Broad daylight on Folsom Street. Two in the afternoon. Pinkish cocks everywhere. Hairy asses in leather thongs. Men in latex flog each other outside the bodega. Transvestites walk naked in five inch heels. A circle jerk of four men attempt to keep each other erect.
I stop in front of a blow up kiddie pool filled half way with piss. An old white man with a sagging chest is peeing in the face of a black guy wearing a leotard. He opens his mouth to drink it in. An Asian grandpa takes videos on his iPhone 15 and everyone circles around the kiddie pool to stare.
I feel comfortable here. The street is 85% gay men. There is an organization to this sexual chaos, and I can relax into it because I am not a desired object. There is something liberating about watching erotic madness and not being involved in it. I am so insignificant here I could be invisible. I feel more threatened in nightclubs just dancing than I do surrounded by naked men and group sex.
At nightclubs in SF, there's no open sex like on Folsom Street, but the predatory nature of man feels stronger there. I try to enjoy a drink on the dance floor and the red strobe lights lick my face, I feel the thumping of the bass in my heart. Then suddenly there’s a lingering hand on my hip. A moment later I feel a hard cock pressed to my ass. I cannot even see the man's face. He stands behind me as I dance and assumes each movement is for his use. I slap his hand and pull away. But another hand always comes.
Now, in San Francisco on this Sunday afternoon, there are hundreds of hard dicks everywhere. None of them reach for me. It is a freedom. I go to a vendor selling leather harnesses and whips. I run my hand over the firmness of the cow hide, its smooth cool texture. I feel at peace.
A punk strolls by, he's casually walking his boyfriend on a chain leash with a gag in his mouth. A nonbinary person’s naked back says in black marker “GROPE MY TITS”. I watch a stranger squeeze their hard nipples between meaty fingers, and whisper in their ear.
Getting pissed on. Dominating a lover like a domesticated dog. Getting groped by strangers for fun. All sexual craving is built upon some neuroses. It’s perfectly acceptable.
I have seen this activity in nightclubs of Berlin and orgies in the dark, but there is something so fantastic about seeing it acted out in broad daylight on public streets. There is no shame here. There is no force here. It is not a heterosexual nightclub in Manhattan, it's a LGBTQ street fair in Bernal Heights.
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