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DIARY 1532
11/13/70

EDDIE'S PARTY

In about 11, and some very fat friend of Eddie's answers the door, and that's the first down, and then Eddie says we should give our coats to "Richie, the coat girl," and she's a second down with a tightly curled black wig, ascetically-applied hard-edge dark makeup which emphasized the mannish grossness of her features, and a laconic drag to the figure with the pushed-up breasts that made it even difficult to laugh about. Into the living room to see a crowd of rather unpleasant seeming people, and then Eddie introduces us to the beer in the fridge, and says we can get everything we want from now on. Ernie is supposed to show up later, and the only other face which seems familiar is Richard's from the Trans-Lux East, but I don't care for him, either. John stands separately, and I stand alone, looking over the crowd, and the only nice person I see, finally, is a tall white who seems taken up by a white-sweatered black who dances nicely, but seems bitchily attached to him.

During the first hour, I figure I could just as well go up to John anytime and say that my contacts were bothering me in the smoke, and we'd have to leave, but I see John finally sitting down on the sofa, and even talking with the rather nice black sitting next to him, so I figure we can at least give it another half-hour. During that time, Eddie announces under his breath to me that they'll be smoking in the bathroom, and I decide this might be the turning point of the party, so I enter the crowded bathroom to find, again, no one of interest, except someone who unwraps six joints from a plastic baggie and starts passing them around. With the camaraderie in the bathroom, I go out to wave to John to come in, and with him comes the tall white who'd been so attractive, and I see that he's cute indeed, with nicely bushy reddish-brown hair over small but dazzling blue eyes and a masculine face and form. John seems attracted to him, and I can see us fighting for him, but when we're all nicely high and someone wants simply to use the john, we all clear out, and the party looks different now.

I stand in the near corner, getting the beginning of an effect, and a black fellow standing nearby asks me to dance, after we look each other over a few times. I figure I will, so I put down my beer and we start rather calmly, then are drawn closer and closer together until my eyes are closed and he's leading where he will, and we're brushing loins together with great pressures, and I can feel that he's getting hard, and it's a nice feeling indeed. Look over to see that John is also dancing with a fellow who'd been looking at us both, and figure the party has moved into a new gear. When the first dance is over, we start kissing, and that lasts through the second dance, at which time I'm even standing a bit apart from him, and using my hand to trace this nice cock-shape up the curve of his body almost to his side, and he presses in on my hand, and tries feeling me up, and I'm getting rather hard, too, and we're kissing and running our tongues around lips and necks, and we even go into a third dance.

Then something happens which I don't remember, and we're separated, though both knowing we're there (I suspect I may have said something about getting too involved, but we'd have to get together later). I'm standing in the same corner, and Eddie comes over to say that's quite a fellow I'd picked out, a fantastic necker, and equally good in bed, so I shouldn't let it go, but should follow it up. I smile and thank him. Who should be standing a couple of feet from me but the tall white guy, and he smiles at me in a guilty way, and I make some sort of remark about the bathroom really livening up the party, and he says something of a shy nature, and it leads me to asking him if he likes to kiss. He says he does, but not in public.

At this point the black comes over and is rather incensed about our talking together, and when he leaves, I ask Jim---no, he says stoutly, my name's Tom, and I remark that EVERYONE seems to be named Bob or Jim or Tom, including a plump PR who seems to have attached himself to me, getting me a drink, trying to introduce me to people, saying how cute I am, which does indeed help give the party a nice flair.

Tom seems more and more nervous, but he doesn't want to dance, except at one point someone asks "us" to dance, and Tom chooses to dance, and I dance with the OTHER Tom again, and again it's very nice. Back to the wall, and Tom's sitting, and I ask what's between him and the black, and he says they're just friends: there's nothing of sex involved at all. So I see that I can move in, and by this time the black comes past to say that he finds JOHN very attractive, and I suggest he just go up to him and tell him so, but he seems to be shy, also, and I give up when he doesn't even want to try. Tom and I are still talking, and the lights in the bedroom have gone off, and I keep asking him, But what do YOU want to do, and finally he gets up the nerve, grabs my hand, and pulls me into the bedroom.

We stand just in back of the door, and I murmur something about how nice it is that he's finally made a decision, and we begin kissing, and though he seems fairly new at it, he takes to it very nicely, and soon my hand is probing his young hard body, and he's quite erect, and though we seem to be interrupted every three or four minutes by someone coming into the bedroom, I get him very hot and decide to unzip him and go down on him. He takes to that very nicely, and he has a nice long cock which has a strange cleft at the end, as if the circumciser took off some ounces of the back of his head, but it's quite hard and he likes my motions, and even though I have to get quickly back onto my feet twice because of someone coming in, he manages to keep the progress, and finally comes, though rather weakly, in my mouth, and he truly enjoys my playing around afterward, and he's very slow to go down, and very affectionate when I get back up, though he doesn't want to continue kissing.

Eddie's nosing around in the bedroom, wanting the lights on, saying that he doesn't want it to turn into a sex party, and Tom and I leave, to see a disconsolate black sitting outside, still having done nothing about John.

John hasn't been idle in the meantime, and the next thing I see, his partner is lying face down on one of the beds and John is lying on top of him, and I don't think anything is going on until Eddie says "Who's that? Stop that, there are girls here!" I feel responsible for John, so I go over and say that Eddie's uptight about having anyone fucking, and they stop, and I wander out to the kitchen to get more beer in time to see what certainly LOOKS like a straight couple coming in the door. I guess there are other girls there, but except for Richie, I don't see any of them.

Black Tom and I are at it again, and we're into the bedroom, and we go to the far wall, and finally decide to lie down on the floor. He's still very hot, and I can't see anything but going down on him, and take him out, and he's nicely hard and willing to be eaten, and I'm sucking him for all I'm worth when some friend of Eddie's comes in to check up, and I simply lay on top of his pulsing cock, and someone comes over, looks down, and says, "Well, there's nothing up or down over here," and when he leaves and the lights go back out, I murmur, "There is sure something up down here!" and go back to sucking him.

