Javier

"Ello sonrie como un angel ..." He smiles like an angel ...

One of the first things that people notice about Javier is his sexy mouth. His soft, full, kissable lips beckon seductively and promise to deliver a truly marvelous experience. And when he smiles, his high cheekbones and strongly-wrought face are absolutely beatific.

His eyes are the other thing that captivate. Javier's clear gray eyes can bore down into your soul and depending on his mood, have you writhe in ecstasy or squirm in discomfort.

An incurable romantic, he loves spending long hours with his partners - kissing deeply and softly while caressing pecs, abs and flanks -- and revels in the sheer intimacy of being able to hold another man in his strong, muscular arms. His voice is a deep tenor and his soft laugh can warm a room by several degrees.

Always sensitive to his partner's needs, his lovemaking is measured and gentle - regardless of whether he is deep within his lover, or his legs are over another's shoulders, he can bring wave after wave of pleasure followed by a release bordering on the supernatural.

Javier is a licensed masseur and sometimes bouncer for Dash Carpentier at Oro - one of most exclusive clubs in the city. Being able to manage his own time is a great benefit to him since he is completely devoted to his grandmother. Despite her sixty-odd years, she is an indomitable woman and continues to run the bakery which has been in the family for generations.

Being gay and brought up in a strict Catholic household was a hellish combination - it was only after being discovered by his father and being badly beaten and hospitalized by him that Javier began serious weight training and bodybuilding. He was determined that that would never happen again. In his quest to rebuild himself into a physically imposing specimen, Javier grew more aggressive and confident, but never developed the brutality that was his father's hallmark. It was this temperance (as well as his looks) that brought him to the attention of Dash and the club's owner, Lucio Giambi.

During the last and final argument at home, he lifted his father off his feet and slammed him against the wall. Hard. "You are NEVER going to hit me or anyone else again, Papa - understand? You won't live to regret it." He felt a deep sense of satisfaction to see the spectre of fear flit across his father's face as he crumpled to the floor and cringed in front of him.

Despite tearful pleading by his mother and sisters, he left home and moved in with his grandmother. He never forgot what she had said to him in the hospital:

"Oh Javi, why did that maleton do this to you?"

"I'm gay, grandma. That's why he almost killed me."

"Que?"

"I like men. I like having sex with men."

Javier had been in bad shape. What mocha colored skin wasn't covered in livid, swollen bruises was either bandaged or stitched; one arm, one leg and three ribs were broken; four teeth had been knocked out. The doctors did not know if he would ever look exactly as he did before the brutal beating, nor could they guarantee to his grandmother that there would be no scars. She gave him an appraising look and brushed his thick, dark hair back from his forehead. He winced as her fingertips grazed the huge reddish-purple contusion there. She bent over and gave him a kiss.

"Well, your abuelita likes papi chulos tambien ... you stay with me and help me make pan gloria. Just like when you were little. And you bring your boyfriends over, too. I want a nice man for my petirrojito!"

She paused. "You always use a chaqueta, don't you?"

"Grandma!"

Right now, I have been having the "week from hell" at work and I needed a bit of levity to keep my sanity. As I mentioned in a previous post, the "Arnold", "Bororo" and "Jim" masks are all based on the same mold, and the three masks are progressively darker-complexioned. I was planning for the Bororo mask as being an enforcer, but when I received the Jim, it not only looked better and fit better but worked better as Jamil, my enforcer AE. Subsequently, I had to juggle my alter egos to accommodate the change. That left me with the Bororo and an opportunity to develop another AE. I really had wanted a Latino in my AE collection and it seems that Fate provided it! I also find that at some subconscious level, my AEs are coming together to form a coherent little world-view of their own - if you noticed, the club that Javier works at is managed by Dash and owned by Lucio - what appears to be happening here is the creation of secondary belief. Those familiar with J.R.R. Tolkien will know exactly what I mean.

This particular mold also works extremely well with wigs - as well as the Derl molds - and I've already done some testing with Javier and a full head of hair. One thing to remember, though, is that these are from Greyland's "Masks" collection versus their more upscale "Faces" collection and hence have a shorter neck - if you have issues with "neck popping", just cut a 4" strip of 1/4" to 1/2" foam rubber to put down between your neck and the mask and extending past the collar of your shirt or t-shirt. This provides a sufficient "traction" to keep the neck of mask down and the shirt collar up in place!!

Jamil

If you want someone hurt, call Jamil. An accomplished martial artist, he is as adept with a Sig Sauer as he is with his hands. A disciplined individualist, (mercenary would be a better term) he offers his varied services to the highest bidder. Jamil more often than not finds his clients among the demimonde and is regularly hired by the Giambi syndicate for various contracts - enforcement, intimidation, blackmail, pain - and pleasure. Jamil's intensity and thoroughness are well known and among his partners, his deep passions are highly sought.

