poeticdesires

Category: MN

  • Care

    It was the simplest movement, the simplest motion. A submissive sat with her head on her Dom’s knee. Then lightly, gently, she brushed her cheek against his knee. That was all it took to bring me to tears.

    I quietly snuck my way downstairs, located the bathroom, leaned against the wall, and cried.

    I wanted that. I missed that. I yearned for that.

    Something so simple as my head on a knee, such slight affection. I had, for some time, forgotten how much I loved that, how much I ached for it each day.

    I let myself cry, letting my sorrow spill out. I grabbed a paper towel and dabbed at my eyes, wiping away my tears. I took a breath. I let myself cry again.

    And then I regained my composure. I contemplated leaving the gathering, but I knew that would only make my heart hurt worse. Instead I steeled my resolve. This place was full of friends. I would be okay.

    Slowly easing back upstairs, I again stayed on the periphery of the gathering. Looking over to my left, I saw a woman sitting on the floor working on a pair of leather shoes. She used products and techniques I had no seen before. Curious, I sat in a nearby chair and watched her work.

    And then I felt a hand on my shoulder.

    “Poetic, can you let down your hair.” My curls were pulled up in a tight bun. I pulled off my hair tie.
    “Come with me.” I followed Scotty to the adjoining lounge area.

    Standing in the spot where he led me, I was surrounded by Scotty and three other friends. My head bent, their bodies close to mine, they all blew smoke into my hair, over and over again. And just like that, I felt better.

    Relaxed, I nestled on the floor. PrincessA sat in a chair behind me. Softly, tenderly, she caressed my head and pulled on my hair. I let myself float on the feeling of her hands in my curls.

    As I sat, having falling into the atmosphere of the gathering, a friend asked if I would black their boots. For a tip, their girl offered up his ashes to me. I assured her she did not need to tip me, but she insisted all the same. I accepted her gesture with gratitude.

    As I worked on his leather, I took my time, giving care and attention to his boots. He blew smoke into my hair and onto my skin. After I finished, he and his girl thanked me for my efforts, saying his boots looked almost new. He then offered up his ash as my compensation. I ate it from his hand gratefully.

    Finished with my first pair of boots, I turned to PrincessA and worked on her leather. As I gave her boots attention, I realized I felt right again. Whereas before I had been sorrowful, dejected, once again I felt the care and love of my friends. I felt like I belonged.

  • Up High

    When we arrived, our group disbursed, heading to their toy bags or directly downstairs. Since I had my things with me, I stayed in the upstairs, wanting to get ready.

    I’d grabbed a simple black wrap dress that accented my cleavage well, some jewelry, a pair of daunting heels, and my tail. Though quite tired, I was still in a frisky mood. With no modesty needed, I changed in the living room.

    Slipping into the restroom, I looked at myself. I decided to tone down some of the jewelry, lending a more subtle look to my attire. I knew, if all went well, I wouldn’t being wearing my clothes for long.

    My outfit mostly complete, it was time for the daunting part: the heels. Bought on a whim, they were taller than I’d ever worn before.

    As per a friend’s suggestion, I’d worn them around the house to practice. This happened only once. I donned them while making my dinner one night. Fifteen minutes, which included me walking down five stairs to set my food down. By the end, my ankles and feet were throbbing.

    With this in mind, I stepped into the accessory, knowing my time in them would be limited.

    Cruising around the house, I first joined the crowd in the dinning room, just outside of the main floor dungeon. The room was still crowded with bags from earlier that day as I spied the activities in the room just a few steps above us.

    One woman was tied to a ladder with her breasts pressed together by a mean looking contraption. Others were moving around adjusting a fucking machine. Satisfied that this was not what I was looking for, I moved on.

    Slowly, slowly, walking down the stairs to the basement, I immediately saw Rough sitting on the couch opposite the stairs.

    “What’s up with the shoes?” he asked.

