poeticdesires

Category: Gray

  • Pop Question

    What are the three things you’d suggest someone bring to camp and why?

     

    For my sexy skin outfit, I’d chosen: a leather collar with BITCH in silver metal on the front, a gift from NYRCherryBondage; my black and red leather wrist cuffs, purchased during my London Grue adventure; my Faire boots, which I wore throughout the competition; and a piece of rope gifted to me from Gray during our Tied Down playdate, raw hemp that had served as a point of connection between us and a sexy crotch rope multiple times, this also being one of them.

    As I stood next to Lee, with the minute to ponder my pop question, I thought back to my first camp.  Everything I felt as I drove down the lane towards my cabin.  The experience.  The memories.  I had my answers ready almost instantly.

    First, I recommended bringing something that made you feel sexy.  It could be a hot dress, a suit, leather, a pair of awesome boots, or just your skin.  I spoke about how it was important that you feel sexy just as you are.  After all it was sex camp.  But, also, camp is about feeling sexy inside and being in a place to exude that sexiness to others.  If you don’t feel it, how would anyone else see it in you?

    Second, I recommended bringing your bravery.  I spoke about how scared I was when I came to my first camp.  How, even though I was full of nerves, I made myself do it even though I knew no one.  I found a home amongst the swingers who ran my cabin; they comforted and encouraged me.  (“Swingers are the nicest people.”)  And now look at me, running for Dirty Pig.  Bring your bravery.

    Last, I recommended bringing your glee, your happy.  Camp is about the joyous, this experience we all share of being accepted for who we are.  Reveling in the sex and play and fuck we all love.  Camp is about the fun, so bring your glee.

    Instead of being nervous as I spoke, I was bubbly-happy me.  I smiled, bopped about, and had huge hand motions.  I looked out into the crowd, at the judges.  I saw smiles and head nods from most of the people at the table.  I knew I nailed it.

    My question answered, I asked Lee if I might bribe the judges.  He agreed.

    With my crotch rope so perfectly silhouetting my ass, I offered up my rump for spankings.  I hopped off the stage and rested my hands on the platform.  One judge jumped up on stage and pulled out their strap-on for me to suck.  Another judge came up and spanked me.  Gray pulled out the paddle he’d had me fetch earlier and used it on my ass.

    The judges had so much fun that Lee had to shoo them back to their posts.  Mission accomplished.

     

    My Dirty Pig Experience

    – Pep Talk

    – The Rules

    – Introductions

    – Pop Question

    – Fantasy

    – And The Winner Is…

    – Gifted

  • Pep Talk

    “Kohai, make me proud.”

     

    To say I was nervous for Dirty Pig would be like saying child birth is uncomfortable.  I was jittery, anxious, shaking almost.  I stayed somewhat sane through a series of semi-related events.

    I pre-planned my possible outfits for the competition, as well as any necessary props, packed them in a suitcase, and stashed them in the tent that was to be our Green Room earlier in the day.

    I sat with Gray and Rough in the smoking lounge near my cabin, reasoning that the competition would not start without one of its judges.  I hoped being around people would calm me down.  I demo-ed eating ash for a bottom new to cigar play and was amused that Gray was a Mashmaker (or was ash-blocked by Rough, depending on how you looked at the situation).

    I scribbled notes about my day (bootblacking in the Pamporium, Shay & Stefanos’s protocol class, spending a little time with my friends at our cabin).  But, for the most part, my gut was twisted up in knots.

    When Gray revealed his outfit for the competition (his full leathers: vest, chaps, boots, hat and gloves, with easy access to everything one would want), I knew it was time to make my way over to the Sex-o-Rama stage.

    Walking over the grass, I could hear the emceeing of my friends; the kinky pride parade preceded the competition, ending at the stage where the big show would begin.  Once arrived, I met our two wranglers for the competition, two generous souls who volunteered to not only help us with any necessary props but also kept us on track during the contest.

    I stood around for a while, hopping from one foot to the next, trying to stay calm, breathe deep, and find amusement in my friends’ crazy comments.  I preset two outfits, reacquainted myself with the props I needed and where they were.

    Then came the reinforcements.  Shay and Stefanos arrived.  Shay immediately asked me what I needed.  She rubbed my back, kept me calm.  I told them I was mostly okay, but I was concerned about bribing the judges.  Stefanos went to work; Shay stayed with me.

