RockHardNYC

He was not physically up to it at all. The toughness was a myth. Ava Gardner later wrote that she eventually grew tired of his "feminine" manner. She said she felt like she was making love to a woman, complaining he was afraid to be rougher with her, as if fearing she would break. Physically, he wasn't a stand out in his youth. Skinny and scrawny, not very sexy at all. His arms and legs were pretty laughable. As a young man, he almost had the body of a 70-year-old. I never really thought that Marc Anthony was all that handsome, and when he was married to J-Lo, I was often reminded of Frank Sinatra snagging the beauty. However, I always thought Marc Anthony could SING his ass off. And you know what they say about those male Latin lovers. But still, how do go from Ben Affleck to Marc Anthony in bed? That's quite a difference.

Sinatra left his teenage sweetheart Nancy, the New Jersey mother of his three children, for Eva Gardner, who, before turning 25, was already on her second divorce. Her first marriage was to Mickey Rooney. Frank's rocky marriage with Gardner lasted only six years. It was her last. Supposedly, she endured two abortions while having sex with Frank, blaming her contract with MGM. He cut his wrist in an attempted suicide to manipulate her into keeping him. Ava Gardner was known to be a selfish, lonely, needy type. She hated being alone, and apparently slept with many men while being married to Frank. Gardner later claimed Frank was the love of her life. They both were addicted to cigarettes and drank a lot. All that happened before 1958, a few years before I was even born. Frank had much more life yet to live, and Nancy was around to see it all. It's difficult to believe that in 1992, Frank's daughter, Tina, produced Sinatra, a CBS biographical drama about Frank, and cast Marcia Gay Harden as Eva Gardner. I like Marcia Gay Harden, but I'm sorry, she is no Eva Gardner. Unless they loved his voice and personality (maybe he had a big dick, too), I just don't see what beautiful women saw in this guy.

How truly sad is that? How 'bout we celibate with anutha dwinky-poo. The last time I logged onto that site was January 2013. I also don't get the troll-thrill of spreading lies. Anyone with half a brain can understand it's the aging I hate and not the divas. Oh well.

It would have been fun to be a fly on the wall in the creative meetings when this strange idea was pitched. Who pitched it, a man or a woman? The commercial cost a lot of money to produce and air, and I'm not convinced it helped anyone remember the name of the detergent. Not in any meaningful I-must-go-out-and-buy-this-now way. IMO, the concept is really out there. I mean, males sniffing a jockstrap? Really out there, and very gay suggestive, no matter the "family" scene. Not sure what to say about the Latino market focus. I don't know any straight Latinos who wear jockstraps when they perform sports. In fact, I don't know any men who wear jockstraps at my multi-cultural gym. Can't remember the last time I saw a guy wearing one, and I see a lot of guys' underwear choices when I work out. Even weirder, the jockstrap-on-a-stick looks oddly new (un-worn) and starched-stiff. Why wouldn't it smell like fresh soap in that condition? Perhaps if there were piss and groin sweat stains, the message of "fresh, clean smell" would have been more to the point. But that would have thrown controversial way over the edge. I have to assume this detail was discussed. In the end, for me, it was just weird and awkward. Not exactly where I would have put my money.

I guess there's no going back. The worst part of it all: Whether we like his talent or not, Justin Bieber is a cultural icon. He will influence young boys and girls for a very long time. I cringe at the thought of all those parents whose kids will want to do similar things to their bodies. I cringe. As a parent, it's very difficult to control the behavior of our children, no matter how much or how little we try. The pain of unconditional love can be devastating. My son got his first tattoo during his freshman year at college. It was small, on his forearm. He did not warn me or ask my permission. I'll never forget my discreet reaction and my follow-up lecture, warning him of the perils of visual extremes in our society. I always ended my lectures by saying, "No matter what you do or what you decide is best for you, I will always love you." Luckily for me he heard and understood the intent of my warning. He never got another tattoo, and the skin on his tall, lean body remains beautiful.

I never found Frank Sinatra attractive, and I never thought much of his voice. I also never knew he remained close to his first wife Nancy long after their divorce in 1951. With a life like theirs comes a roller-coaster ride of tremendous joy, pain, and sorrow. And yet, somehow, love endured. It's a fascinating story. The obit: Nancy Barbato Sinatra, an Idol’s First Wife and Lasting Confidante, Dies at 101

I should make clear: I don't think just because someone used the N word it automatically qualifies that person as a racist or anti-anything. Context matters.

Getting the thread back on-topic, if this is a form of story-telling, then I'd rather change the channel or read a different book. I'm OK with a few here and there, but when it becomes a shirt sleeve, I'd rather my guy be wearing a Gaultier.

