Gay jock orgy

The sugar gayby, according to Patrick, one twink I speak to who identifies as such, is “an aspirational vessel”. You only need to observe at the icons of queer pop culture – from the OG daddy whisperer Lana Del Rey, to our most recently cannonified Kim Petras – for an insight into this phenomenon. Our bratty, patron saints of kept boys and girls, with their French-tip manicured, Hamptons-spiced auras, bestow such lucky creatures with shining, elevated status. The relationship between daddy and baby is one imbued with a glossy romanticity by images such as these; a fairy-tale dichotomy with our daddies – virile, mysterious, Mr Huge types with bottomless pockets – on one close, and our babies – impatient, spoiled, designer shopping bags in tow – on the other, locked in a sexy, pouty, Fifty Shades-esque battle of wills over where the private jet should ground. The sugar baby of our imaginations, in the iconic words of Ms Petras, demands with every flick of their blinged-out wrist: “If I cannot get it right now, I don’t want it at all!”

This is the lush, enduring image of the sugar baby, but how much of this rings true in the real world?

The reality for most people engaged in this ente

Photo credit: Cecil Stoughton/Wikimedia Commons

President John F. Kennedy has become infamous for his vivid, and some might say almost compulsive, heterosexual affairs. But straight men can have a same-sex attracted side, and JFK’s animation was filled with prominent gay men, friendships which open the door to other histories. At least one of these intimates, Kirk LeMoyne “Lem” Billings, was one of Jack’s cherished body men, and he lived part-time in the White House throughout the three years of Kennedy’s presidency. Billings was so much a part of the extended Kennedy clan that he was regularly included in family gatherings, and Attorney General Robert “Bobby” Kennedy named his son Michael LeMoyne Kennedy.

A queer perspective on JFK is not readily visible in official histories that feature iconic images and stories about one of the first administrations to offer the common ongoing access to the White House’s backstage. Pictures of the first family are typical of Chilly War domestic norms: widely distributed before and after his death, these photographs show him as a conventional, heterosexual husband and a devoted father. One famous shot shows the toddler John, Jr., a man who would al

How One Gaysian Human Navigated Racism And Adoration To Ultimately Say ‘Asian Guys Are Hot’

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I was a newly minted 21-year-old, back home for Christmas break. Seattle’s gayest neighborhood, Capitol Hill, has a handful of bars and clubs within walking distance of one another, and so the gay revelry pours out onto the streets. Some people are stumbling to the next bar and others are just milling around for a smoke break.

And it was on these damp streets where I was approached by this guy: average height, bleached blonde hair, a beer gut, and really shrill.

“Hey, you’re cute — for an Asian.”

“Thanks… But actually that’s kind of racist… and really offensive to fond a billion people.” Actually it was more prefer 4 billion, but numbers have never been my strong suit.

“It’s not racist. I’m just telling it like it is, honey.”

1. Yes, your preferences are racist

The most striking part about anti-Asian racism is that it often doesn’t even register as racism. L

NON-FICTION BOOK
by Jack Fritscher

How to Quote from this Material

PROFILES IN Male lover COURAGE
Leatherfolk, Arts, and Ideas

Volume 1
by Jack Fritscher, PhD

THE MINESHAFT

October 8, 1976-November 7, 1985

Legendary Twentieth-Century Sex Club

If You Don’t Realize Jack Shit About The Mineshaft,

Pull Up A Chair

“The first rule of Fight Club is: you don’t talk about Battle Club.” But the mythical Mineshaft wasn’t Fight Club. Macho men who survived Mineshaft nights bragged every morning after about the night before. Wally Wallace managed that Roman orgy pit that ran 9 years and 9 days from October 8, 1976 to November 7, 1984, at 835 Washington Lane in the Meatpacking District in Greenwich Village. Located, without irony, next door to an all-night loading dock with burly butchers in white coats shouldering bloody cow carcasses from trucks into florescent abattoirs after midnight, the Mineshaft was one of the great performance spaces in New York. Freddie Mercury came for the sex and bought the T-shirt designed by Rex. It was at the Mineshaft that music producer Jacques Morali zeroed in on the four fetish