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| He's got moves. |
When I planned to go to Folsom Street
Fair months ago, I knew I wasn't going to be attending any parties.
I had other obligations to meet and it was going to be in and out,
very much like a booty call. So, sometime at the start of the spring
I marked my calender for September 28th, 2012 and set my
eye on that. Summer hit hard and then started its transition out, a
slow transition, but I can't complain. It's been a really mild
California summer.
On the first of September I made
arrangements and made sure that I had the 28th totally
free of obligation. I managed to get that from the hours of 8am to
5pm. I rock!!!!! I go along and listen to the hype. Pre and Post
Party invites are being strewn all over the web and I think nothing
of it because I'm not going to go to any of them.
The middle of September comes and I'm
uncertain about going. All kinds of shit is happening and I'm not
sure if I'll even be able to go. But I figure it should all clear up
by the 28th and better, it's fucking PAY DAY!! Awesome
right?
For those of you paying attention and
for those of you who went, you know something's not quite right about
my scheduling. You're right but at the time I had no clue until
well, 2 days before.
My friends are talking about it. They
are going on about parties they'll be going to and so on. One of them
is bitching about a play partner canceling and he's talking about
things like they are happening in a couple of days. I pay no
attention at all. Drama Queen, right?
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| Sweet. |
The 21tr slides in and I'm home sick,
like super fucking sick. It came out of nowhere and I was put through
gastrointestinal hell and lost 3 pounds in 24 hours. It was not a
pleasant day and night. My shining light? I lost 3 pounds and Folsom
isn't until NEXT weekend! But oh shit, my Dad's birthday is on the
23rd, better send a card, make sure I call.
That was me around 2pm on Friday the
21st. Master texts me about 2 pm.
“Folsom is this Sunday.”
My response.... “What?”
Is that the stupidest response ever? I
pay no attention to his sarcastic reply; I'd have done the same. I go
to the official website. My eyes go wide. WTF? You have to be
god-damned kidding me!! NO! I freak out for 196 seconds then go
vomit. (It seemed like the thing to do.) I clean myself up and then
call EVERYONE to rearrange all of my arrangements. This pisses me off
to no end because I never fucking plan and the one time I do, it's
all shot to fucking hell. Whatevs, but fuck me I got shit taken care
of and Master and I were going to drive a chick. Sunday saved by 5pm
Friday.
Saturday happens. We're going shopping
for...can't remember but it seemed important. We're so happy that I
don't even realize it's hot then...THEN the fan on my van blows. No
let me rephrase that. It doesn't blow and I can't fucking drive the
van cuz it keeps overheating and eating my battery.
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| I wanted to ask how much he charges. |
Yes, dead transportation. In California
you might as well be stranded with out a car. So, we decide we're not
going. Then I am sad. Then the coffee pot spews all over my counter.
I'm extra sad now. The “thens” keep piling but I'm cool and start
my verbal montage: Folsom Street Fair Sucks Anyway. In HD no less.
But I have an angel!!!
My BFF @fluersnuit says she can't go.
Use my car. Don't worry about gas and I've got fast-track...but one
catch. We have to go with the Evil Jay!! Alright , he's not evil,
evil and he's kind of nice, but he has a passive aggressive nature.
I'm not saying I've never been passive-aggressive but it's not my
weapon of choice. For Evil Jay it's instinct. He does it without even
thinking. If he wasn't basically a nice guy I woulda shit in his
dildo drawer a long time ago.
Master doesn't want to do it. But later
by some @fluersuit's power of persuasion, he agrees. Yes, he really,
really wanted to go and it was easy to persuade him, but I'm giving
out props so STFU. So, now laundry. I have NOTHING to wear!
I get shit ready for the day out and
try to get to bed early, but of course, I don't get to sleep until
after 1am. I have a fever and start questioning the intelligence of
going at all. None of that stops me from jacking off, but you know
nature is nature. By morning, I seem fine and even jaunty. (We should
thank the spraying of cum.)
So, up, shower, get ready, snack,
and.....WAIT. There is no easier way to kill my hard-on than by
making me wait.
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| I love my iPhone. |
Fucking Evil Jay is late. I am used to
@fluersnuit being late, but I always had this concept that the Evil
Jay was excessively anal so in no way would he be late; it's always
@fluersnuit fault. Not.
I now realize Evil Jay is in fact a
little evil because he's always painted himself the Innocent Jay and
in fact he is NOT.
Anyway, I'm getting riled. People who
know me know that I absolutely loathe waiting even when it's my fault
I'm waiting. I'll be pissy about me being 15 minutes early and hound
you to hurry up. Yes, I am flawed and yes, you had no idea.
Waiting is far worse when I have no
idea when the person is going to show and that person doesn't call or
give me the head's up that they are going to be late. So, I start to
boil and clean the fucking house because if I don't I'm going to snap
at some one for no good reason. Well, a reason good enough for them.
I'm sure I'd have felt justified.
Evil Jay calls an hour after he's
supposed to...No, Master calls Evil Jay an hour after he's supposed
to show and Evil Jay is just leaving. He says something about it
being no big deal because Folsom doesn't start until 11am but fucker
doesn't realize we like to mosey on down, get breakfast, get coffee
roll around for great parking. It's leisurely, not a fucking panic
attack. I let it go, no need to flip out and so we get it done and
arrive to Folsom with some okay parking and it's before things are
too busy so I use the port-a-potty to christen the day!
