X-mas is When Santa Comes (And If Not Santa, Then Maybe The Guy Sitting On His Knee)

Well, here is a first: a letter from a reader seeking advice. And it’s season appropriate, too. Why he didn’t try Dan Savage first is anyone’s guess. I’m not one to give advice. My favorite phrase as an adult is “I don’t know.” Trust me; those three words can get you out of a lot of work. But here it goes…

Dear Upton…

I have a strange fetish. Or maybe not so strange. I don’t know for sure. I’ve spent time in internet chat rooms (even the ones about furries – not my thing), but no one has ever come close to touching on my kink, so I’ve never talked to anyone about it in depth.

It started when I was ten. At Christmas time, my family would go to the mall and I would get to see Santa. Sitting on his lap, astride his knee, I would usually spring a woody, which I didn’t think much of at the time. However, when I was thirteen and knew that Santa was a hoax, I still enjoyed sitting on his knee – a little too much – that year I had an orgasm while sitting on his lap without even touching myself. It was amazing.

This has snowballed into an obsession. I now visit many Santas throughout the season. I have to travel great distances to find new Santas, because, while having never been caught shooting a load in my shorts, a few of them have taken issue with someone my age (now 24, but look much younger) visiting them more than once. If they balk, I just tell them I need a photo for my Mom. I consistently get off this way, so I now have quite a collection of very odd holiday photos featuring my contorting face. I use them when I jerk off (no, I won't share them with you).

So do you know of anyone else who does this? I would think there would be a lot of girls out there into it, too (although I have never met any). Am I crossing a line having an orgasm this way? Is it illegal?

If I thought it was having a negative impact on my life, I’d guess I’d try to stop. But I really have no interest in sex with anybody else and my masturbatory fantasies all seem to revolve around Santa. So who am I hurting? Or am I a….

- Santa Instigates Crazy Kool Orgasms?

Dear SICKO:

Oddly enough I know exactly how it is you get off. I’ve seen it firsthand. It was like something out of a Fellini movie, so sexy and surreal, I will never forget it.

It was in a storage room in the basement of City Center in the late 90’s. I and another dude (tiny black dude with a huge dick) stood and watched a performance of sorts. This other guy (late 20’s, Caucasian, tall, black body fur and pubes, with a big, curved dick set off by a very large pair of low hangers) had come to play with me and my friend. Neither of us had ever met him before, but via an internet chat room, somehow (I can’t recall) he had learned that we were getting together to play and asked to be included. My friend and I were game. It’s always fun with more.

Entering the room wearing dark sunglasses and a stocking hat, he removed all his clothing, except for those items and a leather cock ring. He also had his nut sack wrapped in something that looked like a series of chrome rings which caused his sizable balls to strain at the bottom. His body was very nice (softly muscular, pretty) and I liked his black body hair. His skin was pale with just the right amount of fur in the center of his chest. His legs and ass were nicely furry as well.

He made it very clear that he didn’t want us to touch him at all. We were there to watch.

My friend and I had already been playing, so we just stood there, mostly naked, and watched as he slapped his big, fat, curved dick and strained balled sack around while rubbing up against the furniture in the room. I’m not sure how long it went on, nor do I remember if there was much dialogue. It was very primal and rather hot. For his grand finale, he got up and laid face down on a stainless steel counter. That counter top could not have been very warm (I remember seeing a breath of perspiration appear on the counter’s metal surface when his body came in contact with it – much like how one fogs up a window in Autumn by breathing on it), but I think the temperature difference and the feel of the steel is what got his blood roiling. Maintaining a position much as one would while doing push-ups, he proceeded to position his rigid ball sack perpendicular to the metal counter’s surface and press his weight upon it. He appeared to be putting in an incredible effort and really getting off on it, based on the tiny noises of joy he was making. His dick seemed to get bigger with each thrust as he bounced his balls against the flat surface. It was all so strained and tense. My eyes didn’t know which sight to focus on – that of his black-hair-covered ass thrusting up and down or his ever expanding, vibrating dick being choked with each press of his bound nads. With a final grind of his captive balls his dick pulsed, throbbing hot and wide. A feral groan escaped his lips as long, heavy white ribbons of cum splashed forth. It seemed to go on forever, but in fact was limited to 13 squirts (yes, I counted). It would have made for one hell of a facial.

I’m sure my jaw was on the floor. I had never seen anyone cum in that manner or shoot that amount before. I know my friend was awed as well. Not only was his mouth hanging open, but he’d also unleashed a load of his own onto the floor at approximately the same time as our mystery guest.

As soon as the guy was done, without disturbing the pool of cum he’d just so dramatically deposited, he slid off the counter, dressed quickly and left without saying a word. The little black dude with the huge dick that I’d been playing with left in short order as well.

They left me to clean up the mess - which was totally my pleasure. I could not get over the size of the pool of cum that was left on that counter. But alas, some things are not meant to last (or be repeated). A squirt or two of glass cleaner and a few wipes of a terry cloth towel later the whole thing became memory.

