Friday, July 18, 2008

Both sides, now!

Side A: "Hurt"
A week or so ago, I had a session with RHF, who I am renaming Hephaestus. After he caned me for my first time, a while back, I realized that there was a Place I wasn't quite getting to, a Place of catharsis and tears. A Place of release and cleansing. I was teetering on the edge of this Place when he caned me. When we talked about plans for last week's session, I decided that I wanted to fall over that edge. We agreed on a rough session, an "endurance" session, not so much about pleasure as about me allowing my limits on pain to be pushed, me taking what he gave.
I was already emotionally shaky, that day. There was a lot going on, and Apollo and I had been Talking quite a bit. I wondered if this was something I should be doing when I was already in an iffy place emotionally...but decided that the catharsis might be just what I needed. Hephaestus got me up on the cross, and he began. I can't remember the order. I can't remember everything he used on me. Nipple clamps were first, I remember. I was not crying yet. I remember the fierce little rubber flogger, so ticklish on my breasts and so unendurable on my back. He had me beg him to use something else. I begged him for the black thuddy flogger, begged him for that satisfying impact, that sure trip out to Liminal Space, out to Zen Pain Space, out of this blinding pain. My nose was running, and my eyes dripping. I was weeping as he continued to use that demonic little instrument on me. He eventually granted my request, and brought the black, thuddy flogger back out. For a moment, it was better. For a moment, it was ok. But, oh, my back was already so worn, so laced with pain, that even that became agony. There was the paddle. There were other, harsher floggers. There were more tears.
Then there was the moment when he told me to come, and I had to choke out, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't think I can." And I cried harder, for the realization. Me, not be able to come? It was unthinkable. But it was true. There was too much pain, too much turmoil, too much wild grief for my body to consider giving itself pleasure. I remember that I expected to be punished, though I didn't find it very fair, but he only went back to hitting me, with whatever he was using at the time. The last thing I remember was his braided flogger (I think it's a cat...I'm not certain) striking me...and suddenly, it really was too much. Too much crying, too much pain, too much emotion at once. I flashed my hands at him, our agreed-upon signal for STOP. He asked me, "I was going to end with three strokes of the cane. Can you do that?" What the hell, I thought, three with the cane. Can't make it any worse than it is already. Three biting strokes on my back, wrapping to leave raised lines on my arms, and it was over. I wanted to cry more, but it was over, so I didn't. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and laid on his bed, recovering. I was numb, but dangerously close to both laughter and tears. I left, eventually, and went home.
That night, Apollo wanted to have sex. I had been listening to my body, waiting for myself to click back into Normal Functioning Modes, wherein I am very present in my body, very desiring, and quite willing...but I wasn't there. The idea of sex was almost repugnant. Pleasure? In this body? This same space where all of That Pain happened? No, I did not want to be present in my body. It was a Bad Place, a place of endurance, a place of pain and tears, a place that had stopped functioning as I expected it to function. I couldn't. There are some Moods that can be pushed aside in deference to a partner's desire - headaches, tiredness, and the like. This was not one of those. I simply couldn't find it in myself to be touched. I had to tell him no. And tell him why. And that was hard, because it has been my goal to see to it that what I do with others doesn't affect our sex life (negatively, that is), and here it was, doing just that.
Now, a week and a substantial amount of processing later, I'm pretty ok with the fact that I'm not ready for that. That sort of play is more than I can handle right now -and that's alright. That's proper for me right now. But I do feel a little weak. A little failed. It was just pain, right? I should be able to take pain, right? It's not like it was humiliation or degradation play. It was just pain. But it was too much pain. And I Do Not Like how it made me feel afterwards, how I related to my body afterwards.

Side B: "Everything's Alright"

That night, I had a movie date with the Magician, the Cloaked Norseman, and CN's wife to watch Hellboy, in anticip......ation of the second one coming out. I went, expecting that we'd watch the movie, and for once, the Magician and I would essentially keep our hands off of each other, as I was so out of my body, so unwilling and unable to feel sensual pleasure. I was off. I knew it. I rubbed the Magician's back, played with his hair - usual movie-watching activities. But I felt closed-off. Cut off. As the movie progressed, this faded a bit. I faded, my issues and aches faded, into Story, into the images and characters. Still cut off, but time and Story were doing their work, helping me away from the pain.
The movie ended and CN and his wife left. The Magician led me back to his room, as was rather usual, as I tried to form the words to tell him that No, I can't connect like this tonight. In his embrace, I managed to whisper that I was feeling Off. Not Right. He asked why, and I shared that I'd had a bad session. That it was more than I could process properly. That the place right in the center of my solar plexus was in knots, and I wasn't connected to my body, and could he please just hold me and not expect more. This last part came as a shock. I realized that I felt safe. I was far enough away, in time and in mindset, from the experience that touch was healing, rather than oppressive.
He was so patient with me. His hands on my body, tracing my curves, avoiding overtly sexual touch. Brushing away the pain, the need to hold tight, the need to endure. Whispering in my ear that I am safe. Comfortable. Loved. It felt like a sacrament. It felt like a benediction. Slowly, wonderfully, he helped me settle back into my body, helped me feel it as safe, as sexual, as sacred again. I felt myself shine again.
The next day, he told me in an email that he'd thought of lyrics for me, which he should have sung last night, but were better late than never:
"Try not to get worried,
Try not to turn onto
Problems that upset you,
Oh, don't you know
Everything's alright,
Yes, everything's fine.
And [I] want you to sleep well tonight." - "Everything's Alright," Jesus Christ Superstar
Oh, perfect. A song of healing and anointing, of soothing the wounded spirit. Myrrh to my soul.

Bonus Track: "Love Me Two Times"

The Magician and I have progressed to having intercourse. This is a bit of a big deal. Right now, intercourse carries more weight than some other sexual acts. It carries more risks, and thus requires more caution and care. It is, for Apollo, a slightly more thorny issue as his emotions go. For these reasons, I will not ask about having intercourse with a partner unless I want it so badly that I cannot see straight. Otherwise, I'm perfectly content with less risky, less emotionally loaded acts. I'm easily pleased, I love skin, and I come easily. It's not difficult for me to be quite satisfied with something waay short of full-on penis-in-vagina fucking. But, sometimes, I want it. I do. And when I want it, I Really Want it. I want it because I'm comfortable. Because I'm safe. Because I find the other person incredibly hot and/or compelling. Once I want it this much, I'll talk to Apollo about it. It's not worth bringing up otherwise. Really, why push his comfort zone if it's not something I Really Want? That just doesn't make good sense.
So I asked. And we talked about it, and Apollo agreed. And, friends and readers, sex is a good, good thing. Sex is so unique. Sex is inescapably different with every different partner. Different angles and positions suddenly come into their own with the Magician, while some that I adore with Apollo take a back seat. Different internal spots emerge, trumpeting their own glory. Different sounds, different glances, different words whispered. I am astounded by the brilliance of the differences.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Musings on Kink, Power, and Accoutrements

