Exposing fetish (The Intimacy of Leather Uniform)

The first time I put on a pair of Leather trousers, I felt my cock immediately become engorged. The feel of the Leather against my legs, my ass, and my genitals elicited an automatic sexual response that I could not control. I knew immediately that Leather was not simply a fashion choice, but something far more powerful. Against my skin, Leather amplified my sexual desire. No longer an object separate from myself, I bestowed the Leather with life; the Leather became a catalyst for physical transformation. Crotch bulge, ass cheeks, thighs, even the muscular curve of my calves, each in turn was transformed into a nexus of pleasure, to be caressed and worshiped either by a lover or by myself.

In tandem with the purchase of my Leather trousers, I purchased a pair of heavy, black Leather Boots. And shortly after that, a fitted shirt, tailored to show off my chest and trim waist. My Leather Uniform grew until, fully realized, I had become the very man that I had feared years before. With Leather necktie tight as a noose around my neck, and Sam Browne over the right shoulder, visually linking my bulging crotch to my rounded ass, I felt complete.

Fetish is the amplification of sexual desire, catalyzed by a particular object. For me, that object is the aggregate Leather Uniform. Although I feel that I look my best dressed in Breeches and Uniform, I do not wear it to look pretty. Rather, I wear Leather Uniform to conjure my darkest feelings. The interaction between flesh and hide literally transforms me, bringing the inside, outside. Covered in Leather from head to toe, I feel exhilarated, exposed, sexually honest.

In a spiritual sense, fetish is an object that is used in worship for its apparent supernatural power. Usually, the fetish object contains foreign matter such as bone or bodily fluid that imbues it with this power. In a similar fashion, my Leather has been sanctified through perspiration, piss, semen, blood, and tears. My heavy boots and my Leather trousers have been baptized by the cum of numerous boys; my shirt has absorbed the sweat of many evenings of heavy play and the blood of my own submission many years before. My Leather Gear shares the very fluids that bestow life.

In Gear, my sexual play extends far beyond the acts of flogging, fucking, and fellatio. My Fetish Gear becomes a creative medium that animates both me and my sexual companion. Sex becomes an unpredictable, shared journey. The discovery of the extent of my dominance is not dissimilar to that moment when Stevenson's Doctor initially encounters Edward Hyde. The dark side has emerged into the light. Finally, when sexual play has come to its organic conclusion, my companion and I are usually left prostrate, unable to move, much like Saint Paul, ecstatic and exhausted. More than the culmination of a hedonistic encounter, our shared Fetish has transformed us and, in the process, has reinforced our shared bond.

I am not shy in exposing the personal nature of my Fetish. My Leather is not theoretical. It is not an academic subject to be studied and inanimately discussed. To understand Fetish I must include myself in the discussion. To talk about Leather without such intimacy is tantamount to removing its ability to transform, a power that draws upon the interaction between the wearer and the worn. I wear my Fetish, and to speak of it theoretically is to repress its true nature in my life, a denial thrice spoken before the cock crows.