To Mollena -
Thank you for your frank words during your step down speech. I respect your strength in using this potentially crippling scene as a catalyst for helping others. And I appreciate your generosity of spirit in thanking those who helped you overcome this obstacle in your Leather journey.
During the intermission before you delivered your speech, I spoke with one of the ImsL judges about a similar occurrence in my own life that happened more than twenty years ago. “You were an innocent boy and didn't know what to do. We knew we had to help,” explained Sharrin Spector. Sharrin, together with my friend Karen Taylor, knew about my abusive home situation. The week before they stepped in a number of my belongings had been destroyed. On one occasion, the man that I trusted had hurled a pair of hair clippers at me, missing my head by inches and making a large gash in the right speaker of my expensive stereo.
Most men in the Seattle Community turned a blind eye to the situation, choosing not become involved. “Just deal with it,” advised a prominent titleholder. “If we all broke up when stuff like this happened, there wouldn't be many male relationships.” he added.
I recall that feeling of loneliness and isolation. Why had I decided to join such a fucked up Community? Perhaps I should have continued playing out my perverted fantasies in the closet as I had for the previous five years.
Sharrin and Karen met with me on a Saturday evening and suggested that I spend the night in a safe place. “You can stay with me,” invited Karen. “You will be safe. No one but us will know you are here.”
I accepted her invitation to spend the night and left a message at the machine at home that I was safe and would return the following day. I knew that the message would not be retrieved until the wee hours of the morning when he returned, horny and half drunk. What I did not anticipate was the fury that would follow.
The next Monday, Al “D” Sowers approached me. Al had always been a more experienced friend. He was also outspoken in the men's Community and refused to conform to the crowd. “If you ever need a safe place again, call me,” Al admonished as he handed me his phone number on a card. Little did he know that I would be chased down the street the following day at 3 AM and would be calling him.
“you faggot! I am going to fucking kill you!” I will never forget those words as I ran down street after street in the November cold. I had escaped the house with only the clothes on my back and a few dollars in my wallet.
Days later, Sharrin met me at my house to help me move. “I remember seeing you on the porch with twelve small boxes containing everything you owned in the world,”she said.
I had forgotten that day, that emptiness. I had given total control to another, and he had broken that trust. I felt violated.
In the subsequent months, this man would continue to threaten and harass me. “you are MINE,” he screamed into the phone one day. “And if I can't have you, No One will!” Finally, in desperation, I obtained a restraining order in the courts. Not what I anticipated as a Leatherboy.
Yes, Mollena, I also know what it feels like to be abused by someone you once trusted in our community. And I know how important it is to heal and to begin to trust again in others. Most important, it is vital that we eradicate such behavior from our Community while offering support to others.
Thank you, Mollena for your honesty and your leadership during the past year.
In Leather Brotherhood,
Sir Hugh B Russell
International LeatherSIR 2010
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
Two boys gone WILD! Providence, RI
What happens when two Leatherboys connive to produce the first annual Northeast Leather Weekend? A great fucking contest and a helluva good time!
Jim and Arne aimed high, promising more than a Leather contest. Instead, they planned the first annual Northeast Leather Weekend. “A historic event,” said Jim in his strong, optimistic tone upon my arrival. “You are going to have a great time.” And he was right.
These boys thought of everything down to the smallest detail. I would like to offer a list of those things that made this weekend a success, from my vantage point:
Although the Northeast LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack contest was the locus of all activities, the overall spirit of the weekend was on building a strong Northeast Leather Community. And the events encouraged not only social interaction but play. In short, the weekend reflected the mission of the International LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack organization.
In the producers' meeting in July I listened with disbelief as Jim and Arne boldly announced that they would be doing a full weekend. As a Boston native, I knew that the Northeast has always posed challenges to contests, especially those that are player and fantasy-based. When I congratulated the producers on a great weekend at the Sunday brunch, they graciously shared the accolades with Hooker and with other ILSb/ICBB producers. Jim explained how Hooker had given them tips over the previous months. They also had gone the extra mile to attend other successful contests including the Southwest Region's event, a favorite with many of the International Titleholders over the years. (Bravo again to Phoenix!)
