poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

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.

 

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Encounter

~ erotica ~

 

“Does it include my name?”

“No.”

“Then post it.”

I found myself wrapped up in thoughts of our encounter for days after it occurred. As I laid in bed at night, I’d dwelled on the memories.

His hand on my face, my neck. Squeezing, just for a moment, then letting go. The way he ripped open my blouse. Hoisted up my skirt. The rough brick of the alley wall against my ass. The smile on his face when he felt my wetness. How I looked away, but then his scented fingers lifted my chin up, my eyes back on his.

“Say you want it. I, obviously, already know you do.” He touched his slick fingers to the tip of my nose. “But say it anyway, because you and I know you want that, too.” He pressed his fingertips against my lips. “The writer and her words. How eloquent you can be when it’s a screen or a page in a notebook. But I wonder, is it all practice, all pretty words and phrases memorized long ago? Or are those words yours? From here.” His hand rested over my chest, warming my heart. “And here.” His fingers slipped inside me. I gasped. “Words, my sweet, or there will be no satisfaction for either of us tonight.”

He played me masterfully, making it hard for me to think, let alone speak, but the fire in his eyes made me find my voice.

“I am a dirty thing who desires what humiliation you wish to grant me. The joy of my being lies in others amusement at my trials. Use me as you wish, however you wish, and I will thank you for it.”

His slap stung, smearing my scent across more of skin. His fingers pushed their way into my mouth. I lapped at the taste of me. Used my tongue to dance against his fingers. I sucked and swallowed as he smiled.

“So you are more than words. I, however, for tonight, am not.”

He pulled away from me. Stepped back. My breathing was labored. My body, hot and ready. I could see the bulge in his pants. Had felt it against me not seconds before. Yet he stepped back until he leaned against the opposite brick wall.

The ache in me was great. Ever part of me hummed for want of him. I saw nothing else to do but be true to my desires.

I dropped down to my knees. The motion was smooth, though the rough ground was not forgiving.

“Please.” My eyes were downcast. My arms at my sides.

“You can do better than that.”

My face shot up. His arrogance was infuriating, yet it made me want him more.

“I beg of you, free me from this torment. My body yearns for your touch, not in sweetness but in lust, in hot blooded raunch. Fuck me against this wall so hard you bruise my ass. Make me cum so hard I scream. Slam your cock into my mouth. I will gag and take you, for all I want tonight is to be used by you til my body is spent and I can yield no more.”

His hands were on me in a moment. Again his fingers encircled my neck. His other hand gripped my hand. Tilted my head up. His lips hovered a breath away from mine.

“Not tonight. But another night. You are, by far, the hardest temptation I have ever had to endure. Neither of us will find that pleasure we both ache for this evening, but know we will have it, and soon.”

His hands released me. He took off his suit coat. Wrapped it around me. He stepped back again, but stayed close.

“Can you close your shirt?”

It was such an odd question, giving the last few moments, but it was practical. The illusion we had been under was broken. I looked at my attire. Pulled my skirt down. Saw that the buttons from my shirt were gone.

“No.”

A quick glance of the ground confirmed they were around me. I quickly found and picked up the half dozen pieces. Put them in the jacket pocket. Closed his buttons to cover myself.

“Come.”

I looked up at him. Saw his outstretched hand and his now softer eyes. I accepted his aid. Stood. Walked with him back down the alley.

He hailed me a cab. Gave me fare for the ride.

“Please.” It was my one last desperate plea.

“Soon,” he said as he kissed my forehead and eased me into the taxi.

I slept in nothing but his jacket that night, and the next.

Going back to work seemed wrong. To have my days be so mundane again when this encounter had so changed me.

I saw him a week later, passing in the hall. It was late afternoon. I’d gone for coffee to keep awake. He had the look of just getting out of a meeting. He passed by me without a glance in my direction.

I stayed late that night, trying to finish up a project, but my thoughts spun around him. When I finally gave up for the evening, I walked out to the cool beginnings of autumn. He was sitting on a nearby bench. He stood when he saw me.

I walked toward him, hopeful.

“Not tonight,” he said. I know my face changed. “How are you?”

“Confused.”

“That’s to be expected. But also?”

“I. I can’t stop thinking about.”

“Yes.”

“I want to write about it.”

“You should.”

“I have a blog.”

“I know.”

“You’ve read it?”

“Yes.”

“Does anyone else?”

“No.”

He turned and walked away.

I saw him again a week later, the same as before, new project started this time for me.

“Have you written the post?”

“Yes.”

