April 6th



At times I find myself going through literary gymnastics to attach my tag line to the end of my essays. Sometimes it comes perfectly natural. Natural or awkward, in every case I reaffirm to myself the simple fact that with the mix of good and bad happening, I'm quite blessed by the Goddess. In net, my life is quite good.

The past few days have been a pretty good example of when it is extremely easy to use the sig line.

I woke up Saturday with no plans at all for the evening other than doing a DM shift from 1130pm-230am. No prob. I enjoy that. I got a phone call not too long after I woke up asking if I'd mind seeing an old friend who was back in town, and would like to get his first flogging since he left, and his first single tailling ever. We made plans to get together right about when the club opened that evening.

Through the day I was chatting with Linda, the gypsy free spirit. In and out of plans for several days, and all day saturday things changing as we spoke. You see, I'd had a call from my dad a few days ago and he asked me to fly to Phoenix this next week. He is in renal failure and he wants me to meet with him and his physicians as they are setting up their plans for dialysis. Over 50 years the man has stood behind me and never asked for a damn thing back, I have to go, no question. As well, he has an opportunity to buy a car and wanted to know if I'd like to buy his old one. Of course I do, no questions asked. I couldn't even remember what he has been driving but it had to be in better condition than my old P.O.S.. So, I'll fly Thursday, do the meeting Friday, and late Friday or early Saturday start driving back. If I leave promptly I'll be pulling into the town that Linda lives in at about my halfway point, and she has offered to put me up.

Sleep and a shower, that's great. Probably get some good food, meet her family, no prob. We've also been talking about a first play date for some time, however, and since her road trip up here fell through earlier this month, perhaps this trip of mine would be serendipitous. She asked Jim, who has been overseeing her entry into our community, for his permission for the two of us to play and he just laughed and laughed and laughed and - well, to hear her it was a fairly evil laugh. To quote her journal entry: "[Jim] thinks it is a great idea. IN FACT, he is having WAY way too much fun scaring me about it all. I said, well, at least you know [Peter] is safe (the reason for our agreement) and his reply was 'Yea, well, he's not all THAT safe'. After getting teased and prodded by Jim on what Peter just might do to me, I decided it was NOT such a great thing that the two of them do know each other. Jim is just finding delight in dangling the idea of the really really scary stuff in front of me, and the thought of the two of them together laughing and ploying. Shit." Alas, it appears that she will have her kids visiting that weekend so we'll have to just be teased by the possibility and the inability of our desires, and meet up again someday soon elsewhere to consummate said desires.

I'd be the first one to admit that focussing on finding some sort of fun with Linda on this trip is a totally self indulgent way of avoiding thinking about Dad. He is just too important to me to conceive of losing. I'll deal with it all straight up, but yessirree - I'm looking for happy distractions too.

