Knotty Thursdays: Mr. Adorkable Hits Me with Things, YAY!

 

Is it cheating that I sometimes hand in a nice boy's design as my rope homework? I guess bottoming is rope practice too?

What I should have taken a picture of was Mr. Adorkable's TOY BAG. I'd told him I needed all the spanks after my (mostly self-inflicted) stressful weekend, so he brought everything. Oh MAN I've missed being hit with all the thuddy things. I've missed typing the word thuddy! We were making out and I smelled another nice smell besides us and I was like, "Oh, that's all the things you're gonna hit me with."

I missed the smell of leather, which I've never even really thought about at all!

Before that, though, the ropes. 

I love the way he worked his design around the bra, I felt like it was too pretty to take off. (It flipped right down so nicely when the time came! I should probably get this outfit in all the colors.) My favorite part was the way that little tail at the back tickled--when he was working on that part, I just giggled and squirmed with pure joy. Profound joy! I kinda transcended a little.

It's maybe not advisable to tell someone they feel like a puzzle piece on the second date, huh? But he just does. I like the way we just easily fit together. And I like the way songs come on just at the right moment. This time, a little on the nose, it was "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. 

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part Three (A Good Cry)

 

(As I finish up writing about this gorgeous date from three weeks ago, last weekend’s worry and jealousy has come and gone. I did everything wrong and it turned out okay. There was no Perfect Unicorn Lady because they weren’t looking for one. He had a lovely spouse weekend full of sunshine, rest, and friends. I want my brain to remember that, no matter who else joins his constellation. I want to have more faith.)

Back to September second: When we got to my apartment after the Dreamiest Uber Ride Ever, after I put his leftover lobster mac and cheese in the fridge, I took him upstairs to try the new purple ropes. I showed him how to do an overhand knot, then how to redo that overhand knot so it would land in the right place. The whole scene, the whole night, was purple, just shimmering with otherworldly magic and regal beauty. Purple. That’s how I feel about The Shy One.

Sex, of course. Beautiful and THOROUGH and sweet. He drifted off and promised to wake up around 2am to do a whole bunch more. I knew he would make good on that promise.

But after The Shy One fell asleep, I got sad. It felt like my g-spot was connected to my tear ducts, that a physical and emotional floodgate had opened up. My birthday had brought with it more family estrangement, my brother treating me with contempt and control. My brother had called me a hateful bully for trying to stand up to our most insurrectionist relative, and I’d cancelled the family Zoom I’d scheduled for the following night. (In favor of an art installation friends’ night out though, yay!)

I was also crying because it was going to be almost a month before I would see The Shy One again. It felt almost like a long-distance arrangement, even though we live in the same city. It was the feeling I felt so long ago when Perfectly 1993 Guy came to visit from college—acutely aware of how many hours were left.

I got up out of bed to write, but I put the notebook down midpage. The sweetest man in the universe was sleeping in my bed upstairs. If I needed to cry, I could cry to him. So I did. It felt like the biggest step.

He gathered me up and held me while I cried. I felt bad because “I miss my brother” was hardly sexy date talk. But The Shy One listened. He comforted me and I let him. We didn’t talk about the too-far-apart dates, but we’ve started resolving that by now.

At my cousin’s birthday party in 2008, my brother flipped out on me about a social justice comment I made during a family board game. “You ruin every party,” he said. That characterization has stuck in my head and in my heart. In some ways, it’s true: Thanksgiving of 2016 very much deserved to be decimated, even if one of my nephews has never quite forgiven me.

So I feel guilty about having had less-than-ebullient emotions in the middle of such a magical night, but I’m so, SO glad I confided in The Shy One. I’m glad I let him see the vulnerability that had bubbled to the surface. I’m grateful that he made me feel safe enough to cry.

Plus, when the promised 2am hotness came around, I felt even more warmth, love and trust with him. A perfect, perfect night indeed.

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part Two

(As I sit down to type about this dreamy date, it’s a really, REALLY tough day here in polyland. I don’t think anyone ever died of being left out of a sexy, beachy, play party-y weekend, but it feels like I might.

