Monday Night
It'd been awhile since I'd been there, but I'd always remembered having a decent to good time on previous occassions, so I decided to head to the Bike Stop for Jockstrap Night. If you're ever in Philly, Jockstrap Night is Monday night. Been like that for a very long time at the Bike Stop. (So if you happen to be wearin a BIKE jockstrap---and you really can't beat the old all cotton BIKE #10 wheel jocks--then it is truly an earned moniker: BIKE Stop.)
Actually, I lie. This was the second time I'd ventured out for jockstrap night in the past couple a weeks. Before that I hadn't been there for a few years at least.
The crowd was pretty good. Pretty much as I'd remembered or expected. More than a couple of faces I remember from a few years back. Some new ones. A few notably new, or maybe notable and new, ones. [grin].
As might be expected, many were in jocks. More were not. As also might be expected, some of the ones that were in jocks you might prefer would have chosen to remain fully dressed. And a couple of the fully dressed ones were exactly the guys you go HOPING to see in a jockstrap. Why is that?
Was I in a jock? (logical question.) Yes. I love jockstraps. Love the feel of them. Love the look of them--love the look of them on me and on other men. Love the smell of them when they have been worn a bit. Love the....ok, more on this later, I'm getting off the mark here...
Back to what I was sayin. Was I wearing one? Yes. Did I check my clothes and hang on in just my jock? No. Though that is precisely what jockstrap night is intended to facilitate. And the fact that I am not quite there yet. Not quite able to just check my clothes, with my usual fuck-it, why not attitiude, and hang out communing with the other jock buds in the bar is what bothers me more than a bit.
It's odd. I'm not particulalrly modest. I have no problem being naked in the presence of other men, like at the gym or the like. Maybe it's that not everyone at jockstrap night participates. If everyone automatically stripped down to their jocks and checked their clothes at the door, I don't think it would bother me. I'd be right there, chillin and kickin back in just my jock too, in a heartbeat. But that's not how it is. And it's those casual voyeurs who throw me a bit. And make me hesitant to check MY clothes. The casual voyeurs are the one's who are there, not particularly even because they enjoy or appreciate jockstraps, but just to catch a glimpse of ass and a well filled pouch. (Not that there's anything wrong with either of those. Both are great. And I mean REALLY great.)
But still, that's not the reason I go. I go, honestly, to wear my jock in solidarity with other men who dig them and dig wearin them and seein them on other men. For now, it'll have to suffice that my waist band shows and that's enough to know I got mine on. One of these times, casual voyeurs or not, you'll find me standing at the bar in my jock wonderin where in the hell to put the change from the ten I gave the bartender, just like the rest of my strapped only compadres.
Anyway, that's what Monday night at the Bike Stop is, jockstrap night. If you're ever in the neighborhood. Drop by. In your jock. It's a good time. Usually.
Actually, I lie. This was the second time I'd ventured out for jockstrap night in the past couple a weeks. Before that I hadn't been there for a few years at least.
The crowd was pretty good. Pretty much as I'd remembered or expected. More than a couple of faces I remember from a few years back. Some new ones. A few notably new, or maybe notable and new, ones. [grin].
As might be expected, many were in jocks. More were not. As also might be expected, some of the ones that were in jocks you might prefer would have chosen to remain fully dressed. And a couple of the fully dressed ones were exactly the guys you go HOPING to see in a jockstrap. Why is that?
Was I in a jock? (logical question.) Yes. I love jockstraps. Love the feel of them. Love the look of them--love the look of them on me and on other men. Love the smell of them when they have been worn a bit. Love the....ok, more on this later, I'm getting off the mark here...
Back to what I was sayin. Was I wearing one? Yes. Did I check my clothes and hang on in just my jock? No. Though that is precisely what jockstrap night is intended to facilitate. And the fact that I am not quite there yet. Not quite able to just check my clothes, with my usual fuck-it, why not attitiude, and hang out communing with the other jock buds in the bar is what bothers me more than a bit.
It's odd. I'm not particulalrly modest. I have no problem being naked in the presence of other men, like at the gym or the like. Maybe it's that not everyone at jockstrap night participates. If everyone automatically stripped down to their jocks and checked their clothes at the door, I don't think it would bother me. I'd be right there, chillin and kickin back in just my jock too, in a heartbeat. But that's not how it is. And it's those casual voyeurs who throw me a bit. And make me hesitant to check MY clothes. The casual voyeurs are the one's who are there, not particularly even because they enjoy or appreciate jockstraps, but just to catch a glimpse of ass and a well filled pouch. (Not that there's anything wrong with either of those. Both are great. And I mean REALLY great.)
But still, that's not the reason I go. I go, honestly, to wear my jock in solidarity with other men who dig them and dig wearin them and seein them on other men. For now, it'll have to suffice that my waist band shows and that's enough to know I got mine on. One of these times, casual voyeurs or not, you'll find me standing at the bar in my jock wonderin where in the hell to put the change from the ten I gave the bartender, just like the rest of my strapped only compadres.
Anyway, that's what Monday night at the Bike Stop is, jockstrap night. If you're ever in the neighborhood. Drop by. In your jock. It's a good time. Usually.
posted by cranky at 4:10 PM
2 Comments:
I have a friend who is Australian. Terribly, jockstraps are not common in Oz. He used to beg me to send him crates of them. :)
I know a guy with a really big, sweet-looking cock and balls and pubes who rarely takes off his jock. He's primarily a bottom. That jock almost never comes off. He loves to be fucked in it. I've seen him naked (even caressed that magnificent cock of his, sucked it and jacked him off). Between his legs, he is one amazingly, stunningly handsome man! I mean -- perfect shape, color, size, knob, everything.
But that jock never comes off.
He told me once about a topman he'd been dying to bed. He finally got him. The top chewed his jock for an hour (which drove my friend WILD!!) and then buttfucked him doggie-style. My friend was in heaven -- until the top ripped the elastic on his jock and tore it off him. My friend was really angry at that, and stomped out!
His current lover has a fetish for guys wearing jocks, so they are like pieces of the same puzzle: Interlocking.
Well, all things are better in moderation right? LOL. I'm sure the stomping off part kinda ruined the moment (to say the least) and was that really necessary.
At least things work out in the end and maybe supports the notion there is someone for everybody.
C.
Post a Comment
<< Home