Folsom Weekend: September 24 - 26

What a whirlwind of a weekend!

If one were to paint a portrait of a Sir and boy partnership, it would be of Rod and Roger, two members of the ILSb/ICBB board and my hosts. Handsome, gracious, and well spoken, these two men took care of me the entire weekend. Rod has a dry wit that kept me entertained during the flurry of activities. After seeing me negotiate with difficulty a particularly sticky chair during dinner on Friday, Rod decided he could help by offering me a small scarf used by his cat for car trips. Thanking him, he replied that I was welcome to use his "pussy pad" any time.

Later on Friday, I attended two parties on Folsom Street. The first, at Chaps II, and the second, the titleholders' party at the Powerhouse. It was my pleasure to meet current and past titleholders, some in fairly intimate ways. (I don't kiss and tell!).

Saturday, more parties, this time at Joe the Barber's and The San Francisco Eagle. The Eagle was a uniform party hosted by BLUF, of which I am a member. I feel I look my best in a pair of Leather breeches and uniform. And, of course, my Wesco Boss Boots! The Eagle's patio was packed with Leather-clad men, bringing back memories of Folsoms many years ago. Good memories!

On Sunday morning, I headed to Donna Sachet's for her 12th annual titleholder's brunch. Donna provides a generous buffet within her home at the top of the Castro. To paraphrase her, she hosts this event every year so titleholders can enjoy a homey atmosphere outside of the usual bars and clubs, I appreciated the opportunity to actually speak to fellow titleholders without the din of musical mixes and the tide of the crowd. Thank you, Donna Sachet!

Later, the titleholders' official appearance at Folsom on the 12th Street stage. Following a cacophany backstage, we were presented one at a time in front of a cheering crowd. This is perhaps my favorite event at Folsom because it facilitates for a few fleeting moments a feeling of solidarity between the various titles, from the International to the bar titles.

It is impossible to describe the feeling of euphoria that I experienced after doing a scene with David Shorey in the bootblack's area. David has the build of a rugby player and the looks of a British tough, countered by the clearest and bluest eyes I have ever seen. As I sat in his chair and growled out orders, I watched as his face took on a fierceness that reminded me of days in Glasgow during my adolescence. With determination, we pushed and shoved our way for about half an hour, sweating and swearing. Definitely one of the highlights of my Folsom this year.

Perhaps dysphoria is a more appropriate term to describe my state following a bootscene. As I was led to the corner of Folsom and Dore by Rod and Roger, they pointed out that my bootstraps were unfastened. David, also in a mood altered state following the scene, had forgotten to buckle my Wescos. Laughing, we announced to anyone who could hear that there would be a round two. I can hardly wait!

Returning to Folsom and Dore, I noticed Mama Sandy motioning me toward her. "You are 'Mama's Mask Daddy,'" she said, wrapping her arms around me.

I am proud to be part of Mama's Family, a nexus for the Leather community. To be welcomed into Mama's Family is not only an honor but also a charge to continue to be involved in building our community, a charge I do not take lightly. Thank you, Mama, for the opportunity to be your new "Baby." (Only Mama can call me that!)

I finished off my Folsom at the Stompers' party. Stompers is the boot fetishist's mecca. As if to emphasize the scene earlier in the day, I enjoyed some final words with my bootscene bottom. "I hope the bruises aren't too bad," I said to David, realizing that we both hoped the opposite. "How are you doing?"

Bruises are the proud badges of a scene worn with pride. And David smiled broadly as He informed me that he was quite sore but just fine. He will wear the bruises for the next few days, a reminder of our scene at the Folsom Street Fair. And I will savor the memory of him braving the double blows of my Wescos on his sturdy pecs.

I love Folsom!

Coming Out at Folsom

As a Leatherboy, I saw Folsom as a pig's paradise. A few of the bars that dotted the street were scenes of impromptu, after hours dungeon parties. Other darkened bars offered even darker areas where one could enjoy endless pleasures between beers. Going to Folsom was a return to my Tribe.

Folsom was also the weekend when I first came out as a Leatherman to my best friend, a straight man with a wife and two children. He was attending Berkeley working on his doctorate. "Meet me at Hamburger Mary's," I told him over the phone. "I'm dying to see you!"

"I don't go anywhere near that area, especially on weekends. Do you know what kind of men hang out on Folsom Street?" he asked. "Especially THIS weekend?"

"Yes I do," I answered. "I am one of those men. I am a Leatherman. Those men are my people." I remember how foreign the words seemed. The first time that I had actually said those words to someone outside of the Tribe. And how proud I felt at the same time.

Many years later, I would come out a second time at Folsom, admitting publicly a boot fetish that I had long harbored in private. Boots were so charged for me as fetish that I could not sit in a bootblack's chair without getting rock hard. To feel a bootblack's hands rub my feet through the leather of my boots was like feeling someone stroke the shaft of my cock. While some play partners knew about my fetish, I was reluctant to sit with my legs spread wide in public, demonstrating my lack of will power when someone worked on my boots. Like that deep urge to cum after edging for hours, I could not sit still in a bootblack's chair.

I finally conceded to sit for David Shorey, bootblack extraordinaire. David has that wonderful combination of sexual energy, physical presence, intelligence, and good manners that I find attractive in a Leatherman. As I sat for him in my tailored leather slacks and Corcorans, I felt him caress my arches with his hands, working in the polish. I watched as he knelt and spit shined the toes of my boots and then continued licking them with his eager tongue. I felt light-headed, as if I was reacting to a constriction of oxygen. I sat there and thought about how many layers of cum had just been covered by polish and spit. I was fucking turned on and knew that I was lost, with cameras clicking around me and tourists gaping. I didn't give a shit who gawked and stared. I was a Bootman and my boots connected me to another man. Fetish, the bond between us.

