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Top Searched Terms On

Monday, November 11th, 2013
I do a lot of searching on the site to find some hidden gems  and its interesting to see what some of the top searched terms are on this site. No surprise on the bareback, raw, pissing, hairy, etc but what did surprise me was Carl Hubay is number 7?! I’m not hating on Carl, he started the business at 53 and is still churning out titles but who is searching for his titles? It’s not like he puts out super high quality gay content.  Whatever it is, keep on doing what you do Carl!
Below are the top 20.


  1. bareback
  2. massage
  3. daddy
  4. spanking
  5. straight
  6. twins
  7. carl hubay
  8. fisting
  9. bear
  10. hairy
  11. piss
  12. asian
  13. wrestling
  14. foreskin
  15. black
  16. doctor
  17. feet
  18. jeff stryker
  19. teen
  20. raw

A Tale From 1793 – A Philadelphian Ghost Story

Thursday, October 31st, 2013

“I thought him handsome, at first, his eyes were warm and friendly and his skin was smooth and clear with a day or so worth of whiskers. He had fine features, a strong straight nose, full shapely brows and the long chestnut hair of a fashion that has been outmoded for some time. He appeared wearing only some loose linen under clothes and was possessed of a lean, strong build, well veined and otherwise a picture of youthful virility. I dare say I was almost enraptured by the stranger in my apartments… (Here the witness becomes unnerved)… But as fascinated and frightened as I was, my fear was to increase a hundredfold when, as the specter stepped forward, was cast into the moonlight shining through the open window. What I saw shall haunt me till the end of my days. The beautiful youth had transformed; what I saw was, what only moments before was taught, and healthy with vigor, now appeared emaciated and wasted. His once clear skin was slick with a filmy sweat and yellowed, his eyes were dark and wild, his hair matted and unkempt. The most horrific of all the sight was when this being opened his mouth. Gone were the full lips and straight white teeth, for when he, ‘I assume meant to speak’, a substantial amount of blackish, bloody liquid erupted from his mouth as an overwhelming stench enveloped the room. In my horror I covered my face with my bed clothes, never looking away from the ghastly apparition. And then sadness, a deep and utter sadness came over me. This, this thing, whose arms had been outstretched toward me dropped to his sides. His face, so menacing and wretched to look upon, now became a pitiful, almost pathetic mask of melancholy. I say I was quite sorry for the beastly vision. Suddenly he was gone; as was the stench of rotting carrion. I do not know when I fell back into a deep sleep, but before I did, I smelled the scent of something sweet and musky, almost like a man’s fresh shave.”


This is just one account of an apparition who is said to haunt a stately home just off of Philadelphia’s Washington Square Park. The above description of the pathetic specter was found among some unused material compiled by a writer sometime in the last century. I do not want to give a name to the author, for it may appear to tarnish his otherwise illustrious career as a trusted correspondent at a well know Philadelphia publication. The account was found amongst several other documents regarding a rather romantic and heartbreaking tale which I would like to present to you for your Halloween enjoyment. Who doesn’t love a ghostly tale this time of year, and due to its somewhat shocking, perhaps controversial subject matter perhaps the author found it too heavy for the readers of his time.

The story takes place when the city of 50,000 was a booming epicenter. Called the Athens of America, Philadelphia boasted a society of scholars, writers, artists, philosophers and politicians. Here could be found free thinkers and individuals who were in fact changing the world. The revolution was over, a new government was in its infancy and spirits of what the former colonies could be were high, but in 1793 something far more sinister than the British was about to grip the prosperous city and its citizens… Yellow Fever.

The flowering tree lined streets of the city were in bloom showering young couples with soft pink petals kissing them through the warm dappled sunlight. It was this very spring that something else that had been planted long ago and tended carefully through the winter was blooming.

Oliver Seymour Wilkin and Stuart Hughs Edmund were both born into the upper echelons of society. Properly educated, groomed, handsome; they had the whole world and their lives ahead of them, especially now that the pair had reached their twenty first birthdays within months of each other, and here is where the scandalous subject matter of the story unfolds within the yellowed files and documents of the author.

Amidst these notations and reports we will discover a trove of letters written by both Oliver and Stuart to one and other over the course of their friendship. Many are filled with the romantic language of the day and reflect a fondness between the men before flowering into a correspondence that one can safely assume was beyond general affection. How these letters have managed to survive the span of time I do not and cannot suppose, but rest assured they are a beautiful and eloquent example of a love at the time that would dare not speak its name. So begins the tragedy that would unfold and a bond that could not be broken.

