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Some tiles are static, others are not. Hovering will reveal which. And almost all the sliders have been turned off. I couldn’t time the reveals and I didn’t want you to come into the middle of the sequence, so when you get there: manual, baby!

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Guess what today is?!



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Welcome to your very own super special secret web page! Just to be clear, this is a ghost page on my website. It’s not on the menu. It is not detectable by any search engine. And unless you forward the link or give someone the link address, you’re the only one who’s ever gonna see it. I still have a few things to add, so for a couple of days, it’ll be the gift that keeps on giving. But this Sunday at midnight, it’s going offline. Temporary being sexy and all that.
          Why such an AWESOME birthday gift? Well, when I turned the calendar a few days late in December, there on the 17th was RANDALL BDAY. I couldn’t let such an auspicious occasion go unnoticed! Then there were all the other reasons: I wanted to do something different to take my mind off writing (which worked, two essays for the next book: done) and I’d do anything to avoid this Netflix pitch because, truth be told, my heart’s not in it. I’m more than content writing acclaimed books that don’t sell for the foreseeable future. And I already have millions of anime fans thanks to Ghost Stories, so it’s not like I need the attention. But I accepted their offer so I have to at least follow through that much.
          But the real reason is I just like doing things for others—that bottom nature fucks me every time. I liked doing nice things for you. I liked doing nice things for Architect. But he’s dead and you’re still alive so guess who wins by default? And I miss him so much. July 6th was the last time I saw him which was nice for him because we finally fulfilled his fantasy to fuck until sunrise. He died five days later so you can see he pretty much did go out with a bang.
         Since then it’s been marathon masturbation sessions which are kinda rough because five minutes in, I’ll be reminded of him and there’s no such thing as a sad hard on. I did have sex with a muscle god the other night but to be honest, it still feels like I haven’t had sex since July 6th. So, really, this is as much for me as it is for you and for him. And when I finished designing it, I realized it made a good template for everything from Christmas gifts to a Netflix pitch deck, all I have to do is replace all the images and I’m golden. So the only one who gets left out is Architect but he’s with God now. And I know my ass is heavenly but it’s always gonna be second to the Maker of The Universe.
         Enough with the preamble, you’ve got a webpage to enjoy. And I hope you do. I really did have a lotta fun making it.  Happy Birthday! Yours, Ste7en

purple birds long


It’s a veritable Who’s Who of Who’s Whose






Use the arrows to progress through the slides. I suppose you could go backwards too but don't, you know, trip or anything.








The tiles below:
You’ll see the lyrics. You guess the song. Extra points if you can name the album too.
You’ll also see select photographs. Can you guess the caption on the other side of the pic?


















Before we get to the cool art, here’s your hit of Twombly.

On coloring outside the lines: I think he's only grasped half of the concept.
On coloring outside the lines: I think he’s only grasped half of the concept.
I don't mean to be a dick but...these are dicks.
I don’t mean to be a dick but…these are dicks.


Now let’s break, butcher, and fuck something up that was perfectly fine til I am personally satisfied.*


  Okay for real, I think it’s cool that I’m in the Urban Dic but that doesn’t mean they got the definition right. First of all, when I fucked with something it’s because it wasn’t perfectly fine. If shit was dope, I didn’t mess with it. So the Webster of it is this:

fosterize: the act of breaking, butchering, or fucking something up that was (weak, lame, stupid, or sucks, thus) not living up to its full potential

That said, there wasn’t anything wrong with these epic Longo sketches. I just wanted to fuck with ’em because they scared the shit outta me. Take their power away by putting my own spin on things.


Shark A
Shark B
Shark C


Oh and this slider can just roll. Doesn’t matter where you come in on it. Because you’ll really like anywhere you come in on it.




Ste7en reclining


You do know that I’ve never seen you at night. Not once. I realized that as I was looking at this, the last video we ever shot—because most of the video is in shadow it almost takes on the appearance of night. So it seemed kind of obvious what the title of the story should be.

Let me know if you’d like me to lighten them up. I can and have for a few of them but I was going to keep most of them dark, silhouette. But this is your birthday present I’ll do the pictures how you prefer. Sir, yes, Sir!

Have a good Saturday.


Randalll naked on phone bw

The man is naked within moments of entering the bedroom.

The only thing he has seen is the Boy’s milk-white bubble ass, jockstrapped, visible, and waiting for him. His eight thick inches of cock are already stiff in the anticipation. They both know what’s coming. The Man, as always, knows the play of the game. He is both coach and quarterback. The Boy? Only ideas. Just warm the bench, little boy. I’ll tell you everything you need to know and what to do. This keeps the Boy a little off-balance, unsure, innocent and almost…afraid. And that may be a stronger aphrodisiac than the naked little butt walking in front of him.

The Boy wears a rugby shirt with the sleeves ripped off and the chest insignia cut out, revealing a light pink nipple. The Man notes the shirt doesn’t just have the collar tag cut out, but a wide section of the back of the shirt with it. He makes note of this—he’ll use this later. He climbs into bed, laying on his back with a sigh. The Boy climbs up on all fours, his hand reaching out for the Man’s chest.

