poeticdesires

Category: Gray

  • Snuggles and Romance

    Fucking Gray is so much fun.

    I never expect sex with him, even though it is a part of our dynamic, and, when we have it, the act is consistently amazing.

    I find that entering any scenario with little expectation yields the best possible results. And thus I’ve translated this mindset to the vast majority of my life, including my kinky fun times.

    At the Carolina Grue, I had no other expectation than to get to hang out with Gray for a bit, possibly a meal or two, enjoying his company and nothing more. We had planned to play, but Grue’s are intense experiences. I know from past crashes that one cannot bank on having any energy after a day of expending it all.

    Yet we did play, and damn if we didn’t have a fucking awesome go of it. I suppose we were due. We hadn’t seen each other in about six months.

    Yet still, what seemed like twenty minutes to me was actually an hour of cigar play, a bit of mean rope, cocksucking, and fucking me over a table which happened to be covered in flowers. I am not a romantic person, but a small part of me hopes the scent sense memory of that fuck sticks around. Its usefulness could end up being immeasurable.

    As for this past weekend at the Grue Pitt 4, I knew I was going to spend a great deal of time with Gray. I was actually a bit giddy at the prospect. We crashed in what I have dubbed the kinky commune: the home of two good friends who have a tendency to house awesome kinksters when they are in town.

    Gray and I pre-arranged to share a bed, which I presumed meant cuddles and nothing more. Friday night, us both stripped down to nothing (the usual way we rest together), I again found my head on his chest and his arms around me.

    What from others is a grope, Gray turns into a comforting embrace. As he fondled my breast, I still considered this cuddling. My breasts serve little other purpose at the moment than to be the playthings of those I allow to touch them. I happened to say this to Gray.

    I think this is when the cuddling took a turn.

    He gripped my breast harder, sinking his fingers deeper into my flesh. My breathing changed. He got meaner still, attacking the nipple. He switched to my other breast, treating it much the same. Delicious pain and pleasure swelled. He reached his free hand down and rubbed my clit. I gasped, but tried to keep my sounds low. There were, after all, others in the house trying to sleep.

    My modesty didn’t last much longer. He sunk his fingers into my pussy. My breath grew ragged.

    “No. Not yet.” He answered the question my body was begging to ask.

    I turned my head into the pillow to try to quiet my breath and slid a hand down to massage his cock. Instead, he pushed my head down into his crotch.

    I took him into my mouth. He pulled my legs over his chest. He nipped at my thighs. I yelped, but settled back onto his lips. I sucked his cock and balls while fingering his asshole as he ate me out like no other.

    I asked him after how he did it. How did he eat me out? What was his technique?

    “I don’t know. I just eat you out.”

    I was sorely disappointed in his answer, but so very overjoyed in his skill.

    When Gray eats me out, the orgasms are plentiful and overwhelming. He has one rule for me: I have ongoing permission to cum when he eats me out so long as his cock is down my throat. I gagged to my heart’s content as wave after sultry wave crested across my pelvis and down my legs.

    Gray, by far, gives me the best cunnilingus I have ever had.

    At one point, I was riding his face while lapping up his balls and fucking his cock with my breasts. He came on my chest and his abdomen, but he didn’t stop eating me out. And fuck, I didn’t want him to ever stop. As his orgasm had grown and gone, mine had swelled, fell, and swelled again. I licked up his cum as I rode his face and knew there was no other fuck I wanted to ever have more than the one I was having.

    And we weren’t done yet.

    He ate me still longer as I continued to suck his cock. He then pivoted us to the side. With his cock still in my mouth, because I wanted it no place other, his fingers found my pussy again. He pushed. I sat onto his hand. And then his fist was inside of me. I almost felt spoiled at how much fucking we were having in just one night.

    Almost.

    I came again, clamping down on his hand. Gray likes that sensation, the feel of my very hungry pussy not ever wanting to let him go.

    Okay, maybe I am just a little bit spoiled. But fuck, with sex like that, who wouldn’t be?

