Jabari, jabari, jabari....

One of the hardest things about my work is having to stare all day at perfect, nude men and Jabari was very nearly the final straw. If he had been even slightly more attractive, my fragile brain may well have snapped under the pressure and I would have chucked this life of toil to spend the rest of my days as a volunteer firefighter. I would, of course, volunteer to hose down the firefighters. It's a hot, sweaty job and I'm happy to do my part for America.
My friend Dot had mentioned Jabari's name to me before, always in tones of hushed awe, but it wasn't until Jabari was standing, in the (gloriously smooth and supple) flesh in my studio that I understood. My jaw dropped as my libido rose. Dot photographed Jabari while I took up my own camera and played 'backup'. You know, just in case Dot couldn't get anything good. I am nothing if not helpful.

Showing My Pride

Work in the studio has been keeping me busy lately. There are fewer models in the studio (you may not have heard anything about this but as is turns out, the economy, it's not so good and the models, sadly, had to go) so I’ve been drawing more from photographs, or using my brother as a model, for often than I am used to. Luckily for me, lately things have been picking up, and some cute boys I met night before last should be coming by shortly for some exciting new drawings (and adventures, ifyouknowwhatimean) in the studio.
Gay Pride came and went, and was wonderful.

This year, I had to skip the parade. I'd meant to go, mostly so I could take some photos to share with you, but the party the night before was WAY too good and I didn’t get out of bed all day. I was tired, hungover, and the Israeli boy I brought home from the party wouldn’t have let me anyway! So between Leif, (My boyfriend – he was in bed with us too) and Eraz, my hands were tied all day (HA!! See what I did there? My hands were tied? I am so funny).

The party was thrown by the Comfort and Joy people, who run the big gay Burning Man camp across the street from where I usually camp. They throw awesome parties and last night was one of the best ever. It was held in an old theatre, and sprawled through multiple rooms. There were plays, drag queens, performances, a sex romp room, drugs aplenty, and enough hot boys to satisfy even Marcelito's considerable appetite! As always, it was a costume party. Leif took pictures of Marcelito and I getting ready:
Felix and and I getting our costumes ready.

Accessories are very important. Often, they can be used to maximize your assets.

The end result. Marcelito, in costume as a person with stripey pants and a neckerchief. Yours truly, cleverly disguised as a well accessorized goat-type thing.

Leif was dressed like a big butterfly - wings and not much else. Suprisingly, we lost each other within minutes of arriving to the party. I hear later that he found a cute puppy pile to cuddle in, while I wandered around and chatted with my friends. The first time I saw Eraz perform, he was singing and dancing on one of the stages with a bunch of other boys. I couldn't tell you what a single one of them looked like, since my eyes were glued to Eraz. He’s probably 20 or so, dark skin and pale hair, and my memory will always paint him with glittery, glowing skin, since when I first saw him all he was wearing was a some applied glitter and a little pair of wings. I was smitten immediately but, like most of the men drawn to him that night, thought the situation was hopeless. I was wandering about disconsolately, feeling no other boy could do, when, to my surprise, someone grabbed me by the cock and dragged me over! (Naturally, I had lost my pants by then). It was Eraz! He demanded that I give him a blow job, and I thought it would have been rude of me to refuse. Somehow, Leif found us in the corner (maybe it was the crowd of onlookers to our little show that tipped him off)and he joined in the fun. Our coupling (or tripleing – or quadrupling, if you throw in Marcelito’s occasional hand) continued uninterrupted until this morning except for the brief stumble home, when we felt obligated to put on some clothes. I am deeply in love. This one is special and I shall probably continue to be deeply in love for at least the rest of the month.

Prud'hon

Prud'hon was a great 19th century painter and draftsman, most famous for his academies (very detailed and long poses of nude models made by students as a learning exercise) of beautiful nudes. His are widely considered the greatest academies ever made, and have inspired my own humble attempts in the genre. He drew both male and female models. Here are a couple of his most beautiful compositions.

Mathias at Zipolite

The last time I'd been in Mexico, I'd noticed a coconut seller wandering up and down the beach. He was notable for a few reasons; namely that he was young, handsome, white, and very clearly a foreigner on these Latin shores. I am possessed of near Holmes-ian powers of observation and deduction and after a four hour observation of his impressive physique, I deduced that it was unusual for a foreigner to be selling coconuts on a Mexican beach. As a budding sociologist, I thought I should continue my study of this strange behavior and in the span of three days, observed these things: All day long he wanders up and down the beach, pushing his barrel of coconuts which sell for 20 pesos (about a dollar fifty) each. Naturally, to prevent his being made uncomfortable by my scutiny, I purchase a coconut every time he comes by. Only on seven occasions have I had to chase him down the beach. As he spends the day under the tropical sun, he works up a sweat and at the each end of the beach he'll park his barrel, strip off his clothes, and dive nude into the water. Surfacing, he swims to shore and sits there, staring off to sea, naked and beautiful (while I surreptitiously take photographs), until he gets dressed again, picks up his barrel, and resumes his Sisyphean task yelling Cocos! Ricos Cocos! up and down the beach.

