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leatherneck-70-blog · 3 months

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The Leatherman made his way to the hotel room. Walking down the hallway to the numbered room the guy told him to meet him at. His handsome dark face had a shiny glow. Being Latino gave him that leather brown face feature. His handsome hair glowed just as black ad his full black leather skin clothes. Shaved clean cut in the back and the sides. Slicked back tight and looking leathery. His leather body creaking as he walks getting closer to the room. His Adam's Apple is such turn on. Pointy and shiny. His barefooted leather boots shine as the let out a clunk on the old hotel wooden floor. Reaching the room he knocks with his tight black leathered hand. The door opens and the guy says, "Peter?" The Leathermen response with," Leathermen Peter Or Peter Leather" with a leather creaking voice. The guy let's him in. The guy can't stop looking at every bit of Peter Leather. Peter holding his muircap to his chest places it on his leather haired head. Looks at the typical guy. Wearing a white t shirt,jeans and a pair of green doc martins. Peter says," What do you want to do?" The guy walks to Peter and reaches for his left leather hand and holds it. Feeling tight leather hand. The smoothness of it and walks him to a chair. Having him sit down and offering his a glass of Whiskey. Peter says,"No. I don't drink" The guy in his mind thinks. Shit! I have to get this guy to drink something. "How about water?" Peter says," No. I'm not really thirsty." Again tge guy says in his mind "DAMN!" " Your leather is HOT!" the guy says. Peter looks around the room. The guy says" Can I have a kiss Leathermen. Slowly going in for the kiss. Peter bends forward to give the kiss. After the kiss the guy taste leather in his mouth. Peter is leather. Peter gets up and says," Is this all you wanted from me?" The guy says ," No.im just a little nervouse." Peter walks over and lays on the bed. "Come here" says Peter. The guy walks over and slipping in a phone charger cord in his pocket. He walks over and lays on the bed next to Peter. Peter tells him,"Touch my leg" The guys does. Peter grabs the back of his head and tells him,"DOWN BOY!!" Placing his head towards his crotch area. "LICK AND SUCK MY AREA!!" The guy can taste his leather crotch area. Peter's gets excited while he holds the guys head down there. The guy asks Peter if he can sit behind him and cuddle. Peter who loves cuddling agrees. Feeling,smelling the Leatherman Peter gets him horny. Hating to have to do it. He pulls out the phone cord with one hand and pulls Peter closer up to him. Pulling peters collar up on his leather shirt. Leaving the collar down on his leather jacket. Ke kisses Peter's neck. Just to throw off Peter on what hes doing. He grips the cord with his hands. He goes fast and wraps the cord around Peter's NECK!! Pulling tight Peter let's out a loud choke and then cough! Reaching fir his neck and trying to get his tight leather hands between the cord but can't. He creaks out a leather sound from his mouth with his wet tongue popped out with another cough. The guy tightness with all his might. Peter kicking into the guys legs as the guy yells. Peter keeps trying to pry the cord from his neck as the guy shakes Peter's head as it bobbs and drops off Peter's muircap. His black shiny leathered hair head shines again. Peter's now garroting with a leather creak in his neck. His smoke colored eyes are blood shot and they go white rolling up in his head. His leather chest heaves up and down for air but nothing. His tight leather body creaks loudly as he gasps and wheezes for leather life. Peter kicks one more time at the guys leg. This time he yells and the guy let's go. Peter gasps for air. Pulling away from the guy saying to him,"YOU FUCKERR!!! WHAT THE FUCKS WRONG WITH YOU!!" In a throaty leather voice coughing and pulling away to get off the bed. The guy says says,"Now your DEAD!" Peter frightened yells," NO!!!" Peter stumbles falling to the ground off the bed. The guy grabs the chair at the desk. Peter

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notchainedtotrauma · 1 year

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For Johnson, race play is not only pleasurable but also empowering. She asks “Why is it that, we as Leathermen and women of color, can’t accept the possibility that to some of us, Nigger may be empowering ?”

from The Color Of Kink: Black Women, BDSM and Pornography by Ariane Cruz

There is an ongoing debate happening on my dashboard. No Black person is allowed to reblog. Also Johnson is a Black woman.

#stories from the void #moving gif #so you're telling me a Black person is supposed to ...

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suzcat96 · 5 years

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Inktober is cancelled because this is the best thing I'm gonna draw all month

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skold · 3 years

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Hi, could I ask you kind of a dumb question? On Twitter I recently say someone post that picture of Chris’ ass where he has a black bandana in his back pocket and people were like “oh shit look at that black hanky you know what that means 🤪” and I’m sitting here like… no? I don’t? So I was wondering if you know what it means and if you’d mind answering me haha.

oh hey welcome to the kink corner of the lgbtq community

so that's a reference to hanky code or flagging, which is a system of communication invented by gay leathermen in the 70s to signal to other gay leathermen what kind of sexual or kink activities they're into without Alerting The Cishets

basically, the color indicates a certain activity/kink, and which pocket its worn in indicates whether the wearer prefers to give/receive or top/bottom or if they're seeking or offering something

now i'm not trying to say chris was DEFINITELY doing this but it is a thing most folks in the kink community are at least aware of and we know chris is kink trash lmao. i just mean i wouldn't be surprised if he was flagging on purpose. like obviously a lot of alt folks wear bandanas as accessories and it doesn't mean anything but knowing chris is into kink it makes me think he knew what he was doing lmao. anyway chris used to flag black on the left side, which would mean he's a top into S&M.

here's the wikipedia page on flagging if you're curious and want to learn more:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Handkerchief_code

#anonymous #asks

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miseriathome · 4 years

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Vaquero homosociality is rooted in celebration of masculinity and existence outside of mainstream urbanism and gets to be this adorable meme idyllic gayness,

but then leather daddies, born out of post-WWII resistance to mainstream cultural narratives and centered around celebration of new scripts for masculine bonding, are “icky fetish.”

