Sling It- 58
By: Carlton Paul

Let me draw a picture for you. Its Monday morning, I’m in the middle of my weekend, naked and dreaming about the new Mr. SF Leather, Mr. Ron Balos, who coincidentally was sashed a few hours earlier. He was just about to put it in, when the phone began to ring. I rolled over onto my dog’s gaseous side of the bed and began to feel irritated. I’m drifting back into my restraints, when the distinct rattle of my palm vibrating confirmed there would be no dream plowing today. OK, “so what is this important?” you ask. A friend, whom I adore, had been “partying all weekend” and wanted to visit. YEA!!! Let me put on some tea- ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Daddies need there sleep, so shhh!

Here is some truth. According to WIRED SCIENCE, meth use among gay men has been decreasing for the last 3 years, while other drug use is holding steady. When they were all tina’d out, they fucked each other. Now they are riding the white horse around town and want to chat. In the spirit of truth, here is a bit more. According to the National Library of Medicine, in a study conducted in Sydney, Australia (Our sister city) of 697 random gay men interviewed, 78.3% had used recreational drugs in the last six months, and 54% had used psycho stimulants (ecstasy, speed, or cocaine). That’s over half for my high friends. The study concluded that the statistics indicate that drug use is part of gay sexual and social identity. There you have it. Those sluts down under are hot tranny messes. No, NO. Drugs are part of our world. (Sling it does not condone or condemn this fact, nor do I know how to get you drugs, nor do I want to do them with you. What we all do with our own time is our own business.) This being said, acknowledgement is due here for our brothers and sisters that are in recovery. You are to be commended for your daily accomplishment. I am to understand that clarity is where it’s at, anyway.

Ok, so I’m sure your itching to know what he wanted to visit about. It seems, he had been enjoying the leather festivities of the weekend, and had put away a sandwich baggy of pharmaceutical grade coke. He explained that he had been on Manhunt into the morning and had decided that if he didn’t hook up by 3:30 am, he would jerk off and hit the bed. Luckily enough, around 4, he found a hotty. When he got to the house, he realized it was a party. They were a bit messy, but there was the one hot one. So they started playing. They decided to do a hit of G, and all was well. Then they did the second dose and the stud climbed on top of my contemporary and began going at it. But then he lay down and appeared to go to sleep, except for a few twitches. Apparently, they separated and our friend noticed that the stud had gone under. He also noticed that his member was still rigid. He says to me, “It was still hard, so I played with it. Because he was passed out though, it made me feel awkward.” Really.

Come on boys. There are rules. 1) Don’t do G after alcohol. 2) Don’t mix batches. (GHB is made from a degreasing solvent or a floor stripper mixed with drain cleaner. Mixing different unknown substances is bad.) 3) Don’t overdose you fucking moron. 4) If you fall out on G or K, your friends can write puns on your buns. Truly this experience is not pretty. Do you know how silly you look drooling and twitching? Measure your recipe carefully and don’t be a pig. If you do over indulge, don’t get your crazy on your friends. 5) Cocaine makes you chatty; it isn’t the antidote for too much G. So in turn adding a line to a messy friend only makes her a loud mess. 6) If you are cruising on line and are hosting a party and play event, you must always share this information with your suspected victims or you are a dickweed. 7) All pills are not ecstasy. There is a newish street drug called Foxy. Usually a white pill with an alien or a spider imprinted on it. Foxy causes hallucinations much more like LSD than MDMA or street ecstasy. 8) Crystal meth is not our friend, it never was. Obviously people are partying but shouldn’t you draw the line somewhere. This is a great place. 9) When you come down, you aren’t dying. You shouldn’t commit suicide or call your ex. Stop whining and remember how you feel next time you climb up on that horse. 10) Drugs aren’t free, if it seems like you never have to buy them, you are irritating someone.

Let us keep these commandments, all the days or our lives. We must do better, as a class of people. Acting a fool on drugs is just as bad for our community as that awning on 18th st. That embarrasses us all, doesn't it? Please do your part, to not add to our public humiliation.

As a final thought, I wonder when we become hyper analytical gay men ordering sex online from a menu with specifics like 3 minutes of popper play, followed by a light spanking, some butt play…OMG Shut up and fuck for God’s sake. We can’t blame everything on the drugs. The way we cohabitate on the Internet is embarrassing too.

Party on Garth! If you have an S/M question email me at Carltonpaul@comcast.net.