“But nothing new has appeared on your page.”

“Don’t you want to read it first?”

“Does it include my name?”

“No.”

“Then post it.”

“But.”

“Post it tonight.”

He turned and walked away. My heart sunk again.

But then he stopped, turned. “Tomorrow.” I shuddered. He turned and walked away.

 

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A Slut and Her Sir

~ erotica ~

 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Sir.”

She kept her eyes downcast, but let the beginning of a smile creep to the edges of her lips.

It had been far too long since a slut had seen her Sir. Too long since she’d smelled the earthy wonderful of his scent, felt the soft touch of his hand. Too long since she’d been his not just in mind and soul but in body. Her sex throbbed even during this, their small reconnection ritual.

Her Sir traced the line of her face, looking down on his obedient little slut who knelt on a pillow by his boots. His slut lived for this moment when her Sir was away. The subtle touch of his fingers imbued her with a sense of love she had not felt anywhere else before. She closed her eyes and leaned into the gesture of affection.

Her Sir’s hand stopped at her chin, raised her head up.

“A slut will look at me.”

His slut opened her eyes, resting on his gaze.

“I don’t know if I believe a slut when she says she missed her Sir.”

“But a slut did, Sir. She called, and wrote, and thought about you each time she wanted to touch herself.”

“And did she touch herself?”

“No, Sir. Your slut was a good girl, Sir. She cried from missing you.”

“From wanting to be fucked by me.”

“Yes, Sir. I mean no, Sir. I mean both, Sir. Your slut missed you in many ways, Sir.”

“Really? Name them.”

His slut tried to look away, reaching into the recesses of her mind.

“Eyes up, slut. Don’t stop looking at me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now, in what ways did a slut miss me?”

His slut bit her lip in a way that secretly pleased her Sir.

“Every night when a slut called her Sir, and Sir said sweet things into her ear before bed, a slut missed having her Sir beside her, so that she could feel the breath of his voice on her neck as he spoke because Sir would normally says these things at night while next to her.

“And a slut missed Sir’s smell. At night, when her Sir is home, a slut curls up into Sir’s arms and she falls asleep to the smell of him.

“And I slut missed being used by her Sir. Always before bed, yes, but also knowing, while he was away, Sir would never show up to her work during her lunch break, or ask a slut to come by his job. A slut even missed the back alley at her Sir’s office, even though a slut hates the smell and always fears being seen, because that back alley is where Sir seems to most like using his slut.”

“Hmm, it sounds like a slut really did miss her Sir.”

“Yes, Sir. A slut really did, Sir.”

“Does a slut wish to be used tonight?”

She felt heat rise to her cheeks. Her heart fluttered. The ache in her sex grew worse.

“If her Sir would be so kind as to allow it, a slut has longed for some time to be used by her Sir.”

 

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Reward

My Friday at Fusion started early. Even though I got to bed around 3am, I woke up at 7am to go run an errand. Because of my previously mentioned flat tire, I ventured off campus, had two of my tires replaced, and returned to my bed around 8:45am. I managed a decent nap before the rest of my day began.

When I woke up for the second time that day, I didn’t know what to do. I briefly looked over the class list, but saw little that piqued my interest. But then a cabinmate mentioned Boymeat’s foot torture class.

“Hmm, I’d like to bottom for that.”

“Really? Let’s go.”

Before I knew it, we were out the door and on our way up to the dungeon class tent. We were late, arriving about fifteen minutes into the presentation. Still, I found a seat near the front.

Boymeat went over many different ways to cause pain to feet. Some of my favorites: clothes pins in between toes, tickling, biting, and using electricity on the feet.

When he opened up the class for other suggestions, I mentioned using rope or twine and twisting the binding to create compression. Also I remembered the horrible things I’ve seen people do with rubber bands. I thought he might want to add that to the lesson.

As the class wrapped up, I found myself chatting with Boymeat. My cabinmate had already left early, so I was not pressed for time. To my surprise, Boymeat had previously thought about ceasing to offer his foot torture class. But, because he received such great feedback from his attendees, he now felt more invigorated by the concept. He had new ideas to explore, more information to add to his presentation, and overall felt better about the material.

I mentioned how one part of his class intrigued me. Electrical play was not part of my normal repertoire. My job involves electricity, to the point that I have been shocked before. I had yet to be able to eroticize the sensation since I’d felt it more than once in an annoyed or angered context.

I hopped up on the massage table. Boymeat brought out his pig prod. My breathing got heavy. I knew it would hurt. A lot. And it did, a lot. He shocked me on my thigh. I rolled over. He shocked me on my other leg. Then on my arm. He leaned over me. Lifted my dress.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to shock you there.”