This year I have attended many great contests. What made this weekend stand out was the professional way that two Leatherboys made this event happen. They dreamed high and worked hard. Thank you, Jim and Arne!
Jim and Arne aimed high, promising more than a Leather contest. Instead, they planned the first annual Northeast Leather Weekend. “A historic event,” said Jim in his strong, optimistic tone upon my arrival. “You are going to have a great time.” And he was right.
These boys thought of everything down to the smallest detail. I would like to offer a list of those things that made this weekend a success, from my vantage point:
Although the Northeast LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack contest was the locus of all activities, the overall spirit of the weekend was on building a strong Northeast Leather Community. And the events encouraged not only social interaction but play. In short, the weekend reflected the mission of the International LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack organization.
- The weekend had a primary location, the Providence's historic Biltimore Hotel. The hotel was easy walking distance to all venues. The hotel staff was respectful and friendly. When I arrived at the hotel, one of the producers went out of his way to introduce me to a supervisory member of the staff. “We are honored to serve you,” he said.
- Great food! The formal dinner on Saturday night was truly a formal Leather event in the hotel's ballroom with a well-prepared and plentiful dinner served buffet style. And the victory brunch took place on the hotel's eighteenth floor. Both the dinner and the brunch venues were the perfect size for both events.
- Good communication. As an International titleholder my schedule has constantly morphed this winter and spring. I appreciated the e-mails from the producers containing updates and details as the event drew closer. I cannot emphasize how important this was to me.
- Great accommodations that included travel to and from the airport. Once again, communication was key. The producers told me months in advance about my lodging. After almost nine months, with most of those weekends on the road, knowing this in advance gives the Titleholder a sense of security.
- A complete registration packet that included a T-shirt with a hot logo and a detailed map showing the location of all venues.
- Although I was a guest, I could not help but appreciate the affordable price of the weekend package. A great value that included the formal dinner and the brunch.
- An appropriate location for the contest with good sound facilities, an appropriate stage, good sight lines, and a hot bar staff. Fantasies could be seen by all in attendance without difficulty. And the speeches were all audible, with the sound system appropriately designed to overcome the din of the audience.
- A good MC who kept the contest moving. This was a tough to do, especially because the contest was the first event held in the club. William, the MC, did not shy away from the task. Banter was humorous without being too personal or bitchy.
- Sir Marco Rosato. What more can be said of this professional who shares his talent with the Leather Community? His participation always raises the bar of any event. Thank you, Marco. Your voice always communicates to my soul.
- Contest judges who not only were players, but also understood the overall tradition of LeatherSIR/Leatherboy/Community Bootblack. It was a joy to sit with my peers and interview the contestants. Questions would build on those previously asked. In addition, the interviews were timed well.
- The producers worked behind the scenes, allowing the focus to be on the outgoing and incoming Titleholders.
- Finally, the total lack of local politics. I despise going to a region where local politics are rampant. I appreciate when producers keep them far away from their out-of-town guests. Not an easy task, at times. I acknowledge not only the Northeast producers but many others who have enabled me to side-step local intrigues. I hate politics in our Community, including the politics in my own region. No part of my Leather!
In the producers' meeting in July I listened with disbelief as Jim and Arne boldly announced that they would be doing a full weekend. As a Boston native, I knew that the Northeast has always posed challenges to contests, especially those that are player and fantasy-based. When I congratulated the producers on a great weekend at the Sunday brunch, they graciously shared the accolades with Hooker and with other ILSb/ICBB producers. Jim explained how Hooker had given them tips over the previous months. They also had gone the extra mile to attend other successful contests including the Southwest Region's event, a favorite with many of the International Titleholders over the years. (Bravo again to Phoenix!)
This year I have attended many great contests. What made this weekend stand out was the professional way that two Leatherboys made this event happen. They dreamed high and worked hard. Thank you, Jim and Arne!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Cumshining My Boots
Nothing pleases me more than to feel a boy grinding his hard cock against the instep of one of my Wescos. I love the sight of his muscled ass pushing against the oil tanned leather, his buttocks tightening with each thrust. My boot rapture culminates with my command to shoot his load. And he invariably complies, humping the shank of my boot while he holds on with both hands.