Tomorrow I leave for Folsom once again. So much has changed over the years. While the romanticized Folsom remains forever in my heart, I still feel excited each time I return to San Francisco the last weekend in September. I especially feel excited because I sit in David's chair once again. I hope he's ready!

Happy Folsom!

In Praise of Older Boys and Men

When I came out in the mid 80's I quickly discovered the beauty of experienced Men. The first man that I had sex with was twenty years my senior. I recall how He initiated me into kinky sex, introducing me to the art of nipple play and tit torture. Instructing me to take deep breaths he worked my tits first with His hands, then His mouth, finishing off the hour long session with hard biting and intense pulling.

Months later I dated another older Man. He took me under his wing, wetting my appetite for Leathersex. And He introduced me to Billy Jefferson, the first Seattle Mr. Leather. These Men became a composite HOT MAN that would remain part of my fantasy life until I came out as a Leatherman. More important, these Men instructed me in the ways of safer sexual practices at a time when people in the mainstream Gay community refused to acnowledge HIV, much like the nation's president at that time.

One of the strengths of the Leather Tribe at that time was the celebration of all men regardless of age, body shape, or ethnicity. I was drawn to this community because I loved men, ALL types of men. I also noticed that submissive men were respected and valued for their experience. I considered this one of the distinguishing features of the Tribe.

Today I am no longer a boy. I am a LeatherSir. And I still value the experience of older men. I love older boys. I love the emotional depth they demonstrate during play. I love the fact they celebrate each moment of submission. I love the fact that they understand it is their nature to be boys.

Some are submissive. Others want the protection of a LeatherDad. And others, of a Master. They are men who understand who they are and make no excuses for it. Their confidence is different from the exuberance of younger boys. A seasoned response to Leather.

There is no greater expression of manhood than being a boy over forty.

The Art of the Mask

Almost ten years ago I had the luxury of returning to school. "Study what you love," my partner advised me. So I did-

I spent the following three and a half years understanding the mask through which I view the world. I examined the operations of the mask itself, studied the history of masking and Italian street theatre, and, finally, began studying the very particular art of leather mask construction. A very old art that still cannot be duplicated by mechanical methods.


The construction of a leather mask forces the artist to become intimate with the subject. It can be an arduous process, one that cannot truly be valued without learning the actual process itself. It is so personal, in fact, that I have been reticent to share the techniques and the theory. Until this year.

In presenting this workshop, I will be sharing not only design and construction techniques, I will also demonstrate how an understanding can be adapted to impromptu masks, a method that can incorporate long-term bondage. As a very personal fetish (as most true fetishes are), I look forward to sharing masking with my friends and family in Seattle.

Cost for the workshop is $40. Space is limited. All proceeds to benefit the ILSb Travel Fund.

For more information, contact me at ils2010@leathersir.com.

Predator Sirs

boys! Caution!

Never submit to a man who offers you Meth or X upon meeting up as the first point of negotiation. To play while blunting the brain with these drugs negates the potential power exchange between Sir and boy and castrates what W/we do in the dungeon. More important, it puts the boy in potential physical and emotional peril.

Men who use these chemicals as candy to lure boys are predators in O/our Community and should be avoided.

Outside of the Lines: Seattle, WA

When I was a child, I loved art but despised coloring. I did not enjoy having my colors both dictated and contained by the context of the printed page. More than neatly covering the page with fields of red, yellow, and blue, I liked the simple act of coloring, the tactile sensation of the crayon against the slightly rough surface of the paper itself.

As Leatherfolk, we exalt the tactile at the expense of conformity to the neat lines of society's definitions. We enjoy coloring outside of these lines in our play. And many of us extend this to our relationships, forming tribes of seemingly disparate individuals.

The Northwest LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack Contest on September 3 - 5 had a field of six contestants, each unique not only in terms of experience, but also in terms of social identification. As I judged the contest, I watched as these men melded together into a cohesive unit. Rather than competing against each other, I saw each man join with the other to form a temporary community.

I, too, joined in the spirit doing an encore presentation of the fantasy that I did in San Francisco in July. Instead of a man in the submissive role, I decided to use a woman, Ms. Oregon State Leather Michelle Bishop. Seen through the sensibilities of the feminist lens, the fantasy was all wrong, red riding hood feeling the bite of the Wolf's single tail and then, force-fucked up the ass by His huge phallus. But experienced in the context of community, it was very right.

As a judge, I especially enjoyed the fantasies of the contestants. Each SIR and boy had H/his own take on the Blue Collar theme. Darian included his penchant for motorcycles. Stan's fantasy set a burly foreman against himself and his handsome, real life boy, ending in a passionate kiss. And Enrique staged an all out brawl between a gang of workers.

Like the Sirs, the boys' fantasies couldn't have been more different. element became a Mary Tyler Moore obsessed shop clerk intent on bringing his Daddy home a handsome gift. And the ever dapper kent in suit and tie manipulated his blue collar workers into satisfying his endless appetite for men.

While all the fantasies were quite different, they all incorporated an element of play. Play brought the contestants together after the contest, too. A dungeon party that continued until 3 am!

Leather contests and play spaces share the ability to bring Leatherfolk together. By coming together, we negate the lines that have been drawn by society to divide us. While some contestants think that the point of a contest is to beat out their opponents, these men left the beating until after the contest. And that's the way it should be!

Congratulations Sir Darian, boy element, and Bootblack Dylan.

Some of the people that feed My soul: The Dragon Clan

A portrait of some of the Dragon Clan and Our whelps. My little family is on the left, pj and boygabe. Photo by Malixe.