    Randomly, Gray called me over.  He needed his paddle from his cabin.  I dashed across the grass, happy to have something to do to kill time.  I easily found his paddle in his big bundle of ow.  I quickly walked back across the hill and handed him the toy.  As I did, he grabbed me and pulled me in close.

    “Once the competition starts, I can’t treat you like my kohai.  I have to judge you like any other pig.  But, before the competition starts, I just wanted to say one thing to you.  Kohai, make me proud.”

    I felt a surge of pride.  Of worry.  Of expectation.  Of determination.  Of courage.

    I joined my fellow contestants in the Green Room.  I wanted this.  Really wanted this.  And I was going to do my damnedest to win.

     

    My Dirty Pig Experience

    – Pep Talk

    – The Rules

    – Introductions

    – Pop Question

    – Fantasy

    – And The Winner Is…

    – Gifted

  • Exchange Rate

    I dropped off my netbook and my cigar play kit at the cabin.  It was late, but I was awake.  I decided to wander.

    I didn’t go far.  As I crossed the grass in front of my cabin, I saw people gathered in front of the horseshoe.  Gray, Lochai, and Rough were there, smoking cigars and enjoying the company.

    I took a seat.  Pulled out my notebook.  Wrote about my day.

    As I worked, Rough called me over; he had a head of ash for my consumption.

    After my treat, the back and forth to Oink began.  Rough asked me to retrieve his wristband for the Whorephange game.  Then he wanted his money from the packet.  Then his leather wrist band.  Then he sent one of them back.  Once, I remarked to myself, Ah, the joys of service; I feel like a gopher.  I laughed to myself and kept to my task.

    As I nestled on the grass, Rough had me tear up the sheets of paper that were his money.  He then needed to sign the back of each fake bill.  As he worked, I offered him a business deal.

    The rules of Whorephange stated as a bottom I won if I had the most money in the end.  Rough could win if he had his signature on the most bills.  I suggested Rough and I trade money.  He’d have his name on twice as much fake cash to start.  I would have a pile of fake cash to claim as my own.

    Rough didn’t quite like my terms.  He didn’t want a 1 to 1 deal.  He wanted more bang for his buck.  A 3 to 1 ratio was his preferred exchange.  Since we each received $1400, Gray calculated this would be about $470.

    “$500,” I countered.

    “You want to go against Gray’s wishes?”

    “Yes.  I know I’ll pay dearly for that.”

    I was sent back to the cabin, this time under Gray’s direction, to retrieve his big bundle of ow.

    When I returned, Gray made me play a little game. First I picked three toys; they were immediately discarded. Next I picked two more. They were kept. Both were canes. The last toy I picked was the one Gray would use on me. The other cane was for Rough to use on me some time in the future.

    Gray wanted me face down in the grass, but first I was to strip.  As I gave my show, I turned my body so both Rough and Gray would enjoy the reveal.

    Twisting my body, I got on my hands and knees, my head by Rough’s boots.  Gray stood.  Asked me what ratio of cane strikes I thought I deserved.  I suggested 1 to 10.

    “No,” said Gray.  “You said one word that cost you.  You said you’d pay ‘dearly’.  One to one; thirty cane strokes.”

    “That’s a lot,” said Rough.  “I may get bored and just leave.”  I looked up at him.

    “Am I ever boring?”  Rough gave me an intrigued look.  “I am never boring.”

    I laid in the grass.

    Gray came down on my ass hard.  I whimpered.  Said, “One, thank you.”  He continued.

    I sobbed.  I writhed in the grass.  I counted each of Gray’s strikes and thanked him for each punishment.

    Rough rested his boots on my back as Gray attacked my ass.  Gray’s strokes grew worse and worse through to the final lashing blow.  Once he finished, Gray sat back down and join Rough in his use of me as a foot stool.

    When I regained my composure, Rough leaned down with a stack of money, signed.  I had earned my payment.  He said I could deliver his cash whenever; he trusted me.  He stood, ready to go.  I tried to peek under his kilt.  He wagged his finger no at me, then left.

    Gray, however, wasn’t quite done yet.

    He stood up and began alternately caning and kicking me to the beat of the music playing in the background.  He had me flip onto my back.  And then he began kicking my cunt.

    “Are you gonna cum on my boot?”

