“You Know You’re Chained to My House, Right?” Part Three

So Punk Rock Girl convinced Old-Timey Guy that I should be second. As I stood in the doorway getting ready to be shacked up, I said “Wait, why am I wearing all these clothes?”

OTG instructed PRG to start getting me naked. “What do you want off?” she asked me.

“Everything but undies and socks! Can (Sweetie) help too?”

It took a little cajoling, but finally Sweetie left her looky-loo perch on the stairs to come over and help. She reached around me to unbutton my jeans and as the two women gently took my pants off, OTG unshackled me and pulled my shirt off over my head. It was a perfect wish come true of a moment. I was so happy.

“You have choice whether you want your bra…” began OTG.

“OFF!” I interrupted.

I think Sweetie unclasped it and OTG took it off. That’s not a collaboration I’d’ve imagined a year ago, or even a few months ago, but look at us! Yay, me and Sweetie, we’ve come so far!

OTG looked at me appraisingly ran his hands lightly over my nipples, alternating between gently grazing them and pinching. I love that feeling of being examined and approved-of. The up went my arms back into the shackles and out came the blindfold. I was ready.

He leaned up against me in the front and whisper-growled “What do you want me to do?”

“Um, hitting?”

“What kind of hitting?”

“Around the ass area?”

“What do you say?”

“Please Sir.”

“Please what?

“Please may I have the strappy thing?”

OhmanIlove the strappy thing. Thwack, thwack, thwack, nice thuddy, insistent impact. I wigged my ass for more.

It felt so good but it was hard to fully relax sometimes. I felt nervous that I couldn’t check Sweetie’s expression. I had to resist the urge to keep on calling to her to see if she was okay. Occasionally she’d laugh or chime in with a sassy comment and I’d know she was doing allright.

Next: Barehanded spanking, a saw horse, a Hitachi, and possibly an Otter Pop.

Naked in the Rain and Beatific

“What else can I do for you,” the sky said,

and added, “now that I have taken off all

my clothes?” (Hafiz)

Our second trip to the clothing-optional beach started out kind of rocky—there was a chilly wind that kept trying to turn our books’ pages for us, Sweetie felt like the current was too strong for her and I kept trying to convince her to come in with me. We had a strangely love-affirming moment when she noticed a scrap of toilet paper on my bare bum and had to cover me up with a towel to get it off.  We kept laughing and saying “oh, intimacy,” which is what we say when we are having to do something a little gross for each other. That’s love.

(Just as an aside, I remember David Sedaris writing about seeing TP on someone’s butt at a nudist colony. He wrote about vulnerability and so on, I think, said something like “This is the essence of nudism.” and that strikes me now as obnoxious—really, THAT’S the defining moment? Not the standing around triumphantly or embracing our sweeties or getting swept together in the waves? Only I would be bobbing around in the ocean having an imaginary argument with David Sedaris.)

Anyway, Sweetie has weak, hurty legs, and wanted nothing more than to be left on shore. Once I figured out that I didn’t have to drag her into the rough surf with me, that I was free to fight and float and be pummeled by the waves to my heart’s content (oh, ocean, my original top…) we both relaxed and started to have fun. This can be a metaphor for our entire relationship—we are happiest during the times when we’re both free to be ourselves, whether we’re snuggled up watching back-episodes of Design Star or separate but happily connected. When I relax and let her be herself, sometimes I get exactly what I want, and so does she. Until then, it had been a cloudy day, but the sun was happy to punctuate my epiphany by peeking through the clouds momentarily—it was beautiful. The green water I was floating in was lit up and shimmering, the patch of blue sky contrasting with the swath of dark grey sky on the horizon—raindrops started to fall on the water, and somewhat inexplicably, I got out.

We decided to take our stuff up to the car, have lunch there, and see if the weather cleared. As we started to pack up our towels and books and picnic stuff, I settled into the feeling of rain on my bare skin. I kept getting distracted from what I was doing to face the sky, hold my arms out a little, and smile up into the rain. I love being naked in the rain, and if we hadn’t been averse to our nice picnic rolls getting all soggy, I would have happily stood there all day.