There's a repeat interruption, and Eddie finally says in exasperation, "If you have to do something, lock this door." I think someone locks the door, but then someone ELSE comes in and puts on the light, "looking" for someone, and then I go to shut off the light, seeing that there's only one other person, the very girlish one, on the other bed. Back to Tom and do him quite nicely, his semen spurting out so hard that I can feel the stream of it on the roof of my mouth as he gasps into the orgasm. Again he likes me to fondle him after he's finished, and I'm saying nice things to him, wondering how to get away from him now, when there's the sound of someone about to break the tiny hook-lock on the door, asking for someone, and I whisper that I'd better open it before they break it down. So the door is unlocked, again the lights go on, embarrassed looks are exchanged, and the light goes off again.

We exchange a few more kisses at the door, just to make it look OK, and the plump PR is back again to see what I'm doing, and makes some remark about me being in the middle of everything that's going on. I'd already apologized to Eddie once for John's doing something he didn't know was taboo, but I certainly didn't feel comfortable about it, since I'd gotten two loads shot into my mouth in that evening, and had to prevent John from getting his particular jollies.

The black in the white sweater was back wanting to be introduced to John, John had taken up with someone else, and I had the two Toms slightly circling around me, waiting for some sort of future dates. I found John standing against the wall, and asked if he wanted to go, and he said yes, and we went into the hall to find that the rack had broken down, and it was quite a hassle for me to find my coat, and John was happy he'd worn none. Again I apologized to Eddie for John's behavior, though again I didn't see any females, and about this time people were going past with plates loaded with food, and Eddie was more concerned about his other guests than he was about our leaving.

I definitely felt that I was abandoning a ship where all the good-looking people had already been had by me, and I apologized to John, who said he understood, and that he did the guy later, anyway, so there was nothing lost. I wanted to talk to Eddie later, but it seemed that I just never seemed to get around to talking to him, and so for a week afterward I had no way of knowing what his reaction was. As for me, the pot was just the thing I needed to lower my inhibitions in two directions: to permit me to accept an invitation from someone I might have said no to: the black, and to ease me into talking with the only beautiful person at the place: the tall white Tom. And both of them turned out very nicely, though I was dying to get to Eddie to see if either of the Toms would have asked him for more information about me---and how they would have described me to Eddie! (RETURN TO JOURNALS 11/13/70).

 

DIARY 1574
11/23/70

BOB'S FILMS HERE

I'm just as happy I don't have to oversee the cameras, and poor Gene has a hearing aid which he must keep turned down, because he doesn't seem to hear many of the suggestions offered for his comfort, and only when I take the pipe over to him to smoke does he take a couple of puffs. First Asher's film goes on, and he laughs at it, saying we'll find it very funny, since they don't do anything, and that's true, the three simply play around with each other, the print is very fuzzy and overexposed, but there are some nice sights of cocks straining to get hard, and the people are young but not bad, and I can't see anything to laugh at except they're all so camera-shy that they can't keep a hard-on for very long, and there's no real sense of action, and no editing whatsoever.

Then Bob puts on his films, and they turn out to be even worse: even poorer print quality, even further overexposed, so that they're practically white, and the people are even less attractive and less active than before. There's much concern about fucking, and I just can't see what, but still with all the pot, I'm starting to swim in the darkened apartment, and lean back against Bob's chair to try to get something started, but he seems to be looking at the films, and then when they're over, we're all disappointed, and I put some music on, starting with the Moody Blues, and Bob starts saying how far out he's going, and Asher is still looking at me with his come-hither smile, and I can't take it any more, and when he says something about coming over to the sofa, I go over, and can't keep my hands away from his chest, so thick and nicely haired, and then we move onto the floor and he bends over to kiss me.

His kissing is not the best part of his activity, being far too avid and mauling for my taste, but it's rather flattering that I seem to have so much attraction to him that he's willing to maul me. We start grappling on the floor, and I can feel a nice large cock beginning to push up against his corduroy trousers, and I take his shirt out and he's taking my pants down, and we're almost having sex on the floor when I look around to see John and Gene and Bob rather uncomfortably sitting around, and then they're up rather methodically taking their clothes off, but they're not attracted to anyone: I think everyone's rather put off by Gene's rather excessive smell, his slimness accentuated by the caramel-colored jumpsuit he's wearing, and by his neatly trimmed hair and eyebrows and nose.

By that time Asher and I are naked, rubbing back and forth, and John and Bob come up to join us, and Asher goes off to kiss the others, while I start fondling Bob and kissing him, and grab John to see that he's up ready to go, as usual, and then Gene comes into the crowd, and he's rather small built, and doesn't seem eager to come up, and for a bit I take him on, and he's no great shakes as a kisser, either, and his body is a bit too thin and well defined for my taste, but my taste is rapidly going under the fog of smoking.

John turned on the ceiling lights, and we all went into the bedroom where I was flabbergasted to find the lights so much brighter than I expected to see them. The yellow bulb was working fine, so there was nothing to comment about, and Asher and I paired off on the bed, kissing like crazy, while Bob went down on me, John went down on Asher, and Gene was left to do what he felt like doing on the periphery.

After a bit of more mauling, I felt I had to get away from Asher's mouth, and went to Bob's cock, which was fairly nicely up, and while the four of them necked in a pile on the bed, I kept working away on Bob, and he got harder and harder, and I began swimming through my "This happened before, would I want to spend eternity here, I'm doing what I want to do, aren't I?" phase when Asher got out the poppers and it was all I could do to find a spare plastic bottle to contain it. That was the last thing I needed, and Bob came with an enormous groan, followed by his usual protestations that I was going too far after he came, and there was a rearrangement on the bed, and I found myself in the middle, getting in deeper and deeper.

My head whirled with the pot and the poppers, but I could feel that I was far from being erect, partially because no one was devoting themselves to my cock (though they wouldn't want to, since I was soft, though each tried futilely to harden me up), and no one was really that much of a joy to neck with.