    “If you let me.”

    “Sure, but you have to do it before the song ends.”

    I writhed my clit against the sole of his boot.  Heard his instruction and let my orgasm fly.  Squirmed in the grass as the pleasure raced through me.  Smiled, happy and sore.

    I tied up his big bundle of ow.  Returned it to his cabin.  Came back and saw my friend ArrogantSlut arrive.

    “I was just stood up for my bootblacking,” he said as I re-entered the lounge area.

    “No,” I said.  “I didn’t stand you up.  I was in the middle of a scene.”

    I ran back to my cabin.  Grabbed my bootblack kit.  Set up in the grass by him.  Began working on his shoes.

    Gray was tired.  He gathered his things, kissed me on my cheek, and headed off to bed.

  • Friday Night

     

    After my piss cherry was popped, my Friday night continued…

    ~

    We all gathered in a circle around our two friends as the handfasting was about to begin.

    I felt a bump in my right arm.  Looked to my side.  Saw Gray, dapper and handsome.  I slipped my arm into his.

    We stood side-by-side with many others witnessing a ceremony of love and devotion.  As our two friends joined their lives for a year and a day, my eyes watered.

    I wish them happiness and joy in their love.

    ~

    As our group dispersed, I walked over to D3.  My arm now wound into his grip as we leisurely strolled towards the Sex-o-Rama stage.

    There was about ten minutes before the burlesque show was to start when we arrived.  I saw the Dirty Pig judge milling about with the other performers.

    “May I make an introduction,” I asked him.  He said it was okay.

    I eased D3 over to the judge.  I could see the instant attraction between them.  My work was done.

    I stayed back, watched the first act of the show, then moved on to my next adventure for my evening.

    ~

    Bear laid on the same mat I had been on Wednesday night.  I worked under the same rig I’d been tied to that first evening.  Our scene had an altogether different tone, though.

    I wanted floor work; Bear just wanted to be in rope.  I bound their arms, legs, and moved their limbs this way and that.  I attached to the side eye bolts, turned their body about, and challenged their range of motion.

    All the while, I had a huge smile on my face because I could not stop talking about my time with Boymeat.  I raved about our initial encounter.  How he had read me so well.  How I had dropped to my knees to lick his boots.  Later dropped to my knees to suck his cock.  Had cum from his infliction of pain and the idea of him pissing on me.  I spoke about my cherry pop in the grass.  The grin on my face hurt from how big it was.

    But then, as I began untying Bear, there he was, slipping into the Dungeon from the side exit, the door right next to our rig.

    “My ears were burning,” said Boymeat.  Rightly so.

    He crept towards me as I loosed Bear’s ropes.  Gently tapped his cane against my leg.  Bear smiled.  I saw one or two people out of the corner of my eye observing my predicament.  My gregarious nature turned shy.  How much had Boymeat heard?

    I eased Boymeat out of the moment.  I still had rope to lay on Bear’s body, a different tie, a meditation my friend wanted.  Boymeat read me and slipped away.

    I tied Bear in an Ebi.  Took them to the place they wanted.  Then released Bear’s body, hugged them in gratitude for the experience, and we parted ways.

    ~

    I dropped off my rope kit, grabbed my cigar accoutrement, as well as my netbook, and headed down to the Pavilion.  I was late.

    When I arrived, she was still there.  I apologized profusely; explained my scene ran long.

    We sat on a bondage table.  I opened up my computer and started talking.

    We heard the crowd before we saw it.  A fire breather announced their arrival.  The mass followed his flame down towards Primal Arts.  She looked on.

    And then we heard the boom.  The fireworks burst in the air.  I could see the look on her face.  Could see the need in her eyes.

    “It’s okay,” I said.  “Go.”

    She ran towards Primal.  I packed up my things and went about my evening.

  • DGG #12 Fusion pt 1

    Some breath play, some ash, a little pain and pleasure.  And this was just the first day…

     

    listen to ‘012_DGG Fusion 2013 pt 1’ on Audioboo

  • Vignettes

    When I dropped off Gray at his cabin, off loaded his things, and made sure he was good, I stepped up to hug him. I kissed his cheek. He turned his face into my kiss. He wanted more than a peck.

    His lips met mine. We kissed. And kissed. And kissed. I stood up on my tip toes. My arms around his chest.

