Allons Les Enfants De La Patrié...
Oh. Wait. No. That's The Other One.

Happy 239th Birthday America! I'm feeling sooooo Toby Keith today!

Anyway, great weekend so far! I'm hardly regretting at all that I'm not in Florida right now.

Not being able to take a vacation this year meant that I could go to the annual July 4th Weekend dungeon party hosted by a couple of Inferno buddies of mine, who have made it their mission to insure that sexual deviancy thrives in Pottstown, Pennsylvania. My first trip from NYC to this party lead to much anxiety on my part, worried that I would be outclassed. This time, I just felt myself to be entirely among friends. And, because it was a quick hop, skip, and jump to get there, I brought my chains and whips and such, but if'n I didn't end up playing, that was cool, too.

Barbeque was good, and I enjoyed the company. Two of the very pillars of GMSMA were there. I have made a date to bottom to... Horowitz (no nom de plume necessary here, I don't think) at Inferno this year. He has a plan. A diabolical plan, by the sound of it. Involving an "announcement made at breakfast." So I'm pretty enthralled.

After dinner, the guys that were just there for dinner drifted homewards, and the rest of us got busy in the well-appointed dungeon.

In attendance was this... this... this man. I've seen him and his Sir for years. And they always make me drip cum. He, in particular, is just so incredibly hot. True to form, whenever he's around, I just stare at the ground sixteen inches in front of my boots, unable to make eye contact, little less engage in conversation, little less actually ask if he'd be up for a scene. (I hate that!)

But as dinner was breaking up, he approached me, greeted me, and shook my hand. Later, in the dungeon, I watched as he put a succession of subs into his vac rack. Sticking my courage to the sticking place, I complemented him on the scenes he did, and helped him clean up afterwards. And then, I did it. I asked if he wanted to play. And he said, "Sure."

He went to check in with his Sir, and I set about thinking what I might like to do. I decided on face-to-face, with boxing gloves (had mine!), maybe chained to a post (alas, no sides of any post were free of eye-bolts). I just had this image of this big, beautiful man, all chained up, and me wearing the boxing gloves, working him over. The physicality of it, getting to throw some good punches at him. And then, bringing the glove up to his face and saying, "yeaaaaah, kiss it boy. kiss it." Followed by a measured jab right in the kisser.

The Man returned, asked what I had in mind, and I told him I wanted to beat him. He declined that, but said he would sure be up for a flogging.

Okay. Not a problem. Switch gears.

Flogging... I'm good at that!

So that's what we did. At his request, he was unrestrained. Just standing there, bearing his beautiful back to me. It just reddened up beautifully. So wonderful. I was turned on the entire time. It was a sweet and pure distillation of SM. So simple. So elegant. So good for the soul.

Afterwards, he was glowing. And flying. And grateful. We talked some more. And, as it happens, he's a really great guy. Very likeable. Very upfront. Self aware. And maybe I'll have a second bite at the apple at Inferno. Hope so ("kiss it, boy. yeah. kiss it.").

Yesterday, Sunday, it was off to the beach. Namely, Gunnison Beach at Sandy Hook. Aka, the Nude Beach.

Word had reached me that there was this big Bear thing going on there. Metrobears NYC, Garden State Bears, and the Liberty Bears of Philadelphia were all converging at Gunnison. And, to be sure, that was all the inclination I needed.

And... and... one of the great things about living here is I-195. If you look at a map of NJ, all the roads basically run north-south. Except for 195. Which cuts due east from Trenton and takes you to the beach, 35 miles away. It's a great road, and it's like a worm hole: you enter at one end, and in no time at all, it spits you out at the other end.

Traffic was dicey once I got off the Parkway at the opposite end of 195, but that's more a function of the fact that Sandy Hook is sort of off there on it's own on the northernmost tip of the New Jersey shoreline.

I messed up on the parking, and had to slog through the non-nude beach to get to the nude beach (I always do this), but finally, there it was: nudidity! But it was all kinds of heterosexual nudidity. I watched some hot naked straight men cavorting with their naked girlfriends/wives for a while. And then I remembered: the queers tend to congregate on the southern part of the nude beach.

Right.

So I rolled up my blanket and slogged down the beach some more. (Some nude heterosexuals complemented me on my ink work along the way. See? I make friends wherever I go!)

And there were the naked bears! A beach full of them! Yippee!

Tragically, by this point, it was four o'clock. So I had just time enough to scope out the bears, enjoy a cigar (which you can't really do with a stiff ocean breeze blowing, and get 20 pages into my collection of Nero Wolfe short stories before the bears were packing up to go.

But it's all good. I enjoyed the expanding empty beach left behind by the departing bears for a bit, then packed up my stuff and headed for home. I stopped at the New Jersey Diner With Incredibly Slow Service But Great Food (I think it's a chain... I've eaten there countless times before), and made another stop in New Hope to grab a latte at Starbucks. (I had hoped to stop and grab an iced quad venti one-pump-vanilla easy-ice latte on my way in, but whaddya know, there were no parking spaces at all in the entire town. When I worked there as a pup, I had a t-shirt printed up that read, "Pave The River!" It was an inside joke, but I was the only one on the inside.) (Yes, even I, though I know better, used to wear legible t-shirts.)

But that's not all! Later that night, I headed back down to New Hope to stop into the Raven. The crowd was pretty dreary, but I did meet one hot Worldleathermen interlocutor, whom I've really gotta tie up and torture some time. He's got one of those north jersey accents that just make me melt.

So now, here I am, on July 4th, sitting on the porch, typing this account of myself.

It's a gorgeous day. ("The two most beautiful words in the English language...") My astilbe, day lilies, and lupine are just exploding. After a shopping trip, I'm heading down to Philadelphia for a party and to watch the fireworks with some local leathermen.

Nice.

Nice nice nice nice Nice.

Enjoy your weekend!

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