Listen to this articleThe road to Las Vegas is fraught with danger and excitement (and memories).
A friend of mine recently attended the Las Vegas Gay Pride Day celebration and he was most exuberantly filling me in on all the details of the Night Electric Light Gay Pride Parade. As he was droning on and on, memories of a long-ago road trip to Vegas came flooding back to me.
It was summer 1988 and I was a newly minted princess, fresh out of the closet, beginning to explore the big wide gay world. Since May of that year, I had been driving down from Logan to Salt Lake every Sunday to attend the Resurrection Metropolitan Community Church services. Under the direction of Reverend Bruce Barton, the Salt Lake congregation had been planning a road trip to visit the Las Vegas MCC congregation over the Labor Day weekend, and I was graciously included. Having not yet attended Drag Queen Finishing School, I was a little unsure of what to expect on this, my very first, Big Gay Road Trip.
We rented a 15-person van, into which we packed 17 screaming queens. Before we had driven as far as the freeway, I knew that I had indeed found “my people,” for everyone was anxiously engaged in scoping out the other drivers on the road, looking for worthwhile eye candy to wave at. As we got on the freeway and headed south, we began a group sing-a-long to bolster our spirits as we traveled through dark and scary Utah County.
Upon arriving in Las Vegas at about midnight, Rev. Bruce divided us up to stay with different MCC’ers in their homes. He paired me with Eric, the cutest guy in the van, and we were going to stay at Odel and Eddie’s house. I was excited. I had not been able to take my eyes off of Eric the entire trip. He had beautiful blond hair, blue eyes that sparkled, and when he smiled, he had dimples that you could dive into, not to mention a six-pack you could grate cheese on.
After the long and crowded drive we were tired. Eddie kindly led us to the guest bedroom. Oh, my! There was only one bed! What ever shall we do? Eric, not being shy, stripped down to a bright yellow, form-fitting Speedo and jumped onto the bed. Now, Eric could not have known, but I have a very strong fetish for spandex. Eric was pushing every single one of my hot buttons. I excused myself to the bathroom where I decided to wear a Speedo of my own to bed. Thank goodness the lights were out as I re-entered the bedroom so that Eric could not see that inside my Speedo, “Old Hornington” was struggling to break free.
It was rather warm in the room, and Eric was lying on top of the covers. I quietly slid onto the bed and lay there silently for a few moments, trying to determine if Eric had already fallen asleep. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t dare breathe. There was just enough light in the room for me to see his rigid six-pack rising and falling with steady breaths. And there, creating quite a bulge in his bright yellow spandex was his “Abundant Schvanstooker.” It was within my reach. Just inches away. I could not take my eyes off of it. Tortuously, it seemed like I lay there for hours.
Every once in a while, his tight body would shift ever so slightly. My right hand, inched closer and closer to his body. After what seemed like hours, finally, my right index finger brushed up against his firm, spandex wrapped buttocks just as he rolled a little and came to lay on top of my hand. Oh! My! God! Should I pull my hand back or leave it there? Will it wake him up? I decided to leave my hand there, pressed gently into the mattress by his firm and warm “Booty.” All the while, my own “Marquess of Lorn” struggled to “Manipulate the mango” as it were.
To add more tension to the situation, his leg was now sticking out and I ever so tortuously slow, inched my knee in that general direction. After about another hour, my leg lay up against his from knee to foot, my hand still gently cupping his tight ass, while I slowly, gently, deliberately grinded into the mattress to “pound my pomegranate” as it were. This continued until the morning light flickered through the window, when I must have fallen asleep.
When morning arrived, I awoke to Eric wrestling with the sheet as bright morning light streamed through the window. Since I had only about an hour of sleep, I was groggy, but Eric seemed quite rested and cheerful. He looked and saw that I was awake and he playfully leaned in and gave me a quick, affectionate little peck on my forehead. Just about then, Eddie came to the door announcing breakfast. I pretended to avert my eyes so as to give Eric some privacy as he pulled on his pants, all the while my eyes were glued to the mirror so that I could clearly watch every single muscle in his body move. And “God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good.”
Continued next month…..
This story leaves us with several important questions:
- By pairing me up with Eric as roommates, was Reverend Bruce trying to test our purity, or play matchmaker?
- Was Eric really asleep?
- Would Eric have welcomed a “Coaxing of the cajones?”
- Could that be considered rape?
- Was Eric a professional Prick Tease?
These and other eternal questions shall be answered in future chapters of The Perils of Petunia Pap Smear.