    Eventually he ended our embrace.

    “You better go. My cock’s getting hard and you have to work.” 

    He slapped my ass and sent me on my way. I, regretfully, went back to setup duty.

    ~

    “I just wanted to ask for your advice on running for Dirty Pig.”

    “Well, you’ve seen the show before. You know what to expect. I think the only thing that might harm you is wanting it too much.”

    Brakes screeched in my brain.

    FULL STOP, yelled a voice in my head.

    ~

    “Maybe I’m trying too hard? Maybe I’m taking this too seriously? I’m gonna stop. I’m not going to talk about Dirty Pig for the rest of the night. And as far as bribing the judges…”

    “When it comes to the judges, I think they need to get to know you. You can’t just be the next person offering them something. Not just another pretty face. They need to remember your name.”

    “You know, I was thinking. I went to Del’s class at GKE. And I saw Carol at CatalystCon. And I just got an email about possibly getting a short story published. What if I spoke to them about those things first? Make myself a person instead another contestant just trying to get a vote.”

    “I think you’ve got this, Lil Sis.”

    ~

    “I just wanted to thank you for teaching Top of the Boot at the first GKE. I was fairly new to bootblacking then, and it was the first time I’d seen a class from the perspective of the person receiving the blacking. I really appreciated the presentation.

    “Also…A little birdie told me you were one of the judges for Dirty Pig. I’m running for Dirty Pig. How would you like me to bribe you?”

    ~

    “Yes, you can use rope for breath play. You can use twine. You can use piano wire, but then you’ll run into other issues.”

    “Mmm,” I moaned, while stroking my neck.

    “You are one sick and twisted chic.”

    ~

    “Other fun activities can also be used for breath play.”

    “Yeah, I know.” Rough turned me, noting my sly smile as I stood in front of the class.

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, last night.”

    “Good on him.”

    “Indeed,” I said.

    ~

    “How do you want me to prepare for your Basic Suspension class?”

    “Don’t eat a big meal beforehand, and don’t die in Rough’s class.”

    ~

    “Now, I’m at a disadvantage for my class. Poetic is an experienced suspension bottom. She’s suspended herself and others, and can make up for any mistakes or discomfort this suspension may cause.”

    Wow, I thought. People, even Gray, actually notice my rope-y-ness. I may be kind of good at this.

    ~

    “Now, what if she fainted in her suspension?”

    I let my body go limp in his ropes. Listened as Gray explained how to get someone down to the ground quickly. Felt as familiar hands lifted my frame, loosed the ropes, and rested me on the floor. Kept my eyes closed, and my body unmoved, as people “scrambled” around me.

    “Okay, you can get up now.”

    I popped up to sitting, smiling at the class.

    “Okay, everyone spread out on the frames and try your suspensions.” Gray looked down on me. “Can you…?”

    “Yup.” I scooted my butt across the floor, ropes still tied to my body. In the corner, I started untying his ropes and leaving them in neat-ish lines to be coiled.

    ~

    “If he were at Summer Camp, he would totally win Fresh Meat.”

    “Well, it’s not exactly a competition.”

    “Well no, it’s a popularity contest.”

    Rough looked at my friend.

    “Can you hold this please,” he asked. My friend took up Rough’s bag.

    Rough’s fist slammed into my chest before I had time to register his movement.

    “Thank you,” he said, taking back his things.

    “Thank you,” I said to Rough as he left class.

    I was a smiley-happy-floaty girl again.

  • Second Wind

    We met in the Dungeon soon after parting by the pool. He chose the suspension rig to the left of the stage. I sat down my things, slipped off my sandals.

    “Should I take off my clothes?”

    “I like to unwrap my presents.”

    He unrolled what he had dubbed his ‘big bundle of ow’, a blanket with implements nestled inside of it. One of them included his piece of graphite (shit), but one of his toys was not the Twisted Bitch (thank Christ). He had two floggers, including his big whomping flogger, as well as three or four canes and some rope. I stretched, prepared myself for what was to come. He rigged his ring to the frame.

    I stepped to the center of the rig, relaxed, hands resting behind my back. He uncoiled a length of rope. Dragged the chord across my chest. Wrapped it around my neck. Stepped behind me. Pushed his body against mine. My hands felt his cock through his pants. Massaged him as he ran the rope along my skin and breathed into my ear.

