Happy birthday to me!

addendum: I had a very, very good birthday and I will tell you all about it when I am no longer walking bowlegged.

Post Winter Fire: Holy Shit Saturday

Well, it's been just about three days and I'm almost unpacked. I always end up bringing way too much stuff to these things and never using it. Then again you never know when you might need those spreader bars and the gas mask. Maybe someday...

So Saturday was chock full of learning:

Driven to Tears with Sarah Sloan was all about cathartic release in scenes. More on that later.

Erotic Breathwork with Barabra Carrellas: I thought this was going to be about breathplay (I guess I should read the class desciptions) but it was really about having an orgasm through breathing alone. I always thought the chakra stuff was a little "hippy-dippy new-agey" for me, but I really wanted to hear her speak and I thought I might as well give it a go. After lots and lots of deep breathing from my pussy and inhaling while "kissing the floor with my asshole" I laid on the floor to practice coming without touching my genitals.

The room was dark, I closed my eyes and listened to her instructions. Despite the Kenny G-ish music, it was nice to just lay there, relax and breathe. I did what she said, step by step and wait a minute... something's happening. My hips were jerking, muscles are spasming, I think I might actually be having an orgasm!

Or I might be hyperventilating, I couldn't really tell. My face and limbs started getting all tingly and it all felt a lot like coming and a lot like how I feel just before I'm going to pass out. I tensed my body and held my breath when she said to and the room was filled with howls and groans of people climaxing around me. I wasn't one of them, but I did feel great afterwards. I stretched for a while and felt drowsy and loose. I'm all for deep breathing and lord knows I love breathplay, but I like touching my genitals and having other people touch my genitals.

During lunch, I ran into a friend at lunch who offered to single-tail me. I'd never been single-tailed and was curious about it. He started off light and slow (maybe a little too light and slow) but I got a few real lashes, just enough to give me a taste. He could tell I wasn't getting that into it and switched to what he knew I did like, punching! It was a nice little scene, a good appetizer, but it left me still hungry.

That night after Vivianne's cocktail party and the banquet, we (Lynsey, Vivianne, Tess and I) gathered in the dungeon to watch Jocasta get suspended. We sat there chatting and then I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me, are you Tilda?" asked a very tall, handsome man.

"Yes."

He started to speak and then said, "You should just read this." He handed me his Blackberry. It was an e-mail from Jefferson requesting that he should come up to me and give me a pre-birthday spanking. I read the message aloud and there was a chorus of "Awww!" next to me. Hands to hearts, we all said, "That is so sweet!" It was like a kinky Vermont Teddy Bear. I bent over a chair, hitched up my skirt and counted off 36 smacks to my ass (plus one more to grow on).

After a swing though the sex-o-rama and a peek in on some orgies, Lynsey and I retired to her room and well...

Sample of one of many drunken e-mails:

Re: Underpants

Anderson Cooper is hot.
(dictated but not read)
AVP / AD of Department of Awesome

Post Winter Fire: a Very Good Friday

I didn't have any particular plans for the weekend, so I was extra happy when Jocasta asked if I wanted to be suspended after Lynsey. We were both suspension virgins and after watching her trussed up and blissed out I definitely wanted a go. I always had a slight fear of being suspended. I always thought it would be kind of painful and not in a good way. I could not have been more wrong!

I stripped down and Jocasta and Zelda went to work, quickly and efficently figuring out the best way to string me up. It was like watching a combination of engineers and artists. I loved listening them work together, the talk of two people who really loved what they did and were really good at it. Soon, I was hanging sideways in what Lynsey described as a "flying superhero" pose. I was regretting having the red "no photos" wrist band. I would have loved getting a picture of it.

My head was held up with a scarf that covered my eyes and the world just melted away. After some minor adjustments, I was just floating. Weightless. It wasn't like being in a hammock, it was like being a hammock. It was so very delicious. I felt like a little kid. Until the Hitachi hit my clit and all hell broke loose. I swung back and forth with the sting of a cane in the back and a vibe in the front, giggling and moaning at the same time...

I'll just say this: orgasms on land are mighty fine. Orgasms in the air are even better.

Tartare

I'm back from Winter Fire and after some Chinese take-out and a re-run of Project Runway, I am oh, so very sleepy. Thanks to Jefferson for the ride and for putting Lynsey behind the wheel (remember, there are no such thing as unicorns. They went extinct a long time ago.)

Now time for sleep. Well, some vigorous masturbation and then sleep.

More to come.

Pre Winter Fire

Wax:
I attempted to get a Brazilian wax at lunch on Tuesday, but my pubic hair was deemed too short. Nothing like being spread eagle under florescent lights having a stranger chastise you.

"Did you shave? You shaved didn't you?" (imagine Eastern European accent here)

"Yeah," I say meekly. "But it's been over a week. I thought it was long enough."

"No! Too short! It vill be very, very painful! You vill be stubbly by the next day and you vill hate me tomorrow. Come back, 3 weeks!"

I keep hearing the Soup Nazi's voice, "No wax for you!"

Blood:
My epic long period has finally ended!

Let me start at the beginning: My period was supposed to be due today, the day before Winter Fire. Not disastrous, but not so fun, when I'm hoping to have as many objects (human or otherwise) in and about my snatch for the next 3 days. So I strategically decided to defy nature, orchestrate my own flow and attempt to skip my period.

Theoretically, you just skip the placebo pills and go straight to the next pack and it should work. Theoretically. I ended up having a period for the entire month. The entire month. I go to my gyno and she says, "Yeah, that doesn't always work with everybody. Take the next round of placebos, you'll have a regular period and be done by Thursday."

