Tie hard, play harder (or sex party part 1)
(In my pre-holiday frenzy, I didn’t post this immediately …)
Last night he pulled my hair hard and slapped my ass right before he came. This morning he bit my ankles and bottom of my feet and that always makes me wetter. I love starting the weekend with a pussy full of his cum. And if it ever starts to run out, all I’ve got to do is ask for more. A couple of months ago, a great morning started out with a pumpkin spice latte. So screw lattes now, a creamy mouthful from his morning cock is way better.
Tonight is party night for us, so he created another sexy rope design. The black and pink leg ropes are tied to a black garter, and the blue star wrap gives my boobs just the right amount of lift. And of course the collar to accessorize. “We love the life we live, we live the life we love … fuck your rules, fuck fuck your rules …” We’re listening to a lot of Die Antwoord, perfect for those drinking, smoking, fucking (repeat) party at home nights. The nights where the genius and absurd meet, and creativity flows like water between us. And, we end up laughing our asses off while eating quality late night munchies and registering domain names as fast as we can find them. Hey, we’re all matching process and requirements, right? So living in a luxury apartment with a trusted partner-in-crime like Maestro is the perfect environment for our work-in-progress. It’s where feeling beautiful and loved is helping us both heal from relationship trauma wounds. And that’s liberating some of the tangled up creative threads.
We heard about these parties from another couple on a swinger site, so we signed up and arrived with our outfits hidden under a coat and stashed in a shopping bag. After weeks of anticipation, I went to my first sex party. Basically a club where people dance in sexy underwear as a prelude to fucking (or watching people fuck) upstairs. Plus the music is decent and people are pretty chill. The one consideration when going out in winter is how to look sexy when it’s freeze-you-to-the-bone rainy all night. I decided to wear a longer sweater plus coat over the leg ropes and underwear, which was OK, but wearing the strappy sandals to walk 3 blocks isn’t recommended. So the shoe situation is this – I need one for getting there comfortably, one for dancing, and one for fucking. The question is, can I use the same shoes for dancing and fucking? Flat shoes or barefoot is the way to go for dancing, but I seriously liked wearing heels for fucking. Barefoot is out and hey, fuck me shoes make you feel sexy. Not a bad shoe dilemma to have.
A lot of guys wore Santa hats and girls wore lacy skimpy lingerie. The less you wore it seemed, which became less and less throughout the night, aligned with your desire to fuck. And we fit right in with that crowd. Wearing revealing lingerie to a club didn’t really concern me, I mean how many times at clubs did I want to take my shirt off and dance topless? And this club is all about that.
If part of life’s journey is about reflecting and learning from new experiences, then I learned that I am an exhibitionist and voyeur. Both, at the same time please! For some reason, fucking in front of strangers at a club seemed pretty natural. I think finding someone to invite into your bedroom is a more intimate experience. Whereas a club is more carnal free-for-all? Like a sex buffet that you can wander through, and linger at your own leisure. We spent more time in the communal play area than in the private areas. I liked watching the people fucking next to me. There’s a certain high I got from all that sexual energy so close. I held hands with a guy next to me getting a blow job from a petite woman. Sexual intimacy from holding hands, letting the fingers do the flirting. At the end of the evening, we had a woman watch us. Next to us, almost participating just by talk, encouragement, but never touching. How crazy and erotic is that? Is it possible to love him more after sharing that moment together?
It was all lust when we got home. (As much as my somewhat tired legs and pussy could manage … hahaha) He’s finding all sorts of new ways to leverage my flexibility and punish my pussy. It’s like he’s constantly sculpting it from the inside out to fit only him. Personalizing my pussy. I felt the intense pink-hued energy between us again. It’s like a warmth from my solar plexus that builds and spreads to him when we’re facing each other and he’s inside of me. I talked about the eroticism from subtle looks, touches, and words, but this wasn’t an erotic experience. It was transcendent.
