A Boy for Two Bikers

About the middle of March I met up with a tall, handsome man named Donny, who is part of a motorcycle group I hang out with.  We first met at one of the meetings and I got along with him very well.  This night he picked me up after I finished an advertising task for work, and we headed back to my place so I could change. He wore his leather boots, pants, and top for me and he looked absolutely stunning! He’s handsome and firm, as well as a polite and pleasant gentleman, which is something I admire and value in men.  After I changed into my own leather gear, he took me away to his house where he introduced me to his motorcycle sitting in the garage.  A sexy beast of a machine, he allowed me to straddle it, and I became hard the moment my ass touched the seat!

We headed back inside where he changed me into American Football gear and a leather puppy hood.  Now I usually play the part of the Handler, and don’t have much puppy experience, thinking that since I didn’t really get into it once night at Sir John’s dungeon, it wasn’t for me.  However, wearing the puppy hood for the first time in play, I started feeling the urge to act like a dog, and it was quite fun and natural!  I will definitely explore this pup side of me more in the future!

After a bit of a photo shoot (that reminds me, he hasn't sent them to me yet!), we moved into the living room and Donny brought out the rubber vac rac.  A vac rac is a frame usually made of PVC pipe with air holes drilled into it, covered with rubber sheet.  The vac rac designed to immobilize someone inside of it by sucking the air out from between the sheets using a vacuum and trapping them inside, but still allowing them to breathe through an air hose, hence the name vac rac or “Vacuum Rack”.  Decked out in football gear, and a puppy hood, I was ready for my first vac rac run!  I had seen the pictures of men sealed inside of them, the rubber complimenting every inch and crevice of their bodies, and I wanted to become one of them, like a boy in a time capsule put into a comfortable suspended animation, and sealed away for future use among his brothers in servitude.

My turn was now; I slid and inched in between the rubber sheets, further and further inside, Donny guiding me.  However, when the rubber sheets were pulled over my head and closed behind me, my mind started to panic.  I didn’t even have time to try and calm myself down; it came over me as a rush of fear.  The only light coming from the air hole in front of my face, the darkness closing in on me, the restrictiveness of the black rubber, the thought of air being stolen away from me, everything came at me at once!  I couldn’t do it!  I let Donny know at once, and he let me out immediately.  I hugged his leg tightly, still in a half-puppy space, still fearful, but wracked with guilt.  Fuck!  I failed!  I wanted it so bad!  Why did my fear have to get in the way of my fun?  I felt terrible, here he was so kind to bring out all the pieces of his vac rac and I couldn’t do it.

He held me, wrapped his arms around me and told me that it was okay, I apologized over and over, and he told me not to worry about it.  I still felt so bad, but I was able to calm down and collect myself.  

 A few minutes later Donny’s husband came in from helping the neighbors next door.  A man with dark spiky hair, and a beautifully cute face, still dressed in his sport motorcycle gear!  Woof! After introductions, we headed into their bedroom where Donny put me into the one piece bike gear he had bought off of a mutual friend of ours whom I find incredibly sexy.  As I pulled on the gear, Donny kept reminding me of who wore it, making me hard and my mind fuzzy as the blood rushed from my brain and into my crotch.  The scent of a young man still lingered in the gear, and even though the gear itself fit poorly on my frame, it still excited me to wear it knowing who owned it before!  From there, Donny and his husband dominated me, as Donny crushed me under his thick biker boots, his spouse would torture my groin with a vibrating massage wand, making me moan for more!  I eagerly enjoyed being dominated by two men, the more masculine, handsome doms that I can please with my eager submission, the more enjoyment I receive out of the experience!

Afterward, Donny undressed and put on my wrestling singlet that he requested I bring, and as I massaged his husband’s feet, he got hard and pumped his precum into the crotch of my singlet.  From there we headed into the garage and his husband showed me his bike.  A beautiful sports motorcycle, and my favorite color as well.  A cobalt blue matched with a pure white, gorgeous!  As I admired the sexy machine, Donny remarked on how Jackson Lawless, a porn star friend of theirs said that it was a hot bike, and had grinded up against the rear, saying how it was the perfect height to fuck.  We talked a little more and the idea intrigued me.  I had heard of men actually going so far as to have sex with their cars and bikes, and I wondered what it might feel like.  At Donny’s suggestion I put on a condom and maneuvered myself behind the bike.  Jackson was right, the exhaust was at the right height, so I went ahead and slowly slid myself inside the bike (you can rest assured I made damn sure the area was cold and checked it out beforehand for any sharp edges, I’m not an idiot). 

I must say it was kind of sexy, the eroticism of motorcycles, the shape, the sound, the fact that I had my dick inside a machine that could go zooming down the highway with reckless abandon, carrying a rider clad in body armor.  It was even more erotic when Donny’s husband came over and began to kiss me.  The novelty wore off soon, and I was over my curiosity, we headed inside to fool around and left the garage, me now being able to have credible experience in knowing whether or not a bike was fuckable. Just between us, that bike is a major slut; I now know what “throwing a hot dog down a hallway” truly feels like. (In all seriousness, don’t go fucking your bike, it was a novelty “okay I did it and it was kinda hot” thing and I’m not going to do it again. The more I think about it, the less I think I should have done it.  Exhaust pipes are not meant for men’s dicks, if you cut or burn yourself it’s going to be a very long and painful wait as well as an awkward conversation at the E.R.)

In the bedroom, I was put on the bed as Donny straddled me, horny as hell!  He jerked himself as I watched, looking up at him, into his handsome face, looking at his beautiful sexy body, he erupted and shot his hot load all over my chest.  Then his husband took his turn after inserting a puppy tail butt plug, after a short time of stroking his manhood, he too climaxed all over me.  Finally it was my turn, however nothing worked, and I was over stimulated!  It just wasn’t happening for me even while Donny’s hot and sexy husband kissed me deeply which usually always puts me over the edge, the whole experience had left me so horny and I wanted to explode so bad!  I was offered a chance at trying a puppy tail butt plug.  I had never had a plug in before, and usually when I’m horny my ass feels absolutely starved for attention, needing something inside of it.  The plug was lubed up and I slowly pushed it inside, it hurt a little as my ass stretched to take it in, the hardest part being the widest section of the bulb.  At first it felt like it was too big, that I was much too tight to handle it, Donny’s spouse said to keep going so I pushed a little harder and in a quick moment it slid all the way inside.  It was a bit shocking at first, it hurt, but the pain was swiftly replaced by a sigh of pleasure and relief as it filled me.  I looked at myself in the mirror, I had a tail! How fun!  I wagged my butt and moaned, the swing of the rubber tail moved the bulb in my hole, and now I knew exactly why these plugs are so popular!

Returning to the bed, I stroked once more.  Looking at Donny’s husband’s face, then to Donny who watched with an approving smile on his face, remembering the events that led me here to this point like kissing Donny in his sexy leather, straddling his bike, being crushed under his booted foot, fucking his husband’s bike, being kissed and dominated by two handsome married men!  I erupted soon after, leaving me exhausted!

I sincerely hope to submit to them again very soon, perhaps even go riding with them! Clutching a hot stud in full gear from behind always excites and thrills me!  Especially if the destination ends with me under their boots, gazing up at two riders, faces hidden behind their helmet visors!

Play Safe out there, Dear Reader.

Fetish of The Month 2012: March - Wet and Messy

This Month's FETISH OF THE MONTH is none other than the little-known "Wet and Messy" Fetish!

Also referred to as "Gunge Play", "Gunging", "WAM", and "Sploshing" over in the U.K., Wet and Messy play is a fetish that can be customized to each person's tastes.  The most simple explanation is that a person who's into WAM enjoys covering themselves in a messy substance.  This is most often times food like pies, pudding, batter, even cans of beans.  WAM can be split into two categories, Gunge and Food Play, Gunge being substances that aren't meant to be eaten like slime, lube, mud, and motor oil.  Food being the obvious alternative, and quite cheaper to come by.

Gunge play can also involve piss, I have found many images of men who were into WAM also into pissing their jeans or peeing on other men during the process of rolling around in the muck.

Wet and Messy play can be as simple as diving into a pool with all your clothes on!  Some guys get hard by standing in the shower in baggy jeans, sneakers, bomber jackets and drenching themselves.  Some guys even dive into lakes in full business suits!

Exploring this fetish for my March FOTM article, I asked a handful of men to share with me their erotic lives, and this time I was very pleasantly surprised!

