TSI-DUN AT F.'S
Though the subway's long in coming, and I'm pleasantly tipsy with the wine I wolfed down to make myself pleasantly tipsy, I get to the door, with Don L., just at the stroke of 8, and into the small living room to disrobe with only about a dozen others, and grab a beer from the fridge and watch the people coming in and undressing. Neither John nor Mike S. had gotten invitations, and none of the awful crew from Jersey was there, either, so either the list's been pruned, for the better, or only about half the membership was invited. Watch one short thick fellow undressing, loving the swing of his long uncut dong, and I look out the kitchen door at the view from the terrace to get near him in the doorway, and sit on the bench next to him, so that when Bill G. comes over to start violating him, I reach out to touch him on the muscled flank, and he turns to me with appreciation, so I stand next to him and neck with him while someone goes down on agreeably-hardening me while I kiss him. He kissed nicely, but he doesn't come up when Graham does him, and when I start playing with him, Graham goes around to the back and starts fucking, and the guy really appreciates that, so I twiddle his large calloused nipples while he groans, but still doesn't get hard, so after I've gotten my fill of his pleasant but unresponsive body, I take off for other parts. Say hello to Fred and nod to Glenn, who's being done by someone awful, and I don't think he actually recognizes me, and then I see a pleasant beard over a body that's overweight, but agreeably rounded, with a nice cock made more prominent with a black elastic band around cock and balls, and I start fondling him and necking, and we go into the bedroom for a group scene which I get into when he treats me to some of the popper slung around his neck, and someone's doing me and I'm necking with him avidly, and he seems to be getting hot, so I go down on him and he comes quickly, nicely, and when he goes out to get a refresher on his popper, I look around and there's a short cute fellow with a mustache involved with someone else, and I run my hands up and down his pleasant body, and he comes next to me and I find his tiny cock getting very hard in my hands, and we neck for a bit and then go off to one side where I finish him off neatly, and he comes and comes and comes with his hard little dick, enjoying every spurt and surge of it, and we continue to neck, and he tries going down on me, but I say I'm down in sympathy with him, and we go sit in a corner and neck and I begin getting hard and he comes up again, and we begin one of the nicest sessions I've run into at Tsi-Dun. We merely sit and look at each other's cocks in the half light, playing with them and teasing them hard, and neck and caress and take turns very gently going down on each other, until at the end we're both on the point of orgasms, but enjoying it enormously and caressing and kissing and biting and running our hands up and down, for something which must have been as long as a delicious hour. Finally I fear we won't be able to keep it up, and I recline on the floor and he goes down on me with a too-gentle mouth, and I take myself in hand and he gives himself a few hard whacks too, and I groan into coming, shooting again and again into his welcoming sucking mouth, and JUST as soon as I stop, HE starts shooting again, and his little cock squirms as it jettisons the last of its semen into my lapping mouth. We caress more, exclaiming and shaking our heads at each other in amazement. Then people start leaving, Peter C. makes a fool of himself by insisting we have sex together when I don't want to, we chat with the hosts, who were worried about the success of the party, but we assured them we had a ball. A tall handsome fellow, Richard C., gives me his card so that I can give his name to Fred C., and Paul B. and I leave together, to walk, talking, down Central Park West when he asks if he can see me, since I've told him all about John, and used John to brush off a number of people who wanted to see more of me. I'm sure word of my double dealing will get around, but it seems the easiest way to say "no" to people I'm determined to refuse in any way I can. It's just 11:30 and I'm deliciously tired, and get to the apartment to find John awake in bed, and he's done a few things at the Sauna, but he didn't really seem to have a very good time, and I said that there were three pleasant people at the orgy, and I had both the others. I'm quite tired, and my eyes smart from wearing contacts for the first time in months. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 11/15/71).
FIRST FREE SAUNA
It's raining so I wear my raincoat, feeling that everyone's staring at me, but I get down the blue stairs without incident, shoving the tiny clipping across the screened window, and he makes me sign two things with my invented "R. Edwards" and gives me the key to locker number 1, which I have a hard time finding, first thinking it's ROOM number 1, which it isn't, and then find the lockers and strip under the eyes of some awful onlookers, and wander through the back halls finding no one of interest in the roomettes, sit in the sauna for a bit to get warm from my apartment and outside, but start smelling myself sweat and leave. Pop into the TV room, and finally find the dormitory, moving through the person-filled from to the center of the back, to sit on the reducing machine until my eyes get accustomed to the dark, and watch the people coming in and out. There's nothing doing, really, there, and I'm out again, but find nothing out there, so I'm back in, then decide I'm smelling too much, so I take a shower, and look into the strange "attendant required" bathing room off the showers, and, feeling fresher, get back into the dormitory, finally seeing a few I wouldn't mind having: a tall black with a bushy Afro, and a tall white with a bushy Afro. The white comes in, but doesn't do anything, and then the black comes in, I watch and watch him, and he finally comes over to the bed I'm on, and finally a hand reaches over. I reciprocate and we're drawn together, hands fondling cocks, and he very quickly goes down on me, and I gradually come up. He's got no very nice body, but a long floppy cock that I finally go down on, but he's not up for long, and he's not terribly interesting, so I go down on him again and very quickly he comes, without really getting very hard, except his head expands and expands to fill my mouth, with my squeezing, and the little buds stand out sharply under his head due to my avid tonguing. He's obviously come a number of times, because there's barely a taste on my tongue, but he enjoys cuddling afterwards until I ask myself what I'm doing with him, and gradually move away to watch the action in the group across the way. Nothing much happens, a number of guys try to grope me, none very attractive, and I move back near the doorway, where the guy in blue jeans who seems one of the attendants is sacked out in the bed one removed from the wall, forming a nice buffer. Thin Afro comes in and stands around, fending off the old guys who reach for him, and a humpy hippie, older, with a groovy mustache, comes in and stands around with his hairy nice chest, and Afro starts playing with him, and I can't resist this action, and move in, too, and we have a sort of threesome, except that we're mainly soft, and finally Afro moves away and I go down on hippie until he gets nice and upstandingly hard, and then he moves away, no matter how I tweak his tits or rub his arms. He doesn't want to kiss. I'm in and out and around, almost convinced no one else's there, and then someone who's not terribly old and not terribly paunchy with a long pendulous cock comes around and starts necking, and asks me to his room. Fine. Go with him and we stand and neck and he refused to get hard, so we're down on the bed and he salivas my asshole and I say "No" with certainty, so we're down next to each other, and he does me and does me, and I do him, but nothing much happens until we lie aside each other and begin jerking off. I get myself just to the point and grunt, and he dives down and takes me, while I pump out a quart of fluid or so, and then he whacks away at his limp self and comes, not really very copiously, and we're back to necking and lying together, and he obviously wants to spend time together, but I can barely look into his eyes I'm so little interested in him, and then say I have to shower, do so, and get back into the room. He comes in and we neck a bit, and some others try me again, but I push them all away. Earlier I'd been resting on a bed on the side and there was a cute kid who played with himself nicely, and I played with myself until I got hard, and he reached for me and I reached for him, and he wanted to neck but not particularly kiss, and he kept drawing his legs up, which I didn't get at first, but when I slid over to his bed, he quickly maneuvered me on top of him, and quick as anything his legs came up around my back and his asshole started aiming for my cock. Of course I came down very quickly, and finally decided he didn't want anything but to be fucked, and that turned me off, as much for the activity as for the disease I half expected, so I moved away and he left rather quickly afterward. There were a couple of other hippie-types who came around, but nothing developed. Into the shower again before going home, and a tall blondish fellow came in with absolutely no definition, and I couldn't get turned on to anything about him except his youth. There were a couple of eyebrow-plucked queens around who thankfully weren't screaming, and a few nice types who seemed to want nothing more than to play pool (maybe they wanted to be invited home), and I kept casing the joint, but there didn't seem to be anything better. There was a square gangly Bill Hyde type with a sadly-old face, and though the body seemed like it might be interesting, I couldn't bring myself to make the first move. Kept casing the sauna and the steam bath, but except for the pudgy Japanese who joined me my first time into the sauna, they were always empty. At one point the TV room was locked from the inside, so it could also be used for sex, but later there was only a languid couple talking about some of the other girls. For a free thing, I guess it was OK, and I found enough of interest to stay around for 32 hours, but it really wasn't a very good group, particularly the few older types who simply wouldn't take no for an answer. I was rather appalled by the seeming desire for simple affection, too, though I may have come just too late to get everyone's first shot of jism, and maybe that's why there was no special excitement. Try it another time, just to check. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 11/29/71).
