I've lived most of my kinky life in the former of the two. I always have shopped at local businesses and leather shops whenever I can, and at the same time, I would ask myself all kinds of questions about those shops. "Why don't they carry _____?" "What's the overhead on _______?" "Can't they upgrade the storefront?" Why, why, why, why....

I've come to learn a lot of answers to many of those questions. 

It's been kind of surreal saying, "I'm a business owner," or "I own Twin Cities Leather." On some level, I feel like I shouldn't. I'm 28 years old. I feel like owning a leather shop is something that the older members of the community do, but as I've already written, we couldn't just sit around and wait for someone else to pick up the responsibility. 

I love it though. The days have become very long. There are days that are filled with joy, stress, cheer, frustration, and (occasionally) sheer terror. But I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Right now, we're coming up on International Mr. Leather - IML. IML has THOUSANDS (about 15-20K) leather, rubber, or kinky people from all over the world. Each of the three years I've gone, I've had an incredible time. It's kind of like kinky Christmas; it's the event that gay kinky people (mostly men) look forward to every year. It's an opportunity to shop at some retailers you never have the opportunity to visit, see friends/kinky people who you never get to otherwise meet, relax and be yourself in a comfortable environment, and enjoy the most epic of vacations in the quite epic city of Chicago. (Oh yeah, and the unending opportunities for kinky sex!)

I've reached a completely different point in my journey. I'm a different person now. No longer can I run around IML, dependent on the business owners to create the energy, excitement, and enthusiasm of the event. I AM one of those business owners now. It's a comfortable change though. I've reached a point in my kinky life where I'm pretty comfortable with the kinky person that I am. Learning is a lifelong process and the learning will never end, but how many more "milestones" will there be, you know?

Twin Cities Leather is going to have a booth at IML. This means that IML is going to be very, very different to me than it ever has been before. Rather than being able to roll out of bed at the crack of noon and wander around and look for something (or someone) to do, I'll be on a much more regimented schedule. The booth will need to be staffed every day during all the times the market is open! Less drinking. Less partying. Etc.

It's bittersweet, but I'm ready for it. It's exciting to get to work the booth and show the world the incredible talent and community we have here in Minneapolis-St. Paul. I have no doubt I'll get in all the meetings, socialization, and parties that I need to as well, but this IML is going to be like a rebirth for me in a lot of ways. I'll finally get to experience it from the other side of the looking glass.

I can't wait. 

And through all these monumentous life experiences, I've failed to write. But it wasn't until this trip to Seattle that I figured out just why that is.

I'm back.

More posts coming. Stay tuned. :)

http://www.TwinCitiesLeather.com/

Browse our bondage toys, lubricants, and insertables! Read about how and why Twin Cities Leather was founded! See new and exciting upcoming events by/at the shop! Send us feedback on how we can better serve you!

Thanks so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy the site!

You know how if you let your hand get too close to a vaccum hose, it grabs hold and doesn't ever let go?

Surely enough, they taught me how to fist. First GearKid, then over the following summer, I took WillCo's graduate certificate program in Fist Topping (I'm still waiting on my diploma in the mail). It's interesting - before I met each of them, they didn't know each other that well. Now, it would seem that they are in a continual friendly battle with one another (a race to the bottom?). Occasionally they fight over my hands. 

They both have buckets they keep their toys in. One night about a year ago, I was fisting GearKid after a Gear Night at the Eagle and found a billiard ball (the 3 ball) at the bottom of his toy bucket. I don't know why it attracted my attention, but I had quite a bit of fun sinking that ball into his corner pocket. Here's a favorite technique I found I liked: after he's sufficiently loosened up, put the ball in, fist him, and then spread your fingers and grab the ball once you're inside (a kick shot?).

Now, the thing that I love about the group of friends that I keep is that we all very open about our kinkiness, and we all know how to laugh about the kinks that we have. After listening to enough stories about "billiard games" with GearKid, and determined to find out on his own, WillCo surprised me with a couple of billiard balls of his own. 