I usually love my Saturdays to myself, love reading and taking walks and zoning out on my Animal Crossing island. I love listening to Nicole Wallace on a Saturday night to get riled up enough to fold the clothes. But today, nothing’s working. My brain just wants me to think about why they’re there and I’m not, how I’ll never find a real place in his life.)

Filet mignon. Lobster mac and cheese. Wine on my own since he hasn’t been drinking with me lately. Cheesecake with a birthday candle in it. Maybe I am a fancy date girl after all.

It’s strange being in such a wildly romantic context with a guy who doesn’t do PDA. Handholding had to express the whole bouquet of attractions and emotions, it’s pretty intense. We talked and schemed. I made him blush. I love the way his entire face glows when I tease him—the deep-seated smile, the twinkling eyes. Oh, the cheeks. I can’t even with this guy.

On the way home, the driver’s seat was too far back, so my legs wouldn’t fit on my side, they had to spill over onto The Shy One’s feet. Half a cuddle. More hand-holding. I felt swoony even though the music on the radio decidedly wasn’t, felt like I was looking at the moon even though I wasn’t. I closed my eyes and felt his hand softly on my arm. I opened them and saw the city lights, glowing in the twilight, the river reflecting the darkening sky.

Let’s just take a moment to say: I love him. I love him to the moon and streetlights and stars, from the river to the whole entire sea. I love him as sweet as birthday cheesecake and as special as wine. He hasn’t said the love thing yet, though the l-word snuck into a couple of GIFs last week, maybe by accident. But he does the love thing—he is love as a verb. He listens, he pets, he caresses, he reassures. He celebrates. Someday maybe he’ll say the thing, maybe I’ll wait forever. But for now, love as a verb.

 

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part One

 

(I’m behind on my cuteness reporting—this date was two weeks ago.)

(Right now, The Shy One is getting ready for a spouses' trip wherein it’s likely he’ll/they'll hook up with a friend. In my head, (I know almost nothing about her) she is the perfect unicorn and will definitely negate any future need for me. He has taken great care to assure me that that won’t be the case, (the negating, I mean) and the assurance means a lot, but still. It’s a vulnerable moment to be paragraphing about him, or maybe the perfect moment. They haven’t invented that turn-me-into-a-compersion-robot-for-the-weekend technology yet, so I’m doing my best to love myself through the complicated-but-mostly-just-rooting-for-him fraughtness.)

Now for the fancy date story! Although, as we’ve established, I see myself as Upstairs in the Downton sense, I’ve never seen myself as someone who could be taken on a fancy date. Sweetie-Now-BFF and I have treated ourselves from time to time, but being taken out someplace by a man? That’s movies, not me. So when The Shy One picked a fancy steakhouse downtown to celebrate my birthday, I was completely dazzled and pretty intimidated.

I had weeks to prepare/make myself nervous. I spent a good chunk of time scrolling through purple dresses online and I found the perfect one: long, gauzy, royal purple, with a thick satin ribbon at the empire waist. The shop had it labeled “mother of the bride” but to me, it was a princess dress. It came right away and fit perfectly, just like a shipping fairy tale.

Then, on a solo mini-vacation in an artsy mountain town, I found just the right baubly necklace at a flea market for three dollars! And a pretty beaded mauve purse at a vintage shop that looked like the inside of the B-52s collective mind. I hadn’t bought a specific purse for a specific reason since my wedding nineteen (!) years ago. It was like Artsy Mountain Town was playing the role of fairy godmother.

Purse-buying aside, I tried (unsuccessfully) not to get too carried away about this date. I was a little overwhelmed and self-conscious, had even a little trouble feeling worthy. This is a thing I run into a lot these beautiful, romantic days—how is this happening to actual me?! A year ago, I couldn’t even get The Coach to come fuck me in person!

When the Friday night of the date arrived, I felt so gorgeous that I texted my closest neighbors to see if they could come take my picture. I ran into them out front and posed for the camera while I waited for my Lyft.

I never went to the prom (My date, the prettiest hippie girl in any given mosh pit, got scared to go because we’d been targeted a bully lacrosse player girl a few times. I had the perrrrrfect dress picked out for that night too though, fresh from the Thrifty Shopper. It was pink polyester with long floaty, translucent sleeves that had sparkly buttons at the cuffs. Someone had sewn it by hand, and there was a same-pink-fabric triangle sewn in at the neckline. A little on the nose. I wore that dress A LOT in my late teens/ early 20s. You may or may not remember that disco had a Nineties revival.) but this 2022 birthday moment was a little taste of what prom might have felt like.