“Now that’s where you belong,” he purrs. As he runs his hands along the Man’s naked body, the Man moans. This ritual doesn’t usually happen before but rather after, so while the attention doesn’t surprise him, this sort, this softer beginning does. The Boy rubs the Man’s cock and balls.

“Feel how full my balls are.”

The Boy leans over the Man, kisses one cheek, then the other, then moves to the Man’s ear, brushing his lips against it, causing that rippling, tingling sensation along the back of his neck. The Boy treats the Man’s ear like a mic, rock singer lips brushing against it everso gently.

“Can I suck your cock?” he asks breathily.

“Suck my big fucking cock.” The Man orders in a full voice, a stark contrast to the Boy’s whispering. Just another way the Man establishes his dominance. It will not be the only time he does so.

The Boy kisses the Man’s stomach briefly and then takes the Man’s cock into his mouth, prompting an inevitable, long, slow, low moan from the Man. It’s a moan of recognition, of memory, of days of thinking about feeling the Boy’s mouth on his meat, with intense concentration on the sensation for the last ninety minutes. His dick leaped to attention at the Boy’s morning texts. When he was throwing his clothes on—he skipped the shower—he had to force his hard cock into his jeans. And that’s all it took usually. The Boy’s flirty little text would excite him and instantly prompt a vision of the Boy’s ass and then he kept praying no client would call to fuck up his morning fuck.

At last…his moan says. He moans again as the Boy’s mouth envelopes his dick. And another as he consumes it. And another as the Boy moves his mouth slowly up and down the entire length of the Man’s cock.

“Can you taste that precum? There’s so fuckin’ much. It woulda been so easy to fuck my husband this morning but instead I’m here fucking you.” With that, he pushes his hips up, shoving his cock into the Boy’s mouth. The Boy, reflexively, follows the motion of the Man’s hips, baking away from the force. “Put that fuckin’ dick back in your mouth.”

He continues to lift off the bed, fucking the Boy’s face. The Boy comes up for air.


Put that fuckin’ dick in your mouth,” he says with a hint of anger.

Wild Horses

The Boy swallows the Man’s dick again and this time the Man makes certain the dick stays in the Boy’s mouth by taking his hands and grabbing the Boy’s head, holding him in place while he fucks his throat. He moans. The Boy gags.

What are you? You’re my fuckin’ hole that’s what you are,” he hisses. He follows this with commands but they are redundant because his hands never leave the back of the Boy’s head and he directs his subject’s head where he wants. “Put your nose in my bush. Smell that. That’s what a real man smells like.” He starts fucking the Boy’s mouth again. “Yeah,” he says over the muffled sounds of the Boy gagging. Finally he releases his grip and the Boy’s head jerks off the Man’s dick with a gasp.

“Fucking hell,” he says, but his mouth returns immediately and the Man moans his approval.

“Service that big fuckin’ cock!”

The Boy takes his hand and sucks and strokes at the same time. Then he licks his swollen balls.

“Feel all that cum in there. I’m gonna put such a big load in you. I haven’t shot a load in five days.”

The Boy starts at the bottom of the Man’s balls, flattens his tongue wide against the Man’s dick and licks up to the swollen head, layering his cock with saliva.

“Put those fuckin’ balls in your mouth, faggot.”

The Boy’s cock leaps at the slur.

“Suck my babymakers. But ‘em both in your mouth. Yeah, real men don’t shave their balls, do they?”

“No,” he whines. Then the Man slaps his hard cock against the boy’s forehead several time.

“That’s right.”

After lapping his full balls, the Boy returns to the dick.

“That’s right. Yes. That’s it,” the Man says and then pumps his hips several times faster and harder than he did before. The Boy takes it. After the Man stops, the Boy slowly takes his mouth off the cock, then back down, sucking just the head. Then slowly, slowly down, almost to the base. “Yesssss.” But here he struggles. The girth keeps the Boy’s mouth full, the length hitting the back of his throat. “That’s it. You can do it. Take it all the way down.”

The Boy obeys. The Man watches.

“Has anybody fucked you since me?”

His tone is challenging. After a moment, the boy takes his mouth off the Man’s cock, but keeps stroking it with his hand.

“What answer should I tell you?” he asks.

“Be honest.” His tone tells the Boy he really does want to know. The Boy wonders briefly what answer is best.

Would he like it that another man’s cock was inside him?

Would he not?

Does he think the Boy waits for him? That he’s devoted only to him?

Or does he fantasize about other men fucking him?

“I wanna know.”

The Boy answers quickly.


“Was he good? Was it good?” The Boy can’t quite catch what the Man says, he’s distracted now, thinking about his other lover. His other Daddy, the one he’s never called by name. In person, it’s always Daddy. When he speaks of him, he’s simply known as the Architect and it’s been like this for nearly ten years. But this Man says he wants to know about the other man, so the Boy tells him.

“He actually rivals you for first place,” the Boy says, barely concealing his smile. The Man sighs and, strangely, turns his head away, breaking eye contact with the boy.

R cock in hand

“That’s a lie.”

