Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Boys Boys Boys

My pal Jimmy sure keeps busy. He’s a club kid from way back, a cranking DJ, and a producer of gay porn. Somehow, he still finds time to organize all manner of gay sex parties.

I attended a few of his smaller parties—i.e., fewer than twenty men—and I was impressed. They were efficiently organized, with some very hot guys getting it on. But also, I noticed, a few trolls. He has a good screening process, so I asked: why allow the homely guys?

He explained that there are a lot of gay sex parties in New York, and too many are characterized by snotty attitudes about good looks and gym physiques. He wanted to distinguish his parties from those by emphasizing a lack of attitude. He focuses on guys who like to have sex. The so-called “trolls” are his friends, and good at what they do.

And, he pointed out, his good-looking regulars—and we are talking guys who are porn star hot—don’t seem to mind.

I liked that. A sex party that is about sex, not about attitude. Righteous. That resonated with how I saw my gatherings as opposed to other swinger-oriented events.

I invited him to try throwing a few parties at my place. He scoped it out, and thought it was a fine idea.

Monday night was his second party at my place. His parties are rather different than mine, and not just because they are exclusively male.

My parties always begin with conversation. People undress when they feel like it, and get busy when they are ready. I put out food and try to create a relaxed atmosphere. People generally kick in a few bucks to defray expenses, but the parties are otherwise free.

Jimmy makes his guests pay. They must maintain a membership in his group, and adhere to rules posted at his website. Everyone fills out forms specifying their sexual preferences, which Jimmy enters into a database to help when screening applicants. He supplies condoms, lube and sodas, but that’s it. He also enforces a mandatory clothes check at the door.

And unlike me, he doesn’t play at his parties. He keeps his clothes on. He monitors things, hangs out with friends, and generally acts the pro. Thus, he isn’t required, as I sometimes have been, to extricate himself from a heap of bodies to answer the phone.

To make co-hosting worth my while, he offered me a percentage cut of the gate.

Before Jimmy arrived, I cleaned a bit, put out “sex party sheets” and candles, and low thumping music. I set the lights low. I had invited a couple of my friends, but otherwise, I left the details to Jimmy.

The men started to arrive at the appointed time. As they arrived, I led them to Jimmy. They were checked off the RSVP list, their memberships confirmed or renewed, and their money paid. They were told to strip and put their clothes into bags, which were then sealed and marked with their names.

Gradually, the apartment filled with naked men, chatting and cruising one another. It didn’t take long for a few of them to hook up in twosomes and threesomes.

I roamed the space, checking things out, seeing that things were off and running. I kept my clothes on. For now, I was content to let things and unfold while I helped Jimmy and we caught up. He’s a riot, and I like his company.

I enjoyed the surreality of the arrival ritual. It was a cold night, and as guests arrived, they were bundled in coats, hats and scarves. They looked completely innocuous. At the other end of Jimmy’s processing, they emerged as nude studs, most with gym-toned bodies, trimmed body hair and a cruising demeanor.

Seventeen guys showed up. I guess the trolls were still busy with Christmas, as it was hot crew tonight.

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