FIRST TIME AT CONTINENTAL
"Down the stairs, to the back on the left," are the instructions to get to my mini-locker, and the door buzzer hails my entrance. There's a blast of moving colored lights and the strains of music, and a narrow vestibule with towel-clad beauties moving up and down the stairs in studied slowness. To the down-going stairs and there are ranks of mirrors and more lights, and when I get to the corner, there's one of the biggest, gaudiest, whitest, pinkest-lit, ball-decorated Christmas trees I've ever seen on a small dais just next to the swimming pool, which reflects colored ripples up on the walls and ceiling. At the bottom of the stairs the area opens up into an enormous ski lodge cum Grand Central Station of fireplace nooks, dance floors, band areas, swimming areas, couches and lounges, chairs and bars and stools, and everywhere there are mirrors in such profusion it's not clear whether you're looking at someone, or at a reflection of someone. There are small changes of levels to the floor, outlined in reflecting tape, but the sight of the room is so overwhelming that I find myself stumbling over ledges and brushing alongside dance floors. Toward the brightly colored in "old man's pink" seating arrangement at one corner of the pool, and past the carnival booth garishness of the massage parlors and changing rooms, and into the quieter, more institutional back area of large and small lockers, and by fool luck I find the area of my locker before I can see more of the place. Undress and put my pink towel around me just as John comes down, and I ask him for more information, but he airily says "Find it yourself" about the showers, and I wander back into the arena. The snack bar comes into focus, and there are people chatting with the muscled attendant, who seems to be the cutest one there. I make a wary circuit of the floor, looking at the areas of black light, and colored lights, and fluorescent lights, and overhead mirrors, and corner mirrors, and extra johns and washrooms and shaving rooms and fingernail-clipping chambers, and past the foot of the pool where about half a dozen beauties are lounging outside what I later find is the hot room, and I see a sign saying "You must shower before entering the pool," so I figure there must BE a shower somewhere around the pool, and there it is, through square-cut windows in the tiled everything, and I'm in to find nicely adjustable showers, and a number of long-cocked boys showering whose cocks tend to get longer and protrude from their bodies as the showering goes on. There are nice exchanges of glances as shiny bodies angle under the waters, but then some of the older clients enter and rather spoil the overall effect. I'm out to dry myself, and try the hot room, but that just makes me hotter, and I note with some amusement that most of the wooden chairs are double, like love seats. I exit and continue my circuit, and find the waterbed with two people chastely covered with towels jouncing gently back and forth. Past more lounges with people stretched out on them, mostly on their stomachs, which didn't interest me, past the shiny chrome, completely unused weights and levers and sit-up boards and dumbbells and pulleys and shoes and mirrors still, past the row of cabanas with the massage boys sitting provocatively inside with their biceps showing under their tight T-shirts, and round to the pool table. All in all, it's quite staggering, so I sit in a chair to watch a pretty one playing pool with himself, and many walk slowly past, appraising me, and I look back at them, but gradually get the idea that this is even WORSE than the bars: everyone IS here for sex, that's known, but STILL there's the "I won't make a pass at him until HE makes a pass at ME," and the "Oh, he's very nice, but I may see someone nicer in a few minutes, so I'll wait," and "Ugh, he's awful, but he certainly looks like he'd LIKE me, maybe I'll consider him," and "What are the clues?" There are colors of towels, and I assume all the pink ones have mini-lockers, but I can't tell. The student ahead of me on line got a room, and got a green towel, but I didn't know what the blue and the white ones were. The pool player sat down two chairs away, looking beautiful but languid, and I didn't feel like making a pass at him. When I finally decided the world wasn't going to throw themselves at me, I got off my ass and went up the stairs, up two levels of stairs past the tiny hallway with the walk-in lockers, and up to the top level, with the dormitory. That was the first and not the last time I got lost. Wandered off into the colored area of wall lockers and private rooms and bathrooms and shower rooms, and turned and turned and walked, and still the areas went on, to end in various dead ends, one of which must have reminded me of "Sizzily" with its dark steaminess, because I definitely got a momentary high, though that may have been due in part to the smoking that was going on in that wing, and I wondered then as I do now whether they have various AREAS: this for the old men, this for the muscle builders, this for the beauties, this for the students, this for the smokers, this for poppers, that for voyeurs, etc. Some had lights, some were dark. Looking inside some of the rooms, some of the languid cruisers were quite attractive, but the motionlessness of their forms, the steadiness of their gazes, let me quite limp and unwilling to venture inside. Not a smile, not a flicker of an eyelash, not a motion of the hand. One fellow lay with a fixed smile, his lubricated cock standing into the air, but his round mayoral face and glasses didn't help the fantasy. Down another level and found the H-area of rooms, the H lying on its side, the crossbar being a fire-escape type carpeted stair leading from a lower pair of hallways with twelve rooms on each side to an upper pain of hallways, this with a jail-like open area in the center, so that watchers from below could look up under the towels of those walking above. One or two doors open with people lying on their backs or stomachs, or sleeping, other doors open to stripped beds, making me wonder if they couldn't be "borrowed" for private sex, though no one seemed to do it. Back upstairs to the dormitory, and it was too dark in the inner areas, so I again wandered around the top floor, trying to get a feel of its complexity, but to the end it baffled me. Back to the dormitory, desperate, and stood along the side, then moved inside, sitting down on the corner of a cot, and immediately a young nicely built blond stood in front of me, and I reached out for his hardening cock under his towel, feeling upward along his smooth, hairless, muscled body, though somewhat soft, and he got fairly hard right away, which was nice, since he was built quite small, and I could suck him off with ease, and his testicles were quite tight against his scrotum, so I figured he'd been there, gotten excited, hadn't come, and was now wanting relief. So I sucked and sucked, feeling the smooth legs and rounded buttocks, upward to the narrow waist and broad chest, and my hands reached around and around him, he got harder and harder, and finally he came with a great squirt, and I clung leech-like to his cock until he went quite down again, so that as he withdrew from my mouth, the last bit of flesh was the loose end of his floppy foreskin, his tiny head retreating inside its slimy sheath. I crept back to savor it a bit, and soon