The year is 2001. I'm 23, and I've only been out for a short time. I'm here, I'm queer, we're all getting used to it. It was a turbulent time for me personally, three boyfriends down and still I've no idea what the hell I'm doing. Something isn't working. Somethings not quite right, and I can't put my finger on it. Finally free of the self-imposed prison of heterosexuality that I had put myself in since my teenage years, I could start truly being the person I should be. The worst part was that I wasn't. I wasn't confident, I wasn't sexy. I would look around for inspiration. I'd look at models in magazines, or actors in movies, trying to take aesthetic cues from them, but to no avail. I had an interesting look, but I remained in the shadows, forever the wallflower, not drawing attention to myself or, god forbid, my clumsiness.
One day, I was in Norwich city centre, walking around aimlessly, when a guy rode past on a sports bike. You know those moments in movies where it all slows down and all you hear is a heartbeat? That was this moment. I didn't have a clue what the bike was, but as he dismounted and stood there, helmet on, gloves on his hand, the one-piece leather tightly holding his body, I was in awe. Nothing would beat the look of this guy. He was almost Sci-Fi in his aesthetic. It was total anonymity, dehumanising, and I was loving it.
I stood in admiration from what I considered a safe distance. I drank in every feature. The calf-length boots, with clear plastic parts on the heels. In themselves the boots were armoured with plastic, making them look even less human than the way normal shoes would. The leathers were tucked into the boots, and the black leather looked amazing as the sun hit it perfectly. The material hugged his calves, legs, and his ass. His body was a slim build rather than muscular, but the leathers clung tightly to him, the armour in the suit making him look more powerful in his chest and shoulders than he ordinarily would have. He wore something over his neck, and the helmet was glossy black, with a dark visor stripping him of his identity, his humanity. In my mind he was no longer a man, but something more. He was more of an extension of the machine, looking for humans to submit to him. I wanted that to be me.
I'll always remember trying on bike gear for the first time and the transformation that occurred. I remember feeling the cool leather suit against my skin as it adjusted to my body temperature, and the shudder I experienced as the smell of the leather hit my nose for the first time. I sat down, pulling on the boots, the zipper making its usual noise. Next was the helmet. I pulled it onto my head with the visor open and looped the chinstrap around, fastening it in place. Finally, the gloves slid onto my hand, the leather covering my skin. I watched my fingers move inside their new leather skin, and after a few minutes of admiring them, I pulled the strap tight, keeping it in place. I stood up in front of the mirror and looked at myself, as my newly leathered fingers pulled the visor down until it snapped into place with a thunk. The first thing that hits you in a helmet is the fact that you can hear your own breathing. Some people might have thought of it as claustrophobic, but to me, it was like I was sealed in to my new skin, my new identity.
Looking at myself in the mirror once the gear was on, almost stopped my heart. Looking back at me through the glass was a black-visored being I've not seen before. I remember a slight disconnection, knowing what I saw in the mirror was me, but at the same time, it wasn't. This creature was powerful, anonymous and mysterious. Three words I could never associate with myself at any other time. I started to feel something in my gut, rising up inside as my confidence grew and the person in the mirror and I merged together. My headspace shifted into one of dominance. Staring at myself I ran the gloved hands over the helmet, and down over my chest, my stomach, my legs and back up again. This creature was everything I wasn't at the time. As the confidence grew, so did my need to control. Suddenly, in the space of a 10-minute change, I was like the men that I looked up to on sites like World Biker Men. Dominant, powerful, and incredible to look at.
From this experience, my fetishes have diversified from Biker gear, to include BLUF style leather, rubber, and SWAT gear. The guys I play with will either have their own gear, or will have gear that I lend to them, but the gear has to stay on throughout any kind of encounter I have. For me, it brings out the base desires in sex, the need to control and use, or to be controlled or be used (I do occasionally bottom although it's rather rare). Guys into gear will often have different wants or needs, ranging from collars and pup ownership, to water sports to being tied down and used. It seems that many people view bikers the same way that I do, and I'm really very ok with that!
Biker gear will always be my go-to because it introduced me to the world of fetish, and the idea of transforming (almost ascending) into something I'm not during the hum drum of everyday life is one that I still enjoy. The look of someone so human but dehumanised, something powerful but anonymous will always be something that gets me off, and hopefully my play partners too.
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