He kept his word, not touching my clit. Instead he shocked my pubis, a pain and pleasure I had never felt before. I screamed and rolled away. He stepped back, pleased with his work. Another cherry popped for me.

I curled up into a ball on the table, smiling and breathing, and scared as fuck.

Boymeat then turned to his demo bottom, Muffin.

“Okay, time for your reward.”

“You know what I want.”

“Yes, but you can’t have that now. However.”

Boymeat unzipped his pants. Pulled out his cock and balls. He allowed Muffin to suck on one of his balls. And then he looked over at me.

“There are two, if you’d like to join in.”

I hopped off the table, dropped to my knees, and began sucking his right ball.

“Hmm, I think you two can suck on my cock too.”

We took turns, each of us alternating our attention between our tasty treats. Once, we each ran our lips up and down his shaft at the same time. He moaned and pet us as we relished in our acts.

“Now here’s the problem. There are two of you, but I can cum in only one mouth.”

“She can have it,” said Muffin. “I’ve already tasted you twice.”

“Thank you.”

My mouth was back on his cock. As I licked and sucked, Boymeat gave me a lesson on how he loves his cock to be sucked. Soon, I did indeed taste him.

When he finished shooting in my mouth, I knelt back on my heels and turned to my right.

“Hi, I’m Poetic.”

“I’m Muffin. Nice to meet you.”

As we made our introductions, Boymeat stood for a moment to bask. Then he said, “You two are by far the filthiest people I know, but you occupy two different spheres.”

Boymeat’s comment felt like a genuine compliment; I was quite proud.

“This is how I know I’m not some stereotypical asshole. When an asshole gets his cock sucked by two women and then comes, he’s all like, ‘Look at me.’ When I’ve had my cock sucked by two women and then I come, I feel guilty.”

In my humble opinion, it’s an attitude like that that gets your cock sucked by two women more often.

 

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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.

 

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31

It started oddly. I woke up from a dream that wasn’t a nightmare but wasn’t at all pleasant. To call it odd would be generous. Thankfully, the images my subconscious dumped last night did not permeate throughout my day.

When I checked my Twitter feed, I saw the day’s wishes had already started, even at the early hour.

My first stop for the day was in DC. I visited a friend in the hospital who is stuck for observations for a week. We geeked out about Guardians of the Galaxy. Yes, we are seeing it when it is released. I then bought him two bacon cheeseburgers, along with a Rueben for myself. We ate while we watched SVU and continued with our random comments and occasional crude humor.

My second stop was for fro-yo. I met up with a few work friends. We enjoyed the cold in our mouths on a quite warm day. Then we strolled down the road to a nearby pool hall. There was cheap beer, bad billiard performances, and a World Cup match on just about every screen in the establishment. After Germany’s third goal, we gave up our game to watch what the other hundred or so people in the establishment were captivated by. We left a few minutes into the second half.

My third stop brought me back to the same area as the pool hall. After planning and multiple cars were organized, I had sushi with a CookieMonster, a FireMonkey, and an EmberBliss. The internet cracked me up with random hilarious information. After dinner, I bought a cheap cute dress, and we were given the pleasure of a beautiful rainbow.

Following sushi, there was a trek back into DC for sweets, sadly sans EmberBliss. Our trio arrived just in time to buy cupcakes. Purchase accomplished, we sat in the car as the rain storm lingered. Cookie and Fire sang Happy Birthday to me. I gave them each a kiss in thanks.

My last stop was at the home of yet another work friend. Since I came late, I arrived with a cupcake. We chatted for a bit before I noticed the hair on his couch. Later I felt tingling on my skin. And my eyes began to water.

“Does a cat live here?”

His answer in the affirmative gave weight to my decision to end my evening with him. Of course there was also his hour plus of ranting about random people in his past that pushed my legs closed and dictated my never doing things I had thought about doing with him, ever.

Throughout my day, though, I was called, texted, emailed, Facebooked, direct messaged, and Tweeted. In more ways than one, people reached out to me and made contact, which, on this of all days, is what makes me smile. All the attention, even in bite sized pieces, was appreciated.

Flirtation ending aside, all-in-all, I had an awesome thirty-first birthday.

 

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Ride

I found myself in the same position Thursday night at Fusion as I had been some nine months previous with the same person in control of my fate, though under drastically different circumstances.

The last time I had seen Malacro was at the last Summer Camp. I was grieving the recent loss of my father, but not telling most of the people there of my circumstance. I spent a lot of that camp simply sitting and chatting with folks.

