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Sistine Going on Seventies -NSFW



You know the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel?

Where Michelangelo painted Creation of Adam?

What if did 70’s porn, too?

In case you missed it, a modern take on Gainsborough’s Blue Boy here. (NSFW)



The Marriage Fold


Granny is a worker.

It’s just her nature.

So much so that she gets very frustrated about the things she physically can’t do anymore.  Particularly things involving keeping the home.

She loves to cook, but can’t lift heavy pots and pans filled with food or comfortably stand for very long.

Most house work is out of the question except for light sweeping, which I ultimately go back and do because she doesn’t see well and I have OCD.

One thing she can still do is fold laundry.

I hate folding. But, my OCD will not allow me to not do it.

So, we often do it together.

I put a pile of socks on her lap and she matches and rolls them.

I do the rest and we talk.

A weeks or so ago, during one of our folding bees she turned the conversation, as she often does, to The Attorney and me.

“You know boys can marry boys, now” she reminded me for the umpteenth time.

It was kind of sweet but I had to remind her for the umpteenth time, “Not in Tennessee.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment.  Then she came back with “That’s not right.”

I don’t know if she meant that I was not right or the situation isn’t.

Either way, yes I am and no it isn’t.

Even though I am not itching to get married1, it’s not right that those who do have that itch have to go to another state to scratch it.

Around a month ago I ran into a guy I knew from about 20 years ago.  The last time I saw him, he was at Dairy Queen with his wife and little daughter.  He moved away at some point in those 20 years and was back in town visiting family.

With his husband.

We all had the feeling back then that he was gay.  Everyone seemed to feel that way.

Except his wife.

He looks great after all these years and he and his husband seem like a good couple.  They appeared to be very happy. And I’m happy for them.2

But, I couldn’t help wonder about his wife and daughter.

What is their life like now?

A common argument among the anti-gay marriage front is that gay marriage hurts straight marriage.

A bigger danger to straight marriages is not allowing gay marriage.

Here is a guy who  married a woman and fathered a child with her because society told him to.  And now they are divorced.

They may still be friends and everything beokay between them all.   That’s definitely the best case.

But if gay marriage had been available to him, perhaps they both would have married others and there might have been one less straight marriage hurt.

It’s all speculation, of course.  There’s no way to know what might have been.

He may have still been closeted and married her anyway.

Or if he was straight, they may still have gotten a divorce.

Which is sort of my point.

It isn’t sexuality that hurts marriages.

It’s marrying the wrong person, for whatever reason they are not the right one, that does.

  1. If it ain’t broke… 

  2. Interestingly he was surprised to find out I was not married.  Let alone not to a woman. 


The Question of Nudity – NSFW



There’s nothing like a naked man’s body.

Except maybe one that’s not quite naked.

I tend to get turned on more easily buy a guy in some clothes rather than none.

And I’m talking about regular clothes. Not something “designed” to be sexy.1

Clothes don’t make men sexy.

Men make clothes sexy.

I think it’s because I’m sort of a nudist at heart. I’d probably never wear clothes if it weren’t required by law. So I guess naked doesn’t seem as special to me.

And I kind of  like the idea of that last bit not coming off until I say so.

Or I do it myself.

Even then it doesn’t have to be all they way.

Nudity is more about comfort than function.

I only need you naked enough to do what needs to be done.

The britches don’t really have to come of.  They just need to be get below the cheeks.

You know. Low enough to get in.

And sometimes it’s good to have a shirt tail to grab onto when they get a little skittish and try to get away.  Especially if they have short hair.

Don’t get me wrong.  I can’t think of too many instances where I’m going to tell a man to put his clothes on.

So, I guess ultimately it works for me either way.

And as long as things are working, to be or not to be naked really isn’t a question.

  1. Most of that stuff just looks trashy. 


Leather Daddy-to-Be


I’ve been meaning for more than a week to follow up on The Attorney’s birthday.

Of course, that was the night of the Great Cutlery Assault of ’14.

But, otherwise it was a pretty wonderful night, despite Granny being cranky about the Harley shirt I got for her to give as a gift.

She didn’t like it.

“That’s just an cheap pullover.”

If I had told her I dropped 70 bucks on it, I would have really caught hell.

“If you had asked me, I would have picked out a nice dress shirt.  Something he could use.”

Yeah, Granny.  I bet he doesn’t already have dozens of those.

I explained the significance of the Harley shirt.  But she was convinced he would never wear it, so I promised her I would return it for something else.

Which I didn’t.

Because I knew she would forget.

And he would like it.

Which he did.

He thought it was the perfect compliment to the gift card for his helmet.

