LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP SKIN
LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP PRO
LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP PROFESSIONAL

They can be uncomfortable for people who don’t understand what they are or aren’t prepared for them. In these spaces, you waive a degree of consent by entering them, and consensually submit yourself to being touched by people you cannot see. The only circumstance where this rule gets challenged is in a lights-out space made for anonymous play - spaces which exist in some leather bars, gay sex clubs, gay bathhouses, and so on. You should never touch someone without their permission - this is a rule of life and is true 99.9% of the time. This is how kinks, particularly niche ones, are handed down. Wait your turn if there’s a crowd waiting too. If not, wait till after the demo - after the sub has been cleaned off/cared for, after the accoutrements have been put away - to go up to the demonstrator and ask him or her any lingering questions you have. Between their questions and yours, most questions will get answered. Other kinksters will be there, some with more experience than you, some with less. When you attend demos like this, don’t barrage the demonstrator with every question you have - you may have many. Needle play - a lesser-known kink - requires expert-level skill and certain precautions (gloves, sterilized needles, and so on) to be enjoyed with a degree of safety.

LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP SKIN

We were gathered around a man lying belly-down on a table with needles inserted through pinched layers of skin down his back.

LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP PRO

When the pro was ready to take our questions, everyone raised hands. I was filled with questions - so was everyone else.

LEATHERWETGAY RETROCLIP PROFESSIONAL

This was delivered by a professional on an experienced sub. The last one I attended was a needle play demo. Many leather bars have demos for various kinky sex acts. Most are open to all kinky people, and kinky people come in every shape, size, gender, and color. Different bars and clubs have different policies - some require gear, some require you to get through a selective doorman, some are male-only - but these are few. The lovely thing about my hometown leather bar - and about leather bars across the world, and about the communities they serve - is the invite for everyone of every size. You don’t need to fit a mold - there is none.

Countless guys like me - guys who work out but still eat donuts, who keep their beards trim and bellies natural - felt confident to lose shirts (and more). Skinny kinksters slinked through in latex. Large folks of every gender strutted jockstraps. Some, like me, wore almost nothing.Įvery body type was on display. Some were decked out in full-body leather (“full cow”). They spilled out the front and back entrances onto both porches, into the parking lot, down the sidewalk and around the block - men in various states of dress and undress. Most were gay men, but some femdoms (female dominants) were in attendance. Furry pecs were buckled down in black leather straps, asses were out, and every few minutes a man stood, coming up for air, before dropping back to his knees. Last Pride, the outdoor deck of my local leather bar was standing-room-only, a swaying mass of sweat and skin.

They were taken mostly at the Seattle Eagle, but some are from leather and kink events, like the yearly IML in Chicago. Most of the photos in this gallery are by Matt Baume, a long time Advocate contributor. Here’s 35 rules of navigating a gay leather bar. I never feared coming out - but kink scared me.įear coupled with desire leads us all here - eager, fresh-faced, and ready to learn. Learning leather bars was different from learning life outside the closet. Lessons came later: dos and don’ts, codes and courtesies, good nights and bad ones.

He pulls my hand and I follow him through the throng. Then he pulled my hand under his kilt: a fully erect dick with a massive Prince Albert piercing jutting through the head. He held me, we swayed with the music as he rubbed my chest. He put his arm around me and shouted in my ear, “Where are you from?” On the dance floor, I inched close to a guy with salt-and-pepper hair who was wearing a leather kilt. A circle of men stood around him and I didn’t dare peek through. His gagging noises mixed with the music and talk. Someone was choking on a dick in the corner. Upstairs, things were different - a quiet dive bar, people milling around wooden tables. I couldn’t tell if they were dancing or fucking.

In the room downstairs, a strobe flashed over mounds of muscle and harnesses.

2022.11