    He pulled my hair tie from my head. Let it drop to the floor. Let my locks flow down my back.

    His hands slid down to mine. Raised them. Bound them. Brought my hands into the air above my head. Secured them to his ring.

    He kissed my cheek. Punched my back. Stepped in front of me. Punched my chest. Kissed me more. Traced his fingers from my face down to my chest. Pulled my strapless dress and bra down. Wrenched my boobs. Pushed my dress to the floor. Grabbed my ass. I kicked my dress away. He unhooked my bra. Tossed it aside.

    He slapped and punched my chest and ass.

    Picked up his flogger. Attacked my back. My ass. Hit my boobs. Went for my nipples, occasionally catching my rings for a split second.

    He picked up a cane. Wailed on my ass. Grabbed my hair. Pulled me into a back band. Caned my breasts. Came across my nipples. I cried out.

    And then a hand was inside me. He fingered my pussy, dancing his digits in my wetness. And another strike came from his cane, burning sensations on my ass. More fingering. More pain. Alternating the mean with the sweet.

    He put down his cane. Picked up his paddle. Again attacked my ass. But, again, his fingers found my cunt, working his magic inside me. I begged, pleaded to cum.

    “Not yet.” He had one specific demand. “On the third strike.” I knew they would be brutal. I always had to earn my orgasms. One hard smack. A second. And then finally a third.

    I pulled myself down onto his hand. Rode his fingers for every single molecule of my cum. Screamed and cried out my ecstasy.

    He stood. Loosed my wrist rope. Dropped me down to my knees. Kept my hands elevated. Secured the rope again. Pulled out his cock.

    He grabbed my hair. Pushed my face onto his cock. Fucked my face. Sunk deep into my throat. I relaxed into his will. Until I had to breathe. Until I could take no more. Until I pulled away. But he held my head. But he insisted. But he wanted his cock inside me.

    He pulled my head back. Let me breathe for a moment. Then did it again. And again. And again. I gagged, yet yielded to his will. Took all of him in me.

    He rubbed his cock against my face. Let me suck on his balls. Let me play with his cock with my mouth.

    He reached up. Let down his rope. Brought it between my legs. Pulled me down into a reverse hogtie. Secured my wrists to my ankles.

    I felt his cock rub against my pussy lips and ass cheeks. Felt how hard he was. Felt as he reached over to his bag. Slid on a condom. Slid inside me. I moaned my pleasure. Moaned his name. He grabbed my hips. Pulled my body onto his cock. Fucked me hard on the floor as I took all of him, yet wanted more.

    He came. Slid out of me. Reached his fingers inside me. Finger fucked me til I begged for his permission. He gave it. With his yes, I felt the race of orgasm through my pussy out to his hand. Out to my lower back. Down into my thighs. Up my spine. My thank you. My sounds. My cum.

    He untied my ankles. Untied my wrists. Pulled me into his lap. Stroked my hair as I curled up into him. Lightly kissed my head. Sunk into his exhausted state, his second wind spent.

  • Menage-a-trois

    * If you’re free, rough & I have some cigar ash here at the tiki bar with your name on it.

    – Be there is a quick moment.

    I had no plans for my Wednesday night. Class practice with Rough had me riding a cloud of glee through dinner into my prep for the evening. Even without any plans, I showered and put on a cute outfit, just cause.


    As I gathered my things to head out and find something fun to get into, I got Gray’s text; perfect timing.

    I grabbed my cigar play box, as well as my bottle of red wine, and headed down to the tiki bar.

    When I arrived, I found Gray and Rough sitting at a table near the center of things, smoking their respective cigars. I sat my things down, draped my hoodie on the concrete, and knelt next to Gray.

    “Only naked girls get ash.”

    As I knew he loved, I gave the men a show as I disrobed. I draped my dress on the ground as well, giving me more room to move about comfortably. I sat up on my knees and patiently waited for my treat. Gray held his cigar above my outstretched tongue, then delicately rolled his ash for me to eat. After watching it sit there for his amusement, he gave me permission to swallow.

    Both Gray and Rough bemoaned an unhappy circumstance: in the short moments between Gray’s message and my arrival, Rough’s ash had fallen to the ground; a true sadness.

    I sat down on my hoodie, Gray’s hand casually brushing my shoulders as I looked over at Rough.

