And you thought I was kidding with that title.

But, no.

Though I do have to make it clear that the picture is NOT ME!

I didn’t actually leave my pants in SF; it would be more appropriate to say I took them off in San Francisco. For extended periods of time. In front of strangers. But that’s just not nearly as fun as being a dirty-minded Tony Bennett (something tells me that’s redundant anyway). Read on for the whole story, but I warn you that it’s a long one.

Patrick and I and two friends arrived Wednesday afternoon and rode BART from SFO to the civic center station, then walked just over a mile through the Tenderloin to our hotel. I’d heard that the city wasn’t as cleaned up as New York, but as it was my very first introduction to San Francisco, I was initially a little surprised at the squalor. It didn’t take but a few hours to be pretty comfortable though. I’ve always said that New York was more fun before the family-friendly Disneyfication took place anyway.

Wednesday evening was a stroll through Chinatown. We saw what I’m assuming was a relatively inexperienced cross-dresser stumbling around in stilettos. In addition to the lack of high heel practice, she was oblivious to the fact that very short skirts need to be held down in gusts of wind. On that windy Wednesday, I saw more middle-aged saggy ass than I’ve seen in the rest of my life combined. I didn’t know at the time that Sunday’s pride festival would triple my exposure. Throughout the whole trip I was also surprised at the number of transgendered people around. I only know a few in Utah, so to see so many everywhere caught me off guard. Too bad so many of them seemed to be homeless or very, very poor.

Thursday was our big shopping day, mostly in the Union Square area. I was very good and bought next to nothing. The friends we traveled with, however, spent several hundred dollars. At FCUK one of the sales people told our friend, “You look like a Utah boy!” I’m still not sure what that means, but I hope it was good.

That night, we ventured over to SoMa for great sushi at Blowfish Sushi. They were playing anime porn (hentai) on the in-house video screens and after a little plum sake our friends started “dubbing” the videos into English for anyone who cared to listen. Really, it was hilarious.

Though the weather was great the whole trip, it was particularly gorgeous on Friday, so we made it “tourist day,” with visits to Pier 39, Fisherman’s Wharf, Ghirardelli Square, and a couple cable car lines. Friday night, however, was about as far from tourists as we could get.

Before we’d left Salt Lake, all four of us had discussed going to a sex club, mostly just to have experienced something so outside of Utah for the first time. Our group was three guys and one girl, so after asking around a little, we decided to go to the Power Exchange because they, unlike most clubs, have a “mixed” area that allows women.

Patrick and I stayed in the gay male areas while our female friend went to the mixed area. Our guy friend was allowed to wander between the two. Though I didn’t see it myself, both our friends were a little traumatized by the extent of the S&M that night at the Power Exchange. The gay areas, on the other hand, were kind of boring. The crowd was relatively young, but no one was doing much. Patrick and I had agreed beforehand - with little discussion or disagreement - that we were there to look only, and there would be no touching involving anyone else in any way. We wandered around the play areas, the “campground” and the video rooms, pretty much just being curious out-of-town voyeurs. There wasn’t a whole lot to see though, even as it got late, so we eventually ended up grabbing as private a booth as we could find and going at it ourselves. By the end of it, I did notice that we’d attracted a bit of a crowd, which freaked us both out, but it was dark and they were having a hard time getting much of a look, so I didn’t let it bother me any. It’s not like I expected otherwise, anyway. It was a sex club after all!

After breakfast at the Pinecrest Diner, we got back to the hotel at about 5:00am and crashed until just after noon on Saturday. Then we all went down to Castro Street for Pink Saturday and had a good time shopping, boy watching, and drinking. Such a good time, in fact, that at the end of the night, both our friends ended up in the middle of Castro Street, asses in the air, getting whipped by a very talented dominatrix to the whistles and screams of several dozen people. I was pissed it was pretty much the only time I didn’t have my digital camera. There were a lot of people taking pictures of the “show” though, so I’ll bet you can find images of the whole thing somewhere online.

Sunday morning was a tough morning since we’d had little sleep after our wild whipping night, but we rolled out of bed and wandered down to the parade, snagging a pretty good spot at the corner of Market and 7th. The parade was looooooooong but good, though we got pretty sunburned in the process. I was surprised how few actual floats there were, with many entries just being people walking. I think we have more floats at Utah Pride, actually, but the number of people walking and in attendance, obviously, just does not compare.

No surprise that everything was very politically oriented, so the whole parade pretty much alternated between the expected gyrating near-naked boys-in-love-with-themselves and a whole lot of anti-Bush sentiment. My favorite entry was the mass of married couples marching with Gavin Newsom. It was about the only thing that really made me smile and I think will set this year of pride apart from all the others.

