Posts tagged play party
Switches, Sadism, and Shiny Butts: Rope Journaling 5-24

The second night I wasn't going to stand around and wait for anyone or for anything to happen. There was a room full of hot, horny, kinky people and I was going to touch as many butts as I could. (Consensually of course.)

So the moment I walked into the dungeon I didn’t hesitate to oogle my hot friend C who was topless and covered in bruises from his busy weekend of bottoming. His dance card was full but I did get a hug, a noseful of his yummy smell, and to grab his butt. All in all a good start to the evening.

Soon after I saw M who I have a medium long history of doing ridiculous scenes with. More than once we've tied ourselves to each other until we ran out of limbs or rope much to the confusion of the rest of the dungeon and to prove switches have the most fun!

So when I saw him standing there in some shiny black latex I frolickedover to see if I could touch his slippery butt. He was more than happy to oblige. As we flirted and caught up a plan started to firm.

“Hey remember last year when I walked you around the dungeon while you were in your hood.”

“Yeah want to do that again?”

Like he needed to ask! He had on a latex hood and gloves and I had my rope out without a second thought. I tied a decorative but random chest harness that asymmetrically incorporated his arms into it. Then I added rope to his legs in a way that accentuated his butt and package so that he ended up with kind of a rope cod piece. It was pretty hot to my eyes and the fact he had half a hard on let me know he was enjoying himself as well. Afterall the only thing better than a latex butt is fondling a latex covered boner.

10 minutes into the evening and I was already having a blast. I really enjoy having friends that are funny, smart, and communicative. It makes casual play with on going negotiations possible, we have active consent with one another so that even though sometimes a year pases between when we play we trust one another to say “hi what are you in the mood for?” and just jump in. It feels sexy and safe. We can talk while we tie, it saves time and is super sexy multi tasking.

So I led M around the dungeon describing the sights and occasionally fondling him until we found an empty massage table.  I bent him over it to spank and play with him while enjoying the slightly muffled moans and sighs through the latex mask. The hood took away the ability to see his reactions or grab his hair but the hotness of playing with this sexy faceless object more than made up for it.

When he was breathing heavily I guided him to stand upright again, running my hands down the rope covered latex. Deciding his hands were probably ready to be put in a new position I untied enough of him to tie his right arm to his leg and put a simple rope cuff on his left.

“You know there just isn't enough butt fondling  going on.” I joked.

Gamely he turned to present his, but I used the rope handle around his wrist to turn him back in my direction and back my own ass in its tight dress into  his palm. I didn't need to see his face to sense a smile and his attentions to my butt gave me an idea.

“Thanks, much better, and this also gives me an idea to mess with people by being switchy.”

“Oh?”

“Yeap. Also I'm in the mood to get tied up. So…”. I wrapped the remaining rope from his wrist around my waist to finish my sentence. Then I added some tension to the rope so that his hand was trapped cupping my ass.

“Ready to walk around some more and confuse people?”

“Always.”

This time when people noticed us walking together a good number of them did a double take to take in that I'd tied M to me so that he had to walk arm in arm while holding each other’s butt. A few of our acquaintances laughed in that “that's so Emily” kinda way. So mission accomplished. As much as I was enjoying the forced butt touching I did eventually release M, knowing we both had other play dates.

While waiting for my play date, B, I watched a few friends get into trouble and a number of rope folks from out of town do scenes, taking in their techniques and enjoying their new and interesting way of doing things. B was enjoying his time with another Top so I wasn’t going to rush him but I was getting antsy waiting and watching all this sexy play happen.  So I was thrilled when he walked over to me half loopy from his last scene and asked if I was ready to throw around some rope.

We had a pleasant and sensual scene full of moans and giggles which is kind of our thing.  It was just what I needed to get some of my ropey sadism out on someone who very much enjoys it. After a cuddle and a promise to meet up for more of the same soon, I headed home, feeling like I got what I was hoping for from the evening.

Butts touched: 3. I call that a win.

Shuttering to Think

Men at bars ask if he’s my father. He grabs my ass lasciviously saying, “What? We have a very progressive relationship.” 