     

  • Late Arrivals

    I showed up late to Gray’s Leather History class the Friday afternoon of Fusion. Unfortunately his presentation was at the same time as the Kinky Life Drawing Ion. I spoke with the person running the mini event. They were not sure if the people participating would like to stay after the allotted time. Hence no sexy drawings to share this year.

    As I listened to Gray’s presentation, another late arrival snuck into the back and sat right behind me. Rough leaned towards my chair and asked me what was going on. He had shown up during the question and answer portion. Most of the class was listening to Gray and IPCookieMonster talk about switching and Cookie’s thoughts on different types of switching (being dominant to one person and submissive to another versus actively changing or battling for dominance mid-scene). Rough didn’t stay long to watch the intellectual skirmish.

    Once the class had wrapped up, I gave Gray the less-than-happy news about the Ion. He figured as much, and was on his way.

    As he departed, I looked to my left and smiled. My friend Doug had arrived. He was walking around, trying to get a feel for this year’s camp. I called out to him and he joined me in the Pavilion.

    We hugged and kissed, happy to see each other again. He looked tired from his drive. Still, he held me tight all the same.

    As with each time we saw each other, our first greeting lasted long. Hands wondered. Our lips met, separated, and met again multiple times. We talked a bit about our lives since last we saw each other. We are always happy to see one another again. Neither of us wanted to let the other go.

    I gave Doug an invitation to my gang bang. He said he would show up, though he did not know how he felt about such affairs. As with everyone I gave an invitation to, I told him whatever felt right to him was fine by me. His accepting my invitation, whether or not he participated, was all I wanted.

    Even though I wanted our greeting to last longer, eventually we had to part. Doug hadn’t yet completed a full circling of camp, something he needed to feel grounded in the space. He also had not settled into his hotel room. I had to scurry up to the Sex-o-Rama class tent. Rough, before he left, asked me to redirect his face slapping class to the pool due to the day’s heat. I, ever the helpful friend, agreed to assist him.

    One last hug, one last kiss, and then Doug and I parted, knowing we would at least see each other again during our bootblacking shift, if not for more time to come.

     

  • Snack

    I stood in line with Gray, Naiia, and Amy, chatting about something to pass the time as the line slowly inched forward.

    It was midnight snack, open to everyone on campus. Diva, a wonderful woman who served the wonderful food, was a friend. Most all Fusion attendees can attest to the joy and necessity of midnight snack, the calories you need to play long into the night.

    When we finally filled our plates, our group of four found a place to sit and chat as others inched their way forward as well. During our conversations, the topic of my play date with Gray came up.

    Truth be told, I half expected my date request to fall through. Gray was busy this Fusion. He was running a special event on Friday that required cajoling people into participating and then wrangling said people. He was a host for Cigars, Boots, and Chocolate on Sunday, one of the most popular special events at Fusion. He had to deal with Kink Academy work, shooting multiple educators that weekend. He even had to teach a few classes.

    Also, adding to his hectic schedule, there were a number of his play partners at the event, many of which I knew he had not seen in a longer time than our last parting. I had gone out of my way to encourage said folks to “book him early” as I knew Gray’s weekend would only get worse as it progressed. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to be disappointed.

    So when he mentioned our play date and wanting to set a day and time now, I was a bit shocked, though pleased all the same. We agreed on Saturday night at 9pm.

    As we finished up our conversation, I looked to my right. Boymeat had appeared. He greeted us, sat down beside me, then turned away to chat with folks on the other end of the table. All of the nerves surged, but Boymeat never turned back around to chat.

    As we continued to grub, my Big Bro Murphy Blue passed by. In jest, he commented that Gray was such a pimp, I believe referring to his having three women around him.

    “Really? How many playdates have you had?” asked Gray.

    “Hold on. I have an app for that.”

    “Ah ha! See. Who’s the pimp?”