For this month, my online friend JP has not only given me some beautiful pictures to post, he would like you to visit him on MudboyUK and Gayromeo!  Thank you so much!

Also thanks to wetjeanguy on Fetlife for his contributions as well!

My first question is always the same, "How did you discover your fetish?"  This is the first time I've had such detailed and lengthy responses!  (Update 3/28/2012: A friend of mine has sent in his responses as well, and even though the blog was already published, I had to add his stories and pictures as well, updates are in green!)

"Well for me wet and messy play is mud, I love gunge and slime too and have had some really horny sessions in gunge I always prefer mud.
Really not sure now I got into wet and messy play, I was always a dirty kid, getting muddy whenever I could, and was always fascinated by deep mud such as quicksand scenes in films and on TV, as I got older this obviously became a mayor turn on for me and I would fantasise about sinking into quicksand.


In my mid-teems i discovered a quarry not too far and used to go play there sinking upto my hips quite often, I really wanted to go deeper but was a little concerned.
It was a few years later i had my first deep mud experience, I had moved away to uni and found another quarry not too far away i cycled over late one night to explore, I found one pit full of quite liquid clay but only about waist deep, I then found another smaller pit but looked more solid. I i walked out an realised the surface was starting to give, a couple more steps and I broke through the surface and sank straight to my stomach and still sinking, I managed to work my was deeper until upto my nose in it, just felt amazing, spent many a fun evening there, unfortunately alone!"


"I've been doin' this kind of thing ever since I was a little kid. We moved to a new house when I was around 6, and there was still a lot construction going on nearby. I remember goin' off with another kid, and we walked around in the mud and I got him pretty muddy. It wasn't anything sexual at that point, but I remember it as his Mom yelled at me for getting her kid all muddy. 


I don't really remember when it started to be more of a 'sexual' thing for me, I'm guessin' when I was a around 10 or 11. None of my friends were turned on by this, but I found that goin' out and playin' around in some mud would really turn me on! I had a pair of olive green rubber boots that had yellow laces and yellow trim, and when I had some 'private' time, I'd put them on, tuck 'em inside a pair of jeans, then go out exploring for some good mud. Seein' the boots getting covered with mud, and then seein' the bottom of my jeans get muddy would really excite me. The more muddy I'd get, the better it all got! Splashin' and stompin' around in the mud was pure pleasure..... Eventually I'd shoot my load, and after that brief feeling of nirvana, I'd end up feeling very guilty and ashamed. I couldn't understand why I had this fetish, (didn't even know it was a fetish back then), and it made me feel badly. I'd have to secretly clean up my clothes and boots, and hope that I wouldn't get discovered. I'd always try to not do this kind of thing again, but I always found myself being drawn back to it. 


As I got older, I ended up with almost 2 different personalities, the 'normal' me, that would date girls and do normal things, and the 'other' me who would still go out in secret and play and jack off in the mud. And I found that I got turned on by other things as well, like messin' around with paint, and food, and motor oil. It was funny as I never wanted to be naked doing this, but always dressed, and the nicer the clothes, the more fun it was. This was way before the 'internet' became popular, (age alert, I'll be 57 soon....lol), so I had no way of knowing that this was something that other people enjoyed too. 


I got caught a few times, and could never tell my folks the truth about this, so I had to lie and try to weasel out of it the best I could. I tried many times to try and stop this sort of behavior, sometimes throwing out the clothes and boots that I liked to wear while gettin' messed up, thinking that if I didn't have 'em, I wouldn't do it, but always ended up doin' it again because I enjoyed it so much. Watchin' a muddy football game, or dirtbikers and 4 x 4's playin' in the mud 
was always a turn-on, or any kind of thing were I would see guys gettin' dirty or messed up.


I once had a friend come over,  and I had the house to myself,  and we ended up in the basement.  We were just poking around,  and I opened a can of paint,  and 'threatened'  to get some paint on him,   He was like, "stop it,  cut it out",  but I kept on doin' it.  I didn't really get any paint on him,  but after a bit,  I left the paint stirrer in the can of paint and turned my back on him.  So he picks up the paint stirrer and starts to 'threaten'  me with the paint.  Of course I really wanted him to do this.  Guess it was the first time I used psychology on someone....lol    Anyways, I made a lunge  for the stirrer, and ended up getting paint on my shirt.   He was sorry that he had done this,  but of course I was happy.  I was like, "let's try that again",  and  he held the stirrer,  I made a grab for it, and I ended up with more paint of my shirt.  I was like,  "oh, my good shirt",  but secretly enjoying every minute of it.  I finally told him that since we'd already got paint on it,  why not turn it into a football jersey and he should paint a number on the front and back   think I chose the #12, and I got him a brush and told him to do it.  So he does this,  and I say paint the # on the sleeves too, and he does,  but he's making a mess of it  So my shirt's a mess,  and I tell him,  "well,  you 've messed up my shirt,  you should paint my jeans too",  and he starts painting my jeans.  He didn't have any clue how much I was enjoying this.......    And it's amazing to think of how much gear I now own, (leathers,  boots, denim, cowboy gear,  mx gear, football gear, etc.),  thats all been messed up."


"I first got into wet and messy play in a nonsexual way, in my early teens, sitting on a dunk tank. I always liked seeing other guys getting dunked, climbing out of the tank all wet and back up on the seat dripping, and when I got my first turn getting dunked, the only way was in jeans and a tee shirt, which I still consider the best dunking outfit. I would eventually come to swim in jeans as often as possible, and eventually do a fully clothed shower with another guy as a makeout session that would set off a hot sexual encounter.


Later, I would stage a pie fight with guys but again, was nonsexual until I saw more of it online in later years. Exploring, I found that going beyond a simple pie to the face, and getting completely covered in messy (but edible) stuff like cake batter, puddling, and similar things, was a very erotic turnon with the sight of another guy all gunged looking really hot."


"I honestly don't remember. To the horror of some WAM purists, I like my mess to be relatively clean... by that I mean cum, lube, Crisco, and clear liquids."

The second question I ask my contributors is "What about this fetish do you find erotic?"  (At this point it starts to get a little difficult to keep focused!)



"I guess the feeling I like the most is being covered in it, if just feels so great smeared all over you, also the feeling of constraint and being trapped when you are sunk really deep."


"In both cases (wet fully clothed, or gunged wearing very little) the best part for me is body contact and making out with the other guy similarly wet or messy. Over time I would go beyond making out to oral & even rimming, and I would even fuck one guy while we were gunged. Couple all of that with body contact while wet or messy - major turnon."


"The slickness... oh yeah, definitely the slickness. Then there is the degradation factor and that can be a huge turn-on with the right DS partner or partners. Nothing says love quite like taking a load to the face after a good throat-fucking! ;)"


"Seeing a guy naked and playin' in the mud,  or having a food fight with someone doesn't  really do anything for me.   It's the gear the guy's wearing that helps pull the 'trigger'.   Watching a football game played on a muddy field,  seein'  mx riders or 4 x4's out in the mud,  with the guys gettin'  all wet and muddy,  guys in suits and ties having a food fight,  seeing a couple of hot guys in boots and jeans having fun with some paint,  it all comes down to the fact that the guys have to be dressed,  and not in some crummy overalls, or dreary work clothes,  but wearing nice stuff.  


What's also erotic about it, is the anticipation of what's to come.   Puttin' on some nice gear,  knowing that it's  all going to get messed up,  can be a real turn on.   And then the first splatter,  and tryin'  to let the whole fantasy go on and on,  pro-longing the stimulation,  until you almost get dizzy with excitement.   I always get bummed when someone does a vid or does pixs when they don't start out clean.   Or when one second they're clean,  and the next they're totally covered.   And of course it's always erotic to feel and see whatever mess you're gettin'  into,  having it being poured into your jeans and boots,  seein'  it on your nice leather jacket and chaps,, going down the back of your neck or down your chest and crotch....  And something else I find very erotic,  is bein  rough with my gear,  ripping my jeans,  and sometimes my shirts,  and then wearing  them out in public.  And sometimes having my clothes totally ripped off of me.   But that's not really Wet and Messy play is it.......lol"

With the last of my willpower and the remaining blood in my brain, I ask my brave interviewees "What is your biggest fantasy involving this fetish?


"As for biggest fantasy, i guess I am quite lucky that have done loads of things, from group and one-on-one play out in fields and quarries to mud parties as well as deep sinking, I guess sinking deep in thick clay mud with another fit guy, or more, deep snoging him with our faces just above the mud rubbing our hands over each other under the mud would be one thing i have yet to do. Also would love to play with a guy in a slurry pit."