Does the same "rule" apply to my favorite rap stars? John Schnatter is not just the former CEO, he is Papa John's founder. There is a difference. Any asshole CEO can come and go, without completely destroying a company's reputation. When the founder of his own company fucks up, well then... Personally, I haven't had much pizza in the U.S. since I began traveling to Italy over thirty years ago. Never tried Papa John's. I was taught in Italy how to make my own (the secret is the starter), so why would I want to eat anything less great than that? A few young'uns who work for me, who absolutely won't tolerate racism, seem to love Papa John's. I think that has something to do with the price: $1.25 a slice. In NYC, that's considered a give-away. The first time I encountered such pizza, I looked at the kids and I asked, "For $1.25 a slice, do you have any idea what exactly you're putting in your mouth?" For a buck and a quarter, there's no fucking way you have fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano or Mozzarella, San Marzano Pelati Pomodoro, fresh basil, or Antico Caputo zero-zero farina. No fucking way. They looked at me as if I was speaking Italian. Hungry people don't give a shit about a racist cook, especially if that's all they can afford to eat. LOL!

Thank you, Oz, for making clarifications and adjustments. Just to be clear and honest with everyone, I can't say for sure how Oz defines "anything resembling porn." He is the owner of this board, and he has the right to define it any way he pleases. IMO, the photo of the flaccid tattooed cock I posted is not porn. The photo did not come from a porn site. But I'm not the one defining "anything resembling porn" on this site. And I have no desire to challenge the owner on his definitions. Furthermore, out of deference and respect to Oz, I sent him notice at the same time I posted the photo of the flaccid tattooed cock. I explained that I wasn't sure if the photo was OK, given the new rules, and that I would defer to his judgment. Oz has ruled. No problem as far as I can see. My apologies for any confusion.

Under normal conditions (whatever that means), I don't have a problem with tattoos. Some of them I find quite beautiful and sexy. But I guess I am a less-is-more kind of guy. When a beautiful guy takes his beautiful skin and destroys it with so-called body art, the first question that comes to my mind is, "Does this guy hate himself?" With Justin, I ask, "Does he hate being a star? Does he hate being constantly stared at? Are the extreme tattoos a side-affect of extreme fame? A way to get many people to turn away and stop looking?" I realize that covering your beautiful body and skin with so-called body art may not be an act of self hate. Perhaps I'm projecting a bias. Maybe Justin Bieber doesn't think his tattoo-less body is beautiful. I'm not his therapist. (I hope he has one.) Rightly or wrongly, I associate certain extreme tattooed looks with a meth or heroin addiction. Since those aren't pretty, it's impossible for me to see any beauty in extreme tattoos. I saw a guy at my gym the other day who got is cock tattooed. He's a tall, good-looking guy. I've observed him naked for quite a few years and always admired his sexy body. I had fantasized about sucking his beautiful, shaved cock. When I first saw the dark markings on his cock shaft from a distance, I was immediately concerned that he had suffered a bad accident. Then, as he got closer, and I could see that the darkness along his shaft was a tattoo. A feeling of sadness struck me. No longer did I find it fun to look at and admire his cock. Whatever sexual attraction once existed on my part is now destroyed. My fantasy is dead. I don't want to look at his cock anymore. It's an affront to my eyes. Of course people are free to express themselves in any way they want. I can't stand people who try to control others. But visual aesthetics are important to my daily pleasure. And now I think Justin Bieber isn't worth looking at.

I enjoy learning about this sensitive side.

Since it seems certain drama can bring you to tears, I don't think Josh has quite proven his acting chops. Almost immediately, Josh became a movie star. He made a ton of money in the Transformers' franchise. He didn't really need to prove anything to anyone to be a success. Sometimes Hollywood just loves a handsome, straight-guy face. Maybe the day will come for Josh to show us something more. When it comes to a roll in the hay, these guys get an A+ on my litmus test. I like a handsome White face, with bedroom eyes, nice nose, and decent kissable lips. Being tall with lighter hair helps. Not to mention good teeth. See, I'm easy.

Damn! Sending you a photo of my rock hard cock. Check your PM and lick it.

I forgot to mention, Patrick Wilson has a beautiful cock and balls. Reminds me of Josh Duhamel's. I've seen both men naked. Super delicious. Super sexy. Masculine, but oh so cool. My kind of guy.

You have to define things to the ignorant, otherwise how do you expect them to learn? (I have to say, when I lived in L.A., I never met so many ignorant gay guys before. I found that very depressing, and couldn't wait to move back to NYC.) Many in my own family, those precious cousins who are as White as snow, do not travel. They never leave their own state. Anyone to them who even remotely looks caramel is Black. They are just that slow and have no interest in knowing more. So many people live in their own bubble, and the walls around that bubble can be pretty thick. I appreciate your truth. Some people get so bent out of shape whenever the subject, no matter the context, is centered around race and skin color. I'm always fascinated by what turns another guy on, but I'm rarely surprised by it. I know from my own cock, he's stubborn and determined when nudged in the wrong direction. I'm not a sexual aggressor. Whenever public sex occurs, I almost never make the first move. I like to observe. I like watching men cruise and then act on their lust. I look to see who has the desire to approach me. If no one does, no biggy. Tomorrow at the gym is another day. I've said this before and I'll say it again here: I like watching straight porn. But in order for my cock to get hard, the girl needs to be light skinned and shaved. With gay porn, I don't care much about skin tone and hair. If I'm in the mood for ethnic sex, all colors work for me, especially if the models enjoy eating ass. It is a funny thing how the mind works. Keeping it open can be more fun.

