Lay on the Kink!
Three erotic fetish films for Folsom Fair weekend
by John F. Karr
Down on your knees!
In my unofficial capacity as this paper's purveyor of all things sexual, I order you to genuflect to the increasingly all-inclusive and flagrantly gaudy feast of fetish that is the Folsom Street Fair. With each year, the event demonstrates that this is a community that lives less and less in the shadows, allowing once-forbidden and nearly unknown sexualities to flourish in the light. Congratulations to the leather and associated communities for the expansion of sexuality they have heralded – a broadening that affects every one of us.
As my fetish choices are select and limited, I more frequently flagellate myself with fetish through film. That has recently meant several editions of Rough-branded films from TitanMen, which they label "Extreme Hardcore Fetish." Though based in S/M, they're more a smorgasbord of the full fetish menu, from the expected fisting, formidable toys, and plenteous piss (positive Niagaras of piss) into the more outre, with electro-play, sounding, saline injections, and, would you believe this for down-and-dirty, mud wrestling.
Paul Wilde is the films' director, and it's not a contradiction for him to deliver harsh action in refined movies. Such finesse is certainly in line with mainstream leather fashion, which reflects a very gay sort of populist taste, i.e., codpieces with the detailing of red piping, or matching jocks and socks in a spectrum of bright colors. The Rough titles are handsomely cast and adroitly filmed by steady cameras that frame the action well, in well-lit spaces. They are finely edited and complemented with suitable music (Orlando Moneyshot, Fledglyng and Animus present a masculine sort of dance music, heavy on the downbeat, while the jacked-up tempo of Discopup's dance music is a bit too methy for me). The Rough line doesn't fuss too much with sets. Your basic secluded, concrete-floored room will suffice, with perhaps some camouflage netting or the like to define the play space.
The most recent Rough title is Pissed and Probed. In its first scene, smooth Adam Herst is topped by hairy Collin Stone, making his porn debut. Rapturous kissing has Herst pissing his pants, the dark stain spreading from crotch to knee, where it breaks through the denim and cascades to the floor. The first thing you may notice about Stone is his huge basket. But he's wearing one of those molded leather codpieces. Though it's alluring, you know what architectural wonders those things can be. Inside could be diminutive returns or a crackerjack prize. Aha, with Stone it's the latter, a thick slab of meat atop bloated balls. Lots of piss play for this pair. Stone's dark black hair and beard look especially hot when wet.
Next, Tristan Phoenix doms Tibor Wolfe. Bound to a chair, Wolfe endures intense verbal abuse. Sure, being called a fag can be part of that. But what's the residual effect when internalized homophobia is reinforced? At any rate, Phoenix is scary-mean, putting Wolfe in a chokehold, pounding his chest, and throwing him a traditional fuck-n-suck which turns non-traditional with a solid fisting. Some artsy/fartsy film-school moments of black & white can't damp down this scene's heat. The movie ends with Kris Anderson topping Alessio Romero on a motorcycle. Anderson's a big dude with a whopper cock that looks swell sporting a thick rubber cockring – he needs one so big that if I put it round my head it'd still probably slide down past my nose. For his part, Alessio has his sizable tool choked up by a very broad Oxballs cockring. Looks good. You know I'm mad for fetish wear, but I just can't get these hard-to-stretch numbers on by myself. Which perhaps explains the turnover in "personal assistants" I employ, whom the IRS would rather I didn't deduct as business expenses. Whatever. The two men are aggressive deepthroaters when swapping blowjobs – Romero showing special accomplishment when downing Anderson's big one – and Anderson's an aggressive fucker.
The movie Loud and Nasty has many a taunt. Leo Forte fists Race Cooper before hammering two amazingly big dildos up his ass. I'm not sure that I'd realized before this how commodious Cooper's ass was. And yowling hot thing Jessie Colter is tied to a St. Anthony's cross and flogged by Brad Kalvo, who is hairy and handsome in classic Marlboro Man fashion. Piss may not have herbs in it, but I've always found it a revivifying tisane. So I got a real kick outta Kalvo when he lies beneath Colter, points Colter's dick at his mouth, and mainlines Colter's heavy piss-stream right in there. And if I'm bored by flogging, I thought the sight of Colter's cute little buns thrust up and out to receive the lash sure was sweet. Used to be, filmmakers had to find specialists for this kind of thing; nowadays, every leatherman is conversant. But I wondered. Does Colter like to get flogged in real life? I doubt it. I'm sure he's flogging4pay.
The keeper scene of Loud and Nasty is the electro-play Dirk Caber delivers with sure expertise to Jesse Jackman. I'm a big Caber fan; I love how he delivers sadism with a knowing smile. He always seems open to his partners, bringing intimacy to his scenes. That's magnified here, as he's performing with his "real-life" boyfriend. Caber looks particularly hot, always hard in poke-through leather jock and cockring. The scene culminates in swell flip-fucking, but that can't top their electro-flipping. Caber's a real pro with a violet wand, leaving no inch of Jackman un-electrified. Especially a nipple – what screams that elicits! I was especially intrigued with a device that Caber holds in his hand, making his body the electrical conduit. His own fingertips convey the shock wherever they touch. A strand of pre-cum that stretches from Caber's piss-slit to Jackman's vibrates with the electric charge it carries, and when their cockheads touch – well, yow.
The final movie I'll report on is Fight, Fuck and Fist . The "fist" part would be always-superlative lover Alan Silver, pulling a piggy-sized Oxballs "Oink" buttplug outta Tibor Wolfe to insert a hand that explores slow and deep. An added thrill is the double-wide Oxballs ball-stretcher that has Wolfe's nutsack swollen tight, shiny purple. The "fight" is a sparring match between Spencer Reed and inked-up, purple-Mohawked punk Draven Torres. This kid's so hot. I wouldn't know it their bout is realistic, and besides, I was dickstracted by glimpsing Reed's big bone inside his Lycra wrestling briefs. The "fuck" part of the movie's title comes in a mud-wrestling sequence that's certainly novel, as well as surprisingly erotic. Pitted together are Shay Michaels and Hunter Marx, both of them considerable woofs in my book. Marx is a devotee of the art, with a wrestling pit in his backyard. The slippery mud they're covered in is white, and very defining of body contours. Although during rimming and such, I can't imagine how it tastes.