German hip-hop electro band Deichkind (literally Dike Child) is known for its crazy and wild live shows including rubbish bag-outfits, trampolines, vodka and pillow fights among other things. We don’t know if their members are gay but their most recent video certainly is. While watching we thought to ourselves, “Wow, this band is ridiculously hot. They all look like elves straightout of Lothlorien.” Then they started stripping, playing tug-o-war in their underwear, and wearing rainbow colored pyramids. Umm… yes. Hotness and a catchy song to boot.
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
By Steve Prince
Sex had been on my mind all day. You know those days when you just can’t stop thinking about it? Early that day as I sat in a work meeting, I couldn’t help but think of someone’s strong hands sliding down my back as we kissed, or the touch of a man’s cock against my own, or the scrap of someone’s teeth against my bottom lip. I actually started to get hard in the meeting.
Even on my lunch break I couldn’t get sex off my brain. As I sat at an outside table, a toddler ran up to me and waived innocently.
I grinned and waved back. “Hey cutie,” I said sweetly as I looked down at him.
“Oh sorry,” said the father’s voice causing me to raise my head. If I ever had a type, it would have been this guy. He wore a soft yellow polo shirt that hung on his slim frame, his chino pants looked clean and fresh, and his brown eyes glistened in the midday sun as he smiled. Yum.
“Oh,” I said shutting my dropped jaw. “No worries. He’s adorable by the way.”
“Thanks,” he replied taking his small son’s hand in his own. “Come on, Conner.”
Okay, let’s take a moment. Men are hot, but few things are hotter than a hot dad. Seriously. Yes, I know a lot of you don’t want children, but I would totally get knocked up right now if I could. Seriously.
As the man walked away with his child in his arms, I couldn’t help but imagine what kind of husband he was to his family. What kind of husband would he be to me? I began to imagine what it would be like for us to make a baby. (Yes, I know this isn’t possible but it’s my fantasy, dammit.) I imagined cooking him the best steak he’d ever had, then we’d have a glass of wine and sit by our fire. Next, he’d pick me up (yes again, fantasy—in reality he’d probably drop me), and he’d carry me into the bedroom. Soon his rock hard cock would be sliding inside and he’d plant his seed in my womb and nine months later… Junior arrives! I know, I watched too much Donna Reed on Nick-at-Nite as a kid. And yes I know I’m not a woman, but this is my fantasy. Oh God, I want a baby! All right… back to the story at hand.
So needless to say—I was very horny. Sex had been on my mind all day. As I got home, I felt so grateful that Friday evening loomed just minutes away; I planned to relish the weekend and get my mind off sex. You know what?, I thought to myself, I’m going to have a glass of wine, catch up on some reading and get some schoolwork done. THAT’S what I’ll do! Yes THAT’S what I’ll DO!
Ten minutes later I found myself in front of my computer screen, watching Leo Giomani get his cocked sucked by David Taylor. My pants lay on the floor and a bottle of Gun Oil sat on my side table.
Have you ever had that feeling that jacking off isn’t going to cut it? As I lay on my bed, with my dick in my hand I looked at lovely Leo in ecstasy and I realized… this ain’t gonna cut it.
A perennial favorite, the iconic Pet Shop Boys have released a video for their new single “Love Etc.” from their forthcoming album YES (out March 23, 2009). The song’s catchy, the video has a tripped out video game aesthetic, and there’s even boys kissing. The song talks about how cash, looks, and fame are all nice, but extraneous for love. We couldn’t agree more.
The Elephant in the Room
By Steve Prince
The match combusts and a flash of light sparks between my finger tips. I pause and look at the flame, acknowledging its warmth. Slowly, I raise the burning match to the blackened wick. Like a kiss they connect and ignite one another. I shake the match to extinguish it and lay the blackened scrap on an ashtray. I close my eyes and inhale. Six hours earlier…
Shit, I wasn’tt going to last. As a streak of neon yellow blazed past me, my body stretched to reach. My racket extended. I missed. I was totally off my morning tennis game that day.
Alex, who’s extremely competitive, usually grins broadly and pumps his arm when he makes a point. However, as I waited for his serve he looked at me in earnest.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, beginning to walk towards the net, “Is something going on?”
“Nah,” I lied.
“Steve,” he pressed, “you’re a terrible liar. What’s going on?”
I sighed. “Y’know, honestly,” I began, “I don’t know. Lately I just feel like I’m not myself. Y’know, where you feel all fuzzy? I dunno. I’m not making sense am I?”
“Is this about Kelly?” Alex asked.
