Let's Go Again

I feel nowish as though Boy and I had gone over the curve of a sine wave to find out selves at the bottom feeling uffish and unpleased about it, only to discover that we weren't on a sine wave at all, we were on a circle, and here we go again.

In recent months, over a summer of love and extraordinary comfort with one another, and then a semester of business and school and life and such, we had lost things. We let our little club here fall into ruin and thought to abandon it rather than making it a thing worth having. We let our play become less and less formalized, less and less planned. I seldom write about scenes anymore, because we seldom do them: all of our sex is kinky. We play with our toys and our rope, but we no longer set up experiences for one another. We have not pulled out the blindfold in ages, we have not asked one another to come to us, washed and in some specified clothing, to arrive at a room with lights dimmed and toys laid out and eyes downcast until we are told otherwise.

The sacred comfort and the beautiful feeling of knowing that Boy had planned my time, had things in store for me, that he was focused on me and the experience he was putting together, it is not there.

And moreso, we have lost the joy of Plain Old Every Day Sex. Someone is always the growly pinning bitey one. Maybe we'll go back and forth on who that is five times before we get off, but never do we just meet as two people who want to fuck each other equally much, equally hard.

And that I miss as well.

So we go again, back to square one. We have decided that we will now negotiate scenes, which we had somehow almost entirely stopped. Make sure we're on the same page and in the same mood. And then, when scenes are done, we will talk about how they went, and why. We are going to try, at least for the time being, to purge "kinky sex" from our lives, except where it follows directly a scene. I have this persistent feeling that there is only so much kinky energy to be had, and we've been frittering it away in small doses with all our toppy/subby/switchy/puppy sex, and never letting enough build up to do a truly great scene. So sex will be sex and scenes will be scenes, and we will, I hope, get more from all of them.

Of course, it's all just a plan now, but who cares.

And the club, which had turned almost to infighting as debated over and over and at length where we should go with it, as we poured out energy trying to plan discussions in which no one participated. And yet, when we chose to let it die, there was an outcry of disappointment, from those who had been coming for several semesters to those who had never yet gotten the chance. So we said screw it, lets go again. This time we won't plan anything, we'll just show up and chat about what we like. We'll make it even less formal, and if it should die when we leave, than we shall hope some other enterprising pervert shall have the same idea sometime later. Our safe space to talk and learn will still be there, and if nobody chooses to bring questions or ideas to us to chat about, well, that's their problem. We're doing our best.

I'm glad to know where I'll be this Friday afternoon, and why.

I feel very "back at square one". I feel as though we learned everything and then forgot it and must learn again. I have forgotten, to a great extent, how to relax and submit to a scene, and Boy has forgotten how to help bring me there. I have forgotten much of my skill with rope, and Boy has forgotten how to trust in what skill remains. So we must practice, and we must play, and we must formalize and ritualise and talk. We must talk, and talk, and talk.

I was struck when I first got into this how much communication the scene necessitated. Talk before a scene, talk after a scene, talk about the scene, negotiate terms and conditions and find your comfort level and spread the word. I'm sure in Poly and more actively open relationships the level of communication must be even higher. And we see first hand, now, how subtly that can break down. Not in one giant "Well you didn't say! You should have known! But I thought! You thought!," but in a slow slipping of understanding till you stop and compare your pictures of an action or situation and find just how far apart they have become.

I've been missing the time of our relationship that spawned this blog to begin with. The journeys of discovery. The feeling of trust. I'm excited that our work now is to bring that back.

And so pleased to know what heights we can achieve. We have friends. Here with us, in Mischief and Estra and occasionally May and Eileen and Maja and Tyr and Dov, and out in the internets, whether they know we're watching (as the amazing and lovely and utterly inspirational Goose and Gander surely do) or whether they do not, as perhaps Hannah, Teppycat, and even Monk might not have realized.

I Am A Lucky Person.

There is a girl that Boy and I know, and she will be called Alli.
Alli is smart and sweet and curvy. She giggles alot and is absolutely adorable. In my experience, she is very sub-oriented indeed. She is the type of girl who will go and put on a pretty skirt and a lower cut shirt if I tell her to in the right tone of voice.
I like this girl.
Sadly, so does her boyfriend. And she likes her boyfriend quite a bit, as well. They like each other so much that they are totally wrapped up in that about 99% of the time.
But her boyfriend was out of town this weekend.
From what I understand, Alli filled her weekend with play dates so tightly packed she barely had time to shower and find a different low-cut shirt in between them, and I'm not even sure it's over yet. I also gather that there might have been a bit of too-much-birthday going on with that situation.
But I am a Lucky Person. I got to play first.

