Perfect Friday Night With Dreamy Playlist Angel, Part Three

I would really like to bite this butt next time I see it!
And also spank it! Possibly also spoon up next to it and go to sleep.

Despite the name, I've totally been forgetting to tell you about his playlist! In Such Great Heights, A Complete Cultural History of the Indie Rock Explosion, (The book I'm still reading and which The King of Carrot Flowers finished weeks ago!) Chris Deville says it's a typical male fantasy that some girl (Or in my case, some Manic Pixie Dream Mature) is gonna come along and tell a guy he has great taste in music. I guess I fulfill that fantasy pretty regularly! When I was younger and (even) sillier, I thought new music could only come via a cute boy, even if that's never really how I collected it.

ANYWAY, since Dreamy Playlist Angel introduced himself by way of complimenting my Sleater Kinney t-shirt and mentioning a Portlandia rewatch (What would the Gen-X equivalent of this be? Complimenting a Strawberry Alarm Clock tee and mentioning a Monkees marathon? Either way, I'm in.) I had no qualms about asking him to choose the music for our rope time--and that was the correct choice.

Off the couch and upstairs with the candles lit and the cat crated, I felt a jolt of joy as we found the bight and square-knotted the ropes. Dreamy Playlist Angel, with his sculpture-y shoulders and sweet-but-not-too-sweet demeanor, was such a warm and beautiful and inviting canvas.

I hadn't practiced on anyone besides me in the longest time! The ropes felt easy on him, flowy and smooth. I reached around his waist to loop the ropes around, rested my cheek in the crook of his neck for a moment. Kissed his sweet neck and his soft, politely-eager mouth. Good Boy. He's so good.

I wish he'd wanted a picture of the front of him, the harness came out so nice! He looked so pretty and sexy with the loops and knots over his chest, swooping up between his legs and squeezing his butt crack all snug.

His music was dreamy but not overwhelmingly feelings-y! Sweet and swoony at times (Thinkin' Bout You by Frank Ocean! My favorite thing to sing!) but leavened by silliness. Plus! Surprising amounts of saxophone!

Dancing around to indie-rock sax while putting the finishing touches on a beautiful man's hishi karada seems like a very wise way to spend a few moments of my one wild and precious life. 

 

Knotty Thursday: Heart Update and (Sort of) Hishi Karada

When The Shy One came over for our second date on Monday night (He brought Hershey Kisses and two kinds of wine. We painted watercolors together! What a dear.) I didn’t want to spend too much time on the ropes, gorgeous as we both looked in them. (He did such a good job putting a harness on me for the first time!) With The Shy One, it’s much less about the kink than about the CUDDLING. He’ll hurt me when I ask him to, and he doesn’t mind getting spanked (Oh! Just the cutest butt in the universe! Have I said that before? Are all the butts the cutest butt in the universe? Probably.) but mostly, it’s the CARESSES. He’s a very snuggly sweetheart, and that’s his pet name, Sweetheart—he is decidedly NOT a Boy.

The Shy One kisses, fucks, and communicates with the extremely welcome attention to detail of a happily married man. I want to send his wife a thank-you note for every one of his expert kisses. OH, the KISSES.

Today, I’m a little jangled because it’s sinking in that I *like* him just as he needs to disappear for a month. (Just physically disappear, he’ll still be able to send texts and adorable Bitmojis of the two of us and maybe even call sometimes.) I won’t see him for most-if-not-all of April because of Ramadan. I admire the commitment and tradition so much, but also I cried a little bit about it this morning.

Which is silly. Because this is all good news! I like a good man with a kind heart and a solid foundation—yay!

Back to his visit Monday night. For a tiny little while, after paintings and ropes and sex and me making nervous jokes about our music choices having too many feelings, he pulled my hand up over his heart and fell asleep. I’m not allowed to joke about the feelings-y music anymore because “All I Need Is a Miracle” came on my spring playlist. Because of course it did.