the life and musings of a kinky slut

DOF 2011: Friday Part 2

I was very excited to play with Gray.  Our instant chemistry and flirting over the past day had only increased my anticipation.  I quickly showered, changed, and skipped (yes, skipped) down to the Pavilion.  I arrived just as the last contestant for the Wheel of Destiny volunteered.

Finding my friends, I waited as the event soon ended.  People still milled about, but I anxiously hopped back and forth, a ball of energy and jitters.  A smile was plastered on my face, but it didn’t stay. 

With the last contestant’s fate sealed, Gray invited people up to the stage to finish off the cake not eaten.  (One of the options on the wheel was cake.)  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a very attractive woman step up.  Gray relaxed behind the wheel, leaning on the railing of the Pavilion.  As she approached him, I remember thinking, Wow, she’s hot, and then turning back to talk with my friends.  I didn’t think much of it, until I looked back again and saw them standing quite close together.  Even with the obstruction of the wheel, I could see they were flirting. 

I immediately looked away.  The emotional tidal wave began.  I tried to deny it, but there was no use.  I tentatively looked back.  They were kissing.  I turned away.  I grabbed the arms of one of my friends and positioned him. “You are going to look at them; I am going to look at you.”  But I tortured myself with another quick look.  Now he was spanking her. 

And all the thoughts that live in the back of my mind started. 

‘Of course he’s playing with her; she’s gorgeous, so much more attractive than me.’ 

‘I guess he just forgot about our date.  Well, of course he forgot; look at her.’ 

‘Maybe I should just go.  Maybe I should just forget I ever approached him.’

Knowing nothing good could come from my current state of mind, I got my friends to distract me.  Somehow we started playing rock/paper/scissors, but since it was camp, we needed to modify it.  In its stead, we dubbed the game shocker/anal/fuck.  We created hand motions similar to the original and practiced them, chanting the words as we did.  After a minute or two, a random person approached wondering what we were doing.  This alone was enough to have me giggling.

But I couldn’t look back.  No, I couldn’t help myself from looking back.  She was still over his knee.  I went back to the game. 

I turned back to the stage.  The wheel was taken away.  They were kissing again.

All the while, one of my new camp friends made her feelings known.  “That fucking guy.  He’s just going after the hot piece of ass.  He’s such a dick.”  I tried to brush off her comments.  I tried to be logical.  I tried to pull myself away from my destructive emotions.

Gray and the woman made their way down from the stage.  I didn’t want to approach, but in some sort of twisted echo of earlier that evening, my new camp friend pushed me towards them.  As I came over, Gray holding her hand, with a huge smile on his face, he caught my eye.  He reached out his free hand and brushed my arm.  I prepared myself for the nice let down.

“I just need some time to relax from the event.  Give me fifteen minutes.  I’ll be sitting over there on a bench, smoking a cigar.”  He kissed me on the cheek, softly and sweetly.  Where I was at DEF CON 5, I came down to a 4 1/4.

As a way to waste time, I walked to the Dining Hall to fill my water bottle.  My new camp friend came along.

“Fifteen minutes, my ass.  He just wants to go fuck her quick and then deal with you.”  I pivoted the conversation, asking her about herself.  Why did she come to camp?  How long had she been in the scene?  Anything to get her to stop talking negatively about Gray.

We found ourselves sitting on a bench outside the Pavilion.  Neither of us saw Gray, so instead we sat and chatted more.  I tried to mentally encourage myself.  I tried to tell myself everything would be fine.  I tried to keep calm.

Looking across, I could see there were several other benches outside the Pavilion.  It was so dark, though, I could not tell who was at them.  I thought I saw someone smoking on the bench nearest us, but it wasn’t Gray. 

I looked up at the sky, wondered at the stars, reminding myself how small I was in this big huge world.  I don’t know why, but remembering the enormity of life comforts me about my problems.  I guess they just seem small, even when they’re big.

As I looked down, a golf cart taxi rolled by.  I was blinded for a moment.  Then, I saw him, at the farthest bench, smoking a cigar, the woman still with him.  I didn’t know what to do.  They were obviously still talking, and I didn’t want to interrupt.  We hadn’t officially started our date and for all I knew he was setting up something for later that night or the next day.  But, once the music for the dance party in the Pavilion started, I decided it was time to be brave.  I said bye to my camp friend, who hugged me and said she hoped things would be okay, but to not let that dick bring me down.

I slowly walked over, gripping the shoulder strap of my Hello Kitty bag, just trying to stay calm.  I asked if he was ready.  He said he needed a few more minutes, but invited me to sit beside him.  He put his arm around me and I leaned into his chest; DEF CON 4. 

