The weekend of the 25th of March I caught a ride up to the Eagle in Los Angeles with Rick whom I had met at The Crest Bar in Long Beach a few weekends prior, the night had no cover so we easily made our way inside. I was going to meet Sir John, and I excitedly began to search for him to let him know that I had arrived. However, my plans to notify Sir John were interrupted. Loren of the Leatherati newsletter greeted me, along with Alex his husband. Loren told me that my Fetish of the Month article on Wet and Messy play was to be published on their website very soon. I was thrilled! I was going to be published on Leatherati! Holy shit! No sooner had I said thank you, when Alex took a hold of me on the patio steps and dominated me mercilessly up against the railing! He kissed me, then snagged my lips in his bite! Oh god! I was soon at his complete mercy, and the only reason I hesitated was because I wasn’t sure if he’d ever let me go, as I was still due to check in with Sir John! Alas, I couldn’t speak, I could only moan as my thoughts were overwhelmed by a handsome man in a leather uniform, my lips in his teeth.
My mind now fits of static, thoughts blurred out, unable to focus on my important task, my submissive nature of wishing to please everyone coming forth, and fighting my sense of responsibility which reminded me of my commitment to Sir John! My lips released, I took the opportunity to tell Alex I had to contact Sir John, he nodded with a wicked smile, telling me to do so. As I took out my phone and desperately tried to text as he tickled and stabbed me with his fingers. Now in no way did I not appreciate the attention, in fact I thoroughly enjoyed it. I simply would have enjoyed it more if I had squared away my business first before he had overwhelmed me and made me his plaything. A moment after I sent the text, I noticed a tall man nearby look over and discovered it was Sir John! He was there the whole time! He hadn’t noticed us either! Through gasps and laughter from Alex’s fingers still poking me to no end, I managed to tell him that Sir John was here. Alex then turned me over to Sir John with a smile, telling me as he left that he had wanted to play with me for a very long time. I was only too happy to provide him with the pleasure, and I look forward to pleasing him again!
After quickly transferring my bag from Rick’s car to Sir John’s, and saying goodbye, Sir John and I walked back to the Eagle. Along the way something very interesting happened. A large, older man dressed in leather, sporting a very long white beard walked in the opposite direction towards us in the darkness, he said to us as he drew nearer “It’s time to let the next generation of leather have at it!” It made me feel wonderful! I looked back and gave him a quick salute without breaking stride with Sir John, and said “Thank you Sir, I won’t let you down!”
Here a leather man I didn’t know, and probably a member of the Old Guard judging by the way he was speaking, was happily accepting me as the next generation. Looking back, the whole event which only took about five seconds to happen was like a symbol of the cycle. An old man leaving a bar, after having fun all night passes a younger man just now heading into the bar to begin his evening. The old man will most likely go to bed, as he is tired, where as the younger man will stay up long into the night.
Back inside the bar we headed inside the chain spider web room, Sir John ordered me my new favorite drink, a “Cocksucker” (Bailey’s Irish Cream & Butterscotch Schnapps), and took that time to collar me at the bar. I love the feeling of a collar being locked around my neck, becoming the plaything of a man I respect and admire. I hope to one day wear an official collar, locked around my neck, and tagged as a Sir’s boy in deep love. For now the chain sealed at my neck served as a sign that I was to be the exclusive plaything of Sir John for as long as it remained there, and this I was greatly pleased with.
We took our drinks and headed to the other side of the bar next to the pool tables. I sat happily in Sir John’s lap on the bench and took in the scenery around me. The bar unfolded before me, red lights in the darkness, muscled men in tight leather and uniforms, drinking and shooting pool, watching high quality hardcore porn on the screens up in the corners. Sir John noticed me taking in my surroundings and spoke in my ear, “This is how the Eagle used to be, every Saturday night.” His words filled me at first with awe, which then gave way to slight sadness.
