Month: June 2019

FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt: A STARR IS BORN; 14 Celebrities Who’ve Come Out So Far In 2019; Ryan Field Books

A Starr is Born by [Field, Ryan]FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt: A STARR IS BORN

In honor of Pride 2019, I’m posting one more excerpt from my newest release, A STARR IS BORN. Of course I’ll continue to post free excerpts all year long, but not as often as I have been during Pride Month.

Here’s a link to Amazon, and here’s the excerpt, below.

14 Celebrities Who’ve Come Out So Far In 2019

I never take these things for granted. There are still millions of LGBT people who have not come out yet, for their own valid reasons, and I think it’s wonderful each time someone does come out. Coming out for anyone is a personal, individual decision that can never be taken lightly.

And it’s not always as simple as people think it is.

As society accepts the evolving definitions of sexuality and gender, the process of coming out has become more complex. Stars like Sam Smith and Jonathan Van Ness – celebs we already knew as gay – are now publicly celebrating their nonbinary gender identifies.

Here’s a link to more, with a list of 14 celebrities along with photos.

Chapter Ten
For the next week and a half, they rehearsed The Last Man every afternoon until Morton couldn’t get it out of his head. They had to take a break on the weekend because Morton explained to Harrison that he had previous commitments that had been booked months earlier at LGBTQ venues in New York. On Friday night he was booked as part of a drag revue in Brooklyn, in a club he’d played many times before. On Saturday he was booked at one of the biggest LGBTQ bars in Manhattan to perform with some of the biggest names on the drag circuit. And on Sunday he had to go to a club in Philadelphia to perform with a few old friends of his dads. It was an afternoon benefit and he didn’t get paid at all to perform in the Philadelphia club, but he did that charity show every year as a favor to his dads’ old friends. Plus, he had that ‘never say no’ rule, and he would perform anywhere anyone asked him to perform.
When Harrison heard his schedule, he smiled and said, “Well that’s perfect.”
Morton tilted his head sideways. “Why is that perfect? It’s what I normally do. I’ve done these performances thousands of times.”
“It’s perfect because you’ll be in Philadelphia on Sunday,” Harrison said. “I have a concert in Philadelphia that’s going to be huge. It’s been sold out for months. You can join me there after your benefit. I’ll send a car for you and you can meet me backstage.”
“I don’t know,” Morton said. “That’s an awful lot of running around for me. And by the time my benefit is over, your concert will just be beginning. I won’t have time to change.”
“So come in your usual costume,” Harrison said. “Come in a dress.”
“Are you sure it’s not an imposition?” Morton asked. He still wanted to play it safely with Harrison. As much as he cared for him, he noticed that everything Harrison did was so spur of the moment and confusing. He acted on impulse and Morton was used to planning well in advance.
“If it was an imposition I wouldn’t have asked you in the first place,” Harrison said. “Besides, I want to see you. I won’t see you on Friday or Saturday. At least I’ll see you on Sunday.” Then he put his arm around him and kissed him on the mouth, and Morton couldn’t resist him.
On Sunday afternoon Morton took the train to Philadelphia and got ready for his performance in the dressing room in the back of a small Center City Philadelphia gay bar that had been in business since the 1970s.  He wore his usual black knit mini-dress and black stilettos, but without the long blond wig. He wanted to travel lightly so that everything he needed would fit into the satchel he carried around everywhere. The only make-up he wore was red lip-gloss, a little bronzer, some eyeliner and false eyelashes. He’d been working harder on his look so that he’d appear more gender neutral on stage. Even though he knew a lot of the other drag performers were whispering behind his back, he seemed to resonate with audiences much better when he wasn’t trying too hard to impersonate a woman. It all seemed to work better for him when he just went out on stage to sing as a man who was more interested in gender bending in a sexy, provocative way.
While he was waiting to go on stage to perform at the benefit, Harrison texted him and said there would be a car outside waiting for him the moment he finished. He replied with a simple “K” and prepared for his entrance. There was a huge crowd in the bar that afternoon and he wanted to be good. The moment they introduced him, he took a deep breath, lifted his head high, and walked onto the stage with a huge smile. While they applauded, he started singing one of the old songs he used to perform with his dads. And by the time he finished his act, they were waving their arms and shouting for him to do just one more. It was a good audience that afternoon, and he didn’t want to let them down. So he did one more number, and then he ran backstage, shoved his things into his satchel, and ran out to the street to find the car Harrison had sent for him.
It took about 20 minutes for the car to reach the concert hall where Harrison was performing that evening. The driver dropped him off in the back at the stage door and he found Sam waiting for him there. As he climbed out of the car, Sam waved him inside and said, “C’mon. We’re ready to begin. He won’t go on stage until he knows you’re here.”
“I’m rushing as fast as I can,” Morton said. “It’s not easy to run in stilettos.” His regular clothes were in his satchel and he planned to change inside as soon as he could. “Why on Earth won’t he go on without me? That doesn’t make sense.”
Sam took him by the arm and guided him into the building. “Nothing Harrison does ever makes sense. You’d better get used to it.”
 As they ran through the back part of the concert hall, he kept telling Sam to slow down, but Sam kept saying they didn’t have time to slow down. When they finally reached the backstage area he heard the band playing and he could smell marijuana coming from the audience. At the exact moment he lifted his head and looked forward, he saw Harrison standing in the wings with his arms spread out and a huge smile on his face.
“You’re here,” Harrison said.
“Of course I’m here. I said I’d be here.” He had a feeling Harrison had been snorting coke again. He seemed extra-animated and far too happy, as if nothing could have ruined his day. Morton had seen that look before. His dad, Albert, who had the drinking problem did coke sometimes before a show. Albert  used to smile and say, “It’s just a little pick-me-up medicine.”
Harrison grabbed him and kissed him on the mouth. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” He hugged him and patted him on the butt. “You look great. No one else on Earth could pull that off except you.”
“Well thanks for your approval,” Morton said. “Now get your ass out there and sing. Those people are stomping on the floor now. They paid good money to hear you.” The only thing Morton cared about was the show. It wasn’t even his show, and yet that was his only focus at that moment. He truly believed those people deserved to get what they came there for, and he didn’t want Harrison to screw it up for them.
“Here I go,” Harrison said.
As he watched Harrison run onto the stage, he took a quick breath and hoped it would be a good show without Harrison pulling any of his ridiculous pranks again. The audience was cheering and shouting his name, and instead of being elated Harrison looked as if he wanted to get even with them. He seemed to have a self-destructive tendency that didn’t make sense to anyone who knew him well, especially Morton. He’d just finished a small time drag show, in a small gay club most people would never know about, and he didn’t even get paid for it. Morton had shown more respect for his audience than Harrison seemed to have for all those thousands of people screaming his name.
Sam and Morton exchanged a quick glance, and then Harrison picked up his microphone and started singing his signature song. This was the song that had made him a superstar, and the song that he’d made popular in households all over the world. It was the kind of rock music that was as classic as it was pop, with strong lyrics and a melody that was hard to forget.
A few seconds into the song, however, Harrison stopped singing and said, “This is bullshit. I’m sick of this goddamn song. I’m sure you’re sick of it, too. I’ve got something really special for you guys tonight. You’re going to love this. You’re going to meet Morton Starr, the man I love.” Then he put the microphone down and started walking backstage.
The audience started to roar.
Morton looked at Sam. “What the hell is he doing now?”
Sam shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Harrison went into the wings where Morton was standing and said, “C’mon, you’re going out there with me. We’re singing The Last man.”
Morton took a step back. “The hell I am.” He looked at Sam. “Do something.”
Sam shrugged again, as if he’d already given up on Harrison and he expected to see him fall on his face.
“C’mon,” Harrison said. He had his arm and he wouldn’t release it.
“I need rehearsal,” Morton said. “I’m not going out there to perform without rehearsal.”
“We rehearsed this song all week,” Harrison said.
“I want it to be perfect,” Morton said. “I need to check the lights. I need to know my mark. I can’t just go out there come hither as if this is a high school production. Now let go of my arm and get your ass back out there and sing for those people.”
Harrison grabbed his arm tighter and gave him one good yank. He practically dragged him to the middle of the stage, and the crowd roared even louder.
Morton’s heart started to race and he felt cold and clammy all over. His palms were sweating and he wanted to run back into the wings, down the hall, and all the way back to New York.
But he didn’t move. He stood there while the people screamed and Harrison picked up the microphone again. “Ladies and gentleman,” Harrison said. He gestured to Morton the same dramatic way a ringmaster would gesture to a circus act. “This is the love of my life, Mr. Morton Starr. He’s a wonderful, talented performer and he’d going to sing with me tonight. It’s a very special song, and you’re gonna love it. Now shut the fuck up and listen.”
The audience started to boo and hiss, and Morton grabbed Harrison’s black T-shirt and said, “They don’t want to hear me. They want you. Let me go backstage.”
“Fuck them,” Harrison said. He turned to the audience and said, “Fuck you, assholes.”
Morton felt a little nauseous. “Oh, dear God. We’re all screwed this time.”
It was too late to do anything by then. The band started to play the intro to The Last Man, and Harrison put his arm around Morton and kissed him on the mouth in front of all those people. Morton had no choice but to play along with him. If for no other reason than to save Harrison’s ass from total embarrassment, he had to focus on the rehearsals he’d done that week with Harrison. He did know the song, and he wasn’t a total amateur. He knew he had to sing, and he had to be good. His own willingness to go along with this was the only thing that mattered.
The music grew louder and Harrison kissed him on the mouth again. It was the first time Morton had ever been kissed in public in front of that many people. Even though gay men were getting so much support from the mainstream now, any sings of affection tended to be treated with caution. Most gay men didn’t kiss in public, didn’t hold hands in public, and rarely ever showed any signs of sexuality. So Morton wasn’t sure how this would all go over with people, and it’s not as if he had any choices about it either.
Then something interesting happened. Harrison handed the microphone to Morton and he started singing. At first, his voice was a little shaky, but after the first few notes the audience grew quieter and his heart stopped racing. He felt a sense of calm overtake his entire body, and the music flowed so naturally it was as if they were back in Harrison’s safe studio and they were the only two people on the planet. By the time he reached the end of the first verse, the only sound in that concert hall was his voice.
The Last Manwas one of those rock songs that start out slowly and build to a grand, high energy finale. Even though it was a duet intended to be sung by two men in love, it was written to be one-sided on purpose and Morton sang the majority of the song. He took the lead and Harrison followed, almost as if he was a backup singer. They gazed at each other and it felt as though Morton could feel his soul penetrate Harrison’s. He’d never experienced energy like this before, and it gave him more confidence than he knew he had.
The music flowed through them, in between them, and all around them. By the time they reached the finale they were both so into the song it was as if they’d been performing together their entire lives. When they reached the ending, Morton didn’t expect Harrison to grab him by the waist, pull him up against his body, and throw his arms around him in front of thousands of people. There wasn’t much he could do. The audience was cheering and applauding so loudly he rested his palms on Harrison’s shoulders and submitted to his kiss completely.
Although Morton had become engrossed in the song and their performance, he was also thrilled to know that it was over and he could go backstage with Sam and watch the rest of Harrison’s show from a distance. He backed away from Harrison and turned to the audience and gave them a slight bow of thanks. As he did this, Harrison picked up the microphone again and said, “Thank you, thank you all very much. Now please quiet down so Morton can do one more songs for you, alone.”
Then he handed the microphone to Morton and said, “Knock’em dead, cutie.”
He disappeared backstage and left Morton there all alone with a microphone in his hand. The audience was still cheering, and he knew he had to do something, so he turned to the band and asked them to play a classic older song that had been done millions of times before. He knew it was in the public domain and he wouldn’t be infringing on anyone’s copyrights. He’d sung this song many times, and he’d learned it from his dads. It was one of those songs that never really go out of style, and it’s all about the way it’s done.
When he was finished, the audience started howling again, and he glanced to his right to see if Harrison was coming back. Harrison was standing next to Sam applauding with everyone else, and this time Sam was smiling even more than Harrison. He gestured to them both, and Harrison ran back out on stage to join him.
He handed the microphone to Harrison and said, “Take over now. I’m serious.”
Harrison kissed him again and said, “You’re the best.” He turned to the audience and
said, “Isn’t he the best?”
They were still applauding, for Morton and for Harrison. Though Morton wasn’t sure about whether they were applauding the performance or the kissing, he couldn’t deny it made him feel wonderful.
“You’re gonna break the Internet with this one,” Harrison said.
“What do you mean?”
“The whole duet we did is on video and Sam just uploaded it online where millions of people are going to view it,” Harrison said. “I heard we’re already trending on a few social media sites. They love you. They love us.”
The only thing Morton wanted to do now was go backstage and recuperate. He’d worked all afternoon performing, and that last performance in the concert hall had left him drained of all energy. He didn’t even know what any of this meant, and he wasn’t going to stand there and question Harrison about it. As it was, he’d already taken up too much time from the concert and those people had come there to see Harrison perform.
So he took a quick bow and thanked them again, and then he turned and headed backstage to where Sam was standing.
Sam was staring at his phone. He looked up and said, “They love it.”
“Everyone,” Sam said. “The duet is going viral and the entire world is now talking about Harrison Parker and his hot boyfriend singing a gay love song together. They love it. I haven’t seen one nasty comment yet.”
Morton looked at him and said, “So you were wrong about the song. People do like it.”
Sam smiled. “It’s been known to happen on occasion.”
After that, Morton waited with Sam until the concert was over, and Harrison joined them backstage. Harrison was so excited he picked Morton up and swung him around in a circle. Sam told them security said it was mobbed outside with reporters and photographers and Harrison took Morton’s hand. When they reached the exit, Harrison put his arm about Morton and pulled him through a large crowd of fans and screaming reporters. They were screaming for Harrison and for Morton as well. They wanted to know who Morton was, and what his relationship to Harrison was. There were photographers snapping photos, and some reporters were shouting questions. Morton and Harrison just kept moving forward toward the black SUV at the curb without looking sideways. Harrison couldn’t stop smiling, but Morton had a strange feeling that he’d crossed a line that night, and nothing would ever be the same again.