    “I asked Gray a question and now I’ll ask it to you. What is your relationship with Gray?”

    “And it’s not like you’re being judged or anything,” said the voice behind me.

    I could’ve been nervous. Any other time I might’ve been nervous. But having Gray behind me, and Rough being the person asking the question, gave the moment a calming air.

    “We have our title, Sempai/kohai or Teacher/student. It’s sort of a friendship plus.”

    “Is that like friends with benefits?”

    “We do fuck; we do play. But… I have friends and then I have friends I can talk to. I talk to Gray. I care for him.”

    “You know, some people would use another word for that.”

    “Yes, I love him. He knows this. I’ve told him this.”

    “Okay.”

    I reached over, sipped my wine, washing the remnants of Gray’s ash down my throat. Slightly awkward moment ended.

    “What are you drinking,” asked Rough.

    I smiled, taking the bottle up in my hands, and tilting to towards him.

    “Funny you should ask. Menage-a-trois.”

    Rough lifted his eyebrow, possibly only half believing me. He picked up the bottle, examined the label.

    “Very apropos, no?”

    “Gray, she’s drinking Menage-a-trois.”

    “Really?”

    “She told me what wine she was drinking temptingly.” For the record, my selection was a happy accident, much like the entirety of my camp.

    For the next hour, Gray and Rough alternated their opportunities for my cigar service.

    Once, as I sat nearer to Rough, he held his cigar to my face. Close to my eyes. I stayed still, allowed his heat to fill my face. He moved his cigar closer. Closer. Until the tip touched right in between my eyes, leaving a small fleck of ash in its wake.

    Another time, Rough grabbed my hair and pulled me close into his lap. He lifted my strands and blew smoke once, twice, thrice into my hair. Gray followed Rough in turned, bringing his lips to my head and blowing his smoke into my hair. Unlike Rough, Gray patted my hair, pushing small puffs out. He liked that trick especially.

    Gray used several different ways to puts his ash on my body. One instance he had me lean into his lap. He dabbed his cigar along my back, five strikes on each of my shoulders. I jumped at each touch. After each set of five, he wiped the ash along my back, then scratched my flesh. Another time, Gray had me stand in front of him. Ash in his hand, he slapped my breasts hard, rubbing the flecks onto my flesh. Another instance, Gray rolled his ash into my hand. He then instructed me to rub the flecks all over my breasts while looking up at him as I did so.

    During our evening, an individual sat next to Gray and struck up a conversation. While the two of them spoke, the newcomer also smoked a small cigar. They were interested in learning about cigar service, so I agreed to eat ash out of their hands, first the right and then the left. When I finished my service, they remarked, “I think my clit has migrated to my hand.”

    When Rough’s ash grew long enough for a treat, I swiveled back towards him. But, in the split second before he was to lean over to deposit the ash on my tongue, again the head dropped, half on the ground and half on my jacket.

    “Lick it up,” said Rough.

    Without thinking, I got on my hands and knees and licked up his ash. Licked at my hoodie. Licked at the concrete ground. Darted my tongue, strategically picking up as much as I could in the most efficient way possible.

    I felt Gray’s fingers against my pussy lips as I worked. Felt him massage my outer folds before inserting a finger inside me. And then another. And another. I moaned as I worked. Delighted in the moment.

    When I finished licked up the ash, I turned to Gray, who stuck each of his fingers into my mouth. I lapped up my juices before he smeared the remnants on my face and in my hair.

    With yet another head of ash for Gray to give me, I stuck out my waiting tongue. He rolled the ash; I held it. Gray then licked around my mouth, tickling my lips. Then I was allowed to swallow.

    “Do you have anything planned tonight,” asked Gray. I shook my head no. “Good, cause I want to beat on you. This week, I’m going to work on marking you.”

  • DGG #10: Shibaricon pt 3

    Some pizza, a pair of shoes, rope, rape play, and goodbyes.
    The last installment of my Memorial Day Weekend adventure.

    listen to ‘010_DGG Shibaricon 2013 pt 3’ on Audioboo

  • DGG #9: Shibaricon 2013 pt 2

    The second installment of my fun over Memorial Day weekend.
    Cigars, the Cabaret, and my sternum, oh my…

    listen to ‘009_DGG Shibaricon 2013 pt 2’ on Audioboo