This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. The memoir began with the series C'est La Vie!, which covers the years 1970-1997. This series covers the year the narrator turns 40, 1998, and launches an ambitious project to have sex with 1000 men that year. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
The last chapter summarized the first three months of my 1000-man project, and focused on how I planned the trip west to my exhibit in San Francisco in April.
1000 Men: 1998 FLEX
April third, a Friday, I got into my car with my sketchbooks, a small library of novels I wanted to read, enough clothes to get by, a cooler for lunch stuff, and a list of gay sex venues I wanted to explore. I included an exercise mat, some weights and elastic bands so that I could work out if there was not a gym available on my travels.
It was about noon when I left Philly, headed west on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. My destination that night was Cleveland and the Flex baths.
The trip was beautiful with spring just coming to the soft, low mountains of central and western Pennsylvania. I crossed the border into Ohio where the landscape suddenly became much different: flatter, more farms, less strip development, in short, mid-western. Around 7:30 I pulled up about a half-block from Flex, parked the car, and entered the door.
Inside, I was greeted by a young man on the other side of the registration window. I bought a day pass and paid for a room. He buzzed me in, handed me a towel and key and pointed me in the right direction. It was fairly quiet still this early in the evening, but I passed a couple of guys in towels on the way to my room, and a couple of open doors with men waiting for partners to join them. I got changed, put on my bath buddy case with a bottle of poppers, condoms and lube and headed down to the wet area to shower off the road sweat.
In the shower, a good-looking guy in his 40s eyed me as I soaped up, and his cock gradually hardened as he watched me. I caught his eye, and when I was finished, I headed to the steam room nearby.
A few seconds later, he came in and sat on the shelf below me, then turned and started to suck my cock. Another man joined us, and he and I were kissing and feeling each other's bodies. We kept it up for a while and then split up, all saying "See you later," which is the standard way of saying, "If we meet up again, I'm still interested in more action."
That night at Flex got hotter as the evening wore on. I had arrived before the main rush, which started about 9:30. Despite that, I had sucked, been sucked, fucked or been fucked by 16 men by about ten o'clock. A pretty good score for a day spent mostly in the car! I decided that I would bring it up to a nice even 20 guys and then leave to drive west a little before finding a motel for the night. Numbers 17-20 happened fairly quickly, including one young, slim black guy of maybe nineteen who I had a really hot time with. He was short and slight, maybe not over 125 lbs., and completely shaved: pubes, armpits, everything. His slight body flowed over me like warm syrup, and we ended with him on top and my cock in his ass writhing our way to a hot climax, my only one of the evening. We traded numbers and I promised to be in touch on my way back. He was definitely worth more than one time.
I left Flex at eleven o'clock and headed west on I-90 for about 45 minutes before pulling off the road and checking into a chain motel.