"I still fantasize about getting fucked while gunged, but I would love a situation where, wearing little or nothing, I am restrained in some fashion and tons of pies are thrown at me as gunge poured over my body. I've fantasized about being restrained in a St. Andrew's (X) cross for that and, after getting completely messy and humiliated, gang fucked by every guy there who, I would prefer, would wind up as messy as I would be."


"Hmmm... I am big into device bondage and also group settings. I want to put together a clear bondage box with industrial latex gloves attached to holes in the box (like a kinky version of these http://www.coylab.com/custom-lg.htm :). Add one slave and a gallon of lube to the inside. A dozen friends to the outside and have a blast."


"one of my biggest fantasies happened last Fall,  when wearing my full leathers,  I was totally pied.   That was really hot!    The only bummer was that where we were doin'  the shoot,  instead of having all afternoon to play,  we suddenly had to be out of there in a real hurry.  Goin'  up the 'Grunge Guys'  party is always a fun fantasy that really happens.   Puttin'  on some nice gear,  grabbing a beer,  then headin'  over to the mudhole, or oil shed, not knowing what's going to happen,  but knowing 'something's'  going to happen...... A fantasy I haven't done is being in full leather and having a paint fight,  or being with a 'special'  someone, and having lots of time and a nice private 'playspace' ,  of course having  all my gear, being able to 'mess'  around, then cleaning up,  then 'messing' around again,  that sort of thing.    'Grunge Guys'  is kind've like that......but it can become very 'social',  which isn't a bad thing,  but sometimes can be a distraction."







Whew...that's some really amazing stuff, guys!  Thanks again for the contributions of time, pictures, personal feelings, and for sending in your wild fantasies!  You're all awesome!


As for myself, I first discovered a feeling for slime when I was a little kid, I was reading a comic for the game "Battletoads" in an issue of Nintendo Power Magazine.  One of the characters said to his teammate "Come on, a little slime isn't going to hurt you!" as they ran past mounds of goo.  For some reason my young self couldn't understand why that excited me so much.  I wanted to touch the slime, I wanted to feel it on my fingers.

Later on I'd discover Nickelodeon's "You Can't Do That On Television" show, whenever a kid on the show would say the phrase "I don't know." a bucket of green slime would be dumped all over their heads (if that show didn't awaken an entire generation of gunge fetishists accross the United States, I don't know what would).  Nickelodeon would later incorporate slime and gunge into more of its programming, the "Double Dare" gameshow, advertising for the network, and images of kids getting slimed in front of the Slime Geyser outside of Nickelodeon Studios in Orlando, Florida all excited me.

In my teens and with the introduction of the Internet, I had heard someone mention mud wrestling one day.  That night I looked all over for images of men mud wrestling, then men in mud, then quicksand.  I discovered a small treasure trove of guys sinking in quicksand, and it turned me on like I had never felt before.  I wanted to be there with them, feeling the thick, sloppy mud all over my body.  Feeling the merciless pull of the quicksand as I sunk deep into the mucky depths.  TV shows and movie scenes of men sinking helplessly only made it worse.

When I discovered sites like Gearfetish, Recon, Mudboyuk, UMD, Grungeguys, and found other men who were also into mud and quicksand, posting videos of them diving headfirst, struggling in the deep, sticky mud, I grew incredibly envious.  I wanted to sink too!

I actually had my first gunge experience when I went over to a man's house and pied him in the face, and then later indulged in his ultimate fantasy.  Finally feeling it for the first time, I had to do more!


Now when someone goes out to play in mud, you have to be very careful, I may not have any experience myself, but I do know that quicksand is very dangerous.  Not only can you not see the bottom (if there is one...) but rocks can cut your feet in the muck. If you are going to go out sinking I recommend the following:

- Bring someone with you!  Besides, it's much more fun if you have someone to share it with.
- Jugs of water.
- Fully charged cellphone.
- Rope.
- First Aid Kit.
- Change of clothes.
- Trash bags to store the muddy clothing.

The eroticism is hard to really describe, the image of a young man covered in dirt, mud, or clay arouses me.  I want to smear it all over him, watch it drip down over his six-pack abs, over his sexy ass, slip between his ass cheeks, slide down his legs, envelop his face.  I like the idea of the helplessness of a man struggling to stay on and above the surface of a quicksand bog.  My favorite quicksand video of all time is Mudlover.com's "The Intruder" where a man is pushed into a bog, and you watch as he calls for help, struggles, squirms, and fights the quicksand all up until he goes under, and the bubbles come up over his baseball cap.

My ultimate mud fantasy involves me walking around a muddy area in nothing more than a speedo, there are mud pits everywhere, the quicksand is deep and plentiful.  High grass surrounds each pit and hides it from view, so one must be very careful not to fall in by accident.  I keep walking, passing the small pits until I happen upon a huge bog.  The mud is thick, and obviously very, very deep.  I draw closer and test the mud with my foot, it's nice and warm.  I stick my foot deeper up to my ankle, enjoying the feeling of warm mud on my bare skin.

Suddenly a muddy hand bursts from the quicksand and grabs my ankle!  It holds on tight!  I can't break free!  Slowly a man surfaces from the mud, he's built like a brick house!  Mud slides off his pecs and forearms, sliding down his abs, his eyes pierce into mine.  Deep brown eyes, dark as wet earth. He reaches out and grabs my other leg!  He gives me a very dark grin and slowly sinks back into the mud again, pulling me in with him!

No matter how much I struggle, twist, squirm or kick, I can't break his grasp on me!  The mud is up to my knees now!  I look around frantically  for a reed, a rope, a branch!  Nothing is in arms length!  I beg him to let me go, but he keeps sinking, dragging me in!  I don't know what's under there!  I'm excited and scared at the same time!  I'm now in the middle of the pit, completely at his mercy, his muscled arms draw around me, pull me in close.  There's no way out now, I'm helpless in his clutches.  His muddy body presses up against mine, the warm mud squishing between us, the quicksand rising up to my neck, my feet can't feel the bottom.  He takes one muck-covered hand and strokes my chin gently.

He looks into my eyes, the same mischievious, almost evil look in his dark, petrifyingly intimidating gaze.  He smiles, and then he kisses me deeply as the quicksand sucks us under, the mud rising up to my chin and ever higher.

To this very day, I am still searching for the quicksand pit of my dreams.

(Since you've read this far, I want to say thank you by sharing with you a recipe for cheap, easy, edible gunge for you first-timers!

-Leather Fetish Fox's Easygunge-

Ingredients:

- 1 Box of your favorite flavor of instant cake mix.
- Hot Water (not boiling).

Directions:

- Pour the cake mix into a large bowl, and discard the box.  You will not be following their directions this time.

- Take 1 cup of hot water (DO NOT BOIL!) and combine with the cake mix.  Continue to mix until completely integrated.

- Continue to add half-cups of hot water until you reach the consistancy you desire.

- Test the temperature of the gunge by taking a small amount on your index finger and spreading it on your wrist, you WILL be pouring this all over your body, SO BE VERY CAREFUL NOT TO BURN YOURSELF!  If it is too hot, let it cool.  You can strip naked, grab towels, make out with your play partner, and prep the bathroom while you wait.

- When you're at the right temperature and consistency, take the bowl of gunge into the shower / tub with you and have at it!

The reason I recommend the shower / tub is because it provides easy cleanup and the batter will dissolve in water, preventing any drain clogging.

HAVE FUN!)

No matter how wild your dreams may be, always Play Safe Dear Reader.

Gear Night at Pecs Weekend

This weekend my friend, Sir Michael, threw his first unofficial event at Pecs Bar down in San Diego!

FRIDAY

Last Friday Sir Michael picked me up and we made our way down to the city, along the way we stopped by in Orange County to check something out.  I had been talking with an acquaintance of mine on a mud fetish website, and he had seen something on Google Maps in this area that looked like a clay pit perfect for sinking, and I was extremely excited to scope the area out first to see if it was accessible.  Unfortunately the area he found was part of a quarry, and sure enough signs stating no trespassing were all over the gates.  As badly as I want to have my first quicksand sink, and I do so much it sends tingles up my spine, I'm not about to risk getting fined or arrested for something so stupid as trespassing.  Heart heavy, but still determined to find the quicksand pit of my dreams, we left.

Moving on, he stopped the car along the road and bound me in belly chains and ankle restraints before putting me back in the car, much like my road trip to San Francisco with my friend Patrick.  It was fun, being chained the whole way down to San Diego, I really enjoy bondage in public.

