I met Ozzie at one of Ravi's Bear Parties on Long Island: a 21 year old NYU undergrad, tall, muscular, with smooth dark skin and an enormous Kovbasa beneath the belt.
He was Moroccan, from in Tangiers, on the Strait of Gibraltar, where his father worked at the Continental Hotel, He spoke Standard Arabic, Moroccan Arabic, English, French, and Spanish.
Obviously I wanted to invite him home!
There was only one problem: I had (and still have) an inviolable rule, drummed into me through ten years in West Hollywood: you must end the evening with the same people you began the evening with. No abandoning them halfway through for a trick.
I always came to the Bear Parties with Yuri, who lived in a graduate student apartment at Long Island University, about thirty miles in the wrong direction from NYU.
The Bear Parties were on Wednesday nights, and I had class on Wednesday and Thursday both, so it made sensee to drive with Yuri and spent the night in his room afterwards, rather than taking the train all the way into Manhattan, and back again.
Besides, there were distinct advantages to spending the night in Yuri's room.
I wasn't going to abandon him tonight to escort a Cute Young Thing back to Manhattan, and I wasn't going to suggest sharing: Ozzie wasn't Yuri's type. He liked older men with bodybuilder physiques.
But Yuri, always easy-going, said "Not a problem. If you like him, I don't care. We will share him."
The full post, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.