I won’t even begin to go into how Granny feels about how tasteless gift cards are.

But, it was for The Attorney.  Not for her.

He opened the little box after dinner, over pound cake.

And didn’t say a word, at first.

He looked at me funny.  I think because he wasn’t sure if it meant what he thought.

And didn’t want to ask, in case he was wrong.

So, I spoke first.

“You need to get yourself a helmet.”

He asked me if I was sure.

I ‘m sure that I don’t want to ever be a reason he feels unfulfilled.

So, I told him to take it how ever he wanted to.

He grinned his trademark huge-mouthed grin and I saw a weight lift off him that looked like it would have required ten men.

I had no idea, until then, just how tough a position I’d had put him in over the motorcycle.

“You know there’s no turning back, now,” he warned.

I’ll remind him of that when I complete his outfit with ass-less chaps for Christmas.


Modern Art (NSFW)


If Gainsborough were around today (and ran a porn studio), would The Blue Boy have looked more like this…?



Birthday sERprise


The Attorney spent his birthday night in the Emergency Room.

He’s okay.

Granny’s okay.

He was there with me.

They say to never fry bacon in the nude.

So, I don’t.

But nobody ever said don’t cut up a watermelon naked.

Thankfully, the better part of me is still in tact.

My right index finger, not as much.

So being naked really had nothing to do with the actual  injury.  Just the potential one.

Refractory period munchies had set in. So, we went down in the kitchen and I decided to cut up a watermelon.

I guess the counter got too wet in the process and the knife slipped.

It all  had to have happened in less than two seconds. But, it’s amazing how fast the brain can react.

It was long enough for my brain to register “Oops, I dropped something. Catch it.”  Then realize “No, I dropped a knife. Don’t catch it.”  Yet, not quite long enough for me to completely withdraw my hand.

So, instead, the knife caught me.

Luckily it avoided my junk and my feet on the way to the floor. But it did deflect toward the Attorney, causing him to Riverdance over it in his bare feet.

Because it’s one of the few chores she can still do and I also think she finds the mindless repetition of the job peaceful, Granny is constantly scraping the kitchen knives across the whet stone.  Consequently, the blade was very sharp.1 So, the cut was really deep.

I don’t think I have ever bled so much from a quick cut.  Or for so long.  It wouldn’t quit, so The Attorney insisted on the ER.

His birthday became about me, and now four hours, one tetanus shot, antibiotics, and nine stitches later, we’re home and no round two.  But, I think he was happy about how things went other wise.2

In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing The Attorney was here3 because I am not the doctor/medicine type.  Who knows, I could have bled out and died naked on the kitchen floor in a pool of my own blood, garnished with black seeds.

I guess the forensics team could easily put together what happened.  But, I think the immediate reaction upon walking in would have been priceless.

Especially if  the found Granny calmly biding her time at the whet stone.

  1. It also explains why it flew through the watermelon like a hot knife in butter. 

  2. More on that later. 

  3. although I probably would not have been cutting up a watermelon last night if he wasn’t 


Super Sweet 54


I predict that in 364 days I will be dating a senior citizen.

I will be a month from 40 at that time, so I guess that’s not so bad, right?

Yesterday was The Attorney’s 54th.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around that fact.  Because he is not what ever thought 54 is.  He’s active, athletic, and sharp. Plus, the older you get, the more you realize that “old” is a lot older than you imagined.

The official celebration of his birthday is tonight, to coincide with our usual Friday date night.

I made the pound cake1 last night and this evening, dinner will feature a pork tenderloin I do on the grill that I know he likes.

I like to try to come up with a gift that has something to do with his birth year2. Like for his 50th I gave him a 50th Anniversary edition of “To Kill A Mockingbird,” a favorite book of both of us that was published the same year he was born.

A couple of years before that I planted a JFK Rose in his yard because that was the year that Kennedy was elected and because they are supposed to bloom in late May.  Every year since, he has had big white fist sized roses bursting forth by his birthday.

This year was even more perfect, because he called me yesterday morning to tell me that the first one opened up.

Then the whole JFK / birthday connection got even cooler when I saw this on Twitter today:

The Attorney and JFK share a birthday.3

But, this year, I could not come up with a good 1960-related gift.  So I just decided to get The Attorney something I know he wants.

My support.

He has been talking since last fall about getting a motorcycle.  And I have been against it.

I have concerns, ironically, about his age.  I’m not concerned about him handling the bike or anything like that.  He is very physically capable.  But, I do think bikes are dangerous in general, and I worry about how well he will bounce back or recover at his age from an accident.

I know he really wants to pull the trigger on getting a new toy, but I worry that he is holding back because of me.  He hasn’t expressed that.  But, I have that feeling.

