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In Tatters

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I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply
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HARD LIMIT | I am NOT Y/your Shame

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I've churned off and on with this post for years as the issue has cropped up numerous times since I entered the lifestyle a dozen years ago.  It's a topic I rarely see tackled.  To be upfront, I'd love any additional insights, perspective, shared experiences, and potential solutions here...      We talk a lot about consent in this community.  Those clear negotiations before play or a relationship to established each partner's boundaries, limits, desires, and needs work out great when you're talking about overt actions/inactions. "I love flogging.  I'm open to knife play, but needles are a hard limit for me." Easy-peasy...but what about the messy, unconscious, emotional garbage most carry around?  How often are we intentionally negotiating those landmines upfront?  The few instances I've heard discussed tend to be either in the context of M/s or Owner/property User Manuals or Pro-Domme negotiations, a small portion of the community. ~record scratch
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A Return to Pleasure

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No lie, it's been waaaaaay too fucking long, and with the pandemic it's been incredibly difficult to create consistent sources of pleasure.  So difficult I'd forgotten what soul deep pleasure even felt like until tonight.  I was not ready.  I didn't have a clue what was in store for me.   Forty-five minutes into the most decadent, slow, insistent, thorough yet subtle mouth-fucking I've ever had, shivers ran down my spine as my senses and nerve endings finally caught up with and began to interpret correctly the seduction and sheer joy of my experience.  My entire body tingled, and in that instant when the visceral responses flooded my system...I surrendered and nearly cried. There was no rush.  Every minute felt longer than the last.  I never knew a leisurely mouth-fucking could be so damn epic.  Those steady, unassuming, nuanced strokes teased me with each mouthful.  My greedy lips gentled and discovered a rare patience as I sank into the wonder and delight of every
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The Comet of Lamar & Me

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The post triggered a shock of sadness and flood of beautiful fond memories.  Maybe I should have shrugged off the news.  It had all been so long ago, but the long-buried visions continued to chase me.  I soon gave up any semblance of trying to be in the present and sank into the need to rewind my mental photo album and the book of my life to lose myself in days past but never forgotten. We first crossed paths during a mutual friend's misadventures on a night much like tonight.  The frantic specks of snow danced in front of the car's headlights as the cold quickly seeped into our bones.  We were bundled up and stuffed into my little two-door Capri to spend miles searching in vain for the friend's somewhat stolen car.  He and I turned out to be the calm, strategic ones in the midst of minor chaos.  Nothing is sexier than a man in control of himself, handling a situation.  I was intrigued and so was my pussy.  We were young.  I was back in my hometown looking for direction aft
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Head-Heart-Soul Shift

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Not in a good headspace. Too much. Too little. The negative has seeped in and is starting to drag me under. No one can shift it but me. Time for some gratitude and change in perspective. I am so very grateful for… My health. My family. My lil leather & kink tribe. My Board of Directors who advise me from their thoughtful outside perspective on all things vanilla and Lifestyle. The opportunities of service I’ve had in the last two years with ONYX Pearls NY-NE and with Leather Solidarity Collective. The vast myriad of discussions I’ve had in my own Lifestyle groups as well as other organizations. The treasure trove of books by Lifestyle Authors with their wealth of knowledge and ideas. The amazing, kind, brilliant people I work with M-F. The profoundly beautiful and life altering experiences I’ve had in meditation the last 8 months. My occasional ability to help those in need. The opportunities I have to share my lil bits of wisdom I sometimes manifest. The phenomenal resilience of N
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System Check After Reboot

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Many of us in NYC are going through some sort of personal pandemic recovery, trying to rebalance, reassess, restart in this new version of normal.  The early days of COVID - when the city that never sleeps crashed into a coma even as endless sirens screamed through the streets - still echo in our heads like a long ago nightmare yet feel like yesterday.  Despite occasional office visits to near empty skyscrapers or surreal dinners with friends amid the landscape of "For Lease" retail space, we haven't quite figured out where the fuck we are now.  There are high-end stores missing, mom and pop shops missing, restaurants missing, delis missing, dive bars missing, diners missing, energy missing, and people.  Fuck.  The people...the tourists, the faces we used see at lunch, our neighbors, our co-workers, our friends and family...who aren't fucking there anymore.  Their faces, voices, and presence are an ache that doesn't fade.  We've gone through a hard reboot afte
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Silver Linings

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Despite my struggles to find my footing in this start of a new normal, I hold tremendous gratitude in my heart and being for the many, many silver linings I found in the Cat 5 Hurricane that was the pandemic. My parents and adult kids have remained safe and long-term healthy to date.   I stayed safe, mostly sane, and relatively healthy aside from a few stress-induced pounds and lack of exercise. Employment...so incredibly grateful that I was immediately able to shift to remote work. Zoom...though like most...I am sick of fuckin zoom! LOL  However, I am eternally grateful for this platform's massive contribution to society during the gravest of times.   Being able to see family and my dearest friends on the regular kept me grounded and productive. My core friendships deepened exponentially.  Without the distraction of long commutes, wait staff and food, a secondary aspect of entertainment whether it was a class, a movie, shopping, an exhibit, a jazz performance...we had time and foc
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A Flat Football & Adrift in a Sea of Bandaids

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After so many of the things, I've spent September settling back in and restarting my world.  Yet as I review various options for Lifestyle classes, events, reconnecting, somehow everything feels bland and uninspiring.  My heart and soul feel utterly disconnected from the Lifestyle.  I am...adrift. I've been blessed in many ways the last nearly two years.  I didn't have it as hard as so many.  I'm not depressed.  I wake up refreshed.  I'm productive.  My emotions are in check.  Minimal anxiety as I've slowly over time re-acclimated to being out in the world with people.  In fact, I can list many personal silver linings that I've found despite this seemingly unending Cat 5 Hurricane of a Pandemic. So I ask myself what the fuck?  One of my biggest passions now feels empty and stale and no longer magical. ~sigh~  To use an analogy...the game ball is flat, so I can barely find the motivation to go to the field to practice or play.  Who wants to toss a football wh
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