I never saw the dude again, or if I did, due to his stocking cap and dark glasses, I didn’t know it.

Anyway… that is the method of how I believe you are getting off, SICKO – by grinding/bouncing your balls on Santa’s knee until you achieve orgasm. So it begs the question – have you tried sitting on other people’s laps? If so, did it do anything for you? If not, give it a try. Or is it the whole Santa outfit that is the object of your affection/erection and gets your nads boiling?

Now to address your questions: Yes, it is horribly wrong of you to be sitting on Santa’s lap at your age in order to get your rocks off. Shame on you. It is crossing a line, although I’m sure there isn’t a statute on the books anywhere that says you can’t have an orgasm in the privacy of your own boxer briefs. That said, your method is devious and the intent rather scurrilous, so by all means wallow in your guilt and shame, you dirty, nasty little slut. You may as well keep doing it until you can no longer get away with it or someone catches on.

Oh great… now I can’t get the image of an out-of-shape, eagle’s nest festooned, 45 year old man, bouncing away on Santa’s knee at the local mall until he lose his nut. Thanks.

Are you hurting anyone (besides me)? Well, yes… sort of yourself, dude. You’re robbing yourself of opportunities to develop your adult sexual self and experience an orgasm that is not Santa-related.

My suggestion: if it is the Santa Suit that does it for you, then why not put an ad on Craigslist? I am sure there are a ton of large-bodied, older dudes who would totally get off on the idea of you shooting your load as you sit on their knee; guys only too happy to help you fulfill your fantasies. Why, you could even try it naked! That would be way hot… as you can tell from the story I just shared (and from the few clips of guys getting off via ball sack pressing on Xtube) hands-free orgasms are sexy shit and can be a hot experience for all involved.

So, let’s say you do find someone to help you get off year round. You will then need to keep in mind that you may need to pay it forward – i.e. that it is only fair that you indulge in something that gets their ring-around-the-rosie.

Or, you could pay it forward by sending me those twisted pics of you making nut on the ho-ho guy’s knee. I promise I won’t share them with anyone.

Well, that’s it. My advice. For what it’s worth. If anybody else has something they want me to take a shot at (advice-wise, I mean), please feel free to write me at uptonking@hotmail.com.

Hey, all you happy homos and sexually evolved breeders, thanks for reading. I want to wish you all a happy x-mas. May your horny holidays be filled with mistletoe kisses and sex fantasy wishes.

Until next time…

The Dynamic Duo: Three Ways to the Center of My Heart, er, My Hard On

It began on Halloween night of this year. I was invited to a sex party. It would be my first. I arrived ten minutes early, having cleared my schedule for the evening. Never having attended one, there was a certain mystique about the whole thing. I was intrigued. The invitation had come via one of the hook-up sites I frequent. I was told that bottoms were needed, so I was more than willing to enlist. Sitting in my car, I waited, wanting to see who would be the first to arrive. The invitation said 7:00 pm, which is awfully early for a sex party, from what I knew of them, but I figured it was Halloween and maybe they had other plans later that night. I didn’t see anyone else approach the house. Seven came and went and still no one was knocking on that door. Maybe everybody was coming later. Maybe I was an idiot for arriving ‘on-time’. I drove off, got gas at a nearby filling station and then returned. No new cars parked on the street. At 7:20 I got out of the car and made my way to the front door.

There was a sign on the door – No Trick or Treats This Year. Smart, considering the neighborhood was crawling with costumed rug rats knocking on doors demanding sweets. I rang the bell. It was a nice house, from what I could tell. A man came to the door. He was probably in his late thirties; a close cropped reddish beard framed his face. It was easy to see the outline of his hard dick against the crotch of his sweat pants shorts. Cautiously, he opened the screen door. A quick smile came to his face as he invited me in. His chest was covered in fur, his cranium less so, but at least he kept it closely cropped, thus avoiding that whole eagles nest look. As I followed him into the main part of the house I noticed he had a nice ass and a hairless back. I supposed you could call him a bear; his body was certainly sturdy and carrying a few extra pounds, but he was solid and healthy – not overweight or fat by any means. He struck me as the sort that would be an excellent cuddle buddy.

As we entered the living room I took note of the fact that this was not a house set up for an evening of entertaining. It was cluttered and busy. Off the living room, I spied, through an open door, a starkly appointed bedroom where a nude, thin, athletic-looking man wearing glasses stood in an apprehensive pose. The host instructed me to hang up my coat and I asked to use the bathroom. Once inside I checked my hole to make sure it was clean and washed my face. Reasoning that since the other guest was nude, that I should be, too, I removed my clothing. I entered the bedroom and was pleased to note that someone else was arriving. The tall, thin man standing in the bedroom, now wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, asked me, “And just how did you learn about… this?” I explained how I came by my invitation and as I spoke began to make sense of all the things that didn’t make any sense: the odd start time, the lack of follow-up emails, the lack of party atmosphere, that I was one of first to arrive, and the fact that bottoms were ‘needed’ (bottoms are never needed – there are just too many of us to be needed – tops on the other hand are in high demand).

