I have been interested in Leather for a long time, but I had always been wary of acting on that interest. That worked for me for a long time.
Of course, there were brief excursions into Leather along the way. I would go out, have a good time, and ever so often, a "Leather" experience was part of the mix. I remember almost always having a great time, but the "Leather" experiences were isolated, and never part of a whole. Indeed, I never took any of these experiences to be a part of me, but rather as something that just happened to happen to me.
Over the years, my curiosity continued to grow...and yes, there was always someone who was willing to " show me" their kink, "show me", as in do their kink to me. Whether it was a complete lack of trust on my part, or being scared shitless at the thought of having ANYTHING done to me, I never accepted any offers. To this very day, I still like to be the "doer", as opposed to being the "doee" in any encounter. I know, the proper terms are top/bottom, or dom/sub, but none of those terms were part of my consciousness at that point in time.
Coming face to face w/ my interest in Leather, and owning up to same, came almost by accident. A good friend invited me to a Meet and Greet for his club on MOTHER'S DAY, 2006. The E-VITE (an electronic invitation) stated that after visiting Mom, I should plan to come to his home where his club would be meeting. I don't remember if he said exactly what the nature of his club was, only that he thought that I would find it very interesting. And why not? I found him to be a very dynamic individual, and I was flattered by the invitation.
I arrived promptly, just as the club was finishing up the Business Meeting. Each of the men in that room was attired in some Leather/Fetish wear...one man wore a leather butcher's apron, a jockstrap and a pair of boots...still another was shirtless, wearing a harness w/ a strap that disappeared into the front of his jeans...a third sported a collar, an elaborate leather vest, jockstrap and lace-up boots, and so it went. They all looked as though they were ready for a SERIOUS play party, but we were all there, in this man's apartment for a Meet and Greet on a brilliant Sunday afternoon in May. This didn't look like any of the Meet and Greets that I had ever attended! I had to figure out a way to get out of this. Think man, think!
During the Meeting, I kept trying to think up ways to make an emergency exit, gracefully. My thinking was that I would go the bathroom, and stay in there just a bit too long. When I came out, I would tell everyone that I was not feeling well, and that I had to go. The only thing was, my timing was off that day.
Great guys, and I enjoyed the Meeting and all of it's spectacle, even if my heart was in my mouth for the whole time. Everyone was really into it, each man telling of great tales, past and present, as well as deeds that he hoped to perform in future outings. Very heady stuff! Did I mention that I was overwhelmed?
After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to get up the nerve to say that I was leaving. I followed a gentleman into the elevator and onto the street. This same gentleman would later become an important mentor, and a very good friend. My head was reeling, and it was good to be out of there. I remember thinking, "Well now you've done it! All those years of tipping around the edge, and there it all was, IN MY FACE!"
When we spoke the following day, the man who invited me slyly asked, "Did we scare you away with all of our leather?"
I'm a thirty year old black man. Weekdays, you will find me working hard at my corporate job. Weeknights, I am generally looking for ways to expand my imagination and/or experience. I prefer interacting sexually first, then (possibly) socially. My public/private spheres are as dissimilar as Clark Kent/Superman (LoL and that is probably the perfect analogue: I take off my glasses to become the Super Nigga with Skills!). Anyway, if you want to have a conversation via Yahoo IM, or by phone, let me know. If you want to connect with me and discover this Super Skilled Nigga's innate talents and abilities, let me know. I interact with white men and black men. If you want me to genuflect at your feet while you are taking a dump, and kiss your shoes/toes while your piss streams over my head and body, let me know. If you just want to waste my time, please don't!
[The following is a missive I transmitted via email to a prospective Black Daddy. I love and crave White dick; but my natural inclination is to submit to a Black Daddy.]
Confessions of A Young Black Sexual Deviant
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
As you know, my name is Brian Gregory Williams, and I’m 30 years old. I spent most of my upbringing in Southern California (Palm Springs area). After graduating high school in 1997, I enrolled in college in the San Francisco Bay Area. My first sexual experiences occurred at the age of 17, during my senior year in high school. However, as a young college student only about 30 miles or so from San Francisco, I began to explore sex without inhibitions, and I found myself enjoying many activities considered “taboo” or “deviant.” For example, over ten years ago, my boyfriend and I started experimenting with foot play, natural scent (having sex without showering first), and piss play, at my request. I also began having sex with white men. I used to spend a lot of time at seedy gloryholes and sex clubs, sucking and riding dick anonymously. I frequently cruised the public bathrooms that were known for sleaze. So, from the time I became sexually active, I was always very open-minded and curious about fetishes.
