CRUISING for SEX publishes the largest free database of sex listings in the world. This is the archival blog of the late founder of the web site, Keith Griffth, who started this site.

Archives for: July 2008


Permalink 11:08:29 am, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, San Francisco

San Francisco: My Hour at the Tubs

Day 41 of my road trip
$4.39 for gas in San Francisco
Man watch: Often sexy in that unassuming way, the men in this town are into that "alternative" look, and like to think they're open minded. I am here to test that belief.

Polk Street was where I first went when I moved here back in 1982. The Giraffe bar was my first bar adventure on my first night in the city, and eventually the two adult bookstores on Polk near Sutter became regular daily stops for me. I would take the subway to Market and walk to work on Broadway, taking me right up Polk where I'd always stop for at least one of the two arcades and if I didn't leave with a well-fucked ass, it was a rare day. It was some of the easiest sex I ever had. Over the years Polk has made an attempt to change the focus from street hustlers, gay neighbors and horny tourists to become, well, I'm not really sure. The Leland is still here and I'm staring right at it. The Leland was a transient hotel where rentboys would take their tricks. Maybe it still is, but as best I can tell Polk has lost that sexual underworld element, while still feeling as seedy as ever. Anyhow, refocusing on the here-and-now, I was sitting in a Starbucks on Polk the other day when I met a modern day version of the Polk Street hustler. Instead of hanging on the street, he was on his Blackberry and selling himself not on the corner, but instead on Craig's List.

VGL Skinny Straigh Boy For Service - m4m - 18 (Outcalls the bay)

It included a picture of a porn-worthy hard cock and so I sent him an email and he responded almost immediately. I got 2 more pictures and with that I was sold. He looked as straight as they come and definitely close to 18. Fortunately for me, about 2 blocks from my cafe location was the Hot Tubs, a suggestion he made. Renting private rooms with sauna, tub, shower and bed by the hour ($20 per person), we agreed to meet there in an hour.

I was waiting outside the tubs a good 15 or 20 minutes, but Damian did call to tell me MUNI was running late (some things never change). When he got off the bus, standing before me was this perfect example of hot, straight meat. That he felt a need to almost immediately mention his girlfriend sealed the deal. We got our room key and 2 towels and headed down the hall. When the door locked behind us, Damian wasted not a moment and was quick to start undressing. He was wearing a pullover and under that, a wife beater, plus baggy jeans and boxers. He piled them all neatly on the small bed along with that Blackberry and I immediately went for some boy cock. The deal was I could suck him, rim him, and massage him. No kissing, no fingers up his ass and if I wanted to get fucked it would be an extra 50 bucks. As I felt his cock growing in my mouth, I glanced up and saw his eyes closed tight as he, no doubt, was busy thinking about some girl. Still, it grew so I was absolutely fine.

At some point we decided, or more truthfully, he decided to take it over to the bed where he could lay back. His legs ended up raised over my shoulders and I took full advantage of his perfect, tight, hairless ass with my tongue. No fingers, but my tongue was fine by him. He kept himself hard with his hand while I feasted on straight un-fucked ass. I was in heaven. Life should always be this easy, this accommodating. Hot, hung straight boy with an itch in his wallet for cash decides the easy way to get it is to lay back on his back and let this man rhapsodize on his cock and hole. I'm sure he was going to take that $130 and buy himself a game for his Wii or maybe put it towards a gift for his girlfriend. As my tongue plowed in as deep as it could go, I think I actually heard a moan coming from Damian, but it would have been against his style to profess pleasure. His dick, of course, and the way he eventually used his two hands to spread his ass cheeks for me, said it all.

"You want me to come where?"

"In my mouth," I replied.

With that, he moved his legs from my shoulder and stood up. He kept on stroking himself, eyes always closed, and then suddenly he took one hand and used it to guide my head into position so I could intercept his cock and a load that shot out soon afterwards. Sweet, hot cum from a straight boy. Yeah, you bet I fetishize those aspects of this guy. That sense that somehow you are corrupting this horny stranger, even though you know he stopped being innocent in about the 7th grade, is worth the price of admission.


Permalink 01:46:51 am, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, San Francisco

A Tale of Two Cafe's

Within a few steps of each other on Valencia Street in the San Francisco neighborhood, the Mission, are two cafe's competing for the crowd that lives around here. It seems as if, perhaps unwittingly, these two places have taken on the different personalities to two sides of this city.

Ritual Roasters is at 1026 Valencia. I've walked in and out twice, once last year and again today. Something about the place just didn't seem inviting to me, but clearly it is very popular and I've even heard that lines outside are not uncommon. Most of the large, long room is given over to several tables that should be ideal for what people do these days in cafes, work on their laptops. I say "should be ideal" because one decision by the owners makes it hostile to laptop owners: they've covered over all their electrical outlets. Clearly, they had them in abundance at one time, but now they've been covered. I've seen this elsewhere out here in California and it is one trend I don't want to see take-off. I recall seeing a cafe website down in Orange County that actually boasted it was an electrical outlet-free zone?!

The scene at Ritual Roasters is very upscale hipster. These are the people who moved here fairly recently to make lots of money and probably are. I have a bone to pick with them because they're the reason I left this city back in the late 90's. What had once been a unique city where you went to be yourself and where you moved for quality of life became, thanks to all those hipsters, a place to make money -- just like LA or New York. Seriously over-priced, seriously over-competitive, seriously nerve-wracking for even basic stuff like just getting around town. For a brief time, they took over the city and it was ruined for many like myself who just gave up. Fortunately that bubble did burst and, surprise, surprise, they left, too! With them went, at least compared to what existed before, both ridiculous rents and traffic.

