,” Troy accused me.
Everyone looked at me.
“What do you mean?” I asked trying to sound as incredulous as possible. I swear I’m so dramatic sometimes that even Tyne Daly would tell me to tone it down.
“Oh, come on,” Troy said putting down his fork. “Something is going on with you.” He studied my face intently and he waved his index finger in front of my eyes, “I can tell.”
“Well?”
Fuck. How should I start? I mean I couldn’t just say that I finally fucked around with my high school crush who had never came out of the closet but still fucked the hell out of me with his huge cock… or could I?
At least two members of Team Orange are confirmed bear lovers. Between the broad muscles, the hairy chests, and the warmth of a man-sized bear hugs what’s not to love? QCA has featured bears once before, but the excellent pencil drawings of Brent Douglas Marrs compelled us to revisit the bear cave once again.
Using only a pencil and paper, Marr sketches blue-collar bears with special attention to the muscular softness and body hair that makes us want a pappa bear of our own to hibernate with. He started off drawing superheroes and dinosaurs. But once he found a sexy pic in a soft-porn mag and started draw it he put it away without finishing. He showed it to a friend one year later and the friend said that his subject looked like a local bartender named Eric. Marr finished it at once and took it to show Eric—it turned out, it Eric was the same guy—Eric loved it and bought it on the spot! And that spirit of appreciation for his compels Marr to keep creating new pieces.
Though we’d love to see more sexy bits, Marr’s work turns us on without giving everything away. Denying us the twig and berries just makes us hungrier. If he’s not careful, we’ll start snatching picnic baskets in Jellystone park until the ranger finds us.
For more lions, tigers, and bears, check out the QCA Archives.
Thanks to Bearotic.
Unlike He-Man, we never considered the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles very sexy. Well, maybe if you removed their shells, but even then, actual turtle penis looks like menacing purple blob, so the reality would be a million times more frightening than the fantasy. However, these cartoonish and cum-drenched pics from the twisted minds at Cartoon Dicks made us laugh (and feel a little turned on), so we had to share. Besides, we do go for other varieties of teenage mutant (particularly big-dicked twinks), so the Turtles don’t seem such a far cry off. But weren’t the turtles raised as brothers? So do some of these pics count as incest? And does posting a pic of Rafael sodomizing Shredder count as a promotion of bestiality? Maybe this would have been better placed on QCX! Related QC Features: QCA Art: The Comic Book Slash Fantasies of Ponderosa True Twincest – William Higgins’ Double Czech Featuring The Richter Twins Battle Of The Porn Stars: Twincest Is Best!
A Minute’s Pause
By Steve Prince
“Finally.”
I barely hear the word. I’d been dreaming and apparently said the word in my dream. Yet I have no idea why because I woke up too quickly to remember the context.
The brutal tangerine light of morning crept under my eyelids while I slept sleeping, pouncing upon me and waking me from my restful night of slumber. My eyes fluttered open as I inhaled quickly through my nose.
As my pupils adjusted to the flood of light, I scanned the small bedroom searching for the culprit that let in the dawn. Ah, an open window blind. You bastard window—traitor! The morning interrupted my dream and I wasn’t happy.
Oh, but what was that dream, again? Why do I always forget my dreams so quickly? I shut my eyes trying to conjure images once so vivid in my mind. Flecks of memory momentarily flickered before me like crackling sparks rising up from a bonfire.
My brain aches to remember, but remember what… Peter, a dim apartment, tears, and a kiss…?
In their latest work, Demonstration, photographic French duo, Exterface explores the intersection between voyeurism and exhibitionism using leather daddy model, Bulrog. And though we’re diggin’ on his undeniably dirty look, we wish he’d show us the cock. Oh well, he gets pretty close— you should check out the complete set just to see how close.
See more from Exterface and other queer artists at the QCA Archives.