there was another standing in front of me, this one quite a bit bigger. He seemed determined not to come, and people gathered around blocking off all the light, and I had a stifling few minutes of sucking desperately on his huge cock, with no air or light to be seen anywhere around, fending off hands reaching for my limp cock, and dimly aware that there was another large cock looming off my right cheek. I kept working on the one I had, growing sloppy from fatigue, and I knew my teeth were ripping into him no matter how much I tried to protect him with my fingers and lips, and later I could fancy I felt the taste of blood in my mouth, whether from my gums or from his cock I didn't know, but I could sense raw portions of flesh ripped from the underside of his cock, yet still he stayed hard and pushed into my mouth, balls tightening and loosening as he played with orgasm. Finally he seemed softer and I simply couldn't keep it up, and the person to the right grabbed me and pulled me back on the bed, and as the terribly long smooth-prowed cock, downward bent, slid into my mouth I could see the mounds of stomach attached to it, and I felt repelled, but the cock WAS quite hard, the balls one tiny hardened mass up against the base of his cock, so I kept on, and he exhorted me to swallow it all the way, so I did as I audibly gagged and gagged again, and then he relieved me with his hands, and I tried my hands, and he said, "Want a mouthful?" and I said yes, and he put his cock into my mouth and gave me a mouthful, and I sucked a few times more as he pulled out, and then I got up and moved away from THAT area. Tried climbing up on a vacant bed, but soon an older fellow climbed up between me and the fellow on the next bed, so after sitting for a bit watching pretty people pass on the floor, I got down, ignoring the foot he tried to stop me with. Downstairs again, watching them swim, particularly two lovely young men who caressed and kissed in the water, then the dark haired one carried the light haired one over to the shower of water into the pool, dunked first his head, then lifted his crotch into the stream, letting it knock about his glistening, curved erection. They played more in the pool, then the dark haired one started putting his head between the other's legs and spinning his floating body around, levering the cock up and down by pressing his chin down on his tight balls. Others dove in with flashes of shiny ass, and swimming caused them to look even more like girls with their long wet hair streaming out behind. Back to another shower after the sweats of doing, and a perfectly lovely young thing with a beautifully developed body and very long hair came in, and it was either his lack of interest in me, or his girlish good looks on this very manly body, but I felt no shred of interest in making out with this spectacular body. Out to sit on the sidelines, watching the faggoty PR's swimming and camping, watching two lovelies at my side go off together, not able to ask "Can I come along?" Then there was a pretty body who disappeared into the room at the top, and I went up to find a steam bath, very hot, and I looked at the four or five people inside, decided he was the one curled up in the corner, so I sat next to him, looked as he looked back, and reached over to touch his cool body through the hot steam. He stared back at me expressionlessly, so that I had to ask "OK?" to make sure I wasn't offending him. He said "Sure," and smiled for the first time, and then I bent close through the burning steam and kissed him, and there was a coolness just next to his body, protecting my lips and mouth from the steam, that was quite refreshing. I continued nuzzling and kissing and his huge cock came erect, steel-hard inside a beguilingly flexible and handlable sheath. Uncircumcised, his head was very smooth and yet came perfectly clear of the foreskin through long practice of stretching. As I played with his hard cock, he secreted some of his own lubricant, so that I played slipperily with his enormous penis. We began mouth-kissing, and it was fascinating to feel the insides of his mouth as cooler in contrast with the steamy air, and I moved closer and we caressed, and finally he said the fatal words, "Do you like to get fucked?" I said no, and thought that might be the end of it, but he persisted, "Why?" "Because it hurts," I said simply. "Not if the right person does it," he countered. "I've tried lots of times, but it's never worked out," I stated finally. So we necked some more and then I left the steam room. Afterwards, when I was standing in the better-lit section of the dormitory, he came in, beamed to see me, and ran straight into my arms, hugging me in a fabulous head-to-toe caress with his lithe slim body, and I enjoyed running my hands and fingertips up and down his incredible torso. As we necked and necked, he began to tremble as I touched him, and began to whisper, "Oh, you're driving me out of my mind," and "God, you drive me CRAZY." He began praising my hands that touched him, and praising my body when I said he had a nice body. He asked how old I was. I said "Does it make a difference?" and he said he likes mature people better: they weren't so uptight, so I agreed that I was mature, and said he was mature, too, though he was just a kid. He didn't know how to squeeze out of THAT one, ignoring his immaturity in that he couldn't merely CLOSE HIS EYES to the people watching him when I wanted to do him. Then he introduced himself as Maurice from Brazil, and kept hoping we could see each other again, though he didn't make any attempt to extract addresses. We kept on, and I almost got hard at the lovely touch of him, but then he had to leave, saying that he'd go out of his mind if I touched him anymore, and the people in the dormitory did in fact then lose their free show. I moved over to the side and tried to get in on some group action, and when the group parted, there was John, being engulfed, he later told me, by a black with an enormous mouth that managed to swallow his entire genital apparatus at a gulp, though he never came. I reached out for a short stacked fellow, but he pushed me away. Then I reached for a smooth tall torso, and we got something going, but another person stepped in and started doing him, now that I'd made his cock hard, and I simply didn't want to compete and left. I retreated to a lower bed for a few minutes, watching the torsos pass disconnected from the heads, and then got bored and left, back to cruise up and down the halls again. Many times I passed a short built fellow with a large sweep of blond hair across his forehead. Passed and looked, and nothing happened, until I passed him in a dead-end hallway, and reached out for him, and suddenly I was engulfed by a muscular chest and hard-bodied legs, his teeth biting down on my neck, his fingernails raking up and down my body. I replied in kind, running my hands from his waist up to the wings under his shoulders, and he spread his back apart so that I could palpate the huge latissimus dorsi which ran up his delectable body. I kept licking and tweaking him, and he so loved having his nipples touched that he started biting mine, and when I ran my hands up and down his nude body, both towels being on the floor, he flung himself back against the partition of the private room in back of him and threw his arms upward, turning his hands backward to grasp the top of the partition, crucifying