“No!” I said emphatically; maybe too emphatically. I so didn’t want this to be about Kelly. I really was over this whole thing or at least was trying to be over it. It had been over a month since we’d even talked, and by “talked” I mean “texted” because that’s the only way he could communicate.
“I think I feel weird because I haven’t been exercising like I should,” I changed the subject. “Now come on and let’s play.”
We played in silence for about ten minutes before either one of us spoke.
“Okay,” Alex said, as if he’d been thinking that entire time, “We have to narrow down your problem.” He slammed a forehand ball down the line.
I scrambled to return with a pretty decent backhand (if I do say so myself). “I don’t know the problem,” I grunted while swinging. “That’s the problem.”
“Well,” Alex said between breaths, “you know you can talk to me about anything.”
The darling French duo of Exterface excels at taking beautifully retouched photos of handsome men in strangely cinematic shots. They’ve done it again… this time to promote Mouton Collet jewelry. What leotards, ribbons, corsets, and paper antlers have to do with jewelry, we’re not sure. But the model sure makes us want to take a closer look at his jewels! Bijoux son jolies! If you haven’t yet, check out more of Exterface’s previous works on QueerClick: Babybomb Ultimate Swan Hello Sailor! Boywonder Psilocybine Animale Rhapsody Flamme Ether Sky Walker Muse
Two words: Gay incest—frightening or fantasy? Whether you find it titillating or taboo, the controversial subject matter of the short film Starcrossed keeps it fresh even though it came out 2005. Alienated from their overbearing father, young Connor fosters a close friendship with his older brother Darren. But when a kiss on the lips awakens their true feelings for each other, the two must keep their forbidden love a secret from their parents and girlfriends or else pay the price. The word “starcrossed” comes from the prologue of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet and that the film is accordingly dramatic. Thankfully, the writer and director James Burkhammer II doesn’t debase the material by treating it in a tawdry way. He creates an alternately tense and tender atmosphere in beautiful blues and grays, using talented actors, and a great score. He definitely sacrifices plausibility and character development by trying to cram too much into a 15-minute film, but the film does add an extra twist on the “love that dare not speak its name.” Some people view homosexuality the same way others view consensual love between two blood relatives. But let us know, what do you think? Sure this film is a fantasy, but can incest ever be OK when the two lovers consent or is it always an unhealthy emotional relationship? You can see the full film after the jump!
Kissing a Fool
By Steve Prince
The mid-morning sun hopped along the tops of the cars cruising down Beverly Boulevard, its rays glinting from one metallic flash to the next. I looked at my watch. Five after 11a.m. He’s late.
I looked down the boardwalk taking in the group of shoppers walking towards La Brea. Through the crowd a tall chestnut head bobbed in response to a youthful gait. Effortlessly, the crowd parted and there sauntered Kelly, walking toward me smiling, his small Chihuahua Teddy sniffing at the sidewalk, reluctantly dragged along.
“Whaddya say, cool kid?” Kelly asked beaming. He hugged and pecked me on the lips. “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” he added. A flourish of wind from a passing car swept his light mahogany hair across his forehead.
“Nah,” I replied with a brush of my hand, “I just walked up about two minutes ago.”
I bent down to pet Kelly’s dog. I outstretched the back of my palm. “So this is the famous Teddy,” I said. The dog quivered and looked like he was about to shit or bite my hand off; he was not happy to see me. A soft growl shook the animal and I drew my hand away, cautious not to seem to like a jerk. Weird, dogs usually love me.
Kelly swooped Teddy up. “Sorry,” he apologized, “he doesn’t really like other people very much. He’s a loner, this one.” He began kissing the dog’s face, “Teddy only loves his Daddy.”
The hostess came to seat us. We settled ourselves in an awkward silence, while listening to the couple next to our table bicker quietly.
This is the first time I had seen Kelly since we had kissed at the George Michael concert. It had been only two weeks before, but it seemed longer. About two days after the concert I called Kelly just to talk and see what he had planned this week. He didn’t answer so I left a message. He never called me back, instead he texted me three days before our meeting today. Sorry I missed your call, he texted, wanna hang out handsome?
Change The Way You Feel
By Steve Prince
“I’m pregnant, I’m not dead!”
I love Isabella. Yes, she is 34-years-old. Yes, she is six months pregnant. And yes, she could still party my ass under the table. Now, I’m not talking about white-trash-that-still-smokes-and-drinks-despite-the-baby party. It truly is her energy that is so infectious.
She chalks it up to being Puerto Rican. “My people are dramatic and intense,” she would say and then add, “and a little bit crazy.”
