The Fox Den

Social vs. "Social"

Something must have bitten me.

There hasn't been much of 2012 lately, but for whatever reason, I've been playing a LOT so far in 2012. I've already used my dungeon/attic more this year than I did last year (don't laugh). Maybe it's the full moon tonight?

Or maybe it's just that I'm learning to navigate being social, vs. being "social". It seems like whenever I get together with a group of kinky friends, be it in Minneapolis or at an event like MAL, I don't want to miss out on seeing all the great friends I rarely see. But then when that happens, I usually just end up being social (read "drinking") with them, and screwing around gets thrown to the wayside. 

It's about finding the proper amount of balance in life. Seeing friends is great, yeah, but to maintain health as a kinkster, one needs to settle those cravings. And yet, I've felt completely satisfied being social with my kinky friends.

Maybe I'm just moving up to a new level? I've gotten used to being social and I feel like I know my friends and who they are. Maybe I'm ready to depart those times a little bit more often now that I've had them enough and explore some new territory I haven't yet explored. 

Moderation in all things. Including moderation. Can't wait to see what else 2012 holds...

It's Working

For those of you who have only recently joined this blog and/or may have not read every single word dating back two and a half years ago, let me rehash why I started writing in the first place. 

I was looking at Recon profiles and blogs for years, and reading about all the hot experiences guys have, wishing it were me. They all seemed to be from guys who either lived in the Northeast or the West coasts. Years of looking at all these profiles and seeing things that I didn't have, yet wanting so badly resulted in giving me a complex of feeling powerless to change anything about my kinky life. And I thought to myself, yes, I've played, but not like that....

.....but I've played. I thought about it more and more, and I realized; I've been doing bondage since I was 18. Despite living in the middle of nowhere in college, I played a LOT. I found guys out there on sites and went for more weekend excursions than I remember (fortunately, most of them had photographic evidence). Maybe the pictures weren't as hot as the ones I've seen by other guys and maybe I didn't have a whole room full of gear and a dungeon of my own, but for being 25 years old, I have a pretty fucking kinky life! There's no reason I shouldn't be proud of it.

Moreover, there's no reason that anyone else can't have it. Maybe if I wrote about my own life, others won't feel so inhibited to get out there and play while they're younger. Grab your kinky life by the balls, kinkster, because you're not the only college boy dying to break into this. 

I've been pouring my life out to you all through this site in the hope that someone, somewhere is reading it and feeling like they're not alone. I track my stats a little bit so I know I have plenty of readers, but being that the blog really isn't that old (only 2ish years), I'm sure there's an impact yet to be made. 

But it's working. 

This weekend, MPLSGuy invited me up to help entertain a couple boys visiting him from Florida. FLABound and FlyBoyFL came up for their first big kinky excursion. It was an absolutely perfect weekend. There was a LOT of play, a tour of Minneapolis dungeons (thanks to MPLSGuy, b1point5, and Pterodactyl), good food, great laughs, EPIC bondage scenes (thanks to all our hosts and my partner in crime, PupTrigger), awesome nights at the bar, and a wonderful feeling of family with two really hot, young guys. As I sit here and write this on Monday evening, I feel a little bit like IML just ended. I'm kind of on cloud nine from these guys. 

On top of it all, the boys couldn't stop gushing over how excited they were to meet me. It was almost embarrassing how much they treated me like some kind of celebrity all weekend. I hadn't really talked to them on Recon or anything before meeting them this weekend, but they both told me how long they've been reading my blog for and how inspiring it was to them. Without the words and experiences I've written about here, they both told me that they would never have had the courage to dive in deeper or to go fly off to visit a dom for a kinky weekend. They were both too nervous to ever chat with me before, but they both said, "Reading your words gave us hope, and courage."

I'm not telling all of this just to blow my own horn. Fuck the fame, the fortune, the power, or the glory. That's not what this blog is about. I'm just so proud that I'm already somehow meeting the greatest goal that I ever set out for myself in this little spot on the web. I'm not here to be a celebrity. I'm just a regular guy! But I'm so, so proud that the words I've written are already having an impact on lives, somewhere.

But it's not just my words. More and more blogs, tumblrs, and twitters have been popping up from kinky, younger guys all over the country. People like TallGlassOfOJ, KinkyBoiNick, AlphaPupAlpine, BenInLeatherLand, JohnnyGear, VagaBondageBoy, PupSkoll, LeatherBondageLove, AllAmericanKinkster and RubberFreak are all pouring their kinky hearts, souls, and lives out for all the world to understand. These are all pivotal for our entire community. The more we share our own lives, the less isolated we'll feel, the more kinksters will come out, the stronger our community will be, and the more family we have.

To FLABound and FlyBoyFL, thanks for an awesome weekend, thanks for reading, and thanks for having the courage to take a leap of faith.

And to all the other blogging, tweeting, and tumblring kinksters out there,
Keep playing.
Keep traveling.
Keep photographing.
Keep writing.
Keep reading.
Keep living. 
Keep loving.

We're reaching them. It's working. 

Make a Kinky Resolution

BLUF made a statement yesterday, and it's already been published on Leatherati's and Dan Savage's blogs. I think it's absolutely perfect. It's everything I've ever fought for as a kinkster through this blog. Read their whole statement here.

Their point is to get kinksters off their computers/smartphones, put their gear on, and get out to the leather bars in their communities. So many of our favorite, most cherished of places have been closing down in recent years. The Chicago Eagle, Detroit Eagle, and now the SF Eagle are the latest of the casualties. Please, consider making the 12x12 resolution. Visit your local leather bar 12 times in the 12 months of 2012. Without patrons, these bars will close. Let's stop this downward spiral. Let's remember that leather (or rubber or whatever your kink is) is something to be celebrated, embraced, and worn proudly; it's not just something you wear at home, alone, behind closed doors while you cruise Recon or Scruff.

In Minneapolis, we make the resolution pretty easy to meet. Gear/dresscode night is once a month, every month on the 2nd Saturday at The Minneapolis Eagle, and they're always a blast. But I would encourage the regulars at MPLS Gear Night to double down on this resolution. Keep going to gear night, but gear up, and go out at least one other time during the month that it's NOT a gear night. I try to wear leather or latex whenever I go to the Eagle, which is pretty frequently. If more guys bring back that energy to the bar, just imagine - maybe dresscode night wouldn't just be once a month? Maybe it would be every day?

If you live in one of the following cities, you still have an Eagle you can, and should, support:

• Denver
• Los Angeles
• San Diego
• Washington D.C.
• Atlanta
• Indianapolis
• Baltimore
• New Orleans
• Minneapolis
• New York
• Portland
• Providence
• Dallas
• Seattle
• Tulsa
• Toronto
• Calgary
• Vienna
• Stuttgart
• Madrid
• London
• Manchester

But the list doesn't stop there. There are many leather bars in the US and elsewhere that don't use the name "Eagle". I'm emphasizing these only because the name "Eagle" is an iconic name for a leather bar, and it's always heartbreaking to hear of another one closing (and also because my googleing skills aren't good enough to find every leather bar in the USA). Whatever the name of your leather bar in your city is, get out there and support them! These leather business owners deserve our support. It's not easy being an entrepreneur in this economy, and being a leather entrepreneur has its own set of drama to go with it. Without these brave individuals, there would be no leather bars in the first place. And personally, I think MY life has gotten better since I started going to the MPLS Eagle....

If you DON'T live in or near a city that has a leather or other similar alternative bar, don't be discouraged. Living in Rochester, MN, Kirksville, MO, Iowa City, IA, Marquette, MI, Springfield, MO, Jackson, MI, Appleton, WI, Buffalo, NY, and other smaller, remote places can be a real challenge for leather people. We don't always get to choose where we live, but no matter where you are, you're probably not alone. If you can safely, consider being the voice for the community in your hometown. Consider starting a leather group, organization, or even just speak to your local gay bar (or the most liberal of straight bars you can find) about having a leather night once a month. These events and clubs just don't come from nowhere. If you need help or advice on these smaller communities/areas, e-mail me. I can give you a little advice on those smaller communities.

If you can find the strength inside of you to lead a community in a small town, then you will have everything you will ever need to face the world.

Check out the Facebook Page for the 12x12 campaign here. Post their badge on your blog, your website, your tumblr or your twitter. Spread the word. We can stop the closing of our most sacred of places. We can revitalize this community, and remind ourselves that leather isn't just something you wear to get off. We were first a community, a brotherhood. We can still have that. And when we find it, we won't ever have to see another Eagle or other leather bar or shop shut down again.

Stand strong, kinksters!

Kick your Heels Up

The question I've been asked over and over again at these NACA Trade Shows I've been attending is, "What exactly are your speeches about?" This question is usually asked by the college student or adviser with the crinkled forehead and unsure smile, half curious, and half afraid of my answer. Which brings me to the point; why am I here doing this at all?

At the root of the question is the reason why people who are kinky, regardless of their gender or sexual orientation, feel as though they can't explore that side of themselves. This is a subject which I refer to as "kink shame". I'm lucky enough to have been born and lived without ever feeling the guilt or shame associated with being turned on by something a bit alternative in the bedroom; my friends never fail to remind me that not everyone is lucky enough to have lived this way. Before someone can explore this whole side of themselves, they have to be able to accept and affirm it for themselves first. In this way, becoming kinky or practicing kink requires a process similar to coming out. This leads me to my philosophy on kink in general - being kinky is as much a part of someone's sexual identity as their orientation is.