After the parade itself, we went back to the hotel and took a nap then went back to the festival. And there … oh my, the nakedness. So much nakedness. More nakedness than I’d ever thought I’d see in person. Titties, asses, big dicks, little dicks, soft dicks, hard dicks, vacuum-pumped balls, nipple clamps … you name it, we saw it. Most of it I could have done without, but there were a couple really hot naked guys, most notably one who was receiving a blowjob in the Freedom Fairy Village where, apparently, anything goes. Why is it that those who shouldn’t take off their clothes always do, and those you wish would get naked never do?

Anyway, on Sunday night, because we’re horny bastards, the three boys in our group went to Eros to see if it was any better than Power Exchange. When we walked in, we had no idea that, unlike PE, we’d have to wander around in only a towel. But, after a little discussion amongst ourselves, we said “what the hell” and went in anyway. I kind of thought it would be my one and only “bathhouse” experience, and it was something I wanted to do once in life, though safely.

When I was checking in and receiving my towel and locker, the guy behind the counter said, “You must be from Utah.”
Thoroughly suprised, I said yes and asked how he knew, hoping I wouldn’t get another “You look like a Utah boy!” like our friend. I just didn’t want to seem THAT out of place.
Instead, he said, “You have the same last name as my favorite play buddy, and he’s from Utah. Must be one of your relatives.”
Well, surprise, surprise! My last name isn’t really very common, so it’s likely the play buddy is a relative of mine, though I don’t know of any in SF. Regardless, it was an especially strange beginning to an especially surprising night.

While we were changing in the “locker room” area, that same clerk came by the row I was in, alone, and said, “I just had to come see you guys in your towels. Utah boys are GORGEOUS!” Though entirely untrue, at least in my case (I’m really very average), it was flattering for my average-ness to be lauded, especially at 10 pounds heavier than I’d like to be.

Eros seemed pretty clean, though I absolutely hated walking around barefoot. Who knows what fungus you could catch? There were a few hot guys and several not so hot ones, but there was a whole lot of public sex going on, some of it pretty hot. I just wished the guys in those hot scenes were cuter.

I know it took both Patrick and me a while to get used to walking past guys and getting all-out groped by men old enough to be our fathers, but a polite head-shake or “no thanks” stopped all but a few advances. There were a couple notable trolls who had a hard time understanding “no,” but overall it wasn’t bad. The guy at the front desk had told us to let him know right away if anybody gave “my Utah boys” any trouble, but we didn’t have to resort to that.

At Power Exchange, we’d seen two or three other couples, but at Eros we were very clearly the only couple in attendance. Well, the only monogamous couple at least. We watched some pretty hot scenes for a while, including some in a sling, then played together as privately as we could. My ass got grabbed a bit, and a few guys reached for Patrick’s dick, so we stopped, put our towels on, and wandered around again.

It was about this time that I saw two cute guys also walking around together. Every once in a while they’d talk to a third guy, just like we would with our friend who was there, but it was pretty clear that they, too, were at Eros as a couple. It was nice to not be the only couple around, and they were younger and cuter than 99% of the guys there, so, as Patrick and I agreed, “Finally, there’s a couple we wouldn’t mind watching!”

I think Patrick was a bit nervous about guys touching me and things like that, and I was annoyed that he was worried about me not saying “no,” so we were both a little tense and you could probably tell. We spent almost all our time within a few feet of each other, but did separate every once in a while just to try to fit in a bit more.

This whole time, we kept passing the Other Couple and nervously avoiding too much eye contact. As strangly comforting as it was to have them there, it also made me a little nervous, and I’m not sure why, because they weren’t at all threatening.

After probably over an hour of this, Patrick’s feet were tired from all the walking we’d done earlier, so he sat down on a bench and I stood about 5 feet away, watching a threesome busy in action. A few minutes after I got positioned, the Other Couple came and stood next to me. We stayed there for a while, me nervously exchanging glances with one of them, and then I decided I needed Patrick right there with me. By then, quite a crowd had gathered to watch the threesome, so I had to really look around to get his attention even though he was pretty close. After doing that, I heard one of the Other Couple whisper to the other, “He’s looking for his friend” and they both nodded.

Patrick negotiated his way through the crowd to me and I told him what I’d just heard and said, “So, they’re aware of us, too.” He asked me what I wanted to do and I said I didn’t know. We’d agreed to keep the same rules as at Power Exchange; that is, no touching or getting touched by anyone except each other, but we could do all the watching we wanted.

Patrick and I started playing with each other just a little bit, and a couple older guys saw and tried to get in on it, but we kept them away and I noticed the Other Couple look at each other when we did that. Finally, I asked Patrick, “Do you want to talk to them? See if they want to play … well, in the same vicinity as us? Still keeping the rule, of course. I think they’re probably monogamous, too.”
Patrick said yes “as long as there’s not cross-couple touching.”

