The Sparkly Festival of Awesomeness Part Three: Two Kisses, One Cake Flower

After the nature walk, I was feeling oddly standoffish—I was sitting on the side of the hill overlooking the afternoon ritual. Some folk nearby promised some “Ritual Science Theater 3000” and that’s kinda where I was at: ironic, detached. I’d had a lot of fun but I wasn’t sure what else I could get out of the day. Plus, I was sad that all of the guys had sarongs on. I was not seeing anywhere near a nude beach number of penises, and that made me grumpy.

But! After the ritual, which took place in sort of a picnic-pavilion thing, they had a feast where you weren’t allowed to feed anything to yourself—foodstuffs could only be put in your mouth by others. This seemed like enough of an icebreaker to get me over my wallflowerness. And then! I saw Mr. and Ms. Sweetheart! (Not married, but I’ve paired their nicknames for the sake of simplicity and also because they happen to both be sweethearts. Also it should be mentioned that she looks like a beautiful kickass goddess. Freya maybe.) I hadn’t even known they’d be there!

Mr. Sweetheart and I had been in touch a little bit since the hotel party. He even tried to matchmake me with the cute ex-fireman guy, but that didn’t go anywhere. Recently, Mr. Sweetheart had started following my blog, so he was really really on my good side. Any guy who can read those heartbreak-laden posts I’ve been writing lately and still want to hang out with me—that is a man.

Aside from the collared human platters who ringed the pavilion covered in fruit, I was the only one at the feast completely naked. I worried that it might be bad etiquette, but no one seemed to mind. Mr. and Ms. Sweetheart wrapped me up in a big hug and said they’d keep me from being a wallflower, and I was so grateful for that. With them there, I felt a nice homey healing feeling, like I could really open up and join the party.

My friends Sheandhim arrived, looking flushed and sleepy from whatever Tantric magic they’d been getting up to. We all took turns feeding each other apples slices, strawberries, and other yummy things.

And hooray! Mr. Shiny Eyes was there, chatting with a pretty lady on the ersatz dance floor. I interrupted their conversation to ask if he remembered me and tell him I DEFINITELY remembered his rope-pulling skills. It didn’t take us long to get to a kiss and ohboy was he good at it. Some kisses are just like a key finding the right lock, and this was one of those. “Hmmm, maybe we should spend some time together,” I think he said, and I was inclined to agree.

He went back to his pretty lady and I went back to my friends. After I ended up with an entire mocha mini-cupcake in my mouth at once, one of the dolled-up hostesses kindly explained that I could touch the food after it’d been fed to me, so as to take smaller bites. Predictable but enjoyable things were said about my mouth’s capacity.

Sheandhim looked into licking honey off of one of the human platters, but I’ve never gotten that licking-sticky-stuff-off-of-people thing.  However, I spotted a fancy white cake on one of the (nonhuman) side tables. I thought it was a birthday cake but it occurs to me that it might have been some magic couple’s (or triad’s or whatever’s) wedding cake. It had one flower left on it, a big white blossom that I absolutely had to have, but he fed me the cake part first. (I know, life is hard sometimes, isn’t it?) “Ahem,” I said, “That cake flower isn’t going to feed itself to me…”

I was sheepish for being such a brat, but he seemed impressed. “Not only have you been working on you no, you’re getting really good at making your desires clear.”

He fed me the flower and it was delicious—crunchy, vanilla, crystalline. And then he held me and we kissed. It was sweet and not just because of the cake flower. It was an old-friends kiss, even though we haven’t known each other for long. The kiss of an ally.

He held me tight and pressed himself forward, the front of his kilt all happy to see me—I lovelovelove that feeling.

(Sidenote: The whole kilt-as-pagan-boy-uniform thing? AWESOME. I mean, if they HAVE to wear something on the bottom.)

I feel a little nervous about the romance I’m maybe writing into these kisses, but I really like being in a world where kissing is this easy, where people are just so generous with themselves.

Next time: The hair-pulling contest: Best. Idea. Ever.

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.