Jack B Naughty

i confess i’ve been a naughty boy
time to make jack your toy
put your tattoo on my ass
keep it hard and beat it fast
then a certain nimble spice
will blend the chocolate with the vice
black and blue with hearts of red
put me in your flying sled
take me round the world with you
up some chimneys down some flues
in the glow of solstice lights
i’ll teach you how to scale some heights
keep the switches and the coal
mend the body rend the soul
now that santa’s had his pay
it’s time for jack to have his way

Sunday’s Worship

Folsom Street Fair

For a number of reasons, I wasn’t able to make the trek to Fog City for Folsom this year. I’ll think of it often and my Spirit will certainly be there. I might just need to make the travel arrangements early next year — like February. That should ensure I won’t be sitting in Falls City with my heart in San Francisco.

And the thing is, my boots really need the tender attentions of a dedicated — and hopefully uncollared — bootblack who will give them the love, attention, and matte finish they deserve. He can give the soles a good shine, make sure the 0-rings on the straps have that fine, nickle shine to them…Okay, before I start into a fantasy from which I won’t easily recover, I’ll change the subject — sort of.

The thing I’ve always found at leather events, is that you’re accepted for who you are — well inked bear who’s into much kink or pretty vanilla twink. That doesn’t mean that everyone there desires you — or you everyone else. It simply means accepted for who and what you are. “She’s a bisexual dominatrix, vegan, ex-nun from the Bronx, and he’s a gay muscle Dom — complete bottom sexually though.” It’s all good.

And as I often am wont to do, I wonder why the rest of the world can’t learn these lessons. “So what if they do,” should be everyone’s point of view.

The Aristotelian Perversion

Yep, that the Pony Pride Flag. I was talking with a RACK Dom pixel-pal in London about my overworked calf muscle and said that it’s proof that a Leather Bear isn’t cut out to be a pony boy. That led me to thinking that I’ve discussed pup play — even wanted my own pup for a bit — but have never discussed any of the other forms that animal role-play can take.

Pony play is not something that appeals to me. However, “So what if they do?”   That’s my point of view. I’ll also now give the props to Pansy Division for the phrasing. To be perfectly honest though, I have to admit that I found the sulky scene in Preaching to the Perverted most interesting. I can’t help but think I’d also be more than fascinated at an erotic pony dressage show or at the pony races.

I know there are some who would find this sort of sexual outlet degrading to some set or other. But in BDSM circles, that just isn’t the case. The participants are all more than willing players in the scene. Respect by all for all is generally a given, and all are welcome at the feast.

By-the-bye, the phrase Aristotelian Perversion comes from the legend that Aristotle was a fan of being ridden. That’s almost as cool a euphemism as raising dogs in the country. Anyway, you have to wonder what all went on at that school for boys in Pella. Oh for the reality of time-travel.

Bound

he calls
    his soft hard
       uncertainty 
     cures my Aching
 shackled by His design
     imprisoned by His touch
         my pleasure is pain
     on the Rocks

I learned the pleasures of hot candle-wax on bare skin as a fairly young child — thanks to the Catholic Church I might add. The pleasures of the flesh as presented by Touko Laaksonen, better known as Tom of Finland, came later. The brutal masculinity, the leather, and the blatant sexuality were enough make me a fan for life. They taught me not only of the joys of male homosexuality but also of bondage, leather, submission. Tom taught me that I could be masculine and gay. 

From there I learned more about being myself and not fitting into anyone’s preconceived model of who I am or should be.  Could I have learned these lessons had I been straight? Yes, but I’m not sure that I would have. Whatever might have been is not worth worrying about. What matters is who I became. Tom of Finland was one of the mentors I never met, but by taking to his tuition, I learned who I am.

Later we’ll talk about John Preston and his influences on me.

Bootblack Pride

On a blog I was reading I saw a quiz for “What Kind of Boots Are You” and decided to invest the time to find out that it thought I was combat boots. Now, there’s nothing wrong with them, but they aren’t me. I’m not western boots or jack boots — though I’ve owned and worn both. I love a good pair of hiking boots in the summer, but I’m a pair of engineer’s/harness boots. I love them. I wear them, and I put up a picture of mine (along with one of my whips) to demonstrate that the quiz was flawed. I noticed that my boots needed the attentions of a good boot black. They need to be buffed and polished and have some sole-black taken to them.

I realize that a professional shoe shine guy can take care of them quite well — and replace the heels while he’s at it, but a guy with a boot shining fetish would be a better deal. There are competitions for bootblacks, and as evidenced above there is a Bootblack Pride Flag. So while my fetish isn’t shining a Sir’s boots (being a Sir myself), I have no problems letting a guy given the a fine matt finish and dressing. Let’s hear it for the boys! 

My Boots.

Out of & Into Bondage

I was reading a friend’s blog and discovered that there is a Haggadah for Leather Folks. It’s available on the Unitarian Universalists for Jewish Awareness website. Follow this link for the PDF version. I want to make clear this this publication does not seek to make fun of the Pesach traditions but gives the instruction for those of the BDSM community a way to celebrate one of the great annual rituals. For more information on Unitarian Universalism, visit the UUA Website.

Uniform Tattoo

go put on your uniform
and i will put on mine
black and blue soon smelted
to beat unmetered rhyme
leather silk and chocolate
espresso cream and then
roll them all into a ball
to pruriently call it sin
strip you down to dress you up
spin you round again
fill your shoes with diamonds
put a pearl strand on your neck
kiss and love my Little Cub
til he dies the Little Death

Flee Regal Phantom

 

 fly, regal phantom
leaving me here
to pine until
that moment you come
once more
to my experimental cooking
Olympic style snoring
and hands on your back
fuggi, regal fantasima
leave me not while you go
and return without departing