Five Sex Terms You May Not Know...

You may have heard the term on a television show, a movie, a song or even a rowdy dinner party.  However, maybe you were like me and actually had to do the research to find out what the terms actually meant...
So here are a few of the words that have passed my ears that I went out to find out exactly what they were...


Reach Around - You and your lover stand up while fucking.  The one behind reaches around and grabs the others tool and proceeds to stroke it back and forth while moving the waist back and forth.

Snow Blow - So you are going down on your lover.  Once he ejaculates in your mouth, you come up to kiss him and the ever seductive sloshing of two tongues is mixed with slimy semen.   

Golden Bath - Not a shower but a bath.  This is when a partner pisses into the colon of a lover.  A sort of 'piss-enema'. 

Dirty Sanchez - basically, its leaving a mustache of crap around the lips.  The way, after screwing a lover in the ass, the penis is immediately put into the receivers mouth, sans a wipe down, and the back and forth sucking will leave a smear of shit across the - usually - top lip.




Cleveland Steamer - one person craps on another person's chest and (very important) then sits down and rocks back and forth like a steam roller.






I don't know if I was enlightened or grossed out...?  Probably both!

To Festival or not to Festival?

How many gay guys actually enjoy weekend festivals?  How many of us relish the opportunity to really go wild and let all our hair down, to break it out on an uneven, rough and rugged dance floor, kicking up dust and getting a little dirty?  This past weekend, I found myself jamming it out in a valley amongst vineyards and peach tree plantations at a trance festival called The Village out in Franschoek.

Standing in a sea of people dancing with a lover, we were approached by oodles of women that just wanted to hug and kiss us and try get involved.  One girl, and she really was a girl, even tried to proposition a threesome with us...?  At that point I thought that maybe we were the only gays in the Village.  But how can this be?  It's Franschoek.  This little town is run by homosexuals.  Every little twirling-creeper covered cottage, villa filled section of land and guesthouse surrounded with epic mountains is probably got a little gay stuffed in there.  Ok, so then maybe it was festival specific...?

As the night went on it became clearer that the gays there are part of a different league of homo's.  The new wave of young guys, slightly emo, slightly alternative and slightly hippie, very care free and totally under the radar, is all rather attractive.  But they are also not waiting to be picked up... they do all the work.  Something tells me that I am going to really like this new wave of men.  This "new" wave rehash of the 60's movement of free love is very prevalent at something like this.  And the men really are taking it to a new level with all the old school hippie ideals right there behind them.

So now we are left wondering, do we ditch the neat clothes and shiny shoes and adopt the care free flimsy clothing that flutters so effortlessly amongst all the luminescent lights and decorations?  Do we ditch the bar seats for a grassy patch of earth?  

And are we trading a trick in a bed for two tricks in a tent?  

I don't know if it is the tired scene of clubbing - the usual music, the same miserable faces and the same barmen.  Or if I am just in the mood to try something new... But I want to do it again!  Taking a weekend to party in the sun during the day and party under the stars at night seems to be scratching that itchy spot of... "I really need to party, yo"

But doing it with some really awesome people makes it even more of a goodie.

The ABC OF a P.A.R.T.Y Weekend!

Partying like a rock star is no new thing to me and being a bit of a wild child I have learnt the ways in which to party to the max and get the most out of the time spent busting and shaking so that one can take a break from partying for a good long while once the weekend is over.  With a beefcake of a friend coming for the weekend I new I had to pull a pink bunny out of the floral hat.  With his arrival, we immediately hit the beach to get into the groove of things to come.  Taking in the view of the awesome apostles really sets the tone for the fact that "I am in Cape Town".   Tetrahydrocannabinol , also known as delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol , or dronabinol, is the main psychoactive substance found in the cannabis plant.  In short it makes you feel good and allows sights such as the mountain envelope you from within.  Allowing the muscles to relax, picking up your heart rate and at making the skin sensitive to heat or cold, is all so very prevalent.  But the most important property is the psychedelic aspect that makes something as amazing as the mountain sort of enter you in a spiritual way.