I decided not to put on my dress until we got close to the “attention—nude sunbathers” sign. I saw other people making the same decision as well, carrying their clothes until the last possible moment. I don’t know what I looked like carrying a heavy load of beach stuff with my boobs and hoo-ha all on display, but I know I felt great. Sweet, perfect, laughing joy bubbled up. I asked if we could put the stuff down and stood there in the rain smiling some more---my body loves me at times like this, and I am in total NRE with it, too. I couldn’t stop laughing and smiling and feeling ridiculous and silly and beautiful and free. Sweetie’s face lit up too, though her clothed experience must have felt a bit soggier. She loves seeing me so happy. Later she told me I looked beatific and that’s exactly how I felt.

The weather cleared up after our car-picnic, and I got to swim hard for the rest of the day while Sweetie napped and shell-gazed. I even was brave enough to chat with people—the current seemed to want us to be sociable, swooshing us all into a clump—it was fun to have folks to play with me. I came home EXPLODING with sexy, vital energy, my muscles hot and skin flushed, ready to ravish myself, Sweetie, and anybody else who might get in the way. I’m so full of…something, and very grateful to be alive.

Unsurprisingly, I Love the Clothing-Optional Beach, Part Two

As we set off down the path to the beach, “hugging the dunes,” as the directions had instructed us, I noticed kids heading down to their beach with their families. I was weirded out for a second.

“Wait, what, there’s kids? At the nude beach?”

Sweetie, bless her heart, said “So?”

“So…they’ll never learn to be ashamed of their bodies? They won’t end up having to learn to love themselves at 37? I hate them.”

We laughed and that was the end of being weirded out.

I found Sweetie a perfect peach-colored shell as soon as our feet hit the sand. The dunes were roped off to protect piping plover nests as well as a few other endangered species. As we got to the end of the path, We saw a sign that said “Attention: Beyond this point you may encounter nude sunbathers.” We looked around for the spot where the poly meetup was happening, but no one had set up yet. Plus we were in wifie mode, so we made our own space down closer to the water.

It had rained on the way in, we weren’t sure if the clouds would lift, but as we settled into our blanket, the sun started to peek through and the air warmed up. As we were slathering on sunscreen, I felt momentarily hesitant to take my top off, but then I figured it made no sense having to sunscreen twice. I wiggled out of my pink flowery bathing suit top and there I was. Unfortunately, it was that time of the month and I didn’t feel right about showing off a string-tail, so my bottoms would have to stay on this time. (Except, because I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation, in the water…)

Sweetie is not a showoff like me, but she likes showing me off. She seemed very happy to be looking up at naked sunny me and spraying SPF 70 on my nipples every so often. As we sat reading our books, I saw some members of the poly contingency stroll past us to the water. They were beautiful, but I wasn’t ready to say hi just yet. This was a day that I felt every inch of my half-introversion. I watched them walk into the water and get such big smiles on their faces. As with all lovey-dovey people who are comfortable with themselves, I admired them and wasn’t sure I could aspire to belong with them. A guy I’d snuggled with at my first snuggle party was there, as was the Lady of the House from the Cuddle Party back in June. Later, I’d get up the courage to go over and say hello, but just seeing them was a joy for now.

Sweetie and I got into the water a little ways down the beach from them. The waves were little more than swells, but the current pulled strongly to the (I think) north. The water was cool and smoothly, clearly green. As we eased our way in, a friendly man came to encourage us: “You’ve just got to take the plunge, just dive in, after that you’ll feel fabulous.”

He was so nice but as he stood there encouraging us, I was inching away. I knew that my nipples would get really hard from the chilly water and I wasn’t quite ready for a stranger to see that up close, first thing in the morning. He was in his fifties, bald, with a big cheery grin, and his penis was cute and shrunken from the water, bigger than an outie belly button, but just as pink and charming. Oh penises, how I’ve missed you, my new friends.

Once the man swam off, I propelled myself into Sweetie’s arms. This feeling was a complete revelation, something I didn’t know I was longing for. Ever since I was a kid, I’d watch couples in the surf and hope that I could someday find a love to hold me in the waves. It was such a gift, to hold her and be held in the water and not worry that we might be disturbing someone, that we might be disturbed by some homophobic comment. It was deeply gratifying.

I slipped away from her (not too far, though the current pulled me) and pulled off my bathing suit bottoms. The cool water moving up between the lips of my vagina was difficult to describe to her—she couldn’t understand how it was any different from being in the water with a bathing suit on. It was a cool, fresh, opening up, like the other day with the thigh ropes but more refreshing. As the water filled up that little space, I felt delighted and loved, elemental, at home. I picked up my feet, put my arms out, and floated on the swells, eyes closed, boobs and hoo-ha to the sky. I felt reborn, perfect, like every real worry was just a silly memory. I felt the way that I was born to be.