    As we finished up our snack, I began strategizing for my Friday. I didn’t want to have the burden of my busted tire lasting longer than need be, so I planned to take care of it in the morning, searching for nearby shops and their opening times. After having found two relatively close by, I put those worries aside for the morning.

    We all got up to leave. I was too awake to go to bed yet, so I headed towards the dungeon. On the way, I saw Darien. I let down my hair so that he could have a look at it. He hadn’t touched it since Winter Fire, when he’d clipped and flat ironed my mane. He approved of its growing length and softness.

    When I made it to the dungeon, I was a bit disappointed. There were very few scenes going. The energy was low. I then remembered it was only Thursday and a majority of campus was still at midnight snack.

    While strolling, I happened upon my friend ArrogantSlut. We made our way towards the Kraken/Indecent Enterprises tents for a smoke and a chat. I sipped red wine and listened as others entered the conversation.

    Before I knew it, 3am had arrived. I excused myself and dragged my body to bed.

     

  • Day Pass

    It felt like a rollercoaster going 70mph, and I am just now stepping off.

    The plan came together quickly and quite out of the blue. I was hanging out with EmberBliss, FireMonkey, and IPCookieMonster when the Open Space at TESFest was mentioned. It was occurring on Thursday July 3rd, the first day of the event, along with an Ignite series of kink presentations.

    I knew quite a few people who were going to TES, and it made me sad I would not see any of them. But then Cookie mentioned going up just for the happenings on Thursday. I realized this was a great idea. I had to work on Saturday, but I could manage Thursday only, with Friday to get back home.

    I pulled out my phone, got online, and registered immediately for the Thursday day pass.

    Then another thought popped into my mind. I wondered if Ignite had all its presenter slots full. I texted Gray, who was running both the Open Space and Ignite. Before I realized what I was getting myself into, I had volunteered to give a kink presentation with an accompanying slideshow in three days.

    I finished the slideshow and my flashcards the night before I left.

    The drive to New Jersey was not bad from my home, lasting just slightly over three hours. I made it to the event by 1pm, only an hour after registration was suppose to be open. However, due to unforeseen difficulties, both registration opening and the beginning of the Open Space were pushed back.

    Once everything did start, however, it felt like I barely had a moment to breathe.

    I ran two different sessions for Open Space, and participated, at least partially, in three others. I had amazing conversations, small moments, and saw some hot shit (pickup kidnapping scenes, who knew?). I felt fully engaged in collective knowledge sharing of passions just as it all had to end.

    During closing circle, I found myself de-roping from a self suspension. As I listened to everyone speak, I felt a sudden rush of sadness. We’d jumped into the deep end only to be pulled out much too fast for my liking, but such is life. Hopefully the Open Space will be back at TES next year.

    After the closing circle, there was diner food. After diner food, there was the deluge, remnants of hurricane Arthur that dumped a lot of water on us all as we made our way back to the hotel. After much scrambling, running around, a change of clothes, and prep, Ignite began.

    I was quite nervous before it was my turn to speak. I was the eighth person (out of ten) to present, I suspect because a certain someone is a sadist who likes to watch me squirm.

    Even so, I was not the only person with the jitters about public speaking. My friend FrozenMeursault was just as anxious as I was about the whole affair. His presentation on nerve injury and damage in bondage, however, was amazing. He timed his slides for reveals, blanks for when he just wanted to talk, and animation of the human body that had people in the audience actually awing. When he finished, to a rather large round of applause, I rushed to go give him a hug and tell him how great he did.

    Soon enough, it was my turn. I took the advice of my friends and stood in a power pose (think Wonder Woman) before I stepped up to the front. Funny enough, I think the mental trick worked. I spoke loudly and with lots of excitement.

    It helped that my topic was less technical and more emotional. I spoke about influences in my life that led me to cigar play and how, because I took a leap at one event, my life changed. When I finished, I felt great. FrozenMeursault came up and gave me a hug. The pressure was off. A rather large grin found its way onto my face.