Up the street a bit at 968 Valencia is Mission Creek Cafe. These are the types I moved here for. The girls dressed in second hand clothing like the one across from me who is dressed like Dale Evans complete with cowgirl boots. Another woman has fresh flowers in her hair. The men aren't over the top lovelies, they're not pumping irons or jabbing themselves with steriods. In that way that men can be, they're hot just because they're not trying too hard. Oh and did I mention Mission Creek Cafe has lots and lots of electrical outlets! And a pleasant Chinese lady behind the counter, unlike the folks at Ritual Roasters which, though I've personally never had an interaction with them, have engendered endless comments elsewhere about how arrogant and rude they can be to customers.

Oddly enough, even with an over-abundance of electrical outlets, I see more than the average number of people here at Mission Creek Cafe reading a book. Imagine that! Like the dude reading Lolita across the way from me. Add in the funky used furniture and, for me at least, it just symbolizes that San Francisco I grew to love. Funky, different, not especially clean, but very civilized. Dive in or stay to yourself, all were welcome.


Permalink 05:50:25 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Love, Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, San Francisco


One judge for universal love and affection of a city can be found in the tunes recorded to herald feelings of the composer and/or singer. For this measure, San Francisco would seem to win hands down as the truly loved city. Even other great American cities like New Orleans and New York can't compete (though New York, New York is a very strong contender). No matter where I'm at, if one of those tunes comes on somewhere I'll stop and ponder, if only for a moment, all it has meant to me over the years. San Francisco is home. I haven't lived here since 1997, but it was my home for 17 years and I'll always consider it home.

San Francisco, open your golden gate. You'll let nobody wait outside your door. San Francisco, here comes your wandering one saying, "I'll wander no more."

Talk about an anthem for the masses who've fled here over the years, this would surely be it. That it is directly connected to a Hollywood treatment of the 1906 earthquake just adds to our love of this song. After all, anyone who loves this city has, somewhere in their soul, a painful realization that someday it will happen again and what will remain of our home when the city stops shaking? I've already lost one unique, inspiring city in New Orleans and I honestly don't know how I'd cope with the loss of this one.

I came here not because I was gay, but because an uncle had told me stories about his time here and it just sounded amazingly different. Like some kind of pioneer town sitting on the edge of everything, it was even loved by the uncle who was a fire-breathing preacher man. Of course being gay was a big plus for living here because no other city at the time had embraced us more. To this day, one of the things that sets San Francisco apart, and increasingly the entire region, is this delightful twist on the larger culture: every man is assumed gay until proven otherwise. How wonderfully liberating that can be for gay men!

If you're going to San Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. If you're going to San Francisco you're gonna meet some gentle people there.

That summer of love was written about by Scott McKenzie long ago and most of the hippies who came here for it now own some of the nicest houses in some of the funkiest neighborhoods. But even now, they keep coming, maybe for somewhat different reasons, for the essence of this city seems to be a willingness to not only allow difference, but to love it. It isn't about toleration here, it is about acceptance. And not just for gays. For persons who want to dress differently, or be surrounded by persons who embrace a very different political ideology, for those who want to change their gender, or experiment with drugs, for those who want to eat foods from every corner of the globe, for people from every corner of the globe escaping all kinds of persecution, this can be your home.

I left my heart in San Francisco, high on a hill it calls to me. To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars. The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care. My love waits there in San Francisco, above the blue and windy sea. When I come home to you, San Francisco, your golden sun will shine for me.

No city is perfect, even those we idealize. San Francisco surely has some of the ugliest architecture of any city. Every time I visit I cringe at whatever the new high-rise is that further contributes to polluting one of the great natural sights in the nation. Add in row after row of simply gross housing and you don't exactly have a wonderland of lovely buildings. There is a reason they always show the same row of "Painted Ladies" in every shot of the city. The weather sucks out here, too. It may be hard to justify that statement when it is 68 here and 96 where you are, but it was one of the things I grew to dislike about San Francisco. Even on days when it would seem sunny and warm, you walk outside and would immediately be caught in a wind tunnel. Even with these two negatives, if there is one city that welcomes us all, this is it. How can you not love it? In a country that has never wanted difference, this is our homeland and we owe it dearly. I am glad, indeed grateful, to be home again.


Permalink 04:29:59 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Ventura County

SoCal Coastal Cruising: Oxnard

Day 36 of my road trip
$4.79 for gas in Oxnard
Man watch: In a word, Hispanic. I suspect Lou Dobbs would freak out in this place.

My stay in Orange County had come to an end and I needed to get somewhere for a few days before the drive up north to San Francisco. Where to go? I decided, for starters, to take 101 and avoid the boring trip up I-5. Looking at the map, that meant I'd be going through Ventura County and when I looked at the CRUISING for SEX Listings for that area, one thing popped out at me, the reviews of Romantix on Mercantile in Oxnard. That alone told me where I'd be spending at least one night.

As it turns out Romantix is located in an industrial part of town, an area that itself is surrounded by seemingly endless fields of fruits, vegetables and flowers, all being picked by worker teams who seem to be doing some truly back-breaking work. Even though Ventura County is one of the richest counties in the nation, Oxnard appears to be home for mostly 1st and 2nd generation Spanish-speaking people who haven't attained the wealth available elsewhere in the county. For a place that enjoys ocean real estate and a cooler climate than Los Angeles (about an hour and fifteen minutes by car), Oxnard seems to be mostly undeveloped and working class. I kept thinking this was how Orange County must have looked 40 or 50 years earlier, very agricultural with lots and lots of space to grow.

Romantix is, for starters, really large. The retail area is huge and well-stocked. Any city with a store of this caliber would be well-served. Purchase a card for admission and you gain entry to the area with private booths, though booths isn't really the right word. More like little rooms, in fact for people like many New Yorkers, they'd think these booths were large enough to live in. Each room has a place to sit and a machine that eats up credits on that card you purchased. You can also feed the machine additional money. The quality of the porn was nothing short of outstanding. I really get into super hot straight porn featuring hot men with huge cocks. Since they're usually not using condoms, it just makes for a more pleasurable visual experience and I can pretend any orifice belongs to another guy if I try hard enough. I don't know what the movies were, but they were truly great sex scenes.