Arriving at his apartment, still in chains, we rested a few minutes before heading over to Pecs.  He released me from the chains and I donned my title vest before we headed out on foot.  Pecs Bar was comfortably spacious, a good energy flowed in the room, the makeup of the demographic was mainly bears, and a very handsome lot they were!  One barback, shorter than me and maybe around my age was wearing a red shirt, and I could not keep my eyes off of him, he was so deliciously handsome.  Sir Michael ordered me my first American Honey and Coke, with my stomach already growling I knew I was in for a fun night as I'm proud to say I'm a cheap date when it comes to booze.  My head buzzing soon after, joined by a pleasant warmth in my body, Sir Michael brought out a pair of black shackles and locked them on my wrists, and the night became that much more fun.

The shackles were comfortable, despite them being steel and the edges a little hard, and I just loved the looks I was getting.  I've come to realize that I really am an exhibitionist, and I'm starting to get a fun rise out of the shocked looks I get in public.  I feel in control, I feel empowered, given the ability to shock and awe my audience.  Using that, I can make them smile as I follow up with a grin and a warm hello.

Halfway through my drink, I could tell I needed to put it down already as I was at a very comfortable space, the lover fox was out, his tail swinging, wishing a beautiful night to everyone his gaze fell upon.  Satisfied with our visit to the bar, Sir Michael led me to a local Mexican restaurant where we ate a quick dinner, and met with his handsome friend Cameron who happened to be into needle play.  When we ordered our food, the cashier kept looking at me, a cute young man, he soon asked me about my title medallion.  Thrilled, I excitedly explained that I was chosen by a panel of judges as a holder for the title of California Leather boy 2012, and that I represented all the men who identified as leather boys in the state of California.  He thought it was really cool, and that just made me all the giddier.

At one point during the meal I went up to fetch more napkins and a woman saw my shackled wrists, and failed horribly at hiding the fact that she was staring at them from the corner of her eyes.  I stood there thinking over the situation.  I entertained the idea of looking at her, giving her a great big smile, and asking "Miss, I see you're looking at my shackled wrists, are there any questions I may answer for you?"  instead I chose to simply bask in her shock and relish in her confusion.  The more I wore the shackles, the more I fell in love with them!

When we said our goodbyes to Cameron and headed home, Sir Michael had me strip to my jockstrap and bound me in bed, chaining me to the posts, and pulled a bishop's head harness on me, then we comfortably ended the night in bondage.


SATURDAY


Saturday morning brought with it an experience I was curious about.  I had written my first Fetish of the Month blog post on Diaper Play, and Sir Michael revealed that he himself was into the fetish as well.  He brought in a pair of adult diapers and my first diaper fetish trial began.

Diapers are just as interesting as I thought they would be.  Even though the idea of a diaper on myself was something to get used to, the soft cotton surrounding your ass, dick, and balls put me in a state of comfort, almost soothing.  The situation became more fascinating when Sir Michael, who had dressed in his own diaper, took my hand and had me grasp his bulge.  Soon my palm felt warmth spread across the front of his diaper and I looked at him, mouth open.  He nodded.  He was wetting himself.

A handful of thoughts bunched themselves at the foreground of my mind.  When I sorted them, I felt an excited realization run through me.  I was very fortunate.  This was an intimate and personal moment we shared, as were all the moments I have had so far witnessing and sharing in scenes and play in public and private as a fetish and kink journalist and as a fetishist, kinkster, and leather man myself.  Again, I was able to experience and find out for myself what a kink and fetish felt like first hand.

It was now my turn to wet my own diaper, and I had difficulty with it.  I was fighting psychological wiring, all the potty training, all the notions that soiling one's self was a bad thing deeply embedded in my mind.  It took a while until I was able to do it.  Warmth invaded my diaper, and I smiled in triumph.  At first it felt pretty comfortable, if not satisfying, as wet warmth would feel around my groin. However it did not last as I would have wanted it to. After I was finished, and stood there in my soiled diaper for a few minutes, I started to feel the discomfort of the realization I was still in a soiled diaper.

After we removed them and rolled them up for disposal, I pleasured Sir Michael on the bed as he pleased himself and climaxed after a while of enjoyable masturbation.

The afternoon was spent at various uniform stores around San Diego, I picked up a pair of tactical gloves, and we eventually met up with my friend Kathryn and invited her back to Sir Michael's apartment.  I had been  having a hard time with straitjackets, as each time I had one put on me, my tolerance level dropped significantly until it became so poor the moment the jacket was secured, it had to be removed.  This had been hitting me hard with guilt, as I felt terrible having my dominants go through all the work of strapping me up only to be forced to release me because I feared an anxiety freak out.  Sir Michael changed that, and kept me calm as we chatted with Kathryn while Sir Michael placed me in restraints, blindfolded me, and even was able to put a football helmet on me for a good while before I needed it removed.

Thank you, Sir.  I am now able to wear a straitjacket again!

Soon Sir John arrived, and Kathryn took her leave after we enlightened her with a good amount of kink and fetish information.  I was soon changed out of my bondage into my street leather, and collared with a large neoprene slave collar, which felt so wonderful around my neck.  We went to dinner, me smiling every time I was reminded that the collar was snugly locked in place, and quite visible.  My mind seems to sink more into submissive territory when a collar is in play, I heartily enjoy it.

(...my thoughts drift to the future, wondering if I may indeed wear a Sir's collar one day, developing a deep and meaningful loving relationship with a man I will call my boyfriend, and my Sir...perhaps even my husband...)

Dinner concluded, we headed back to the apartment and changed into our gear for Sir Michael's event.  Sir John changed into military BDUs, Sir Michael slipped into a cycling skin suit, and I was gifted with the privilege of wearing a real full American Football uniform, complete with metal-tipped cleats!  I love American Football uniforms, as I described in last month's Fetish of the Month blog post, but wearing the full uniform for the first time opened my mind to just how sexy the gear really was!

The chest pads and jersey provide a shield that fills me with the urge to run straight into a wall and crumble it, letting out a battle roar after beating the dust from my chest.  The padded pants boost my confidence, making my legs look and feel like I could effortlessly knee-smash someone in the gut!  The cleats inspire mental images of rocketing across a muddy field, tearing up the turf leaving a path of organic destruction behind me as I tear into a wise-ass, smart-mouthed sonofabitch, knocking him down a peg or two as I tackle him into the mud.  Then trampling the poor soul under my feet, he begs for mercy as I wipe the mud from my cleats on his cheek.  Then the final piece, the helmet!  Black as the anonymous shadows that cover my eyes, keeping my identity a secret, a nameless gridiron soldier with only a bold number on the back of his jersey.

My wrists bound in shackles once more, and my collar affixed, I was lead down the streets by Sir John and Sir Michael, grinning like an idiot to the few who nervously passed by us on our way to the bar!

The night was a success!  A handful of people showed up in gear, we spent several hours at the bar and I had a wonderful time.  Feeling the wide-eyed stares of sexy bears and gay men looking me up and down in my football gear, shackles, and ankle chains made me feel amazing!  Being ordered to the bar to fetch drinks as his football boy was even more fun!  The wrist shackles resting on the bar, money in my hands, there was no doubt what side of the fence I was on.

Halfway through the night, Dizzy passed right by me, not recognizing me.  I was ecstatic!  I hadn't seen him since he left that Monday morning after Puppy Love weekend! Everything I wanted to say to him caught in my throat, all of my feelings for him welled up in my chest, all the anxieties of accidentally disrespecting boy/Sir protocol he shared with his new Sir stuffed themselves at the forefront of my mind!  I didn't have much time to think!  I had to act!

WOOF!

He stopped!

WOOOF!

He turned and looked at me!

Yes! Look at me! Hi! I see you! I see you Dizzy! I'm Zach! You're Dizzy! I love you! You're my Leather Brother!  You are a boy now to a Sir!  Do I talk to you!? Can I talk to you!? Are you allowed to look at me!? Goddamn this fucking protocol! I don't want to think!  I want to hug you!  But if I do I might get you in trouble!  That's bad!

He smiled at me and kept going.  He was with his Sir, Mr. Mike, and Mouse.  He obviously had to stay with them, but oh how I wanted to hug him.  Shackles are made from steel for a reason.