I don’t want to get in the way. Plus it’s not my decision to make.

If he wants a bike, he deserves a bike.

And my support.

So, to show it I decided I’d buy him his first helmet. It’s my way of saying “Happy Birthday. I love you, I support you. I want you safe.”

I really wanted to surprise him by having the helmet waiting at his place at the dinner table. But it’s such a personal choice, he really needs to pick it out.  Plus, I had no idea of size.

But, I do know he has been looking at Harley-Davidson bikes. So I researched the costs on their web site and purchased a gift card that should cover any helmet he wants.

I still want him to be able to have something to have in hand at dinner, so I picked up this shirt for him, too.

I’ll make it from Granny.

Hopefully the message will be heard.

  1. always been the traditional birthday cake in my family 

  2. 1960 

  3. And Bonus Points:  JFK and Granny were born the same year. 


Supporting Gravity


When you put yourself out on the web, pants on or off, you make essentially make yourself a target.

In every way.

Because of that, I generally let commenters on the blog have their say, unchallenged, whether I agree or not. As long as it doesn’t get offensive and interaction remains courteous.

No drama.

But, today I got a comment on the recent post about my imminent testicular droop that I actually can’t let go.

Besides aforementioned bad behavior (which, let me be clear, the commenter was not guilty of), there are two things I can’t abide on the blog: One, speaking poorly of my granny; and two, speaking poorly of The Attorney.

Say what you want about me. It’s my blog. Not my granny’s. Not The Attorney’s. Neither of them is here to defend themselves.

Because of that, I feel compelled to respond.

The comment in its entirety, from Victor:

it amazes me comments have focused on fucking Newton
and have missed the main point.If my man criticised me
on such minor etiquette pas comme il faut,I would be
angry.He has no right to be obsessive with you and
perhaps explains former tips like chocolate stains.I
cannot imagine you living together Sorry,just go on
as if nothing happened because you love him more
than he does.An Attorney need no be solemn

Victor, I am amazed (your word) that you missed the humor of an innocuous comment. I am the first to poke fun at myself, so I’m not bothered by others that do. Particularly when a) there is truth to the humor (Newton was the main point: my balls are dropping like it’s New Years’s Eve.) and b) when it comes from someone who loves me.

Which the Attorney does.1

If that’s not obvious from what I write about him (including the little digs) then I’m a pretty shitty writer.

Which I know I’m not.

The Attorney and I don’t shit rainbows and unicorns all the time.2  Each couple loves in different ways, and every couple loves in many ways. Laughter and poking harmless fun is one of our ways. And we do it the same intensity as all the other ways we love.3

To “move on as if nothing happened” is not only an impossibility for me. It would be foolish.

Because since I have known him, EVERYTHING has happened.

  1. Which I don’t doubt for a second. 

  2. Thank the lord! 

  3. And shit can get intense. :-)  


Mind Numbing (NSFW)



I have been sitting here trying to think of some clever comment involving thunder, stormy weather, or phrases like “rough and choppy” or “catch of the day.”

But all my mind comes up with is ” I would turn that shit out” and “where is the towel?”


Swing Low


“Careful you don’t get a rug burn.”

I was helping The Attorney clean out hall closet in the entry of his house.  I was sitting on the stairs, digging through a box when he pointed out that my nuts were on the carpet.

I was wearing baggy shorts and, since it was Saturday, naturally no underpants.  Besides, it was just me and The Attorney.  So it wasn’t like anybody was going to see anything they hadn’t before.

I’m used to my pecker taking a peek from time to time, but my balls were almost on their way down the next step, like a leathery waterfall.

When did this happen?

True, I have found myself sitting on my nuts more and more in the last couple of years.  Especially in hot weather.

But lately I roll out of bed like the bondage elves have worked me over with a ball stretcher in my sleep.

The Attorney says it comes with age.

And that ear hair is coming one day, too.

My balls used to be like a military hair cut or a perfect ass: high and tight.

There was a time I couldn’t comfortably wear a cock ring because my balls stayed so close to home.

The factories are still good-sized and producing.  It’s just now they’re out in the suburbs.

I wonder what aging is like for guys who had low hangers from the start.

I feel kind of sexy when my cock is banging around all loose.

But with my sac, it’s different.  I feel a little perverted.

I know that makes no sense, and is not the least bit rational. But it’s how I feel.

Maybe it’s just that I don’t find testicles that sexy in general.

Plus, do I really need something else swinging low down there?

Everything has a place.

Let’s just hope it doesn’t get to the point where my nickname has to change to Droopy Tony.

I’d rather have the ear hair.

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