Jamil's lovemaking is demanding - depending on the situation, it can be seen as either as a game of brinkmanship or a brutal punishment just shy of rape. His strong, handsome face and muscular torso hold an almost Svengali-like fascination to men and he uses this talent to its fullest. His favorite position is to have his buddy bent over some hard surface - be it a table, a desk, a sawhorse or even a construction beam - and to thrust his tool in as deeply and as quickly as possible. He will often establish a rhythm of slamming quickly in and out and derives a great sense of pleasure as his partner cries and screams for mercy (or more!, as the case may be) and keeps this rhythm up until he explodes inside his victim.

Regardless of whether it is an assignment or a personal matter, there has never been anyone who has not wanted to be used and abused by this darkling soldier of fortune over and over again. Sometimes though, his reputation surprises even him. In one instance, a prominent businessman refused to send protection money to the syndicate operation. Jamil trailed the man and confronted him in a side alley. He pushed him against the wall, drew his pistol and held it under the man's jaw.

"Robert, you've been a naughty boy ... Mr. Giambi doesn't like it when you're late with your payments."

"How was I going to see you again if I paid on time?" Tears began to well in his eyes.

Jamil blinked - this was completely unexpected. Robert Evans had been one arrogant son-of-a-bitch before. He lowered the gun and loosened his grip on Robert. The businessman continued in a rush.

"I ... I... want to be with you again, Jamil. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you."

With that statement, Robert lowered his head and began to openly weep. What the hell was going here? The mercenary let go of the man and tucked the gun back into his waistband. Robert tentatively put his arms around the handsome enforcer and when he encountered no resistance, buried his sobbing face in Jamil's shoulder. Jamil was at a complete loss - not knowing how to proceed, he returned the gesture and held the man in his strong arms. Warm tears tickled his neck and dampened his shirt. He gently stroked the back of the businessman's head.


"Bobby, you're going to be limping for a week when I get through with you. You really want me to fuck you bowlegged again?"

The man continued to cry soundlessly into Jamil's shoulder. He held onto the enforcer even tighter. He nodded.
 
These mask personas definitely are taking on lives of their own! First there was Dash, then Lucio and now, Jamil. It's really amazing to me when I put a mask on and look at myself in a mirror how I can actually develop a complete history for the person looking back at me. How this person thinks, what he feels, how he acts. This mask is called the "Jim" and is actually a darker version of the "Arnold" mask. There was a very noticeable brutal vibe with this mask and damn if it didn't feel good!

Brendan

Ever since he was a child, Brendan wanted to be a fireman. Perhaps it was the handsome lieutenant that showed up during one particular career day at school, but he always imagined himself in big rubber boots and wrestling a huge fire hose. Brendan was a star player in high school football - he was agile (as well as tall and muscular) and worked exceptionally well as part of the team. He enjoyed the camaraderie on the field as well as in the locker room. Most particularly with the tight ends. After graduation, he applied to the city's Fire Academy and became a probationary firefighter - or as more commonly known, a "proby".

His day started at 6:45am with weight training and a 5-mile run. After that, there was the parade drills in bunker gear. Thank God the turnout pants were thick and loose - he was always in a state of near-painful arousal after being in close physical proximity to the other chiseled probys in the weight room and then inhaling the scents of sweat, Nomex and rubber of firefighting gear. There were, of course, other recruits with similar interests and Brendan's nights were usually occupied using his own "fire hose" one way or another with his buddies.

Thirteen weeks passed with amazing speed and as he was dressing for his graduation from the academy, he marveled at how his physique had improved - he was in good shape when he entered fire training, but now he was superb. His pecs were now like two slabs of iron and his abs had popped into an breathtaking 6-pack. He had gained 4" on his chest and lost 3" on his waist. His arms had swelled to 21" cannons and every muscle was pumped and ready for action. What little hair he had on his chest and pits he shaved off - better to accentuate the muscular development. If only he didn't have a 9 o'clock shadow - no matter how close he shaved, his dark beard stubble would make an unwelcome appearance within a few hours.

A number of the probys already had tats - he was seriously thinking of getting dragons running down both of his arms. Or maybe a full sleeve with designs stretching across one side of his chest and onto his shoulder blade.

Brendan's initial assignment was to Engine Company 69 -- he handled his first fire with some trepidation, but with complete success. The adrenaline rush from the imminent danger and the lingering scents of rubber and smoke had an unexpected effect on him once he returned to the station house, removed his gear and entered the showers - he was unexpectedly, uncontrollably, and unimaginably aroused. He closed his eyes and spread the liquid soap over taut skin and rock-hard muscles and savored the feel of his hands gliding around and down his body.