What does it take? A quirky tumblr post that says “some leathermen are people of color too?” Iconic hats? The juxtaposition of leather bondage with rope bondage that positions them as fundamentally the same? A long essay about why counterculture is good, actually? A literal map of rural vs urban geography pointing out how necessary it is to interact with broader society when living in a city? A series of tender homoerotic pop media about bike clubs wherein all the protagonists are shaved and skinny?

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #queer history #kink discourse

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nitewrighter · 5 years

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OP of the daphne post! for the 50th scooby doo year, i beseech you to write a thing, please

Well it is October, and I do like being beseeched, and I have been reading “Your Favorite Band Cannot Save You” and watching Dario Argento movies…

Obviously this means it’s Hex Girl time.

—-

The five of them were bunched up in the back of the Mystery machine. Daphne was touching up her makeup (and Shaggy’s) in Fred’s rearview mirror. She had given herself a combination of runny mascara and fake blood running down from her eyes, while Shaggy had a “slashed open” cheekbone and exposed teeth prosthetic on his cheek.

“Like… it’s totally cool if you want to bail,” said Shaggy.

“No judgment,” said Daphne.

“I’ll even drive you home,” said Fred, wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt (Why was it always Dad bands with him?).

Scooby slumped his weight against Velma in solidarity.

“Guys, I’m not made of glass–and the more you keep saying that, the more psyched out I get,” said Velma.

“I know, but it’s baby’s first rock concert!” said Daphne.

“What did we establish, D?” said Velma.

“…That we would stop calling it ‘baby’s first rock concert,’” said Daphne.

“But the way you and Shaggy talk about it, it sounds like a religious experience,” said Velma.

“It is,” Daphne and Shaggy said at the same time with a near sigh in their voices.

“Like, it’s a religious experience for the church of Kensington Gore,” said Shaggy.

“Cheesy horror movie stuff?” said Velma.

“Cheesy horror movie stuff,” said Shaggy.

“So I want to see it,” said Velma, sitting up with some determination, “If I can handle that skunk ape case last week, I can handle crowds.”

“Ugh,” Daphne shuddered, “Don’t remind me of the skunk ape case. I can still almost smell it sometimes.”

“Like, glad to hear it though,” said Shaggy, holding out an open palm to her. Velma glanced down to see two foam earplugs in his hand, “Trust me. You’re gonna need them.”

Velma kept the earplugs balled up in her fist as they all clambered out of the back of the Mystery Machine and locked it behind them. It was a brisk first-cold-snap-of-Fall evening in Colesville’s derelict metropolitan district. There was a robust shopping center with a decent-enough couple of apartment buildings, and some “We’re totally not gentrifying your town” boutiques and gastropubs, but for blocks out from there was a smattering of half-aborted real estate developments and boarded up buildings. The gang headed toward the theater and Velma stuck to the interior of the group as punks and goths, leathermen, horror geeks, and even a handful of steampunkers trickled across the streets toward the theater.

“Abandoned theater…” said Velma, “No huge fire or collapse risk there.”

“The Hex Girls are upcyclers,” said Daphne with a shrug.

“And Thorn is a hardcore stickler about how her gigs turn out–makes sure the building is totally safe for all of her lighting, makes sure the exits are clearly marked with a well-organized evac plan, has top-of-the-line bouncers, and all the available refreshments are exclusively vegan.”

“The little fried tofu brains are really good,” said Shaggy, “Did you know the human brain has the same consistency as tofu?”

“Silken or firm?” said Velma.

“…I don’t know,” said Shaggy.

“But don’t worry, the Hex Girls know what they’re about,” said Daphne as they showed their tickets at the door. The doors opened and the gang stuck close to each other as they entered a buzzing, throbbing crowd of fans that collectively referred to themselves as “The Hexed.”

The bar area was fenced off from concert-goers below 21, and was so densely packed Velma hardly understood the appeal anyway, and the gang took their place in the crowd a ways from the stage. The theater itself was ornate–pretty well cleaned-up for the concert with a garish peacock green and magenta geometric color scheme decorating the walls that was probably considered very glamorous back in 1978. It was dimly lit and all the seats had been taken out to accommodate the more rough-and-tumble concert venue. The velvet curtain was down, moth-eaten as it was and Velma watched as Shaggy fit some mutt muffs on Scooby before resuming his hold on Scooby’s harness. Scooby sat on his haunches, his tail thumping on the floor. if they weren’t covered by the muffs, Velma would have guessed his ears were pricked.

“He’s been to these too?” said Velma.

“Oh he loves them,” said Shaggy, scratching Scooby under the chin.

