Photo Essay: Toronto Dyke March 2008

Pop quiz.

Find the porn. Is it...

(a)


(b)

A night out for the toys.

When the stunning blonde brought me my dinner, I laughed to myself as I realized the contrast between my dining venues of late. Continuing on my solo, Pride 2008 quest for my city's sensual and erotic treats, just recently I found myself enjoying an awesome barbecue hosted by the Black Eagle, perhaps this city's most infamous gay leatherbar. It didn't distress me that I was in the Eagle, and yet tonight, I felt just slightly weird (in a perfectly amusing way) that I was actually dining in a Hooters. I mean, Hooters... it's just so fratboy.

Being more of an ass- than a tit-man, I was still pleasantly surprised to see a variety of bodytypes among the servers. Fully expecting to see a room full of Pamela Anderson clones, I was happy to see my expectations dashed. Some lovely bums indeed. I still feel as though there's something vaguely heterosexist about Hooters, but then again... how much more alarming was it really when compared to the average stripclub?

From there, I was off to the famous Northbound Leather fetish wear emporium for their annual Pride Meet & Greet social. A relaxed evening of wine and hors d'oeuvres among a pansexual crowd of the city's fetish elite awaited me, where I enjoyed meeting old and new friends. Also attending was Canadian fetish performer Maxine X, due to appear on the third season of Webdreams, to offer autographs and her latest DVDs when she wasn't dry-humping the stunning Northbound associate Jen.

I enjoyed the open bar as Northbound manager David and I discussed the nature of the erotica business as he helped me select some new gear for myself. To our left, a couple found themselves testing a new flogger as she delectably bent forward to a rack of latex skirts, her partner gently lashing her behind. Behind us, a cluster of guys from various regional gay leather associations were having a blast as one of them, clad in leather boxers and sporting a full-faced leather doberman hood, rough-housed with a pair of very real Jack Russell terriers. The little pups seemed horribly confused.

The evening was more of a party than a playparty, but that didn't stop one talented Top guy from an intense rope bondage scene with his bottom. Kneeling on the concrete floor, the lashed gentleman relaxed silently as his Top, and his Top's friends, took turns supervising his presence among the crowd of minglers and nibblers.

Outside, the Lady Victoria Windsor demonstrated her skill with a bullwhip, removing cigarettes from the lips of the willing and unafraid. One or two of the leatherboys decided that it would be amusing to see how her tools would feel upon themselves, and each walked away with a smarting look in the eye.

I was with The Grrl the last time I did some shopping at Northbound. That's almost a lifetime ago now, but it felt excellent to be among the local scene again. Recently, Lanie, a new friend, has expressed interest in attending a local fetish night together, and while I doubt we'd progress anywhere past being just-friends, I'm looking forward to perhaps sharing some interesting experiences in the coming weeks.




thumbs personal collection, Switch Swingers

A night out with the boys.

It was the gear and the grill, more than the guys, that brought me to the infamous Black Eagle last night as my Pride 2008 debauch continued. It's all about the vibe, baby. How could I possibly turn down thick burgers with crumbled bleu cheese, cold red beer, and a display of leather paraded by its iconic experts?

Because, let's face it, when it comes to fetish wear at its most unadulterated form and less-is-more elegant best, the gay community has it down. From a fuckfashion point of view, the goth crowd may be more imaginative, more expressionist, but sometimes I find that the simple purity of a good military bootblacking outshines (so to speak) the outrageous. A plain black tee or a buff chest in a harness or vest, boots like mirrors, only the hint of steel, leather pants or chaps over denim, and all topped with a leather offiziers hut makes the foundation for standard Top uniform. You just don't see that kind of bdsm back-to-basics, do-it-right attitude among those for whom fetish play is often more about being hip than power exchange.

My vantage point was not nearly as envious as during my recent playparty excursion to Funhaus, the crowds being overwhelming once the popular Mr. Leather Pride event got started. Still, over many beers and two trips to the barbecue, I enjoyed a long discussion with a new friend about the nature of pansexuality.