    And then it dawned on me: I’d forgotten this was a no shoe household. As soon I traversed the last stair, I slipped the shoes off. Of course, just as quickly, someone in the room asked, “Do you wear those outside?”

    I huffed at the notion. Those heels would only be worn indoors for short periods of time. At this admonition, my shoes were approved for wear around the house.

    Back up high again, I looked around the room. There was food in the small dining area, people lounging on couches cuddling and watching porn, and some activity in the dungeon. Slowly walking over to peek inside the play area, I saw Gray and Symetrie were playing around on the wrestling mats.

    Quietly I eased into the room and sat just to the right of the door, trying not to be noticeable. It looked like they were having fun and I didn’t want to interrupt.

    But then Symetrie saw me and whispered into Gray’s ear. With me now in both of their sights, I was beckoned onto the mat.

  • Closing

    We all gathered back where we’d started, again amassing in the basement living room. I sat by the front this time, nestling on the floor. We assembled in a circle, everyone looking at one another.

    Gray stood by the front again, all the sheets of paper with the class names in his hands. One-by-one he read off all the classes we’d presented. Flogging, canes, hitting people with swords. Tantra, formal place setting, knife play, blood play. Cigars, ass fucking, kissing, female orgasms. Fisting, video games, breath play. Whips, fear play, some rope, discussions of the public scene, and even a ten minute walk thrown in. In total, thirty one classes were given.

    We did all this. We presented our passions, shared our love for these parts of ourselves with the people in this home and in those moments.

    After a full day of classes, of effort, of hard work and fun, now it was time to take a moment to speak.

    As we went around the circle, one-by-one people thanked others for their passions, for the time they took, for sharing themselves, for opening up, for showing others things they’d never seen before.

    Some were pleased to have had such a great time without having to present. I was happy to have been one of those in the front, putting myself out there, giving light to passions I wanted to share.

    As each person spoke, I was just able to keep my tears at bay. My day was a great high, a flying soaring roller coaster of moment after moment. And now I was crashing. Now our day was coming to an end.

    I almost felt the need to run around hugging everyone there or for us all to hold hands and sing kumbaya or something.

    “And I can now say this: You have all been eaten by a Grue.”

    Gray dismissed us to dinner, a two hour break before we would all be back. That night, as part of the come down, was the party afterwards. It was appropriately named the After Grue.

    With such a short time, Inretrepida thought it best to stay near the house. The only thing was my After Grue attire was still at The Naked House. With my apologies and reassurance from my ride that it was fine, we settled on food, a quick trip back for my things, and rushing back for as much time as we could get for play.

    With three more of our friends in the car, we first tried a chicken place, a mere fifteen minute drive away; fifty minute wait. Strolling around the corner, we then tried a supper club. I had visions of steak and potatoes. Alas, forty-five minute wait. Walking some more we found an Indian restaurant. We were seated immediately.

    As we waited for our food, I gulped down water. When my lamb finally arrived, I ate it hungrily. About half way through my meal, I realized a slight flaw. My food was somewhat spicy, and I had no idea whether or not there would be cigar play later that evening.

    With a sigh, I replied, “I’ll eat ash for Gray or Rough. I’ll take pain if I like you enough.”

    Of course one of my friends pointed out the rhymed.

    After dinner, with a general fatigue setting in, we hurried to The Naked House. I ran inside, grabbed my things, and just as quickly I made my way outside and back into the car.

    We arrived at the After Grue about an hour after its start.

  • Full Contact Improv

    “An orgy without sex.”

    “Free form modern dance.”

    “Presense through movement and touch.”

    I couldn’t completely trust. I couldn’t completely let go. I couldn’t completely extend my arm.

    The exercise was simple: let your partner take your weight. I held Inretrepida’s hand and leaned back, but there was a bend in my elbow. Gray had instructed us all to fully entend their arms, trusting that our partner would be able to balance and take our weight.