himself against the wall, leaving himself completely open for my hands and knees and tongue and arms, and he writhed back and forth as I slathered saliva upward on his small cock and balls, and then he peeled himself off the wall to fold himself around me as I felt the enormous muscles of his back flex into position over me, and I kept doing him though I felt pressures from the back to enter my ass, and when they were content to merely rub against me, it was OK, but when he came off the wall they started for entry, and I merely stooped lower and lower until first the cock and then even the hands disappeared from their urgings, and though I could sense people around us, I kept down on him with a vengeance as he put one foot up onto a ledge to propel his cock into my mouth. Then he collapsed around me in a shower of semen, and I sucked and breathed audibly, and at the sound of the orgasm the hands left off clutching at my limp cock, and everyone faded back into the blackness from which they'd come, and he threw his arms around me yet again, whispering into my ear "Thanks, you made my coming worthwhile," and I laughed and remarked about the double meaning of his remark. Then he was gone, to be recognized downstairs only AFTER he waved at me and smiled warmly, and I was shocked to recognize the FACT that I did not recognize HIS distinctive, as I thought of it, head of hair and body, but HE recognized MY person, which I thought of as being one of the most undistinguished ones of the lot. It made me think, particularly later when Maurice wandered back and forth, smiling and reaching out for me, and another fellow who exchanged glances so steadily with me as I crossed the dance floor that I said "Hi," continued to make it perfectly clear that he would have liked to see me. There were other, older, who made it clear, but I wasn't interested in their whispered, "In here, just a minute," "Do come in, would you like to try poppers?" and I felt good enough to smile sadly and say, "Sorry, no thank you," rather than just ignoring them. Another time coming out of the dormitory, I locked eyes with a very tall hippy type coming in, and we refused to stop looking at each other, so he was forced into "Weren't you just in the steam room a couple of minutes ago?" It may have been a real misjudgment of person, it may have been a ploy, but the words quickly ran out and we were hugging and kissing lightly in the hall, and I tasted the smell of grass on his lips, so I asked "Got any more grass?" "Yeah, it's back in my room." He told me it was room 32, that I should come back later and we'd smoke, and then romantically said, "Yeah, man, it was the whole thing, the eyes met, and it was the whole thing." In fact, it WAS the whole thing, because I passed his room once and it was still dark, passed again as he was letting himself and one other in, and then they were quiet inside, talking, and I knocked on the door, and he said they weren't smoking yet, that I should come back later, but I could tell the way he looked at me that the magic of the moment of meeting was over, and we could never recapture the intimacy of that locked gaze outside the dormitory. Back into that too-dark room again, and there were a number of half-pleasant people around, but it was after midnight, John had gone home, and it was obvious that I was tired and singularly unsexy: I'd only gotten brief flurries of half-erection throughout the evening, so much so that I really didn't feel like entering into any of the rooms, even with the attractive people inside, because I was rather sure that even a large amount of necking would fail to bring me up to full hardness. This despite the fact that the majority of the young men lying in their rooms were provocatively lying on their backs, even leaning up against the wall, implying not only a frontal encounter, but suggesting some sort of talking and personal relationships into the bargain. Walked down into the H-area again, and there was a nicely nippled boy standing in the doorway, and I merely rubbed his chest as I went past, and we played mickey mouse around a few more corners, but when he passed me at the same fateful dead end, I waited at the corner for him, and when he passed into the light around the corner, he paused and reached down for me without looking, and I turned him to me and drew him back into the darkness of the alcove to fondle him up and down, and then to reach under the damp towel and fool with his damp penis, but he still didn't look at me, didn't seem interested in affection, and so I went down on him, but quickly a door behind us opened and the hall was full of people, so I said "Come up to the dormitory," and with a somewhat surprising unerringness led him directly to it, where we necked in the center of the floor for awhile, he still determinedly looking elsewhere, and I began to think from the feel of the cock that this was the same one I sucked ragged earlier, who enjoyed looking at everything and feeling everything around him, and I pushed him back against the wall where he could see, and went down on him, and he got hard with the same characteristics as the other fellow, including the fact that his balls were low and loose, showing that he had quite a distance to go before he was ready to come, and when someone came up from behind and insinuated himself at the side, I simply tried a few more swipes and then gave up, letting the other person take over, but was rather happy to imagine that the pale blond left his side very quickly. There were other attempts and others looking at me, but I went back downstairs to see that the crowd had definitely become less now that it was 12:30, and that there wasn't as much activity around the pool, and the lower floor was almost empty. I just didn't feel like investigating any further, so I went to my locker and got dressed, exchanging a few comments with people nearby listening to the poor attendants: "They want me to work from 8 to midnight, then from 8 to noon, so of course I have to stay here, what's the use in going home?" And thought for a moment how dreadfully dull it would quickly become to WORK in a place like this, not able to follow up when it would be attractive to do so, and always having to postpone encounters to a later time, when everyone would have changed so drastically. I liked the way it got when it got later: everyone was reaching out for everyone else, so it was obvious what the set of people was who were after you, and it became easier to choose which you wanted to follow. No longer were these languid numbers sitting looking through hooded eyes at everyone who passed, giving no signs, but they were actively expressing their wants and likes. As I was checking out, getting a ticket to let me in the next afternoon, a tall again-faggoty person (I don't think the same as the grass smoker) again tried the "Weren't you in the---" ploy, and I should have not played, but we compared times and dates, and I simply didn't want to follow it up. I was very tired, and rather tired of the whole idea of the baths, yet strangely I was looking forward to the next session the next day, glad I lived close enough so that I could go home and get a good night's sleep, then shave and shit and come back the NEXT afternoon, to see what an afternoon crowd was like, for one thing: more businesslike, one hopes, and not so many older men, ready for the SECOND time at Continental! (RETURN TO JOURNALS 12/21/71).
