This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
This was my day for really focusing on the competitions. So after the usual breakfast and puttering with the blog posts, I got everything set for the Physical part of the leather contest, laying out all my outfit pieces and putting them on (except for the boots). I had mostly set this up in Seattle, but made a last minute change to use the other harness, and of course I now had to use the cowboy hat rather than the master’s cap (since the cap had been left in Amsterdam).
Then I did likewise with the Presentation part, running through the routine a couple times, watching myself in the bathroom mirror. I also turned the netbook on its side and propped it up on a high shelf and used its webcam as a second sort of mirror. I had to figure out how to do the costume change part within the very limited time frame; I ended up settling for layering two t-shirts, and slipping off the braces and rolling one shirt over my head to show the second one. (More later.)
Then I headed over to the K3 nightclub for the afternoon practice. Because of schedules, the other two Americans were not there for practice until later in the afternoon, and the Canadian had pulled out due to a schedule change for a conference meeting he was attending. I did get to scope out the European competition, though — Erik from Denmark and Walther, the current Mr. Leather Norway — and got to see them do their presentations (fantasies). Mine is storytelling, Erik’s is a standard-style leather contest fantasy, and Walther’s is a solo dance routine preceded by a speech about HIV; quite the range, and we’ll see what the other two add to the mix. It was very difficult to design a fantasy that I could do by myself and would carry to an audience mostly European.
After that, I practiced for my line dance competition and then did the competition, winning two golds and a silver, plus overall for my division. They finally did the awards and finished them just after 10:00, so I had to grab my clothes and really hurry to K3.
Of course, for all my hurry, it was halfway unwarranted. I scrambled over to K3 and got upstairs to start changing. By the time I got changed, the entertainment went on, a leather song medley from Ask Helga (Copenhagen’s camp drag troupe, real singers), called “Nights in Black Leather”. I only paid a little attention to it, between changing and fanning myself from being very sweaty, and holding my head from where I kept banging it on the rafters in our changing area. (I’m 6 foot, the ceiling was 6 foot, the rafters were 5 foot 10, and they seemed to be over the places we could stand to change rather than over the benches and table. Bang bang bang, ow ow ow.)
For the Physical part of the contest, I came out in chaps, red-stripe t-bar (so my ass and tattoos showed), red-piped muscle police shirt, and cowboy hat. On stage, I stripped off the shirt to show my red and ring harness underneath; good crowd reaction. The question to me was about the most masculine moves done in country-western dance. I told them that they didn’t let us do some of those for competition, as I faked a jack-off action, so then I showed dipping a partner lower… lower… lower… all the way to the floor, and then I would drop him and walk away (with a big finger snap). The crowd really liked that: it played with the cowboy hat, it showed strength and good body form, and it was funny and a little mean, just right for a leather competition.
For the Presentation (Fantasy), I told the story of Leather Pinocchio. Gepetto, the leather daddy woodcutter made himself a new sex toy, a leatherboy. Pinocchio wanted to be a REAL leatherboy, and the Red Fairy (who gives fists rather than wishes) told him how: become a donkey (pony play!), find Monstro (Girth and Mirth!), and compete in a leather competition in Copenhagen (the crowd liked that joke). Unfortunately, when Pinocchio became a REAL leatherboy (this was when I showed the second shirt, which said “Leatherboy”), he lost his “woody”. But he learned if he still told lies — “You’ve got a biiig dick!” — his dick would still grow. His rubber inflatable dick. “I am a top! I am a top! I am a top” as I pulled the inflated dick out of the shorts, all the way.
The crowd reaction was small at first, partly because the volume wasn’t up loud and the first two lines were lost. (I recorded the Pinocchio, Narrator, and Red Fairy voices myself on my iPhone, artificially lowering the Red Fairy voice with another program, and edited it all together with Garage Band. Impressive job, if I say so myself!) By halfway through, though, the audience was getting it and laughing at the funny bits. If I ever get to do it again, I’ll use the 3:39 length original version, which has a couple more jokes and a little more breathing room in it; might even pad a couple more seconds for the costume change and add a few at the start.