Gene was lying on his stomach on the bed, and Asher was trying to fuck him, and I was somewhere in the middle, grabbing cocks, massaging prostates, and it seems that a couple of times a card-house of people and limbs collapsed and I would feel my head compressed by random bodies I couldn't identify, and my arm or leg would be pinioned in a painful torque by a set of limbs that I couldn't begin to extricate, and again I went through the ideas of suffocation (with my head buried in someone's asshole, though I tried to stay away from them), and broken bones (though I tried to voice my pain whenever anything got too heavy).

When the poppers wore off, I could sort of sit back and observe that no one was really interested in anyone else: every so often someone would attempt fucking Gene, but it wouldn't work. The only one who seemed to be doing anyone was me, and at one point when the poppers started going around again, I saw Asher working frantically with his hand on John's cock, and he was jammed into the corner between the bed and the desk, grimacing toward an orgasm, and as he shot, I felt a tingle of pleasure, and then went to work on Gene's cock, though I didn't care for his body, with it's vaguely oiled texture, and the stubbly feeling of smooth skin which had been shaved maybe the day before. His cock didn't get as big as I remembered it getting, but finally it came, and I tasted the liquid and vaguely wondered if he'd tried fucking Asher or John, and what insect eggs or disease germs I might be ingesting, but that thought quickly went as a part of paranoia.

There was another pause before Janis Joplin came on, and I found myself working on Bob again, but he couldn't come, and the others were lying about rather disinterested, and someone was above me, and it was Asher, again jamming his lips and teeth and chin into mine, and I could only grab myself and work away madly, hoping to be able to come so that I wouldn't have to come later, so that Asher would leave my sore mouth alone, so that the party would be over and I would be able to get to bed.

So I pounded my soft cock into an orgasm, and John went to get a towel, though I can't remember his using it, and it seemed that I was moist for the rest of the evening. There was little activity after that, Gene lying tranquilly on his back, Bob and I sharing his chest for a pillow, occasionally kissing across it, stroking the body beneath us, twining our fingers together. John lay down behind me, just on the edge of the bed, and his hands and fingers came across to twine with ours, and then, somehow, Asher, who'd gone into the bathroom to wash off after he came, also by himself, crouched above me as I rather inanely sent him toppling off balance onto my shoulders by crushing my knee into his yoni, and he shot very nicely, and I grabbed onto his spouting cock and slid my fingers back and forth and he shouted in outrage at the overloaded nerve endings, and I was content to adjust my fingers slightly, watching the expressions of pain, pleasure, and frustrated chagrin play over his handsome features. He certainly looked like Mario!

When he came back from drying himself off (and there was certainly a biting smell of sweat, since everyone had to strain so hard to come), he managed to push the four of us over and crawl onto the edge of the bed in back of John, and his hands made their way around for a bit, and then he said it was 11, he had to go, since he had to be up at 6 am the next morning, and then Gene packed his stuff up and left, and no one seemed unhappy to see him go, even though he said he sometimes showed films, and I said he should call me, and even Asher said he had friends who liked films, and I told HIM to call me, but I'm not surprised that they didn't for the following week. Then Bob asked if he should stay, and I said John was probably ready for bed, so he got dressed, we kissed and necked a bit as he did so, and he left about 11:30, and John and I went dizzily about cleaning up the apartment just a bit, everyone had made a mess eating banana bread, but there was no mark on the floor where Asher toppled the pipe and glowing coals onto the rug. Bed at 12. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 11/23/70).

 

DIARY 1583
11/27/70

TSI-DUN AT K.'S

Though I intended to get there on time, I was only getting into the taxi at 8 pm, and even though it went rather quickly down Broadway, it was still rather like 8:20 when I paid my $1.45 and 254 tip and found the name at the wrong address. A heavyset guy with thick salt and pepper hair opens the door as soon as I get up the first flight, and there's the 12x12 living room, wall to wall sheet, with a dim red light on and nudes sitting on the sofa and on the floor and on the chairs, and he says that I can just put my clothes in a pile in the closet, except I can barely find it for the people who are crowded into the bedroom, which is even dimmer and this room mattress-covered, except for small aisles not more than two feet wide on all three sides, so the room was about 10x12. My first reaction was "Well, if he can have it here, I can certainly have it at my place."

There was no room at the closet, so I quickly undressed and piled everything in the doorway, putting my watch in my pocket, glad I had my contacts on, and there I was, naked, with freezing hands and feet from the outside cold, with pink-tinted nudes staring up at me, and joints being passed around, psychedelic fireflies flitting about the dozen people lounging on the mattresses, among them John, and the grunting, bumping two were sweating on the floor underneath the light-light in the floor socket.

I felt removed and late, so I went back into the living room and into the kitchen, which had a table in the middle of the floor with scotch and vodka and ice and mixes on it, and made myself a vodka and tonic, and took a vacant chair in the living room to get acclimated.

The pair sitting next to me sort of looked at me, and the wiry blond with a bushy mustache looked fairly attractive, except that he didn't seem to be interested in doing anything either. I sipped my drink, watched the host fussing about everyone getting drinks, the lack of room for clothes on the floor, about how many people were coming, and I resolved not to be nearly as visible as he was when I was the host.

"Things are better in the bedroom" he murmured when he passed through a couple of times almost wringing his hands with solicitude, and finally I decided I would go in to see what was going on. In and the joints were out, and everyone seemed involved in twos or threes, or were standing around the edges watching, so I wandered over near the bathroom door and hunkered down, nursing my drink, watching the two on the edge of the mattress nearest me, fondling each other with the hard, lengthy strokes that indicated that both were erect for some time, luxuriating in the voluptuousness of the hands on each cock, not interested in coming until the maximum sensation was wrung from the straining nerve ends. They kissed and caressed and rolled back and forth, groaning, and others watched them, absently fingering themselves, but not getting closely involved.

