Lickable Guy

Tough Enough?

You gotta have some serious will to survive when you've been living with HIV/AIDS for over 23 years like me. Luck helps, too. So does guts, and the ability to feel worth something in a world that feels people with AIDS are worth less. It takes a special kind of strength to keep your hopes and dreams alive when the world fears you, avoids you and doesn't try to understand you or your virus. Who's tough enough to make it in today's world while living with HIV/AIDS? I know I'm grateful I am.

Adaptation of Spirit

If you change the way you look at being HIV positive, being HIV positive changes.

Positively Creamy

Positively Dreamy

Click here for the post A Boy's First Promise

Put a Jock In It!

Gettin' Jiggy Wit It

Learning to Love Me

They've called me fag my whole life long. They still do. They call me worthless without noticing or bothering to care. They've called me nigger to my face, and “who knows what else” behind my back.

They see me and think: black fag with AIDS, and it's not all that shocking in their minds because that's what happens to fags, right?

So here I stand, a nigger faggot with AIDS in a world that has very few positive dreams for me and my kind.

But I don't care so much anymore. I care more about my own dreams. I care more about loving myself than somebody else liking me. I care more about being comfortable with me than another human's opinion of me.

Walk in my shoes; you'll find a man who's learning to accept himself despite the many ways the world tells him: we don't care about you nigger faggots with AIDS. Walk in my shoes and you'll find a man learning to love me.

Me Lick

Male Sexual Animal

African-American Gladiator

Jockstrap Lover

Lovable Guy

Rather Be Me

Never thought I'd live to see a time in my lifetime where dying of AIDS was not front and center in every gay man's brain.

Never thought I'd live to see a day in my life where gay men would turn on each other and treat one another with so much spite, hatred, ill will and negativity.

As a young adult in the 1980s, I was shocked and horrified when I read magazines and encountered the countless personal ads that warned: NO FATS, NO FEMS.

As a longtime survivor of HIV/AIDS in the 21st century, I'm even more shocked and horrified when I surf the net and read the countless personals that warn: CLEAN & DISEASE FREE, UB2.

As a lifelong “colored, Negro, black, African-American,” the racism of gay men who prefer WHITES & LATINS ONLY strikes me as nothing short of an astounding disease of epidemic proportions.

As if many of the authors of those ads are not themselves fat and fem. As if unsafe sex can keep you disease free. As if your great grandfather's membership in the Klan doesn't have something to do with your cultural preferences. As if being any combination of fat, fem, HIV-positive or black means a person isn't worthy of love and affection. As if enlightenment and compassion are but a dream.

We can't expect every man who has sex with other men to be a perfectly well-adjusted citizen of the homosexual nation, the self-hate in total remission, the personal traumas completely resolved. Even this citizen wouldn't be guaranteed to make that cut.

But we can do better than this. I personally can do better than this. I'll try to have patience and compassion for those who shock, horrify and disgust me, for those whom I could hate for pre-judging me.

I'll try to remove their ill will from the front and center of my brain. I'll give it my best shot at surviving with dignity and integrity in a world full of both good and evil, ignorance and enlightenment, love and hate, negativity and positivity. But when all else fails, and I promise I will fail!, when all else fails I will do my best to remember the following:

• I'd rather be a person who's fat and fem than a person who goes around using those shameful words.
  
  
• I'd rather be a man who's dirty and disease-ridden than a man who goes around calling himself clean and disease-free.
  
  
• I'd rather be a black man than a person who goes around dismissing an entire race of men, claiming it's just a preference, nothing personal.
  
  
• I'd rather be me for as long as I live. This much is true.

Jock Check

About Face

Back to Front

Heart of a Champion

If I Were A Rock Star

My Favorite Songs

1. I Wanna Lick Your Ass All Night (and Eat It Everyday) by KISS
   
2. I Was Made for Licking You and You Were Made for Licking Me by KISS
   
3. Sit On My Face by Monty Python
   
4. Sit On My Face by Lords of Acid
   
5. Can You Smell the Love Tonight by Elton John

The Glory of Love

I dream of being a hero to my buddy, and my buddy being a hero to me. I dream of a life where we're the best versions of ourselves. We're at the top of our game in the game of life, we got career dreams that fuel our passions at work, we got relationship dreams that fuel our passions at play. We support one another emotionally. We accept our lives and the journey that made us who we are; we vow to make a heroic effort to love on. We're amazed we've made it this far, and we're ready to take a chance and create something new, as individuals and as a duo. We're a buddy duo, like the greatest buddy duos of television and the movies. But we're a new kind of buddy duo for the new century. We're not fags. We're not this so-called “straight” thing either. We're bent. We're twisted. How could we not be?

Sure, we bought into this whole “thing” we now know as Gay, but that was because we understood we were lovers of men, and calling ourselves “gay” was convenient. How else is a lover of men supposed to find another man that won't rebuff him in the light of day?

But we're not gay. Gay is a marketing term, a polite civil agreement between the old republic and the gayest among us who finally became empowered enough (and rich enough) to force a truce with said republic, which decided: Okay, you can be gay already! You can have your niches (decorating, theater, hair and makeup, general faggy behavior, empowered lesbians, hot lesbians!), just keep it all rolled up into one neat stereotypical package ... over there.

So we rode the gay wave, said to the world: Okay, I'll call myself gay, and I'll be ... 'gay' ... now can I have my buddy?

