Richard Grieco put his disease in me.

It’s his fault that I have a thing for Guidos. It was fate that I just happened to be entering the initial materialization of sexual identity at the very time he was sauntering into his 21 Jump Street/Booker brief glimmer of stardom.

During that era, the teen crush objects of Saved By The Bell and Beverly Hills 90210 were Clearasil-skinned Mickey Mousers; Le Grieco was the antithesis of pre-fab Wonder Bread idols — a trashy, spike-haired, downtown slut with the class of an alley cat and a porn star smirk. My Yasmine Bleeth Reflex — the design flaw that leads the well-adjusted inexplicably drawn to ruinous headboard pounders — triggered and my formative Grieco obsession has left me forever susceptible to the wiles of the Guido.

The sexual fantasies that we always turn to are the ones that make us feel the most ashamed, the ones that make us question who we really are and what we really want. It’s when we feel the most dirty that we’re the most gratified. Our polar opposites – those we would never conceivably cross paths with and who personify everything we’re not – can sometimes attract as much as they should repel.

Guidohood is at once highly-cosmetic and curiously virile. At once thought to be a look sported by working class Italians in NewYork’s outer burroughs, New Jersey, and Long Island, the trend has turned up big time in virtually every northeastern city – and as far west as Chicago – likely to have an Italian-American population.

The youthquaking Guido cult has now grown to include Irish-Italians and Greeks, with some Jewish, Hispanic, and Middle Eastern beauhunks going so far as to fake Mediterranean heritage all together in order to pull it off. Even the look has now broadened to include the sons of the taste-challenged nouveau riche (I’m talkin’ to youz, Gotti Boys) with loads of dispensable income to fuel their endless partying and whoring.
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In a college sociology class on deviance I took in 2004, the professor, who was known for her sense of humor and explicit knowledge of what she studies, explained to 400 undergraduates what a “tea room” is. We were reading an academic essay detailing the ritual of gay male public cruising, and discussing how it is so strikingly consistent from one hot spot to another, as if driven by something more innate than cultural.

The essay was about a particular public park in London, but the professor’s lecture brought us closer to home - she explained to our amusement why the bathroom stalls in the men’s room of the Chemistry building (the building the lecture was in) used to be changed once every few weeks - whenever the maitainence staff found a glory hole carved in one - and why they eventually removed the stall doors altogether.

There was also once a glory hole hotspot in the university library, but the new campus cruising site was a men’s room in the Engineering building, she said. (more…)

Derek is handsome, and he’s questioning. He looks like a quiet guy — the kind of guy who just hands all your words back to you in a different order when you try to make conversation with him, but also the kind of guy who doesn’t mind being pinned to the wall for a long, hard kiss.

He’s the kind of guy you used to look at from across the room in Sunday school — the one who always looked back, but never encouraged you beyond the return of your own glance.

He’s exactly the kind of guy we look for for our members area, Nightcharm’s Inner Circle. Log in and check out his latest set for the Cruiserboys theater, if you haven’t already.

The porn blowjob, as we know it today, was originated in the mid-’80s for film and photo. It has almost nothing to do with an actual blowjob. It’s most closely related to the ad model who stands poised with a perfectly formed dollop of tooth paste centered across the bristles of a never-before-used brush, smiling at the camera with already-spotless teeth.

Aside from all the normal fireworks, the tension is the appealing part — the tempting nature of the glistening product, mere moments from use.

As this principal applies to the penis, it is of utmost importance that none of the “product” be obscured, or minimized by any of the numerous possible unflattering angles. Even when a model is bold enough to actually insert the cock into his mouth, he’s most likely to let it jut into his cheek before he’d dream of gagging on the thing and hiding it’s length in the process.

The truth is that receiving a “porn blowjob” in one’s private life is an undesirable thing, most readily likened to having one’s penis inspected by the dull teeth of a playful, well-meaning baby hippopotamus. Erections under these circumstances are entirely dependent on chemical intervention or a psychological condition. (more…)

Jacob, Max, Jorges, and Van. Some of the hottest guys we’ve featured in the last few months have been our very own Inner Circle Exclusive models: men who came to us with a more-common-than-you-might-imagine need to appear naked before the camera, and display their gifts to an admiring public.

And admire them, we did — as they stroked their ample dicks to climax in front of our photographer/videographer. It’s a source of some pride for us that even amidst the deluge of porn we send our members’ way every week, we still cram in time for shoots like these.

Our criteria for hiring a model are simple. We look for a guy with a sexy natural body, a handsome face, and a cock to write home about. But in addition to those things, they’ve got to exude sex in a very real way. When you see the photos, and the footage, it’s an obvious quality that is shockingly absent from a lot of modern smut. Nightcharm is more than happy to fill the void.

If you’re not a member already, today is your day. Check out our tour and you’ll know you belong here.