I took my rope and some safety gear (i.e. condoms, mouth wash, gloves, etc.) and went to the dungeon.  I had been there a few weeks before when I still felt like a tourist, but this time I was family.  Even this time I was a little nervous, but as soon as I started scening people could tell I was part of the community.

I was actually a little scared, but I managed to run into a friend of a friend.  My good friend and blogger Max the Communist just so happens to live downstairs from a bunch of bears.  Great guys.

Anyhow, I relaxed once I realized I knew someone there.  This was my first time in public since Shibaricon and I really wanted to be tied up and spanked.  I didn’t get what I wanted, but I did get to meet the local fisting group and get a a great scene in with a cute older man who is a member of a local bondage group. I managed to get an invite to their group next Friday, which I am considering.  It’s in a private home, so that’s kinda iffy.  Safety is paramount.

I met the local fisting group M.A.F.I.A. and met their officers.  It turns out my friend who I recognized was in the group.  It was an awesome opportunity to ask about fisting and how the physiological mechanics of it all worked.  I was surprised when before even attempting to explain how you shove a hand up someones ass that I really had to understand a bunch of stuff about conditioning the mind to accept the trauma.  Very neat indeed.

My scene was amazing, I got tied first with a rope made spreaderbar handcuffs.  It was sexy as could be.  Everyone in the bar kept making eyes at me, watching the young bear cub get tied.  I was tied up like that for a good half hour as I was shown new ways to tie my rope up and talked to some people.  After a bit I wanted more, so my new rope top took me in back and tied me to the chainlink fence.  It was so hot.  Right in front of me was this beefy muscle man who teased me by grabbing on my crotch. I was tied for a good half hour until my feet started to go numb and asked my top to untie me.

Getting tired now, and need to sleep, but wanted to blog.  It was just what I needed.  No sex, just play. Very relaxing and even met new people and learned about a new fetish.  That’s what I call a great night.

“Your new International Mr. Leather 2010 is….Tyler McCormick!”

Only seconds after those words had been spoken an entire room of leather men and leather women burst into tears. We had all watched as kinky history had been made. For 31 years the International Mr. Leather contest had been a symbol of pride for the leather community. In one single instance the kinky community would be rocked so hard it would it only be comparable to the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. Fifty-one other men had stood beside him, and he had outshone them all.

Why is this so profound? Well, you see, Tyler McCormick is wheelchair bound. Not meaningful enough for you? Consider then that Tyler was not born a man, Tyler is a female-to-male transsexual person. Think I’m getting caught up in sensationalized history? Wrong. Under the surface there is so much more to Tyler McCormick.

I stood in the audience that night only 2 feet from him as the announcement was made as a security volunteer. In his eyes I saw pride beyond measure. For two days I had watched him during the Pecs & Personality contest and during the final night held my breath during his speech. Both occasions to watch him I was amazed as his inner light shone brighter and brighter as the contest drew to a conclusion.

It was a moment which I shall never forget as long as I live. In my mind I instantly new that I was witnessing the kinky equivalent of MLK’s famous speech, Obama’s election, and many other proud and historically significantly events all rolled into one. The raw emotion of it, the atmosphere of pride in the Congress Theatre that evening was enough to floor you. I could not hold back my tears of pride. I wrapped my arms around the nearest security volunteer. We held each other, embraced with pride for our community.

As Tyler made his way around the front edge of the stage, I reached up to touch his hand and share the moment with him. I will sound like a crackpot to some of you, but I swear the energy that came from his hands when we touched was electric and so intense that I felt my muscles spasm.

Standing only several feet from me at the foot of the stage was 2010 International Ms. Leather Mollena Williams, who I had the honor of meeting only days before at Shibaricon as my instructor. In her eyes I saw something which I can not find the words to express to you. The level of pride we felt was overwhelming. The closest I could possibly come to explaining it would be to ask yourself if you have ever looked into another human beings eyes and saw straight into their soul and felt that inside for just one moment the two of you were connected in a way deeper than any other bond. That’s what it felt like.

It was only in hindsight, as I so eagerly rushed back to Shibaricon on public transit to be the harbinger of kinky news, that I realized was standing as a volunteer between the 2010 International Mr. and Ms. Leather, having never been to a leather event before. The reality of that hit me hard.