Sir Michael got the hint immediately and we went over to talk to the group, much to my delight.  As Mr. Mike and Sir Michael said hello, all I could do was stare at Dizzy, mouthing hello, nervous and anxious.  I had no idea what protocols he had to follow, which ones his Sir enforced, which ones his Sir was relaxed with, if I got him in trouble for my own selfishness I would never forgive myself.  It was so frustrating, here stood my Leather Brother and I had no idea if I could talk to him, and then the terrifying thoughts burned at the edge of my mind like little snickering demons.


What if his Sir does not like us hanging out together?


What if his Sir got angry, and forbade him from speaking to me?


What if...


Shut up! Not another fucking word out of you!

I was able to formally introduce myself to Mr. Mike in person.  I learned that he had already met me before, on the night of my contest he came up to me at one point, and me being delirious I didn't remember a thing, and he asked "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" and he said I responded with "Not a fucking clue."

He told me that was the best answer he had ever heard.

He also said that protocols were relaxed and I wasted no time talking up Dizzy.  I missed him. I was so happy to see him again.  He is building abs and muscle, I'm so proud of him!  He's doing so well.

The rest of the evening was filled with more stares, more attention, flirting, and merriment.  By the time 1:00am struck I was quite dead on my feet, and everyone could see it.  Shuffling home with Sir John and Sir Michael soon after, stripping, and falling into bed my only regret of that night is that I was not able to stay awake to be of entertainment to Sir John, whom I bedded with.


SUNDAY




Once everyone was up, awake, and cuddled in the same bed, I became the object of attention.  Fondled, kissed, molested, edged, caressed, and stroked by two doms first thing in the morning was a huge gift.  Such beautiful torture, being told I was the object of desire, their hands all over me, writhing in sexual suffering, oh what a sweet hell it was!  Sir John climaxed and shot all over me, his boy rag!  Unable to shoot myself, I simply was wiped clean and we went out for breakfast soon after.

Once we returned to the apartment, I was locked in the neoprene slave collar and leashed to the wall with a heavy chain.  I love this.  The feeling of being tethered.  A heavy collar on my neck which is attached to a heavy chain which is then wrapped or locked around a bedpost, bolted into the wall, or wrapped around the fist of a Sir.  It makes me feel secure, comfortable, at ease, it makes me feel valuable, that they feel they need to lock me down so I do not escape or get lost.  It makes me feel that I am of value, and that I am treasured. If I am tethered by a large chain, and locked inside a puppy cage, then so much the better!  I am secure and safe in my cage!

At one point my underwear and shirt were ordered off of me and I was their plaything once again.  I was held down, sucked, fingered, stroked, tortured, dominated and molested!  Squirming and whimpering, groaning and grunting into the gag that was locked over my mouth.  I could only beg and plead for release with my eyes, looking into theirs, begging them to allow me sweet release.  I loved being their boy toy, their plaything, it felt so wonderful.  Sir John found my prostate and pressured it, I was kept on edge the whole time, just begging for climax...a climax that no matter how much I squirmed, writhed, groaned, screamed, or cried...would never come.  Even when I was cuffed, gagged, and my face forced into Sir Michael's boots, and allowed to jerk myself, my body was so tortured, so heavy with sexual exhaustion, that I was much too tired to shoot my load.

I collapsed and lay there, hole sore from Sir John's ruthless fingers, body limp from Sir Michael's torture.  I lifted my head and announced,

"Sirs...boy is so exhausted he cannot cum!"

...and my body slumped over, completely spent as they laughed with amusement.


What a fantastic weekend!  Thank you, Sirs.

Congratulations Sir Michael on a great event!

Play Safe.

Flying With Broken Wings and Falling From the Sky

At the start of this month, around Valentine's Day I was up at the SoCA Bondage Club with my friend Stephen,  we had been talking a while about him going to the club, but he needed someone to go with, and I was only too happy to be his club buddy.  

I had also encouraged a few other friends of mine who were newbies to the club to come up so I could show them around.  By the time the club started, and the initial 9pm meet-n-greet was completed, I had a small tour group started.  I began by explaining the basic dungeon rules, which are basically the universal rules of dungeon etiquette, but each dungeon has their own rules so where one practice is not allowed, it may be welcomed in another dungeon.  Here are the Socal Bondage Club's Rules.

Before I began the tour, another club member came up to me and said that "There's a puppy and a really cute boy outside, they said they have been texting someone who they were hoping to see here tonight."

I immediately excused myself, raced to the patio, and lept into Dizzy's arms.  My faithful puppy, Cockpit, had brought him all the way up from San Diego with him!  Even when very sick, my puppy gave me this wonderful gift.  He's just so amazing.  I urged him to go home and rest, and he did, but not before secretly handing me a set of leather restraints that he said we could borrow for the night.  I love my puppy!

I invited Dizzy to join the tour group and I then showed the boys my stomping grounds.  As the club was now in session, I guided them as silently as possible through the corridor, explaining things in quiet whispers where I dared, and silent gestures around scenes in play.  After releasing the group to do as they wished and have fun, I joined Dizzy outside for his cigarette.  I was joined by my friend and sub, Marc, and we talked for a while before someone urged us inside to play.  

Dizzy had brought his floggers with him, and allowed me to practice on his back.  I had attended Ms. Cynthia's class the Friday prior and we learned how to use singletails and floggers, and I was eager to get as much practice in as possible to work towards florentine flogging.  Dizzy is able to do it, and he always looks so incredibly sexy when the floggers spin in his hands.  I want to achieve it too!  I worked on his back with my non-dominant hand as I was taught, so I could build up a familiarity with it.  After a while he said we should switch so I could have fun too.

My harness came off, and I stood against the St. Andrew's Cross, and he began to flog me.  Slowly pushing me closer to euphoria with each slap of leather and rubber on my back.  The blows became heavier, and heavier, more and more frequent, in and out of order so I couldn't tell what would happen next.  Dizzy kept me guessing, a masterful display.  The flogging continued until I was close to my limit, he kept going, the strikes and blows very hard, and I reached my limit.  However something went wrong, I didn't communicate to him clearly that I was finished.  He struck me two more blows over my limit, thinking I was okay before I indicated I was done.  At this point I was sobbing, and in full subspace, however I was like a bird with broken wings,  I could fly, but not well at all.  The irritants of the night followed me into my subspace, and like sand in your eyes, it scratched away my paradise, turning it into a whorl of both positive and negative emotions.

Extremely concerned for me, as Dizzy had never seen me in subspace like this before, sobbing, thinking that he had hurt me very badly, he took me into aftercare immediately and lead me outside onto the patio.  I don't remember much, as I go into a drunk-like stupor, I remember laying face down in his lap, his comforting arms on top of me, stroking my hair.  I was emotional about drama of some kind.  All I wanted was "to show them all the light, and that they could all be happy", and I was sobbing in frustration.  We didn't stay long afterward, packing up our things and hitching a ride with Brandon Christiansen, a contestant at the recent Mr. Bullet 2012 contest I was a judge's boy for.  He dropped us off at the Bullet bar, and we took a cab ride home.  I happily fell asleep in Dizzy's arms that night.

The next day was the night of Puppy Love, but since I have already covered that here, I shall move onward.

The morning after Puppy Love Dizzy, and I had a very important talk, and it came to light that we needed to rearrange our relationship.  The best way I can describe it is moving around furniture in a living room shared by two people.  While one person may enjoy it that way it is, the other person finds it difficult to navigate through the room.  Through a long walk around Long Beach, and lots of talking, we arranged our room so we could both enjoy it best.  

However, the process still hurt.  My wings felt as if they were clipped in mid-flight, and I plummeted towards the earth.  I fell fast, and hard, my body punching holes in the clouds as the merciless gray pavement rushed closer and closer, until Dizzy caught me, and eased me to the ground.

That evening he stayed over once more, his bus had been filled without him, so we were gifted with another night together with a very pleasant supper, Jello shots left over from my party, and an episode of South Park.  The morning after, I watched him fly away, I smiled and waved after him, as I walked to work.

Once he was far enough, I turned away, and my eyes filled with tears.  My wings clipped, I was grounded until my feathers grew back again.

Now some time has passed since then, my heart has healed a healthy amount, my feathers growing back each day.  I still walk the ground, not ready to fly just yet, but in time I'll race towards the bluff and take a flying leap back into the sky.  Until then, I'll sit on the cliff's edge, fondly remember times I spent in the winds, and call up to my Leather Brother to see how his flights are, all while I smile up at him.

Remember, you do not damn the rose for having thorns, so do not damn love for bringing pain.

Play Safe, Dear Reader.

Copper Remembered

This weekend I was in San Francisco with my puppy Cockpit to attend the Puppy Wake for our friend Copper who is now on a different plane of existence.