    Post Ignite, it was time for play. Cookie had planned a Spin the Bottle party, which I did attend, but first it was time for stunt sex. As a follow-up to our sex at Fusion during my gang bang (which I will blog about more later), Cookie purchased two baseball bats to stick into my various holes. People watched us with interested, and bewildered, looks. The attention whore in me loved it.

    Before the Spin the Bottle party could start, we needed to find a place to land. We initially looked outside in the courtyard, but the gazebo, because of the rain, was less than ideal. The group decided to find a corner of the dungeon.

    “Hello Poetic.”

    On our way back inside, I stopped, turned, and saw Boymeat with his wife.

    “I thought you weren’t coming to this event.”

    “I’m only here for the day. I leave tomorrow.”

    “Oh darn, and I left my cattle prod in my room. Guess I’ll have to be extra mean to you at Summer Camp.”

    I blushed, began to leave, turned back, politely acknowledged Boymeat’s wife and my pleasure at meeting her, and then quickly scurried away.

    After Spin the Bottle, which was lighthearted and fun, I ventured back outside for cigars. Almost immediately, I shot straight towards a familiar and pleasing face.

    I tapped Doug on the shoulder. He turned, and we were in a hug within half a breath. For the next half hour, we chatted and hugged. And I nibbled on his neck. And he caressed his face into my shoulder. And we made a date for the next morning.

    I had found Doug at just the right time. After we set our morning meetup time, he faded quickly and headed home.

    I spent the next hour chatting with friends as we partook of tobacco, and then dragged myself to the nearby hotel room I shared with Cookie, FireMonkey, and Ember for the night.

    This morning I woke up late, got to Doug’s late, stayed too late because I didn’t want to say bye, and ended up heading home much later than I intended. Still, it was worth it.

    My event crash came hard and fast as I left my Fourth of July cookout with family. I spent two hours with them, a helpful distraction, but on my drive home all of my emotions came rushing back. The drop I felt as I sobbed into my arms, while still managing to drive, was immense.

    I slammed into and out of an event in 36 hours.

     

  • Helpful

    “Happy to be helpful.” is a phrase I often toss out when people thank me for my assistance. I hope I never sound flippant when I say it because I truly mean it. I like being helpful towards the people I care about.

    To start my Fusion, I was a defacto shuttle service for my friends. I woke up early, packed my trunk with all my things, and then headed over to IPCookieMonster’s home. She had baked goods, created by TruthInRope, that needed shipping to camp.

    Trays of deliciousness secured in my backseat floor, next I headed over to GreyMalken’s home. We squeezed in his few bags (he thankfully packed light this camp), and then we were on our way.

    A quick food stop and about two hours later, we were at camp pretty much when I had anticipated. After greetings and short chats to catch up, I dropped him off at his cabin and then rushed to mine. I was still operating on a schedule with other obligations coming up. I nested for a few minutes, discovering the extent of the wasp problem in my cabin, only briefly mentioned before I had arrived, and hastily made my way off campus.

    Next stop, the airport.

    I arrived at the cell phone parking lot with ten minutes to spare. Once I got the call, I slowly rolled around and picked up my last cargo for the day. Gray had bussed down; Naiia had flown. With my things, GreyMalken’s things, and TruthInRope’s cupcakes now emptied from my car, the two of them had no problem fitting in their luggage.

    After a quick stop at Target for a few forgotten items, and the liquor store for a few wanted items, we were soon back at camp. I dropped Gray and Naiia off at Oink (a cabin I would visit multiple times during the weekend) and then made my way back to my cabin.

    My Fusion adventure had begun.

     

  • Subtle Suggestions

     

    G: How many subtle suggestions can you identify in this picture?

    me: Maybe…15, being a creative writer and all.

    G: List?

     

    One, your eyes.  Staring at me.  The look you have when we’re in the middle of a scene.  The look you get right before you hit me, or lean in to pinch my nipples, or the care, or passion, in them right before you kiss me.

