Brief encounter

Today, Mr. D and I had only a little over a two-hour window in which to play. His son is home from college for spring break, and they spent Saturday-Monday skiing in Mammoth, and tonight they were having a barbecue. So, not much time. (sigh) Mr. D promised he'll make it up to me next week. But you know what? We may not have had a large quantity of time today, but we made every minute the highest quality. :-)

I didn't want him to have to bother loading pictures and sending them when he got home, because I knew he'd be busy, so we used my camera today. The advantage to that is that mine is much smaller and lighter, so he can use it while I'm OTK.

And yes, I was having a wonderful time.

Although that didn't stop me from sassing him. At some point, I don't remember what he did or said, but I said, "Don't be such a butt."

"Excuse me?" he said. "You're saying that to me when I've got my hands on your butt?"

I shrugged. "Hey, I could have said 'Don't be such an ass.' " I swear, I don't get points for anything.

He also discovered this afternoon just how ticklish I am. Ack. I am @#$%ing toast.

I'm not quite sure what happened today. Maybe he'd read all my descriptions of the varied techniques I experienced over the Vegas weekend. All I know is that I've come to recognize his technique and I was quite familiar with it -- until today. He completely switched everything up, varying the tempo and intensity, alternating fast flurries with slow whacks, slapping all over both cheeks. I was surprised, breathless and thoroughly loving it, arching my bottom up to his hand and moaning like a damn porn star.

After about five seconds of corner time...

... we moved to the bed and onto implements. Again, I had no idea what to expect or how he was going to do it. Oh my god, I loved that so much. Maybe it's because I knew our time was limited, but I soaked up all the pain and impact and was eager for more. 

Gawd, how I love what this man does to me.

After that, he massaged my feet and my calves with those magic hands, and then we cuddled a bit before he had to leave. I was so limp and blissful, he wouldn't even let me see him to the door; he just tucked me under the covers and let himself out. I lay there for about an hour, basking, before reluctantly dragging myself out of bed and to the computer to do some work.

Mr. D tells me that he loves and needs our play every bit as much as I do. I'm so glad. Because I couldn't imagine keeping all this enjoyment to myself; it's so much nicer to share it. :-)

Hope everyone is having a nice week so far. And thank you so much for all the wonderful comments on my last blog. They made me feel so good! ♥ I almost forgot to bitch about how much I hate Daylight Savings Time. Almost.

Somewhat OT: Girlfriends

I've been in kind of a strange place ever since we came back from our Vegas party. A lot of it was the typical post-party drop, the return to reality. But underlying that was something else. An observation about others, and mostly about myself. So please pardon me while I go on a long-ass ramble that doesn't really have a conclusion or a solution, just me being me.

This particular gathering was small, so I got to see people in a more intimate setting. And while I felt such a lovely kinship with my friends there, a peaceful sense of belonging, there was also that old familiar sense of otherness. Because as I watched people interact, I realize that there are some very deep friendships going on here, particularly between the women. No, I'm not talking sexual; I'm talking about that special affection and closeness that women share. Men have their special guy bonds, and women have their ways of bonding too. I saw a lot of this last weekend. And I realized I do not have this depth of girlfriend-ly bond. I love a lot of these women, and I believe they love me too. I believe they enjoy seeing me and it's definitely mutual. But I am no one's bestie. No one calls me one of their girls, or their sister. I am not even a third cousin once removed. Not really. 

It wasn't always like this. In fact, before I met John 16 1/2 years ago, all my dearest friends were women. My first adult best friend was Julie, whom I met when we were both art majors in college. We became fast friends, going through our junior and senior years in college, then getting our first job together in the same office. All through our 20s, we were the best of friends, sharing all our secrets, hours and hours of movies and dinners and laughter and tears. When I finally lost my virginity, she was the first person I told. (She'd lost hers several years before. That slut! :-) ) My mother was crazy about her. Her parents called me their third daughter.

I think we were in our mid-20s here. Look at my short hair!