In the end, I got 38 out of 40 points — which means I probably got 20 of 20 for the Physical part — and ended up as 1st Runner-Up (and another Silver medal). I’m happy with that, as I got two prizes: a €40 gift certificate and a €500 custom leather item. Erik from Denmark won first place; his fantasy was definitely top notch (better than mine), he deserved it for that.
Afterward, I hastened back to the hotel with all my gear, showered and changed, and then came back to K3, dressed in my 501 shorts and the chainmail harness. Originally a gay disco, K3 is now a straight club but it turned back into a gay club for the night. Three or four floors, two different DJs — the one upstairs was pretty good, and that’s special coming from me, since I don’t like club music much. They had dark rooms set up and everything, and they even ran out of beer so the guys from SLM had to go raid beer from their clubhouse. Very successful party, I think. I ran into both Jeffrey and Ho & Jens again.
Ho sucked my dick while we sat in one of the lounge areas, and we got some very approving looks. (Or were they jealous?) He offered to fist me there, too, but I declined. I would have liked to, and I would have really gotten off on the public display, but even the dick sucking was beyond the level I saw anyone else doing, so I didn’t want to push the envelope all the way into confetti!
Out in the courtyard, as it started to sprinkle, I met Peter and he went down on me, really ramming my cock down his throat, PA and all. (My cock is pretty thick and longer than average, so this was impressive.) He did this right in the middle of the crowd, and again, there was very little similar activity from anyone else, but lots of fun looks. He did this for some time, as the crowd dispersed and the party ended. We then headed back to his place, where I hoped for his fist.
But no such luck. Instead, it was me on my knees (and etc.) for the next couple hours, and with major tit clamps on my already sore nipples. And lots of really good poppers! Never got his fist or even his dick in my ass, but it was a really good time anyway. I had to call it quits when I suddenly started seeing huge snowflakes that glowed blue and yellow and pink — too much poppers and endorphins, I guess; very trippy and out of my head. Got back to my hotel at 5:15 am. Yawn!
Updated on February 25, 2010
Updated on May 14, 2010
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Europe 2009: Copenhagen (Wednesday, July 29)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
Tuesday night was the Naked Party at the SLM clubhouse. I got fisted by two guys (a couple; Ho and Jens). Jens had pretty big hands so he only got in once before his other half took over, then he got in again a few times later. Briefly fucked a guy from Paris later, and then had my ass played with (but not fisted) by Jeffrey from New Orleans (who had neither a Southern nor Cajun accent).
Updated on February 24, 2010
Updated on May 12, 2010
Tuesday night was the Naked Party at the SLM clubhouse. I got fisted by two guys (a couple; Ho and Jens). Jens had pretty big hands so he only got in once before his other half took over, then he got in again a few times later. Briefly fucked a guy from Paris later, and then had my ass played with (but not fisted) by Jeffrey from New Orleans (who had neither a Southern nor Cajun accent).
Updated on February 24, 2010
Updated on May 12, 2010
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Europe 2009: Amsterdam and Copenhagen (Tuesday, July 28)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
Tuesday evening was a party at the SLM clubhouse. It was a fisting party. I have a goal of a fist a day while in Europe, you know. I fisted two guys (Allen was one, although I’ve likely misspelled his name), got fisted myself (Pascal from Paris), fucked and fisted another guy (got 98% of the way in him, missed his fist cherry by millimeters; bet the next guy will get him done), and then got almost (95%?) fisted again while standing up and blew a load all over him.
Cleanout was a bit easier here than in Amsterdam, because the hose head will fit over the shower head in the bathroom here. Got a lot of air bubbles, but I didn’t have to strain as much.
One “problem” I have when getting fisted is that when the fist comes out, I piss. Happens nearly every time, and the more liquid I’ve had in me (orally, that is), the more volume I piss. I can usually keep that confined to the pad we have under the sling at home, but at the SLM clubhouse, that would end up on the concrete floor and be more of an issue (could be slippery for others). Solution: I put a condom on my cock while I was being fisted, so I could piss to my heart’s content (bladder’s content?) and not worry, so long as the condom itself didn’t come off. Worked very well tonight.