Anyone who’s hooked-up several times a week knows the double-edged sword of sex. On one hand, life seems a never-ending quest for cock. On the other hand, is a fat dick with a hot guy attached. Sure, knocking boots is fun, but when is it time to walk?
Author Ron Peter Mombello probes this question in Thinking With Your Dick, a book filled with interviews, anecdotes, and reflections from gay men, straight men, and women about what happens when the little head does the thinking for the big one. Alongside personal accounts, Mombello includes dark comic book drawings that illustrate the humor and horror of sexual predation.
Mobello’s not interested in judging so much as weighing. Is there a happy medium where sex co-exists with life rather than guides it? Here’s some of his questions:
Is thinking with our dicks a biological imperative or a libidinous gluttony?
Too often, are sexual obsessions inseparably bound to aggression, violence, and sadistic behavior?
Can men be violent, self-indulgent, sexually-obsessed, multi-pricked monsters?
Brotherly Love
By Steve Prince
“Door’s open!” Peter’s voice echoed from behind the door.
I placed my hand on an old brass doorknob and turned. Before I walked in the apartment, the nauseating smell of beer and pot webbed around my face, making me cough.
“Sorry about that, bro,” Peter said exhaling a thick waft of smoke.
“God damn,” I waved my hand in front of my face, “turn on a fan, dude.”
As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit apartment, I understood why Peter’s voice echoed earlier. The placed looked nothing like a home, it looked more like a temporary residence. There were still open boxes cluttered with CD’s, books, and nick-knacks. On the kitchen counter sat an array of fast-food bags and pizza boxes. On the whole, the place looked a mess and smelled like a nasty frat house.
My gaze fell on Peter sitting on the couch. He looked terrible. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were red because of the pot or lack of sleep.
I walked towards him. Shakily, he stood up and clasped my hand and drew me in for a hug.
“Good to see ya man.” He generously patted my back.
“You too,” I replied. My mind scanned itself, unable to find anything even remotely helpful to say. I still didn’t know why Peter wanted to see me so badly.
Sexy and talented artist, Michael Breyette grew up in rural upstate NY, a region, he says, that can sometimes parallel the stereotype of the red-neck South. He early work focused escapist sci-fi and fantasy scenes. Though he’s grown up you can still see a fantastic element in his work, whether it’s the big-dicked devils, butterfly boy, or stud-turned-wolfman, or his more intimate portraits of men deep in thought. His works have an anticipatory nature—the men rarely participate in full-on fucking; they’re usually in the moment just before or after. It imbrues his work with an erotic tension that’s keeping us quite erect.
He certainly gets his aesthetic from porn, yet he’s said that his work responds to his perceptions as a gay man living in America:
The part sex plays in my artwork has to do with my feelings that sexuality especially gay sexuality is repressed by mainstream society. Also in artwork, a simple nude female is more easily accepted by the general public that a nude male…a nude male is going to cause more controversy and is more likely to be labeled pornographic but I think my work is more about the beauty of men, their lives and their loves and that we’re just like everyone else. It’s only the sex that makes us ‘different’.
Michael’s advice to young artists is to “do something you enjoy. You may not know what it is yet, you might not know until you are 30 or 40, but when you do, go for it no matter what you are doing or where you are at, at the time.” We wanted to post more of his awesome paintings here for your enjoyment, but you should really just check out his website and enjoy the rest of his incredibly hot paintings for yourself. You can even order his prints, books, and commissioned works through the site. Related Features on QC: QCA Art: B. Boyer QCA Art: Male Ero Painter QCA Art: Pricasso
Via Manhunt Daily
The Present
By Steve Prince
“Are you watching the memorial service tomorrow?” James asked as I crossed the back door threshold. It’d been a long day and honestly the last thing on my mind was Michael Jackson’s death.
“Oh, it’s tomorrow?” I had some idea of what was going on. But as I took off my messenger bag, I realized I’d been so busy that I hadn’t even read or listened to the news lately.
