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Married men are easy bait

If you do not hesitate

To show them it is their fate

To be yours. It will be great.

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Smashwords' ebook sale is going for another 7 days, through the end of July. All my ebooks are 50% off...$0.99 to $1.49 each...both erotica and mainstream.

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A brilliant film of great beauty and depth. Kurosawa was phenomenal...

Movie 345 - The Kurosawa Film Where Rain is Most Essential to the Plot

Rashomon (Dir. Akira Kurosawa, 1950)

When I did my post on “Yojimbo” last week my fiance asked if I did a Kurosawa movie on purpose because it was raining. No, that was just a strange coincidence.

If you have never seen a movie directed by Akira Kurosawa you may be wondering what rain has to do with him. Amongst Kurosawa’s auteur tropes is some kind of extreme weather condition heralds a pivotal event or reveal in his films, and usually it’s rain. My grad school notes on Kurosawa films inevitably have the phrase, “…and it’s raining,” or something close to it written at one point or another. If I end up drinking sake while it’s raining to this day I will question whether I’ve found myself in one of the great Japanese filmmaker’s movies.

So since a big ass storm is hitting the Bay Area today, last night my fiance asked me if I had done a post on “Rashomon” yet. I wasn’t going to, but how can I not do a post on “Rashomon” on an epically rainy day?

“Rashomon” is one of the go-to examples of Kurosawa’s work because aside from being the first Japanese cinema to receive international recognition and acclaim, it’s representative of his signature style and clocks in at a lean 88 minutes. The first time I saw it I was shocked how short it was. Most of his shorter films are closer to 110 minutes, just shy of two hours. “Rashomon” is Kurosawa at his most economic, in terms of how much he artfully crams into every moment and every frame.

“Rashomon” is the story of a woodcutter (Takashi Shumura), a priest (Minoru Chiaki), and a commoner (Kichijiro Ueda) taking refuge from a downpour of rain in Kyoto’s city gate, known as a rashomon, and talking about a recent trial that just occurred, in which two of the three men testified. The meat of the film pertains to the incident that caused the trial, the murder of a samurai (Masayuki Mori) and rape of his wife (Machiko Kyō) by a bandit (Toshiro Mifune), and how none of the witnesses describe the events or motivations of the key three people involved the same way. If you’ve ever sat on a jury or been involved in a court case in some fashion, conflicting accounts is par for course, but building a film around that concept was revolutionary in 1950. To this day whenever a narrative is built around conflicting accounts it’s known as “the Rashomon effect” because of this film.

It still vexes me that my “Film History II” professor showed “Stray Dog” instead of “Rashomon” when we were talking about post-war Japanese cinema in general, and Kurosawa in particular, but when I finally saw it in 2010 it was worth the wait. I was taking that Japanese cinema course that was the impetus in me getting sprung over Kurosawa movies, but surprisingly the professor didn’t assign “Rashomon.” Part of the reason was we had the time to watch and talk about “Seven Samurai,” and part of it was the Dryden Theatre at George Eastman House was going to screen a print of the new restoration of “Rashomon.” The screening became an extra credit opportunity, so a bunch of my classmates and I went to it. Thus the first time I saw “Rashomon” was in a theatre via a pristine 35mm print. I don’t know if they went back to the original camera negative or had some other incredibly early generation element for its source, but my God, it was beautiful looking! The preservation print was so glorious that when I discovered it was touring to San Francisco, I insisted my fiance go see it at the Castro when it was there, if he could. He did and was likewise wowed by it.

Granted, “Rashomon” is beautifully shot, edited and a damn great movie even if you see it in a shit VHS copy, but it’s true cinematic art in a great print or high res transfer of one. More than that it’s a film that makes you think about and question perception and human nature. It’s not so deep as to be alienating, though some people will be alienated by “Rashomon” due to it being a foreign film and the theatrical staging of the trial scenes, and I pity those people. “Yojimbo” is a bit more accessible to contemporary audiences new to Kurosawa’s work, but “Rashomon” is a great starting point too.

As of the date of this post, Hulu has “Rashomon” as well as other Kurosawa movies available via streaming as part of their Criterion selections, and I highly recommend it if you’ve never seen it before, especially on a rainy day.

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White trash can be fun,

If you find you one

To keep till you're done,

Knowing he won't run.

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Rodiney's a gorgeous lad

With whom I'd love to be so bad.

Just seeing him makes my heart glad.

I promise I would be no cad...

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Gestapo tactics should be met with full resistance.

Free mass transit, paid family leave, childcare, and zero tuition or we disappear you into a foreign prison cell for a social media meme.

Your choice!

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Nyle's the man

With a plan,

And once he began

The rest of us ran

To keep up with his van

Since we're all in his clan...

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In which case, we're fucked...

Republicans were all groomed. Epstein got them all with underage girls. Russia has the receipts.

Trump used the footage to leverage submission to MAGA. Russia leveraged, too.

How do you get so many varied conservatives from so many varied parts of the country to agree so easily? Blackmail. Billions of blackmail.