Today, I went over to RHF's place. And hit his girlfriend, Columbia, with various floggers and paddles - which was excellent practice. She's a lovely bottom - more responsive than the Cloaked Norseman. Then, after my arm was tired, and RHF had cooled her down with judiciously applied ice, I bit her. Hot damn. I am hesitant and very much still finding my way with regard to impact play, when I'm on the giving/topping end. But when it come to biting and hair-pulling, that I can do, confidently and joyfully, given an enthusiastic subject. And Columbia was quite enthusiastic. I learned, in college, that there are several boys who melt into a little puddle when you firmly grasp the hair at the nape of their neck. I learned that these same boys tend to make very pretty noises when you sink your teeth into their shoulders. Oh, I love that. I love the rush, knowing I'm awakening those pretty, pain-filled pleasures in them. I looked at Columbia, nekkid on the cross, and relished the thought of those shoulders, bare to do with what I pleased. I wrapped my hand in her jet hair, and pulled, tight and firm. I bit into the top of her shoulder, above her collarbone, wide and hard. And I felt the protectiveness well up in me, the caring. The profound knowledge that I have responsibility for this creature, that she's trusting me to hurt her, to push her, and to bring her through safely. I stared in wonder at her hair, the curves of her back and ass, open to me. When I top, that's what I want to feel. That wonder, at the gift I'm given. That enthusiasm for giving sensation. The profound satisfaction in the care and safety I provide.
I am, I believe, still primarily a bottom. But it was interesting to find what triggers the top in me, what pushes me to lose myself in action rather than reaction. And to observe how I top, what my goals and feelings about it are. Mm.
After I left Columbia and RHF's place, Apollo and I went to meet Church Goth Boy, hereafter Eldil, and his wife, hereafter Pomona, for dinner and gaming. Pizza, wine, ice cream and Munchkin made for a lovely night...then Eldil took me to his room (not like that you perverse people) to see the flogger he offered to loan to me (he found out, over lunch one day, that I was kinky and eager to learn to perform the skills I enjoy receiving). It's pretty. It's purple, and not too light, not too harsh. Not quite as spongy and thuddy as I'd like - but it'll do very well for a practice flogger.
Then he asked me, "How do you feel about collars?" "Um, well, I've only worn one once, for a very short time, when I was at my friend's house and she was showing me, very informally, all her tools...but they're something I'd like to explore..." Next thing I know, he's pulling a very plain black leather collar out of the closet, and telling me to turn around and lift my hair. As he fastens the collar and locks it, I feel the weight of subspace start to descend. Eldil is not a playmate. Since, to my knowledge, he is not poly, he will never be a playmate. As such, I should probably not let him put a collar on me again, even so informally. The weight descended, and my latent attraction to him rose. He commented on the fact that it fit me perfectly, where it's not quite right for Pomona, and proceeded to remark that I now had something new to wear to the upcoming fetish event.
", I don't want to appear as though I'm actually collared," I said. Really...I don't want to look as though I'm off-limits - that might spoil potential fun! "Well, you could turn the collar around so that the D-ring is out of sight, or you could attach a chain to the D-ring, then attach it to your own wrist, showing that you own yourself." My immediate reaction to this was, "That's what a fluffy sub would do! Someone who just wants to wear the pretties, not walk the walk that goes with them." But I've been thinking. I really like the idea, at this point in my exploration, of the collar, of my collar being first and foremost about my sovereignty over myself. My right to say where and how and to whom I give myself (of course, this is tied, at a higher level, to spirituality, with my first binding and commitment being to Deity - and I give myself in accordance with Her wishes for me). When I put it on myself, I am signaling that I am in control. When I permit someone else to put my collar on me (if I permit it - I have not yet decided), I have given that control willingly into their hands for a fixed time, a scene. I am not ready to commit my collar into the control of any one person, any one lover. Granted, once offered, any lover to whom it is offered will have the option to use it or not, as they see fit...but they are not the sole owners/users of my collar.
I feel, on some level, that I'm misusing the symbol that is the collar by making it about my own control and sovereignty (under Deity, of course). This, though, stems more from my fear of public opinion and what others will think about "that sub who owns herself" or "that sub who carries the key to her own collar" than about any personal objections. Hm. I'd appreciate thoughts on this.
On the note of personal sovereignty, a word about the Magician. In the midst of my kinky exploration, there is RHF and my Lovely Long Distance Friend/Mentor who are very much helping me explore what my submissive side is all about, helping me feel out my boundaries for giving up control, and helping me relish the sensation of surrender. By contrast, the Magician doesn't play power games. They don't interest or amuse him. He is all about sensation, and, more relevantly, about asking for what you want. In that sense, he is all about personal sovereignty and owning your own desires. And while it might be strange that I care so much for such diametrically opposed relationships, I care for them precisely because they are so different. They are causing me to grow in equally important, wonderful ways. RHF and My Mentor push me to learn about endurance, about giving up control, about taking what I'm given, and serving another's pleasure. The Magician pushes me to name my own desire, to search myself and ask boldly for what I want. He pushes me to find my voice, so often silenced in arousal, to give words to the longings in my heart and cunt. I am so very grateful to have this sort of balance in my life, in my exploration.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Lyric meme....

Because I like these things, and thus do them on a semi-regular basis.

Answer each with a song lyric:

How has your day been?
"Hot town, summer in the city. Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty." - Lovin' Spoonful, "Summer in the City"

What's the status on your love life?
"Sisters, lovers, some of you must know about water brothers. And in time, maybe others." - CSNY, "Triad"

Have anything to say about your exes?
"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful beautiful. Beautiful boy[s]." - John Lennon, "Beautiful Boy"
"Don't forget what I told you; don't come around; I got my own hell to raise" - Fiona Apple, "Sleep to Dream"

Have a crush on anybody?
"Try to understand - try, try, try to understand - he's a magic man. Ahh, he's got magic hands." - Heart, "Magic Man"
"Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more. It's you I've waited my life to see." - Jeff Buckley, "Mojo Pin"

Do you drink?
"Pour me a glass of wine - talk deep into the night" - Over the Rhine, "Drunkard's Prayer"

What's your attitude like today?
"Everything under the Sun is in tune" - Pink Floyd, "Brain Damage/Eclipse"

Your idea of a fun time?
"I'm feeling devious/You're looking glamorous./ Let's get mischievous/and polyamorous/Wine and women and wonderful vices/Welcome to the cult of Dionysus" - The Orion Experience, "Cult of Dionysus"

Do you like your parents?
"Oh, my mama loves me. She loves me. She get down on her knees and hug me, oh she loves me like a rock. She rocked me like the Rock of Ages." - Paul Simon, "Loves Me Like a Rock"
"Sometimes I wanna rip out your throat, Daddy. For all those things you said that were mean. I'm gonna make you just as vulnerable as I was Daddy." - Jewel, "Daddy"

Morning or night person?
"My girl, my girl, don't lie to me - tell me where did you sleep last night?" - Leadbelly (via Nirvana), "Where Did You Sleep Last Night?"

