Gee, they give us big boners!

Hope springs eternal when women troll for sexy men on Craiglist's Castro pages. Still, this 31-year-old is our kind of gal pal when she writes: "Scruffy, smart, soccer player types make me smile."

We advise Craigslist ranters and ravers

From the classified site's Castro page:

• Stop working the Sha'ar Zahav tea room! "Another Jew is into me. I'm just a simple gay guy from Texas. Where are the good ol' country hicks in SF?''

Craigslist advice for super-hung straight guys

They're ranting and raving again on the site's Castro page:

• Because they're meth-snorting bitches! "Why are gay men so cruel to each other?"
• Please reveal the worst thing you've ever done to assuage this guilty conscience: "I did something horrible and I need to feel better."
• An homosexualist advises a straight man, who complains women can't take his absurdly large penis: "I suggest you give up on women and show yourself to gay men." Indeed!

We have a Nobel Peace Prize nominee!

A sampling of Craigslist Rants & Raves in the Castro:

• A gay self-hater says: "Many people ask me how I can be gay and also be a Republican and a Pentecostal Christian." Answer: You can't!
• Lovin' those hairy Asian women. "Their skin is so soft and tasty!" OK: Ewww.
• Sick of those tiresome "homeless" people begging for money at intersections? "Now I hand out applications (and a pencil) from Office Depot, Party City, Kragens, Big Lots and other stores to these stop sign people." Start polishing that Nobel prize acceptance speech!

Dateline P-Town: Bears lazy, avoid beach

Castro Confidential telexes its far-flung correspondents for Social Notes from All Over. Today, a friend writes from Cape Cod, where he's on a Bear Week holiday:

PROVINCETOWN, Mass. -- It's been a typical P-town week: A lot of sun, a little rain, a lot of men, a little bit of sexual compulsion. Oh, and biking the paths, strolling naked on the beach, and seeing Varla Jean Merman simultaneously sing and eat Cheez Whiz.

It's a bit odd to see P-town taken over by bears. And they have really taken over. Even though in past years we've been in town during "family week," I don't recall the gay scene ever being so dominated. The crowd at Spiritus at night is overwhelmingly furry, with the full gamut of bear "types" from sleek otters to studly muscle bears and some big fat bears, as well. And everything in between.

Bears, although friendly, are also lazy. More stick to town, with fewer on the bike trails, and fewer making the trek across the estuary to the nude beach (which is more deserted this year than in previous years). Also, at Tea there is a great amount of alcohol consumed on the deck, but the dance floor is empty until very late, and never really gets jammed. Oh, and finally: Dick Dock is quite popular. P-town, despite my great fears, remains P-town. The ritual continues.

The biggest change was the extension of Tea from a 6 p.m. to 7 p.m. close some years ago. That continues to complicate "after-t" and dinner. Guys still get to the A-House or the Crown & Anchor at 11, and mill around for two hours until the 1 a.m. close. The leather dance last night at the Paramount (in the Crown) had a huge and very active back room that I only noticed at 12:30 a.m. So, OK, some things have changed. But the light, the art, the schlock: It's all still here. Still, where are the lesbians? Oh, and Clem and Ursies is not what it used to be. Sigh. Relatively expensive and underwhelming.

[Photo: Google Earth]

On cooties, orgasms and monogomy

Taking a quick spin through Craiglist's Rants & Raves in the Castro, we discover:

• Too many straights in the 'hood's gay bars! "This isn't about water fountains or cooties." No! Well, OK, yes.
• A white man likes his apparently non-white boyfriend. A lot! "We have mad awesome sex and crazy super orgasms."
• We now know exactly how many gay male couples are monogomous. It's 2%! Really? That much?

In Holland, comforting a master in recovery

Castro Confidential telexes its far-flung correspondents for Social Notes from All Over. Today, a friend writes:

AMSTERDAM -- Where else can you find such a glorious combination of high-quality pot, romantic canals, tulips and sleazy back rooms -- all with haunting Holocaust atmospherics, thanks to Anne Frank. In any event, I skipped the secret annex in favor of a date with a sexy stud from World Leathermen. Turns out my date was recovering from the strain of having been master to three slaves simultaneously -- he more or less had an emotional collapse after being "fired" by his subordinates -- and was struggling to reconcile hot sex with relations of a non-hierarchical nature.

Having just recovered from a kidney stone in Madrid two days before, I was up for a light-hearted romp rather than an intense scene of depravity. We smoked a joint, chatted, drank sparkling water, made out, fumbled around, and kept our clothes on, though much random touching went on beneath the fabric. It was light, sweet, and gentle -- the first step on my companion's road to re-connected versatile sex, as he told me. I was happy to oblige. Though neither of us experienced a final "release," the four-hour interlude of talk and touch was just right for both of us. After days of pain, my body once again proved itself capable of delivering much-needed pleasure, and I slept better that night than I had in days.