    With Inretrepida and myself right up in front on the wrestling mats, he came over and pointed out my caution. He instructed me to full extend my arm. And I did… for about a second. He called out my hesistance, but still moved on.

    We all sat in a circle. This exercise would be a round robin. With two people inside, they would dance, allowing themselves to move with the pressure and point of contacts of their bodies. When one person felt it was time, they would ease out of the center and another person would enter, continuing the dance.

    As we began, Gray started with one of the students. The pass came. Gray eased out and another eased in. And then the second pass happened. And then the third. Inretrepida, who had sat beside me, flowed into the movements. She, along with the other person in the middle, seemed adrift in a beautiful synchronized flow. Their interaction lasted longer than the others.

    Gray then felt it was time. He opened up the dance, encouraging everyone to start however they felt. I looked left and then right. All of a sudden pairs and triads formed, bodies moving to some unknown beat. And there I sat, alone, no one close to me.

    I felt lost, out of sorts. I didn’t know how to enter, when or where to enter. I didn’t know how to begin. And just when I thought I would slip away, just when I contemplated leaving the mat and never being a part of the dance, Gray extended out towards me. Feeling him as a point of contact, I glided into the movements.

    Throughout my time on the mat, as soon as Gray eased me in, I made myself close my eyes. If I didn’t, I knew I would think too much, knew I would over analyze, trying to find the right move to make, the best way to go somewhere. I knew I needed to not think, but instead be. I knew I needed to let go.

    As we moved, I could hear breathing, feel flesh, and let myself fall into movement and presence. I remember my back against anothers, my hand and forearm against anothers, my head against anothers. I remember my breathing, full and deep. I remember the feeling of being fully in my body.

    And then somehow, naturally, the dance ended with most of us either sitting or slumped on the mats, breathing hard and tired.

  • Fisting Is Fun

    Before we began, we had a little laugh. This would be the first time we fisted using a glove and lube.

    When I walked upstairs for my Fisting class, I was a little nervous. Inherent in the premise for my presentation is a slight flaw: I needed a demo fist.

    I knew this, and hoped that someone I knew, a friend, someone I was comfortable with would show up. When I walked into the room, only one person was there, a gentleman I had not interacted with before. Uh oh.

    I walked back downstairs and found Gray. I explained the situation, saying my class may turn into a discussion since I was not comfortable with someone I did not know fisting me. He said that would be okay but he encouraged me to wait, saying he’d heard some folks talk about attending my presentation. Also it was still early, with other classes soon to let out.

    Taking the opportunity to ask a small favor, I inquired if he could possibly be my demo fist. He said he would try to make it, allowing that the other classes needed to be in a good place for this to happen.

    I took Gray’s advice and headed back upstairs. I informed the gentleman we would wait for about ten minutes before starting. As I spoke, two more people entered. Already things were looking up.

    After the waiting period I had about five people in the room, so we began.

    I started talking about why I wanted to present on fisting. I mentioned how people in the past have told me this particular sexual act to them was scary because they’d only seen it in porn. I talked about how I loved fisting and how it is one of my primary sex acts.

    I talked about intention, how it had taken me many years to learn to take a fist. I warned against self sabotaging a session, going in with only the intention of having fun. I spoke about how much fun I had when I did it.

    And then Gray arrived.

    After our snicker, we began with the demo. Soon enough, Gray’s full fist was inside me.

    Through my orgasms, I spoke about the different ways I’ve found for achieving orgasms using a fist (vibrating, “fucking”, rotating, pulsing).

    After a question from one of my students, I spoke about different body positions for fisting. Working together, Gray and I rotated to show fisting from the side. Slipping out, I got on all fours and Gray was able to fist me doggy style.

    We covered different spots to stimulate (the G spot, above and below the cervix, as well as the cervix itself).

    I mentioned ways the bottom can assist in the sex act. I personally love being able to push my hips against a fist, in essence fucking the hand.