I think gay guys are cool. Quite a turn, isn't it? Often, I'd rather hang out as buddies with the gay men because in a sense, they feel far more open-minded, open-hearted, and far less sexually repressed than straight dudes. Anyone from any orientation can be a moron, but this has just been my experience. In that regard, some friends have described me as being queer, though not gay, and I enjoy that.

What's the distinction? For me, queer theory has more to do with an approach toward sexual culture as a whole rather than simply what gets me off. I think cocks are cool, but watching the gay porn on the monitors above the bar really does nothing for me. Go figure.

The leather-clad dudes strutted their stuff. The cluster of giggling women who arrived weren't too intrusive to the vibe. The beer was cold and plentiful. The energy was relaxed and casual. The burgers and steak were awesome.

And then my new friend and I went into the blackroom where I let him suck my cock.



thumb Black Eagle, personal collection

Burlesque pride.

I enjoy the sensuality of the dance, the spirit of fun, and the sense of new life being breathed into erotic history. Had my grandfather ever see Gypsy Rose Lee perform? I also enjoy the sexual politics in knowing that empowered, joyful women are rekindling a sensual genre from the past. To my eye, it's good, healthy fun... not that I would also resist the chance to savor a luscious bum ensconced in period bloomers.

Last night's debauch brought me to Goodhandy's, the "pansexual playground," for a fun Pride-filled evening of classic burlesque. Shayne and I had seen Skin Tight Outta Sight last New Year's, but tonight's rebel burlesque performance definitely out-did what they offered the hungry public then. With them were The Saucy Tarts, whose can-can performances were a sight to behold.

Even before the show, the sight and vibe in the club reminded of the excellent cabaret scene in Better Than Chocolate. Men were definitely in the minority as the house was full of lesbian couples, their friends, and the occasional stunning t-girl.

The drag king swayed to Duke Ellington. The mohawked Catastrophe demonstrated a ominous ballet reminscent of The Handmaid's Tale. The Victorian lady who dislodged her hoop skirt. The tribute to the feather boa. The Saucy Tarts were exceptional, delivering sets that featured can-cans in the Old West, French revolution, and gypsy rover styles.

And then there was poor, smiling Justin. Our emcee insisted that Justin, a slender twink if there ever was one, come on stage and take a thick black dildo in his ass for everyone's enjoyment. Summoning a local celebrity in the audience, a female erotica writer and broadcaster, to do the sordid deed, Justin casually disrobed on stage, bent over with a wide smile, and the applause abounded as the lad got fucked before us.

Not bad for a Monday night.

But satisfaction brought her back.

In need of "a good hard fuck with lots of hot foreplay," it seems that Curiousgirl's avid curiousity has lured her down the path of Urban Roguery. What ever shall we do?

thumb Fuckfist

The Three Graces.

I shook the rain from my trenchcoat as I handed it to the girl. The thrum of the tunes, the cold beer bottle in my fist, the flogger and c-clamp in my back pocket, the plain strap of black leather snapped across my left wrist... all these things brought me back to the nights when I bounced the bdsm clubs of New York City. I was in the Funhaus and it was time for another Fetish Masquerade.

The play for the night would largely be confined to the back room, the rear door to which yawned open like a hellmouth, shades of red lighting beckoning the daring and the kinky from the open dance area. The music was better here than what Master Micheal would have played, this place being a danceclub first and catering to a fusion between the goth crowd and a smattering of trendy poseurs.

I was stag tonight. I don't usually enjoy going to fetish nights on my own, since it usually reminds me that single men often make up the vast majority of voyeuristic attendees. Not quite so here, however, with the house full of couples and clusters of friends. Me, I'm much more comfortable being part of a pair, or more, of players out together, especially if I'm with a hot partner. I enjoy being out and playing, doing my thing, more than just being the observer, but tonight I was determined to have some fun. I'm confident that the time will come when my hand will meet flesh under the red lights again; for now, being in the energy was satisfying enough.

