FACT 18: RESTRAINTS 101

  

FACT # 18: I SUCK at rope. I can barely keep my shoes tied. But I’m pretty good with these restraints. 😏 

A little tip:

You don’t even need restraints to lock a sub up.

Next time try this:

“Hands behind your back.”    

23rd AND O

Link: THE INITIATION

Summer1989 my junior year in high school

Today I was coming back from an errand.  I drove down 23rd where O Street connects.  On the corner sits a small townhouse that appears to be vacant. 

Back in the day it used to be a video store.  This video store was owned by a gay man probably in his 50s or so.

I wouldn’t have known it even existed if it wasn’t for my junior year in high school.

I was a total fuck up when it came to my homework.  

I never got into fights. Never caused any trouble. My main vice as a teen was that I just didn’t do my work.  I hated school, not because I couldn’t learn but because my difficulty of learning stemmed from not having the attention span to focus on shit I had no interest in.  Most of the teachers I had didn’t help the situation.

My junior year, I was told I was not going to graduate with my class.  I was already graduating at a late age for being held back in grammar school.  There was no way I would let this happen.  No way could I have been a damn near 20 year old man graduating high school.  I begged the principal for a solution.  The only solution that I had, was to participate in extra classes as well as summer school my junior and senior year.

It was my junior year that I started attending summer adult school to get the credits I needed to graduate.

My trip to class would consist of me taking the buss and getting off and walking past the video store to get to the school around the block. 

For almost the entire summer I never gave any thought to that video store until one day I noticed that there were some very hot guys going in and out of that shop.

One afternoon I stopped into the store after school. I checked out their movies.  Nothing much different than any other video store. They had the basic comedy, horror and drama but my real curiosity was with what was behind the beaded curtain. 

The first gentleman I saw was White guy with an athletic build.  He looked like he was in his late 30s or so.  I remember him wearing sweats and noticing how freely everything moved in his sweats.  We made eye contact and smiled at each other.  I remember every rack I went to he wouldn't be too far behind.  I was just a few days from eighteen years old.  I didn't know that I was being cruised.  Hell, I didn't even know what cruising was back then.

A few minutes later a White guy with a salt and pepper, neatly trimmed goatee and tight faded blue jeans came in. He had a rugged masculine presence.   he had a light blue denim shirt on that was open enough to see the white chest hairs that overflowed.  

He looked around keeping his eye on me.  I know this because I was busy checking him out.  All this time I was in total heat not fully understanding what was going on.

I was in the center checking out comedy movies, (not really) while Sweat Pants was to the left and Salt and Pepper was to the right.  I noticed Salt and Pepper giving Sweat Pants a smile after which he walked toward the back behind the beaded curtain.  Sweat Pants soon followed.  Now curiosity had my mind going 120 miles per hour.  Every few minutes Salt and Pepper would poke his head out while he smiled at me.  

I couldn't help but think they wanted me to go back with them.  I cautiously migrated towards the area.  

As soon as my fingers touched the beads to go through; there was this stern voice that actually startled me.

"I need to see some I. D." The 50 something year old clerk shouted.  He had this stern voice and the look he gave me was one of a frown of disapproval.

I didn't say anything I just walked away from the beaded adult section.  It was just about 60 seconds after that Salt and pepper came out, looked straight ahead without looking at me and headed out the door.

That night I stroked myself thinking about that sexy man with the hairy chest.  I went through two pair of underwear masturbating to that guy.  I hurried and started a load of laundry before my mom and dad got home to avoid questions as to why I was doing my laundry.

Going back to that location made me think back to the many initiations  that have taken place in my life. 

Originally posted on my previous blog

Wednesday , August 10, 2022

COCOA

I have knocked on many doors of halls

I have even had my hall doors knock on

But nothing compares to the day 

You opened your door

And let me in

That was the day you brought me from the cold

You warmed hot cocoa 

And let me drink from your cup

I could feel the warmness 

As it ran down the back of my throat

Never before have I tasted 

Perfection of such magnitude 

You shared your cocoa as I dipped deeper 

To the very last drop

You quivered as my spoon scrapped the bottom

From that day forward your name was cocoa

And I have never knocked on the door of another

NEW BEGINNING

 Here's to a new beginning

Here's to the newness of the sunrise
To the dawn of a new day

The sun rise
As the rays beams through 
The cracks of the blinds

Every ray strategically placed
Upon Ur skin
As U toss and turn in slumber

As I witness the light radiating
On Ur dark mahogany torso
Arm covering face 
To block the light

Nothing stops the force nature has
On the male body early in the morning

Nothing stops the tumescence 
From between

It grows as the warmth of the sun
Gently strokes its tip
Going down to its shaft
It wakens a pulse
As it jumps

Violently it slaps Ur belly button
Undisturbed by the throbbing
The body language tells me
Its not time to awake

The eyes sleep
But the body screams for release

Staring intently
With coffee cup in hand
I watch as Ur manhood enjoys
All the attention the sun provides

You rise with the sun
I rise with you

I close my eyes and fantasize
Our blacken bodies
Dark as the midnight sky
As rich as chocolate itself
intertwined on satin sheets

But for now remains anticipation
Of what this new beginning brings

FINALLY MET MY MATCH

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TO BE A KING

Today July 6, 2022

Originally posted on my previous blog

As I was walking up to the store, there was a young Black man coming the opposite direction. 

