Page 55 - "Hey Guys, He's Wearing Deodorant! Let's Strip Him Down!"

What A Tough Crowd!

Ben (my armpit loving boyfriend) and I broke up after 8 years together.  Within a year I met Roger, a very slim, mild-mannered counselor at a prestigious, local university.  He was also 15 years older.

After a blissful month of dating, Rodger finally revealed a big secret to me,... he was into the gay, leather subculture scene.  Not only that, he preferred that in the bedroom I call him "Daddy" and he'd call me "Son".  Needless to say, it was a huge shock and a bit much to take in.  However, I really liked Rodger, plus he seemed to enjoy hot, armpit play so I was willing to at least give the leather life and "Daddy" thing a halfhearted try.

As part of my induction into his secret world Rodger decided to take me to a leather bar.  We'd had a few dates together at standard gay nightclubs, but because he feared running into his students at the local leather bar while dressed in his leather attire, we ending up going to one out of town instead.

Preparation for our overnight field trip was nerve racking.  Not only was finding the right outfit to wear stressful, but Rodger sat me down and went through the Dos and Don'ts of going to a leather club.  Besides avoiding pleather (fake leather), I was told, "Don't wear underwear to the bar.  If someone catches you they'll yell it out to the crowd and then a group of rowdy leathermen will have to strip you naked, right then and there in the bar."  But what scared me the most was when he informed me, "And don't wear cologne or even underarm deodorant."  Whaaaaat, no deodorant!!!???

The night of my leather debut I wore my first pair of black leather pants, which I borrowed from Rodger's closet, and a form fitting, black cotton tee.  I refused to wear a tank top, in case I started sweating.  Rodger wore his favorite leather garb: a pair of tight, black leather pants that left nothing to the imagination and a black leather vest with no shirt underneath, which revealed his well toned and tasty pits.

From the moment we entered the dark and crowed bar I was super nervous.  It felt awkward wearing no underwear in public.  But what stressed me out the most was that unbeknownst to my "Daddy" boyfriend I decided that I just couldn't go out in public without wearing deodorant.  No way, no how.  So before we left the hotel room I hurried into the bathroom, lifted my shirt and sneaked a couple of swipes of deodorant under each armpit.  

Needless to say, I could not relax.  All evening I kept thinking, what if someone smells my nervous sweat mixed with Degree Extra Dry Powder Scent?  I was so certain that I'd get caught. I imagined some stranger, pointing at me and yelling to the crowd, "Hey guys, he's wearing deodorant!  Let's strip him down!"

Well, I kept my arms down as much as possible that night and no leather clad mob stripped and shamed me.  The heightened masculinity of the crowd was intriguing, however I felt like a fish out of water the whole time.

As we drove back to our hotel room Rodger was beaming (like a proud papa) for we had just fulfilled a dream of his. Unfortunately I felt a bit sad, for I quietly sensed that my lack of enthusiasm for his leather fetish was sure be an major issue for us.  ---  Our days as a couple were numbered.



(Photos for the leather collage all found online.)

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