The night was still young when the Sultan, a Middle Eastern fellow in elegant Bedouin regalia, began preparing one of the red leather spanking benches for a session. I'd seen him before, and knew that he'd be using that spanking bench all night. His partner was a smiling, curvy, longhaired blond in a rust-coloured PVC top with boyshorts. Blondie relaxed comfortably as she climbed on to the padded bench with a naughty grin, resting her albows on an upper tier while facing the wall. Her round ass was revealed as Sultan tugged her boyshorts down, leaving her clad in a g-string as she was displayed before the growing audience behind her.

It's a treat when a couple is comfortable enough to let the night start early. Sultan, a regular at this event, began with tender smacks and caresses. Gradually, he built up toward a firmer hand, which Blondie readily accepted with gyrating hips. She arched her back slightly, turning her pleasantly generous bum upward and parting her cheeks open ever so more as she did so. By the time Sultan was slowly using his pinwheel along her thigh, she was squirming so much that she couldn't help but reveal her plump seam and darkened anus to the bright red light above her. The poor dear.

In the main room, vintage 70s porn played on the big screen as the now full house thudded with PVC-, leather-, and lingerie-clad dancers. Couples and singles, a crossdresser or two, and bouncers occasionally made their way in and out of the back room. Some lounged on nearby overstuffed couches, others sat or stood to watch the Sultan and Blondie at play.

As I was enjoying the sight of Blondie's reddened ass, something suddenly burst into the back room and trampled under and in front of me. Scampering on the floor at high speed was a young man bearing a small collar, and following him was a bespeckled blonde with a radiant smile and a shining black PVC evening dress. Instead of being an intrusion, their energy was infectious.

"C'mere, boy!" she called out with a wide and friendly smile. Immediately the young man turned on all fours, smiled back, and scampered on hands and knees toward her and right next to me. Tossing a huge, knotted rope, he watched it soar to the other end of the room, then brought it back with it gleefully in his teeth. She laughed and scolded him gently when he refused to release his grip on the rope toy. They did this again and again and were having a great time. It was nice to be reminded that Topping doesn't always have to be ominous and fierce.

I had forgotten how fun it was to see pup play. Sultan and Blondie continued unabated, but now my area of the room was also rich with fun, plain and simple, just because these two were so clearly having it. She saw my wide smile.

"Would you like to pet him?" she asked me, beaming. "His name is Rave."

I immediately went into doggie-voice. "Hello, Raaave... aw, such a good boy, what a good boy you are, yes, yes you are," I said, scratching him behind his ears, petting and gently tapping his back. He scampered away when I stopped. Not long after, I enjoyed watching Rave, his handler, and a lithe woman who was a tender kitten, scampering with Rave and making little hissy paws. They were cute.

Others came into the rear dungeon. Soon, as Sultan and Blondie were joined by another friend, the Businessman had begun setting up the second of the three spanking benches. With him was a sexually vibrant, tall woman with dirty blonde dreadlocks and a fantastic heart-shaped ass. Like Blondie, she found herself on all fours on the second spanking bench, her exquisite bum facing the onlookers. Businessman got right to business once Dreadlocks was in place, placing his hands at either asscheek and wiggling them rapidly. Her mound and crinkled sphincter were revealed even more readily than Blondie's had been, and the kisses he gave her bum between rounds of heavy-handed swats demonstrated that he rightfully adored her delectable butt. Their scene quickly became centre-stage as his passionate smacking, teasing, caressing elicted moans and squirms from Dreadlocks. When he too produced a pinwheel, her cries echoed through the room and blended with the trancelike music.

Not long after, a third couple made use of the wooden horse at another end of the room. The tattooed brunette there stood in her leather boots and bent over as her partner squatted and delivered a more tender, loving type of spanking to her panty-clad tush. His face was within an inch or two of her small, bubbly ass, and as he went into his own headzone his mouth slacked open with quiet pleasure.

My vantage point was front row centre. To my left, Petite Brunette and her small ass received loving open-handed attention at the horse. Blondie's plump ass was as red as the lighting as Sultan casually continued with wooden rods. To my right, Dreadlocks squirmed and yelped, revealing more and more of her beautful, heartshaped ass as she was pinwheeled and spanked. I sipped my beer contentedly as, for me, these delicious women became the Three Graces, each receiving torment and pleasure on their magnificent behinds.