As spring ran its natural course and summer began its slow assent from simmering to boiling, so too did Oliver and Stuart’s passion. They spent their days together in bliss along the Wissahickon Creek enjoying what would be the last throws of an affair cut down too soon. By August 1st the first signs of an epidemic were beginning to take hold and by the end of September close to 8,000 of the city’s residents had perished in the plague. Believing the fever was caused by miasma, people feared breathing the air or being close to anyone who had been in the homes of those who died. Mourners in black crepe were treated as pariahs and many fled the once thriving metropolis now crippled in sickness. Oliver and Stuart’s families both held out for as long as they could and the couple; through their frantic correspondences give a grave description of the epidemic, still clutching to one and other in rare private moments as their world crumbled around them.

Pushed to the breaking point, Oliver’s family decided to flee the death and destruction around them. On October 5th a letter to Stuart begs him to travel with the family to the countryside just south of Reading PA. Stuart responds in a deep and sorrowful tone that he cannot abandon his Mother and Father as they are still refusing to leave in fear that their home will be ransacked and their fortunes shattered. On October 6th just before Oliver is to begin his journey a note was brought to him that Stuart had convinced his family to bid farewell to their city home the following morning and seek shelter on an Iron Plantation not far from where Oliver would find asylum (this information was culled from Oliver’s journal that survives partially in the archive). This was the last note he would receive from his beloved for the rest of time.

Traveling such a distance (70 miles give or take) in those days would have been exhausting and excruciatingly long. Oliver would stop halfway between the city and the town for food and rest before continuing his long journey. From his writing we know how excited and just how oblivious the young man was of what fate had in store.

The following morning Stuart sent his family on their way, he would follow on horseback once all the loose ends were tied up some hours later. Within this period of hours we can only assume that Stuart had fallen ill. His family was on their way to safety as was his “Dear Oliver” and it is here where his legend becomes legend.

In the years after the epidemic a story of the horrors that befell poor Stuart came to light, for it was shame and ignorance that would take the life of the young man. A witness, her years coming to their close finally told her story describing the role she played in the tragic saga.

The fever spread so rapidly that many fled. As a girl I was a chamber maid to a family who, at the height of it, were preparing to close their city house and remove themselves far north of the city. While I was in the front parlor preparing a trunk to be loaded onto the carts I saw from the window a mob coming towards the house! I called for my lady and she joined me at the window. Terror stricken we watched as the advancing throng gathered across the street. My lady wondered aloud why the mob was in front of the empty house, for the family had left two days hence? The crowd who had gathered hoisted up planks and began to shut the place up! My lady opened the window and called down to woman with her child inquiring upon the activity. ‘There is body in that house, and we must close it up before the miasma spreads about!’ But whose body? Surely you are mistaken. That family has left! ‘They closing it up Maam, tis what must be done.’ And with that the woman left.

The Mrs. did not care much for me and therefore I was to stay behind with two others and care for the house. Once we had finished the trunks, dressed my lady and her girls they were off. It was quiet in the city, only the sound of the dead carts could be heard. Most of us had hidden away, praying the fever would not catch us, hoping we could keep the Devil at bay for one more day. It was on the morning after my lady had fled when I noticed him. It was truly frightful. I had taken a pail to the garden and through the gate could see the Mr. and Mrs. Edmund’s house across the way. From the second floor I caught a movement, when I looked up he had pushed the board aside, falling into a naked pile on the bricks! My screams were not unnoticed and a crowd of but a few neighbors and servants who were left gathered around the undead being. Suddenly there was a communal gasp. It was Mr. Edmund! I rushed out and pushed closer. It was our neighbor, the handsome young man who tipped his hat to me when we passed. Now he was deteriorating corpse in front of us. When the shock passed a cart was called. Other onlookers had fled with their hankies covering their faces for fear. I noticed this in his hand (here the witness reveals a faded envelope). It was lying next to him. I took it, and for fear of bringing it into the house, hid it in a box under a brick in the garden. Had I not looked at the contents later… I would have known much more, and I would have hopefully been of some comfort.”

