I enjoy the dance, the sometimes subtle and sometimes brazen choreography of cruising.
He was about 5’4” tall, and slim, but still had enough muscle on him to be interesting. Dressed in jeans with heavy wear on the knees, a leather vest with no insignia and a leather ball cap pulled low over his eyes. His boots shined like glass, military polish. He was a tempting target.
I no longer drink, so I don’t hang out in bars very much, but I do attend a lot of leather events and this one had just become more promising. In the decidedly non-cruisy foyer of the hotel, he and I had already made contact. We hadn’t spoken, but by the way he stayed just far enough away from me to be polite, but close enough wherever I went, I knew I had him hooked.
Or maybe he had me. That’s the thing about cruising, predator and prey are mutually amenable to the whole experience, so it sometimes becomes hard to tell who is pursuing who.
Finally I made eye contact and nodded toward him. He approached and stood at a respectful distance. I knew his name, thank God for events that have name tags, and I asked him if he had plans for the evening. He responded with a wonderfully military, “Sir, no Sir.”
After a little negotiation which involved the usual “what are you into” conversation as well as talk about health issues, limits and intimate details I won’t go into here, we agreed that having a scene together was what we both wanted.
The event had three dungeons set up for the nightly parties. One was “pansexual”, one was for men only and one for women only. At this event the pansexual dungeon was pretty much the venue of heterosexual folks and he was uncomfortable with that energy, so we entered the men’s space. It was dark, and mostly abandoned, but it would do well for what we had in mind.
The boy removed his boots while I got my set floggers near a suitable St. Andrew’s Cross. He put his boots and socks aside and presented himself to me. I removed his leather vest and unbuttoned his jeans. In moments I had undressed him to his leather jock and had him against the cross. His muscular back was a perfect playground for me and he responded well to my work. Before long he had bright raised welts in a herring bone pattern across the pale expanse of his shoulders and his ass was glowing pink. I could tell by his body language he was having a good time, as was I.
After a very exciting and exhausting 45 minutes, I hugged him and pulled him away from the cross. As he sat squirming on my knee, I felt the energy flowing off him. He was in that blissful afterglow and it was intoxicating.
We decided to adjourn to somewhere more private, since the room had become more busy than when we started. As he was dressing, I was approached by one of the men who had watched our scene.
“Damn that boy is hot!” he said.
I had to agree, and he nodded at me as we left the dungeon.
I tell this story not as a tale of conquest, but as a testimony to the delights of male energy in a space for men. The scene wouldn’t have been nearly as exciting or as intense in the pansexual space. I much prefer having a scene with a man in the company of other men. Playing in “men’s space” eliminates the curiosity element which often intrudes on a gay scene in a pansexual space. There it can feel like a show, and though I sometimes enjoy my exhibitionistic streak, I like a sexually intense scene with another man in “men’s space”. We get it! There is an understanding among brothers that transcends the play and makes the whole scene feel more intimate.
Anyone who saw that scene would agree, the male energy of that boy and I was palpable, and that was the point.
Now, time for full disclosure. Though I considered the boy every bit the man I enjoyed playing with had he removed his jock things might have been different. He was a transman, and the jock was one of his hard limits. We negotiated that and it didn’t make our scene any less hot or less intimate or less infused with male energy. We also discussed where he would feel most comfortable playing. He was hesitant about the men’s dungeon, but the pansexual space was a non-starter. In the end we agreed to “go for it” and also understood that we might be asked to leave.
That is something we were willing to accept.
I know that this might anger some men who feel the sanctity of the men’s space was violated, but I would note that the only comments we got were from men who thought the scene was indeed hot, and from men who thought the boy was worthy of lusting after. I have never told the organizers about this, and I don’t feel a need to. The boy I played with identified as male, and to me he was every bit a man with the exception of his genitalia and as per our negotiation that wasn’t going to be a factor anyway.
The point of this whole story is this, I feel strongly that we as a community need to understand our transsexual brothers and sisters. Most of the trans folk I know don’t set themselves apart as “trans”, they identify as the gender they present. Who am I to disagree?
In the leather/fetish realm we need to be clear about the distinction between “fetish” and gender identity. Since we play in both areas, we should be even more aware of the distinctions. The transmen and transwomen I know do not fetishize their gender identity. That is a totally different issue and since it is not my fetish, I can’t speak to it.
I sincerely hope I am not stepping on anyone’s toes, but I am expressing my opinion. As leatherfolk, I feel we should recognize people who identify as men as men and who identify as women as women. It’s a simple thing, and unless I plan on getting more intimate which would be subject to negotiation anyway, why not take things at face value? Besides, I know more than a few leathermen who seem much more feminine than many of the transmen I know. I suspect the reverse is true as well.
For me, I fully embrace my friends who are transgender as whatever gender they present. And my gender-queer friends, I embrace them as the rebellious and wonderfully non-gender binary.
Unless we are going to start having genital exams at the door of every dungeon, (which might be fun but that is another issue), it’s time we stopped balkanizing and started enlightening ourselves. And as to those toes I might have stepped on. Well, I hope you don’t carry that limp too long, but you will recover.