24.7

We are in New Orleans for a few days, our first time back for more than two years (the early trip is documented in our blog archives).  It’s different this time. We are here with another man.

Our teenage son.

Bwahahahahaha.   By the way, I didn’t mean to go all “O. Henry” on you in my last post.  I originally planned NOT to say that it was my sister we had dinner with.  But I realized that a) it’s just too cool not to mention, and b) the odds of her ever reading this are infinitely small.  I will talk more about the Daddy/little girl stuff in another post.

Back to New Orleans.  Last time we were here, we were a VERY new couple.  We bought a schoolgirl skirt and a corset and nipple clamps on Bourbon Street.  Happily we have used the first two items far more than the third.

This time we are an old married couple with a teenager.  Nonetheless, we are  figuring out ways to make it wonderful.  There are, of course, the vanilla things - beignet and chicory coffee at Cafe du Monde, the Algiers Ferry, Rock N Bowl, Acme Oyster House, Brigtsen’s, Bourbon Street (LORD, I am getting so much grief from both my boys about calling it juvenile).

There are also the not-so-vanilla things.  Last night Richard and I went out alone to hear some live music and dance a little.  At one point he was standing over my chair, rubbing my neck.  His hands started wandering enough that I began to get nervous.  Which he picked up on.  Which of course made him bolder.  Bad man.  I was trying not to be obvious, because it wasn’t that dark.  When I started to pull away he wrapped my hair around his fist and pulled my head back.  My neck was straining from the pressure and I looked up at him pleadingly.  He just smiled and kept hold of my hair while trailing his fingers over me.  Luckily everyone was dancing and watching the stage.  I hope so, anyway.

This morning he was petting me awake - my head hurt a bit from drinking (only two drinks all night!  no fair!) and I had trouble waking up - and he started playing with my breasts.  His hands became more and more insistent until I was writhing, needing to cum.  He took my hand and forced it onto my pussy and whispered “Masturbate.  Now.”  But after just a minute he said “I changed my mind.  You aren’t going to cum.   I’m going to.” And then he fucked me.  Oh God it felt so good and he came and I could tell it was really good for him and then he pulled out and said “maybe later” and got up to make coffee.

So I’ve been desperately wanting to cum all day, which he just loves.  Now he’s gone off to take street photos with our son and I am here alone, all squirmy.  I’m wondering how much trouble I would get into if I masturbated, and if it’s worth it.

Well, here is the moment that many of you have been waiting for.  I finally got Richard to stand still long enough to get a couple of photos of him during our Burning Man trip.  BTW, we will be writing more about the trip when we catch up with life.  The trip, with out-of-town visitors arriving immediately afterward and staying for 10 days, really put us behind.  I’m behind on work, Richard is catching up with photos, and the house is trashed.  But on to the pictures.

This is a picture of Richard outside the visitor’s center during our visit to Bodie, an abandoned gold mining town on the way to Burning Man.  He’s the REAL Bad Man of Bodie.

And this is Richard at the start of the dust storm that eventually drove us from Burning Man a day early.  Lots of men wore sarongs (me too; I felt totally at home in that regard!) and I was thrilled when Richard starting wearing one.  Now I’ve got to convince him to keep doing it.  Maybe a kilt?  He didn’t like how he looked in this one, but I think he looks delicious.  I got a really cute one of him on his bike, but he’s too recognizable in it, I’m afraid.

This is a quick shot of Amy at Burning Man.

She’s drenched.  One of the ways people shower and cool off here is to follow one of the dust abatement trucks that sprinkle water on the temporary roads, and run behind in the spray.

Here you can see her after chasng after a truck, and returning much cooler, and thoroughly soaked.

We are heading off to Burning Man, up in Nevada.  Neither Amy nor I have been before.  We’ve spent plenty of time in the desert, some of it off grid, but this is the first time I’ll see playa.

It’s going to be an erotically charged experiment in community and self reliance, but Amy has some pretty big concerns.

She doesn’t like dust.

And it’s gonna be dusty.

We’ll keep you informed.  But not as it happens, we’re gonna be off the grid for the full week, best as I can tell.

We’ll update when we get back, so you can hear what happened.

Anybody else going?

Amy checking out the golf course behind our room.

I just wanted to add a bit about our stay at the resort out near Palm Springs before going on.  We had the kids, and in the same room as us, so this was a very family oriented holiday.  Quite spontaneously entered into, as I believe Amy as already pointed out.

Almost all I saw of her for two days.

Amy’s first time in a “Lazy River” style of water ride.  She’s never been to a real waterpark - seems rather tragic!  Anyway, she likes to ride low in the water and shut out the distractions - whereas I’m always riding high on the tube and looking to cause trouble.

