The Window Is The Door

My first time at Folsom Street Fair, I wore a pair of jeans, some faux-leather work boots and a leather vest. I had my picture taken with porn star Jason Ridge and he seemed to actually flirt with me. I had guys come up and feel my hairy chest; I squeezed through the decadent raunchiness of Powerhouse; I asked a girl if I could flog her boyfriend and he was all too willing to let me; and I finally - after years of visiting the city - had sex in San Francisco.
Needless to say, Folsom Street Fair had become a traditional destination for me.
Through the years, I had come to admire more and more that Folsom Street Fair was a place where leather lovers and fetishists gathered once a year to celebrate their sexuality with candid display. That, in itself, is an admirable trait. This year, however, I seem to have gathered an understanding of Folsom Street Fair. Not only it's in-your-face freedom but something a bit more, um, realized...maybe even in myself.
We were promised a hot day and, yeah, it was hot!! Weather hot. Steamy hot. Fun and hot. I gathered with my friends and we traversed through the crowded streets watching such regular attractions as Naked Twister, porn star appearances, the naked exhibitionist with the huge cock and flogging demistrations. We watched in amazement at the costumes and displays of erotic frankness: the guy I'd seen on X Tube masturbating on the sidewalk as people gathered around to watch, the people dressed in cute little animal outfits who were sure to go home and rub themselves together in order to 'fuck like bunnies' if you know what I mean, the guys who would ask you to piss into a water bottle for them and the guy with a pig tail who nastily wiggled his ass as he assumed the four-legged position. Some of this was for show and, for sure, some of this was serious.
At some point in the day, my friends left for home. My friends from Seattle left with a promise to join me at the Eagle later on that night. Usually, I will stick around for most of the day and watch as the festival dies down. I, again, squeezed myself into Powerhouse as I wanted to sweat off most of the beer I had drank throughout the day (that's my story and i'm sticking to it!). It was as packed as a can of sardines and as hot as a sauna, yet there were men pressed body-to-body. Some were engaging in sexual acts and some were merely talking and touching and kissing. Guys showed off their penises with pride. There were some guys who had walked in off the street completely naked. I grabbed a water and a beer and had finally found a seat in the back room.
I looked around at the raw visuals of man on man sex and it hit me: Folsom Street Fair isn't just about leather and slings and fetish...it is about 'what the fuck' sex and sexuality.
Yeah, that line from an old Tom Cruise movie speaks volumes in it's clarity: what the fuck gives you the opportunity - the right - to live your life the way that you want to; the way that you choose. It's your life and no one has the right to make you feel ashamed or embarrassed about it. Most all of the people at Folsom Street Fair - particularly those who participated by wearing costumes or volunteering to be flogged or showing off on a stage somewhere, etc. - was saying 'what the fuck' to the world. I reflected back on early in the day when I watched a half naked women tied up and getting whipped. I looked at her face and noticed that even though her expression explained the pain it seemed she was receiving, her moans were explicit about her exquisite ecstasy.
Sex and sexuality should be an open and cherished thing about ourselves - never something to be ashamed of. After all, the brain is the most powerful sex tool that we have. And it was then that I realized that my hope to be as brazen as I wanted to be about my sex life was up to no one but me.
I lit a cigarette and watched what was going on in front of me. A guy with huge love-handles was sucking a pretty curved, uncircumsized cock. I watched as the guys switched positions and the guy with the nice curved dick went down on Mr. Love-handles, who soon shot his semen all over the side of the guy's face and in his hair. The guy simply stood up and walked back into the main rooms of the bar not bothering to wipe the cum off. My dick was hard in my jeans and I sat with a huge smile on my face. I like to see people have fun and this was an adult gay man's Disneyland.
So started the beginning of me saying to the world 'what the fuck' about my sexuality and the way I like to have sex.