Hanging out when I arrived were about 7 or 8 guys, all of them Hispanic other than myself and one elderly Asian guy. No one was getting me bothered so I just stayed in a room for a bit and watched some porn. It was late afternoon and I figured it was only a matter of time before someone more to my liking showed up. Fortunately this is exactly what happened because the porn really got me worked up. After about 15 minutes of hanging in my room, I took another walk around the long, darkened hallway. A new arrival was a really hot looking Asian guy with one of those near-perfect Asian bodies we've all seen and admired. What is it about these Asian men? When they work out, their bodies become like some sort of work of art. We made eye contact in the hallway and I turned around and headed for a room, leaving my door open. I knew it was only a matter of time before my man would walk by. And he did. And he paused a moment. I smiled and he made a hand gesture as to whether he could come in and of course I nodded my head. He closed the door and locked it behind him.

We sat down beside one another and he joined me in unzipping his fly and pulling out his dick. Both of us worked our cocks as we watched the goings-on from the nearby TV screen. When he was good and hard, I reached over and grabbed his cock and he welcomed the move with a little groan. Next I got down on my knees and started to worship this Asian god with my mouth and tongue. He helped by undoing his belt and rolling his pants down to his knees. After some quality time servicing him, I took it upon myself to remove his shoes and pants at which point I hiked his legs over my shoulders, raised his firm bubble ass to a perfect position and proceeded to tongue fuck his hole.

"Oh dude, that is awesome."

As if I didn't already know this?! I kept probing with my tongue and he kept himself hard with some hand action.

"There is someone outside who I like to play with. You mind if he joins us?"

OK, so he is either about to make a quick getaway or add to the party. What was I to say but to indicate a willingness to play along. He stood up, put on his clothes and headed outside. The door remained ajar. Minutes later he was back and this time he was with this Hispanic man, about my age, who was in really good shape.

The door locked again and they got closer to me as the Asian guy took his turn down on his knees. His friend had his piece out in no time and I watched that uncut thing grow and grow and grow. Holy terror. This just got really interesting. So of course I ambled over next to Mr. Big Dick and pulled out my own and the boy on his knees took turns between us.

"You watch us fuck?" came the question from my new Asian buddy to which I nodded in agreement. He got up and bent over as Mr. Big Dick used not a drop of anything resembling lube or spit and immediately entered our mutual buddy. They fucked and it was HOT, HOT, HOT to watch. Over the top, really, cause this guy just had a really long, thick cock and he wasn't being gentle about it.

"Can you shoot your load onto his cock while he fucks me?" came another request from the Asian guy.

Duh?! That is an easy one. I allowed myself to be absorbed into the moment, taking in the picture of this hot, hunky muscle god, bent over this small sofa and this hot daddy type fucking him raw and relentlessly. It didn't take long before I felt it happening and I aimed, as instructed, for that huge cock and hot ass. Cum splattered seemingly everywhere, Mr. Big Dick roared with approval and I could tell that roar also signaled he was unloading into the stud. Mr. Big Dick rocked back and forth from head to toe a little, somewhat out of control. Then he pulled out, flipped the boy over on his back across the sofa, and started munching on that freshly fucked hole with his mouth. Seemingly as if on cue, another load came spewing, this time from our bottom stud who didn't seem to mind the load all over his skin-tight t-shirt.

Damn, what a little encounter this turned into. Now I know why one guy writing at the CRUISING for SEX Listings about this place indicated sometimes little orgies break out. They do!



Permalink 03:42:12 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Editorial

Celebrating the Dancing Queen!

A few squirmishes remain and some fierce battles are yet to be concluded, but this cultural war is over. And we won! The gays, that is. And to the extent that gay liberation liberates all of us, the nation has won a huge victory. Last night it all came into focus in a most enjoyable way as I watched Mamma Mia at the movies, a movie that revels in a gay male sensibility that has become so "normal" we have a serious presidential bid from a honest-to-god metrosexual. If you believe in that fundamental tenent of gay lib, the importance of coming out, then clearly we've won this war because a main character in Mamma Mia played by a big name actor comes out and it is absolutely no big deal.

Everywhere I go on my road trip, every gay person I talk with is reveling in the victories of recent, usually with a sense of amazement that we've lived to see it. Having lunch with a lesbian who is now legally a wife to another woman would have been unthinkable even 5 years ago and yet we spent our lunch talking not about IF it could happen, but recalling details of their wedding ceremony. Now you've got Massachusetts rushing to change their laws so they don't miss the windfall dollars of gay marriage tourism now that California has become THE destination for same sex couples. Can Florida, Oregon and a host of other states be far behind? With sodomy laws now history, AIDS no longer a sudden death sentence among gay men, and the march towards the right to get a divorce now our's too, these are truly the days for dancing queens!

In all our revelry it makes it all the more painful to see brethren still cowering in the closet. There have been so many examples these last few months of mostly men being outed about their sexual proclivities. I'll be the first to say that having sex with a man does not, in and of itself, make you gay, but it surely should make you somewhat sympathetic to those who are. The latest example is the Attorney General of no less a place than the state of Alabama, Troy King, who has been beyond outspoken on matters that should be considered private issues of no interest to the state. Well, his wife recently threw King out when she caught him in bed with a man. Mr. King, also the head of the John McCain campaign in Alabama, had previously been on record as having a somewhat different opinion about those who slept with their own gender: "Currently, AIDS is the most behavior-oriented disease known to mankind. If this nation's current purveyors of perversion would refrain from committing sodomy, they would unquestioningly be spared the ravages of the disease."

