Folsom Street Fair 2011: Chord (Part I)

     Folsom is more than a street this weekend.  What typically is driven on, somehow drives everything in a ten-mile radius and beyond.  Inspiring.  Intoxicating.  Influencing.  The Spirit of Folsom fills me with an infectious excitement.  We’re all excited.
     In a crowded bar.  In a buzzing social scene.  Cigarettes.  Booze.  Dancing.  This is how we wanted to meet him.  If he turned out to be annoying...  If he turned out to be boring…  If he turned out to be crazy, like the guy from last year’s Folsom Street Fair, we had a way out.  My girlfriend and I wanted to make sure there was chemistry before going any further.

I think we fell in love immediately
Already intrigued by his intense need to serve
We didn’t expect him to be so handsome

     In a crowded bar.  Random introductions.  Cell phones.  Clicking.  Coronas with lime.  I can’t remember who’s idea it was to remove her shoes.  Immediately dropping to his knees, publicly taking her toes into his mouth.  His tongue wiggling between each of her toes soon met mine as we both serviced her right foot.  French kissing each other as we sucked and kissed her feet, commentary floated around us, “Ugh! That’s just nasty!”  Like magnetism.  Like gravity.  I was pulled into this moment of worship.  “OMG! Hold on, Jim; I’ll call you back.”  Name calling.  Cameras.  Cheers.

I loved every moment.

     It was safe to say we had chemistry.  Kissing my girlfriend.  Kissing him.  Watching him and my girlfriend kiss.  To taste the salt from her toes on his tongue.  It turned me on to share each other.  I’ve never had an experience so all-inclusive.  Everyone was into everyone equally.  In that moment, no one was straight or gay.  Single or coupled.  Equally helpless to each other’s charm, we were simply lovers.

To be continued...

Folsom Street Fair 2011: A Random Introduction

     Its one a.m. and its already "tomorrow".  I am dreading the thought of returning to the office.  The thought makes me cry.  The thought makes me turn this bottle of Fernet Branca upside down against my face.  The thought makes me reach out to random strangers, "Am I crazy?"  Yes.  I am not ready for "tomorrow".

I don't want this moment to end...

Although, its already over...

The leather's been packed away...

The freaks have scattered to maintain their respective lives

     We celebrated our day in the Sun.  We exhaled audibly outside of the shadows for a change... Outside of the basements...  Outside of the exclusive underground that binds us.  I am nagged by my depression, "Why are you celebrating the 1/365th of a year you can share the same Sun?"  I don't know.  The unfurling feels euphoric... liberating... But, the sub sequential re-integration is becoming unbearable.

Damn, I'm out of liquor.

     It's 1:34 a.m. and I am stepping deeper into "tomorrow".  Although, I have a beautiful woman sleeping next to me, I feel so lonely.  Not from the lack of quality company, but from the reality that we are mentioned during Sunday sermons.  Kinky.  Polyamorous.  Sadomasochistic.  Queer.  We are the people mentioned to get a rise out of the congregation.  I feel lonely because a false accusation becomes true because of my rare proclivities.

I am instantly wicked because I am twisted.

 

     This is what happens.  Every time fantasies materialize, every time I receive a massive offering of love and service.  The reality makes me sick to my stomach.  The reality persuades me to escape from "tomorrow".  Indefinitely.  What if my dissonance indicated that this isn't my "reality"?  Instead of cramming myself back into that ergonomically-correct desk, I should be screaming, "Fuck you, vanilla world!"

I damn and praise this awareness that I need a job!

     This weekend was beautiful; I will be spending this week writing about all that happened.  The problem with beauty, however, is that everything pales in comparison.  Its hard to get dressed in a suit and tie, when you've publicly frolicked in the nude.  Its difficult to step foot into the office fresh from a game-changing threesome.  It's challenging to have a taste of freedom and go back to the same stale coffee.  Just to stay alive.

Hopefully, my brain chemistry balances.

Hopefully, reality proves to be a great companion to fantasies.

Hopefully, I have an easy day at work "tomorrow".

Images by Michael Macku

Quantum Touch: Brush II

He wants it so gentle...so soft...
I have to give it a little hard.

He wants it so smooth...so slick...
I take this opportunity to scrape and prick.

     I don't think I'm a sadist.  But, I do like the way his body alternates between relaxation and tension.  Bathing him in extravagance with sudden splashes of course boar bristles, he's so confused.  Although I'm barely touching him, he can feel that this brush is much more coarse...less flexible...cold.  He wants roses, but they also come with thorns.
     Switching brushes, one moment he's climbing the walls, the next, he's melting into my bed.  He likes it all.  Brushing the inside of his thighs with the tough brush, he got a much needed opportunity to make some noise.  Even church mice have a need to scream.  The softest men can appreciate a little edge.
     Turning him over, he points his tail upward.  Dangling.  The golden hairs on his balls are begging to be brushed.  At the slightest touch of the boar bristles, his hips jolts into the air.  He can't catch his breath.  A second swipe makes him shake uncontrollably.  After his sensual fit, he returns to his former position.  I like the way he readies himself for whatever I want to do next.

That's love.

     Dropping the brushes, my fingertips on his skin makes him melt.  Human contact.  Rubbing my palms all over him quenching his thirst for affection.  Pressing my naked body against his naked body.  Kissing him deeply.  Wrapping my arms around him.  Pinning my erection between his cheeks.  Human contact: there's nothing like it.