A Starr is Born by [Field, Ryan]


The Rescuer

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Jake Gyllenhaal Reflects On Playing Gay Face In ‘Brokeback Mountain’; Leslie Jordan: My Trip Down the Pink Carpet; The Regulars Of Stonewall Inn; Ryan Field Books

Jake Gyllenhaal Reflects On Playing Gay Face In ‘Brokeback Mountain’

Back when straight actor, Jake Gyllenhaal, played gay face in the film, Brokeback Mountain, there were very few openly gay actors around that could play gay roles. It was a completely different world for LGBTQ people. For one thing legal same sex marriage wasn’t even part of the discussion for most people. Even the story, Brokeback Mountain, was written by a straight woman from a straight POV. Very few openly gay authors ever got big book deals that way. It’s not because there weren’t any openly gay authors. They just didn’t get chances at big books, with gay content. And up until recently there wasn’t even a discussion about this. It was simply assumed that a straight actor would play gay. If you were an openly gay actor, you were pushed aside to make room for the heteronormative actors with mainstream box office draw. And that’s still happening today and that’s why there’s now a discussion about it. I think younger gay people are starting to say, “Hey, what about me? I’m here.”

With that said, here’s a piece where Jake Gyllenhaal reflects on what it was like to play gay face.

“I think we had been cast for our ‘essences’ without really understanding what our ‘essences’ were – and that’s outside of our sexuality – we’re two straight guys cast in these roles, but who we are, who we were, Ang could see,” he recalls.

Personally, it’s never been my favorite movie or story and I found a few fundamental flaws with regard to authenticity. There were certain things that happened that simply would never have happened in real life with two ‘gay’ men during that time period.

Here’s the rest. Check out the comments below the article. There are varying opinions, and the discussion continues.

Leslie Jordan: My Trip Down the Pink Carpet

Now, for those of you who question authentic gay content, or who don’t even know what it is, there’s a show streaming on Amazon titled, My Trip Down the Pink Carpet, starring Leslie Jordan. He happens to be one of the few openly gay performers who’s managed to carve out a good career, and it couldn’t have been easy.

With his signature southern drawl and self-deprecating humor, Leslie recounts the trials of being a gay, southern man with aspirations of entering show business.

I watched My Trip Down the Pink Carpet last night and I couldn’t stop laughing. This isn’t the only brand of gay content there is, but it certainly is authentic. And if you’re gay, even if you’re butch gay, you’ll understand every single line he speaks in a way that straight people never will.

Here’s the link to IMDb. As I said, I watched it on Amazon Prime Streaming. It’s very simple to find.

The Regulars of Stonewall Inn

If you’re curious about what the Stonewall Inn is like today, this is an interesting story. I think a lot of people think of the Stonewall as something historic, but this shows what’s still going on there now.

Erica Snyder, 21, is a visual storyteller who spent March photographing patrons at Stonewall Inn to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the riots that helped trigger the equality movement. Here Erica narrates her photos for Queerty.

Here’s more. The photos are really good, and totally SFW. 

A Starr is Born by [Field, Ryan]


The Rescuer

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Brand New Release: A STARR IS BORN On Sale Now; Casey Spooner On the Commercialization of Pride; Ryan Field Books

Brand New Release: A STARR IS BORN On Sale Now

Image may contain: 1 personHere’s my new release, A STARR IS BORN. The blurb below explains the book nicely. It’s a quirky LGBTQ book that explores gender and how one gay man identifies. It’s not about a trans woman. This is about a gay man who’s breaking a few gender stereotypes, and who just wants to fit into this world. All I can say is this character is different.

It’s also on sale right now, until the end of the month at the publisher’s web site…with the promo code below. I’ll post links below.

Image may contain: 1 personA Starr Is Born is a queer retelling of an old rags to riches trope that’s been reinterpreted many times, but this time it’s totally different with gay main characters, a gay love story, and a gay male point of view. It’s partly a light-hearted parody and partly sarcasm. It’s also highly erotic and charged with authentic, emotional gay male romance.

From the day they meet for the first time until the day their lives change forever, Harrison Parker and Morton Starr were destined for greatness—and each other. A Starr is Born follows the paths of handsome, badly-behaving rock star Harrison Parker and sexy gender-bending performer Morton Starr, who is just starting his career.
Morton is so madly in love with his husband, Harrison, he’ll do anything to please him, including overlooking all his self-destructive issues. However, as openly gay Morton gains more fame and success in the mainstream with his popular gay love songs and his unique gender-bending image, and Harrison continues to slide downhill, there comes a point where everything has to change. And when that climax finally happens, Morton isn’t certain about anything in his future or his marriage.
And here’s a link to Amazon, but it’s not on sale there. This is just the publisher’s sale. 
Casey Spooner On the Commercialization of Pride
I see articles like this every year during Pride month and I can’t say I disagree totally. Speaking as a pragmatic, it’s only normal that Pride should be commercialized to a certain extent. I don’t think it could be avoided. But looking at it in a more emotional direction I have to admit that I get a little tired of seeing non-LGBTQ people exploiting Pride, especially for their own monetary gain. And there’s a lot of that happening. It takes away from the meaning of Pride and it becomes just another commercial event. 
With that said, I’m linking to this interview with Casey Spooner where he goes into a lot more detail. 
A little bit. It’s a little aggressive. I’m all for visibility and I’m super excited that everyone’s excited. But I have to say, the commercialization of queer culture has been fatiguing. To go to Target and Lysterine has a rainbow on it, every shampoo has a rainbow on it. Everyone’s shoveling rainbows!

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Boston’s Straight Pride Parade With Milo Yiannopoulos As Grand Marshall; The Old Gay West Side Cruising Piers In New York; Ryan Field Books

Boston’s Straight Pride Parade With Milo Yiannopoulos As Grand Marshall

Because having straight white privilege every single day of your life just isn’t enough. You need one more extra day to celebrate your straight privilege.

But according to this article, the really amusing part of this is that Milo Yiannopoulos will be the Grand Marshal. Yes. He will be the grand Marshall of the straight pride parade. You can’t make this up.

The apparently serious organizers of a “Straight Pride Parade” gathered for a press conference on Wednesday to announce they’d been given the green light by the city of Boston to move ahead with their event.

Here’s the link.  I hope they have fun. I couldn’t care less. 

The Old Gay West Side Cruising Piers In New York

I’m not old enough to remember this, but I have older gay friends who still talk about what it was like in New York back in the days when gay men would cruise the west side piers. Apparently, it was a huge destination for gay men. 

But there’s more to the piers than just sex. This is LGBT culture, and history. 

The piers also became a refuge for homeless LGBTQ youth. For years, they were one of the few places in the city they could go to hang out with others like themselves – and often their only available shelter.

Very good article and you can read it all, here.  This is the 4th in a series of excellent articles about gay culture in NYC. They deserve applause. 

