I know I've mentioned before that I don't really get the fascination with large cocks. I mean, I get that it exists, but I don't get why. My experience with prostate massage leads me to believe that the most effective way for an ass plumber to get a reaction is with a carefully directed finger. Obviously, many bottoms disagree, but I can't help wondering how much of the addiction to size is really an aesthetic reaction or a submissive psychological reaction rather than a true physiological response. Ultimately, I don't much care. I do see the aesthetic appeal of a large cock, but I also see the aesthetic appeal of a small one, which will always be easier to get in my mouth.
My puzzlement over size queens notwithstanding, I love, love, love this movie:
For those of you unfamiliar with the metric system, 20 centimeters is roughly equivalent to 8 inches and refers to the endowment of the movie's hero(ine), Marieta, a narcoleptic, mostly pre-operative transsexual hooker. Yes, I know, we've been subjected to a seemingly endless parade of narcoleptic, mostly pre-operative transsexual hookers in the movies of late, but Marieta is different: every time she passes out, she gets a fantasy musical number.
I first saw this movie a year ago at the local gay film festival, which has a semi-clever name which momentarily eludes me and which I am too lazy to look up. I saw it with a group of friends after we had had dinner and after a few of us may have had too much to drink. This is by far the best way to view 20 Centimeters, so if you're going to rent it, buy it (as I did), or put it in your Netflix queue, try to arrange to see it on a large-screen TV with a group of friends. Then make everyone consume a beer during each of the film's musical numbers. Warning: you'll need a lot of beer.
The group I saw it with included my then-friend Bill, who, upon seeing the ass of the tranny hooker's boyfriend, exclaimed, loudly, "Oh my God!" (Bill was the drunkest of any of us.) In any other setting, that would have been a faux pas, but in a movie theatre full of gay guys all thinking the exact same thing, it was just fine. "Fine" is also an apt description of the ass in question. If you watch this on DVD, the ass shot comes at 1:13:37. It's the eye candy highlight of the movie. If you're having a 20 Centimeters party (the mind boggles at the potential party favors), you'll want to have a pool to guess the exact time of the best ass shot, but since you already know, you'll have to disqualify yourself, okay?
Anyway, the movie came out on DVD a while back, and I bought it a while back, but I only got around to unwrapping and watching it this past weekend. (I discovered that it's still a good movie if you're alone and sober. You should still see it drunk and with friends, however: why not create the optimal viewing conditions?) I had watched about half of it when I stopped to accept a blowjob from some guy (we'll call him Bud) who'd contacted me off of gay.com. I'd hooked up with him once, maybe five years earlier, and I wasn't sure that he remembered me. I remembered him, mostly because he had a really long dildo with a handle (kind of a dildo/police baton combination) that I used on him with some vigor. Also because we had sex twice and he served dinner in between. I think it was lasagna. And maybe broccoli, but overcooked broccoli. Yuck.
Anyway, I figured that while he had offered to come over and suck me off, I could probably get into some make out and nip work action, as well, so when he showed up, I pushed him against the wall and started to kiss him and work his nipples. He was very into it, so I suggested we go upstairs. On the way, there was a strange conversation:
Bud: There are a couple of things I need to clear up with you.
Ted: Dude, the profile said HIV negative, if you're not negative, you should really go.
Bud: No, nothing like that. I just wanted to say that when I saw you at Bill's party, I didn't know how to react, and I'm sorry if I was rude.
Ted: Bill's party?
Bud: Yeah, you know, Bill, umm
Ted: Bill in Bethesda?
Ted: You were at Bill's party? Huh. There were hardly any gay people at Bill's party.
Bud: Well, Bill's gay.
Ted: Yeah, I've verified that first hand. Anyway, I don't remember, so no harm, no foul, okay?
[I gotta say, though, that Bud's a very tall, beefy guy with extremely impressive facial hair (think Paul Bunyan); how I missed him at that party full of NIH science types is beyond me. I mostly spent the time chatting with a moderately cute but ultimately uninteresting gay couple who felt similarly out of place.]
Bud: So, anyway, the other thing
Ted: Yeah, I know, we hooked up before. It was years ago though. [I was undressing him at this point.]
Bud: Well, the thing is, you were kind of rough. And I usually work my way up to rough.
Ted: Whatever. I don't always do rough. You said you wanted rough, so I went right for it.