SECOND TIME AT CONTINENTAL
The day is very pleasant, and I suspect there's not going to be anyone there, but it feels great walking toward the door, knowing which one it is, knowing what I'll find behind it, except for the most interesting part, the people. Have no trouble getting in on the slip from last night, which makes me think well of their organization, and get downstairs to see VERY few people on the ground floor. Change and out to wander around for a shower, and I'm the only person in it, and I'm out to go into the hot room to see what's there. There's only one other person there, and I sit next to him, and though he keeps looking over at me, and I stare at him, he doesn't do anything until after a long while he does some toe-touches in the center of the floor. I go near him and he seems to repel me, so I swipe at his genitals and go out, and he follows me into the hot room. "You had a hard-on in there," he said, almost in an accusing manner. "Not really," I said, partly hoping to let him know that I was bigger than that. Then we get into an awkward conversation centering on his statement that it takes him about two hours to get hard, and though he improves his looks later on by sucking in his huge gut, he looks so silly swimming, bobbing WAY up in the air on the butterfly, that I sort of chalk him off the list, though he winks at me later on, and I haven't seen too many around that would give him competition, and I might HAVE to settle for him later. Upstairs and there's absolutely NO one in the H-area, so upstairs to the dorm, which is practically empty except for the rustles from the darkest corner, which I don't care to investigate. Around the other rooms and there are a few people lying with doors open, but nothing spectacular, and I'm back into the dorm to see some things starting. Sit around and watch, but some things start and don't finish, and someone comes up to me and plays and plays and plays, being very hard, and he entreats me to come to his room, and I refuse. But he continues with such urgency that I can't muster the interest to REFUSE him any longer, so he pads away to his room, which is number 3, and we're inside where I matter-of-factly turn off the light, though there's plenty of light from all around, and I touch him only on the genitals, not honestly interested in any other contact, and he seems to sense this, and though he puts his head close to my neck, he never actually kisses me. Finally he pulls me after him onto the bed, and I move my fingers over his once-muscled body, now solidly overlaid with flab---rather, MUSHILY overlaid with flab---and look with interest on his very hard cock with the purplish head shining out of the folds of foreskin, and he thrusts it forward as I play with it, and he says "I'm going to come." I pause, looking doubtfully at it, since after all I'd done hardly anything with it yet, even though it did look maximally blood-engorged, and he said with a still more urgent tone, "I'm coming," and I bent my lips down to just the tip of his cock as it gushed, just making it between my lips and past my teeth, and I opened and closed more fully on his shaft, and he eased himself into me with a sigh, catching once or twice as he spasmed, and then the flow was over, the crisis was completed, and I licked reflectively on his head, swiping off the last strands of semen, and then pulled away when he relaxed completely on the bed. Without hardly looking at him, I reached around for my towel, he thought I had the wrong one, then touched the one he thought was his and decided it was mine, apologizing, and I turned around and went out the door, feeling curiosity over my all-consuming numbness in the encounter, but realizing that he'd gotten exactly what he'd asked for: merely a mouth to receive his offering of orgasm, feeling better at this so-small acceptance by SOMEONE than by merely spilling it into a towel or pillow, or wiping it dejectedly off his stomach. I sauntered back into the dormitory, but saw really no one else of note until a short muscle builder walked through quickly. I decided to follow him the second time I saw him, and he looked around very briefly just around the corner, and when I came around his aisle, there was only one open door, and he was inside, regarding me coolly from the bed, towel draped across his middle, arms folded behind his head. I ambled in, shut the door quietly behind me, neither saying a word, and stood beside him on the bed under the light, then reached out and slowly drew a finger over his cushiony chest, running it upward to the massive pit of his underarm, then down over the broad wing of back, gently over the waist which had once been narrower, but was now rather more in proportion to the bulk of his body, and over the once-better defined abdominals. I could see the outline of his cock laid casually across his middle, but I refrained from touching it, hoping to see it grow hard and pulse of its own accord under my touches elsewhere. He reached out his near arm and stroked my side and chest in kind, and we remained coolly detached until I had my fill of touching his body gently, not looking at his face, stopping at the flange of flesh running diagonally from his neck to his padded shoulders, running down his well-built arms only to his wrist, to avoid the too-quick intimacy of fingers touching. Then I took the towel at one side and drew it across his body until his right side was completely exposed, the right side of his crotch only just still covered, and then I ran my fingers up and down his body, and uncrossed his ankles and ran my fingers up the insides of his legs, feeling the soft flesh of his balls against the sides of my fingers. Then I reached down both hands and dragged the towel in the other direction across his still-soft cock, and I was gratified to feel the stiffening resistance that member made to the backward motion of the towel, and it followed rigidly up when I moved the towel downward, then swiped back and forth to make it look presentable, and gently removed it. By this time my own towel was standing in front of me, and he ran his fingers near but not on it, and a few minutes after I took his towel away, he took mine, and reached both arms up to draw me down on his body. It was fairly awkward feeling his lovely torso lying on top of him, so we quickly switched around to lying side by side, and we both enjoyed it enormously when he crushed my head into his pillowy chest, letting me feel the knotting of his strong arms. Then we parted and I ran my eyes and fingertips down his body, grabbing his cock and squeezing so that the white pearl filled the red well of the tip, and looked long before I bent down and took it into my mouth. There was an agreeable bony hardness about his cock, ridged with veins, and the head was again super-smooth due to its being protected by an uncircumcised foreskin. I wet it with saliva and used my hand on it while he gasped, and I came back up to see his glittering eyes looking down on me with passion, and then our lips crushed together in a kiss. Our bodies melded once more, and he began reaching around the backs of my legs and the lower part of my back in a most disagreeable way, and in a few moments he was on top of me, kissing, then slowly lowering himself so that his cock was between my legs. But I raised one knee to deflect him to the side, then put my legs together to make it clear that I didn't care to be fucked, and he got the message and ceased trying. I went down on him again, and he sucked in his breath and thrust forward ever so slightly, and I enjoyed kneading his thick legs and well defined calves, and again came up for a kissing session, but he looked well and truly disturbed, and when I went down on him a third time, the boniness increased, the medium-sized cock swelled to greater dimensions, and he thrust only once with a gasp, and I felt that lovely pause, then felt the spasm in the base of the cock and the flush in the throat, and he groaned aloud, and I sucked harder, as he thrust in to the limit, and I crushed his balls in my hand and clamped down on the base of his cock to feel each individual orgasmic quiver of his penis, and then sucked outward to allow myself room to swallow, and he started giving voice to his feelings, moaning and groaning audibly, and I started a frenzy of licking and sucking that he quickly pulled away from, leaving a whole circle of foreskin as the last thing to leave my mouth from his vastly diminished cock. Snuggled upward in the crotch of his arm, lying warmly alongside him, kissing him on the chin and neck and shoulder, and then we slowly started talking, he saying he didn't want to shout because of the people so close by, the holes in the walls, he was from Boston, had been robbed of $7000 worth of antiques and paintings from his Lower East Side apartment, his car had been broken into six times, so he'd moved to Staten Island two years ago and hadn't been troubled since. I was from Ohio, had written