After my 960 fiasco, I went straight to the Kok Bar, as it is just a couple of blocks away and Treasure Island Media was throwing a party. You never know with these guys so if TIM's involved, I always make sure I'm clean and ready to go, like I said, you never can tell.
I've blogged about the KOK Bar before; it has a back space that's conducive to some naughtiness, but tonight it was partly screened off, which I took as a green light to follow your instincts.
A Bud Light. Some of the best music to be found in any bar South of Market. A good mix of guys. I ceded the front of the bar to the Silly Millys with their I-phones and their bullshit, and made for the back 'room.'
I got in a sexy mood as soon as porn reliable Jake Wetmore showed up wearing a shirt with biohazard pig on it. I got a bit of rise just seeing him, and then he took his shirt off and some guy went down on him, and I thought this might be fun...it was still kinda early.
Back at the bar, I said 'hi' and chatted with Damon Dogg, not telling him he ranked pretty high on my list of San Francisco cheap thrills. Driving past the Treasure Island Media corporate (smile) headquarters on 9th Street and catching Damon taking a smoke break on the sidewalk = cheap thrill. Seeing Damon on 9th St. schlepping shopping bags from the Bath & Beyond store down the block = cheap thrill. Seeing Damon in the smoking patio of the Mix Bar in the Castro, smoking and wearing a red sportjacket or was it a tuxedo (?) = cheap thrill. See what I mean? I didn't tell him any of this. Nice guy, for sure, and a guy who knows how to get the party started. For Folsom Saturday, Damon was dressed in that Air Force jumpsuit barely zippered to his navel (= cheap thrill!) and sauntered into the back room, and started going down on a guy and then it just went crazy from there: a gang of a dozen guys feeling each other up, sucking cock, laughing and swilling beer. Damon then got fucked by about 4 guys in quick succession, and then some of those guys gave up their asses, more sucking and fucking, the sexual heat was on the rise.
It was still kinda early.
Then porn studlet Tyler showed up, shirtless...tall, tan and with those trademark luscious lips, carrying a bunch of shopping bags.
Show me your cock, he said. I unzipped my jeans and pulled out my fat dick that was even moreplumped because I had tied it up for Jayson. That was good enough: Tyler gave me a shopping bag, a wonderful gift of dvd's (including the TIM latest, Up the Gut) among other stuff, including a notice for the TIM contra-Folsom party on Sunday.
Thanks, Paul Morris and Treasure Island. For keeping it hot. All the time.
Damon Dogg was nowhere to be seen, but no matter, because now it was Tyler who was fanning the flames.
More sucking, one guy after another going down on Tyler, and Tyler fucking a couple of guys...you gotta understand, it was a crowd, like a circuit party, in a corner of a bar on Folsom Street. Then Tyler fucked a preppy type in a striped Ralph Lauren shirt...nasty college frat boys getting barebacked in a Folsom St bar...nasty...that got me hard.
A black leatherman started patting me ass. Have I mentioned how black guys seem to find me? To get fucked in a bar would be a first for me. What could be better than a bar in SOMA? I turned around and went down on him, doing the best I could but he couldn't get it really hard. The sucking was nice, however.
Such is the 'beauty' of Folsom Weekend. What started out as an expression of the leather lifestyle has blossomed to including just about every fetish imaginable, but still with enough room for frat boys bending over and taking it raw in a quasi-leather bar.
Folsom Weekend 2011.
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