Definitely not using Just For Men®. I prefer to live life as the natural blond I was, I mean am.

Only if getting on an elevator. Strange thread title. The jury is in. The case is settled. Some non-Black guys like sex with Blacks, while others do not. To each his own. What I find interesting is how many Black guys won't go near a White guy, at least in public sex scenarios. I've seen quite a few White guys get turned away, and some of them were totally hot, while the Black went after another Black. Reminds me of the gay Italians I know. I realize this is a generalization, but it seems to have some truth. Certain people only like to have sex with one of their own. Perhaps it's a tribal thing. Personally, I can be sexually attracted to lots of differing men. I don't think there's a heritage I haven't tapped yet. Some dark-skinned ethnic guys are amazingly sexy, while others have a sour body odor that leaves my cock flaccid. Perhaps that has something to do with cultural diet. I'm sure White guys can smell sour, too. I just haven't experienced that yet. From my personal experience, it does seem Black guys are better at servicing my hard-on. Perhaps, something about those lips and that mouth architecture. There's nothing like a great blow job from a guy, when I don't care anything about skin color.

Love Patrick Wilson. Such a lovely guy. He and Colbert did a terrific job on the anthem. Terrific. The Streisand video OTOH is frightening. Patrick is great, but Babs is downright scary. What's with that fucking ugly 70's crimped hair? Who on earth EVER thought that crimped shit was attractive? Even with her hair piece, that shit is UGLY. She's not aging well, either.

Am I showing my Illinois roots?

It was very 1980's gay New York. The East 50's was a special hood for gay men. I knew several guys who had terrific apartments on or near Sutton Place. The place has definitely changed. Rounds was a bar/restaurant. It was dark, mirrors, carpeting, and piano with halogen spot lights. Had the feel of an upscale cabaret. I preferred Cowboys, which was just a large, brightly lit bar. It looked like a farm barn straight out of Texas. There may have been hay on the floor. The place was amazingly convivial. One of the happiest bars I've ever experienced. So easy to meet fun, friendly, good-looking guys there. No pretension, very rare for NYC. Might have been the first bar where I got my cock sucked in the bathroom. I worked on Madison Ave. Went to Cowboys often after work. Several older men thought I was an escort and tried to pick me up. At the time, I was insulted. I wasn't mature enough to appreciate the compliment.

There was no glory in watching most of your friends die. And I'm talking brothers, not Facebook friends. Not sure that message will ever resonate, but I enjoyed it. That's a common occurrence on these escort boards. Variety is the spice of life. I like some spices more than others. I think that's human nature. I dabbled with street trade in my early years. There were some cute, sexy, young guys working East 53rd. We were around the same age. I heard a few horror stories, but I was never party to one. Only had fun.

All true. I happen to enjoy the cleaned up Broadway. I don't miss the former stank of forty-deuce as I pass to see Midler in Dolly. But I wouldn't mind a return to East 53rd Street and a comeback for Cowboys and Cowgirls. Ghouliani. Funny. What a piece of work that bitch turned out to be.

Expensive is an understatement. Too many drag queens mop everything. Very few have a benefactor with full pockets. Trust is a big issue with me in friendship. I was lucky. I had a great job and I could afford my expensive hobby. No one at work knew about my drag creation. No one at work could imagine me doing drag. I was a corporate executive and kept the hobby a secret. Some clients of the business believed I was straight. I had a son, so it was easy to confuse people. I had super talented designer friends who would help me make certain costumes or dresses, depending on the occasion. We copied Thierry Mugler and Jean Paul Gaultier a lot. The knock-offs and alterations cost me dearly. I would never ask someone to work for me without getting paid. My wigs, make-up, and fashion had to be perfect. A superstar drag queen taught me how to create padding. I carved my own. I did not have a woman's body, but when certain curves were enhanced, I could pass. I almost always wore a corset. That too was custom-made. Drop-dead fabulous drag is a lot of work, especially for a guy like me, and I wasn't interested in anything less than FABULOUS. Fabulous drag requires time, money, and a lot of energy. I'm not very hairy, but I still shaved my entire body when I did drag. The Suzanne Bartsch queens really knew how to turn it out. They defined fierce at the time. Her Palladium parties on 14th Street were among the best parties I ever attended. Much more fun than anything I experienced at Studio 54. I never did drag without being high on some drug, mostly coke. Eventually, the time came when the hobby was no longer fun and enjoyable. I quit doing drugs around the same time. I changed my focus to other things that I loved more. Like I said, no regrets.