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SMUT STAND REPORT: June 28, 2015 (Bristol, UK)

That's a real customer's finger holding the microsmut in place! (And no, I don't know where his finger has been. But based on what he told me, I can guess...)

That's a real customer's finger holding the microsmut in place! (And no, I don't know where his finger has been. But based on what he told me, I can guess...)

WHEN: 2 hours (3:30-5:30pm), June 28, 2015. WHERE: In front of the Canteen, Stokes Croft, Bristol, UK. OUTPUT: one bit of S&M microsmut and two full-length pieces, including a slightly rough and very public outing to a sex party and a broad-daylight cock-sucking quickie in an alley.

I've been told on three separate occasions that I should move to Bristol when I attempt to semi-relocate my home base to the UK. Bristol is only three hours and one train transfer from Ludlow, where I'm staying for 3.5 weeks mid-tour, so when I had an off day to check the city out, up close and in person, I totally jumped on the chance. There were coffeehouse names and specific neighborhoods to look at, and OF COURSE I would take the Smut Stand with me! What better way to suss out the relative sex-positivity and creativity vibes of a neighborhood than by injecting it with the Sidewalk Smut, and then sitting back to watch the results?

I always look for certain things when setting up the stand—I've written about site-hunting before—but I still felt a little self-conscious while standing in front of the Canteen and scanning the main street in Stokes Croft (one of Bristol's more boho districts). I knew I had to just stand there and soak in the neighbourhood for a bit, but it was hard to get a handle on it. Two reliable informants had said, yeah, in front of the Canteen, that's the spot, but the cloudy sky looked a little menacing and there wasn't that much foot traffic and why the fuck had I dragged the whole set-up on a bus-and-train journey? Sometimes, I don't get a strong hit about a place; I just have to set up the stand and do it.

What hit me immediately about that location, once I set up, is that the passersby were all friendly, down to the last parents-with-pram and little old lady. One such white-haired woman stopped in front of the stand and carefully read the sign, then burst out laughing. Hi there, I said, smiling. Do you have any questions? "Oh, no," she said, "It's quite clear!" I briefly ran through the pitch, and she nodded her head and grinned even more widely. "Well, I don't need anything for myself at the moment, but I think it's a brilliant thing. Keep doing it!" There were no cautious 10-foot-radius trajectories, no scowling looks that I saw, just amused and/or interested smiles and general goodwill.

As for the pieces? They were diverse, too, which speaks well for a location, as far as I'm concerned. People of different orientations felt comfortable being there and speaking with me. One guy was enthusiastically pansexual in his sadistic desires, so when I was composing his microsmut I was as careful about the pronoun usage as I was about the exact placement of bondage rope to get his sex object's thighs wide enough apart to grab the cock hanging down between. The straight couple that wanted an exhibitionistic scene was a little more tentative in their kink; they had only been together two years, and a few of their interview answers brought about exchanges of surprised looks and "oh, REALLY" moments. The woman was extremely careful in placing the finished piece in the pages of a sturdy sketchpad. I suspect that bit of smut will be framed at some point soon.

And the gay guy, ha-HAAA! He was everything I want on a somewhat slow-paced shift at the stand: honest, slightly loud, thoughtful, and even willing to get up and demonstrate one of his favorite buttsex positions. The demo involved something with his feet braced against the wall behind us while he balanced on his hands. I applauded his acrobatic vigor, but mentally I immediately wrote off using that position in the piece. I couldn't even visualise what it was, exactly. I think… bottom is lying on their back with their legs up and over by their ears, while he is on top with his head aimed the other way, balancing on his tiptoes and hands while drilling the bottom? I think? I just wasn't sure. It seemed like a lot of effort. In the end (hee), I went for a quick daylight blow-job in which his cocksucker was choking on it, and that went down a treat (hee hee!).

After two hours of this, during which the sun came out and I got a little bit of a burn, I was ready to pack up. The staff of the Canteen had come out and investigated the stand earlier, so they were very keen to help store my stuff while I went out wandering. When I came back two hours later, I found that they were not being altruistic actually:  they wanted to grab me for some commissions when I came back. I already had a train ticket for the return to Ludlow, or I could have stayed and probably sold another three stories, just to the DJ and two bartenders. Alas, my friends, all things are ephemeral, and the Smut Stand more than most.

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