I sighed, “Ehh, I’m okay not to watch it.”
And I was. Don’t get me wrong; I was shocked by Jackson’s passing. In fact, I hadn’t realized how much his music played consistently in the background of my life—almost like a diary or a soundtrack. Granted I wasn’t a huge fan, but the whole situation seemed very sad to me. I’ll think about it later I told myself; I didn’t have time now. The fact that I barely knew about his funeral indicated just how busy I’d been. Since Michael Jackson’s death, Los Angeles’ response seemed amplified by 100, but I’d barely registered it.
Two hours later, I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to fall asleep. My body ached for sleep but my mind raced with the busy schedule awaiting me in the morning. A taunting green glow from my alarm clock glared at me. I kept rolling over for a few more minutes to no avail.
“Ahh, fuck!” I cursed. I reached over to my nightstand and pulled out a bottle of lube. I poured some into my hand, lathered myself up, and began to pull, while fantasizing about a broad shouldered man kissing the nape of my neck.
Between Men 2: Original Fiction by Today’s Best Gay Writers
Edited with an Afterword by Richard Canning; Alyson Books, New York, 2009.
Reviewed by Jonathan Statham on the Chroma Blog
It has often struck me as somehow significant that the gay section in a mainstream bookshop (if it exists) often contains a high proportion of books which anthologise short stories. Many of these are of course erotica but besides this there’s a healthy supply of collections like the one currently under review: anthologies of contemporary authors using fiction to engage with and be literate about gay life (contemporary and historical). Furthermore, in the current publishing climate, it’s these books which seem most happy to label themselves ‘gay’ and to take homosexuality as their explicit subject matter. Why this is the case is perhaps more problematic. What does short prose have to offer that it should be such a staple for gay readers today?
From one point of view, there seems to be a general sense that to make homosexuality the explicit subject of a novel would be gratuitous—as the editor of the current volume, Richard Canning, put it in his Afterword: “some of us live in a world where being gay may prove no big deal.” Certainly, many of these stories do take as their starting point the notion that being gay is but a part of their characters’ lives. Yet it is the strength of these stories to betray that starting point, to demonstrate instead the pervasiveness of their characters’ (homo)sexualities, the ways in which their being gay affects every relationship they have, sexual and non-sexual.
Indeed, I think the most interesting stories here are those in which the ‘couple’ is not the strict focus, because it’s then that the socially pervasive character of homosexuality gets brought out, the reasons why even if it is only one part of a life it is still always a big deal (not least because it is quite frankly a big deal to have a sexuality at all). To give a few examples: John Weir acutely assesses male friendships that, as it were, cross the orientation divide. Aaron Hamburger looks at a mother emigrating to be with her gay son in America and shows how sexuality and nationality and the creation of community are complexly interwoven and not always harmoniously. Then there is Eric Karl Anderson’s intricate story of a father and son in which the son’s relationship with his own homosexuality and that of those around him impacts upon his relationship with his father. Wayne Koestenbaum’s piece is perhaps an even more extreme example, being a posthumous dialogue between Sylvia Plath and Rainer Werner Fassbinder who both, being dead, now reside in New Jersey—their conversation revolves around Fassbinder’s erection and is many ways a debate on the emotional nuances of sexuality and sexual acts. An exploration shared, as it were inversely, by David McConnell’s story in which the sexual nature of the relationship is precisely what is in question, specifically with regard to the prescribed sexual roles, top and bottom (“mindless concepts […] which eliminated all subtlety and all fine distinctions”). In each of these stories, and others in this volume, it is a question not of making homosexuality an issue but of examining what homosexuality puts in issue, how it changes the social dynamics, creates alternative possibilities in its departure from the normative. And this is one thing the short story can do best: show how an aspect, a significant detail, a part, transforms the whole.
