A Perfect Day

Friday I got called and asked to help out over the weekend for a work assignment. It would have meant dropping all my plans and packing quickly and hitting the road either Friday night or very early Saturday morning. It was a great pleasure to tell them "no." In no uncertain terms. A big fat "NO", in fact.

Work is taking me on the road for almost 7 weeks starting this Monday. And they thought I would give up my last two days of freedom? Yeah. Right.

Besides the weekend plans were special. Finally a day with the pup. A full day. And hubby at my side. And lots of bondage. And a visit to the "fetish flea market." And sports fetish night at the Eagle. Hmmm. Work? or all of this? Hmmmm. I think that's how they define a "New York second." That decision was an easy one.

So the day progressed as followed:

Slept late. Okay. Late for me is 8:00.
Chatted with the pup confirming plans.
Chatted with hubby confirming plans.
Caught up on e-mails and Recon messages.
Got some prep done in the dungeon.
Pup arrives.
Collaring.
And off to the flea market we three go.

The room was filled with some of the very best energy I've seen in a long time. We tried on things, we swung things, we locked things, we smelled things. All the time the vendors were so cool, so fun, and so upbeat. And we made some new purchases: a new collar for Loki, some new cross-hatch tit clamps for hubby, and two new floggers for me! A wonderful matched set of moose-hide floggers. Very buttery in feel. Almost no sting. My goal is to learn to be the most beautiful Florentine flogger on the face of the earth. LOL. Okay, so I really just don't wanna poke my own eye out.

Back to the schedule:

Late lunch at a really cool place in Decatur (ALL sorts of London and Amsterdam memories came flooding back being there.)
Back to the loft and big bondage scene for the pup.
Naptime (damn those boys were so cute cuddling in the bed)
More playtime.
Showers.
Dinner
Donning the Sportsgear
Off to the Eagle where we met new men, reconnected with some we hadn't seen for a while, and enjoyed the whole thing immensely.

Exhaustion.

I'm a very lucky man and I know it. I really do treasure the relationships in my life. And the fact that they accept each other so completely just makes it that much richer.

I was supposed to trade this in for a couple days of work? Do I look like an idiot? Don't answer that.

Holy Cow!

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What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

Okay, I admit it. I'm a sucker for pups and their pure innocence. And simple requests.

"Would you please teach a class for the local S&M 101 course?"

"Sure. Why not? It's very kind of you to ask."

Who knew it would lead to sleepless nights?

I used to make my living teaching, 16 years of teaching a variety of theatre topics from beginning classes to 200 freshman to graduate level courses and seminars. In the next phase of my life I was teaching several times weekly in an attempt to build hubby's and my business. Educated clients made for more dedicated clients.

Over and over I was told what a good teacher I was. This brings a smile to my face even as I write this because in my heart I know I was very good at "slight of hand" teaching, putting on a good show, sneaking in the material between good laughs, good stories, and well-organized examples. And handouts! I was the queen of handouts! I always knew I wasn't the absolute expert, but I pushed myself to know the material and to share it in memorable ways.

For the past few years I haven't been teaching at all. Sometimes I miss it. Sometimes not so much. Listening to Obama's State of the Union Address and his lip service to teaching as an admirable profession, and our need for qualified educators sent a zing to my heart, but I also know the realities. Teachers are horribly underpaid, at least I always believed that I was. Financial support for education is horrendous. We were no longer "cutting to the bone;" we were amputating complete limbs. There is constant pressure to stay current in your field. And over and over again I saw the "raw material" I was presented in the incoming freshman field was weaker and less prepared than ever before. It was a discouraging situation and I found little joy in it after 16 years.

So, fast forward a few years and here I am, losing sleep over a 1 hour course for maybe 20 people on the simple topic of beginning rope bondage. Okay, that, in itself, is absurd. Rope bondage in an hour? I've been studying it pretty seriously for three years and don't feel like I've scratched the surface. But then I wasn't asked to do an inverted suspension with capacities for twirling somersaults with fireworks shooting out the ass.

My mantra has to be KISS.

Keep it simple, stupid.

1, 2, 3.

That's it. No more.

Three simple topics.

1. Safety

2. Tools

3. A couple of simple, easy binding techniques, easily duplicated, easily transferred to multiple parts of the body, or used to bind body parts to an object or piece of furniture.

I know this much. You should never teach what you don't love. So at least I'm on a good footing here.

I love rope bondage. I passionately love rope bondage. And if I keep reminding myself of that this will turn out to be a fun night. And maybe I'll get some sleep.

For more information go to the Atlanta S&M Solidarity web page. Surprise me. Show up for the class. I promise to have a nice handout.

LOL LOL LOL

Be sure to watch the "outtakes" as well!

Day Four of The End of the World

Okay, so we're just iced in. But I'm sure some neo-conservative poophead is linking the dead birds in Arkansas to the ice in Atlanta. All I know is I'm getting a little whacko. I've eaten too much, cleaned house too much, X-tubed too much, and generally thought about sex 19 1/2 hours a day. (A heterosexual female friend has been reduced to reading some non-fiction book about the wool trade in the 16th century. Now really! How low can you go?)