a gay book about acid that hadn't sold, and he said "I'm in publishing." He freelances on paste-ups, calling it Art Directing, saying he made most of his money working for legal books, which seemed all work and not any designing, which he agreed to, his name was Jimmy, enjoyed skiing, skydiving, scuba diving, had a scuba-sub back at his old place in Boston, and after a number of minutes of talking, I was playing with him and he got hard again, so after a few preliminary full-body hugs and necks, I went down on him again, this time having to pump him back and forth a couple of times as his legs knotted in effort, and again he came with lovely gusto, sending another full measure of semen down my welcoming throat, and I again played with him as he tried not quite successfully to lower his voice, and then again we talked for a bit, and then I said I was going out to see how the rest of the world was doing. So I left, saying we hoped we'd see each other again. I wandered around downstairs to watch people swimming, and some cute young numbers around the pool, but they didn't seem to be offering me anything, so I took a shower again and tried the steam bath again, but there were two people in there, then one left, then the attendant came in and re-screwed both light bulbs into the sockets, and the other person left, so I did too, wondering if this were some sort of signal that the cops might be coming around. The lights were on in the shower, too. Wandered around and around, finding very little new in the crowd, and then saw a long-haired blond with glasses I'd seen before, and looked him over, and he seemed agreeable, so I went down the aisle where the little orgy room was, and we looked in and agreed we didn't like it, so I suggested the dormitory, and when I saw that the dark corner was occupied, he quickly led me to the bottom bunk in the opposite corner, and we sat in the low place, feeling each other's bodies, and then we lay down together, he eager to kiss, but not very pleasant in the way he tended to make his lips into an inflexible "O," with not a trace of tongue on the inside, making it rather like kissing a skin-padded milk bottle. Played around with his cock for a bit, then went down on him, which he seemed to enjoy, though not overly, and then after a bit he went down on me, but I couldn't get into it, so I wasn't hard. His torso was nicely triangular, though on the soft, undeveloped side, but his ass and upper legs were covered with the most agreeably curly hair, and I was reminded of a satyr or Pan with his hairy flanks, and of the drawings of a certain artist who enjoyed the contrast between the smooth chest and hairy legs of this age of adolescence. After we kissed a bit, made more awkward by his extremely long hair and his glasses at the head of the bed, I went down on him again, knocking away other hands that came out of nowhere, permitting hands to play with my limp cock until they tired of it, and I had the impression that someone else had encroached my partner's lips; so certain was the impression that I didn't even look up for fear I'd turn off, and I could feel Bill's cock going through periods of stiffness and limpness which I fancied went along with someone's attacks on him. But then he came up to maximum stiffness, and I was rather appalled to feel an area like an old scab, or possibly a patch of hair, or worse still, a sore, on the side of his cock, and I whacked away with increasing frenzy, until he came with a spasm, pushing his small cock down my throat, and I licked away until he relaxed, then moved up on his body, with relief when I saw he was alone at the top of the bed. We lay together again, then again started to talk: he, too, was from Boston, down from Tufts where he was studying urban planning, and he recommended the Club Baths as being cleaner, though smaller, and nicer, though the crowd might be a bit older. We chatted and asked if I wanted to come, and I said "No, do you mind?" and he didn't say anything profound, so we continued to feel each other's body and chat, and then finally he said he wanted to take a shower, so we left the room together. Wandered around some more, but since it was getting close to six, I figured I'd be leaving soon. The slender intense-eyed person I'd seen outside the steam room came up the stairs and locked gazes with me, and it WAS Rolf, and he said we'd be seeing each other this evening, and then coming down one of the corridors, there was Evan, looking very carefully dressed, searching for his private room, hair much shorter than almost anyone else's there, bedroom eyes and crooning voice appreciative of seeing me, saying we'd see each other again. No doubt. Then one last look into the dormitory, rather convinced that I wanted to come, and the pot smoker from yesterday evening was there, playing with someone large as himself at his side, and two older ones went down on them as they played with each other, but that didn't work out. An older fellow went down on me but quickly stopped when I didn't get hard, then there was another fellow whom I played with while someone else sucked him, but again I didn't get hard, even when he came over to me and I went down on him. He didn't come quickly, so I pulled away and someone else reached for me, then left, and a thick-chested pasty fellow expressed interest, pulling on me, and I fell back on the bed, hoping he'd do me, but he wanted ME to do HIM, and I pulled away, so he left, and then the place cleared out except for a shadowy figure on the next bed, playing with himself. I started playing with myself, hoping to make me hard for someone to do me, and he rolled over and touched me, and when I reached for him he was quite hard, and I was pleased to find a lower torso of surpassing definition: there was so little excess flesh about him he felt like I would have hoped Arthur M. had looked, extremely well defined, sinews standing out individually, flesh only a thin flexible covering over muscles that felt carved from polished wood. In the dimness of the corner I wondered if he was black, but the fine straight pubic hair seemed to deny that, though the stout cock and tiny balls in their soft sac seemed also Negroid. Reached up to his chest and there were bee-bee nipples which got hard under my touch, and thin pads of muscle everywhere about his chest and arms. His head hair was long and lank, but his beard was thick and mattedly curly, and I hesitated feeling too high on the head for fear of finding he was balding. But the cock was greatly appreciated, terrifically hard and he loved the feeling of my pressing down on his prostate and continuing the motion up his cock. He writhed around on the bed, breathing heavily and holding onto my head as it bobbled around his cock. His knee investigated my cock every so often, and it got rather hard, but he was so interested in what I was doing to his genitals he didn't reach for mine at all. His ass and legs too, were hairy, with a tail-like streak of hair reaching up the cleft in the center of his back to about the lowest rib, and the legs too were thin with the tendons of a long distance runner. I continued to torture his cock until he started pushing my head down on it, and I was amazed when he thrust in and then rotated the head at the back of my throat, and I felt myself retching but no unpleasant liquids came up, and I was pleased. After a few more playing moments, he again shoved his cock down my throat, this time so that my lips almost encompassed his balls tight under his cock, and I felt his head slide actually INTO my throat, and he again swiveled, and I couldn't breathe that way, so I started to pull out to take a breath, and he started coming with an "Oh," and I stuck it back in as the creamy elixir soothed the back of my throat, and he said "Oh!" louder as he came in earnest, body thrashing around the bed, hands clutching my head, and "Oh!!" still louder as his hardest throb spent the last of his come, and "Oh!" still yet as I withdrew and moved my tongue around his cock, and he continued a parade of "Ah's" as I swiveled the tip of my tongue around his head-edge, and I sucked, pushing down on his prostate, for another chorus of sounds, and I began thinking that listeners would think I was absolutely killing him, or that the sounds were being continued, really, beyond the realm of reasonableness. But as long as he continued to twitch, as long as he continued to enjoy it, I tweaked his softening cock with my tongue, sucked at the shortening member, pushed at the receding prostate, and still, still he continued to voice his monosyllable of pleasure, until there were no more spasms, no more sounds, and we rested quietly near each other. It took a long time to relax, and then I said I had to go, so I left, feeling slightly shaky, and it was 6:30 already, so I dressed and got out quickly, since I had to eat and fix the room up before John and Avi and Rolf came at 8. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 12/22/71).