    Two, your mouth.  Your lips.  Remembering your kisses.  Rough, sweet, passionate kisses.  Needing, wanting, desperate kisses.  The dirty words dripping from your mouth when we’ve scened, when we’ve fucked.  The delicious way you make me feel like your whore.

    Three, your neck.  Nuzzling my face in it when we hug.  Wanting to kiss it, lick it, suck on it.  Smiling at the thought of your cock down my throat.  Choking on your cock.  Taking all of you in me.

    Four, your ear.  The times when you’ve made me beg for my cum.  When I shouted out your name as I came.  My mumbling incoherencies as your fingers played inside me.  My screams from your pleasure and your pain.

    Five, “SEX” written on your shirt.  But that one’s a bit literal and way too obvious.

    Six, your chest.  Resting my head on it at night.  Hearing your breathing, your heartbeat.  Kissing your nipples on my way down to your crotch.

    Seven, your shoulder.  The way you dip it as you rear back before your punches.

    Eight, your bicep.  Your strength.  Your hits.  Your hands around my neck.  The swish and flick of your whip.  Tying me up.  Forcing me down.  Grabbing my hips.  Guiding my pussy onto your cock.

    Nine, your glasses.  Me being a sapiosexual and all.  You have a very sexy brain.

    Ten, your hair.  The thought of gripping it as you go down on me.  The one time I got to play with it as your head rested in my lap.

    Eleven, your facial hair.  The way you use your beard as you eat me out.  Wanting to taste myself on you.

     

    me: Okay, I haven’t gotten to the framed picture behind you yet; maybe more than 15.

  • Memories

    The first night of Rope Camp featured Midori’s Meat Market, a fun little event to introduce folks to one another and start the dialogue for play.

    After the get together concluded, I eased my way over to Rough.  He was showing off his Fat Ass Rope, and I wanted a taste of the experience.  I asked for the pleasure, and leaned myself over a nearby table.  Instead, Rough called me over to an open area.

    First he gave me a few whacks, which stung a bit and turned out were his warm up.  He then hit me hard on my back.  Then my ass.  Then my thighs.  And my chest.  I starting yelping and eventually wailing.  I fell to my knees.  In a moment of clarity, I took off my glasses and slid them across the floor towards a small group of friends.

    Rough continued to attack my back as I continued to cry.  He grabbed me, pulled me up to sitting, and wrapped the rope around my neck.  In a moment, his blood choke took hold.  I felt my muscles give way.  He released me before my eyes closed.  A bit of drool leaked from my lips.

    When I brought my head up, when he knew I was back, he began beating me again.  And blood choked me again.  And my muscles gave way again.

    He went for my inner thighs, one of my most sensitive spots.  He regretted not being able to hit my cunt.  His rope was natural fiber and I wasn’t wearing underwear.

    When he finished, I got up, thanked him, introduced him to NYRCherryBondage, and went back to chatting with friends.

    ~

    “Ha ha, I made you have feelings.” – an attendee at Midori’s Negotiations class

    ~

    Sometimes I like to fly under the radar.  I know intrinsically that’s not what’s happening, but in my sub-y mind that’s how it feels.

    Wednesday night a few of us had gathered on a porch for cigars and libations.  I sat in front of Gray and Rough as they smoked and talked.

    Rough’s feet rested on my right leg; Gray’s feet rested on my left.  I always had my torch at the ready, as well as a selection of cutters, boxes of wood matches, and a punch.

    They told stories.  Gray taught MissAmyRed about cigar service.  I sat and listened, content, the occasional small sip of strong Japanese whiskey on my lips.

    ~

    “I am the Dom and you will brush your teeth with your left hand this week.  Ha ha ha.” – Rough, during is D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday it rained.  And rained.  And rained.

    I’d wanted to wear my new red leather shoes, but I couldn’t abide getting them muddy.  I opted for my boots instead, which completely changed my outfit for the day.

    As the afternoon came, I decided to do something different.  I grabbed my newly purchased camp chair, took it outside under the pop-up, and pulled out my new voice recorder.

    In the rain, with the pitter patter of droplets above, I recorded a Fusion podcast.