When she got married in 1987, I was one of her bridesmaids. The only reason I wasn't the maid of honor was because that went to her sister. Her mother liked me so much, she bought my bridesmaid's dress for me.

Then Julie got pregnant and had her first child. And everything changed. Slowly, but surely. Our girly times were over. Whenever I saw her, she was half of a couple. She had other priorities now, a husband and a baby. My life seemed kind of frivolous next to hers, she lost interest in what was going on with me, and I could no longer relate to her. Eventually, we drifted apart.

She called me once, 15 years ago, when my father died and she read about it in the paper. Five years ago, when we both turned 50, I sent a birthday card to the address I had for her, but it was returned to me. I still think about her, still see bits of her in my apartment in the gifts she gave me over the years. I wonder how she is. Her boys would be grown now.

Then there was Sue, a woman I met at one of my jobs. She was bright, funny, educated, and a Beatlemaniac like me. She worked for the Hollywood Bowl Museum for a while, and we went to Bowl shows together, as well as a couple of Beatlefests and several movies. She also reviewed plays and used to invite me along. We, too, shared a lot, loved each other dearly.

Deja vu. She got married, had kids, faded out of my life. I know this is a common thing with friends in their 20s/early 30s, when one has kids and the other doesn't. Still sad, though, to have it happen twice in a row.

In my 30s, when I was involved in 12-step, I made two very close girlfriends, Pam and Beth. They had very different personalities -- Pam was more introverted like me, while Beth was extroverted. Sometimes I'd hang with one or other, and sometimes both. We were so close, so supportive of each other. I can still remember giving a talk at one of the conventions, and the two of them cheering me on in the audience, waving this goofy stuffed penguin at me. (Yes, the same one you've seen perching on my couch.) The three of us celebrated a lot of personal milestones together over the years. But then things changed. First, Beth got angry at me because I let her down one time; I wasn't there for her the way she'd wanted me to be. I apologized profusely, but she never quite forgave me and things faded with us, even more so after she and Pam had a falling out. Pam and I stayed friends longer, but after a long-term relationship ended for her, she then moved back in with her mother after her father passed away and became rather reclusive. I haven't spoken with either of them for years.

These days, I guess you could say John is my best friend, and the person with whom I spend the most time. He and I are both loners, he more so than even I. John is the only man I know who doesn't have "guy pals." I have some women whom I see now and then, and I have my online friends and party friends whom I love. But am I in touch with any women regularly, doing coffee, visiting, talking, texting, sharing? No.

I realize I have no one to blame but myself for this. Perhaps blame is too strong a word. It's just the way it is. I realize that the way one cultivates and keeps these special, close friendships is by constant contact. I read the blogs and party reports, I see how the tightly knit women are always traveling to visit one another, spending lots of time. When they're not together physically, they are bound by texts and Skype. And when they do get to see one another, they spend every possible moment together, savoring each other's company.

Me? I hate the phone. I rarely text, and I've never Skyped in my life. And while I love spending time with beloved spanko people, I burn out quickly. I need down time, quiet time, time without interacting. Last weekend, six of our friends had a suite together. It had two bedrooms, but still, that meant a lot of closeness and being around each other the entire time. I read the accounts with a pang, wishing I had that kind of camaraderie, then realized, who the hell am I kidding? That kind of situation would have driven me up the wall... I would have needed my own room, my own space, my time alone to refresh and decompress. Only then would I have been able to be civil and pleasant and fun to be around.

John and I don't entertain. Neither one of us has even given a party or a dinner. It's just not in us. I don't know why, but it's just the way we are. At our age, we're not likely to change. People can change aspects of their behavior when they really want to, but I don't think they can change their core behavior. I've been an introvert and a loner all my life. 

So, I get to have my solitude, my quiet time, my peace. But I sacrifice a degree of closeness along with that. I miss out on being fully treasured, as I would be if I were fully available. And that makes me sad sometimes.