"Ahhh, a man after my own heart ... I liked you right from the start, Bren - now I know why!"

Brendan's eyes flew open. Captain Carlo Battali stepped into the showers next to him and as the new firefighter saw, he too, was responding to the recent fire in the same manner. The captain let the hot water stream down his face, his chest and turned around to let it sluice down his broad back and strong legs. He lathered up and Brendan grew even more excited the more he looked at his commander through the steamy air. At 32, Carlo was the youngest captain in the Fire Department and was known for his innovative tactics.

"Bren, after we get cleaned up, stop by my office - I've got some new gear I'd like you to help me try out, OK?"

Carlo moved closer to Brendan and wrapped his muscular arm around the younger man's trim waist. He gave Brendan a feather-light kiss on his full lips and slid his hand down to linger on the new fireman's butt.

As he left the showers and wrapped a towel around himself, Carlo gave him a wink and a smile.

"See you in a few."

Brendan jumped out of the shower and quickly toweled himself dry. He stuffed his still-raging erection into a jock, pulled on a pair of shorts and t-shirt and hurried to the captains office. "Good choice.", he thought. "He's wearing the same as me ... Damn, what a fucking stud..." Carlo looked up and gave the new recruit a huge grin.

"Thanks for coming up so quickly, Bren. We've gotten a pair of military-grade silicone heat bodysuits to test out. They're guaranteed to withstand up to 1500 degrees for up to an hour. I think these could save a lot of lives provided they deliver on their promise. I was wondering if you'd help me put them through their paces?"

"Sure, captain. I'd love to."

"Bren, we're all family here. Call me Carlo. C'mon"

The two firefighters padded around the corner and into one of the equipment rooms. Carlo took a box off a shelf, opened it up and removed two slick black bodysuits. The captain picked one up and shook it out - it was a one-piece with feet, gloves, ball sack, penile sheath and a back zip. A hood dangled from the neck.

"I'll help you into one of these, then you can do the same for me. I want to try out the communications and heat resistance claims first."

Brendan was amazed at the suit in Carlo's hands. "OK, what do I do first?"

"First, you take off that shirt and step out of those shorts!" Carlo laughed as he fished around in the box and retrieved some lube. Quickly, before he had a chance to think, Brendan pulled the t-shirt over his head and dropped the shorts. The jock could barely contain his enormous erection.

Carlo whistled. "Jock too, kiddo .... Hmmmm seems like I picked right!" He smiled as he began squirting some lube into the sheath.

"Sit down and we'll get your feet in."

Brendan began pulling the soft silicone over his feet and pulled the suit up over his calves. As he stood up, the captain was right there, lending a hand. The bulge in his shorts was even larger than the young fireman's. "Pull steady, but be careful not to rip it." His strong arms were around Brendan, stroking and caressing him and pulling the suit up around him. Soon the suit was up over his hips and he found Carlo's hand inside the suit and around his stiff cock!

"OK, buddy, just ease him in ------ there, great fit!" Carlo said as he pulled out his hand covered in lube. His cock had popped into the well-slicked tube and the sliding, grabbing sensation was a overwhelming turn on. As Brendan concentrated on making a few adjustments, Carlo reached behind him and wiped his hand off across his ass. As the captain added a few squirts of lube down Brendan's crack, the young fireman turned, trying to see what was going on.

"Going to need that, stud, to get the ass sheath in place."

"Ass sheath! Hell, I don't know about that,...." Before he could resist, a rubber tube was pushed into place with one of Carlo's fingers. "I'll adjust that later Bren, let's get the rest of this suit on."
The commander worked the suit up Brendan's chest and helped him get his arms through the tight sleeves, and into the gloves. As the zip was pulled up, he felt himself changing, developing a new mental image of myself, and a painful, raging hard-on. He could feel a steady drip of pre-cum oozing out of his cock and into the sheath.

"Nice fit buddy, this suit was made for you! Now let's put on that hood?" Brendan looked down at the anatomically sculpted silicone hood dangling from the neck of the suit.

"Sure!"

Carlo carefully pulled open the hood and lifted it up and over the younger man's head. As he pulled it down, the young firefighter's mouth discovered a small opening. Slightly firmer silicone plugs slipped into his nostrils and provided a steady stream of rubbery-smelling air. Lightly smoked lenses covered his eyes - he didn't know what they were made of, but they were as clear as glass and as flexible as the rest of the suit. As a last step, Battali attached four small, flat metallic devices to the hood - one at either side of the mouth opening and one in back of each sculpted ear. They were finished to blend invisibly with the rest of the suit.

"How does it feel?"