So you have to come out to yourself as kinky, yeah? It's a kind of second coming out to those of us who are gay or lesbian. When I think about the world of BDSM, leather, rubber, etc. I truly believe that by total volume, there are more straight kinky people in the world than there are gay kinky people, but among those separate orientations, the proportion of kinky straight people, by percentage, is probably SMALLER than kinky gay people. Kink is a much bigger part of gay culture than it is of being straight. Why?

Because we don't have to leap that far.

Gay men have always had a sort of fun and airy attitude toward sex than straight people, in large part because for us, having sex, even vanilla sex, is a true rebellion against the societal norm we are constantly judged against. It's exactly the thing that we are oppressed over and the thing that the haters hate us for. In the words of Margaret Cho, "If you're oppressed over who you fuck, you're gonna kick up your heels and FUCK!" Making things even easier for us is the fact that gay men already came out once. To do so again, over our kinks, isn't as far of a leap to jump in most cases.

Straight people don't have this luxury afforded to them. They aren't oppressed over who they fuck, it's just over HOW they fuck. Missionary position is still the expectation among most straight people. Anything different makes you (supposedly) deviant, wrong, and mentally ill. Coming to terms with being kinky is the first time a straight person will likely struggle with this kind of conflict in his/her life. This oppression, the oppression that a gay man has already overcome, is enough to make a straight person retreat back into the kinky closet and attempt to ignore that part of him/herself for a few more years. Out, gay men have the foresight to know that ignoring it won't make it go away. Couple this with a lack of prevalent resources (there is nothing as prominent for straight kinksters as Recon, Gearfetish, or Manhunt are for gay men), and it's easy to see why the proportion of kinky gays is bigger than the proportion of kinky straights.

So why am I trying to do these speeches?

Sometimes the biggest contributing factor to someone's comfort level with themselves is seeing precisely that quality in others around them. Living with a quality that you think makes you think you're mentally ill is an unhealthy way to lead your life. No one should have to carry that burden, and no longer should we have to carry that burden ourselves. Remember when that lawyer got fired in New York a few weeks ago? The only way unfair treatment like that will stop is for all kinksters in the world to stand up and say, "STOP, this is wrong." The kinkster who's in the closet won't do that. The one who feels empowered and belongs to a community is not only leading a fulfilling, joyous life, but will also feel empowered enough in themselves to stand up along with us as we chant, "STOP, this is wrong." And one day, we'll be able to live in a world where we don't have to use fake names and we don't have to be scared of losing our jobs because of what we do behind closed doors.

Instilling confidence in those who feel powerless helps individuals, groups, as well as the kinky community as a whole. The way to do it is to teach people that it's okay to love yourself, enjoy and express your kinks, and not to fear dancing to the rhythm of your life.

Because if there's one thing I know how to do well, it's kick up my heels.

Feet and Sneakers

I'm asked about these all the time.  Why in god's name would I enjoy being tied up with a sneakers strapped to my face?  I think it all started with this picture:

.

...........yeah.  I can see how that would take a bit of explanation.

Feet are complicated for me.  Sort of.  Some guys get turned on just LOOKING at feet.  These are the ones who spend their whole summer on the beach (and you know who you are).  I'm not that type.  They way feet LOOK has never done anything for me.

One inherent truth about me is that I'm attracted to MEN.  I'm definitely a man's man.  I like a big, beefy, muscular, handsome, tall, athletic MAN.  My partner definitely fits the bill.  I love it when I wrap my arms around him and inhale and smell...him.  

And what smells more like a man to me than a man?  A man who just got done working out at the gym. I think the smell of gym bags, locker rooms, sweaty workout shorts, and shoes turn me on because that scent is the epitome of the scent of a MAN.  Breathe that in, and you feel like you're absolutely covered in him, even to the point where he's filled your lungs.

I know that not every guy feels this way.  Even my own partner doesn't feel this way.  He doesn't understand my fetish with that scent.  To make matters worse, he takes showers that are about 2 minutes long, tops.  So when he comes home from the gym, I've gotta MOVE because I dont' have much time to work!  

He hates being dirty so he immediately drops his gym bag and goes upstairs to shower.  He pops his shoes off in the hall, and they're usually soaked with his sweat.  Once he's in the shower, I've got about two whole minutes to enjoy them before he hops out and catches me, but I've gotten so good at this that I can always put them right back in exactly the position that he left them so that he doesn't notice. 

And I don't even care.  I guess it's just my little guilty indulgence.  Like candy to me.

Stronger Than Myself

To those of you who wrote in with your kind words about this blog, thank you. You made me stop and think further about what I'm writing for. I didn't know that my crazy little life was so inspirational to you out there. I'll work harder to remember that you don't expect perfection from me. Everything I publish doesn't have to be the most beautiful piece of art I've ever written. It's just an imperfect blog about an imperfect life, like all of us.

I still hold myself to higher standards, and when I fail, I take it really, really hard on myself. I do this in every facet of my life, including my relationship to my husband, my kinky friends, my work, my problem with ADHD, my speaking career, my cooking....pretty much everything I do. I was always held to really high standards as a child (one of my weekly household chores was to do the dusting of all the furniature; I remember once getting punished for not dusting the top of the fucking refridgerator in our kitchen). I didn't even know I was doing it to myself.

Flogging is not something I often do, but there are definitely times where I'm feeling some emotions and I just need to let it all out.  I tend to wall up my emotions and just let them build up, in order to maintain a good public image.  The summer was kind of crazy for me, and particularly the past week (for a very, very personal reason I won't be blogging about).  I couldn't sort out my emotions in my head, but I thought being flogged might help, for emotional AND sexual reasons.

I went to Inferno with the Chicago Hellfire Club this weekend, and made an appointment for a session. I stepped up onto the St. Andrew's cross, and I got shackled with my arms in the air on either side. Being flogged is an emotional catharsis. The first few swats don't really hurt much, but then they start to hurt.  Yet you don't ask for them to stop. You get flogged and flogged until you get "broken" and you break down, emotionally, and just let it out and start to cry. For me, that's where the scene typically ends. But I didn't do that this time.

When I got to the point where I wanted to cry and we usually stop, I gritted my teeth and strained against my restraints.  Without even thinking about it, I fought it back. It was tough to hide the tears from my dom and look like I could still keep going. But I fought HARD. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life to fight those tears back.  I cleared my throat before I spoke to tell him, "I'm fine, Sir." And on he went, throwing those thuds against my back with his various floggers.

My mind raced.  Why in the world did I just do that?  I pulled hard against my restraints and braced myself for more pain.

It happened again after a few minutes.  Even though I really, really just wanted to cry, let it all out, collapse, and be done, some headstrong determination surfaced and took over my body.  I mouthed to myself, "You're stronger than this," as I braced myself against the wood of the cross and once again, forced those tears back into my head.  I was hurting like hell, more than I have ever hurt in my entire life, but I felt like I wasn't done yet.  I was looking for something I hadn't found yet in this beating.

By this point, my back was red, puffy, the muscles were loosely hanging off my scapulae, and just the slightest breeze made it sting.  And that was just a breeze... Sir asked, "Alright boy?" And again I cleared my throat and tried hard to mask the sounds of my crying.  "Yes Sir.  Don't stop yet."  I wanted to hurt more than I'd ever had before.  I wanted this to be a real punishment for the things I've done that seemed so wrong in my eyes.

He switched his tools again and returned to my back.  I was starting to yell though; each time he hit me, I screamed.  Some louder than others.  As my screams escalated and my back stung so bad I thought my arms were getting ripped off, Sir just picked up his pace and smacked at my back faster and faster. Tears were just streaming silently from my eyes into my blindfold as I screamed.  It had been about an hour of flogging at this point.  When I wasn't yelling, I was mouthing to myself, "Stronger than this," over and over again, telling myself that I can keep on going and not to stop.  

Why?  My mind was racing around.  Why is my body doing exactly what my brain says I shouldn't be doing?

Two exceptionally hard cracks and I nearly collapsed down from the cross, if it weren't for the restraints holding me up.  I clambered back up, fighting with all the strength I had left in my soul to keep on going.  I wasn't able to prevent my crying from being so obvious, but I was trying.  

I held my breath waiting for another strike, but it never came.  Instead I felt Sir in front of me, on the other side of the cross.  "Stop fighting it so hard," he said.  I started to cry harder.  I felt a liquid dripping down my back.  Weird, I thought.  After I realized I was bleeding, my mind finally quieted itself, and there, in that darkest, most painful, bloodiest, tearfilled moment, I felt on the outside how I did on the inside.  In that quiet peace that resulted, I looked to my own heart and found the strength to forgive.......myself.

"Thank you, Sir," I bawled as he held me.  I just cried and cried as I stood there, frozen, bleeding.

There's no reason for me to be so tough on myself. Sometimes I screw up, sometimes multiple people screw up and something goes wrong, or something hurts. That doesn't always make it my fault. Moreover, imperfection does not equal failure, and I don't need to constantly beat myself up over that. I'm worth more, and I can stop this endless cycle of self-depreciation.  I know I can.

Because after all...

Dry Spell?

Where've I been lately?  Why the delays in writing?

I'll be the first to admit that I've lost some motivation to write, but hear me out.  I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. 