I'm grateful for John, because he gets me. He knows it isn't that I don't like people; I just can't handle too much interaction without getting exhausted. He and I talk about this stuff after a party, after a gathering, when we're still feeling the afterglow of the unaccustomed camaraderie. We say let's go to more parties, let's meet some new people in L.A., let's think about maybe having a few people to John's house. But then time passes and it doesn't happen. We are who we are.

Just today, on my way home from John's, I stopped to get groceries. I was feeling tired; we'd been out late last night and lost an hour's sleep due to the time change. As I entered the market, I saw a woman I knew and hadn't seen for a while. A normal, social person would have gone up to her to say hello, give a hug, shoot the breeze for a few. Me? I ducked in the other direction. My first reaction was, "No, I'm tired, I don't want to talk to anyone."

I admire social people, and envy them sometimes. There are times when I wish I were a different type of person. But then I wouldn't be me. I've spent most of my life coming to terms with me, learning to accept Erica with all her quirks and foibles. People still care about me and seem to enjoy my presence. Having our friends last week say, "No, you can't leave, you're forbidden to leave," brought tears to my eyes. Some of the hugs I received were so warm and wonderful. Despite myself, I am loved, and I love. 

I guess it's up to me to, once again, accept my limitations, and work within them. There will always be things other have that I don't, and vice versa.

It's life.

If you're still reading, thanks for letting me ramble.

Hair of the dog

When I told Mr. D last week that we'd be off to Vegas for an extended weekend and I couldn't see him on Monday, he said, "Tuesday, then?" Right away, I answered, "Can we do it Wednesday instead?"

I've been down this road many times; I know how I am after one of these spanko gatherings. I needed Tuesday for decompression. It was a day slated for sleep, for blogging while my memories were still fresh, for basking in the afterglow, for reading an endless stream of posts and comments on FetLife, for downloading and organizing photos. It was a day for hovering in that nether region between the blissful escape of the weekend and reality.

By Tuesday night, reality was settling back in. I picked up my held mail at the post office; all bills. In my spacey state, I locked myself out of my apartment, and my manager snapped at me when I went to ask him for the spare key. I knew it wasn't personal -- his wife is ill in the hospital and he's stressed -- but it still hurt, since he's usually so nice to me. John called and confessed that, though he'd kept it from me so I wouldn't worry, he had been terribly fatigued all weekend and was on his way to the doctor for blood work. (Don't worry, any fellow party-goers; it's nothing contagious. He's infection-prone and everything affects his bad heart, which in turn exhausts him.) The weekend comments and reminiscing on FetLife were dying down, and being replaced with talk of the upcoming BBW. So... by Wednesday morning, I was in full drop mode.

Wednesday was when I knew I'd need Mr. D. And I did.

We didn't play for quite a while after he arrived; just sat on my couch and talked. He'd read all my blogs, so he had questions and I filled him in on details. When I spoke of the closeness I'd experienced over the weekend and how I wished everyone weren't so far away, my voice broke, and he pulled me into his arms. "I'm here," he said.

He said we didn't have to play if I wasn't up for it. Even though I wasn't marked, I was still quite sore, and I had a teeny little scab just below my right cheek when my recurring weak spot had opened up a bit on Friday night. So I knew I wouldn't be up for a thorough session, but I did want a hand spanking from him very much, and told him so.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Whatever you need. Today, it's all about you."

Despite my blues, I smiled. "Silly man," I replied, "it's always about me."

The spanking was exactly what I needed, just enough, connecting me back to the good feelings and recharging my batteries. After he left, I worked out for nearly two hours after taking a week off. I showered, felt the hot water stinging my bottom like hundreds of little needles, and I grinned blissfully.

This weekend will be low-key, and will seem even more so after last weekend's festivities. But that's OK. I am a bit melancholy, but not depressed. I will be with John and we'll take care of each other. And Mr. D, who is going skiing for a long weekend, will be back to see me next Tuesday. "Be here, now," I must remember. Now is good.

Have a great weekend, y'all.

Keep Calm and...

