Thursday, July 30, 2015


I know this blog is mostly about bumping boy parts, but now and then if not political it has to do with other nature things, and what is more natural than laughter? "Those who cannot laugh cannot love," said Gabbo de la Parra once, in the middle of a heated discussion with a surly Atheist. But I digress. Here, in sort of an alphabetical order (because I didn't want to put myself in the ugly place to choose which one was the hottest), I present you the 30 comedians I think have managed to be eye candy and funny at the same time (or eye candy while funny?). 


Adam Ray


Andrew Santino


Anthony Jeselnik


Bill Santiago


Brad Williams


Brent Morin


Carlos Alazraqui

Chris D’Elia


Chris Distefano


Chris Hardwick


Christian Finnegan


Colin Kane


Damon Wayans Jr


Dane Cook


Donald Faison


Dov Davidoff


Gibran Saleem




Jesse Joyce


Jo Koy


Jon Stewart


Josh Wolf


Mo Mandel


Pablo Francisco


Rob Delaney


Rob Riggle


Sebastian Maniscalco


Steve Rannazzisi


Trevor Moore


Will Forte

And there you have it, the young, the DILFs, and the exotic, but all will make you laugh and have bad, very bad ideas at the same time.


Wednesday, July 22, 2015


 The Lotus Palace was a place of subtle beauty and tranquil decadence; thus, when the walls trembled and the volcanic laughter of a man disturbed the doves, making them scatter in a flutter of insulted wings, Ryaar had to stop his bookkeeping and go in search of the disturbance’s origin.

Before Ryaar could reach the stairs, a thunderous voice asked, “Who’s in charge here?”

The owner of the powerful voice was no other than General Atrum Bern, one of the biggest heroes of the planet. Extremely tall and almost brutal-looking (not by his appearance but for his demeanor, because the barbarian was quite handsome), he wasn’t exactly the kind of customer the experts of the Lotus Palace usually entertained, neither the two officers accompanying him.

Ryaar pasted on a welcoming smile, conveying gratefulness for the brutes’ arrival. “I am in charge, General Bern.” He descended the ample marble stairs. “Welcome to my humble establishment. My name is Ryaar Mir.” Reaching the entrance hall, he bowed with a hand over his chest. “I’m at your service.”

The officers were in their uniforms, but General Bern was in civilian clothes, a green top that matched almost perfectly the color of Ryaar’s eyes and shamelessly advertised the massive expanse of the warrior’s chest. The general arched an eyebrow and gave Ryaar a once-over, certainly noticing the value of his clothes and his golden tattoos. Then, he looked around with a downright nasty smirk on his thin lips. “I cannot find anything humble about your establishment, esteemed merchant.”

True. Every ornament of precious metals was real; all gems were genuine; each drape outrageously expensive; and the marble and fragrant woods were not just exquisite but polished to blinding luster. Ryaar kept his smile on, not letting the fact that the general had just called him “merchant” (as if he were at the market selling two-for-one whores) to anger him. “You have keen eyes, General,” he said, a tad dryly.  

The officers behind the general made hybrid noises between offended chuckles and growls; the general waved a hand to calm them down. “The skills of your experts are renown, but I have a very specific request.”

Men like the general usually went for rougher places, where the experts were used to darker needs. Ryaar would not let any of his virtuosi to be mistreated, just because the general and his acolytes felt like breaking expensive toys today.

“We’ll need to discuss the extent of that request before we can agree to anything,” Ryaar said, adding a pleasantly sharp edge to his words. “My experts may have a price, but that does not mean they are open to everything.”

“I understand.” General Bern nodded. “I had a vision. Elya told me I shall lie with a man with hair like flames to succeed in my next campaign.”

“Oh.” This information changed the situation in more than one way.

Elya, the goddess of war, gave visions to the greatest warriors and if they followed them their success was sure. Still, to Ryaar’s knowledge, these visions were always to accomplish brutal tasks, perhaps to emulate the real battles they would face.

But who was Ryaar to understand how visions worked?

Now, flaming hair was extremely uncommon, not just in Aphens but on Tellura 12. This was a planet of dark haired people. Of course, many changed their hair color with chemicals, but the few naturally light-haired people were mostly descendants of immigrants from other planets of the Telluran system.

