Springtime in Paris. Oh yeah, baby! Little Christopher Smeyt is busy seducing the muscular and cute Mike Colucci. Christopher can’t wait to spread Mike’s milky white ass cheeks atop his shapely, muscular thighs, and dive straight in to his burning hole. On all fours with his ass in the air, Mike deep throats Chris and beckons him to seal the deal, and Chris gives new meaning to the old adage “be careful what you wish for” as he punishes Mike with his monster meat. The scene concludes with an explosive cum bomb all over Mike’s ripped abdomen. You’ll be drenched. Check it out now in the Inner Circle.

Yep, we’re still playing these outrageous scenes in our Treasure Island Theater, one after the other from Paul Morris’ classic BONE DEEP. (We like titles that just come right out and tell us what we can expect once signed on.)

As Paul notes: “Watching this is like relearning what fucking between two men means.” Wow, sounds, uhm, transcendental!

Nightcharm staffers had to agree with Paul, unanimously yelling out descriptions at the monitor, like: Incredible energy! Serious hard-core deep-fucking! And, please STOP, I can’t take it anymore. Or: NO, don’t stop it! And finally “It’s raining naked men!”

This is a rough-and-tumble sex match-up made in Gay Porno Heaven. Don’t miss it. Check this scene out now, in the Inner Circle of course.

You’ve come a long way, baby.

It’s hard to believe in today’s hyper-produced, corporatized porn industry that there was a time when porn really wasn’t that pretty to watch. Gay porn stars may have kicked the ‘roids, tattooing, and manscaping into high gear, but their medium always required a certain level of physical presentability. Straight porn? Not so much. Men — despite the vital purpose they serve — occupy a decidedly secondary position in that product.

Many of the male stars employed as hardcore porn was introduced to the U.S. were not much to crow about, and if anything, their spindly, shag-headed, porn ‘stached aesthetic was deliberately utilized so as to avoid threatening the male viewer’s ego. Today, there are more manly lookers in straight porn than you can shake a dick at — with traditional gay types like spike-haired twinks, tanned frat boys, shaved-down bodybuilders, assertive daddies, and inked-up sex pigs becoming practically common — who are proving that foxy fuckers in skin flicks can actually attract straight male fanfare while garnering appreciative gay audiences.

It’s easy to take a Charles Dera, Evan Stone, or Nacho Vidal for granted, but what about the studs who paved the way for them? Prior to the Web making porn so accessible, many of us relied on our brother’s porn cache or pass-around videos from guys at school, meaning straight stars provided us with our maiden voyages into Smut City. (read the full article)

Who can ever forget the first time he watched this ground-breaking, Mile High Club, pre-condom, interacial fantasy from Falcon Studio? Their mega-hit Night Flight.

Sure, gay black-on-white videos had already appeared in adult theaters across the globe, but none featured a cock like O.G. Johnson‘s — this was the genuine deal: anaconda-like male meat, a real spectacle. And no one had ever wrangled a flesh monster, with quite as much finesse, as Falcon’s breakout star Buster was able to muster. Halfway into this scene you’re praying for the boy’s soul!

And wouldn’t you know it, we just so happen to feature this classic in the Inner Circle’s new Falcon theater. All your favorite vintage moments included, unedited — the grunting, the fierce deep-throating, the tears and the pounding (and yelping). Hurry in, take off’s in ten minutes!

“Gay culture has been a feature of seafaring life for centuries,” states the website for Liverpool’s maritime museum. “It is still a hidden one, even today when the Royal Navy actively recruits gay sailors. ”

The Merseyside Maritime Museum, which is dedicated to the seafaring history of that port city, is throwing a light on this hidden culture in an exhibition charmingly titled Hello Sailor: Gay Life on the Ocean Wave.

To promote the show a series of brief essays have been posted on the museum’s website filled with insider tidbits and an unmistakable first-hand authenticity.

Here we learn that though homosexuality was a crime in Britain until 1967 (sometimes punished by prison sentences, most famously that of Oscar Wilde, as well as the man who broke the Nazi war code, Alan Turing), the “sodomic” tradition was allowed to flourish in the Royal navy as an open secret. It thus endured as a haven for randy middle-class boys who, with often only nominal attempts to pass for straight, joined up to meet men and see the world. (read the full article)

It’s happening right now in the Circle. Catch it now: Up the Gut features some of the biggest-dicked master topmen Paul Morris has ever assembled. Hold on to your load as Antonio Biaggi and Tyler Marks make their Treasure Island Media debuts. Their topping action will leave you swoony and sweaty. On board, too, are T.I.M. exclusives Brad McGuire and Kurt Wood.
In each scene a domineering stallion mercilessly plows the holes of a man who is all too happy to submit himself to the manhood he knows he is there to please. Up The Gut culminates in a double-bottom gangbang, featuring Lucas and Cory Koons taking on 10 tops in an unmitigated Treasure Island Media, 30 minute rapture of feeding and seeding that has to be seen to be believed. Get in on the action NOW!