So I was fisting WillCo in his sling (about 3 feet off the ground). I'm wearing rubber, there's a lot of J-Lube everywhere to keep things open and loose....and I put in the pool ball. WillCo and I have a light-hearted yet intimate approach to the sex that we have. We frequently joke around and laugh with each other while we're going at it. Why would a billiard game be any exception? While he had the ball in his ass, I reached down for the bottle of J-Lube to re-wet my hands...and he laughs at something. This causes him to contract everything, and he dropped the ball.

From three feet in the air.

Onto a wood floor.

At 2:30 in the morning.

*THUNK*!!!

Since my hands were occupied by the lube bottle and lube, I couldn't react quickly enough to grab it before it rolled away. All I could do was shake my head praying it didn't wake up his downstairs neighbors.

But in my tipsy drive to play with that ball, I decide to get down on my hands and knees and crawl underneath WillCo (who's still in the sling) go to find the ball. Pressing my head to the floor, I found it underneath the radiator. I reach out to grab it and accidentally brush the plastic clothing mannequin that was leaning against the wall right there...and she starts to fall over on me and toward Willco, still laying in the sling.

I grabbed the ball and jumped up and back to press the mannequin against the wall with my back. That stopped it from falling. But in the middle of all the chaos, I had a nano-second of reflection on the fact that this is my life: Friday night, wee hours of the morning, wearing rubber, covered in sweat, lube, pre-cum, holding a dirty, sticky billiard ball and wrestling a plastic mannequin (and the feather boa she wears).

I don't think life gets much better than this.

(Side note: I haven't written much about my escapades lately because I fell into that trap of "If I'm too inappropriate, it will hurt my ability to book speaking gigs." Then I was reminded that my blog is supposed to be a truthful, honest account written by me about my journey for those who want to read it. So fuck all that. Prepare for the return of my life in electronic copy.)

For now, there's a more pressing matter.

The news has been circling the social networking sites the last few days, but in case you missed the news, here's the official press release from Mr. International Rubber:

"In Memoriam 
Jason Lynch "RubberJason" 
Mr. International Rubber 16 
February 24, 1975 - February 25, 2013 

It is with great sadness and heavy heart that we report the passing of our current Mr. International Rubber, Jason Lynch, on Monday February 25th, one day after his 38th birthday. Jason's partner found him unconscious when he arrived home from work. Paramedics were unable to revive him and a cause of death is not known at this time. 

Jason, was just three months into his title year and was looking forward to his first international trip as MIR16, to judge the Mr. Montreal Rubber contest this weekend. He had forged a strong relationship with the Rubber Men of San Francisco and was so very happy to bring the title back to the Boston area where MIR's predecessor, the Mr. Vulcan Rubber contest began. 

This comes as a huge blow to all of us and casts a pall over our international rubber family. As is our tradition, we ask that you raise a glass this weekend while you are out with your rubber and fetish family in celebration of Jason's life, all that he was able to accomplish and the fun loving nature that
propelled him to the top of his class at MIR16. 

We will be replacing our website later today with a memorial page with pictures of Jason proudly representing the International Rubber community, having fun and representing our title so well. 

We extend our condolences to his partner Stephen Perry, his family, his brothers in the New England Rubbermen & The Rubbermen of San Francisco, his classmates from MIR16 and to everyone whose life he touched and impacted. 

Rest In Peace Brother. 
You will be missed, but not forgotten."

I never knew Jason that well, but I know he touched the lives of many and will be sorely missed. I think I only barely got to shake hands with him at MIR when he won this past November. One thing about Jason DID stick in my mind during the contest. The onstage question portion was as follows: "You have been assigned the job of designing a rubber amusement park. What is the name of the park? What is the main attraction, and how does it work?"

I remember Jason's confidence as he stepped up to the microphone and answered, without hesitation, 

"I would name my amusement park after my own personal mantra:

    'You WISH you were

            having this much fun.'"

Everything about Jason's life lived up to this mantra. He was an inspiration to everyone, myself included. 

