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No Kink At Pride Unless You’re My Best Friend’s Hot Dad Walter

Pride month is about inclusion and that means including everyone. Parades should be safe spaces for people of all gender expressions, sexual orientations, and ages to experience. Put simply, this is why I do not support kink at Pride events: It makes some people feel uncomfortable and unwelcome.

But if Walter–my childhood friend’s smoking hot dad I’ve had a crush on since 8th grade–told me that kink and fetish culture belongs at Pride, well, sorry, that’s another story.

Seeing burly bodies clad in just a harness, combat boots, and a jockstrap is absolutely inappropriate for a child. The image could really haunt them, taking hold in their developing brain for the rest of their life. Like when I was a teenager at a sleepover and saw Walter walk down the hall after a shower in just a towel, his chest hair dripping wet and every curve of his lower half illuminated under that thin layer of sopping cotton. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I can’t even look at white towels anymore without having to adjust my pants. Don’t show excessive skin at Pride!

Nor would I wish the torment of BDSM to be present at celebrations of our virtuous LGBTQ+ culture and history. Ball gags, bondage, and leather switches are literal methods of torture and that kind of thing has no place at Pride. Now, if Walter ever asked me to submit to his dominant will and refer to him exclusively as sir, that would be totally different. I’d let sir Walter flog me anywhere, with zero regard to our surroundings or onlookers. But that’s not the case, unfortunately, so no BDSM at Pride for anyone, period.

On that note, puppy play in public is nothing short of reprehensible. No one should be getting walked on a freaking leash while wearing a spiked dog collar and dog mask, panting on all fours in heat. It’s honestly embarrassing for everyone involved. But if Walter ever called me his pup and told me in his deep, booming voice to roll over like a good boy, I’d immediately oblige for my trainer. Doesn’t matter where: I’d let him rub my belly and spank my ass with a rolled-up newspaper in front of a full family of Mennonites right on Main Street.

Fuck that’d be hot. Yet alas, Walter probably doesn’t remember I exist, no matter how loud I would bark for him. So please, leave your puppy play at home this June!

In conclusion, the perverted pleasures of consenting adults exploring their greatest fantasies should not taint the wholesome festivities of Pride. But Walter, if you’re reading this, I beg you to give me a call. Ben told me your divorce is finally over and you haven’t dated in years. I’m all grown up now and know how to please you better than any straight woman could! You won’t regret it.