Sling It – 57
By: Carlton Paul

From a Reader: “As a leather womyn, I was a little wrecked by your last column. In your definition of ‘leather bar’ you include the requirement of a penis to attend. Are you serious? I understand ‘fragrance free’ as a rule of thumb, and maybe you should have included the absence of deodorant, but do you really have to have a dick? I thought we had come past this, in like 1979. Will it be the policy of Chaps II to refuse service to womyn? And if so, if I wear my strap on, will I then be allowed. I have a cock that is bigger than yours; does that make me man enough? What about my F to M friends, if they identify as men; can they come? If we aren’t welcome at ‘MEN’S’ bars then where is it you would like us to go? I hate to sound like an angry lesbian, but all of this sounds a bit discriminatory.”
Sweetheart, I want you to call your doctor, right now, and tell her you need an emergency ‘Zanyx’ script called in. Now, forgive my impertinence, you have every right to be on edge. My description of a real leather bar (a fragrance free zone where MEN wear boots and gear is highly recommended) is a bit archaic. This notion of an all men’s bar is from our history and only exists in the minds of a few old guard hold outs.
In order to be honest about your question though, I have to say the answer is simply yes and no. Let’s start with the YES. Yes: women, drag queens, twinks in tennis shoes, F to M’s, and Republicans are allowed entry into Chaps II according to owner David Morgan, assuming they have money in their pocket and want to buy a drink. Clearly stated… Anyone is allowed in Chaps II.
Likewise, The Powerhouse, Eagle, and Hole in the Wall also do not discriminate against the all mighty dollar. It has been my experience as a Bartender at the PH, that often leather womyn, lesbians, lipsticks, gayelles(Apparently a militia of panty sniffers out of LA have decided that gayelle is a more pleasant term than lesbian. I personally have nothing tied up in labels so OK, live…), trannies, clam jammers, straight girls and F to M’s come by for a cocktail. My baby sister, a hot lipstickish predator, frequents SOMA; actually walking around like she runs the place, no problem.
Now, here is the thing. My baby Sis is one of the boys. In any situation, she may or may not be the toughest punk in the room. She can drink the Moscow gay men’s choir under the table, much to my dismay, and never feels uncomfortable anywhere. This is the energy appropriate for SOMA good times.
So, to restate my point, no one is going to tell you, “You can’t come in.” Now the question becomes, “should you come in?” The answer is still yes, as long as you know what you are getting yourself into, and can enjoy yourself without stinking up the place with perfume or screeching about what you see.
This brings us to the NO. In the same way that Whole Foods was created for yuppies, but hippies are welcome to enjoy the samples; Chaps II is being created for ‘Men in Gear’ and you are welcome to come by and hang out. You see -this decision of whether you should or shouldn’t is completely up to you. Will you feel comfortable there? Is this a place where you can cruise for snatch? We don’t know this. Again, it will be completely up to your personality type and what you think is fun.
I am personally pretty tight with some of the staff of Mr. S leather. Some of these chicks, I am sure will be hanging out in Chaps at times. I suppose everyone should just check it out for themselves-twice. Then, armed with a personal feeling, you will be equipped to decide for yourself. We are all queers. I have a dream that we can all get along, co-exist and not cramp each other’s style. I am afraid that men and womyn in SF have so many pre-conceived notions about what “a leather bar” is that Chaps II will be dismissed as unappealing. People- We are getting something new! This is exciting shit! Bars are closing all over our gay planet, and yet we are getting a spritz of freshness. Take it in. Smell the urine! This will be whatever we make it.
If it isn’t your cup of tea, OK. Stop by the Powerhouse on your way back to the Castro or Lexington and have a shot with me. I am sure that you will never enter a building that is more open minded and tolerant than the Powerhouse. I see all walks of life on a weekly basis, and love it. My boss tolerates no discrimination or intolerance of any kind. So put that in your pipe and smoke it!
Chaps II is at 1225 Folsom St (between 8th and 9th) and opens April 4th. The Powerhouse @1347 Folsom St. is open from 4pm to 2am and offers $1 beer from 4 to 8 daily, all night on Sunday, and Wednesday nights with your shirt off.
With the additions of Truck @15th and Folsom and Chaps II, SOMA is the up and coming gay neighborhood. Come for a drink and take a hand job home to go!

Sling It -56
By: Carlton Paul
If it is true that oppression breeds creativity, then one must suppose that acceptance offers the opposite result. This theory is proven beyond any shadow of a doubt, by our gay world. In the 70’s and 80’s, while society recoiled from “gay” issues, our community embraced colorful sub-cultures such as the drag world, the leather lifestyle, club kids, etc.