Rubbermen all over the world will be gathering this weekend to raise a glass in honor of Jason Lynch, Mr. International Rubber 16. Here in Minneapolis, please join us for a RubberBomb during Underwear Night at the Minneapolis Eagle on Saturday, 3/2. Let's meet for a commemorative drink and toast to Jason around 11pm. I think it would be respectful of his life, and then proceeding on to terrorize the boys in their underwear would make him proud. He would have wanted it that way.

You'll be missed, Jason. But never forgotten.

Where did it start?

Terminator 2: Judgement Day was released in 1991, when I was 7 years old. I didn't see it until it was released on TV about five or so years later, when I was around 12. When that movie was released, Arnold was HOT. Muscles everywhere, thick, gruff accent, and quite, quite handsome. 

I remember seeing that movie on TV when I was about 12 years old, and thinking about how awesome all that leather looked. I can't find a picture of it anywhere, but I remember watching the scene when he first meets John Connor, walking down the hallway with the shotgun in the box of roses...I remember seeing the leather pants SO tight around his crotch....

I remember thinking that I didn't just want HIM, but rather, I wanted to BE him. 

Today, I'm certainly no Terminator...but at least I can dress like one.

I've traveled more this year than I ever have in my life. I met hundreds of college students while advertising with NACA. I've started two new careers, one as a public speaker and one as a business/leather shop owner.

In short, I've taken more risks and worked harder than I ever have.

This is the busiest time of my life yet. The days have become very long. But I've never had more fun in my life. I have a lot to be thankful for.

I can be particularly thankful for all of the really hot bondage scene, new friends from all over the country, and an awesome time at so many leather events.

Here's to 2013. Here's to leather, life, and love. Let's jump.

Quickly, I want to say Thank You to everyone who voted for me. I've won the 2012 Bondage Award for Best Bondage Advocate! Go see!

Also, Karri, Trigger, and I finally got Twin Cities Leather off the ground. The store is now open for business seven days per week! We have a webmaster working on a new site for us and we should have online sales up and running soon after the New Year. Thank you for all your support and for making our opening night a huge success! We look forward to serving you in the future.

But finally, I want to say thank you for the outpouring of messages after I posted my kinky coming out story.

The sheer amount and sincerity of e-mails, comments, text messages, and in-person thank-yous has been humbling, to say the least. When I posted the original message, and again when I posted the recording of the conversation, I had no idea that it would touch so many people in the ways that it has. I'm proud to have helped some of you out there, but more importantly, I need to thank you for teaching ME something.

On some level, I am just another spoiled, priviledged white kid that was born and raised in the suburbs. Part of me never grew out of that teenage phase of "everything sucks and my life is awful!" I realized that after I listened to the conversation a couple of times myself. Once with a friend, and again to edit out the personal names. Looking back, it really didn't go as terrible as it could have.

Yes, it would be nice if I had accepting, progressive parents who could be happy for me and my business ventures. It would be nice if I had parents who were direct and up front rather than passive aggressive. It's the e-mails and other messages you all sent me, however, that reminded me how lucky I am to have even come this far. They know I'm gay. They've met my partner. Now they know one of the deepest secrets in my life and somehow they managed not to lose their temper, or their patience, and held their shit together to NOT throw me out of the house or forever banish me as their child.

The e-mails and comments you all left reminded me that coming out to parents is still a struggle in some households. Lots of them, in fact. Thank you for your applause over being so brave to do this. It was difficult. I need to thank YOU more, however, for reminding me that it could have been much, much worse. Thank you for reminding me of the meaning of TRUE family.

At the end of the day, I still have my parents. I know I have my leather family. 

Maybe it's really time for ME to grow up.

.....the toughest thing I've ever done.

I generally was a pretty well behaved kid. I didn't act out a lot, and I stayed on my parents' good side. That's not to say I followed all the rules, either. Some teenagers sneak into their houses at night and have to worry about their parents catching them while they're still drunk from the party they had just come from. Me? I was sneaking into the house so they wouldn't catch me with rope burn all over my arms or tape residue on my face.

I was crafty. They never caught me. No joke.