Alli showed up at my room exactly on time. She was very good. We are not so very good (it's not our job, in this context) so Boy was actually out taking care of another obligation, and I was sitting around watching TV-on-the-Internet.
Previous to her arrival, I has asked that she e-mail me with her interests. In response, I got this:

i like getting tied up. also i like getting
hit with things, although i like stingy/teasy things a lot a lot as
opposed to thuddy things like the boy likes. ummmm in not hitting
terms i also like teasy things in general. very much. general evil, i
suppose. i am bad at this game! is this enough email?

Which cracked me up and made me go "awwww," but did not tell me very much that I didn't already know.
So when she arrived I asked her if she wanted to be suspended, or merely tied to the ceiling. She opted for suspension, and she opted to be suspended face-up, so I got working on a chest harness that would be comfortable for that type of thing. I was just finishing up when Boy arrived to help rig the hip harness and get her in the air.

From there it is sort of a blur. There was a lot of use of a magic want and a lot of use of the variac, a lovely machine which takes a magic wand from being a two speed vibrator (that's "high" and "too high") to an infinitely adjustable instrument of sexy torture.

At this point I should mention just how much I like giving girls orgasms. I love giving girls orgasms. I got to do so with our friend S a while back, and it was most excellent. I have had very few opportunities since, and so when I get the chance I tend to make the most of it. My magic-wand-and-variac combination really helps.

Playing with Alli was simple. Tie her up, hit her, make her squeal, stop hitting her, take out the magic wand, make her pant and moan and squeal some more, untie her, and do it all again.

She informed me that it is difficult to make her come, and also informed me that I succeeded. I had fun demonstrating that once you've made a lady orgasm once, if you know what you're doing it only gets easier to make them orgasm again. And again. And again.

I don't know how many time she came. I'm not sure she knows how many times she came.
I do know that when we were finally done we were happy and exhausted, some hours had passed, and Boy and I didn't know whether we wanted to collapse or jump each other.

I am so lucky to have gorgeous girls with gorgeous titties that I can play with on occasion, and so lucky to have a gorgeous Boy to help me play with them. I am lucky that I got to go first in Alli's weekend of insanity, and lucky to have her in my life in general.

I hope the rest of her weekend goes well.

I'm going to bask in my good fortune for a while.

Invisible Man

Who is it that keeps posting comments and then deleting them? This has happened quite a few times, and I'm puzzled. Why post a comment and then take it down? Why is it that I never see these comments, I only see the places where "This comment has been deleted by the author"? Is there anything I can do about that? Who is this invisible man?

If you are the rogue commenter, and do not wish to make your presence known publicly, you can always get in contact with me at switch.and.boy@gmail.com. I'm prompt in responding, and I'd love to know what it is you apparently have to say.

Also, anybody else can e-mail us there for anything else, as well.

Hopin' to hear from you!

Ok, Ok, We'll Spill

Truth is, we made a pact with Mischief. He and Estra showed us (and the world) theirs, now Boy and I will have to pony up and show them (and the world) ours.
So here is ALMOST all of our toys:

You'll notice, first off, how much of the picture is taken up by rope. And cable. And hardware. Take particular notice of the large item made out of iron that is nestled between the three big coils of natural hemp and the smaller coil of red hemp. Notice our ring and swivel (not connected, sadly) within the circle of cable.
All of the leather stuff in the bottom right corner comes from when we were first getting in to this stuff and hadn't quite realized how much we like rope. Well, almost all of it: there is a small nylon cat collar and a bigger nylon dog collar that are from when we discovered how much we each like to give up on being human sometimes. And the simple strip-and-D-ring restraints we won in a kinky bingo game. But the small padded leather restraints Boy bought before we were a couple, before he was my Play Partner, before we were doing anything but giving each other mindblowing oral sex. They are from when kink was merely a twinkle in my wonderful lover's eye.
Note also the lovely soft leather flogger with the blue handle: it was Boy's present to himself last holiday season, at the very last Fetish Flea in Boston and our very first kinky event together. It has brought us much joy.
And similarly, note the sparkly silver cock that is our very newest acquisition. It is a Leo (a shout-out here to Goose&Gander who's review of it pointed us in the right direction), a more-or-less replacement for the red cock next to it. We decided that the bend at the end was simply too limiting (it makes it difficult to be rough at all, and it is almost impossible to fellate, much to Boy's dismay). I thought I didn't like the sparkly silver when I bought it (which is another story in itself, and I will tell if you ask nicely) at this years Flea. But it was the only one Miko had, and it was twenty dollars cheaper than I'd found it anywhere online, so I went with it. And it turns out that I LOVE the fact that my big, thick cock is sparkly. I almost never indulge in sparkles, and somehow this is just the right arena for me to add a bit of pizazz to my life. Don't ask my why, it just makes me happy.
And it makes Boy happy, too. Oh, does it make Boy happy.
And finally, a little plug for craftsmanship and do-it-your-self-ing: The red leather harness next to both cocks was made for me by Boy, as was the slim leather collar with the simple D-ring. Boy made the two white-handled rope floggers (they match the ones we gave to Mischief, in his photo) and I made the two nearly invisible black-handled ones. A decent portion of our rope Boy bought raw and conditioned himself (the rest of course is courtesy of the wonderful Twisted Monk). Boy also made the small leather slapper and the collection of evil sticks that are in the same vicinity. And many of our more artistic and beautiful home-made items sadly did not make it in to this photo, so there will be upcoming pictures of all those things that MIA in this one.
Like Boy. He's pretty important... I can't think how we managed to miss him.
Our toys have come from acknowledged kink vendors like Monk, from boating stores and hardware stores and steel yards and leather stores and airline flights and barns. We've perverted more poor innocent little objects than I care to think about, and spent FAR more money than I care to think about (especially if you count my corsets and boots and such, also not pictured here).
It gratifies me that we play regularly with pretty much everything we've ever spent money on, and haven't really abandoned the things we made ourselves, either. And yet it baffles me when I think how often our play, these days, is as simple as a bit of rope and a whole lot of beating on each other with nothing more complicated than our own two fists.
Or feet.
Or nails.
Or teeth.
Or elbows.

