poeticdesires

the life and musings of a kinky slut

DGG#22 Grue-pie Chat

In this latest podcast, I am joined for the first time by my mutual Grue-pies, IPCookieMonster and Evan.  We chatted in the car on the way home from the Carolina Grue this past weekend.

WARNING: Set your volume low to start.  We all were still high from our adventure and spoke quite loudly.

Time Jumps

0:00 Jumping right in

1:07 Cookie’s Rope Bottoming Class

5:47 The Fishbowl

10:18 What is Dominance? (aka Can Domming be a verb?)

15:57 Beyond 24/7?

21:24 Dinner break

23:08 Metal sex

28:27 I’m not romantic

31:15 What’s a Grue-pie?

33:05 Why Cookie’s a Grue-pie

39:44 Why Evan’s a Grue-pie

42:28 Why Cookie’s a Grue-pie (part II)

45:37 Why I’m a Grue-pie

47:40 Wrap up

 


He Likes Feet

~ erotica ~

“May I?”
“Um, okay.”

I laid across his couch, and across him, as we watched Hulu. It was a cold evening, his house a bit chill, so I hadn’t thought about taking off my boots. But then he asked, gesturing at the leather in his lap.

“You don’t have to unlace them. There is a zipper on the side, if you just unsnap that flap.”

My jeans were cuffed to show off the jump boots I’d found in a thrift store a few weeks ago. I loved them so much; they were the only shoes I’d worn since that purchase.

He ran his hand down from the toe of the leather to the top of the boot, then eased up the snap, loosing the flap. The sound echoed in his small living room. That was when I noticed I was holding my breath. As he drew the zipper down the length of my boot, I sighed. He, however, never looked up from his ritual.

Gripping my calf in one hand and my heal in the other, my leg rose as he pealed off my right boot. When he went for the sock, I protested.

“It’s cold.”
“You know, I’ve never seen your feet.”
“Really?”

I hadn’t actually thought about it. We’d been friends for years, but had only been dating for about a month.

“Yes.”
“Well, will you keep them warm?”
“Yes.”

His fore fingers hooked at the top and drew my sock down from my knee. His nails tickled my skin. I bit my lip to keep from giggling. Any time I gave him any tell when it came to tickling me, he was merciless. When he’d bunched up the whole of the fabric on my foot, he pinched the toe of the sock and pulled off the length. After folding it up, he placed the sock inside of the boot.

I rolled my hips, bringing my left foot into his purview while tucking my right foot in between his thighs for warmth. To my great shock, I brushed his hard cock restrained within his jeans. I heard his brief inhale. His eyes darted towards me.

I didn’t know what to say. I could see the desire in his gaze. On accident, I had discovered something he’d never told me in our years of confidence.

As much as I made myself ignore it for far too long, whenever our eyes met I could feel his hands all over me. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, and often I’d quickly look away. This time was no different. My eyes went to his lap.

“You still have one left.”

It sounded more cheeky than I intended. His grin formed in my periphery.

He turned back to my boot. Repeated his order as before. I watched the care, the intention with each motion. As he worked, his thighs hugged my ankle. I felt his still erect cock the entire time.

When he finished, he lifted my foot from between his legs and placed both my feet in his lap. He began caressing them, then massaging them.

His touch grew firmer. My breathing became heavy. I let my eyes close and my head roll back.

“Shit, you’re good at this.”

He raised my right foot. I gasped as his teeth sunk in.

“Oh god.”

I writhed on the couch beside him. He bit my arch, then sucked. His lips encircled the ball of my foot. He licked in between my toes, then put all of them in his mouth. I intermittantly sighed or cried out.

When he released my foot from his mouth, he turned his entire body towards me. Kneeling on the couch, he made to straddle me. I caressed his cock with my feet as he leaned in for a kiss. His hand guided me as my toes brushed up and down, up and down. His lips moved to my neck, his free hand gripping my hair, pulling my head to the side. Even so, I bit his nearby ear, then whispered to him.

“So nice to know there are still things to learn about you.”

 


DGG# 21 Sexy Shameless Plugs

Happy to be back with my first podcast in quite some time.  I think the result is well worth the wait.  Time jumps listed below…

0:00 Over 18 disclaimer and intro music

0:50 Long time no podcast

1:40 Seattle Grue

3:00 RambleGrue

4:05 DO Surrender

5:00 Random back pedally moment

6:05 Brain Lingerie

9:30 Speak

 


End of the Line

For the greater part of this year I have been participating in Alison Tyler’s Smut Marathon, a merry war of words between smut writers to see who can last the longest.

I’m sad to say today marked the end of the line for me.  I lasted longer than most, longer than I initially thought I would.  It was a fun sexy time and I am so very thankful to Ms. Tyler for hosting the competition.

To celebrate my efforts, below I have compiled all my entries, from my first sentence to the last thoughts of my characters.  I hope you enjoy.

 

Assignment #1: One Sentence

He was the one I pushed away, had to push away, because, so often, I lost myself in him.

 

Assignment #2: Using someone else’s words

Each writer chose another participant’s first sentence from assignment #1 to use in their second entry for the marathon.