Due to all the secrets I've had in my life, I've never really felt all that close to my parents. There's too much they don't want to hear about. I mean, they've met my partner a few times, but every time I bring up the word "marriage", they let the topic die or quickly change the subject. I know they don't support same-sex marriage. Given my mother's chosen brand of Christian faith, I'm sure she never will. 

When I came out to them in high school, it didn't go over well. Ten years later, we still don't see eye to eye on the subject. But now I'm faced with a bigger problem.

Thanks to all of you out there, my new career as a public speaker and sex educator is starting to gain some traction. I'm working on multiple contracts for shows in the Spring, I'm opening a leather shop on Saturday, and this website gets about 3,000 visitors per month from every inhabited continent on the planet (including some extremely dedicated readers from Australia - thanks boys!). I just got off the road after traveling for two months to try to promote myself. Hell, one of my upcoming shows is even going to be in Missouri.

This is too big of a part of my life. I can't hide this anymore.

I feel so fucking immature writing this all in the first place. I'm 28 goddamn years old. Why am I so afraid to tell this all to my parents? They're adults. I'm an adult. Can't we just all be adults about it? I'm in St. Louis right now. I sat down to dinner with them. I was as nervous as I've ever been in my life. I didn't accomplish a thing all day and I've been nauseated and shaking over what's about to happen. Finally, I let them finish eating and then I just went ahead and said it.

I told them about the shop I was opening, my blog, my career as a public speaker, and I broached the subject matter of what I discuss. I explained to them that alternative lifetsyles (and yes, they understood what that meant) were important to me. I told them that I know they didn't want to know all this. I know they'd just like to go on pretending it doesn't happen, and I know they'll never voluntarily talk about it with me.

When my parents found out I was gay, all they wanted to do was talk (i.e. yell) about it; in twenty eight years, I've never EVER seen my mother in a state of speechlessness. Until tonight.

She finally spoke with dread and pain in her voice. This isn't what she expected of her son. But she quietly admitted it was a reality she had to accept. She's stuck with it. Translation: I would change all of this if I could. Don't worry mom, the feeling is mutual. I'd have parents that don't just tolerate me, but accept and love me. That said, I know this would be a tough day for even the most progressive of parents.

My relationship with my parents will never be the same. No longer can I grasp at the straw that I'll ever have a strong, loving, open relationship with them. That ship is SAILED. I've pretty much sealed the deal on ever being able to be close to them again. They wish they didn't know. They want a different son. But they're going to take the one they have because...well, they're stuck with me. And they're not happy about it. In fact, they're currently feeling personally hurt that they've raised a human being who turned out this way. I doubt it's going to get any better. If, in ten years, my parents' can't come to terms with me being gay, they're NEVER going to be able to come to terms with this.

The hardest thing I've ever done is break my parents' hearts. I know I shouldn't care, because we're adults, and I shouldn't need them. But damnit...they're my parents. I'm really hurt by the rejection, but I knew it was coming. I was ready for it. I've made my peace, and I do NOT have their blessing. It's time for me to move on. 

Sometimes, it doesn't get better; you get stronger.

The adventure I'm headed on now is to Chicago for Mr. International Rubber 16. This is one of my favorite events every year, and I'm super excited to be a part of it for the fifth time around.

Details on the contest can be found here. Special thanks to the Chicago Rubbermen for working so hard to make this event a huge success! I know the kink education sessions are going to be pretty interesting. 

Other places you can find me: I will be in the demo pit on Friday at 1pm, doing a demonstration on Breath Control. I will also be Live Blogging for Leatherati.com from the contest floor as well as the cocktail parties and other events.

So the best places to catch up on all the details would be on my Twitter, my Facebook, or on Leatherati Live! See you all in cyberspace, or else at The Center on Halstead!

Speaking of wicked, let's move on to the meat of this post. Yes, I hooked up in my spare time. Shocking, I know. But here's the super shocking part of it: I hooked up with a straight guy.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you're all moaning and groaning as you read this saying, "Well then he's not really straight now is he?" Hear me out for a second. Take a step back a moment and imagine a world where people are not just GAY or STRAIGHT, but rather, sexuality is fluid. I could bend your ear for a while about what's physiological vs. sociological regarding sexuality, but I'll save that post for another time. 

