![]() ![]() The old friends greet each other with gentle nut tugs and rounds of “woof.” I smile, realizing my perceived victimization actually marked acceptance into an affable club: the International Bear Convergence (IBC), a joyous reunion of 3,000 oversized, hairy men and their male admirers, now in its sixth year. I reflexively turn to express my displeasure at being groped by the handsy Santa, but he’s moved on to a pair of identically dressed 60-somethings who erupt in high-pitch laughter as he approaches, belying their menacing appearance. “Woof,” he growls, pawing my crotch while ashing a thick cigar on the patio bar. I’m at the “ DILF ” party at The Barracks, the longest-running leather bar in Palm Springs, where a shirtless, rotund, gray-bearded man in a chest harness walks up and grunts in my ear.
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