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!
In the last chapter I told about how Troy and I stood, with towels wrapped around our waists at the window of my room at the gay resort, watching men cruising for sex as the evening got later. We wanted sex with a couple, and lucked out with two 18 year-old boys, identical twins, Tim and Ted, who ended up fucking us in unison side-by-side on our backs.
One Thousand Men: 1998 THE YEAR SPEEDS BY
The next morning Troy and I awoke around eight. We started kissing and caressing very gently, and the kisses got more passionate, and pretty soon we were feeling each other's bodies, sucking, going into a 69 for ten minutes or so, and then it was time for me to try out Troy's monster meat. I started by riding him, with the help of several whiffs of poppers, and he fucked me for a long time, mostly slowly, kissing passionately from time to time, and he finished with me on my back, my legs spread, every muscle of his torso tensed and glistening with sweat, until he finally pulled out, whipped off the condom and put his cock next to mine and jerked us to simultaneous orgasms.
We got cleaned up, dressed and headed out for breakfast and to explore Palm Springs. Later in the day, Jim came back from LA and the four of us, Jim and Troy, Greg and me, had dinner together. The rest of my week was very relaxing, and included not only several encounters each night with guys at the resort, but a rousing sex party at Greg's attended by about 30 men of all ages. By the end of the week, I had had sex with an additional 35 men, and I was ready to get on the road home.
I packed and got on the road early, heading back on I-10 to pick up route 395 north to Sequoia and King's Canyon National Parks. I had a quick look around and continued on to Yosemite, where I had made reservations at a lodge for two nights. The next day, I spent the day exploring the park, and did a couple of small oil sketches and relaxed. It was nice not to be on the prowl for a couple of days.
I checked out early in the morning after the second night, and headed north again to pick up I-80 and head into Nevada at Reno. I was back to a reverse run of my cross-country trip at the beginning of April, hitting many of the same rest stops and truck stops to hook up with whatever men I could find. This time, I gave Denver a pass and just followed I-80 east, again picking up I-88 at the Illinois-Iowa border and continuing on to Chicago.
Toward the end of my time in SF, I had contacted Ian, the hot kid that I met at the Chicago Steamworks, and he invited me to stay for a few days. While I was with him, we made love several times in his carriage house, and visited the Steamworks a couple of times, where I added a lot of men to my list. Finally, it was time for me to go. We shared a sweet kiss the morning I left, and he promised to come visit in Philly.
While in San Francisco, I had decided not to go to Maine for the summer (too few gay men to make my project worthwhile there) and found someone through a friend who would rent it for the summer. I had also decided to spend time at some of the famous gay beach resorts: a week each at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, Fire Island and Provincetown, so I had booked rentals in each place.
I had to get my place in Maine ready for the renter, storing my clothes and some other personal stuff, so when I got back to Philly, I called Chad to see if he might be able to arrange a vacation for a few days or a week, and join me there. Fortunately, he was at a point in his research when he could take some time off, and so he drove up with me on the Memorial Day weekend to go to Maine for a week. We had a ball. He helped me with my maintenance projects, but most of the time was spent hiking, kayaking, exploring the coast--he had never been to Maine before--and of course making love as much as possible.
The weeks I was in Philly, I was back to finding guys at the bars, at the baths, and going to Armand's monthly party. My list continued to grow, even though I had repeats with some guys I had met earlier in the year.
My show was to open in Atlanta at the beginning of August, and again, my gallery rented me a sublet for the month, during which I explored Atlanta's gay scene, which was pretty hot. At the end of August, the year was two-thirds over, so I should have had 666 men on it by then, but, even I was surprised with I realized that the number was well over 800!
Back from Atlanta at the beginning of September, I decided to spend another week at Rehoboth Beach. There were not so many guys around now, but still the pickings were fine and my list continued growing.
Through the fall, I continued in Philly, and I was beginning to consolidate ideas for my next body of work, based in part on the small landscape oil sketches and drawings I had been doing on my travels. I was able to find the studio of a painting professor who was on sabbatical for the semester, and I rented it through the end of the year and started to develop my ideas into larger works.
In mid-November, my show opened at its last stop, a small contemporary art museum in South Florida. Again, I got an apartment, this time in Ft. Lauderdale. There, and in Miami, there was a huge community of gay men, great bars and baths, and I was enjoying the last month-plus of my 1000-man project, taking every opportunity to add guys to the list.
Back in Philly in the middle of December, my loft had been vacated by my subtenant, and so I moved out of my temporary rented studio and set up at home to continue work there on my new paintings. In the meantime, I had the lease on my fuck pad through the end of the year, so I could continue to take advantage of its location for casual hook-ups from the bars and baths. In anticipation of moving out the last few days of December, I found buyers for the furniture I had acquired, and started moving my personal possessions back to my loft.
Again, I celebrated Christmas with my family and a few close friends at my loft, cooking a bounteous meal for 24 and lots of good wine. I felt generous, partly because my shows had gone well, and my galleries had taken advantage of the attendant publicity to sell works to collectors and a few public collections, and partly because my 1000-man project was going so well. I had also broken through my "painter's block" and had a clear idea of what I was going to do over the next few years. In addition, I had a great thing going with Chad, and was looking forward to the time when he was done with his fellowship, and we could consider a more intense, committed relationship together.