Photographer: Forbidden Light/Model: Angelito

Quantum Touch: Brush

     Mein liebling likes the brush.  He wants it head to toe... ear to ear... cheek to cheek.  He wants me to take my time and stroke every inch of his skin.  Hunching his back as I slide up his calf, I continue towards his ass.  Feeling his voice vibrate through the mattress, I spend extra time caressing his naked backside.  Sliding across his ribs, he moans aloud as I briefly pass his nipples.  I make a mental note to return.

He's so sensitive

     Feeling every fiber, his body squirms so beautifully.  The slightest change in pressure changes the key of his whimper.  His responses varies greatly depending on which zone I was influencing.  His body was an instrument.

     His highest notes:

The tender flesh where his thighs meet with his seat.

His deepest notes:

His testicles

     Concentrating on his right knee, I loved looking up to find his erection rock-hard.  I love his inability to contain himself.  What would make most people giggle and fling their limbs, he relishes.  Interesting.  What reminds most people of crawling insects, reminds him that our nervous system is genius.  Avoiding direct stimulus to his cock, I revisited the truth that our entire bodies are sexual organs... that men can climax without casting pearls... that a little attention can go along way.

Mein liebling likes the brush.

Photographer: Forbidden Light/ Model: Angelito

Zoo

"He's known me all those years...and, suddenly, I'm no-good just because I love the horses?"

     First, I'd like to acknowledge that "Zoo" is a beautifully made film.  The creative direction of this 'docu-film' came across as very artistic and emotive.  Even the script, while conveniently cryptic, was both poetic and confessional.  The beauty of "Zoo" is what left me feeling fucked up at the end of the movie.
     Watching this film, I felt a great deal of dissonance.  While I can not relate to zoophiles, I can relate to the characters' discoveries... The discovery that there's a name for your darkest secret... The discovery that there's a handful of people into the same thing... The discovery that wild ideas manifest into your real life... The discovery that fantasies coming true can be quite destructive.  While I could relate, to some degree, their fetish activated my gag reflex.
     I don't want to get too much into what the movie is about, and I have a feeling the director didn't either.  The hinting.  The code.  The minimalism.  I've done that before, in an attempt to manipulate an audience's perception.  In retrospect, I see that I was steered into seeing their humanity, first.

Overall, I found the movie unsettling.

But, that's why I liked it.

Has anyone else seen "Zoo"?

Any thoughts?

Quantum Touch: Wortenburg Wheel

     Sharp, prickly points traveling across my skin. Certain parts of me can endure while others....not so much.  I, honestly, can not explain the feelings that run through my body and mind.  The simultaneous hatred and appreciation.  The paradox of pleasure and torture.  Throwing tantrums while throwing my legs further apart.  How can I want something that's so annoying...so badly?

I fucking hate this shit....but that doesn't mean I want you to stop.
I try to escape, wiggle out of your hold...while staying still.
Fuck!  Shit!  Motherfucker, that hurts!
Moaning...  Whimpering...  Exhaling, I surrender my body further under your control...

     Giving myself to the one I love, I want to flail my arms and punch.  Why so much pressure?  Why so fast?  Opening myself wider, I realize that I'm in a relationship with a sadistic asshole.  And, that's sexy.  Somehow.  I wish I could explain why I'd spend $9.99 for this Wortenburg Wheel while muttering curse words.  Why do I store a nuisance so neatly in my toy chest?

This is the epitome of a love/hate relationship!

Photos by Angelito/Model: Forbidden Light

Schlampe (Slut)

     We have a game we like to play.
     Sometimes, we play it because I've had a hard day at work.
     Other times, we play 'Schlampe' because she's been very bad.
     In either case, fun is had by all.

     Men like me have certain...idiosyncrasies.  Random bullshit regular women wouldn't put up with.  I like my DVDs in alphabetical order... I like to wake up to an egg white omelet and Jazz... Oh yeah, and I can't cum without a tongue jammed into my asshole.  I've tried speed dating.  I've tried eHarmony.  But, alas, no luck finding "the one".
     Sometimes, I order her from Amazon.com.  Other times, I've found her ad on Craig's List.  In either case, she always comes with stellar reviews.  She's a five-star schlampe from Eastern Europe and she's all mine.  A list of things I've always wanted to do grows lengthy in my head.
     I can't understand what she's saying, but her accent is so cute.  All I can recognize is, "Please, no refund."  She struggles to keep eye contact with me as she hands me a leash connected to her collar.  Forcing her to her knees, the lengthy list gives me a headache.  I want her to make me a drink as I hold her to the ground.  I want her to call me 'Daddy' in her native tongue as I pump my hips into her face.  I want her to do everything these American bitches don't want to!
     That cute outfit quickly becomes clutter on my living room floor.  Her ankles fit so beautiful into my palms.  She looks as me with this odd facial expression as I squeeze into her; as if she was saying with eyes, "How could you do this to me?"  I like that look.
     Hours go by...  Fucked.  Beaten.  Gagged.  She's been dragged throughout my house.  Maybe, I'm not so idiosyncratic.  Pushing me onto my back, she spreads my legs and sticks her tongue in my ass, as if she's done this a thousand times before.  Her voice mumbles inside of me, "American asshole." Question marks fill my head as she comes up for air, "You American assholes are all alike."  I didn't know whether she being a poet or a bitch...  In either case, I was cumming!
   
     We have a game we like to play
     Today, she was the 'schlampe'
     Tomorrow, I may be the one who's been very bad
     In either case, I hope she wears that outfit again.

Photography by Forbidden Light/ Model: Boistrous