This blog started out as a look into the kinky life of a 20-something from the Midwest.  I had lived in Minnesota for just a little bit over a year.  It took a lot of focus to throw myself into my work and become comfortable with that facet of my life.  I hadn’t invested a lot of time or energy into a new community until I found myself on my feet as a nurse.  There was work to be done to find the kink in Minnesota.  There were friends yet to be made, bars yet to be explored, clothes yet to be bought, play yet to be had, etc.  And through the journey, I brought you with me through the magic of the internet. 

This blog turns two years old last month, and as I look back and reflect on what I’ve written thus far, I realize that something more has been going on here.  I can’t say I was born proud at all; there was a day in college where I didn’t like the Showtime series Queer As Folk because it promoted promiscuity (don’t laugh).  Becoming the proud, gay boy was a journey.  When I started writing for you, I hadn’t dreamed of the day I’d feel comfortable enough to run down Hennepin Ave and try to hail a taxi while wearing nothing but latex.  In order to find the kink in Minnesota and the Midwest, I first had to find the kink in myself. 

I never dreamed of the day I would feel so empowered that I would even attempt a run at a contest, and certainly not MIR.  The day I decided to start writing for this blog, I owned two (2) articles of latex gear/clothing. 

I’ve written enough sappy posts about how amazing my life has become and how much I value my kink brothers and the life I’ve grown into, and I don’t want to bore you with yet another.  Therein lies the point; my kinky life has become such an integral part of my everyday routine that it’s not even a separate part of my life.  I don’t have any friends who are vanilla; I can talk about kink with any one of them, even if they’re not as kinky to me.  I go to kink bars, I go to play parties, I go to events all over the nation, and I have friends in all corners of the USA and beyond.  I even go to vanilla bars in full latex and I feel completely comfortable.  And I do it often enough that it’s not such a novelty.  I don’t get as excited about leather or rubber events because I go to them all the time.

I’m no longer striving to become a Minnesotan kinkster.  I am one.  The journey has ended, and thus, my motivation to write.

With the death of one journey, a new path must be taken.  You can see that I’ve added a “hire me!” link above some months ago, and I’m proud to say that in the coming months, I’ll be attending trade shows to try to sell myself to colleges and universities throughout the country, to provide lectures and speeches on kinky life, BDSM, rubber, leather, and so forth.  I’m sure that will bring plenty to write about.

But what, my readers, do you want to hear about?  You are, after all, the ones who keep me motivated, and the reasons why this blog exists.  I began writing because I thought there was something someone somewhere could learn by seeing life through my eyes.  I can’t tell you all enough how much it means to me when someone comes up to me at an event or while I’m out of town and tells me they read my blog, and that it speaks to them.  I’ve met several other 20somethings from various parts of the country who have told me that they never would have taken the plunge to dive into this community if they hadn’t first read about it here.  Those people are so happy they took that leap, and that is what this blog is all about. 

In the process of placing myself under your scrutiny, I’ve learned so much about myself.

So is it fun to read about what I now consider to be a mundane, everyday kinky life?  Do you want to hear about it when I play with others?  Just the events?  Are you still interested in when Gear Night at the Eagle will be, and do you want to read a follow up post every month about how it went and what I did there?  Are you only interested in pictures of what I think is hot?  Should I reserve my ramblings for topics that really inspire me?  Do people go back and read my back posts from the last two and a half years, or is it acceptable to write about the same subject multiple times?

What should I do with this space?  I’m not very inclined to post picture after picture after video after picture of things I think that are hot.  Ruff’s Stuff and the All-American Kinkster do that, and do it well.  I spend enough of my own time on those sites.  I write a blog because I enjoy writing.  It’s the only thing that I feel I have even the smallest amount of talent for, and it’s something I enjoy doing.  But only if I know what you want to read.  Maybe it’s just too hard for me to grip the fact that my kinky life, though mundane it has become to me, is inspiring to others.

Please, leave some comments on this post, or send me an e-mail (Tynan@TynanFox.com).  Tell me what it is you like to read about in this space.  And thank you thank you THANK YOU for being a part of this blog for the last two years. 

By the way, I turn 27 next week…..

The Bondage

I've been asked by a couple readers who think they don't necessarily understand my fetish to further explain.  What exactly is it that makes me tick, and what is it about boys into bondage?  It's a complicated question.

I've always said and will continue to say that my main fetish is bondage.  Anything beyond that may turn me on, sure, but this is where it all started for me.  I know I'm not alone either - but as I've grown older,
 I've learned/discovered that the TRUE bondage enthusiasts among us are fewer and farther between than I originally thought.  When I was exploring the kinky sites and learning more, I thought EVERYONE was into bondage....and that may be the case, a little, but the "specialists" are less frequent.

I think on a certain level, either you get it or you don't.  The best way to illustrate this is to start from the beginning.  I first remember being turned on by the idea of bondage when I was 4 years old.  Yes, four.  I know you're all going to squirm as you read this, and I'm squirming pretty hard as I'm typing it myself, but I can't deny it.  I remember sitting in the back of my parent's station wagon on a family vacation.  I was doing a coloring book to pass the time.  I flipped though it, and the last page was a picture of three cowboys, all tied back with their backs to a pole, all of them gagged with these huge bandannas covering their mouths.  Even at that age, I was inexplicably drawn to that picture; I remember being turned on by it.  Even at 4 years old.

I think most of the people who are into bondage understand this.  But what is it specifically that turns me on about it?  It's a culmination of a lot of factors.  It's the feeling of the rope.  It's straining against said rope and stretching your body out.  It's the feeling of helplessness, knowing that you can't stop what's happening to you.  Add a gag, blindfold, and ear plugs, and it's sensory deprivation to the max.  That's why a lot of times, bondage enthusiasts like mummification so much.  But what's so sexy about that?

Think about it this way.  You can't speak.  You can't see.  You can't hear what's going on very well, you can't move at all, and you definitely can't get out of the bondage by yourself.  The only thing you CAN feel is your dick.  Think about all the other sensory inputs in your body being shut off, and the only thing you can feel and focus your mind on is that incredible sexual arousal.  I never really thought of it this specifically before, but it's definitely a mind trip. 

But honestly, I can't say I have much of an appeal to professional bondage(sites like www.boundgods.com, www.boundinpublic.com, etc.) and/or professional porn.  The realism is very important to me, and it's far too obvious that the guys in those sites and others like it really only enjoy the bondage as an adjunct to the sex.  Sure, they may look pretty, and they're looking to get fucked by a pretty guy, but they're not *really* into it.  It's painfully obvious to me that the guys in the porn wouldn't be having sex with bondage if they weren't being paid to.  To me, a guy who really gets into bondage gets hard when he's tied up, regardless of whether or not he's getting fucked.  That realism is very important to me; and honestly?  Unless a guy understands that, my motivation to play with him decreases significantly.  I mean, I love to see a hot, muscled, sexy guy bound in rope as much as the next guy; but unless you can convince me that it's at least a *little* bit real, I'm not that interested.

That's why I/we love kidnapping scenes.  That's why the thought of being grabbed off the street is so hot to me.  It makes the bondage REAL.  Even if it is just role-play, it becomes real.  That's the other reason that porn doesn't appeal to me; the odds that I will ever get to screw around with a chiseled man like on those sites is pretty slim to none.  I can't see myself ever being in those scenes.  But if I see an amateur video of a guy being tied up and toyed with...well...that's something I can imagine being a part of quite easily.

Couple this with the fact that the men are never gagged in profesional porn, and I just get bored.  (I wish Bound and Gagged would come back online; they always gagged their models!) Among my friends who are part of this fetish, gags seem to be a very common focal point.  This is, in my opinion, the root of why the bondage enthusiasts are not very proud of their fetish.  For me, just the feeling of the pressure of tape or a hand or a bandanna pressed against my mouth is enough to make me hard, regardless of whether or not I'm tied up.  I can't describe why; I've just always been that way.  I think that's a common theme among those of us into bondage, and I think we're all ashamed to admit it too.  It's the stupidest, most random part of the body to be an erogenous zone; and we know it.

And there you have it.  The bondage.  It doesn't matter how stupid anyone thinks my fetish that doesn't make any sense is.  Yes, I know that a white van and a ski mask isn't quite the sexiest thing in the world to a lot of people, but honestly?  I can't think of a better way to spend an afternoon than tied up and toyed with by a dom that knows his work. Bonus points if I didn't see it coming first.  

Usually when I tell someone that I get into bondage, their immediate response is, "Yeah, I'd love to tie you up and fuck you!"  They view the bondage as an adjunct to some otherwise very hot sex.  Not that sex is bad.  I certainly keep myself induldged.  But this is where a lot of my friends have struggled to  understand where I'm coming from. Some of them don't understand how you can get off in that position or else how you're supposed to get fucked while you're hanging from the ceiling or wrapped up from head to toe in duct tape.

These concerns are valid, and for the most part, I do believe there are two kinds of bondage kinksters.  Those like me, who've known this was a big part of them their whole lives.  There are also those who get into it later on and kinda get used to the idea, and it works for them.  And that's great!  The more the merrier.  I think most people that get into bondage later tend to be more interested in the bondage as an adjunct to sex.  Not that this is bad; by all means, people should absolutely be tying each other up and fucking.  But as I said at the beginning, I've realized how few of the born-enthusiasts there are.

I don't need to jizz to enjoy myself (although, it never hurts).  We're talking about two different kinds of sex.  The thing you can't forget is that the sex starts with the first knot, and ends when I can move again.

