Winter has reared its ugly head here in Minneapolis. Over 3 feet of snow in the month of February alone-UHG! I can’t take anymore!!! All the snow blowing, crappy driving, and cold cold cold has turned me into a caveman. I’ve been hiding in my basement playing records and old synthesizers, dreaming of a old fashioned man pile on in my bedroom, instead of the winter pile on outside.
We all know Kenny Rogers is the most sexiest 70s salt and pepper Bear ever. But! if you are ever bored with your normal porn feed, do an image search for “Kenny Rogers and The First Edition” and you will find a young and dashing version of this country legend. So pretty I can’t get my mind out of the gutter. He played bass too! LICK!!!
OK! everybody knows Rob Halford is gay, but they didn’t know it in 1983. Which is why it is worth re-looking at some Judas Priest early song lyrics like the one posted below. The song Eat Me Alive is off the album Defenders of the Faith. And fer my money its best song about a blow job since Terry Reid’s early 70s sleeper hit Super Lungs. But what makes this interesting is the fact that we know now that this song is about a gay blow job. I dunno? I guess it gives me a semi knowing that many young teenage heshers were banging their heads to a song about gay cock while they were most likely deriding gay people on a daily basis. I realize this has probably all been hashed out elsewhere and everywhere in the metal world but I just wanted to get in on some easy action. Great lyrics btw.
I drew this picture a few years ago for my old man Joe. He died of a heart attack in 2005, and everyday since I send my prayers to him. His birthday was on christmas eve. He was a wise man, quiet at times, but was a heavily opinionated liberal hippy. Underneath his strong silent daddy personae, he was a deep well of emotion and love. Although at times he might not have admitted it, he was stunningly beautiful. He could be a difficult stubborn man, but he always found a way to channel his frustration into his sex drive. Rock hard 7″ that curved down when erect, not up. That cock could pry a hole open and give a bottom a night to remember for many years to come. I could gush for hours about my old boyfriend, and will continue to do so from time to time on this site which is dedicated to his memory: Joseph P. Miesen, the original Urban Mountain Man.
If you have been following this blog as of late you might have noticed some old sketches I’ve been using to illustrate my posts. These were done about thirteen years ago. I took a sketchbook, some nibs and a bottle of ink, and did a series of hard and fast drawings of all the porn on my iMacs hard drive. It was a wonderful experiment that offered me the chance to work with nibs and ink, while at the same time, try to improve my understanding of the smutty form, as well as relaxing my line work. Maybe one day I’ll print a book of these drawings. Over the next few months don’t be surprised if you see more of them on this blog, because I am truly in a lull for new material, but I like these drawings and the seem to provide a catalyst for my horny thoughts.
I’m caught between the upper lip and the whiskers of a strange man. Can’t say why I’m here in this space and time but I know I wanna hang in this moment as long as possible. I know there is stability, there is direction, there is identity. Yes! I wanna ride the ‘stache until I fall asleep for 8 hours straight. Piss in his mouth and roll over instead of getting up. Why because Mustache Man is here for me and I’m here for him.
Mel Street was a country music star who died before his time. Handsome fucker, ain’t he? I really wanted to buy this record but it rang like a lot of middle of the road 70s country music. Kinda dull for this rocker. I am not at the point where I want to spent eight bucks for a hot album cover but this one came close to starting me down that path. Just do me, and Mel, a favor and enjoy his beauty in this old record cover.
Not that long ago I wrote a blog entry about wanting to be called a “Rock n Roll Daddy” if you were to call me “Daddy” at all. I wanted to emphasize that the term “Daddy” is one that is personal and not to be taken for granted. On the flip side I generally don’t throw out the label ”boy” when chatting up fellas online (unless they truly are boys-under 27.) It’s not that I don’t want that kind of intamacy between me and another man, but my experience has taught me it’s rarely that easy to click at that level meeting through social media. Either we never meet, or when we do expectations were not met to facilitate a good Daddy/boy session. Also, I don’t know where my heart is going to lay, who I’m going to meet, what I’m going to learn or who I am going become, so until I find some certainty in the imaginary land of ”Daddy & boy” I’m looking for “buds.” Friends. Friends who like to fuck, fuck and talk, and fuck off together. So if you chat with me on one of those fancy phone apps I might just call you “bud,” because that’s what Daddy wants.
If you like spelunking through old vinyl you might know what I’m talking about. Some band photos borderline on some far out Friend Finder profile that I sorta wanna be a part of. Ok not all 70s/80s dudes are “10s” and they were all probably wearing shitty cologne that’s worse than any Axe product on the market. But! You gotta like how frank these photos are. It’s like yer in bed in the band. Kinda freaky!
I’m just going to keep posting more straight male porn butts at my Hairy Straight Butt Page. Only 2 sets so far, butt if you like forbidden fruit as much as I do maybe add it to your favorites. I plan on dumping here a few more times.