A hairy fellow from the living room came in, and his thick chest and heavy, waistless torso rather reminded me of John, as did the thick curly matting of hair from his shoulders to his knees, with his nipples etched in pinkness in two sworls on his chest. But he got involved with someone young and blond in the doorway, still looking at me, and they nonchalantly groped each other's softnesses.

A few pot-bellied types began jerking off in earnest watching the contortions of the two near me, and I began fingering myself, hoping to come up more spontaneously, but I still felt that my hands and feet were cold, that I was still fresh from the autumnal air outside.

But then there was a break in their necking, and one of them reached out for me, and I put my glass down in the corner and went over to them, springing to attention with the excitement of the pair, and they continued to hold each other while one reached up for my face to kiss me, and the other went down on me. I reached into the mass of genitalia and came up with a stiff slimy cock which I fingered back and forth until the owner, the one who was kissing me, doubled up on himself and drew back, gasping through gaps in his kissing mouth, obviously close to coming and not wanting to.

That excited me still more, and I stood between them, cock stiff, while they ran their hands up and down my front, and curved them around my legs as I knelt on the mattresses, grappling with my ass. I kissed the other of the pair, but he didn't seem as interesting as the dark-haired one, and I returned to him as the other one left, and I continued to seek out his reluctant cock, parting from his lips to go down on it, and he thrust into my mouth eagerly, but then had too much and quickly pulled out, and he grabbed my head, saying he was too close to coming, and we kissed a bit more while I played hide-and-seek with his cock, then went down on him again and he resigned himself to coming, growing ultimately stiff and clasping me to him as his balls tightened and he shot into my mouth, spasming again and again, gasping, as I gripped and sucked and swallowed the come that spurted from his veined cock.

Happily, he permitted me to play with him after he'd come, and I enjoyed his expressions of alternating pain and pleasure as I wrung the last shivers from his body, and then we kissed a bit more, and there was a mumble of parting and he left the mattress. When I stood up, there was someone waiting to neck with me, but he was a slobbery type that I didn't care for, so I smiled and eased myself free and said I wanted to go into the living room "to rest," and found myself sitting on the sofa, feeling a streak of wetness against my bare ass, and next to a short blond with somewhat darker body hairs who was smoking a joint.

When he passed it to someone who sat at our feet on the floor, I asked if it was his or a communal joint, and he passed it to me, saying that it was both his AND communal, and I took a deep drag, but seemed not to get much, and commented that it was a very mild weed. It passed around a couple of more times, and the one of the floor moved away when we stopped paying attention to him, and I began kissing and fondling him on the sofa, and others seemed to be looking at us, and there were other conversations going matter-of-factly as they stared at us, and finally I asked "Do you want to go into the bedroom?" He smiled and nodded and we went.

We found a space on the mattress against the outside wall, and began necking in earnest, and I went down on him and he had trouble coming up, and he found the same trouble in my lap, and we both seemed to come to a stalemate, even though we seemed to be enjoying each other's mouths. There was a foot from a fucking threesome that seemed to be bumping into us, and once when I was coming up for air, I caught sight of a lovely straw-headed blond standing alone along the wall, watching, with a tapered body and ripply shadows in the indirect light.

So I necked with the blond as long as I reasonably could, then I said something about wanting to sit up for a bit, and he was taken over by someone who had tried to make us into a threesome, and I sat up, rubbing feet with the blond, and reached over to say he must be cold sitting on the floor under the open window. He moved over to the mattress, offered me some beer, and we started necking, and he came on a bit too strongly, overbearingly passionate without being up, and we didn't really get a chance to ease into it before he was frantically bobbling his straight ashen hair up and down on my soft cock, and even when a popper cylinder passed under my nose, I wasn't interested enough to get hard.

But the buzz soon started, and I found myself going down on him, imagining that I was using the most seductively delicate touches on his cockhead with my tongue-tip, but he didn't get hard, and there were other people around willing to part us. He was inordinately interested in my ass, and finally whispered, "Boy, I'd love to get into that," but I shook my head with a rueful smile, and he said "That's OK," but I don't think he meant it. Soon a third was kissing and fondling us, and the blond tried fucking the third person, but that didn't seem to work, even when he was frantically kissing me, and I went down on him again with the shadow-doubt that I was licking off the other guy's shit, but there was no smell, so maybe he hadn't even gotten in.

Yet he wasn't hard, and again I rolled off to one side to allow the third person to take over. Met someone who wanted to kiss in the doorway, and tried him, but left for the seat just next to the doorway, and found myself being eyed by a smallish, softish, blond mustache that looked familiar, but he didn't make a move toward me, and I went into the kitchen for another drink, retrieving my glass, but there was no more vodka and I settled for orange juice. About that time I noticed the pot of dollar bills on the entry table, and felt guilty about not contributing, and then John found George, who was ready to leave, and got my name to him, but he said I should send my $5 to someone in the Heights, so I didn't have to go for my wallet, and didn't leave the $1 after all.

Comments were passed by people as they went in and out of the bedroom, and the round-assed fellow who had been so nice to me on Seventh Avenue seemed interested, but then he got involved in a conversation with the host on the sofa, and I turned my attention to the hairy guy who was standing behind me with obvious intentions in my direction, but with a strange lack of initative to even touch me, which I thought was rather strange in the decidedly orgy-atmosphere.

Finally I finished my glass and walked into the bedroom, sitting down in the corner and kissing a bit with the two blonds that I'd been interested in before, and he came over and we began kissing, rather nicely, except that his stomach had a bit too much material for my liking, and again he tried to get me hard, but I protested (as I had with the doll of a blond) that I had just come, and that it took me awhile to recover. He seemed to think that was all right, and we necked and he straddled me to fuck me in the mouth, but he wasn't getting ultimately hard, and even when the poppers went around again and I got rather frantic on his cock, nothing happened, except possibly that I drew blood with my chewing on his head.

Had rather a jolt when the first blond reached over to kiss me again, and it seemed that his nose and mouth had been contaminated with the fluid from the popper cylinder, and I could taste and smell the essence in all his orifices. It was rather off-putting, especially since Asher's condemnation of the poisonous effects of prolonged ingestion of the liquid when HE was at my place.

