Friday's Rubber Bulge

Good Puppy

Part 1 😇 pic.twitter.com/JvFRweHECu

— 🔱 Noveau 🔱 (@pupnoveau) August 7, 2017

Folsom Europe (Berlin)

Say hi to the Cologne Rubbermen if you're in Berlin for Folsom!

Tight N Hot

明日の朝までUp pic.twitter.com/25o9xlT6JE

— rubberbox (@rubberbox31) August 30, 2017

Detroit Rubber Lube Wrestling

MRM at Manchester Pride

MIR 21: Squeakeasy

To Save or Not to Save?

It is always the greatest lament of a rubberman. We know the latex loves of our lives age and have a due date, but when do you say enough is enough, end the cycle of repairs and let a rubber suit die with dignity?

It's such a metaphor for life in general. Latex fetishism can be so metaphysical at times.

I always have a hard time with this; you can feel and smell the aging of a cherished rubber piece and try to deny that it is on its way to the storage bin or the dumpster for good. You can never have enough cherish sex adventures with your favorite pieces.

I bought my Spexter suit in late 2008, I believe. It has given me so much JOY over the years and has been a major part of many of my best photo shoots and videos on Xtube. I had had the foot fixed once a few months ago but last week the main part of the suit gave way to a foot long tear in the torso as I was putting it on. Now I'm not so sure if I want to repair it or not.

I know a large part of my old wardrobe from the late Naughts is in its final cycle of wear. Those were the days I was prolific and most likely a little crazy in my purchases. It was also when I was on the title circuit. So many colors, so many great styles. So many great memories are attached to these outfits from those days. It's making it very hard to let go.

What do you think I should do? Make the repair to give the suit another six months of life or let it die with dignity and a proper respectable wake?

Bulge

Lubey rubber bulges are the best. pic.twitter.com/3RiwSPqoFH

— 1 EA. DRONE, RUBBER (@rubberdrone) June 29, 2017

What to Look For by Whiteout

Rubberstud of the Week #488

Today

A quick rubberization before I head out for the weekend. Happy Friday!

 

Sadly, my old Spexter suit was my first donning choice this morning, but it tore as I was putting it on. Not a small tear either.....sigh. Another old suit heading to retirement. My wardrobe is seriously doing a generational turning this year. A lot of the older stuff needs to be folded and put away to make room for the new shiny sleek stuff, albeit less than in the past :(  

Until I win a lottery, at least.

When Your Erotic Identity Is Damaged

By Race Bannon
August 15, 2017

There is an assumption that there are certain people so confident in their sexuality and erotic identities that nothing can challenge those aspects of their lives. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am living proof.

This isn’t easy to talk about. Our society as well as our sexual and kink subcultures worship at the altar of confidence and certainty. Most of our kink scene is shrouded in a veneer of iconic bravado and unwavering certainty.

Such solidity adds to the fantasy for many because their kink and erotic identity is founded upon such things. In a scene replete with rigid hierarchical rankings and deified roles and positions, it’s no wonder that any crack in that armor risks the entire enterprise.

Cracks happen though. The armor of our sexuality is often in truth nothing more than a thin covering easily pierced by something as random as someone’s casual negative comment or as monumental as a life-altering bad experience or situation.

I’m not going to rehash exactly what happened to me. I don’t often air my own life’s inner workings in public, at least not in print. But please accept as true that a few years ago a series of life happenstance challenged my sexuality and erotic identity to its very core, and those challenges reverberate throughout my life even today. It’s been a long slog to recovery and that process is still unfolding as I write this.

Since I was in my early teens, even prior to my fully coming out at the age of 17, certain types of sex and power dynamic play formed the foundation of my sexuality to such an extent that it eventually morphed into an identity. What I did erotically not only formed sexual fantasies and practices, but it also formed an identity that has generally served me quite well.

Realizing in my youth that I was an erotic rebel, a sexual maverick, coupled with my then newfound realization I was indeed gay, created for me a bedrock from which the entirety of the rest of my life naturally flowed and flourished. I was a gay leatherman. I was a devoutly kinky adventurer. I had found that version of myself that fit like an outrageously comfortable glove. I had found a set of communities that accepted and celebrated those aspects of me. I had found me and my people.

While my various social interactions and work took me to all walks of life and endeavors, it was my gay kink identity from which I always operated, whether that identity was evident in all situations or not. No matter where I was or what I was doing, inside of me resided a gay leatherman and kinkster who took solace in that self-identification. In short, it made me happy.

Fast forward from my early teen years to a few years ago. In one fell swoop a series of unexpected conflicts and between a rock and a hard place situations occurred and my entire erotic identity crumbled. My sexuality was damaged. I was shattered. I was supremely unhappy. Life sucked because my foundation had given way beneath me and I wasn’t sure how to rebuild it.

