Formika

I'm having a bit of a Last Night's Party moment. Here's some pictures from Mistress Formika's birthday at Opaline:

Bathroom Interveiw: Ashton Ryan

Ashton Ryan has been in gay porn for most of his adult life. After an extremely successful stint with Junior Studios, he took a hiatus from the adult biz. Now he's back, at the helm of Eon Films - a.k.a. Twinks R Us - producing, directing, starring, and breakin' hearts.

Bathroom: penthouse suite at the Venetian, Las Vegas.


John: So, you have a boyfriend?

Ashton Ryan: I do.

J: Is he in the industry too?

AR: Hell no! No more of that. Tried that and it doesn’t work.

J: Why not?

AR: It just doesn’t. There are press issues.

J: Your last few films have been movie parodies. What’s that all about?

AR: That was my idea. You know, you grow up watching them…I did anyway. I come up with these twisted porn ideas all the time. They’ve all been my idea. I come up with the name, but I don’t write the stories.

J: And you actually have a lot of pull at your production company, Eon Films.

AR: Yes. Technically, right now I am one third owner [of Eon Films].

J: What’s your favorite porno right now?

AR: My new one, Ashton’s Eleven.

J: If you had your own line of sex toys, would you fuck yourself with a dildo molded from your own penis?

AR: Oooh. Well, I’ve been told it’s really nice, so yes. Just to see if it actually was really nice. And actually, that’s coming.

J: The Ashton Ryan dildo?

AR: Under a different name. It’s a long story involving another movie parody.

Vegas: Day Four!

Our last day at the GayVN Expo (Sunday was a travel day) was another day of filming. Feeling shockingly non-hungover from the previous night’s HustlaBall, I snapped still photos of the cute boys from Factory Video, Flavamen, and Eon Films as Mikey interviewed them.

We scurried upstairs to catch the last hour of the Internext Expo, which ended at 3:00. Apparently, it is tradition to close the show by tossing thousands of small foam breasts (some Internet company’s promotional item) around the show floor. The scene was bizarrely apocalyptic. Boobs rained down from the heavens; they shot from one side of the floor to the other with shocking speed; they bounced and rolled and even caused the MaleFlixxx.com booth to fall apart.

After we wrapped up filming, I had some time to kill before meeting up with Buck Angel for an interview, so I decided to wander around the AVN section of the expo. There I encountered a car full of creepy Real Dolls, Big Gay Apple’s ol’ pal Ron Jeremy (he signed our “I Heart Gay Porn” t-shirts back in August), and a hot trio of Burlesque performers. I also discovered Rob Rotten and almost came in my pants when I saw him. What can I say? Dirty, mean lookin’ tattooed boys who would probably beat me up are just my thing. I even heard that Verne Troyer was making an appearance somewhere.

That night’s cocktail party in one of the Venetian’s penthouse suites was only slightly more subdued than on previous nights. Once again, I found myself in a bathroom with Ashton Ryan for a significant portion of the evening. Only this time his boyfriend and Tyler Mason joined us. All three of them were flirting with me, and I would have liked nothing more than for all of us to get naked. Instead, Tyler and I just watched Ashton’s boyfriend suck his cock and then tried to make the bidet work with disastrous results.

As I was leaving, I snapped a photo of the sexiest damn thing I had seen all weekend: Rod Barry in a furry hat with wolf ears. The only way it could be sexier is if that was all he was wearing.

Vegas: Day Three!

The first day of the expo was industry only, so the floor was relatively calm. The mobs of fans clambering for a porn star’s (or anyone they perceive to be a porn star’s) autograph showed up on day two.

The madness started at noon, when the expo opened its doors to fans. Big Gay Apple was up and filming at 10 a.m., however, which gave us time to interview guys from Titan Media, Hot House Entertainment, Adonis Pictures, and of course Chi Chi Larue’s Rascal Video. I was there to see Mikey chat with Andy Kirra and Trevor Knight (a.k.a. my new secret crush), but I missed superstar Johnny Hazzard as I was busy with another superstar, the lovely Tristan Taormino.

