Black Leather BDSM Camp, Part I: Reporting for Booty!

This past weekend I attended NCN Campground’s Black Leather BDSM All-Gay Male event.  Originally, I thought I would write a blog for each day, but, as it turns out, the event really doesn’t warrant that much blog space (instead I will try to sum it all up in three or four posts). 

The main problem?  The originators of the event, the original organizers, backed out two weeks previously after some kind of falling out with the campground’s owner. 

The campground’s owner, whom I will describe as prickly, indifferent, and, not-very-customer-oriented, claims it, was all about money and that the original organizers wanted to charge too much.  If that was the case, I really wish the campground owner would have allowed the market to decide if the originators were overpricing their event – because I would have been happy to pay the extra money, as long as the event, as advertised, actually took place.

Turns out the originators sent out emails stating that the event had been cancelled, causing a number of attendees to back out.  I never received those emails, even though I had booked way back in April.  If I had received those emails, at least I would have arrived eyes-wide-open.

The owner insisted that the event take place, mainly because cancelling would have resulted in a hole in his schedule of events and a weekend with little in the way of income.  The name of the event was altered slightly (I guess) and I arrived knowing nothing and expecting everything.

The whole backstory regarding the cancellation of the event is something I pulled together via gossip among those who chose to show up.   Needless to say, the weekend was not what I expected, and given that my expectations were low and rather vague to begin with, that is saying something. 

The NCN Campground is a clothing optional campground catering to the sexually free near Black River Falls, WI.  They have events most weekend during the summer months; some are couples and single females only, some are anything goes, and some are exclusively gay male.  Apparently ManCamp, which happened in August, turned out to be quite popular, with 150 dudes showing up and playing hard.  The weekend I attended topped out at about forty or so.  Out of that forty, maybe 8 were of reasonable age and shape.  Yeah, it was not good, but hey: work with what you’re given, am I right?

The campground itself was quite nice.  It has a restaurant, a bar with a ‘dungeon’ (more on that later), a man-made lake with a fountain, lots of little cabins, tons of camping spaces and a few trails.  I was impressed by how large it was and spent my afternoons wandering around the trails.  I look forward to possible future visits.

However, there were no leather-clad masters humiliating their fuck slaves in the deep of the woods.   In short, nothing like the photos that accompany this post.  There were a few ‘BDSM’ demonstrations – most involving this hetero tickle-specialist, his flogging wife and lesbian slave -  but nothing I would call gay, or all-male, or BDSM.   So, while the photos accompanying this article may give you an idea of what I expected, they do not, alas, bear any resemblance to my adventures at the NCN Campground. 

As for the all-male thing: the main flogger was a female (5’6”, big-boned, and not exactly ‘sexy’).  She was dressed in these homemade, shapeless shifts and looked exactly like their lesbian slave (sort of a lump of a woman).  When not busy flogging, the two sat side-by-side on their laptops looking like members of some bizarre Midwestern steno pool.  

The bartender was a female, too.  Her name is Arleen and she was just a delight; a smoky blonde with a quick smile and a knowing way about her.  I liked her right away.  She’s quick with a joke and quite kind. 

The little restaurant had a female cook.  The restraint’s menu is quite simple; basic breakfasts (eggs, hashbrowns, toast), burgers, fries – lots of oil. No one could possibly complain about the prices.  I enjoyed one breakfast and one dinner there.  Otherwise, I ate at my campsite; lots of fruit, granola, peanut butter, cheese, bread, orange juice, and fizzy water.

Then there were all the hetero couples who had campers parked at the campground.  I had the pleasure of taking a shower with one of the women (a little younger than my mother).   With the exception of the shower, the women all kept their clothes on, so I guess I should have been grateful, but their presence made some of the campers very uncomfortable (and me, a bit, at first, until I got over it – which I did quite quickly). 

Yes, I was a bit let down, but… did I have a good time?

I sure did.  Because I come from the school of: when you’ve looked forward to something for four months and that something disappoints, work with what you have and create some fun for yourself.  Otherwise, you are just a whiney bitch that used a couple days of your well-stocked bank of vacation time and a bit of your hard-earned cash so you can stand around, complain, and point out to others (who don’t want to hear it) everything that could have been done better and more to your liking. 

Instead, I opted to make it to my liking.  And I did.  I liked it.

Thursday, 2:00-8:00 pm

Arrived, set up camp.  Immediately met Terry; a little white-bearded elf with a sturdy body which is in great shape (for a man his age).  He wasted no time telling me that we could have sex right out in the open and it would be okay.  While I liked the idea of having that freedom, I could not picture it happening with Terry. 