George had finally left, after everyone finished laughing at the fact that he was wearing long winter underwear that his "friend" didn't allow him to pull up without pulling back down and inserting his forearm through the opening between the downed-tops of the bottoms and his crotch, making it impossible for him to pull them back up. Others began to leave, and then the lights flicked on and off when someone was looking for something, and there was the remark, "OK, fellows, that's it," and though the host protested that it was still early (in fact, he telephoned a friend, saying he had a surprise for him if he came over, about 25 of them, in fact, and I don't think his friend ever DID arrive, though there were a few who showed up after I did), everyone seemed to be making for their piles of clothes.

I'd gone into the bathroom before for a piss, and was impressed by the line drawings that covered the walls of Scandinavian looking boys, and by the stack of furniture in the bathtub, obviously the last free place in the apartment.

Then John came forward and I asked him if he'd had enough, and so we started getting dressed along with everyone else. The two smallish cute blonds turned out to be together, and they affectionately kissed me goodbye as they dressed and left, and the last fellow also singled me out for his parting embraces, seeming never to want to let me go. Some of the grinning older guys also seemed to want to say goodbye to everyone with a kiss, whether they'd had anything to do with them during the evening or not, and it was as cheap a way as any to seem to have been with everyone through the course of the evening.

John and I dressed, I finding my wallet intact where it had fallen from my pants, and we said goodbye to the host and found a cab going up Third at 10:30. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 11/27/70).

 

DIARY 1647
12/21/70

TSI-DUN AT V.'S

In about 4:45 and undress with Bruce and his friend, and I'm rather sorry to see that his body isn't as sexy as I'd imagined under his clothes at Gwen's. Into the living room and there's much activity on the floor, great flurries of body-smacking-against-body and groans, and I go into the dark kitchen to open the refrigerator to take a beer, and shortly afterward John enters with the pipe, so I put on the light and get him matches, and we take a puff each and begin passing it around, and there's only enough left for one more puff before the six or seven sharers have finished it all. I'm sitting at the corner of the room, watching people pass back and forth, and there are a few familiar faces and most are new, but also the same older faces that I'd grown to know and avoid at previous meetings.

Another pipe came around, and I smoked a bit, and the fellow next to me with glasses, who looked rather like Rick Winter, who had been playing with himself for the start of the evening, bent over to kiss and fondle me, but there was nothing about him to turn me on, and soon he stopped and left.

Someone with an absolutely Grecian build stepped over some of the mattresses on the floor and sat in one of the chairs against the window, and a large semi-erect cock pointed his way like a dipstick, and I wanted to go over and just feel what it was like, but I felt lethargic with the cold, and self-conscious about my cold hands, so I just sat and watched as someone else went down on him. The lights went out about this time, and there was an increased activity all around the room, John occupying himself with the tall long-blond sitting a few chairs down. I had planned to sit in the middle chair, but Mike S. took it before I could move.

Sat back and listened to the music, beginning to move into my acid-fantasy of being everyone, and thus trying to convince myself that all the activity around me WAS being shared by me, since I WAS all the activity, and then I saw Bruce by the window, looking through the slats at the streets below. I went up to him and said "It seems we meet in apartments with views," and the conversation went downhill afterward. I'm not sure he remembered where we'd met, and after a few minutes kissing it was obvious there was no click between us, so when he said he wanted to sit down, I let him go and went back to my corner.

Someone older came and stood beside me, and since I was still kicking myself for not moving out and getting beside those I wanted to be near, I was feeling good for those who WERE able to move as they wanted, and so I let him kiss me and fondle me, and when I found he was quite hard, I sucked him, though I had the fleeting impression that he had to hold his stomach up so that it wouldn't rest on the top of my head, obstructing my breathing through my nose. I didn't feel like concentrating on my sucking, being now into the "no matter what I do, it doesn't matter" stage of highness, and he withdrew to say that he wanted to do me some before he came. So he went down on me and I tried to get erect, but it just didn't work, and after a few minutes it dawned on me that it was HE who was about to come, not I, so I reversed the positions and he did very quickly come, whispering very hoarsely "Oh, wonderful," and I had the impression that this may have just as well been the SAME person I did countless times at the Sauna, and maybe the first one at K.s, and that I had no idea, really, who he was, except that if I hadn't been high, I probably wouldn't have touched him.

At this point there was an empty chair, and I sat down to watch the scene, and someone with an ivory-like body seemed to come in and out of my vision, and I fantasized that he was talking with the person in the next chair (who sang slightly off-pitch in a very deep voice, seemingly to me) about me, but I discarded all those thoughts as being paranoid for one moment, and indulged in them the next, when I was THE person that the room was desiring, and that all I had to do was NOTHING, and the most attractive people in the room would flock to my feet, just to watch me sitting in the chair. I started playing with myself, taking a long time to come up, and then it seemed I'd zero in on the rhythm of a particular song---trying to identify if any of them was the "I'll Be Seeing You" (or something) that Art said was so popular currently---and get to feeling rather good, but then the song would end and I'd go down rapidly, the people on the floor would change places, and I was back where I'd started.

Songs I'd never heard came on, and I sort of wished there would be something completely mind-blowing put on for so long that I could come to some sort of decision: either reach a climax myself, move out of the chair and into the "work space," or just forget about it. But nothing changed, and though every so often I thought I saw someone I knew or liked, I never moved from the chair.

John chatted with the smooth-bodied fellow who seemed always to observe and never to participate, and then he came over, slowly, to me and began kissing me, but he stayed completely soft, and when he went down on me I stayed completely soft, and after a bit, even when he wrestled me down on the mattress and began rolling around on top of me, he moved off, tired of my lack of response as I was of his attentions.

I went to the john, standing in line for a long time, and the fellow with the spectacular body was there, and for a moment I thought there might be contact, but he looked at me strangely and left when he was finished.