I bumped into Miss Triss at the Adam and Eve booth, where she was taking a break from covering the AVN Expo for the Village Voice and promoting her new DVD, Tristan’s House of Ass. We chatted about the expo, how exhausted we both were, and the silicone tackiness at a neighboring booth. Eon Films super tiny super twink Tyler Mason (pictured) passed by and I introduced him to Tristan.

Tristan: “Oh my god, are you like 12?”
Tyler: “No.”
Tristan: “Are you a porn star?”
Tyler: “Yes.”
Tristan: “Are you a top?”
Tyler: “No.”
Tristan: “It would be so cool if you were a top and fucked really big guys.”

That is why I love this woman and cannot wait until she produces some gay porn.

Bathroom Interview: Michael Brandon

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Vegas: Day Two!

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Vegas!

Yesterday was the longest travel day in recent memory. I’m not even sure how long it took, with all the time zone changes. Flying into Vegas, my first impression was that it looked like a giant miniature golf course.

After a quick stop at the Sands Expo Center to pick up our badges, the Big Gay Apple boys and I checked into our hotel. The Flamingo, one of the oldest hotel/casinos in Vegas, was founded by Bugsy Siegel and it looks like the Golden Girls exploded all over it. The woman who checked us in had enormous hair and teal horn-rimmed glasses with rhinestones.

Unpacking, I found that the bottle of lube I felt so clever in packing had leaked all over my shaving kit. I took this as some sort of omen. Not sure what kind, but definitely an omen.

We dove right into the Vegasness – buffet dinner, walking tour of the strip, a peek inside the Paris and the New York, New York. I had to wonder how someplace so gaudy and glittery wasn’t more gay. The casinos were filled with guido and fratboy types, running around playing shiny, loud games. It was like Chuck E. Cheese for grownups.

Later that night, we headed over to the Venetian for the Pride Bucks opening night party. Of course there were a bazillion minor porn stars, live sex shows, and free drinks that were way way way too strong. There were a couple conspicuous NYC porn absentees. Neither Michael Lucas nor Owen Hawk will be making an appearance at GayVN. However we saw the lovely boys from Eon Films, the guys behind the scense at Dirty Boy Video, and my boy Andy Kirra. The guys at this expo are definitely cuter than in Florida and there are more of them. Right then and there I set a few goals for myself on this trip:

1) Make out with Ashton Ryan
2) Make out with the moody looking dark haired boy smoking in the corner
3) No Smoking! (You can smoke everywhere in Vegas, and I have no willpower)
4) Make out with either Johnny Hazzard, Remy DeLaine, or Dick Wolf – assuming any of them are here
5) Try to marry a porn star at an Elvis chapel

It took three Jack and Cokes for me to get brave enough to talk to moody dark haired boy, and even then there wasn’t much talking. It was more like, “Hi, what’s up?” “Want to make out?” “Sure!” He’s here promoting either a new DVD or a new sex toy, I’m not sure which. Regardless, he was a really good kisser.

On our way out of the Venetian, we stopped by Tao, where we continued to drink and make out and draw stares from all the straight people. Apparently you just don’t see gay boys making out in Vegas. We parted ways after we left. He was way too drunk, I was way too tired, and neither of us really wanted to disturb our roommates. So, at 5 a.m. I crawled into my hotel bed alone. But, I thought, it’s only the first night.

GayVN Here I Come!

I wish I could say I spent tonight, the eve of my departure to Las Vegas for the GayVN Expo, packing, but I didn't. I was at Happy Valley. And now I'm drunk and faced with the nightmare of packing. I hate packing under normal circumstance. But drunk? At 3 a.m.? Crikey!

Cute undies: Check.
Obscene undies: Check.
Jane Austen novel: Check.
12 different outfits for 4 days: Check.
3 pairs of shoes: Check.
A bazillion accessories: Check.
Condoms: Check.
Lube: Check.
Aneros: Check.

