Without a single word BEACH 19 manages to say through images what happens in Portugal’s most famous gay beach. Just twenty minutes outside Lisbon it is widely known for its gay cruising action. Facing the Atlantic Ocean BEACH 19 is a paradise for nudists. For many gay tourists seeking relaxation this is the ultimate place for sea, sun and sex. The camera captures the scenery and the hook-ups leaving you with a wonderful after taste of a hot, HOT Summer.
HELIX STUDIOS: Liam Riley and Evan Parker are having an adorable afternoon enjoying a picnic in the park. Something about the warm summer sun has the two cuties crushing on each other and when the flirting turns to an invitation back to Evan’s apartment Liam decides to indulge himself. The two dream boys complete a perfect day with an intimate evening in each other’s arms. Starring: Evan Parker, Liam Riley
MEN AT PLAY: To say that we’re excited about The Line Up would be the understatement of the year. This is a fantasy that we have been wanting to make into film for such a long time but never got the perfect combination of men together till now that is. Denis, Dato, Paco, and our latest discovery Italian Muscle God – Bruno Boni make a Line Up to die for, and the perfect suspects for Inspector Scott Hunter to use and abuse as he wishes – ordering them to undress one by one, and enjoying the thrill of his power trip.
At first its their tops, then its their trousers.. but pretty soon Scott has them just where he wants them – thick, heavy dicks hanging out in front of him and just waiting to be sucked one by one. Scott starts on Bruno getting his tasty, uncut dick hard as a rock as the others watch, waiting their turn, however knowing how dick hungry Scott is, its not long before he’s feasting on all four cocks and having the time of his life! But these four muscular tops aren’t about to be pushed around and they decide to gang up on Scott and overpower him, spitting on him, slapping him around and holding him down as they each give his ass the hardest, and hottest pounding he’s ever had, culminating in an epic 4-way cum shower. Don’t miss what they’re already calling the hottest Gang Bang ever!
The legendary NYC fetish party says goodbye to Roseland Ballroom with its sexiest celebration yet!
I attended the Black Party in 2013 and it changed my life.
DAILY XTRA: Yes, I was nervous about participating in all the potential SM, leather, fetish play and sex, but what I found was an incredible night of celebration, dancing and . . . okay, sex.
Strapped into my tight blue jeans, black boots and leather suspenders (you don’t have to go full-out fetish to attend the party, but playing up any “gear” will work to your advantage), I walked from room to room inside the Roseland Ballroom watching spanking demonstrations, hundreds of sweaty bodies dancing and, yes, sex. Sex in rooms, hallways, corners, on balconies and onstage — it’s everywhere, but not in a forceful way. There are no phones or cameras allowed inside the party, so the 5,000 guys in attendance are simply there to have a good time and party like no one’s watching.
Now in its 35th walk around the block, the “world’s sexiest party” presents a Passage to India/Ruined Paradise theme and might just celebrate harder than ever, as it’s the last time the party will happen at the Roseland Ballroom (which is being knocked down to be replaced by a luxury residential building later this year). The Black Party has been held there for the past 25 years.
Posted by SGT. COACH on Wednesday Oct 30, 2013 Under PUBLIC SEX
Nelson Sullivan was enrolled in film school when he shot this Super 8 film at the Westside Piers, a gay-friendly area near the West Village in New York City.
You don’t get to see any sex but it’s really interesting seeing our past…
Posted by SGT. COACH on Friday Oct 4, 2013 Under PUBLIC SEX
GUYSINSWEATPANTS: Arnaud had never been to the midwest, so we thought it’d be appropriate to take him out to a friend’s farm to check out the barn, cornfields and woods. We found ourselves in a fairly secluded area, and since these two were probably going to end up fucking at some point anyway, we turned on the cameras and let them go at it!
Austin took control by pushing Arnaud up against a tree, making out with him, and literally ripping his shirt off before going down on him. There’s nothing hotter than bending someone over a tree in the woods and fucking them silly… and that’s just what Austin did. He fucked him doggy style. He fucked him standing. He fucked his brains out until he pulled out and came all over his back. They both came and then continued their walk in the woods…
I was 16 when saw my first glory hole — or, rather, saw my first filled glory hole. It was in Harrogate, North Yorkshire, a public-spirited, snobbish spa town well-served by shiny Victorian lavatories. The throbbing, fleshy wall fitting in my tiled cubicle was quite a sight. Glorious, even. Truly an impressive, proud piece of polished plumbing.