Moving over to Clifton 3rd, we soaked up the sun's rays.  The body produces Vitamin D from sunlight and a lack of Vitamin D can leave one feeling rather depressed.  And although there is no real recommendation on how much sunlight to get on ones skin, due in large part to cancer, sun is still pretty damn important.  So slap on the SPF 50 and run around outside.  Naturally, before taking part in a festival, I like to get some sun on my skin so that when i am dancing around, completely unaware, all day in the sun I do not burn.  So get some sun before you hit a festival.  Do not think you can get a tan there, all you will get is sunstroke.  And don't forget to drink as much H2O as possible. 

Arriving at Rocking the Daisies, we get settled and move over to the dam for a cocktail before the Arrows are set to start the day off.  A sweet, rum-based cocktail made with rum, cream of coconut, and pineapple juice, usually served either blended or shaken with ice. It may be garnished with a pineapple wedge or a maraschino cherry or both. The piña colada has been the official beverage of Puerto Rico since 1978... and mine since 2008.

Two girls walk into a rehearsal room armed with nothing but a drum, a keyboard and a handbag full of devastatingly honest melodies… Enter the beat-riddled brilliance of The Arrows!  Filled with rum, I allowed the Arrows to enter me...

Later on was a democratically-elected kings of cool, Gazelle. I grooved to disco and electro synth-pop and, of course, an elaborate show fitting to the audience of a third-world dictator.

Ending my night of bands with Jack Parow.  The fresh prince of Bellville and surrounds.  With a cap that’s longer than yours and razor-sharp lyrics about all things zef.

By that time it was time set it off with a little rush of the dance variety.  

And a man by the name of Regan had me busting such a jam that I almost came in my pants right there on the dance floor.  The lyrics, the beat, the bass... it all wrapped around my spine, up towards my brain and with every pulsation, it pulsated through my nerves to the ends of every part of my body.  I almost came in my pants right there on the dance floor!  So I guess that man has a new groupie and he can be guaranteed to have me following him around wherever he goes.

 The following day is spent around the dam until the sun becomes too hot.  Admittedly I am that guy that falls asleep just about anywhere, however, this time when I woke up I was surrounded by other people that also decided that it was nap time before hitting a dance tent to pick it all up by nightfall.

And by night it all begins again... to the max... alc, THC, VIT D, LARK, Electro, Molly, fungi and a whole lot of H2O.  Eventually I found myself alone on one of the dance floors breaking down as if it were the first time I had ever danced.  You will be surprised at how often you get hit on when you are alone and jamming as if you just don't give a damn.  Add to that, by very forceful women.  As cocky as I may be, when i dance I generally do it alone.  Dancing is like masturbating, one can achieve maximum pleasure when one is primarily focused on oneself:-D

Back to the women... the women would just immediately grab my belt and pull me closer.  The men would slowly creep I closer, trying to get their legs in between mine.  On both levels I am totally thrown off, mainly because I was waiting for a certain gentleman to magically pop up and dance with me, but that fairtytale did not come true.  So one can get laid at a festival and more than once, I guess I am just waiting for butterflies again, I mean the whole sleeping around a campsite... it's so 2006.

My feet are dead, calves are wrecked and I can barely sit down let alone stand.  Where is my B.E.D?

Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out

I am Erin Brokovich...?

Reading butterflies--hurricanes.blogspot  this morning, I came across a line that stuck out: "In contrast to straight people, gays often want their own appearance to match what they like to see in a lover."  And this got me thinking, do we put ourselves together for ourselves or do we put certain things in place in order to attract what we actually want?


Now if it were a set in stone rule then I would maybe have to rethink some of the things I wear.  I mean, I can dress like a bit of a skater skank at times but I am actually not interested in dating a skater skank, just think that white trash look is kinda sexy.  But in all fairness I am interested more in the gentlemen.  Looking back, two thirds of the men I have been in love with were all... well... nerds.  The rest I guess were skanks - sexy but skanky nonetheless.  Looking at the man above here, does the impression change from business look to ready-for-sex look in terms of how you perceive him?