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Pride Month: FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt ‘The Rescuer’; Teen Fired From Christian Camp For Being Gay; Ryan Field Books

Pride Month: FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt ‘The Rescuer’

Here’s another excerpt from my novel about gay romance and animal rescue. I enjoyed writing this book immensely. I wish every book I wrote could be focused on animals. And this one has a few twists and turns that make it a little different. I would love to see an animal rescue facility where it’s more like an animal hotel, where all the animals are treated as if they are human and every animal is treated with respect. I hope I accomplished that with this book. I hope I gave that focus to the main character. I’m never really certain until years later and there’s more feedback. I’m still learning things about books I wrote that were published 10 years ago.

In any event, the excerpt is below, and here’s a link to Amazon. This book is also sold on Smashwords and other venues, however, Amazon is still king.  This excerpt is totally SFW and I didn’t have to censor one single word.

Teen Fired From Christian Camp For Being Gay

Here’s a story about a gay teen who was fired from a Christian camp. I know it’s wrong. No one should ever be fired from any job anywhere because they are gay. But I do sometimes wonder why any gay person would want to be in a Christian environment like that. I can’t imagine anything worse than to be surrounded by a bunch of far right Christians. I’ve never had to worry about getting fired from a Christian camp because I never have, and never will, go anywhere near a Christian camp.

With that said, it’s still discrimination and of course I agree with him in a general sense. No one should ever be treated this way. And it’s interesting because I have never seen a gay person discriminate against a Christian. Never. I feel bad for the poor kid.

“I wanted to like cry because I grew up going to the Firs since I was like five or six years old,” Taylor told local ABC news. “I’m very angry with them. It’s hard to forgive someone or a group who denied you for who you are. If you’re going to teach love and acceptance shouldn’t you be able to accept all staff members from all parts of the community?”

Here’s a link.  The right wing Christians I know would call firing this kid this free speech and their right to make choices, and they would defend the actions of this camp. I just call it downright mean discrimination. This poor kid was not doing anything wrong.


Chapter Eight
In the weeks that followed the fund raising event, Keith decided to focus more on Misty. He was seriously thinking of leaving the SPCA to join Tom at Richardson Homes and he wanted to make sure Misty was going to be okay when he left. He started spending more time with her alone before the SPCA opened each morning. It was quieter and there were no other humans around to distract him from his goal.
And his goal was simple. He wanted to reach out to this magnificent dog and get her to a point where she would be socialized enough to be adopted by the right family. He knew the potential was there, even if no one else could see it, but he had to figure out a way to get to her. The best way he knew how to do that was through patience and love.
He knew Misty trusted him. He’d reached a point where he could now enter her pen, walk up to her slowly, and give her a treat. She didn’t cower or recoil. Although she didn’t wag her tail and jump around like other dogs, she now took the treat and ate it quietly while he sat there and spoke to her as if she were another human. Sometimes she would send him a sideways glance, or tip her disfigured head on an angle. He didn’t know if she could understand him or not. He obviously wasn’t expecting her to reply to anything he said. He simply believed that by speaking to her, with a soft voice and calming words, she would sense that he wanted to help her.
Of course everyone at the SPCA spoke to the animals in their own way. Carson usually complained to them about what was bothering him, as if they could actually heal his emotional wounds. Zac liked to laugh and joke around with them in an offhanded way, as if they could amuse him. One of the older volunteers liked to tell them all how beautiful they were. But no one ever actually sat down and had a conversation with the animals, and Keith wanted to keep his conversations with Misty private so the rest of the staff wouldn’t think he’d lost his mind.
One Friday morning he brought Misty bacon and sat down on a small pink tufted stool he’d placed next to her doggie bed. He set the bacon down on her bed, and when she leaned forward to eat it he patted the top of her silky gray head and said, “You know, Misty, I might not be around here forever. So we have to start getting you used to walking on a leash. That’s an important part of being ready to be adopted by a nice family. People want to know that they can take you for walks to the park without you freaking out on them.”
While he continued to talk to Misty, encouraging her as if she could understand every word he said, he heard a noise coming from behind and he turned fast to see what it was. When he saw Zac standing at the gate, listening to every word he said, he stood up fast and said, “I was just checking in on her. I wasn’t actually talking to her. I mean, I know she can’t understand me or anything like that. I’m not a lunatic.”
Zac smiled. “You don’t have to explain to me. I have my own little conversations with them all the time. I think it’s important, and I think they understand.”
“You do?” he felt a huge wave of relief.
“Of course I do,” Zac said. “I think we communicate with animals on a different level than we do with humans, but it’s just as important and I think they appreciate it.”
“Well that’s a huge relief,” Keith said. “For a minute I was worried you would think I was some kind of idiot who talked to himself.”
Zac turned to leave, but before he walked away he sent him backward glance and said, “You know, it’s none of my business, but I think you worry too much about what other people think. The only thing we should worry about is what we think of ourselves, not what other people think.”
Keith sent him a smile. “You’re very wise for someone so young.”
Zac shrugged and turned to leave. “I’ll see you later. I’m training that new volunteer this morning.”
While he’d been speaking to Zac, Keith didn’t realize that Misty had climbed out of her bed. When he turned around, she was standing a few feet away from him, staring up at him and wagging her tail.
He smiled and she walked over to him and licked his hand. Her tail was still wagging and he knew he’d made a small break through that morning. He went down on his knees, wrapped his arms around her neck, and gave her a huge hug. “That’s my girl,” he said. “I knew you’d start to come around eventually. And don’t you worry about anything. If no one ever comes along to adopt you, you’ll always have me.”
* * * * *
Later that same day, Keith felt so good about the way Misty was responding to him, he didn’t even mind that he had to go to an anniversary party for Tom and Delilah. They hadn’t been married that long, and it wasn’t an important milestone anniversary, but Delilah was the self-indulgent type who loved to throw a huge party at an expensive restaurant for the most mundane occasions. Her social life was her main focus and her yearly anniversary party was really designed to get her invited to more parties during the year.
When he pulled up to the familiar restaurant he parked in the back. He walked to the entrance and found that most of the guys were wearing formal tuxedos. Keith had decided to wear a pair of brand new tight beige skinny jeans, a white cotton shirt with little blue paisley designs that hugged his torso, and a new pair of two toned wing tip shoes he’d recently purchased. He’d been having anonymous sex with a 30 year old hipster who worked in a trendy men’s clothing store two towns away, and he’d felt obligated to buy new clothes from the guy. He didn’t mind spending the money, and the sex with this guy was so interesting he often went home with bruises on the backs of his legs. He found the whole hipster look sexy, even the guy’s bushy beard and man bun. But more than that, they always had sex in public, right in the store dressing room, while there were customers browsing around out front. Of course they were discreet and they kept the dressing room curtain closed at all times. It wasn’t as though the hipster fucked him right over the counter next to the cash register. It was more about fantasy exhibitionism and the element of danger that excited them the most. No one was ever offended, and no one ever knew what they were doing.
While Keith was at the bar getting a drink before he had to find his table, his brother came over and gave him a hug. “Well there you are. I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”
Keith smiled. “I wouldn’t miss your anniversary for the world,” he said. He’d never like lying to people.
Tom looked him up and down and said, “I hope you can sit down in those jeans. They’re a little snug. Is this a new look for you or something? You’re usually a lot more conservative.”
Keith shrugged. He didn’t want to go into detail about his sexual relationship with the hipster at the clothing store with Tom. “I just felt like a change. And it’s not as if I’m wearing red sequins.” He thought he looked rather conservative. The wing tip shoes were two tone…brown leather and white buckskin…but even they weren’t that unusual.
Tom patted his shoulder and said, “You look fine. I’ll see you later. I want to ask Delilah a question.”
As Tom turned to leave, Keith glanced across the room and pressed his palm to his chest. He saw Chet standing next to a long black grand piano, lifting a martini glass with one hand and waving in his direction with the other. He hadn’t expected to see Chet there that night and he wished he could push a button and disappear through a trap door in the floor. He knew that wasn’t going to happen, so he picked up his drink and crossed to where Chet was standing.
Chet set his drink on the piano and gave him a hug. He stepped back and looked him up and down. “Well look at you. If your pants and shirt were any tighter you’d split the seams.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Keith said.
Chet reached forward to touch his chest and said, “It is a compliment. You look great. I’d never guess you only worked in an SPCA in that outfit.”
Even though that comment made him want to kick something, he smiled and said, “Thank you. You look nice, too.” He was wearing the expected tuxedo, most likely a famous designer that Keith wouldn’t have cared much about.
“I see you’re alone,” Chet said. “Or is your date somewhere else?”
Keith knew he was fishing for information, and he had nothing to hide. “I’m alone. I didn’t bring a date. I’m not seeing anyone seriously. How about you?” There was no reason to boast about all the good sex he was having with strange men.
“I’m not with anyone tonight either. Delilah invited me and said it was fine to come alone. We’ve become very good friends lately. We do everything together. She’s wonderful.”
This was news to Keith. He’d always thought Chet was more of a casual friend, not a best friend. Keith didn’t speak to Delilah regularly and he didn’t know who was included in her social circle. In truth, Keith tried to avoid speaking to her at all. “Yes. She’s a treat.”
“Oh no,” Chet said. He jumped to the left. “I can’t believe he’s here.”
“My ex,” Chet said. “Well, he’s not officially my ex. We still date each other. But I had no idea he was coming. He’s a freelance architect who works with your brother sometimes. I should have known.”
“Oh.” He had no idea Chet had been dating someone regularly and he had no idea how to reply. It sounded too complicated to explain in just a few minutes.
A second later, a nice looking guy in his mid-30s walked up to them and reached out to hug Chet. He put his back to Keith, threw his arms around Chet, and kissed him right on the mouth without caring who saw him. Keith looked up at the ceiling. If his pants hadn’t been so damn tight he would have put his hands in his pockets. Even though he knew it was wrong to feel this way, he had not reached the point where he felt comfortable kissing a man that way in a room filled with all those straight people.
The guy stepped back and Chet gestured to Keith. “Darvin, this is my ex, Keith. Keith, this is Darvin.” Then he giggled as if he found it all so amusing.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, sweetie,” Darvin said. He threw his hand in Keith’s direction and it looked as though he might curtsy. He spoke fast, with a heavy lisp that sounded as if he’d just called Keith tweetie.
Keith wasn’t sure whether to kiss his hand or shake his fingers, so he just stood there smiling and said, “It’s nice to meet you.” He was actually a well-built guy, with a nice nose and a square jaw. His wrists were a little limp, and he batted his eye lashes a few too many times, but Keith had never been one to judge people at a glance. If Chet hadn’t been Keith’s ex, they might have been good friends.
“We should all get together,” Darvin said. He squeezed Keith’s bicep in a harmless, playful way. “It could be loads of fun, all three of us at the same time.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen,” Chet said. “Why don’t you go back to where you came from and we’ll talk later.”
Keith blinked. Chet’s dismissive tone reminded him of the way Chet used to speak to him when they were together. Apparently, Chet hadn’t changed much.
Darvin lowered his eyes and said, “Okay. We’ll talk later. If you need anything, Chet, let me know. I’ll get you anything you need.”
“I’m good, thanks,” Chet said, without even looking at him. “Go talk to someone else now. I’ll find you.”
Then Darvin left them without saying another word. The way Chet spoke to Darvin brought back so many memories of the way Chet had dismissed Keith and bossed him around, Keith started to feel hot and he knew he had to get out of there. It wasn’t because he felt anger or dislike for Chet. It was much worse than that, and far scarier. He started to feel the same old attraction to him and his hands felt shaky, and all the old feelings and emotions started rushing through his mind. He just felt like running.
When Darvin was gone, Chet leaned in a little closer and asked, “So are you still thinking about changing jobs? You’re such a strong talented man, and so capable of doing anything. You could be very successful working in the family business with your brother.”
Keith inhaled Chet’s cologne and he started to feel vulnerable and submissive. His deep voice came off smooth and alluring. He felt the urge to kiss Chet, and that made him worry even more. There was a time when he would have done anything to please Chet, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to revisit that part of his life again. In the same respect, he still had strong feelings for him and he didn’t know what to do.
So instead of replying, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket and gaped at the screen. “Oh, no. I have to leave. I just got a text. I’ll see you later, Chet. You have a good time and please tell Tom and Delilah there was an emergency at the SPCA and I had to leave. Tell them I’ll call them tomorrow. I have to head over there right now.”
Before Chet could reply, Keith turned with a sudden jerk and walked toward a set of French doors that would lead him out to a terrace so he wouldn’t have to speak with anyone at the front entrance. He kept walking and didn’t glance back until he reached the jeep.

