Straight Guys Flirt with Gays
If you talk to any gay man and mention straight guys flirting with gay guys the gay man won’t look back at you in shock. And that’s because it happens all the time. But more important, in this case there’s really no set rule or stereotype to follow either and in many cases the flirting sometimes leads to more…but not always.
This particular blog post I’m linking to now discusses the attraction gay men have for straight men in a more streetwise way that I don’t see very often. And while I don’t agree with everything in the post personally, I don’t think anything the author wrote could be disputed either. In other words, we often get the wrong impression from the mainstream media about gay men…and, unfortunately, we often get the wrong impression about gay men from other ambitious gay men who are only interested in promoting themselves and promoting the worst gay male stereotypes.
In any event, this is an interesting blog post that talks about things gay men usually talk about when they are alone. How do I know this? Because I’m gay.
Mind you, when gay guys enter a round of flirting with someone new, we are keen to look for signs of gayness/queerness. The “gay” voice, a rainbow thing, a leftover stamp from a gay club in town. Sure, the whole practice is rooted in stereotypes, but it’s the only way. My guy had clean nails, kooky glasses, fun shoes and overall he looked sort of kooky so I told myself, “Okay this guy is gay for sure.”
And then he did the thing that makes gay guys all over the world sad and cringe:
“My wife and I…”
UGH. Penis fail. I don’t even remember what he said after those four words because I stopped listening. He realized I’m flirting with him or he’s flirting with me or we’re both flirting with each other all along so he pulls out his “straight card” to throw some cold water on the fire.
You can read more here. I don’t want to comment any further because it would wind up sounding like a review of the post and I don’t want to do that. It’s honest; it’s good; check it out.
Ryan Field Allromanceebooks
Here’s another round of e-books that just went up on Allromanceebooks.com. All are .99 e-books, they are either short stories or novellas, and if anyone has an questions about them feel free to e-mail me here: email@example.com.
That Cowboy in the Window (this is a gender bending story; please read the blurb in full)
Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza (this is a love story with a lot of romance and *less* sexy scenes)
Something for Saint Jude (this is a sexy gay story with love, romance, and a little twist)
Skater Boy (this book was once banned because of the title…I assure you there are no underage characters, it’s not a barely legal story, there is nothing that goes against any standard guidelines for basic erotic romance, and one of the characters is actually older than most characters I create…it’s really more about the gay skater boy fantasy, and the word boy is only an expression, not something literal)
FREE Excerpt Cherry Soda Cowboy
This free excerpt comes from Cherry Soda Cowboy, an indie story I released this year. You can read the beginning here, and then you’ll have to click the link to my other blog to read the adult content. As a side note, the theme of this story is in keeping with the theme of this post: gay guys flirting with straight guys. It’s also set in the future, which I don’t do very often. This is from the raw, unedited version in my files.
Of course some of these guys are only interested whipping their dicks out for a quick piss and jack at the urinals. But others are actively looking for a little fast morning action on their way to work and they aren’t shy about letting other guys know what they want. But don’t get me wrong. It’s not as if this is a well-known cruise spot by any means. You’d be amazed at how many innocent types use these same rest rooms…men and women…and never realize what’s happening right before their eyes. Admittedly, half the fun is in distinguishing who is looking for action and who just wants to use the rest rooms for practical purposes. It can be both entertaining and frustrating to watch the more aggressive types cruise the innocents, and they do it without a clue.
I also think it’s important to mention this place is not exclusive to the furtive desires of men who love men. I have seen more than one woman pull up to a car where a man has been waiting with the motor running. I’ve seen these women climb out of their cars, jump into the car where the man has been waiting, and pull up their dresses. Most people wouldn’t even notice something like this. It takes a certain amount of trained observation talent to pick up on it. And I’m not judging it. I’m just pointing out that the heterosexuals meet up in places like this, too. And more often than not when they do it there’s only one reason: infidelity. If I sound as if I take pride in this, and that I find it both ironic and amusing, it’s because I do. Although there are rarely police at this state park, the few times people have been arrested they’ve always gone after the gay men for cruising, not the straight people. Some things never change.
In any event, one morning last May, an unusually warm, humid day for late spring, I was just finishing a four mile run when I noticed a three-wheel streaming Internet TV van pull up to the rest room. It was a typical late model white van, with ladders and equipment fastened to the roof and the Streaming Internet TV logo painted on the sides. It had been about three weeks since I’d seen any men pull up to the rest room at the same time when I jog so I decided to watch very closely. Through foggy side windows I could see there was only one guy in the van that morning (sometimes they travel in pairs, which can be awkward). I knew he’d seen me jogging the path when he pulled into the park, but it was too soon to know if he was cruising or simply stopping to use the facilities.