“The dog’s been to more concerts than me,” muttered Velma, not really audible over the murmurs of the crowd. The lights at the front of the stage dimmed and sent the theater into complete blackness and a sudden silence swept over everyone almost unsettlingly. There were a few nervous giggles and a handful of scattered “Whoo’s” from around the theater but mostly an almost electric silence. Then the speakers hummed and Velma put in her ear plugs in anticipation. The curtain lifted to a black stage, then the backlights lit up red reveal a group of about twelve girls, only a little older than they were, dressed in red shift dresses standing on bleachers behind a mass of black-cloaked mannequins still in shadow. The girls’ heads were bowed. There was a brief ripple of applause but the silence from the stage prompted more silence from the crowd. For a moment Velma thought the twelve girls on the bleachers were blindfolded, but they slowly raised their heads and opened their eyes. A thick horizontal stripe of black was painted across all of their eyes.

“Are those the Hex girls?” Velma whispered.

Daphne said, “Ssh!” on instinct then caught herself, looked at Velma and whispered “no” before jerking her head back toward the stage, terrified of missing anything. Then the twelve girls started singing, completely unaccompanied by any instruments or beat. It was high and choral and perfectly harmonized, fit for a cathedral.

“Mater Suspiriorum, Tenebrarum, Lacrimarum

Dominae, Dominae Dominarum–”

The choir was apparently micd up so that Sopranos, mezzo sopranos, and altos were coming form different speakers. The result was the music folding around them like water sloshing around the room.

“Oh classic,” said Shaggy

“Am I missing something?” said Velma, “Are the Hex girls… catholic?”

Shaggy snorted. “Nah. Nah, they’re not.”

“Ignis,” the chorus kept singing, “Vestis, Amissio Amictia—”

“For the record, I know Latin and none of this makes any sens–” Velma started.

“Vacuus VACUUUS!” The choir’s volume suddenly peaked and there came a thunderous drum beat that hit Velma like a kick in the ribs.

“DUSK!” One audience member hollered, “DUUUUUUSK! The crowd swelled with cheers as a white spotlight stabbed through the dense red light shining on the chorus to reveal a cloaked drummer hidden amidst the mass of mannequins on the stage. The drummer kicked off a heavy beat that throbbed through the whole crowd.

“Hex girl?” said Velma but Daphne was already bouncing up and down, pounding her shoes into the cement floor with the beat as she headbanged with the beat. Velma took that as yes.

The chorus kept up their latin nonsense as the drumming picked up even more and suddenly a ripple of stained-glass-shattering organ cut through and the crowd went wild as a second white spotlight shined down on a keyboardist in a cloak among the mannequins. A wail went up from the crowd and suddenly the bodies around Velma started shifting and dancing as Dusk intensified her drumbeat to match the manic organ music of the keyboardist.

“I LOVE YOU, LUNA!” one girl shrieked from the wings and the keyboardist made a quick finger gun out to the crowd, without missing a single key as she played, prompting even more screams. The keyboardist and drummer hammered away, their sounds crashing against each other as the choir kept up its vocalizing, then with another thunderous drumbeat the sound suddenly cut, and the crowd stilled, a few cheers and yells rising up in anticipation as a deep, rippling woman’s voice came over the speakers.

“You think this is magic?” Her voice seemed to engulf the room like smoke and Velma looked to Shaggy who mouthed along with the voice’s words of, “I am not a magician.”

The choir let out a single long note of vocalization, an “Ahhhhh” of ecstasy that climbed in volume as all the mannequins on the stage were lifted off by thin, near-invisible cables like puppets or corpses on gallows, now hoisted out of sight and revealing one cloaked woman at the center of the stage, holding an electric guitar. The choir fell silent then, leaving Velma feeling as if she was leaning over a cliff, suspended back from falling like the mannequins now swaying out of sight and not knowing what would make her fall over the edge.

“Thorn! Thorn! Thorn! Thorn! Thorn!” the word pulsed up from the crowd like a terrified heartbeat.

“We have three names, but you know us by one,” said woman with the guitar.

“Hex! Girls! Hex! Girls! Hex! Girls!” the chant was half manic, half call-and-response rippling around the theater. Velma looked to Fred, who she assumed was just as clueless as her in this manner and he just gave her a smile.

A white spotlight shined down on her. The woman cast back the hood of her cloak and flipped her hair out, long and black, and grinned. Velma wasn’t sure if it was the spotlight that bleached her or if she was wearing makeup or if she just woke up looking like a beautiful moon-white victorian woman that was probably dying of consumption, but she didn’t care.

��THOOOOOORN!” a wail came up from another section of the crowd.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” she murmured dreamily into the microphone.

The crowd went absolutely apeshit as the choir exited the stage and Thorn just grinned.

“Let’s give another hand to the Colesville Choir, they’re going to hell for this,” said Thorn with a smile. A ripple of laughs and applause rose up from the audience.

“Oh, I like this group, don’t you like this group, Luna?” said Thorn, looking to the keyboardist.

“I like this group,” said Luna, still playing.

“Dusk?” said Thorn.

The drummer looked up to give a sly grin. “On the fence,” said Dusk, still hammering away at her drumset. Another ripple of chuckles went though the audience again.