I’d been duped. This was not a sex party. Turns out a guy on-line had suggested a three-way with the two guys who were at the house when I arrived. They thought I was that third. The fourth guest was also a victim of our internet prankster. He turned out to be someone I had run into frequently at the prairie, and we both laughed at our gullibility. By that point another dude arrived (yet another bottom), at which point our host announced, “Well, I can’t fuck you all.” I dressed, apologized and began to leave. The host asked me if I was ‘uptonking’, my screen name on the hook-up sites I frequent – one I have been using for years. I said, “yes” and left with the other unintended guests. We three bottoms stood at the end of the sidewalk in front of the house and chatted briefly. We were all disappointed, but fortunately for them, they both had other plans. My friend from the prairie told me to come downtown to the Eagle later, but I told him I would probably just head for home.

Several days later, I got an email from the host of the hoax. He told me that he remembers talking with me in the past on-line and would be interested in getting together. He seemed like a decent guy, so I sent him my email address and told him to get in touch with me.

He did. We set up a time. A few days before our play date, he asked me if it would be okay if a friend of his joined us. He included a link to one of the friend’s on-line profiles. I was game. His pics looked very hot. Small in stature, with zero percent body fat and a somewhat muscular build, his handsome face featured a very hot mustache, giving him a tough guy look that was topped off by his shaved head. I was looking forward to a three-way. It had been ages. When it comes to three-ways, I consider myself an equal opportunity enjoyer. I try to make sure that everyone is happy, involved and that everybody goes home having gotten off.

The day before we were to meet, I was on-line at my local coffee shop, tooling around for some dick, when the host of the hoax contacts me via one of the hook-up sites. He wants to know if I’m doing anything at the moment, and if not, would I like to be doing him. Never one to turn down a free meal, I figure what the hell and I am on my way to his house in record time.

As I enter the house I notice that it has been straightened up considerably, though the bedroom is just as sparse as I remembered it. The floors were bare, as were the walls. All it held was a bed, a bed stand, a small computer desk and chair, a computer and a large flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. The flat screen is playing a porn tape as I excuse myself to use the restroom. When I come back into the bedroom, the host of the hoax, I’ll call him Red (not his real name), is kneeling in the middle of the bed, watching the porn and playing with his dick. He has what I would call a real football player’s build; solid and manly. Sitting on that bed, he looks so good I just want him to tackle me.

Crawling on all fours, I make my way to the center of the bed and immediately take his dick in my mouth. His dick is average; about 7 inches with an average width. He moans his appreciation as I take him deep in my mouth and then remain there, flexing my throat occasionally. Reaching over my back, he begins to play with my ass, gently probing my hole with his fingers. I move up to kiss him, tentatively. His lips are thinner than mine and when I don’t have a good read on someone’s energy level I find it is best to start tentatively with the kissing and then build.

For some reason I relax into his kiss almost immediately. On his body he has various tats; a couple of tribal bands and a large bear paw. He’s what I consider a hunky guy; maybe even a tad chunky… but definitely a real man type, so I am all for it. He continues to probe my ass with his fingers as we kiss. Our dicks are hard and standing tall, pressed between us, rubbing against our stomachs. My hands find their way down his back to the hot rise of his ass cheeks. As a former total top I appreciate a hot ass… actually any ass. I grab his mounds firmly and then give them a small slap. I’m testing the waters. In this case, if the answer is in his kiss, then the dude definitely likes his ass played with. I slip a hand between his cheeks, always a dicey proposition, but since he just got out of the shower before I got there I am assuming he’s good to go. And he is.

My fingers find his pucker and Red pushes his ass out just a bit as I begin to probe. In a pause between kisses he tells me, “Fuck me.” Well, he’s the host - so he’s the boss. I turn him around with his ass sticking up in the air. Spreading his cheeks, my tongue finds the center and I begin to eat ass like a starving man. Licking deep, probing deeper, I get that mother all wet and slick. Red is loving it and so am I. With every push back from Red, I get a little more amorous with my mouth, sucking on the lips of his hole, only moving back to allow my fingers to do a little probing.

Red hands me the lube as he uncorks the poppers. I want to stay hard, so I decline the poppers, for now. I lube up his ass and my dick, line it up and inch my way in. As soon as I feel the tightness of the ring of his hole relax enough to permit the head of my dick to enter, I take it all the way in nice and smooth and slow. Red’s just recapping the poppers as the tip of my dick hits deep. He lets out a beautiful sigh full of lust and need.

Now I’m in total top mode… and since I don’t want to blow my load until I get some dick up my own ass, I change up my game frequently; pausing, pulling out, jamming in hard, power ramming, then holding still. It’s way fun and Red’s having a hell of a time, too. He’s letting me drive. I grab the sides of his ass and work them like I’m plowing snow and his ass is a big old drift I got work my way through.

