The Sparkly Festival of Awesomeness, Part One: First, Some Backtracking

Before I get to the hot magic that happened yesterday, it’s necessary to go back to a party in a conference hotel room (earlier this year, back during the time when I wasn’t blogging) to properly introduce some characters.

Sweetie and I do a thing sometimes where we’ll get a room at a conference she isn’t interested in. That way, she gets a mini-vacation and she’s right there to come home to after I’m done social-butterflying. This particular time, she was nice enough to turn around when she was almost there to go back home and get the ropes. Because, as you know, she’s the best.

While the year before I’d been shy and barely sure I belonged, this year I spent most of the conference with a favorite co-adventurer, the Lady of the House (of Nude Year’s Eve and Cuddle Party fame) and found out which room the yearly clothing optional party was in.

When Sweetie and I got to the party, the ladies whose room it was were still setting up. People were still doing subdued, beginning-of-the-night chitchat when I stripped down and asked Sweetie to get started with the ropes. I LOVE getting ropes on in mostly-vanilla rooms, but this time it was especially wonderful because once she got the ropes on me, she started talking me through putting them on other people. It gave me a surge of bratty power even more than I normally get. I gave the hostess a nice harness and put a lovely lavender rope corset on the Lady of the House. People oohed and ahhed, probably because my friend is stunning. I put a dragonfly sleeve on the belle-of-the-ball guy with the fullest dance card, and his wife proceeded to torment his restrained self with ice cubes.

My pal Mr. Sweetheart (okay, he didn’t have that nickname until yesterday) was there giving the hostess a sound flogging. I had to wait a while for my turn, but after he’d rested his arm and while the party was still quiet enough that I could be center of attention, he told me in no uncertain terms to bend myself over the posh hotel chair in the middle of the room. It was the best feeling getting flogged while all the nice poly people chatted and looked on. One lady pointed out how my fists balled up when things got harsh. He pummeled my back, my ass, even my boobs, which I don’t usually like getting hurt. The future Mr. Sweetheart was worn out before I was, but I rejoined the party with a sunburny glow and a deep sense of relief. The next ass was in the air for him before he even got a chance to rest.

Jeez, I love a friendly flogging. I’d really like more of those in my day-to-day life.

People kept pouring into the hotel room, and sexytimes started happening in the bedroom. It was my first party where actual sex-acts were taking place, and I liked it, but Sweetie started getting claustrophobic. She also got annoyed that I’d put my special pink ropes on the dragonfly sleeve guy, so I bravely interrupted him mid-blowjob to get them back. He was glad to regain the use of his hands.

Assuring me that she was okay, Sweetie helped me unwind the ropes from the ladies and left me at the party while she went downstairs to lie down. I was all nakedly flirty with a former fireman who’d gotten my attention when he lifted my friend over his head. (This is a recurring theme, I notice…)  All drunk with rope-power and also wine, I told him that by next year, he’d better be ready to pick me up. “Start working on it,” I said, pointing at him imperiously.

Soon enough, the party got to be too crowded for me. I put my pjs on over my ropes and headed for the door.

The trouble was, the room was so crowded that I got stuck behind a lengthy multiperson hug and in front of a nice man with very shiny eyes. Mr. Shiny Eyes didn’t seem to mind that I was wedged against him. He gave me a hug which deftly turned into him grabbing the sides of my harness under my clothes. “”May I?” he asked and “Ohyes” I said. There, all smushed in the crowd, he pulled the roes toward him, back and forth, up and down. As he yanked up hard so that the crotch rope knots hit all the right targets, I let out a squeal, caught fireman guy watching, and felt very successful at being alive. I turned my head to avoid kissing Mr. Shiny Eyes, a mistake I don’t intend to repeat.

The actual festival story makes me a little nervous to write, but I am soooo going to enjoy spending some more quality paragraph time with some of these folks. Stay tuned!