And what was in that letter? We can only speculate. The account tells the tale of the pathetic young man, who falling ill was mistaken for dead and boarded up in his own house only to recover before falling to his death as he tried to escape his prison. So when did the haunting begin? Reports of activity within the old manse began almost immediately. Sorrowful wails, a cry, a loud thump from outside. The tragic last moments of a life cut short repeated again and again. Within the investigative documents written and collected by that author of yore several instances of figural apparitions have been witnessed within the stately old building and only by men interestingly enough. The beginning of this article is but just one recorded interview from one of those eye witnesses. Others are short and less frightening, yet all can be attributed to the same entities that haunt the house. Four of these stories collected were either collected from descendents of occupants of the property or by individuals who testify to their factualness. It’s a romantic image to behold they say. On soft summer nights, when there is no wind in the balmy city two male figures in period finery will appear seated close to one and other at a ghostly table in what appears to be a moment of mutual tenderness. All of the sightings were said to have taken place in the same second floor room that at the time of the epidemic would have been one of the family’s parlors. Could it be that the pair has found each other in death, even for one time a year? I’d like to think so. But it is the sheer terror of seeing the figure of Stuart appear from the shadows on those dark nights that have sent many brave men fleeing from their rooms, and it is that story that is consistently retold by those who have spent nights in that old place just off Washington Square.

But of the two spirits in this story, what had happened to Oliver? Records show that Oliver returned to Philadelphia and passed away not long after the epidemic had ceased. His death was allegedly an accidental drowning in the Wissahickon creek, or was it? It is in the files that a solitary gentleman who could not be identified would approach the house at late hours, stand at the foot of the front stairs and as he motioned to make the first step up vanishes on the cold white marble. Could he be the specter of Oliver, come back to rescue his lost love? Perhaps? And what of the envelope? Sadly the crumbling parchment has faded into oblivion, its contents only a lost memory.

In closing, this last and final story reappears again and again. Throughout spring and summer, early in the morning, two handsome young men of about twenty years of age can be seen in what is described as revolutionary style attire walking quickly down the street teasing and taunting each other joyfully. Could it be the same pair from our story? Could they still be reliving those happy days of flirtation and fun? Next time you’re in Philadelphia, around Washington Square in the early morning hours that time of year, maybe you’ll spot them and can decide for yourself… Happy Halloween!

The Otter

Interested in more ghostly tales? Perhaps featuring two sexy ghosts who were torn apart in life? Make sure to check out “The Hauntingfrom Cockyboys this Halloween. Available on

damnnnn thats a huge hole

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2013

Soo a question, what’s the biggest hole you’re willing to play with?

The varying degrees of openness is dizzying.. from tight balloon knots to a nice perfect slit.  Slight gapers to full on let me see inside of you. Let’s take a journey though the different kinds of buttholes shall we?:

The Balloon Knot

The Balloon Knot

The Coin Slot

The Coin Slot

The Freshly Fucked

The Freshly Fucked (My Personal Favorite)

The Gaper

The Gaper

The Point Of No Return

The Point Of No Return (cause that ain’t never going back to normal)

And then there’s this, seriously you guys WHAT THE FUCK? I don’t even know what to call this? The Gates Of Hell? The Never Gonna Hold A Turd In For The Rest Of Your Life? The Hole Of Holes?

The Hole Of Holes

Whelp, there ya have it.. Not sure how to end this post so just.. bye.

(all images via Mancunts) Does OUTfest!

Wednesday, October 16th, 2013

It was a beautiful day to be out and proud! GayHotMovies decided to have a presence at OUTfest in Philadelphia this year and let me tell ya, people LOVE free shit!! I spent the better part of the week crafting a Prize Spin wheel to use at our booth and people couldn’t wait to give it a spin to try their hand at winning our gym bags, jockstraps, teeshirts, free minutes & more! We also partnered with 2 gay bars in the city, Tavern On Camac and UBAR, both who offered up some great prizes to add to the wheel.

We ended up doing a 50/50 raffle with half of the proceeds going to a local charity, The Attic Youth Center and the other half going to the winner of the raffle in addition to all the other swag in our gift bag.

And after a full day of festivities I had to attend the after party we were hosting in the Ascend Lounge at Tavern. There was a little snafu getting it going but once it did, whew! We had two hot GoGo boys walking around selling shots and raffle tickets so after the full day at OUTfest and the tickets we sold at the after party we raised over $300!

Check out some of pics from the day below!



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