But the gay world doesn't necessarily cater to or care about the dreams of our kind (our kind being buddies who are not “gay” or “straight” but buddies who are male sexual animals who just wanna love and be loved by other male sexual animals without it having to mean you've signed on to some preconceived notion of who you are and your “lifestyle”).

So here we are, swimming in an ocean of gay fish but not so happy about the environment. The gay fish aren't excited over us, and we're not so excited over the gay fish. Where do we go? How do we find one another? How do we make a life for ourselves?

We made it to the “post-AIDS, other side of Stonewall, other side of Gay” 21st century. Not that there was a bridge for us to cross, mind you. We snuck our way into this new millennium by way of a backwater swap. But we're here, and as much as we've seen in life, as much as we have known and not known, as much as we have felt, cried, died, dreamed, hoped, prayed, bargained, loved, hated .... as much as we have lived, we still need a buddy and we still need heroes.

Where are you, buddy? Let's be one another's hero. Let's be buddies for the glory of love.

The Man of My Dreams

Someday, I'm going to finally meet him. The man of my dreams. He'll be different from all the hetero men I've ever met, the ones who can't stomach even hearing about the kind of life I dream of and the kind of love I have to offer. He won't be like the majority of gay men I've encountered either, the ones who automatically reject me because of the color of my skin, my HIV status or the fact that I'm not a mindless Mandingo top who lives to fuck a mindless bottom boy's ass. The man of my dreams will be so much more than all the men whose hearts and minds are closed to loving someone like me. The man of my dreams will believe Who I Am is a perfect match for Who He Is. It will be a dream come true for both of us.

The man of my dreams will be a male sexual animal who doesn't feel “gay” or “straight,” just sexual. He'll be single, available, and of similar age and maturity.

The man of my dreams will also be:

• someone who values intense, intimate male bonding, like warriors united in spirit and flesh.

• someone who doesn't identify with the gay world.

• someone who doesn't identify with the straight world.

• someone who doesn't live a “gay” or “straight” lifestyle.

• someone who believes in creating a world beyond “gay” and “straight."

• someone capable of viewing women as hot, erotic objects of lust (primarily with his buddy).

• someone dreaming of having another man as a buddy and best friend for life.

• someone able to look beyond the racist ways of many Americans and most gay men.

• someone capable of appreciating the unique beauty that is a black man (regardless of his own race).

• someone able to love a man who happens to be HIV-positive (regardless of his own status).

• someone intelligent enough to see HIV-positive in a loving light.

• someone into watching sports, especially basketball, football, and baseball.

• someone into shooting hoops, tossing the football or Frisbee, biking, hiking, camping, hitting the beach, playing like boys.

• someone into being the alpha or equal in a buddy duo.

• someone who loves to fuck and who isn't opposed to the idea of getting fucked occasionally (as needed to lighten his ass up).

• someone who enjoys the smell of his ripe manly pits, and mine.

• someone who gets off on his funky, sweaty jockstrap, and mine.
  
  

• someone who loves eating ass.

• someone who loves having his ass eaten.

• someone who loves to 69 with our heads up each other's butts in deep space.

• someone comfortable taking a piss in front of me, and vice versa.

• someone comfortable taking a dump in front of me, and vice versa.

• someone who likes water sports and getting dirty in the mud.

• someone who appreciates smelling like the funky male animals we are.

• someone who appreciates feeling clean after getting dirty.

• someone open to all the crazy, raunchy shit two buddies can get into.

• someone who loves to hold his man.

• someone who loves to be held by his man.

• someone amazed by science and the Science Channel.

• someone who believes in evolution, not man-made religions.

• someone who has been dreaming his whole life of having a buddy just like me.

• someone who believes in honesty and loyalty.

• someone who still has big dreams in life.

• someone who believes his buddy dream can still come true.

• someone ready to work at, fight for, and put in the time, energy and effort to make his buddy dream come true.

• someone ready for the love and time of his life.

• someone ready to meet his buddy.

• someone who reads this and thinks: I gotta contact this funky black poz jock and get to know him, he's my dream come true!

That's the man of my dreams. Buddy, are you out there?

Tongues In Cheeks

I am what I am, and what I am is a man who loves to eat ass. Burying my face between a man's butt cheeks and exploring the private, intimate world within is pure heaven to me. If I couldn't eat a man's ass, I wouldn't be “gay.” Because I love to eat men's asses, the rest of my journey follows. I can live without many things in life, but oxygen and rimming are not among them. It's something I've known most of my life, and for me, it's a very beautiful thing.

Any potential mate of mine is gonna love having his butt kissed, licked, caressed, massaged, inhaled and eaten for hours by these lips, this tongue. I love to rim. Can't get enough butt, butt cheeks, butt crack, butt hole, butt everything. Thank you, dear human ape who invented salad tossing. It's this funky black poz jock's favorite way to show love and share love.

At the same time, I love being rimmed. The buddy of my dreams is someone who loves tasting butt as much as I do, someone who's just as passionate about loving my ass with his lips, his tongue. We'll take turns, we'll 69, eating each other's butts, we'll journey into our own personal deep space time and again.

Rimming and being rimmed will be a joyful passion my buddy and I enjoy with our minds, bodies and souls. Buddy, are you out there? I need to get a good lick, er, look at ya!

What's My Flavor?