Ryan Murphy and Netflix Announcement; Netflix Under Fire for "Queer-Erasing"; The Gay Jewish Matador From Brooklyn

Ryan Murphy and Netflix Announcement

I’ve been wondering when Netflix would get some new content, so this looks interesting. So far, lately, the only content on Netflix has been bad comedians no one cares about, weird TV shows and movies with poorly dubbed dialogue, and basically nothing worth watching. Seriously. They need something new. It’s awful and something like this might help.

Plans for a filmed version of the Tony Award-nominated musical The Prom have moved forward, with the announcement of the casting of several key roles.

Here’s the link to more.

Netflix Under Fire for “Queer-Erasing”

Speaking of Netflix, here’s another not so positive story about them.

I’m only linking to the story. I know nothing about it.

Fans accused Netflix of ‘queer erasing’ the same-sex romantic subtext in their show Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Here’s more. 

The Gay Jewish Matador From Brooklyn

Here’s a fascinating retro story about a gay matador. It’s not something you hear about every day. I find it interesting because according to this article he was partially ‘out.’ Meaning that people behind the scenes in his private life knew he was gay, but professionally they didn’t know. There’s a lot of that still going on for gay men in all professions.

Mr. Franklin, who died in 1976 when he was 72, was the first Jewish-American to reach the elite status of “matador” in Spanish bullfighting circles.
He was also gay.

Here’s a link to the rest. 

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

FREE Gay Fiction: How To Be a Good Gay Bottom; Retired 83 Year Old Priest Becomes Gay Adult Film Star; Ryan Field Books

FREE Gay Fiction: How To Be a Good Gay Bottom

In keeping with my free pride month excerpts, here’s something from my latest, yet to be published novel, How To Be a Good Gay Bottom. I don’t have a cover yet, and I might change the title. This is a romance and the part about being a gay bottom isn’t the main focus of the book. It’s only part of the focus.

This love story is mostly about a young man, Paul, who meets an openly gay politician, Gordon, who is running for governor of his state, and how Paul has to come to terms with the fact that Gordon is in politics. Paul despises politics and the media completely. It’s a huge conflict because he also loves Gordon completely.

Another issue in the book is that Paul is also a gay virgin in the sense that he’s never had anal sex. He’s not only terrified of anal sex, he’s not even sure how to do it. It totally freaks him out.

So while on vacation for a week in Palm Springs, before he even begins a relationship with Gordon, Paul decides to see a sex therapist about his problem with anal sex, and this excerpt is a scene from that chapter. I didn’t have to censor much from this one, and I don’t think there are any spoilers.

You can read the excerpt below. And once again, the title is subject to change. It might become The Governor’s Husband.

Retired 83 Year Old Priest Becomes Gay Adult Film Star

Now here’s something you don’t see every day of the week. This 83 year old former priest not only reinvented himself, it sounds as though he had a damn good time doing it.

Here’s one thing he had to say about making a gay adult film:

 “It was splendid! How could it not be? (I was in) a blessed rural setting, surrounded by a cast and crew of loving, competent, supportive brothers intent on sharing the good news of the healing power of pleasure. What could be more delightful? And, if you’ve seen the video, with the two adorable models performing, what else could be lacking?”

You can read it all in full, here. There’s a video, too. It’s not the adult film, it’s an interview that’s about the adult film and it’s SFW. I think if everyone did things like this, getting older would be so much easier. 

FREE Excerpt: How To Be a Good Gay Bottom

When I went back to my room to shower and change, I called the number of the sex therapist in Palm Springs and asked if there were any appointments that day. He told me he could fit me into his schedule around 10 that same morning, so I took down the address, hung up the phone, and quickly jumped into the shower. I’d been on enough vacations like this to know that once I get settled everything starts to move very quickly and I didn’t want to waste a moment.
About an hour later, I pulled up to the entrance of one of those gated condo communities in North Palm Springs not far from the wind turbines and punched a number code the therapist had given me into the keypad beside the gate. It appeared to be a well landscaped complex, with exotic plants, palm trees, and well maintained lawns. The condos themselves were clustered together in separate two-story buildings, all buildings were identical in pale pink stucco and terracotta tiled roofs. The entire complex had the distinct appearance of a resort, much like the rest of Palm Springs.
Once I pulled through the gate, I stopped and read a large well-written directory next to the stop sign. I was looking for unit 20 in building C, which the sign said was to my right. But as I turned down the road that would lead me to building C I gripped the steering wheel tightly and came to a full stop. On the left side of the road, I saw a naked man carrying a silver folding chair and a green beach towel next to a long row of parking spaces covered with a long carport. To my right I spotted another man with a large round belly in his 50s walking his small dog in a designated pet area. He was naked, too, but the dog was wearing a cute little white T-shirt.
As I started moving forward again, trying hard not to stop and gape at the man with the dog, I spotted a few more people in the distance and they were all naked as well. Apparently, this condo complex was one of those clothing optional places I’d read about in Palm Springs guides. Of course it didn’t bother me, except for the fact that I’d worn a brand new shirt that morning so I’d make a good first impression on the sex therapist. If I had known I’d have worn the same outfit I wore the day before.
When I spotted building C, about halfway down the road, I pulled into a parking space designated for visitors and unfolded from the Escalade. I hadn’t been in Palm Springs very long but one of the things I was starting to really like about it was the fact that it never seemed crowded or too busy. As I crossed to the sidewalk that would lead me to building C, I passed a smiling naked woman in her 40s with breasts down to her naval. She nodded and smiled in my direction, but the rest of the complex seemed almost empty.
Unit 20 was located at the far end of the building, but really not far to walk at all. I could see a huge swimming pool, with spas and a club house, not far from where I was standing and there were a few more naked people lounging around the pool. I turned toward the front door of unit 20 and rang the doorbell. Within moments, a tall, thin naked man in his 30s yanked the door open and said, “You must be Paul John. Please, come inside. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I smiled and walked into the entrance hall. I reached out to shake his hand and said, “And you must be Dion Winston. It’s nice to meet you.” At a closer glance, I noticed his lean naked body was well defined and he obviously followed a regular workout routine. His dark hair was long and bushy, with wisps and waves and tangles, almost like a caveman. His beard was overgrown and just as wild as his hair. And he had a thick flaccid dick hanging between his legs. Although I’d never been attracted to the hipster types, I had to admit he wasn’t bad looking at all.
However, I wasn’t there for a hook up or to fulfill my caveman fantasy. I was there to find out how to be a good gay bottom. “I didn’t know this place was clothing optional,” I said.
“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that,” he said. “Is that a problem? You can wear clothes if that’s more comfortable for you. There’s no judgment here.”
I smiled and waved him off. “Oh, I’m fine with nudity. That’s the least of my problems. I’ve been going to clothing optional beaches all my life and I have no problem getting naked.”
So he led me into a large great room with an open concept that was living room, kitchen, and dining room all combined. The walls were white, the floors beige tile. The white walls were covered with busy, colorful abstract paintings in all different sizes that gave the room a retro 1970s appeal. One painting in several shades of pink had to be at least 6 feet tall and 8 feet wide, but on the wall across from that there were more abstracts in sizes that ranged from 9 inches by 12 to 16 inches by 14. The furniture was a combination of mid-century modern and other contemporary pieces that didn’t really match. It wasn’t one of those perfect places that had been staged for effect like the house we were renting in Warm Sands, but I liked it because it felt so comfortable and real. It was as though it had been decorated by someone’s hippie grandma who’d dropped a little too much acid in the 70s. And in spite of the fact that it was a condo, the ceilings were tall and it felt spacious and open. I’d always lived in a private home and condo living fascinated me.
When we reached an authentic gray mid-century modern sofa he stopped and said, “You can remove your clothes and leave them here if you want, or you don’t have to take them off at all. That’s up to you. I have to go outside to check on a group therapy that’s happening in the garden right now. The guys from a local landscaping company come here about 3 times a month to talk things over and relax. It’s very private and totally discreet.”
“Take your time,” I said. “I’m in no hurry. Should I wait for you in here for our session?” I’d been under the impression this would be a private therapy session, not group therapy.
He looked a little confused. “I thought I mentioned when I said I could fit you in that this was group therapy, not a private session. My private sessions are all booked this week.”
“Oh,” I said. “I must have misunderstood. I’m sorry. Maybe I should leave.”
“You can do that,” Dion said. “Or you can join us outside for group therapy. It might help you relax a little since this is your first time. There’s no charge for this. Everything that happens here is completely private and you can feel free to completely open up about anything. We all respect that. This is really a great group of guys, too. I think you’ll like them and they might be able to offer you a new perspective.”
“If I don’t feel like saying anything can I just sit there and listen?”
“Of course,” he said, with resignation, and then he turned toward an extra wide set of sliding glass doors that led to an outdoor space and disappeared.
After I removed all my clothes and set them on the arm of the sofa, neatly folded so Dion wouldn’t think I was a slob, I crossed to the sliding glass door to see what was happening outside with this group therapy session. Each condo unit had a rather generous, private outdoor space off the living room area, surrounded by a wall that stood about six feet tall. I hadn’t decided I would join them yet and I just wanted to get a glimpse.
I gazed to the right and tilted my head and saw a group of six naked men sitting on outdoor furniture to the right of a very small swimming pool. They were all naked and all sitting on this large L-shaped outdoor sofa, and from what I could see at that angle they were either nodding or smiling about something. It looked harmless and I felt safe. I figured it couldn’t hurt to go outside and join them. Even though I was not about to have anal sex with anyone that day, they all appeared to be good looking, with tanned stocky bodies, but in an unpretentious way.
I opened the door and headed toward where they were sitting, in my bare feet. One tall guy in his late 20s with jet black hair looked up at me and smiled, and then Dion turned around and said, “Welcome. I’m glad you could join us, Paul.”
I took a seat at the end of the sofa next to a nice looking guy with dark hairy legs and Dion introduced everyone. I smiled and nodded at all of them, knowing I’d never remember their names all in one shot. I’ve never been good with names, but I knew I would remember certain physical aspects about them. The guy sitting next to me had sexy hairy legs, the guy next to him had a thick cock, the guy to his left had lighter hair and a reddish beard. On the other side of the L-shaped sofa, there was the tall guy with jet black hair, there was a guy with sexy hair on his chest, and then there was a guy with nice large balls.
As I settled into my seat, still feeling a little awkward about being totally naked in front of all these strange men, I smiled and said, “So you guys are all landscapers?”
While they all nodded, Dion said, “Yes. They actually do this condo complex, plus several others in Palm Springs. That’s how they discovered me.”
I smiled at the guy with the hairy legs next to me. “I see. Is there a focus in this group?”
Dion nodded. “This is a group for straight men who are interested in learning how to masturbate without guilt.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
The tall guy grabbed his dick and said, “We’re learning how to pleasure ourselves freely, so we can ultimately pleasure someone else.”
“Well. I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” I said. “I don’t want to intrude. I’m gay and I don’t want anyone to feel awkward about that.” Even though I’d never had that straight guy fantasy that so many of my friends had, even I had to admit this was almost too good to be true.
The cute guy with the hairy legs sitting next to me reached over and took my hand in his. “There’s no need to feel that way, baby. There are no labels here and we don’t judge. You’re just a man like the rest of us. It’s a pleasurable learning experience for all of us.”
“Indeed.” My first thought was what Richard would think if he could see me now. I doubt he would have approved. Richard was one of those gay men who preferred to spend his time with other gay men, almost exclusively. He probably would have run out of there with his hands flying in the air. However, I didn’t think it could hurt to stay there. I’d always found straight men adorable and comfortable to be with, and I think they felt the same way about me.
“Would you like to talk about why you’re here, Paul?” Dion asked.
“Well, there is a specific reason, but I’ve never actually told anyone. It’s a little embarrassing.” I figured I had nothing to lose. I’d never see any of them again and I did feel like talking about it.
The guy with the large balls grabbed his dick and stroked it a few times. “Anything you say here stays here. This is a safe place just for men, bro, and there’s no judgment.”
I took a deep breath and said, “Okay, here goes. I don’t know how to bottom. But even worse, I’m terrified of being a bottom. I really want to be a good bottom but I just don’t know how. It’s killing me.”
They all tipped their heteronormative heads sideways for a moment, as if waiting for me to explain in more detail, and I had a feeling they didn’t know what I was talking about.
“I’m a gay bottom,” I said. “I’ve never had anal sex, I don’t know how to have anal sex, and I want to learn how to have anal sex and to stop being afraid of having it. It scares me to death.”
The guy with the hairy legs next to me said, “I get it now. I love anal, dude. I do it with the women I date as often as I can. There’s nothing better.”
I flung him a glance. “But that’sbecause you’re straight and you’re the one on top with all the control. I’m the one on the bottom and I don’t know what to expect.”
He laughed. “I see your point.”
The guy with the reddish beard said, “Maybe you’re not a bottom. Maybe you’re really a top.”
I shrugged. “I’ve thought about that, and sometimes I even try to talk myself into believing that. But the truth is I’m a bottom. I know what I want, but I’m terrified to actually do it. It’s veryfrustrating.”