Did most people know this? No. A few close friends did. A handful of my leather and kink network did. But generally, most people saw the same old me writing, speaking, organizing, advocating and educating. Few suspected that underneath it all I was suffering badly, and feeling like everything was going to shit.

Why am I telling you this?

Perhaps in part this is cathartic. Sometimes opening a window of transparency allows a breeze of relief to wash over us.

Or perhaps my main motivation is to instill in everyone reading this a bit more understanding that even the most apparently solid of people can be shaken and pushed off balance. I see the nasty barbs or accusations thrown around at leather and kink folk on social media and I cringe because I know those words might be crushing someone on the other end of them.

Or perhaps I simply want people to realize that when someone looks “just fine,” they might not really be fine. Underneath they might be hurting like hell and covering it all up with a persona of confidence and solidity that belies their hurt but that their friends and audience have come to expect from them.

So, what have I learned from all this? A lot. About myself. About life. About sex and the sexual subcultures in which I mingle and thrive.

I’ve learned that first and foremost I must be me. My relationships are important. The people around me are important. My communities are important. But ultimately, if I can’t be truly me, if I can’t fully maintain the identity that brings me strength, then I’m of no good to anyone. Anything I say, do or advocate for would be coming from a false pretense if said by someone not living up their own sense of optimal and best self. Living a lie is a terrible idea.

I’ve learned that it doesn’t always take much to crush someone mentally or emotionally. It can take just a few words. It can happen in an instant. And that instant can end up forming a life crisis far bigger than might seem possible upon reflection on that brief life-altering moment. I hope people realize this when they say some of the things they say, especially in this era of the social media broadcast effect when harsh words can distribute through the social ether like a strong putrid wind.
I’ve learned that when your erotic identity is challenged, you deal with it or it will eat away at you and taint everything in your life, sexual or otherwise. To not deal with it is to doom yourself to deep unhappiness, and I say this as I myself am continuing to struggle. But my struggle has gone from daily depression to more of a nagging reminder that if I falter from being myself and living the life I need to lead I will plunge myself into a depth of despair that I do not need to enter. I’ve become a lot stronger.

Let me wrap up this post by asking something of you.

Please, do some introspection around your own sexuality and erotic identity. Are you living up to the potential that will make you happiest? Are you eschewing outside rules and constructs when they collide with what you know will make you happiest? Are you consciously configuring your life to create a sexuality, an identity, your sense of being as a human, that brings you the greatest joy and satisfaction?

The answers to those questions will hopefully either validate an already strong sexuality and erotic identity, or propel you to improve them to align with what makes you happiest.

I ask those questions of myself every day now. My erotic self and indeed every aspect of me is a lot stronger today than it’s ever been, but I still tread on a walkway populated by a mine field of doubts and challenges. That is sometimes the human condition. It’s only by facing it head on that any of us can improve ourselves and our lives.

Be yourself. Be your authentic self. Be the self, erotically and otherwise, that brings you the greatest happiness because doing any less is shortchanging yourself in ways you might not even realize.
Be happy. Sexually. Erotically. Every way. Just be happy.

This is great advice. If you can't be true to yourself, you're not going to be true to anyone else. Self maintenance checkups from time-to-time are a great idea!

Choices

Nothing is better than having options to choose from. Which rubber object would you choose?

 

Perspective

There's nothing hotter than a man in rubber...

Lucky Fuckers

Legs up in the air....again?

I just got back from the family vacation in Manitoba and almost immediately(!) went to DS's place for a fisting evening last night. Holy fuck that was a good session! DS and I really get along and seem to be comfortable enough with each other to continually be reaching new width and depth limits. He got sooo deep in me last night. I'm still feeling like tenderized hamburger this morning. I got into him while he was laying on his stomach. He said he doesn't normally take fist in this position, but he certainly had no challenges here last night. We're obviously making impressive strides in each other. Video to come next time!

I have another playdate with Arc on Thursday before he heads to Victoria on Friday. I'm going to rubber him up again, just not as encapsulating as the last time.

We're off to Shadow Falls again on Friday for the weekend. Should be a good time though I'm really looking forward to the Labour Day long weekend when Mook and Wardog are joining us again. DS says he will stay with us the weekend after that. I am still trying to get N33dfulthings to commit...maybe the two of them can come together that weekend.

Below are some more pics and a vid from the play session with Arc. Thanks to Wardog for showing up when he did!

Rubberstud of the Week #487

Rubberstud of the Week #486

Lately

So I've been fortunately having quite a bit of ffun recently, and even some rubber time!

A few weeks ago, I had the fortune of meeting a very handsome German flight attendant through a common friend. We went out for drinks and eventually Mr P and I brought him home for the night. We had a great time with him until 3am or so.

I found out through our common friend that we shared a big common interest, so I chatted him up the next day and that evening found myself at his hotel room. We fisted each other immensely until about the same time that night too.