I kept sitting on the chair, thinking the room full of archetypes, and I was the sort of King Archetype, and I fully expected, when they recognized who I was, they'd come flocking to my feet, looking up at me, begging me to choose any of their number for my own special partner for the next few minutes. But then I'd float back to some sort of reality and realize how silly it was, but didn't have the energy to move. Maybe Bruce's (at least I TOOK it as his) withdrawal when it was obvious my nose was running indicated to me that I'd do nothing that evening.

Dressing, later, Bob S. told John how "good I was for him," and I kissed his mustached lips and looked at his nice body and asked where HE was earlier, and he said "Oh, on the bottom, I guess," and that was that. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 12/21/70).

 

DIARY 1673
1/4/71

ST MARK'S BATHS

We get there about 7, and though I've smoked, I really don't feel like doing much of anything, hung-up by Bob's comment that John's pot really makes one feel quite lethargic. It was all we could do to agree to leave John's apartment, and then when we got to the baths, Bob definitely didn't want to go in, and Art decided not to, and I really didn't feel like it, but John was decided, so though I was hungry, his comment about the snack bar inside led me to believe I could at least get a pizza there, so I agreed to go in. It was only $3, which was great, and I somehow decided to lie about my name and gave Edwards, and put the wallet and watch into the envelope, had to turn back to pick up the key and the towel at the other window, and then up the marble stairs (which weren't as nice as that would lead one to believe) to the lockers, which had a little bench littered with old towels and robes which I suppose could be used for sex, and I found a too-small pair of used slippers under the bench, so I put those on and got out to find John completely vanished. There were a couple of fairly cute fellows sitting chatting in the chairs just at the entrance to our floor, but their bodies had absolutely nothing to say in their bland smoothness and lack of form. Went upstairs to find a floor of cots stretched along both walls, but hardly anyone lying on them except two older fellows deep in conversation and another couple sitting talking in two more chairs. Up to the next floor and saw the usual row of doors open on people lying on their backs or stomachs, but the forms in the dim light were either much too thin or much too bulky.

Down all the stairs, checking the snack shop to see that they seemed to have only rolls and coffee, and that the people sitting there looked awful, and then downstairs to the baths, which felt rather cool, with stone benches along the walls beside the pool, showers in the back, a hot room as you came in, and a steam room in the back, where I could see two awful old men, and, at the side, John working industriously away at the tubs of cold water, splashing around to make his body react to changes of heat and cold.

But still I couldn't see anyone that I liked, so it was back up the stairs, again and again, until at last I got to the top and was rather attracted to a fellow with an awful horse face, but a nice set of chest and abdomen muscles, and the more I looked at him the better he seemed, but he didn't seem to have any place to go, though he kept looking at me. I followed him from floor to floor, and finally on the top floor he went into what appeared to be his room, and waited for a bit to make sure he wasn't just changing to go, and then appeared in the dark doorway, hardly able to make him out in the dimness, and a basso "Sorry" came from inside, and I backed out of the door and went back down to the dormitory.

There the utter pointlessness of the conversation between the two guys was appalling: one kept talking about how he ordered things at the White Tower, adding "Plus" for the deluxe order, how his relationships with his family had deteriorated, how his mother still influenced his life, how he came to the baths and what he did, and on and on about nothing in particular, while the other person didn't even have enough chance to say anything which might make him appear interesting. A fairly cute Italian type passed, but there seemed to be no spark between us, so we left each other alone. Sat in the chair for a bit on one of my rounds, and a hugely bulky fellow kept looking at me and looking at me, finally coming over and saying something so softly to me that I couldn't hear, so I just frowned up at him. He dipped his head closer and again said something so softly that I couldn't follow it, but it was obviously some sort of invitation, so I took the chance and just shook my head with a slight tightening of my lips, and he moved away again.

A long-haired blond hippy came in and sat next to me, and another well-muscled fellow with horrible pimples on his back came to talk with him, and again they seemed to belong here, one possibly even staying here, since there was a small wooden ladder protecting the last bed in the row, which was made up, army-style, with a pink blanket, and there was a mat on the floor next to the bed, and a locker next to that, which had a towel and three framed photographs, at least one of a girl, decorating the top of it.

Each floor had a modern set of johns with saloon-type doors on them, and they seemed clean and un-smelly, and people went in and out on occasion, but there wasn't anyone in the corps of blacks, old potty men, young uglies, or very young hippy types that seemed in the least bit attractive. Every so often a Puerto Rican type would go past with lovely black hair, soft eyes, a passable body, but in my awful mood I would find something wrong with a pair of legs, or a plump stomach, or pimples, or a shifty look about the eyes, and I'd find some excuse to pass them up.

Again on a tour of the floors, the same two still talking at the entrance to our floor, the same awful crowd still clustered around the tables in the snack shop, and there was one pleasantly acceptable person, who gave me a nice look, sitting fully clothed in the waiting room, but I never saw him in the baths. Downstairs there were more people, many stretched out on the stone benches with towels draped seductively across their cocks, but still there was no attraction.

Back up to my floor, the same fat old man was still sitting in his clothing-hung locker, playing with himself, looking at everyone who passed, but seeming to get absolutely no action through the entire eight hours allotted to his stay. I found John finally, who said he had managed to find a couple of people whom he thought attractive, and I said I'd had about enough, since it was silly to leave so soon after we arrived just a little over an hour ago, but it seemed even SILLIER to stay around such a losing place. I couldn't see what about it would attract Art to it once a month, but I kept reminding myself that it WAS New Year's Day, and possibly many fellows who would ordinarily patronize the place were still recovering from wild nights last night, or that Saturday night would be better, but THIS place was even worse, all in all, than the MOUNT MORRIS baths!! (RETURN TO JOURNALS 1/4/71).