Has anyone wronged you in the past?
"It always seems to me, sorry seems to be the hardest word" - Elton John, "Sorry Seems To Be the Hardest Word"

How old are you?
"Maybe she's 19 going on 30. Or maybe she's really 30 now, it's hard to say. Hard to keep up with time once it's on its way." - Ani Difranco, "Tambuitza Lingua"

Do you believe in God?
"Oh bless the Lord my soul. His Grace to thee proclaim. And all that is within me join to bless His holy Name." - Godspell, "Bless the Lord"
"Sancta Sophia, peace is born to thy victory. Athena Sophia, Thy will be done." - Cruxshadows, "Sophia"
"Remember the truth that once was spoken: To Love another person is to see the face of God!" - Les Miserables, "Finale"

Do you like to dress nice when you go out?
"Yes, I wore a slinky red thing - does that mean that I should spread?" - Tori Amos, "Me and a Gun"

Do you have any siblings?
"The papa said, 'Oy, if I get that boy, I'm gonna stick him in the house of detention'" - Simon and Garfunkle, "Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard"
"The years spin by and now the boy is twenty. Though his dreams have lost some grandeur in coming true, there'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams, in plenty before the last revolving year is through." - Joni Mitchell, "The Circle Game"

Have you ever done drugs?
"Go ask Alice - I think she'll know" - Jefferson Airplane, "White Rabbit"

Are you a virgin?
"I can scream as loud as your last one, but I can't claim innocence." - Tori Amos, "Leather"

Do you have any secrets you want to tell now?
"Don't ask her for the water, cause you'll sink like a ship." - Ryan Adams, "Don't Ask for the Water"
"She is benediction. She is the addicted to thee. She is the root connection and she is connecting with he." - Patti Smith, "Dancing Barefoot"

Monday, June 2, 2008

In Which Joy Goes To A Party

So, I'm not fortunate enough to live in/around NYC, where sex parties are sort-of normal. Where people like Jefferson and Adam have Those Parties on a semi-regular basis. However, there is, in my local community, a couple who throws one of Those Parties (tm) every so often - every three to six months, depending. And they had one on Saturday.
Originally, when I heard about this (from the husband, hereafter Hedonist), I thought "Wow! That's a great opportunity to get Apollo out into this community...let him at least see some of what I've been enjoying." Because, as Hedonist explained to me, the parties are low pressure, high on consent. No one will be pressured to "participate" at all, much less to do anything beyond their comfort zone. And, unlike Jefferson and Adam's parties, He and Shedonist's parties are really Parties At Which Sex And BDSM Happen rather than Sex And BDSM Parties. Granted, most folks there are there for the sex-and-bdsm factor, to one degree or another...but you could also keep your clothes on all night and just stand around the bonfire talking. Of course, you might be talking to a naked girl...but you could just talk. So, I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to allow Apollo some exposure to the kink/non-monogamous community. We'd go together, observe, talk, and not play unless we both agreed to. It would be wonderful.
Too bad Apollo's job had him working this weekend. Fuck. Working both Saturday and Sunday, even, so no chance of even going for a bit, early on. Curses. And I had really been looking forward to it. He and Shedonist are wonderful people and hosts, so any chance to go to their lovely abode and partake of their hospitality was an opportunity I wanted to take. Especially as the Magician had offered to go with me, and my friend Ceres had urged me to go with her.
So I asked. Making it very clear that, since we had been thinking of this as an "us" event - something to give Apollo a chance to get integrated into What It Is I Am Doing - that I would absolutely Not Go if he had any objections. But he didn't. Granted, he wished he could go - but saw no reason for this to hold me back. So I went.
It was, according to all outside opinions, pretty tame as Those Parties (tm) go. There was no fucking on the coffee table, or around the bonfire (though, I'm sure the upstairs beds and couches saw some play). There was no blood drawn in the BDSM room. But, damn, it was a good time. As soon as the BDSM room was set up - the cross for impact play and the bench so the Magician could use his violet wand - I got a Crash Course In Topping, with Hedonist as the instructor and the Cloaked Norseman as my bottom. The last time I had been at He and Shedonist's abode, CN had informed me, in a voice that brooked no dispute, that at some point I needed to whip him. He evidently has a thing for being people's First Time Topping experiment. So I went through the gamut of instruments - the rubber flogger, to the deerskin, to the slapper, to the crop - and back to the deerskin, finishing with the bullhide flogger. It was fun. Not as fun as being hit with those things, but it was fun. I think I would have preferred fewer spectators for my first time topping - but so it goes. I wasn't aware that I had the ability to kindly request that they get the hell out of the room during my scene - but now I know. CN was very patient with me, giving his preferences when asked and letting me know how I was doing. I found the deerhide flogger to be very heavy - it has a helluva handle on it - and the weight combined with the length of it made it very difficult for me to control. Which resulted in quite a bit of wraparound. But, as first times go, it was fairly good, with only the requisite bit of Awkward.
After that, CN and I cuddled and bit (well, he bit me) while the Magician finished tormenting his first victim of the evening - a lovely, slender girl who seemed like she could come from the electricity alone. When she finally left the bench, the Magician asked if I'd like to take my turn on the cross. But of course! I stripped out of my shirt and bra, and mounted the cross, sliding my hands into the fantastic cuffs. He began with his rabbit skin flogger, which I'd never experienced before. Oh, it was delicious. I was a bit amazed at the satisfying amount of force - not pain, but force - which it can deliver. When he switched to the deerskin, I had been hovering on the edge - but now I flew. Off, off into the land of Liminality, of Incoherence. Oh, the steady beating on my back, the rhythm giving the pain a trance-like quality. The occasional, much sharper blows, disrupting, while at the same time deepening, that liminal state. I opened my eyes, once, to see a face below mine. The Goddamn Gorgeous Asian Man that I met at the fetish night was present at the party. I had seen him downstairs, talked a bit - he remembered me - and had observed me topping CN. He was standing, looking at me with a slight grin. I believe he observed that I like being hit much more than I like hitting, and I think I nodded. I don't know. Then, his face was replaced by CN's. CN thrust his hand into my hair, pulling firmly, and asked if I was enjoying myself. "Yes," I said, "very very much." "Very very much?" CN queried. "Yes. Very very much," I repeated. "Good," he said. Their faces. In that state, seeing their faces while being transported by the pain and the rhythm...was shockingly powerful. The intimidating beauty and strangeness (as I don't really know him at all) of the GGAM sent me reeling, spinning with mingled delight and confusion. The bearded face of CN, framed by his looong, soft locks made my breath catch, and his voice sent me further, further Out There into the stratosphere. I want him, very badly. The predatory look in his eyes right before he bites me - oh, it makes me tremble. And the force of that desire combined with the flogging to put me Right Out of normal modes of functioning. When I finally came down off the cross, the Magician cuddled and helped me ground down (a bit, at least. Enough to function. :P ). And it was sweetly lovely to come down into his arms - a safe, stable place, still filled with desire.
The rest of the night was a melange of people and experiences. There were continual bites from CN, kisses and hair-pulling from the Magician, good coffee, and roasted marshmallows. There were cool girls to talk to, and the Magician's redheaded friend who asked very nicely for access to my breasts - and was most gracious when I told him that I wasn't sure about that, as I didn't really know him at all. Though, if his attentions to my neck and ears are anything to go by, I think I may acquiesce to his request the next time he makes it. On a trip to the upstairs bathroom, in the very wee hours of the morning, I was ambushed by CN. We ended up fooling around on the breezeway above the living room, since the upstairs couches and beds were already taken by other partygoers. Not for the first time that weekend, I cursed the fact that the moon has a cycle, and so do I - and I was On It. So it was hands only. Probably for the best...but, oh, did I mention how much I want this man (Did I mention that he wears a kilt?? Hot!!)? Not that I particularly want intercourse with him, but simply that I want to be able to fuckin' roll around naked with him. And the really neat thing about this is that several times, when I had my hands up under that kilt of his (Oh yes. That's right. It's true about what they don't wear beneath their kilts.), people came wandering upstairs, mainly for the bathroom. But, it was ok, because it was one of Those Parties. And being "caught" at Those ok. It was still a little embarrassing for me...a little strange...but neat to know that no one was judging me for it or thinking that I should "get a room."
When we finally detached ourselves from one another, I looked at the time and realized that I would not be getting back home (I had ridden with the Magician because it's out in BFE and gas is expensive and I don't do well with finding places in the dark) until after Apollo had gotten up and gone to work. Oops. I had not realized that this would happen. Had not realized just how late/early it was. So, I called Apollo and apologized profusely. Fortunately, he was very understanding, and told me not to worry about it. By the time we finally got back to the Magician's place, I did not feel competent to drive, even the short distance to my home, and dawn was breaking. So, I burrowed down in the Magician's bed and...well, we did eventually sleep. But, oh, it was pretty before then. Again, I cursed my period. But even so, it was beautifully fun. And the, him, I want intercourse with. As much as he turns me on and makes me come, I also feel very comfortable, safe with him. He's lovely and patient - except when he's passionately telling me just how much he wants to fuck me. But he wouldn't ever try unless I told him it was ok, that I had permission. And knowing that makes it incredibly hot - knowing that he wants me so badly, but will wait until it's truly alright, expressing desire but not pushing. It makes me want him even more.