If that already sounds like the dynamic of gay liberation, its search by means of homosexuality for new socio-sexual formations, relations and communities that might free homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals and the whole queer lot of us, then I think that’s no accident. Furthermore, we might take the digression or departure from a focus on the conventional couple (that core model of heterocentric life and culture) negotiated by these stories as some kind of answer to a question posed to us recently by Peter Tatchell, writing in The Guardian on the eve of Stonewall’s fortieth anniversary: “are queers the new conservatives, the 21st-century suburbanites?” Well, almost we are, almost but not quite as this volume seems to bear testament. For while many of these stories take up domesticated life, they do so in order to unravel it, to reveal how it is striated not only by sexual orientations but also by race, gender, age, nationality and death and the intertwining of these things.
In addition to the stories themselves, Richard Canning has included an Afterword in which he gives us brief literary critical ‘readings’ of every story included in the volume. Canning is right when he asks “why have a set of requirements for fiction? Why “must” fiction do, or be, anything?”—except that neither ought it do nor be nothing. In a particular instance it must indeed be something or we are left with a blandness, which in this case is grossly unfair to some exquisite short stories. This is not a question of establishing ‘requirements for fiction’—certainly there is no single thing that fiction must always do—but an anthology (or any publication for that matter) is a situation for fiction in which an idea of fiction takes shape (and does so whether one intends this or not). But what Canning suggests in his Afterword is that this volume merely collects what he considers to be good writing by authors who only happen to be gay (among other things). The stories here can be appreciated individually as accomplished works redolent of twenty-first century homosexuality’s search for its place and its meaning in a world ever more diverse, ever more complex and ever more changeable.
Check out http://chromajournal.blogspot.com/ for more reviews of the latest queer literature.
If you like porn star and hot men with tattoos waxing their pubic hair, this video’s for you! Yes, it’s YouTube, but there’s some hot groin and ass action at the end with plenty of laughs in between.
You may have heard of gay NYC pop-culture interviewer Mike Diamond, but only recently does he seem poised to blow up in big ways. He’s about to get a show on Logo and has just started his own blog and website that he’ll undoubtedly use to promote his talented, hilarious ass—he’s like the fun, gay best friend every girl wants.
In this hilariously naughty clip, Diamond visits the Face-to-face Spa in NYC and runs into some famous gay celebs including Project Runway hottie Jack Mackenrot, hilarious comedienne Robbyne Kaamil, transgender dancer Laverne Cox, and writer-slash-actor Jesse Archer. Now that we’ve just posted them on our international gay porn site, they can add that to their resumes as well.
And talking about gay porn, Mike Diamond even managed to run into mega-cute porn star, Mike Dreyden. He’s only been on QC once for almost catching on fire at Hustlaball but he’s hot stuff, flames or no. And in this great vid, he’s also getting his asshole waxed—fun! If you just can’t get enough of Mike Diamond, you can check out more vids at his YouTube page or his Logo search results page.
Even though it’s chicks… urm… we mean, bricks, this Girls Gone Wild spoof is dead on and manages to sex up our childhood building blocks. Of course, we preferred bath time with our sister’s Ken doll, though we never did tell her where his head went after the (ahem) incident.
For more QueerClick Arts hijinks, check out the QCA Archives!
Here You Cum Again
By Steve Prince
“To us!”
Our glasses kissed as Carrie and I drank, both of us smiling.
Carrie and I tried to have one of our “get togethers” once every couple of months. We needed it. As cheesy at is sounds, we purposefully come together to celebrate one another and encourage each other. It’s nice to have a friend who’s always supporting you and spurring you to do better.
For this bi-monthly meeting, we decided to meet at Obar, a swanky yet slightly pretentious bar and lounge in West Hollywood. Obar had a calm atmosphere and the food was okay, but there was one thing that kept people coming… free drinks.
On Thursday nights, Obar would have an open bar at the top of every hour for five minutes. It often looked like a school of piranhas devouring their catch during that five minutes and, let’s be honest, I often am one of those piranhas clambering for my own free drink.