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Pride Month: FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt Amish Indiscretion; Ukraine Pride Parade: Thousands March; Ryan Field Books

Amish Indiscretion by [Field, Ryan]Pride Month: FREE Gay Fiction Excerpt: Amish Indiscretion

Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 2 of Amish Indiscretion. I couldn’t post the entire chapter because I self-censor on Google Blogger and I don’t want to cross any lines, however, the entire chapter is an introduction to one of the main characters, Filbert, who finds himself in an awkward situation with a very sexually aggressive man. And Filbert, being sheltered and Amish all his life, is not sure how to get out of that situation. I wish I could share it all, but I had to censor this one. 

Here’s a link to Amazon. The book is available in digital or print. The excerpt is below.

I’d also like to add that I became very friendly with someone in the Amish community a few years ago, and we’ve been e-mailing ever since. He’s given me a great deal of inside information about what it’s like to be Amish and closeted gay, and how he survives…and struggles. He’s a wonderful man. 

Ukraine Pride Parade: Thousands March

Here’s more news on the global front. This time it’s a mostly positive story about Gay Pride in the Ukraine, but not totally positive. 

More than 8,000 people marched peacefully in Ukraine’s biggest ever Pride parade on Sunday (June 23), ignoring far-right protestors who sought to disrupt the celebrations.

Here’s the link. There’s a photo and more about what happened in Georgia’s capital of Tbilisi. There’s still a long way to go before everyone gets total equality.