I assert here that it was society’s disdain that spurred our desire to create a place for ourselves. The bars were filled with individuals forging paths. There was no internet for chat-room pseudo cruising, or cell phones for late night texting hook ups. Men went out dressed as their “profile” (all of those things that you marked as interests on your manhunt page had to be expressed with your look).
Leap forward now to post-gay SF in 2008. We have for the most part achieved main stream acceptance. Along the way, as we longed to fit in, we marginalized the fringe eccentrics and lost our edge. Today metrosexuals and homosexuals blend like Jack Daniels and Coke. But what has been the cost? Did we neuter ourselves in order to be like them? Do we all look alike now because fags control the fashion industry, or because there isn’t room for individualism in the current “Gay Agenda”?

As the cultural lines blur, I am left with a sense of nostalgia for outlandish gay pageantry. Lost is our sense of self, our tolerance of freaks and our ability to “cruise”. This castration of the Castro was performed by our own leaders. Let us observe a moment of silence for the loss of our balls, our bars, and our bath-houses.

With hope that the truth will set us free, here is a small dose. You’re probably boring and you dress like an accountant from Omaha. That computer that you use for virtual cruising has isolated you from real experience. Your birth-right is that of splendid individuality and you have squandered it. Joe Solmonese (HRC Pres.) has convinced us that our challenge is “marriage equality”. When did we start emulating them? What the fuck? We are meant to lead; pushing the limits of taste and creativity. Do you think Freddy Mercury shopped at Banana Republic?
Today is a new day, however. Poised on the brink of annihilation, we can choose a new direction. Put that ear-ring back in. Dust off your chaps. Straighten your wig. Look inside and embrace your inner homo.

While discussing new-beginnings, I finally arrive at my point. SF is getting a new bar. A real leather bar; which is a fragrance free zone where MEN wear boots and gear is highly recommended. This is not meant to be a sex-club, but it is to be a haven charged with sexy, kinky energy built for boot to boot cruising.
Chaps II @ 1225 Folsom St. (between 8th and 9th) will begin serving our community the first weekend of April. The hot, geared up staff is being led by a modern day Joan of Arc, Mr. David Morgan of Men in Gear fame. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of our apathy, Chaps II represents the “leather lifestyle” brought forward for a new generation. David explains, “This is not a bar where everyone will feel comfortable, but others will find something that has been missing. It’s about creating a space where leather men can feel at home and about providing an authentic experience for novice players to get a taste.”

When pressed for motivation, David goes on, “The leather community has alienated younger players that go out to get laid with our constant fund raising. These guys want someone in their crotch, but not measuring raffle tickets. They want to cruise. There will be no microphone. Chaps II is for horny fuckers.”
Sling It salutes David for his attempt to re-create our culture. With Chaps II’s success and the relevance of the SF leather Community at stake, much is riding on our getting of our asses, getting geared up and going out. I challenge you to connect with your dirty side and support our new SOMA happy place.
David- you are a brave hero. XXOO Check out Meningear.com for more details. If you have an S/M question email me: Carltonpaul@comcast.net.

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Sling It 54: By Carlton Paul

A disclaimer: Neither Gloss Magazine nor Sling It suggests that you drink blood. The column to follow is meant to be the beginning of a dialogue built around a very intimate, provocative subject. You must make good decisions for yourself. It is not the position of Sling It or Gloss Magazine to condone or condemn the actions of its readers. This discussion is meant to be an introduction to Blood Sport as a concept. Obviously Hep C and HIV are transmitted by blood. This is a risky discussion on so many levels. Don’t be a Dumb ass. Play with someone who knows what they are doing. Protect yourself.
So, I am sitting at my favorite watering hole chatting up the charming staff and a bartender that I have known for years recalls a story of the hottest sex of his life: “During Folsom St. Fair last year, my boyfriend cut me a couple of times and drank my blood. It was the most intense sexual experience of my life. You know me, I am not crazy. I will tell you, this was something else… I felt so connected to him.”
OK… Let’s all take a moment and digest this thought without judgment. Poking around online, I find very little information on “Adult cutting for sexual satisfaction.” The articles available are about teenagers cutting themselves as an outward expression of inner destruction.

Quoted from a teenage site: (1) “For me, when I cut it brings me back to reality, killing the numbness I was accustomed to feeling. What ADVIL does for headaches and body pains, cutting does for the numbness. It’s a temporary solution to a permanent problem.” (2) “Aside from the fact that I love the taste of blood, it isn’t the pain alone. The marks on your skin afterwards are a testament to your pain. The scars are a way to show that your pain is real. Sometimes, you just need to hurt more than the pain you are feeling.”
That should supply your daily intake of DRAMA. But what if “cutting” between two consenting adults is less day time television and more romantic night out of your box?

