September 4th



Twenty-four hours after I got home, and I'm still sort of working on my segue back to reality. I like the other reality.

Friday afternoon I headed out to the first annual Wet Spot in Paradise event. Held at a secluded 20 acre spiritual retreat with both woodlands and wetlands, it was a gathering of many different sex positive tribes. The site I've linked to above describes the outline of the weekend, and so far I know at least Panther has posted describing her time there, as has Nia. I'm not in any way capable of remembering or recounting everything that happened, and let me stick in my disclaimer right here to anyone I might slight by not mentioning.

From Friday afternoon until I got home Monday evening I wore either one of my kilts or nothing. Nudity was one of the most frequently seen attires, and there was every variety of the human condition seen. Dress varied from body painting to kilts to monk's robes to jester's bells. The prize for the campsite with the best signage? "Elephants Gerald". [Just pronounce it a few times, folks.]

I'd signed on to be the camp first aider, so ended up carrying a radio around most of the time. I passed it on a couple of times when I knew I'd be involved in something I couldn't have gotten away from. Meaning, I turned the volume up when I got in the hot tub, but asked a buddy to cover the radio calls when I did a piercing. There weren't that many calls and none serious - sprains, rashes, a bit of shock after a laceration, copious tylenol or aspirin for miscellaneous "my body isn't as young as it used to be's." Being able to do that for my tribe and community is something that makes me feel good.

Much of the entire weekend has blended into strobing vignettes, and looking back I'm not certain of which came first, which came last. I know that I thoroughly blew out of the water my concern over "I've become a technician, a service top no one wants to have sex with, and no one can see or touch my soul". Not just once, not just here and there, but throughout the weekend I had constant affirmation that people like me, that people want to touch and be touched by me, and that vanilla sex can indeed once again be as good as I'd ever remembered it to be in days gone by.

Friday night was a stream of arriving and having help unloading, and then on a flow of flickering scenes of fun. I remember being in the pool and having beautiful friends and strangers both touch flesh with me repeatedly. I remember being in the outdoor hot tub with more of the same, and eventually I remember ending up in the yurt that was set up as a Temple of Venus. There I was in a hot and active and wet and squirming pile of an old friend from Oregon and a woman he's been seeing and myself. Eventually she started ejaculating and squirted down my hand and arm for over 30 minutes, while we were making a three sided triangle on the cushion, and later after my bud left she and I did the same for another timeless period. I think - who knows if it's a true memory or not - that I eventually ended up later in the pool again floating off the endorphins in gratitude.

Saturday - it is such a blur of similar memories! Conrad and Margaret showed their beautiful faces and I got to have some of Margaret's world's best truffles again. Partway through the day I was asked by a woman I know in passing, not well, if I would assist she and her partner to learn how to catheterize her. "I got excited when a nurse did it to me in the hospital - do you think I'm a terrible person?" Of course I reassured her that she is perfectly normal, and that stimulation down there is exciting sometimes no matter how it may come. Saturday evening we got together, she and her guy and I, and with the complete sterile kit they had brought with them I walked them through the entire procedure... and when the catheter went in, and the yellow flow came back out into the basin, she peaked in a flying orgasm. I tickled her clit and fucked her with the catheter and she climaxed four, five I don't know how many times more, each on top of the next. She was in tears, happy happy tears, when she was finally able to sit up. After she got her legs back under her and the gear all cleaned up, they wandered off to their campsite to finish their communion. She had earlier told me that she would be most happy to fist my little rosebud as a thank you, but then it had to be a rain check - she didn't have the calories left after her own orgasms. Wandering back around the area the staff were nightowling in I ran into my old friend Schmarr. It had been years, and when she called me Dad I got all misty eyed all over again. We spent a lot of time catching up, wandering to see mutual friends of many years ago, and then she did a great thing. Years ago I'd bought my grandmother a cute little golden stuffed dog, which I claimed after Mom passed away. A few years back when Schmarr was having some tough times I gave him to her on a long term loan. She brought him back now, said that he had looked over she and her daughter for the past several years, and now that she was married and had someone looking over them, the dog could come on back home. I was so touched, and the dog is right now here at my place looking over things again.

There was a late night naked marco-polo game in the dark in the pool Saturday night, didn't start until 1130 and ran until long after my head hit my sleeping bag. Each and every night I slept from my eyes closing until they needed to naturally open again the next day.

The one item planned for my dance card ahead of time was redoing the cutting on Sol's arm. Oh - that reminds me - he and his lady friend Taylor did an outfuckingstanding scene outdoors, cutting & shredding her cute little black dress off, a friend drawing off 60cc of blood, and then Sol using a paintbrush to paint her entire body with her own blood. They were outdoors and a large crowd surrounding them watching, and damn but it was hot. I don't remember exactly when it was but I believe it was sometime Saturday.