I was able to meet with Copper two times.  I first met him at the K-9 Unit's puppy supper at Don Ramon's during Folsom weekend last year.  He was in puppy mode, a handsome young man, very cute, with a bite that no one would mess with.  He exhibited an intense energy, pouncing on you with full force!  I immediately liked him!  I saw him again later that night, tied to a St. Andrew's cross getting flogged.  He was howling in ecstasy, screaming "THANK YOU SIR, MAY I HAVE ANOTHER!?"  his intensity now in human form echoed off the walls.

The next time I'd see him would be at a cafe after the Folsom fair.  Cockpit, Brue, Wolf, Spencer, Copper and I all ate dinner together.  At the end of the meal, and against Brue's wishes, Copper got up and paid for us all.  He was so generous.  Later that night we went to a club called Badlands and danced, after we left, Copper drove Coy and I back to the hotel in his Jeep.

I wouldn't see Copper again until December, when Cockpit and I came up for Puppy Christmas.  After we had gone to see Totem, Copper roomed with us that night, he was so sexy and handsome, and he reeked of dominant energy for someone so young, younger than myself.  A very powerful energy.  I remember there was something about it that I didn't believe at first, and I felt a bit competitive of it.  We had a wonderful lunch together that afternoon before heading to the playspace to help set up for the party.

That night we headed over to the Studd bar for the furry party, Frolic.  I remember right before we went in I asked Cockpit who he wanted to hold his leash for the night.  He looked torn for a moment and said if he could have Copper handle him for the night.  I was only too happy to oblige, the entire time we were all together he was so eager to be around him.  Following him like a boy follows a Sir, keeping in step, doing as he asked.  I had planned to give Copper Cockpit's leash for the weekend from the start.  I just really wanted Cockpit to say it.  Copper bought me a shot of Jagermeister that night when we were on the dance floor, and it helped me relax and let loose.  Thanks for the shot, handsome.

We would crash in the same bed once more that night with Wolf.

The next day we set up for the Christmas party, I helped Copper put down the floor mats.  After all was finished, and the party was up and died down a little Copper and Spike faced off on the puppy mats, Spike won and pinned him.  Then directly after, Sky challenged Copper and won.  I remember asking Copper as he left the mats...

"What did I just see?"

He replied,

"You saw me letting them win."

Later that night when we were cleaning up, Copper joined Cockpit, Wolf, and myself in stomping the prop gift boxes we used for decorations.  That was a lot of fun!  He enjoyed it too, using some martial arts punches on the boxes, which was really impressive.  He roomed with us one last time that night, an incident concerning my title vest and Muir cap had bothered me from the night prior, and he gave me two pieces of sage advice.

Copper reassured me that I just needed to be true to what my interpretation of leather was.  He said that he could see that I took a lot of stock in Honor.  He said that I honored Cockpit by wearing the Muir Cap he presented to me, and he said that I honored my leather by wearing it out.

He also told me a story...

Copper once worked at Mr. S Leather, this particular day he was wearing his flogger on his belt, on the left (Dominant) side, as he had recently completed his training.  He also wore his Sir's collar.  A customer approached him and said

"You're wearing your flogger on the wrong side, boy!  Relinquish your flogger and present your back."

Copper, in sales mode and unsure as to what the customer wanted, politely refused and asked if he needed to find anything.  The customer repeated himself, "Relinquish your flogger and present your back."  Copper refused again, and the customer reached out and grabbed Copper's collar.

(In the traditional leather world, Old Guard tradition states this as a horrific act of disrespect.  Touching the collar of a boy is a huge violation of respect and personal space, and it is an insult to the boy and to his Sir.  You never, ever do this.  Whether you follow Old Guard or not.)

Copper calmly said "I'll give you to the count of three to release me."

The customer didn't release his collar.

"One."

The customer didn't release his collar.

"Two."

The customer tightened his grip.

"Three."

Copper grabbed the customer's hand, and rotated his wrist, resulting in the customer releasing his collar as well as howling in horrible pain.

Just because boys, slaves, and pups subscribe to a submissive role does not make us your public property to be played with with as you please.  I encourage all boys, subs, slaves, and pups to learn self-defense moves in order to escape these types of situations.  Do not just take abuse like this, stand up for yourself!


It was in January when I heard that Copper was no longer on this Earth.  Cockpit called, and came over immediately.  His face told me something was very wrong.  He never looks like that.  He told me that Copper had taken his own life.

We will never know why exactly, but what is known is that he is no longer suffering, and he is at peace.  I am certain he would want me to press onward, not to stay in sadness, but to charge forward into joy, and to bring more joy to those in my life.  To stand up for my myself, and not take any lip or crap from anyone.  Not even myself.  This also instilled a sense of urgency in me, doing things when I can, at that moment.  Saying things when I can, at the most available moment.  Don't wait, because life doesn't wait.

Thank you, Copper.  I love you.

Play Safe, dear reader.

Degrading the Foot Slave

Last night carried with it a new experience for me.

A boy that I had met a recent weeknight ago met with me in front of a local bar.  I enjoy his company, and he is a beautiful young man.  I told him I had a surprise waiting for him as soon as we got inside the front gate to my apartment.  Once there, I took his backpack and planted a nice kiss on his eager lips.  Then, I turned him around, tied a white handkerchief blindfold around his eyes, and handcuffed him before planting another long kiss on his smiling lips.

At this point our evening took a very amusing turn.  After carefully guiding my captive up the stairs and turning on the narrow walkway to my apartment, I reached for the door to the small room containing my front door and my next door neighbor's front door, to my surprise the door opened before I could grasp the handle, and my two new next door neighbors walked out.

In many cases this would have been a very awkward moment.  However, my neighbors happen to be a very open minded young couple, a fact of which I am extremely thankful, and only exhibited amused surprise as I politely excused myself past them, my boy in tow.  I wished them a pleasant evening out, and they did the same, the girlfriend of the two eagerly shooting me a big squealing smile, and two thumbs-up as I pushed my "catch" inside my front door.

Safe inside my domain, we laughed about the situation a moment before moving on to more fun activities that included taking the boy's shirt off, some romantic photography, handcuffing him to the bungee cord above my bedroom door frame, and light sensual domination.

I enjoyed having a helpless boy under my control, my dominant side has been receiving a lot of exercise as of late.  I tickled him mercilessly, enjoying the sight of him squirming and giggling, a huge smile on his blindfolded face.  The evening went onward, and he ended up in nothing but a jockstrap laying on my bed as we shared a few jello shots together which had been left over from my last event the previous weekend.  I brought out the whipped cream and ordered the boy on his stomach, spraying a line up his back, which I happily cleaned off of him with my tongue.  He tasted wonderful!  Amused, I sprayed a smiley face next, and halfway through licking it off, my guest asked "Do I taste like IHOP?"  I came very close to having whipped cream come out my nostrils.

As our evening together continued, and after I had cleaned him up, he fell to my feet and removed my socks, sniffing them deeply and taking in the odors of my feet.  He confessed he really enjoyed my scent and began to worship my feet.  He begged me to spit on him as he lay there, sucking my toes, licking the soles of my foot, and having me trample him softly as he took deep whiffs of my combat boots, he told me that he was "in fag heaven".

Here is where I had to mentally step back and observe my situation.  Usually, I detest the word "fag" or "faggot", it being a word that carries such a heavy negative weight akin to the words "nigger", and "cunt".  However, here is a boy who not only uses it on himself, but enjoys it because it's a word of degradation.  He receives a thrill when he is degraded, which is not uncommon at all in submissive worlds.  Being spat upon is also a huge turn-on for this boy, being treated as less-than is sexually exciting and enjoyable.  I am not unfamiliar with calling a submissive under my control a slave, a boy, a plaything, or something similar, but it has always been with a loving tone, never negative.

Recalling the evening, I regret not asking him why he felt this way, the thought didn't cross my mind until now, however this would not be our last encounter, and I will have my answer soon enough.

The scene rolled onward, both of us naked, me resting my foot upon his face, wiping my feet on his tongue, and spitting in his mouth and on his body.  He thanked me over and over again, smiling up at me from the floor as I dominated him.  I called him my foot mat, my personal foot slave, I told him how I wanted him to be at my feet when I walked in the door after traveling half a mile on foot, for him to lick and suckle my toes as I worked at my computer, for him to rub my feet as I amused myself with my video games.  He loved every bit of it, and I enjoyed making him smile.