 

DIARY 1723
2/1/71

BIGGER BARN ORGY-ROOM

Up the elevator and it's a $2 minimum for two drink tickets, so I get a beer from the new back bar, after checking the coats in the huge coatroom, and follow the signs with the pointing fingers saying "69" and "Watch your wallets" into the dark back room, and it's bigger than my apartment with one red light hanging in the center and a streetlight showing through the blades of the fan in the opposite end. There's some fluorescent light somewhere, too, because there are white shirts glowing in the back of the room, and even at 9 there's action, so I wander back and soon John is in the middle, and I'm trying for a few guys who shy away from me, or else they come close and we neck for a bit, but when neither of us comes up, we sort of clasp hands and part.

Back outside to see if it's better out there, but the front bar is quite empty, and only a few couples are dancing in the back part, so I'm inside again, this time to see two caressing bodies on the benches at the end of the room, so I'm over to watch, and one of the guys must like my face when I start touching his body, because he cups my head in his hand and pushed the other guy out of the way and puts me down on him, and he thrusts mightily into my throat, and he says he feels good, but the fellow next to him asks if he wants to come, and he says something, and they begin talking about the ambience of the place, about who's there and who's not there, and soon I decide I could keep this up all night without anything happening, and soon someone's mouth displaces me on the slippery cock.

Try a few more cuties again, but they'll submit to having their chests rubbed, but usually won't respond to kissing, and when they touch and find I'm soft, they soon move away. Finally I encounter someone about the size of Bruce who's turned on by my kissing, and he gets hard and his cock comes out, and the smell that wafts up from his fold of uncircumcised skin almost drives me away, but I decide it's nice enough for the hand, and cup one hand around his balls and the other grabbing his whole, rather small cock, and I pull it back and forth, kissing mightily, and he starts breathing harder and harder, but I don't take a clue to go down on him, but move my trousers away slightly and he comes all into my hand, and I slide him back and forth as he writhes in my embrace, and he begins sucking air in and out through my nose with his kissing mouth, and I leave go of him, gradually, to wave my left hand in the air, hoping it will dry quickly. He says I should call him, that his name's Bob C., and he lives on Dean Street in Brooklyn, and that he's unattached. I say I will, knowing I won't.

Try a couple of other numbers, but someone whom I approach from the back says he doesn't dig that, and someone tried to get into MY back and I wriggled away from that, and there seemed to be more and more old fat guys around the periphery, and again John was the center of attraction of a number of people taking turns swinging on his everard joint.

Out for some air and another beer, but there's just nothing doing outside, so I'm back in to try a couple more, but even though the crowd's gotten bigger, and the cuter ones are coming in now, standing around under the light, the few I try turn me down, and a couple of others reach out for me, but finding my perpetual limpness, they're soon turned off.

John's been wanting to go for a bit, so I'm out, but he's dancing with a tall thin black with an enormous ass, and when we're getting our coats, he's kissing John, trying to persuade him to come to a party at his place on Saturday ("I know I'm stoned, but that's OK"), and he insists that we don't forget his phone number, which is 477 (or is it 577?) 4955, and that we call him to get directions to the party. He sees me standing beside John and whispers something that sounds like "We don't want any sisters," and then I reach over to him, pull him closer, and we kiss, and he pulls back to whisper in my ear, "Oh, you're such a SLUT, but I'll never forgive you unless you're there at my party." We laugh and pass a number of cuties coming out of the elevator, and others walking toward the swinging new Barn. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 2/1/71).

 

DIARY 1768
3/4/71

TSI-DUN HERE!

