Sunday, September 1, 2013


Hey guys,  you might be looking for gay bdsm erotica and I am happy you are. However,
we have moved to our new site  It's a  new much fancier site that will include the stories posted here plus much, much more.

Come on by and take a look. If you are a reader, a writer, a reviewer, gay, lesbian, bi, trans, queer or ally we have something for you. We're still hitting hard on the erotica and adding paranormal to the mix as well as alternative lifestyle articles. There is also a forum and a casual blog there as well. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as you did this blog. Thanks so much. -Nick Anderson


Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Folsom Street 2012

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?

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.

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.

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.
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....

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.

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 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...

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

I'm going to tell you I took this pic for the great tats, but I'd be lying.
© 2012

Check out the Official Site: FOLSOM STREET FAIR 

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Cristian Torrent

This is a photo manip I did of one of Cristian Torrent's recent photos. I didn't sign it because it's not my original photography. Go visit a guy who has always been very kind to me. -Nick