As I was finishing up with The Puncher’s Girl, the Fireman’s Girl (Who, it should be said, is less a girl than a grown-ass woman a more than a decade older than me and light-years hotter. We should all be so lucky!) came over to tell me that it was my turn for fireplay. I went over to the area where the massage tables were set up, handed a nice guy my wings and halo (left on the pretty shoes) and was told to lay down on my belly. Another fire-helper showed me a case full of paintbrushes as the fire Dom asked if I was ticklish.
“Um…a little bit,” I said a warily, but decided to let it happen.
It felt good to be back under the flames, warm hands running over my back and legs. There was none of the romance and Daddy-ness of my Fireguy; this was more like a really excellent massage. With gentle hands on me and the comfort of knowing people were watching, I very nearly fell asleep.
Then he told me to turn over and I got to watch the fire. He dabbed the rubbing alcohol along my legs and belly and then lit the brief flames. There was sometimes a quick burny sting, but mostly just all the warmth. He found a ticklish spot on the right side of my waist (Hey! I even sort of HAVE a waist these days!) and made the most of it. I held back the laughs at first but he goaded and encouraged me until big shrieky guffaws came out. The Fireman’s Girl was watching from another table and smiled with me every time I got the giggles. So did the spectators watching behind my head. This was a particularly smiley dungeon night.
After I thanked the Fire Tickler for his care, I felt all relaxed and sleepy but also reallyreally ready to get spanked. I asked Cute Master, but he was utterly uninterested—I guess that’s just the end of that. Super frowny face, but also, next!
Old –Timey Guy was all tired out from a day at the Renaissance Fair so I didn’t think he’d do it, but when I mentioned what I needed to Punk Rock Girl, she asked him and he said of course. This is why they’re the awesomest. I may have graduated from having them as protectors, but they still take such good care of me.
He tied my wrists together with my pretty-but-not-super-effectual satin cuffs, and I knelt down on the bench where I’d just spanked TPG. Old-Timey Guy said to leave on my wings and halo, they wouldn’t get in the way. A spectator who’d been avidly watching my girl-spankings raised his eyebrows, smiled big, and said “OH, now it’s YOUR turn.”
Hence the title of these posts. The endorphins of topping and fireplay, combined with the above-mentioned awesomeness of my Dom-of-the-moment made this session utterly, triumphantly delicious. He started with his hands, spanking and eliciting moans of happiness and relief right away. It felt so good that I was making sex-noises, groaning and sobbing and wiggling my ass for more.
Once he’s warmed me up with spanks, he moved on to my favorite strap: sure, thuddy whaps interspersed with little stings. He pulled me close to his front to hold me still and I lost myself in the sensation, intimate and animal, pressed against his junk and wriggling to get closer still. I truly felt like I was going to come—some day before long, it’s gonna happen like that, and it might make a MESS. That’s how much I felt his impact, all the way in somehow.
By the time I moved up to the flogger, I was pulsating with joy, getting ready to float right up off the earth. When he was finished, I told him he’s a nicenice man and asked for a few extra hugs.
I told him I think he’s one of my most successful playpal situations. At no point have I ever felt a bit of fuss or about him, and every single time he hits the spot better and better. I really appreciate the place he has in my life. (Mostly, behind me.)
Next: How to get more snuggles: beat up a boy.