Unless you've never been on the Internet in your life, I'm sure you've seen the various posters floating about that begin with the words "KEEP CALM." After doing a bit of Googling, I found out the origin of these was a British poster, circa 1939, at the beginning of World War II.

Lately, this has become a meme, and there are sites where you can generate you own version of this poster. It's very cool, actually -- you can change the colors, the fonts, the sizes, even swap out the crown for another picture. And of course, there are several spanko versions floating around.

At first, I found this meme a little irritating. It was all over the place, and I found myself thinking, "Stop telling me to keep calm. What if I don't feel like keeping calm, dammit?" But then I came around. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

So, in honor of last weekend and Ten's predilection for mammaries, I created my own version.

Yes, she's seen it. She likes it. :-)

The "Fifty Freaks" Weekend, part 4

Sunday morning I got up earlier than I normally would have, because Strict Dave's Court was at 11:00. I confess that I was kind of edgy and out of sorts; tiredness was catching up to me and this was our last day, so I felt a bit off. I sent John to the suite ahead of me so he could get us a seat, and I went down to the coffee bar to get us both some coffee (caffeine for me, decaf for him). That woke me up a bit and I felt better in a few minutes. When I walked into the suite, the first thing I saw was Ten and a few others staring out the window at the brilliant blue sky filled with clouds. When I saw what they were looking at specifically, I had to take a picture.

No comment, as I believe the picture speaks for itself. ;-)

Poor Dave -- he didn't wake up until 10:45! Some sort of snafu with alarms. So SDC didn't start until around 11:30, which was OK because a lot of people were late anyway, straggling in after our late night. 

I've been to several of these courts, but I've never put in a charge or had anyone file a charge against me. Can't say that anymore! John filed one against me, for having a faulty GPS and not trusting his directions. (Yes, these cases are often ridiculous.) He presented his case, and then it was my turn to defend myself. I was off to a rocking start when I began with, "Your Honor, with all due respect to the court, the plaintiff is a pontificating peckerhead." After I made my defense, John called Jada to be his witness -- and she totally backed ME up! :-D So I was declared innocent, and John was assigned 15 minutes of "personal service" to me.

The cases went on -- Whooperine charging Ten because she messed up his hair; Stacymacy charging Beth because she desecrated her stuffed bunny; Ten charging PTL, because when Ten mashed her face into PTL's boobs, she got a nosebleed. (Yes, really.) Jules was framed for drawing an unflattering picture of Dave, but it ended up she didn't do it. (It was SO great to see her! She was so sweet, telling John and me how much we'd be missed at BBW.) And so on... until I got called up on another charge by John! This time, it was able my disrespect for the good people who run the Hofbrauhaus and how I insulted the waitress by making her put on a mustache to give me a swat. Once again, I defended myself rigorously, bringing up my reputation and so forth. We even showed Judge Dave the 40-second video. However, he saw me as innocent once again... but this time, he gave me six swats with the strap for contempt of court (I dropped the F-bomb). Win/win!

After court was over, we lingered in the suite for a long time, saying goodbye to the people who were leaving that afternoon. I reluctantly said goodbye to Alex, and she had someone snap a picture of the two of us (I don't have that one yet, however). Before we headed out, we wandered into the bedroom off the foyer to see what was going on in there. While talking with some friends sitting on the bed, we heard a racket from the bathroom, and then Ten came running out -- stark-ass naked and covered with bubbles.

Yes, I am posting this with permission -- I asked her twice, just to be sure!

Mike W. came out after her, scolding her and spanking her for making such a huge mess with bubbles in the bathroom. I went in to see what they were talking out -- I don't know how Ten did this, but the ginormous oversized bathtub was piled way up high past the rim with mountains of bubbles! It looked like she'd dumped an entire quart of bubble bath in there, or something. While I was laughing, would you believe that brat started throwing bubbles at me? So I snatched up some myself and flung them at her. Next thing I knew, the two of us were having an out-and-out bubble fight, plastering bubbles all over each other. Yes, I was fully clothed. I had bubbles all over my clothes, in my face, fogging up my glasses, up my nose. I wish someone had taken pictures of that event! 