Isabella is a paralegal at the law office I work at a few days a week. She is originally from Chicago, but she fits into Los Angeles flawlessly. You always think she’s wearing the hottest designer clothes, but in actuality she’s wearing the best knock-offs money can buy. Oh and it should be noted that few women love gay men like Isabella. She is a queer dear. She still fondly reminisces about her first gay, Mario, who taught her how to walk in high-heeled shoes during an ice storm in Chicago.
So, I don’t know why when Isabella offered a ticket for me to go see George Michael with her that I asked, “Can you go?”
“Just because I’m pregnant does not mean I don’t want to see the love of my life,” she said, her voice cooing.
“You do know he’s gay, right?” I asked.
“Yes, I know,” she said flatly, “but I would still marry him in a heartbeat. You don’t understand. Wham was my thing and then when he went solo. Oh! George got me through some tough breakups,” she paused as her face fell, “well, breakups with closeted boyfriends.”
“Okay,” she continued, “I have three tickets AND I know who you should ask to come with us.”
I looked at her questioningly.
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
By Steve Prince
I stood feet from him watching his body sway in the foggy dark, watching the sweat build in the middle of his chest, forming a pool and then a small droplet of moisture separated itself and snaking down the man’s rippled abdomen, like a river running through a canyon.
At that moment I realized, it’d been a while since I’d gotten laid. I had been so fixated on Kelly lately, that I felt very sexually unrepressed. Also, this night snowballed into something completely different from what I had expected. I actually had no plans for the night. In fact, how did I get here? Oh yeah, Cody.
It had been a busy day. I was running errands out in West Hollywood. Yes, I say errands. People tease me about this all the time. My friend Carrie says “Errands are things sixty year-old grandmothers do.” Then I remind her that I also knit and she shuts the fuck up. Also, it’s just easier to say errands. Why explain that I need to go to the bank, run to Target, go by a locksmith, and get a new cockring and lube at the porn store? Why bore people with the details?
So I’m running errands and I realize that I’m hungry.
“Cody, sugar,” I say as he answers the phone, “what are you doing?”
“I’m working out,” he says panting over the phone.
“Sugar,” I ask, “do I need to let you go?”
“No,” he says gasping, “I’m fine.”
I hate people who talk on the phone while they work out. Okay, actually I don’t hate them. Let’s be honest, I’m jealous of them. When I’m working out. I’m just working out. Well, that’s not true sometimes I’m throwing up, but mainly I can barely keep myself on the goddamn treadmill. I don’t count myself as a religious person, but when I’m running on a treadmill, sweating my ass off… I believe in something. Why? Because I’m so motherfuckin’ clumsy that I’ve fallen off a treadmill just by standing on it. There sheer fact that I can run on it without killing myself means something is protecting my klutzy ass.
“Well,” I say snapping back to the conversation as a car pulls in front of me, “you want to grab a bite soon?”
“Can’t,” Cody grunted. “I’m dancing tonight at FUBAR, but I’ll come hang.”
Cody was true to his word. As I ate a burger, he didn’t eat—he drank. And then, he bought me a drink. Okay, maybe four.
“Cody,” I said finishing the fourth beer, “you’re the devil! I can’t drive home now.” I didn’t feel drunk by any means, but I’m super-cautious about drinking and driving.
He laughed and finished his beer in one gulp. “Well, then come to me to FUBAR.”
I paused and Cody grabbed my arm excitedly, “It’ll be fun Stevie Prince. AND it’s BIG FAT DICK Night!”
What’s up, doc? Photographer Sylvain Norget’s Naked Rabbit Project is what’s up. For the photo series, the deliciously sexy artist took portraits of himself naked and fooling around with a rabbit mask. The result is dark, gritty, disturbing, and undeniably erotic. Here’s what the artist had to say about the series on his website (the misspellings and translation mistakes are his, not ours, not that we care… but for you mavens).
Self-portrait Narcissistic study?
NO,if we like what we see in the mirror we have not need to stage it.
I photograph myself because it is easy, i am not going to refuse for what asks me the photographer !
It is the story of a phobia, that of rabbits.
Since i am young i am terrified by white rabbits with the red eyes !
We’d love a closer look at the rabbit’s carrot or his hole. But we’ll just have to feast our eyes on his beautiful photos!
These two wasted no time getting down to business. They start ferociously making out which leads into Josh licking Trey up and down until he pulls off Trey’s undies so he can take Trey’s dick in his mouth. All we can say is, damn, Josh sure does know his way around a cock – check out how he works Trey’s dick, balls, and ass with his tongue. Kyle almost put the camera down to join in he looked so damn good at giving head! Josh is a pushy bottom though – when Trey asks “you want that” Josh shoots back “Yeah but you gotta suck MY dick first”.
