A handsome young man sent in an introductory picture to one of the Matureman lists today, and he had a large platinum-blonde standard poodle almost as big as he sitting in his lap.

Once I got past the guy's face and concentrated on the dog, I had to let out a belly laugh because the pooch reminded me of Riley.

Riley was a standard poodle I knew in Fort Worth, Texas, when I lived there years ago and worked for several companies in the "oil patch" as a magazine editor. I had a pal in Fort Worth, a super-handsome fellow with the longest black eyelashes shading the biggest blue eyes I ever saw. He owned some truck washes, and we picked up enough guys in those stalls to make it a regular stable of HOT Texans. Many of them were so oversexed that at the slightest invitation from my pal's fluttering eyelashes or my wide, trademark smile, some stepped into the one-chair-and-a-desk office cubicles on the premises and hung it all out in a big way.

A lot of them were married, but stayed horny all the time, and wanted it quick and sweet with no strings attached, no woman, just another guy, like the current congressional judgment that "oral sex is no sex at all." Hehe.

Several shared one thing in common, I found, even if married -- they desperately needed contact on an intimate basis with the body or at least the mind of another man, despite proclaiming happiness with their wife and children at home. Some of them wouldn't take off their underpants. They wanted me to stroke them through the cloth and nose around down there and make them feel good and then they would jack themselves off, mostly with their eyes closed, while I looked on. A few could not cum with a man, but, still, they loved a male caress.

The ones that could cum, however, made up for those who couldn't, and a few became "regulars" who stopped over at my house from time to time and explored the varieties of male-to-male sex beyond the sucking of a cock. A surprising number seemed to need the extra stimulation of physical contact with a fellow male -- bottom, top or upside down -- to increase their pleasure with the women they loved.

A guy I particularly liked would only tolerate my touching him while he was fully clothed, letting me stroke him to a certain point through the fabric of his pants, but always stopping short of his orgasm. (I exploded in my own pants just from the pleasure of being so close to him.) After my orgasm, he would give me a pristine near-kiss on the cheek and leave smiling, headed home to fuck his wife.

On the night his only son was born, he stood in the hospital delivery room and watched. From the hospital, he came to my house and got totally naked for the very first time with me. He had a beautiful body.

I didn't know what to make of it when he asked me for a 69. We got into bed, and he was all over me in the 69 position, licking and sucking my penis and playing with my balls like a kid with new toys. It was wonderful. When he came, it seemed he sprayed a pint of hot liquid into my mouth. The copious amount of semen spilled out of my lips and dribbled down my chin. (This was long before AIDS.)

Afterward, lying with me in a tight, face-to-face embrace, he volunteered that when he saw the tiny penis on the child emerging from his wife's womb, a thrill of joy swept through him.

"My dad and I don't get along," he said. "I never knew what it's like to love another male. I don't have a sexual feeling toward my son, but it makes me understand that this can be love, too. I wanted to celebrate it with you."

He and I became friends.

I discovered so many variations in sexuality during my Fort Worth days when dealing with a wide variety of men, almost none of them openly gay (including me), some professing bisexuality and others claiming to be straight, but, atill, there I was, swinging on their joints.

My pal, for example, adored his wife and worshipped his kids and would not have left them for the world. He was a "macho" man in every way, yet he had to drape his legs over another guy's shoulders and get drilled in the woman way, or kneel and take it from behind, or he couldn't function sexually with his woman at night.

He told me he had to have at least one man a day or he couldn't make love to his wife, but after sex with a male, he could go home and turn on to her and give her the passion she enjoyed, but in his head, neither her vagina nor her female persona drove him to orgasm. The critical factor that enabled him to cum with her was the memory of the latest set of cock and balls he had enjoyed that very day.

Oh, yes, I was going to tell you about his pooch, Riley, the standard poodle, the memory of whom gave me a laugh today.

Well, Riley, as I said, was a large dog with gleaming silvery white and curly hair. He stood damn near to my waist (I am not seven feet tall) and was as stately and well-mannered as a dog can be. The joy of his life was riding in the back seat of his master's huge white Cadillac four-door sedan. (My pal was also a successful businessman in computers.)

Now, Fort Worth is only 30-odd miles from Dallas, but Fort Worth's a cow town and Dallas is a sort of New York, so my pal did a lot of business in Dallas and made trips over there every day. Often, Riley was allowed to come along. I joined them for the trip a time or two myself.

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