    Above all I stressed communication, the bottom constantly talking and asking for what they needed as well as the top consistently checking in.

    Many orgasms and screams later, Gray slipped out, needing to check on the other classes. Demo complete; class dismissed.

  • Almost Gone

    It happened in an instant.

    I was teaching my first class of the Grue, a presentation centered on cigar play from the bottom’s perspective. Gray consented to helping me, taking on the role of my demo top. We had already demonstrated a few fun aspects of play (smoke kiss, smoke rise, and eating ash) when Gray noted he had more ash to give.

    Since I’d already eaten ash out of another’s hand, Gray asked if anyone else was interested in tasting the treat. My students didn’t seem eager.

    And then I volunteered my chest. Inretrepida piped right up.

    However there were two problems. One, we were outside. I couldn’t just take off my shirt for fear of snoopy neighbors. Two, the shirt I wore had a button up collar but did not completely open down the front.

    Fixing the conundrum took a group effort. Gray held open the collar of my shirt. Rough held my necklace out of the way. Gray then spread the ash across my exposed chest and Inretrepida licked up the flecks.

    This was, once again, one of my Minnesota moments where I felt spoiled. In that moment, my life absolutely did not suck.

    But just as quickly it all tumbled away.

    When the group stepped back, happy and gleeful from the experience, I sat up straight. Inretrepida had ash on her lips, so I took her head in my hands and licked it off.

    And then I could feel it as it happened, yet I had no control to stop it. My necklace slipped from my neck onto the patio floor. Thankfully the chain mail caught on my Zim jacket, which I had been sitting on during my class. But my pendant and ring, which normally hung from the necklace, slipped through the wooden slats and landed under the patio.

    “Oh no!” I cried. Tears welled in my eyes as I scurried off the patio and under the deck.

    I saw the pendant through the slats when it first fell. With the assistance of one of my students, I was able to easily retrieve it. But then I realized the ring was missing too. Thankfully he saw it as well and pointed it out as I crawled over prickly wood to grab it.

    Back on the patio, I remade my necklace. Chain mail again around my neck, my relative’s ring and my Love pendant again kissing my skin, I felt right with the world again.

    Sometimes I forget how attached I am to my necklace. It is a symbol of me, kink me, all of me. People have recognized me just from the metal around my neck.

    On occasion that reality feels cumbersome, like a weight bringing me down. But in those moments, I reassure myself that my necklace is a symbol of my choosing. I can always take it off and set it to the side, a symbol of me I can pick up and put down at any time.

    But when it fell, when it was almost gone, the realization that so much of me is associated with those pieces of metal came crashing into me.

    I own me. That necklace is a subtle way of me projecting my own personal power over my life. And that symbol was almost taken away.

    For a moment, I felt lost. For a moment, I was so near to crying an ocean of tears. For a moment, I felt like a part of me was almost gone.

  • A Kiss

    A moment later, my pouting somewhat subsided, MattP and Roughinamorato announced they needed a nipple. Of course, since I was right there and am always happy to be helpful, I volunteered. I quickly disrobed, removing my school Gir shirt, tie and bra, standing in front of them in just my Gir booty shorts.

    To show what he wanted to demonstrate, Matt needed small diameter rope. He stepped away in search of the proper chord.

    With just Rough and I standing there, I then realized I didn’t have my glasses. I walked back over to the side of the room where we’d spoken just five or ten minutes earlier. They weren’t there.

    Turning to Rough, I wondered if he was hiding them.

    “Do you have my glasses?” Stepping back towards him, I saw he held his hands behind his back.

    “Do I have your glasses?” he asked. And then I saw them… hanging from his shirt. Once again, something was hidden right in front of my face.

    Just as the revelation came, Matt re-entered the room. He could not find the rope he wanted, but he had found a twist tie. Matt twisted around one of my nipples and then pulled it towards the other. I asked if I could push them together to make the process easier. They both consented.