Here are some of the outcomes of being stranded:

1. The ceiling fans are clean.
2. We're rationing dried cranberries for the oatmeal.
3. I don't want another bowl of soup for the rest of my life.
4. Warming hubby's butt with a good paddling just before bedtime is extremely helpful in warming the sheets before I get in.
5. There are now 250 men in Atlanta on Recon 24/7 versus the 138 that usually sign in. They all seem friendlier and hornier.
6. Men on Recon are asking how close we live to them and is it possible to walk here.
7. Neighbors are stopping by to try on chastity devices.
8. I'm regretting not having a TV.
9. No mail delivery = no bills to pay.
10. Thank the gods we have plenty of coffee, cuz the pot has been going non-stop since Sunday night.

Oh, and we still found time to play a bit today!

When Cabin Fever Strikes

We're in Day THREE of Snowpocolypse in Atlanta. We've scoured the kitchen, power-washed the bathroom. Today it will be ceiling fans and the storage room that get tackled. Rubbering up helps with all this cleaning. Last night hubby served dinner rubbered and chained. I damn near split a gut when he finally gave up on the fork and just plunged his face into the crawfish pie. I swear to god I heard him go "oink." At least he was fully prepared to wash dishes without getting dishpan hands!

More Inspiration

I would be happy to build this box, but I just don't know any football players who would get in it. By the way, is it just me or does this guy need some shoulder pads and a helmet?

Inspiration

I think this is just gorgeous. But DAMN, I don't know anybody who can take this! Kudos to this guy!

All Snowed In

Guess we'll have to think of something else to do.

Safe Journey JB

Several blogs have reported the passing of James Bond, the incredible photographer, kinkster, bondage Top, and gracious man who I have idolized since the day I saw my first black and white copy of Bound & Gagged magazine sitting on a shelf in a grocery store in New Orleans.

Seeing that vivid imagery was a confirmation to me: Somebody else had the same kinks as me! And was acting on them! And enjoying every minute of it!

I felt every bit "released" as women burning bras, as slaves being freed from shackles. To know that someone else was turned on by divers and neoprene and rope and straitjackets and rubber and hoods and gags. I truly had thought I was headed for the looney bin because of all those urges and needs. And I gasped when I saw there was at least one other man like me.

Last year I saw a pic of JB's on Eckie's site. It was stunning (as always) and I fired off a comment of "I would give my left nut to be the boy in that pic." He sent a message back, very simply, "When?"

That started our e-mailing back and forth and our plans for him to visit Atlanta last May, a birthday present to myself. I would finally get to be at the mercy of the great JB. In return I was already planning some mighty fine bondage for him! It didn't come to be. Finances, as I understand it, were always tight for JB and it just wasn't possible to make the trip at that time. But we kept planning. 2011 was gonna be the year.

Of course grief is a very selfish thing. "Woe is me!" But truly I hurt for his family and close friends. Find peace in your hearts. You were lucky to know this fine man.

And this is the weirdest double whammy which started off 2011.

Last night hubby and I are sitting here having just finished dinner. Phone rings. A neighbor calling from, not here, but the condo we own and have leased out. Seems no one has seen the tenant for a few weeks. The car is still there. Storm door is locked from the inside (with no outside keyhole). This doesn't sound good.

So we hop in the car and drive over there. On the way I tell hubby "I hope for all kinds of things, but I expect we may find a dead body."

When we get there, indeed the storm door is locked and no other entrance available. I call 911. 35 very cold and nerve-wracking minutes later a policewoman finally arrives. She tells us she can't break in since there's no sign of imminent danger. So we jimmy the lock, use our key to unlock the deadbolt, and sure enough we see the worst. Now we're dealing with ambulances, fire trucks, and an hour later the Medical Examiner: "Natural causes," meaning anything from heart attack to stroke to diabetic coma.

We didn't know the tenant well. He was a nice guy. 63 years young. All the neighbors liked him a lot. He was late on the rent every month. We let it slide. He was haggling with Social Security, had medical bills from prostate surgery. We were just grateful to have someone who appreciated the space and took good care of it.

But what struck me so hard was he had been lying there on the kitchen floor for three weeks. During the holidays? No one asked where he was on Christmas Day for dinner? No one wondered where he was for the New Year's football games.? It really broke my heart. Hubby and I spent a lot of time talking last night and again this morning. I think he gave me the best hug of my entire life last night.

My lesbian dentist, of all people, asked me yesterday if I had any New Years resolutions. I think she was hinting that I needed to floss more often. I mumbled around the poking and prodding and scraping tools, "nope." I do now.

I'm grabbing life with both fists. I'm pulling my friends much closer to me. I am SEIZING my opportunities like there is no tomorrow.

And when I go, and someday I will have to, I hope my friends say "Maybe 99% on that electric buttplug was a little high for somebody who just turned 96 years old."