CLUB BATHS
Admission with a mini-locker is only $4.50, and they have walk-in lockers for something like $6 and rooms for more expensive prices, but there's a sign saying that all the rooms are full and there'll be about a 15-minute wait for the next empty one. The fellow who shows us to our place is cute and young, though clothed, but the first impression is of many lovelies wandering around in tiny towels, and there's a huge mural on the wall of a chesty-cocky beauty looking lovingly up at someone bending over him. There are carpets on the floor and the lockers are almost high enough to hang a coat upright in, much better than the Continental sardine tins, and there are lots of people wandering in the pinkish light that brightens everything. John decides we should have some common place to wait for the other when one feels like leaving, so we go up a few steps into the again bright-lit lounge and TV room, bright with colors and lights and elaborate furniture and décor, and decide we'll meet back there. Then I go down the stairs from the locker area, music following everywhere, and there's an open lounge area where chairs are placed so voyeurs can watch the passing crowds in and out of the showers, but I'm feeling out of sorts because I don't have my contact lenses on, so I can't see as clearly as I'd like to. Into the shower, and the carrousel arrangement is nice, since there are four heads in a circle, so that you can face inward and watch who's showering across from you, or look outward to watch the people looking in from the outside, or passing through on the way to the steam room. Finish washing and get into the steam room to find John there before me, looking lasciviously at a large cock that he's playing with, but there doesn't seem to be anyone attractive inside, so I pause outside in the second, somewhat cooler, room, but there's no one there, so I leave, through the showers again, and dry myself off and go up two flights to look at the rooms. Pass by lots of walk-in lockers thinking they're rooms, and a few of the doors to the real rooms are open, and each seems to have its own light which can be turned on or off at will, and that's nice, too. Some of the wanderers seem to be very attractive, but there's very little eye contact, and it's again a little like a bar. Pass a side dark area, and it's one of the two dormitory areas, the lower one dreadful because each double-bunk bed foots on a wall separating the area from the hall, so there isn't too much room to gather inside without blocking off the light and the view for the people in the hallway, and it's terribly dim and rather murky in color, so I don't find it terribly attractive. Upstairs to the second area, and it's even worse: a tiny passageway at the foot of about seven beds, the middle one of which isn't covered by one above, and there's a dim light in the center, red, which would be nice if the place was empty, but in the crowded Saturday night state of things, there was a constant press of people, and without my contacts I couldn't quite tell what was what in the dark, and with more people being added all the time, it got quite hot and sweaty, until at the end it was quite impossible to go from one side of the area to the other without literally shoving people out of the way. Sit on one of the side benches, and again there are lovely people wandering past, but no one seems to be interested in me, and I can't really identify too many of the people as being attractive at a distance, so long-range cruising is impossible, and I'm feeling worse and worse. Down to the shower room again and into the steam room, but it's just too hot and slimy inside, so I sit outside for a long period of time, looking at a single in the other corner, who seems like he has a nice body, but we sit and sit, he doesn't make the first move and I don't make the first move, and finally he leaves, smiling at me and saying something like "Nice move," sarcastically referring to the moves that NEITHER of us made, and I think for a flash that he reminded me of Rick Winter. There's a perfectly straight looking number with a nice chest and beautiful legs and a nice cock who comes wandering in and out, cruising a broad faced oriental boy, and I follow him in and find someone fondling him from the side, so I sit beneath and play, then stoop over to take him in my mouth, and he's nicely hard, and he thrusts into my mouth, getting even harder, and then he jams my head down on his stiff cock, so far down that I really can't even tell if he's coming or not, but he gasps and groans, though I can't taste anything at all, and then goes down, so I figure that's about it, and he leaves, and I sit on the side for a bit, but nothing more interests me, so I leave. Showering and there's a huge-chested blondish fellow with an almost hairless body and cock who rubs himself meditatively while looking at me, and I feel stirrings of desire, even though he seems on the old side, but his legs are superb and his ass is a poem of pink roundness. I'm outside near the water cooler to dry myself and drink three cups of refreshing coldness, and he's nearby, drying, and we look and look, then walk across the way to the sauna where we look again, and someone who followed us in leaves, and I walk over to him and we start playing with each other. He suggests going to the dorms, but I say there's not a chance we'd be left alone. Then he suggests his walk-in locker, and we go up all the stairs, I feeling rather foolish following his balloon-like calves up the stairs, and into his tiny cubicle, festooned with clothes. I put my towel over the small light to cut down the view somewhat, and we start kissing again, and I palpate his chest, which is surprisingly soft, and I'd guess that he'd had a beautiful build about five years earlier, but let it go entirely soft, and it still had some form, but none of the hardness that I like so much. Wet my palm and play with his cock, and he's quite hard, and he goes down on me and it feels good, and I go down on him, running my hands up and down his body, and he says "Oh, what a MAN you are," and there's a disturbing overtone of my father about him, and his choice of words seems determined by his eagerness to make me convinced that I AM a man, and pleasing to him. He asks if I want to come to his hotel and spend the night with him, but I say I can't, and we resign ourselves to doing it in the confined space. I get him very hot and he strains his cock upward into the light, and we both back off from each other, staring at our bodies, and watching the arms pump the cocks up and down is completely erotic, and I say I'm coming close, and he goes down on me and I come with little effort, and then go down on him and he comes almost immediately, sighing and shooting and throbbing most nicely, but we both feel rather silly and completely sweaty after it's over, and he suggests we do down for something to drink. We get awful cherry soda, after I lose one down the drain, and go into the TV room to try to ignore the "Miss Universe" contest, or something of the sort from England, and he says he's from Dallas up for a Sony engineering convention, had his room at the Wellington robbed the other night of a real emerald, and he liked this bath best of all in New York, though the ones on the West Coast were better, and the Embarcadero Y in San Francisco was the best place of all. I feel silly talking to him, so I say I'll move on, and try cruising past the rooms again, but the only cute ones are on their stomachs, and I still don't trust my eyesight enough to walk in on someone. The orgy areas are more crowded than ever, and though I spot three or four perfectly acceptable hippy-types with great mustaches and bodies, I can't seem to get them into the orgy rooms where I can get hold of them. In a few times and hands reach out from all directions, but I just don't feel excited, don't get hard, and leave very quickly. Can't figure where all the full rooms are, and there's no action in the halls at all, which is a pity. Lots of looking, no action except in the sweatboxes of the dorms. Downstairs again and AGAIN find nothing I like in the showers and the steam bath, try the sauna again, nothing. To the TV room, nothing, not even John waiting for me. Back up to the rooms, walk around everywhere, look at everyone, sit and watch young pretty passersby, but still nothing. Disgusted and discouraged, downstairs AGAIN, sitting watching the people in and out of the showers, and finally John comes out of the steam room with the remains of a hard-on, and he agrees we can go, saying he likes the place VERY much, that EVERYONE is interested in action ALL the time, and that it's now his favorite place. I tell him my reactions, and we simply don't agree about it. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 1/18/72).