Something that usually happens when two people of color passes each other is; once eye contact is made there is usually some form of acknowledgment.  

Younger urban guys would greet each other with a nod or with a simple, "What's up?" 

Whether it is a simple "Hi" or just a smile, there is always some gesture to let the other know,"I see you. You are here and I acknowledge you."

But more than that, there is a sense of "I appreciate your presence."

And even though by nature we'll say hi to everyone regardless of their familiarity; That acknowledgement between each other has a much deeper sentiment.  There are many reasons for that.  Some are obvious.  Some are not so obvious.  But it is something that is a part of who we are.

As he got closer, I gave him a nod and said,"What's up?"

He replied,"What's up King," as he balled his fist in the air waiting for a fist bump.

I have gone through a few decades and with each generation the Black community has used various terms of endearment.  I have heard, Brotha Man, Player, Dawg, and My N*gga.

Dawg, Player, My N*gga even "That's my boy," have all been terms that we have used: terms that in some form have been seen as negative and self deprecating.  Even to this day I will sometimes call my close friend "my boy."

This adoption of these terms didn't  come solely from the Black culture itself but from White society that saw us as the N word, less than human, not real men but "boys." 

Now with this generation, I see a different term often used.  I hear a lot of people using the term King and Queen to acknowledge each other.  I must say it feels pretty damn good to hear. 

When he called me King, it literally made my day.

Stepping out of my daze of elation for a moment, I raised my left arm to meet his fist bump.  

"No your right hand,"  He said with a giggle.

Regardless of my culture and my background I will always be alien to certain trends and gestures.  I am probably at least two to three generations into this guy.  I remember when a generation was 20 to 30 years now 10 years is considered a gap.

Anyway, I raised my right fist for the friendly acknowledgment.  As he walked pass me I noticed his hair.  He had long locs with these awesome jewelry pieces on the tips.

"Wow! I like your locs," I yelled out.

He turned with the biggest grin and shouted, "You said it right! You are a King for real!" 

Back in my day, locs were called dreadlocks or dreads.  Most people even other Blacks make the mistake between dreads and locs. I had locs in my hair for years and never knew until a lady kindly corrected me.  I believe the thing that made this young King so thrilled is that I had the respect to acknowledge his crown appropriately.  And in doing so, according to his response, I made his day as well.

All of this means absolutely nothing to someone who is not a person of color.  And all that may be taken from this is this weird post about Black hairstyles and how Blacks approach each other which is tragic because it is small conversations and expressions like such that can open up a deeper understanding as to who we are.

Blacks, Latinos, Asians and every other ethnicity is expected to assimilate to the Eurocentric point of view.  It is just what needs to be done to survive.  

There is no expectation for Whites to assimilate to any other culture therefore there is really no interest to learning about other cultures.  But in the slim chance that someone who is not Black is reading this, I hope if one gets anything from this; it is something valuable. The most valuable message:

We are Kings. 

I’m not claiming we are better.  But I am saying we are Kings.   Capital K. 

This is declared because all too often we are not seen.  Often media, history and the powers that be would rather continue to attempt to erase our contribution our accomplishments and our existence out of the public eye.  But a King will always be heard wether you can see us or not.

BETTER BLOGGER

LINK: THE MAKING OF DADDY SCRUFF

This last weekend, January 6th, marks a year since my two day play date with Sub Zero.  He was in town Saturday and we made plans to meet up and play.  We had a blast of course.  I will definitely be writing about it; however, it got me to thinking about my writing process and my capacity for being focused to the completion of various projects.

A year has gone and past and there is still material from my first session with him to write about. 

A few months ago, I was mentioning to DADDY from Going Deeper (Inside Strange Men) how often I feel it is better to take his informational as well as extraordinarily hot posts in intervals to get the most out of it.  I've learned this is something that helps me; as I often find myself getting antsy and my mind starts to wander on physical tasks I've been planning to do.  Taking a break and getting some of that physical energy out helps me to stay focused on my mental energy when I do get back to reading.  

This is something I often do when I write as well.

A few factors are when I have thirteen other drafts as well as well as about 90 plus posts from my previous blog to sort through.  It's not as though it would be as simple as scheduling all the old posts from the other blog while I work on the one's in my drafts because I also have life happening as we speak which I write about in my paper journal or record in my voice memo.

Click here to continue reading.

⬇️

THE ALLEY AND A BREATH MINT

A summer night in 2003 

A local leather bar in Sacramento  Ca.

 

An original post from my previous blog

It was a pretty warm Saturday night.  I will say it was the summer of 2003.  I stepped into a local bar that I visited often.  My main objective was to get some tail or at least blow in someone’s mouth. 

Cruising was still pretty popular back then.  There was an especially hot place just out side of the bar right between the bar and another building .  

