The BOYSLUT Party Was All Dick, Ass, and Love

Thank you to everyone who attended, but a special thanks to the guys whose booties I devoured.

It was my fourth time playing “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls, and one thing emerged clearly: I am not a burlesque dancer. When I tried to remove each silk glove with my teeth, I’d somehow end up choking. My skirt kept getting caught whenever I attempted to rip it off, and I was tripping over my 6-inch platforms.

Rehearsing my number in front of my mirror—the mirror—for the fifth time, I regretted my decision to perform. I didn’t have to. We even had a set budget allotted for two performers, but I insisted that I should do a number.

This was my first BOYSLUT party, and I knew people would be coming from far and wide for the event. (And a special thank you to everyone who flew out to attend! You guys made a girl feel extra special.) I didn’t want to let you down; I wanted this party to be the best male, bi-centric party there was. You guys support the crap out of me, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I felt this was a way to give back to you, given how you fuel me to continue writing and creating. There are times I really want to switch to PR to start making real coin, but I don’t, and without getting too mushy here, it’s because of you.

So, I was putting an immense amount of pressure on myself for everything to be perfect—and it was clear my burlesque number was not.

That’s when I thought to myself, what can I do that burlesque performers can’t (or rather, won’t)? I then came up with the idea to incorporate a sex toy into my act.

The night of the party I was, it’s difficult to describe it in English, but there’s a word in Hebrew—meetragesh—that encapsulates what I was feeling. It loosely translates to a “nervous excitement.” I had been planning, promoting, and organizing this party for nearly ten weeks, and finally, the night had come.

On top of the actual logistics, which were a pain in the ass, I was anxious about meeting you guys! There’s an asymmetry of personal information that happens when I meet people who know me from the Internet. I’m constantly oversharing, so you know everything about my life, whereas I know nothing about you. In my experience, that can sometimes lead to an awkward dynamic. 

Not to mention that I am a persona on social media. That’s not to say I lie. I still am very much me, and I’m always telling the truth about what I do, but my persona is an exaggerated version, a caricature, of who I am IRL.

What if you guys were like, “Wow, Zach is actually kinda lame.” My brittle, bisexual heart would break! (To be fair, most of you said, “You’re much taller than I thought,” and that is typically the first thing people say to me.)

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Jonzu and I arrived at the party an hour before with bags upon bags of sex toys. Jonzu had created a playlist for the event, and being the anxious nelly I am, I wasn’t sure if it was the “vibe.” (It VERY much was. You can listen to it here!) After setting it up through the Sonos, drawing all over the glory hole, and laying out the sex toys, we had 30 minutes to spare before 9:00 pm.

“Shots?” the bartender asked when he saw me pacing back and forth through the clubhouse. For the past month, I had cut down on drinking significantly but gave myself a pass for the night. “For the love of God, yes,” I replied.

“To all the mother fucking boysluts,” I said, before the seven of us working the event—the two bartenders, doorman, house manager, Jonzu, Daniel, and I—clinked our glasses and downed our whiskey.

At long last, 9 pm rolled around, and people were prompt. I don’t know if guys were simply stoked for the event, or if they wanted the free sex toys, but people came through real quick. By 10:30 pm, already 70 guys were there, and the party was in full swing.

I stood by the entrance greeting everyone as they came in. I’d schmooze ‘em up just a tad, thanking them for being there, letting them know where the bar is, and getting them excited for the performances to come. (In addition to myself, Samuel Paulish was pole dancing, and he is so fucking good. Holy shit. I had seen him perform once before and knew I’d have to hire him for the event.)

As more folks arrived, I couldn’t stand by the door. I had to make the rounds, and I kept sneaking shots as I did. While I was supposed to perform at midnight, come 11:00 pm, I was worried that no one was having sex. On the other hand, I was happy that people weren’t fucking yet, since as I noted in the event description, this wasn’t just a pump and dump situation. I wanted people to socialize, so I was torn. But I figured my performance might just be the sexual catalyst needed for the boys to start eating some booty.

I also needed to get it over with. My pre-performance jitters were through the roof, and I needed my number to be done. I had my friends usher everyone into the main room, and about 80 men circled around me, sitting on various beds.

"Thank you for coming to the BOYSLUT party,” I said. “This is a male, bi-centric party for bi men and the people who love bi men.” I then pressed play, strutted to the center of the room, and starting stomping my leg to the beat.

(I have a video but can’t share it since people’s faces are in the background, but here are stills!)

“I love myself; I want you to love me,” the lyrics began, and I clomped up and down the stage. Then the chorus came, and that’s when, well, I touched myself. I rubbed my red gloves all over my chest before my hands made their way down beneath my skirt.

The song continued, and I removed my gloves sensually, and this time, I managed not to choke. I shimmied out of my red robe and tore off my dress, revealing a red and black jockstrap. I was serving some serious body-ody-ody.

I then dropped to my knees and crawled towards Jonzu as she sang, “I get down on my knees/I’d anything for you.”

After licking Jonzu everywhere, I threw myself to the floor and turned over on all fours. I smacked my ass once, twice, three times. Then I arched my back, reached in between my cheeks, and slowly pulled out a sphere, then another. After ten balls (and ten inches), the crowd went fucking wild, roaring with laughter. I threw the anal beads to the floor and finished the song touching myself everywhere: hands down my jock, slapping my ass, pelvic thrusts. My dick kept falling out of my jock as I danced. It wasn’t a subtle performance, but I have never been subtle about sex or my sexuality, so this was Boyslut at his goddamn finest.