In conclusion, my right arm and shoulder muscles are very sore, my body is spotted with bruises and marks, and I slept twelve hours last night. It was a good, good weekend.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

Where to begin?

Indeed. It has been a full month...full of lessons and orgasms and ponderings and pleasure. Loooots of pleasure. Since last I wrote, I have had several more glorious times with the Magician, spent hours in scintillating conversation with a long distance...friend? Lover? Mentor? Clergy? ...uh, yes, and had long, involved talks with Apollo about time and schedules and why this (poly-non-monogamy thing) is so important to me.

A few of the lessons I have learned:
- Kink is better sober. And not just because of safety issues. I genuinely process pain a lot better when I'm sober. Of course, I don't think the state I'm in after engaging in sexual or kinky activities counts as sober per se...but alcohol is best left out of it. :)
- When I get uncomfortable with a situation, it's often hard for me to sort out what it is about that situation which isn't working. Fortunately, I have someone in my life who's very wonderful about presenting ways for me to get at the heart of situations. :D
- D/s activities will stay within the context of a scene. As much as I'm fascinated by this dynamic and want to explore it, Thou Shalt Not Tell Joy To Come in Public. No one has that privilege with me, to exert their power when it's not clearly defined that I'm giving it to them. What made this instance worse was that I was coming down from a brief scene, so I was already in subspace, in compliance-space. So when the order came, I complied automatically, even as my brain was screaming that "All of these people don't have the privilege of seeing you at this level of, no, no!"
- One interesting thing about multiple relationships is the conception (in my head) that they should all be moving at the same rate. If I'm comfy giving oral sex to X, I should be comfortable giving it to Y too because I've been involved with them for the same length of time. This really isn't so. But it's been an interesting thought patten to come up against. It also adds to the feeling of wonder and uniqueness to realize that each relationship is distinct. Each has its own rules and boundaries, and just because something works in one relationship does not mean that it will work in all of them. They are separate entities.
- When I deal with and confront the things that are making me uncomfortable in a relationship, my attraction to the person goes way up. Surprise, surprise.
- This exploration of poly/non-monogamy is not just my hedonism, my selfishness. This is part of Me. This is part of who I am and part of what fulfills me as a person. And it is part of my calling to make sure that I explore and fulfill that.