In light of the actual blogs topic though, he was talking about tattoos, I thought about whether my inked body is a result of what I want a lover to be?  Or is it all me?  Personally it seems more of two ideas holding hands because I would not put something on my body I did not actually like purely to grab attention that I have a tattoo (ergo why I do not have a tribal tattoo or stars).  Nor would I put some of the things I dig on my body because it might detour men with its unsightliness or pure bad taste.  It needs to complement each other.  Attract what you want to attract and still please you for years to come.  


So what would my tattoo say about a lover I want:  He must be strong but know how to decorate a cake.  He must always be willing and able to grow.  He must be bright and bring colour to my life.  And he needs to know a good thing when it is in front of him... touching his toes:-D






Does it make a difference?  Between these two pics of Mr Beckham?  Does it change your opinion?

So in light of the title of this post I will you leave you with a quote from the film : "It just so happens that I think I look nice and as long as I have one ass instead of two, I will wear whatever I Goddamn like... If that's ok with you"

Love Movies or Movies for Lovers?

So, who exactly are love stories made for?  For the hopeless romantic sitting at home with a bowl of popcorn dreaming of something magical?  For two lovers to cling to each other when the romance in the film starts to over boil like rice that has been left too long?

The answer is C... all of the above.

In full-on film going mode, I drenched my viewing pleasure in some of the best love stories that I have not yet had the pleasure of watching.  And it was a lovely mix of Romantic comedy, an epic romance and the inevitable true life - love and loss - romance.  Is it a question of pertaining certain aspects to our own experiences or is it about dreaming of that love to come... and if so, would you choose one of the above genres to try fall into or would you try amalgamate all into one piece, to form your idea of love or the love you are living at the moment?  Do we have to relate in order to be engaged?

It has always been a popular understanding that forming characters with problems we can relate to transcends a movie on screen from that of just a movie, to art that touches your soul.  So this would be the ultimate achievement as a writer, to create someone that is completely relatable.  But when it comes to a love story, I very seldom find myself relating to either of the people caught up in the messy business of love and tend to rely more on their sub-plot as individuals to find something to relate to.

For example, in "No Strings Attached", we have two young adults who are out to simply satisfy the need for companionship without the complications of a commitment.  So who would be more relatable?   On one side, we have a young woman that is afraid of getting hurt.  A woman so guarded that she is unable to let the greatness that comes from a relationship to come into her life.  And on the other side we have a man with a broken heart, because of his father, that is lifted up in the air by the charismatic way about this woman.  I tend to lean towards the guarded woman.
The movie was a pleasure to watch albeit with a very predictable ending - which was actually great to watch, due in large part to the brilliance that is Natalie Portman's craft.

To off set the happy ending I put in "Blue Valentine" next.  It's one of those great, hard-hitting, love stories.  Wrapped up with a brilliant soundtrack and some magical cinematic moments.  It's a love story like no other.  their relationship is so layered and we slowly watch the dissipation of their love as the movie jumps between past and present.  Here we have a kind-hearted, carefree and lazy man that has fallen in love with a woman that has more baggage than he was initially expecting.  She in turn is a hard working, rigid and responsible woman.  Her love for him intensifies from that initial "honeymoon" phase to something rather serious in a short amount of time and her dependability on him is palpable.  By the end I could totally relate to him.  Nothing harder than leaving the one you love alone because they asked you to.

And to pick myself up, "Water for Elephants" was the last one on the menu.  It is truly a delight to watch in that old school kind of epic-love-story-that-stands-the-test-of-time way.  A man with a gift for animals meets a girl with a gift for animals and the only thing standing in their way is her husband.  But he is not just your normal jealous husband... he is wicked down to his black heart that is filled with greed.  She gives him a reason to strive for something and he gives her the possibility of a new life and freedom.

In love, not in love.  Relatable or not... who gives a shit.  Watch these three movies, they are all real goodies yo'.  And should leave you feeling something by the end of them.

Enjoy!

Just Sink Wash Your Junk!

"Imagine you went down on someone and their joint tastes like cheese and chives chips..." a friend said that to me one evening.