So on Sunday morning Sol and I began to negotiate the timing for his cutting, and as well I'd set up with another couple to do a piercing on them. We ended up doing both - the piercing first - in the neighborhood of the great open meadow that has a collection of Stone Hedge type stones about it. First of all I spread out a tarp and lay out my piercing supplies, and when everyone had gathered we spent a few minutes sanctifying the space for our purposes. The man then knelt facing North, and the woman knelt facing South, and I began to pierce both of their torsos. One needle on this side and one on that side mirror image, two on this side, two on that side. Once the needles were all in I got out a roll of silver mylar ribbon and laced them together with the mirror image piercings. It was intense for all - she broke down several times, entrusting us with her tears as well as her blood, and he was a rock, an anchor for her. Once laced they leaned back from each other for a bit and simply enjoyed the tension, and when the time was right I gathered all the ribbon in one hand and severed it - and all the tension - with one swipe of my trauma shears. T'was a good thing. Not too long after that Sol and I got together nearby, and with Taylor watching I redid the cutting on his arm, and rubbed it well with soot Taylor gathered from the fire pit. It looks like some of the rubbing will take better this time.

And that was only halfway through the day on Sunday. In the afternoon we got to watch the live action chess game, which was a helluva lot of fun. For example, one knight was a tall naked beautiful black man with a broomstick converted to be his horse. The opposing knight was a man kneeling with a statuesque blond in a red velvet body suit and 5" heels riding him. There was a lot of crying out of "off with her head" and other Alice-isms throughout the game, and each piece which was taken was taken with a paddle or flog or whatever.

Just before dinner on Sunday evening I was corralled by a group of women I'd been admiring from afar - oh, hell no - I'd been flirting every time this one woman changed dress. She had a beautiful lacy sideless see through dress, in about four colors. Every time I saw her I told her I liked the new color better than the last one. Anyhow, she and a couple of others asked me if I would help in being a crash test dummy for a class that they had planned for the evening. Turns out one woman only plays with women, but in a remote town apparently had gotten into a friendship with a gay man who has done her many favors, and she wanted to be able to return the favor. His thing is CBT - cock & ball torture. She tried once and he told her, "Ya know, you can do it harder next time", so she decided to seek out an expert on the subject. That was the woman with the many colored dress. We talked and I confessed that I bottomed maybe less than 1% of the time, and that I had never bottomed to CBT. Regardless, the idea intrigued me, so after dinner we all got together in a room which had been set aside for sex with mattresses [as opposed to the entire rest of the 20 acres which had been set aside for sex without mattresses, I suppose]. I was on my back, screaming in response to the sensation, forever, while listening to the one girl instruct the other. I tried to tell their hands apart on occasion, but it didn't really matter that much. You know that "blacked out and find yourself scared and wandering back from another world detached from your body" sense that you get on really good orgasms? Without any sort of ejaculation I found myself in that spiritual state about 10 times through the time we were teaching.

Much of Monday was saying goodbye, exchanging e-mail addresses and phone numbers. I had an opportunity to have several high quality gourmet conversations. I finally decided to soak in the outdoor above ground hot tub and let my energies sorta settle out. And ended up in a conversation in the hot tub that led to a tall attractive well built blond lady I hadn't known sort of settling herself back into my lap under water, and damned if one thing didn't lead to another up in the Venus Worship yurt. She gave me one of my favorite compliments I don't mind mentioning again - "My god, your tongue is like a dick with a brain in it!" Hehehehe. We will be seeing each other again.

The rain started as I was starting to pack the car, and I just decided "It's Seattle - deal with it". I was exhausted driving home, and knew from the moment I got on the interstate that I wasn't going to be up for cooking, so I pulled into my favorite Central Market for a slab of prime rib and vegetables. It was the last slice they had, it was a little dried out and I thought it was loverly!

Many tribes gathered, as I said. By the second day plans were being made for next year. Much of the better aspects of the halcyon days of Kinky Couples of years gone by were reincarnated. Floating in the swimming pool you didn't know if you were chatting with a separatist dyke or a Venusian Church member, a radical fairie or a het man, a kinkster or a sacred sex practitioner, and it just really didn't matter most of the time. The volunteers pulled together and made everything work, and the staff all had a chance to relax and play in addition to their duties. I saw no negative huhu the entire time. I had one troubled conversation with one play partner the entire weekend and it resolved immediately as it happened, leaving things even better. Overall I just have to trumpet my usual catch phrase newly, freshly, honestly, and loudly - Life Is Good.



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