Later, I'd enjoy the sight of Dreadlocks relaxing languidly on one of the couches, her back to Businessman's chest as her jilled her over her g-string, her thigh receiving caresses from a striking, smirking, bald black woman. Sultan administered another spanking to another partner. Near the dance floor, Rave and Kitty Girl would be sparring in their own furry way. Another couple, Overdramatic Goth Boy and Overdramatic Goth Girl, enjoyed a dramatic spanking scene on the dance floor stage amid the shutter snappings of a woefully young paparazzi. I flirted with a bartender and delivered compliments to some of the other Tops whose playwork I had been enjoying.

A fine night out.

And yes, I did think of Shayne, and of the fun I could have shown her there were she with me. We hadn't opportunity to play nearly enough, and there's so much I hadn't had the chance to share with her there. But, checking my email once I got back to my own dungeon, a message waited from a friend who had heard I was attending the playparty. Perhaps I won't be stag next time. One never knows.




thumbs Fetish Masquerade, personal collection, Wikipedia

Be still my heart.

Having just cited and shared a sexy photo released in my local newspaper, I can't resist but share another that crossed my path today, from the pages of NOW, as this city prepares for Pride 2008.

I've never met this gorgeous creature in the flesh, but have encountered her on other internet social sites. I've also seen her model for MissBehav'N, one of Toronto's kitschier sex-positive retail stores.

Personally, I think she is one of the sexiest women in this city.


thumb NOW

Body language.

Knowing that naturism/nudism has nothing to do with sex, my breath was still taken away by a fun and sensual photo in today's paper. Profiling an Ontario naturist resort, Toronto Star photographer Keith Beaty captured a delightfully sexy image of staffmember Nikki, a busty redhead whose radiant face and laughing eyes stopped me in my tracks.

Also entertaining today was news of the Austrian and German women's soccer teams for Euro 2008, who recently played topless with their respective national colours bodypainted on their chests. What oneup(wo)manship might this bode for beach volleyball? Hrm.

And then there was the blonde stray kitten I spied today who, in tying the laces of her Doc Martens, almost completely revealed her boyish, pale derriere. Yes, I enjoy warm weather.

thumb Toronto Star

Take a letter.

It pleases me to say that the elegant and ravishing Naughty Secretary finds Urban Roguery worthy of NWS reading. Let's hope for her sake that her boss isn't watching...

thumb Secretary Sin

In the confessional.

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Under the roses and eucalyptus.

If you're looking for a post that will excite you, get you off, or otherwise entertain you with ribald tales of sexual bliss and joy, you may wish to ignore this post.

These last few weeks have been so tumultous, so drastic, so challenging. It grieves me deeply, even deeper than previously, to say that it seems that Shayne and I are over after all. The playful poll, submitted after she asked to have me back after an earlier break-up, has been removed because, well, to not do so would be in poor taste.

I love Shayne very, very much. To my shock and horror, I have compromised her trust and health and now face the real consequences of a terrible mistake because I was too stupid to know better. To have so hurt my best friend, especially when she stood on the threshold of committing herself even further to our relationship, is something I will never forget and will not forgive myself for.

I do love you, Shayne. I hope things can improve between us in time. I stand here for you. I miss you already.

Titillated, happy, and afraid. Good.

Shayne: Read your blog. You fiend. ;) And I voted.
Me: How did that post make you feel?
Shayne: Titillated. Happy. Giggling. In love. Starry eyed and fearing for my flesh. ;)
Me: So far, your nibbles are very safe from torture. ;)
Shayne: Ha
Me: Yeah, youre right. I'll likely have my way with em anyway.
Shayne: Oh haha
Me: One reader wants me to be gentle. Several want your ass.
Shayne: Can't decide who I like more...
Me: I have a mind to tug you leashbound to Galleria Domain if public spanking 'wins.' But poker is catching up... I wonder if Annie would be interested... ;)
Shayne: Oy!

Like Shayne, you may enjoy reading the post below. Afterward, certainly respond to the poll at right: you can vote for as many selections as you like. Let's make her pay dearly, shall we?

