I know what you're all thinking.. House of Diabolique.. where have you been? In this age of meaningless weblogs, you fill a void that large penises cannot! Do not mourn my friends. Although Time Warner's Road Runner service repeatedly failed me, I am back and there is no void in your life or body that I cannot fill. It is time again to gaze at my words and masturbate with your mind.

I spent Friday night on Long Island. On my last trip to Long Island Janine and I had sought out gay nightlife, failing miserably, although we did end up having extreme fun at a straight club called Bogarts and a mall. This time, on the advice of actual gay Long Islanders, we headed to a sure bet, the mothership of gay clubs on Long Island - Thunders.

Janine, our friend Ken and I drove up at around 1am to find Thunders bordered on the left by a car dealership and on the right by a nearly empty parking lot. Where was everyone?

Sadly, the club was indeed nearly empty at 1am on a Friday night. Music droned onto an empty dancefloor and less than 10 patrons hugged the bar as two bartenders both looked expectantly our way. Apparently, cute young homos with a hot girl in tow weren't often seen there on Friday nights. I asked the cuter bartender where everyone was and he answered "I don't know."

I figured they were all at home hooking up on AOL, and a bearish type beside me agreed. He turned out to be the manager of Thunders and after telling him our story he gave us a tour, leading us finally to the closed, dark, and deserted upstairs room. There, he regaled us with stories of gay Long Island.. stories of gay policemen and firemen in an organization called 'Holsters and Hoses' engaging in hot tub orgies back at his place. At one such orgy, so many big-boned bearish types filled the hot tub that the water gushed out, causing a mess. One man standing in the flowing water outside of the tub gave himself an electric shock by forming a circuit with the rear end of a prostate gentleman in the tub. The lights went out, but the party, we were told, went on.

There is much fun to be had on Long Island if you know the right people, but as our guide said, Saturday nights were the big night at Thunders.

Never satisfied with dismal turnouts, Ken decided we should visit another Long Island gay hotspot - the Park-and-Ride. The Thunders manager agreed it would be happening. Not knowing exactly what to expect, Janine and I agreed.

The Park-and-Ride is not a club. The Park-and-Ride is a rest area on the side of the highway where people park in the mornings before work in order to gather into energy efficient carpools. But at nighttime, the appropriately named Park-and-Ride turns into a drive-thru gay sex club.

'Pull Up To The Bumper' by Grace Jones

We approached in Janine's parents' red PT Cruiser with Janine at the wheel, Ken in the back and me in front. Quickly we realized that this was the wrong configuration as the lot was full of cars looking for men. Janine and her large busom might be a distraction. We stopped. Janine jumped into the back and Ken, who'd been there many, many times before, jumped into the front. He opened his window and the cruising ensued.

The cars generally followed a circular pattern around the lot. While passing, opposing drivers would slow down and peer intently at us. Janine was hidden in the back seat behind tinted windows and naturally since Ken and I are both so attractive, many drivers did double-takes, slowing down as if to stop, hoping we'd stop as well. But Ken took the hard-to-get approach, mainly because Janine and I were completely freaked out at first. The lot was brightly lit and Janine, for instance, was used to darker, smarmier sex clubs.

I've never been to a sex club and I've only been to two back-rooms in my life.. one at -----, where a female friend and I crawled along the backs of some couches in order to get a view of the writhing mass of naked men before us, and the other at the C-----, where I watched a friend give head to a well-endowed black guy before leaving.

At first whenever a guy looked into our car, I had to look away. I felt like everyone was atrocious and I didn't want to draw any attention. But soon enough I remembered my mantra.. confidence begets power. Ken looked right back at whoever looked at us and then so did I, exuding the same look of machismo that Ken exuded so effortlessly. Soon enough he parked in the middle of the lot with the lights on.. a sign that we were ready for business.

Our first customer pulled up, a rotund man in his 30s, reminiscent of TV's Mr. Belvedere. He engaged Ken in a banter I'd never expected to hear outside of internet chat rooms.

"Hey, what's up?" Mr. Belvedere said.