In order to shed some light on this subject I turn to San Francisco’s resident badass Tober Brandt.
CP: How were you introduced to cutting? TB: “In high School my girlfriend was a hot Goth chick. She talked to me about how blood is the one thing that is special to all of us. We make it; it has our code, our unique fluid. She was into Anne Rice Novels and Vampires. She liked the taste. I found it extremely sexy and intimate. It is not something that you do with just anybody. There is an intense energy transfer so there has to be a pre-existing bond. You have to want to share something so personal; something that is yours and only yours.”

CP: Of the results provided by cutting: blood, pain and the scar; which is the most appealing? TB: “I don’t think of it in terms of pain. A baseball bat to the head could cause bleeding, but is not what I am looking for. I use sharp instruments that provide easy cutting with very little pain. When you extract the pain from the equation, you are left with the two best parts, the blood and the scar. There is also something masculine about pushing death and facing fear. All of the guys that I have experienced blood sports with are people that I feel very bonded with. It creates a ‘secret society’ bond, like with the Mason’s, a fraternity or the illuminati. After all, we have taken each other’s blood.

CP: The blood kind of freaks me out; nothing is more taboo than this. Does the fact that the blood is forbidden fruit make it more enticing? TB: When you slice it properly the blood comes, sometimes so much of it. It is this other person’s body temperature. It’s been all over this person; his feet, his heart. All places you can’t go, it’s been. This is the closest you can come to merging with another person. I could bathe in it. I love the smell, the taste, the feel. It makes great lube…

CP: Where and how deep? TB: Placement requires thought and some knowledge of anatomy. Not too close to veins, and not on super thin tissue. As a sadistic top, I always look for a place that will get rubbed a lot by clothes; like the neck or inside of the thigh. As far as how deep, you need to learn from someone who knows what they are doing. Safety and Sterility play huge rolls in blood sport. However, you can go pretty deep on thick tissue. The deeper you go the faster it runs. (Laughing) It also clots faster. (This is a laugh that expresses knowledge just out of my reach.)

CP: What is your favorite instrument of torture? TB: I enjoy needles as much as knives. You can put a line of needles in say a chest; then hug him and the pins then stick me as well. It hurts the bottom in a way and then pierces me, our blood mixing, both experiencing this huge rush of sensation and pain. This is better than sex, because it lasts longer. You know that feeling after you cum, when you are bored and want a beer? You never find that with blood sports. After this you feel high and alive. There is this amazing energy exchange. This transcends sex.

CP: Do you ever cut yourself? TB: It doesn’t make sense to me to cut myself. This seems to be about inflicting pain. I am into a couple experiencing each other fully, with consciousness and a willing to share one’s self literally. Besides, it takes two people to do the cuts that I like to do, to leave the right scar.
If you have an s/m question email me: Carltonpaul@comcast.net.

Sling It 53
By: Carlton Paul

It has been my pleasure to see February roll around 37 times. Each year it brings four of my least favorite things: rain, cold grey days, my birthday and Valentine’s Day. I know, “Bless my heart.” This year I have decided to reign in the bitterness and attempt some acceptance. After all the rain is Ms. San Francisco’s chance to have a cocktail, the grey days are preparation for a sultry summer, and birthdays are essentially conjecture. This leaves us with the pink elephant.

Really, fuck Hallmark for subjecting us to their unreal expectation of romance. If like I you are annoyed by this clusterfuck of red, pink and obligatory sentiment I suggest you make a reservation for the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence anti-valentine protest. Taking place at Eureka Restaurant (431-6000) on Wed. Feb.13th, “Get Your Heart On!” will offer no rosy shades, or romantic accolades. Come dressed to impress and don’t forget your bitterness. 1000 points to the Sister’s for leading us in the right direction.

For the rest of you, good luck living up to your sweetheart’s expectations. This is a tricky proposition. The spirit of the event, once removed from its commercial habitat, longs to be spontaneous, creative and expressive. This is a day to show that special someone how much they matter.
In an effort to do just this, I offer a sonnet.

Ode to the Cock
After the tedium of all these years,
It is with surprise that I beheld thee.
All that came before you disappointed me.
Each attached to a mouth and a queer;
coming at me with wants and a one eyed leer.
You though, bloomed from the smell of my taint.
Your beauty, your shine, you must be a saint.
Not too big, and not too small- You perfect flesh tree.
When you were covered, just out of my sight,
I groped your jeans, not knowing what lied beneath.
As your head emerged, it became apparent
The king of all cocks, to you I bequeath
You are amazing in all of your might.
You have ruined me, I can’t forget; forever I will lament.

