Being a Switch Is Awesome Part Three: First Time I Beat Up a Boy

After Old-Timey Guy was finished with me, I stripped off my wings and the rest of my costume and got as naked as I could while having to leave on nipple tape and panties. I just wanted to be comfy. I started to look around for someone to give me more snuggles. The Puncher is a really good cuddler, but for whatever reason he was seeming unapproachable.

Then a new guy walked in a military-ish costume and looked so much like The Man that I had to do a double-take. On second-look, he was much more fresh-faced, but the resemblance was still uncanny. Regardless/because of who he resembled, I thought he was cute so I said hello.

“I’m usually here in heels,” he said, “But tonight, I’m all Domly.”

“You SURE are!” I giggled and asked him what he likes. Just like me, he likes to be restrained and smacked around. After we chatted for a few more minutes, I went ahead and asked, “So, do you want me to beat you up?” Suddenly these things just seem so easy!

He smiled and said sure and I remembered that I DID have something to tie him up with—my pretty satin handcuffs! He happily held his hands out and I tied them on all snug. It was poetic to be putting soft, shiny handcuffs on a guy who looks like The Man, but this guy was such a sweetheart that all I was thinking about was making him happy. Okay, and maybe convincing him to snuggle me later.

(Sidenote: It occurs to me that I’d better be super-extra-careful to take care and honor bottoms’ wishes. I’m entering the world of topping with some not-awesome karma behind me, if one believes in that sort of thing. Better look for chances to heal those old scars—maybe this is one of those chances.)

(Another sidenote: Not superappropriate little note to CBATP—Not to take away from any of the wonderfuls I do play with, but I’m thinking of you in these paragraphs for a couple of reasons, wishing we could be in touch, wishing I could fire up the ol’ sexTARDIS to a time when scenes might be possible with you. )

ANYWAY, so the First Boy. I led him to a kneeling bench and tried awkwardly to get his pants down, but it turned out they were all one piece with the top of his costume. Little spoiler alert, he vowed to make himself more accessible to me the next time. I took off his cap and glasses and placed him on the stand next to us. I petted his sweet blond head and asked if he liked his hair pulled, and yes, he did. He has short hair, but I got a good grip, yanked, and enjoyed his beatific expression.

My spankin’ hand was hurty, everybody, so I wouldn’t have been able to do much, but he pointed out that his costume included a training nightstick. So helpful, except it was a little hard not to hit myself with the handle-end while I was hitting him—that must’ve looked funny. I sank into the rhythm and hit harder and harder, expressing all the rest of the aggression I had left, going actually a little sadistic as I scrolled through all of the feelings.

As I laid into the lower part of his left ass cheek, I noticed him flinch a little more than I meant him to, and he told me I was at a yellow. I felt proud and also horrified—ohno, I’m a little scary! Like, on purpose! (Actually this was the second time of the night I came off scary—the Fireman’s Girl wanted some nice spanks from me but got afraid when she saw how hard I hit TPG. I’m sure I could still do sensual spanks, though. Hope she gives me a chance to try.)

I backed off a little, even switch-hitting a bit, but eventually both arms got tired. I asked if he wanted some snuggles, and hooray! He did. The only snuggle-spot available at this late hour happened to be in the same place where I had lovely, smoochy aftercare with The Man back all those months ago when he still had a nice nickname. As much as I’ve stayed angry with TM, I’ve never forgotten the romance and potential of that first scene.

Sorry the paragraphs keep getting swept out of the First Boy moment—that certainly wasn’t the case that night. Apparently I’m into one guy doing aftercare on behalf of a whole bunch of people—can that be a fetish? Not according to FetLife, but nonetheless, it was incredible! Even though I was ostensibly supposed to be taking care of him, I got all wrapped up in his arms and felt sweet and beautiful, sinking into the woozy sensation of trust and safety. It’s a miracle that it’s so easy to fall into coziness with a stranger. One of the things I love best about single life is slipping in and out of intimacy without possession or obligation—just letting myself rest with another human animal and then letting it go.

Not letting go too much, though. He let me know that he plans to be around more often and that he hoped we’d play again. I sure do have some ideas for him.

Kissed, Punched, and a Little Sadistic, Part Two: A Rope Daydream and My Winggirl Has to Go Buy Panties

Friends, the day might come before too long when I might learn the knots and start tying up good, sweet boys. As I sat around with Pretty Slave and Cute Master snuggling and watching the crowd, such a cute scene unfolded on the bench across from us.  They were a youngish couple, clearly smitten with each other, and the girl had the boy all done up in fairly tight but mostly decorative ropes. To add to the heartstring-tugging, their ropes were pink.