Terry did a presentation on electro-stim.  I attended.  It was not electrifying and did little for the volunteer who had hoped for an electrically charged hard on.  But Terry is an electro-stim enthusiast, so he remained upbeat.  Throughout my stay, he would hit on me, wanting to give me an ‘erotic’ massage.  The third time he asked, I told him point blank that would not be happening, explaining that I have limited sexual mojo to work with and that I had to use it wisely, and that while his offer of a massage was sweet, it was not what I had in mind.  Terry understood.  He is a nice guy and attends many of the events at NCN. 

A few other early birds came over to my site as I’m setting up and introduce themselves.  They were all over the age of sixty and had protruding, portly bellies – not that there is anything wrong with that.  I was polite, cordial, and not interested.   The sole exception: Dick, a retired military man, who was in good shape, had a great nose, and was super chatty – did pique my interest.  However, when he made allusions to being in his early 50’s (ummm, more like mid 60’s) and mentioned that he frequently dropped by the local boot camp to lust after the new recruits (ick), I decided he was not someone I would be interested in bumping uglies with.  We remained friendly and he would drop by to chat every day, but there was an honesty/reality factor missing in the equation, so I knew nothing could ever happen between us.   The chemistry simply wasn’t there.

I did enjoy setting up camp.  I picked a spot in the shade (and it would remain in the shade for most of the day).  I loved my tent and blow up mattress – it was super comfortable.  I had electricity and purchased a load of firewood. 

Initially, I had issues with the whole nudity thing.  But midway through setting up camp, I began dropping my clothing, piece by piece.  Turns out I really like being nude in the outdoors.  I mean, I have been nude outside before, but there was always that ‘don’t get caught’ factor playing in the background and part of me thought maybe that’s what I got off on.  But, nope… turns out I just like being naked.  It was such a relief not to worry about cops.  The entire time I was at NCN, I kept pinching myself and reminding myself just how awesome it was. 

As I finished setting up, Bob, (5’11”, early 50’s, thin, pale, sweet, handsome, boyish face) showed up.  He plopped his stuff at the campsite next to mine and I thought, gee, things are looking up.  Bob was immediately besieged by the same ‘Welcome’ committee that had gone out of their way to greet me, though he was a little less gracious about it.  But then, Bob, as it turns out, tended to be a bit guarded most of the time. 

We hit it off great.  He was not into nudity, but was into watersports (receiving), wearing leather, and being a submissive bottom.  He was a bit disappointed to learn that I shared all those interests, and that was not all he was disappointed about.  He had a long list: there was the lack of attendance, the lack of quality men, the lack of leather clad men, the cost of admission, the hours of the restaurant, the attitude of the owner, etc.  I listened and concurred, but tried to look on the bright side.

He was the first to tell me about the behind-the-scenes drama regarding the original organizers.  After a bit, I got out my laptop and told him I had some work to do (sorting files) and he disappeared inside his tent to watch ‘Dexter’ on DVD.  This became his main activity.  Every time I wanted to suggest  doing something together, he would either be napping or watching ‘Dexter’.  I didn’t come to a nude campground to watch television, so would go do things on my own.   

Bob remained rather anti-social throughout his stay, never going out of his way to explore the campground or meet others.  He kept pointing out what a social butterfly I was - the irony was not lost on me.  For I could have so easily behaved exactly the way Bob was  and there was a time when I would have done exactly that, but that is part of me being such an inconsistent person – yep, sometimes I’m Eeyore, and sometimes I’m Winnie the Pooh.  So, there for the grace-go-I, and I more than understood what Bob was going through and while I encouraged him to participate more, I also knew that I was not responsible for his experience.

Eager to strut my stuff, after working on my laptop for an hour or so, I decided to take a hike and explore the campground.  I checked out the main bathrooms, the restaurant, and the building with the bar and ‘dungeon’.  Only the bathrooms were open.  The restaurant was supposed to open at five (it did not) and the bar was to open at eight (it did).   I took a walk around the lake, and then up the hill to the primitive campsites.  I found the group showers – in a pavilion where someone had also set up a sling complete with a small table with poppers on it.  The sling was festively decked out in rainbow flags and looked to be all set for some kind of public demo.  I would never get to see anyone use it.

Then I headed back to my campsite, where I worked on my laptop for another hour before deciding to take a nap.  The weather was beautiful (and this remained true throughout my four day stay), so I decided to lay down in my tent with the door open.  While the mattress was super comfortable and the temperature perfect, I was too jazzed by the possibilities the weekend before me held to drift off.  I did shut my eyes and relax.  I was laying on my stomach.  After about twenty minutes I felt someone reaching up between my legs and I jolted upright. 