“I think we should give them something nice, what do you think, Hex Girls?” said Thorn, casting off her cloak to reveal a dress that was halfway between Elvira and Stevie Nicks, slinging her guitar over herself.

“I guess,” said Dusk, pausing to take off her own cloak for a more punkish outfit. Luna shrugged off her own cloak to reveal a gauzy number and prompt another shriek of “LUNA, I LOVE YOU!” from that same girl up in the wings. Dusk clacked her drumsticks together three times before changing the beat.

The crowd cheered and Thorn struck down on her guitar as the next song kicked off and Velma felt the world get blasted away from around her. Thorn started singing and Velma’s legs turned to jelly beneath her. It was a deep, buoyant voice that creaked and pitched in all the right places. There were a few brief flailing seconds where Velma tried to rationalize the effect of the music–faster music was known to increase heart rates and breathing, so the buzz in her head was normal. Totally normal.

The crowd shifted then, faster than Velma could really anticipate, and suddenly an area had cleared out slightly to accommodate bodies now flying at each other as the beat picked up, catching and flinging each other against the walls of the crowd, and clotheslining each other. Velma looked desperately around for Shaggy, Fred, even Scooby, but couldn’t make them out from the crowd that now walled her in to the mosh pit. Thorn was singing, and even with the plugs in her ears dampening the sound Velma could feel her voice snaking around her insides–she could feel Dusk’s drumbeat rattling her bones–or maybe that was the skinny punk who just slammed into her before continuing on his reeling way.

“GUYS?!” Velma shouted. Another body slammed into her and her glasses got knocked off.

“My glasses!” Velma shouted on reflex and nearly moved to bend and feel around for them before she was slammed again, stumbling.

Thorn was now rendered from a beautiful vampy songstress to a sexy black and white blur, not that Velma could appreciate it now caught between thrashing bodies.

“Velm!” before Velma was really sure what was going on, Daphne’s arm was hooked in hers (She was about 60% sure it was Daphne–again, it was dark and now blurry—it smelled like Daphne, at least.) Velma was yanked down briefly, than yanked back upright, then pulled into what she could only assume was a dizzing spin around the mosh pit, still hooked in Daphne’s arm, before being flung into the wall of the crowd and caught by several strong arms. She thrashed instinctively before she heard Shaggy say, “Velm! Velm! It’s us!” She looked up, saw Shaggy’s face half bloodied and shrieked before Daphne put her hands on her shoulders.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” said Daphne.

“My glasses!” said Velma, “I need my–”

Daphne put Velma’s glasses back on her face. Velma blinked a few times.

“I saved them, don’t worry,” said Daphne.

Velma furrowed her brow at the large crack running through one of the lenses.

“Mostly saved them,” said Daphne.

“You okay?” said Fred.

“Yeah–yeah just a little—Shaggy! Your face!” she looked over at Shaggy.

“Prosthetic,” said Shaggy, peeling the bloody bit off his face, “Remember?”

“Shaggy!” said Daphne.

“I’ll put it back on in the bathroom,” said Shaggy, shrugging, “We really did try to grab you before the pit broke out. We were calling for you but…”

“Earplugs,” said Velma.

“You survived baby’s first mosh pit!” said Daphne, clapping and hugging Velma.

“Daph!” said Velma, half muffled into Daphne’s Hex Girls tee.

“Sorry! First mosh pit!!” said Daphne, holding Velma at arm’s length again. She looked worried for a second, “It’s–It’s totally fine if you don’t want to stay for the whole concert now. You don’t have to force yourself to–”

“No!” said Velma a bit too suddenly, looking back at Thorn, now dropped to her knees for a guitar solo, arching her back and craning her neck upward as the mosh pit continued thrashing. Velma cleared her throat, “I mean–The music’s really good.”

“Right?!” said Daphne, excited.

Velma looked at the mosh pit, “And I’ve tasted blood,” she said, adjusting her cracked glasses, “I’m staying.”

That slightly manic smile split across Daphne’s face and it prompted a nervous giggle out of Velma that wove itself neatly into the buzz of adrenaline now running through her body.

“Oh Dinkley,” said Daphne, ruffling Velma’s hair, “We’re in for a night.”

Scooby howled with the next wail of guitar.