Bless our tits and bits! French photo-duo Exterface does it again and again, photographing insanely beautiful men in amazingly cinematographic photo series. This time, they feature a hairy-chested teddy bear who also plays pussycat—yowza! He’s the sort of man we wouldn’t mind cuddling in bed with. The sorta guy you’d like to dress up in a cat mask and referee socks so he can shoot himself in your hallway. It’s a shame about that mirror ball… the closer we look, the more we only see small reflections of ourselves… BORING! If you haven’t yet, check out more of Exterface’s previous works on QueerClick: Ultimate Swan Hello Sailor! Boywonder Psilocybine Animale Rhapsody Flamme Ether Sky Walker Muse
From Beautiful Mag:
Ashland Reker is thirty years old and has been working in Manhattan as a model and adult actor for almost a decade now. It all started when he was scouted by Bruce Weber’s people.
About his first modeling experience Ash remembers: “When I walked in front of the camera, in a skimpy jock strap for my first shoot, it was inexplicably liberating. Not the sexual part. Not the fact that I was nearly naked. But the realization that the body is beautiful—meant to be enjoyed—and not at all “bad” or to be hidden. I was hooked. It was like a benevolent drug that to this day I can’t shake.”
Remember Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings? Yeah, neither do we. But some young upstart apparently had and decided to turn the opening scene between Dildo Faggins and Mandalf the Ass-Wizard into a wedding negotiation. Sounds like Mandalf has big plans for a San Francisco wedding and he wants to get his greedy grey hands on Dildo’s ring so he can really have the little guy by the balls. Man oh man… Dildo might have been better off on Mount Boom-Boom with his old friend, Handwise Cumcheese, but we’ll never know.
Lesbians on a gay porn site?!? NEXT. No wait, hold up a sec. If this trailer for the documentary called For My Wife doesn’t make you weep, then… well… back to the porn then. But it looks like an amazing film and one that shows the importance of social equality, in the name of love. You can also read more about Kate Fleming and Charlene Strong.
A Conversation
By Steve Prince
The stuffy air in my car seemed to surround my neck like a scratchy wool scarf. I opened my car’s moonroof. The date on my phone read January 10, 2009, but the weather had reached a dry 78 degrees. As the glass slid back, a cool breeze rushed into my car. I inhaled and my nostrils tingled from the salty air. I smelled ocean.
It felt nice to be on the Westside. For you non-Los Angelinos, the Westside refers to parts of Los Angeles west of the 405 freeway (because everything is proportional to freeways in Los Angeles). The Westside includes townships such as Venice, Marina del Ray, Malibu, and—my destination for today—Santa Monica.
Troy lives in Santa Monica. He says he lives there because of the cute apartment he found; I think he lives there so he can gawk at that young surfer boys that saunter past his apartment window on their way to the beach hoping to ride that perfect wave that day. Even when I make the accusation, Troy doesn’t deny it. He simply chuckles and says, “Eeeeeasy,” which is his go-to answer when he’s feeling on the spot. I bet you ten bucks he sits outside of his window staring into the street, a bottle of lube in one hand, and binoculars in the other. Hell, I know I would.
Still, I could get it. To quote Troy there was something “easy” about Santa Monica. Driving down Santa Monica Boulevard, the sun hung high in the afternoon sky spotlighting the picture perfect homes that lined the palm-shaded avenues. As I stopped at a light, I watched a family meander across the crosswalk. Even they looked more at ease and, dare I say, happier. I sighed feeling my body lighten. Santa Monica felt like a cleaned up Los Angeles. Being there still felt like being in LA, but with its dirty façade polished like silver to reveal the gleaming clarity of a calmer city. As I pulled up to Troy’s apartment, my own peaceful feelings soon became clouded by anxiety. Today was the day to talk to Troy about Kelly.
It felt like coming out all over again. Why? Why do I agonize over things? Ugh. Still, I felt as if I was keeping something from Troy. And not that I was… really. After all, Troy asked me to befriend Kelly in the first place. And yes, I initially brought up the idea of going to the museum; however, it was Kelly who actually initiated the actually going to the museum. I just opened my big stupid mouth. I was trying to be a good friend dammit! Yes, yes, I know I was totally avoiding things, but still I thought maybe this logic would work with Troy. Then I remembered that Troy was actually pretty damn smart; he would see right through me. Jeezus.
