By Gustavo Arellano
By R. Scott Moxley
By Alfonso Delgado
By Courtney Hamilton
By Joel Beers
By Peter Maguire
By Charles Lam
By Charles Lam
We met online in an OCMEN4MEN chat room. From his description, he sounded cute (this was before everyone had image-capable computers), and when we met in the parking lot of the Santa Ana Claim Jumper, he shockingly did not lie—the well-maintained face of an underwear model on the body of a beginning weightlifter, my next two-hour husband. We went back to his place for drinks and small talk to make sure neither of us was a nutcase psycho-killer, then we adjourned to the bedroom, threw off our clothes and jumped between the sheets. A little bit o' mmm-hmmm and a whole lotta uhh-huhn later, I found myself perched atop his waist and pinching his nipples, which he was really into, so I politely cheered him on.
"That feel good?"
"Ohhh, yeeeaaah. That's hot."
"Yeah? How about when I do this?
"OHHH, YEAH! YEAH!"
"And how about when I . . . Did you know you don't have a right hand?"
"Ummm . . . yeah, I was born without one. Guys who are really into fisting and stump love want to hook up with me all the time, but that gets old. C'mon, pinch my tits some more!"
From that point, all I could think about was the hand that wasn't there and why it took me so long to notice, my hard-on deflating by the millisecond, which he witnessed with an insulted look on his face. Not wanting to appear rude, I jerked him off, and our afternoon tryst was finished.
. . . and Pubes
It was at the Cathedral City Boys Club, one of 25 or so all-male, clothing-optional resorts in the Palm Springs area. When you have red hair, you stand out, but when you're completely naked and showing off that, indeed, you are a natural redhead, you really stand out. So I was casually undressing poolside by the lockers when a friendly gent sat down next to me, started gathering his stuff to leave, and glanced over at my bushy pubes. And he liked what he saw.
"Mmmm . . . you have some beautiful hair there," he purred predatorily, reaching over and patting my unclothed crotch.
"Thanks," I told him. Hey—he's just being nice!
"In fact, it's almost the same color as my wife's and daughters'."