Brendan ran his hands down his now-smooth bald head, his face, his chest, his stomach and fondled his huge ebon-covered cock. The material was sculpted to protect and accentuate every muscle and curve on his body. His pecs were larger and more defined; his 6-pack was now an incredible roadmap of raised mesas and deep rifts; his arms and wrists had an unimaginable muscularity; even his cock was larger and wider. The tactile sensitivity was amazing. The eye lenses brought everything into a sharp, crystal-clear focus.

"Carlo, it feels INCREDIBLE!"

"I'm sure the bunker gear will feel a lot better with this under it, too! OK, bud - so far so good. Help me into mine now."

Brendan followed the same procedure and nearly lost control when he positioned the captain's huge member into the sheath and placed a finger into Carlo's tight pucker as he inserted the anal protector. In a few moments, two living midnight-black statues faced each other.

"Bren, let's test out the communications. Go down to the end of the hall and wait there."

The young firefighter left the room and proceeded down the long hallway. He stopped at the end and as an afterthought, opened the heavy steel door to the HVAC room and closed it behind him.

"Carlo, I'm in the vent room."

"Really?" his commander's voice sounded in his ears as if he was right next to him. "Wow, this gear is great! I can hear your perfectly!"
"So can I. Well, we've got a few more tests to run. Come on back to the office."

Brendan returned to the office to see Carlo leaning against the doorjamb. His massively muscled arms were crossed and his huge black member was sticking straight out from his magnificent body. His mouth was curved into a sly grin, and even though he couldn't see them through the dark lenses, Brendan knew that smile traveled all the way up to his captain's bright green eyes.

"Got to fix that anal sheath Bren. Here, could you bend over a bit? Lean over the desk for me?"

To his amazement, Carlo was rubbing some lube on his ebon-sheathed member. "Told ya, guy, that sheath needed adjustment, and there is only one good way to do it." Carlo pulled their bodies together. His prick, slick with lube, searched for Brendan's crack. As he worked his tool into the younger man's quivering ass, he reached around and grabbed the young fireman's cock.

"How's the fit Bren, OK?" the commander said as he pressed their bodies together and began to stroke. The lube around Brendan's cock was warm and began to do the trick as Carlo's strokes began to intensify. Battali's cock was now fully into his ass and he was pumping furiously. Soon they were both cumming, Brendan shooting a hot load into the tube, feeling it jet around his cock, and running down his leg, and Battali, pumping his sheath full, the heat searing the young fireman's ass. After lingering together for a while, Carlo finally pulled out and turned him around to look into the eye ports of Brendan's mask. The captain grabbed his head and gave the new firefighter a brutal kiss. He snagged the lube off the table and put it into the young fireman's hand.

"Hey lover, I need my sheath adjusted too..."

I just couldn't stop this story at the point of the shower scene. Somehow, the concept of a latex catsuit on a fireman just grabbed hold of my imagination and wouldn't let go. The Clarke mask - part of the "Brend" line - does need a bit more padding than any of my Derls - it requires a regular 8" filler in the mask plus a 1/2" deep and 4" diameter filler inside of the UnderArmor skullcap. I had already laid out the scenarios I wanted -- Brendan working out, getting into gear and then posing -- but the catsuit concept just took on a life of its own. Since these are two things my partner likes best - firemen and catsuits - I wanted to see if I could combine the two. And I think I did a pretty damn good job!

Lucio

Lucio had a normal childhood. That is, if you consider being the only son of the largest syndicate boss in the city normal. From an early age, Lucio displayed a level of brilliance and strategic thinking which pleased his father immensely. Paul Giambi had big plans for his son. Ivy League schools. A new structure. A new and unstoppable power in the City. Lucio as the head of the syndicate.

He killed his first man at fifteen.

He had his first male lover at sixteen. Of course, that milestone wasn't something he was going to tell his father. He had seen how Paul handled "problems" and didn't want to become one himself. He was skillful at reading men's hearts and while he could be ruthless when needed, he was often moved more to pity than to scorn. Franco, his father's top lieutenant and Lucio's mentor, protector and bodyguard, called this talent "navigating between the pillars of Might and Mercy" and had commented that he had never seen anyone so adept - including Lucio's father. Enemies became loyal soldiers; loyal soldiers would sacrifice anything for him without a second thought.

During his last year at graduate school, Lucio invited his friend (and lover) Stephen home during the midwinter break. Both Lucio and Stephen were strong, muscular and devilishly handsome. However, where Lucio was dark - wavy brown hair, brown eyes and always a hint of shadow on his square jaw - Stephen was light - fine, white-blonde hair with pale green eyes the color of new leaves. It was during this break that his father surprised him and his partner. Shock, anger and sadness chased across his father's face as he caught the two together - as he saw Stephen's strong legs over his son's shoulders and his son thrusting into the pale young man moaning beneath him. Paul quickly turned around and slammed the bedroom door shut.