And then we had some decent but unspectacular sex. Bud is an eager cocksucker, and he's a pretty good kisser, and I was able to take him to about seven on the nipple work scale. That seems to have excited him without going to "too rough." (I wish you could see me rolling my eyes right now. For the love of God, man, if you put the long-handled dildo in my hand, what the fuck do you expect me to do with it?) Bud wanted me to fuck him, but when I got a finger up there, I found that he was really, really not well prepared, so I came on his face instead. He seemed pleased.
Bud asked me to promise not to tell Bill what he (Bud) likes to do in bed. I told him that Bill and I really weren't in touch any more. Then I watched the second half of 20 Centimeters, including the ass shot that Bill (and everyone else, though less vocally) had loved so much.
After seeing the film, you'll be left with the inescapable conclusion that the director, Ramon Salazar, spent most of his formative years watching MTV. His constant references to music videos are occasionally distracting, but mostly they're amusing, and they work pretty well. It's a fun, fun movie, with an important lesson about what can happen when two well-hung bottoms try to make a go of it. Anyway, get the movie, watch it drunk, and if it isn't the best Spanish musical about a transgendered prostitute and a dwarf with a cello that you see this year, I'll buy it from you.
After the hook-up with Bud, I had another play session scheduled, but I was pretty sure that guy was going to flake on me, so I went to the office to get caught up on some work. I also chatted a bit with my friend Andy, a delicious latin guy who has appeared before on the blog as A. He's hooked up a couple of times with favored FWP C. (who we will now call, let's see, Christopher), so when I suggested to Andy that he, Christopher, and I might arrange a threeway for next weekend, I was very surprised to see Andy say that Christopher had been ignoring him. I happen to know that Christopher thinks Andy is the hottest thing ever, so I found this difficult to understand, but, well, you know: men. Anyway, I told Andy that he and I should do something next weekend, and that I'd slap Christopher around some another time.
Then, on the way home, it occurred to me that I hadn't talked to Christopher in some time, and that I should call him to see how he was doing. (I can neither confirm nor deny the rumors that I may also have been interested in a booty call.) So, I did, and we had a discussion that went, more or less (you know: edited for brevity, but not changed in essential details), like this:
Ted: Hey, it's Ted.
C: Hey, I've been meaning to call you.
T: What's new?
C: I'm just getting ready for my trip later this week.
T: Hmmmmm. Central Europe, right?
T: Hey, Andy is all pissed off at you. I was asking him if he wanted to do a threeway with us, and he said you were ignoring him. Did you not call him back after he invited you to dinner?
C: He never gave me his number!
T: He didn't call you on your cell?
C: Well, yeah, he did, but I didn't capture the number.
T: Your cell doesn't keep a record of your incoming calls?
C: Well, yeah, but a lot of people call me from work, and by the time I wanted to call him back, I couldn't tell which number was his.
T: And you wonder why you're single.
C: No, I know why I'm single.
T: Anyway, call him and apologize. And don't tell him I told you he was mad. Just say you lost the number and had to call me to get it. By the way, how's the Indian guy?
C: That fizzled out. I've been sick.
T: Sick? How?
C: I've had this upset stomach for five days now. I can't go very far from the bathroom.
[Ted sighs as his hopes for a booty call go out the window. But Ted remembers this post from one of his favorite bloggers/fellow horndogs.]
T: I thought you didn't like rimming.
C: I don't. What are you talking about?
T: Who's ass have you had your tongue up?
C: Well, Andy's.
T: The night of our last party?
T: Anyway, you have some sort of parasite. It's either an amoeba, or something else I don't remember the name of. You need to go see the doctor.
C: Oh. You've had it?
C: How do you know?
T: Oh, I read things. But, Christopher?
T: I wouldn't stick my tongue up Andy's ass. He's not so much about the scrupulous anal hygiene. Rimming is one of my very favorite things, and I've never had a parasite like that because I won't go there unless it's very clean. And why do something you don't like, anyway?
C: But he's really hot.
T: I bet he'd be hotter if you introduced him to the DynaDouche. Call me when you get back from Prague or wherever. And be careful in the bathhouses.
In the end, I just went home, ate a cookie (on Friday night, YFU and I made fourteen dozen cookies to send to EFU at college), and read some more of Kristin Lavransdatter. It's a good read, but it's sooooooo big. At first I wasn't sure I could take it all, but I've since relaxed, then I learned to enjoy it, and now I just want more, more, more! So, um, yeah, I reckon that makes me Sigrid Undset's bitch. But nobody else's.
2 years ago