We walked away from the area and stood there, trying to decide what to do.
“Should we go ask?” Patrick said.
“No, let’s see if they follow us. I think they might.”
Right then, the Other Couple came around the corner and we all looked at each other. I leaned in to Patrick and said, “If we don’t say something soon, we’re going to do this all night and never get anywhere!” I started to turn back to see if they were still there, but just as I got the courage to walk over, someone was suddenly next to me and in a slight southern accent said something like, “If somebody doesn’t say something soon, we’ll be doing this for two more hours!”

So, that’s how Patrick and I met a nice couple at a sex club. We had about a half hour before closing, so we talked for a while, just standing there in our towels, in the middle of dozens of men having sex. We learned that they, too, were visiting SF and didn’t really ever go to sex clubs. Like us, they were approaching three years together and were monogamous. They’d come with friends, but were pretty intimidated by the whole thing; they were pretty much the only monogamous couple amongst their friends.

After a little conversation, a few laughs, and some nervous looking around, we said “nice to meet you; funny place to have done so” type of things and kind of parted ways. I kind of felt like there should be more, and wondered about the mutual-but-exclusive-play thing. I figured they’d had the guts to approach us, so it was my turn to be courageous and ask the next question, but the fear of rejection was too much. After all, they’d emphasized their monogamy and I wasn’t really sure what they thought about us.

So, Patrick and I moved a little bit, into a kind of gloryhole booth with a lot of holes - still pretty visible. We decided to just get it on with each other and be happy that we’d had this experience in our lives. The Other Couple, though, moved into the booth next to us and started making out as well. All four of us were pretty visible to each other, and after a few minutes, I just said to hell with it and leaned over into their booth and said, “So, do you wanna share a booth?” To my surprise (honestly), one of them said, “Sure - I think our booth’s bigger than yours, why don’t you come over?”

So we did.

And then we all got it on, with our respective partners only, occassionally watching the others, and we had a damn good time. Really, it was pretty innocent, never going much beyond handjobs. We were nervous after all; this was our first time, and I think theirs as well. We didn’t have to go further anyway, because we were fulfilling something of a fantasy, and it was enough of a turn-on to have a hot couple there at all.

After it was over, I suggested to the Other Couple that we exchange email addresses. We had about five minutes before closing, so we parted ways and planned to meet in the lobby after changing. In that time I asked Patrick if it was weird I’d suggested exchanging email addresses. He said he was going to do it if I hadn’t, but neither of us had any idea how the Other Couple felt about it. Patrick and I are paranoid enough that we were even worried that the Other Couple hadn’t really ever been into the idea at all, but had just had nothing better to do at the end of the night.

Anyway, we agreed that it had been hot and that we wouldn’t change a thing about the experience if we could. We didn’t - and don’t - want to escalate things beyond what we did, and we don’t regret that it happened. Really, it was about as perfect as a fulfilled fantasy can be, unexpected as it was that night! It’s just a huge bonus that the cute guys who helped us fulfill the fantasy turned out to be genuinely nice guys, guys I think we’d probably love to hang out with all the time if they didn’t live on the other side of the country.

I think it may even be accurate to say we made a couple of new friends. At the sex club. After a rather intimate encounter. Who knew?! Though it does seem like it might be odd to have friends that have seen me get off. But I saw them, so I suppose it’s even. I guess it’s funny who you meet when you least expect it. And where you least expect it.

That night, when the four of us met in the lobby, I debated about which of my email addresses to give them, and for some reason gave them my zionide address. I thought about it at the time, but didn’t really care, though now I wonder if I should have cared. I’ve since been a little worried about them investigating the domain and being freaked out by the blog, or thinking that I’m some computer geek with nothing better to do, even if that’s the truth.

No one I’ve ever met in real life, other than Patrick, has any idea that we keep blogs. At least not that I’m aware of. And it’s strange to think that there’s a chance that at least two people out there will read this and know what I look like. Hell, they’ll know what I look like naked, and that’s a very exclusive group of people, let me tell you!

We all walked home together that night, as our hotels were pretty close, and we had more nice conversation that confirmed my suspicions that they were, indeed, a couple of great guys. I couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking about the whole thing, and about me and Patrick. It was strange; almost like I’d been on a date and was wondering how the other person thought the date went and if they’d call.

Yesterday morning, I could tell Patrick was also still thinking about what we’d done the night before, so we talked about it some more. Everything is totally fine, but we’re both a little curious if we’ll ever talk to those guys again. I think it’s safe to say that we both hope so. We don’t have very many couple friends, and it’s nice to have them - especially cute ones! - even if they’re 2000 miles away.