Updated on February 23, 2010
Updated on May 12, 2010
Tuesday evening was a party at the SLM clubhouse. It was a fisting party. I have a goal of a fist a day while in Europe, you know. I fisted two guys (Allen was one, although I’ve likely misspelled his name), got fisted myself (Pascal from Paris), fucked and fisted another guy (got 98% of the way in him, missed his fist cherry by millimeters; bet the next guy will get him done), and then got almost (95%?) fisted again while standing up and blew a load all over him.
Cleanout was a bit easier here than in Amsterdam, because the hose head will fit over the shower head in the bathroom here. Got a lot of air bubbles, but I didn’t have to strain as much.
One “problem” I have when getting fisted is that when the fist comes out, I piss. Happens nearly every time, and the more liquid I’ve had in me (orally, that is), the more volume I piss. I can usually keep that confined to the pad we have under the sling at home, but at the SLM clubhouse, that would end up on the concrete floor and be more of an issue (could be slippery for others). Solution: I put a condom on my cock while I was being fisted, so I could piss to my heart’s content (bladder’s content?) and not worry, so long as the condom itself didn’t come off. Worked very well tonight.
Updated on February 23, 2010
Updated on May 12, 2010
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Europe 2009: Amsterdam (Monday, July 27)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
I bought myself a new nose ring at a piercing place. It’s a staple with rectangular edges and points, like an inverted trident without the middle tine. Kind of cool.
I ran into Dael and Kev again at the Argos. I sucked and got fucked in the dark room, But not by Dael and Kev this time.
Checked for the missing nose ring at the Eagle’s lost-n-found, but no luck.
Updated on February 9, 2010
I bought myself a new nose ring at a piercing place. It’s a staple with rectangular edges and points, like an inverted trident without the middle tine. Kind of cool.
I ran into Dael and Kev again at the Argos. I sucked and got fucked in the dark room, But not by Dael and Kev this time.
Checked for the missing nose ring at the Eagle’s lost-n-found, but no luck.
Updated on February 9, 2010
I proceeded to lose the new nose staple in Denver in September, either during play at the Denver Eagle or during wild sex in the hotel room. We couldn’t find it later, so probably at the Eagle.Updated on May 12, 2010
Monday, July 27, 2009
Europe 2009: Amsterdam (Sunday, July 26)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
Wandered around a while, then trekked 30 minutes southwest of the Centrum to a fisting party I had been invited to, at a bar called Sameplace
I was wearing one of my kilts, the tan canvas and black leather one from MacLeo. It got a number of looks, but I trained myself long ago not to make eye contact back on those. Just let them pass by. Unfortunately, the heavy canvas rubbing against my PA apparently unscrewed the ball and then worked the entire ring out; it was gone by the time I got to the party. I think I remember hearing a “ding” noise which may have been the ring falling out, and I felt a jab of one of the kilt snap backs at one point which was probably shortly after the ring fell out. (Bad things come in threes, eh: three piercing rings gone in a week! Fortunately I have a couple smaller spares with me. I didn’t plan on new jewelry being a main souvenir on this trip, but it looks like I’ll go shopping on Monday at the leather shops and a piercing place on Warmoesstraat.)
I met a couple guys at the party — Patrick and Chris, expat Brits — and went out to dinner with them to a pizzeria called Paprika (they tell me most of the Italian places in Amsterdam are Turkish owned) where we talked politics and same-sex marriage and sex stuff, and then went back to their apartment. I had fucked and fisted Patrick at the party, and then fisted Chris (after finding out they were partners); I almost got both hands in Chris. Back at their place, Patrick fisted me. Met their cats, Desmond (Abyssinian, but he doesn’t look much like it to me) and Molly (Desmond’s daughter, half Somali).
I was told that the big gay social networking (hookup) site in the Netherlands (and maybe the rest of Europe?) these days is GayRomeo.com (at least for leather; anything listing fisting as one of the top-level search options is a plus), along with Recon. Stuff with a big presence in the States like Manhunt and AssPig have almost no membership here; Manhunt doesn’t even have Europe as an option! Bear411 is still a presence here.
Later that evening, I caught a cab and visited an online buddy from GayRomeo.com, Mauricio, ironically within blocks of where the party had been. He fucked me until I came, then fisted me with each hand, came, and fisted me some more until I came again. (pig) Walked back to the Centrum late at night (1:30 am); beautiful weather in the high 60s, me in shorts and tank top.