Amy thinks this picture is redundant - she thinks nobody wants to see another cleavage shot of her.

Turned out to be a great adventure for all of us, a mini holiday with lots of water time.

Amy checks out Vegas in the morning (I’m partial to the reflection in the window, btw)

Discovered something a little fun on a recent trip to Vegas.

Amy squeaks.

Now, she normally squeaks when I give her a quick hug, but what I didn’t realize is she couldn’t control it.

Nor did I realize she finds it embarrassing.

So I gave her a quick hug while we were standing in line late one night at a McDonald’s, and she squeaked.

“Bad Daddy,” she whispered. “Don’t do that!”

For fun I did it again, and she squeaked again. Then I gave her a quick squeeze that made her squeak, and then another one right away and she squeaked an octave or two higher.

Awesome.

Then I started squeezing her and making her squeak, then doing quick ones to make her squeak at a higher pitch, and she turned bright red!

So cool.

Who’d have thought something so innocuous could turn into humiliation play?

I’m totally enjoying this.

This is an outtake, but it’s very much like Amy with the sexy clothes, and then those big warm fuzzy socks.  Typically, she’d be nude with the fuzzy socks, or maybe wearing her Uggs and nothing else.

Of course, I didn’t know that for sure when I shot this pic, but I had an inkling.

This is from the first time we met, a year ago today.

I thought a picture from that weekend might be appropriate, and bring back a few memories. (Hah!  Like I could ever forget the fun we had THAT weekend!) I had already fallen for her, that weekend just made it all real.  The first touch, the first kiss.

The first all-nighter….

And then the second…

Anyway…

Happy anniversary little baby girl!

I love you lots!

Your Daddy

We went to PowerExchange in San Francisco last Saturday night, the day before the Folsom Street Fair.

We’d spent the day cruising around San Francisco in a convertible which OMIGOD is the way to sightsee! I can’t believe how much more of the city I saw than I ever have before.

PowerExchange doesn’t open until 10 pm and around 8, after a great Italian dinner, I wasn’t sure how I was going to stay awake until then. Even an espresso doppio, drunk in an outdoor cafe while people-watching, didn’t help.

But I survived. We got there at 10:30, after me changing from jeans and a sweater into a mini-dress and heels in the back of the car (not a BIG car).

We went in, and first went through the main floor, which was pretty standard - a shop in which you could buy kinky clothes and floggers, etc, a “bar” without any alcohol, music playing, etc. Very few people were there yet.

We went down into the basement and there was a lot more going on. It was set up as series of rooms off of a main room, with several kinds of spanking benches, a St. Andrew’s cross, etc. There were a few people playing, but a lot more people wandering around looking. This was typical in the LA clubs we’ve been to, as well. The difference here is that the people wandering around were mainly men, mainly naked men. Mainly naked men who were masturbating, many of whom seemed intent upon rubbing up against me or any other nearby woman. I understood at that point why they had set up the third floor, where we went next.

Only couples and single women are allowed on the third floor. It costs more to go there too. Oh, and the couples have to stay together, I guess so that a guy doesn’t ask a woman to come with him so he can get up there and prowl around.

When we first went up almost noone was there. We looked in each of the side rooms, one was a kind of medieval theme with a couple of throne-type chairs and a big table. Another room had a giant bed. Another had a spanking bench and a couch and a smaller (queen size, I think) bed. Another had a pole for pole dancing! The big central room had lots of couchs and beds around the outside. Oh, and the bathroom was for men AND women! That was a little odd, I thought.

We sat on a couch for a bit and snuggled. Richard had been very quiet for most of the day, and I was feeling a little worried about it. It wasn’t just that he was quiet, he seemed more…distant than usual, more disconnected from me. We don’t usually spend two full days without any alone time (except when we went to bed at night) and I think it was affecting both of us.

In my vanilla days, I would have wanted to talk about it: how are you feeling? are you angry? are you upset about anything? But here we were at a BDSM club, and here I was with my Master and Owner. So instead I said “I really love spanking benches. Would you spank me please, Daddy?”

“You want a spanking, little girl? You know there are people around. You want them to see me spank you?”

No, I did not. I did not want to be spanked in front of anyone. But I wanted to feel connected with him again, and I hoped that would do it. So I said “Yes please.”

So he took me by the hand and walked me to the spanking bench and got me settled on it. I let my hair fall over my face so I wouldn’t see if anyone came in.

Richard pulled my dress up over my ass and pulled my panties down and rubbed my ass and my legs until I wiggled. Then he started to spank me.

It was such a wonderful combination, feeling very comfortable on the padded bench and feeling the stinging of the spanking.

Occasionally he would stop and rub my ass again and nuzzle my ear and I would hear people moving through the room.