About those who believe in gay unions and gay families, he went on record saying, "In this day of rampant decadence, many homosexuals would mislead society into believing that three men, an armadillo and a house plant create a functional family."

At the moment, Mr. King is wasting Alabama tax dollars leading a legal charge to prevent residents of that state from buying sex toys, a battle he has overseen a total of 5 times in 5 different courtrooms including two stops before an appeals court. I'd certainly think we'd be hard pressed to find a more perfect example of hypocrite. We could never get the satisfaction of finding Jerry Falwell or Jessie Helms in bed with a boy, but Mr. King has come pretty darn close, though his studly was a full-grown adult, the former Homecoming King from their days together in school! Can it get any better than that!

This level of hypocrisy is all part of our victory. It isn't just what we've accomplished, it is also how pathetic the enemy has become which was inevitable. After all, they stood AGAINST love and lust while we stood FOR love and lust. That so many of our opponents turn out to have homosexual proclivities is not a surprise to most gay liberationists since we've long believed our most fervent enemies were struggling with their own inner desires (past examples including Roy Cohn and J. Edgar Hoover). The American public has come around because all the absurd and dire warnings predicted by the preachers didn't materialize, because the sight of two people in love and wanting to shout it out is very compelling to anyone but the most hard-hearted asshole, and frankly because our enemies couldn't live up to their own anti-sex standards.

Dancing queens for sure! Dancing all the way to the parks and baths for some action.


Permalink 01:32:12 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Los Angeles

Los Angeles: Bathhouse Traffic

Day 33 of my road trip

Man watch: A smorgasboard of choices, this place is for those who like diversity.

There is a downtown Los Angeles. I drove across it on 6th Street and was surprised that this city actually has a downtown that feels and looks like a normal downtown. I was driving to Midtowne Spa which is located on the edge of downtown. Turning off 6th onto Kohler, I saw a very long line of men standing on the sidewalk, spilling out a doorway. Given the neighborhood, I assumed it was a homeless shelter maybe just opening their beds for the night. Upon further inspection, I realized this was a really nice looking homeless population and the shelter was the Midtowne Spa! There were 25 or 30 guys waiting outside.

I circled back around the block and parked in the secured parking garage provided by Midtowne Spa for a fee and then joined the lineup outside. There are many bathhouse options in this city and I chose this one because I figured the crowd wouldn't be too pretty boy and because it was half price rooms day, I figured it might attract a younger, less affluent client base. The line moved very slowly and was amazingly silent. Not a word was spoken other than from one guy on his phone. I always find it a little disarming being in a line with a bunch of men I may very well be having supposedly anonymous sex with.

Inside the baths, it was what you'd expect at a Midtowne property, clean yet just sleazy enough. Some areas were too dark, while others were too bright. The club is on several levels and I never fully got the layout, but I'm sure any number of men would happily show you around should you get lost. The clientele is amazingly diverse, a veritable United Nations of dick. As to be expected, it is substantially Latino, but there were also many variations on the Asian theme, lots of guys who I believe were Arab, and even a few token whites and blacks though we were most definitely the tiny minority.

The darkest of the dark is a maze and then another room that seemed to always be full of way more men than should be allowed (but I'm sure that IS the purpose of that space). I explored the maze which includes booths and gloryholes, but I never ventured into that packed dark room. A few of our patrons didn't seem to appreciate cleanliness and it smelled! On another level are additional booths with gloryholes, but unlike the first area I've mentioned that was always hopping, this area was empty. The difference was lighting since one area was very dark and one was very bright.

I wasn't able to secure a room and had to rely on the kindness of strangers to provide some privacy. Fortunately for me I found a gentleman, a rail thin speciman who hailed from some other corner of our globe but I never was sure. He WAS circumcised so that narrows the regions considerably. One of the issues I have with southern California is the abundance of Latin men who are uncut. You see I HATE uncut dicks. I've been known to service more than my share, but they have to be attached to something pretty amazing. But Keith is not a member of the uncut fan club. Actually, just the opposite: I believe circumcision should be required for every baby boy.

Anyhow my rail thin lad had been standing outside his room and our eyes met a few times before I introduced myself. He had a lovely lilt in his voice as he asked me to enter his closet (he used 'closet' and it was about right in describing his playspace). I wanted to make sure he knew what I wanted so as soon as I got into his room I hit the floor on my knees and yanked away his towel. What was before me was a growing, somewhat curved beautifully cut dick. I quickly began to service him as he grew into a most impressive dick. I pushed him onto the mattress and raised his hairy legs and ass to expose his dark asshole which I proceeded to explore with my tongue. As I explored, he began a moaning that intensified with every probe of his hole. Mr. Rail Thin looked up and inquired, "Can I fuck you?"

"Oh yeah," I replied and we quickly repositioned ourselves for some doggie-style fucking. For a young man, he was very skilled at this topping thing. I don't even think he used lube, just some spit, but he had this down to perfection. Pretty soon he was emptying his dick of his load and then we collapsed and I had Mr. Rail Thin on top of me and the rail thin mattress beneath. We embraced and I pulled away, wrapped up and headed back out. One must never allow a signal to be sent that clinginess is to be considered.

Before I left I sucked off 2 other guys. As I headed outside after only being in the club maybe two and a half hours it was still daylight and there was still a long line of men down the sidewalk. Traffic is always a problem in Los Angeles, even at the baths.