But why am I choosing to talk about this when so many other bloggers and journalists have already covered this event days ago? The answer to that question is simple….pride. It was on this evening only about an hour before the announcement that I finally understood what pride really truly meant. Perhaps even more remarkable was that only one year prior to this historical moment during Pride Month had I come out as not straight.

How did I achieve this sudden realization? It wasn’t really one pivotal moment, but the unfolding of many things at once. Already overwhelmed with the energy of Shibaricon, I was eager from the night before standing door guard at Pecs & Personality to come back this night and show my kinky side. I had only worn jeans, an IML volunteer t-shirt, chucks and a leather cap which I had borrowed from a friend at Shibaricon. Funnily enough, I didn’t even realize yet the rich culture and meaning behind leather. I was just wearing the cap as camouflage, so as to feel like I stuck out too much. I had thought that I was simply going to volunteer and see a pageant. I could not have been more wrong.

Upon the final night of the contest, I had the privilege of standing before my leather brothers wearing that very same leather cap which had been borrowed the night before. Only this time I was wearing it as my own, as it had been given to me the night before after my volunteer shift by a very special friend named Jackie. I would not understand the profoundness of this gift until later.

I didn’t have a clue as to the significance of giving leather. I didn’t understand boot black. None of this meant anything to me. Not until I started asking questions from my leather brothers, who took the time to teach me and explain our heritage.

One in particular will always have a very special place in my heart and I wish to thank him from the depths of my soul. Piglet, you know who you are, you taught me more than you will every realize. I shall never forget you as long I live. Your patience and understanding in helping a young cub to find his place, combined with the experience of IML itself taught me the meaning of pride.

Piglet taught me that leather was once alive, and if taken care of properly will last nearly forever. He taught me that by taking care of another brother or sisters boots you are showing respect for those that have come before you. He, and several others, taught me that the gift of giving leather was as to say this is your heritage. Be proud. As a U.S. Navy veteran, all of this rattled my soul and stirred sensations long forgotten. The feelings of being a part of something bigger than you. The honor of respecting the customs and traditions of those before you. Pride.

Only an hour later, I stood before the foot of the main stage. The announcement was made. All at once my experiences, my new knowledge fell upon my soul. I was overwhelmed. I began to weep. I was part of history. For the first time I was experiencing pride with my gay brothers and sisters. I was joyful and sad. Full of emotion, and proud. I know knew what it meant to have pride. I learned all of this, simply because of the gift of leather and time was offered to me, and now I carry the pride of calling myself a Leather Man.

Shibaricon and IML were both this past weekend and it’s taken four full days to recover physically and mentally. The experiences I had at these events have truly transformed my life as well as who I am. The man that I was before is no more, and the man that I wanted so dearly to become has finally been born.

Over this past week I have been trying to find the right words to capture has happened, but it seems inevitable that words shall fail any attempt to capture the experience. I have been welcomed with open arms and warm embrace into the collective kink communities of both IML and Shibaricon. The combined power of these communities surges through me and I am eager to share it with the world and change it forever for the better.

As some of you will remember from my last post before the convention, I was feeling severely depleted of encouragement and support. I felt like everywhere I turned I encountered negative reactions to my chosen career path. At that time I did not yet know that rich and vibrant communities like those I encountered and now live within even existed. I felt alone, ashamed, beaten, tattered, and abused. I felt rage, hollowness, and remorse. I thought that by hosing the path of a sex educator, activist, therapist and historian that I had alienated myself from all human existence save a few sparse individuals…and I could not have been more wrong.

The people I have met, whom I now consider my big, fat, kinky family, have shown me love, support, patience, understanding, empathy, respect, admiration, confidence and pride in who they are. In turn that energy has shown me the true path I was seeking. I realize that I am not alone. I realize that there are people who want to hear what I have to say even now as I make my journey through the world of academia.

If you, my beloved readers, would indulge me for only a brief moment I wish to give a very special thanks to those at Shibaricon and IML who made this weekend so very powerful and special. You all taught me the meaning of pride and community. Without those of you who welcomed me this weekend I fear that I shall not have ever reached a point of confidence in my career until much later, and to great detriment to the community. The love which I have for you is now and forever shall be unending. You are my greatest pride, my greatest joy and my hope when all is dim.