After about ten minutes of me as the top, Red tells me he wants my ass. He pulls off my dick, hands me the poppers and turns me around, dicking me pretty much the same way I just did him. He likes to lean over my back and breathe in my ear as he fucks me. I love that. Something about the heat of his breath and the sounds a dude makes from deep within while fucking ass just does it for me big time.

We end up flip flopping back and forth two more times each. In between we kiss, we suck, and I smack his ass just to let him know I think I’m the one in charge (which I am). The poppers are passed back and forth, so is the lube. We seem totally in sync.

I fuck him doggy style one last time, losing it deep inside his ass after a prolonged period of man slamming. As spent as I am, I know he needs to lose his load, too. He asks me to lie perfectly flat on the bed. Lying on top of me, he slides his dick into me and humps me slow and quiet, like we’re school buds experimenting in the middle of the night during a sleepover. The weight of him on top of me feels good. I don’t even need to popper up as my ass is just loving the feel of his slick willy sliding in and out. Red’s breathing in my ear heavy and then softly announces that he’s coming. He grows still and just enjoys the rush of allowing his man batter to spurt forth without any accompanying movement. Just hearing him holding back, as if in pain, makes me squeeze the ring of my ass tight around his dick, pushing him even further over the edge. He rests on top of me. I turn my head and slip him a kiss. He rolls off of me and we cuddle into one another both feeling totally satiated.

We kiss and talk; holding one another. It’s very nice. And the conversation is good, too. Finally, I slip into the bathroom for a quick rinse off. I dress and he walks me to the door for a final kiss. I slip out the front door promising to return the next day.

_ _

Next day, I arrive at the appointed time for my promised three-way. Since I know half of what to expect, I’m not nervous at all. In fact, I’m really eager to play top again. Something about Red’s healthy ass cheeks has me raring to go for another round.

The third party remains somewhat of an unknown. I know his stats (5’ 6”, 130, shaved head), have seen a face pic (fucking cute – the kind of guy that never gives me the time of day) and have been told by Red that his dick is bigger than either of ours (turns out it’s bigger than Red’s, but not mine). I’d been emailing back and forth with this guy (let’s call him Stan – because he looks a little like Eminem, minus the sourpuss scowl) in the days leading up to this event, so I know a few things about him. He is totally versatile and loves arm pits. We share the latter in common, but he tells me, Red always makes him shower away any man scent before they play. Which is fine with me, I like a fresh pit, just as long as there’s no deodorant messing up the fun.

Red comes to the door wearing work out shorts and sporting a big old woody. This is becoming a habit. Grabbing it playfully as I enter, I give him a kiss. Heading back to the bathroom to make sure I’m good to go, I stop to acknowledge the hot little number watching guys fuck on the flat screen in Red’s bedroom. He’s shorter than I expected, sporting a hot goatee and a jock strap. There is not an ounce of body fat on his entire body. Later I find out he actually struggles to keep weight on. Normally this would be enough to make me hate him, but since I plan on plowing his cute little ass as fucking hard as I can in a matter of moments, I decide to take out my rage at the injustice of it all out on his tiny behind.

As I exit the bathroom, Red and Stan are already going at it. Red is lying flat on his back in the middle of the bed and Stan is kneeling between Red’s spread legs, sucking on Red’s cock. Stan’s ass is sort of in the air and it looks so cute. That’s when I get a case of stage fright - as in: I’m not sure how to proceed. How does one enter when the game is already in progress? I don’t want to blunder in and offend someone. That would be a horrible way to begin what I hope to be an afternoon of fun. My apprehension is overruled by the sight of Stan’s ass is in the air. It looks damn tempting. I move closer, and then, as if pulled in by pure gravitational force, I find my mouth stealthily affixed to Stan’s tight little orifice.

His response is a moan of approval and I move in and get down to some serious butt munching. I pause now and again to check out the action in front of me and to press my raging hard on onto the moist crack of Stan’s cute ass. He’s a tiny guy and I want to fuck him in the worst way. There’s something about the size imbalance that brings out the latent dom in me. After slurping away at Stan’s hole for a bit more, I figure now is as good a time as any. I lean over his back and whisper into his ear, “I’m gonna fuck your tight little ass now, pig. And you better fuck back.” Red hands Stan the poppers and me the lube, not that I need it; Stan’s hole is sloppy, wet. I put lube on the tip of my dick only and press it against his hot mess. Grabbing the little dude by the sides of his ass, I gently urge him onto my dick. I decide to let him drive, enjoying the feeling as he inches his way onto my rod. He starts to complain about how thick it is, and that just puts me into true dom mode. Nothing hotter than a cute, skinny, no-body-fat prick tease whining about the width of a fat dick sliding up their faggot hole to make me want to resume control of the reins. I pull Stan onto my dick in one fell swoop and hold him down on it. He squirms and makes a bit of noise, muffled by Red, who immediately places his lips over Stan’s mouth.