The driver’s side door opened and a stocky athletic guy in his early twenties stepped down from the van and walked toward the heavy rest room door. He was medium height, had a large frame and wore a black cowboy hat. I also noticed black cowboy boots, loose jeans, and a plain white tee-shirt…all very clean and ready to begin a new day. Without sending me as much as a backward glance to let me know he’d seen me, he walked toward the rest room with heavy wide steps, tugged at his dick a few times in an innocuous way, pushed the door open with his fist, and then let it slam.
My heart started beating faster. I kept thinking about the fist he’d made, the black cowboy boots, and the cowboy hat. So I waited near my car for a few minutes, walking back and forth, cooling down from the run and counting the minutes since he’d entered the rest room. If he were only there to pee I knew he’d be out in less than three minutes, and going into the rest room for me would just be a waste of time. The longer he took the more I knew I had a chance with him.
Four or five minutes later, though I still wasn’t certain he was there to cruise, I suspected it might be worth my while to go inside and see what was happening. So I took a quick glance at my hair in the reflection of my car window, adjusted my shirt, and turned toward the rest rooms. Then I stopped and went back to the car. I had a can of illegal sugary soda in a brown paper bag and I wanted to take it with me just in case I might get some action.
On the way to the rest room, I walked slowly, feeling awkward about the sweat stains on my shirt and the bag with soda in my hand. I fought the urge to cough because I didn’t want to bring attention to myself. I opened the metal door as though it were perfectly normal and entered the dark, musty building I knew so well. There was a short hall, and then a quick turn to the left that led to the main mens room where there were three gray graffiti covered stalls, two rust-streaked, pee-stained urinals and one small sink with only cold running water. A narrow row of dirty windows at the top of one wall allowed some natural light, but all you could see were branches and leaves when you looked up.
With a quick glance to the right, I saw the TV guy sitting on a toilet in one of the stalls. His pants were around his ankles and his right hand held his big cock. The door to the stall was slightly ajar, a signal that he was in no rush, and that he probably knew I’d seen him holding his cock. But I still couldn’t be certain that he was cruising or that the situation was totally safe. I knew some guys just like to get off, all alone, and if they are disturbed it could get violent. Had he opened the door, spread his hairy legs and pointed toward his cock I would have been on my knees sucking him off right at the toilet, sipping sugary soda in between sucks. But he didn’t do that, and one of my rules for cruising this rest room was that I’d never make the first obvious move toward the other guy. No matter how horny or eager I was.
However, I also knew there were certain things I could do to get his attention and to let him know that I was interested.
Though I couldn’t see him completely, I knew full well that he could see every move I made, because I’d been where he was sitting more than one time. So I decided to put on a small show to see if I could get a reaction from him. After working out and running most of my life, my body is in good shape. My legs are long and lean, my waist only thirty inches and I have a chest pumped up to a full forty-three inches. My ass is round and firm and smooth due to the fact that I shave everything, except for a small, dark-blond, patch in the shape of an upside down triangle above my dick, every three days. When I jog in the summer months I only wear running shoes, a tight pair of Lycra shorts and a loose fitting tank top. Though I know I’ll never have bulging muscles, I am lean and firm and have an eight inch dick that flops around nicely when it is soft and stands firmly with a slight upward curve when hard. I might not be model material, but I’ve never been kicked out of bed by anyone.
Without hesitation, I rested the bag with the soda on a tall windowsill covered with cobwebs and I slowly began to remove my running shoes and socks in total silence. From the corner of my eye I saw the door of the stall where he was sitting move slightly. I then pulled off my shirt and yanked off my running shorts, placing them neatly in a pile on top of the paper towel dispenser to my right. I don’t wear underwear; I never have. When I was naked, I ran both palms through my damp blond hair and stretched, sucking in my waist and arching my back, spreading my legs in an exaggerated way. If he wasn’t interested he would think I was stretching after a long work out. If he was, he would know what I wanted.
After I stretched and posed, I scratched my dick and walked toward the sink in my bare feet to splash some cold water on my face and torso. Though this was bold, this wasn’t totally out of the ordinary for straight guys to do in locker rooms, and by no means illegal…yet. I was in a mens room, where only men were supposed to be, a sacred place for men to change clothes or wash up or use the toilets. I wasn’t crossing any lines or doing anything I shouldn’t have been doing. I’m sure if anyone had walked in and found me naked that way they would have thought it peculiar, but they wouldn’t have jumped to any conclusions either because I made it all look so natural.
I also had an advantage. Though the guy didn’t know this, I could see from the foggy old mirror over the old sink that he was watching every move I made through a slit in the door, with bulging eyes, while my back was turned to him. I saw him jacking his dick faster and leaning to the side. His lips were parted and he’d pushed the cowboy hat back a little. When some guys do this they appear lurid and sinister. This guy looked more adorable.