For clean out, I have been using a portable shower head, intended for attaching to the sink or tub faucet when a shower isn’t available. (European and American pipe sizes or threading differ, so I didn’t bring my shower shot.) This doesn’t work quite as well as a shower hose, and in Amsterdam, the sink was about an inch too high to deal with comfortably, so I have had to perch with one foot on a chair and one foot tiptoed on the floor to get my ass over the sink to evacuate. Fun fun. (Stretch and strain.)
Updated on February 8, 2010
Updated on May 3, 2010
Wandered around a while, then trekked 30 minutes southwest of the Centrum to a fisting party I had been invited to, at a bar called Sameplace
I was wearing one of my kilts, the tan canvas and black leather one from MacLeo. It got a number of looks, but I trained myself long ago not to make eye contact back on those. Just let them pass by. Unfortunately, the heavy canvas rubbing against my PA apparently unscrewed the ball and then worked the entire ring out; it was gone by the time I got to the party. I think I remember hearing a “ding” noise which may have been the ring falling out, and I felt a jab of one of the kilt snap backs at one point which was probably shortly after the ring fell out. (Bad things come in threes, eh: three piercing rings gone in a week! Fortunately I have a couple smaller spares with me. I didn’t plan on new jewelry being a main souvenir on this trip, but it looks like I’ll go shopping on Monday at the leather shops and a piercing place on Warmoesstraat.)
I met a couple guys at the party — Patrick and Chris, expat Brits — and went out to dinner with them to a pizzeria called Paprika (they tell me most of the Italian places in Amsterdam are Turkish owned) where we talked politics and same-sex marriage and sex stuff, and then went back to their apartment. I had fucked and fisted Patrick at the party, and then fisted Chris (after finding out they were partners); I almost got both hands in Chris. Back at their place, Patrick fisted me. Met their cats, Desmond (Abyssinian, but he doesn’t look much like it to me) and Molly (Desmond’s daughter, half Somali).
I was told that the big gay social networking (hookup) site in the Netherlands (and maybe the rest of Europe?) these days is GayRomeo.com (at least for leather; anything listing fisting as one of the top-level search options is a plus), along with Recon. Stuff with a big presence in the States like Manhunt and AssPig have almost no membership here; Manhunt doesn’t even have Europe as an option! Bear411 is still a presence here.
Later that evening, I caught a cab and visited an online buddy from GayRomeo.com, Mauricio, ironically within blocks of where the party had been. He fucked me until I came, then fisted me with each hand, came, and fisted me some more until I came again. (pig) Walked back to the Centrum late at night (1:30 am); beautiful weather in the high 60s, me in shorts and tank top.
For clean out, I have been using a portable shower head, intended for attaching to the sink or tub faucet when a shower isn’t available. (European and American pipe sizes or threading differ, so I didn’t bring my shower shot.) This doesn’t work quite as well as a shower hose, and in Amsterdam, the sink was about an inch too high to deal with comfortably, so I have had to perch with one foot on a chair and one foot tiptoed on the floor to get my ass over the sink to evacuate. Fun fun. (Stretch and strain.)
Updated on February 8, 2010
Updated on May 3, 2010
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Europe 2009: Amsterdam (Saturday, July 25)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
Went to the Argus, Dirty Dick’s, and the Eagle. Met up with Robert, a guy from Haarlem I had been chatting with online. He tells me that the religious government is cracking down on things in Amsterdam, that it isn’t as wild as it once was. Plenty wild to my inexperienced eyes, but I take his point. He also said Dirty Dick’s is likely to close soon, because the building foundation is rotten. Always a shame, but that bar was quite empty for a Saturday night(to my eye), so maybe not a huge loss.
I sucked dick upstairs at the Web in the afternoon; I got off but he didn’t. Sucked dick in the dark room at Dirty Dick’s; we both got off.