It was a very narrow gap between the two buildings.  The space between the two buildings had to have been no more than 3 feet wide.  I’m sure if I stretch my arms out I could have easily touched both sides. 

Down this long alley way (if it would even be considered that) guys would go to get, receive head, fuck, get fucked make out or whatever. 

Since it was a leather bar it would be packed with guys in their leather outfits, guys in jockstraps, or sometimes nothing at all.

 

Going back there always intrigued me because it felt like I was home. 

It was dark; although in the right time of night the moon would provide just enough brilliance for one to see the faces and bodies of those doing their things. 

There was this strange line between being at home and wanting to crawl out of my skin.  Tight spaces have never been a strong point for me.  In my civilian wear I felt like “this shit’s too much!” 

But whenever I put on my jeans, my leather boots and gloves along with my leather vest (Sometimes I wore my jacket ) I felt safe.  I felt like I was among my tribe.  At least most of the time.  Most of the time it was my jeans, vest, leather gloves and my black baseball cap.  I often wore my baseball cap just over my brows so that I could see where I was going but barley enough for anyone to see my eyes.  I preferred it that way and basically still do.

I attempted to maneuver my way into the packed area.  There was no way I was getting in there.  That little space would be jam packed with bodies.  If you weren’t down that alley way by a certain time there was no way you were getting in until whom ever was done.  In the same token if you were claustrophobic this was not the place for you to be because it would be awhile before you were going anywhere. 

I remember this particular time going back there, I met this White guy probably in his mid forties with glasses.  He didn’t even look like he belonged in a place like that.  He looked more like he should be doing someone’s taxes instead of being in a seedy place as such.

I can’t remember his name.  Let’s call him Steve.  

“Hi I’m Steve.”

I offered my hand,”Mark nice to meet you.”

“I haven’t seen you here before,” Steve said.

“I come here every so often.  As many times as I been here I’m just learning about the alley way.” 

Correction:  

This was not my first time learning about the alley. I’ve visited times before. Even before my intro to Kink. 

“Ahh cool.  So what kind of guys are you into,”  he said.

“Honestly I’m into various types. I just like meeting new people.  And you?”

“I really like Black guys.” He said, looking at me sheepishly.

“ I hope you don’t take offense, but you don’t look like you should even be here.” 

He let out a loud laugh. “Yeah I get that often.”

“Leather is not really not my thing but the alley is pretty nice. You want to join me?”

“I’ll be in there in a moment.” I told him.  I wanted to cruise around a bit before going back there.  I went back into the club for about ten minutes.  

“Not much going on there,” I said to myself.

I decided to go into the alley way to find Steve.  It took awhile to push through the crowd.  There were guys everywhere like sardines in a can.  I looked a little to my right.  There was a huddle of four Black dudes and right in the center of the huddle was this thin White guy on his knees getting face fucked.  I push my way in to make sure I was really seeing what I was seeing.  It was that mild mannered, almost  geeky but cute guy that was kindly making my acquaintance.

 Not Steve on his knees like some slut taking in as much cock that would fit in his mouth! 

All the illusions I had of this nice and innocent dude was shattered. 

I turned around and kind of chuckled at the scenario and thought,”Well since he’s down there!  Why the hell not!” 

The four gentlemen that was surrounding him motioned me over.  You better get some of this while it’s still fresh!”  

We all chuckled at that comment;  Well all but Steve.   He was busy with four mouth fulls.  I came up as contestant number 5. The biggest one shot his load first.  There was the hot one with the dreads that had the biggest dick.  The guy with the dreads pulled out, looked at me and said, “It’s all you bro.”  

I never been a fan of sloppy seconds, let alone thirds but this guy had a talented mouth. Normally it takes awhile for me to cum.  But he milked that load out of me in at least 6 to 7 minutes. 

I stayed for the last 2 to shoot in his mouth. My drawers were moist from both his spit and the left over cum after my draining. 

“Man! That was hot. I know he must be worn out.” I said.

“Oh there’s more.  He lets us go first because he loves the dark meat. But he’ll be there for a minute,” the guy with the dreads said. 

“Really?”

He gave me that look like,”Bitch! Do you think I’m joking ?”

“Wow!” 

We just started laughing.

We introduced ourselves and he went on his way. I stayed for about 45 minutes after.  Just before I was going to leave, Steve  comes into the bar. 

“Oh you’re leaving now?” He said.  When he said that he had the most foul dick breath you could imagine!  He had not just us five, but how ever many more that fuck his mouth for the following 45 minutes. 

“Well it was a pleasure to meet you.” He breathed in my face.

“Yes, the pleasure was all mine.”

I turned around and got the hell out of dodge.

I never saw Steve after that one time. But I’m sure he’s on his knees serving some Black dude.  Let’s just hope he remembers to pop a mint before he makes conversation with anybody.

This all took place about a year after my Initiation in 2002 (so around 2003) although I visited that alley many times before my Initiation. 

There were some sleazy, hot times that happened in that back alley.  The bar is still there but the alley area has been closed off since about 2013.