After a while, he pulled up my panties and pulled down my dress and helped me stand up from the bench. I felt very quiet and shy and submissive - I think this is what people refer to as “sub space” (had to think for a minute; the first thing that came to mind was “sub torpor” - uh, no).

He brought me over to the couch and we sat and talked quietly and he petted me. Another couple came in and lay down on the bed. After kissing and making out for a few minutes, he pulled off her panties and went down on her. She started moaning “Oh yeah, oh that’s good, oh do it to me Daddy.”

I was a little surprised that they were totally going for it right in front of us, but it was interesting. After a while, they got up and wandered out into the main room. We got up a few minutes later and did the same; I think we would have fallen asleep if we had stayed there.

The main room had picked up while we were inside. There were several couples in various stages of foreplay or out-and-out fucking in the beds along the edge of the room. Other couples were walking around the room and would stop and watch at different beds.

One guy was getting a blowjob from a girl, and he was very interested in seeing who was watching them. He kept looking over his shoulder to see who was there, and finally turned her around so he could see better. We noticed that he lost his erection whenever people weren’t looking. Now THAT’S an exhibitionist.

People all around us were fucking and that’s when I realized: I am TOTALLY not vanilla anymore. The vanilla sex was boring to me. I kept wanting one of them to swat his partner on the ass, or grab her by the neck, or SOMETHING for god’s sake. To make it interesting. Because just watching them fuck, while it was clearly doing it for the couples that were wandering from bed to bed watching, was not doing anything for me. Richard said he felt the same way.

We got up and wandered around the club again, to see what was going on on the other floors and in the other rooms. What was going on was lots of sex, but almost exclusively vanilla sex.

In one room, there were two couples having sex. One guy was fucking a woman from behind, while another woman played with her breasts. The first woman reached over and started playing with the second woman’s pussy. The second woman’s partner was fondling her breasts and kissing her and mainly watching what was happening.

Richard walked me back to our couch, holding onto my wrist as we went. We sat down and just watched all the sex happening around us. He was quietly rubbing my shoulder and dragging a finger along my neck and the side of my face. He rubbed the back of my neck, then wound his fingers through my hair. Suddenly he tightened his hold on my hair and pulled my head back until my neck was straining.

I looked up at him, startled. His eyes looked eery in the blacklight, like a demon or a vampire. He stared down at me as he traced my lips and my chin and then down to my chest and along my bra. He leaned over, not releasing his hold, and nibbled along my jaw and to my lips. He bit down on my lip and I reflexively pulled away.

Not a good idea. He pulled back harder on my hair, so hard that I had to strain to stay upright. He bit my lip again, harder. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, realizing that he was in no mood for me to fight him. Something had made him aggressive, I didn’t know what, and I was going to have to ride it out.

He continued to hold my head back with his hand in my hair, releasing it at one point only to change his hold. He slowly, gently dragged the tips of his fingers along my face and neck, dipping occasionally into the neckline of my low-cut dress.

My heart started to race, thinking of all the people watching everything that was happening in the room. I didn’t want them to see my breasts. But Richard didn’t care. His fingers would move away from my breasts and I would start to relax. Then his grip would tighten in my hair and his teeth would find the side of my neck or my cheek and I would clench. He would nuzzle me for a bit and loosen his hold and I would relax again. And then he would pull my hair back even farther, so that the whole expanse of my neck and chest were exposed, and push aside my bra with his fingers and pinch and tease my nipples. It was such an incredible juxtaposition of sensations: the brief, sharp pain of being bitten, the dull ache of having my head held back, the exquisite feeling of my breasts being tugged and pinched that made a direct connection to my throbbing, soaking wet cunt. And over it all, the feeling of being completed owned and dominated.

It went on for an eternity. I felt incredibly awkward and shy, yet at the same time more excited and aroused than I think I have ever been. The next day, when we were talking about it and began to fuck, I came harder and longer than I can ever remember. Does that make me an exhibitionist?

Now I’m going to go make dinner for the family - homemade chicken enchiladas. It’s getting cooler here, so I can use the oven again. I’m going to be baking bread this weekend too. It was wonderful going away on such an adventure, but it’s also really nice to be home again.

xoxoAmy

These are a few of our shots from the Folsom street fair. Here, you see a dancer in a cage suspended from a crane which swung him out over the crowd.

You can see how energetic he was - lots of fun watching him dance. A woman had a turn in the cage before him, but I didn’t get there soon enough to get a shot of her, as I paused on the way to get a shot of this guy:

A great full body rubber outfit, although must have been rough when he ventured out into the full sunlight

These three guys were obliging enough to strike a pose for me. The whole event is full of people thrilled to be seen and have their pictures taken, so it’s a lot of fun - and no matter how outrageously dressed someone was, they always seemed to have their own camera to take their own pictures.