I guess we've all discovered Craigslist. Again.

Rants & Raves in the Castro:

• This guys likes small cocks.
• First day on the job, and who does he run into? 30-year-old Ronnie. "SO FUCKIN' HOT !!"
• A critic (fan?) notes that Ed Jew's supporters "dress fabulously."

One rich sugar daddy, two hung black men...

. . . and we've got my kind of Pacific Heights party! A self-styled corporate mogul in one of San Francisco's most posh 'hoods (hi, Dede!) is looking for a slutty live-in girlfriend in return for $5,000 a week. The catch: She's got to agree to be fucked by a couple of studly black personal trainers while the 40-year-old exec watches.

He lays it all out in this Craigslist ad. (It may be gone by the time you read this; gossip blog Valleywag's got the full text.) The money graph: "I will only share you with 2 black men. I have known both of these gentlemen for quite some time. Both are physical fitness trainers here in the city who are very cafeful [sic] about their bodies. They are very selective about who their sexual partners are. One is 40, 6'4" 235 solid muscle, over 10 inches. The other is 42, 6'5" 240 solid muscle, over 10 inches as well. And they love fucking sexy white women. They are very healthy, clean, and in shape."

Yum! Reminds me of that over-the-top Details magazine story about "Mandingo" sex parties. Anyone know those two trainers? Send tips to castroconfidential@gmail.com.

[Major hat tip to Valleywag! Photo: That's built-for-sex Dexter from Jake Cruise Media; more NSFW pics of Dexter here]

We join sex pirates on a Sacto boat cruise

Castro Confidential telexes its far-flung correspondents for Social Notes from All Over. Today, a friend writes:

So I was invited by a friend -- OK, OK, a sleazy, sexy fuck buddy from Asspig -- to cruise the delta in his motorboat up to Sacramento, where the locals have a gay day bash scheduled for this weekend. I was enticed by the lure of the waters and a promised post-cruise romp in the living quarters below deck. He was heading up to meet some members of the Barbary Coast Boating Club for the weekend. His partner and his boy -- aren't relationships interesting? -- were heading up by car together the next day, although my date's boy's own partner, I think, was planning to celebrate Sacramento's gayness closer to home. I was busy the next day, so I planned to take Amtrak back to the Bay Area from our state's gracious capital.

As we pulled into the delta from a modest East Bay port, my date's MAFIA baseball cap (MAFIA stands for Mid-America Fists in Action, for those who need to be told) blew off and into the water. We puttered around and I hooked it with a long metal pole designed to, well, hook things from the drink. The trip took about five hours, and we hooked up with another Barbary Coast member along the way for a quickie lunch in a little deli along the water in Walnut Grove.

We docked in Sacto at about 3 p.m., alongside several other Barbary Coast piratical types with much bigger boats than ours, including a modest-sized yacht that could have been transformed into a lovely sex club or even boat-bathhouse. After a bit of schmoozing and socializing with the other denizens of our colorful little gay boating band, my date and I descended to the nether regions of his vehicle and did the nasty deed. Mission accomplished!

But does she still have that guy's number?

We gays are living la vida loca and all in the Castro, which means seldom running into that curious species -- heterosexuals (a.k.a. breeders). Now and then, it's worth visiting their little (sad?) world. Here's something I found yesterday in Craigslist's Rants & Raves:

Stop it with the penis pictures! I know some of you guys read the best of CL and we women complain about the penis pictures. And yet, it still happens. Oh, maybe they don't read. Anyway, one year, I ended up with a guy who had [such] an enormous penis that it put porno stars to shame. So, it ended up being my baseline. He could literally beat someone about the head with his cock and hurt them.

You guys who send or post your weenies are an interesting bunch. I can honestly say I have never seen a picture of a penis and felt a twang in my cooch. Mostly, it results in mocking and cajoling. I've seen some that look like a Sharpie when hard. Or some have these extremely tiny heads. I'm sorry but if your erection is shorter than your balls, don't take a picture of it. In fact, hide that shit. And some of you guys have poses where your fingers are wrapped tightly around your best friend to push more blood into junior. Seriously, you look like you're trying too hard to make it bigger.

Look, just stop. If it's an average dick, it looks average. If it's freakishly huge, it makes people want to runaway whilst throwing grenades at it. However, if you're posting on M4M, show it off. Guys love their own dicks and other guys' dicks. In parting, I don't hate dick. In fact, I love dick, but let me get to know your dick in person, not via the Internet.

Letter from a sex den

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.