Once finished, I was on cloud fucking nine. No, I wasn’t as good as a professional burlesque dancer, but at least I didn’t fumble, the audience cheered, and there were no “problems” with the anal beads, if you catch my drift.

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Now, now was time to fuck, and I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Jonzu grabbed me and said, “Let’s go,” but said he wanted to grab his other boyfriend so we can have a threesome. Naturally, I got pulled away but then couldn’t find them anywhere, so I began making out with a hookup buddy of mine, D, who I see every few weeks. Sex with him is always fantastic; it’s why we keep having it.

“Do you wanna fuck?” I asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

So I brought him to one of the beds where a couple next to me was playing. It was Jonzu and his BF! They were already getting started.

D knows exactly what I like, so he quickly took off his pants and straddled my face. I moved his G-string to the side and began feasting as he swallowed my dick whole. Periodically, he’d take me extra deep in his mouth, gag, and I’d feel his hole tighten on my tongue.

D has one of those asses that’s got a bounce. It claps back. I love spreading his cheeks, shoving my face deep inside him, and then releasing, letting his cheeks smack my face.

My dick was throbbing. I was so turned on, but I think the overall excitement of the night was transferring into sexual arousal.

“Baby, please, ride me,” I said.

“Anything Papi wants,” he replied.

He was ready for me. I slid right in, and he let out a big moan. I pulled his face down to mine and began thrusting. “Ay, Papi!” he said. I kept thrusting, and D starting shouting in Spanish. When he switches from English to Spanish, that’s when I know I’m fucking him good.

D’s friend, a skinny, fashion twink, saw D and I fucking and said, “Can I join?” I thought he was talking to us, so I let D reply—since I wasn’t sure if they were friends who typically play together. D said yes, but what we didn’t realize was that he was eyeing Jonzu’s BF. (Jonzu and his bae had just finished hooking up. His BF was still lying there while Jonzu went back to hosting.)

And this twink just plopped right down on JBF’s dick! JBF gave me a look, and I was like, “Is this okay with you?” He was shocked, I think we all were, but he was like, “Yeah, of course, this is fucking amazing.” So D and I fucked next to JBF and fashion twink.

I gave JBF a wink as D rode me. Then D starting pulling out the stops, and I said, “Baby, slow down. I can’t come yet!”

“Why, Papi? I want it!”

I laughed, “Because the moment I cum, imma wanna go right to bed, and the night is young.” He’d seen me pass the fuck out after sex enough times to know I wasn’t lying.

“Turn around, baby,” I said. I pinned him down once he was on his stomach, so he couldn’t pull any power bottom moves. I needed to control the tempo with long, hard, deep thrusts.

“Ay, ay, ay!” he said. When my side cramp started, I pulled out and lied next to him. We were both panting and drenched in sweat.

“You always do me good, Papi,” he said. I gave him a big kiss on the lips.

That’s when I looked around to find everyone fucking. I was the firestarter at my own sex party! Dick, booty, and ball-slapping as far as the eye could see. I was grinning from ear to ear. This was everything I wanted, everything I hoped it would be, and it was happening right before my eyes.

“Baby, I gotta make the rounds.”

“Of course, Papi,” he said. “I’m so happy you saved some dick for me.” I gave him another kiss.

I was quickly pulled aside and asked to queue up Samuel’s music. I hadn’t realized how long D and I had been fucking, and it was time for Samuel to perform. I played his song, and he sauntered out with his long, flowing hair, cut body, and juicy ass.

Some boys stopped fucking to watch. Some kept fucking. And some looked at Samuel, definitely wishing they were fucking him. I ogled Samuel too. I didn’t think my crush could get any bigger, but I was wrong (which reminds me, I’m going to message him right now and see if I can take him out for drinks).

Once Samuel finished sliding down the pole, my friend J, a fellow writer friend, came up to me. “Zach, my goal was to take seven loads tonight. I’m at six. Will you do the final honors?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Now I had never fucked J before, and much to my surprise, he was a goddamn animal. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but he was a mother fucking power bottom. He was in control, backing that fat ass into me and squeezing his hole tightly around my cock. Clearly, I wasn’t the first guy he’d ever drained because he knew exactly what he was doing.

I was living for the primal element of his fucking—not to mention I loved feeling all the cum from the other guys before me. When you don’t even need lube because you’re using past loads instead? Very into it. (As a sex educator, don’t do this! Cum is not the same a lube, and you should definitely be using real lube for anal. But as a boyslut…)

I added my load to the men before me as J moaned. I felt like I was experiencing an exorcism, like my soul was being sucked from my body.

I took a deep breath. “Jesus, fuck,” I said. Now I was ready to go to bed. Luckily it was 3 am. Were other people still fucking? Yes, but it also was a Wednesday, and I had cum, and it was my party, so I decided to call it! I told Daniel to start playing Frank Sinatra, which is NSFW’s polite way of saying, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

We slowly turned up the house lights and saw an array of thongs and jocks scattered throughout the playrooms. I loved seeing all the boys, dicks out, bending over to pick up their clothing. By 3:45 am, everyone had left, and I got a Lyft home with Jonzu.

I was exhausted. I was elated. I desperately needed a shower.

Turns out in the end, I may not be a professional burlesque dancer, but I am a boyslut who knows how to throw one hell of a sex party.