Next: Happy to be around so many penises.

Unsurprisingly, I Love the Clothing-Optional Beach! Part One

Last Saturday was one of my top three favorite adventures so far (along with public fireplay and Sweetie’s knack for ropes.) I love the feeling that I get sometimes that this was what I was made to do. I’ve liked all the time I’ve spent at regular beaches, having a nice time but sometimes feeling self-conscious, not getting to show Sweetie the (mostly-chaste) affection that straight couples always feel free to show in the ocean. I honestly didn’t know how much I was missing.

But before I get into the Edenic delightfulness of the day, I have to confess a few sad things about it:

At the moment, Sweetie and I are unsure of the future of our relationship. For all the progress we’ve made, we still argue badly and cause each other a great deal of pain. She worries a lot that I’m not really hers, that all of our co-adventures and connections don’t mean anything, that everything wonderful between us can be taken away, and that causes her to lash out sometimes, which scares me, which leads to stupid marathon fights. For all of my work this year, I still feel ashamed of liking men and wanting to submit to them, and I often feel like she is judging me  about them. I spend a lot of time feeling lonely, and so does she. We’re isolated and it’s not good. We’re together for the time being, being as kind and loving as we know how, but we don’t know if we can make it. One way or another, I would like an end, or even a reduction, of the sadness and tension between us.

The other sad thing is that the clothing-optional beach made me really, really miss the Mayor of Kittentown. Though he wasn’t there that day, he frequents the same beach and I’d always thought we’d go there together, I always thought that would be our adventure.  The feeling of my body being warm and bare and loved and accepted reminded me of what it sometimes felt like to be next to him. I feel like a failure for not figuring out a way to be with him, for not being enough to convince him to be more flexible about monogamy. When he told me he’s going there next weekend with Monogamous Girl, I felt the first deep, dark stabs of jealousy that I’ve ever felt about him—I guess it’s good that I don’t usually feel jealousy about someone until he is totally lost to me.

I wish that I could have shared a day at the beach with him, could have felt his bare body there, happy next to mine. I’m sure that I can find another naked guy, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling regretful. It has, however, spurred me into action—it’s time to somehow find a way to start dating/playing with guys again. I can’t keep looking back.

That being said, let’s start the story of our happy beach day. Sweetie and I got up early, ate our customary strawberry waffles in front of a Gilmore Girls episode, and were packed up and on the road by 6:30. I drove the first leg, bleary-eyed and shuffling through folk songs. I didn’t know what to expect from the day, just knew I needed a wide horizon and a change of scenery.  Sweetie worked on the same page of crossword puzzles that she has been working on all summer, an activity that makes me bubble up with love for her.

As we neared the beach, it really was like driving into an Eden. It felt magical as we turned down deep green and sandy beach roads, spotting egrets, cat birds, butterflies. The place felt redemptive—I doubted whether I could deserve something as beautiful as this, yet here it was. Despite warnings that the parking lot fills up quickly, we found a space and parked.

My body felt the relief of the place well before we were in the nude sunbathing area. As soon as I changed into my bathing suit, I felt myself become soft and sweet, free. My thighs, my shoulders, my feet felt loved. I felt Sweetie’s body relax as well. Free of the shame and tension inside us and between us, we could spend the day being our best/real selves, what a relief. We followed the happy crowd down to the beach.

Next: Self-Conscious for about Ten Seconds.

Song of the Week/What's On the Kitten Calendar

This weekend, Sweetie and I are taking our first trip to a clothing-optional beach. I have a lot of anxiety about it, both about sunburn and about nakedness. There are a whole lot of different sex-positive meetups going on there this weekend, so it'll be pretty crowded. Sweetie is usually the shy one, but I wonder if I'll be the one to want to bolt for a more clothed location. I am curious to feel the ocean on my naked body, though--hopefully I'll have good things to report.

And the weekend after, we're going to our first ball, which also makes me nervous. It's a space-themed play party and I'm interested to see what outfits everyone comes up with. Plus, I think it's a good excuse to wear a tiara, like I need an excuse... We can't quite figure out what Sweetie should wear, she's not a very costumey person--suggestions?

Here's the corset she's learning for me for the occasion. Wish us luck!