Ryaar’s hair was red as the dying flames of a sunset, but he hadn’t been a virtuoso since the previous owner of the Lotus Palace died, and he inherited the place, many solar cycles ago.

“If you’re planning on sending me with a tinted whore, we’re going to have a problem.” General Bern eyed him suspiciously. He drew a reader out of his pocket. “I’ll know if he’s a fake.”

“We don’t trick those who come to the Lotus Palace,” Ryaar offered without heat. “But I’m afraid, we don’t have an expert to help you, if the man must be a natural red-head.”

“Don’t be difficult, merchant. I investigated before coming here.” The general neared Ryaar menacingly. “You were an expert before becoming owner. A whore is always a whore. Name your price and stop playing coy with me. This, to me, is more business than pleasure.”

Ryaar didn’t cower; he simply asked, “How old are you, general? Three hundred and thirty, three hundred and forty solar cycles?”

General Bern furrowed his brow and stepped back, more surprised than confused. “What?”

“Your age, general. I must confess, you don’t look a day older than two hundred and fifty solar cycles, but a man doesn’t reach your position at that tender age.”

“I am four hundred and one solar cycles, merchant.” The general’s irritation was clear in the way his blue eyes flashed. “What does that have to do with your price?”

“That you’re old enough to know that not everything can be won by force.” Ryaar grimaced. “And that I have the right to refuse service.” The grimace turned into a smirk. “I’m pretty sure you would be able to find a flaming-haired soldier in one of your barracks. Just look harder.”

“How dare you?” growled one of the officers moving forward, but General Bern stopped him with a monumental hand on the man’s chest. The man almost bounced.

Thunder and volcano exploded together as the general’s riotous laughter disturbed once again the blissful peace of the Lotus Palace. Ryaar was expecting customers to come out of the entertainment rooms running for their lives with their clothes half on.

“You’ve got spine, merchant. I can respect that.” The general put an arm around Ryaar’s shoulders. “I haven’t slept with a male since I was a green cadet, too many solar cycles ago to mention it.” He picked up one of Ryaar’s long curls with his free hand. “You’re pretty, and if you can stand to me like that, perhaps you’re exactly the man Elya had in mind for this to work.”

“Are you trying to persuade me using religious devotion, general?” Ryaar arched an eyebrow, but smiled genuinely for the first time since these men’s arrival. He almost added that he thought that maneuver to be a low one, but he refrained.

“All's fair in love and war.” The general chuckled. “Besides, you know what this campaign is for, right? He brought Ryaar’s curl to his nose and inhaled. “What is this fragrance?” His voice was deep, not in the previous booming way but intimate, as if they had just awoken from a night of passion.

“Checkerberry,” uttered Ryaar, feeling surprisingly inarticulate. Even if it was true that “a whore is always a whore,” Ryaar hadn’t been with a man in a long time. Focused in the success of the Lotus Palace, he’d paid little attention to his body needs, thinking that he had filled his sex quota while he was an expert. This sudden attention of the general made Ryaar feel out of sorts.

“I think that you and every other Telluran want us to regain the Sion territories. So why not do this for the cause?” General Bern squeezed Ryaar a little.

Ryaar reined his body in and said, “Of course.” He was pretty sure he’d sounded natural; the little squeak must have been all in his head.

“Excellent!” The general released Ryaar’s shoulders first, two or three heartbeats later, the lock of hair.

His bronze-colored tunic was askew, but Ryaar didn’t straighten it; he didn’t wish to appear rattled. He studied the general for a moment wordlessly. The man had accused him of playing coy, but his actions were pure stratagem to make Ryaar do his bidding. Two could play that game.

“Very good, General Bern. Why don’t we get the business part settled so we can get to the pleasure?” It was a fleeting thing, but Ryaar noticed a flash of discomfort on the general’s face. He turned to his assistant, who had been patiently waiting, perfectly blending with the lush d├ęcor of the entrance hall. “Vervio, please take care of the officers, while the general and I get better acquainted.”

“Atrum, I must insist...” The one that hadn’t spoken before said in a pleading tone. The fact that he had called the general by his given name hinted at their familiarity.

“You’re going to end up asking to be in the room while I have sex with him too, aren’t you, Soldar?” General Bern’s tone hadn’t been harsh, but it hadn’t been friendly either.

The officer turned a very unbecoming shade of red. In fact, both officers did. “That wasn’t my intention,” Soldar said.