With the little whiner mollified, I start a nice, steady pull and release motion, building up the tempo until the front of my thighs are smacking the back of his ass with a severe intensity. As I’m busy power slamming my new playmate, Red manages to slide out from under Stan and moves behind me. I pause long enough to get the notion that I’m about to be stuck in the middle of something I won’t want to get out of. I’m already kneeling on the bed, so it’s an easy move for Red to get up behind me and place his dick firmly against my hole. I just checked my ass in the bathroom, so it is already semi-lubed and that’s apparently enough lube for Red, as he wastes no time spearheading his cock up my shoot.

I wince just a little, and having a dick up my ass has definitely given me pause. Fact: It’s hard to be in the middle of a fuck sandwich. I tried to feel the rhythm that Red was setting up, but what works for me as a bottom, definitely threw my dom top persona off his game. Finally we settle into something. It’s slower than I like and definitely less dramatic than a good old fashion power slam… but it is fun. I just start laughing. I never thought I’d experience something like this. I’m definitely having a good time, but I am experiencing a bit of schizophrenia. That, and, as I’m not use to having a dick up my butt while fucking one, the sensation gets to me fast and I am afraid I will lose me load.

I pull out of Stan, smack his ass hard with my hand, telling him, “I need a break. Go get him.” No need to tell him twice. Red forces me forward onto the bed. Basically he ends up lying on top of me, as Stan moves to impale Red’s ass. That lasts awhile, until I scoot out from under Red, who is taking quite a pounding from Stan. I get on my knees and face Red, getting him up onto his knees so he can suck my dick. I want my cock nice and hard for my next go at Stan’s hole. Once that is accomplished, I move behind Stan and enter him slowly. I pick up on his rhythm right away, and as far as the fuck sandwich goes, this is the best configuration we arrive at. Pretty soon though, it seems like I’m doing all the driving, which is fine with me. Stan pleads mercy; he’s in danger of losing his load. He opts out and I just move forward, right into Reds gaping hole.

Stan kneels in front of Red and makes Red suck his dick. I use this as the perfect opportunity to get to know Stan a little better. Leaning over Red’s back, I deep kiss my new bud. It’s a great kiss and we linger, tasting each other as we simultaneously stuff both Red’s holes. I break from the kiss only long enough to raise Stan’s arm. I dive in for a whiff. It’s fresh and potent. Nice man scent. I take a big whiff and place my mouth on his moist pit, doing to it what I just did to Stan’s ass awhile ago. After a bit, Stan returns the favor. I love it when a dude eats my pits. Nothing sexier. Makes me growl. In short order we we’re kissing one more, until Stan begs off again, afraid that he will lose his load.

The three of us then settle into the most interesting kissing session ever. Two mouths on one mouth, moving around the pile, each of us moving through a kind of rotation. We actually manage something akin to a three-way kiss. It’s a bit awkward, but way fun.

Talk turns to the money shots; who gets whose. Turns out Stan thought I was a total bottom and never expected to get fucked at all. He thought that he and Red were just going to be taking turns tag teaming my ass. Finally we come to the conclusion that since Red is the host, he gets to decide. I get to breed Stan, since he wasn’t expecting it, and then they will both tag team me and make me their total bitch. I don’t bother protesting. It sounds good to me – especially the little whore bottom in me.

I decide to get up and personal with my fuck for Stan. I want him on his back with his little legs up in the air and I want to kiss him deeply and lick his pits as he takes my dick. With such a little dude fucking is always such a joy. Because what you think you will end up doing changes once you get started due to the fact that you can pretty much manipulate their body into any position you want. In the end (pun intended) Stan ends up on all fours and I finish him off doggy style. Sorry, but when I’m in a dom kind of mind frame I just want to pile drive it home. Something about the slapping sound just gets me off. I also enjoy the whole power-thing.

With Stan happily filled, it’s now my turn. Red goes first. He lies down on his back and has me sit on his dick. I like this position a lot, because – again – basically I’m the one in control. I can take it as slow or as hard as I like. Being so tall, it’s a little awkward, but once I manage to get my feet out in front of me and onto the surface of the bed, I’m in heaven. In that crouched position I have a lot of flexibility and the ability to change up the action any way it suits me.

Red and I are having a good time. I pause now and again to lean over and give him a kiss of appreciation. I know there are a lot of size queens who will disagree, but being plugged by an average cock has its advantages. First you don’t get sore as quickly and secondly, it gives you the opportunity to actually tighten up your hole around that love muscle – which from the reaction it gets, is something a top really appreciates.

With my body hovering over Red, Stan decides he wants some action, too. He gets behind me and my spidey-senses start to tingle. He’s thinking double penetration and I’m thinking no fucking way. Not that either guy is that huge, but my ass is not made for that. It’s not so much that it wouldn’t eventually work, but I fear the damage that would be done in the process of getting an additional dick up there. Now I could be wrong, but as we’ve been playing for over an hour and I just decide to err on the side of caution.

