This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. The memoir began with the series C'est La Vie!, which covers the years 1970-1997. This series covers the year the narrator turns 40, 1998, and launches an ambitious project to have sex with 1000 men that year. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the last chapter I told about my drive west through Nevada where I stopped at a truck stop and, in a truckers' sleeper cab, traded blow jobs with him; and how at a second truck stop later on, I was sucked off by another trucker. Staying in Reno, I went to a gay bar and was cruised by a man who went back to my motel with me where I fucked him; back at the bar, I attracted a guy in his 20s, and back at my room he fucked me. The next morning I got to San Francisco, and after moving into my sublet, joined a gym and met two guys for a 3-way at the apartment of one of them. After dinner, I met a guy at a bar who went back with me to my place for an enjoyable hour making love; after a short rest, I decided to head to the motel in the neighborhood that was infamous for casual sex, and had encounters with seven more men before I called it a day and headed back to my new home.
One Thousand Men: 1998 MY FIRST WEEKEND IN SAN FRANCISCO
I had left Philly on April third and arrived in San Francisco on Friday the tenth. My show was due to open on the evening of Thursday the sixteenth. I did not have a lot to do for it since the museum and my gallery were taking care of the details, but I wanted to check out the progress anyway.
Saturday morning I called up the curator for my exhibit, and we decided to meet at the museum and then go out for lunch. I had taken inventory in the apartment and had a shopping list, so I started the day at the Safeway again. By noon everything was put away and I was on my way to the museum.
My dealer had been an intermediary for this exhibit and had asked me to meet the curator two years before. She and I had been in constant contact during the time that the show was being organized. She had suggested that I do a couple of talks during the exhibit, if I could make it to the west coast, and had also lined up a panel for me to participate in with several other artists who were doing work along the same lines. I agreed to the talks and the panel.
We met at the museum and she showed me the exhibit, which was mostly mounted already. She did have a couple of questions of placement of a few pieces and wanted my opinion, so we discussed that with the head installer, looked at the first copies of the catalogue which had just arrived yesterday, and then went to lunch at Greens, a terrific vegetarian restaurant in Fort Mason. Over lunch our conversation ranged over a number of topics, mostly art-related. She confided that one of the trustees of the museum was planning to buy several major pieces from the exhibition for their collection, and that was really good news.
Around 3:30 pm we parted, with her telling me how much she was looking forward to the opening on Thursday night. There was going to be a big party at one of the trustee's homes after, a young guy who was making a fortune in the dot-com boom at the time. He had a very stylish loft overlooking the bay, so I knew that it would be fun. I even expected that I might find a rich gay man to go home with after the party!
I went back to my apartment, unpacked the drawings that I was working on and put in a couple of hours of work on them. I made myself a light dinner--lunch had been pretty substantial--and then got in my car and headed over the Bay Bridge to Berkeley to Steamworks. It was early in the evening, but the Berkeley Steamworks always seems to be crowded, and on Fridays and Saturdays, even Sunday afternoons, you will probably be put on a waiting list for a room.
I checked in around 7:30 and, as expected, I was put on a list for a room. In my experience, it usually did not take more than an hour most times to get into a room, and in the meantime, I put my stuff in a locker, went to the wet area, took a shower and plunged into the steam room.
I found a space between two guys on the upper shelf, and within a few minutes felt a warm mouth closing around my cock, and moving up and down. The guys on both sides of me moved closer, kissing and feeling my chest, abs and legs. I found their hard cocks and started to stroke them as I was being sucked. We kept that up for about six or seven minutes, and then I moved away to a standing group, which was a group grope. Almost instantly, the guy in front of me knelt and took me into his mouth while another man moved his hard cock up and down in my ass-crack.
It was getting hot--temperature-wise--in the steam room, and so I went out through the shower area and headed into the hot tub. There were about ten men in the hot tub already, and I settled down a couple of seats from the corner and enjoyed the warm water and bubbles on my body. Sitting at 90 degrees to me around the corner was a hot-looking black man, whose eyes had latched onto my body as I entered the pool. After I had been sitting there for a little, I felt his foot against mine, and his eyes glued to me. I started playing with his foot under the water, and he edged closer to me. The man between us got up and moved to the other side of the pool, and the black guy slid over next to me, putting his hand on my thigh. I moved a hand to his chest, which was ripped and muscular, like mine, and then moved down until I could grab his hard cock. He was very thick, and very hard.
He leaned over to me and said softly, "My room?"
"Yeah," I replied.
We went back to his room, dropped our towels and took turns sucking and fucking each other for the next half hour. His cock really stretched my ass open, and he fucked skillfully, but was so excited that he was not in me that long before I felt him swell and shoot into the condom he was wearing.
I went back to fucking him some more and later he got hard again and I rode him for a while, before saying to him "This has been really hot, but let's take a little break." He smiled, nodded and kissed me before I left.