“No, it’s true…”

But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, the Man has placed his hands back on the Boy’s head and shoved a mouth full of cock into him.

“Do you have any video of him fucking ya?”

This, too, throws the Boy off. Does he want to see it? The Man did request the Boy have porn playing in the bedroom, a strange, new request.

The Boy comes down from all fours and lays on his stomach, still between the Man’s legs, still stroking his cock while he talks. He stutters to answer, eventually stammering that, “I’m not that good with the camera.”

“I’d love to watch you get fucked.”

The Boy pauses and confesses.

“It’s pretty hot. As you saw.”

“Stroke me too much I’ll cum,” he warns.

The Boy immediately stops stroking, but still maintains a grip on it, his fingers barely touching around it. He laps the head like a cat laps up cream.

“Not yet, Daddy.”

“I want to watch you in a threeway,” the Man growls.

“That guy doesn’t share,” the Boy tells him wondering how this will land.

“Get someone.”

“You’re the one with all the friends.”

“Not tops,” he says casually. “I don’t play with tops.”

His feet planted on the mattress, he pumps his crotch into the Boy’s face. Then he grabs his hard dick with his right hand and slaps the Boy’s face with it. The Boy winces. Then, with his left, he slaps the Boy’s face. Once. Twice. Three times. The Boy gasps. Then the Man shoves the Boy’s head on his hard dick, clamps his powerful thighs to his head, then rolls to the left, fucking his face. while keeping the Boy’s head pressed between his muscled thighs. He keeps a firm grip on the back of the Boy’s head, speaking with each thrust.

“Don’t…tell…me…I’m…not…number one…”

The Boy escapes his grip. The Man wrestles him back onto his cock.

Put your mouth on my dick!” He pumps the Boy’s throat. “Ah that’s it. That’s it right there.” He laughs, “That’s so fuckin’ hot! Jesus fuck!”

“You’re precumming so fucking much,” the Boy says, his words garbled by the bath of saliva in his mouth.

“I’m gonna cum, like, fast,” he says, repositioning.

“Then slow down.”

He puts his foot in the Boy’s face.

“Suck my fuckin’ toes,” he commands.

Like every command, the Boy obeys. And like everything about the Man, his feet are pretty, pristine. He was too hard, he was too beautiful. He didn’t make sense.

“Like this?” the Boy asks, tongue on his toes.

“Yeah. You’re a fuckin’ bottom,” he says as if this is one of his many duties.

“I am.”

“Show me you’re fuckin’ worth it.”

The Man ambles up and places his foot on the Boy’s face and presses it down into the mattress. Then he steps over the Boy and with two hands, spreads open the Boy’s cheeks, and tongue thrusts his clean warm hole. The Boy groans and moans. The Man moans. The Man told him once, eating ass was his second favorite thing to do besides fucking. And this Boy’s ass tastes incredible. Every time the Man goes down on him. The Boy speaks but his words are muffled, as the Man’s weight is pressing him facedown into the bed. But as the Man moves from ravaging his hole, sucking the Boy’s pussylips violently to lovingly tonguing it, kissing it, the Boy’s protests turn to low moans, his arms gripping the Man’s marble calves as if he was falling.

“Oh…” he cries. “Oh…God…oh…!” And the Man takes his worship of the Boy’s hole.

I love it when you get into it!” And with that, he returns to devouring the Boy’s hole.

“Oh God. Oh fuck! Oh God. God!

“Gimme that pussy,” he says as forcefully as he takes it. More moaned words escape the Boy’s lips.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh, Daddy!

The Man moans and says loudly, “Your cunt tastes so fuckin’ good!”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.”

The Man takes his arms, wraps them under the Boy’s legs, and pulls his boycunt into his mouth and mauls his hole.

“Oh God. Oh Jesus. Oh God.” Then the Boy falls into whimpering.

“I do not believe,” the Man tells him, briefly taking his mouth off his lover’s boypussy. “That you’ve found a better fuck than me.” Immediately, right back on.

“Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhh.”

“I do not buy that.”

“Oh fuck…Oh fuck…Oh…”

“Because I am always told I am the best fuck in this town,” the Man boasts with a growl. At last he takes his mouth off the Boy’s hole and the Boy heaves with the release of the weight, the pressure, and the pleasure. The Man crawls behind the Boy, leaning his head near the Boy’s wet hole and spits on it for good measure. Just spit. The Man’s preferred lube.

“You know you are,” the Boy says brightly, but still breathing heavily. “I have an embarrassment of riches.”

“What?” the Man grunted, now rising up on his knees planted on both sides of the Boy’s legs, rigid cock at attention, held in his fist just inches above the boy’s pale butt.

“But you don’t see me enough,” the Boy says, lifting his upper body up from the bed. “And I can’t wait for you.” He cranes his neck to look at the Man, who has one hand on his dick and the other hand ready to finger the Boy’s hole. “Hey. Look at me.” He does. “You gotta go in slow first.”



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(from artists who can do more than scribble!)


And now! I’m gonna have me a beer, a beverage I have suddenly and strangely taken a shine to.