Not that I had to make a big scene about it, because Red fires out a load just at that time. As Red slides out, Stan pushes me forward and enters from the rear. He’s pretty determined to do to me what I just did to him. I love doggy style and actually like fucking back on a dick in that position. But Stan wants to prove something. He grabs me by the shoulders and starts slamming my ass with a short, fast pumping action. I arch my back up and soon the head of his dick is hitting the insides of my ass just right. I turn around and give my little buddy a kiss of appreciation. This position and the way his dick is hitting is getting me off. Fuck, I’m hard again and damn if I don’t fire off a second load without once touching my dick. This seems to happen anytime someone massages my prostate just right – and Stan is the man in this case. Having warned him that I was going to shoot, Stan lets go of his load at the same time – kind of in one end and out the other.

As Stan and I fall into a heaving, panting pile, Red joins us, commenting on how hot that was to witness. The three of us again begin kissing one another, but we are all pretty spent. Stan is the first to rise. I admire his zero percent body fat body one more time as I curl into Red’s much more substantial one. I don’t want to leave the warmth, but the party is indeed over.

I make my way to the shower. As I linger under the hot spray, my body is still reliving the experience. I’m toweling off when Stan sticks his head in and says good-bye, promising to stay in touch. Later he emails me that he really would like to hook-up one-on-one some time.

Dressed and standing at the door, ready to leave, I give our host one last kiss. We already have another play date planned for the next week and I am looking forward to it. It’s nice to just relax and be naked with a dude. Don’t get me wrong, a quick fuck is always welcome, but actually taking some time to get to know somebody’s body and mind? Well that’s a whole ‘nother level of hot.

How Do You Solve A Problem Like... Uganda?

Remember Uganda? Idi Amin? Always a hotspot of corruption and human rights violations? Well, they’re at it again. This time they are looking to pass legislation that would result in the jailing and execution of gay people. Something tells me tourism is not a big industry in that country.

The proposed bill would ask for the execution of HIV positive gay people. It asks for life in prison for all gay people. If you know of someone who is gay and failed to report them – you get seven to three years in prison.

Note: On 12/10/09: A. Larry Ross, the Ugandan Ethics Minister announced that life in prison and the death penalty are now no longer part of the bill. Still part of the bill? Seven years if caught attempting to commit a homosexual act and three years if you know of a homosexual and do not report them.

Wait. It gets better.

Pastor Rick Warren – you know, the guy who swore in President Obama? Rick Warren – author of A Purpose Driven Life? The guy who also believes there is a secret coven of witches living under Lake Victoria? Turns out he was good friends (until October 2009) with the man who sponsors this bill (Pastor Martin Ssempa). Ssempa has been a special guest speaker at Warren’s mega church numerous times. Warren claims to have cut all ties, but will not go so far as to actually condemn the legislation. That’s because Pastor Rick believes that homosexuals are going to take over the world and, well, he hates gays. How’s that for Christian love? He’s pretty up front about it, too, you know in that slimy doublespeak that passes for an answer to a direct question kind of way. Warren’s life does indeed seem to be purpose driven. But I don’t think God, as I understand God, would approve.

Note: On 12/10/09: Pastor Rick Warren publicly spoke out against the Ugandan “gay death bill”, terming it “unjust, extreme and un- Christian.” He has gone public in the hopes of serving as a shepherd to other pastors who look to him for guidance. He now says that he never supported the bill or anyone associated with it.

Wait. Even better.

PEPFAR (U.S. President’s Emergency Program for AIDS Relief) monies actually went to Ugandan organizations with ties to Ssempa and the other sponsors of this bill. Those monies are helping drive this bill into law. This is Uganda’s answer to the AIDS crisis; kill and jail all gay people. They also received monies from the United Nation’s Global Fund in the fight against AIDS, Malaria and Tuberculosis. Trust me, they aren’t buying condoms. That money is tied up in this bill, as well. No one seems to know why or how those organizations got those monies – or at least no will admit to knowing how. But it happened.

I’m saddened to say that President Obama has not spoken out against the bill. I’m saddened to say that Hillary Clinton has only paid fleeting lip service to the issue, echoing the U.N.’s statement regarding the danger of excluding marginalized groups. Kind of a ting of a single triangle in the back of the orchestra when what you really need and expect is a full brass band assault.

I’m disappointed that the media isn’t making more of it. Maybe they’re waiting to see if the bill passes? Then perhaps it will be newsworthy. But by then… well, in my eyes, by then it will be too late. Which reminds me of another historic moment when nobody said anything or did anything until it was much too late.

Nazi Germany.

We waited too long there. Why? Did they think it was going to get better? Did they think it was going to go away?

Well, we now know, from history, that things like this tend only to get worse. People who live and breath hate? Reason generally does not reverberate in their world. Logic is a foreign language to them. Hate breeds only more hate.

So I’m troubled. And saddened. And disappointed.

Obama tells gays that currently there are more pressing issues that affect all Americans and those take the front seat of the bus. Economic recovery takes precedence over gay rights. I understand that. He can only fight so many dragons at once. Even mentioning a controversial issue like gay marriage could prove detrimental to those irons currently in the fire; issues that deal with matters that impact the lives of not only gay people, but pretty much anyone who does not make over 100K a year.