The night was crazy. I saw my locker number come up on the waiting list for rooms, and went to the main desk with my clothes, and made the switch. Now that I was in the room, I just opened the door and lay there naked. In a minute I had a visitor, an attractive Asian man a few years older than me. We had a good time together for ten or fifteen minutes before he moved on, and another guy came in.
For the next four hours, I alternated between guys coming into my room, cruising the halls for guys in their rooms, going to the video lounge, or standing on the platforms above the area that held a sweaty mass of men who wanted to suck cock. After a while I too went down below and sucked a few cocks myself. Every so often, I went back to my room and made notes in my diary to record they guys that I had had sex with. I decided to go home when I got up to thirty men, and that happened shortly after 1:30 in the morning.
I was exhausted, but had had a good time, and looked forward to getting back to the Steamworks often while I was in the Bay area. I headed home and went to bed, getting up around eleven on Sunday.
Sunday I stayed in, working on my drawings until after dinner. Then I went out to the bars again. I was not interested in scoring a bunch of guys today--I had had plenty in the past few days, especially with the baths--and so left the bar and went to the gym for a workout. After my workout, I was showering and another guy a few years younger than me came in. He was good-looking, and built, and he was checking me out. I got different vibes from him though. This was not a guy that just wanted a quickie, but someone that might be interesting to spend a little time with.
We got to talking as we got dressed, and he turned out to be very interesting. He was a writer working for one of the San Francisco weeklies, such as the one with all the escort ads that I had picked up. We kept talking and decided to go out for a snack and drinks. We ended up at a place a few blocks away, just a couple of blocks beyond my apartment. I knew that I was going to sleep with him tonight--that much was obvious from the beginning--but I knew that it would come naturally after a lot of conversation. We headed back to my apartment and talked more.
During the conversation, since he worked for one of the weeklies, I mentioned the one I had picked up and told him how interesting it was that there were so many ads for escorts. I compared it to the same kind of paper in Philly, where the male escort ads could be counted on one hand. I also mentioned the ad for the escort service.
He brightened when I mentioned the service. When I paused, he said "I worked for them for a while."
"Did I hear that right?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "It was actually a pretty great experience."
"I always thought that escorts were mostly guys with drug habits, or straight guys that just wanted to take gay men for whatever they could get," I said.
"Well, I suppose that there are a lot of those, but this service is terrific," he said. "It is owned by a couple of gay guys in their 50s, and they have had it for a bunch of years. They screen the customers, and have a lot of regulars. They also screen the guys that come to them as escorts. They have a zero-tolerance drug policy, and insist on safe sex. They really have a great reputation in the gay community."
"How did you get started?" I asked.
"Well, I like sex as much as the next gay man, I have a pretty good body," (an understatement, I thought), "and I really needed money for school. Why not put my talents to work for the better good, I asked myself. I called them up with a little trepidation, but they put me at ease, and a couple of days later, I was going on my first appointments."
"So how did it go?" I asked.
"Not bad at all," he said. "The majority of the clients are bi or married guys that are traveling on business, so you see a lot of guys in hotels. They range from men in their 20s to guys in their 60s. The service screens them--they seem to have some radar when the clients call, and they weed out most of the abusive ones--so most of them are really nice guys, even if they are needy. I also got a significant number of gay men who just did not want to spend the time cruising the bars and playing the game. Some of those guys were hot men in their 20s, doing well in computers, and working 80-hour weeks. They just wanted some hot sex with a hot guy and then to go back to work. I would have kept it up longer but I got into a big project at school, and didn't have the free time anymore. Anyway, I had met my financial goals for the time being."
"That sounds cool," I said. I've always wondered about that scene." I then told him about my project and he said he thought that it might be a perfect thing for me.
"You're never obligated to take every call," he said. "All you need to do is give them a good beat on your schedule and what you're willing to do. With your body, you're going to get a lot of calls, I guarantee it. I was getting 4-5 calls a day for the first month. Of course, I didn't take them all. I had another life to live too."
He told me how the money worked too. The service's fees were competitive with those of individual escorts working for themselves and the service took a third, so you couldn't make as much on an individual appointment, but they were able to get many more appointments for their guys than the guys could themselves, so the money was ultimately usually better, and it was less risk. Brad also pointed out that a lot of the clients tipped well, and you could keep all of that. The fees were based on time and were higher for appointments outside of San Francisco area. Most of his were an hour but he did a couple of longer ones plus an overnight about once a week. He said he was making two to three thousand a week when he was working.
"Sweet!," I said. I didn't really need the money, but it sure wouldn't hurt either.
He gave me the name and number of the owner of the service, in case I wanted to follow up, and then turned to me and we started making out. A couple of hours and a couple of fucks later, he left, giving me his phone number and asking to stay in touch. I told him I would. I was sincere, and did see him a couple more times while I was in San Francisco.