Sling It - 52
By Carlton Paul
From a reader: “I am 22yrs old and a recent transplant to SF from Philly. Growing up, my older cousin used to degrade, humiliate and fuck around with me. At the time, I was always a little afraid of what he would make me do. Granted, he is a dickhead, but he is also hot, masculine and totally sadistic. I know I am supposed to liberate myself from his abuse, be all fucked up because of incest, and feel ashamed… Yea, not so much. What I want is to find a hottie that can fuck with my head and my ass. I thought it would be simple, in SF, of all places, to find a twisted guy my age to play with. These west coast boys are soft and just make me laugh. They all just want to cum up my butt. What’s with the no condoms here? I am so disillusioned with Cali; can you help me?”
First of all, Punk Ass, we aren’t soft… we are easy going. Second, there are so many things going on in your head that I fear these few words can only scratch the surface of the “help” that you need. So, not to be lame, but I suggest you find a smart bartender and unload on him, like the rest of us.

Now, let’s get to your real issue. Like a heroin addict, you are chasing the proverbial S/M dragon. You should know you aren’t alone. We all have memories of hot sex or situations that imprint in our brains and torture us as “perfect” examples of what we want. Moments on this planet are fresh and fleeting; It’s never going to be exactly like that again, so let it go. There is an infinite supply of fucked up shit you can do, however. It is time to create hot sex in the present. Besides, he took your power without permission. Someone should beat the shit out of him.
FYI- S/M between adults should be three things: Safe (subject to agreed upon parameters), Sane (again, grey area here), Consensual (It is ok to consent to being raped, degraded, humiliated or shat upon during role play. The rules are in your head.) Ok, I get it. You want what you want, no judgment here.

Armed with insight into your desires, you must learn to ask the right questions while looking for your special asshole. Is he twisted? Does he swagger or swish? Did he beat up his younger siblings? Did he kill ants with a magnifying glass in his youth?

Then, once you find a sadistic fuck head, you need to come clean.

Sling It 50
By: Travis Creston

It’s Travis Creston, Mr San Francisco Leather 2007. If you’re a loyal “Sling It” fan, you’ll have read about me in two previous issues. Now, I’m guest writing for Carlton, calling forth the next Mr SF Leather. The 2008 contest will be April 5th, and that’s closer than you think. What I want to know is: Who’s gonna fill my boots? Is it you? Do you have something unique to offer? Is this a role in which you would shine? Are you even interested in being the next Mr San Francisco Leather? I can’t answer these questions for you…but I can share with you what to expect, based on my experience—
First: Accomplishment. Winning the title alone is admirable. Representing San Francisco at IML is in-fucking-credible! But, this high-profile position requires form, function, and fortitude on many levels. Diverse groups are going to seek your presence at their events, and you, alone, fill your calendar. Where might you be invited that you’ve never been before? Second: Networking. You’ll be blown away by the local, hell, national connections you’ll be making…not just in the “Leather Community”. This networking happens with great ease and frequency. Who will you meet during your year? Third: Platform. You get the power to be heard, the chance to actually put plans into action, and move forward with issues that are important to you. Lots of people will hear you. What do you have to say? Fourth: F.U.N. It’s a great ride! For a year, you enjoy a lifestyle that you will likely never duplicate. There is an absolute sense of “star-power” associated with this Title, and it’s not to be taking for granted. If you simply remain humble, it will be one of the greatest years of your life. How much fun can you handle?

As fun as it is, you should also know that a year as a Titleholder for, arguably, the sexiest city in America is not easy. It is in many ways challenging and all-consuming. However, I assure you, the pros will defeat the cons by a landslide. For me, being Mr SF Leather has been an emotional journey full of surprise, strength, growth, enlightenment, absolution, gratitude, camaraderie, and most of all, love. Being this “out” as a Leatherman has been like a second coming-out for me, much better than my first.

So, consider all these points before you ask this most pertinent question: Do you identify as a “Leatherman”? What does that mean, anyway? I, honestly, believe we’re re-defining that term daily. If you ask any number of people on the streets in this sex-positive city, you’ll get just as many answers. Even what defines a Leatherman aesthetically is wildly subjective. If I could release our society of its obsessive desire to label everyone and everything, I would. The Leather Community as we know it is really only about a half Century old…the shape of it is changing constantly. New fetishes are evolving as rapidly as new kinky websites are being created to enjoy them! Since this is a Leather Title, you should know most people believe a Leatherman to be someone who has a somewhat wider range of sexual interests than most. The term “kink” is, in many ways, the new label for Leathersex. But, above and beyond how we define what “Leathersex” is, being a true Leatherman is about being a free thinking individual, a genuine non-conformist. Leathermen don’t stand idly by and watch unjust actions, because they have ethics, morals, and values, and they aren’t afraid to use them. They garner attention towards passionate issues. By their very nature, they are non-conventional, unintentionally. They stir shit up. It is obviously hard to define, but seriously, how do you define a non-conformist if, by definition, it can not be defined? Suffice to say: just wearing cowhide does not a Leatherman make. Trust, Honor, and Respect are at the core of any true Leatherman. There was a time when Leatherman lived 24/7 with a specific dress code, adhered to strict forms of conduct, and only went to designated bars. These commendable behaviors were carried over from the regimented WWII days. Generally speaking and meaning no disrespect, that’s just not what Leather looks like today. The beauty is, whether you are one or not, is defined entirely by you. Actually, if you’re still reading this, maybe you are a Leatherman, hmm?