The question lingers on my mind, why do we enjoy it so?  Why do I enjoy being under a dominant Sir's heavy harness boot as he presses firmly onto my crotch?  Why does this boy like to call himself a faggot, be spat upon, and used like a doormat?  Why do we both enjoy degradation, humiliation, and abusive play?

I hope to answer this soon, and I hope you Play Safe dear reader.

Puppy Love!

This past weekend was incredible, I threw my very first charity event called Puppy Love and the beneficiary was the ForeverHome Pet Rescue.

ForeverHome Pet Rescue's goal is to provide care and compassion for homeless and abused animals of the Los Angeles area, while working to place them in loving, adoptive homes.  FHPR is a private, not-for-profit organization that operates solely on private donations and volunteer efforts.

You can learn more about ForeverHome by visiting their website at http://www.foreverhomepetrescue.org/ and by emailing them at foreverhomepetrescue@gmail.com

Sponsors of the event include:

Pistons Bar
Twenty Four Seven Pet Sitting and Walking
Skobar Photography

Thank you to all of my volunteers! I really appreciate everyone who helped out!  An event is never a one-person job, it takes a lot of effort and assistance from friends and well-wishers to produce something like this and I'd like to thank them here now:

Mark
Dizzy
Coy
Boots
Slutbottom Chris
Brendan
Luis
Alex

Thank you all so very much!



Now the entire night started at my place, Mark had been very kind as to help Dizzy and I load up his car with all the accouterments and drive us up to Pistons, as well as help man the door and take donations when we were set up.  Brendan helped me with the banner, and the women of ForeverHome gave us flyers and business cards as well as an adoption folder of dogs and cats who were available to be adopted.

When all things were said and done, I had Brendan on raffle tickets, and Dizzy took up the Jello shots.  I let the clock run until there was a bit of a crowd, I had tried to fight the whole "Gay Standard Time" effect at my last event the Grand Kink and Fetish Ball by starting things up directly at 8pm, but it didn't go over as well.  Sometimes you have to accept what is already in place and work with it rather than trying to change it.

Throughout the evening I saw a good handful of pups around, more than I expected, including Slutbottom Chris, who helped out with raffle tickets later that evening, and Boots of the San Diego Puppy Patrol who joined up with Dizzy when Mark needed a break at the front door.  I even caught sight of two amazing rubber puppies in full rubber suits and hoods!  Awesome!  We raffled off prizes donated by Luis Skobar including t-shirts, greeting cards, a very beautiful photo print of a greasy boot boy with bootlaces in his teeth.  Woof.  That was a hard prize to part with.  247 Pet Sitting donated a beautiful basket with dog supplies inside for the silent auction, and Coy had made up a wonderful info board and donation sheet for it as well.  Coy had done a lot with helping me out, he's a magnificent P.A. and I'm proud to call him my puppy.

With everyone being so very generous that night, one person handed Dizzy a $20 and told him to "just pass them out", the winner of the silent auction gave $10 more than the winning $50 bid for the basket, and including everyone who donated at the door, we raised over $600 for the ForeverHome organization!

Thank you so very much!  We greatly appreciate your selflessness and generosity!  Blessings on you all!

Again thanks to everyone who donated, sponsored, volunteered, and showed up!  It was so wonderful to see you all!

AWOOOOO!

Play Safe my Dear Reader

Fetish of The Month 2012: February - Sports Gear

Welcome, dear reader to my February FETISH OF THE MONTH!

This month I decided to look into the world of Sports Gear!  This can range from Ice Hockey, to Rugby, to Soccer, to Baseball, to American Football and more.

I want to take this time to thank the men I interviewed about their sports gear fetishes for this month's FOTM article!  Thank you gentlemen, your stories and pictures are very much appreciated.  I asked one handsome man what turned him on to sports gear in general, and what fantasies he may have had involving it:

"in junior high school, I always seem to be looking at guy's sneakers, nikes, pumas, cons. It later evolved into other types of sports gear, uniforms, leather, and boots."  
"Sports gear in general is very erotic with another guys, feeling up each other in the gear, swapping gear, smelling, licking." 
"A big fantasy of mine is to be in a group all wearing the same gear getting off together."



Sport gear in general can be very sexy, some of it has a nice sheen to it like Soccer shorts, the way it breathes on the skin.  Some flatter the body by tightly contouring to smooth lines, like the curve of a nice ass in Baseball pants.  However my all time favorite sport gear would definitely be American Football.


I myself was first attracted to American Football gear when I was in high school.  When I first discovered that I was gay, I would enjoy seeing the guys in their full gear out on the field practicing, or catching a glimpse of one or two of them walking around campus.  Of course I was still unsure of who I was, so I (regrettably) never went further than a quick glance when they weren't looking.


And I'm not the only one who has a boner for guys running through the gridiron!  I went to several different men and asked them how they felt about Football Gear, first inquiring with how they first discovered their lust for the gear.


"My ex boyfriend had a lot of football gear especially football cleats and shoulder pads.  Probably in high school, checking out the jocks, one of my friends I grew up with was very "alpha male" and liked to be "worshipped" and also fantasies of going into the locker room and being dominated by the jocks." 


"I'm not sure exactly when, but it was in high school, I think the tight uniforms and the hyper masculine guys tied it together for me. when I was 18 I think, I bought some new gear at a local sports store. kinda sucked. then I started finding gear online.. until ebay, which is where I get most of my gear today"


"I was first turned onto football gear back in junior high. Seeing how the pants clung to hot guys and the man smell that went along with it just got me so freaking hard. Not knowing at first that guys only wore a jock I also loved how guys ass looked and couldn't figure hot why they looked so hot until I realized they only wore a jock. Then I wanted to smell the nasty jock after they wore it for practice or a game. I started getting hardons and thinking about football players making me suck their cocks. That's when I discovered my sexual attraction."


Now how can this type of gear be erotic, some may be wondering.  The eroticism for me is the power of the armor, and the close-to-anonymous effect of the full-face helmet.  The lumbering powerhouse guarded by soft pads and hard plastic that I can't knock over even at full force.  His face hidden by the shadows and face guard of the helmet.  His powerful roar when he gets in the mental zone of taking on all comers and challenges as he charges down the field, ripping up the earth with those spiked cleats, and smashing through anything and anyone who stands in his way.

My contributors had this to say about the erotic effect Football has on them:

"I am not sure what is most erotic about the gear. Thinking about a hot guy wearing it and getting it all sweaty or seeing a guy in the entire uniform. Shoes, socks, tight pants, jock, pads, jersey. It is just HOT!!!"


"I think the tight football pants where you can see the lines of a jock strap beneth"


"The jockstraps, a man wearing a jockstrap is extremely sexy to me, I also enjoy wearing them myself and the feel of the straps on my ass. "

I also enjoyed asking what their fantasies concerning men in football gear might include.  I eagerly looked forward to reading their answers!  I'll share my bounty with you now, because I know you're probably already hard. If not, these will definitely take you there:

"I guess on my fantasy, if I was tag teamed by the guys in football gear, with one of their sweaty jocks in my mouth and another around my head to keep it in, taking turns until they came, their cum drippin from my ass. grr. after they are done, I pull my football pants back up"


"I think my fantasy is the same as it is for most guys. The main one involes me being in the locker room with 4-8 players. Them still in their gear, they rip my clothes off and hold me down as they do nasty grabass things to me. Fart in my face, piss on me, make me sniff their sweaty sneakers, socks, jocks, etc. Make me suck them off before they tie me to the bench and fuck me. All of their loads dumped in me. When done they make sure I know I am now their bitch and make me wear one of their nasty jocks and socks when I leave and make me show up after every game."

"My fantasy would be the towel boy in a locker room, and after a big game all the athletes would come into the locker room, strip down, and throw their jockstraps and foul smelling football socks all over me.  Then they press their sweaty asses in my face and make me suck their cocks and then brutally fuck me on the changing bench."

Very, very hot!  I'd love to see those happen gentlemen, and I certainly hope your wet dreams come true!  

I'd say my biggest American Football fantasy, and I'm a helpless romantic mind you, is where I'm all alone on the football field at night, the bleachers are empty, the game is long since over.  

I walk in the blinding light of the huge overhead stadium lamps.  Suddenly a voice comes on over the loudspeakers 

"Uh oh, looks like we have a stray fan on the field!  How about we show him what happens when you're on the field after the game, boys?"

