Saturday, May 8, 2010
George Alan Rekers, the viciously homophobic activist and co-founder of the Family Research Council has a RentBoy eruption on-track to rival Tiger Woods’ celebrated bimbo eruption.
A second man by the name of Carl Shepard has come forward with the sordid details of his sexual encounter with the ever horny Rekers.
Shepherd says the encounter took place at the Hyatt Regency at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport in 1992.
Now 41, Shepherd claims that during the summer of 1992, he was living in Chicago where he’d placed an advertisement in Gay Chicago Magazine‘s models and escorts section offering his services and boasting of his porn experience. The ad listed a pager number for prospective clients.
One evening the pager went off. It was George Alan Rekers:
It was an old pager, so all that came up was a telephone number and a three digit number after that.
I called back – it was the Hyatt Regency Hotel at O’Hare airport, so I gave them the three digits as a room number.
“Hello, did you page me?”
“What can I do for you?” There was a pause.
“I’m looking to spend an hour with a smooth young man for an… intimate massage. Nude. I’m kinda vanilla—I just want light touching, not sex.” He knew the lingo. It seemed like he’d done this before.
“OK, but I have a rule—I have to have your real name. I write the name down, and I leave it here so my roommate knows where I’m going and who I’m with in case anything happens to me. It’s not negotiable.
“George Rekers,” he said with no hesitation.
I took the train from my apartment in downtown Chicago to the hotel, about 45 minutes. When he answered the door he was wearing dress pants, and a polo shirt. He said hi and was very friendly and polite as he started to undress. I took it as my cue to do the same.
He lay on the bed, stomach down. I climbed astride him and started massaging his neck.
“Lighter, just run your fingers over my skin. Like a kind of tickle touch.”
So I did. I ran my fingers down his spine. He was squirming and pushing his ass up in the air, because he wanted me to touch him there. Eventually I’d touched him over every inch of his body with the same light touch. He got very aroused for an old guy—I was impressed actually.
Looking back I think he thought that it wasn’t gay, that he hadn’t crossed the line, because he didn’t want me to masturbate him at all. Just run my fingers over him there.
We lay on the bed afterwards, both still naked. There was still some time left so I asked him:
“Did you call me up just because I’ve been in porn movies?”
He didn’t answer for a little while. “I didn’t know. What type of thing?”
I told him about the oral and anal sex that I engaged in. He seemed really disgusted. His face curled up. He handed me $150 and I left. But I felt a bit guilty it had ended like that. I remember thinking that I’d really grossed him out, that I’d corrupted this confused man.
I didn’t think about it again until this week. Honestly I had no idea who Rekers was, or what he did until Monday or Tuesday when I saw a link to the story about him and the other rent boy.