When Jonathan Agassi pours a foamy beer over his skyward-pointed schlong, it is merely a prelude to the wet and wild antics that inevitably follow. Teaming up with the sculpted and cocksure Sasha Dov, Agassi erects his legs into the air and allows his latest partner to spit and spew the remaining contents of the bottle into his waiting hole. Not one to be easily satisfied, Sasha proceeds to insert the bottle into the smooth, dripping pucker, and then follows with a lengthy piss session into the bottom boys thirsty mouth. The piss guzzling evolves into a hot 69 adventure, at which point Jonathan turns the dominator into the dominated by pounding him with his rock hard rod. In a poetic final act, Jonathan creams Sasha across the kisser, a sumptuous echo of their previous piss play. Stream it raw and live, now! in our new Lucas theaters in the Circle!

Leave a beautiful corpse.

James Dean wanted to and did, and long after he sanctified the union of cruel, swift doom with untimely struck-down youth, Tinseltown’s downmarket flip side – gay porn – seemed tailor-made for a never-ending series of sad, lurid fades-to black.

The advent of AIDS — Death come to town for an extended stay — claimed countless beloved players of yesteryear, and with contemporary ones foolishly buying into the false security that they can bring it to heel, more are bound for passage on Charon’s ferry.

Suicides and O.D.s have long been the Second and Third Horsemen of the Apocalypse galloping on the horizon, haunting footsteps like a black cats prowling the night. Then there are the starlets who were unfairly extinguished for no fault of their own, leaving behind Black Dahlia cold cases for the armchair sleuths among us.

For all the talk about Hollywood being run by the gay mafia, it’s really gay porn that’s the repository of all our dreams and fears. I’d argue that our connection to noteworthy moments in the medium and the array of stars who have populated its pantheon is stronger than our regard for too-straight and too-pat La La Land; it’s here that our true love for physical perfection and mythical sexual prowess is mirrored back at us, and with those reveries come the demons of age, disease, and death that daunt us.

Join us now as we open up our case files and chronicle a luckless lineup of ruin-bound porn muses who plummeted hard from the heights of Olympus, withered the moment they set foot outside of Shangri-La, or fell prey to the Jabberwock’s claws that catch.

Some dreamboats just get lost on their way down the Yellow Brick Road… (read the full article)

The San Fernando Valley and West Hollywood aren’t the only gay porn casting couches on the globe.

Thirty-odd years ago when it was regarded as just one of the clustered Eastern Bloc nations, Hungary was mainly famed in the West for goulash, being a cost-efficient locale where vampire B-movies could be lensed with castle and fortress backdrops, and for serving as the stalking grounds for the likely first and most prolific female serial killer in history, Elizabeth Bathory.

Present day, it’s the awe-inspiring and apparently renewable pipeline of genetically-gifted hard-bodies exported for Capitalist gay porn toil that’s put Hungary and the U.S. on mutually beneficial terms, even if only on the sly.

There’s no hyperbole in using the adjective Olympian to describe these guys; not only do they all look like they just stepped off a marble pedestal, but many have some connection to pro bodybuilding, competitive wrestling, hockey, or fitness modeling. Their ranks don’t appear to be born so much as they descend to earth fully-fleshed and destiny-bound for the first plane out to Pornoville, USA.

There’s everybody’s favorite, the jaw-dropping and multi-aliased Ted Colunga (top, from Men At Play), whose body becomes more impossibly perfect as he seems to draw vigor form the very ground in Antaeus-like fashion. Back-that-muscle-ass-up Fernando Nielsen (left) is just as rightfully beloved as a veritable demi-god among muscle bottom lovers. Smooth-as-butter Marc Dievo is always ready to spread. Julian Vincenzo‘s so sultry that a bat of his eyes could melt tungsten.

Muscleheads slutting it up for bucks in porn features has become so ubiquitous stateside that only bodybuilding industry insiders and muscle fanboys flip out about it anymore. Add to that web cams and the sea of solo muscle worship porn, and the line between the bodybuilding circuit and the porn arena gets hazier by the year. (read the full article)

It’s like a scene from a John Carpenter horror flick:

Mitch Vaughn is on his way back to LA after a fun weekend in Vegas. Uh oh, the gas gauge reads EMPTY. Running on fumes, Mitch manages to find a pump without an attendant. He helps himself to the fuel while waiting for the attendant to return, but when pumper Phenix Saint returns he isn’t very happy that Mitch started to suck without paying first. Mitch tries to explain that it’s just a misunderstanding and he intended to pay, he really did, but big brute (and mega hung) Phenix demands a bigger, more OPEN payment. An exclusive from our friends at Drill My Hole.

“A tattoo is a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling”. –Jimmy Buffet

Men, Ink.

I’m just gonna say it: it’s intervention time for Gay Porn and its crippling tattoo problem.

Hey, I get it. It’s always fun and new in the beginning. It makes you feel all edgy and hardcore. Then everybody has to get on board, and things start getting more…

…extreme.

Male porn stars start trying to outdo each other like mainstream actresses going under the knife because they can’t stand the chick in front of them having tits that look better in her dress. Pretty soon they start getting creative in order to stand out from the pack, and that can only lead to getting Falcor from The Neverending Story emblazoned on your pelvis or the fucking Necronomicon across your delts.

So guys, I’m locking the door, sitting you down with your nearest and dearest, doing my grave face, and reading you an ultimatum as Martika’s “Toy Soldiers” plays for thematic ambiance.

“Please, please put the needles down. You’re fine just as you are. The needles are bad, bad things. If you continue your reckless behavior, I’ll be forced to sever our relationship. It’s time for you to take the first step in recovering.”

“I’ve made you an appointment for laser removal…” (read the full article)