Closets and Gardens

While I was unpacking from IML and cleaning up some gear, something happened which I didn't think was likely to occur for a number of years.  My closet filled up.

Seriously.  I have a small closet in my attic where I keep all my leather, rubber, and spandex pants, shirts, etc.  Not only did I run out of hangers, but I filled up the closet as I finished washing each piece of latex, polishing each piece of leather, and organizing each of them.  I can't believe it.  Being a poor midwesterner, I thought it would be many more years before I had a closet that was full since I have so many bills to pay.  Granted, it's a rather small closet, but I can't help but be thankful for everything I have.

There's one piece missing though.

I bought my latex catsuit when I was 21 years old.  I gave some careful thought to what I would do with my income tax refund that year; after making sure I didn't have any car repairs or debts to other people to pay off, I decided to buy some gear.  I had wanted something made of rubber for a while, and with great trepidation, I searched far and wide for the one piece that just felt right to me.  The Mr. S full body five-zip catsuit.  I didn't send them my measurements or anything; I just got lucky by ordering a "small".  It fit like a glove.

Over the next five years, I got a good amount of *ahem* mileage from that amazing piece of molded pseudoliquid sex.  Everytime I would slide it onto my body, something would happen with me.  It wouldn't matter what was going on at school or how many hours I had worked that week or what kind of fight I had just gotten into with my parents.  Every last bit of that would melt away into the rubber.  I was a fox.  I was Tynan.  I was me.

My first MIR came around; I got a chance to wear it in public.  And met some great new friends in the process.  I realized what it was like to wear the catsuit for 8 hours; and by the end of it, it feels like a second skin.  I wore it to the Eagle on my very first visit there a couple years ago.  I didn't know what else to wear to the Eagle.  Since it fit so tight and was just not something I'd wear out on the street (yet), I wore regular street clothes over it.  Even so, it was such a novelty.  I met a few people and made some small talk, and I realized how little the latex fetish was known to the old-guard leathermen.

MIR number two comes and goes.  That latex catsuit is what I wore to my very first gear night at the Eagle in January of 2010.  It was the outfit of choice for trying to convince other guys to come out to the bar and be a part of a community.  It worked; everyone who was there had to feel the smoothness of the latex at least one time, and I made a lot of good, new friends.  The next month, I wasn't the only rubberboy there.  A few months later, at the behest of my friends, I wore that catsuit onstage as I competed at MIR.  It turned out to be one of my favorite outfits to wear because not only did it look good, but because it tells a story of me through its scars and blemishes.

My catsuit isn't just a sexy piece of rubber that I put on to get off.  My catsuit is the very first piece of wearable gear that I've ever owned, and the piece of latex that gave me the strength and determination to drive myself forward, uninhibited into my own kinky desires.  My catsuit was the first piece of gear to make me feel whole and complete.  It was the first garment to hang in a closet now completely full of gear in a life that's now completely full of joy, vibrance, friends, and course, kinky sex.

At IML a couple weekends ago, International Mr. Leather Founder (yes, Founder!) and Executive Producer Chuck Renslow gave a very heartfelt speech at the contest on Sunday night, which included an amazing shout-out to me.  He had to shorten it due to time constraints, but in the whole thing was published afterward (click here to read it). I am ever humbled and grateful to receive such a compliment from such a great man.  I still can't believe he even knows who I am.  After the contest, I went back to my hotel, and slipped into the old girl for (what would become) her last time to play with an old friend of mine.

I've had my catsuit repaired three times already, but I liked the scars on it. They added character.  But alas, my catsuit exploded after my friend and I played, later that night at the bar. It may seem silly, but this is the ode to my catsuit.  Thank you, old girl, for being there for all those years and planting the kinky seed in my life.  You've served me well in many precarious situations and in many different *ahem* positions.  You gave me the calm and solace I needed to persevere; with your help, I found the strength to fill the closet in my dungeon as well as the void in my life. I could always slide in to you and melt away from it all, lost in the kinky life you gave me.

I'll never forget you.

How to Prep

Lots of people ask me about bondage scenes.  One of my latest questions someone asked me was, "How do I get ready for my first bondage scene?"  This took some thought, and I was about to blurt out, "I really don't know," but then I thought about it.  I realized that without thinking about it, I have my own little ritual set that I go through in the days/hours before a bondage scene I have coming up.  Here they are.

These tips are, of course, considering you have first taken precautions regarding safety, physiologic well being (discussed allergies, medications with your partner), and are using safer sex practices.

1) Caffiene in moderation
This one seems weird to put first.  I don't care how early in the morning it is or how late at night it is.  Caffiene is really only good for keeping me awake.  I get gitters, I get hyperactive if I drink too much coffee, and no one likes coffee breath.  Red Bull makes me burp, and no one wants to stop to have to take a piss right in the middle of a scene.  Long story short - no one likes a tied up, tweaked out gay boy.

2)Hydrate
Bondage is strenuous and hard on the body, particularly with ropes.  If you're with a particularly good or Type A dom, you may be stuck in one position for hours and hours.  You want to go into the scene already hydrated.

3)Stretch
As I'm getting older, I'm realizing that I'm not invincible.  (Yes, I'm only 26).  I'm still exceptionally flexible and can contort in many positions, but my job puts a lot of strain on my back and I've noticed that for the last year or so in my bondage adventures.  Once a thing I thought was only meant for old people, I now find myself spending ten minutes or so stretching out my legs, arms, chest, and my back before jumping into some rope.

4)Quiet your mind
There's something meditative about being tied up.  You don't want your mind racing a mile per minute while you're getting into it.  And don't be nervous either.  I'm usually a pretty social, bubbly, fun individual.  While I'm stretching, I take a few moments to focus on shutting some of those areas of my brain off, and entering a more meditative state.   It's hard to focus and enter that "headspace" while your mind is racing.

 

Life is Good

Last week, I did my very first "gig" at Truman State, the school where I went to college.  About 40 people showed up for my presentation titled, "The P's and Q's of S&M."  I was a little nervous to be presenting this on my former campus, being that there were still a few students there who I know.  I've only been out of college for three years, but it still felt weird to be back.  All the students look so young, and that made me feel like I'm aging.

Nonetheless, I sucked up my fears and slid on some latex and walked up to campus.  (Aside - my favorite latex pants from Mr. S ripped while I was putting them on.  GODDAMNIT!)  As I walked through the mall to the fountain, a couple people on the street took pictures of me with their cell phones.  I couldn't help but smile.  The presentation itself went really well.  I got the whole thing on videotape so I can critique myself and look for some areas of improvement.  I really really want to get good at doing this.

The audience was different than ones I had previously presented to.  This was not a crowd of "wanna be" kinksters who needed information on how to dive in.  These were just people who were interested.  Most of them were probably vanilla but just curious.  Which is fine.  Whether I'm working for recruitment or just for education, I'm happy to be of service.  But as a consequence, most of the questions in my question-and-answer session didn't surround "how to jump in", but rather asking me personal questions.  A lot of the curious parties just wanted to know what it's like to be 26 and kinky from the Midwest.

One girl, for example, asked me, "So when you go to one of the parties you were talking about, can you walk us through one of those?"  So I described the CHC clubhouse on one of their 2nd Saturday parties.  "You go in the front and there's a little booth where you show your membership, pay the cover, and then you go downstairs to the social area where there's a small bar....." etc. etc. etc.

It was a great experience, and honestly, being asked all these questions got me to do some reflection on my own life. 

Following my event at Truman, I went on to St. Louis for a few days and through the weekend.  I went to a get together of some kinky guys I had met at Inferno earlier in the year, and of course, my Sirs.  It was a great weekend - very relaxing, and also added to my reflections.

I have to say, I'm incredibly thankful for everything I've been able to experience.  I have some of the best kinky friends in the world, and I wouldn't trade them for anything.  I've been lucky - I know that not every 26 year old gets to experience everything I have.  It's really hard for me to complain about any of that. 

I have a feeling that these are going to be the best years of my life.

Marc Jacobs is into Rubber

I'll admit, I don't know shit about fashion.  I'm 26 years old, I've been out of college for 3 years and I'm STILL dressing like a broke ass 21 year old who wears jeans and t-shirts EVERYWHERE.  And the gays know it too.  When it comes to professional fashion, I'm even worse.  I don't know the names of any of the big designers, I don't know crap about fashion history, etc. etc. etc.  Oh, and to top it all off, I never ever guess right as to which ones the judges will like or hate on Project Runway.

Although I do think I have generally a good eye for kinky fashion...but anyway....

From what I understand, this guy named Marc Jacobs is kind of important.  He's openly gay, he's amazingly sexy, he's currently the creative director of Louis Vuitton, and he's already a fashion icon in many ways, it would seem.

And he's into rubber.

Even if you hate fashion, please suffer through this 2.5 minute YouTube clip, and pay special attention to what he's wearing and what he's saying about a minute in.

Did we know this already? I mean, am I just so out of touch with fashion that I'm just catching up? Or did he just step half way out the door as a rubberman?

"Military, sports gear, rules, dresscodes..." - My my my, this all sounds so familiar....

This is not kinkphobia. *grin*

Kink is not multiplied vanilla

I feel we need to make a whole "Notice to the Public" about what kink is, and what kink is not.  

Please let me be clear though in the first place: I'm very sex positive.  I think that for the most part, if it feels good, you should not be inhibited to try it, experiment with it, etc (with the exception, of course, of committing sexual assault against a child or otherwise non-consenting victim).  I'm not a hater, and I think that if people like to have sex parties, then they should have them and enjoy them.