Still… I’m disappointed in Obama’s performance so far. I’m not feeling the revolution promised. I’m not seeing even a whisper of change. I see same old – same old. I’m seeing business as usual. See… when you purposely don’t talk about something on a regular basis and refer to and deal with a given issue as a problem issue? That’s when it becomes a real problem. And it remains that way – taking root in the minds of people until one day those people only view anything that touches upon that issue as part of a bigger problem - an unsolvable problem. Like abortion. And gay rights. The only way to reverse that? Talk about it. On a regular basis. As if it is part of the fabric of our lives. Problem issues should not be treated like malformed, genetically deficient children that we stick in the attic and never talk about. Shame breeds shame. It also leads to the demonization of segments of our society.

We know Obama will never talk about gay marriage, because he does not believe in gay marriage. Obama has always been for civil unions only. I understand his position – it’s a well thought out, very safe one. It’s his way of winning over the gays without giving the religious right too much more to be upset about.

And now is not the time for him to talk about divisive issues, blah, blah, blah. I get that.

But not speaking out against what’s going on in Uganda? That? I don’t get.

If Obama had an opportunity to have spoken out against Nazi Germany before the concentration camps started gassing people and death became an everyday occurrence, I believe he would have done it.

Hello? Obama? It’s Uganda calling. Will you take the call?

Well… I’m waiting.

Best Music of 2009, As Seen From the Bottom of a Rabbit Hole

So last Friday, I failed to post anything. I’d like to tell you that it was due to the Thanksgiving holiday, but the fact is I’m working my way through something and felt absolutely stymied. I was in the process of writing yet another true sex tale, but my heart was not in it. That’s because my heart and head are preoccupied with a bigger issue, one which I am still working my way through. Yes, I’ve been doing some flip flopping, and not just in bed.

The title of this blog is Wonderland Burlesque. The Wonderland represents the Alice in me, and in my current situation, it succinctly represents what it feels like to fall down the rabbit hole (oh, well, at least it's not a K-Hole). That is the nature of a quandary, and I am grappling with one that keeps morphing every time I sit down to write it all out. Just when I think I have a handle on it, some new fly in the ointment appears. So I’m still in the rabbit hole and I may just stay here a great while longer than I had hoped. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime: I will do what I always do when my passion for one aspect of my life is disrupted; I will focus on another – music.

Here is a run down of some the music that mattered to me in 2009. It’s a list that kind of focuses on the last half of the year, so there’s a bunch of stuff missing. For what it’s worth, here it is. I may add more later. Enjoy.

Best CD of 2009:

Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix – Phoenix
This French band with its 1980’s new wave style obsessions captured my ears over and over again this year. And now even the good people at Cadillac are in on the scoop, using it in their most recent ad campaign for one of their overpriced dream machines – a Madison Avenue application that is pretty apt, since Phoenix spends most of their time operating like a dream machine on the ten sleek tracks that grace this CD. Roxy Music never ran so smoothly. For me, Fences remains the stand out cut, but there really isn’t a weak one in the bunch. They seemed to have hit the right chord in a year that was filled to the brim with acts mining a similar sound, but for my money – Phoenix takes the prize.

Maybe I was obsessed with 1980’s new wave style acts this year. Vintage synth bleeps and blurps seemed to dominate my play list. Runners Up for best CD (in no particular order):

Ocean Eyes - Owl City
Owatonna, MN has never been so cool. This CD burbles and burps like a super charged can of Fresca time warped from the late 70’s. Fireflies is an absolute delightful wonder and one of the best singles of the year. Flash in the pan? One hit wonder? Possibly. Yes, the CD is syrupy sweet, even bordering on the insipid, but Adam Young is a very clever man and a talented arranger. My advice to him: dig deeper.

The Fame - Lady Gaga
I love punchy pop nonsense. Can’t get enough of it. It’s a guilty pleasure and this CD is so stuffed with it I can’t imagine the number of Hail Mary’s I would have to say in order to be granted forgiveness. But the penance paid is so worth the price of admission. The hits bounced off this thing and landed so soundly on the charts that everyone has been exposed to the lunacy that is Gaga. The Madonna comparisons? I don’t get. Sure, she’s scrappy, clever and danceable, but so far Lady Gaga has yet to establish much of a personality. Image? Yes. Personality? No. All the costumes and marketing savvy can’t hide the chinks in her armor. There is something lacking. Even so, Bad Romance – from her newly released The Fame Monster is playing over and over again in my head. But I am thinking this stuff has a limited shelf life (like a lot of the really fun music from the 1980’s) and when I get over it, I probably won’t be revisiting it.

Manners - Passion Pit
If Adam Young of Owl City needs a push in the right direction, I am thinking this is the CD he should spend some time with. Passion Pit does a great job of balancing the ear candy by coloring it with something a little deeper. Granted, you have to really like falsetto vocals to enjoy this one, but one listen to the pulsing rhythm that powers The Reeling and I think you will succumb to their charms.