Success! So, I got the results I wanted, just not in the way I had intended. I almost forgot how great it is to not have blood coming out of your vagina.

Bag:
And I got an adorable new PanAm bag for toys!

Letting it all hang out

I was so proud of myself. Ben and I went to dinner at Florent to pay our respects before they close (sob) and I thought it would be a good time to check in on things and make sure we were on the same page.

I laid it out. "I just want you to know, if you're seeing, sleeping with other people, I'm cool with it as long as you're cool with me seeing, sleeping with other people." He's a hot guy (who prefers being naked as much as possible) going off to the tropics for two weeks and I'm going to a sex convention. No use, beating around the bush.

"I'm loving the way things are going with us and I want to just keep going with the flow and seeing where things take us. Plus, I keep picturing you fucking some sexy girl under a waterfall and that's just so hot."

He nodded with that shy little crooked smile of his. He's a man of little words.

"So, we're good?" I asked.

"We're good."

Our food arrived and we dug in, reminiscing over the restaurant. The waiter and I shared stories. I saw the t-shirt with the logo and had to have one. Of course, they only had smalls (and American Apparel smalls are like children's extra small), but I got it anyway. He gave me the other shirt with the pig for free.

We finished our meal and were having our last glass of wine. I drained the glass and sat it down firmly on the counter. "So! There's this orgy tomorrow night..." He laughed and I gave him the details.

There was that little grin again. "I'll think about it."

He ended up declining, "I'll go to the next one, definitely!" But that's okay. I don't think this particular one would have been his cup of tea. But I thought, "This man has some crazy sex skills. Other people need to know about this!"

It felt so good, because it was so true. I wasn't trying to retrofit my feelings to fit my needs. I wasn't trying to purge myself of some guilt. It wasn't just about me wanting my cake and eating it too. It was about both of us wanting cake and both of us eating it too.

The next morning, I sipped coffee and watched him scramble eggs and fry-up the bacon, secure in the fact that everything for now was just fine.

maybe a smidge "Olsen-twin-esque" but...

Is it possible to fall in love with someone based on the photos on their album covers? Don't get me wrong, her new album is absolutely delicious, and that alone would do it, but this has happened before with me and Goldfrapp:

Notes on an orgy

I was snuggled safely in between the two warm and lovely bodies of two fabulous people. She had been caning me and spanking me while I sucked his cock, shooing his black tutu away from my face. She climbed on my back and reached down to my clit, rubbing it fiercely. I clenched my thighs on her hand while she growled and giggled into my ear while I came, grinding myself on her hand and growling right back. It was late and I was feeling drowsy and gooey with these two pairs of arms around me. Ah! Life should be just like this all the time, I thought. One bothersome young man kept tweaking my nipples and I finally shooed his hand away wanting to savor the moment in peace.

Earlier, our lovely and truly gracious host gave me a delicious beating with a paddle. I laid naked on the floor of the hotel, feeling the eyes of the other people around me as he smacked my back and legs. He went for my ass and I raised up my hips, half wanting and half dreading that he would start hitting my cunt. I sucked and bit into my arm, stretching my limbs and moaning. I've realized I'm a pretty damn oral person. When someone is beating me, I want to suck on something: my fingers, their fingers, their cock, their tits. I want something in my mouth. I'm thinking of investing in some gags.

Our host also introduced me to Hendriks gin which may be the best gin I've ever had. He'll be at Winter Fire and I'm hoping he'll give me a corset piercing. I've never done any play piercing before, but who can say no to an adornment of surgical staples and black ribbon?

My Life's Just Fine

So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
No stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my mind right
I aint gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just…

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, ooooh

Speed

I have learned something about myself. I knew it already, but this really proved it. I suck at small talk. I'm either having a conversation or I'm not and I can not have a conversation in six minutes.

That was the deal. 10 men / six minutes each. My friend convinced me to go speed dating with her and I figured, "It's something different. Might as well see what it's like." I'll tell you what it's like. It's awkward, pointless and totally disorienting. Depending on whose on the opposite side of the table, six minutes can either go by in the blink of an eye or lasts an eternity.

It started off with the women sitting at numbered tables. We were given sheets of paper to write down names and make notes. There were little boxes to check either "yes" or "no". A guy sits down across from you and asks a series of generic "getting to know you" questions: Have you done this before? Where are you from? What do you do? After a 15 minute break of chicken fingers and wings, the men sat still and the ladies rotated around them.

Once in a while there would be some common denominator (oh you once lived in Michigan, too? I love movies, too) and a real conversation would start. Then the little bell would ring, we'd shake hands with a "Nice to meet you" and someone new would be sitting there across from you and the whole thing starts all over again. In the few moments in between "dates" I'd jot down some brief information so I could remember who the hell these people were:

"handlebar moustache, hypnosis"
"marine biologist"
"liquor license enforcer, thought I was a lawyer because of my glasses"
"leather jacket, jittery"
"blue sweater, skis"

Most of the people had done it before and for some reason decided it was worth doing again. I didn't get it. Maybe it was those particular selection of guys. Maybe it was the lame Wall Street bar. Maybe it was the dinging bell, the worksheet and the name tags, but there was nothing about it that was fun. It was all so FAST and yet so BORING.

I can have a 30 second flirtation in a bookstore or glance at someone on a subway platform and get a connection. More often than not, it's just that: a little twinge in the crotch, a slight raise in heart rate, a longer than usual look and a crooked smile, but at least it's a fun little moment. This was like work. It was like a job interview only with alcohol.

When I got home there were no less than three e-mails from the organizers telling me to check off my picks. I looked over my hastily scribbled notes and chose three I thought were... fine. Apparently "leather jacket, jittery" picked me, too.