Now I realize at this point I sound rather preachy or like some wacky, kooky, nutzoid, crazy, hippy, spiritual dude. You wouldn’t be wrong to think that, even I think that. Something deep inside has changed. The man I was before this experience has died. I am no longer that person. I am no longer scared, confused, overwhelmed, or shaken. I have grown strong, confident, and powerful. I welcome the burden of fighting for sexual freedom and sexual pride. I will take the burden as a human ox-head and pull the plow of progress. I have become an Atlas of sex positivity, willing and able to take the weight of the world on my shoulders.

You may wonder how this is all possible? I did myself for the past week sit introspectively and wonder the same. The answer is really very simple. Pride. Community. Passion. Grace. Freedom.

Values which have been implanted in me like some alien force, over riding the mind and dictating a mission greater than myself. I have learned the value of unleashing myself as I truly am to the world, and having pride in that kinky, poly, pan-sexual freak. I have learned that my pride powers the communities around me, and theirs fuels my passion. Passion for activism, education, and teaching. This passion provides me with grace to encounter the world which I wish to change, and instead of becoming angry when I see they are not yet able to comprehend the message, simply accept their human conditions and wait patiently until the message has been heard. Above all else, this acceptance that the world can not be change overnight has given me freedom. Freedom to be myself, with pride, and hold my head up high. Freedom to let my freak flag fly high in the sky for the entire world to see.

So, let the world try to beat me down. Let them try to stop me. Let any force come against me, for I am now empowered with the love and support of thousands of kinky geeks. I am ready to tackle injustices with my army of loving family members holding me up when I am too weak to stand. It is not just for a better world that I fight and hold my head up with pride. It is for my family that stand up for. I love them and they love me.

No, I am not alone. I am loved. I am powerful. I am free. I am me…just a kinky, proud, perverted freak unleashed.

You see, living your life knowing that your dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge and understand about human sexuality, love and relationships is difficult at best.  I don’t believe in hiding what I do from anyone, as my entire career goal set is based upon the ideal of breaking with the norm of not talking about sexuality. In fact, I find a certain joy in being open with people about my academic pursuits…but there’s only one problem with all of it.  It’s lonely.

I feel so lonely at times that it’s unbearable.  I often feel like a complete freak of nature, and like something is wrong with me.  People around me just don’t understand what my true intentions are about my studies and label me as some sort of freaky pervert.  It hurts deeply and breaks my heart to know that even the people closest to me, that I call my friends, often seem to drown in the waters of knowledge that I swim in.

My intentions are pure and my heart is in the right place, but it seems people always misunderstand me.  I can’t begin to describe how it feels to know that there may only be a handful of people alive that genuinely understand you.  The weight it places upon you emotionally is indescribable.  I only want to help people learn to be more open about sexuality, less inhibited, less afraid of sexual freedom and expression, but instead it seems I only succeed in isolating myself from society.

I really wish people could see me what for who I really am and what I am trying to accomplish.  If they only knew what I do about sexuality and saw things the way I do, or even a fraction of it, they may see how wonderful I really am…but they don’t.  In a city full of 1.4 million people, I walk down the street alone.  In a crowded urban jungle full of wild animus I am alone. Alone.

I try not to let it wear me down too much, but it’s hard to deal with the harsh reality of it all.  The more successful I become at learning about sexuality, the more excited I become.  The more excited I become, the more I alienate myself from the average person.  The more I alienate myself the lonelier I become.

It’s not just loneliness that courses through me, it is also anger.  I feel incredibly enraged for feeling so lonely.  I don’t understand why more people are not trying to seek sexual enlightenment.  I don’t understand why so many people are obsessively compelled to safeguard their little niche communities, as if I was a secret spy from the vanilla/hetero world hell bent on destruction of their culture.

It really is a heavy burden to bear, but in the end it appears to me that I only have myself to blame.  I chose this path.  I made this choice and I need to accept the consequences of that action. I won’t, however, accept the stigmas society places upon me for willing to talk about their taboos in public.  To that I say, sod off.