She pinched and prodded him some, but mostly she kissed and caressed him. The rope bottom guy reminded me a little bit of CBATP—same scruffy-but-sweet face, similar deer-eyes. Something about this bottom’s docile, adoring expression just woke something up in me, and I started to understand what was behind the expressions I’d sometimes enjoyed seeing on Doms’ faces: proprietary and protective, sweet and whole. Because ropes stir up such deep emotions, I feel like that kind of play might be a ways off, but it’s so cool to have felt those things.

I think it’s important right now not to over-identify with these feelings, but just try and slow down and experience them. I’m such an unformed cloud of energies and urges, I just need to sort of go with them without attaching or trying to pin myself down to any one identity or role. Not-attaching is so not my strong suit, but still!

Winggirl One pulled me out of my rope-inspired reverie when she came over with her CVS bag. She doesn’t wear undies and you need them to play at the Regular Dungeon. The resourcefulness of the moment cracked me up. Plus, she gave me the rest of the pack.

I stayed in my seat and she bent over in front of me, pulling down her pants. I reached up and pulled her shirt up most of the way, just for the sense of power pulling her out of her clothes gave me. I spanked her for a while, finding it easy to get a good rhythm going with so many spanks going on around me.

She wanted to kneel down so we switched spots. Kneeling on the bench, her face was kind of smushed into the wall. (I’d enjoy the same feeling shortly thereafter…) Cute Master showed me the best way to pull her hair, and then he and I high-fived. I think this is my record for most high-fives in a dungeon night!

When we finished, I gave her a big hug and told her she’d done an excellent job. She returned the compliment.

While being the spanker is still not the thing I go bonkers for, I like that I can give my subby friends a little extra fun in their evening. I also like the feeling of strength that comes out in me when I do it—I think the power-surge that came from topping served me very well throughout the rest of the evening. Also! Sexy arms are one of my goals and it was quite the workout!

Next: I watch, I get hit, I hold a girl down, and so on, and so on…

And The Winner for Best Making Me Type With Slippery Hands Is...

Ohmygoodness friends! The Cutest Boy at the Party is decidedly also the most excellent boy in my phone. Not only does he send me lots of friendly and attentive regular texts, but he also sometimes says things that make me go from zero to gushing in like two seconds. Also he's reading me, and you know that's the best way to get on my good side.

Not that he always wants to be on my good side--he's a switch and his bottomy aspects bring out some deliciously growly feelings in me--I've spent lots of quality fantasy time plotting against him. When I see that boy he'd better watch. Out.

Anyway, be proud of yourself, honey. It's been a long week and the company and text-slutty afternoons made it amazing. Such a good boy.

The Sparkly Festival of Awesomeness, Part 6: Hot Sex, Hot Hand-Holding

As I’ve been writing my way through this story, I’m conscious of being the least experienced person in the tent, at least when it comes to this kind of sex, and trying to keep things in perspective. I’m thinking about oxytocin and other bonding chemicals and how they might be the source of these lovely deep feelings of connection. When I write about it, I’m agnostic about energies and such, but in the moment, none of those thoughts or doubts were relevant at all. I was, for those few hours, a true believer in magic, men, myself, and everything else, like a horny mystic on ecstasy.

So back to where I was, snuggled between two radiantly warm guys, one-in-each-hand, hands in my hair, on my back, everywhere. Legs intertwined. Kissing, kissing, kissing. I was enveloped in the smell of them—one smelled fresh, the other, more dark and musky. Both smells made me ravenous for them.

We paused for a moment to go over our testing situations, of course. The guys geeked out for a while about STI science facts, and then it was back to the snuggles.

Mr. Shiny Eyes put on a condom and a glove. He slid his hand in and I was as wet as I’ve ever been. His fingers jolted my inside awake and alert and every nerve ending lit up like Christmas. I wanted so badly for him to fuck me. There was a little fuss about positions (remember, we’re on an air mattress, and one that could use some inflating at that) and he ended up deciding to lay back and have me climb on.

“But I’m a bottom…” I complained only a tiny bit.

“Okay, then I’m making you be on top.”

Friends, it had been since last August. I’ve had plenty of adventures, as you know, but for whatever reason it’s been much easier to get a guy to spank me, flog me, tie me up, set me on fire, drag a knife over my (pajamaed) clit, etc—for some reason this part of things has been elusive.