Most recently, I have begun learning that I can take pain. Lots (for me) of it. Before my most recent playdate with RHF, we had discussed and reevaluated boundaries. He wanted more sexual contact. I was not, and am not ready for that with him - largely because I was not comfortable (see above lessons). We talked about the things that were making me uncomfortable, and he was very gracious about resolving them in a manner which indicated that he genuinely respected my boundaries and cared for my welfare. As sexual contact (of some sorts) was still a bit touchy with us, I mentioned that I'd like to start pushing my limits with regard to pain...see how much I really could take.
Aaaaand, now my ass is an interesting shade of purple. :P He began by spanking me. Now, spanking in and of itself does not really crank my engine. I mean, I much prefer the set of connotations that go with flogging to those that go with bare-handed spanking. But, it wasn't bad. It was a surprisingly powerful sensation - surprisingly strong pain. When he switched to a wooden paddle, I had my first thought that afternoon of "Should I safeword? This really fuckin' stings..." But I held on. Rode it. And it was like riding a wave, cresting and coasting. Eventually he stopped, and put me up on the cross to begin flogging me. Mmm. He pushed it into the area where it was hurting, where I was not constantly in my Serene-Yoga-Breathing place. But...I could step back, I found. I could turn my attention to my breath and just be in it. Or I could suffer the pain and squeal. Both were interesting experiences. I really, really want to be pushed far, far with flogging. I like it so much more than most other impact play that I've tried thus far - though of course other instruments and methods have their place. Anywho.
After he flogged me, he had me come, several times, with manual stimulation. Then, as I was still riding the edges of my last authorized orgasm, he placed the Hitachi between my legs. I screamed, and my fading orgasm reasserted itself, crashing back over me. "You'd better not be coming," he said. brain said...but I wasn't done, when you turned that thing on!, damn. "Sorry, sir," I whispered. Immediately, the Hitachi stopped. I felt a tapping against my ass, something thin and cruel. He did not hit me, it felt, with much force, but oh gods, it was painful. My first caning. I felt myself nearing catharsis, nearing tears, nearing a letting go of something... but then he stopped. And I was grateful. I wasn't sure that I could have taken what would have been required to push me over that line. I had thought, several times, about calling out, about making it stop. But then, there was always that part of me, reminding me that I could step back. That I didn't have to be suffering so intensely (which is not the same as not feeling it...I still felt, but it wasn't bad, it just was). That I could do more, take more, even a just a little more. Looking back, I probably could have taken the pain needed to push me over the edge into Whatever Was Waiting, but I'm rather glad it didn't happen then.
I went home feeling....tired. So wrung out. In a good way, but wrung out. Apollo was a bit incredulous when he saw my ass...a little stunned, little shocked. I was too, frankly. But it's all good. It doesn't hurt at all, really, just looks like it should.

And now, to prepare for Apollo's homecoming (poor boy has to work weekends now, gorramit.) and the activities planned for tonight. *grins*

Sunday, May 4, 2008

"But the May Day is the Great Day"

But, really. It's fuckin' Beltane. And I don't care if you celebrated it on May 1st or May 3rd or are waiting till tomorrow - whenever you celebrate it, remember that It Is A Season, so we've got till Litha for all this hotwethoneysweetsex-energy.

My Beltane - Let Me Show You It:

Wednesday, April 3oth -
I went and watched Firefly ("War Stories" and "Trash", for those Browncoats out there) with the Magician and his roommate. I had been promised a Good White Russian (my hands-down favorite mixed drink) in exchange for a Good Back Rub. Mmm, liquor drinks. After the drink and back rub, there was cuddling. And my First in a Long Time handjob-to-completion - I'm out of the habit with Apollo...we normally just get to fucking after a little bit. I get so neurotic over giving pleasure - it's like I'm afraid I've forgotten how. But it was a goodness. As are the Magician's soft hands and sweet nails.

Thursday, May 1st -
I went out a-wandering around my neighborhood, making a clover chain to the Goddess, admiring Her loveliness and re-committing myself to Her work. Later that evening, I had drinks with my Victorian Lit class. After that, I went home and jumped on Apollo. Because yes.

Friday, May 2nd -
Acted as a chaperon for the alternative prom that my church was sponsoring for the GLBTQ kids in the area from 7-9. What amazing clothes! I should've been queer in high school...alas, alack. I felt really wonderful about helping to provide a safe space for these kids to dance and have a good time - and so VERY pleased that my church was so supportive. After that, I headed over to the club for the Voltaire show. It was my first Voltaire show, and hot damn. That man. Would let him fuck me six ways to Sunday. I already knew he was clever, much like his historical, satirical counterpart...but damn. The Magician showed up, and Church Goth Boy (CGB) was there with his wonderful wife. My friend Ceres brought her middle-school-aged daughter and her daughter's friend - and they were terribly cute in their excitement and embarrassment. Also, about half of the normal RHPS cast was I was wondering who the hell was working the show. I think the highlights of the night were his parody of the Dresden Dolls' "Coin Operated Boy" as "Coin Operated Goy", the Star Trek song about how Data is "fully functional...and anatomically correct," and his final encore song. He introduced this song by saying that it was not one of his...but a song from a movie which he felt had definitely influenced him, and probably most of us, in becoming the perverse people we are today. The light was coming on at this point, but I didn't dare hope. He continued to say that we should sing the words if we knew them...and the other words, if we knew them. HA! And he began:
"Micheal Rainer was ill the day the earth stood still
and he told us where we stand! ("On our feet!" "On your knees!")"
Ahhh. The Rocky folks in the audience supplied the (fucking, sucking) callback lines, and it was wonderful.