"Stephen, get dressed and leave. I have to talk to my dad right away. Frank will get you to the airport. I'll see you after the break."

"You never told him?"

Lucio shook his head. "I was afraid he would kill me. I don't want him to kill you."

Stephen felt the icy truth in that statement crawl down his spine. He knew what Lucio's father did for a living.

"But Lucio..."

"Not now. Hurry." He put his finger on his lover's lips and then gave him a quick kiss. Stephen felt the power of command in those three words. Lucio grabbed a pair of jeans and pulled a t-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers through his tousled brown hair for at least some semblance of order. He stepped out of the room and quickly walked to his father's study. He opened the door. His bare feet made no sound on the polished wooden floor.

"Papa?"

His father had been pacing. He looked up as his son entered the room. He grabbed him by the shoulders.

"How long?"

"Papa, I can explain ..."

"HOW LONG, LUCIO?" His father glared at him. He tightened his grip.

"Four years." he whispered. "Four years, Papa." So this was how it ends. Even if his father beat him to death, he wouldn't beg for mercy. He'd hurt him enough. Shamed him. Maybe he'd be lucky and he would kill him quickly.

He held his son vise-like and shook him. "Why the FUCK did you torture yourself, sneaking around, for four years? Huh? Why were you afraid to tell me? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lucio looked up, shocked. His father's eye's were moist. He was terribly upset, not angry. Not angry at all.

A quiet knock and Frank entered the room. Frank took in the scene. Paul more distraught than he had ever seen him; Lucio frightened to death but trying desperately to be brave . "Everything OK, boss?"

Lucio's father released him and took a deep calming breath. "Oh yeah, Frank, everything is just great. Just hunky fucking-dory. My son has been reaming men up the ass for four years and he forgot to tell me!"


Frank was grinning. Lucio was completely bewildered. The lieutenant stepped between father and son and gave the syndicate boss a deep kiss. Lucio's father returned it with equal ardor. Paul had begun to compose himself. Frank turned to the future crime lord.

"Next time, kiddo, keep the moaning down. Be a little more discreet. Your dad wouldn't be where he is today if we weren't careful. And face it, you really are your father's son."

I had originally been thinking of the Meser mask as more of a con artiste - a very successful confidence man named "Alain". Great fit again - this particular line seems to be cut the tightest so far. (A little *too* tight as the seam down the back of the neck split. Nothing that a little Krazy-Glue and duct tape couldn't fix. ) However, when I was developing the Dash character, the crime boss seemed to take on a life of his own too. I tried the Meser mask on again and the character of Lucio just fell into place. Smart, necessarily ruthless, but slightly vulnerable. Almost, but not quite, a Sophoclean tragic flaw. (Whoops! Is my classical education showing??)

Perhaps it's the way that Greyland makes the masks, but most of the ones I own seem to promote the darker side of human nature - that Vlad Tepes/Elizabeth Bathory type of vibe. The only male masks I've seen that seem to be a bit on the happy-go-lucky side are the "Bob" series - which would make for a great televangelist!!

Ryan Redux

Normally, Saturday mornings are my "AE Time", but I guess Halloween in the middle of the week wore me out more than I thought. Six parties over the course of six days was a bit of a stretch. I was all set to take shots of Lucio, the crime boss -- however, after setting up all the photo equipment, I just didn't feel like being him. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to handle a criminal mastermind.

I had purchased a dreadlock wig to use with the B.Will mask and possibly the Bororo and/or Jim masks. I wanted to experiment to see how well (or how badly) this would work out.

I had read an interesting story on the Haircut Stories Site called "Mount Baldy Baldies". There's always a lot of construction going on in my area, and you do tend to see a majority of the workers with either shaved heads or buzz cuts (as well as a lot of well-developed, sweaty muscles) - but I wanted to give Ryan a try with hair - possibly before succumbing to peer pressure and getting shaved.

I got the wig from International Wig - great place: fast service and faster shipping. I don't want to sound condescending, but you really can't go wrong with an inexpensive afro or dreadlock wig - the $40 one looks just as good as the $100 one. The photo shoot turned out extraordinarily well - I like Ryan just as well with hair as without and I can definitely use the wig with my other AE's on tap ... I have plans for an enforcer (Bororo) and a ruthless businessman (Jim).

Dash

Dashiell ("Just call me Dash.") was a little hellion growing up. The only scion of a wealthy manufacturing family, he was always attracted to the darker side of the human condition. This perverse fascination, combined with a superior intelligence and nearly unlimited financial resources was a truly hellish combination in a "fallen angel"-sort of way. Crimes - theft, extortion, battery and even burglary - were easily covered up. What his charm and roguish good looks couldn't accomplish, payoffs could. His appetite for violence and crime was only rivaled by his appetite for men. It was the thrill and sheer delight in wrongdoing that made each escapade worthwhile.