I was so, so happy to have Mr. Shiny Eyes inside me. All of him is so smooth and assured—his arms, his kisses, his penis. As soon as I straddled him and pushed him in, waves of delight sparked up inside me and I started making ridiculous sounds. As the Mayor of Kittentown’s neighbors would attest, I can never contain my joy when a man is inside me. I am super, super loud, and since I’m a showoff, I was glad to feel like the whole festival could hear me.

Since up until this point, I’d only Googled two-(or ten, or a hundred) guys-one-girl, and so even though everybody knows life isn’t like porn I feel compelled to talk about the contrast. In videos, the men always talk around the girl, either egging on the other men or talking about practical things like which way to bend her. Sometimes they might as well be moving a couch, for all the interaction they have with the lady. Of course, that objectification is fun to watch, but would never be fun to do.

This was the complete opposite of that in every way. Even as I was being bent into ways I didn’t know I could bend, (thank goodness for yoga) I felt like they were both so there for me, like they were being so generous, that we were all working as a team to get what we needed.

As Mr. Shiny Eyes fucked me, Mr. Sweetheart was kindly there to help, kissing me, pulling my hair, giving my ass the occasional helpful smack. But my favorite, the part of the day that I revisit the most, is when I reached out and he just took my hand. That hand-holding was so tender that it might have been a friendship oath. That support is a magic thing to walk through my days with.

But back to Mr. Shiny Eyes. After I first met him, back at that conference, I asked around and folks told me his dance card is really full—and no wonder! He moved in me like an expert. I kept saying/panting “Oh, you’re so perfect, no wonder you’re so popular.” He kept going until I exploded into fireworks, and we all piled up again for snuggles.

Next time: Pillow talk and being held down a lot.

Yay, I Got to Top Sweetie!

I was really inspired by some of what I saw at the party Saturday night, and also by the fact that I accidentally learned how to do some handcuffs when I was at rope class with Mister Hazel Eyes. Sunday morning after breakfast, when we were lying around with coffee and library books, I got an image in my head and said:

“Take off your clothes and I’ll be back in a minute. I have to go make something.”

What I made was this:

I think I see an Etsy store in the making. Sweetie likes soft touch, so I made it more as a tickler, but it turns out it works very well as a flogger, too.

I left it in the other room while I was blindfolding her so she’d have to guess at what she was feeling. Once she was all nice and blindfolded, I told her to put her hands over her head and did this:

It’s not tied off quite right, but hey, I did handcuffs, go me! *proud*

She looked beautiful laying there in my pink blindfold, handcuffed wrists up to her chest, boobs flushed and excited. She still had her socks on—we often do.

I went and got my DIY ribbon flogger and started to drag it lightly over her. She didn’t like it on her feet, but everywhere else, she oohed and sighed. She said she couldn’t figure out what it was, even though, you know, ribbons seem kind of obvious.

She always likes a little sting to the nipples, at least in biting-sucking-pinching ways, so I gave her right nipple a little thwack. I liked it, and she groaned. A little growly aggression rose up in me and it felt good. I flogged her nipples gently and then harder, alternating with dragging the ribbons softly over her neck, arms, thighs. Standing over her all powerful like that, I started to smell like sex, and I lifted up her handcuffed hands and said

“Feel that.”

She scrabbled around desperately trying to get her fingers inside me, but I pushed her arms back down onto the pillow.

I told her to turn over and smacked her with the ribbons some more. It felt good to hit her like that. I found a good spot at the center of her freckled upper back and just struck there lovingly for a while, making sure she knew who was in charge. I reached down for her breasts and she grabbed over her shoulders for mine. My pussy was slippery and throbby against her back and I was moving against her. I would have come right then if I hadn’t pushed her hands away and made her turn back over.

I kissed her neck and bit hard on her nipples, over and over. I pulled the back of her hair gently but firmly so that she couldn’t move. She said “I want…” but got distracted and trailed off. A few minutes later I asked:

“What were you trying to say that you wanted?”

“I want you to..haha…”

“What.”

*giggle* “I want you to put your fingers in me really hard.”

“And what is that called?”

She hesitated.

“Say it. I’m not going to do it unless you say it.”

“I kind of want you to, well, fuck me.”

So I happily obliged. Later I got to bend over and find out what the ribbons felt like smacking my ass. The rest of the day was full of ropes, library books, snuggles, and triumph. I love bottoming and all, but I guess I can admit to being just a liiiiitle bit of a switch.