Updated on February 5, 2010
Went to the Argus, Dirty Dick’s, and the Eagle. Met up with Robert, a guy from Haarlem I had been chatting with online. He tells me that the religious government is cracking down on things in Amsterdam, that it isn’t as wild as it once was. Plenty wild to my inexperienced eyes, but I take his point. He also said Dirty Dick’s is likely to close soon, because the building foundation is rotten. Always a shame, but that bar was quite empty for a Saturday night(to my eye), so maybe not a huge loss.
I sucked dick upstairs at the Web in the afternoon; I got off but he didn’t. Sucked dick in the dark room at Dirty Dick’s; we both got off.
Updated on February 5, 2010
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Europe 2009: Amsterdam (Friday, July 24)
This is just the sex parts of my European trip report. For the rest of the report from this day, click here.
The Web has a “dark room”, a small cruising maze like a mini-bathhouse. I got reprimanded by the bartender for coming into the bar, nosing around, and heading upstairs without buying something first. I ’can’t blame him, and 5 minutes later, he gave the same spiel the same to another guy (so its a common event). I typically spend a couple minutes in a new bar before deciding I want to stay long enough to have a beer, and I walk around the place to get a feel for it; there isn’t usually a dark room like that to explore in the process, in the States. The only times I’ve seen such at bars in the States were the Pit at the Chicago Eagle (now closed), and the brief time that the backroom was open at the Loading Dock in San Francisco (also now closed). (Well, formal backrooms. Lots of bars have had informal grope areas which the staff turn a blind eye to, until the cops eventually notice.) Turns out all the leather bars here have them. (I visited them in the Argos, Cockring, Cuckoo’s Nest, and Eagle later that night. Well, passed through most of them.)
Other than the dark rooms, the leather bars should look familiar to Americans. Maybe a bit small. The exception is the Cockring, which is a leather dance bar downstairs and a bar and cruising area upstairs. It’s rare to find a dance floor at a leather bar in the States; Detroit Eagle is about the only one I’ve seen, other than places like the Cuff in Seattle which added a dance floor and stopped being much of a leather bar. (“Why don’t leathermen dance?” “Because they’ll bruise themselves with their keys!” <twitch hips back and forth, say ow ow ow as the keys smack you>)
I met a pair of bears, Dael and Kev, from the Midlands (England) upstairs at the Eagle.
I sucked and got fucked in the dark room at Argos; got the guy off. Nipple play in the dark room at the Eagle; ow ow ow. Threesome at my hotel with the Midlands bears, got almost fisted by one, then fucked and fisted by the other; only one of them came.
Updated on February 4, 2010
The Web has a “dark room”, a small cruising maze like a mini-bathhouse. I got reprimanded by the bartender for coming into the bar, nosing around, and heading upstairs without buying something first. I ’can’t blame him, and 5 minutes later, he gave the same spiel the same to another guy (so its a common event). I typically spend a couple minutes in a new bar before deciding I want to stay long enough to have a beer, and I walk around the place to get a feel for it; there isn’t usually a dark room like that to explore in the process, in the States. The only times I’ve seen such at bars in the States were the Pit at the Chicago Eagle (now closed), and the brief time that the backroom was open at the Loading Dock in San Francisco (also now closed). (Well, formal backrooms. Lots of bars have had informal grope areas which the staff turn a blind eye to, until the cops eventually notice.) Turns out all the leather bars here have them. (I visited them in the Argos, Cockring, Cuckoo’s Nest, and Eagle later that night. Well, passed through most of them.)
Other than the dark rooms, the leather bars should look familiar to Americans. Maybe a bit small. The exception is the Cockring, which is a leather dance bar downstairs and a bar and cruising area upstairs. It’s rare to find a dance floor at a leather bar in the States; Detroit Eagle is about the only one I’ve seen, other than places like the Cuff in Seattle which added a dance floor and stopped being much of a leather bar. (“Why don’t leathermen dance?” “Because they’ll bruise themselves with their keys!” <twitch hips back and forth, say ow ow ow as the keys smack you>)
I met a pair of bears, Dael and Kev, from the Midlands (England) upstairs at the Eagle.
I sucked and got fucked in the dark room at Argos; got the guy off. Nipple play in the dark room at the Eagle; ow ow ow. Threesome at my hotel with the Midlands bears, got almost fisted by one, then fucked and fisted by the other; only one of them came.
Updated on February 4, 2010
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