Unfortunately he had to leave the next day so we had to part ways, but I'm still in touch with him and we will definitely get together again when we end up in the same city again.

The following weekend I had to work Friday night and so ultimately I stayed in the city for the weekend while Mr. P was out at the Falls. Saturday night was the first night of the International Fireworks Competition, so I went to a party a couple of friends were hosting. At this party I hooked up with another friend, Mook, I've been wanting to get to know better for a very long time, so I was very happy to take him home with me at the end of the party and spend the rest of the night fucking and fisting with him. He's so sexy and handsome, it was so much fun!

The following Tuesday I got together with my fistbud DS, another sexy fucker. We've gotten together maybe five or six times this summer, and we always have a terrific time playing sober, which is kind of our 'thing'. We had a great session, I got to some wonderfully new depth levels in him, and much of it was recorded just for posterity. He's a good friend of N33dfulthings, I will continue trying to get a group thing together with these guys as I dream about it often.

DS came with Mr. P and I to another fireworks party on Wednesday at Rob's place. Another fun night but an early end as it is the middle of the week. Also, the weekend coming up was Vancouver Pride and the BC Day long weekend so we needed our rest! Mr P and I had opted to go to the Falls this weekend instead of celebrating Pride; I just have not been in the headspace for Pride this year and was more excited to go camping for an extra day with Mr. P, Wardog and Mook and other friends than I was staying in the city.

As it turned out, we had an amazing time; Friday night we hosted a tiki party in the gazebo, I got to play with a super sexy guy named Ravi late in the night; On Saturday, Wardog, Mook, and I climbed up to the top of the Corkscrew Falls - a very secluded rock overhang over the falls overlooking the Dam. We did some molly and fucked and fooled around up there before coming back down for the chili cookoff, then proceeding to take more molly, played and cuddled more and were eventually joined by our friend C. Unfortunately Mr. P wasn't feeling well; the four of us fucked and fisted in the gazebo-turned-sex-tent until the wee hours of Sunday. Mook and I even traipsed out to the central lawn in the middle of the night where he proceeded to fist me long and hard on a picnic table under the full blood red moon (due to all the forest fire activity in BC the moons have been amazing!)

Sunday we laid around on the lawn and relaxed. Wardog made us margaritas, we harvested our pineapple plant and had a great dinner before socializing with friends again. We went to bed relatively early as we had to head back into the city early as Mook had a ticket to get on the Recovery Cruisey-T boat cruise in the afternoon.

Mook and Wardog are coming back up with us on the Labour Day long weekend so I fully expect a repeat of the hijinks from the BC Day long weekend!

Tuesday this week I finally got to meet Arc; a super sexy young guy on a student exchange here from New Zealand. He and I have been talking online for about half a year now, I was glad to give him a place to crash for a couple nights as he is couch surfing for the next couple weeks before he heads over to Victoria to get set up for school. Mr P and I had a lot of fun with him in the sling and vac-tower on Tuesday night, and Wednesday, as we had long anticipated, I finally got him completely rubbered up. We had a great day. He loves the sling and took to it like a fish to water....he certainly wants to try it again. So in addition to his first rubberization and his first sling experience, and exposure to hoods and masks, he also had his first fisting experience. I think we're witnessing the birth of a kink monster......

He left to his next accommodation today but we fully anticipate getting together some more while he is in the region until January.

So, today and tomorrow is wrapping up a short work week, then Mr. P and I are off to Winnipeg very early on Saturday morning until August 20 to attend two family weddings and do the family thing. Once we are back, we are up to Shadow Falls one more time, then it's Labour Day! Seriously, where did this year go? Everything's moving so fast!

I felt pretty lucky to have had five different sexy men's hands in me over the past few weeks. Very fucking lucky. A great rubber session and some hot outdoor sex to boot. It's still way too hot for rubber but it's nice to get a taste of it still once in awhile.

Oh yeah! And I officially received a payment from Metaversexxx for the 3-D porn vid royalties I've been involved with. I'm officially a paid porn star now! Yessss! LOL

Public Entry

http://alpha-predator.tumblr.com/post/163189628447

 

Locked and Loaded

Rubberstud of the Week #485

Why Are People Into Shame?!

The Establishment
By Tina Horn

Shame is a ghost that will just keep haunting you if you don’t make a sincere effort to purge it. And wild hot deviant sex is the best kind of exorcism I know.

Early this year, I angrily posted an excerpt from a New York Times article about male strip revues. I highlighted a quote from a producer which stated that his show is, “something quality, with real showmanship. Not a traveling group of man whores.”

This kind of casual classism, whorephobia, and slut-shaming ain’t cute. It’s upsetting to me that the Times—which can be prim to the point of inaccuracy— allows comments like this. But it’s not really all that shocking when you realize how much vulgarity is permitted as long as someone is hurling shame on someone else.