“Don’t try to insist on anything then.” The general turned to Vervio. “Take care of my men, and if they want to sample some of the house’s entertainment that goes on my tab.”

Vervio sought Ryaar’s eyes for confirmation. Ryaar nodded minutely. Still, everything in the Lotus Palace was recorded, so in case of disputes or “accidents” there were always video and audio proofs. “Gentlemen.” Vervio gestured with his hand for them to walk before him. Both officers nodded at the general and moved forward with Vervio following them.

“Shall we?” Ryaar asked and walked toward the stairs, not waiting for General Bern to respond. He let the man follow him up the stairs and didn’t stop until he opened the door to his office and moved aside to let the general enter.

“Very nice,” said the general, browsing the space, absorbing the discreet efficiency of everything in sight.

“Thank you. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“I appreciated it, but I’m good, thanks.” The general leaned on Ryaar desk and crossed his thick arms over his insanely wide chest. “Let’s talk numbers. Business first, remember?”

Ryaar nodded, agreeing. “Since you investigated before coming and are aware that I don’t entertain anymore, my rate cannot be the same as my experts.”

“Sounds reasonable, but I want you to keep the reason for this deal in mind. The campaign to regain the Sion territories. It’s for the cause.”

“My cause, general, is profit. If I must submit to your handling, I think I have the right to not sell myself cheap.”

That discomfort bloomed again on the general’s hard but handsome features; he even ran a hand full of rings down his neck, making his long chestnut hair shimmer thanks to the light entering softly through the open, high windows. “That’s the thing.” He hesitated for a couple of heartbeats. “The one submitting is me.”


That was a twist Ryaar hadn’t seen coming.

*cover picture by Gabbo de la Parra.

Sunday, July 12, 2015


I've mentioned before that I don't agree with the emotional need of some people to be married in a Church. What I feel for the person I love only needs the approval of my heart because whatever that is beyond human understanding, that Supreme Being all wish to please one way or another, doesn't care who I love as long as that love is true in my heart.

 Those who say that God created a man and a woman forget that "God" created human beings not just sexual beings. Sexuality was created for reproduction; Love was created for Companionship— two different sides of the same cosmic coin. If I ever decide to marry, it will be with the blessing of my HEART and that of the HEART of the man I'd marry, I don't need any other blessing. I'd enjoy the support of others but it is not what would complete me or make the situation greater than it would already be in my HEART.

 As I said I don't agree but I have enough common sense to respect other's needs. That doesn't mean I need to follow their lead precisely because religion is a thing you don’t need shoved down your throat every day, every second. There's a moment for that in the intimacy of your (insert whatever word works for you... house heart, bedroom, etc), and not to use it in detriment of others.

Now, since this is a blog about hotness and not drama, keep reading and you'll get that something hot. 



Tonight, one way or another Alejandro would have Armando.  

Lightning illuminated the room. A moment later, thunder exploded outside their lodgings.

His surroundings fluttered as obscure as his contemplation.

Yes, this is a night for flesh and lust.

Armando entered the cabin while he sat on one of his trunks, brooding.

“Are you all right? You seem tired. Do you want a goblet of wine?” Armando sounded intrigued more than concerned.

“Sure, why not.”  Alejandro watched as Armando found goblets and fetched the wine, kicking a pillow to sit before him.

Armando wore a tricorn hat, a long pheasant feather as adornment. Apparently, he forgot to take it off as he entered their cabin.  Alejandro removed the hat slowly, enjoying the beautiful chestnut hair, he tousled it a little using his palm. Armando smiled, offering him a goblet.

“Thank you.” Alejandro received the drink without smiling.

“You’re most welcome."

Ah, how much I treasure his voice.

Rain poured —a sudden, constant drum.

“Do you hear that?” Armando’s tone was one of sudden happiness. “I love rain!” He stood up and hurried to slip off his doublet and waistcoat, then kicked off his shoes, almost rending the stockings in his desperation to get rid of them. 

“What are you doing, Armando?”

“Come on, get undress. Let us shower in the rain!”  Armando discarded his clothes like a mad man.

What a childish thing to do!

Armando took Alejandro by the wrist, pulling him up. “Come, mi cielo. Do this little, silly thing for me.” 

Alejandro could do nothing, except surrender whenever Armando uttered those words.  Armando helped him to get his clothes off, and they ran like boisterous children to the upper deck.