Gray introduced me to his friend, Ten, whom he’d known for quite some time.  Up close, she was even more stunning.  We sat and I listened to their stories.  I liked her and was glad to have met her.  Some where in my head, a piece of me felt validated for not giving in to my emotions, for waiting to judge, for believing in Gray.

Gray Date
Gray finished up his cigar and suggested we all get drinks.  As we walked, I was the last in our short line.  Ten was served first.  Gray got his drink and walked away as I patiently waited to be served.  Then I felt a small bite on my left shoulder; it was Gray.

“You disappeared.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Were you behind me the whole time?”

“Us theatre folk, they teach you to blend in.”  I didn’t really want a drink; I still had my full water bottle.  We walked off; Ten stayed at the bar.

Strolling towards his cabin, the jitters came back.  The anticipation grew again.  On his porch, he stopped, turned around, and weaved his fingers into my hair.  My body relaxed; my head was floaty.  Gray spoke about what he expected from our scene.

“I imagine there will be some rope.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And some impact.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Maybe some breast bondage, with me sucking on those cocoa nipples of yours.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Some cock worship.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“And, mostly, it will be all about me… Ah, no mmm hmm for that.”

“If it’s all about you, shouldn’t I not speak?”

“Oh no, for that one you speak.”

“Mmm hmm.”

He entrusted me with his drink while he went inside his cabin to compile his toy bag.  I sat and decided now would be a good time for his first gift.  When he came out, I surprised him.

“Gift now, gift later.  First, gift now.”  I pulled out the cigar I had saved from the Cigar Social the previous evening.

“Well, then I’m going to get my lighter.”  He quickly grabbed his lighter from inside the cabin.  “Have you heard of a half Monica Lewinsky?”

“No, but I can guess.”  I stood and faced him, my butt against the porch railing.  He instructed me to lift my arms in the air.

Lifting the skirt of my dress, he said, “Ah, now this is a problem.  You’re not wearing any underwear.”

“No, I am not.”

Leaving his porch, we easily caught a cab to the Dungeon.  On the way, he asked me how my first night of camp was.  I told him about my beating from Darien and spoke about my rope dildo with Murphy.  I also happened to mention my dual orgasms.

“Two orgasms, eh?  Okay.” 

Shit, should I have not mentioned that?

Arriving at the path leading to the Dungeon, we walked over the defunct tennis court and broken cement walkway, arm-in-arm.  Strolling with him, being by his side, made me feel special.

Once inside, we looked around for space.  Gray settled on a red column with a rigging ring at the top and an attached small black landing.  He set down his bag and grabbed a metal folding chair.  I set my bag down in the back and stood at the front of the landing, waiting.  He sat in the folding chair right in front of me.

“Take your shoes off.”  I slipped my sandals off and set them aside.  “Put your shoes back on.”  Trying not the fall, I slipped them back on while standing.  “When I ask you to take off your shoes, I’m not just asking you to take off your shoes.  I’m asking you to strip.  Accentuate some part that you think I’d like to see.  I’m asking for a show.”  He had me sit down and take off my shoe while extending my leg, giving him a pretty view of my non-underweared crotch.  Shoeless, I stood, making sure to poke my butt out towards him as I did.  

“Take your off your dress.  Now think about how you want to do this.”  I wore a wrap dress that tied in front; I used a simple bow to secure it.  Looking down, I grabbed one of the ends and pulled it out.  Languidly reaching across my body, I slowly unwrapped one side, then the other, and allowed the fabric to fall.  Standing in just my strapless bra, my natural inclination to sway my hips set in.  “Very nice.  And I like the little wiggle you’re doing.”  He took his hat from off his head and handed it to me.  With a small flip, which made him smile, I placed it on my head.  He adjusted it just so. 

“You’re a slut; why are your legs together?”  I spread my legs slowly.  “Lift up your lips.”  I separated the lips of my labia, my pussy already quite wet.  He pulled out the cigar I’d given him, removed the cellophane, and used the phallic object as I had hoped, slipping it just inside me. 

“Take off your bra.”  Letting my lips go, my labia settled over the cigar.  Reaching back, I began to unhook my bra.  It was hard, as it was strapless and had many hooks.  I didn’t let on that I was having difficulties. 

“Take off your bra,” he said again, this time harsher.  I finally freed all the hooks, held the cups to my breasts for a moment, then slowly revealed my tits to his wanting eyes.  I flung the article to the side of the landing. 

“Your nipples aren’t hard; do you not like me?”  I pinched and caressed my nipples, coaxing them to attention.  He began lightly fucking me with the cigar; I moaned.  Without notice, he pulled the cigar out of my pussy and put it in my mouth.  I wet the end for him, sucking on it like I would soon be sucking his cock.  As he pulled it out, my lips closed around it and eventually let go; I wanted to wet it for him til the last possible moment.   