We finally got out of there and had a late lunch, stopping to chat with Gino for a while before heading back to our room to rest. That night was the final gathering, with birthday cake for Joe, Gino and StoneHand -- Joe had gotten a beautiful big sheet cake and had the names on it. I'd been standing near the bar chatting with people, but then felt like sitting, so I went over to the couches. One was completely filled, so I sat on the second one. Mr. Rob looked over and said, "Oh, are you sitting there all by yourself?" He then got up, sat down next to me and patted his lap. Well, now! Considerate of him to come keep me company, don't you think?

He was a good guy -- he knew I was sore, so he kept it on the lighter side, which I appreciated. I swear, I come to the end of these weekends and I'm so damn sore, but I still want to play! I did do more watching than playing on Sunday night, though, but it was OK, since I'd done quite a bit myself and I'd checked off nearly everyone on my list of scenes I'd wanted. (I wanted to play with Strict Dave, but I love to play long and hard with him and I just wasn't able to do it at this time.) Besides, there were such fun things to watch: Joe strapping Missy; YS strapping Beth and Ellee side by side bent over two barstools; Dave belting otkdesire and StacyMacy over the same stools. It's so hot to watch precision players wielding straps -- those things aren't easy to aim and it takes skill.

Later, I wandered into the bedroom and found Joe spanking otkdesire, with Gino and Ten watching. I sprawled on the carpet and joined them, watching Joe experiment with his left hand, since his right hand was completely "assed." He said it was a scientific experiment -- riiiiiight! I was a little sleepy, so at some point, I stifled a yawn. Otkdesire caught me and threw me under the bus, saying, "Erica needs to go next -- she's bored!" Hummmph.

Joe and I seem to have developed a tradition at these parties, doing a scene on the last night and seeing what lasts longer -- his hand or my butt. (He calls it our World War III.) So over I went, down came my PJ pants and he started whaling away with his left hand (which is every damn bit as adept and powerful as his right, thank you very much). He mentioned our "war" again, so I lustily started singing, "Over There," changing the lyric "The Yanks are coming" to "The spanks are coming." It was our usual battle of wills with lots of banter, and we ended up calling it a draw (as we always do). :-)

Around 1:00, Dave and Stacymacy were leaving to go get food. I knew we wouldn't be there much longer and I figured this would be our last chance to say goodbye to them, so I went over to hug Stacy and then Dave. He asked me if we were going to BBW or FMS, and I sadly shook my head and said we wouldn't see each other again until Shadow Lane. He hesitated for a second, then said, "Well, do you want a quick six with the strap right now, before we head out?" YES! So he bent me over that well-used barstool, leaned down and checked in. "How are you? You sore?" I said a little, but I knew this was the last scene of the weekend, so he shouldn't worry about it. "OK, I'll make 'em good ones," he said. And yes, he certainly did. Then he added another couple of short sets with another belt, for good measure. A lovely hug and then he was out the door. Then, I knew I was done.

Shortly thereafter, John and I decided it was time to go. When I reluctantly got up and retrieved my purse, both Kelley and Ten blurted, "No! You can't leave! Erica, you're not allowed to leave." Ten actually blocked my path. Damn, I love these people so, so much! My heart was very full at that moment, after this extended weekend of being with friends and feeling so wanted and appreciated. It was hard to leave, but I knew we were getting up at 7:00 a.m. and we still had packing to do. It was time. So, after one last round of motorboating from Ten, we gave hugs all around and headed out.

The next morning, I was practically comatose, I was so tired. And very sore. But despite the sadness over having to leave, I still felt happy too. It had been an amazing time. Even the ride home was perfect, no traffic at all. John and I made it back to his house in record time.

Thank you, thank you so much to Joe and Ten, and to my friends, old and new, for making this weekend such a special time for me. Above all, thank you to my beloved, who has accompanied me to every party over all these years and without whom I can't imagine attending. ♥

OK, I'm finally done. Goodnight, y'all.