TSI-DUN AT C.'S
Up in the fancy inlaid elevator with a blue-jeaned dull at 9:15, and who but Peter C. opens the door: surrogate host. The living room is empty and the side bedroom is full of people undressing in the half-light, John sitting smoking on the sofa fully clothed. I pile my clothes into the lit closet and wander into the living room to find the bar manned by one of the hosts, NOT the C., and he's fleshy but pleasant, agreeing with my judgment that it's a great apartment overlooking Central Park from the 17th floor, full-length terrace, windows ALL along that side, except for the tiny kitchen view over the building's rooftop terrace in the rear. They only moved in a year and a half ago, and the rent is NOT controlled. Then into the bedroom with wall-to-wall mattresses and look out over the view, and an older grinning fellow goes down on me to no avail, except to get me sloppy-slimy wet. The guy from Jersey is after me, M. is there trying to kiss and touch me, and Peter C. later accosts me, so I have to steer clear of those. There are two lovely fellows standing against the wall, down, and I zero in on the beautiful blond with the great mustache and hair and body. Neck a bit and he's agreeable, but when I reach for his cock he's pulling away at himself, and I tell him to relax. Kiss quite nicely and extensively, running my hands up and down his incomparably shaped and curved and contoured body, feeling the coldness of the wall transmitted to his voluptuous ass, and he's finally up with diligent application of saliva, and he groans and gets into it nicely and other people try to muscle in, but we're confident of each other and push them all away. I finally feel that he's had enough, and go down on him feeling upward and downward along his smooth muscled body, particularly lovely chest and thighs, and he stiffens and comes in my mouth while I play with him, and he collapses in a beautiful curve over my head, permitting me to run my hands up and down in ecstasy, and I'm back on my feet to kiss and kiss, and somehow we both decide that's enough, and he goes away and I'm ready for the next one, turning slightly to the side, and there are two or three going at it in the center of the aisle-way, and I get into it for a bit with the lovely sullen-faced fellow I've seen on 57th, who I think lives in 301 W, and who always avoids my looks on the street. Sadly, he's an ass man, backing into anyone who'll have his rear, and he has the strangely protruding stomach of either someone who's always rearing his ass in the back and has curvature of the spine from doing it, or who is so often praised from the back that no one bothers about the front, and he permits it to sag. But I'm sad that we won't have anything to do with each other, for the face is still lovely. There's a duo with a nice cock upstanding in the middle, and I play with the cock, and kiss the neck, and suddenly I've got the whole person in my arms, with someone sucking on me and someone on him, almost as if they were trying to suck both of us off together, and I run my hands up and down his back and feel the same bump I'd felt before, but though the FACT of the bump registers, the SIGNIFICANCE of the feeling that it's been there BEFORE fails to impinge on my mind, and we're necking nicely and I'm doing him and we're off to a corner by ourselves with others falling over us and trying to muscle in and listening to the groans and slaps and thuds of body contact around us, and I play and play and play with him, not yet realizing that it's happened like this before. After a long period of this, I've managed to go down, and his attempt to swing a popper our way fails, and there seems to be activity toward completion around us, so I fall over on my back and start flailing away at myself, heedless of who might be looking on, and he lays on top of me, kissing mightily, and I can feel him handling himself, and as someone around us groans into climax, I stiffen my legs and speed my breathing, and his breathing gets panting and desperate, and with due warning I shoot over my stomach, and he groans vocally in his throat and grinds his cock into my hip, shooting his own seed to mingle with mine, and we crush against each other, gasping, clutching, utterly spent and dripping wet from the exertions, aware for the first time in a long time of the scents around us, and we lay quietly together and slowly discover to each other that this is the very Peter that I'd been with at F.'s on West 86th on November 11, and we'd never really realized who we were, except that he got these spaced-out stoned flashes of "This happened before" as I did, except that I didn't attend to them. We get some drinks and sit and talk about it, and he said he was going to call me but "That wouldn't be too cool" and I nodded blankly. People were in the way of leaving, and a few others came around trying to do me, and the fellow with the ravaged face and pot belly who HAD been nice comes at me near a wall and starts sucking me, but I say I've had enough, and he said that I shouldn't worry, because HE had ways to make soldiers stand when they were tired, and his thick cock grew turgid in my hands, but it seemed almost rubbery through much use, as if it had no sensitivity left in its long thick membranes, and I pulled away, saying maybe later. Peter C. launched himself into my lap on the sofa, seemingly drunk or stoned or both, and there were a couple of other presentable ones who sort of nodded and smiled, but I'd really felt as if I'd had it, observing in the dark room that John was rolling on the floor from one to the other, having a ball, and not yet ready to leave. So I sat at the piano and looked out the window and went into the john and talked with Peter, and looked again with envy at the blond and the dark-haired fellow he seemed to be with. Got to the dark-haired fellow in the dark room, but he seemed not to want to neck, and his body didn't feel quite as good as it looked, and others had trouble with getting him hard, too, going down on him while he sat on a chair talking with the blond, and John did him while I kissed the blond goodbye, and said I envied them as lovers, and he smiled contentedly, acting pleased when I said that John was MY friend. Then everyone was leaving, John walked dripping out of the orgy room and said he'd never had such a good time, everyone seeming willing to act, and he just went from one to another to another along the floor. We dressed, talking to lots of the dressers, and left alone at 11:30, pleased with the evening, pleasantly worn from sex. (RETURN TO JOURNALS 1/19/72).