As I strolled up the path, I saw a game of Cards Against Humanity was under way at Sadists’ Lair. Also, setup just outside of the game, was a sybian.

I don’t remember how I ended up on the sex toy. I do remember who was at the controls for most of my ride. Malacro let me rest my hands on his thighs as I came multiple times, the sex toy’s controls in his hands. I displaced much of my body weight forward as I put pressure onto my clit, leaning onto the vibrating nub of the sybian.

Malacro was quiet but kind as my orgasms raced through me. I remember being so grateful that I could still feel that good, even as I felt the pain at the loss of my father.

Nine months later, after I finally got Amy to camp Thursday evening, I enjoyed dinner at the Baekry, then rushed back to my cabin, showered, changed, and hurried up to Sadists’ Lair.

Outside the cabin, two sybians were setup side by side. I rode one last September. The other belonged to Malacro. In a message before camp, he informed me that he’d actually bought his own sybian after our shared Summer Camp experience. Of course we just had to have round two.

As before, I was a size queen. I chose the largest attachment. He put it on and I crouched down onto the sex toy.

“Is it okay if I lean on you?”

As he turned up the motor, my hips began to gyrate. I realized if I leaned forward I would soon come, but if I leaned back I could give my clit a break.

My first two orgasms came as a continuous wave. I leaned onto Malacro; my arms rested on his shoulders. Then my hands gripped his back. As orgasm one melted into orgasm two, I relaxed my hands.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m more concerned about my ink.”

For the rest of my orgasms, I rested my arms on his shoulders. My hands gripped together behind him. My forehead touched his. We leaned into each other. It was close, intimate. He was giving me pleasure. I was opening myself up to connection, communicating my pleasure in sound and breath.

At times I screamed or mumbled inexplicable dialogue only I could decipher. Occasionally I giggled as the ecstasy tickled my insides and spread to my fingertips and toes. Sometimes I moaned, guttural and full. Sometimes I whined, high pitch and breathy. But I stayed in close with Malacro. I wanted to keep that intimacy, that connection.

Later, after my thirteen orgasms and many thanks for my ride, I asked him, “So can we do that again sometime?”

“Sure.”

“And next time, may I kiss you?”

Only I, who had already experienced multiple orgasms from this man on two separate occasions, would be so polite as to believe I shouldn’t try to kiss him while riding his sybian without first asking his permission.

 

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Words

I approached his cabin slowly. It had been drizzling off and on during the day, so I carried my borrowed umbrella, resting it on my right shoulder. As I stepped up to his porch, he saw me and gave me one of his wry smiles.

“Hello Poetic.”

I stood patiently at the bottom step and looked up at him with a smile.

“Do you have a moment?” I asked.

Boymeat stepped down off the porch and joined me in front of Oink.

“I have something to give you. Could you?”

I gestured for him to hold the umbrella. He grasped the handle and said, “This thing is bigger than you.”

I swung my backpack around, unzipped it, and found another invitation.

“This is an invite to my gang bang.” I replaced my bag on my back and took up the umbrella handle again. “There is information on the time & place. I’ll be providing water and snacks. And there is a list of my safer sex boundaries.”

He looked over the paper.

“So, will I be given ‘special exception’ to put my cock in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“You funny thing. I’ve probably had more cocks in my mouth than you’ve had in yours.”

“Really?”

“What are you at, about fifty cocks?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m easily around four hundred.”

My mouth slacked open in awe and jealousy.

“There were these clubs in New York.” As he spoke, he smoked.

“My favorite was just a plain cement room.” He blew his cigarette smoke to the side, but the smell lingered.

“Fifty guys would stand around the walls of the room.” We were in close, enclosed by my umbrella.

“Everyone was quiet. No one said a word.” I knew there were people nearby, people moving around, but in that moment my world was just my shivering body and Boymeat’s voice singing in my ears.

“I would step to the center of the room, kneel down, and turn my hat around. Can you imagine that? Fifty cocks primed and ready. Fifty cocks in your face. So many cocks struggling to get into your mouth. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The thought of all those men wanting to put their cocks in your mouth excites you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

With every question, I felt more nerves, yet more freedom. Boymeat was asking the questions others hadn’t asked before, hadn’t dared to inquire. And he was just getting started.

Boymeat has a way with words and with reading me. Maybe it was the catch in my breath, or was I holding it? Was it how I scrunched up my body, almost like a coiled spring waiting to pop? Or the way I occasionally bit my lip? Or the expectant, needy, greedy look in my eyes? Whatever it was, Boymeat knew how to read me.

