Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence also makes the dick grow harder and the orgasms more overpowering and the simple lust impossible to deny.
Nia has been gone for a bit, several weeks, and Friday, the first day she was back, she stopped over to catch up and stuff. At one point I said, innocently and with the best of intentions, "So, wanna snuggle some?" Five minutes later we were in full stride of the hottest sweatiest best damn sluttish rutting sex we'd had in a long time. Makes me wanna pound on my chest and scream into the winds, just thinking about it now a couple days later, it was so damn good.
Saturday evening we met at the Wet Spot with vague plans, but both of us primarily intending to schmooze and stuff. There have been some non-members harassing our parking lot on occasion and I was intending to back up the scheduled DMs much of the evening. It turned out to be a busy evening, around 150 folks in attendance and most every square inch of playing space being used. Nia looked fanfuckingtastic in these painted-on red pants, her abundant endowment making the most of a black vest up top. We flirted heavy duty as often as we could, with me being busy as a one legged ass kicker DMing and she spending time with her girlfriend Maggi and flirting with Viktor and watching a piercing session and stuff. Panther was looking great, Matisse and partner were there, gracious as always, Jane and Jim were there, and lots of others. The Seattle/Puget Sound chapter of the NLA [National Leather Association] had presented workshops [and pizza!] during the day and Nia and I had been in earlier to see Viktor's workshop on playing with fire, and apparently the basic idea of "have workshops during the day and people will come to the party that night to practice what they learned" worked.
Jane looked beautiful, much more casually dressed than usual [and just perfect that way, boss!], and was hanging around with this "gee golly gosh, guys, I'm just so capable of being tied up and stuff" innocence about her. At about that same time I was chatting with Ice, a local dyke whip maker and bondage top, and well, Jane wanted to be tied up and Ice wanted to tie her up and I just kinda facilitated them getting past the hemming and hawing. Jane got herself tied face to face with the lady Ice had already been planning on tying up, the bundle of them suspended from the ceiling, and every time I walked by there was caning and giggling and flogging and giggling and bondage and giggling and damned if Jane didn't end up so darn endorphin-giggly that Jim had to hand-steer her all the way out to the car on their way home.
Late in the evening Nia and I wandered into the back room and I took off my DM badge. She's still getting her first tastes of various things and tonight it was canes. I didn't want to get too vigorous, and so I did keep it relatively sedate. Only one welt raised, and generally in canes I go for a bilateral gluteal pattern of 3-week-welts, often with some of them seeping blood through the panties for several days. I kept it light, however, using mostly an assortment of simple canes and a yardstick [a local furniture store I've patronized gives the yardstick to prospective customers ... I've gone through quite a few]. She obviously was enjoying it and I slipped in small tastes of the more ... interesting ... canelike objects I carry around, like the spring-loaded CB antenna or the aluminum archery shaft. There were two attractive girls over on another bed across the room doing some significant fool-around with each other and their squeals and giggles were great background music for us. After a certain little bit, her bum pinking up nicely, I began to cane with one hand and diddle with the other. Before too long we drowned out the girls' giggles with Nia's own moans and groans and screaming orgasms. Happy happy.
Today, Sunday the 8th, was another of the Erotic and Sensual Massage parties at the Spot. It's much more casual than the purely SM parties, and we were able to embrace a nice little bit of extended family sluthood today. There were two tables next to each other and six of us - Nia, Kevin, Boop, Viktor, Annika and myself. We split into two groups of three and determined our sequences on the table. Each person got roughly 30 minutes of massage on their back and 30 minutes on their front. When we finished the hour the person who had been on the table swapped with the group at the next table so that the six of us all rotated around giving and getting massage with changing couples. Before you knew it the clock was approaching 9:30 or so. We had a nice sudsy group shower and began peeling off. Boop and Kevin took off home, tired. The other four of us took Georgette's advice and hit a Mexican place, Pesos, up on Queen Anne Hill. Excellent food, good conversation, and we ended up four out of four of us really really really glad that we weren't in the energy maelstrom of a meat market that was the bar in the room next to the dining room. Gads - been there, done that, got the tattoo. Talking about it, we decided that it was nice to go to parties and events where the assumption is, "Yes, I do want to have sex", instead of the absurd games that fuel meat markets and feed Jerry Springer. Anyhow, dinner was quite good and the company and conversation a further excellent seasoning, and there's something about sitting comfortably in a group of people who have all just finished contributing to each other's orgasms, know what I mean?
Now as I'm typing this it is well into the morning of the 9th, so --- Happy Birthday To Me! July 9th, 1949, a certified Old Fart and still going strong. When Mozart was my age, he'd already been dead for 18 years! Nia is going to come over this afternoon and we'll catch a movie and dinner in a small celebration, and then on Tuesday afternoon I'm hosting a combined Birthday BBQ and All Star Game Watching Party, with a mix of chosen and blood families coming together here at Casa Throckmorton to wish the best to both myself and the eight Seattle Mariners on the American League roster.