After dinner, Filbert Stolzfus sometimes took long walks that lasted well into the night. At least that’s what he told the family. He would get up from the supper table as soon as everyone was finished eating, clear his throat, tell them he was going out for his regular walk, and they shouldn’t wait up for him. He claimed it was his way to exercise, to meditate, to pray, and to release stress.
It wasn’t a total lie. He did usually walk, but the thing he didn’t tell his family was that on some nights he did a lot more than walking. Filbert had learned one important fact about being a closeted gay Amish man. By the time he turned 24 years old, he’d mastered the art of discretion better than anyone else he knew. Of course there was also a certain amount of deception involved, but he only did what he thought he had to do. And he did it for the sake of his family, not as a means to hurt them.
On one particular evening after Filbert announced he was going for his walk, he crossed the backyard and headed toward the side of the barn where he maintained a private little space for himself inside the barn. It was nothing more than a small corner at the far end of the barn, with a broken concrete floor, a small desk and chair, and a few makeshift shelves he’d put up himself with pieces of weather beaten scrap wood. He told his family he went there to think in silence and contemplate life, but this tiny space meant a lot more than that to Filbert. Although he knew most English people… he’d always heard all non-Amish people referred to as English…loved to generalize about the Amish, they never took the time to realize there were Amish men like Filbert who didn’t fit into the typical mold.
The one big fact that separated Filbert from more conservative young Amish men was that he had access to technology. He worked part time at a local Amish tourist information center, and full time at his family’s Amish roadside farm market called, “Stolzfus and Son.” He was the “Son.” They expected him to take over one day. Although the farm market did tend to be stereotypical at times because that’s what the English tourists wanted to see, they used almost every modern convenience other businesses used. And working for the tourist information center had given Filbert access to the Internet, e-mail, and other forms of social media that most Amish people couldn’t get to as easily. He only kept the part time job at the information center because he wasn’t ready to give that access up yet.
However, Filbert would have been the first to admit his life wasn’t about true Amish culture. He had respect and love for his heritage. He followed all the rules and played the game to the best of his ability, but his real story was more about his own internal and external conflicts with traditional Amish culture and being gay. He also wanted to learn as much about gay culture as possible.
Filbert didn’t have to work at the tourist information center and deal with all kinds of obnoxious English people asking the most insulting questions imaginable about Amish culture. He didn’t have to deal with the know-it-alls who thought they knew more about Amish culture than he did. He could have worked full time at the family farm market and done just as well financially, that is if he’d been like everyone else who worked there. In his case it was different because he needed access to technology to keep him from going insane. There wasn’t much hope for a young, good looking gay man in any Amish community, and his part time job afforded him the ability to learn and discover a world he would never have known about otherwise.
As he slipped through the old wooden plank door of his tiny room in the barn, he made a mental note to get a new door. He lit a candle he kept on the desk made of crates and pallets, and then he stood on a rickety old pine chair so he could reach for a loose board above the desk. Filbert had several secret compartments in the office no one knew existed. He would never have hidden anything obscene or embarrassing in these secret compartments. He kept it simple and he was always prepared with good excuses if anyone ever discovered his secrets. It wasn’t always perfect, but he tried his best to anticipate what he might need.
In one hidden compartment he kept a small leather case that contained one credit card, a smart phone, and the key to a post office box two towns away from where he lived. (He had Wi-Fi for the farm market and non-Amish work related things.) Even though he made sure to handle all of his private financial matters electronically so there wouldn’t be a paper trail, he still needed a physical address with his real legal name when it came to certain things. He couldn’t use his home address at the farm, but he needed a credit card to make online purchases, and he needed a post office box where he could receive deliveries. The post office box had to be at least two towns away so he could sneak there on his days off to see if there was anything to pick up.
After he pulled his smart phone and credit card out of the leather case, he set the leather case back on the shelf and double checked to make sure his secret getaway bag was safe and sound. In this compartment, set way in the back, he also kept a medium sized red satchel that contained everything he might need if he had to get out of town fast. He never knew for certain what might transpire. If anyone ever found out about him, he knew he’d be shunned and forced to leave. He kept some English clothing in the getaway satchel, a few grooming necessities, and a metal fireproof strong box filled with cash he’d been saving since he’d been sixteen years old. Last time he counted there was almost sixty thousand dollars in cash. He had a bank account but the cash made him feel safer. He rarely spent money on anything, he didn’t have to deal with car payments or rent, and his mom and dad simply assumed he put all the money he made from his two jobs in the bank.  
After he replaced the board on the first compartment, he turned to another loose board and reached inside another hidden compartment for one of the outfits he kept hidden. His regular Amish clothing wouldn’t work for what he was planning to do that evening, so he kept several non-Amish outfits that he knew would help him blend in. Part of the secret he kept was hiding his other life from his Amish family, and the other part was keeping his Amish identity a secret from the English life he led.
He changed his clothes fast and hid his Amish clothes under the desk. Later, he would return to the barn and put them back on again before he went into the house. That was the safest way to do it, but he also had a hidden compartment in his bedroom closet where he would hide clothes sometimes. Even though he was the only child of an elderly Amish couple, he never took any chances and he tried to be prepared for all possible situations. His mother and father would most likely be in bed sleeping by then and he could have slipped into the house in non-Amish clothes without anyone knowing. However, he never assumed anything.
If there was even a remote chance he might be discovered, he tried to plan ahead to avoid any possible chagrin for the sake of his family. He often thought about leaving his Amish community and he thought about what might happen if they found out about him and he was shunned. It filled him with so much anxiety and despair his hands would start shaking. As long as he maintained a safe, secret double life he had nothing to worry about. This had always been his biggest problem. He didn’t hate his Amish way of life or his culture. He just wanted to be a quiet Amish gay man who lived a simple Amish gay life. Except, of course, he knew that would never be possible.
After he shoved his credit card into his wallet, he pulled a small mirror out of a hidden compartment he kept beside the desk, closer to the floor. He couldn’t have a large full length mirror, but he could have a small one for shaving. So he checked himself out as best he could in the mirror, and then turned to sneak out of the barn the back way so no one would see him.
No matter how often he did this, he always felt the same thrill all over his body when he wore English clothes. It was as if a whole new world opened up for him with basic things most English people didn’t even realize. Although other gay men might have considered him too conservative, he felt daring and interesting in a simple pair of beige jeans, a black polo shirt, and loafers without socks. He didn’t know much about fashion or style, but he knew enough to understand that he wasn’t the kind of man who could wear flashy clothes. With his dark hair and lean muscular body he had to be careful he didn’t call too much attention to himself. And even then, in the plainest shirt, people would stop and tell him he reminded them of this movie star or that, and half the time he didn’t even know who they were talking about. All he’d ever wanted was to fit in with everyone else.
By the time he was outside it was dark and the only sounds came from leaves and twigs crunching beneath his feet. As he walked up the long dark drive of Peace Valley Farm that would lead him to the road, no one would even have known he was Amish. Anyone passing would simply take him for a young guy walking aimlessly with his hands in his pockets, which he often did most nights of the week anyway.
Filbert didn’t always have a destination, but this was a Wednesday night and he did have specific plans. On Wednesdays there was a small gay bar called The Interlude two towns away from his, where he liked to go just to observe. He never drank; he didn’t smoke. He didn’t even dance with anyone. He simply sat on a barstool, sipping a ginger ale, watching everyone else have a good time. This one simple act alone helped him feel a sense of connection.
Of course he didn’t walk all this way on the side of the road. It would have been too dangerous and much too far. He depended on a friend to pick him up in the parking lot of his family’s farm market, which was located on a main road that ran directly through his Amish community. His only friend was a straight English guy named Niles Barclay who worked part time at the Farm Market. They’d grown up together. Niles was 24 years old and not sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He liked to go to a straight bar in the same town where Filbert went to the small gay bar.
When Filbert reached the farm market he saw Niles’s car at the far end of the parking lot. He jogged over to the passenger door, climbed in, and said, “Sorry I’m late, man. I walked as fast as I could.”
Niles started the car and said, “No problem. I just got here. You wanna drive?”
Even though no one knew about it but Niles, Filbert had worked hard to get his driver’s license on the down low. There was nothing Filbert loved more than driving Niles’s little sports car. “I’d love to drive,” Filbert said. Niles came from a wealthy family in town. His dad was an attorney and his mom a psychologist. They bought him a brand new white Fiat Spider for his 23rd birthday and he taught Filbert how to drive it. Their unusual friendship was so simple and comfortable they shared everything in their lives, as if they were brothers.
They both unfolded from the car and switched sides. As Filbert pulled out of the parking lot a few minutes later with a heavy foot, Niles reached for his seatbelt and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Filbert asked.
“I was just thinking that I’d rather you drive,” Niles said. “I hate driving. And I’m the straight English guy and you’re gay and Amish guy and no one knows you drive. It’s kind of ironic.”
Filbert just shrugged and said, “No one would believe it. The story of my life.” He often found it interesting that many Amish people think nothing of riding in cars, but shun driving cars. He looked over and saw what Niles was wearing and he laughed. “I’m just glad we go to separate bars.”
“Why?” Niles asked
“Because we are practically dressed the same,” Filbert said. “We look like twins.”
They did look like brothers, up close or from a distance. When they were together at the farm market the tourists often asked if they were brothers, or at least related. They even had the same body type, with broad shoulders, narrow waists, and long legs. They stood the same height, walked with the same gait, and even spoke with the same deep even tone. The one thing that set them apart was that Niles was more outgoing and open with people, where Filbert tended to be reserved and closed.
Niles looked at Filbert’s outfit and shook his head. “Dude, we should plan ahead next time. It looks as if you raided my closet.”
Filbert smiled. “Do you care?”
“Not in the least.”
“Me either.”
It was only a fifteen minute drive to the town where they were heading so there wasn’t much time to talk about anything of importance. Besides, they already knew each other so well they never had to work hard for things to talk about. It simply happened naturally without them even realizing it.
“You can drop me off and pick me up around one in the morning,” Niles said.
Filbert shook his head. “No. You’d better drop me off and pick me up around one. I don’t want to take a chance like that. This is your car and I’m Amish.”
“The odds are nothing’s going to happen,” Niles said.
Filbert knew Niles hated to park and he hated dealing with a car at a bar, but he still didn’t feel comfortable because he didn’t want anyone to find out he had a license to drive. “I know. But all the same, let’s not take that chance. Besides, I like getting dropped off by a good looking guy in a nice car. It makes me feel less like a loser.”
Niles smiled and said, “Okay. I’ll drop you off. But you’re not a loser.”
“I’m not exactly a winner.”
“Well you’re my best friend. Does that make me a loser, too?”
“You know what I mean.”
“C’mon, man,” Niles said. “You never know. You might meet the guy of your dreams in there tonight.”
Filbert laughed. At least Niles had a good sense of humor. “Oh yeah, the man of my dreams is waiting for me right now, in a tiny gay bar, on the outskirts of Amish country, in a little town even the English tourists don’t know about. I can see Prince Charming staring in my direction right now.”
 A few minutes later, Niles dropped Filbert off at the bar and Filbert went inside and headed to the back of the bar to find his favorite barstool so he could watch everyone else. The bar was having some kind of drag show that night, which meant it was busier than a normal Wednesday night. The building where this bar was located had once been a barn that belonged to a small farm that used to grow corn. After the owners died, their gay son took over and he turned the barn into a makeshift gay bar that probably had more charm than most gay bars in large cities. The bar seemed to do pretty well, too, because the son turned the old farm house into something that would have made Martha Stewart jealous, and he didn’t even bother to farm the land anymore. Although the gay son was so overweight he could barely fit through the door, and so flamboyant his hands fluttered when he walked, his talent for taking nothing and turning it into something spectacular made him a small town local celebrity.
Of course Filbert was nothing more than an observer from a distance, and he never got to know anyone in the bar on a first name basis. He was there often enough for the regulars to nod when he passed them, but he made no effort to ever get to know anyone any better. How could he take the chance? If anyone from his Amish community ever found out and word got back to his family his entire life would end. So he sat there and watched everyone having a great time. Oddly, it was all so different from his Amish life he always found it fascinating that he could lose track of time so unwillingly.
About an hour before Niles was due to pick him up out front, a tall guy with short dark hair and five o’clock shadow sat down next to Filbert and asked, “Can I buy you a drink? I’m Frank.”
The music blared. The last drag performer was finishing her act and Filbert could barely hear the guy. He smiled and said, “No thanks. I’m good.” No one ever sat next to him in the bar. Niles claimed it was because Filbert portrayed himself in public as unapproachable. Filbert had no idea what that meant, but he was fine with not being approached.
“Are you sure?” Frank said. He leaned over closer this time and Filbert could smell the beer on his breath. He seemed older, maybe in his mid-thirties. It stirred something deep inside Filbert and he found it difficult to make eye contact with this guy.
Frank reached over and rested his large hand on Filbert’s thigh. He rubbed his thigh a few times and said, “You seem to keep to yourself. I’ve been watching you. Is this your first time here?”
Filbert didn’t stop him from rubbing his thigh. This guy was better looking than anyone else in the bar, and he had that deep throaty voice like a football player. “No. I come here a lot. I’m local. I just like to sit and watch. I keep to myself.”
Frank extended his right hand and said, “I’m here a lot on weekends. It’s a nice place. Kind of kitschy and folksy and small town. But I like it.” He rubbed Filbert’s leg again. “And the guys are adorable like you.”
When Frank didn’t elaborate on his circumstances, Filbert had a feeling he wasn’t telling his entire story, which didn’t bother Filbert. He’d learned there was nothing safer than two closeted gay men who guard their real identities. He shook the guy’s hand and said, “I’m Phil. It’s nice to meet you, Frank. Where do you come from?”
He told Filbert he worked in sales, came from New York, and did a lot of business in that area. He’d read about this small bar on the Internet and decided to check it out one night. No details; nothing elaborate. While he talked he rubbed and squeezed Filbert’s legs. And Filbert felt safe with him because he seemed as if he knew how to keep a secret. He was a total stranger who didn’t know a thing about Filbert’s background, or that he was Amish. And the truth was that Filbert didn’t really want to know more about him.
In less than a half hour, the guy leaned over and whispered into Filbert’s ear. “Would you like to go outside to my car?”
Filbert froze. He hadn’t expected that. It’s the first time a man had ever asked to be alone with him in a car. “I can’t,” he said. “A good friend is picking me up soon. I have to get home because I’m getting up early in the morning.” He should have been more prepared, with a better excuse.
Frank smiled, as if he found Filbert amusing. “Let’s go out to my car. You can wait for your friend there.”
The guy stood up and left money on the bar. “We can talk outside a lot easier. I’d like to get to know you better. You’re special.”
Filbert looked up at him and hesitated. This guy wasn’t at all like the other guys in the bar. He seemed so genuine and honest. But more important, he thought Filbert was special. He also reminded Filbert of a professional football player he’d seen on the Internet, with a thick neck and huge sexy thighs. He didn’t seem to care about anyone else in the bar but Filbert. So Filbert smiled and said, “I guess that’s okay. My friend won’t be here for a while, so we’ll have time to talk.”
Filbert thought he’d finally met a nice, decent guy, a guy who was good looking, friendly, honest, and kind, but was he in for a surprise. 