#fightin’ daphne au #scooby doo #hex girls

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hawksxdoves · 5 years

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▌real name: Maxwell Webster Falconer // Thomas Sawyer Falconer ▌single or taken: single afraid // ready to mingle ▌abilities or powers: musically talented, have been playing professionally since childhood, very athletic, good looking ▌eye colour: amber ▌hair colour: platinum blonde, naturally light brown ▌family members: mother: Fletcher Williams grandmother: Sarah Williams ▌pets: none, concerned they’re away from home too often ▌something they don’t like: relaxing ▌hobbies/activities: sports, bodybuilding, swimming, music, reading, cooking, rollerskating, dancing, boxing, misc. ▌ever hurt anyone before: yes ▌ever killed anyone before: Webster is convinced he has but not actually ▌animal that represents them: lion, hawk ▌worst habits: drinking, fighting, being a sour old bitch // promiscuity, petty theft, white lies ▌role models: Bill Bruford, Billy Cobham, etc // ??? ▌sexual orientation: homosexual // bisexual ▌thoughts on marriage/kids: Webster is very domestic and wants to be somebody’s husband but not super keen on kids, too busy // Sawyer is repulsed by them, far too busy ▌fears: rejection, police // failure, parenthood, aging ▌style preferences: tight, butch, bright colors or black leather // tight, revealing, bright colors and pastels, glam, androgynous, flashy ▌someone they love: Each other.... not really...... anyone else..... ▌approach to friendships: Webster is typically cold and distant, but can be very sweet and friendly if you convince him to open up // Sawyer is an abject extrovert and attempts to make friends with literally everyone, doesn’t have much by way of close friends ▌thoughts on pie: doesn’t like sweets, loves cooking though ▌favourite drink: whiskey, milk // milk, not big on alcohol, champagne ▌favourite place to spend time at: The Beach, venues, The Troubadour, Whisky, Rainbow, etc ▌swim in the lake or in the ocean: Ocean, needs to live near water ▌their type: Hunks and Daddies, leathermen, confident strong types, seems to only attract emotionally starved twinks // anyone and anything, someone with a sense of fun, open minded, no preference on age, gender, sexuality. must not have kids.

Tagged by the following friend: @siighmon Tagging the following friends: @greyhoundgxrl @math-twink @lonelyxinxyourxnightmare

#thanx #portrait of a himbeaux

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papatonyinsandiego · 5 years

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Flagging Lavender, and Old Guard

Hanky code: Lavender. QUESTIONS:-Does anyone know what it really mean?-Does it really exist within the Old Guard community?

Oh, lordy. This again. Sigh.

All right, then.

Time For Some History

Back in the 70's, there were a LOT of gay people moving into large cities. I referred to the "Gay Neighborhoods" as "Refugee Camps." Many, MANY gay/queer/trans people were fleeing the closed-minded, intolerant areas and establishing the Gay Ghettos, such as "Boy's Town" (West Hollywood) in Los Angeles, Hillcrest in San Diego, and the Castro and South of Market (Leather) areas of San Francisco.

Folks lost all desire to live in Squaw's Ass Idaho, or Chicken Leg, Nebraska. They picked their coastal major urban center and MOVED as soon as they could get mobile, and never looked back.

As more and more people came pouring in to the ghetto, buying up the old houses and fixing them up ("gentrifying"), the housing got too expensive to buy in the heart of the ghetto, so folks started expanding into outlying areas. However, in the HEART of the ghetto, an enormous number of bathhouses, shops, boutiques, bistros and BARS started opening up to cater to a very, very gay clientele.

It was heaven, for a while. It was pure sexual adventure, all day, every day. It was common to refer to each other as "numbers", as in "What do you think of that number over there? I'd fuck him, even with your dick!" In case it isn't obvious, the number referred to, was as in "Now Serving Number 64". Yes, things really were that sexual.

In a crowded street, or a VERY crowded bar (one of very many in the city), you had thousands of possible sexual prospects. You didn't have time to WASTE on idle chit-chat, flowers, boxes of candy, or four hours of buying drinks for the handsome stranger. You would finally got into bed with him, only to find that he was NOT a good sexual match for your particular tastes.

So, the hankie code was started. This made it REALLY easy to spot an ideal prospect, hook up fast, throw his pretty ass out the door, take a Disco Nap (a nap that allowed you to stay up later on the dance floor that night), and get ready for the next man.

Many folks don't know this, but in the earliest days of wearing bandannas in the back pockets, or Sam Browne belt on your torso, or keys on your belt-loop, or gauntlets on your wrist, or armbands on your bicep:

On the East Coast, the sides were reversed from what was happening on the West Coast. In New York for a short time, Tops flagged on the right, and bottoms on the left. The West Coast won out, and from then on, Tops are on the left, and bottoms are on the right.

Getting Back To Your Actual Question:

The ONLY colors of bandannas being sold everywhere back then (supermarkets, drug stores, Army/Navy surplus stores, porn shops and book stores) were:

- Black (SadoMasochist) - Dark Blue (Ass Fucking) - Hunter Green (Daddy/boy) - Light Blue (Cocksucking) - Gray (Bondage) - Yellow (Piss) - Red (Fist Fucking), and - White (I have a Cold)

I heard of Brown (scat) eventually, but I'm not aware of anybody actually flagging brown until the early 1990's.

We thought that was a LOT. This was rock-solid, and unchangeable. NOBODY tried any other colors. Period. Besides that: There was no manufacturer MAKING any other colors!

Then, when folks did a lot of dying, and the bathhouses closed, and the Internet came along, and the bars closed, and the vast areas around the "Gay Neighborhood" became more and more diverse and open-minded for EVERYBODY, then folks started dicking around with the color charts. They added more, and more, and more choices, and posting them online. They made a fun project out of it:

Us old guys thought it was hilarious, to hear about "Gold Polka Dots on White" and the like. In our experience, if one, isolated person was flagging an unusual color, they'd have had to spend the whole night having to explain what their colors meant, dozens of times, and not getting any nibbles. Seemed kinda pointless.

The actual fact is, what we did was new, and PRIMITIVE, back then. We were making it up as we went along. We had NO experience, or fetishes for:

- Furries - Puppies - Latex - Urethral Sounds

and a lot more fetishes that have become exciting and widespread in the Internet years.