As time passed, I got sleazier and sluttier. I began seeking out certain “types” of men. One “type” that has always been a focus of my fantasies is the older Dominant Black Disciplinarian. I’ve been fortunate over the years to meet up with a few who were naturally dominant and aggressive. I have served as a houseboi, a gay son, and a sex slave. The impulse has been consistent over the years: I crave sex slavery.
I have, from time to time, allowed a White man to be that Dominant Disciplinarian for me, but it has not always flowed as naturally. I naturally submit to an older Black man in this role, primarily because a Black man can truly fill the role of “Daddy” for me.
Besides the need for discipline from a Black father figure, I also crave Black dick. I love the natural odor of Black men. I enjoy taking Black dick—I get as much as I can! I love falling to my hands and knees to literally worship a Black man’s body. I get excited when I consider that a sexy, powerful Black man chose to allow me the privilege of servicing and satisfying him.
Actually, I have come to realize that my most intense urge is to be humiliated, degraded, and abused, by a Black man (or Black men). Humiliation and degradation could take many forms. For the last few months, I have had an urgent desire to undergo “pet training” under the supervision of a Black Owner. In January (just after the new year began), I went to the pet store and bought a dog bowl, as well as a dog collar and leash, because I hoped to find a Black Owner who would allow me to be his “pet” on a regular basis. He would make me piss and shit in my back yard; he would push my head into the toilet bowl after he’s taken a dump; he would force me to clean his hole after a dump, as his personal attendant; he would restrain me (by chain) to the rod inside one of my closets, and lock me in there, as a disciplinary action, as well as requiring me to serve as his personal sex slave (to be rented out to other men for his benefit, as he sees fit). There are more activities that I could list as well, but we will discuss these things in detail tonight.
As far as abuse: I have actually been sexually assaulted (raped). In that moment, I felt so helpless, so powerless, and I literally feared for my life. In the year 2005, while I was living and working in downtown Los Angeles, I invited a Black guy over for a sex hook-up. By the time he arrived, I was no longer horny. I allowed him in my apartment but tried to explain to him that I didn’t want to have sex. He got upset, annoyed, and irritated. He held me down, ripped off my shorts, and sexually assaulted me. Because he didn’t use any lube (he spit-fucked me), and I was trying to fight him off, he caused significant tearing and bleeding. When he finally nutted inside my hole, he quickly pulled up his pants (they were sweats) and left my apartment; I never saw him again. I lay trembling for at least ten minutes after he left, and I did not have a proper bowel movement for over a week. This traumatic experience, in my opinion, was the impetus for what became intense panic and anxiety attacks. For the most part, I have overcome the panic attacks, but the effects of the assault go deeper and further than that. I began acting out sexually, being more promiscuous. I entered into the gay porn industry (I am still active in the industry; I last filmed in February, 2010).
After the assault, I also made some very drastic decisions, with very little rationale behind them. I quit my job and began working temp assignments. Eventually, I decided to move to Washington, DC. I’ve lived in DC since September, 2006. Thankfully, I have worked for the same employer since January, 2007. In fact, I have been promoted since I was hired, and my experience working here has been invaluable.
But to this day, I crave sexual abuse. I have actively sought very aggressive (and abusive) Black tops to abuse my hole. When a well-endowed Black man fucks me so rough that he makes me bleed, it excites me more than I want to admit.
Actually, I am ashamed to be admitting all these things to you. I continue to be very promiscuous because I enjoy sex immensely. I like servicing masculine Black men; over the past several months, I have picked up “street” niggas and had some awesome sex with “thug” brothas.
I do not want a boyfriend, lover, or life partner. I simply want to be sexually submissive—as a sex slave, sleazy bottom, dirty slut, toilet pig, etc.—to an innately masculine, naturally aggressive Dominant Black Daddy.
Please respond when you can. Also, please call me when you have read this message, and let me know if you have any questions. If you would like to re-consider meeting, or if you simply do not want to meet me, let me know.