    There was a breeze that made the day cool, blowing the chill of the rain towards me, under my cover.  Because the pop-up had been erected before the turn in the weather, the ground wasn’t muddy in my sitting spot.  I couldn’t help but be happy and bubbly, even as the drops continued to come down.

    ~

    “His desires are my priority and he is where I point my devotion.
    “I am his treasure and I am to be taken care of.
    “He is my King… my dragon.” – MissAmyRed, during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Ropetastic had pimped himself, as well as his two partners, during Midori’s Meat Market.  As per his name, I knew he was into rope.  And I wanted a rope scene.

    I happened upon him in the Barn.  Originally I was chatting with my friend Nomad.  She started spinning my LED poi to make herself feel better, so I took the opportunity to speak to a rope guy.

    As we conversed, I realized we were compatible for a scene.  Since we both had time at that very moment, we headed up to the Dungeon immediately.

    We chose a semi-private spot, what seemed to be a lounge room with a few couches but enough open space for us to work.  I stripped down to my underwear, as did he.

    I explained how I liked to be challenged, how I wanted something different besides normal rope forms.  He expressed a desire to explore ichinawa, which I was all for.  We began.

    He wrapped rope around me in asymmetrical patterns, twisting my body this way and that.  He did not make it pretty, but I loved the pain all the same.  He, at times, pulled on my hair, ran a shrimp deveiner over my skin, sucked on my nipples, and tickled my feet.  He rolled my body this way and that, changed his tie multiple times, added a second length of rope, and always kept me guessing.

    We only played for about thirty minutes, but when all was said and done, I felt high, full of erotic and emotional pleasure from being in his binds.

    ~

    “The greasy basement slave…the dirty basement whore.” – a talk on fantasy versus reality during Rough’s D/s Roundtable

    ~

    Friday night we pushed all three of our beds together.  Saturday morning I awoke to dragon cuddles before breakfast.

    ~

    “I want to be treated like a pile of gold.”
    “You want to be a heavy currency?”
    “I am valuable and worthy of protecting.” – an exchange between myself and Dov after a late night run to Waffle House

    ~

    I felt like a voyeur.  No, worse than a voyeur.  I felt like I was intruding.

    It was obvious there was a connection, a slow building of energy as they writhed on the mats.

    I hadn’t witnessed it all.  At times, I was lost in scritches, lost to the rest of the world.  Pulsing pleasure from my scalp kept my eyes closed, my head bobbing about, speech all but impossible.

    But when I came back, I saw them.  Saw the looks in their eyes.  Heard the yelp, the growl.

    I wanted to sit and watch more.  I didn’t want to look away.  That energy.  That pure energy beamed from the two of them.  And I was only, maybe, five feet away.  Had been there the whole time.

    But I did walk away.  Because I wanted them to have their moment.  Without an audience.

    ~

    “You have a natural ability for connection…You seek out people you can connect with.” – Delano, to me, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    He held the balloon away from my body.  I was dirty, filthy from the grim on the stage.  I don’t like stingy, but I take it for the person I’m playing with.  I take it.  And there was the balloon, tied around my chest, and stretched taunt, ready to snap against my skin.

    He held it.  And held it.  And brought it back without snapping it.

    “Really!?”

    He pulled it out again.  I cringed again.  This time would be for real, I just knew it.  This time the pain would come.  And then he brought it back.

    I laughed and hated him at the same time.

    He used a pretty pink dildo on me.  He beat me with a pretty pink dildo, which stung like hell.  He used a collapsible baton and a plastic rod, too.  He punched me and wrestled me about on the dirty stage floor, attacking my thighs.  But it’s the balloon I remember the worst.

    Talk about sadistic.

    ~

    “If you are open to learning, you are open to deeper experiences.” – Delano, during his Bottoms class

    ~

    I spun my poi in the dark.  Spun my poi away from the group sitting in camp chairs out in the chilly night air.

    I stood in the middle of the road.  A cart came by once; I moved.