By the fourth day, I'd had enough of research. It was time for a more hands-on approach. I'd spent the morning of that fourth day lying on the beach sand with Ixtli, his wife, and my pretty new boyfriend, Javier, all of us uncomfortably full of coconut juice. I tried to pretend that I wasn't waiting for a chance to have a more meaningful conversation with the handsome entrepreneur but apparently, everyone on the entire beach had noticed my fascination with the coconut boy except, of course, the boy himself. Part of the problem is that his smile was so delightful I found it difficult to concentrate beyond our business dealings with coconuts.
I finally resorted to that oldest and most effective trick in the artists' manbag - I walked up to him just as he came out of the water after a cooling swim and asked him if he would model for me. Naturally, I offered to pay and it was only after his quick agreement that it occurred to me that he was probably very hungry.
He couldn't quick the coconuts just then so we waited until nearly sunset to do a photo shoot on the secluded Playa de Amor (the beach of love - clearly, something like this was destined to happen). Over a hotel dinner that evening, (and later, joints in the room while drew him) he told me a little about his East German upbringing and his travels and adventures throughout Latin America. He's seen most of the world without a penny to his name (I think it's a constant state of near-starvation that accounts for his perfectly defined and very slender body, and for the enormous quantities of food he inhaled at dinner). I learned, also, that he was looking for the Perfect Man, but had yet to find him. This came as a surprise to me because I'd assumed he was straight. While he didn't get into a lot of details about his childhood, I wondered if perhaps he'd been under-privaledged. My first clue was when we walked towards my hotel - he asked me to walk in front of him because he was afraid that if he went in first, they'd throw him out. Then, at the room, he was stunned into open-mouthed admiration of it's rich appointments. He walked around the rooms, touching furniture, tossing himself from hammock to recliner to bed and siging in exuberant luxury.
Drawing him was a pleasure - unfortunately, that was the only pleasure received from him that night. Javier, ever the attentive boyfriend, stayed by my side and kept a suspicious eye on my new friend the entire evening.
The lovely boy went back to the coconut-grove owner's porch where he sleeps for free, I lay in bed under the mosquito net with the ocean roar outside, and an insistent Javier nudging up against me, nuzzling my neck and asking in a purring Spanish if I prefer his muscles to the German boy's bones and, just then, my life was divine.

In the photo above, Mathias is modeling in the secluded Play de Amor

And above, in my hotel room in Zipolite.

EVERYONE'S INVITED!!

Jeremy, a frequent model and playmate was happily fulfilling both duties at my studio. Chris, Jeremy's boyfriend, was due to collect his boy but we'd lost track of the time and were still cavorting around in the nude when Chris arrived. Unsurprisingly, he was considerably startled to find the entire household naked and, in some cases (me), drunk. I've always felt that my friends have excellent taste (me) and so it was no surprise to find that Chris, upon recovering from his astonishment, was quick to doff his duffs and join the anti-pantie party.

Jeremy looks cute even as he falls off chairs. The rest of the photos from this session are on my website at www.felixdeon.com

Like they do on the Discovery Channel

Deunoro, Marcelito's boyfriend, came by for a photo shoot today and I asked him to pose in one of my costumes (I'm an Aztec dancer). He was willing, so using my artistic license liberally, I dressed him with revealing creativity. After all, it seemed a shame to cover up such tender bits.

Marcelito is out of town (last I heard, he'd been seen drunkenly attempting to seduce German tourists in a Mexican beach town), and my own boyfriend has been in Thialand for ages so it's just been Deunoro and myself, keeping ourselves occupied. I could do worse for company - Deunoro is a delightful person, and always happy to come to the studio, put on a skimpy outfit and dance around.

As always, there are more photos from this session on my website at www.felixdeon.com

Bryson

Like the flotsam on a beach after a hurricane, Marcelito's dating habits have occasionally produced very lovely, dazed young men washing up into my apartment.

Bryson is one of those survivors of Marcelito's attentions. A very cute boy from Reno, the two of us met him one night at Nob Hill Theatre, a strip club here in San Francisco (I'm not going to say what it was we were doing there, but I am sure your mothers wouldn't approve). Bryson danced all over the two of us and as we were leaving, like a begraggled puppy with a six-pack, he followed us out. The poor boy, having danced all night, was hungry so we took him out to eat, where he had two orders of pancakes with eggs and sausage, coffee, orange juice, and a side of hash browns. He'd eaten the whole thing in the time it took us to mince our way through our caprese salads. Of course, we brought him home. Marcelito and he were inseparable for a while, and I did some lovely drawings of them both.
Sadly, our time with him was short. I only had two photo shoots with him. In the first I dressed him in some transparent Greek things, and in the second he lies around the house, nude and smiling his beautiful smile (you can see more from both photoshoots on my website. www.felixdeon.com . Within a month of our meeting, he would move to Phoenix, and I would lose my chance to draw or photograph him again. He was a really sweet and beautiful boy, and I miss him.