27 cocks, 4 circle jerks, and a Human Urinal: The Almost Fabulous Intern goes to Folsom

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Because I simply can't stand virgins (something about their Winnie the Pooh pyjamas), I sent my leather virgin intern, the one and only Justin Juul, to the Folsom Street Fair to record his experiences. This is what I had to do to make Folsom shocking again -- at least to someone. He returned with a message of love. And maybe the clap. Read on ... --Marke B.

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Sorry Marke, I know I promised, but I just couldn’t do it. No matter how many beers I drank, I could not get comfortable with the idea of going out in public clad in my hastily thrown together leather costume. What would my poor mother think for God’s sake? And what would my marine-corps father do if he knew? Would he stop giving me money to finish school? Would he shun me for the rest of his days? With all these thoughts swirling in my paranoid little mind I came up with a logical alternative -a leather barbecue! I would still attend the day’s festivities, of course; I just wouldn’t be showing off all my skinny white boy stuff. What follows is an account of The Almost Fabulous Intern’s first leather festival.

The Barbecue
Aside from leather festivals, barbecues are the only American tradition worth getting excited about. Thus, on the day of the “granddaddy of all leather events,” my friends and I decided to mix the two traditions and have ourselves a good old fashioned leather barbecue. Well, that’s a bit of an overstatement. Due to my absolute inability to plan anything, my leather barbecue turned out to be a rather lonely affair, with me as the sole attendee. I put the veggie burgers on at 1:30pm and stood around outside in my stupid costume waiting for my girlfriend and her brother to finish getting dressed.

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The amazing leather vegetarian -- a modernday wonder

By the time they came to join me, the clock had almost finished ticking and it was nearly time to go. Thus my clever little barbecue idea became nothing more than a quick and uncomfortable lunch that differed from a normal lunch only because I insisted on prancing around in my underwear while serving burgers and drinking coronas. When the photo shoot was over we sat and ate in awkward silence, quickly cleaned up, and then departed for bigger and better things, praying that the experience wasn’t going to set the tone for the rest of the day. It was a rather anti-climactic event, but the pictures came out pretty good, no?

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Which one's the veggie burger, Justin?


The Wiener Count

Going off the number of boobies my girlfriend’s brother claimed to have seen at The Love Fest the day before, we started our journey with what seemed like a lofty goal -- 15 wieners. Within 10 minutes, however, it became obvious that this was an extremely lowball figure. I knew the parade had a raunchy reputation, but I simply was not ready for the cock parade that greeted me at Folsom. It was a veritable wiener smorgasbord. Big ones, little ones, ringed ones, pink, blue, hairy –you name it. There were so many dinks passing by it was hard to keep count, and by the time we reached the corner of Folsom and Dore it was all but impossible. There on the corner stood about fifty men grouped off in small circles. Naked men, young and old, casually stood and petted each others wieners while nosey tourists and bashful parade goers snapped off digital images to send to the boys back home. Cute stuff!

The Human Urinal
The only questionable act of deviance I saw at Folsom was carried out by the piss man. While looking for a place to smoke, my friends and I noticed a large gathering against a brick wall that faced the street. Being the short person that I am, I couldn’t quite see what was going so I nudged my way in as far as I could and held my digital camera high; pointing it down at whatever bizarre sex act was taking place below. I expected a blow job or some sex, but what I saw was far better. There on my camera’s tiny LCD screen sat a 45 year old man in a yellow Speedo thrusting his pelvis in the air as five or six fine young gentlemen doused him with urine. Soon after I snapped the photo, the crowd dissipated and the man stood up, drenched in pee-pee and smiling like it was Christmas morning. He leaned against the wall for a moment before casually strolling past me toward the beer tent to purchase an extra large cup of Miller Genuine Draft. I guess he needed something to wash down all that piss.

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In the language of flowers, yellow means devotion.

Nothing’s Shocking
On my way through the parade I saw boobies, butts, wieners, bizarre tongue machines, a girl getting whipped, and a bicycle-chair thing that would fuck you in the ass with a giant dildo if you dared pedal. The odd thing was –- none of it really left an impression. Perhaps the barbecue had set the tone for the day. Perhaps my years in Palm Springs, Los Angeles, and San Francisco had caused my once naive and fragile mind to become desensitized to things like group masturbation, public flagellation, and scary piss men. Maybe I just didn’t care anymore –- who knows? The way I see it, people are people, and if they want to play with their dicks in public -- or whip each other, or get pissed on -- they should be able to as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else (well, you know what I mean). I’m not saying we should all go have circle jerks in the park on sunny Sunday afternoons, but if we want to do it on dance floors or at leather parades, we should be able to goddamn it. That’s why I love San Francisco -- at least once during the course of every year there is a time when it’s ok to drink piss in front of strangers.

Comments

Excellent! would love to be that human urinal myself!

Posted by ToiletTimo on Jan. 21, 2009 @ 8:48 am

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