Monday, March 31, 2014

#Marriage and #Equality



This weekend saw the first official marriages between same-sex couples in the UK. It's been a long time coming, but it is a great day to be able to say "Equality in the UK!"


Sadly, there are still those who fight the change. In the run up to the official day, a poll has suggested that '1 in 5 Britons would refuse to attend, if invited to a "gay wedding"'. Their reason? because 'Marriage can only be between a Man and Woman - a Husband and Wife', and so going to a "gay wedding" would be deeply offensive to them. 

I can't I imagine a gay couple randomly inviting complete strangers to their 'special day', so that means 1 fifth of people would rather lose a friend or a family member, rather than change their definition of 'marriage'. Which to me is both really sad - and utterly strange, because we change the definition of words all the time: even the word 'Gay' itself...!

Even more importation, the 20th Century has seen huge changes in the way that we understand the meaning of 'Family', 'Wife', 'Husband' and 'Partner':

'Family' no longer simply means 'blood-ties' - nor does it mean only 'Dad, Mum, and their shared biological offspring'. In this age were most people will be married more than once, and have kids from several previous marriages, 'family' has become a much more flexible term - and one which each 'family' is free to define as they see fit.

Even more interesting: a woman would never now been seen as the simple 'Property' of her family, able to be 'given away' by her Father to another man in exchange for a 'Bride price' (the original meaning of 'Dowry'). And very few modern women would ever agree that being a 'Wife' means having no individual rites of her own to manage her money, inherit or vote - or that her only value as a woman is in her fertility, and that if she proves unable to bear her Husband useful offspring then he should be able to be cast off with impunity (as he would a barren mare).

Likewise 'Husband' itself no longer means 'Master of the house', nor does it mean having the unalienable right to own and manage his wife and children in the same way one would 'husband' your flocks, domestic animals and property (just as 'Husbandry' is still used in farming today).

Even those who demand that 'Marriage can only be between a Man and a woman' have conveniently forgotten that the original meaning included 'forsaking ALL others' - and that the bond was was for life...



With so much that has changed in how we think about marriage, gender and equality - surely one more little tweak shouldn't be that big a deal!?

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Perverse, submissive - and PROUD

GregKinky and His boy

Just look how fuckin HAPPY that boy is.

Look at that grin - the sparkle in his eyes. And then look at the Pride in his Top's eyes.

Tell me that's not one of the sexiest, most beautifully PERVERSE images of rubber and fetish and BDSM you could imagine.


This is no ‘object’ without emotion - no helpless kid forced to endure a shameful and humiliating experience - no part-time toy that will run the moment he is released…

This is a true PERVERT: a guy who has not only accepted and embraced his transgressive desire, but has DEDICATED himself to his perversity - and the pursuit and exploration of all that he can experience, all he can BE.

A guy like this will never make you doubt your own perversity - never threaten your Dominance over him. He won't need to be cajoled, bribed or forced to do what you desire. No - His hunger, his desire to explore and be pushed will become your motivation, your encouragement to try ever greater, ever more perverse experiences for you BOTH.

This guy is PROUD of what he is - PROUD of what he can and will do for You: his Top, his Master.


But be warned: play with a Proud perverted sub like this can be dangerous. This is not for the part-time Top who just wants an excuse to flex His muscles and play at being a Man - nor is this treasure for the abuser who wants an excuse to pass on the pain He feels inside without thought to the damage it does to others - or Himself. And he's not for the fantasist who wants to believe that a man can be reduced to an object, a thing, without permanent, litigious, damage to himself - and to You.

Fuck no: play with a sub like this is going to be both a challenge and a life changing experience. And it's going to help you to become a better Top - a better MAN.


His eagerness to learn is going to constantly push you to explore Your own desires - to delve into your own perversity and nurture its ongoing growth and development.

The Pride that burns off this sub when he serves you well is going to make you realise the true value of what he gives - the genuine honour there is in being served. It's going to force you to see him as something to be honoured and treasured in turn: and not just as a sub either, but as a boy, a man and a friend.

And his devotion to You is going to show you that true BDSM is never about simply emptying your cock - fuck no: BDSM is about transformation, empowerment, exchange - and magic. The dangerous kind of magic - the stuff that really works. The kind of magic that works on your body, heart and soul; the kind that takes you, changes you, opens your eyes and makes you SEE yourself and your place in the universe...


Fuck no - This is no mere slave, no mindless object to be used and forgotten. This is a challenge, an inspiration - a muse...


Deny the abusers - Refuse the myth of objectification.
EMBRACE YOUR FETISH with PERVERSITY and PRIDE!