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

Trans Inclusive: Mastercard’s New ‘True Name’ ; More About ‘Summer Penis’; Burger King’s Instagram and Penis Drawings; Ryan Field Books

Trans Inclusive: Mastercard’s New ‘True Name’

A lot of trans people have a rough time with their names, and no one seems to make it easier. Here’s something that’s going to help out a lot.

Mastercard is rolling out a “True Name” program in which cardholders can replace their debit, credit, and prepaid cards with ones bearing the name they actually use, and a legal name change isn’t even required.

You can read it in full, here. 

More About ‘Summer Penis’

I’ve posted about the concept of summer penis before, but here’s something brand new. I don’t know if there’s any science to back this up…other than what’s in this piece right now. 

As the temperature rises, some men swear the heat has a flattering effect on their peens, adding inches in length and girth down below. Last July, Mel Magazine reporter Tracy Moore gave a name to this peculiar seasonal phenomenon: summer penis.

It will tell you all you need to know. Here’s the link. 

Burger King’s Instagram and Penis Drawings

Someone’s been playing around with Burger King’s Instagram and they’ve uploaded a few questionable images. But there’s allegedly a reason for it. 

Since yesterday, the brand’s tags have been taken over by pranksters who have uploaded images in such an order that if you look at the brand’s photos as a grid, several pictures come together to make up one big penis.

Here’s the link. The story does get a little more involved, with respect to art, creativity, and trying to teach Burger King a lesson. It’s interesting. But frankly, this is why I never ever share images of any kind on this web site, unless of course I know they are in the public domain, I have written permission, or they are free to share. And I always give credit if they are free to share.

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]

FREE Gay Excerpt for Pride Month: Kendle’s Fire; On Stonewall Inn’s Hallowed Ground; Ryan Field Books

FREE Gay Excerpt for Pride Month: Kendle’s Fire

Here’s a free chapter from Kendle’s Fire. I enjoyed writing this book, but I wasn’t sure how it would be received by readers. It’s different. It’s very different. So far, according to the reviews, it seems to have resonated with a few readers. I was hoping that would happen because I see more and more people challenging the masculinity stereotypes.

Here’s one reader’s opinion:

This is GREAT story!! It’s wonderful in its exploration of sexuality and masculinity. The story is well done and beautifully done. The story flows beautifully and the characters are wonderfully written. The protagonist of the story is a handsome man who is searching for meaning in his life and trying to come to terms with his preferences. He doesn’t like that the world is so judgemental and unforgiving. It’s a great read full of heart.

In any event, here’s the link. I’ve posted the chapter excerpt below.

On Stonewall Inn’s Hallowed Ground

If you’ve never been to NYC and you’ve never seen the Stonewall Inn on Christopher Street, articles like this will at least help you understand more about the significance. That’s important. This is a huge part of gay culture and history.

Here’s the first of a series of articles that will be covering gay history with regard to New York City. I was just a child at the time so I don’t recall anything in detail, but living in NJ so close to NYC as a kid I remember the general feeling. You just knew something was happening. Something big. This one is about Stonewall.

It was a Mafia-owned private club that catered to Greenwich Village’s emerging community. Like all gay bars at the time, the place was subject to frequent police raids—just another fact of life at a time when homosexuality was outlawed and pretty much everyone was on what now call the DL. 

Here’s the link to this one. 

FREE Excerpt Kendle’s Fire. Even though this is chapter 4, I don’t think it gives out any huge spoilers. It does, though, mention one central focus in the book, with regard to what makes Kendle a little different. This isn’t the final edited version for publication either, so there might be some small issues. But not many.