It’s not my fault that people are afraid to talk about sex.  Even kinksters are afraid to talk about their sexuality beyond the safe confines of their bedroom/dungeon doors.  It completely blows my mind.  I don’t understand how even the people who are kinky are too timid to talk about having a better orgasm, etc. in public.

So, in the end I’m left with one simple conclusion.  The path I’ve chosen is difficult, and I should expect that. People are inherently afraid of their sexuality, afraid of sex, and most definitely afraid of other people’s sexuality.  I will encounter resistance along the way.  I will have to battle against the feelings of loneliness in understanding that the path I chose will eventually lead me to enlightenment.  Along that journey I will feel lonely.  I will feel like a freak, and you know what.  I’m ok with that.

After the disastrous first taste, we boldly decided to try another citrus flavor.  Olivia chose Lemon.  I was skeptical, but thought it wasn’t that hard a flavor to nail. After all, if Jolly Ranchers can get it right, why not a lube company?  My instincts were incorrect and Lemon was our second disaster–so horrible that it nearly triggered Olivia’s gag reflex. Remember, this is a porn star we’re talking about.

At this point, having tasted glue in my mouth twice, I had to remind myself that I was not in fact back in kindergarten eating glue paste.  Glue paste would have been an upgrade. However, since this test was part of my never-ending quest to gain knowledge, I mustered the courage to press forward.

We chose Piña Colada next, although by now, all three of us were skeptical if any of the lubes would taste even a little good.  We started to discuss why would a person actually want to really use a flavored lube.  Rachel made an excellent point on oral sex,  “Flavored lubes are for making going down on a guy like licking a lollipop.”  I added that I had used a cherry flavored lube once while going down on and fingering a girl–but didn’t really find the flavor all that pleasant. It only mildly tasted of cherry.

As it turned out, Pina Colada was actually a decent flavor.  It had a very fruity smell, an ok flavor, but still had the glue-like after taste like the others.  At this point that we started to realize the flavor agents in these lubes were fast acting and faded quickly, leading to the gluey aftertaste.  Gluey flavor was the base formula for the lube itself.  Personally, I advocate against using glycerol based lubes anyhow.  I find them sticky and messy.  Tasting them, however, was another story altogether. 

We were getting used to the lube aftertaste.  Next choice, Strawberry Kiwi:  it didn’t really smell like Kiwi or Strawberry, but the taste wasn’t quite so bad.  I actually commented that the flavor was rather like cum.   Both girls chimed in sharply and in unison, “Uh, no!”–stating that cum is a little different.  I conceded.  My experience in tasting semen is rather limited and both girls are seasoned veterans. In the end, the girls thought the flavor was all right.  I disagreed and thought the medicinal flavor left much to be improved.

Next, we tested Bubble Gum, which I feared from the start.  It was my pick for nastiest in flavor.  But, surprisingly, it turned out tasty to me. In fact, I commented that I’d rather enjoy giving head with this flavor.  The girls, however, did not share my enthusiasm.  Both thought very ill of it.  We all agreed that it did, in fact, actually taste exactly like bubble gum and didn’t have as strong of an aftertaste.  I have to say that the flavor was almost identical to Double Bubble, the hard little pink blocks, so typical at Halloween. 

We tasted Berrylicious next, but didn’t care for it.  In fact, we couldn’t make heads or tails of it–kinda just sugary, with a vague fruit-like taste.  We quickly moved on to Banana, though neither of the girls would taste it.  They’d had bad experiences with Banana flavor in the past.  I was forced to be sole tester, not looking forward to it after listening to the girls’ input.  I had to bite the bullet, load up the spoon with the gooey liquid and pucker up. 

It wasn’t really that bad. I actually kinda liked it.  The weird thing was I had to keep smacking my lips and just think about the flavor—strange, as it wasn’t bad or good.  I felt like a dog with peanut butter in its mouth. The flavor wasn’t bitter.  It did, in fact, taste a bit like bananas.  But I couldn’t make sense of it.  I chalked it up to just kinda iffy . . .  not really that bad . . . having no second or third opinions.

Coming down the home stretch, we were left with Passion Fruit, Peach, and Cherry.  We decided to save Cherry for last and picked Passion Fruit.  I immediately gagged at it and was surprised that the girls found it mildly pleasant. The flavor was decent enough for them, but I just didn’t see it–one of the nastiest things I had in my mouth, and remember, I ate military food for years.