Another playful trio posing for the camera. Lots of nudity at the event as well, largely male. My favorite was a guy walking around naked except for a pair of Uggs.

Furries, plushies, and even pony girls like the one below:

A lot going on, and lots more to talk about - this was a remarkable weekend for us in many ways, and there will be a lot of discussion of what went on.

We are back from San Francisco and the Folsom Street Fair.

I am so sore that I’m having trouble walking and I’m absolutely exhausted.

What a great trip!

First of all, seeing Megan was incredible. She is the second person that I have met after becoming friends on-line (Richard being the first) and she is exactly the person that she seemed to be on-line. Only more 3D, of course. I am batting a thousand - I met both my husband and my best friend on-line. Talk about lucky.

We spent the first day with her and her Master, not doing much of anything, mainly recovering from the looooong drive up (mainly long because we drove a large part of the journey on the Pacific Coast Highway and Richard wanted to stop every five miles to take pictures of seascapes and seals and rocks and…).

It was eye-opening to watch another D/s couple interact. He is much, much stricter than Richard. She was in chains when we got there, and she never sat on the furniture (so I didn’t either, to keep her company) and when she left the room she would walk backwards out of it, so as not to turn her back on him.

I was very bad and teased her about things that I knew she didn’t like. This back-fired occasionally, unfortunately. She brought out this GIANT buttplug that he’d just bought and I said “How could you even fit that in your MOUTH, much less your ass?”

She looked at me with big eyes and said “I can’t believe you just said that.”

Her Master said “Yes, Megan, let’s see if you can fit that in your mouth.”

Which she could.

And then she said “Now let’s see if you could fit it in YOUR mouth, Miss Amy.”

And Richard said “Yes, let’s see.”

It kinda freaked me out to be putting someone else’s buttplug in my mouth (understatement) and I tried three or four times but couldn’t get it all in without gagging horribly.

But there is no way something that size could fit in my ass. No way. I don’t know how people do that.

After a couple of interactions like that, Richard pointed out that I probably should try filtering a bit more when I’m around other D/s couples. Which I tried to do, with mixed success.

On our last day, when we were at the Folsom Street Fair (will post later about this, and Richard has some awesome photos), Richard was off photographing people and Megan, her Master and I were walking along. Actually, he was leading, holding onto Megan’s hand, and I was trailing along with my fingers hooked into the belt of Megan’s schoolgirl skirt.

I saw a tattoo and piercing tent and said “Look Megan! We can get clit piercings!”

Her Master turned around and said “That’s a great idea. Have you and Richard talked about that?”

Megan said “Way to go Amy!”

Hooboy. I was scared. I said “Weeeellll. We’ve talked about it a little bit.”

He said “Maybe we could get a deal if we got two done at the same time.”

I said “Weeeellll. I dunno.”

He said “Why am I talking to you about this? I need to talk to the boss.” And he headed off to find Richard, with us in tow.

Richard came striding toward us, grinning, with his camera in his hand. He was so happy that day. I don’t think he stopped for even one second. It was really, really hard to keep track of him and stay with Megan and her Master. I got scolded by him a couple of times for being bossy, when I tried to get him to move along when they were waiting for us.

Richard said “Not today” to my relief. Later he told me that he did not think that piercings or tattoos were appropriate for me at all. Whew.

We walked over to the tent and Megan’s Master talked to the piercing people and they took her into a back tent and pierced her clit while he took photos.

I got really shaken up while we were waiting for them because I felt like it was my fault that Megan was going to be in pain now. Me and my big mouth. I started crying.

Richard reminded me *again* that I needed to be more careful what I said when we were with D/s couples, but said that her clit-piercing wasn’t my fault. They have a different dynamic than we do, and most importantly Megan is a big-time pain slut. She probably wanted this.

She came out from the tent and was a bit shaky, so we went and had Indian food and watched the fair-goers for a while. I kept my sunglasses on even though we were inside because I was afraid I would start crying again. I felt like she wasn’t going to want to be my friend if I kept saying stupid stuff that got her into trouble.

Megan realized I was upset when I tried to answer a question and my voice was wobbly. They were both really sweet to me then, and explained that they had been talking about this for a few weeks, and 30 minutes before she had asked if they were going to do it that day. So I felt like a newbie idjit but also relieved.

We got home yesterday, and today I asked Richard if we could please order a ballgag, which we did. I hope it helps.

Gosh, I have so much to post about - a wild new club, the Folsom Street Fair, a bunch of leather shops, and spending several days with another D/s couple and my sweet Megan! I’ve had several new realizations about myself and about us as a D/s couple that will take some time to write about. More later!