Backtracking to a Very Happy Nude Year’s Eve

When I opened the blog back up, the Mayor of Kittentown requested that I write about this particular night, and since the handwritten version of it has been sitting on my desk all year (and since he’s a loyal reader and the only guy ever to let me leave a toothbrush at his house!) I thought I’d oblige him. It’s such a bright cheery story; it’ll be a break from the nonsense I’ve been writing through…

I’d been looking forward to the party since last July—a space-themed, clothing optional vegetarian potluck and dance party, in the same space where I’d attended my first official cuddle party. The Lady of the House (who has since become one of my favorite friends) was hosting and I knew it was the most auspicious way possible to ring in 2013—and boy was I ever right. Sweetie and I picked up another nudie friend of ours and hit the road. As we drove out of town, one of the local skyscrapers was flashing sparkling rainbow patterns all across it—what could be more optimistic?

I think Sweetie was just as excited at the prospect of wearing her soft pants to a party as I was about wearing nothing/ropes.

When we arrived, the hostess was superbusy and none of the other folks I know were there yet, so I settled into my usual fifteen-minutes-of-awkward-before-I-get-really-gregarious. I stripped down to my shiny red pushup bra and Snoopy Christmas underpants and did my best with small talk. Sweetie had given me a nice push bright pink robe for Christmas, so that was my thing to sit on. For the first while of the party, Sweetie and I did that unfortunate couple thing where we just talked to each other.

Before long, though, it started to feel like home. My friends Sheandhim arrived, the She half dressed in classic-Who scarf and little else, as did another couple that I knew from various poly to-dos.

While I was getting a drink of water in the appetizing/full-of-naked-people kitchen, someone asked me what my hopes were for 2013, and, somewhat embarrassingly, I said “I’m hoping to find true love.” Who says that? But really, think true love is always my goal, and I hope that I keep finding it and finding it and finding it.

The Lady of the House, who by the way was looking gorgeous in her open silk purple robe and green alien antennae, okayed our request to do ropes in the social area as opposed to the play area since Sweetie and I weren’t planning to sex it up too much. I really, really REALLY liked getting ropes on in such a relaxed vanilla environment. Rather than getting a blindfold on and going off into a dream world, I smiled a huge smile and chatted with everyone around us—guys came over and made assessing/approving gestures, people exclaimed over Sweetie’s knots, I granted requests to turn around so that people could get a better look. (You mean give you a better look at my ass? Don’t MIND if I do!) One partygoer I knew, who is always very popular at parties, asked if he could kiss me, and I politely offered him a cheek. (the face kind of cheek, btw.)

While I was getting tied there in the corner of the Lady of the House’s living room, there were naked folks on the couch watching (when they weren’t watching us) Doctor Who with the sound off. It was David Tennant, who I immediately decided was too emotionally available to be my kind of Doctor. “But it’s his dying scene!” said Sweetie. Whatever.

I was all decorated and harnessed up by the time it was time to switch the channel to watching the ball drop. A particularly well-hung friend attached a Christmas ball to his penis ring and prepared for a ball drop of his own. The Lady of the House handed out champagne, and we toasted, and I kissed my wife, hugged my naked friends, and danced my naked, roped-up ass off to “I Just Can’t Get Enough.”

And I marveled at how far this project had gotten me. One of the ladies at the party had been the facilitator at the first clothing-optional thing I went to, a workshop at the Poly Living Conference all the way back in February 2012. I was very effusive in thanking her: “I remember I was just brave enough to take off my sweater. I left on my bra and scarf. But ever since then, I’m a nudist.”

I still remember the revelation of that workshop—the way my hair felt soft against my back, the gratitude I felt toward everyone willing to share their naked bodies with me, the shock and relief of feeling comfortable in my skin.

The transformation from being a girl with her sweater off in a conference room to being the joyous, showoffy celebration that I was on New Years feels like a miracle to me. 2012 was full of triggers and missteps, and there was plenty about it I’d change, but when I first sat down to write this story, I wrote “I cannot believe that this is what my life looks like now. I can’t wait to see what’s next.”

I hope to see myself in that ebullient mood again sometime soon.