"Not much, just looking around."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm just here with my friend, checking things out."

"What are you into?"

"A little suck, a little fuck. You?"

"Fool around, maybe get a group thing goin."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How big is your dick?"

"Oh, about 7 inches. Yours?"

"I"m 8 cut, and so is my friend," Ken said, gesturing to me. "And thick."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You stroking it?"

Ken was in fact stroking it as Janine suppressed a giggle in the back seat. His serious demeanor and tone of voice were completely inspiring as he had this guy wrapped around his finger (penis?) but greener pastures and bigger dicks were sure to be found. I'm no size queen but Ken was driving.

Ken let it be known that Long Island was home to a second Park-and-Ride, which we then visited, but its patrons were scarcer than the first. I was afraid that my presence in the front seat might be scaring people off who just wanted a twosome, and I didn't want to hook up, so I hid in the back with Janine as Ken engaged in identical sex chatter with another Long Islander.

"You stroking it?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck yeah."

Janine, resting comfortably on top of me in the back seat, insisted that I had a hardon. I didn't but this sort of cruising was admittedly fun albeit completely foreign and nothing I would have done on my own.

Ken wasn't satisfied with Park-and-Ride #2, so we headed back to Park-and-Ride #1 and I jumped back into the front seat. This time we had a keeper.

'Get Outta My Dreams' by Billy Ocean

Ken's sex chatter lead to a guy revealing his hard, rather attractive cock to us at which point Ken left the car.

"I'm gonna come over and suck your dick ok?"

"Ok."

Janine and I were left alone to watch and ponder the good fortune of Ken's new friend. He looked over at me as Ken did his business but soon enough, they decided to become even more intimate by driving off to the corner of the parking lot to do more. At that point Janine and I were stranded in the car in the middle of the lot with open windows and the lights on. Other cars were beginning to slow down beside us and gaze intently at.. me.

"Janine, people think I'm looking for sex. How do I turn the lights off?"

"Its that button the steering wheel," she laughed.

I pushed it and the interior lights lit us up like a spotlight.

"No. Wrong one!"

Cars circled like sharks despite the now illuminated presence of a girl in the back seat and my own panicked demeanor. I pushed and prodded the dashboard until finally all of the lights turned off, enough to distract all but the most tenacious of rogues.

A blue PT Cruiser pulled up next to my side of the car. Our lights were out and the windows were shut and I looked resolutely in the opposite direction but still, our loony friend thought it appropriate to roll down his window and shout:

"Hi! I'm Larry!"

I suppressed my aghast laughter and Janine doubled over in either horror or joy at my (our?) predicament.

"HI!"

"Janine, what do I do?"

"I'M LARRRYY!!"

I glanced over to see an old, grinning man with the face and heft of Gordon Jump, the same Gordon Jump who molested Dudley in Diff'rent Strokes.

"I have a plan," Janine said. "Kiss me now!"

She leaned in my direction, her gleaming mouth hungry for my own wet lips. I grabbed the back of her head and tongued her throat. Surely this would scare him off and show that I was taken, taken by a beautiful girl, no less.

Unfortunately, we then heard the long, loud drone of what was his incessant horn honking.

"I'm Larrryyy!"

Resigned to the same fate as Dudley, I turned and reluctantly lowered my window.

"Hello Larry."

"How are you?"

I wanted to ask if he had any Grey Poupon, but I deferred to a polite:

"Good."

"How are you?"

I felt sure I had just answered that question but before I could reiterate he segued into:

"Where did you get your car painted?"

"I don't know," I deadpanned. "Its not my car."

He then told a story about how the paint job on his car was ruined by a touchup color called "neon blue". I expressed sorrow to which he responded:

"You're good-looking. So good-looking."

I thought to myself: yes, I suppose I was blessed with looks that are at least decent, if not good.

"Thank you."

Janine pleaded with me to shut the window but he was too freaky to be of any real danger or sexual intrigue, and besides, I didn't feel a closed window would stop him from conversing or honking his horn again. At that point Ken jumped back into the front seat. Deus ex machina, indeed.