But just because I'm kinky doesn't mean I get into anything and everything.

My kink is somewhat well known in the Twin Cities.  I run around with a lot of kinksters and I haven't exactly been very discrete about what I like to do in the bedroom.  There are these guys who have these sex parties/orgies in Minneapolis once a month or every other month.  They're pretty well attended; I think their last one had 30 or 40 guys at it.  Most of the activities there are vanilla, regular sex.  And that's fine if it's what people like.

My irritation, however, is that lots of guys think that if you're into one kink even a little, then you must be into EVERYTHING.  Which, I must say, just isn't true.  Orgies annoy me.  Especially when they're all vanilla.  These guys do have a sling, yes, but I think they just have it for simplicity sake.  It's easier to get fucked on.  Fine.  It wouldn't be so bad, honestly, if the two guys who throw these parties wouldn't keep hounding me to show up to one.  No matter how many times I've mentioned that I'm not interested, they just assume it must turn me on because I get a little bit kinky.

Bottom line?  I'd rather have kinky sex with one person than vanilla sex with 20 people.

That's not just for me, either.  Kink belongs to the person who has it.  It's different for everyone.  Maybe these two guys have a thing for orgies and group sex.  Generally speaking, I don't.  Not everyone's kink is the same as your kink.  It's easy to forget that sometimes.

Consider this a public notice.

Famously Kinky

Back in November, Dan Savage wrote a blog post about why there are no publicly kinky celebrities.  Here's the whole thing.  I've often thought about this topic myself, and there are a few good reasons why kink is still "taboo" and only done behind closed doors.  In summary, Savage makes two prime points as to why no one is famously kinky.

"First, being kinky isn't the same as being gay. While some kinksters identify strongly with their kinks and are open about their sexual interests, being into baby bonnets or bondage isn't about who you love, it's about how you love," Savage writes.

This argument I will buy.  As much as Americans love to talk about sex, we hate to talk about sex.  American tabloids are filled with rumors about who's sleeping with whom, but rarely do we discuss the mechanics of how those people are sleeping with each other.  This is a cultural point that I don't understand.  Why do we draw the line so far out from the actual meat of the discussion?  In any event, saying "they slept together" is different from "they fisted each other."  Most Americans find this kind of speech vulgar and disgusting, hence preventing anyone famous from discussing it publicly.

"And second... after pointing out how kink differs from gay... I'm going to turn around and pronounce kink the new gay. Gay actors used to be warned against coming out because audiences, according to producers, would never accept them in straight roles," Savage concludes.

This argument I do NOT buy.  Although Hollywood is getting warmed up to the gayness, I don't think we're any closer at all to the kinkness.  I don't think there are any actors being warned about coming out kinky because they are all enjoying their kink behind closed doors in the first place.  And even if they WERE coming out to small circles as kinky, the American public would still never stand for it.  The only TV show that kink and BDSM are routinely featured is on CSI: Crime Scene Investigators.  And even there, it doesn't usually paint a very safe/sane/consensual/normal picture of our community.  I have a good feeling that we'll have some other sexual revolution and a series of celebrities coming out in some other way (for example, polygamy/group sex/threeways, etc.) than we will before we have any come out in whips or chains.  I think that at this point, Americans can better stomach "he slept with two chicks at once" because even that statement doesn't discuss the mechanics of the sex that took place.

So what's the solution?  How do we make kink and BDSM more socially acceptable and less culturally demoralizing?  How do we get a kinky celebrity?

Maybe we should reinvent the process here.  Instead of having an Ellen Degeneres of kink, maybe we should have an Adam Lambert.  Ellen was already a stand-up comedian and Emmy nominated TV star when she came out.  Adam was out from the start, from his very first audition on American Idol.

Instead of encouraging a kinky celebrity to come out, maybe we need to find someone who's already out and kinky, and make them a celebrity in their own right?

These blogs and those of my kinky peers are a great way to start.  Now we just have to find a way to get one of us thrust into the limelight.  Get that interview on Larry King, or Oprah.  Start clawing up the fame ladder much in the way of Kathy Griffin.  And it would have to be someone who'd be willing to bear the burden of being both beloved and hated at the same time.

Oh, the Christian right wingers would have a field day with this one, wouldn't they?

~Tynan

 

Missouri is Trying to Kill Me

Every time I go back to Missouri for a visit to family, or otherwise, something goes wrong.  

So I packed up my car and left town on Sunday after work.  I drove halfway to St. Louis, stopping in Iowa City on Sunday night to sleep at around midnight.  Monday I rolled out of bed and drove the rest of the way to St. Louis.  Around 5pm, I noticed my transmission starting to slip just a little and thought, "I should get that looked at before my return trip."  6pm, I get off the highway at the exit off Highway 70 just a few blocks from my house.  I wait at the traffic light for my turn to go and press the gas pedal.  The engine revs, the car doesn't move.

Repeated attempts weren't fruitful either.  I took a deep breath and attempted to NOT panic.  I turned on my hazard lights and traffic started moving around me.  I called the police who put me in touch with Motorist Assist to help me get a tow truck.  

Let me back up for a second.  I'm back and forth from Rochester to Minneapolis every other weekend and I travel a lot with my bondage gear in my trunk.  This happens so often I will sometimes just leave it in my trunk for a week and not even unload.  It's just one of those things, you know?  Even if the trip I'm going on is completely not kinky, I just can't travel without SOMETHING, just in case.  I think most of us kinksters are like that.  For the past couple months I'd been ridiculously lazy about unloading my car.  So in my trunk was bondage gear, rubber gear, leather gear, spandex, and an assload of sex toys.  I didn't want to unload it all before I left because I was in a hurry, even though I new damn well that taking that much crap with me would be overkill, even if I DID find a kinky hookup.

Back to the highway.  Priority one was to call the police.  Priority two was to get out of the car, tear through the back seat and pick up whatever is laying out, and then open the trunk to survey the damage.  Of COURSE my bags had exploded everywhere so it was like a mad dash to put everything back away in the bags because I would need a ride later on.

I finished stuffing random sex gear in bags just in time for the motorist assist to arrive.  Of course I just don't have a place for some of the larger things, specifically, my E7 Mickey Mouse boots and Waders. While we wait for the tow truck, I called my Dad to please come pick me up from the shop, after of course, explaining everything that happened.

You know what's coming next.  I need to get to my parents house, and my car has to stay at the shop.  "You need any help with your luggage?"

I figured saying No would be a bit awkward, because I had such an ungodly amount of it.  "Sure."

Dad comes around to the trunk of my car.  "What'd you do, pack for a two week excursion?  You look like you're getting ready to trek across the Sierras."  Keep in mind my trip to St. Louis was for five nights, which clearly doesn't require five bags of luggage.

".....................just gotta be ready for anything."

One of my bags is a huge green bag, it's a little smaller than a hockey bag.  That's the one I keep most of the bondage gear in, the ropes, the rolls of tape, etc.  It's heavy.  Dad picks it up.  "What the hell do you have in here anyway?  Bricks?"

".....................don't worry about it."

THANKFULLY he just let it go.  We move a few more things over to the trunk of his car without him saying very much.  We drive home and make small talk about what could be wrong with the car.  At the house, we unload the trunk into my bedroom.  Like I said before, I couldn't fit the boots into any of the bags.  I am NOT an outdoorsman.  I don't fish or hunt or anything like that.  My dad knows this.  "You've got waders in your car?"

"Yes."

"Why?  What do you use those for?"

"............................the snow gets really really deep."

I don't know if he believed me or if he was being nice, but he laughed and just went on helping me carry bags into the house.  As soon as he leaves I wipe the sweat from my brow.  All the bags and gear reach halfway up the wall in my bedroom. Then my mom sees it.  "What, are you moving back in?" she asks.

I didn't have anything witty to say.

Long story short, my car's transmission blew up.  The mechanic said that when he opened up the transmission pan, where the transmission SHOULD be, all he found was shrapnel.  Fabulous.  It would have been $2500 to put in a new one in a car that has a bluebook value of $325.  Not worth it.  Even though I drove that old girl for 7.5 years and she was my baby, it was time to put her out to pasture and let her lay down and die.  I called a scrap yard to have them pick her up.  This fox is now temporarily car-less.   

Now the attention shifts to how to get back to Minnesota.  I bought a plane ticket on Southwest (BING!).  But clearly I have a lot of luggage.  Dad says, "You want us to mail some of that up to you?  We could put it all in smaller boxes."

"(staying calm)................................no, I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want to leave it here at the house and it's stuff I kind of need."

Mom chimes in, "Well, at least we could help you redistribute things and pack it all up better."

*gulp*

I really do appreciate the attempts at being helpful.  I really, really do.  Please imagine how much I'm squirming at this point on the inside, it's all I can do to keep from screaming at the top of my lungs.  Maintain your composure, Tynan, find a graceful way out of this.  "Oh, that's alright, I think I can do it myself okay."

Mom asks, "What, are you transporting drugs or something?"

No Mom, but if you knew what was in the bags, you'd probably wish it were drugs instead.  "No Mom, I just spend a lot of time on the highways to and from Minneapolis, and I didn't unload.  If I had known this would happen I wouldn't have even brought it down."

"Oh."

*phew* Dodged a bullet. 