I met this guy on Recon. His profile was pretty straight forward, short, and to the point. He was looking for a rope dom to tie him up, do some sensory deprivation, and edge him. He's in his 20s, and he's damn cute. Twist my fucking arm, why don't you.

He comes over to my hotel, and decides to drop the bomb then. He's straight. 

Now, I'm not heterophobic or anything. I mean, people can live their lives anyway they want, even if I don't agree with it as a healthiest of lifestyles. I will admit, however, that my heart sunk into a pit in my stomach only because of previous experiences/encounters I've had with other guys who decided to call themselves "straight". I've had three or four of these hook ups with other "straight" guys who are just looking to get tied up and played with, but they always have a tendency to PANIC the moment they realize they have no control over the fact that a man is touching their junk. Each time I've done this, the scenes have always ended disasterously because the men who wanted to do it weren't confident enough to cope with getting a handjob from another man. So as the boy was telling me about all his straightness, my knee jerk reaction was to instantly find an excuse to get him out of my hotel room. STAT.

What's that old saying? Never judge a book by its cover?

The boy went on to explain why he felt comfortable hitting me up. Yes, he was straight, but he was also one of those extremely sexually active straight boys. He's done straight porn in the past, multiple times. He's had a LOT of really straight sex, and he's had a LOT of BDSM sex with women, always as the Dom/Top. He's had three ways and four ways and gang bangs with women while other men are present. The point I'm trying to make is that he's confident enough in his sexuality through this repeated exposure over time to not feel at all threatened by another man's sexuality during a scene. 

So I asked him, with all of that experience, YEARS of it, what could he possibly learn or get from me?

There's where the intersection is. He is a rope bondage fanatic, and like myself, he's been fantasizing about it since he was a kid. There's never been a time in his life where any kind of kidnap, rope, restraint, gag, sensory deprivation scene was NOT a turn on to him. Even so, after eight years of domming women in BDSM scenes, he said that whenever he has attempted to submit to women, he can't take them seriously. For it to feel real to him, it would need to really be done by someone who could overtake him. By a man.

That's where the magic was; that "aha" moment. There's a predominant intersection between this gay kinkster and that straight kinkster. He's not interested in men, or anal sex, or anything to do with my dick. He'd never been forced to keep his hands off his dick. No one's ever prevented him from jerking off. Meanwhile, that's one of my favorite things to do to boys as a dom; bondage, gag, blindfold, and edge them until they're begging me to PLEASE let them get off! I don't need to fuck him or make him suck my cock to have a good time. When I see/hear him trying to beg me through the restraints I've put him and watch him squirm in whatever position it is, I won't have any trouble blowing a load.

The two of us have a combined 18 years of experience in BDSM in our respective communities. I don't think this picture perfect overlap could have worked out if there had been any less experience between us.

I tied him down, blindfolded him, muzzled him, and I got off on tormenting him. Once he was a horny dripping begging mess, I figured he had earned his reward. I untied him and we talked for a little while, and he walked out of my hotel no more a homosexual than he was when he first walked in. And for the first time in my kinky life, I've been able to find an awesome common ground with the creature which I never thought I could relate to: the straight male human.

And it's all finally here!

Currently, I'm in Winston-Salem, NC for NACA South and will be here until October 2nd. From there:

NACA Central: October 2-8, Dallas, Tx
Minnesota Out! Campus Conference: Oct 12-14, St. Olaf, MN
NACA Mid-Atlantic: Oct. 18-21, Lancaster, PA
Mr. International Rubber 2012: Nov. 2-4, Chicago, IL
NACA Northeast: Nov. 8-11, Hartford, CT
NACA West: Nov. 15-18, Portland, OR

So as you can see, with the crazy busy schedule I haven't had much time to write! I'm sure I'll be blogging about my adventures from the road though, so stay tuned for more. If you're in or near any of these cities, let me know and I'd love to say HI, or stop and see me at any of these events!