    I spun my poi and soothed myself.  I accepted my feelings, accepted that was how I felt.  Acknowledged the sad little girl inside me.  Acknowledged what little power I had over the situation except what I did in that moment.

    I spun my poi.

    Then we went to Waffle House, I ate some food, and went to bed.

  • DGG #19 Fusion 2013 pt 5

    The final installment of my Fusion adventure.

    Picture Links

    Pose #1
    Pose #2

    Time Jumps

    1:40 Tradition
    2:24 Uncensored Improv Games
    3:26 Kinky Life Drawing
    6:00 Humiliation
    8:17 Bare Stories
    10:37 Back Patch
    11:27 CBC
    13:40 In Demand
    15:27 Stefanos
    16:44 Another Rain Check
    18:10 Wrap Up

     

     

    listen to ‘019_DGG Fusion 2013 pt 5’ on Audioboo

  • Big R

    “How many of you are in a D/s relationship?”

    I watched as the people around the circle raised their hands.  Rough’s gaze ran counterclockwise until his stare landed on me.  My hand was halfway up.

    “Well, it depends.  What is your definition of a D/s relationship?”
    “That’s a good question, poetic.  We’ll start with you.  What’s your definition of a D/s relationship?”

    I was suddenly a bit flustered.

    “A D/s relationship is when one person consensually gives up control to another, and the other person consensually receives said control.  But there are big R relationships and little r relationships, and I’m kind of in a medium R relationship.  Gray is my Teacher, my Sempai, and I’m his student, his kohai.  I’m submissive to him, but he’s not in charge of me.  There is no veto power.  We play with whoever we want.  We’re friends and we fuck and play, but he said he didn’t want to do an LDR, so we’re something.”

    I took a sip of my water, trying to hide for a breath.

    As I did, I looked left and saw two people coming up the walk.  Life has a way of having perfect timing.

    Gray, accompanied by MissAmyRed, who was in service to him for Rope Camp, made their way up the lane and towards the class.  The two of them sat down and Rough, thankfully, moved on to the next person in the circle.

    Where Gray and Amy were positioned, I had only to wait for two people to describe their D/s before Gray gave his answer.

    Gray, without hesitation, stated he was in a D/s relationship with me as his student and that Amy was on loan, as it were, to him for the event.

    Hearing Gray’s answer made my heart both sink and soar.  He had just given acknowledgement of our dynamic in front of a few of our friends and had called it a relationship.

    Looking at our pre-existing situation, there are places where Gray had already acknowledged what we have.  There was the status on Fetlife.  There were the times we’d spent together, both at events and not.  He’d spoken about me as his student before both among friends and at the Grue Pitt.

    Yet, I had been hesitant to call what we have a relationship in deference to what I viewed as his preference to our interactions.  I had previously brought up the idea of an LDR, which he did not want.  I had mentioned the thought of moving closer to him, which he discouraged.  In my mind, I didn’t want to give too much weight to what we have believing the sentiment was not shared.  But it was Gray who called our dynamic a relationship.

    I ended up having a lengthy conversation with Doc about this moment.  The conclusion we ended at revolved around my self worth issues.  It is much easier for me to remember the negative.  I took the decline from Gray for both an LDR and the move as indicators that our dynamic was not worthy of the label of relationship.  Instead of noting all the positive aspects of what we’ve shared, instead of using our past emotional and kink interactions as a basis for my answer to Rough’s question, I went with the less-than-pleasant-ness I remembered, the things I didn’t want to hear but had still resounded like church bells.

    After class, I felt the need to tell Gray my response to the question.  Many thanks to Doc for the lessons in being emotionally honest.  I also asked Gray for an explanation of his answer.  He explained, when given the choice between big R and little r, a relationship or none whatsoever, of course we were a big R.  We were not just friends.

    As our Rope Camp continued, our interactions did not seem effected by our discussion.  And, as we spent another day with each other after the event, we were as we were before.