Mauricio had ordered to put the sails down. A sailor fiddled while the others sang a beautiful, happy song, working the ropes on the masts.  Armando began to sing along, jumping in the puddles —a raucous child.

Love surrounded Alejandro as he saw his man in such a merry mood. He liked the rain too, but for quite different reasons. Rain always reminded him of tears, a moment to stare into nothing and relax, definitely not to make the puddles splash.

No wind, just water —falling strong— accompanied by lightning and thunder. The rain, deliciously cold, made the garments glue to his skin.

The men singing, Armando skipping and hopping, the water running down his body, all together activated something long forgotten inside him. The chorus of the song was easy to grasp; he went to Armando and, holding his hands, started to jump in circles with him, singing the old song.            

Alejandro did not care if the sailors saw them as crazy hidalgos acting like children. There was something innocent and pure in the atmosphere. The elements were conjuring a truly primitive spell. He felt loved. Above all, he recognized happiness again; an emotion he had lost early in his life. 
Mauricio grinned at them from the forecastle as he supervised his sailors.

Alejandro thanked Fortuna, for they were on this ship, commanded by such a captain. In a way, the dark man had been a protector of their love, and he wanted to recompense Mauricio. He knew exactly what would be the most appreciated gift.

He would address that later.

The sailors had finished and they stopped too, panting, full of contentment.

“What a joyful moment!” Armando had an unreadable look in his eyes. “Let us go down to change, before we freeze.”


They knelt on the floor of their cabin, facing each other. Armando thought his little peacock was the most alluring thing in the world while he removed curly wet locks from the handsome face. “I love you. Like I never thought I’ll be capable of love.” His voice came out hoarse, full of passion. The moment he’d been waiting to give his body away had arrived.

Because this man already owns my soul.

“Allow me to do this for you.”  Armando started to unlace Alejandro’s wet shirt. Stroking the soaked shoulders, arms, and hands, Armando slowly pulled up the shirt. As he pulled up, he caressed the young flesh, the ripped muscles. Shortly, he stopped by the armpits, rubbing them, applying his thumbs in circular motions.

Alejandro moaned, his body dreamily trembling.

Armando finished the removal squeezing the biceps and forearms little by little. Then he put the shirt aside and traced Alejandro’s masculine features, his fingertips on fire. He outlineated the collarbones, and Alejandro peered at him with the most adoring eyes. Innocence and lust twined in those hazel gems.

Armando ducked for a nipple, sucking and giving soft bites. His wet hair dripped over the muscular chest. He tasted rain as he trailed toward the other nipple. 

“Please take your shirt off.” Alejandro uttered almost like a supplicant’s whisper; feathery strokes teased Armando’s nape. 

“Go ahead. Do it for me.” Armando answered in a murmur and attacked the hardened nub again.

Alejandro pushed him, using a light touch and settling him on his back while removing the shirt. The striking mozo contemplated his massive chest, devoted, coasting over his pectorals with open hands in adoration. Alejandro petted him as one would a long-lost mascot resurfacing from the past. 

Armando's cock jerked when Alejandro started to rub his beautiful face on the soft chest hair. His emerging stubble was the most erotic thing Armando had ever experienced.

“I want you.  Please don’t stop me tonight.” The young voice floated grave, need permeating it. He leaned over Armando on all fours, his long midnight hair a curtain separating their faces from the world.  His gaze was intent, almost as in prayer.

“I won’t stop you. Tonight, I’m going to be yours completely.” Armando whispered.

Thunder rumbled outside.

Alejandro kissed his lips, his chin, his neck, and kept trailing all the way down with fluttering kisses. The wet hair tickled Armando’s sides, but instead of made him giggle, this fueled his desire. His little peacock fumbled to unbutton the soaked breeches, then small clothes. All unfastened, Alejandro yanked everything down to Armando’s knees with one desperate motion. The engorged cock landed heavy on his navel.

Alejandro gasped. 

In response to the greedy glint inside those hazel eyes, Armando’s cock twitched happily. His lover squeezed it with one hand and completed the garments’ removal, tossing them away.  Alejandro neared his face to the aching member; first, he stared, a questioning look marring his features, then studied the girth, eyes avid. He dragged his nose along the shaft inhaling, his pupils growing darker and darker as he maintained eye contact with Armando.