“I bet you’d drop to your knees and suck my cock right now if I let you.”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not going to let you.” I pouted. “I already know filthy little pig likes it when I pee on it, but I bet you’d also love it if I ran my cock between your ass cheeks. You’d still want to suck my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“But what if my cock wasn’t clean? What if my cock had a little brown on it? I bet you’d still gobble up my cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You want that, don’t you? For me to fuck your ass and then shove my cock in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

With each word, I took a breath. Found the courage to answer truthfully.

My answers were never more than a loud whisper, but he wouldn’t let me evade, wouldn’t let me escape. Even as I was admitting to parts of myself I only barely accepted, I didn’t care. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him, how nasty I wanted to be with him, even if I said it in one word whispers.

“You want to lick my asshole, don’t you? And you wouldn’t care if it was clean or not, would you? You’d eat my asshole like the dirty little pig you are, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I bet there is something else you want. Something else I haven’t said yet. Something else a dirty little pig would do.”

“I. I think have to stop. I think I have to walk away. I.”

He had pushed in the right way, slowly and patiently and always waiting for my approval to go on, but Boymeat had found my wall. I stepped back, nervous and scared suddenly for what it all meant, scared about the thoughts that filled me.

“It’s okay. Here.” He unzipped his shorts, pulled out his cock. He lightly grabbed my hand. I stepped forward, back into the bubble of his cigarette scent. He let me stroke his cock, soothed me with the feel of what I wanted in my mouth.

“Okay, you’ve had enough.” He put his cock away. “Go on, scurry away. You have more trouble to get into.”

“Yes. I just. Can you do mean things to me this weekend?”

He gave me another clever smile. “I’ll see you later, Poetic.”

 

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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.

 

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Elevated

~ a dream ~

 

“Do you feel that vibration?”

“Your heart rate is…”

He sat next to me on the barstool in the small open air cantina. Our drinks, like us, were sweating in the heat. My left arm touched his right. His eyes were forward. Mine were glued to his phone. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears.

I’d woken up in his lap that morning. Last night’s party at a mutual friend’s home was fun and playful, mixing drinks with Nerf wars. Most everyone was strew about, sleeping on the plush carpets or the comfy couches, when I arose. Somehow I’d made it into his care for the evening. We’d chatted as the deluge of fuzzy bombs occasionally assaulted the unsuspecting. I vaguely remembered making him laugh.

When I woke up and saw his face, I smiled. For such a strong man, with immense arms, broad shoulders, and a build that could crush most anyone, he was gentle enough to not rouse me as I slept. Gentle enough to comfort me as I rested. And there was something in his eyes that drew me to him.

But what I felt now in the cantina was not comfort.

I’d driven us to my hole-in-the-wall spot because I loved the sparse atmosphere and the even more sparse clientele. We were the only ones in the place at 10am on a Sunday besides the bartender/cook. Mimosas were needed to ease the slight dull throb in my brain.

“Have a drink with me.”

He ordered a beer.

As I ate my eggs and drank my orange juice with champaign, his eyes didn’t meet mine. I wondered why he was suddenly avoiding my gaze.

I pulled out my phone.

“Hmm, I need to go for a run today.  Even with the revelry, my heart rate wasn’t up enough last night.”

He pulled out his phone and laid it next to mine.

“Hey, you have the same app as me.”

“What does it say?”

As I looked on his screen, his arm touched mine.  The red line went up. The phone shock.

“Your heart rate is.”

“Is what?”

I could feel his gaze turn towards me, yet my eyes couldn’t leave his screen.

“Your heart rate is.  Your heart rate is.”

His hand traced up my arm, up to my face.  His thumb grazed my cheek. My eyes closed against the touch, then reopened, locking onto his stare.

“Elevated.”

He kissed me. My hands found his face. His beard tickled my lips, my chin. It was slow and light, then deep and full, then almost frantic. I lost all sense of time as I kissed him in the dive bar on the edge of town with the cheap mimosas, tasty eggs, and zero clientele. He held onto me. I held onto him.

Somehow, by the time we parted, I had ended up in his lap on his barstool. We were both breathless.

~

Side note: So my brain is kind of amazing.

This was my dream last night right before I got up for my day. The partying, the waking up in the man’s arms, and the kiss I wish I could have.

And the best part… the man in my dream was Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson. With the ridiculous body, hot tattoos, and smile that can melt a thousand hearts.

I now hope to wake up like that every morning.

 

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