Oh, just another typically mixed weekend around Casa Throckmorton.After diddlyfarting around Saturday morning, doing some website reviews, jerking off, and mouse-potatoing my way through the day, Kevin called and I ran him around on some errands for the afternoon. While hitting the highlights of Ballard for some marine battery terminals - for a Toyota, but that's Kevin's suspenders-and-a-belt way - I got him to stop in Archie McPhee's for a few minutes. What a treasure trove! I managed to hold myself down to a couple of stainless steel emesis basins and a double handful of sexy postcards to send to my dad. Kevin grumbled and thought I was silly, of course, but he spent as much time perusing the shelves as I did. Saturday evening I'd been asked to help out with teaching a bit of play piercing to a few folks. The deal was that there was a class in the afternoon on half a dozen topics - bondage, electical play, fire play, and so forth - and in the evening the students could come in and there was one of us specializing in each topic to give them more 1:1 coaching. I only got two students from the eight originally in the class so I was able to give them each a good half hour or so. The coordinator for the event was nice enough to loan me her girlfriend as a crash test dummy, because none of the students brought their own stunt bottom. I got to poke her a whole bunch of times, spill blood, got her higher than a kite with essentially two similar sessions of piercings. I felt honored by the trust shown, to allow me to spill blood inside of a dyke relationship. The real pay off for me wasn't the fun I had, or the student's gratitude, and wasn't even the glazed expression on the bottom's face... it was the totally stunned and ravenous expression on her top's face when she stood there and watched me rip the blood out of her girlfriend's breasts. Gad - that girl so wanted to push the student out of the way and lap and suck at that scarlet ribbon coursing down her girlfriend's tits. Works for me.
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