Permalink 08:19:16 am, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Oceanside

SoCal Coastal Cruising: Oceanside

Day 31 of my road trip continued

Why is California one of the last holdouts for numbering exits? I believe every other state has managed to afford the conversion so that freeway exits correspond to milepost positioning and this includes states that cover large swaths of freeway such as Texas. It can be maddening when trying to give and follow directions. A number is easier to recall and write down, compared to a long name and they can be very, very long out here! All those Spanish names for exits can make it hard to remember, but at least here traffic is often so slow you have lots of time to prepare to exit. Anyhow, I exited I-5 a few miles north of Oceanside at a rest area that has seen action for as long as I can recall. It was twilight as I parked my car at this rest area that looks out over Camp Pendleton, a huge military base. Helicopters were flying near the ocean, probably doing a training exercise. This rest area could well be the only publicly accessible cruise spot on a US military base, though technically you're not on the base, just surrounded by it.

When you drive in, park your vehicle near the second building with toilets. This rest area has two buildings with facilities and the one that gets less use by the traveling public is number two which, of course, makes it perfect for our purposes. Wait around outside in your car or head inside to check things out. There is also a public trail out back that has been cruisy in the past but when I visited it was closed for repairs.

I checked out the toilet and found no one inside. The parking lot was hopping with truckers and other travelers, but for the most part my end of the parking lot was dead. I let down the windows, opened the sun roof, and decided to wait it out. Twenty minutes later I was still sitting alone. Only one other guy showed up but he was a bit older than I wanted. He headed into the toilet, stayed several minutes, and then came back out and drove away after (I assume) deciding I wasn't his type either. Ten more minutes and it was getting dark as this ancient, beat-up VW van arrived and parked 2 spaces down from me. Based on the surfboard tied to the roof, this guy (actually at this point I wasn't sure who was inside) had stopped after a day at a beach riding waves. I figured it had to be some truly old surfer geezer in this classic from the sixties, the Type 2 VW van I believe they called it. I waited. The person in the van waited. OK, this was getting ridiculous so I decided to head back into the toilet to see if he'd follow.

I was standing at the urinal when I heard footsteps behind me. Time to be subtle or more forward? What to do? Of course I turned my head and looked at the guy walking in and, based on initial impression, I'd say he would have not even been a thought in the minds of his parents who were probably still in grade school when that beat-up VW outside originally rolled off the assembly line. Somewhere in his mid to late twenties, a little redness from the sun, and totally wind-blown brown hair, he was in jeans, tank top, and sandals. Our eyes met but only fleetingly as he headed into the adjoining stall. I noticed he didn't close the stall door behind him.

I listened to see if I could hear him pissing which I did and then I decided to fuck it all and just take a quick peek. He was taller than me and no doubt stronger so he could have beaten me to a pulp, but then again chances are if he noticed me peeking he was looking, too. So I peeked around the corner and there he stood, standing at the side of the toilet holding his dick as it dripped a few more beads of urine. But I also noticed he quickly started taking his hand, stroking himself with it, of course making sure I would see this. So he is stroking himself and I'm peeking around the corner. No need to keep pretending as I walked into the stall and locked the door behind us.

"Hey," he smiled at me.

"You need some help with that?"

My surfer stud was already half hard so I didn't bother to wait for a response as I bent down to take his cock in my mouth. The saltiness of his urine on the tip of my tongue and the smell of sweat from a full day at the beach took me into sensory overload.

He leaned back against the wall and placed a hand behind my head, trying to force me to go down further. I gagged and this little fucker moaned. He was turned on at this. So that is the game you like to play. Where is my rope when I need it?

About this time I realized someone else was outside, standing at the urinal. I could here whomever pee, but I kept sucking and my stud kept moaning loudly. Eventually we could here the guy outside leaving and then my surfer friend made a request, "Can I rim you?"

"Not a problem," and I repositioned myself and he started pleasuring me with his tongue. We were both stroking ourselves though I didn't figure I had much to unload given my earlier encounter at Adult Depot II (see more on that here). Still, having this very handsome guy eating your ass in a stall along I-5 can be very inspiring and before long I was shooting a stream onto the floor. At this, my surfer friend stopped his thing and pulled away.

"You want to get off?" I inquired, more than willing to stick around and oblige.

"Nah, not wanted right now."

With that I unlocked the stall, walked outside and got into my car. It was then I realized this guy wasn't in a hurry because he was setting up shop for an evening of service. I was just the first and there would be a few more relieved cruisers I'd be willing to bet.


Permalink 09:59:50 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Orange County

Orange County: What are your stats?

Did you know Orange County got its name over a poker game? Another guy bet lemon, and another walnut, but the guy who bet orange won and so we have Orange County. This huge county, once mostly agricultural, covers beach towns and big cities and includes staunchly conservative Christians who worship at the shockingly ostentatious Crystal Cathedral (so much for Jesus throwing out the money changers for obsessing on wealth) and skateboarders who hang out at one of the largest skater parks in the USA, Vans. If you want surfer dudes, working class newly arrived off the boat workers, or super rich retirees, this is the land of opportunity. A search of members at CRUISING for SEX using only the criteria of area code turns up 556 members for area code 714, while area code 949 finds 421 members.

Among our Orange County members, 57 have 8 inches or larger; 108 say their sexual experience makes them a pig; 9 call themselves 'nasty twink' including one guy who is 50; 27 have a thing about wearing women's clothing. Along the age spectrum, wjdeacon is 67 years of age, while shyboi1987 is 20 years old.

Easily our most prolific poster, coming in with 155 postings, is jmr19, a 45 year-old Cruiser who describes himself as "alternative," a top, and looking for a fuck buddy. Oddly enough, jmr19 has never posted a picture of himself. We did find some really hot Orange Countians who have posted pics of themselves including some I'm featuring here:




Stocky Pup




OC Cocklover


Insatiable Slam


Jockstrap 101


Man In Orange


Permalink 05:56:59 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, San Diego

SoCal Coastal Cruising: San Diego

Day 31 of my road trip
$4.35 for gas in San Diego
Man watch: San Diego easily scores as having some of the hottest men in this state

Just when you think a species may be extinct, along comes promise that maybe it isn't after all! The days when one could walk into just about any adult bookstore/video arcade/theatre and see some truly hot, hot men seemed to be all but a faded memory until I came across a listing for Adult Depot II amongst the CRUISING for SEX Listings for San Diego. The reviews we'd posted seemed to indicate this might be a good stop during a day trip to San Diego. And how!

