Page 59 - Leather Blues
P. 59

Leather Blues                                       47

               Two women, their femininity. And two butch dudes, man,
               that’s a celebration of masculinity. Ain’t no man I know ever
               playing what straights think about our brand of sex: ‘the part
               of the woman.’ Hell, there’s nothing like two men going at
               each other in full leather. Rolling and wrestling till the heat
               brings out the body sweat. Man, leather never smells better
               than when it’s hot and sweated up. Rough sucking and fuck-
              ing in a leatherman’s bed is like sex nowhere else. I dig what
              men can do to each other in beds, bars, barns, johns, trucks,
              warehouses, woods. You name it.”
                  “How about here?”
                  Chuck pretended not to hear. “I really rap on when I get
              high. Hey, take a look at this?”
                  “What’s it for?” Den asked. “Opening up the ass?”
                  “Wrong end,” Chuck said. He took the tool from Den.
              “It’s an Agony Pear. It’s historical. When it’s closed it sort of
              looks like a pear. Now when you shove it into your slave’s
              mouth, you turn this screw adjustment and the tongs of it
              curve open and up and the guy’s mouth is held immoveably
              open. It presses down the tongue and presses up against the
              roof of the mouth. Beats stuffing the mouth with chains. Or
              jocks. That’s great too. But with this you cut off the scream-
              ing. You don’t have to worry about his breathing even if
              his nose clogs with blood.” Chuck screwed the device to its
              widest open position. “The pain is intense. Mouth torture.
              And the whole time the mouth is held open, the guy has
              to drink whatever’s poured.” Den touched the cold silver
              instrument. “Comes right out of the torture chambers of the
              Spanish Inquisition. Compliments of Catholicism!” Chuck
              screwed the tool closed. He dropped it like a small bomb into
              his trunk of toys. “That’s all for now,” he said. Chuck stood
              up. From the bunk, Den was eye level with the leatherman’s
              hardpack of balls and cock. He looked like he was about to
              split the piss-worn denim. I’d rather demonstrate the rest.”
              He seemed to push his basket toward Den. “In a scene. What

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