Happy with the results, he then instructed me to put my clothes aside.  I bent down, making sure I presented my ass.  I snatched up the dress and placed it by my bag, making sure to switch my hips as I walked.  Turning back to him, he instructed me to stand in front of the red column. 

His hands were now gloved, black tight leather.  He brought his bag to beside us and began pulling out each implement, showing me his floggers, canes, whips, and rope.  He made eye contact with each new item, a nonverbal ‘What can you imagine I’ll do with this?’. 

He instructed me to hold onto the rigging ring.  Then he started kissing me: my lips, my neck, my nipples.  I felt like I was drowning in his kisses.  He pinched my nipples, sucked on my nipples, worshiped my nipples like no other had before.  He grabbed my boobs, gripping hard.  All the while, I’d started grinding up against his leg and panting with each manipulation.

Stopping, he grabbed one piece of rope.  He bound my wrists and had me hold onto the ring again.  Starting the impact play, he punched and slapped at my chest.  He punched my thighs, front and sides, as well as my ass.  At one point, it became too much and I began to twitch, lifting my knee up and away.  He grabbed my left foot and extended my leg.  Pulling out a knife, he ran the blade up and down my leg and through and around my toes.  Switching, he also toyed with my right leg, and then brought the knife across my labia.

Putting the knife away, he placed his hand on my throat and began choking me.  I settled into his decision of when I should breathe.  When he took his hand away, I gasped for air.  Going to the back of the column, he choked me from behind.  I again relaxed to his will, allowing the decision of my breathing to be his and his alone.  When I eventually took in air, it was his gift.  Coming back to the front, he stopping my inhales once more.  Taking away his hand, I gasped but he immediately kissed me.  It was all very intense and fucking amazing. 

Gray then began to use his toys.  First, his flogger.  Then the Brat Bat.  Next, the Red Strip Cane.  After that, his whip.  Each time it became too intense, when I wrenched away whimpering, he got in close and said, “You’re a dirty slut; why are your legs together?” and began fingering me.  I ground my hips against his hand, my yelps now moans, and licked off my essence when his fingers found my lips, but he would not work me long enough to make me cum, denying that joy til later. 

The worst of his implements, by far, was the Twisted Bitch.  It hurt so bad, from the first stroke to the last.  About nine pieces of twisted leather, varying in length, created a stingy feeling I had never felt before.  I could not believe the pain with each stroke.  There was never a point when he hit me with that thing that I was not yelping, twitching, or just down right trying to run away, so much so, that at one point, I managed to get myself behind the pole.  “Really, is that what we’re doing now?”  I relented and returned to the front, taking yet still more strokes. 

Soon, though, I couldn’t hold in my thoughts anymore.  “You’re a Sadistic Bastard!”

“What are you talking about?  I’m nice.  Everyone knows I’m a nice guy.”  All the while, he was still hitting me with his horrible, horrible implement. 

He came in close to hit me again, but I flinched, inadvertently brushing my knee against his crotch.  “Did you just knee me in the balls?”

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked.  One hand found its way to my throat.  The other gripped my hair and pulled my head back.  As he growled in my ear, I could feel his hot breath on my skin.

“I don’t give a fuck if you’re sorry.  You’re a dirty little cum slut.  I don’t give a fuck what you say.  I don’t give a fuck who you are.  You’re just a little slut to me.”

At that moment, there was nothing worse in this world than disappointing him, and I’d done just that.  I started sobbing, horrified at my mistake.  All I had wanted to do was please him, but I’d ruined everything.  Releasing his hands, he pushed my head away.

I don’t know how long I sobbed, maybe fifteen seconds, maybe a minute, but suddenly his lips were to mine again, this time with even more passion and fury.  I was left breathless from his kisses, my tongue trying to keep up with the violent dance of his own.  I lost myself in that embrace.

Once he finished kissing me, he untied my wrists from the rigging ring, but my hands remained bound.  He took back his hat and placed it on his head again.  Lowering me down to my knees, he pulled out his quite hard cock. 

Guiding my head with one hand and his cock with the other, I began to worship it.  First, I licked and sucked a little on the tip.  Then he willed me to lick and suck down the sides.  Next he smacked me on either side of my mouth with his cock.  Pulling out his balls, he had me suck on them; I did so softly and gratefully.  I think I heard him moan. 

Bringing me back to the head, I took him into my mouth, gliding my tongue ring softly against his skin.  I twisted and bobbed my head gently, giving him interesting sensations and feelings.  His hand encouraged me to go deeper; he gently fucked my face. 