See you on the road!

(This blog is all about honesty, and true to that spirit, I'm going to tell this story as it happened. I know I'm not perfect so PLEASE don't jump down my throat for jumping to inappropriate conclusions. This post is an admission of guilt. Thank you.)

Last night was the first time I've ever stepped foot into Ground Zero Nightclub. It's the "pansexual" BDSM bar, dance club, and demo pit. I've lived in Minnesota for four years now and I've never been! It was just time to start a new adventure.

So I harrassed as many of my friends via text message as I could at the last second, pulled on my rubber chaps, and drove over there. Two problems arise: 1)The parking situation is terrible, so I had to walk the gauntlet with my ass hanging out across 4th Ave to get to the bar, and 2)Ground Zero is situated right betwen two other vanilla straight bars and a restaurant. So once I walked across the street, I then had to dive into a sea of vanilla people wearing cotton to get up to the door! *facepaw*

Ground Zero is a "pansexual" bar. I don't know what that means to you all as readers from other parts of the country and world, but in Minnesota? "Pansexual" means "straight men and women, oh yeah, and women who do it with women because that's hot". Gay men have their own leather/BDSM community - hell, we have our own bar. It's not surprising I felt kind of awkward going in there, but I suppose it's a nice gesture by the management to call the place "pansexual".

Straight bars in Minneapolis usually mix pretty crappy drinks; NOT Ground Zero. The drinks were STRONG! Perfect.

The bar is divided up into several different areas; there's a side bar, a dance floor, and then the performance space where there was a Pro-Domme (Mistress Mara) working over volunteers. There's a whole bunch of chairs set up in front of the stage for people to watch the various acts. So I'm puttering around a bit with my friends having a few drinks, watching the Domme perform on her subs. Most of them are women. Until the 2nd to last one.

Up walks to stage this buff guy with huge muscles, tanned skin, long hair, washboard abs, and a huge upside down triangle tattoo across his shoulders. He tips the Domme as his friends make fun of him (and awful tragedy which shouldn't be tolerated) and proceeds to get cuffed to the restraints hanging from the ceiling! Mistress Mara flogs him a few times and then scratches him some and does something else with an ice cube....

....and in my head, I fell into the slippery slope of discompassion. What I SHOULD have thought to myself was "Maybe it's his first time!" "Maybe he needs her to go light." "Maybe he injured himself already today!" There are any number of infinite possibilities that could explain why this Domme wasn't lashing out on those buldging muscles with every last ounce of her strength. All of them are probably legitamate too. But as I stood there watching, the rum in my drink took over my thoughts. My mind darted around all the other times I've been flogged. The only logical conclusion my tipsy mind could come to was simply that the guy was a PUSSY. I can do better than that.

Move over, Fabio.

I marched up to that stage and asked Mistress Mara what her rates were. I tipped her appropriately (side note: gay kinksters don't tip in our community. I THINK I tipped her appropriately, but I've never had to do that before. Hope she doesn't hate me now) and asked her, "Can you flog a gay-boy, Mistress?"

"Hell yes! How hard can you take it?"

I gritted my teeth, half expecting to regret saying it but also determined to show Fabio what a gay boy can take. "I've been flogged until I've bled before."

Mistress Mara just SMILED and secured my wrists to the shackles in the ceiling.

Being that it was the end of the night, it was a pretty fast flogging. But that doesn't mean she went light on me. It was tough to remember to yell "Thank you MISTRESS" as opposed to my usual "Thank you SIR" or "Thank you MASTER". It hurt, but like I said, I was determined to demonstrate what this gay boy is made of.

At a certain point I felt Mistress Mara slap a couple strips of duct tape against my back. "Just a little blood! No worries!" she said. 

I didn't break. I didn't care. That wasn't the point. Before I even knew it it was over. I said thank you to Mistress, and walked out of the bar, euphoric, and proud.

This morning I wake up, look in the mirror, and realized what happened last night. I let my ego overtake the rational components of my brain, and I thusly paid the price. By getting hit. By. A. Girl.