Gay Men and Leather
“I have a gift for you,” My uncle said, almost menacingly.I looked at him skeptically and asked, “What is it?”
“See for yourself.”
He then popped the car of his trunk to reveal a black and blue leather bag. It was heavy, roughly the size of a carry-on that would barely fit in an airplane’s overhead compartment. I unzipped the bag, and much to my surprise was leather. Expensive, genuine leather for every part of my body.
Assless chaps, collars, bracelets, harnesses, suspenders, vests, even the iconic leather cap that so many leather daddies know and love. In it, there were also plastic gloves and a book titled, “A Leather Daddy’s Guide.”
I looked at my uncle puzzled. I was 23, recently out, and confused why he was giving me all this.
“I got it at a yard sale in the suburbs. Five bucks total. If you don’t want it, I’ll sell it and make a fortune.”
Everything must have been worth at least two grand, potentially a lot more. I mean that bag itself could have easily gone for $500.
I told him to hold his horses. I had recently been getting into kinkier and more taboo sexual scenes, and was wondering what would be next for me. I figured this may be exactly what I was looking for.
I took the whole bag. The items all fit me. Given that at the time I was 6’4’’, 185 lbs, with a 31 inch waist, I was pretty in shock that everything fit so perfectly. But hey, I was definitely not complaining.
The next step after trying them on was finding a place to wear it all out. I didn’t know where the leather scene was in Boston and even if there was one. I mean, for God’s sake. It’s Boston, not NY. But I discovered this event called Fascination. It was (still goes on and I still attend) in the basement of Jacque’s Cabaret (the oldest drag bar in the U.S.).
It was the only place I found where it sounded appropriate to display all my new garb, so I got dressed up fully. Leather chaps with ass out. Harness with chest out. I even bought a leather jockstrap for the occasion. If I was going to explore the leather scene, I wasn’t going to do a half-assed job. I went full-assed. Literally.
I arrived at Jaques and they had large trash can bags for you to store your clothing. I undressed, put my clothing in the bag, and noticed how cold the breeze felt on my bare butt.
I immediately pounded a shot upstairs and then headed downstairs to where all the leather would be happening. The room was poorly lit, but some walls had a blood red tint. Vintage rough gay p*rn, with men tied up, displayed on the wall. A man, tied to one of the poles, was being lightly flogged.
I was way out of my comfort zone. Consent upon places like this are also given upon entry, ya know? So it’s completely acceptable to grab a guy’s ass as you walk by before you say hello. This threw me for a loop.
Guys were touching me. P*rn was on the walls. A guy was getting flogged. I’m half naked. This is absolutely terrifying. So I pounded a Long Island. Then another.
Once that liquid courage was pulsing through my veins, I began to feel myself and the venue. I look great. I feel sexy as all hell. And I can pretty much grab any guy’s ass here and probably make out with him. What am I waiting for?
So I went up and spoke to a few guys. No corny pickup lines. I said they looked cute, complimented them on a piece of leather, and gave them my name.
I was shocked by how friendly everyone was. It wasn’t like bitchy circuit parties, where unless you have a eight pack and ass that rivals Kim Kardashian’s, the boys aren’t going to pay you any attention.
There was no nonsense with these guys. Everyone was friendly. Everyone was happy to chat. Everyone was touching and making out and grabbing asses. Everyone had revealing leather outfits.
It. Was. Amazing.
For the first time since coming out, I felt like gay/bi men weren’t the worst. It was no nonsense with these guys. I exchanged numbers with a bunch of dudes. I made out with even more. The next day I texted all of them (and some had already texted me). They didn’t wait to respond. They texted back immediately, and I set up friend dates with all of them.
Before I knew it, I become involved in the leather scene in Boston. I had found a new friend group. A group of guys of all ages, who were always down to hang out, always down for NSA hook-ups, and always down to drink or go out dancing. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
That’s when I realized that leather isn’t just about the leather. Yes, wearing leather is sexy, kinky, and empowering. The moment that smooth feel touches my skin, I do feel like a sexy wildebeest (or catwoman).
But it’s about the people. The community. Guys who are tired with a lot of the bullshit that comes from circuit parties, beefy jocks, and hairless twinks. Guys who are no-nonsense and don’t play hard to get. Guys who will remember your name the next time you see them.
For the first time since coming out, I felt I had a real queer community. Since joining the leather scene, I’ve only gotten more involved in leather. I go to Folsom. I date other leather daddies. I get blown in the bathroom of these clubs.
www.gaypopbuzz.com/gay-leather-men-introduction/