After some wine to fuel the mood, him and i got the giggles where we said some of the dumbest things to each other.  But along with the dumb comes the fun and the idea of taking second helpings or double dipping to another really fascinated us.

How would we respond?  How would you respond?  Say it was even a quick little hook up and the hottie standing in front of you just whips it out, as if he is presenting you with a prize, and once you pop it in your mouth all you can taste is the meal, that the person sucking before, was eating.  Gross... right?  Or completely hilarious?  At what point do you say "No, I will not suck that..." or rather should I say for who would we say no to.

How arrogant must a man be that he would not even sink wash his junk before the next man in line?  So do we perceive that arrogance as hot or not?

So prevent any chance of a second meal, here is a plan for you guys who love the odd blow job - run some water and stick your dick under it.  Give it a few jiggles then finally you have made an effort to keep it clean.  Etiquette for random and anonymous cock-sucking... who would have though? LOL

What is Home?

A Slice of Gay Pie: What is Home?

By: Juanne-Pierre de Abreu

Published October 2011

In Cape Town, the city with oodles of possibilities, however lacking any real sense of urgency, I find myself wondering if it has become my home yet?  And not to say that I am wondering if I am a Cape Tonian yet or not, but how comfortable am I really in a city filled with strangers?  It is the saying we have all heard before “Home is where the heart is”.  So when do we know we are home?  When do we know for sure that which our heart deems home sweet home is in actual fact home sweet home? 

Packing a bag and heading back to Johannesburg for work, I decided it was time to put myself to the test and see whether I ran away from Johannesburg or if I ran towards Cape Town.  Where does my heart lie?

I land in OR Tambo and the land is dusty and brown.  The crisp air reminds me of early hours waking up for school time.  A memory I care not to remember because lets face it, coming out is really when I felt my life began and I only did so in my Matric year.  So with miserable memories flushing back into the foreground of my mind I am already very unimpressed to be back… ‘home’. 

So would it be fair of me to totally throw all that Johannesburg is made up of, down the sink merely because it is bitterly cold, unattractive and dry?  Of course not, because what makes Jozzie town an amazing city are the people, the many different faces and smiles that have all seemed to find themselves crammed into this, albeit very large, landmass.  Working hard and socializing even harder.  It’s the city of cool people.  So why have I left?  Why have I abandoned all these very amazing South African people for another city.

The sea is a biggie, the mountain too, the foreign men are a bonus but it all boils down to the fact that I can walk the streets… and no I do not mean work the streets.  In Cape Town, it is possible to walk the streets of the city at night.  Yes, one should always be vigilant but the walking of the streets has more to do with the fact that it is pedestrian friendly than because it is not as riddled with crime as the City of gold.  If one has to walk around in Jozzie you mainly just walk past high wall after high wall, security complex after security complex.  This is hardly pleasing to any of the senses when one wants to take a stroll just around their block.

Hardly half way through my project and I am missing Cape Town, missing the moisture in the air that the cool sea breeze brings in and missing the sidewalk shops that I pass on my way to the grocery shop - sans the mall.  However, Jozzie is my little sin city now.  The men are so delicious with their inviting attitude and friendly demur.  One cannot help but to dive off the top high board towards the deep, swirling pool of men… all waiting to swim with you.  

With all the back stabbing that goes on in the Mother City it was good to be back amongst men who understand what it means to be a community.  It took me a while to drop the whole “Don’t touch me” attitude I adopted from that little Mountainous Seaside Village but eventually I swam.  I dived down so deep I almost did not come up for air.  Almost.

But Like any good Sin City, there is always a time when we have to leave.  And I will say it again: There comes a time we HAVE to leave.  This time of year shows us exactly how amazing change can be.  Spring is in full force up here on the Highveld.  The first thunderstorm has raged over our heads, flashing its bright lights and cracking some pretty fierce thunder.  And the flowers are in full bloom, which fills the morning and evening air with some of the sweetest smells.  Now I prepare to get my overworked ass back home.  Leaving Jozzie town to return to my lazy little Village by the sea and next to the mountain.  It has become my home even though it seems I am going home to nobody… but like spring from winter, we learn that something will come from nothing and with the best treatment it can blossom.