    With both my nipples now connected, Rough instructed me to put my arms out to the side. I slowly let go, allowing the tie to take the weight, pulling my sensitive flesh, until the twist failed, one wrenching free.

    Matt decided they needed another and quickly found a second twist tie. This time Rough connected the twist ties and then applied them to my nipples, again with my assistance. Once more Rough asked me to let go and I did. This time the twist ties stayed, pulling my nipples together.

    Success achieved, Matt stepped away; Rough remained.

    “What did you ask me earlier?”
    “May I kiss you?”
    “Louder.”
    “May I kiss you?”
    “Louder.”
    “May I kiss you?”
    “They can’t hear you in the other room.”
    “May I kiss you!?”
    “I don’t know. Can you?”

    With my arms still out to the sides, I slowly leaned into him. I danced my lips close to his. I softly brushed my nose on his. I was but millimeters away.

    Slap!

    He smacked me across my face. My head whipped back, but my lips quickly returned. Again I danced near him. Again I played so close to his mouth, our lips so close to touching.

    Slap!

    “You can do better than that.”

    His words drove. Unhindered from my soft restraint, I moved faster. Tried harder.

    I rushed in to kiss him. Slap!

    I stepped forward, my lips so close to his. Slap!

    I brought my arms up to block him, grab him.

    He took hold of my throat and turned me, pushing me backwards even as I continued to urge myself towards his body.

    Thunk!

    He slammed me against the back wall. My left leg instinctively wrapped around his waist, keeping him close, holding him where he’d put us, trying to pull him into me.

    “That’s better,” he said.

    My mouth now found his lower lip, just softly touching it. I could feel a hint of stubble.

    Releasing, my mouth immediately found his lower lip again, gently caressing it.

    I wanted more, so much more. I wanted to ravage his lips with my mouth, for our tongues to dance, to loose my breath in his kiss. But just this, the slightest of touches, the most subtle of kisses, was what he granted me.

    In that moment, I was out of breath. I felt the passion bubbled up in our violence. For those brief seconds, I was lost in the sphere of the wall, my body, and his lips.

    Letting go, Rough stepped back, picked up my glasses from his shirt, and handed them to me.

    “Thank you,” I said. For, well, everything…

    He placed his hand on my forehead as I leaned against the wall to regain my composure. Soon I righted my breath.

    With me somewhat back to normal, Rough simply said, “Time for lunch.”

  • A Good Time

    With my current class dismissed, I drifted back down to the basement where I found lunch had magically appeared. I wasn’t hungry yet, so I wandered into the dungeon next door.

    MattP was finishing up his Dropping Bitches class and I was able to catch a bit of the knot he used to secure his ring, the knot which allowed him to “drop bitches.”

    As I watched, I noticed Rough was also in the room. He sat on the floor at the edge of the large wrestling mat working with some webbing.

    “Are you making your rope fist?” I asked. I had remembered seeing his demo video of the technique.
    “No,” he said simply.

    Instead he asked Inretrepida for assistance, who was sitting on the mat near him. Scooting over, she now sat cross-legged in front of him.

    Rough had knotted the long webbing piece, creating a ball at the end. Swinging the webbing, he hit Inretrepida on the thigh once, twice. Grabbing her shoulder, he pulled her torso down and landed two blows on her back as well.

    After his strikes, he asked her how they felt. She said the hits to her thighs were stingy while those on her back were more thuddy, but both had lots of weight behind them. Experiment complete. Rough returned the webbing to Matt and sat back on the floor.

    From somewhere inside me came inspiration and a boldness I didn’t think was possible. Easing towards Rough, I asked him if he was busy. He asked me why I inquired. I knelt in front of him, setting aside my notebook and glasses.

    “Could you kiss me?” A questioning look crept onto his face.