    Now, with time between that class and some life lived, I have had the chance to tell people over and over again that Gray is my Teacher, my mentor, my Sempai.  That I am in a D/s dynamic with him.  Each time I’ve said it, there was a smile on my face and less worry passing over my lips.

    Whether we are Big R or medium R, we are something.  And that’s enough for me.

  • Hot Ash

    My hands shook as I held the match box.  I could feel all the eyes in the Barn on me.  Could hear my breathing loud as thunder.

    I struck the match against the box; no light.  Struck again; no light.  On the third try, it lit.  I warmed the cigar with the match.  Once it burned out, I used another still to warm the tobacco.  With the third match, I placed the cigar to my lips, held the match by the tobacco’s end, and puffed.

    Gray informed me of the Hot Ash competition about a week or two before Rope Camp.  I remember standing by the door of the Craft Room, the words “Hot Ash” coming out of his mouth, and immediately banging my head against the wall.

    I was already going to be in the Roperlesque for two acts.  I suspected I would also be bootblacking.  And now I knew I would be in the competition as well, held in between the acts.  Just one more thing to add to my crowded plate for that evening.

    When Friday night came, so too did the heavens.  All day it rained, in fact.  The weather woke me in the morning, kept me in bed through the first class session, invited a friend under my covers for snuggles and dragon cuddles, and permeated the camp’s mood.

    I intentionally left all my things in the Pavilion for Roperlesque (rope, my bootblack kit, supplies for the fantasy, and cigar accoutrement) during the early afternoon.  As the hour of the event approached, I headed down the hill to help setup for the festivities.  When I arrived, Gray turned me away.  The event was being moved to the Barn.  He walked my luggage across the river of mud in front of the Pavilion, and asked that I spread the word to whomever I passed.

    As people hustled to stage the event in the new space, I helped move tables, arranged a few chairs, and generally pitched in as we brought everything together.

    Roperlesque was low key, as Gray had intended, with shared alcohol, cigar smoking a plenty, a game of poker in one corner, a rig for the performances in the middle of the room, and one chair on the stage for my bootblacking.  It seemed almost the entire camp came out to relax and enjoy the evening.

    Just about every bit of my night was unnerving.  I performed an ichinawa scene with NYRCherryBondage, an act we had never practiced.  I re-created my Dirty Pig fantasy with assistance from Roughinamorato and NYRCherryBondage, another time in front of the crowd.  However my heart beat hardest during Hot Ash.

    I was the first called upon to demonstrate my service.  I had my kit prepared, a towel for my knees, and I exuded calm as best I could.

    When Gray called my name, a hush settled in the Barn.  I stepped to the middle of the room, laid down my towel, sunk to my knees, and became focused on my demo top.  I offered them a selection of a few different cigars.  I offered various ways of cutting the cigar.  Did they want it warmed?  Did they wish for me to wet the end or would they prefer to do it themselves?  Butane lighter or wood matches?  I specifically catered what I had available to their desires.

    When the cigar was prepped and ready, I handed it to the demo top, thanked them, rose, and stepped away.

    As the evening grew later, after my Dirty Pig reprisal, Gray called all four Hot Ash competitors to the center of the Barn.  Lochai took the microphone in hand, then distributed the inaugural Hot Ash certificates to the participants.

    For Most Entertaining Service: NYRCherryBondage.

    For Sexiest Service: EmberBliss.

    For Best Mashturbation: Roughinamorato.

    And the inaugural Hot Ash: poeticdesires.

    I smiled, sunk to my knees, and accepted my certificate.  I turned and stood before Gray could instruct me to not rise.  To my right was MissAmyRed.  In her hands was a piece of rope with a cutter attached on the end.  She draped the rope around my neck, my Hot Ash medal.

    I still have the rope.  The cutter is in my cigar kit, but the rope is my new favorite necklace.  It is a reminder of that night, of those people, of those moments I will not soon forget.

    And, as Gray put it, I am now a dual title holder.

    I am, indeed, a hot piece of ash.