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February 23, 2008
Gomorrah
I had made arrangements to meet up with a guy at his apartment in the Flatiron District after shooting one of the nights I was in New York. We had chatted (kind of) online off and on for a few months. He seemed like exactly the kind of pig I like to play with. I called when I was on my way out of the shoot in Chelsea and he said he had a man’s hand in his ass at the moment and I was welcome to join them. He was only a few blocks away. I grabbed something to drink and a couple of snacks and headed over.
It was a weird building. The lobby was beautiful, all oak and marble. I had to pass through a metal detector and give my ID to the person at the desk. Waiting at the elevator with me were a couple of guys who seemed homeless and/or insane. Upstairs seemed like a whole different place. The hallways were more industrial than I expected considering the ornate richness of the lobby. This guy’s apartment door had a collage of things on the door, one of which said “GOMORRAH.”
As advertised. It was a smallish, old-fashioned, New York studio apartment. Everything about it — at least while I was there — seemed to be about having sex. There was a sling and a futon, a floor mattress and what can best be described as a central lube station. This guy and his friend, both of whom I felt instantly comfortable with, were intelligent, funny, old-school gay sex hounds, close in age to myself and with similar interests. The friend even appears in the DVD extras in my fisting movie! This was especially weird considering the guy who fists him in my movie was also in the movie I had finished shooting less than an hour before. Weird.
We chatted and got to know each other while I warmed up and removed my clothes. They took turns on their knees sucking my dick which I really needed after a long day watching other people have sex on a tiny screen.
My host got in the sling and I fucked him for a while. He had been punch-fucked over a hundred times just before I got there (and he had a clicker in his had to prove it!) but he was still tight enough to gimme some friction. I got my hand in his hole but it didn’t really feel comfortable to me so we didn’t continue for very long.
We sat around, stroked and talked for a bit. Then his friend got on his hands and knees on the floor. My host put on these big, black, rubber industrial gloves, coated them with Crisco and started fisting the guy. He went in and out really quickly, first one hand, then the other. Weirdly, I found it very hot. He passed me one of the gloves and we took turns. Then he quickly put the other glove on me and I didn’t miss a beat. He was moaning with pleasure. I was tired, though. so I didn’t last very long.
I said I had worked all day and hadn’t really eaten and that I should go. I had planned on taking the train from his corner right back to Brooklyn and eating in the diner down the street from the hotel. They suggested we go together to a nearby place. That was fine with me; I enjoyed their company. The diner was really far away, a good half hour walk and it was very cold. The food was mediocre and I had to walk all the way back to where we started from. Ugh.
I had a fun time with them and I’ll do it again for sure next time I’m in the city for any length of time. I’d even just go hang out. Thanks guys.
I’m listening to “Run From Love (Remix)” from The Age Of Consent by Bronski Beat.
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Posted by HighStrungLoner in Sex at 11:42 PM
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