As I alluded to last week, the Sweethearts came down for the
Lady of the House’s annual New Years party, and to my delight they offered to
stop by my apartment on the way. I was so excited to make them soup and catch
up—hard as it is to believe, we hadn’t seen each other since the Sparkly
Festival of Awesomeness, when he was part of my first threesome and she brushed
my hair after.
When we started getting ready, there was a spark of energy
in the air, and not just because we were enthusiastically comparing shiny butt
plugs. At my encouragement, she came in to keep me company while I was getting
dressed and we agreed that my Snoopy Christmas underpants were much more
festive than my lucky polka dot ones. I found my shiny red bra, packed my red
satin heels in my trusty suitcase, and chose a pretty outfit that would
certainly not be on for very long.
I was shy around Mr. Sweetheart at first (Well, my version
of shy…) but his body felt warm and welcoming. While they were sitting together
on the couch getting the directions situated, I made some room for myself and
kissed him, still the same softness, still the same lovely, steady connection.
Then I got up the courage to lean across him and kiss her. She was a fit, just
as I always suspected she would be. It is a wonder we ever made it to the
party, but we did, in spite of my somewhat haphazard driving. (Note to self:
become a better driver before the next time I drive someplace with a butt plug
in.)
Shortly after we got there (While we still had clothes on,
even!) the friend whom I’ve just named The Recurring Character arrived. He
tends to be present at many of my formative experiences: He was the first
person I (sort of) cuddled at my first cuddle party, he was in the clothing
optional workshop where I first (sort of) stripped down, he was even there the
first time I went to the nude beach. Last February, with Sweetie’s help, I was
his first rope top. Like many of my guy friends, he’s a belle-of-the-ball type
with lots of partners. Maybe I gravitate towards characters like that because
they’re the most approachable, or maybe because I kinda want to be like them.
Maybe both.
The Lady of the House’s parties always have a designated
play space, adjacent to the rest of the party but not visible. That’s where the
Sweethearts and I headed before too long. Last year, even though I was having a
lovely rope scene with Sweetie, sex at a party seemed like a distant dream. Not
even one year distant, it turns out. (Pause to high five Pretty Slave and Cute
Master, who got to be that first. Jeez 2013, you were awesome sometimes.)
The aim was to have my first anal sex before midnight, but
it was not meant to be. The universe seems determined to have me wait on that
one, I don’t know why, but I’ve decided to settle in and be patient about it.
Well, as patient as possible, anyway.
Anyway, playing with Mr. and Ms. Sweetheart was perfect. Especially considering that I’d
been fantasizing about it for half a year! I always thought she looked like
some badass Nordic goddess, all pale skin and smooth, heroic curves, an ass
like a Romantic-era odalisque. (Yay I just used my Art History degree everybody!)
Mr. Sweetheart is still such a wonderful combination of gentle and mean, though
in this case, more gentle. The kindest spanks I’ve even known, kindest finger
in my asshole.
As I lay between them like a loved-up princess, the
Recurring Character asked if he could join, and after a quick soul-search I
said yes and was plunged into the middle of the three of them. He kissed me
while the Sweethearts played with my breasts, while Ms. Sweetheart ran her
fingers over the front of my more-and-more-wet underpants. Everyone wondered
how I could possibly still be wearing underpants and worked together to get
them off of me. They were kind enough to let me leave my socks on, though, as
all the best people are. With them everywhere on me, I felt helpless and
goddesslike all at once, floating/submerged/drowning in an ocean of ecstatic
sensations, the most perfectly myself I can imagine, all white light and joy.
At midnight, we all got up and toasted, danced with the Lady
of the House, kissed and ate cookies and drank wine and caught up with friends.
There was no one I wanted to text at midnight, though I did text a few at 2 AM.
I was fully present and immersed in things, that was the real difference
between this year and last year.
After the midnight revels, Mr. Sweetheart put a rope harness
on me and fucked me so perfectly that I had to put my hand over my own mouth to
stifle the screams. This was the first night I had PIV sex in front of other
people; there was something comforting about hearing my friends’ conversations
nearby while I was in the throes of him. Heartwarming. Connected. Shortly
thereafter, I put Ms. Sweetheart over my knee and spanked her while Mr.
Sweetheart sat and petted us both. I was proud to turn this powerful woman into
a sweet, sleepy angel.
I’d planned to stay over and snuggle with them, but this was
a rare night where I’d had enough. Enough closeness, enough kisses, enough
snuggles. I wanted to be in my own bed and I hadn’t drunk much at all so I had
a soda, found my clothes, and said my prolonged and grateful goodbyes. It was
an astonishing feeling to be so filled up by others and yet still
self-contained.
When I met the Sweethearts last New Years, I couldn’t have
predicted what we would become. I still can’t. The same goes for when I made
friends with The Lady of the House by cuddle/wrestling her the June before
last, or the first time I laid eyes on Cute Master and Pretty Slave or any of
the other characters. We never know what magic we’re making or where
connections are leading, but I’m more convinced than ever that there’s a
current underneath it all, taking us where we need to go. The Sweethearts seem
to have fucked me full of faith.