Peach turned out tasting barely different from Tangerine.  In fact, we couldn’t taste the difference, so we moved on to our final flavor for the evening.  All three of us expected Cherry to have a strong flavor profile, but taste rather unpleasant.  We loaded up our trusty spoons and marched forward to our experiment’s finale. 

All three of us were caught off guard.  We hadn’t expected Cherry to deliver–it turned out very pleasant.  In fact, it tasted like Cherries.  While it tasted nicely like cherries, it didn’t really deliver in the strength of flavor. Rachel chimed in, “It’s kinda hard to mess up the Cherry, as mankind has had an eternal quest for getting it’s flavor right.”  It also had a very nice scent. 

We all agreed on three top picks for ID’s Juicy Lubes: 3rd place was Pina Colada, for its nice smell; second place was Strawberry Kiwi; taking the gold medal, by complete surprise, was Cherry. 

What can we conclude?  Lacking a comparison brand, it’s difficult to say if our conclusions are typical of all flavored lubes. It would seem that water-based lubricants with flavoring leave a bit of an aftertaste in your mouth and the flavor fades fast.

Our special thanks to the Broadway Youth Center for their service to Chicago and for providing lubes for us to taste.  For more information, visit their website:
http://www.howardbrown.org/hb_services.asp?id=50

`

So my friends are sitting around with me at a diner, I had some drinks trying to relax after some family crisis earlier in the night, and I hear the conversation at the next table over. The table next to us is young intellectual college types as this particular diner is near Loyola.  Suddenly, out of nowhere a rather innocent looking gal states loudly that she would vote for Bob Saget if he ran for president, and then punctuated her thought with “not only would I vote for Bob Saget but I would fuck Bob Saget without question.”  It’s not exactly the kind of thing that you would expect from anyone, really.   No lesson here tonight kiddies, it’s just about sex, real and random.  I thought it was worth sharing such a real expression of sexuality.  Until next time.

-Doc

Just wanted to let you know I’m working on getting the photos from the Chicago Sexpo up on my site.  My photographer had an accident and has a head injury so it could be a few days.  Please be patient as I work to get the photos and my  review up on the website.  It should be up in a few days. He did manage to get me a few teasers from his shoot to put up on the site before he got hurt, so be sure to check our photos area to see what you missed.

Thanks in advance.

-Doc

It occurred to me as I watched how the improv performers were able to utilize stereotypes, myths and small nuggets of reality in their work on topics that are normally difficult to discuss.  For example, in one comedy set alone the performers tackled the hypocrisy of the Catholic church, bestiality, and lesbianism in a period of only 10 minutes.  The sketch comedy really made me laugh,but at the same time I couldn’t help but have an epiphany.

Improv comedy could have a really valuable role in leading workshops discussing issues that people are normally reluctant to discuss.  Politics, religion, myths, stereotypes, news and more as they pertain to sexuality can all be explored by the comedic medium to engage an audience and amplify the absurdity of various topics or beliefs.  The discussion that follows would be used to correct the stereotypes illustrated by the comedy work.

I think it’s all rather interesting, and I look forward to trying my theory in person.

-Doc

By this line of thought polyamorists are more about the love between two or more people and put a higher value on the emotional connection between two or more people, whereas swingers put a stronger emphasis on maintaining emotional exclusivity with their primary sexual partners while engaging in open sexual relations with others.  The two seem at ends of a scale between emphasis on emotion and physicality while both share compersion as a common characteristic.  …but what does this mean?

Are nonmongamists somewhere in between?  What is a non-monogamist?  Perhaps BOTH are actually non-monogamists on the same scale which shows the balance between sex and love while also expressing that perhaps certain inviduals are capable of the similiar non-excluvisity trait in their romantic/sexual relationships?

There must be some actual connection between swingers and polyamorists, but what is it?  Surely there must be a common thread?  I really must think about this idea more and really try to figure it out.  I get the feeling that it must be explored and that the questions it will answer will have really powerful implications in the field of sexuality and love.  Who knows, I’ll figure out it down the road I’m sure of it.  I guess only time will tell.