Firegrrl came over a week or so ago, first time in 2-3 years. I run into her every year or so, and she's been over to the house a couple of times for sharp pointed objects. She hadn't been pierced since the last time she was here, so we spent a long time sitting around and chatting, long enough that she finally had to call her girlfriend and tell her we were just about to start playing, instead of just about to head home. We had some fun, poked some skin and shed some of her blood - not too much, being that much out of practice - and when I dropped her off at place on Capital Hill she was glowing. She brought me a nice piece of her own art, a stenciled picture of a salmon, and her girlfriend was nice enough to send me a cute refrigerator magnet she had made.
Bright and early Sunday morning - the 11th, a week ago now - Machinery and her girlfriend Eroticism, along with two photographers and assorted boyfriends all gathered at the Wet Spot. They'd rented the space for a fetish photo shoot and I was invited to be the designated piercer! Rough duty.
I don't have the photos from this shoot yet, but when I pierced Machinery for a shoot with Racye back in January I promised pictures and never posted any, so here are a couple of the young lady from that winter shoot.
The photographers were Rayce, of Eye Candy Photography, and Doug, of Hypnox. Both of them have done some fine work in fetish photography. Obviously, the first - well, I guess it wasn't really 5 hours - was spent on make up and costuming, of course. Latex and patent leather and cosmic make up and - well, the final product was fascinating and beautiful, but about as far from the organic earth mothers who had walked in earlier as you could imagine!
The first thing I did was draw a large syringe of blood from M's arm, and set it aside for later. I just figured this kind of a shoot might need the blood refreshened for the camera - using the real thing for make up - and it did come in handy. Next up I placed a bunch of needles in M's chest and arms, and enjoyed watching her get higher and higher with each one. She is such a responsive needle bottom, and she gets really goofy!
Her girlfriend didn't get pierced, but rather was posing as the top in all the shots fiddling with the needles, licking at the blood, all that. After the needles were out they went to change costumes, and when they came back E was in a white latex nurse's outfit. M agreed to lay down with her top off after she realized that everyone there had already seen her cute little boobies before. It was that or get blood all over an outfit she didn't want to get bloody. That made it easier when I handed E one of my scalpels and stepped back. She proceeded to do a series of irregular cuttings all over M's back, spreading the cuts open and slapping a bit of blood up out of them. When the blood wasn't quite as flowing as they wanted for some of the photos I got the syringe I'd set aside early and began to squirt her own blood back onto M's back in between the shots. E seemed to have fun finger painting with it, and I can hardly wait to see a couple of the shots where she took her blood covered hands and put perfect hand prints over each of her white-latex-covered breasts. Hot stuff!
Later that same Sunday evening was the first erotic massage evening I'd gone to for about a year, since the last time Nia and I had gone together. My experience with the concept of a large group sacred space erotic massage goes back around 8 years or so, and I've always enjoyed it. Mixed groups, orientation and gender considerations largely left at the door. The tables have 3-6 people at them, some groups by choice and some by chance, and the time split up so each person gets a fair share. And when you're on the table, you are the center of the universe. Everyone when they get on the table states their wishes, hopes, needs, and limits to the others on the table, and then zones out while half a dozen or more hands do their best to match those needs. As always, I ended up on the Noisy Table. Damnest thing - you could be on a different massage table every week and yet the darn noisy table follows me around. You know what I mean by noisy - a simple thing like two hands playing with my dick, two hands playing with my nipples, and a third set of hands pounding on my prostate, and I make noise. Loud noise. I spent the evening with three lovely women, and the four of us did all work to help each other touch a bit of glory and relief. I do wish these sessions were happening more than monthly now. To touch and be touched is good.
By the way, I'd like to thank all the beautiful young people who have been coming out to the ball park dressing appropriate to the 90 degree weather we've been having. And thank you doubly much for the running up and down the aisles all during the games. Since I got to games of the Mariners playing both the Red Sox and the Yankees this week, and we lost both games, the eye candy in their summer attire has helped a lot. Baseball used to be boring without anything to watch in between the pitches.
Oh - and to the coprocephalic mouthbreather sitting two rows behind me, yelling out 'Fag!' at the players periodically instead of belching... yes, you - the same drunken manchild who would wait til the vendor with the 40 pound tray of junk food was almost down the aisle, and you then called out their product ["Beer man!"] but hid when they hauled their tray back up the aisle? The reason I was smiling at you was thinking how provident it was for you that I had my Dad with me. And I kept staring just in case after the game anyone reported a lost punk, and I could file a report of where you were last seen. Please don't sit in the no-booze family section again, ok?
Dad was going to join me for the first game, tickets that I just happened onto that day, but he had a rough dialysis session - he's only in his second week - and needed to rest instead of driving 2 hours each way. I just went to the Red Sox game by myself and had lots of elbow room, and called him from Safeco with game updates. Friday he made it to the Yankees game, and we both really enjoyed each other's company. Dad/Son time is good, very very good. I'm sorry it took me so long to grasp that.
Gads was yesterday exhausting. I had a meeting at noon on Capital Hill coordinating some volunteer stuff for the Pacific Northwest LeatherSir Contest. I'd been asked to handle security for the event, which I've done before. It's pretty much a case of watching gate crashers, getting out of town folks whose leather comes from the First Cow added to the guest list, and watching the eye candy. Lots of eye candy. This time we had been warned about a contestant's ex who had a restraining order, but no one matching the description barged in so there was no psychodrama. The contest marked the stepping down of a good friend, after a long and productive year of charity fund raising and representing his community. I was proud to watch him shine in his moment.
After the contest, around 10pm, I skated across town to the Wet Spot, to cover a late shift as DM. The first couple hours were fun, watching some excellent leathermen from Canada do exciting things. By late evening, however, around 230am, I'd burned my last calorie. The crowd had died down and my partner allowed me to ease on up the road.
I do apologize. I'm trying to get in at least a weekly update, and this was close to two.
Life actually is pretty doggone good. My work is going well, better than any job I can recall. Dad is starting to do better since starting to get rid of the toxins with dialysis. I've started to reach out, build new friends, and do once again what has worked for me for so many years. Live my life answering to myself - my drummer - taking big bites out and reaching for the brass ring every damn time the carousel goes around. It gets better everyday.