When the car pulled up in front of the restaurant, I saw The Shy One and said to the Lyft driver “Right here. Oh my goodness, look at him.”

He was wearing a light blue dress shirt and, in his pocket, had perfectly matched blue shades. He looked as nervous as I felt, and we went inside.

As she led us to our table, the hostess asked, “Do you have any plans after this?” and I could not find it in me to be a normal person in that moment and just say “No, not really!” and deflect the question. But we DID have plans afterwards, and all I could picture was my new royal purple set of ropes.

“…Sort of?” I said, giggling and trying to stifle a huge smile.

“Do I want to know? She asked, leading us up the formal staircase to our booth on the mezzanine.

“Probably not!” I giggled some more.

Knotty Thursday: M'Lady's Corset and Very Happy Rope News!

 

Happy Thursday, superpals! I'm really excited about how this corset came out--the bottom part was a Rory's Brainworks creation, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGlQHKagxJo) but I spaced out and made the upper part all on my own! It's basically an echo of how the corset is built, but with just the pink middle ropes. This is one of my favorite creations of all time. The Shy One said I have to give it a special name, so I called it M'Lady's Corset because a ladder is kind of like Upstairs. Downton Abbey kink 4life.

And! Okay, I'm behind on the cuteness-reporting when it comes to The Shy One (Sooooo many paragraphs upcoming!) but guess what! He wants to learn the ropes for real! He wants to do "real classes, without distractions"--not sure I can provide that, but I do aim to try! We've been having a both-our-birthdays extravaganza all month, and today I found a pretty gift bag to give him my practice ropes and one of my pairs of rainbow safety scissors. He sent me the picture below and I sent him a link to Rory's channel. I'm so pleased that my sweetheart boyfriend is taking up the knots with me! I can't WAIT to see what we create together.

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes, Part Three

Mr. Adorkable is all pounce. At some point in the proceedings, he went down on me like he was jumping into a pool, or like I was candy! He’s so open and full of glee. All the while, because he’s an extranice match, my goth mix was on shuffle.

(NOT the goth mix I made for The Song Sender. RIP that mix. Or, see you in 2033. That gum you like is going to come back in style. Sorry, Twin Peaks digression.)

ANYWAY, back to the hotness at hand. After I asked for a break and he offered sex, Mr. Adorkable grabbed the thigh rope and spread my legs wide. I warned him that I didn’t remember the last time I’d shaved and he said “Huh. Seems pretty recent.” I don’t think he would’ve cared if it wasn’t.

Once he was between my legs, I hooked my not-tied leg over his hip and it’s almost like we clicked together, satisfying like Legos or puzzle pieces. I settled in underneath him, such a cozy fit.

He fucks with generosity, enthusiasm, and expertise. This is why you should always fuck married guys—they may have less time to play, but while they’re here, they really make it count. I may have said some or all of that thought out loud in the moment.

Another thing I had to say our loud mid-fuck was “Oops, I forgot to ask about aftercare. We can snuggle after, right?”

“Oh, of course,” he said “Though I can’t stay too long, there’s work tomorrow.”

My arms had long since been untied. The thigh rope may have been tied to the headboard. My legs were up around his shoulders and I was coming and coming and coming, ready to invite him to come too, when Cloudbusting came on, of course it did. The perfect way to send off the Kate Bush summer, in ecstasy.

Heck yeah, something good is gonna happen, it almost always does. (“Just saying it can even make it happen…”)

His aftercare was, unsurprisingly, sweet, warm, and cheerful. He told me I had been a good girl, of course, that I’d done a good job. He ran his perfect hand from my hip to my waist to my shoulder and told me that I deserve to feel this good.

I can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t WAIT to see him again. That’s next Monday.

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes, Part Two

 

He wasn’t in my apartment for long before I had him upstairs. He hadn’t brought his rope kit (I guess that would have seemed like a lot on a first date to anyone who isn’t me!) but I was happy to let him use mine.