Writer Antonia Crane commented on my post right away, suggesting that we talk about the normalization of slut shaming on my podcast. So during a trip to Los Angeles last Spring, I found myself seated on Antonia’s black leather couch, cradling a strong cup of coffee, surrounded by Kathy Acker and David Wojnarowicz books, talking about the Lusty Lady.

“The freaks were at the Lusty,” Antonia told me, referring to her customers at the legendary San Francisco peep show where she worked in the 1990’s.

“They wanted to be seen. They were shoving zucchinis up their asses and tying themselves into pretzels. They were wearing Santa hats and coming in as a gang of clowns and all jerking off together. Did that come from shame?”

Antonia would know. Not only did she dance at the Lusty, beginning a still-ongoing career as a stripper, but she was also involved in the ground-breaking unionization of the club. Now she’s written a semi-autobiographical screenplay about that experience with trans filmmaker Silas Howard.

They received a grant from the San Francisco Film Society/Kenneth Rainin Foundation in screenwriting, and hope to start shooting the feature very soon. In addition to this, Antonia wrote a ruthless memoir about sex work, Spent—now out in paperback—and she teaches the craft of memoir writing at UCLA. Blonde and brightly tattooed, with a bubblegum pink perma snarl and kohl-ringed eyes, Antonia is intensely enthused about what she calls “savage art.”

Part of what I wanted to explore with Antonia was the role that shame plays in erotics. For many people — including some strip club patrons — a cycle of shame seems integral to the expression of their desire. Certainly many turn-ons, from pegging to patronizing a sex worker, from ravishment fantasies to threesomes, are bound up in social taboos. Your indulgence of these taboos gets its frisson from doing what you’ve been told not to do.

Ever since reading Daring Greatly by Brené Brown, I see shame everywhere.

“Shame is the most powerful, master emotion,” Brown says. “It’s the fear that we’re not good enough.”

Apply this definition to sex, and it becomes clear why shame drives so many erotic lives. Our sexual desires and identities are the things we are told most constantly make us filthy, tainted—even unlovable.

Our indulgence of taboos gets its frisson from doing what we’ve been told not to do.

“If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding,” Brown says, “shame can’t survive.” What better way to share your story than through sex? Who better to provide understanding than strippers, doms, and escorts? We’ve seen it all, and we’re not that shocked by you. We’ll put your shame in perspective.

People judge others for their sexual choices as if they could just get rid of their shame by displacing it, as if shame were a hot potato or the curse from It Follows. Yet shame is a ghost that will just keep haunting you if you don’t make a sincere effort to purge it. And wild hot deviant sex is the best kind of exorcism I know.

I already explored the topic of erotic humiliation with Princess Kali on the podcast last year, but there’s an important distinction to be made between erotic shame and erotic humiliation. Kinky humiliation is about submitting yourself to having your status lowered, through fun activities such as objectification, animal play, financial domination, domestic service, or exposure.

Shame, I think, has a meta-context. It’s an erotic urge: we’re driven by shame in the interest of absolution. Like a consumer seeking a product to fill a void that product marketing itself has created, some people who are driven by shame can end up in a compulsive and self-replicating cycle of dissatisfaction. I have seen people struggle when given the opportunity to release the grip that shame holds over their sex life; they’ve come to identify with that feeling, to connect it to pleasure, as if they must pay a shame tax in order to feel good.

Seen another way, sex might be the perfect environment to make yourself vulnerable, to admit that you’re scared you’re not good enough. Sex gives you the chance to be seen, literally and metaphysically. What if someone sees you and lets you know you’re more than good enough? Or what if, in sex, someone can dig her claws into your shame, eviscerating it, laying it out before you where everyone can get a good look at it? Maybe, sometimes, with the right chemistry, seeing your own shame laid out before you might just cure you from being controlled by it.

People judge others for their sexual choices as if they could just get rid of their shame by displacing it.

Is a world without shame possible? Would we even like that world? With that tension released, would the filthy sex we love even be hot anymore? I don’t know, but in the meantime my project will be to concentrate on detoxing my own shame rather than tamping it down or projecting scorn onto others.

“I think we should harness shame and make it our bitch,” Antonia laughed, and I couldn’t agree more.

That’s the irony of a male strip revue producer distinguishing his “classy” show from “man whores. Being a whore is nothing to be ashamed of (and by the way, in my experience nobody displays more quality showmanship than whores). Shamers think they can avoid stigma by redirecting it, when it’s the very behavior of judging others for their sexual choices that should make shamers feel ashamed of themselves.

In light of receiving my first payment from Metaversexxx for my, er, performances, I am now officially a whore! Shameless and Slutty, and I wouldn't want it any other way! Yessssssss!!!