If you’re ready to give it a shot, this year’s final contest will have several feeder contests. Win one of those, and you’re in! Visit www.mrsanfranciscoleather.com for more info. Carlton insisted I plug the Mr Powerhouse Contest, President’s Day Weekend. Naturally, he’ll be there to water your hole. You don’t have to win a feeder contest, though. Who knows, maybe some former national sash queen will take you under their wing, and independently sponsor you into the contest. This shit happens, believe me! So now, one final question: Are you Mr San Francisco Leather 2008?

peace.love.happiness.travis.thanks.carlton

Sling It 49
By: Carlton Paul

Dear Santa,

Last year I threw a couple of wants out there and then was shocked to see I got everything that I asked for. You are obviously much better at the list thing than I am. I wanted to say thanks for the excellent loot. I love the Chrome bag, I use it everyday. Also, except for that one burn, the tens unit (electrical sex toy) is working out really well too.

So I’ll get to my point. I’ve been really good this year. I was really sweet to my co-workers, worked on my politeness and completely quit gossiping – mostly. In accordance with my stellar behavior, I just assumed you would be looking for a Christmas list.

1) A 2500 word essay on why the fuck The United States still has armed forces in Iraq, with a follow up thesis on how gasoline prices climbed higher than ever in spite of our victory.

2) An angry, juicy, plum seized hemorrhoid for Dick Cheney.

3) A womyn President.

4) A Democratic Senator with a back bone for the judicial committee, since Ms. Feinstein can’t seem to protect us from evangelical appointments.

5) A savior to rescue Halloween.

6) A Fleshlight (you know I’m not so into oral, so get the one that looks like a butt-hole, the “lips” one is just creepy to me.) This handheld masturbation tool is modeled after a flash light. Instead of the light and batteries though, this jewel offers a faux flesh orifice to get busy with. The fleshy rubber is warmed in hot water and then raped. “It’s not as good as your hand, but it is variety” explained Julian Marshburn. $62.99 @Rock Hard

7) A Rude Boy. Let me be clear here, not Ptyrone… I mean the C shaped lover that massages the scrotum and perineum while stimulating the prostate found also at Rock Hard for $79.99. I could really use a massage. The vibration bullet powering this hand on device is designed to scramble your imaginary eggs. Bon appetite

8) A Progasm. This male G spot stimulator is colored and bigger than last year’s model. I wore my old one down to a nub, so PLEASE! This exquisitely crafted ass pacifier is designed with the discerning top in mind. Our holes no longer need be ignored. Just self insert and then fuck your bitch. Fun is had by all. Prices vary @Rock Hard

9) A new movie to fall asleep to. Verboton- Hot House $59.99 this throw back to hard core S/M leather play is fucking Hot. Command Post- TitanMen.com $49.99 what a way to honor our troops; jerk off to their image before bed. Tall Dark and Latin- Raging Stallion Studios $49.99 I am going through something Latin right now, so delicious. Just one is enough, I don’t want to seem like a pig; surprise me!

10) World Peace and a sweet fuck hole for my buddy Bruce. He wants one and I want to show the world that I know it isn’t all about me. See- I can be unselfish!

Thanks for all you do Big Guy!

With much Antici…..PATION,

Carlton

Sling It 48
By Carlton Paul

Why is the “bad boy” so fucking delicious? San Francisco’s gay cruise scene is like a smorgasbord; offering every type of man, along with a plethora of boys and many gurls. For example, in my friend circle alone, we have featured: 1. strong, hilarious type, 2. helplessly married, 3. sarcastically witty with hopeful tattoos, 4. a Prince, 5/6. mostly ex-addicts who are real fun boys, 7. a gorgeously fertile fag hag known for muff diving, 8/9 two hot Latino Papis, 10. a country tator with tits and ass for days, 11/12. the bald couple and finally 13. an absent cave dweller. We couldn’t be more different in every way. We are bound though by two common threads; we love a good pun and crave bad boy soup.

I suppose I am thankful for this totally irrational desire to fawn over bad boys, for I too have been known to misbehave. But for the most part, I try to be a good man. I vote, I volunteer, I try not to speed, and I believe that society benefits if we all follow through on our word. Ok, enough BS. Here is my point. I try to be good, but when some dirty, rebellious provocateur leads me astray I feel like skipping to keep up.

