Oct 29th


The world just seems so foreign now. Seeking escape from the strange incongruities and jarring new realities of the post WTC world , I've found myself following bizarre musings. I've gone down strange branching Google searches, I've ranged from collecting obscure WAV files to updating my wish list to building a collection of bookmarked news sources from outside the US. Wanna know how wierd? I found myself making a list of strange sports that I've enjoyed watching on occasion... Springboarding at the Lumberjack Rodeo, being a header or heeler in Team Roping, or Ultimate Frisbee.

But what we've been seeing lately is truly weirder than tits on a duck. And so much more malignant. A man who stole the Presidency from the 52% electorate who voted against him suddenly is awarded a 7 year extension by a genocidal megalomaniac. A man whose personal religious views are so extreme that as Attorney General he should be surveiling himself, just got given a blank check to suspend the 1st and 4th Amendments. And although abortion clinics have been receiving anthrax threats for years, now suddenly similar threats made to other people are being taken seriously.

It's hard not to feel on the outside looking in.




Let's move on for now. I'm finding even more reason to celebrate sluthood than ever. I've had several wonderful dates recently, electricity with Kevin, giving Alikat her first piercings, a wonderful afternoon at Tubs with Chloe .... lemme tell y'all a bit about this last Saturday. It was simple fun, sluthood, sensual and head play amongst friends.

Alair, whom I spanked nicely a few weeks ago, is an fairly animated sort of a girl. She blushes and embarrasses easily, and tends to duck and bob, to dodge and giggle, looks like she's afraid you're about to hit her with a water balloon or something. Soooooooo. I just made it so she couldn't move. Hehehehehehehe.

Can you say Saran Wrap, boys and girls? I knew you could. I stuck a stethoscope in her ears and taped it over the apex of heart. I listened first and damn! She's got a big loud heart! She had never heard it before herself either, so she got to listening to that while I put a blindfold on and started wrapping her head to toe in the cellophane. Her head, then each arm, then each leg, and then her arms secured down to her sides, and the entire body as a unit wrapped, then I had half a dozen guys that she didn't know help me lift her up and go from standing to horizontal on a massage table. [Believe me - that blind letting yourself be lifted is a trust exercise all in of itself]. After I left her be to settle down a bit and get used to her new position, with all of it's controlled sensations, I got down to diddling with her.

She had asked for her mouth to be left open so she could breath easily and I left it as she said. Matter of fact, I made sure her mouth was open - with my hunting knife. Tickled her soft palate, poked and prodded her tongue, stroked the insides of her cheeks, came damn close to piercing her uvula, pulling back out every minute or so for her to take a safe breath. After a while the shakes and quivers of the plastic-wrapped girl sorta settled down a bit like she was getting used to being mouthfucked by a scalpel-sharp blade, so I set it aside and just started seeing how many fingers how far I could fuck in there. She was really accommodating!

Once I had her attention, I went down and sliced open the wrapping over her nipples and her nether bits, and got out my clothes pin collection. A circle of clips around each nipple, a few on each labia lip, one clip on top of each nipple, one on her clit hood... but damned if she didn't protest when I put one on her tongue! Some people can't take a joke....

We played around like this for a while - well, I did really - playing with this or that clip and general foolishness, until I figured it was time to get down to business. I ripped each clothes pin off - left the skin of her nipples and hood intact mostly, mind you - and got out a little packet of lube. She was still horizontal, still blindfolded and ear muffed. I lubed up both hands and started diving in, several fingers of one hand inside her cunny and fisted and pumped, the other hand diddling her hot button and plucking and rubbing and ... she damn near broke my hand she came so hard!

A few minutes later I was finally able to extricate my fingers from the spasms of her wet little tunnel, shake the blood back into them, and Chloe happened by to help wrap Alair into a sheet as I cut her out of the rest of the plastic.

About thirty minutes later Alair was showered, dressed, and still kinda ga ga, but was starting to make pretty coherent conversation in spurts. She, Kevin, Chloe, and I sat chatting about some of the poly issues of the day, resolving none of them, but talking - the most important thing. Alair, who hasn't know Kevin and Chloe that well, is dealing with issues of her own. Seems like everyone I know is working on poly issues, except for my monogamist friends. And ya know what? Living a poly life means that you are working poly issues. Being alive means you're breathing; it's that simple.

Between our local issues of relationship and the global issues of hate and death, I know which variety I prefer to work on. And which ones most directly relate to how good my life is. And life is good. I'll start worrying about the rest tomorrow morning again, of whether the Shrub is weirder than the clowns who twist balloons into animals and the daredevils into rough terrain unicycling.

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