My First boy Party

It was delirious FUN and quite a blissfully arduous task to squeeze down the juicy hot buttocks and pec-lined Leather-Latex corridor to get to the back of the room to ostensibly check our coats. It quickly became apparent that this was one of those times that the journey was oh sooo much more worth the slow scenic route.

My eyes (Hard Leather Masters and shimmering sweaty boys), nose (the leather, sweat, and body sent) and touch (hard butts, hands, and anonymous caresses) screamed in unholy unison at the prolific, oozing masculinity, dripping testosterone, pre-cum and inviting salivations.

Not that the boys of Leather checking the coasts and blackening the boots at the 9th Ave Saloon were any less hunky or adorable but they were preoccupied assuring that everyone else enjoyed themselves.

It struck that boyish chord deep in my makeup that they were being what I needed to be - the submissive, obedient, playful, lusty counterpart to the Commanding, Dominant, (and oh yeah - Lusty) Master that came here questing and slutting for that inborn fleshy match-mate.

I watched with glee and yearning as a kneeling leather boy tongue-drenched a Master's boots and continued up the Master's thighs - slowly, carefully, and judiciously sopping His crotch.  I  wished with every out-of-control hormone that I was that boy with the ponderous dilemma - to head back and rim(?) or head forward and suck(?); but the Master pulled him back and bade him rise, deciding for the boy a shared restrained hug and an unspoken promise of later. (Fuck!)

As I sputtered back to some sense of the corporeal world I realized I had hit upon on a group of real boys. Not couples, not Dom/subs, not Master/slaves, not even the ubiquitous Top/Bottom dynamic, but a homogenous pack of boys single-minded in their perspective of life and its purpose and energetic in their pursuit of it! This was a space to be and to discover what we submissives are and what we need; realizing that there are no absolutes in that definition of what is so fundamentally personal taste, desires and fantasies.

These Saloon parties (called LOADs ) were necessary to encourage, enlighten and even (in limited doses) frustrate us, so that we honed in to what we need. And HELL - it was hot, hairy, steamy, leathery and FUN in meandering amongst all the offerings - even giggling (respectfully so) in the faces of the abysmally stoic ones.

Thankful for a glimpse of what I am and seek, I took in the fullness of the LOAD and made first contact with my fraternal kin.

- boy kevin