Cottaging, or cruising for sex in public lavatories and parks, was once a mainstay of the gay demi-monde. It’s easy to see why. When any and all sex between men was still illegal, as it was in the UK before the (partial) decriminalization of 1967, anonymous sex was often the only kind available. It was probably the only sensible kind too, since the more your partner knew about you, the more you left yourself open to blackmail. Thanks to British municipal pride, toilets were everywhere — and also nowhere: a kind of wordless no man’s land where anything might happen. Much like homosexuality.
The glory hole itself is the ultimate symbol of anonymous “no-strings” sex: an erect, disembodied cock sticking through a wall. Even bricks and mortar can’t hold it back. Nameless, shameless desire. As a horny teenager in the early 1980s, when sex with another male was still completely illegal for me — not being over 21, and not in a position to have sex “in private,” two key, killjoy stipulations of the 1967 act — I was very, very interested in what went on in public toilets.
Posted by SGT. COACH on Thursday Apr 25, 2013 Under PUBLIC SEX
Who knew a history lesson could be this much fun? From its opening, eye-popping title sequence, Continental spills over with lively interviews, hilarious anecdotes, crazy stock footage and loads of gossip.
Ingram’s skill as a documentary filmmaker comes into full play here. Continental is the story of the legendary bathhouse, which existed from the late 1960s to the late ’70s. This, of course, was a pivotal time for the gay community and for civil rights advances, and the film shows us how an institution that operated 24/7 and was essentially one gigantic orgy was part of that change. People showed up, partied, had sex, shopped in the boutique or had a coffee, then had more sex. Some men would stay for days at a time.
The star of the documentary emerges as Steve Ostrow, an entrepreneur who realized men wanted to meet up with other men for sex but often had no way or nowhere to do it. He set up shop, soon to realize that the police would not allow for such an obvious gay-orgy outfit. But Ostrow explains that after a couple of raids the police pointed out that if he simply bought some tickets to their weekly fundraising ball — $8,000 worth each week — the raids would stop. Ostrow agreed, given the burgeoning success of his business and his need to protect his customers’ anonymity.
While acknowledging that the bathhouse culture accommodated those who remained closeted, Continental also shows us that Ostrow was himself a man discovering his own gay sexual identity and that he and bathhouse staff always fought for the decriminalization of gay sex. It’s a strange time to look back at because there was a sense of euphoria that went with the sexual revolution and there was no stigma of AIDS. Interviewed for the film, author Edmund White quotes Susan Sontag, who suggested there was, in fact, a brief window of about 30 years — from the widespread dissemination of birth control pills and antibiotics to treat STDs to the outbreak of the AIDS crisis — when people could live with complete sexual abandon. The Continental bathhouse stands as a potent symbol of this time.
But perhaps the strangest part comes with the Continental’s status as a multipurpose space. Leave it to gays to decide they had to put on a show. Ostrow had a dancefloor installed (the first glass disco floor ever, he claims) and recruited talent to perform live. Most legendary is the story of how he discovered Bette Midler, who was a struggling performer paying her way by waitressing, and how she got her start there, accompanied by a then-unknown Barry Manilow on piano. (They didn’t get along at first, Ostrow says.) Peter Allen played there, as did Sarah Vaughan and Patti LaBelle. It sounded like quite the party.
But Ingram, to his credit, doesn’t gloss things over. A disgruntled White suggests that the shows got in the way of the sex party, which he feels was the main reason the Continental existed and should have been its focus. The Continental became the talk of the town, and as such, all sorts of people starting showing up to check things out, among them Johnny Carson, Hitchcock, Woody Allen and Diane Keaton. Ingram doesn’t skimp on gossipy details: Nureyev loved rough trade! Holly Woodlawn occasionally performed while lying down, as she was too wasted to stand up!
Given what would come down the pipes not so long after the Continental shut its doors, Ostrow’s story makes for a beautiful — and quite uplifting — story arc. He got to pursue his lifelong dream of being an opera singer and now works to better the lives of older gay men. It’s a fitting punctuation mark to an invigorating documentary, which, in the Grindr era, seems almost like science fiction. By the final credit roll, I was sure of one thing: watching Continental made me want to see the Continental.