Interlude on a Monday Afternoon

boy has just zip tieed my thumbs together. now he is touching my boobiesand breathing on myneck and um== wow. it'ssirt of hard ti type and he is touching ke and thosse are my nippples and that is my neck hee's biting. my bra!
those are my owne personal nipples andowowowowowow
boy is big big big
owmyboobies
mythumb
s
ow.
iamwee.

Out On My Own

Ok. So, since Christmas there has been three days and four dinners at the Cabin In The Woods with a dear friend and his dearest. These included venison and mushrooms in a soy-balsamic sauce, with potatoes and the beans from Christmas, a big fat roast chicken, brined for two hours before hand, stuffed with cloves of crushed garlic and bruised rosemary, with potatoes in the roasting pan frying in the chicken fat. I think we had something green with it, but I cannot for the life of me remember. There were lamb shanks braised with more rosemary and garlic and canned whole organic tomatoes, served with mashed potatoes. There was pasta with with bolognese flavored with dried wild mushrooms. There were pears poached in mulled wine and something made of whipped cream and chocolate wafers, there was lots of cider and eggnog and cheese and crackers and chocolate, and the whole thing ended with potato-celery-leek soup.
Then there were three days at Boy's parents, full of time in the shop and absorbing stress and then working it out and then absorbing some more. A poor-to-fair dinner at what I wanted to be a decent restaurant, some potstickers that I made which were well received by all (but not quite to my taste) and a dinner of such strange and epic proportions that it will either not be discussed or have its own post.
Now we are back at school, our rooms twin messes of failed unpacking, our diet vegetarian in deference to Mischief and Estra, and our thoughts taken up by about 50/50 work and play. Classes don't start up for over a week. We are here to get a head start on our thesies and hang each other in the air.
All of which would work a lot better if Boy didn't have a bloody wedding to attend on Saturday. He'll be hopping a plane tomorrow and hopping another on Sunday, during which time I will not see him, he will not get off and he will very very much not be accompanying me to the newly relocated Fetish Flea.
Bugger.
At first I thought I just wouldn't go, and two years ago, I wouldn't have. Because two years ago, I'd have been going alone, and I wouldn't have seen anybody I knew there. But this year I will be going, without my Boy but not alone. I will be going with Mischief and Estra, or with a friend we'll call Darla, or by myself. But even if I drive myself there and back, alone in my car with my music, I'll see friends. I'll walk around with friends. I'll say hello to Monk and Alex, and there might even be a glint of recognition in their eyes when they say Hi back. And I can hold my own in the bondage lounge, and I'll even survive in the whip lounge... I wouldn't hit anybody with a single tail yet, but more practice would be nice, because someday, I'd like to.
It's nice to have friends in the Scene. It will be a fun thing to do. But Boy'll be in my thoughts every second. What little I buy, I'll buy with him in mind. If I learn new skills, they'll be to use on him. If I go to lectures, I'll be taking notes for him. I can't imagine a better way to jam the maximum of missing him into such a brief separation, but it'll be worth it. There are, indeed, purchases I need to make, and I do, indeed, want to learn new things for him. And it will be an interesting experience to be out there on my own.
I never have before.
I'll miss him.