I'm drying myself and one of the first guests comes in to take a leak, and he's older and one of the former hosts, and he makes happy-eyes at me as I dry myself off from my shower, and when I finally get into the living room, there are about five nude people sitting around, and John is already lighting the pipe in preparation for passing it around. The hall is crowded with people taking off their clothes, and John insists that the boxes aren't going to work, but I put the rest of them together anyway, and the door knocker is continuously going, and the first crush is rather harrowing in the hall, and add to that the fact that the sun is still streaming in the windows at 4:30 pm, and the shades have to be lowered to get even SOME sort of shade into the place, the party is rather slow in starting. I'm moving the clothes around in the hall closet to give more room, then out to the kitchen to put the dishes all away, and put out the paper cups, the vodka and scotch and mixes and ice into the ice bucket, and then a few people cause an avalanche in the fridge while removing some of the cans, and I put those things back into order, and finally it's beginning to get dark, and one of my last acts is to put the sheets over the floor in the bedroom, and John said that if I didn't have sheets in the living room, they'd recognize that the living room wasn't for sex, and I developed a spiel at the door "Clothes in the closet, shoes in the boxes, dollar in the bowl, booze in the fridge, and no drinks in the bedroom, please" that would hopefully keep down spills. One of the first lacks was ashtrays, and in fact my first drink was put out of commission when I found a black butt floating in it, but then cans were emptied and they became ash receptacles, and John was still moving around the room plying pot, and the air was thick with smoke, and I took a few puffs myself, since I was sweating and nervous and nodding to everyone who recognized me as the host, and couldn't really feel comfortable at my own orgy. But then everything seemed settled, and I mixed myself another drink and steadied down to talking with Eddie and his friend when I wasn't opening the door and ushering people into the already-crowded place. Some of the people to come were really enormously attractive, and each elevator to the top, it seems, would carry five more to stand in the hallway, looking in expectantly, and some of the entrees were truly gorgeous, including Joe F., who was small and nicely built, with an open-eyed face which seemed anxious to make a good impression on me, and when he got his clothes off to reveal a beautifully defined pair of pectorals over a narrow waist and a meaty back and ass over nice legs, I figured Arno was right in praising him. We kissed a bit in welcome, and I went back to the door again. Recognized John R. and the two who were hosts when they lived on 14th and 7th, and John V. and his friends, and this fellow Walter P., the mustached guy who loved to eat out asses, and kissed so nicely when we were five at V.s, brought two spectacularly beautiful guys: one very tall and blond, with a body that was all concave ripples from his collarbone to his pubic crest, and though he wasn't often hard, he had a sincerely trying expression about his face when people came toward him, and his pale bumpy body was the target for many a hand. The other was the best of the lot, so handsome in a gigolo-way that I didn't even trust myself to touch him: large head of tousled dark hair, tanned skin completely free of blemish, wide shoulders tapering to a narrow waist and nonexistent hips which cradled a large soft cock in a nest of steel-wool black hair, and magnificently muscled legs, and face which reminded me somewhat of Marc S.'s square handsomeness. The line of tan and paleness at his trunk was also most fetching, and he allowed himself to be touched and done by just about anyone, and he even looked at me and smiled, but he was so far above the level of handsomeness that I considered myself able to handle that all I could do was reach out, very tentatively, once when I passed him, and he accepted the hand, but we were past, and I only saw him later being done by numbers of people as he rather casually looked over the crowd, possibly secure in the knowledge that he was the best-looking person there, and thus had absolutely no reason to go out to everyone: everyone should come to him. Looked around after a bit to see if Eddie was still shy about going into the bedroom, but he wasn't there, though Manny was sitting rather dejectedly against the radiator, saying that he'd gotten too stoned and really didn't feel like doing anything. When I called Eddie the following Thursday, he too said he'd had maybe too much to smoke, because he felt quite passive, and he only saw about four guys that he thought were groovy, and he reported that whenever they went into the bedroom, they were grabbed so fast he didn't stand a chance, and so could only look on while three or four people had their way with them. I finally got a chance to talk to Joe F., and we started necking so nicely that I suggested we go into the bedroom, and there we stood and caressed, but I rather made the mistake of letting someone else come into it as a threesome, and Joe pulled away, and I found myself going from one to another to another, kissing and necking, until they reached down to find that I was still soft, and then their interests would roam elsewhere. I found Joe again and sort of apologized, and the door knocker went again, giving me the excuse that I really had to be the host. By this time the closet was absolutely overflowing, and it was all I could do to find a few empty hangers and put them on the doorknobs for the last few people to come. When I was searching about for ashtrays to empty, spills to mop up, and checking to see that things were vaguely well wrung-out in the bathroom, there were a couple of people rooting through clothes in the hall, and that was probably when the wallet (with $7 and probably not much else, since the owner didn't seem to terribly concerned) and the belt (which had been ON the trousers, so the absence could hardly have been a coincidence) were taken. I took a few more puffs on the pipe that John was grinningly passing around, and some puffs on Eddie's joint, and talked with one fellow who saw my name on the Double-Crostic in the Center's magazine, and sat again talking to Joe, touching him and telling him that he was quite cute. About this time people started to leave, one of the first ones John R., sweating up a storm, giving me his card, saying I should call, because he sets up any number of quickie group things at his place, and I reminded him that we'd met at Ed L.'s, and he seemed to remember, but with such a vagueness that I don't think he recalled the awful night with the Tom pornography and my incessant softness and his falling asleep. Into the bedroom again and finally find the tall blond unattached, and begin kissing him, and someone else comes in and we're kissing the three of us, and I'm having a great time playing with the bodies around me. Then there's the fellow with the enormous cock that attracted Eddie also, and I get around behind him and play with his huge thickness, but he quickly starts to ram it into someone's ass, and I lose interest. Price is back with his wet mustache, saying how much he'd like to eat out my ass, and I sort of draw back from kissing him, debating where his tongue and teeth had been previous to my lips. Stagger back into the living room, picking up my drink from the table, and the records are to be turned over, and some of them appear to be stuck, and more and more people are leaving, and the sheets in the bedroom are absolutely in a shambles. I talk more to Eddie and Manny, and then sit chatting with Dick V., who seems quite attracted to me, and then go back into the bedroom to find somewhat fewer people engaged in activities, and it's about 9:30 and most people seem to be going home. This is fine, even though John is lying on the sofa and many people are playing with him, and there's a frenzy of pencil and paper as names and addresses are exchanged, and some leave their names for me, and some to join the club, and Eddie and Joe leave, and I get Joe's number, saying I'll have to call him, and I start gathering up hangers and boxes from the floor to get things into some semblance of order, and there's the numbers in case the belt or wallet is returned, which seems little likely, and in just a few minutes I'm sending the last ones out the door, and there's only John and a thickset blond and me and John V., and the first two seem about to go about it in the living room, and John and I go into the bedroom and neck, and he seems quite avid in his kissing, and we roll back and forth, and I wonder why the sheets are so rough, and why the top sheet was now crumpled at the foot of the bed, and I later find that the sheet and mattress pad have been pushed to the bottom of the bed, and we were making love on the mattress cover itself. Eddie spilled a drink from the sofa early in the evening, someone else spilled something on the other end of the sofa, and I had an enormous spray from the mix bottle, which must have been done purposely, because I can't imagine so much pressure generated without someone actually SHAKING the bottle. Then there were greasy spots on the walls where John's too-liberal Baby Magic stained, and the rugs fluffed considerably for the first time in a long time, but that's about all the damage thee was to the apartment, except for lots of wet towels and empty cans standing around. But John and I were having sex on the bed and he seemed determined to come, and come he did, and then he seemed to be interested in my coming, and I figured I might as well, so I whacked away at myself, but the music kept changing, and Janis Joplin came and went with her frenzy, and it was a number of minutes before I could get myself to come, and did so with scattered spurts, and we lay next to each other, breathing deeply, and he said he'd come for the fourth time that evening, and was greatly surprised, as he may well have been, that that was only my first. Then we went into the living room where John and his acquaintance were cleaning up bottles and cans and ashes, and they finally got dressed and left, and it was 9:50, so we had time to put the coffee table back down and get the TV set out for "Queen of Spades." John popped two poppers of popcorn for our enjoyment of the opera, and I put the earphones on his head so he could enjoy the TRUE WNYC stereo sound, and we both liked the production, not least because K., or whoever, was quite cute and sexy as Gherman the German. Shuffle through the fluffy rug to get to bed at 11:30, when it's over, and we drape towels all over the place so they can dry, and we fall into bed, happy with the events of the day. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 3/4/71).