So, The Reason For The Sigh:

Too many people read the "Old Guard" comic book, and not knowing any better, thought that it was the Bible. Please don't assume that the old ways were somehow better, or wiser, or more rigorous. We were living in a big, messy and constant flow of upward growth, but it was not in any way structured. What people assume are true and long-lasting Olde Guarde protocols, were actually practiced back then by maybe one percent of the kinky gay-male Leathermen's community. If that.

Why do newer folks follow the old precepts so avidly now? I assume that it's because a few folks wrote books, unlike the majority of the rest of us, who didn't. Just about everything else in our historical record was lost during the bad years, so this becomes the entirety of the story for the folks who weren't there.

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johnthestitcher · 5 years

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LGBTQ -m-o-u-s-e Flags

This just popped up on Facebook. This past weekend I was at a Gay PRIDE and saw more flags that I had NO CLUE what they were all about. I always thought a plain ol’ Rainbow flag said it all - and they have changed that to be more ‘politically correct’, too, by adding more stripes (which I just don’t understand).

So - where is the Leathermen’s flag? Seems to be missing! I remember when the Rainbow, Bear , and Leathermen flags were all there were. Not even sure what most of these mean. Why are we continually forcing ourselves into smaller and smaller pidgeonholes? ‘Demisexual’? ‘Skoliosexual’? Are these really things?

And don’t even ask me about the ‘Hanky Code’ - used to be the 6 or 7 colors that bandanas came in - now the ‘Code’ has lace and lamé hankies. WHO goes to a bar with a pink lace hanky hanging from their pocket? SHEEESH!

#lgbtq #bear flag #lesbian flag #rainbow flag #gay pride

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gryfstmne · 6 years

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the story just for hypnoslaves2

he had grown tired ;

so damn tired of the life

tired of the endless rounds of bar hopping and quickie one nighters and awkward social functions with the other gay clubs.

he wanted something different ,

something to relieve the tedium

something to really invigorate him

from the long bouts of loneliness

that drove him back to take what he could get at 2am closing time.

and searching the net for pictures of men he could never have.

going through the more kinky and bizarre websites and groups was a habit seeing what men would do to themselves was a source of fascination and revulsion

but it did keep his interest from dying to the lowest embers.

then he saw a message in one of the groups .

"at the lowest part of my life ,he found me

.i always felt lonely ,lost ,last in a fixed race .

now , finally this hypnoslave one."

"hypnoslave one?", he said to himself ." shouldn't that be won?

and how could a slave be under hypnosis if they are asleep?

wouldn't moving wake him up?"

he looked up the profile and saw that the guy lived in a small suburb right outside of town. about 40 minutes away . the photo was of a 40 year old man ,wearing a leather vest ,a collar ,a skull cap like a biker would wear tied at the back of his neck and chaps.

he was well muscled and wore that leather like a second skin.

he had a closely shaven beard and a diamond studded earing.

but the most fascinating thing about him

was that he had such a gentle accepting look about his face

that you could tell he was happy .

full of that something ,

few people ever find for more than a few minutes at a time..

from the picture you could tell he was looking up

at some shadow of a man

that smile and absently thoughtful look ,

you could tell ,was for the man who was just out of camera range.

.only the shadow left to see as a clue.

it looked like he had found a glimpse

into what he was missing and couldn't put a finger on ,

and this sexy leatherman had it.

it was written on his face :fulfillment .

on an impulse, he hit the instant messenger button and wrote hi

he got a hello back and he asked the leatherman about the message .

the leatherman told him about his past and how his life changed

once he met and moved in with his H.M.

I truly envy you " , he wrote back to the leatherman ."

it sounds like you found yourself a perfect partner.

i could use something more permanent like that myself ,

but it never seems to work out for me."

"I can sympathize. i've been there.

if you truly think you need more than a one night stand in your life ,

then come on out to the house.

H.M. and i can give you a few pointers on changing your life for the better .

you can see what H.M did for me

that made me so much better than i was then."

"bye the way , call me H.S. it's my initials."

H.S gave him directions

to their house and said they would be waiting for him .

he thought it through, after signing off his computer.

he knew there was always the risk ,

that they were psychos or cultists or some weird thing.

but the idea of being with a sexy leatherman like that and seeing

what it was ,that gave him that spark in his eyes

was something he couldn't let go.

besides he thought , his life was stagnating as it was .

maybe there is something there ,that could help bring back the passion

to his life .

curiosity was eating at him too ,

about what that shadowman, H.S. really looked like

that made leatherman H.S so fucking happy

the traffic was murder ,almost literally ,

as road raged little old ladies cut him off and truckers almost rolled over him

but he finally made it.

at the end of a culdesac ,

taking up the whole circle was a huge brick and wood mansion .,

it dominated the area .

the next houses down were about 10 car lengths down the street .

almost is if the mansion bullied them or scared them into retreating.

he rang the doorbell and heard windchimes from the button.

the leatherman , H.S , answered the door and invited him inside.

H.S took him on a short tour of the house

and then led him

down into a back hallway.

He was impressed

by the grandeur of the place

and asked when he would meet H.M

"not for another few minutes " H.S replied ."

he has to finish up a few more things before he can join us .

but it won't be long ."