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You look so goddamn fine...

I have to make you mine,

And hand to you the line,

"I'll show you the divine."

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Robert Irwin

I bet his dad is so proud of him.

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The purest joy...

this is everything to me 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈💕

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I'm in love with a man whom I'll never meet.

Just watching him pose knocks me straight off my feet.

To be there and know him...oh that would be sweet...

And I can assure you, I'd not be discreet...

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Dirc and the Dyarvos Bones

While caught in a spaceship that's crash landed on earth, Dirc rapes Molinaro, the cop who killed him, and enjoys every minute of it:

I was shifted around to stand between Molinaro's legs. How? I don't know, because that platform he was on still seemed to be there.

He began to weep, "Not me, too, not me, not me..."

My only thought was Shut the fuck up as I ran my hands up over his pecs. Rich and full, but not as solid as I thought they would be. I ripped open his uniform shirt. Revealed a cheap-assed t-shirt under it so tore that open, too. Now I had a great view of his nice full chest. Perky brown tits. A flat belly. Too bad he was all shaved. He would have looked ten times better with hair.

I tore the shirts off him, completely, in shreds, revealing the tattoos on his shoulders. They gleamed with sweat, making the 88 stand out.

Fucking Nazi. I really wanted to tear those tatts off him.

I unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned his pants. Lowered his zipper as if it was something I’d done a hundred times. And revealed an amazing bulge behind cheap Haines briefs.

Okay, I’d seen his bulge, before, sure. But now? Here? Lying on that platform? His trim hips wrapped in soft blue cotton and swiveling slightly? It was porn, personified, and would have gotten him lots of attention on an OnlyFans page.

He tried to twist away from me, now cursing me and begging me to leave him alone.

I felt a growl form behind my heart and ripped his pants open along the seam.

He yelped as I yanked them down his legs to reveal his amazing thighs...and I would swear that bulge had become even larger. He tried to fight but the cords and tentacles held him in place.

I groped his crotch. Enveloped it with my fingers. Fondled his dick and balls through the briefs. Loved the feel of them as I massaged them in ways that made me nearly delirious. Used both hands...one for his nuts, one for his shaft...and worked them and worked them and worked them until...

I had no choice but to tear open the briefs to reveal a big, truly decent cock and balls. Of course he’d shaved down to nothing but a patch of pubes surrounding the base of his dick.

Jesus, how silly.

What mitigated my irritation was how it seems his dick had grown while being molested! Filled in, very nicely, despite his howls of protest and anger and fear. Could that have been why he was so pissy with me? He really wanted to fuck me?

Or have me suck him off?

Or both?

Then would he be asshole enough to do nothing for me, in turn?

I bet he was that type.

That made me want to hurt him even more.

My eyes locked on the vision of his dick lying atop his belly, two round beautiful globes that were his balls hanging below it. It was intoxicating.

I caressed his shaft. Gloried in the heft of it. The fullness. The loveliness of its length. I pulled his foreskin back from  the head to find it was clean and neat and perfectly shaped. Veins drifted up and around the sides, and he was raging hard. His helmet was now fully visible and calling to me, and as hungry as my dick was to be inside his ass, I wanted to deal with that first.

So I bent down and licked up from the base to the head, so fat and smooth. It nudged back at me...drifted across my lips as if to toy with me...until I sucked it in. I grunted...almost choked...only almost. Because somehow I knew exactly how to give a blow job to a nice-sized dick.

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Kevin is a lad

With whom I'd be so bad

And also become glad

Once he's the one I had.

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Seeing a bored beauty like him, with no wedding ring and in a busy airport...this would get me into such trouble...and I'd love it.

His seated position shows he's available. So just slip up and whisper, "Y'know, I could alleviate some of those inner tensions if you'll join me in the family changing room..." Or, "If we're on the same flight, care to join the Mile-High Club?"

🔥🔥🔥

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I'm caught in a conundrum. This guy is very good-looking, well-built, and my gaydar says available with the right inducement...but I'm not the least bit interested in him. Which is crazy, for me, because I like all kinds of men. Henry Cavil. Chris Evans. Rege-Jean Page. Michael B Johnson. Godfrey Gao. Ryan Gosling. But this guy? I flat out do not want anything to do with him, and I don't understand why.

He's not the first person I've reacted to like this. There have been occasions where I meet someone or see a photo of them, and my wariness factor explodes. And it's not just with men. I feel the same way about Madonna and Beyonce, even though I've never met them and have respect for their achievements. I just don't want to be around them, while Taylor Swift, Emma Stone and Viola Davis are the exact opposite.

Someone once told me this reaction stems from a bad situation in a previous life, and the aura of someone like David Corenswet reminds your psyche of it, bringing forth silent memories. I don't really believe in that, but it is the closest to an explanation I can find. Because my response is visceral. And the one time I ignored it, I very deeply regretted it.

David Corenswet | Hollywood Authentic | July 10, 2025 | 📷 Greg Williams

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Thhis is me...