 

Life Lesson by Poetic Desires

“Death changes your perspective on life.”

I was not in a position to disagree with him. Here I was at my great aunt’s wake, bent over the bathroom sink. He was fucking me from behind, and doing quite a good job of it. I would’ve agreed with almost anything he said.

For a moment, I wondered if he’d given this speech to someone before me, someone who had been in the same position I was currently in. Had another, had many others, come just as hard as I did now, screams muffled by his hand clenched over their mouths, skirts wrenched up, stockings torn, hair a mess?

I didn’t care. I stopped caring a long time ago what anyone thought of my sexual choices.

When I’ve told this story before, some found it morbid. Others uncouth or simply rude. If you’d known my aunt, though, you’d view the situation differently. My freedom from the shame of others was a life lesson I learned from her. She lived a life full of not giving a fuck.

The current rumor about her latest exploits involved her final days. Even as her health faded, she supposedly whispered to her lover one night, “I want to spend the most of my last moments with you inside me.”

As he pulled my hair and slammed his cock into my cunt, as I came harder than I had in months, I said a silent prayer, a thank you to my aunt for her life lesson.

 

 

Assignment #3: Musical influence

Inspiration: Jeremih feat. Lil Wayne & Natasha Mosley – All the Time

 

Morning, Noon, and Night
by Poetic Desires

 

We go to bed each night, and wake up each morning wanting, needing, to fuck.

12pm sex is our quickie. Filthy morning phone calls send us rushing home on lunch breaks. I hike up my skirt while he unzips his fly and we go at it against the kitchen counter, using the same dirty language that led to the dirty sex.

3am sex is the funniest. Tipsy romps after parties, clothes torn off and thrown wherever. I devolve into giggles as he kisses my belly button before tearing off my underwear. Once he’s inside me, though, my laughter turns to curses reverberating off the walls.

11pm sex is rough. Hair pulling, scratching, biting, and hands around a throat as either I ride him or he rides me before we drift off to sleep.

But 7am sex is my favorite. Saturday or Sunday mornings, sunlight peeking through the window, the smell from last night still lingering in the air. We have all day to fuck, and we know it.

In the summer, when we both sleep naked, he uses a gentle hand to ease my legs apart. I wake up moaning, riding his face, my hands somehow already ensnared in his hair, pulling his mouth more onto my clit. I love those first moments of my day, so near orgasm, tears running down my cheeks as the ecstasy soon washes over me.

In the winter, when we wear matching men’s pajama pants, my hand slips inside his front slit and brings out his half erect cock. I watch his face as I lick my lips, then circle my mouth around his cock head. His eyes always shoot open as his back arches and now his hands find my tangle of hair.

If we could, we would fuck morning, noon, and night.

 

 

Assignment #4: A found postcard

 

I call you every month, and meet you at the bar for a drink, even though you hurt me, and I still feel the pain, because if I don’t see you a part of me aches without end. For the sound of your voice. The warmth of your hug. The smell of your skin in our embrace. I get lost in recent memories and long for your touch to soothe my sleepless nights. But all I can manage are small moments with you. So please, let me have them. Pick up the phone. I hate you, miss you, love you.

 

Assignment #5: A tattoo

 

Every time I miss one, or all, of them, I rub the same spot on the inside of my wrist: the small heart with the interlaced infinity symbol.

I came to this life unexpectedly, one fuck and stumbled upon affection at a time.

When Jamie first entered me, I felt a ridiculous smile cross my face as tears traced the line of my chin. Jamie taught me orgasm as ecstasy.

When Alex kissed my boot and presented an ass to be kicked. I had to stop myself from proclaiming my well of emotion and ravishing them immediately.

When Kay dropped down onto the floor and curled her arms and legs around my boots, whimpering like a puppy and nuzzling against me. I pet her head and planned our collar shopping.

Every time I touch my tattoo, I remember them. I feel them. I wait for their return.

Love is infinite; time is not.

 

 

Assignment #6: Eavesdropping

 

Overheard
by Poetic Desires

 

I heard the rip of the condom wrapper. Heard her gasp. And his moan.

I laid in my hotel bed, trying to stay as still as I could, keeping my breathing even, and ignoring the growing slickness in between my legs.

On trips, I sleep with my ear buds in, but my music had stopped. I don’t know why I woke up that night. Had no clue what time it was. I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but listen.

He stifled her screams with a pillow. As they fucked, I imagined everything he did to her. Yelps when he pinched her nipples. Moans when he sunk himself deep into her. Gasps when he bit her. The way that man growled sent shivers through me.

Sherry attracted gorgeous men wherever we went. He was no exception. His eyes caught mine as I turned in for the evening. He gave me a wink as I departed. A hint of jealousy passed through me as I left the two of them in the bar.

As his breathing grew heavy, I knew they were working towards their end. Even as I hated Sherry for fucking some random in our hotel room, I could feel my arousal pulse throughout my body.

If all I could get was hearing how good of a lover he was. If my only release that night would be in his breathing and his carnal utterances. If he could only ever be my lover in my fantasies, I would take it.

 


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.

 


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.

 


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.”

 


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.

 


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.

 


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.