I’d like to begin this entry with a few shouts out to folks who I’ve recently discovered are regular Tiny Log lurkers — hey Coop! Smooches to Anthony. Little cooing noises to members in the Marching Band. I don’t know her, but Jane at Jane’s Guide really likes my new video book. Oh, and I almost forgot — not only is he doing his best to buy a seat in the Governor’s mansion here in California, Arnold is also a fan. Just check out the review he left on Amazon.com for my fellatio book. Truly a man of many surprises. Should I send him an autographed copy?
Meanwhile, the research for my next book rages onward. I’ve been a little under the weather so forward motion has been slow, but while I have on my list a) a session with a pro domme, b) sex with a professional escort, and c), attending many different types of sex parties, I think I need to pace myself. I did, however, being researching unintentionally on Folsom weekend, after our city’s celebrated S/M street event, the Folsom St. Fair. There were possibly hundreds of thousands of people in the crowd, in all states of kinky dress and undress, and even the police officers laughed, relaxed and blended right in with their already-kinky uniforms. It has all the community and true decadence and debauchery that the Adult Video News convention wished it had, and without all the homophobia. I briefly met up with a newlywed couple I know through SRL, who were just the happiest little sex tourists you’ve ever seen. The male partner had just returned form being stationed in Baghdad, and was clearly happy to be back home, celebrating at the fair, and both of them were running around cheekily getting charity floggings and shoe-shines. "Look at our matching whip marks!"
As the fair wound down, my sexy date and I made our way to a side door on 9th street, as place I’d gotten an email about saying there was a "fetish salon" (not the real name) happening there that evening. I’d long been curious about their events but never gone, and as we came to the entrance were stopped by a drunken rubber-clad drag queen who asked us the secret password. I stammered, made one up, and in we went! At the top of the stairs we had to explain how we heard about it to get the rest of the way in, paid our money, and were set free inside a big, many-roomed SOMA Victorian house decked out with two bars (one rooftop), a hookah lounge, a "plushy" lounge, an S/M playspace, a theater, a dance floor, and many other places to hang out. There were snacks, bowls of peanuts, and bowls of towelettes printed with "Facial Cum Remover" on the front, with the back reading: "Moral Minority facial cum removers are the convenient way to get rid of excess facial cum after sucking cock, and/or muff diving, leaving your skin feeling fresh, soft and protected against drying…" We ran into a few friends, such as Charles Gatewood who was snapping pics of the friendly fetishwear-clad crowd, and were surprised at how nice all these rubber-festooned folks were. But what really blew my mind was that there were more women than men, dykes and femmes, straight couples (the majority — I think), gayboys and trannies, and just about every stripe you could imagine. Not your uncle’s creepy swinger’s parties, no ma’am.
It was exciting, and my very first play/sex party. It was interesting how the party went from party to sex playland, really kind of gradually. My date and I circulated the rooms observing the incredibly attractive crowd, though my favorite funny moment was watching a ponyboy, wearing no doubt thousands of dollars in pony gear, struggle with his handcuffs after his inexperienced mistress lost the key. These newbies seemed to be the hallmark of Folsom — they got the fancy SUV, but crash it into other people’s cars when they try to parallel park. An exasperated trannygirl finally took pity on them and dug a handcuff master key from her purse, rolling her eyes at me and making me giggle. Later, the S/M playspace filled up with couples and triples tying each other up and spanking and kissing, and as we passed by the plushy room, I heard my date exclaim, "whoah." We stopped to see a male butt executing a familiar up-and-down motion over a blonde’s spread legs, and another man kneeling next to her face — while they laughed and teased each other. Next to them, another man calmly stroked his cock while he watched them, and on the other side of the room a beautiful brunette started going down on her date. We were both transfixed — and turned on, but way too shy to do anything, especially with the gathering crowd of onlookers and others starting their own participation. It was a great party, an amazing representation of sexual expression without hang-ups and stereotypes (and no hippies), and I’m looking forward to the next one. Will I do anything at the next one? I don’t know, but I probably should — all in the name of research, of course!
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