Thursday, March 20, 2014

@Leatherwest 's New Bristol Leather venue: The Union



Bristol already has one of the best leather and fetish scenes you could imagine - but we perverts are a greedy lot, and are always happy to welcome a  new venue into the mix.

'The Union' is the latest venture from the prolific guys at LeatherWest - the sexy bunch of guys who organise both the Bristol Leather Market, and the incredibly popular BLUF@Bristol party nights. Like them, The Union is hosted at The Den: a great little gay pub in the center of Bristol's gay district. It's an intimate and incredibly friendly place - with a nice big bar space with sofas at the front, a small outside area with benching (normally covered with a marque) and a darker, more 'private' space to the back. For the Union night, the guys had also added a great sound system, some moody laser lighting, and even more sofas - all of which made for a truly welcoming (and utterly non-threatening) space, perfect for those new to the scene who might be a little nervous at coming to a 'Fetish' social night for the first time.

The dress code was strict but simple: feel free to express your affiliation to any of the 'leather tribes': Biker, BLUF, pervert, Skin - but just do it in a significant amount of leather (i.e. jacket, jeans, chaps - something 'outer' and not just a jock and boots). And there really was a great range of gear on display: from a one-piece racing suit to boots harness and chaps - simple leather jeans to full BLUF uniform, muir and gloves. The only other stipulation was to leave any attitude or drama outside the door: this was to be a social night and an opportunity to mix, laugh, admire and make friends.

And that's exactly what we did.

Sir looked amazing in His Thigh-high Wescos, Premier chaps, and new leather vestless sleeves - and I got to wear my Mr.B Fukkas, piped shirt and metal-plated AlpineStar Moto-X boots. 

It felt really good to be up on two legs and able to join in conversations for once - and I was really happy to have several guys comment 'Oh god - you're bootbrush? I've only ever seen you on all fours, and didn't realise there was such a cute guy under all that rubber...!' ;)

Best of all, my leathers felt so good - and I'm glad to say that we both attracted some very welcome attention. As did the amazing photos that the guys shared of us on both twitter and their Facebook page: 






I'm not alone in having had an incredibly enjoyable night either: the chat on twitter and the reviews on the wesbite have all confirmed that everyone felt the same: it really was a brilliant evening, with everyone enjoying both the chance to be out in gear, and the opportunity to meet, chat, flirt and admire.

But don't just take our word: be there for the next Union evening to see for yourself!

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

London, February 2014 - home again

Monday - and our last day.

I woke early - and had to gently extricate myself from my Man's embrace before padding quietly through to the bathroom for a very much needed early-morning piss... I thought I'd been super quiet - but when I padded back and crept under the duvet, it was to find my collar firmly gripped and guided down to my Man's beautifully waiting cock.

I settled down on my side - head cushioned on His belly as I nuzzled and licked, and my Man growled His sleepy encouragement. All around His balls, the inside of His thighs, up along His shaft and over His head: my tongue eagerly working, bathing Him in warmth and wetness, hunger and devotion. Sir kept His hand upon my collar, but let me work my magic where I would - only occasionally guiding my attentions with a gentle push or tug; I was happy to simply lose myself in the intoxicating textures and smells of Him - and the deep bliss of giving Him pleasure.

Gradually, Sir edged us both to the end of the bed - His cock still teased and held in His dog's mouth - finally turning me so that I was lying on my back with my head over the side of the bed with my Man standing, cock rooted deep inside my throat - and free to fuck deep down into me, balls slapping against my chin as I greedily swallowed every thrusting inch.

I know that throat-fucking His dog always gets my Man ready to fuck - especially when His pup uses it's paws to stroke the back of His thighs, stroke His beautifully furred butt, and tease along His crack - and so it wasn't long before I found myself watching and whimpering hungrily as He rolled on a sheath and then crawled, all fours, onto the bed behind me...

Sir let me take Him carefully at first: gently on my side so that He could ease Himself into my protesting ring. I struggled at first - despite several days of wearing my favourite glass plug - but I relaxed as I felt Him slowly pushing me apart: letting my body take over in the familiar wave of heat and hunger that shuddered through me at being so beautifully filled with His hard, hungry heat. I backed myself down onto Him - pushing my butt into the welcoming curve of His body; His arm, strong and enfolding around my chest as He reached down with the other to cup my hip and pull me onto Him all the deeper. I could feel His fingers, cupping the bone, probing into the soft flesh of my belly - rocking my body back and forth - stoking our hunger until we were both panting and growling in shared pleasure. I rolled over, pushed back until we were both up on all fours - my Man's bigger, stronger frame easily surrounding my smaller body, His teeth nipping the back of my neck: the alpha Dog fucking His subordinate pack-brother. Not that I was passive in my submission: my animal hunger had long since taken over as I bucked my hips and tried to drive Him ever deeper, ever faster into my ravenous core - growling and barking so loud that Sir finally had to push my head down into the bed and muffle me with the pillows...