On a beautiful autumn Saturday, I was frolicking at the beach with my two favorite boys- Duke (the toughest French bulldog in SF) and my sweetheart, “the deviant”, visiting for the holiday. He suggested we go to the woods (Clue number one that this is going to be a very good day).

My mind was thinking about the changing leaves and I seize on Muir Woods. Obviously, this is not what “Hotty Mc Fuckable Ass” had in mind. I wouldn’t realize this for a couple of tasty hours.

The drive was glorious except the dog’s gas. The sexual tension was so thick you could cut it in the air, but I just assumed it had to wait for the bed that evening. His Chilean nature was offended that we had to pay to get into a national park and he had found his reason to betray the rules.

The German tourists were everywhere. He found a trail leading away from the crowd. “We must always go up Carlton!” came his easy explanation. Off we went. Another trail, this time out of Muir Woods and into Mt. Tam Natl. Park. I’m all, “Babe, this trail leads off the map.” His mouthy retort slaps me across the face, “I thought you were a bad boy!” “That’s it, I’m gonna………..” I thought. And he had lead me not only astray but to his intention. He had known all along that I was going to get lucky.

A couple hundred yards and he unbuttoned his pants. I saw his ass creep into view. The rush that comes from sucking dick on a path with tourist everywhere is unbelievable. I could have been satisfied, but he spit on it and then turned around. Damn, REALLY. Yes, child, we fucked right there. I am here to testify, it feels good to be bad. As we sauntered back down the trail, we came upon two Japanese newlyweds headed for our tree.

To follow are the public cruise spots in the bay area: (in case you want to get your bad boy on.) Note: jail sucks, be careful out there.

1) Dolores Park – 24 hours a day
2) Buena Vista Park – Homeless to Circuit boys. Mostly late night
3) Collingwood Square – Be quiet, I live here.
4) Windmills – straight Asian men, hustlers, occasional hot Latino
5) Baker Beach – hot bodies, exhibitionist
6) Black Sands, Marin – Seasonal
7) Aquatic Park, Berkeley – college boys, old men
8) Rest Area @ 280 and Hillsboro, or Vallejo & Hwy 35 – Stanford boys, straight married men, and white trash.
9) San Leandro Marina – parking lot by the hotel at lunch time
10) Bathroom at the Airport – Terminal 3 by baggage claim. Senators welcome!
11) Bathrooms @ UC Berkeley - Glory holes scattered across campus

Direct S/M questions to: Carltonpaul@comcast.net

Sling It 47 - Nov. 16, 2007
By Carlton Paul

I recently had an epiphany: “Life is going by so fast and I stay in a hurry most days… I must make time for having my dick sucked properly.” This came to me one afternoon between errands. A cocksucker knocked on my door just after lunch and I didn’t need to be anywhere for a while so I decided, “what the fuck.”

Oral Sex has never been my favorite. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of it, and there are moments when it slips into my throat that I really enjoy. It’s just not the main course. When I stop to suck it, it is a courtesy stop on my way to the butt hole. After all there is fucking to be done. As for my cock, I enjoy tremendously the look of a head bobbing joyously around my nethers, but I still think of it as an appetizer.

You see, though, I am not one to swallow, and I believe this makes all the difference. My afternoon delight had every intention of swallowing when he started. His mind was aimed at the prize. After he had been sucking it an appropriate amount of time, my instinct was to adjust both of our positions so that the plowing could commence. When I moved it offended his nature. He shoved me back down into place and continued on his mission. It was starting to hit me. This blow job will be today’s meal.

My acceptance of the limited menu brought comfort. I stopped thinking about his butt, as a matter of a fact, I stopped thinking period. I made time for this beautiful mouth to be enough. His talent was extraordinary and soon I was shooting down his throat. This is one of the few times in my life that I blew from the efforts of a mouth. I really like it. One is able to zone out, there is very little effort required in just lying there. What a completely unselfish thing this beautiful cocksucker has shown me. Thank you to cocksuckers everywhere for caring enough to give pleasure the way you do!

I have ascertained that because it is not my intent to ever finish the job, I am unable to experience the sucking fully. While giving and receiving, I am in too big a hurry to get to the next phase to enjoy this one. This makes me wonder if my entire life is like this. Am I always looking ahead in anticipation of what is next, while right now passes by?