At one point I gagged, bringing up the water I’d drank earlier.  I didn’t care about the discomfort.  Quickly, I swallowed the liquid back down, while taking still more of his cock.  All I wanted was to take as much of him as I could, for as long as I could; his pleasure was all that mattered to me.

Slowly, he extricated himself from my mouth and tucked his cock away.  I felt sad, thinking I had not had enough time to worship it, to please him.  He walked back to his chair, sat down, and once again took out his cock.  I looked at his eyes, looked at his cock, and slowly crawled towards him. 

Scooting to just the right spot, I again took him into my mouth.  I licked and sucked, working my head in a twisting motion.  Again his hand was in my hair, encouraging and guiding me.   I loved sucking his cock; I could’ve done it all night and been happy.

But he eventually took it away again.  He told me to lie down, my back now against the landing.  He instructed me to purse my lips and I became his cigar holder.  Disappearing out of my vision, I felt him separate my legs.  He began fingering my clit, and finally found his way to inside me.  First, two fingers.  Then three.  Four.  Five.  And, finally, slowly, he slipped his fist inside me.  All the while I moaned and bucked my hips against his hand, begging for more, with the cigar still balanced on my lips.

I had almost cum from his fingering earlier, but fisting orgasms for me are like no other.  The orgasms Gray gave me were full body, shaking, screaming orgasms.  He fucked me with his fist and I rode his hand hard.  I started calling out his name as I came, somehow balancing the cigar while doing so.  I never dropped the cigar.

That fisting was amazing.  There were too many orgasms to count, which I later told him.

Kindly, he slipped his hand out of me and joined me on the floor, holding his body against mine.    As we laid there, he began untying the rope around my wrists, which proved difficult.  All my jumping and bouncing about had turned his tie into one huge knot.  He eventually got it off and we hugged; I pulled him close to me, so very grateful for all he’d done.  We lounged there for a while, him comforting me and me on a post-orgasmic high.  At one point, he remarked, “You have a very talented pussy.”  I felt proud because of his praise.

After some time, he mentioned water.  I scurried to the cooler and poured him a cup.  Then I grabbed my water bottle.  Sitting there, still high, I realized I had not yet explained to Gray the origin of my name.  I showed him my tattoos, explaining their translations. 

Then, I demonstrated their meanings.  I lightly brushed my hand against his face, his cheek, his chin, and held eye contact with him.  I brought my lips close to his, grazing just against the skin, barely touching.  “Poetry.”  My hand entangled in his hair, my lips were on his, and I kissed him hard.  Once again, our tongues danced, played in each others’ mouths.  My arms crossed as I languidly let myself fall into him.  “Desire,” I said, once back up for air.  Hence the name, PoeticDesires. 

I was happy beyond belief, riding high on post-scene endorphins, when Gray happened to mention Midnight Snack.  This was when I remembered my treat for him.  Scampering to my bag, I slipped the item behind my back as I turned to him.  I scampered back to in front of him and knelt down. 

“Gift later.”  I presented him with 86% Cocoa Ghirardelli dark chocolate.  He looked at the candy and then looked at me.

“You are good.”  He opened it up, broke some off, and gave me a little.  It tasted bitter and smokey, but still delicious.  Re-clothing and gathering our things, we made our way out of the Dungeon and towards Midnight Snack.

The Rest
Later that night, I had my first scene where I negotiated being the dominant.  And, apparently, I’m mean.  I used rope, chains, and other random things.  And I had some sadistic predicament fun.  Yeah, good times.

Hanging out in the Dungeon, I saw Murphy do a hot scene with suspension and his rope dildo.  I also saw Pyro Sadist do a fire flogging scene.  After finishing journaling around 5am, I made my way back to my cabin.  On the way, I saw a car approach, but thought little of it.  Dropping off my toy bag in front of my cabin, I made my way to the Poly Perv cabin and chatted with the two folks still awake. 

As we spoke about this and that, I saw a black man walking down the road.  He spoke and I thought I recognized him.  Turns out I did; he was a friend.  I ran towards him and jumped up into a hug.  Just as I came down from that, I looked over and saw another friend.  I ran to him as well, and jumped into his arms for a hug.  This was one of those instances where staying up late made my day better. 

Good things happen to those who don’t sleep.

Bedtime: 6am

Categorised as: BDSM | Friends | Sex

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One Comment

  1. Graydancer says:

    Interesting to see the views of the “new camp friend.” Obviously someone who really doesn’t know anything about me, and the fact that she had those attitudes reflects more badly on the behavior of the presenters she DOES know than herself.

    I couldn’t be more pleased to have proven her wrong.

    And what a lovely memory to read through this scene (peppered with “What, did I do that? Oh…I guess I did…”). Thank you for this very eloquent and detailed trip down memory lane…