I bought Tangled Sheets at the Lambda Rising bookstore in Dupont Circle, DC, around 2004. I had just come out of the closet a few years earlier, was an avid reader, and turned to gay literature as a man in my early 20’s seeking to learn and find my place in the gay community. I had read two of Ford’s books, and the chance to pick up a book of his erotica was hard to pass.
The first stories were hot, to be sure, but as a young man I was still mostly interested in the bodies of men my age. Twinks were all the rage, and I couldn’t quite connect to the sex had between men more than a decade older than me. Forgive the young for their narrow experience.
The book stayed buried in a side table drawer by my bed over the years as my career moved me through a few cities. Recently, while cleaning out that drawer, I came across the largely unread book, and my memory swam, as I began to read it anew.
These stories are boiling hot, and with guys of a variety of ages and types, in contrast with my memory. I found myself reading a few stories before bed every night. Far from just a masturbatory fantasy, although the book easily checks that box, Ford’s erotica is more sophisticated, even literary at times. There are frequent themes and allusion on display, in addition to the steamy sex. Sometimes the encounters are rough and hard, sometimes between old friends or lovers, and frequently loving and promising of something fuller and more real to come.
They are also from a different time, now. These days, young gay men are frequently obsessed with cleanliness, to the point of killing sexual spontaneity. I confess that I, myself, have fallen into this sterile expectation. The demystification of the porn world means every bottom has their own douche bulb, and excuses themself to the bathroom till their assholes run clear like the pure waters of the Jordan on a spring day. Even 15 years ago, we gave ourselves some special attention in the shower, but this level of fastidiousness was unthinkable outside of a bright lit room in a warehouse in San Diego.
Not so, the sex in this compilation. When the heat is on, the sweat drips, the musk is ripe, and real men are sucking cocks on piss stained floors, at least, in some of the stories.
“In the fairy tale, everything would be clear and clean and surrounded by the scent of roses. But this is real life, where people stink and shit and piss on a regular basis, and sex is about what’s left on your dick when you’re done,” as the narrator concludes in one tale.
Gross, you might be saying. Or maybe, fuck yeah. Either way, this is the kind of raw sex I like to have, at least occasionally.
There’s plenty of fairy tales to be had in this volume as well. 😉
I’m looking for recommendations on other collections like this.