I am committed to changing my focus. Each day brings opportunities to relax and enjoy; to “BE” here now. We are offered the option of doing so or busying ourselves with the business of creating and organizing our futures. I stay so busy up in my head, “with a crazy crazy here, and a hurry hurry there, here a fuck, there a fuck, everywhere a fuck fuck.” It is time to stop; stop thinking, stop reacting, stop planning, stop manipulating, stop so that one of God’s army of cocksuckers can do his job.

In turn, I am committed to learning to suck it for sucking’s sake. It feels so good and I can be unselfish. I am to join the All Mighty’s regiment and suck. Lord today, I want to swallow. I told you, life changing.

Obviously, all of this focusing on oral sex made me think about the taste of my spouge. I haven’t sampled it since my youth. I did a bit of research into flavoring options and it seems that pineapple juice is the one thing that most experts can agree on as a sweetener. One pollee offered green olives as a cum confectioner as well, but she drinks you know. If you know of a food that affects the taste of our boys in hiding, let me know.

Happy Sucking, oh, and Happy Thanksgiving too! If you have an S/M question email me at carltonpaul@comcast.net.

Sling It 46
By Carlton Paul

What is in a “Punch”? The bartender in me immediately considers the recipe needed for such an iconic concoction. A “punch” delivered with sexual intrigue requires the same consideration. Said punch should convey, “Hey punk… I want to fuck you now.” It is meant to get his attention. Delivered with precision and deliberate aggressiveness, it communicates things that are very difficult to say, yet should be.

Recently I have become acquainted with a fetching lil’ Cabron. (A.K.A. Fucker). His Latin culture has provided a mixture of soft and passionate skin wrapped around a devious masculine gremlin. He suggested early on that his mother has always said he was her angel, but he corrects her, “NO Mom, I am bad. I like to be a rebel!” And so it is….

The first time he punched me in the chest, I felt in my loins. He was looking at me with that piercing stare. With the quickness of a rattlesnake strike and the precision of a surgeon, he grinned and sucker-punched my left pec. My endless gym routine had prepared me for just this moment. “Go ahead punk ass, give me what you’ve got” was the thought that ran through my head, but everything was said with our eyes. And so it began, we are able to play together.

His strike was meant in fun, and has been followed by many more. We allow each other the experience of masculine roughhousing and lighthearted sparring. Our intimate time is woven like a rug of aggression, passion, communication, and one-upmanship. I feel like a teenager.
Let us break it down a bit. Hitting out of anger is intolerable. But on the other hand, we are men, each with varying degrees of masculinity but at the core testosterone driven. We enjoy playing with our mates and our food. For this there is no reason to apologize.

Some of you think it is juvenile and asinine to punch your boyfriend in his well developed chest. We wouldn’t want you to break a nail. Okay, we get it. You’re all grown up. Good for you!

Others of you are afraid of what it will feel like, so you shy away from aggression the way you avoided gym class and half-court ball with the neighborhood kids. Had you been blessed with an asshole brother or two, like I, you would have experienced a beating and would know that you’d live to see another day. You, dear, are ruined; a soft piece of fruit. I don’t expect you to ever enjoy rough play with your honey. And that’s ok. We need knitters in the world too.

Honestly, though, my brothers used to kick my ass—one of them especially. I learned from these sessions of sibling rivalry the following lessons. (1) It doesn’t kill you. It might sting for a minute and your pride might ache, but you will live another day to manipulate your mother into reigning down terror on them. Revenge is oh so sweet and cathartic. (2) It will impress him if you stand your ground, and, oddly enough, our own self esteem enjoys taking aggression like a man. (3) Male posturing is about dominance. Sometimes this is mental, other times it’s physical. (4) At times I like dominating and at other times prefer to be dominated.

I use these four lessons every day. I guess I should say “thank you” to the bastards. I think I will. I’ll be sure to trip them going into church next time I am home. (You get points not only for creativity but for surprise.)

Now back to the point at hand—delivering a sexy punch. Here are some things to keep in mind:

(1) On a scale of 1-10, start at 6. Leave room to surprise and thrill your pig.
(2) Stay on muscle tissue and never punch the face. You can slap the head or face if you like but open hand only above the neck. (One exception being the donkey punch to the back of the head, used when fucking from behind and about to cum. This will come with a huge price. Have an exit strategy.)
(3) The point of this is to have some fun and put him in his place. Secure his hands or be willing to exchange licks.
(4) Don’t start something you can’t finish. If he hands you your ass, you probably have it coming.
(5) Once he is in his place, take what is yours. Imagine a lion holding his lioness down, biting her neck, growling, and daring her to move, all the while having his way. His love is selfish; it is the victory dance, pure unadulterated self-gratification. Hold him down so that he is a bit uncomfortable, so that he knows this is about your pleasure. Have it, he belongs to you.

If you have an s/m question, email me: Carltonpaul@comcast.net.