Several men clad in full football gear, black jerseys and helmets with numbers 99, 69, and 55 come out and surround me.  Two of the football players, #55, and #99 circle around behind me and grab me so I can't move while #69 approaches and caresses my body, stroking downward to my crotch where he grips my bulge and squeezes gently but firmly as a wicked smile graces his lips.  They pull me to a different part of the field, the ground is soft and wet, and #69 shoves me down into the mud, he flips me over and pushes my face into it.  Calling me his mud boy, he and the other two men take my clothes off of me and take turns pushing me into the mud, smearing my body with the muck, and getting more excited and aggressive.  Before long I am completely covered in dark mud, and shivering in the night air.  

#55 takes the lead and picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and they march off into the showers with me in tow.  #55 puts me down on the floor and places his muddy cleats on my chest so I don't go anywhere, and I am forced to gaze up at him in his glorious gear.  The other two players are out of sight undressing while #55 tramples me lightly under his filthy cleats, calling me his 'little muddy towel boy' with a gentle smile.  Then #99 and #69 come back into view, they are now naked except for rubber hoods, obscuring their faces, I can only see their intense eyes and eager smiles.  They pick me up by my arms and drag me into the showers where they continue to molest, caress, and dominate me under the warm cascading waters.  I eagerly worship their beautiful muscled bodies as the mud washes off of mine and vanishes in a swirl down the drain.

Play Safe my Dear Readers.

Dominated by a Sir With Wings

The Saturday before last was one I needed, as I have been starved to submit for a while.  I joke with my friends, saying "What did I do? I went down to San Diego, and won the state title for California Leather boy 2012.  What happened next? I went and found my dom side! The Old Guard and the committee are going to be so pissed..."

It's not my fault, it just happened! I swear!

Well the weekend started when I got off the train up in Pasadena and met Sir John at the station, we loaded my bag in the back and drove off.  We arrived at his house and I dropped off my bag in his dungeon basement and he wasted no time in forcing me up against the wall with an aggressive kiss.  Thank you, sir!

He bound me up with rope, gagged me with a bandanna, and marched me upstairs where he proceeded to tie me up on the floor of his office, blindfold me, and leave me to struggle while he worked on some emails nearby.  I struggled for a little, and then the bondage started to relax me.  I went into my own head for a while, it's much like falling asleep but you're aware that you're unconscious.  Being away from my cellphone was one thing that really helped me relax.  Time passed, I eventually felt him release me, and I came back to Earth again.

From there we headed over to a private airport, a few days prior, Sir John asked me if I liked flying, and I had said yes! I enjoyed flying, it was one of my favorite ways to travel.  We reached the airport, signed in, and we walked to the reason of that question.  A very small 3-seat aircraft.  Sir John has a pilot's license.

Soon I was in the passenger seat, headset clamped on my head, and we were taxiing out onto the runway.  The plane took off and we were airborne!  Man that was fun!  You reach that really cool altitude where everything looks like a toy set below you and you stay there, leveling out and it feels like the sky is a ceiling just a few feet above your head.  During our flight I mentioned I had a fantasy with mud and quicksand and if he knew of any riverbeds or muddy spots, my eyes searched the ground far below but even at this altitude I couldn't find anything.  It's hard to find mud close by in my part of California, I'm still dreaming and wishing for my first quicksand experience. Due to our consistent sunny weather, low rainfall, and lack of rivers and lakes, mud lovers have to trek far for their fantasies to come true.  However he did mention that he did find a spot by accident, silt as high as his waist!  In Pasadena!  It was a good idea I was already sitting down.  I just pray his find is still where he says it is and that he can take me there someday soon!

The flight soon became a little more turbulent and my initial nausea that I was able to ignore before became much more apparent.  I reported my airsickness, and Sir John placed his sweater in my lap.  I looked down at the black sweater, and I felt the waves of nausea increase.  We hit more turbulence, and I heaved...and resisted!  No!  I was not going to puke!  Not in Sir John's plane!  Not on Sir John's sweater!  I was a good boy!  I felt another heave and resisted again!  My sunglasses went foggy with my forehead sweating, the air was warm, every bump, rise, and fall was multiplied by two.  I refused to vomit!  No way! I'm a good boy!  I entered that stage of sick relaxation, where your body just feels mellow but in a miserable way.  The worst was over, but my throat burned.  However I still came out on top.  I did not puke.

We landed and I was able to leave the aircraft, and take a nice seat on the flat pavement of the airport.  Despite the last fifteen minutes, the flight was so much fun!  I just...needed to sit for a moment.  That's all.

Later in the day, and after my stomach finally settled, we were back at Sir John's home, he bound me up once more, and dominated me, forcing me down on my knees to lick his boots.  It's felt like ages since I last serviced a Sir's boots.  I enjoy it tremendously, the taste of boot leather, the pleasure I can give my dominate as he watches me submit and clean the tops of his boots with my eager tongue.  The praise I hear from far above me, "Good boy."  He raised me on my feet and held me from behind, his mouth close to my ear, he asked.

"Is your ass still off limits, boy?"

I thought a moment.  The last time I played with him I was unsure, so I chose to decline back then.  Not many people are allowed to fuck me, with me anal sex is intimate and personal because it deals with someone being inside of me.  I want the men who are allowed inside to be trustworthy.  I've known John to be a very good friend, and an amazing dominant Sir.  He's shown me wonderful experiences in his dungeon, and he has taken excellent care of me in the past.  I gave him permission because he is a dear friend of mine and in my eyes, has earned passage.

He dominated me more, grabbing me from behind in that arms-from-behind hug position, mouth by my ear, perfect for whispering dark words into your helpless sub's ears and hearing him moan.  He pushed me upstairs, stripped me, and threw me on the bed.  Turning me on my stomach, he prepped my ass with lube and slowly entered me.  I was nervous, as I don't get a lot of anal play as I said before, so each time my ass is tight.

He was just right, it felt great, and he moved slowly so I could get accustomed to him.  He screwed me very well, and thoroughly!  I was his boytoy and I really enjoyed every moment of it.  Afterward he provided wonderful aftercare as expected!

A little while later, after we had rested up, he dominated me once more!  This man has a lot of energy and once more I ended up stripped and bound, my wrists bound and my ankles tied, stretched across the bed.  He prepped my ass once more, and I wanted it!  When he screwed me this time, he kept inside a specific place, and the more he fucked me the more it rubbed me sore, until he bent closer and said "When I fuck a boy, I want to make sure it hurts."

I was sent into a dominant-submissive fit.  I wanted it to hurt, I wanted him to hurt me, I wanted to show him how much I could take!  That I could withstand it all!  I roared into the spit-soaked bandanna gag stuffed in my mouth, as I strained against my bindings as he mercilessly rammed my ass!  He roared as he climaxed, and I was left to collapse, it was invigorating!

During the aftercare, while I was in Sir John's arms, I thought about the differences between John fucking me and Dizzy making love to me.  When John fucked me, it was purely for fun, for sex, I was his boy toy and I liked the "abuse" and the praise of a job well done as his submissive.  When Dizzy fucks me, I feel love for him, I crave him, I want to please not only his body but his heart, I want him inside of me to connect with me, I want to connect with him on all intimate levels.

After a delicious meal out, we returned to the house, and instead of going to the Eagle or Anvil, Sir John decided we would be staying home, and I found myself in the dungeon once more, arms chained above my head, and boots chained spread eagle, the metal links keeping my feet immobilized and firmly in place.  Like a scene from an action film, a helpless blindfolded, gagged prisoner in a dark dungeon, awaiting his torture.  Only I was looking forward to it, and loving my predicament.

A flogger struck my back and I grinned into the gag.  I was looking forward to this all day long!  I like Sir John's flogging style!  It's medium-firm and fast, and he gets riled up, and the energy riles me up.  I want it!  I crave it! I hear the leather slap my back mercilessly!  I feel the energy slam against my bare, vulnerable skin!

After a while, I was getting close to catharsis, and I suddenly recalled my dear friend Copper who is tragically not on this plane of existence anymore.  I wanted to release the pockets of emotions that are said to reside within the body, I wanted more release, I wanted him to strike me more to burst them, release the energy stored inside.  However he stopped...I was already buzzing, and he said that I had taken quite enough already.  I was sobbing, and said that I could take more, but he released me and gently guided me to the floor and held me in aftercare.   I lay there on the floor, beaten and buzzed in boyspace for a while before he helped me to my feet, and we slowly went up the stairs, in the soft blue light of his dungeon stairwell.

Sir John led me to the bed, affixed his collar around my neck for the night, and he pulled the blankets over us, and I fell asleep in his arms, miles away in subspace, drunk in flight.

Thank you, Sir John.

Play Safe my dear readers.