After the interview with Keesha at The Old Italian Peoples Café and Bakery, he phoned Dale and asked him over for dinner that night. He told Dale he had a surprise for him that he couldn’t mention on the phone. He said it was good news and he wanted to share it in person. Then he stopped at his favorite take out place in Smoke Tree to pick up ribs because he knew how much Dale loved them. After that, he felt so inspired he drove to one of his favorite erotic boutiques to pick up a brand new outfit. This would be another surprise for Dale, something he knew Dale would love because he’d mentioned it a few times. Up until then, Kendle had been apprehensive about this one particular outfit. It had always seemed a bit of an exaggeration, even for him. It was a little too frilly and feminine, a fetish that made him both curious and cautious. He’d always been more turned on by combining his masculinity with something more along the lines of black leather and lace. And this was pushing that rare combination to a completely different limit.
 Although he normally ordered his fetish gear online, for obvious reasons, he sometimes frequented a small erotic boutique that was located in a quiet strip mall on the outskirts of the city. So far, he’d only purchased the most basic items they sold like cock rings, dildos, and black leather vests. In other words, he’d only purchased the masculine items in person, never the feminine lingerie items. However, he felt so animated that afternoon he figured it was time to find out what it was like to do this in person and see what kind of reactions he would receive from the people who worked there. He knew one thing for certain: the people who worked in places like this erotic boutique knew the meaning of discretion. In fact, anyone who went into the shop understood discretion.
This particular strip mall had a rear parking lot and the erotic boutique had a rear entrance. He parked near a palm tree, took a quick breath, and climbed out of the car. As he headed for the back door, he felt his heart race and a tingling sensation in his jaw. After a wave of anxiety, he almost turned around and went back to the car. However, he stopped, took a few deep breaths, and continued. He’d come this far, he’d always wanted to try out this particular fetish with Dale, and he was a grown man who wasn’t doing anything wrong. He had to repeat this to himself in order to continue because there was still a small self-loathing part of him that made him feel as if he was doing something wrong.
 When he entered the store through the back door, he looked around and saw that he was the only customer. It was filled with merchandise that ranged from kinky corsets to black leather chaps. He crossed to the middle of the store, passing a shelf filled with gas masks, where he found a young man in his twenties sitting behind a long glass counter filled with cock rings. He was reading something on his phone. The young man had short wavy blond hair, a strong solid jaw, and broad shoulders. If he hadn’t been sitting behind the counter of an erotic boutique, Kendle would have imagined him working in construction or as an auto mechanic. And the fact that the young man didn’t fit any particular stereotype helped calm Kendle’s racing heart.
He felt so comfortable seeing this young man there, he walked right up to the counter and said, “Good afternoon. I’d like to purchase something a little unusual and I’m going to need some help. I’m Kendle.” Then he reached out to shake the young man’s hand.
The young man sent him a nonplussed look and set his phone down on the counter next to a black dildo. He shook Kendle’s hand reluctantly and said, “Well, isn’t that nice. I’m Walter. What’re you looking for, dude?”
Kendle smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Walter. As I said, this is a little unusual and I don’t want to shock you.” The few times Kendle had been here before there had been an older man behind the counter.
Walter shrugged and hopped off the stool he’d been sitting on. He was wearing a tight dark gray T-shirt, light gray jeans the hung low around his narrow waist, and those retro high top sneakers Kendle had been thinking about buying. “There’s not much that shocks me anymore, man. I just had a guy leave here with a bag full of nipple clamps. I don’t ask questions; I don’t judge. I do my job.”
“Well, this might shock you,” Kendle said. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you’d expect a guy like me to buy. I’m a former Marine.”
Walter folded his arms across his muscular chest and said, “Try me.”
Kendle took another quick breath and said, “Well, it’s an outfit. It’s a kinky outfit.”
“What kind of outfit?”
“It’s an outfit I’ve been thinking about getting for a while.” He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud.
Walter remained expressionless, as if he couldn’t wait to get back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone. “Let’s do this, man. You tell me what you want to see first, and we’ll pick out the outfit step by step.”
Kendle smiled wider. “I like that idea. In fact, I think it’s perfect. And it’s a lot easier than trying to explain it aloud.”
“Okay, what do you want first, dude?”
Kendle hesitated for a moment, and then said, “First, I’d like a pair of white high heels in a size 13.” Then he giggled, which he usually did whenever he was nervous about something.
Walter’s eyebrows went up and this time he sent Kendle a smile. “I get it, man. No problem. Just relax and let me take care of everything.” He pointed to a doorway with a red curtain in a far corner of the store. “You go over to that small dressing room and take off your clothes and wait for me. I’ll get you everything you need so you don’t have to stand out here and explain it all in case anyone comes inside.”
“Take off all my clothes?”
“Well, you want to make sure it all fits, don’t you? You can’t return anything here once you bought it. And I’d hate to see you buy something that doesn’t fit.”
Kendle thought for a moment, and he hesitated again. Of course that made perfect sense. He had purchased shoes and outfits online in the past and the sizes had been all wrong. He’d wasted his money and thrown them all away. It’s not as if he could donate them to a needy kinky person. So he nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll go get undressed and wait for you.”
Walter seemed more animated now, as if he couldn’t have cared less about what he’d been doing on his phone. “I’ll get you a couple of pairs of white high heels in size 13. We carry a lot of shoes and you might want to try a few pairs on to see which you like the best.”
Kendle hadn’t realized he would have that many choices and he smiled even wider. “I like that. I do have a particular style that I like. I don’t want anything with a platform, or anything with an ankle strap. And dear God, nothing with a wedge. I’m not into that librarian look. I’d rather have something simple, a white pump with nothing less than a six inch heel.”
“You got it, dude,” Walter said.
A minute or two later, Walter pushed the red curtain to the right and stomped into the small dressing room with a stack of boxes containing white high heels. Kendle was standing there wearing nothing but a white thong. He’d even removed his socks. The only reason he was wearing a thong that day was because he’d been job hunting, otherwise, he wouldn’t have been wearing underwear at all.
 Walter set the boxes on the floor and took a look at him standing there in his thong. “Dude, you must work out a lot.” Then he patted Kendle’s ass and said, “Hard like a rock.”
“Well, thank you,” Kendle said. He found this exchange a bit awkward and unexpected. “You obviously work out, too.”
“I’m a wrestler,” Walter said. He lifted his right arm and flexed his bicep. “Feel that.”
Kendle hesitated. “I don’t have to do that.”
“Go on,” Walter said. “Feel how hard that is. I play football, too.”
Kendle squeezed his bicep and said, “Yes, it is firm all right.”
Walter lowered his arm and asked, “What’s next?” He sounded as excited at Kendle felt.
“I’d like a white garter belt, white stockings, and some kind of white corset,” Kendle said. He figured it was silly to go step by step now. They guy had seen him in a thong, not to mention the fact that if there had been any shame it had disappeared the moment he smacked his behind.
“That sounds hot.”
“It does?”
“Yeah, man,” Walter said, rubbing his palms together. “I think I know exactly what you want. You just wait right here and I’ll get it all together and you can try it on.”
“But the stockings are one size fits all, aren’t they?” Kendle asked. “I don’t need to try them on.”
“You really should try them on,” Walter said. “You never know. You should try the whole outfit on just to see how it’s going to look. And I’ll let you know if it’s right or not. I’ll also throw in a free pair of stockings if you try them on right now.”
“You will?” This was a bit of a surprise to Kendle.
“Dude, I can’t wait to see it,” Walter said. “I work here part time. I’m a senior in college and the only customers I normally see are old people looking for some of the weirdest shit you ever heard of. This morning I had an old dude who wanted feathers, and he wanted me to tickle him with the feathers to see how they would feel. It’s not every day of the week a hot looking guy like you comes in here looking for an outfit this hot.”
“Well, thanks,” Kendle said. “That’s very flattering. I just didn’t expect it. I assumed you were straight.”
“I am straight,” Walter said. “For the most part, but not totally. I’ve been with dudes before, but I’ve never seen one dress up like this. That’s another reason why you have to try on everything. I’m really into this kind of thing, you know, when dudes dress up this way. I think I can give you a good, honest opinion.” Then he reached around and smacked Kendle’s ass again. But he wasn’t as animated anymore. He seemed reluctant to admit that he liked seeing men dress up in kinky outfits.
Kendle felt a wave of guilt, and then shame. Oh, if the Marines could only see him now. If his parents in LA could see him what would they think? And yet he couldn’t deny that he wanted to put the outfit on for Walter. He wanted Walter to see him in the outfit, because that kind of forbidden exhibitionism was part of what his fetish was all about. “Okay, calm down. I’ll try everything on. Are you sure you know what I want?”
“Just trust me, dude,” Walter said. “I’ll pick out everything I’d want to see you wear. It’s going to be so hot, just wait and see.”
“Okay,” Kendle said. “I’ll trust you completely. But it has to be a little frilly and everything has to be white. I’m doing this for a friend, not just for myself. He’s been asking me to do this for a while and I’ve been putting it off.”
Walter looked him up and down again and said, “You have a very lucky friend.”
After Walter left him alone, he closed the red curtain and sat down on a huge red velvet chair that was trimmed in bright gold. He opened the boxes Walter had left on the floor and started trying on different pairs of white high heels. By the time Walter returned with the rest of his outfit, he was standing in front of a full length mirror with his back to the doorway wearing nothing but white stilettos and a thong.
Of course shy young Walter just pushed the curtain aside and walked into the dressing room. He set a pile of things he’d collected in the store on the red velvet chair and stared at Kendle’s legs. “Here you go, man. Just put them all on and let me know when you’re done. I want to see the entire outfit.”
Then he left Kendle standing there in the dressing room with a pile of fetish gear not knowing what to think. There wasn’t that much of an age difference between them. Kendle was 26 and he figured if this guy was still a senior in college he was probably 21 or 22. But like most straight men Kendle knew around that age, Walter acted and sounded younger. He was definitely certain Walter was over 18 otherwise he never would have been allowed to work in an erotic boutique.
After Kendle examined everything Walter had brought into the dressing room, he opened a package of white stockings first. The instant he slid the first one up his leg he felt the same sense of instant gratification he always experienced whenever he got dressed up in kinky, sexy outfits. After he put on the second white stocking with the white lace border at the top, he put on a white garter belt and clipped the lace in the front and back of both stockings to keep them up. These weren’t the kind that stayed up by themselves like most of the kinky stockings Kendle owned, which made this particular outfit even more arousing.
By the time he finished, he glanced into the full length mirror and turned a few times. The white high heels were perfect, the white stockings made his heart pound, and the white corset stopped a few inches above where the garter belt began. He was glad Walter had brought him a short white mini skirt that was no wider than a scarf. Though he normally didn’t wear skirts, this time it hid the erection that was poking through the white thong. He didn’t put on everything that young Walter had brought him. He’d left the fluffy white wig and the white lace gloves on the red velvet chair. For Kendle, dressing up this way wasn’t about his need to be a woman, nor was it about his need to pretend to be a woman for men. It was about his need to be a man wearing kinky feminine lingerie. In many ways it was the complete opposite of what anyone would even expect him to do, and he often thought that’s why he experienced so much satisfaction doing it.
While he was staring at the reflection of his thighs, Walter pushed the curtain aside without knocking first and walked into the dressing room. He made a fist and fake punched the wall. “Damn, baby, that is hot. Now put on the wig and lace gloves.”
Kendle turned sideways and arched his back. “I don’t think so. I’m not into the wig thing or the gloves. What I’m wearing right now is perfect. I’ll take it. You’ve been a huge help today.”
While Kendle continued to stare at his image, he felt a large hand slide up the back of the mini skirt. It rested on his bare buttocks and Walter said, “Dude, you look so hot. There’s no need to thank me.”
Walter started to rub his ass and he turned and took a step back. “I think I’ll get dressed now. I have ribs in the car and I have to get them home.” The ribs were only an excuse to get rid of Walter. He’d put the ribs in a cooler that he kept in the car at all times. He’d lived in Palm Springs long enough to know that if he was going to stop at the store for anything he had to bring a cooler along just in case it got too hot outside or he got sidetracked.
“I’ll pay for the ribs,” Walter said, taking a step closer. He grabbed Kendle by the waist and smiled. “I locked the doors so no one can some inside and bother us. The store is empty, except for you and me.” Then his hands slid down Kendle’s waist to the bottom of the short skirt.
As Walter lifted the skirt slowly, Kendle couldn’t deny a strong sense of arousal. At that moment he hadn’t been this aroused in a long time. He thought this was partly because of the new kinky white outfit, and partly because Walter was definitely a good looking guy. This was that straight guy fantasy for Kendle that didn’t happen very often, so he spread his legs, closed his eyes, and arched his back.
While Walter grabbed him and nuzzled his neck, he rested his palms on Walter’s shoulders and said, “I thought you were straight.”
“I am, sort of,” Walter said, with a breathless voice. “I guess I’m pansexual. I love hot transvestites, sissies, and cross dressers. I can’t explain it. I just love them. It’s what I’m into most of all.”
“But I’m not a transvestite,” Kendle said. “I’m not a cross dresser either.” Whether or not he was a sissy left room for doubt, but he wasn’t going to get into that right at that moment. He’d heard the terms sissy and ladyboy before and he didn’t think that’s what he was, at least not technically. Neither one of those terms bothered him, but he didn’t want to lead Walter into believing something untrue.
“God damn you’re hot,” Walter said. “You’re so smooth, too.”
“I manscape,” Kendle said. He didn’t know how else to reply.
“Oh, yes you do,” Walter said, trying to turn Kendle all the way around. He’d lifted the skirt all the way up and now he was tugging the white lace thong.
Kendle had never been one to judge, and he’d never had restrictions about sex. He had been in situations where he’d done things with men that he’d regretted and he’d learned from his past mistakes. In his defense, he’d usually had a few drinks in those circumstances, but he was totally sober now and there was no excuse. It felt wrong. He knew if he continued this he’d wind up having sex with Walter right there in the dressing room and then he’d go home and regret it later. He’d feel cheap and used. He’d felt that way before and he didn’t want to feel that way again, especially not sober.
So he pushed Walter gently and said, “I really have to go now, man. I’m sorry. But you can go out to the counter and wait for me. I’m buying everything.”
“C’mon, dude,” Walter said, with his face buried in Kendle’s neck. “Just a quick one. I never get anyone in here like you.”
“Well, I’m sorry for that,” Kendle said. “But I really do have to get dressed now.”
“Seriously,” Kendle said.
“I can make you feel really good,” Walter said.
“You probably can,” Kendle said. “But you need to calm down now. It’s not going to happen. It just feels too creepy.”
After he said that, Walter released him and took a few steps back. He adjusted his dick in a cute natural way and shook his head. “Okay, I’ll stop. You get dressed and I’ll wait for you outside. I know how to take a hint and I don’t want to offend you. I like you too much. If you’re not into me, that’s fine. I get it.”
Kendle felt a lump in his throat. “It’s not that I’m not into you. You’re a great looking guy. I just don’t want to do this right here, right now. It’s the timing that’s off. Doing it this way, in here, just feels too weird. It’s like a bad porno film and we’re the main characters. I’m sorry.” He already felt odd buying all these things in person.
Walter turned toward the doorway and smiled. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I’ll wait for you out at the counter.”
A few minutes later, Kendle finished dressing and gathered up all the merchandise Walter had brought him and he left the dressing room with his arms full. He crossed to the counter and set everything down. “I’ll take everything.” Even though he wasn’t into the wig or the lace gloves, he figured he might want to experiment with them sometime in the future. Besides, he still felt bad about turning Walter down and he wasn’t totally sure why.
Walter reached for a large plain white shopping bag under the counter and smiled. “Sounds good, man.” He wasn’t as aggressive anymore. He didn’t seem dejected or insulted either. He remained smiling and talking as if nothing bad had transpired between them.
It didn’t take long to tally up the sale and finish the transaction. When Walter handed him the shopping bag, he hesitated for a moment and said, “Can I at least have your number? I promise I’m not a creep or a perv. Maybe we can be friends or something. You never know.”
Kendle laughed. “Well, you are a little bit of a perv.”
“That’s true,” Walter said. “But seriously, man, you’re not perfect either. I just want to keep in touch, is all. I promise I won’t start texting you in the middle of the night or anything.”
“I think it’s okay to exchange numbers,” Kendle said. He thought about it fast and wondered if Dale would be interested in Walter. Dale had suggested they have a 3-way a few times but they’d never actually found a third that was right for them. But more than that, he trusted Walter. Kendle had a feeling there was a lot more to him than he was willing to explain in one quick encounter.
After they exchanged information, Kendle took the bag and headed toward the back door where he’d entered. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll stop back again.”
Walter smiled and said, “Any time, man. I’ll give you a call one of these days and check in with you.”

“I hope you do,” Kendle said, and he meant it. For some reason he found difficult to parse, he felt better leaving that shop after turning Walter down than he’d felt in a while. For the first time, not having anonymous sex with a stranger made him feel stronger and empowered. He’d not only left with his self-respect, but he’d also made a friend. He knew deep down he would keep in touch with Walter. And this time it wouldn’t be awkward and about sex. When they met again, it would be about keeping in touch with a guy who had understood the meaning of mutual respect for other human beings. In fact, he smiled all the way out to the car thinking about how excited Dale would be to see him in this kinky outfit later that night.

Sleepless In San Francisco

Kendle's Fire by [Field, Ryan]

Altered Parts by [Field, Ryan]