Saturday, May 3rd -
Got up and went to the Magician's for breakfast (ok, brunch) and hanging out. I had told him, last night, that when we hung out today, he owed me a back rub this time. This back rub ended up with me topless on his black satiny sheets - which, let me just say, is a luxurious experience. There were nails and hair-pulling (ahh), and my hand on his cock (an observation: the more familiar and varied your experience with genitals are, the more attractive they look on their own merits. I don't think that before Wednesday night I had ever actively thought "What a pretty cock."). After he came, we cuddled, me still in jeans, him nekkid. Laying there, just being in contact, was lovely, luscious. But I was starting to ache for more. On Wednesday, I had initiated the taking-off of pants. I was hoping, quietly, that this time would see a reciprocation of that. But part of the Magician's charm and beauty is that he doesn't push. He has Patience. So, I lay there stewing in desire before finally working up the chutzpah to ask him for another bite, at least. He cheerfully obliged, staying to run his hands, his fingers over my breasts, tweaking and pulling. Eventually, his nails crept to the border of my pants, slipping under, slipping around. Then slipping over my jeans, pressing between my legs until I gasped.
"So, um, I guess this might be a good time to have the 'rules and boundaries' conversation," he said.
" boundaries are pretty flexible. I have standing permission for...pretty much whatever I want to do. I would want to check with Apollo before we have intercourse, if we get to that point, but that's it. Oh, and...well...I guess you should know that it generally takes me a long while to be comfortable giving oral."
"Ok. Well, you get to set the pace, so that's fine."
Then the conversation dissolved into the movement of hands, hands down the front of my jeans, hands helping me remove my jeans. Fingers pressing through my undies as I spasmed on the bed - so gentle, yet so effective. Really. I...I sometimes despair of a partner's manual clitoral stimulation being truly orgasmic, but my faith is hereby renewed.
"Are you always so responsive, or am I just special?"
"You're special, and I'm always this responsive," I grinned, "I do tend to prefer penetration to clitoral stimulation..."
"Well, if that's how you respond to clitoral stimulation and you prefer penetration...I'm not sure if I can keep up with your moving."
"Mm. Well, honestly, you're better than most. And besides, I figured those nails would make penetration pretty difficult anyway."
"You just have to be careful. It is possible." And yes, yes it was possible. And beautiful. And I came down, slowly, walking to my car, clutching my prayer beads, grounding into them.
From there, I headed off to Ceres's place for the Beltane ritual and party. As usual, Pagan Standard Time was in full the ritual started an hour later than it was supposed to. But it was lovely. I started in my cranberry colored robes, and read to the participants about Shadow and Bast, and hot, feline sex. Then I led them into guided meditation to meet their Wild Love - the personification of their desires and passions. While they were in meditation, I slipped out of my robes so that when they opened their eyes, they saw me in fishnets, black underwear, my crimson corset, and my knee-high boots. We're talking transformation here. :)
Afterwards, we poured drinks and got ready to watch Secretary. Before we got the movie in, however, I found myself chatting with Ceres's friend, the Amazon, and her girl - a beautiful, newly transitioning girl, Kwan Yin. At some point, Kwan Yin remarked that it would be really hot if the Amazon and I made out. Of course, I began blushing furiously, and asked if she was serious. The Amazon gave me her best "come fuck me" look, and Kwan Yin assured me that she was, indeed, serious.
"But...the boys are watching. I don't know that I want to put on a show..."
"Why the fuck not? Who the hell cares, really?"
Well, when you put it like that...I edged towards her, and she extended her arms. And her lips, woman's lips, soft and succulent. Strong passion and soft body. Lips creeping to the neck, my shivers beginning. Kwan Yin touches my shoulder, and offers me her lips too. I kiss, oh, I kiss. My hands weave into her hair, and she responds. She, too, finds my neck, finds my shudder.
"You're so much fun," they agree, "You're so easy." I am easy, that way. Easy to please, easy to arouse. I like it that way.
We've formed a pile of arms and legs and hands - making out on the floor. I don't remember that the boys are there. And they are there, watching. But it doesn't matter. All that matters are their lips and their hands in my hair. Amazon gets up for a moment, and returns, saying:
"Ceres has cleared off her bed...I mean, no expectations, but we could take this in'd be more comfortable and more private."
"Let me call my boyfriend," I say. Apollo gives me his full blessing, and I join them on Ceres's bed.
"I don't know how I feel, " Amazon says, "about having sex with you. Or about Kwan Yin having sex with you. But I definitely want to play with your breasts." Oh, that's fiiine by me. Beautiful. She undoes my corset, slow and careful, praising the softness of my skin, the luminescence of me, the responsiveness of my nerves. Kwan Yin is at my mouth, and what kisses! I am confused, though, when Amazon goes for my undies and fishnets.
"Wait...what constitutes 'sex'?"
"Oh, I don't count hands."
"Excellent!" And it was. Friendly and passionate and gorgeous. I watched them in ecstasy, kissing them while they went down on each other. I put my fingers inside my second woman, ever, and felt the wonder of clenching vaginal muscles. I felt their fingers inside me, heavenly, heavenly. Kwan Yin, merciful lady that she is, was fingering us both, at one point. I clutched them in my passion, and embraced them in theirs.
I had only met them that day. And still, it was sacred. Still, it was holy. Still, it was my Beltane.

My Beltane Bliss, Let Me Show You It.

Friday, May 2, 2008


That's what he said. It was a week ago, my second formal playdate with RHF. We went out for sushi (a first for me!), and back to his place for BDSM. We'd agreed: Below the waist is fine, but manual stimulation only. No oral, no intercourse. Honorifics would be used.
"Do you want something?" he asked, after he'd flogged me well, and left a sizable bruise on my ass with his palm. He'd finally taken my panties off, and was slowly creeping up my inner thighs.
"Mm-hmm," I moaned.
"What do you want, then?" he inquired. Oh gods. I was already so high, so high...I could have just stayed there, as long as he kept touching me. I didn't care, didn't know what I wanted, just that I wanted.
"I don't know...just...I don't know, Sir." His fingers made contact with my labia, and I shuddered. They split my lips, teasing me, just brushing my clit. "How much do you like to be teased?" he had asked, while we were discussing limits for today. So much, I told him. So much. In this space, teasing...isn't. It is its own fulfillment.
"Have you found words again?" he asked, "Can you tell me what you want now?" I had the feeling that he was looking for something along the lines of "I want to come," but that wasn't in me. I didn't specifically want an orgasm...I was happy where I was.
"I...I...want something in my cunt, please, Sir." Penetration, though, yes. That, I craved.
"Beg." Quiet. Struggling within myself for words. Struggling to ask for what had always been freely given.
"Please...Please Sir. Please."
"Please what?"
"Please Sir, please put your fingers in my cunt." And two fingers, immediately, inside me. My knees bent reflexively, bearing down, aching with sudden need. My arousal rose to that plateau of orgasmic bliss, and I cried out.
"Remember, you have to ask before you can come." Shit. I had forgotten, because he hadn't specifically reminded me beforehand, that he likes to practice orgasm control. Shit. Part of me wanted to confess my sin, but I was still on Orgasm Plateau, that place where I'm flying in orgasmic bliss, with random Peaks of even more intense pleasure. I couldn't figure out if I should, how I should, or how to explain myself if I were to confess. So I asked.
"Please sir, please may I orgasm?"
"Beg." But I am begging, I thought. What more does he want? I tried to let go even more, let my most uninhibited self speak, but all she could say was "please".
"Please, please Sir, Please let me orgasm. Please. Please!"
"Come." I tightened my Kegels, and got a Peak, crying out. He withdrew slowly, and helped me sit on the ledge at the bottom of his cross. I lay my head on my arms, panting and weak. There was a tearing sound, like a condom wrapper.
"You might want to look and see where this condom is going," he said, but I didn't need to. I knew. When he found out that I'd never used a vibrator before, he decided that this session would introduce me to the Hitachi Magic Wand. He had it on the "low" setting, and placed it between my legs. Ahh. Pleasant...though if I shifted, just a bit, it landed on my clit - and suddenly, I began to understand. He kicked it up into high gear, and I only barely remembered to choke out "Please, please Sir, may I orgasm? Please, I need to." Silence.
"Please Sir! Please, oh please. Let me orgasm sir, please!" Finally, after a few repetitions, I heard:
"Come." I screamed.
"Come." A cry.
"Keep coming." Guttural moans, all the while pressing myself against the Hitachi, feeling an exquisite-ness to the orgasm that normally doesn't happen with clitoral orgasms, normally reserved for the Almighty G-Spot.
Finally he turned it off. Finally he helped me to the bed, disrobed himself, and snuggled with me. After I had my brain back, I 'fessed up to my Unauthorized Orgasm. "I know. You get one free day. Don't do it again."
And I lay there wondering, and I'm still wondering, how on Earth I'm going to manage it. The Orgasm Plateau, for me, is a place that I come to suddenly, without warning, when one little thing goes very telling what that'll be. And on that plateau, it's several minutes of deeply orgasmic bliss with small peaks, but even the baseline is ecstatic and orgasmic. What do I do, for orgasm control? Ask before I hit a peak? Ask before I hit the Plateau, period? I don't understand. I really doubt that I can hold back either the peaks or the Plateau. It almost makes me want to forgo the whole orgasm thing in general in the context of kink. I mean, not that it wasn't nice, but I feel well-fucked from a good flogging, with no actual orgasm involved. And there's no stress about holding off, or defining what is or is not an orgasm.
On an unrelated note, none of the sex bloggers I read/have read ever mention the fact that pressing oneself enthusiastically against the Hitachi can result in one's labia feeling bruised. For days. That was interesting.
I'm still processing the begging thing. It didn't feel wrong...but, again, like I didn't know what he wanted. I don't mind asking for was kind of sexy to plead. But, at the same time, it's difficult. Difficult to form words, difficult to form ideas.