~ thumb private collection

Let there be consequences.

You may have very recently read how, during our trip to see each other last week, Shayne and I broke up. The last few days gave us both some time to think, and I smirk playfully to myself when I share with you now that the saucy little tart has asked to have me back. Isn't that sweet?

I love the wench, and of course I took her back. So, we're together again, and that means that you, you shameless blog-reading voyeur you, will likely get to hear more tales of how she sucks my cock, takes me in her darling ass, gets fucked against the wall, and spanked into a reddened, sniffling state.

But let's be fair to one another here, you and I. Shayne's brief departure from my bed threatened our mutual pleasure, did it not? Wouldn't you have missed more sordid tales about this tomboyish slut? I'm sure you would have.

So, ever one to try and turn a setback into an advantage, I'm going to shamelessly invoke some Top privilege here. I think that little miss hussy deserves to experience some personal consequences for her temporary moment of insanity. Don't you agree? Yes, I think some public humiliation of some variety is in order, and rest assured that once it's been delivered (and, mind you, it'll be a little while before we get to see each other again) I'll make it a point to share every detail here with you.

So share your thoughts. Comment. Respond to the new poll. My tongue is in my cheek when I say that we, you and I, have a right to get some satisfaction out of this tawdry, naughty girl. Wouldn't you agree? Further, she deserves to have it displayed for our mutual fun. Should she be severely spanked? Should she be forced to blow me without regard to her knees or her tender throat? Should she wear her schoolgirl uniform and get birched in the woods? Something in public? Something in a dungeon?

What does the saucy, repentant Shayne deserve?

~ thumb private collection

Shayne's hangover remedy.

After a night of way too much rum, I had just wobbled my way into a Starbucks and was alternating my attention between a book and a barista's lovely little ass when my cellphone chirps. From 500 miles away, Shayne's nimble wee fingers are talking to me.

Shayne: On Sunday, a man on the street told me I had nice legs. I want you to kiss lick and bite these gams until i'm sighing & languid.
Shayne: And i want to kiss and suck your gorgeous strong arms, palms & fingers.
Me: Starbucks. Coffee. Lowfat turkey breakfast sammich. Woozy.
Me: And horny. Checkin out bums. Horny and woozy sucks.
Shayne: Ug... poor baby. Smoking grass always helps my hangovers. So does greasy food & napping. And giving head.
Me: Sucking cock cures hangovers? Hm. Maybe, instead of laundry, I should go to the porn theatre and give it a go...
Shayne: Not really. But i'd love to suck your sweet hard cock today.
Shayne: How many times a day would you ideally have sex?
Me: Youre just trying to kiss 'n make up with me, hussy. Just how easy you think I am? ;)
Shayne: No really tho. How many? And... well... maybe that's part of it... but we didn't get to screw NEARLY enough while together. My very much bad.
Me: Bad girls get spanked. ...I go thru waves: I'll want it twice a day, at least 3-4 a week, then will cool down and not want it much for a week or so. You?
Shayne: It's been so long since I had a regular sex partner that... i'm not sure. But if i could have sex before breakfast and dinner every day or two i'd be one happy pixiegrrl.
Me: Hrm. I wonder if -you- sucking -me- would cure my hangover. I bet it would, and I'm not even greasy. Slightly salty maybe...
Me: Id love to burst in your mouth.
Shayne: Mm. I'd like that too. Sucking your dick is so gratifying. I really love doing it.
Me: Tell me why. Tell me how I feel, what you like about it.
Shayne: I like feeling you grow hard in my mouth. I like sucking your head like a lolly. I like looking up at you from a sub position. I like stroking your balls, feeling them go from soft to wrinkling & taut.
Shayne: I like the clean salty taste of your skin. I like how you instruct me & respond to my learning.
Shayne: I love your gasps, stroking my head while i close my eyes and get wet from the pleasure i'm giving you. I like the messy saliva on my face. I luv tasting ur cum.

~ thumbs Bell Canada, Drunken Teen Orgies.

The cat from the condo.

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