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Showing posts with label Danny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Danny. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Odds & Ends not in my book, Part 3

Today's offering: a favorite Danny Chrighton story.

Most of you know by now that Danny was my play partner for a few years, when he lived here in L.A. He's still a dear friend, even though he lives in CO now. I wrote about him at length in my book, but here's a little tidbit that didn't make it.

We shared an appreciation for Rat Pack-style music, especially Dean Martin. He knew my favorite Dino song is "Memories Are Made Of This" -- when Shadow Lane had their "Brat Pack" party a few years ago, I'd requested that song. (I believe Danny's favorite was "Sway," if I'm remembering correctly.)

Anyway, cut to a private house spanking party we attended one Saturday night. It was a fun, lively gathering, back in the day when L.A. had a great party scene. Our host was in a band, and he and his bandmates were playing for us in the garage.

After the band stopped and most of the people had meandered back inside to eat, play, etc., Danny wandered over and picked up one of the guitars. I knew he could play and sing -- he'd brought a guitar to his first SL party and played on the stage with Bob the DJ. Still, I couldn't resist teasing him. "Hey, put that down. It's not a toy."

He just smiled at me, then began to play. I recognized the song immediately -- "Memories Are Made Of This."

He sang the entire song, start to finish. Knew all the chords, all the lyrics. Some others came back in and a small crowd gathered. But he was playing to me.

I don't know if he always knew the song, or if he learned it after he found out it was my favorite. Doesn't matter. No man had ever sung to me before. Let me tell you, it's a really lovely experience.

When the song was over, people clapped, and there was a chorus of "Danny, I didn't know you could play!" "Wow, that was great!" etc. I stood back, waiting for the group to disperse once again. Then I walked over to Danny and whispered three words:

"Play with me."

More than anything at that moment, I wanted to be over his lap, feeling the intensity of that same hand that had just strummed out a song I loved. He took my hand and led me back into the house, and we found a private area to have an intense spanking scene. Lovely.

"Sweet sweet, the memories you gave to me..."

In case y'all don't know the song, here it is: (click on the arrow, then on the link "Watch This on YouTube")

Monday, October 3, 2011

Birthday greetings

No ST tonight after all; he didn't feel well. I suppose if I had to skip a Monday with him, it worked out well that it's a Monday after an intense thrashing on Saturday. But I missed him anyway. Feel better soon, sweetie.

Since I can't do a scene writeup, I'm going to take this time to wish a happy birthday to two wonderful men.

First up -- tomorrow, October 4, is Danny Chrighton's birthday. Wish I could see him and give him a big birthday hug and a smooch (and take his birthday spanking). So many fond memories... like here, the two of us being silly:
















And of course, I can't let any birthday of his go by without trotting this one back out... :-D
















(snickering) Ah, good times. Happy birthday, darlin'. Is there such a thing as a bacon birthday cake?

And the next day, October 5, is none other than my beloved's birthday.

I won't see him until Friday, but we'll celebrate this weekend. Already planning to take him to one of our favorite restaurants and bake him his favorite scratch brownies. :-)  He never lets me buy him presents, so I have to get creative. Attention on him makes John uncomfortable (a trait his girlfriend does not share). One time I had a big bunch of balloons delivered to his office, figuring everyone would see and then make a fuss over him. He told me, "That was so sweet of you, thank you and I love you. Now please, promise me you'll never do that again." (sigh)

When Danny lived here, we'd have a double b-day celebration. Damn, I miss that crazy man.

Who else has an October birthday? (I know at least one other person...)

Love you guys! Enjoy your special days. ♥

Monday, October 4, 2010

A two-parter

Part 1: Birthday greetings are in order. Two wonderful men, back to back -- Danny, October 4, and my sweetheart J, October 5. Danny, I hope you had a great day and enjoyed your greetings on FetLife. I tried to bake you a bacon-and-Hollandaise-sauce cake, but sadly, my projectile hurling kept interfering with the process.

J and I were supposed to celebrate his birthday this past weekend. However, he's been sick as the proverbial dog for two weeks and counting... he got the flu. Big time. In 14 years, I don't think I've ever seen him quite this sick. :-( 

A few tip-offs that he's more than a little sick:
  1. He hasn't worked out for two weeks. This is unheard of. J will always exercise through an illness. The only thing he'll cut out is his bike rides. But the walks and the weights? No.
  2. He can barely eat. And when he does manage to force something down, he can't stand anything with sugar or salt in it. J usually has a huge sweet tooth, and he loves salt so much, he refers to potato chips and nuts as "salt delivery systems." I had baked him some brownies from scratch, and he couldn't touch a bite. Normally, he can put away three of those things within five minutes of getting his hands on them.
  3. He's shivering and bundling up into his jacket one minute and breaking a sweat the next.
  4. He's taking Tylenol and Advil regularly and I don't have to hold his nose and stuff it down his throat.
  5. He's sleeping and sleeping and sleeping, 10-12 hours at a time. This is a man who never sleeps more than six hours in one stretch.
  6. Finally, this is the real shocker: He actually took himself to the doctor last Friday. I didn't say a word; never suggested it. Usually, I'd have to bug him for about six months before he'd go. They took blood, but basically told him, "You have the flu. Go home."
(sigh) Have I mentioned that I am a sucky nurse? I worry and fret and get nervous, feeling helpless and wishing I could just wave a magic wand and make him better. And seeing him suffer makes me want to cry. In fact, on Sunday, I did. Ugh. So after this weekend, I was very stressed out.

Which leads us into Part 2...

A week or so ago, Hermione posted about stress release through spanking. I am a strong advocate of this practice; I can blow off stress through exercise (or posting a rant), but nothing sends that tension for the hills like a good hard spanking. Enter New Guy, who paid me a visit this evening.

We played harder this time. Last week, he had a wide leather strap that turned out to be too long (it was wrapping), so we put it away. This week, he brought it again, showing me how he'd cut it down and now it was perfect. (says who???)

OTK in a straight-back chair for a warmup, then he said, "I think I want you over that ottoman." "You do, huh?" "Yes, I do." And he lifted me off his lap and carried me across the room, still horizontal, plunking me down on the ottoman. I do love that thing; it's very comfortable to lie on and there's room on either side for the spanker to stand, so he has room to swing and give equal time to both cheeks. Besides, if I'm reclining comfortably, I can fully focus on the discomfort happening elsewhere.

He was bolder this time, giving the sweet spots more attention. "Are you feeling this?" he asked. "Why do you ask such stupid questions?" I snapped. I then got a flurry that nearly sent me through the ceiling. "You want to ask me that again?" Uh... no. No, I'll pass, thank you.

Concerned because I was marking, he asked how I was doing, if I wanted more. Zoned out, I gasped, "My common sense says no; the pain slut in me says yes." He laughed. "Which one should I listen to?" "You decide," I said. He went for 10 more swats with the paddle and we were done.

After I returned to Earth, we watched a DVD (When Danny Met Erica, in honor of his birthday), and by then I was back to sassing (yes, already), so I got another spanking on the couch. Just his hand this time, though. :-)

I needed that. Who the hell needs Xanax -- bottle spanking and call it Stress-B-Gone.















Ow.... do you feel sorry for me?

Well, don't. I'm a happy camper. Thank you, New Guy. Thank you very much. :-)

I'm going to sleep like a baby tonight... zzzzzzzz....