It was one of the dudes who had stopped by earlier to say ‘hello’.  I was a bit bleary-brained and all I could manage was the word ‘NO’.  He was quite taken aback.  And then I did that thing where I get all embarrassed for standing up for myself and am afraid of hurting someone’s feelings.  In my nap-induced fog I begin to apologize and explain that I am only trying to take a nap.  I tried to keep it friendly and not shaming.  Fortunately he took the hint and left.  Once he did, I threw a sleeping bag over myself, even though it was too warm to do so.  Needless to say, I did not get much of a nap and this person and I: we remained rather estranged for the rest of my stay.

As evening approached I started a fire.  I also donned a pair of shorts.  While I had no problem walking around naked, for some reason I could not get into the idea of eating without clothes on.  For dinner I ate an organic avocado spread on organic tortilla chips, strawberries, a banana, and a can of plain tuna.   The tuna was important, because I was thinking of abstaining from drinking that night and popping a Viagra instead.  The protein in the tuna would help activate the Viagra.  You see, I had walked around and introduced myself to any of the campers who were out and about.  I didn’t see a top worth fucking in the whole bunch.  That meant I had to realign my way of thinking.  

Maybe I would be the top tonight.

Thursday, 8:00 pm – 1:00 am

The bass of the music began emanating from the bar at 8:00 pm.   I cajoled Bob into checking it out.  He told me to go do a little recon work first, so I did.  Still wearing my shorts, I casually walked in to look about.  That’s when I realized the bartender was a female.  No one was there, except the staff.  I was too intimidated to actually explore much, but I did get the lay of the land.  The building a long pole barn with giant garage doors that roll up, weather permitting. 

The first part is a horse-shoe shaped bar.  They serve beer (bottles/cans/on-tap) and sodas.  On the far side of the bar, there is a raised platform with a giant, mirrored four-poster bed, some kind of sex chair and a massage table. 

The second part consists of really nice booths with tables, and to the far side of that, another raised platform with a strippers pole, and on the other side of that, video game machines (just regular games, no sexy stuff). 

Third section is the dance floor and dee-jay booth.  They have a nice light show and the sound system is decent.

The fourth and final section of the building consists of four areas.  Behind the DJ booth is a St. Christopher’s cross and a massage table.  This is where Dr. Tickle and his female floggers do their stuff.  Here and on the raised stage behind this area is where all the demonstrations and flogging will take place.  Opposite the area with the cross lies another massage table, a fuck bench (which I thought was just a weird massage table), and a wooden stocks – like they used to put people in during the late 18^th century.  Behind that lies ‘The Dungeon’.

The Dungeon.  Hmmm.  It’s a hallway with pipe and curtains on either side of it.  Depending on your perspective it will either remind you of something you would see at a convention center or one of those Christian ‘House of Horrors’.  In each of the six cubicles there was a different ‘scene’.  Each cube has a small table on which there sits lube and condoms.

Scene 1 – a giant, leather massage table.    

Scene 2 – a padded aluminum fuck swing.

Scene 3 – a dog-bone shaped fuck chair with a kneeling area in front of it

Across the hall…

Scene 4 – a Velcro and nylon sex swing (that looks way too complicated to use and, hence, no one does)

Scene 5 – a glory hole box (with so many holes in it at every height)

Scene 6 – a couch and television where porn plays

It’s all very clean and well lit.  The pipes that serve as the entryways are so low I smack myself in the forehead entering and exiting throughout the weekend.  That is really my only complaint, other than… it’s not exactly what I think of when I think of a dungeon.   But, hey – make your own kind of music.  Put out or go home.

I go home.  For the time being.  I ran back to tell Bob what I saw and tell him to get his ass ready.  I figured, it’s worth a look.  I decided not to go nude – for some reason that would have felt too weird.  I also opted out of wearing what little leather I did have (a vest, my boots).  Instead I settled on a pair of clingy, navy blue short-shorts and my Rolling Stones t-shirt with the big lip and tongue logo – just in case anybody needed a little encouragement.  Sticking to my decision not to drink, I downed a Viagra.  This would prove to be a good choice.

Bob and I made our way to the bar.  He’s wearing a pair of leather shorts that his boy body failed to fill out correctly, and a white wife beater and boots.  Next to him, I looked like a clueless tourist.  But I figured it’s only Thursday night – I’ll bring out the big guns tomorrow night. 

Tonight?  There’s only one big gun I was interested in putting on display.

- End Part One