The Boy Who Knew Too Much - MIKA
Life in Cartoon Motion was great. The Boy Who Knew Too Much is better. Yes, there’s something very adolescent, goofy and juvenile about the whole affair, but it’s all rather charming. It’s refreshing in its goofiness, taking hold of your senses the same way Dean Friedman did once with Ariel. The hooks abound. There’s enough ear candy here to feed a nation of Willie Wonka golden ticket holders.

Best Singles of 2009
This was the year when 1970’s sunshine and recession infused fun returned to the charts, minus the icky aftertaste of exploitive media drama queens and gimmicky, fake rap violence.

Fireflies – Owl City
Funhouse – P!nk
Bulletproof - La Roux
Evacuate the Dance Floor – Cascada
Zero - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Love, Etc. - Pet Shop Boys
Wild Young Hearts - Noisettes
Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship
Panic Switch - Silversun Pickups
Already Gone / My Life Would Suck Without You - Kelly Clarkson
Just Dance / Paparazzi / Poker Face / Bad Romance / Telephone – Lady Gaga
Be Alright / Love is the Look - Kristine W.

And one that should have been a huge hit:
Never Gonna Break Up - Ryan Leslie
I remember where I was the first time I heard Hang on to Your Love by Sade. I will always remember where I was the first time I heard this song. Icy and hot with a groove that makes me want to nestle in closer and get real, real comfortable. A deep kiss that lingers long.

Shout Outs:
The Resistance – Muse
Swoon - Silversun Pickups
Day & Age – The Killers (2008)
Transition - Ryan Leslie

Guilty, Guilty Pleasures:
All I Ever Wanted – Kelly Clarkson
Funhouse - P!nk (2008)
Katy Perry – One of the Boys (2008)

The Very Worst CDs:

Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel – Mariah Carey
My favorite musical blow-up sex doll/punching bag got propped up yet again this year in order to fill the coffers of Def Jam. Unfortunately the backdrop features nothing but tired beats, milquetoast production and banal, sophomoric lyrics. Part of the problem, of course, is Mariah herself. No, I’m not referring to her non-existent voice (I bid farewell to her phenomenal vocal chops pre-Butterfly). I am referring to her desire to take control of the musical reins – a really, really bad idea. A large breasted plastic doll needs a lot of bells and whistles to create some excitement and drum up interest in this particular clotted market. A Mariah who is not being handled by someone with a firm vision is a Mariah who bores the fuck out of me.

Whitney Houston – I Look to You
Poor, Whitney. She flew back into the market with all the grace of a one-eyed, one-legged, one winged albatross. It was fascinating to watch. But push aside the embarrassing televised live vocal debacles and the squirm-inducing, ill-advised one-on-one interviews (Oprah! Yes, there is a reason you need to retire, girl!) and what remains is the comeback of the year CD that wasn’t. WTF? Filled with syrupy redemption treacle and mid-tempo, hook-deprived pop/hip-hop-lite sludge, Houston and Clive delivered one of the most colorless, lifeless, and boring CDs to ever see the light of day. This is a new, all-time low for Houston – and that is saying a lot if you remember her third CD, I’m Your Baby Tonight. She needed to comeback all vital and blazing hot, not enter politely and hand the world a Hallmark card. There’s not a drop of humor or genuineness to be found throughout the whole of this bland ordeal, which results in a piece of product so dull it barely registers at all. Whitney had a voice. Period. She was never a personality (unless you count crack-addled Whitney) and she has always been one of the worst performers live, ever (so stiff you’d think she was made of wood). But she used to be able to deliver the occasional sonic gem when properly packaged and handled (I loved almost all of My Love is Your Love). It all makes me yearn for the crack whore of yore. At least we caught a glimpse of a flesh and blood Whitney every time she’d bellow “Bah-Baaaaaaaayyyyy”. She looks to you? If I were you, I would just stare at your feet and hope she goes away.

Biggest Disappointment:

The Power of Music – Kristine W.
I love Kristine W. Buy every damn thing she puts out. Petition dance stations to put her stuff into rotation. Waited a lifetime for this one to come out. After the incredible, awe-inspiring heights reached on Fly Again, Power is something of a let down, to say the least. Sure, the dance floor burners are still in attendance and consistently hitting the top of the dance charts (Never, The Boss, Love Is The Look, Be Alright), but the remainder leaves me cold and reaching for the fast forward button. Nothing encapsulates what is wrong with this CD more than the truly cringe-inducing Not-So Merry-Go-Round – a song so poorly conceived, produced and delivered that had it come out in 1972 (the year of treacle and sap), people would still have gone into diabetic shock. Next single is the title track, featuring a lame rap by Big Daddy Kane and belatedly dedicated to Michael Jackson. Kristine? Honey? I’m sorry. It pains me to say this, but this is where I may need to get off the bus. Love you.

Artists I Will Never Listen To:

Miley Cyrus
Taylor Swift
Sorry. I just don’t care. I don’t get it. Never will. It’s not for me (nor was it ever intended to be for me). And does anybody else find Justin Bieber creepier than fuck?

Until next time...