    I explained that Symetrie had dismissed the class, encouraging us to go practice what we had learned. The expression on his face changed yet again, but before he could say anything, I decided to be totally, bluntly, brutally honest.

    “Okay, really I wanted to kiss you and I needed an excuse.”

    And yet again, before he could say anything, I turtled, growing more and more self conscious and nervous and embarrassed by the nano-second.

    And then I ran away.

    I scurried out of the dungeon back into the basement proper. But just as soon as I escaped, finding my Hello Kitty bag beside a nearby couch, I realized I had left my notebook inside the dungeon. I had to go back.

    As a peace offering, I searched my bag and grabbed a piece of gum. I also tossed a piece in my mouth just in case I hadn’t totally ruined my chances for the day.

    Creeping back inside, Rough had stood up and was talking to others in the room. I swung my arm towards him, quietly and non-verbally offering the small stick of gum. He playfully batted my hand away.

    I walked back over to where I’d sat, picked up my notebook, and drifted back to the group. Using my words, I officially made a peace offering to him with the gum. He accepted. I relaxed a little.

    Chatting with MattP, the topic of Shibaricon came up. Flipping through my notebook, I finally found the entry for Wykd_Dave’s One Rope class. I noted how I had so much written for other presentations but my notes from One Rope were short and simple, maybe five lines. Still, those were two very intense hours of learning.

    Looking to my left, Gray approached the entrance to the dungeon. I stepped over to him and we began chatting. As we spoke, he poked my thighs and stomach. I jumped and yelped accordingly.

    And then he began pressing into the cleft between my thighs and my crotch. I began moaning. Sinking into this moment with him, I leaned forward and our heads touched. My lips were by his ear, my sounds for him to hear.

    “I’m glad you’re having fun,” Gray said.
    “How could I not?” I asked.
    “And just so that you know, I’m getting hard just from this.”

    I dropped to one knee from the pain… and from the possibility of helping him with his current physical state. His right hand still applied pressure while his left now gripped my hair.

    “And no, you may not cum.”

    He let both his hands go and I dropped to both my knees. My lips immediately formed a pout.

    “You can always talk to someone else about it.” And then he turned and walked away.

    I crawled over to a nearby bench, crossed my arms, and slumped my face onto the bench.

    Meany.

  • Full Contact Kissing

    She presented it in a way I had never thought about. She spoke about a passion one would not immediately think of: kissing. She pointed out how most people in the scene viewed kissing as a vanilla activity, but it didn’t have to be. Kissing could be a scene all in itself.

    As Symetrie spoke, she made eye contact with a blonde woman sitting a few feet from me. Symetrie talked about connection, creating contact with another human being, letting down all your walls. Symetrie sought to engage her entire self with this other person. 

    As she approached the blonde, the intensity in the room grew. Getting closer and closer, Symetrie spoke about the delicious tease, the almost kiss being part of the kiss too.

    As Symetrie danced her lips all around the blonde, and then finally let their lips meet, she spoke on how each moment was about learning from each other, constantly checking in, always being present. There kiss was about the now, this moment, this interaction. Their breathing had become synchronized. They were in and of each other.

    In a rush, Symetrie pushed the blonde backwards, the blonde’s back now against the couch I sat on, her arm touching my leg. As Symetrie continued the kiss, as she interacted with this woman, I put down my pen, tilted my head, and found myself enrapture by just watching them.

    When their dynamic switched, the blonde pushed Symetrie down, sat on her, and took control. But, just as quickly, Symetrie again was the aggressor. Symetrie’s kiss with the blonde incited emotions in the spontaneous bottom she did not expect. Symetrie ended the kiss, allowing the blonde to melt into the arms of her lover.

    Symetrie then brought Roughinamorato to the front of the class.

    For this particular part, he would be her demo top. Symetrie noted how Rough was known for his rough body play. She spoke about how impact can still be part of the kiss. Symetrie asked Rough to hit her in her solar plexus and then kiss her.