It was a beautiful, animal, intoxicating fuck - and we would probably have still been at it had Housekeeping not started the hoover in the next room and reminded us that we should be thinking about check-out


We decided to have breakfast in the Hotel bar - skipping the shower to pull on a quick T-shirt and jeans, before heading down to pick through the buffet alongside curious children and anxious parents ('Daddy - why's that man wearing a padlock...?', 'Mummy, what does 'My Horny fuck-pup' mean? it says it on that man's T-Shirt...!' ) - then it was back to the room for the final pack and heading on home.


We finally caught up with the bad weather on the way back - so were doubly glad that we hadn't taken the bike as planned. We did have trouble with one of Sir's wiper-blades though - and spent a rather dramatic journey with it flopping, half-detached, across the screen, colliding with it's partner and waiting for it to finally tumble free across the motorway... So dramatic that we had to take a break at Marlborough for a calming coffee and a stroll around the shops. At least, that was our excuse for one last afternoon tea beside the river... ;)







London, February 2014

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

London, February 2014 - Sunday at Kew

Sunday was a completely relaxed affair: we woke late - lazed in bed over tea and a biscuit - then strolled down the road to Brentford to look for breakfast...

We had noticed a sign on our first day announcing 'Brentford Sunday Market', and figured it might be a good place to grab some street-food. They were only just setting up the stalls when we arrived, so we pottered on into 'Old Brentford', followed the sound of water - and found ourselves at Brentford Gauging Lock and the start of the Grand Union Canal - the longest canal in the UK, with immense industrial history - and a basin stuffed full of live-aboard narrow boats and barges (which my own Geoff would have loved ;) ). 

All of the stalls had set up by the time we got back to the square, so we made a few purchases from one stall (a curious polish vegetarian 'sausage-roll' made out of pickled cabbage, some lovely bread and a couple of very sweet doughnuts), grabbed a mug of delicious tea from another, and settled down to munch in the sun. Sated, we had a second wander around - eyeing up the cheese stall in particular - and had a very curious encounter with a rather drunk gent who introduced himself as a casting director for Am-Dram, and then commenting "A better pair to represent "gay bikers" I've never met!"; 

What a bloody cheek - just because we were in head to toe leather and boots ;)  

Sir was quick with a "That's good - because I am gay, and I do have a Pan-European tourer..." - but the stall holder was even quicker with a "Who dear: them dear? gay dear? How very dare you!"





It was looking to be a gorgeous Spring day - so the dog suggested we cross the bridge to visit Kew Gardens.

It's been a good few decades since either of us had been to Kew, and so we had a wonderfully chilled day strolling around in the spring sunshine - admiring the crocuses, smelling the sweet winter blossoms, popping in and out of the palm houses and soaking up the sun. we even got to see a fascinating exhibition of Nature photography.






We were rather chilled by the end of the day - and more than a little footsore - so we headed back to the hotel for a nap, a snuggle (and an ass-poundingly fantastic pup-fuck...).

We both felt a little guilty to have come all the way to London and not to have visited any clubs or fetish events - and did discuss whether to head over to Backstreet for the evening - but, frankly, we were both so happy, chilled and content that we decided to simply hop on the buss up to Ealing, and stuff ourselves at Wagamama instead :)



London, February 2014

Monday, March 10, 2014

London, February 2014 - Saturday at Spitalfields and Brick Lane

I slept better than I have in a long while: snuggled with my Man whilst the wind howled and rattled outside.

Luckily the storm had blown itself out by the time we awoke on Saturday morning. Not that we noticed for a while - since Sir kept His pup somewhat distracted and busy, letting me feast on His beautiful meat once more...


When we finally dragged ourselves out of bed we decided to hop on a bus up to Ealing - passing the famous Ealing studios on the way (very interesting for a Film-Librarian pup!). Breakfast was a great combination of sour-dough toast, organic eggs and a huge salad at the Farm W5, overlooking Ealing Green - then we strolled along Ealing Highstreet, window shopping on our way up to the Tube and on into the City for a day sight-seeing. At least, that was the plan: the storm had knocked out power and blocked the lines, so we spent a wee while shuttling between platforms until we finally found a train that was actually running... and then had the joy of sitting opposite a rather unpleasant child who kicked the seats and gringed at his parents for most of the way - with Sir growling in His best Child-catcher voice, wanting to be allowed to set His crop on the rude little monkey... ;)


It was raining when we got to Liverpool Street, but it didn't last long and we didn't get too wet as we walked to the Smithfield market. 