Divine lashes fanned out as Alejandro closed his eyes and engulfed the member, drowning it in delicious warm, working the crown for a moment and perfectly swallowing it all afterward —the suction glorious. One hand held the shaft; the other teased Armando’s hole using a wicked digit.

His body aflame, Armando wrestled to hold back. He did not want this to end quickly. His need was to pleasure Alejandro too.  He lifted his torso, resting on his elbows. “Amor, I want your cock.” 

A puzzled expression assaulted Alejandro as he opened his eyes, staring at Armando, “In your mouth?” He tried to change his position to straddle Armando’s face in a way that he could keep sucking. Apparently, Alejandro forgot he still wore his breeches.

Armando stopped him. “No. Where your finger was.” 

The look on the chiseled face was priceless. “But I have never...”  Alejandro blushed profusely. “I’ve never entered a man before, and we have no lubricant.” 

“There is a bottle in that black chest.” Armando pointed.  “Take your breeches off and fetch it. I want to see the rest of your lovely body.” 


Armando noticed that Alejandro’s blush had deepened if possible. “Get the oil. I will light some candles. I was hoping to do this during the day, when everybody was on the decks.”


“But the weather is helping us.” Armando laughed, bestirring himself to fetch the candles.

Alejandro wore an astonished expression admiring Armando’s body, then he stood up, taking his breeches and small clothes off in clumsy haste.

More lightning.

Armando peeked at his lover.  The golden skin was perfect. His hardened manhood jutted from a nest of black curls. Armando changed directions and went to Alejandro. “Nothing is little about your little demon, why the name?”

More thunder.

Captivated, Armando grabbed the engorged, burning pole, pressing it against his in a strong grip with one hand. The other hand clawed one of his lover’s taut globes. “Actually, I think we’re almost the same size... indeed you’re kind of bigger.” He chuckled, nibbling one ear. “I’m sure you are going to rip me apart.”

“Why are you mocking me?” Alejandro lamely tried to push him away. “What makes you think I want to penetrate you? That is not my role.”  His deep voice had a mix of anger and agitation — confused indeed.

Tensing his grip, Armando grinned. “Because I want to be yours, as much as you are mine. Therefore, I want you inside me to receive your seed, as much as I want to be inside you.”  He kissed Alejandro lightly on the lips. “That will be our gift to each other, a first time for both, mi cielo.”  He had noted the effect the last two words produced in Alejandro every time. Both cocks were oozing relentlessly. He juggled them, a deliciously overwhelming friction. “Get the oil.” He tapped the hard cheek and released Alejandro’s little demon.

Armando lighted a couple of candles, and because they were almost dried, he went directly to their makeshift bed.  There was enough light in their space for him to appreciate everything. He wanted to enjoy it. Be lost in the dazzling sight of the younger man. He settled on his back with his hands clasped behind his head, his cock hard as a rock, leaking.

At his feet, Alejandro stood; the young body was a masterpiece, somewhat smaller than Mauricio’s, although utmost desirable.

“How?” Alejandro dangled the oil bottle a little between his fingers.

It was the concoction for virgins. In principle, Armando was still a virgin. No cock had been inside him.

“Mauricio.” Armando answered frankly, trying hard not to grin too much.

Alejandro pressed his lips inward. 

He loved when his little peacock did that.

“Did he...” A hint of pain floated in Alejandro’s voice.

“No, Amor. Didn’t I say that it would be a first for both of us?” Armando sighed.
Alejandro arched an eyebrow.

In a flash, Armando jumped from the bed and knelt in front of Alejandro, face-to-face with the succulent manhood. There is nothing little about this. He thought, heady. His nose buried in the soft curls, Armando inhaled the licorice aroma. He felt Alejandro trembling again. He licked a side of the shaft, tracing a wet line up to the purple crown, and gulped it.

Alejandro groaned and grabbed Armando’s head using both hands; the bottle of oil poked his skull softly. Armando sucked for a couple of minutes, fondling the sac and savoring the moisture escaping from the slit. He stood up.

“Try this?” Armando shared the sugary fluid with Alejandro. “Why do you taste so sweet? He rubbed his cock against Alejandro’s.

The young man stammered. “I-I have no idea.”

Armando lay back on the bed again.“Well, let us have that sweet thing inside me.”