The stranger that was trying to hit on him up curls his lips in disgust and looks at me with pity.  “He’s what we’d call a pig, isn’t he, dear?”

I grin and grab my friend’s ass in return, closing the circle of our bodies so that we’re thigh to thigh. “I usually call him uncle,” I say.

“So he’s your husband?”

We both laugh and turn away from the nosy stranger.  We’ve spent years not putting a label on our “relationship” why the hell would we start now?

It started as photos. So many photos.  Each shoot darker, edgier, racier.  There was no limit to what I’d do for his lens.  When he wore a tie and shiny shoes so I could kneel at his feet, I fell deeply in lust.  I pretended to play with myself in a mirror while this faceless man watched, my friend playing the man while taking photos with the other hand.  Dr Jekyll and Mr Otto. When he grabbed my hair to angle my head for a photo, I wasn’t pretending for the camera anymore.  The moment was real. Or was it?

Photographers are complicated.  I’ve been a little bit in love with all of the good ones. I kind of have to be in order to give that much of myself to their camera and art.  If I faked it, it would show, the photos would look limp and lackluster.  But as soon as the lens cap goes on, the lights go off, and we put on street clothes the moment ends, the fantasy is gone.

Except when it lingered. There have been a few men able to hold my heart in their hand long after the job was done.  That lust remaining in the air even after we’ve put the fantasy on the shelf.  Or were we still holding onto our roles?  Confused?  Unwilling to let the moment pass, tempted by something that wasn’t there?

Maybe, which is why I don’t make a habit of tussling with photographers.  It gets too weird too quick, the line between reality and the art too thin.  Besides I’d rather shoot a million times with someone whose images I love than fuck them once and ruin it all.  Because that’s how it usually goes.  Once we’ve had each other, why bother pretending for the camera.  Reality can’t live up to the fantasy. 

Until it does.  This particular photographer and I danced around each other forever.  The yearning was there but neither of us wanted to be the one to break the rules and step over our professional boundaries. It wasn’t until I said, “Touch me.” And took his hand to direct it towards my body that we allowed ourselves to bring a dose of reality to our camera games. 

And those years of not touching made the finally touching that much better.  There was no question both of us wanted the other.  Requited lust had us breathless and giddy by the time we had to call it an evening and part ways.  And yet we hadn’t ruined the fantasy.  I still wanted more of him and to crawl around in rope and chain and latex for his camera. He was an exception to my very stringent rule.  The one man I will touch and pose for as the spark never gets old.

“Father, uncle, hubby, pig.  Want to hit me now?”  I asked him recently.  Biting my lip and giving him a sassy grin, I was ready to move from the socializing to the playing section of the evening.  He cocked his eye brow and looked down at me like, of course! His chuckle turns into a breathy “Yeah.”

At the cross he clips me in with carabineers and leather cuffs, stretching my arms wide.  The thrill of our play so deep that I don’t mind the lack of rope, he more than makes up for it in other ways.  He’s warm and just the right amount of scary standing behind me.  I never know what to expect from him, just that he always stays in my boundaries so I don’t have to stay on the alert, I can melt into his cruelty.    

He starts with floggers, building the intensity as I dance and moan under his ministrations with leather flails. I know what we look like together, how hot our play is. Its well documented, recorded a million times over in billions of pixels for the whole world to see.  So I know what he’s seeing.  That my ample ass turns him on.  No question about that. No reason for him to shoot it so frequently and thoroughly if it weren’t true.  So I can be totally in the moment, enjoy the pain me expertly doles out with no wonder or worry. 

He hits me until I literally feel like I’m flying though I’m pinned to a cross. He hits me until I have bruises that last a week. Tiny purple circles like a connect the dots game across my thighs that I smile at in the shower and bathroom.  Reminders that pull him to the front of my imagination in the middle of the work day.  He hits me until I’m so high I can barely stand or speak.  He’s filled my head with happy chemicals and in a brain newly free of pharmaceuticals I am awash only in the dopamine and serotonin that we made together.  I’m tripping on our weird connection, the drugs we’ve made with our bodies.

This is real.