Don't get me wrong, if I HAVE to come out as a twisted kinkster to them, so be it.  That doesn't mean I'm not deathly afraid of the day we actually have to talk about it.  And if I can put that day off, I'm going to for as long as possible.

My original plan was to drive back up here on Christmas Day, because I have to work a day shift on the 26th.  Instead, I flew into Minneapolis tonight and Pup Trigger was not only kind enough to pick me up and drive me all the way back to Rochester, but to bring Christmas dinner along with him.  And despite my holiday auto woes, I have a lot to be thankful for this year.  Particularly that I still made it under my family's radar.

Whatever you did on this holiday, I hope at least some aspect of it was kinky.  And hopefully somewhat more enjoyable than MY version of a kinky holiday!

~Tynan

It Gets Better

Okay, so I'll admit it.  I know why I've been so quiet/haven't posted recently.

I've been beside myself in the past few weeks, watching video after video get uploaded to YouTube for the It Gets Better Project.  Some of you read in a blog posting from many months ago where I opened up a little more about my past.  Yes, I attempted suicide when I was a teenager.  It seemed like the only solution at the time.  I was hopeless.  I could very easily have been one of the teenagers that all these videos are being made for today.

My mother gave me a lot of bad habits in life.  One of them is the ability to suppress and ignore things that you're really not happy about.  And I did.  For years I've forgotten about it, I moved on, and I grew up.  In a lot of ways, I thought I was healed and had successfully moved on.  But watching a couple of these videos made me very emotional.  Maybe all I had on there was a band-aid.

These videos have made me think about a lot of things in my life.  Obviously, I'm happy I didn't succeed at my attempt.  Things are amazing now, because it DOES get better.  So what's the emotion coming from here?

Probably just that I would have given my left arm to have these videos and this support available to me when I was in high school.

It seems childish to obsess over all this, now ten years later in my life.  But still, reliving, growing, and enduring is important.  Even though those videos aren't meant for me, per se, I feel so much better having watched so many of them.  Time to close that chapter of my book, and move on.

Now, it's my turn.

 

~Tynan

Things I Learned This Weekend

I only have a seasonal playspace.  I had to close for the summer because it was too fucking HOT in my attic and the a/c is busted up there.  Fortunately, the heat still works.  

Having a dedicated playspace in the house changes the whole atmosphere of a scene.  It's impossible to describe how much better playing in the attic is than playing in the bedroom.

I'm a messy dom.  I never clean up used gear, toys, etc. as I go along.  It makes for some pretty awesome aesthetics of "aftermath" at the end, but takes a while to reorganize the day after a visit.  

No matter how many times you've been around the block, it's important to remember the basics of a scene, including playing with someone you have a connection with, who knows and understands you, that you trust.  

Planning ahead makes all the difference.  Think BIG.  Think EPIC.  Dare to dream of the best scene you could ever create, and go for it.  Although making it up as you go along is fine most of the time, the anticipation you build for yourself and your partner makes it even better.

Things may look or sound more fun in photographs or videos than they actually are in reality.  True friends in kink explore uncharted territory together.  Kinksters with the right mutual chemistry can salvage a scene gone only slightly awry and still end it in one of the best orgasms you've had.

Never, ever say "never".  You may eventually do something you told yourself you'd have no part of, and surprise yourself at how incredibly HOT it turns out to be.

Experience should not be intimidating.  Be confident in who you are and what you like, and it will spew forth as pure sexual energy during a scene.  Lack of experience does NOT mean you're doomed to kink-failure.

Just as the old saying goes, "You never truly know someone," you never truly know yourself.  Don't be afraid to let yourself grow, change, and explore new territory.  Dig deep.  Find out who you are.  You won't lose hold of where you are now; everything will still be here when you get back, only you may be a more enlightened person in the end.  You might even surprise yourself and your dom, sub, or switch, but most kinksters like surprises like that.

Never apologize for your kinks; don't live up to standards that aren't yours.  With all the kinksters in the world, I guarantee that you are not alone in your kink, and there really is someone out there who's compatible with you just the way you are.

Shop for duct tape at Home Depot in the ducting/piping aisle, not the painting aisle.

Special thanks to MaleBndg for an incredible three days.  Hope you enjoyed Minnesota, bro.  You taught me a lot.  I'm gonna be floating on cloud nine for a few days from this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEAR NIGHT is this weekend at the Minneapolis Eagle.  Saturday, 9pm-2am.  See you there as I unwind.

Oh, and Facebook decided to delete my profile for "Tynan Fox", so I opened a "page" for myself on the site as a visual artist.  Seemed like the most appropriate thing.  Click the banner on the left and "like" me on there to keep up with status updates, etc.

~Tynan

Spirituality

I've never been much of the spiritual type.  Moreover, I've somewhat scoffed at people who claim to have or "understand" some alleged connection between kink and spirituality.

But I get it now.

I try not to let my two lives interconnect much.  I have a tendency to drop my profession from the moment I walk out of the hospital doors.  That's not to say that I don't like my job; on the contrary, I can't imagine doing anything else.  I put my heart and soul into my work, I have a true passion for my practice as an RN, but once the timeclock is punched, I go home.  I drop it all.  I move on with my life, and, more often than not, onto kinky weekend adventures.

HIPPA says I can't talk about my work.  I can understand that; I don't know that I would want my own story plastered all over the internet if I was ever in the hospital.  You'll have to excuse the lack of details I can actually write about.  Suffice it to say, I had a case from five or six months ago that was really tough.  Dealing with life and death issues with families, i.e., the decision to continue fighting or to withdrawl support and move to comfort measures only, is usually not too emotionally draining.  But never before had I seen a patient like J, so truly sad, so torn, so sorrowful that she wanted to end her life.

J wasn't getting any better.  She likely would spend the rest of her life in the hospital or a nursing home.  Her family loved her dearly - I could tell with everything they did.  But she didn't want to live this way.  And she didn't know how to tell them that.  Instead, she told ME this, at 2am, alone, while she was in tears.  All I wanted to do was hold her hand and cry with her, and let her know that it's alright, and I'd help her tell her family.  That she needs to do what she needs to do.

But when you're the nurse, you can't cry with your patients.  The moment that you shed that tear is the moment the patient, their family, and everyone they know loses faith in you, the hospital, the system, and life.  The nurse is supposed to be the confident, professional, caring, intelligent beacon of HOPE.  Patients and families look to nurses for direction, not for emotions.  Nurses are supposed to be guardians and pathfinders. 

Generally I don't get overly emotional about my work.  This particular morning, I was finding it rather hard to stuff my emotions behind that wall, but I did.  J's family was in the hospital around the clock.  I rounded them all up, and we had a talk, right then and there, among us all in my ICU at 2:30 in the morning.  I passed out kleenex like candy.  I facilitated the conversation.  And in the end of it all, I kept my shit together.  J passed away later that day.

I never let it in.  I left it all stuffed behind that wall.

Fast forward five or six months.  I'm at Inferno, the annual run of the Chicago Hellfire Club.  Due to....leathermen, I am not allowed to divludge many details about this event either.  Looking around like a kid in a candystore, I try to think of what I want done to myself.  Thoughts tumble through my head.  What I want done turns into what I need done.  Those bricks and concrete holding up that wall in my mind is getting rather heavy.

"I want to be flogged, Sir." 

I took off my shirt and climbed up onto the St. Andrew's Cross.  My Sir fitted me with wrist restraints and attached them to the top of the cross.  I leaned forward, resting my chest against the wood, exposing my back to it's ensuing punishment.   As the blindfold slipped down over my eyes, I thought to myself, "J, this one's for you."

It hurt like hell.  He flogged and flogged.  It was familiar this time, since I've had it done before.  Slowly, one by one, they started to hurt enough to make me scream.  Sir stopped for a moment and reached up to remove my restraints.  He could tell I was getting close to my limit.  "I don't want you to stop, Sir," I said.

"I don't want to break you, boy" he answered.

"I do, Sir."

He went back at it.  It didn't take much more, maybe 10 or 15 cracks at the most.  One last hard, loud thud against my back broke that wall crumbling down.  I screamed at the bottom of my lungs as that piercing fire cinged into my back.  I broke. Sir took me down from my restraints and held me.  Even though I was broken, I sobbed, "I don't want you to stop."  But stop we did.  I cried really, really hard, for J, for myself, and for my back.

I walked through those hospital doors tonight with a renewed sense of hope.  Not just for my patients, but for me. 

Maybe there IS something to be said for all this spirituality crap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My b-day pre-party and the Eagle on 9/11 were really really awesome.  Thanks to everyone of my friends who made the celebration extra special.  Inferno was an experience unlike any I've ever had.  More details to come.  It took me a while to recover from these events, so sorry for the delay.

~Tynan

Aire of Confidence

A friend of mine attended the last Gear Night at the Eagle.  He's totally vanilla, at least, for now, but probably kinky underneath.  At minimum, he's really curious about all this kinky stuff that PupTrigger and I keep talking about.  He wore the bare minimum required to get in the door (which is jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and boots).  In the end, I asked him what he thought, and he said it was amazing.  Put it another way, 

"Never before have I been around so many gay men and once and felt such an incredible aire of confidence."

I've always thought there was something special to us.  Despite all of our insecurities, there's still, in one big group of us, an aire of confidence which is unsurpassed by any other group of gay men.  And this boy's been to PLENTY of large groups of gay men, so it wasn't just that either.  But I think anyone who reads this blog who's been to one of the larger events (IML, MIR, MAL, etc.) can attest to this.