    Rough started unexpectedly. Bringing her in close, he lightly kissed Symetrie’s lips…and then pulled her back, punched her sternum, grabbed her hair, and brought her lips back to his.

    This first kiss demonstrated, Syemtrie further explained what she wanted. She sought for Rough to knock the wind out of her, but asked him to be wary of her breasts. Rough, ever safety minded, encouraged her to disrobe, which Symetrie did (for safety). 

    As her dress came off, Rough asked if Symetrie had ever had the wind knocked out of her from a hit in the back. She hadn’t.

    Rough grabbed her and swung her around. Using his forearm, Rough hit her once, twice, thrice in the back, knocking the wind out of her. Grabbing her throat, her swung her back around and kissed her, then slipped his hand over her nose. His kiss was now also breath play. As she began to struggle, Rough sighed out, his breath entering Symetrie’s lungs, giving her the sensation of breathing while still depriving her of oxygen.

    After Rough released her lips, Symetrie informed the class we were going on a field trip. Walking upstairs, we invaded Gray’s Intro to Rope class. For this last lesson, Symetrie spoke about using implements as an extension of a kiss. Gray caressed his rope across Symetrie’s body, using tension, his goal to convey the feeling of himself through his rope.

    Finishing up, Symetrie left us with a few thoughts. What reaction did we want the other person to have? What sound did we want to occur?

    Symetrie then released us to go practice what we learned.

  • Passions

    We arrived five minutes early, groggy but excited. Inretrepida gave me a ride Saturday morning from The Naked House to the Grue, for which I was quite grateful. Otherwise I would’ve had to take three buses for about one and a half hours.

    As we entered we deposited our shoes to the left and deposited ourselves to the right on a nearby couch. As more people filtered in, we crept downstairs for food: bagels, yogurt, juice, tea, and coffee.

    I returned to my comfy couch and chatted with folks as they arrived. Soon, though, we were encouraged to make our way downstairs. It was almost time to start.

    As I stood in the back leaning against a wall, Gray approached.

    “Are you planning on teaching today?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good, then I’ll use you as an example.” Always happy to be used.

    With all the attendees ensconced in the couches and floor space of the basement, Gray began. He stood in front of a bookcase draped by a white sheet with various pieces of paper naming different spaces in the house taped to it. Otherwise it was blank. This, he explained, was our schedule.  We were going to create our day.

    “Think about something you’re passionate about. Hold that thought.”

    And then his example began.  Gray pointed to me, saying I would demonstrate the process for adding a class to the schedule as he narrated.

    First, I pondered what I was passionate about. Putting my finger to my lips, I looked up and away, searching for my idea. And then it came to me. A smile burst onto my lips as my finger swung from my mouth and pointed to the sky, proclaiming my idea.

    With the thought for my class acquired, I scurried to a coffee table full of pre-cut pieces of paper and sharpies. Selecting a piece of paper and a marker, I wrote the name for my class – Calling All Ashtrays: Cigar play from the bottom’s perspective. Gray read the name for my class as I wrote it. Affixing two pieces of tape to my piece of paper, I chose a time slot and spot for my class.

    With my example now finished, Gray opened up any and every one to add their classes to the schedule. I stepped back and watched as people filled the white sheet with their passions.

    On my way back to my spot, Gray quickly spoke to me, saying if I wanted to teach another class I could. Since he mentioned it, I decided I would. Heading back to the table, I wrote on another piece of paper – Fingering 401: Fisting is Fun! I then added my second class to the schedule.

    Almost immediately, there were changes to the schedule. I wanted to go to Inretrepida’s Self Suspension class, so I moved my cigar play class back. Gray wanted to attend one of my classes and another presentation in the same time slot; more switching. Once everyone was happy and assured they would be able to not only teach their classes but attend the one’s they found interesting, we settled back down.

    With everyone’s passions listed, and everyone ready to go, Gray sent us off to share and learn.