I'm wondering if the very fact that I'm bringing my own lube and condoms will, you know, jinx me. I'm willing to risk it. At Internext the lack of quality lubricant proved...problematic. Bringing the Aneros may be a little overly ambitious, though.

Check back all weekend. I plan on blogging the whole event.

PRÉF: The Closed Mouth

The January/February issue of PRÉF has three different covers. Fancy, huh? Queerty.com thinks so. As usual, here's my piece, unedited and in English.

The Closed Mouth

I would venture to say that the mouth is as vital a sexual organ as the genitals. First of all, there’s kissing. It’s like the gateway to sexual activity. It’s how you get things started. Once I start kissing someone, my cock instantly stiffens. And there’s everything else you do with your mouth. Sucking cock, licking ass, nibbling nipples. Having sex is like trying to shove someone into your mouth, one body part at a time. It’s as visceral and primal an urge as eating, so it’s no wonder we use our mouths so much.

Actually, I never realized how important my mouth was in having sex until I couldn’t use it…

I. Seth
I hate Gay Pride. I hate the parade. I hate the street festivals. I hate the way we’re supposed to believe that partying all weekend is at all politically relevant. Most of all I hate the crowds.

It seems like every fag in the US descends upon New York at the end of June to celebrate the anniversary of the Stonewall Riot. Our Pride parade is one of the biggest and loudest in the country, and in the days leading up to it the city becomes one big gay party. Queers come from all over the country to get drunk in broad daylight, in the sweltering heat, and wave little rainbow flags. And the masses only increase at night. Normally quiet gay bars are filled to capacity with obnoxious tourists from New Jersey, Florida, D.C., and, worst of all, L.A.

This year my friends convinced me to join in the festivities by going to Avalon, a club that would have been packed on any normal weekend. On the night of the Pride Parade, however, it was wall to wall flesh. Sweaty, shirtless boys squeezed onto the dance floor like sardines in a can. Toned bodies glistened and pressed against each other as the music thumped. It would have been kind of sexy, except that I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breath, could barely move. It was exactly how I’d imagined gay Hell.

I managed to find the one room in the place that that didn’t feel like a sauna. It was a sort of hidden lounge area where everyone seemed a little more fabulous than those writhing in the sweltering darkness downstairs. I was thinking about going home when a hand grabbed me and pulled me down into the banquette behind me. The hand belonged to Seth, a massage therapist from West Hollywood. The first thing I noticed when I saw him was that he looked sort of shy and guileless, and that that was almost certainly a pose. The second thing I noticed was how cute he was.

I don’t exactly remember what we talked about. I think it went something like this:

Me: “L.A. sucks.”

Him: “No one would talk to you in L.A.”

Me: “Fuck you!”

Him: “Want to come back to my place?”

Me: “Sure.”

We hopped in a cab and, on the way to the fabulous Columbus Circle apartment he was sharing with a B-list gay celebrity, I sent my friends a text message: “Getting Laid!”

It didn’t occur to me until after we were on his bed and he had taken his clothes off that Seth had not tried to make out with me yet.

“I have a boyfriend in L.A.” he said. “We have a couple rules about sleeping with other guys: No kissing and no fucking.”

I didn’t mind the no fucking rule, but no kissing? I had no idea what to do. A sexy, mostly naked guy was lying in bed with me and my first impulse was to put my tongue in his mouth. It was like sitting behind the wheel of a brand new BMW with miles and miles of open road ahead of you, but no keys. I needed something to ignite the two of us. I needed the warm wetness of his mouth on mine. I needed to feel like we were connected, however tenuously. Without that we were just two random, fumbling people clumsily trying to get off.

I started half-heartedly stroking his cock, but didn’t get much of a response. I think he could sense that I wasn’t into it at all.

“Guess I had too much to drink tonight,” he said. “I don’t think I can get hard.”

I left hating Pride and L.A. and boys from L.A. just a little bit more.