I've not been there before, so Sir had a very enjoyable time leading me around the many different stalls, laughing as His dog 'ooh!' and 'Ah!' 'd over the vintage clothing, toys, objet d'art and other tranklements on offer. The dog got especially excited over a fantastic stall selling vintage hats (I've always wanted a Topper!) and we tried to squeeze Sir into a rather dashing vintage red waistcoat (no luck of course - it would have been a stretch to even get it on the dog!) - then we grabbed some street food and settled down to watch the world go by for a while.




Then we strolled on over to Brick Lane and did the whole thing again ;)

Best of all was the tube journey back: riding a cramped central line train, the other passengers oblivious to the panting dog squeezed into a corner with my Man's gloved thumb pushed into my mouth and holding my jaw,  His leg pushed into the hard bulge of my crotch with the dog quietly growling as the shaking carriage ground me down onto Him all the harder... ;)

---

Back at the hotel, and Sir backed me into a corner with His gloved hand around my neck - kissed me hard and long, then stepped back with a growl whilst I sank to my knees and watched with hunger as He slowly unbuckled His jeans, and pushed down His bike jock - revealing His beautiful cock...

Sir let me lick and nuzzle that beautifully scented, swelling meat to my hearts content for a short while - then patted my wagging rump and told me to run and change into my rubber shortie suit and tail. I padded into the bathroom to clean-up and change with a grin - but when I scampered back out on all fours, thick tail wagging in my hole, my Man was nowhere to be seen!

I gave a questioning bark; a gloved hand grabbed my neck and pulled me to my feet, another pressed over my mouth and nose - and I was pulled back hard against the hot body of my Man, hiding behind me in the hall.

I could feel that He had changed into gear - feel the brush of His chest and belly hair through my suit, and the press of a jock-strap and harness. He lent back against the wall, pulling me off balance - one booted leg wrapped around mine, trapping my legs and letting me see the high shine of His tall Dehner dress boots. With me safely restrained, and one hand still tight across my mouth - making me struggle to suck in enough leather-scented air - He released my neck, and set to exploring my chest, nipples and stiffening rubbered bulge with the other. My tail wagged and bumped between us as I huffed and growled my pleasure - and my pain as those strong fingers teased and probed and roughly pinched. I was in doggy heaven.   

Finally, my Man set me back down to the floor. He told me "Stay!", then stalked across the room to settle down in the one armchair. Gods but He looked stunning in His tall black boots, leather jock, harness, gloves and Muir - smiling across the room at His pup with my yellow leash in His gloved hands. He waited a moment - enjoying my silent obedience to His command - then finally tapped His crop against the side of His boot and gave me the quiet command to "Come!"

I scampered to His feet - tail wagging and bumping against my back and thighs - and sat obediently at His boots, waiting for His next command. Sir stroked my newly short hair, and I turned my face to kiss His palm then lick His gloves. Then He gently pushed my head down to the glistening smoothness of His Dehners and told me "Good boy: lick them like a good little pervert!"

I have the pup name for a reason: I fuckin love a beautiful tall pair of boots - love to get them nice and wet with my mouth and tongue, then rub them to a shine with my beard and face. My Man settled back to watch His pervertedly blissed out boot-brush - face down, butt high - growling and moaning as I wagged my tail to show my pleasure; He reached out with a still wet boot-toe, pressed the smooth sole into the soft flesh of my rump - tapped against my tail and made it swing. I growled and wagged and licked all the harder - grinning to hear my Mans laughing growl of satisfaction.

Finally He used the toe of His boot to push me up from my drooling attentions - let me shuffle closer and rest my head upon His knee; the other boot He slipped under my arse so that my rubber-covered cock and balls rested against the smooth, wet leather. Helplessly horny, I couldn't help but wriggle myself down upon His toe as I stared up hungrily into His eyes.

"Pervert!" He growled - then reached down to unsnap my codpiece - releasing my straining, dripping cock; I shuddered as His hand stroked the tender end - smearing my precum in a slick film across the head and flicking the ring through my glans - then He trapped that tender flesh between His booted ankles, grabbed my chin, starred into my eyes and said "Go on then - fuck my boots, Dog!"

I was already close, but I tried to take my time: slowly humping myself against His leg: my cock lubed with my own spit and precum, sliding against and between the smooth grain of His boots; the taste of Sir's glove rich on my tongue as He held my head and growled His encouragement - His eyes boring into mine as I let go of my hunger and humanity and finally covered that beautiful leather with my perverted cum.

And then He ginned and let me clean His beautiful boots all over again...



London, February 2014

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