I think it's gonna be clean since it's
so early...wrong. God, next year bringing hand sanitizer and Lysol.
I probably say that every year and don't,. but it always sounds like
a plan.
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| I stared at the guy on the right a long time. |
So Folsom right? It's supposed to be
dirty, raunchy, covered in dick and raw pussy! Well, yea and no. We
often hit the fair right when it opens. We walk the booths before a
huge crowd hits and then we sit at Brain Wash, sipping coffee. If
you've never been, it's a cafe/laundry mat. Excellent coffee and if
you get the right seat you get to view one of the music stages and
see cuties pumping their hips. You do have to live through the rattle
of the rafters, but hey if you can't handle bass steer clear of
Queers.
Evil Jay doesn't stay with us the whole
time. YES!! Again, nice enough guy but well...he sucks at my vibe and
the place was already feeling kind of off. We suck down the coffee
and head out.
There's the usual merchants, leather
gear, porn stars and fetish wear. I pass Naked Swords booth. See
Steamworks, the infamous Kink.Com stage. We check out the artists,
the hand made whips, blindfolds and so on. The pony boys and girls
start their parade. We see a lot of leather pups this year and even a
furry. The Leather Daddies are sporting harnesses as usual, but more
diverse in style. There are Bears, Twinks, Daddies, Cubs and all
kinds of man cunt everywhere. Hot ladies and your usual geek leather
crowd. It almost feels like home until....
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| Love the boots. |
There was this old chick, looked
homeless skanky walking around shouting how she wants to lick ass.
There were French tourists walking around looking incredibly French.
I don't know how else to put it. The fashion just seems so European.
I saw some cute graying straight couples. There was a naked guy,
wandering shoeless. He seemed lost and pathetic. It made me
uncomfortable because I couldn't tell if he was all there. He seemed
to be having his own kind of fun and later I saw him with a
beer..where he kept his cash I have no idea....
I did see the usual people, Bears
leading Pandas and a lot of young kinksters, etc. The crowd was
diverse as usual but missing something. That something was a sense of
abandon.
All of the times I've been to Folsom
Street it has had a decadent vibe. You had a sense that you could do
anything here and it'd be fine. We were all cut from the same kinky
cloth and you were with your own. Gender, Age, Sexuality were not not
factors. We were here because BDSM and leather are our lives. I
didn't feel that this time. This time I felt like I was on display.
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| I love the X-Men!!! Oh. Still. |
I know, it's a fucking public event,
right? You are on display just by being there, but this time, this
time there was a wall. You could feel an Us and Them barrier come up.
For the first time ever, Folsom Street felt touristy to me. It felt
this way to Master as well. He didn't touch me the same way or test
out equipment on me. He never once asked someone else to whip me.
Maybe it was just us, but maybe not. The whole place seemed censored.
I overheard someone saying that the
police were enforcing laws. Like no fucking on stage like I'd seen on
Kink.com before. They slapped, tickled and exposed, but no
cocksucking that I saw. That was what the whole thing felt like, look
but don't touch.
Okay, generally there is no touching.
It is an unspoken rule that you don't touch what's not yours and you
ask to touch someone, but I'm talking people not touching their own.
I didn't even see Captain Jack. I looked up several times and heard
some ooohs and ahs with faces turned upwards, but I never once saw a
hooded man stroking his massive dick from a balcony in the sky...
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| There is always a practical one. |
But then maybe it was just me and the
fact that it was an in and out kind of day. Don't get me wrong, I had
fun. I met people, took a lot of photos, planted seeds for future
connections. I hit the booths, talked, hung out, had a beer. It was
still Fetish Mecca. I still saw hot bods everywhere. It was simply
missing reckless abandon which is fine. My sex life is reckless
abandon. And if “vanillas” want to take a look at the “wild
side”, they can. They can learn, add spice to their sex lives, go
home and release all the pent up sexual energy that you carry around
at an event like this.
I never get off at Folsom. I wait until
later, until I'm alone with Master. I let every thing I see soak into
me, build up and I hold this sweet wanton tension until his hands are
on me. Until I am on my knees and he's shoving his cock down my
throat. I can't wait for that fist in my hair, the pumping hips, the
flexing thighs.....coming home to the quiet town where no one knows
where you've been. Sensing that life went on while you were in your
sexual bubble, experiencing sexual need with thousands of strangers
is hot. It's contrast is searing.
So even if you go and it doesn't feel
right. You go and you don't touch a single cock, or stroke a slit,
you leave knowing your were someplace unique, some place that is Rome
incarnate. Bacchus runs the streets and Augustus hasn't laid down his
laws. The Far Right, the Ultra-Conservative they can't touch it. It's
ours and you have no fucking doubt that they want it too, deep down
they are as carnal as we are. We are simply brave enough to face it.
Folsom Street. Go. You have to, just once. -Nick Anderson 9/25/2012
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| I'm going to tell you I took this pic for the great tats, but I'd be lying. |
© 2012
