Large folks of every gender strutted jockstraps. Some, like me, wore almost nothing.Įvery body type was on display. Some were decked out in full-body leather (“full cow”). They spilled out the front and back entrances onto both porches, into the parking lot, down the sidewalk and around the block - men in various states of dress and undress. Most were gay men, but some femdoms (female dominants) were in attendance. Furry pecs were buckled down in black leather straps, asses were out, and every few minutes a man stood, coming up for air, before dropping back to his knees. Last Pride, the outdoor deck of my local leather bar was standing-room-only, a swaying mass of sweat and skin. They were taken mostly at the Seattle Eagle, but some are from leather and kink events, like the yearly IML in Chicago. Most of the photos in this gallery are by Matt Baume, a long time Advocate contributor. Here’s 35 rules of navigating a gay leather bar.

I never feared coming out - but kink scared me.įear coupled with desire leads us all here - eager, fresh-faced, and ready to learn. Learning leather bars was different from learning life outside the closet. Lessons came later: dos and don’ts, codes and courtesies, good nights and bad ones. He pulls my hand and I follow him through the throng. Then he pulled my hand under his kilt: a fully erect dick with a massive Prince Albert piercing jutting through the head. He held me, we swayed with the music as he rubbed my chest. He put his arm around me and shouted in my ear, “Where are you from?” On the dance floor, I inched close to a guy with salt-and-pepper hair who was wearing a leather kilt. A circle of men stood around him and I didn’t dare peek through. His gagging noises mixed with the music and talk. Someone was choking on a dick in the corner. Upstairs, things were different - a quiet dive bar, people milling around wooden tables. I couldn’t tell if they were dancing or fucking. In the room downstairs, a strobe flashed over mounds of muscle and harnesses.

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