26 October 2010

Playing Dress-Up

Happy Halloween!

In honor of the holiday, today's post revolves around the guys with whom I played around and INSISTED wearing some sort of costume. There is a fetish in the community which involves sexual acts with someone totally dressed in costume (La La correct me: Fuzzies?). I'm not talking about face paint, but rather high school mascot type of dressing up. HOWEVER, I’ve yet to do anything as elaborate as a seven foot bulldog - although when that does happen, I'll be sure to post . . . IMMEDIATELY.

The bag piper: In the town I used to live in Jersey, St. Patrick's Day was a huge deal. Now, I'm talking start drinking at seven in the morning and then line up at your most favorite bar an hour later because you sure as hell won’t get in any time after.

It was a sea of green idiots and the town was a drunken mess. By noon, police blocked entrances into our mini-city. It was an absolute shit-show: twenty-somethings vomiting in the street; drunks having sex on bus stop benches; girls screaming at the top of their newly bought lungs.

At this point of the day, I got off shift from my then part-time job. As I walked through the craziness and debauchery, I came upon a gaggle of inebriated bag pipers. Under my breath, I made the comment "I wonder if guys are really naked under their kilts." As I passed them and attempted to cross the street, a voice said: "want to see for yourself?" Before I knew it I was skipping down my street and up to my apartment behind my kilt-wearing pied piper piping away.

The nerd: One Halloween, I dressed up like a boy scout . . . a slutty boy scout – traditional knee-highs, authentic cap, legit badges and all. The kid I got it from is a different story. Earlier that evening, before I went to my friend's costume party, I posted an ad on Craigslist to hang out with someone afterward. A guy immediately got in touch and we texted all night until we met up six hours and twenty drinks later.

He was dressed up like a nerd and I like a boy scout - probably the best costume I've had to date. Picture a 30 year old man in short shorts, a teenager's badge adorned shirt and green knee highs and loafers - I'd fuck me. The nerd stumbled in and pops me in the rear until he . . . well, pops. It was great; the cute ginger with thick Andy Warhol glasses, suspenders and pocket protector worked me like a high-school Calculus problem.

When we were both done and I sewed on my fifth spread-eagle badge, he looked at me honestly saying he had a good time. I pulled on my underwear and asked with my back to him, "what's you're name again?"

The French maid: The funny thing about straight guys who visit Gaytown, USA is they are the kinkiest fuckers around once you are able to get them to let loose their inner dragon...or drag queen.

When I first met Frankie, who much to my delight became a repeat offender over the years, he finally came over after a long email exchange of intos, preferences and positions. When we met, it was fun. And interesting. And unique. For the most part, we made out, took swigs of beer and every now and then did a line. After an hour of this, I found myself butt-naked while he was still fully clothed. I asked him if everything was cool to which he nodded that everything was. Really? I thought to myself, "Are we in the Titanic and do I have a diamond around my neck?" So I asked him get comfortable, too.

I just could not be prepared: he peeled off his Giants jersey and Abercrombie jeans to reveal a lacey black number from Vicky's Secret - garter belts and all. “We cool, dude?” he asked.

The impressionist: Not really sure how I met Jarrett, but it was an honest attempt at dating someone. We had our first date at Room Service in Chelsea and I got to know a little about him. He was 5’11, enjoyed Pad Thai and was a 27 year-old waiter/actor. Of course: I was in love.

While dating, Jarrett and I spoke to each other in between my getting out of work and him getting on shift. It was easy to talk about our days and a little bit about the drama. From experience, I knew that closing shifts at restaurants usually meant hanging out with the bar staff, so I didn’t mind too much that I only got to really talk on the phone with him for a few minutes to catch up.

This was when texting and relationships was introduced to me.

I remember driving and getting a text from him: “I haven’t been totally straight-up with you. I hope you are open-minded. This is my website – [insert professional actor’s website address here]; this is my other website – [insert professional female impersonator website address here]. Let me know what you think.” Truth? He was good. Actually, he was awesome. He got the celebs down really well. But he was too good.

DeeCue: I don’t know.
Jarrett: DeeCue, listen. It really isn’t different from you and your job.
DeeCue: How’s that?
Jarrett: You take off your shirt and tie after work; I take off my foundation and tits. Hahaha.
DeeCue: Heh.

I made an honest effort and I tried to make it work, but I could not get over the fact that he worked as he did. My monkey suit trumped his. I broke up with him.

Point of the conversation: It may be a trick, but it’s always a treat.


- DeeCue

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