Located in the Sports Arena neighborhood of San Diego, there are a few strip joints and adult shops nearby and one could easily miss Adult Depot II which is very low key from outward appearances (see the picture below). Pull in off Kurtz Street, park your car and head into the retail section. Beyond retail there is a small arcade with about 10 booths, each taking paper money. For a dollar you get a good deal so this is a great place to "warm up." There are signs all over the arcade admonishing anyone that only one person per booth is allowed, plus they've cut off the bottoms of the booths, but something tells me 2 or more guys end up in these booths all the time. I saw several hot men in the retail section checking one another out who never made it into the theatre and I'm sure they ended up playing somewhere.

The real action I found is in the small theatre area, divided into two sections with each showing a different staight porn movie. You pay $7 to enter this area and after your eyes adjust you'll see real movie theatre seating and probably more than a few men. There were about 10 to 12 guys always present during my visit one weekday evening. A few of the guys are the typical kind we've come to expect in these settings: guys who are no longer the hottest men in the building and always seem to thrive on the simple fact they're often the only ones with the nerve to make a move. Here, though, the dynamic seemed more like the old days, back when I was the hot young thing getting all the attention. Once things got moving, it became a voyeurs wet dream.

I focused my attentions on 3 men who were, in their own ways, truly the essence of hunk. There was the older white guy in his 40's, with nice, well-pressed clothes, glasses and standing very tall, maybe 6'4". Next we had the late twenties beefcake Latino stud wearing his Dickies pants and clearly not bashful for a second. Finally there was the white jock boy, probably in his early twenties, in shorts and t-shirt.

Finding some privacy in this theatre is impossible, but isn't that half the fun for the rest of us! There was this rather dark corner in one of the rooms that was located to the left, directly beside one of the screens showing the porn and that is about as private as you could hope for. After all 3 of these men had made eye contact with one another, it was to this little dark corner where the guy in his 40's went to stand, pull open his fly and reveal his stellar cock. He stood stroking himself and everyone in the room slowly, but surely lost any pretension that we were all here to watch porn. Those of us seated pulled out our pieces and began stroking. The Latino in his Dickies did, too, before getting up and walking into the dark area to stand next to the older guy. He, too, was stroking an above average piece and the two of them stood side-by-side, inches apart, pulling and rubbing their cocks.

Suddenly the youngster amongst us made his move. He'd been standing in the rear behind all the seating up against the wall, touching himself in his shorts. You could tell he was sizing up the situation in the room, trying to convince himself to just go for it and I guess the wondrous site of those two well endowed hunks up front proved too much as he walked up front and without a moment's hesitation, assumed the position on his knees in front of both men. All these guys were in the shadows, but it was obvious our jock boy was relishing this moment as he sucked one and then another dick. At some point those two guys standing teased him with their rock hard cocks, slapping his jawline with their tools so loud you could hear it over the movie. I'm sure I wasn't the only one sitting there hoping he'd soon get up off his knees, turn around and bend over to take both men. Had I been directing this scene, that is exactly what would come next.

That wasn't to be because first the Latino guy blew his load onto the floor and, apparently inspired, next came the older guy but our boy still on his knees was quick to grab his cock, swallow him whole along with a hot load. Damn, who needs the fucking porn movie when you got the real thing! Both of the standing guys zipped up and headed out and our boy walked back to the rear of the theatre, using his hands to remove the spit and jism from around his mouth as all of us in the room gave him the appropriate appreciation, blowing our loads, too. Well, at least I did before I made a path for the door, assuming rush hour might be winding down, making for a better drive up I-5.

Adult Depot II


Permalink 02:49:19 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Los Angeles

Los Angeles: No Sex in This Update

Day 28 of my road trip
$4.33 for gas in Compton
Man watch: It's southern California so what do you expect?

Driving along California 91, I spied a gas station selling regular for $4.33. A bargain, so I exited and filled up my tank enroute to Los Angeles. Of course there was an accident along the way so that required yet another diversion, leaving the freeway to take side streets until I could hook up again with the 110. I honestly don't know how people who live here cope with this daily ritual of wasted time getting from point A to point B. It is a given that someone will have an accident or a car will simply stop working and all of us will sit there waiting and waiting as our precious fuel gets eaten up.

I've enjoyed this trip so much, but had noticed over the last several days I seemed more anxious and then I realized what it was: I didn't especially want to be here. This was a last minute decision to drive to southern California, mostly because I have business relations down here and I wanted a chance to check in with them. I drove the 40 plus miles to have a really nice lunch with a lady who has been involved in the gay adult industry so long. Yet very few consumers of gay male porn realize a woman has been selecting what is hot and what is not long before they consume whatever gets delivered to the stores. At least she appreciates the irony. We had a wonderful lunch and celebrated her week-long title change. She is now legally a wife in a same-sex marriage.

That afternoon I drove a few more miles to view the Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA for short) collection. The buildings are impressive with large outdoor public areas and it seemed there were far more people congregating outside in these public spaces than actual people inside looking at the art. Maybe I was in the wrong galleries? I checked out the American collection first and it was truly fantastic. It isn't often you get to see a huge painting by David Hockney hanging in a museum, but there it was, "Mulholland Drive: The Road to the Studio." As I later learned, it is Hockney's largest piece. Another rare find was the Paul Cadmus painting "Coney Island" showing a group of beachgoers having a blast in the 1930's, but if you look closely you'll see someone is reading what appears to be a tabloid journal about Hitler.