I yearned to see the leather bar nights of the past, back when the hanky code was in full force, back to reckless sexual abandon, back to handlebar mustaches, aviator sunglasses, and biker caps on both Sir and boy. Yet I must remember, all things existed for their purpose, and customs change with time and cause. The hanky code was there because men in the past had to keep silent, and speak without voices, as the code was a language of secrets born out of fear of discovery and exile. The unabated, wild, untamed sex free of caution spread diseases they were ignorant of, and many lost their lives not truly knowing what they died from. My generation is now left with a gap a mile long with only a few pieces of wood from the bridge that used to be there, listening to those who claim to have crossed it argue over which piece went where. This is an opportunity to start anew, as we are now much more free to be who we are, and not only celebrate it but to share it with others and invite them inside our bases to party along with us, filling the bars with men once more!
(Pardon me, I slipped into a bit of a speech there.)
Moving over to the outside patio, we discovered Sir John’s friends David and James standing by the garage doors. David I had already met in passing before, lusting for him at an Anvil party a long time ago, and crossing his profile a dozen times, admiring him in all of his gear, wishing he would reach out and drag me down to worship him at his feet. James was a welcome new face! Hot, handsome, with a hot British accent that makes my throbbing dick salivate.
We then moved back into the chain spider web bar and discovered Sir Ian finishing a scene with a boy of his. I looked onward, sighing happily. I love seeing men at play, even more so in public, it’s a heartwarming scene to see a man providing aftercare. I must have said “lucky boy” a bit louder than intended, because the next thing I knew, Sir John had blindfolded me, handcuffed me, and shoved me up against the lockers as he molested me right there in the bar! I was soon forced down on my knees, licking his boots! Oh what a thrill! I was in a leather bar, collared, cuffed, and submitting to a man I respected as a Sir! Life is so wonderful when one can find the pleasures of heaven in a place that may appear as a little slice of hell!
After Sir John had his fill of public play, we left after grabbing a hot dog from the vendor outside, which was surprisingly quite delicious! Arriving at Sir John’s domain, I was promptly led into the dungeon, tied up with my hands pulled behind me, bent forward, and my pants dropped to the floor. My exposed and vulnerable ass was then greased up, and Sir John fucked my tight hole. Despite my legs and back beginning to ache due to my less than merciful position, the feeling was wonderful, and I wanted to be a good little fuck slut for Sir John! He untied me, stripped me bare, and then bound me up once more on the floor where he pounded my ass! Each slam of his hard, throbbing cock inside my boy hole sent a shock of red in my sight. My hole burned as he fucked me harder, thrust after thrust, hardcore images flooded my mind! Bloody, pummeled asses, raped mercilessly! Screaming boys under evil doms! I wanted it harder! When he erupted inside of me, he relaxed and slid himself out, leaving my body to rest upon the floor and recover from my service. I was then led up the stairs and ordered into bed, my arms around my Dom as we fell asleep.
The next morning I awoke with Sir John, and was soon tied to the bed, ankles bound, and fucked once more! He is insatiable and I love it! After a pleasant shower, a quick lunch, and a change of clothes, we headed out to the Rose Bowl and to the golf course nearby where we hiked along a long, meandering trail. Sir John had said before he had explored this area and by pure accident sank to his hips in deep clay and silt. Now Sir John is a tall man, and his hips come close to my chest, knowing this excted me greatly! Today we attempted to rediscover it, my hopes and excitement high! Was I going to finally have my first sink? We trekked underneath a freeway high above us, through garbage and odd discarded trash, before coming to a place where the creek flooded the area. Unfortunately the place where Sir John was so fortunate to sink inside was now deep below the watery depths, in the center of the creek in front of us. There was no mud to be played with today. I left disappointed, but still determined! I will have my quicksand someday, and my entire body will sink below the sticky depths!
Arriving home, I was ordered to the upstairs office, stripped and my wrists bound to my neck, my legs tied together, and Sir John had me service his luscious boots! He edged and stroked me as my tongue slid atop his beautiful bootleather, but my manhood denied me such sweet release! I was then led to the basement, untied, and collared with a heay metal collar complete with a short length of sturdy, thick chain dangling from the neck. The steel was cold on my skin, the chain weighing me down like a light pull to submit, to press my forehead to the floor in respect. I was ordered inside of the big puppy cage in the dungeon, the door slowly opening to my new confinement, I couldn't crawl inside fast enough!