I don’t know when the kissing started. Maybe we were always kissing. He picked up the orange rope and twined it around my wrists, making a double column that looked like a pretty bow. He already knew to be careful with my tricky right arm because, bless him, he’d read me.

Next he started winding a harness around my chest, over the bra at first. It felt new and shivery to not being the one doing the tying, to not know what was going to happen next. (Not that I always know what will happen next when I AM tying!) I liked being the canvas and not the artist, or maybe just another kind of artist. As the ropes tightened around me, I felt such soft affection for him, leaned into his warm body and kissed him some more.

He's a little taller than me, with pretty hazel eyes and a perpetual smile. His face and shoulders seem just a little more sculpture-like than one might expect of a regular human. And I don’t know if he’s purposely emulating present-day Wil Wheaton’s look, but it’s working for him anyway. SO CUTE.

After the harness, he went for the thigh. Ahhhhhh…sighhhh. Such a pretty, simple knot with so much possibility and promise. I liked being beneath him as he tied, I felt happy and curious and safe and sooooo wet.

After, with some difficulty, we’d wrangled the bra off from under the ropes, I got to feel one of my VERY favorite feelings in the universe: Naked except the ropes, my arms back, his mouth on my nipple. I looooove the way all my sensitivities brighten, the shiver of safe fear, the helplessness spark through every nerve. I felt his warmth shudder all though me, deep in my bones, electric and alive.

And then, he was kneeling above me, his dick hardening in my mouth, shoved in sideways. It grew and expanded as I got it as far down my throat as I could, gagged and tried again, gagged and tried again. He was big and so beautiful kneeling above me, my head in his hands, his fingers tangled in my hair.

After a while, the vulnerability of this, the whole-body gagging was too much, and I asked for a break.

“Oh, okay, would you like to have sex? He asked so cheerful-politely!

Yes, yes I would. That is an excellent way to take a break!

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes: Part One

 

I am so far behind on my blogging. The last few weeks have been such a flood of cuteness, it’s hard to put into words! So I set a timer, put on the lo-fi mix, and I’m ready to start telling you about Mr. Adorkable.

I met him on Feeld, of course, swiped right because his big smile and cute glasses reminded me of The Boy Who Sewed Me a Pillow, but dommier. He mentioned ropes, he’s switchy like me, and he had excellent texting game. He was my inbox company for a couple days while I was on a solo mini-vacation in the mountains. He used a lot of exclamation points! Enthusiasm is one of the dreamiest things in the world.

The cute goth boy from my last hot first date didn’t stick around, but he did inspire me to stop being such a lazy couch-dater all the time. Mr. Adorkable chose us a quiet bar on one of the artsier streets near me. We chose the quar-era outdoor seating even though it was a humid and drizzly night—sultry. Romantic. Private for talking about what we might like to do to each other.

The waitress, who wore glitter around her eyes, said our drinks looked good together. I had a strawberry mojito, he had something I don’t remember. I thought we looked good together, I already felt like a match before we took the first sip.

Again with the cute glasses, except this time they were a bright blue that matched my dress. He was quippy and energetic and silly and so easy to banter with. Oh! Good banter will get me every time. He matched my complete lack of chill, my delight, note for note.

OF COURSE I was going to invite him home with me. After my adventures with The Song Sender, I’d been hankering to get dominated, but in a more playful and kinder way. Mr. Adorkable seemed more than amenable. Plus, he admitted to being kinda goth, so I had just the playlist.

Before we get to snuggletown, though, the other thing that really endeared him to me was his relationship structure! He is out to his family and friends, and he and his wife try to avoid hierarchy as much as possible. His other partner seemed to be part of his life in deep and everyday ways. He even showed me a picture of the other partner hanging out with him and son! Superswoon at the cozy possibilities—my poly heart grew butterfly wings and fluttered up into the sky.

 

Knotty Thursday: Weaving Practice!

 Like everything I make, it looks nothing like the tutorial! Weaves that look so nice and neat on a mannequin (or, presumably, a skinny person) tend to scooch up on me, but I think it turned out so beautifully! I like the way the magenta and purple ropes look together, and I love the feeling of focus and peace that comes over me when I'm trying a new tie: I turned into human lo-fi!