Dash caught the attention of one of the local crime bosses when he became involved in a bar fight and permanently crippled Lucio Giambi's lieutenant. As the youngest crime lord in the city, Lucio needed to prove his mettle to the other syndicate bosses. Dash had to pay for this transgression and he would see to it. Personally.

All of that changed, however, when the two met face-to-face.

Imagine his surprise when Lucio entered his study and found a brutally handsome young man relaxing on his couch, a glass of brandy in one hand and a book in the other. A lit cigarette was in the large marble ashtray, its smoke lazily spiraling up in the cool air.

Dash put the book down and stood up. "I hear you've been looking for me. I thought we should have a talk."

Tall and well-built, Dash was dressed in a soft black leather sleeveless shirt which only served to frame his muscular shoulders and arms. Snug leather jeans - which clung to his long, strong legs and narrow waist - produced a living portrait just this side of obscene. His black motorcycle jacket was laid on the sofa. A black leather collar circled his neck and matching leather bands circled powerful wrists. His shaved head gleamed in the lamplight. A 100-watt smile creased Dash's face and traveled all the way up to his startlingly azure eyes.

"I was trying to find the best way to introduce myself - and I believed this was probably the fastest way to get results. I want to work for you, Lucio. After all, with the way your businesses COULD be expanding ..."

He slowly put the brandy snifter down on the end table.

"You really need someone with more expertise and connections than that cretin Anthony. Someone like me."

Lucio was taken aback. Not only by his demeanor, but by his sheer audacity. And by his looks. The leather stud's voice was a low, sexy tenor and his blue, blue eyes displayed equal parts of mischief, cunning, promise and danger. Dash slowly walked - no, swaggered - over to him. Each step closer brought a chiaroscuro of warm yellow light playing off gleaming black leather. Each step closer made his breathing quicken and heart race. What the hell was going on? How did he know?

Dash stood in front of him. The crime boss was trembling. A hand came up and stroked through Lucio's wavy brown hair. Dash smelled of leather and chocolate. Lucio inhaled deeply. Oh God. Angel for Men. His favorite cologne. Giambi took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Dash pulled him closer and gently kissed him. He proceeded to run his lips across across Lucio's square jaw and down his neck, nibbling as he went along. The crime boss moaned with pleasure. Dash stopped at his open collar. "Command me, lord." he whispered. Lucio opened his eyes.

Blue eyes met brown. There was a hint of uncertainty in Dash's azure gaze. The spark between them burst into a raging inferno of desire and lust. The crime lord snaked his arm around his new lieutenant and partner and gave him a hard, deep kiss. He reached up and stroked the leather stud's face.

"When can you start?"

Whew! The Arnold mask really seemed to have a complete mind of it's own. And like my Derls, it's a near perfect fit. I knew when I first put it on a while ago that he was going to be a criminal - at that time I thought maybe hired muscle or an enforcer - but the whole sexy, wealthy evil character "clicked" from watching "Batman Begins". I was thinking, "What if Bruce Wayne was truly subverted by the League of Shadows? What would he be like?" He'd be Dash. Since this mask is part of the Greyland Masks (not Faces collection) the neck is a bit shorter all the way around. Hence the slightly S&M-ish use of the collar. For an incredible video of someone else with the same concept, check out "Gas Mask and Getting Ready to Go Out" on Youtube. Amazing!!

I love a man in uniform -- Request #1

Well, I got quite a number of requests clamoring to see more of Shayn in uniform (out of uniform is a different request altogether!!), so I did another photo shoot of my insatiable Army Ranger fooling around in some "formal" wear.

Rather than the backstory on the character - which you already have - I decided to give you a little backstory on the uniform.

This is called a "Mess Dress" uniform and is used for formal occasions. The uniform itself is vintage late 1940's - early 1950's and was originally a lieutenant's uniform - it is now a commander's uniform. The original two braids (one 1/2" and one 1/4" denoting a lieutenant second class) were replaced by three 1/2" braids. It is made of a very dense, very soft worsted wool that resists wrinkles and wears like iron.

In the United States Navy, a commander is above the rank of lieutenant commander, below the rank of captain, and is equivalent in rank to a lieutenant colonel in the United States Army, United States Marine Corps and the United States Air Force. A commander may command a frigate, destroyer, submarine, aviation squadron or shore installation, or may serve on a staff. A commander who commands a vessel may also be referred to as "Captain" as a courtesy title, or informally referred to as "skipper."

The braiding and line stars on the sleeves were very discolored, so I replaced them. The bullion braiding hasn't changed a whit in sixty years, but the line stars have changed a great deal.