The big iron bars, the comfy mat, the little leather pillow so graciously left inside, my chain was soon tethered to an iron bar, my wrists cuffed, my ankles restrained, and the cage door swung shut, the sound of a padlock clicking shut, I was sealed. A mirror placed upon the roof, a small box fan heater placed beside my prison, and I was soon alone as Sir John exited into the next room, out of sight.
Naked, caged, chained like a wild beast, and left in the darkness alone. What a blessing! I curled up and hugged my knees, smiling in the darkness, listening to the chain rattle and clank against the bars of my prison, listening to the whirring of the heater nearby. I felt so safe inside that cage, I was protected, I was valued! Why else would someone confine and lock away something? Because they hold it so dear! I was a possession of great value! A treasured toy! Oh, what a beautiful feeling to be wanted in such a way by a man I hold in such high regard!
Time passed in what felt like hours, until Sir John returned and presented me with a granola bar and a bottle of water before vanishing once more. I was being spoiled! Caged! Bound! Fed! Kept warm! I was so fortunate! After enjoying my meal, I placed my garbage neatly outside the cage, and faded in and out of consciousness, enjoying my confinement, safe inside strong steel bars, held fast with iron and leather restraints, leashed with a shining heavy chain, collared with heavy metal. Keep me locked away, safe behind thick walls of steel, hidden like a priceless secret.
Sir John returned, and stripped himself, lengthened the chain on my collar, and unlocked the door. He then released my ankles and slid a condom onto my throbbing manhood. Sir, what are you doing? Before my mind could grasp the scene, Sir John had sat upon my own dick! I was fucking Sir John! The feeling of entering his hole, the weight of him rising and falling on my cock! He then released my handcuffs and we swapped positions, I now looked down on his back, my backside to the cage door, I gripped my erect member and gently entered him from behind. I began to fuck Sir John again...and this time something was different.
I felt him awaken inside of me, like a determined intruder he pushed and shoved himself to the forefront of my psyche and immediately snatched control away from me. I started to fuck Sir John harder, and harder, and HARDER! I let out a primal roar! I wanted my rock hard cock to stab his gut FROM THE INSIDE! I wanted to let him know that his boy toy was thankful and loved to be dominated! I thanked him for everything my mind could recall in that primal red haze! I thanked him for the drink he generously bestowed upon me at The Eagle! I thanked him for dominating me in public! I thanked him for making me lick his boots! I thanked him for taking me out on my hunt for quicksand! I thanked him for feeding me! I thanked him for caging me! I thanked him for fucking me! I pounded harder, and harder! I roared again, "UNLEASH THE BEAST WITHIN!"
Suddenly, my head felt the oxygen sucked away, I was going to pass out soon, I couldn't go on...
"Forgive me sir, for your boy is spent..." I gasped, energy draining from my body, I collapsed on top of his sweaty back, heaving breaths of air into my lungs. I could hear him praising me. Some time shortly after, Sir John was over me once more, jerking his cock until he blew his hot load on my chest, however I was still unable to climax and I ached for release! We spoke for a little, and I started to confess how I had a new fantasy of Sir John, David, and James all playing with me at once, me chained up and helpless like a good boy toy should be as all three of them had their way with my naked body, like a sacrifice to famished beasts. I blew my load soon after that.
An instant after my climax, my body was completely spent of energy. The metal collar became three times as heavy as it was a moment prior. I gathered the remaining shreds of willpower I had left to properly clean my cum from Sir John's chest before he moved from beneath me, and laid me down on the cage mat. Sir John then told me that he had plans for me, designs for me to spend 24, if not 48 hours in that cage. No way out for any reason. Oh how I smiled.
We made our way up to the couch upstairs and enjoyed our afterglow. Sir John then released me from his collar. I felt as if a shade of the world I lived in was peeled away like a sheet of clear plastic film I didn't notice was there before as the collar left my neck.
Sir John then drove me home, and we ended the evening with a kiss goodnight.
Thank you, Sir.
Please Play Safe Dear Reader.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
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.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
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.
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!)
Thursday, March 8, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
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.
Monday, February 27, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, February 20, 2012
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.
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.
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