It's something about the leather, the rubber that does it to us.  I've always felt about 100 times more confident at the Saloon (a vanilla gay boy bar) if I'm wearing my chaps and a leather shirt than if I were trying to be Abercrombie and fit in.  The second the gear is pulled on, all the insecurities fly out the window.  I've got a secret.  I've got something special to me.  You think you're hot shit?  I could do things to you, vanilla boy, that would make your fucking HEAD SPIN.

And when you put us all in a hot, sweaty, underground of a bar together?  Curious, inexperienced boys are amazed, and they smell something big on the horizon.  They can feel that this is going to be huge for them, and they're dying to be a part of that confidence.

And when I see curious, inexperienced boys in the bar, I smell a paradigm shifting.

~Tynan

Older, yet Younger

A friend is currently asking me for a list of things that turn me on (and things that turn me off) to get ready for a weekend we're going to have down the road a bit.  He's looking for what my deepest, darkest, most sadistic, most twisted, most dangerous, and craziest fantasies really are.  He's looking for something under the surface.  Something I'm embarrassed to tell people.  Something that could never truly be done.  Something EPIC.

It's turning out to be a harder assignment than I thought.

The only things I can think of to write are the same things that have been turning me on since I was 13 or 14 years old.  Have I really not changed that much?  I turn 26 next month.  Have I really stayed exactly the same for those 13 years?  I think that I have.  Sort of.  I honestly haven't had much of the opportunity to explore a lot of those extreme areas I've been looking to get into - so yes, I think it's natural that they'd stay the same.  Fantasies won't change until they're fulfilled, generally.

There are still some subtle changes though.  The fantasy is the same but maybe I think of them more on the other side.  Take kidnapping for example.  When I was younger, my only fantasy was to be kidnapped.  These days, I think it would be just as hot to be one of the kidnappers as one of the kidnapees. Perhaps that's also natural as one gets older and wiser (?).  There are so many people out there that were strictly sub and eventually switch and eventually are strictly dom.  Is this bound to happen to me?  Not that I would be disappointed...I'm really enjoying exploring my top side.  Really.  But as you can see what happened in my visit to Detroit, I still have plenty of sub cravings as well.

Even though I'm getting older, I still revert back to my younger fantasies.  So I guess we'll just have to find out together what will become of me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been working hard for the past year or so on the Gear Nights at the Minneapolis Eagle.  Some new friends have been very helpful in recent months as well, and they're growing like wildfire.  Leatherati asked me to do a write up about what that journey has been like, and they posted it to their blog.  Check it out.

Final update, today is day 30 of working out.  I took my Day 30 photos.  I'm somewhat disappointed with them.  I'm not disappointed with my progress, I think I'm looking great (in person) and I can see a lot of progress.  I think my photography skills are so poor that they don't show off the changes very well (due to poor lighting, poor camera, etc.).  At minimum, you can tell that I'm getting more cut even if I'm not making many size gains.  Oh well, like I said, I'm not unhappy with the progress so far.  I'm eager to see what the next 60 days will bring.

~Tynan 

How to be a Stud...

...according to me.  Disagree?  Well, that's why it's according to me.

1)Be mysterious
My favorite leather cop, LeatherDehners is a prime example. He's been going to the Minneapolis Eagle for about ten years. He's an avid BDSM player and knows his craft well, and has a great playspace in his house. He often has guys over after meeting at the Eagle, and this is where the mystery comes in. You don't need to look up how to get to his house on Google Maps, becuase there's only one way to get there: tied up, gagged, and blindfolded in the back of his car. And that's how he drops you back off at the Eagle when he's done with you.

In 10 years, no one I can find at the Eagle knows where he lives, not even people who've been to his dungeon. To maintain that for 10 years!? Every good boy has a healthy sense of curiosity. That unknown about where you're going, that slight fear, that thrill, that rush....STUD. End of story.

2)Be sensual
One of the hottest scenes I have ever been in was also the most sensual. I was visiting Dakmaster's dungeon for a party, and I was finally getting to meet NixJohn. I arrived at the dungeon after him, and he happened to already be tied up in his hockey gear to a standing bondage frame in the basement/dungeon. When I arrived, Dak had me change into just my spandex shorts and boots, tied my wrists behind me, and blindfolded me. He led me downstairs, and told me to "get acquainted" with NixJohn.

Neither of us could see, but we were so nervous to finally meet one another. Breathing heavily, we spent a good amount of time exploring each other. The first thing I did was press myself up against him, which made him moan and struggle some...next, I found his neck, which I decided to kiss...

Dak kept switching the bondage positions around. We spent a good amount of time trying to "see" each other with our hands, lips, tongues...it was truly a magical, sensuous time. When we finally were allowed to see each other, we both decided to stay blindfolded for a while, like we were afraid to take them off. Amazing. And only a stud like Dak would think of doing something like that.

3)Be sexy
Let's face it; we're all a little bit shallow, no matter how much we try not to be. We all think it's wrong to judge based on appearences, but we all end up doing it anyway. That said, sexy can mean one thing to me and something very different to someone else. I'm sure that everyone in the world must be sexy to at least ONE other person out there. To me, lots of people are sexy. I have some rather varied tastes, and I think lots of guys are exceptionally sexy. But two guys were sexy enough to turn me on to something new.

BlackLeatherChazz is a stud in his leathers. I had always thought that the leather scene wasn't for me, because I was mostly into bondage. Then I met him, in person. I think the first time I saw him in leathers, my jaw hit the floor. I couldn't get over the look, the feel, the smell...My life changed drastically at that moment. Because of him, I now own a full set of leathers for myself. STUD.

Bicycler turned me on to the whole bondage scene in Minneapolis. He was one of the first guys I met when I moved up here from Missouri, for which I am ever thankful. And he's not too tough on the eyes, either. Tall, sexy voice, hairy, soft skin, athletic....and his bondage skills...well, you saw that suspension picture of me, didn't you? Need I say more?

4)Be confident
You can't show your studly self to others unless you truly feel you are such a stud. Just as important as knowing your shit is knowing when you know your shit. This is somewhere I struggle. I hold myself to standards which are likely too high; if I tie someone up in a group setting, I'm often told, "Wow. That's some amazing work." But I'm never satisfied. I always feel like it's not good enough or I could do better. I feel like my own bondage is substandard; group situation or not, I'm usually disappointed with my outcomes. Maybe I need to lower my standards of excellence and realize I DO know what I'm doing. Or maybe I just need to take a class.

I always strive to be more like YngMstrDetroit. He knows how to work over a boy. And he knows he knows how to work over a boy. His confidence shines through in every step, every scene, every slap with a flogger, every praise, every punishment, every order, every reward. He knows what's good for a boy, and what's not. It makes a boy feel safe and loved to know that Master knows best. I'm proud to call him my Sir.

5)Be humble
No one likes an asshole. There's too many of them in the world. While confidence is important, humility is equally important. It doesn't matter who you are, everyone has flaws. One who boasts their $100,000 playroom and their internally lit portable dungeon-in-a-box, or one who's goal is just to try to bang every guy on Recon is just going to turn me off. The most studly guys I know don't flaunt their work. They're quietly advertising, and they know their stuff.

MaleBndg is a perfect stud who didn't let his ego run away with him. He's very skilled, he's got the tools and the talent to make for one of the best scenes of your life (as I've experienced firsthand). I love him because he doesn't make a huge production of himself. He knows it only takes a few things to drive a boy crazy....and he does it well, without any shiny flashy lights or "look at me" advertising. Fortunately, he lets others do that for him ;)

I'm so fortunate to have met some of the most studly kinksters out there. I could have listed even more, but I can only type for so long. Thanks for the valuable life lessons you've given me, as I strive to become a stud myself.

~Tynan

Living out Loud

I went to Rochester Pride, sort of. That was two weeks ago. I decided to be brave and wear something kinky there.

I should take a moment to describe just what this event is like. It's small. There's a hundred thousand people in this city but only a couple hundred of them will go to pride. Odd. I misses the park completely, but I got to go to the bar that night. I knew quite a few of the people there. The city is just closeknit like that. I knew that a lot.of my friends would be there.

It was scary. But in the end they all loved it. They all said the leather I wore looked great. I'm glad I did it in the end. On some level, it feels good to show that side of me. The other side is just nervous because its a conservative city.

But I lived. And this wont be the end of this. Not by a longshot. :)

Tynan

IML Preponderance

Policies, policies, policies.  The management of IML has decided they will no longer allow vendors who promote or sell products which promote bareback sex.  This is obviously causing some drama among the attendees. I have to say, I found myself rather torn regarding this one.  My initial gut reaction at first was, "Finally.  Someone's taking some responsibility for this mess.  A huge organization with great power is finally setting a great example and taking a stand for the safety, health, and well being of our community!"

But are they really?

As an RN with training in public health, I have a tendency to look at statistics.  When I look at them, there are some very interesting trends to notice, thanks to the CDC. 

Let's get my own personal feelings out of the way.  I don't bareback.  Hell, I rarely have anal sex when I play in the first place.  There's a reason for that - I want to stay safe and I don't want to get myself infected.  Do I think everyone is infected?  No.  But I don't want to take the risk.  The anal isn't what makes or breaks a scene for me anyway.  I think there are plenty of ways to get off and feel good without taking up the butt.  And if I wanted something there, there are toys for that which feel about 10,000 times better than a dick ever would to me.

