Castro Confidential telexes its far-flung correspondents for Social Notes from All Over. Today, a friend writes about his visit last night at San Francisco's top-secret "14th Street House."
I stopped by "Communion," the occasional part-fairy, part-hunky happening at the celebrated venue for all manner of M2M erotic gatherings. Last night, hundreds of guys wandered around the multi-level fun house, with towels tucked around their waists. Many bellies flopped over. Men munched sandwich wraps, strawberries and barbecued potato chips in the kitchen, others jerked off watching leather-ish porn in the little den. Smokers (of tobacco) gathered and, well, smoked tobacco on a little patio outdoors.
Up the back deck to the second floor was the "massage room" -- two or three dozen guys sprawled next to, around and on top of each other, naked or slightly toweled, kissing, some sucking, a fuck here and there, in pairs or maybe threes or mores. I smoked some pot and ate two pieces of the incredible cherry-chocolate bread from Noe Valley Bakery; I recognized it right away. Great pistachio nuts, too.
I surveyed the crowd, chatted with this one and that, then checked out the basement/sex dungeon -- a big, rambling space with various rooms and compartments, slings, little nooks and crannies, gauzy hanging things, some beds, an S&M corner, a doc's examining table, etc. I like to observe in that kind of space. But I'm a traditionalist in this kind of thing: I prefer my anonymous sex one-on-one and in private.