"What do you two do for a living to be able to afford all this ?" he asked H.S

I generally keep house, and do the maintenance , and work around the house but ,let me show you

what really pays for it all.

H.M specializes in making things

to fascinate people.

making someone pay attention

to his works is his joy

and it pays very well, indeed!"

with that, he opened a door

and waved me in to a large study.

what an amazing place!

there was a chandelier ,sparkling from the ceiling

and it was reflecting the light

to crystal pieces

like prisms in all different shapes,

hanging in various places on the walls and the tables.

there was a comfortable sofa in one spot

and 2 comfortable overstuffed chairs

around a glass and oak wood coffee table

with another of those prism sculptures in the center.

there was a crystal decanter

and clear glasses off to one side table

and an intercom,

and a set of black polished marbles,

suspended by chains through them on the other table.

H.S had me sit down

in one of the chairs and he took the other,

as we talked ,he told me that H.M could hear what we said

through the intercom

so ,he wouldn't have to miss the conversation

while he finished up his work, in another room .

H.S led the conversation back onto my life and experiences

in the home (apartment)

family(mostly moved away or gone)

and job(too many and too varied to go into detail here)

and my poor excuse for a love life.

while i was talking ,i couldn't stop looking around the room.

there were little reflections of me

and this sexy leather stud,

mixed with the lights

reflecting in every crystal in the room .

it was like,

i was surrounded

with little leathermen ,

everywhere i looked.

H.S. gave me a glass of water

and we relaxed and talked .

it was so comfortable

just being there with him ;

like i'd known him for years.

just looking into that handsome face

who was really interested in me

and seeing it reflected everywhere

was a huge ego boost for me.

i didn't notice the time was passing

(it was so good being there with him)

but it must have been hours .

i noticed a light come on

on the intercom

and H.S, got a pleased look on his face .

he told me that H.M only had one more thing

he had to do

then he would join us .

H.S gave me a wink and said

you want to see H.M at work ?

i said sure , and set the glass down

in preparing to get up.

H.S. waved me back in my chair and said

relax. you can see it all happen from here.

i settled back while H.S lifted one of the black marbles

and let it go in a pendulum swing .

it knocked into the other marbles

and set up a rhythem .

click ,click, click, click

as they swung back and forth..

H.S said "watch this "

and he flicked a hidden switch.

the lights dimmed out

and in the chandelier ,

what looked like hundreds of little multicolored flames

flashed on and off in a random pattern .

it looked like christmas tree lights of living colored flame

reflected everywhere there was the crystals.

it was like you were surrounded

by fairie will o' the wisps .

it was incredibly beautiful .

you could imagine

the click ,click ,click

of the marbles

was the flames whispering to each other.

H.S waited

for the full effect to reach me

and then told me

we could hear the master dictating

through the intercom

and it was a special treat

to listen in .

H.S. touched a button

and this rich textured voice ,

the kind that gives you shivers of pleasure

all the way through,

came from the intercom.

i was too fascinated by the lights

to notice H.S had said "the master"

and i heard that voice

timed perfectly

to the clicks ,

" the flame that burns so brightly

and moves so light and quick

that entrance you with their movement

as they sway and flick

that make you long to relax

and watch them dance

without a thought

as to where next to catch a glance

as you hear them

click ,click ,click,

and listen to them sound

as you follow along

as they slowly draw you down

into this enchantment

as you take your rest

and listen with wonder

and you feel you have been blessed

to belong to this fairie heaven ,

the dancing of the spheres

what you have always longed for ,

has been found only here

and you give yourself over

to become more

than a poor soul dwindled

and you are now ready

to be reborn

,a flame rekindled

chosen to follow the lights

given to the path

for only a precious few

forever bonded with me

as my hypnoslaves , number 2"

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daddysden2 · 5 years

Photo

Owned by @aquapunkarts Name: Blaine Leathermen

Nickname: The King of Kink

Age: 23

Sex: Male

Height: 5’ 6"

Weight: 195 LBS

Nationality: American

Race: Human/Half demon

Sexual Orientation: Gay

Turn-ons: almost everything

Turn-offs: furries, disturbing fetishes

Fetishes/Fantasies: leather, bondage, rough sex, etc…

Sexual peculiarities: while in demon form he can take any size cock with ease

Sexual perks: Power vers

Sexual flaws: may potentially burn partner upon accidental demon release

Usually on the top or bottom?: Bottom/vers

Dominant or Submissive?: vers

Switch?: Yes

Additional Info: Blaine gained his demon form when his abusive father, tried to sacrifice him as a new born to become the vessel of a demon, but the ritual was never completed and Blaine remained dominant through the possession. Blaine always has bright colored hair and is one kinky mofo

Blaine and art belongs to @aquapunkarts / AquaPunkArts on Twitter

**Don’t forget to come and check out this amazing artist/creator as well on his main blog for more works outside of Daddy’s Den**

#blaine #daddy's den #daddy's den gay au #demon

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thotyssey · 6 years

Text

On Point With: Joseph Macchia

[Photo: Get Out Magazine]

Being an award-winning leatherman isn’t always about kink. It’s more likely about standing out in the leather community as a caring, thinking person, which Mr. Eagle 2018 Joseph Macchia does in spades! Thotyssey catches up with the event producer, health activist and title holder to discuss these final remaining moments of his amazing reign.