That said, I know every man in the world doesn't feel the same way I do.  This is evidenced by the aforementioned stats which show there has been an EXPLOSION in the rates of men who have sex with men without condoms.  The interesting thing to notice is that the rates of new HIV infection among men who have sex with men, while increasing, is not increasing at a rate that corresponds with the dramatic upshot in the occurrence of bareback sex.

What gives?  More bareback means more HIV passed around, right?

That's an awfully big assumption to make.  Questionnaires, surveys, and research into men who have sex with men all over the country show us several key points:

1)Men are getting tested more than they ever have and are knowing their status.

2)In general, negative men are questioning their potential partners and assessing their own risk for transmission before having sex.  Negative men are choosing partners who also identify as negative.

3)If a man doesn't ask or care what his partner's HIV status is, or the partner doesn't know, he often chooses to use a condom (about 80% of the time). 

4)When a man finds out he is HIV positive, he (in general) discloses this information to new potential partners, and in many cases, stops having sex with men who are negative all together.

Obviously, you never know your status RIGHT NOW.  You may have gotten tested three months ago, but if you had sex with someone else last week and got infected, then you wouldn't know it, if you then gave it on to someone else.  And of course, not EVERY guy is honest 100% of the time, which is an awful disparity.  But on the whole, men must be being pretty honest with both themselves and their sex partners about their status, because if they weren't, HIV rates would be exploding just as fast as rates of barebacking.  Comparatively, they are increasing at more of a slow-to-medium crawl. 

Could this mean....*gasp*....that gay men are behaving in a more personally responsible manner?

Please don't misread what I've just said.  The statistics do show that pre-screening partners is safer than having annonymous sex, but pre-screening AND using condoms reduces transmission rates even further.  I don't advocate barebacking, and I think it's a rather unsafe activity.  On the rare occasion I do have anal sex, you can expect me to wrap it up.  I don't think that companies should really go out of their way to ADVOCATE barebacking, and I applaud IML for disallowing vendors from doing so.  But at the same time, I want to applaud those gay men out there who screen their partners and try to be as safe as possible, despite the fact that they don't use condoms.  It's a baby step. 

However, I think that if men want bareback porn, they will take one or more easy routes to get it.  Additionally, I think that men are going to do what they want to do, regardless of what's sold on the shelves.  Gay men do, after all, live their entire lives being harped upon about HIV and AIDS and what it does to people.  You just can't escape it.  There surely isn't a lack of education and knowledge out there.  The bottom line is that gay men cannot have their hands held their entire lives and we can't force them to make the decision as to whether or not to wear condoms, or to have sex at all.  We have to let go and realize that there's only so much education that can be done, and at the end of the day, men have to be responsible for themselves and their actions.  I, personally, refuse spend the rest of my days on top of a soap box, harping on an issue until I'm blue in the face.  I can think of other things, mostly of the sexual variety, that I would rather do in my spare time.

If you bareback, however, I most likely won't be doing them with you.

~Tynan

Hero

Been a while since I've updated.  Life's kept me too busy.  What have I been up to?  Work.  A play party.  Or two.  A gear night.  I've met a friend, I've lost a friend.  I've taken pictures, been photographed, drank way too much beer, and slept alone in my bed.  It's been a busy few weeks.  

Amidst the chaos, I managed to listen to the latest podcast from Dart's Domain.  He interviews the man responsible for the "Leatherboy" movement and provides the audience with some insight into that community.  Vincent Andrews is his name, and he also wrote the Leatherboy's Handbook.  I particularly enjoyed the end of the interview where he details why he no longer considers himself to be a Leatherboy.  It was a fascinating interview.  Even with all of my experience, I've learned I still look to these communities, that is, the "Leather", "Leatherboy", "Daddy", or "Bear" communities as a spectator for the most part.  

I just feel I don't belong.

That's not to say that I wish I belonged.  I find myself rather indifferent, really.  As long as everyone present and accounted for is having a good time, then that's the most important bottom line.  I feel like my identity is so mutable, I could be a leatherboy, a rubberboy, a fetishist, a bondeur, a master, a slave, a boy, a boi, a guy, a Fox, or a superhero.  All of course, dependent on my mood, and the atmosphere surrounding me at that time.  What's that old adage?  When in Rome, do as the Romans do.

I think that if it makes you happy, DO IT.  I want to experience what it's like to be a part of every one of those communities, and more.  I'm curious.  I want to learn what they're all like.  I wish that everyone in these communities felt this way, but I am constantly reminded how much all of these communities adhere to those old, rigid standards that don't allow for deviation or exploration into other territories.  You have to maintain your assigned identity until you're allowed to move on to your next one!

I witnessed this even at the Eagle on the last gear night.  (Yes, I was so busy I didn't even have time to post an announcement).  The night was alright.  Much smaller than the April event, but then again, I wasn't inviting people.  My friends and I had fun there, and met some fun new people too!  The bouncer, however, was only reluctantly letting people into the Dresscode-area who didn't have boots on.  One of my friends was in sneakers (his fetish) along with a neoprene shirt, and he almost didn't let him in.

I can understand that.  I will be the first to admit that I may push the boundaries on "Gear Night" as I've been referring to it.  After all, the bar does, in fact, still refer to it as "Leather Night".  The thing that is glaringly obvious about younger, new-generation kinksters, however, is this same attitude I described above.  There's just no rules.  There's no standards or quotas and there are certainly no expectations.   There's just horny guys, with various fetishes.  

But one guy last Saturday was wearing a fetish the Eagle hadn't seen yet, I believe - a wetsuit.  VERY hot.  He that he had coordinated a new event with the Eagle.  It's to be entitled "Alter Ego" night.  A strict dresscode will be enforced on Friday June 4th, and the only ones to be allowed in will be those dressed in their favorite costume of a super hero or super villain.  

 What an idea!  And even though turn out may be small for the first go, if 20 people can get their arms twisted into going, it will be a success.  Personally, I will be there in my Robin costume. You can bet on it.

But the best part about the whole thing is that it's happening at the Minneapolis Eagle in the first place. Some young kinkster came up with some crazy new idea for a fetish night, and the bar owner was more than receptive, hell, was even willing to advertise it for a night and give it a chance. Even when his own staff may not be so accustomed to people even not wearing BOOTS let alone dress like heroes! To be willing to drop the ranks, let go of the past for a second, and give an idea from the New Guard a try? It's so heartening to know that there are those out there, ready for us.

That man, whoever he is, is MY hero.

~Tynan

Uninhibited

A couple weeks ago, one of my friends (Bicycler) said a something to me which is rather flattering.  Normally, I'm not one to toot my own horn, but this one made me think.  Quite a bit, really.  He told me that he admires the fact that, as far as kink is considered, I am so uninhibited.  Nothing stops me from exploring my desires.

I never thought about inhibitions with exploring kink.  It never crossed my mind.  When he first mentioned this, my first reaction was to think, "Why would I be inhibited to explore this?"  And then it dawned on me.  As Bob Wingate says on his blog when discussing a post I had made, "I love the way young people today not only take their bondage horniness for granted but are wonderfully comfortable with it. How times have changed!"  

When I was growing up, I lived in a rather conservative Lutheran household.  I was sent to parochial school until 7th grade.  My parents didn't even have CABLE in the house (first time I had that was when I left for college).  I was a dejected, straight-A nerd with few friends.  When I started having fantasies about men, I didn't know what it meant.  I had no idea.  I knew what the word "gay" meant, and I knew that it was a sin, but I wasn't a sinner, so fantasizing about men meant I wasn't gay.

I turned 13 and started figuring out the truth of the matter.  The abridged version is that I went through about three years of unhealthy self-hatred over what was going on with me.  There were many, many sleepless nights of praying, crying, and trying to "fix" myself and stop thinking about men in that way, culminating in a failed suicide attempt.  Finally when I was 16 or 17 I was able to give in, and accept that this is how it's going to be no matter what I do, and I should probably just get used to it.

Although I didn't start fantasizing about men in particular until I hit puberty, I was fantasizing about bondage ever since I was a child.  A YOUNG child.  I remember the first time.  I remember being about 5 or 6 years old, in the car, on family vacation, doing a coloring book.  The picture on the last page of the book was of three cowboys, tied back to back, completely covered in rope from ankles up to their necks, all three mouths stuffed with bandannas.  I couldn't quit staring at it.  I never thought to ask myself or anyone else "why".  And I wasn't ashamed of it either.

This theme has continued on throughout my entire life.  Even when I was questioning my sexuality and I hated myself for liking men instead of women, and through all the tears and prayers, I never once apologized for liking bondage.  I never thought to.  It was natural to me.  It was something I craved, something I wanted, and something I wanted to get, very, very badly.

When I say that the bondage is a part of me, I mean that.  It's the only thing I've ever known to be true about myself for literally, as long and as far back as I can remember.  It's so ingrained that I don't know what I would be like today without it. 

It's comforting to know that the fox truly was born inside of me.

I thanked my friend for his wonderful compliment, and gave him a hug.  It's such a great thing for someone to say, and a wonderful thing to hear.  I wish everyone felt they could explore their kinks without fear, or shame or guilt.  I know the world isn't quite there yet, but I think one day, it will be.  I smiled for a moment and thought about how truly blessed I am in life.

Then he suspended me in his basement.

 

~Tynan