In still other news, Happy Beltane! Wendy encourages everyone to take advantage of warmer temperatures and take the fucking outside. For this Beltane, I will be attending a Voltaire concert, priestessing a ritual, and having snuggle time with the Magician tomorrow. And then Pentacost is next week...all my red clothes are getting a workout!

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Try to understand - he's a Magic(ian) Man!

Last Saturday, I hung out with the Magician. The plan was to hang out in the afternoon - watch a movie, probably, then I'd go home for dinner with Apollo (who had to work that day), then back out to see the Magician sing in a choral concert. I invited Apollo, who declined on the basis of Tired and Worn Out.
I got to his place sometime around three, and after enthusiastically greeting his cats and meeting his roommate, we decided on Batman Begins, since I'd yet to see it, and simply must see the one coming out in July (oh, Heath Ledger. Another teen crush in the Dead Guys pile, along with Jim Morrison and George Harrison). I really enjoyed the movie. Which means that I paid attention. There was minimal cuddling - some back rubbing and head-scratching, but that was it.
Left, picked up food for Apollo and myself on the way home, and had a lovely dinner (and a quickie! Whee!) before going back out to hear my first ever Requiem (Verdi's, for those interested). I thoroughly enjoyed it...though I had to restrain my laughter when I saw "Pie Jesu Domine/Dona eis requiem" in the lyrics/libretto? and realized that it's what the monks in The Quest for the Holy Grail are chanting.
Afterwards, the Magician mentioned that some folks were going to the Mellow Mushroom, and asked when I needed to be home. I called Apollo to find out where he was on the Going To Bed process - and found him very nearly there; thus, he didn't care if I stayed out later - he'd be sleeping either way. So, I decided to stay out. But upon further reflection, we decided that The Mellow Mushroom was very likely to be very, very crowded at 9:30 on a Saturday night. So we went back to his place and watched Spaceballs with his roommate - another first viewing for me! There was substantially more cuddling. There was also a mid-movie pause for the getting of ice-cream, then more cuddling. There was more cuddling after the movie ended.
And by cuddling, I mean deliberate, exquisite skritches - nails on the stomach, legs, arms, back and neck. Thorough backrubs. Fingers in my hair. And he was so careful, so conscientious, skirting the boundaries of being explicitly "sexual" - running his fingers right below my bra and right above my breasts, along, but not under, the edge of my skirt. Oh, shivers. Asking, low and compelling, "Do you want more?" My answer of an enthusiastic nod and a few incoherent syllables led to his hand suddenly on my breast, over my clothes, but still electric. Edging, patiently, under shirt, under bra to run those nails over my nipples as I clutched at him, writhing. His hands in my hair, pulling just right - large sections of hair, with steady, intense force. Acquiescing with no visible annoyance or distress to my need to keep it above the waist. And he held me, grounding and gentling me down, before I left that night.

As the song says,
"Mm, he's a magic man.
Ahh, he's got magic hands."

What an abundance I have at this time in my life. What plenitude of uniqueness. Even with all the work, the balancing, the scheduling, the schoolwork....even with all that, I can't imagine preferring monogamy. There's too much out there. Too many amazing people with too many exquisite talents/selves/bodies. There's too great a range of sexual/sensual experience and joy...from the comfortable, thrilling full-on intercourse with Apollo to random flirtation, with bites and skritches, at Rocky to playdates to militant cuddling on couches. I love it all. I want it all. I don't want to choose or exclude. I'm willing to work at it to have it all. Willing to continue working on communication and time management skills. Willing to keep examining and checking motives and ethical situations. Willing to accept that this...this...greed? ravenous-ness? expansiveness of affection? generosity with myself? worthy of being nurtured and indulged, within the bounds of ethical behavior. Willing to keep listening to my boundaries for sexual and emotional connection, even when they seem silly to me...understanding that they don't have to make sense, they just are.
Life is so damn good.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

There is no smoking in the fucking theater...

- and no fucking in the smoking theater!

I leaned against the railing, breathing and allowing the Frankenfurter's voice to become background noise. Waiting.
"This is a loud venue, so hand signals will be important," he reminded me.
"Ok. One for yellow, two for red, yes?"
"Yes. Ready?"
Waiting. Then the thud begins. I can tell, even after just these couple of times, that he's hitting harder, faster. Not giving me as much warm-up time. And that's ok. I am pulling back, into the flogger's path, into the rhythm, encouraging a deeper hit. I feel myself floating away, easing out of normal space. He pauses to check in. I am still very good. He resumes. Suddenly, there are hands pulling at my hair while the flogger strikes my shoulders, ass and thighs. I gasp deeper, but don't look up. There are teeth in my neck, teeth on my shoulder. A hand, under my chin, raising my eyes. Oh, beautiful Cloaked Norseman, more serious than I'd previously seen, eyes half-lidded. He briefly confirms with RHF, that yes, it's is alright and even appreciated that he add his efforts to this scene. Then the hands in my hair, and the teeth on my neck, and the flogger on my ass. And suddenly, the flogger licks between my legs, my fishnet-and-underwear covered legs. I tremble. The sensations continue, building, until at some point, there are three sets of hands on me, for RHF's girlfriend has joined, and I'm shaking from the stimulation. Shaking.
"Are you good for now?"
"Yes. Oh yes."
"If I sit you down somewhere, will you stay there for a while?"
"....Yes. Yes."

I am seeing why one doesn't necessarily go to Rocky for the go for the kink and the company. Time to flirt, time to play, time to drop the seriousness of GradStudentTA self, and be Shining, Touch-Loving Joy.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Send whips of opinion down my back, Give me more!