Nearly-Naked and Fire-Kissed: Part Two

***Being in the middle of this story is making me antsy for my next adventure, and I’m not sure what to do next… suggestions?***

There was someone else ahead of me in line for fire, a meek and adorable African American gentleman wearing nothing but tightie whities. I arranged myself on the other side of the room and watched the couples I’d noticed before—they were deeply involved in some spankings and floggings. Each of the two pretty subs was bent over a kneeler like the priests have at the front of Catholic church. The one who was closest to me had on ripped stockings under her pulled-up skirt. My favorite part is when the doms would lean over and whisper something in their partner’s ear—what’s he saying? I really want to know and I really want for someone to whisper to me that way. Like really soon.

Fireguy came over to get me when he was done and I told him I need him to teach me how to hit on couples. He assured me that he’d be glad to, and I followed him over to the corner where his stuff was set up. He had us kind of stop for a minute, look at each other, hold hands, like, oh, yeah, we’re friends.

Fireguy is popular (I always seem to gravitate towards belle-of-the-ball types) so while I was doing my momentous-to-me undressing, people kept coming over and chatting to him. Getting naked in front of people was definitely one of my goals, and it was a lot easier than I thought. Being around Fireguy makes me feel safe and shameless, a good combination. This particular party has a leave-your-underwear-on rule, but I slipped out of my shoes, then skirt, then stockings, handed him my cardigan and paused for a moment before taking a deep breath and then taking off my bra. Everyone was still chatting, I don’t know if they even noticed. A radiant, loving warmth spread all throughout my body, like from my soul or something. I really can’t overstate the joy of that moment.

I lay on the table on my belly, handed him my glasses (I really like handing him my glasses, I don’t know why. I kind of know why.) and put my head down on my arms, relaxed and content. It was kind of like snoozing on the beach, but with ambient screams of pleasure instead of waves. As he rubbed his warm hands over my back, people kept on coming over to talk to him, talking over me like I wasn’t there. Philosophically I have a problem with this, but I really didn’t care at that moment—it was as close as I’m gonna get to feeling self-contained. I was warm and cheery and as smug as the most gorgeous thing in the world and I just ignored them back. The girl who was next checked a little too often if it was her turn yet, but other than that I didn’t care who was around. Fireguy told me that other parties have more protocol, so people wouldn’t interrupt like that.

Here’s what a fire massage is: He covers his palm with rubbing alcohol and then lights it. Then he passes his other hand over and puts the flame out before it burns him. This gives him the most amazingly warm hands. Sometimes he’d paint the alcohol onto me and light it, testing my pain tolerance by seeing how long he could leave it before I flinched. I learned that I’m a three. He wrote his initial on my back and lit it, and that made me laugh.

When it was time to turn over and have my boobs showing to the world, I joked that people couldn’t see me because I didn’t have my glasses on. He cheerily agreed. “Well, that’s just science!” I wish I could have noticed if anyone was noticing me. I guess they probably did—who wouldn’t watch fire and boobs?

The order of things just kind of drops away a little bit here, the rest is just kind of a blissful haze. He held my hand to his chest, painted my arm with alcohol, and let me watch the blue flame as it climbed up to my wrist. He put a little circle of cotton on each nipple- this made a bright flash as the flame climbed up. Most of this didn’t hurt at all. He looked very sweetly down at me, amused and quizzical and just sort of like I was being a good kid. I loved it. Standing over me behind my head, he asked if he could give me an upside-down kiss, and I said sure.

Next time! What a fire kiss is!

A Shy Unicorn, But! Big Milestone! Go Me!

So last night I did talk to a few new people, so that's good. And I spent time watching some dreamy couples play. But I couldn't think of how to approach them, even just to make friends. I wouldn't have talked to them while they were in a scene, but even before and after...I don't know. I just feel standoffish about strangers. Oh, well, it just takes time, I guess.

The big news is! Yay! Q was there doing fire massage, so I got to feel what that feels like. Yum! Maybe more importantly, though, to have a fire massage I had to be naked except for undies. In a room full of strangers. It felt amaaaaazing. I felt like the most gorgeous pinup in the world, and I didn't care who saw me. Between Q's fire and the nakedness, today I'm still glowing and blissful. I'm sure there are a million paragraphs to be written about this, but I'll let it settle in for a while.

Last night when I got home, Sweetie asked me if this project ends up with me as a burlesque dancer-Pretty Ribbons would be a good name for that, don't you think?