My Wesco Boss boots are a register of more than a decade of such encounters. Layers of cum worked into their buff surface by eager boys. I am a Bootman. Boots are the foundation of my Leather and my play as a Sir. They are my Fetish.
I was given my first pair of boots decades ago, a pair of Vietnam combat boots with canvas sides and high shine toes and heels. I wore them daily, even at work. Almost one year after receiving them, I was asked to choreograph a new ballet as the recipient of an artistic fellowship. The heft of the boots gave the steps a heaviness that was appropriate to the folk-inspired music by Bela Bartok. I felt compelled to wear them while working out the rhythms with my feet, my creative vision translated into a weighted, stomping dance.
These boots lasted me for almost a decade. They became a register of my first years in the Leather Community. They became the archetype of fetish, objects of rapture and devotion.
Boots are the nexus of masculinity. Their heavy sound against the floor, their accentuated size often large enough to add inches to the height of the wearer, their identification with blue collar and working class professions, their association with the rebel and the outlaw, their vital role in the uniform of authority figures, the sheer heft of them experienced by the wearer, their essential construction of Leather. They are the ultimate phallus.
Late on a Saturday afternon a number of years later, I picked up my first Wescos in San Francisco. After a late night at the Loading Dock, I returned to my hotel room, a hot man close by my side. “Strip naked,” I growled quietly. Then, standing back, I watched as he removed his tight t-shirt, chaps, and jeans. A man whose firmly muscled physique honored the Leather he wore.
Without a word he squatted at my feet and placed the toe of my right Boss firmly against his asshole. Then he stroked until he shot on the arch of my boot.
“Shine 'em up,” I commanded instinctively. And I watched as he spread his cum with his tongue over the buff, Leather surface, spreading the translucent ooze until it disappeared.
I am a Bootman. My Boots are the foundation of my Leather.
I am proud to present Bootweekend from May 6 – 8, in Portland, Oregon, together with Northwest Community Bootblack 2011, Dylan. A weekend for Boot fetishists. For more information regarding this celebration of Boots, Bootsex, and Bootplay, see the event website..
My Wesco Boss boots are a register of more than a decade of such encounters. Layers of cum worked into their buff surface by eager boys. I am a Bootman. Boots are the foundation of my Leather and my play as a Sir. They are my Fetish.
I was given my first pair of boots decades ago, a pair of Vietnam combat boots with canvas sides and high shine toes and heels. I wore them daily, even at work. Almost one year after receiving them, I was asked to choreograph a new ballet as the recipient of an artistic fellowship. The heft of the boots gave the steps a heaviness that was appropriate to the folk-inspired music by Bela Bartok. I felt compelled to wear them while working out the rhythms with my feet, my creative vision translated into a weighted, stomping dance.
These boots lasted me for almost a decade. They became a register of my first years in the Leather Community. They became the archetype of fetish, objects of rapture and devotion.
Boots are the nexus of masculinity. Their heavy sound against the floor, their accentuated size often large enough to add inches to the height of the wearer, their identification with blue collar and working class professions, their association with the rebel and the outlaw, their vital role in the uniform of authority figures, the sheer heft of them experienced by the wearer, their essential construction of Leather. They are the ultimate phallus.
Late on a Saturday afternon a number of years later, I picked up my first Wescos in San Francisco. After a late night at the Loading Dock, I returned to my hotel room, a hot man close by my side. “Strip naked,” I growled quietly. Then, standing back, I watched as he removed his tight t-shirt, chaps, and jeans. A man whose firmly muscled physique honored the Leather he wore.
Without a word he squatted at my feet and placed the toe of my right Boss firmly against his asshole. Then he stroked until he shot on the arch of my boot.
“Shine 'em up,” I commanded instinctively. And I watched as he spread his cum with his tongue over the buff, Leather surface, spreading the translucent ooze until it disappeared.
I am a Bootman. My Boots are the foundation of my Leather.
I am proud to present Bootweekend from May 6 – 8, in Portland, Oregon, together with Northwest Community Bootblack 2011, Dylan. A weekend for Boot fetishists. For more information regarding this celebration of Boots, Bootsex, and Bootplay, see the event website..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
