Ok. So I suppose I am going to update first on my life, and then on my sexsexsex life.
I have relocated. From my Mystery College (is it mysterious? do I actually name it elsewhere in the blog? I have no memory) to, and I'm not even going to attempt to be mysterious about this, New York City.
I am spending the summer interning at a white-collar job, which indicates that I make copies, file other peoples' stuff, attend meetings I don't understand, and generally have a fairly good time because it's all stuff I'm more or less interested in, and there is usually enough work to keep me busy but not so much that I am constantly pressed for time (that is to say, it's not my last job or the job before that). It's very cushy, really.
Boy is interning doing technical theater stuff, which seems to mean that he does basic building and mostly sorts hardware alot. I'm sure it will get more interesting when they're actually working on a show.
Those are our jobs. Our lives are more interesting. We are in a lovely little one-bedroom apartment, with a terrace-porch-thing upon which I grow herbs in pots. This means that we have our own space (ours, not his or mine), and more important, that we have a kitchen. Mostly I am the one in the kitchen, though Boy does the coffee making (and, I am ashamed and grateful to say, most of the dishwashing). I am cooking dinner almost every night, planning menus, thinking about groceries, and having tremendous fun with it all.
We have friends in the city and enough time and all seems to be more or less right with the world.
And we are playing. Not as often as we'd like: we've been moving and settling in and getting used to our schedule. At school we designated Wednesday scene night, here I think we'll pull of two scenes a weekend, but probably none during the week. Not real Sceney scenes, anyway. Alot of kinky sex, and possibly also some pegging, but not scenes.
We have, though, initiated the apartment into mutual oral sex, pegging, a fair amount of Boy curling puppy-style at my feet, and a quite decent quantity of my rolling around, batting at things and getting scritches, and of course, hot, hot sex. Sex in the living room, sex in the bedroom, sex that I think probably alerted everybody in the building and all the surrounding buildings that there are some new and
different people in this apartment.
I have yet to run a real scene here, though I do plan to. I am quietly planning ways to tie him and things to do to him, things involving a cane. I'm growing to love the cane. It's a good way to produce a large quantity of pain in a very personal way. I find that it's hard to keep a good connection during flogging, due to the distance you have to be from your submissive. A cane keeps you pretty close, and you can really feel in your hand the sort of impact you've made.
As if the gasps and moans didn't tell you.
He, on the other hand, improvised a spanking bench, tied my thighs together, tied the magic wand to them in a way that I am having trouble describing, but did the job fine, thank you, and went from there. He didn't turn the damn thing on for quite a while, just left it there, pressing just a bit, and hit me with stuff. He tried out two different canes, the bamboo one and a thin steel one (we decided that one was probably a bad plan), and I'm pretty sure there were other things involved, but I was pretty far gone. Eventually, with absolutely no begging at all, I swear, he turned the vibrator on and let the inevitable happen.
Twice.
Much bucking and screaming was had by me.
He snickered, mostly.
That was a good night.
There will, I am sure, be many more. For this I am grateful, and will, I swear, relay them on to you significantly more dutifully than in recent history.
I
missed this blog.