A stumbled into a special exhibit called "Doctrinal Nourishment" that was truly bizarre. The exhibit, as it turned out, was built around this one etching by Baron James Ensor, a Belgium, that shows something like 5 people, representing various institutions from the monarchy to the church literally shitting on the masses who stand beneath them with open mouths. Interesting but cause for an entire exhibit?

The only real let down at LACMA is the European collection which, the further you go back, say to the Middle Ages, is about as weak a collection as you'd expect to find in a town like, for example, Des Moines. In a city with this much money and this much determination to show it off, you'd think someone would hurry up and die and leave behind a rich collection of old European paintings to LACMA. Speaking of money, hanging on the wall as I exited the main building was a list of donors broken down by amount donated. As I sit here today typing this I am just not sure if I saw what I saw. It seemed unreal that the top level was for donations for $25 million and there were several donors listed. Philanthropy is alive and well in southern California.

After LACMA, I drove a few more miles to visit with the owner of Men4RentNow and Men4SexNow who has a wonderful home in West Hollywood. We drove over to a trendy food dispensary called Simon LA and both had a most unpleasant meal, but the conversation was nice and sitting outdoors for dinner is always a special pleasure, rarely enjoyed by me. What made the meal unpleasant was the bad service (we got at least 3 rounds of apologies over the course of the evening) and then when they delivered our beef, both were well-done, not the medium rare we'd asked. At least the mojito was well mixed, but I'd not recommend Simon LA.

I promise some sex in my next blog entry. It IS being researched and noted so don't give up dear readers. I've come to realize this may well be my last trip to southern California. It is just too much for me. And it has all the trappings of a form of paradise, but that all seems like a facade. It reminds me of why I left San Francisco back in the 90's when I came to believe that bit of paradise had actually disappeared right before my eyes. People still move here in droves to find their paradise, but I'm not so sure where they find it unless they have shitloads of money and can buy enough space and provide themselves with enough hired help to make it practical. For the average Californian, this paradise seems lost somewhere out there on the freeway, waiting one more day for someones misfortune to be cleared so you can move on down the road.


Permalink 05:57:30 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Dick Spotted

Spotted Today: Jessie With His Toy

I get the feeling Jessie is a favorite at You Love Jack or at least a very persuasive young man who figures big in their porn shoot budget! This is at least the third photo spread starring Jessie and we have only one thing to say: bring it on!

You remember Jessie, the self-sucking hugely endowed boy? This time he brings along a toy called the Fleshlight that can be used as a substitute for ass or pussy. Frankly, if any dick can test this toy, it would be Jessie. Some commentary from the lucky man who watched it all:

"He globs some more lube on his rock hard shaft and brings the fleshlight to his cock head. Ready for entry and eager to get off he stuffs that fuck toy onto his huge cock and grunts as it slips inside. It's transparent (is this Wonder Woman's sex toy??) so you can totally see his rock hard cock slide all the way to the base. The realistic feeling skin smothers his pole as it sends waves of pleasure back to its master."

OK, enough with the commentary. How about some pics courtesy of You Love Jack?








Permalink 09:57:48 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Sex, Editorial

The Summer of Our Discontent

Borrowing a phrase from Shakespeare and turning it on its head, in recent years we've seen the phrase "summer of our discontent" to describe disappointment with how our summertime plays out, summer presumably being a time of pleasure as compared to it's opposite, winter. Well, this IS the summer of our discontent for those of us who think of nude sunbathing and frolicking behind the dunes when we ponder the pleasures of summer. Just look at what is happening this summer in some very high profile cruising grounds:

Edge in Boston is reporting about sex last year at the Provincetown dunes that is being blamed for a crackdown in summer 2008: "... in September 2007, a New Jersey family taking their children for a dune stroll reported stumbling upon a gay male orgy. And in August 2007, a whale-watch boat captain reported stumbling upon a group of 20-30 men 'playing around' by Wood Lighthouse."

Queerty was one of many sources to report an on-going sting this summer at that most notorious of cruising grounds on Fire Island: "At least three men have been arrested over two consecutive weekends for 'lewd conduct' while cruising through the Meat Rack, which is exactly what it sounds like."

Just today in the Los Angeles Times there is a report of an impending crackdown out at San Onofre, just north of Camp Pendleton (a Marine base) of not only cruising but also nudity since this beach has been an unofficial nudist beach for something like 30 years. The article says all this will change after Labor Day when the crackdown begins.

Clearly, law enforcement is running out of things to do this summer and cruisers, as usual, are paying the price with handcuffs, perv walks, and legal fees. I particularly liked the quote from Provincetown head cop, Jeff Jaran, calling sex in the dunes "not acceptable, decent, moral behavior" and insisting "there are places to go and do those types of things." Short of a bedroom, I'd like to know exactly where that might be in this small town. Years ago an attempt to open an adult video arcade was refused by the town for fear that sex might happen.

The relevant points to ponder are these:

1. These are well-known, long-standing areas where men have gathered cruising for sex for as long as just about anyone can recall. Anyone who has been to the dunes in Provincetown, knows that for a family to stumble across lots of orgy sex isn't that easy to do. Guys do have orgies out there, but it isn't exactly right off the parking lot.

2. What is the problem with catching a glimpse of a couple or group having sex in the great outdoors? Exactly what harm is to happen from having a child see this? I've never heard any explanation, only a presumption that somehow a kid is damaged goods if they see men have sex with each other (and it IS about men having sex, not any other pairing).

3. Just because some tourists stumble across a bunch of guys having sex, why must that automatically mean the sex must end for the thousands (yes, thousands) of men who've done this forever? What about the point of view that any tourist traipsing around outdoors in summer should not be shocked to find adults having sex and should simply learn to deal with it. After all, both the hikers and the cruisers are wanting to take advantage of the same thing, the great outdoors in warmer weather.