Thotyssey: Joseph, hello! Thanks for chatting with us today! How was your summer?

Joseph Macchia: Great! I started a new job in June at the Eagle NYC, and I was out on Fire Island for the Mr. Fire Island Bear contest. What's your job at the Eagle now?

I am the Happy Hour manager. We started Happy Hour June 1st. We’re open Tuesday through Saturday from 5pm, 2-for-1 drinks ‘til 10pm.

Before we talk more about the Eagle, let’s get the dirt on you! Where’s your original hometown, and what were your early interests?

I am a New Yorker born and raised... a Queens boy who moved to Long Island, only to get out of Long Island real quick and move back to Queens. I played soccer during high school, as well.as baseball and tennis. In my early 20′s, I started producing cabaret shows. I recall when you used to host a live panel show at some cabaret venues called ”The Q,” with guests usually being gay nightlife performers and activists.

Yes! It will be coming back in a new incarnation and format at the end of the year. Possibly with a new name, too. I never give up on dreams, and we need a gay talk show on TV!

Yes, totally! Now more than ever! Do you sing at all yourself?

I don’t sing; I create shows and produce. I love watching a show be built.

What have been some memorable performances under your watch?

I like to see all kinds [of performances]. I knew this woman who did Gaga’s “Poker Face” in a show, and made it her own.

How did you get introduced to the leather scene?

I walked into the Eagle seven years ago or so, and it was the first bar I felt myself and welcomed in, and not judged. I then went and bought my first harness. I slowly started to meet fellow leathermen, and realized what a wonderful scene the leather community is.

Lots of people outside the leather scene don’t realize that it isn’t all about fetishes or sexuality... it’s about community! And body positivity. And in New York, the Eagle is basically the center of that.

The amount of community service and fundraising that’s done--plus educational workshops [at the Eagle]--it’s amazing. And then, you can also be open to exploring who you are in a safe space.

When did you start competing in the leather contests?

I ran four years ago for Mr. Eagle, and placed second. I was going to come back the next year and compete again, but waited because I needed time to grow and be more involved. Then cancer got in the way, and I decided to finally run last October [when I won].

Oh no, what sort of cancer did you struggle with?

Testicular. Cancer and HIV / AIDS awareness are very important to me. I have my own charity I founded for kids and teens living with HIV, Help Is On The Way Today. I work with hospitals, clinics and group homes here in New York. We service over 600 children.

I understand that your upcoming birthday cabaret show at The Duplex is going to be a benefit for that charity, and that shows like this have been a major part of your fundraising over the years.

13 years ago, I created a fundraising series called Cabaret Cares. I went around to all the backstage doors asking Broadway shows if they wanted to do a cabaret benefit, hoping they would say yes (I didn't know anyone in Broadway, so I had to hope for yeses). Over the course of 13 years, we raised $186,000 for my charity.

We have had amazing performances from the cast of The Producers, On Your Feet, In The Heights, Jersey Boys and more. We’ve featured cabaret performers like Marilyn Maye, Amanda McBroom, etc. My birthday always kicks off the new season, and features friends from Broadway and cabaret.

And this year, the kickoff will be Monday, September 24th at the Duplex!

Yes, on my actual birthday.

Back to the Eagle! As it draws to a close, how have you enjoyed your reign as Mr. Eagle 2018?

My reign was amazing. My goal was to educate more people about the leather community, and also to lend my voice to several causes.

What were some highlights of your year as Mr. Eagle?

Competing at IML with 71 other amazing leatherman. Meeting wonderful leathermen and women from the community. Marching in the Gay Pride parade in June. And recently, having a phone conversation with a man who never felt he looked good in leather. He bought his first harness and he said he felt great, but was afraid to wear it out. So I told him if you feel good in it, put it on and come to the Eagle. And he did!

Wonderful! What’s your favorite piece of gear, by the way?

I have two: my leg harness and my kilt.

Let’s talk about some upcoming Eagle events, starting with Dads & Lads on Friday, September 14th. That’s been a monthly... what goes down there?

It’s dance party-themed, every second Friday of month.

Then there’s a benefit for the True Colors Fund on September 20th.

Yes! Great dance music, gogo boys and raffles, $10 cover, 8 til 12.

Nice! And finally, Mister Eagle 2019 Weekend begins on October 5th! What are you expecting this next group of contestants to be like?

I have no idea who's competing yet. I am hoping for a huge turnout of contestants. It's a huge deal with [next year] being World Pride, too.

Oh that’s right, Mr. Eagle 2019 will be marching in World Pride! That’s daunting.

I will be there to guide them and help them any way I can. If you lead with your heart, then he will be fine.

Anything else you wanna mention?

Being Mr. Eagle 2018 has been one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Oh, and also that I am very single, lol!

Take note, thots! Okay, final question: what are you gonna be for Halloween?

Hmmmm... not sure yet. You will have to stop by the Eagle for our party and contest to find out!

Thanks, Joseph!

Joseph “Mr. Eagle 2018″ Macchia produces Happy Hour at The Eagle NYC (Tuesday through Saturday, 5-10pm). Check Thotyssey’s calendar for his other upcoming gigs, and follow Joseph on Facebook and Instagram.

On Point Archives

#onpointwith #josephmacchia #mreagle

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