So. I may or may not finish out the Spring Break postings. Things are too exciting for me right now to want to go back and recap older events.
So. After last Saturday's first foray into the world of kink, I kept up with the guy who'd flogged me - RHF. Ceres gave him my IM name so he could serve as a contact between myself and the Magician...though I was happy to have an avenue of contact with him, as he was pretty fascinating in his own right. So, we talked via IM. And it became clear that he was interested in playing more. And I was interested in playing more. And he wanted...oh, he was interested in setting up a power dynamic. And immediately, I got a bit scared. What if I didn't like it? What if I *really* liked it, and the intensity got out of hand? What if his style of dominance doesn't match my (theoretical) style of submission? What if it's too soon? Isn't power exchange kinda the Point Of No Return, and once you make that part of a relationship, it's marked as that forever'n'always? But we continued discussing it, and he assured me that if a dynamic doesn't work for me, we could reconsider that, especially at this early point in the game. I felt better about it, talked to Apollo about it and received enthusiastic approval, and before I knew it, I'd scheduled a play date for Friday - yesterday.
We agreed that this scene would be 1. Primarily sensory exploration for me, with light focus on establishing a dynamic. 2. Focused on striking with different instruments. and 3. The explicitly sexual contact would stay above the waist.
Even after we set these boundaries, I found myself constantly worrying. My Inner 2nd Wave Feminist was shouting at me about allowing a Man To Tell Me What To Do, telling me that I Don't Need A Man To Define Me or Give Me Worth. I had to remind her that I can remain intact, as a strong, independent woman, and still submit, as I choose, when I choose, and to whom I choose. I had to remind her that I had already made it clear that humiliation/degradation play is a Hard Limit for me - I *am* worthy, dammit, whether I'm submitting or not. And being made to feel worthless is not my idea of a healthy or sexy time (I do understand that for some folks, this sort of play is cathartic and/or a way to deal with Stuff...but that's not what I Need). One of the funny parts is that I don't think she would have kicked up such a fuss if I were going to be submitting to a Domme...but because it was a man, the situation was much more loaded.
Once I was there, though, in the room, clothes in a pile, the cross cool against my back, it was ok. The fear and anxiety dissipated. I was breathing, slow and deep, staying calm, staying grounded. Then he put on the nipple clamps. They didn't hurt going on...but I will admit that although I know he was doing something else to me during that time, I don't for the life of me remember exactly what it was, except that there was some other sensation competing with the ever-increasing ache of the clamps for my attention. He checked in, and I admitted that the clamps were really pushing my tolerance. "Do you know how I like to take clamps off?" he asked. I shook my head, but inwardly I was accessing my SM101 info on the application and removal of clamps...and was fairly certain that I had a clear idea of what he planned to do. So I inhaled deeply, and held it. "Ready? 1...2..." And I exhaled as he slapped/jerked/otherwise abruptly removed the clamp. Oh gods. This, now this was Pain. And I wasn't sure that I liked it. The process repeated on the other breast, followed by a brief tweak of the nipple, which sent me cringing.
Fortunately, he then had me turn around, and put my hands and feet in cuffs - the cuffs for my hands were rather fancy - they had a bar for me to grip, which turned out to be most useful. From here, the experience blurs into a melange of flogging (ohgodsohgods, I was floating), knife play (I'd told him that I enjoy actual cutting, but knives are sexxy), scratching, hair pulling, and kisses. Damn. Potent, potent combination. By the time he turned me around again to finish up, I was trembling and decidedly not quite with my body...having a beautiful time of it. His final choice was a long, narrow piece of wood, and he informed me that these strokes would be across my breasts. He also informed me that I would be counting these strokes. As the first blow fell on my right nipple, I realized that this, like the clamps, would be an experience of less-than-overtly-enjoyable pain. Once we reached four (I was very proud that my voice hadn't faltered), he paused to check in. "How are you doing now?" I was about to answer, when his mouth closed over my left nipple. I gasped, speechless. "I asked you a question," his mouth still hovering above my breast. I searched my brain, and came up with something to the effect of "Ok, but I can't take much more." "How many more can you take, then?" I thought, and decided on two. I could handle one more on each breast. He doled out these two strokes, then tweaked my nipples. At this, I came the closest to actually safewording, but he stopped there, kissing me and helping me down to the bed. He covered me with a furry blanket, and offered to leave me alone to process, or to stay with me. I asked him to stay, and he curled up behind me, spooning.
We stayed that way for over an hour - me alternately silent, laughing, pondering, and being amazed at just how high I was from that. He assured me that I'd done well. That he'd enjoyed it. That he loved my responsiveness, and was looking forward to playing more. Though, he did modify the last comment with the observation that if we were to play very frequently, at this level of sexual contact, things could get rather...frustrating. I thought this very understandable, and assured him that I did not see our play remaining at this level of overt sexual activity for an indeterminate time. Finally, I felt competent to drive, and he needed to go to work. So we parted ways, me still giddy. So giddy in fact that I went home and jumped on Apollo. Which just made me even more giddy. Not, of course, that I'm complaining about this.
Later on that evening, I decided to go out to Rocky in the hopes of seeing and flirting with the Magician. So I went. I did not dress up like I normally do for RHPS...I was going alone, and didn't want to be walking around downtown in my corset, fishnets, and undies...even a skirt over them would have been too risque for me without at least one other person with me. But I went. And boy, am I ever glad that I did. I didn't see the Magician right away, so I stood in the back of the theater, enjoying the pre-show madness. Not long after, I felt a hand brush my ass, and saw a beautiful, built boy scampering away with a guilty look - I smiled, and he said "Now, I had absolutely nothing to do with that!" But he was playful, and fabulously gay (and thus very safe to be physical with), so we poked at each other, hugging and exchanging pleasantries. He had very warm hands, and a charming smile, and he assured me that we'd share his prop bag. I told him that I generally prefer to simply shout obscenities...but that I'd be happy to partake in props. He ran off to help with pre-show banter, and the Magician showed up. For the rest of the night, with only brief breaks, I was surrounded by flirting and back rubs and hair pulling and much, much happy, friendly, sexually charged fun. There was Hyacinth, the beautiful gayboy, who periodically came to visit me in the lobby, where the Magician and I had migrated for easier talking, and sit on my lap. There was the Magician, whose back rubs were thorough and just slightly less amazing than the skritches from his *incredible* fingernails. Finally, there was the Cloaked Norseman (CN) who had long, soft hair and made appreciative noises when it was played with. He also gave exquisite, vampiric bites to the arm, neck, and shoulder regions. I was elated, lusciously in contact, feeling very free and very spoiled. Feeling, on the one hand, like a bit of a Huge Fucking Tease, but on the other hand knowing that it was all out in the open - that there were no expectations from any of the boys I flirted with, no pressure. They were willing to flirt and play without needing it to be more. Yay. Beautiful boys!