But tonight was different; Carrie and I had gotten to the restaurant much earlier. The mood of the place was quiet and serene as a live jazz trio hummed in the background.
As the sunlight began fade as if bowing to the evening, Carrie and I laughed and gossiped—and then we laughed some more.
I told Carrie about my slutty night with Louis.
“How do you do it?” Carrie asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked with a smirk.
Carrie held her hands out in front of her as if trying to grasp her words. “Guys… and sex… and,” she paused. “Well, it just amazes how quickly you can get laid.”
As long as there’s been comic books, there’s been gay fan boys imagining male superheroes getting it on. Batman seems to be a perennial favorite. QCA featuredSylvain Norget’s The Naked Hero, then Mark Chamberlain’s Queer Batman. Now, the Caped Crusader and his nemesis, The Joker, haunt the dark sexual drawings of Ponderosa, a 30-year-old bisexual, polyamorous, gender-fucker studying animation at the Academy of Art University in San Francisco.
But unlike her male QCA predecessors, our lovely illustrator doesn’t just stop at The Dark Knight, but includes something for every fan boy, no matter your tastes. The Weasley twins tease each other and Professor Snape speaks parseltongue to Harry’s serpent; Iron Man and Captain America kiss; warriors from Lord of the Rings share an intimate moment; a warrior from Naruto reveals his happy trail; Jack Sparrow finds action on the high seas of Pirates of the Caribbean; Nite Owl sexes Rorschach from behind and the Comedian takes on Ozymandias from Watchmen; mutant brothers Sabretooth and Wolverine fuck in the secret barracks of X-Men; and the studs of Supernatural get spooky sexy with one another—very hot!
Some of her work features scenes of rape, S&M, cross-dressing, and physical violence so exxxtreme that we placed on QCX*. Check them out (if you dare) or check out the remaining scenes from Supernatural after the jump!
Hat tip to Fleshbot
*her pieces on QCX aren’t that bad, actually, just a bit bloodier than the ones here.
If you missed Part One of this column, check it out. Gettin’ It Done
By Steve Prince
His tongue encircled my own. I could feel the tickle of his whiskers against the top of my upper lip. My own tongue touched the top of his teeth and then I bit down on his top lip. This only spurred him on. I could feel his hands cradling my cheeks as he thrust his tongue deeper into my mouth.
One of his hands left my face but soon found respite in the small of my back. His hand began to slide down the inside of my jeans. I pressed my body into his and could feel him erect.
And then I remembered… we’re in a bar.
Like a Jack-in-the-Box, I popped up for air. I looked him in the eyes and he smiled.
“I never got your name,” he said with a smirk.
“Oh, I’m Steve,” I said shyly. Yes, for some reason I felt shy now. Apparently, when he said his name was Louis and I stuck my tongue down his throat without uttering a word, I was not shy then. But now, I’m shy. I’m an idiot sometimes.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, “or should I say, ‘Nice to make out with you’?”
I was too drunk not to fall for that line—then we made out again. Jeezus.
Soon, Cody came over.
“Hey you two,” he said looking Lewis up and down and then obviously nodding in a seal of approval.
I introduced both boys and then realized that I didn’t feel so great.
“Um, excuse me,” I said. “I’m just gonna pee.”
Cody nodded as Louis said, “Okay” and then he pinched my nipple as I walked away.
Yes, he pinched my nipple. Classy.
As I saw the line to the bathroom, I was grateful for its shortness; I was feeling worse by the second. As I got in line, a cute guy stood in front of me. He had dark, straight black hair and very strong Japanese features—just flat out pretty. He caught me staring, looked at me, and nodded.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m Mark.”
We shook hands. Someone exited the bathroom before I could introduce myself. Apparently Mark didn’t care. He began to walk backwards into the bathroom before I realized he was pulling me with him.