4. If this is so awful, why does it happen world wide and usually without a peep of concern in virtually every corner of the world? Americans really need to get a clue that we are one of the few countries that has laws on the books concerning so-called public sex and even those other places who have it, long ago stopped enforcing it. Why must we Americans be protected from sexual displays? Is this an admission we're sexually stunted?

The first step for men who enjoy cruising for sex is to get fully comfortable with this kind of sex. Rid yourself of the shame and guilt society may have taught you. Contrary to what that great authority on public morals says in Provincetown, there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing it in the dunes, or for that matter, at any park. Cruisers know to be discreet and about the only places they don't behave that way are in locales that are simply "owned" by the men who go there for sex. This is as it should be.

Those who think public sex is wrong, those who insist it harms kids, those who believe law enforcement needs to spend tax dollars arresting grownups deciding to get off outside on a lovely summer day need to prove their case. They never have. We've always just kind of retreated a little further in the woods and waited until attentions turned elsewhere. Those days need to come to an end and we need to challenge the status quo to either prove the harm we do or get the fuck out of our sex lives.


Permalink 09:28:38 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, California, Orange County

Southern California Musings

Day 27 of my road trip
$4.67 for gas somewhere in Orange County

My relationship with southern California is a complicated one. I don't really get it, but like anyone else who has been a part of modern popular culture, I do get it in a weird sort of way. Everything is familiar and yet when you actually are in southern California everything is overwhelming and alien. It doesn't help that I lived in San Francisco for 17 years. San Franciscans dislike LA, always putting it down, and it was a revelation when I later realized that Los Angelenos don't share a similar contempt for their neighbors to the north.

Southern California for me has always meant Los Angeles and to be more specific, West Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Is it any wonder I find this place so alien? Between all the incredible wealth in Beverly Hills and all the men who are near to physical perfection in West Hollywood, I've had a very distorted view of things. West Hollywood in particular is not very welcoming unless every hair is in place, your pecs are perfectly raised, and your skin is unblemished. A city seemingly built around the shallowness of worshiping male beauty -- yikes, how scary is that? Of course many would say the same is true of the Castro neighborhood in San Francisco where I lived for years, but I do believe the people of West Hollywood have, like so much about southern California, taken something not that weird and taken it to freaky extremes.

Anyhow, for my 2 weeks in southern California I made a decision to use Orange County as my base. This would allow me to visit the beach towns I've never seen, plus experience a part of the southland that isn't, well, so LA. Don't worry, Angelenos, as if you care, I can assure you I appreciate your city as a world-class destination and that includes for sex which I hope to partake.

For my first beach town, I drove over to Seal Beach, a pretty low-key town just across the water from Long Beach. You may not have heard of Seal Beach because it is not on the radar screen like many of it's neighbors to the south, Huntington Beach and Newport Beach for example. Seal Beach is home to lots of elderly people (home of the first planned retirement complex in the USA) but they don't seem to get near the sea which is populated by a much younger crowd including enough men and boys on skateboards, or out on their skimboards or surfboards to make a horny homo beyond salivating. Or so it had that impact on me. More later.

Boys at Seal Beach

Boys at Seal Beach

Boys at Seal Beach

Boys at Seal Beach


Permalink 09:00:54 pm, by Cruisemaster Email
Categories: Road Trip Summer/Fall 2008, New Mexico, Las Vegas, Arizona, Flagstaff

The Land of In Between

Day 24 and 25 of my road trip
$4.09 for gas in Raton; $3.79 for gas in Albuquerque

If you're not planning on driving from Denver to southern California with a stop in a big city like Albuquerque or Phoenix, the drive becomes all about getting as far as possible every day of your drive. Between the usually desolate scenery and the temps hitting triple digits, it really isn't a place to linger for most people. There are some highlights along the way, but the oppressive heat puts the kabash on just about any exploration this time of year. For my 1000 plus mile journey, I decided to stop in two towns, Las Vegas (New Mexico) and Flagstaff, Arizona. What I was looking for was a pleasant place to stop along the way that wouldn't offer too many diversions so I could get some work done before getting to California. I'm sure they have some wild and crazy sex in these towns, but I didn't go looking.

Las Vegas is a town in northern New Mexico that is trying to become noticed. I've always enjoyed stops in New Mexico, but never really took to Santa Fe which always struck me as a bit too cute to be real. Las Vegas hasn't become an artist colony and you'll not find row after row of over-priced galleries. At some point Las Vegas must have been an important town, judging from the architecture that remains, reflecting many styles, not just adobe housing. For me, it was just a place to chill (a term that sounds a bit freaky in this heat!), enjoy some authentic New Mexican food, and get some work done.

My next stop, Flagstaff, was decided upon because I knew it would provide a break from the oppressive heat. Located up in the mountains, Flagstaff is a college town that sits along the old Route 66. Think Denver with a few million fewer people! Same outdoorsy, sports-minded mentality, but just far fewer people around. I always enjoy a stop in Flagstaff and the hotel I stayed in, a Quality Inn, will surely win the award from this trip of having the tackiest attempt at some kind of architectural statement. See the picture below and I think you'll agree.

Gas prices are, as we all know, rising at amazing speed. One night as I sat in my room in Las Vegas I looked out the window to see a guy across the street change the numbers on the board from $3.99 to $4.09. Just like that, gas rose ten cents! Using TravMatix I was able to locate what I suspect is the last cheap gas as you drive from east to west, a station off I-25, at exit 233 (Alameda), where gas was an amazingly low $3.79. It would be $4.19 about 50 miles further west, and then progressively rise as I drove further along in this land of in between.

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

In Between

Cruisemaster Blog


XML Feeds

What is RSS?