And the entire time I was chattering with Linda on Trillian I was doing two consecutive corned beefs. I'm meeting K&C for a look at my taxes Sunday and promised them one and when I bought one for them I just couldn't not buy myself another one too. [[ For y'all that have asked, it isn't even really a big 'recipe' recipe. I just buy one of those 'kits' they have at the store - a slab of beef in juices with a packet of spices. I put the beef, fat side up, in a pyrex baking pan, pour all the juices out of the packet into the pan, and then add whatever the hell I feel like to fill up another 1/4" of juice all around. A splash of marsala, a squirt of teriyaki sauce, a cup of water, whatever. Pull out a long sheet of waxed paper and lay it over the pan, and slip the pan into the microwave. Yup - I don't really care for the traditional soggy corned beef. Microwave it on 70% heat for 20 minutes a pound, turn every 20 min if you don't have a turntable. The last 15 minutes or so pull it out and cover the top of the meat with a thick covering of brown sugar, recover with waxed paper, and put it back to finish up it's cooking time. The corned beef you'll get out will be firm, suitable for slicing into dipping strips for your favorite sweet mustard and/or horseradish. Yum.]]

~~~

So let's cut to the good stuff.

I got to the club right about on time, last corned beef just done, and shortly thereafter met up with my bud. [I'd love to use or create names for these folks but haven't had The Conversation with any of the folks tonite to allow it... I'll just cover the highlights.] He was a fixture around the Wet Spot when it first opened and was instrumental in piloting some of the customer service type volunteer jobs that have become very much a part of what makes it special. A job pulled him elsewhere, and yet elsewhere from there, and he's considering returning here if he can. At any rate, it was good to see an old friend. About 10pm I pulled out a collection of whips ... the light warm up toy made by Ruth Marx, the smothered-by-pillows type sensation deerskin flogger Robert made so many years ago, my beefalo heavy thudder again from Ruth, and a braided cat legacied to me by Al D. That was the warm up stuff. The next row was a gentle woven cloth single tail, my black leather one by Joe Wheeler, one from Ice that is nearly a quirt, and my short bullwhip. Throughout the progression he did quite well, even the once or twice the whip went where I didn't tell it to go. For the most part it was just fun to watch the whips kiss his back hair like a lion running through deep elephant grass. Half an hour, 45 minutes, and we were both tired and done. T'was a happy thing.

Now, I told you I was due to work at 1130pm, and to orient a newly trained DM candidate. In the few minutes in between the end of our whipping scene and when I strapped on my badge and radio ear plug, I received invitations to assist with two different birthday spankings later. One was with an attractive young lady who had incidentally caught my eye earlier in the evening, and the other was for a lady I've known slightly but not well. I made arrangements to 'pass my badge' for the few moments it would take to administer what was requested when it came.

The DMing itself wasn't that bad this evening, and there were no problems when I passed the badge over to the Event Coordinator for a few minutes for the first birthday spanking. It was a young lady just turned 19 and that's how many swats she got. This young lady, however, has an embrace of her inner cunthood far beyond her years, and on virtually every swat he was writhing like she was getting closer and closer to a climax. I know she actually didn't, but she was in the same county and could see it from where she was standing. It was a good time.

Back on duty a bit later I was asked to do the second one and this is where I startled everyone and got egg on my face. A certain dyke daddy had asked me if I would mind spanking mrtlemmblefqwerettlqwertk [it was noisy there] and pointed at a table her girl was sitting at. I said sure. When it came time I didn't even hear her say name B instead of name A, and walked over, took the wrong person by the wrist, and said, "Come with me!" as I was walking away. She startled, her daddy just about lost sphincter control grabbing me, and ... well, we all recovered, with me embarrassed and protesting about "damn noisy in here". A few minutes later I took the correctly intended girl out onto the floor, mentioned how we'd faked her out damn sure betcha, and I then proceeded to wallop the living daylights out of her tushie. Just a slight thing but a very resiliant bottom, she said she had had a bad week and basically I took all the shitty stuff, put it in a cheesecloth, banged the shitty stuff out and handed her back herself cleansed of it. Sounds good, eh? It was violent, controlled, and she went where she often goes - to sobbing tears, and at the same time sneaking a smile out to thank me and tell me it was exactly what she needed. She was a happy camper the rest of the evening.

But I had one further pleasant surprise awaiting me. The first young lady I'd given a birthday spanking to had kept the warm fuzzie erotic feeling all the way through the evening and close to the time I was going off duty we chatted about doing a little up close and personal getting-to-know-you. The night had calmed sufficiently that I was able to turn in my badge early and she and I adjourned to one of the back rooms. Oh, it was so very nice. For the most part simply horizontal vanilla fun, no vertical power exchange. Well, except for the occasional hair grab and face fucking and stuff. She got my little old dillywhacker up and active and damned if I didn't feel like and function like an 18 year old again for a bit. When I started to soften a bit I whispered to her what had happened and mentioned that my hands were often an adequate substitute... and I used one finger.... and two.... and four.... and folded the thumb, and this Virginia Ham sized fist not only wrapped itself up and settled in to the wrist, but she started screaming for more! I sure tried, but the simple reality is that my elbow wasn't meant to pass between her nether portals. [And yes, y'all lurkers reading this that go yuckiepoo at fisting - it IS part of my vanilla sex]. At one point I realized that she not only had me cumming, but that I had ejaculated all over things, and I generally have prostate non-ejaculatory orgasms. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! What we had was great great fun, vanilla sex, very rewarding for the both of us, and I've no doubt that we'll dally again soon. Now, every night when it approaches the witching hour the staff put on the Rocky Horror Sound Track as the warning to wrap things up and get gone. We were back there in the sex room and didn't even notice Science Fiction/Double Feature, Dammit Janet, Over at the Frankenstein Place, hardly heard The Time Warp, Sweet Transvestite, I Can Make You A Man, Hot Patootie - Bless My Soul, I Can Make You A Man: Reprise, and were well into Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me before we gathered our clothes to go. The lights got turned out and I ended up needing a flashlight to go back and find my watch [I'd thrown it and it had ended up in the bottom of a box of latex gloves].

So, yeah, I drove home in a rosy glow and felt absolutely motivated to list this Saturday from head to toe as one of those days that absolutely compels me to shout that Life Is Good.



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