Gay sex is happening everywhere around you. When you drive down your suburban street on the way home from work in the evening, ready to settle yourself into some good television time and/or Bible study, at least one of the shut curtains on every other block is hiding a gay sex event from you. And that’s assuming private houses with low residency. Don’t get me started on hotels and office buildings, dormitories and boarding schools, apartment buildings, and public housing. The walls shake with gay sex in those places. The walls wiggle and whammy with gay sex.
Gay sex is happening in public spaces, too. It’s happening in cars parked along the far edges of every Wal-Mart parking lot you pass — if not at this very instant, then within the last hour, two hours, three. It’s happening in cold, gray WPA-constructed shower buildings at the heart of every National Forest and State Park. It’s happening in rest areas and under railroad bridges, in dressing rooms and housing shelters, in the bathrooms of businesses as varied as Frenchy’s Adult Cineplex and Arby’s and Sardi’s and Wells Fargo Bank. It’s happening at the Food Court at the mall, back where the food is prepared, behind that wall hiding the non-cashier workers from your easy view. It’s happening in churches and synagogues and mosques. It’s happening in your head right now (you’re welcome).
Straight sex? That’s even worse. Even more widespread. Take what I said above and multiply by ten or twenty or a thousand. Straight sex. Those guys fuck like rabbits. Bah.