The vintage ones were actually heavy gold thread with miniature chains holding them in place on a black wool background. The "modern" ones are cheaply machine-embroidered stars on a black fabric background. Ebay proved to be an excellent source and I was able to find a good pair of line stars (on a uniform, of course!) for a good price. I had my tailor swap the stars and resold the uniform!

The shirts are "official" USN tuxedo shirts, as are the studs and the cufflinks in the "black tie" pictures. The gold cummerbund is also the "official" navy regulation color - not yellow, not gold, but this particular color.

USN regulations state that for "white tie" events, a white pique tie and vest are required, and the vest must have three gold USN official buttons. Well, I found the vest, but had to order buttons separately and remove the mother of pearl ones and sew on the gold ones.

I always seem to have the most fun with the "Derl" molds of masks, and this particular photo shoot was indeed a pleasure - not only because of what I was doing, but because I know that I'm making several folks quite aroused ...

Ryan

Ryan was always good with his hands. And with his tools. With all of the building going on in the city, it was natural that he would take a job in construction - good pay, good hours and good benefits. Another incentive was the company. There was never-ending supply of handsome, well-muscled workmen he could spend time with. Cable guys, carpenters, phone installers, bricklayers, tile men and particularly, electricians.

A glance, a hand on a shoulder, a lingering stroke down a back - that's all that's usually needed to make a connection. Seeing powerful muscles straining beneath gleaming skin and hearing grunts of exertion is almost too much for our insatiable welder. Summer is his favorite time of the year - being surrounded by sweaty, half-naked men all day is Ryan's idea of heaven on earth. There's nothing like going to a silent, completed area with a journeyman, stripping down and drilling a handsome, young stud as he moans beneath you on a hard cold floor.

Or wrestling in plaster dust and slowly licking it off your partner as your hands trace his hard and hard-won muscles as he lies - panting - pinned beneath you. Or perhaps you beneath him. Ryan usually wears gloves on the job to protect his hands for these encounters. His slightly rough and callused fingers bring shivers of pleasure to his partners at every turn. He explores every part of his lover with the same intensity as a building inspector does looking for violations. He loves to wrap his booted feet around his buddy's waist as he gets drilled. Almost as much as he loves the feel of muscular legs on his shoulders and running his hands down quads, hamstrings and calves as he hammers away with his 8" tool.

The B.Will mask is part of the "Brend" line and is slightly larger than the "Derl" series of masks. It needs a bit of foam padding in the back of the head and at the chin. Other than that, it's another perfect addition to my collection. The eyes, on the other hand, are spectacular. It took a while to get the right "feel" with this mask since I wasn't getting the immediate vibe as I had with the Artist, Recidivist, Gomer and Viktor masks. The fact that the B.Will appears is an ethnic mask also increases the frisson of getting into character.

Alter Ego Break - The New Batch

Well, I ordered a new bunch of masks and they just got delivered yesterday. The ones I got were:

Filemon:

Brend:

Fandor:

VB:

Rudi Veber:

I bought the Filemon and the Clarke because I liked the molds and I figured with my successful eyeball surgery on the Felix mask, I wouldn't have any problem with these two. I had previously tried on an Ali (which is also based on the Filemon mold) but that mask was HUGE. I was planning on using the Filemon for layering masks.

The surgery was successful, but the two masks didn't quite meet my expectations for realistic eyes as my Felix did - I guess that mask is the exception to the rule. However, that's what sunglasses and graduated lenses are for! These two masks do indeed look superlative with my foam fillers and darkened glasses.

I also think that Greyland has changed the formulation on their foam latex - these new masks feel softer, smell different and cling to one's face much better.

The Filemon is perfect! Of course, I need some foam fillers in the back of the head, but the difference between the Ali and Filemon is night and day. My initial impression on the Filemon is an Arab "insurgent".

I already have a Clarke and a B.Will, which are based on the Brend mold, and this one is a great fit. Even better than the other two. With the eyes cut out, I can almost feel some type of partial Asian heritage in this alter ego. My initial plans are for a law enforcement officer, but this is dependent on getting a uniform - at least a shirt with patches.

The other three masks - the VB, the Fandor and the Rudi - are what I would term "older" faces and I don't know if I really like them. I have to see. I may resell them. The Fandor actually creeps me out a bit - which is something for me.

Shayn and the SEAL

The room reeked of sex. A fine sheen of sweat covered the two muscular servicemen as they lay spooned together - the room was just beginning to brighten and the ceiling fan turned lazily in the sultry air. After a marathon session last night, Shayn and Christian held each other and fell asleep - Christian had Shayn's 8" tool buried in his chute; Shayn had his arm thrown protectively over the young SEAL. Even this morning, Chris had moved closer, pulling himself deeper onto the Ranger's semi-hard rod, still embedded in his eager hole. Shayn woke first and smiled to himself. What a night! What a great two-day leave! Thank God he found Chris to make his trip to Manila worthwhile. He gently disengaged himself from the sleeping Navy officer and moved quietly into the bathroom.

Just before he left yesterday, he had given himself a full body shave; however, he needed a good close trim this morning to get rid of the beard stubble. Maybe he should try that stuff Scotty always used - it was some type of citrus-based depilatory that made his staff sergeant smooth as a baby's ass and tasting faintly of oranges. He started the hot water running and took out his shaving kit. As he was lathering up, he looked back through the mirror to see Christian padding into the bathroom.

"Damn, he's such a good-looking fucker," he thought to himself. The SEAL had short blonde hair and clear gray eyes. He sported a starburst tattoo around his navel -- accenting his ripped, 8-pack abdomen in the most obscene way -- and had an intricate black ink tribal design stretching across the front of his shoulder, around the deltoid and across the shoulder blade.

" 'Morning, handsome."

"That's Lieutenant Commander Handsome, soldier." he smiled. The Navy officer put his hands on Shayn's trim waist and started kissing the back of the ranger's neck. "I felt so damn empty without you in me."

The soldier grinned to himself. That's what most of men of his squad had said at one time or another. They couldn't get a decent night's sleep any more without a dick up their ass. Or a fist. Maybe he was starting a new Navy tradition.

"Hey Chris....?"

"Mmmmmmm?" he had moved his lips down the soldier's neck, and began licking the sweat from between his shoulder blades.

"I saw a bunch of uniforms in your closet ... could I try them on? I always wanted to be in the Navy."

Christian lifted his head and looked over Shayn's shoulder. "Sure, lover, why not? We're about the same size ..."

His gray eyes twinkled as he licked the ranger's ear.

"... And I'm sure that some ... disciplinary action ... will have to be taken regarding you impersonating a naval officer."

When I do a photo shoot, I post the entire collection on one of Yahoo's groups area. When I initially put up Shayn, I had also created a poll and asked, "Do you want to see Shayn in uniform?" The responses were overwhelmingly positive, so I decided to do a second photo shoot of my soldier. I only have Navy uniforms, so I had to develop a backstory as to why the Army Ranger was sporting Navy clothes.

Shayn

Shayn - US Army Ranger. Shayn comes from a long-time military family. Duty, honor and service were all hallmarks of his upbringing. Particularly service. His father's favorite adage, "There's no problem a little Elbow Grease can't solve." brought a deeper meaning once he entered the military academy. Once there, he developed many intimate friendships among the cadets. Shayn's prowess in sports did not go unnoticed at the Academy and he became well known for his abilities in handball. He was also one of the most versatile players in the history of the Academy, and was celebrated as the hands-down favorite pitcher AND catcher among many upper- and lower- classmen.

After graduation, Shayn underwent Army Ranger training. He is currently the leader of an advanced reconnaissance squad in the Philippines. Due to the heat and humidity, (as well as the many creepy-crawlies on the island) he decided to remove all of his hair. "Being smooth just makes everything easier.", he stated. "Besides, it feels so damn good!"

He derives great pleasure in taking care of his men and will do anything to make sure that their needs are met. He has said on many occasions, "My major concern is for the men under me." That can run the gamut from assuring that adequate supplies of suntan lotion and lubricants are always available, or gentle stroking and kisses to some vigorous action. His squad, composed of like-minded (and hairless) individuals , are a close-knit group and - like their commander - enjoy a good game of handball. Understanding the nature of command and being the versatile soldier he is, Shayn is equally at home in the middle of a chain or at either end. He is always willing and able to spend time with any of his men on a one-on-one basis. Whatever the need. His men, too, understand the burden of command and reciprocate - they are always available for him.

Besides his piercing azure eyes, Shayn has a tribal tattoo running around his right forearm about 2.5" from the elbow. Members of his squad have similar tattoos on their forearms in varying locations. Some have more than one. When asked about this, he smiles and says, "It's a symbol. It's a indication of capability, committment and trust."

Whatever the situation, this Army Ranger knows how to satisfy his objectives above and beyond the call of duty.

I've heard from some folks that the "Viktor" mask makes them feel a bit more submissive, but I find the entire "Derl" line of masks makes me much more aggressive. So much so, I feel that my libido has permanently been kicked up a couple of notches and I feel I've become more assertive even when I'm not wearing a mask. People have noticed the change and have favourably remarked on it. With Shayn, however, I did feel a sense of gravitas - of responsibility - that I haven't with the other masks. The whole military fantasy germinated with the number of images of soldiers being broadcast about the operations in the Iraq and Afghanistan and really took on a definite life of its own when a friend sent me a copy of the Quartermaster police military catalog. Some of these models get me hard in a heartbeat!